got pled down to trespassing and the details sound more like a landlord–tenant dispute. The families both look damnably law abiding but that’s just surface stuff and I haven’t checked the docs’ civil records for malpractice.”
I told him what I’d learned about The Aura.
He said, “Fits with what Sean turned up, I’ve had him looking at the place. He emailed their booking number and got a canned reply. Weddings, bar mitzvahs, anniversary parties, quinceañeras. The current owners bought it five months ago, a group from Hong Kong.”
“Anyone mad at them?”
“Not that’s turned up, so far. Making matters worse, no current lawsuits, no bitching on Yelp.”
I said, “The last time girls danced around the pole was around a year and a half ago. Who owned it back then?”
“Guy named Ramzi Salawa, business address in Hollywood. Doesn’t seem to be in the club biz anymore, his money comes from storefronts on the boulevard. I put a call in to Petra to see if anyone in her playground knows him, she poked around, nothing. I texted him and he surprised me by answering a few minutes ago. At LAX, clearing customs from an overseas trip. He sounded freaked about the murder, agreed to drive over on his way from the airport. Hour or so. You curious enough to want to observe?”
“Twitching with interest.”
* * *
—
When I arrived at the West L.A. station, a black-on-black Mercedes 500 was parked illegally at the curb and Milo was talking to a trim black-suited, black-shirted, black-bearded man in his forties. The only color relief, bright-red calfskin loafers.
Milo said, “This is Mr. Salawa.”
“Ramzi, people call me Ron.” Soft, mellow, unaccented voice. I shook the hand he extended. Pliable, warm, exerting the barest pressure.
“Nice to meet you, Ron.”
“Yes, well…this is pretty shocking.”
Milo said, “Turns out Mr. Salawa knows our victim.”
“I wouldn’t say know, more like acquainted,” said Salawa. “You can’t tell me what happened, Lieutenant?”
“Sorry, not yet.”
“That place.” Head shake. “Jinx from day one, couldn’t wait to get out of the business. Tried not to get involved too much, period. That’s why I didn’t really know her. Plus she was hired toward the end, was maybe there for a couple months.”
I said, “The club scene didn’t work out for you.”
“Disaster,” said Salawa. “I’m a real estate guy, never intended to get into entertainment. It was my uncle’s thing, he owed me money, gave me four crap locations when he moved back to Dubai and The Aura was one of them. It was supposed to be a great deal. Maybe I’m just not cut out for it but my opinion is what messed it up is internet porn. Why should guys bother to leave their houses when they can log on and get their jollies? So the ones who do show up are mostly losers without a lot of bank. We’d have them showing up already drunk, getting by with the cheapest two-drink minimum. They’d rarely spring for drinks for the girls and their tips sucked so we couldn’t hold on to girls. Plus that type, you know. They can cause problems.”
“What kind of problems?”
“Nothing serious, but still a pain.”
“Meaning?”
“Drunk and disorderly. I didn’t call you guys, didn’t figure it was worth your time.”
I said, “You solved your own problems.”
“Bouncers,” he said. “Cost me a big slice of overhead.”
“So you sold out.”
“To some Chinese,” said Salawa. “Anyway, Kimby, I think that was her name, can’t see why she’d want to go back there.”
Milo said, “What’s Kimby’s last name?”
“Sorry, that’s all I remember, sir. When you texted me I was totally thrown, wondered if someone would try to go after me civilly. Her family, you know?”
“You no longer own the place. Why would they do that, Ron?”
“ ’Cause of the way it is,” said Salawa. “Bus-bench lawyers troll records. I know I sound paranoid but I already have a pain-in-the-ass time when I travel, getting hassled by customs at the airport, can’t qualify for Global Entry.”
Toothy smile. “They won’t say why. As if. Anyway, I’m just finished closing my bags back up and you text me about this.”
“Kimby,” said Milo.
“I think.” A red shoe tapped. “Sorry it happened to her but don’t know her.”
“Could you check her employment records so we can find out who she is?”
“I could if I had them,” said Salawa. “Minute I closed with the Chinese I got rid of everything to do with that dump. There wasn’t much records to begin with, the girls were independent contractors—that’s how my uncle set it up. Less