Page 12 of Hemmed

“Thank you!” said Meredeth, hugging the big men.

“Really, thank you,” said Jade.

A few minutes later, their twisted friend was led to a police vehicle in handcuffs. The doors of the tailoring shop were locked, bolted, and a sign on the door telling everyone it would be closed for the foreseeable future.

“His name is Felix Vestor. Says he’s owned the business for the last eight years after his uncle passed. Claims he didn’t know about the cameras.”

“He’s lying,” said Alec.

“I know he is, but unlike you, we have to follow certain procedures. I’ll take him downtown and see if we can get some information from him. Nicely,” smirked the cop.

“Yeah, yeah, nice is overrated,” said Tailor. “When you really want to get some information from him, give us a call.”

“Look, we can’t let you back in there, but you might want to get your tech boys back inside. I mean, accidentally, of course. It looks like there was a camera pointed at the door and at the register.”

“Maybe a screening camera?” frowned Tailor.

“You tell us.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

“What’s the friend’s name?” asked Jean.

“Thurston Sawyer,” frowned Miller. “Is that a real fucking name?” He looked down at the text and shook his head.

“Are we going to his home or place of business?” asked Jean.

“Business. He owns a mortgage lending company and, obviously, gets all of Craig’s business. Seems fishy to me, but I couldn’t give a shit about that. I want to know about this investment in the website.”

Pulling up to the small home converted into a business location, they parked on the street and then watched as men in suits walked out of the building with boxes of files. Three black SUVs were parked across the lawn.

“Feds. What the fuck is happening?” asked Miller.

“If we’re right, those are definitely the feds, and he’s in big trouble,” smirked Jean. He walked toward one of the men and introduced himself.

“This is my brother, Pierre Robicheaux. We’re part of…”

“We know,” said one of the agents, raising a hand. “Sorry, I recognized your names. Are you here to take over?”

“No. Not just no, but fuck no,” said Jean. “Not at all. We were here to discuss an investment this guy made in a site that films women undressing in dressing rooms, bathrooms, that sort of sick shit.”

“Well, that stands to reason. He’s under investigation for mail fraud, loan fraud, falsifying documents, tax fraud. Let’s just say fraud,” said the exhausted agent.

“He’s probably got four or five million in charges on his business credit card for the last ten years that involve strip clubs, massage parlors, all of it,” said another agent. “It doesn’t surprise me that he’d be involved in something sick like that.”

“Is he here?” asked Miller.

“I wish. No, someone tipped him off, and he ran. His secretary is in there crying like he died,” the agent said, shaking his head. “He’s not at his home either. We’ve frozen his credit cards and other assets, but I’m going to guess that he had a stash of cash somewhere and is long gone.”

“Well, if you find anything about the video site, let us know. We’ve got a few women who are pretty upset about what took place.” The agents nodded, shaking their hands and then getting back to work.

“We’re not going to find him,” said Jean. “I’ll bet he had an escape route the entire time. He knew someone would find him sooner or later.”

“Do you think Craig gave him a heads up? I’d like to go back and break his face,” frowned Miller.

“No,” laughed Jean. “You can’t break his face, but yes, I do think he did that. I think this guy is a piece of shit and probably was going to get caught either way. Although it does seem to be a pattern for Craig old boy.”

“I’m gonna see if we can get the tech boys to perform some magic at the tailor’s. Maybe they can backtrack and figure out where all of this is coming from.”

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