Just another day in Paradise.
The word Paradise was synonymous with heaven.
And everyone had their own idea of paradise. A woman might say paradise was sipping an expensive glass of champagne, while witnessing a breathtaking sunset on the beach. A man may declare that paradise was five nude women ready to fuck him all at once. A religious person would point to God and the plentiful land where the righteous spent eternity.
A narcissist might point to himself.
And the gangster?
He would look to Paradise City. A land of luxury for the darkest alphas of the world. The only gangster heaven on Earth.
1
The United States of Dima
Dimitri
T
he Phantom left Caviar Highway—named that due to the hundreds of caviar limes outlining the massive road.
I spoke into the phone. “Who’s going to be investigating Romeo’s murder?”
“The city’s top detective, Aaron Treadway,” Police Commissioner Kane said on the other line.
“Do I own Detective Treadway?”
Kane sounded uncomfortable. “You do, Mr. Ivanov. I ordered Detective Treadway to report all information to you first.”
My driver slowed us down at a red light.
“Excellent.” I shifted my attention to the little boy running up to the car and holding cleaning supplies. I pressed the button. My window slipped down. I handed the boy a hundred dollar bill.
The boy shrieked, “B-but I haven’t even wiped your windows yet, sir.”
I moved the phone from me and focused on the boy. “You’re too young for the streets. Find somewhere safe to be. If you can’t, then look for me. My name is Dimitri Ivanov.”
“Y-yes, sir.” The boy edged away with the bill.
The light went green.
The Phantom drove off.
I put the phone back to my ear and returned to the conversation.
Commissioner Kane spoke, “Is there anything else, I can help with, Dimitri?”
“I want them to check for fingerprints. And not only for the brothel’s room, but the whole building.”
“We can do that.”
“Deliver all security footage to my penthouse.”
“In regard to the footage, how far do you want us to go back?”
“At least a month. I don’t know how long the murderer was planning this.”
“Detective Treadway thinks this might be a serial killer.”
My head throbbed. “Why?”
“Another case is similar. In that one, the killer dressed him up in a wig and makeup.”
“Have Treadway come to my penthouse tomorrow morning. I want to hear more about this other case.” I hung up the phone and looked at Viktor. “What did you think about the gown and wig?”
“On Romeo?”
I frowned. “Have you seen another dead person wearing a gown and wig today?”
Viktor shrugged. “I thought the gown was nice. I hate ruffles. This one didn’t have it.”
“You’re correct about the ruffles, but that’s not what I mean. Why do you think the killer put that on him?”
“To embarrass Romeo. Make him look like a clown even in death.”
“Exactly.” I dove my hand in my pocket and took out the king chess piece. “Trying to embarrass Romeo means that the killer personally hated him. And hate usually begins as what, Viktor?”
“Anger.”
“No. Love.” I twisted the chess piece between my fingers. “I think the killer loved Romeo.”
“I doubt that.” Viktor shook his head. “Hate could come from fear.”
“Okay.” Holding the chess piece, I studied the diamonds decorating the king’s crown. “Fear could trigger hate. But if the killer was scared of Romeo then that would deal with powerlessness.”
“Or maybe the hate came from something else.”
“What?”
Viktor held up a finger. “Revenge.”
I put the chess piece back in my pocket. “Revenge.”
What could Romeo have done?
The Phantom entered the North. My kingdom. The land of Paradise’s Red Light district. The whole area was an unthreatening atmosphere full of live sex shows, erotica museums, hardcore porn shops, and brothels.
We turned into Lawrence Alley. Up above, lights bathed the street in a crimson glow. Lower-end brothels resided here. The Phantom passed by small buildings, featuring large windows with half-nude women dancing. I spotted lines of men in front of the buildings.
Ten minutes later, the Phantom sped by Ascot Yard. These neighborhoods were full of quaint two-level homes with madams that gathered in their parlors to receive guests. Independent prostitutes with special kinks also operated in this area. They gave us a percentage for the privilege. And with that came our protection.
I observed cars parked at the homes. Even for a Wednesday evening, the North appeared to be super busy.
At least one thing is going well today.
But then pussy always paid the bills. Even during an economic drought, brothels thrived. Men always found ways to buy sex. They sacrificed. They stole. Some even killed to get into a woman’s panties.
Long ago, past Paradise gangs forced women to sell their bodies. These men did so in disgusting ways—kidnapping and trafficking young girls, abusing and misusing older women.
When Mom arrived, all of that ended. She was the oldest of four kids. The rest were boys. When they grew up, her younger brothers and male cousins towered over her. However, she was the oldest and smartest. All followed her. They grew up poor and stole to survive. When she met my father, they did heists together. The chess piece represented their final score—the one he died in. Selling some of the chess pieces earned the crew enough money to buy first class tickets for the American Dream.