Dmitry's Closet Nelson, S. (best reads TXT) 📖

you have something in this bathroom you can put on?”

Royal shook her head quickly. “No, the maid has al-ready cleaned everything up,” she sobbed.

“Where are your clothes? I can’t allow you to start dig-ging around in these drawers. There could be weapons.”

“Weapons? Who do you people think that we are?” She shook her head.

He did not answer.

“I set my nightclothes out,” she said,pointing into the room. “There on the bed. My jeans and my sweater for tomorrow are on the chaise lounge chair.” Her voice quivered.

The man walked into the bedroom, grabbed her clothes and her black silk panties and bra and brought them back inside to her.

She reached up and took the clothes, grateful for his compassion. Unable to control his virile instincts, he looked down at her wet naked body in the bathwater. So you’re what all the fuss is about, he thought to himself.

“Look, you’ve got two minutes to get dressed,” he said in a low voice. “We’ll be right outside. Don’t take my kindness for a weakness, Royal.”

“I…I won’t.” She was shocked that he knew her name.

With a nod, he turned on the lights and left her alone in the bathroom.

After getting dressed, Royal was escorted in hand-cuffs by the police officers from her room, down the long staircase and out of her home. Angry and ashamed, she wiped the constant tears from her face and tried to hold her head up.

“Where is Dmitry?” she asked before they put into a black unmarked squad car with tented windows much like the one they had carted Dmitry off in earlier.

“He’s already been taken downtown to the federal de-tention center,” the masked man answered.

“Why?”

“Well, we can talk about that once we get you there. For now, let’s just get you out of the freezing cold.”

∞♥∞

Like something from a movie, the walls were gray; no windows were in the room and single halogen light hung from the ceiling. Dmitry found it typical and theatric.

A tall, Italian man with a bald spot in the top of his head and five o’clock shadow walked into Dmitry’s room finally after looking at him through the mirror for a while, looking through is his file and comparing notes to the pictures of the young girls. He closed the door softly, sat down and took a sip of his coffee.

“Remember me from the restaurant?” he asked Dmitry.

Dmitry looked up from the table and smiled. “Sorrello? The sloppy Italiano from the Peabody.”

“You remembered?”

“I never forget,” he sighing.“Why am I here?”

“We have reason to believe that you have been trafficking underage illegal aliens into the United States for the purpose of soliciting sex for your profit. Here, we call that pimping. We have you connected to several drug dealers in the city, very recently preparing to go into agreement for the shipment of Meth to the Memphis area for distribution. Let’s not forget the new chop shops in Binghampton you just purchased, and if that ain’t enough, if it ain’t illegal, it sure is a shame to have such a pretty girl next door locked in shackles because of your tricky ass,” Sorrello said, taking a deep breath.

“You don’t have shit,” Dmitry said,checking his Rolex. “Chop shops, whored-out kids and meth. What do I look like to you…an Italian? Now, where is my lawyer?”

“You don’t want to play ball, huh?”

Dmitry sat up in his seat. “I am an upstanding, tax paying American citizen. I have not done any of the things that you have just suggested. You have the wrong man, cowboy.”

“So how do you explain how we got your name?”

“Do not answer that,” a short, gray-haired man said, busting through the door in his tuxedo and overcoat. He was Olich Slovinky, Dmitry’s lawyer.

Dmitry rolled his eyes. “I was just asking about you,” he said,scooting back from the table. “You’re late.”

∞♥∞

Agosto watched Royal through the glass very carefully. Something about her said that she was a victim. Although, he would not go with his gut yet, he was certain after his interrogation, she would confirm his suspicions.

Sorrello was surely next door botching his investigation with his hard-hitting Hollywood tactics. Agostofound him irritating at most, but this was a joint-task force effort. He had to put his personal reservations aside for the betterment of the investigation.

The real workwould start in this room, maybe not through her mouth, but most definitely her eyes. Agosto knew women. He had been married for three years to a maniac of awife whom he could not help but impregnate for the hell of it. He would handle Royal Stone with kid gloves and get enough to put to Dmitry Medlov to jail where he belonged.

Royal sat in the lonely,cold room with her head buried in her arms on the table sobbing softly. When she heard the door open, she sat up in hopes that Dmitry had come to collect her, but it was just a cop.

With a nod, he closed the door and walked over to the seat across from her. He cleared his throat.

“Want some coffee?” he asked, offering her a cup.

“Thanks,” Royal tookthe cup. She wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Are you alright?” Agosto asked.

“No. I was…” Royal began to cry again. “I was in the bath tub when theycame. Do you know how embarrassing that is?”

“It couldn’t be helped. However, I gave you a towel,” Agosto said apologetically. “It’s more than I would give to most.”

Royal looked at him and put the cup down. “What’s your name, officer?” she asked with fire in her eyes.

“Nicola.”

“Nicola, would you ever want your girlfriend to be in-terrupted like I was?”

“No. My wifewould freak out.” He shook his head. Mrs. Agosto was a firecracker. “She’d kill the messenger.”

“Exactly.” She pulled her hair from her face and looked away from him.

“But I would never put her in the situation that your Dmitry has put you in.”

Royal was silent.

Agosto opened the files and began to place pictures of young women in front of her. She looked down at the pictures of the teenage girls in