Page 7 of Shattered Reflections
“It’s okay,” She waved her manicured hand at me. “You’ve been all business since you got a job as a fancy profiler. I get it, and I’m proud of you, Ella. I just thought we could hang out as sisters for a while.”
Now, I really felt guilty, and my gaze darted around, landing on her Gucci purse. I guess Syracuse had higher-dime clients? That, or she’d ‘moved up’ now. I hoped she was okay. I was all for the sex business being a positive venture because even with my job, I was not a prude. I believed that women should get paid for whatever profession they chose.
If that was hustling married, unsatisfied idiots out of their millions, then so be it, but doing it safely was my only concern. I’d worked so many cases that ended with a dead prostitute. The people in power would not think twice about silencing a person if they saw them as a threat.
“You need new clothes that don’t smell like rotten fish, so let’s start there,” Cassie said, knocking me out of my thoughts.
“Uh, sure?” She grabbed my arm, dragging me into the closest department store.
After about two hours of mindless browsing and hearing her distaste for everything, I was dressed in an emerald-colored floor-length gown. It had a sparkly undertone to it. I felt silly, like an old lady trying to wear a prom dress, but Cassie squeaked her approval and threw my credit card at the snooty cashier lady.
“You’re wearing this to the Art Galla on Thursday,” she proclaimed, taking the purchase and walking out.
Following her peppy steps, I struggled to keep up. Her long legs made me feel like a Corgi trying to keep up with a Great Dane. She was nearly six feet, and I was maybe five feet, four inches.
“Wait. Cassie…an Art Galla?”
I was not artistic at all. I couldn’t draw a stick figure to save my life. I’d mangled my bangs and ruined good clothes way too many times with those convincing YouTube tutorials. Honestly, anytime I saw a fancy art piece, I wondered if a dead body was hidden in it or if there was some huge amount of money plastered inside it for safekeeping. Nope. Artsy shit of any kind was not for me.
“An Art Galla over at Corning—” I was shaking my head before Cassie even finished her sentence.
I wasn’t going to some rich college to stare at a wall of random pictures while pretending the artwork didn’t look like a child had created it.
“Come on…it will be so fun. They have like a glass-blowing class and even a balloon maker. I want to learn how to make balloon animals so I can dress up like “IT” and scare the shit out of the girls.”
“The girls” were Cassie’s friends on the streets. I was pretty sure if she’d actually tried something like that, she’d end up shanked. I had met most of Cassie’s friends, and they weren’t pushovers or frilly at all. They’d all witnessed hard shit in their lifetimes. Many of them were women from battered homes or single moms just trying to make some money to make ends meet.
“Pleaaaase…I’m begging you, actually begging, and that’s degrading, so like, throw me a bone so I don’t break a heel.” Cassie kneeled down, gathering the attention of everyone.
So embarrassing.
I was about to say no, but she added a gut puncher. “You know, since you basically abandoned your big sister and you need to show her you even still love her….”
Agreeing to such a barbaric form of entertainment tasted sour in my mouth, so I just nodded in defeat. Cassie squealed and jumped up and down, her platform black heels a deafening sound on the hard tile.
“Yay! Okay, so now let’s talk bid-ness.” She got serious and changed her behavior so fast that it had me blinking to catch up. “They stole my man, Lenns.”
Lenns, aka Lenard, was her idiot drug-slinging boyfriend. I’d heard something at the station about a possible new player who’d come from Syracuse.
Could it be Lenard?
We had narrowed down the vicinity of the Snow White kills. So, we were focused on staying close to that area here in Rochester and not paying attention to Lenns. However, the fact that he was a ‘baby’ in the drug dealing world and was pulling a Houdini Act made it hard to accept. Cassie’s boy toys were not in short supply. They took off within days, hours, or weeks. Lenns had stayed the longest, but Cassie and Lenns fought so much and were only together fifteen percent of the time.
“Are you sure he’s not just….” I wanted to say he might just have taken off, but I didn’t.
“Cassie, it’s fair to say he’s not loyal.”
“No! My man doesn’t step out on me no ‘more. Last time he did, I tried to take off his nuts with a butter knife, and let’s just say he knows better now.”
“Okay, when did you last see him?”
“He just left for a gig. He’s getting mad money, so he’ll be able to treat me like his little princess. How sweet, right?” My sister hummed dreamily. “But now, he’s gone. I got home, and he’s been gone for three days.”
The Snow White Killer crossed my mind, but I kept that thought quiet.
“Don’t worry, I’ll run it by my partner and see what we can do to track him down,” I said.
“Thank you.” Cassie breathed a sigh of relief. “Now…” Her tattooed eyebrows and blushed ruby lips were intent on my face.