by Owen Parr
From the back of the van, Jote said, “Joey, I’ve already scouted the location, the condo is facing the ocean on Collins Avenue. Indian Creek Canal parallels Collins at that location. We can park the van, and surveilled the entrance to the building without any obstructions.”
Tico looked at me, and asked, “What’s your ETA for them?”
I thought for a minute, “If he drove straight here, stopping only for gas and bathroom, maybe the earliest, about ten in the evening. So, maybe between ten and midnight.”
Hearing that, Jote said, “You guys hungry? We have a couple of hours.”
“Is there something close?” I asked, as our van was now parked on Collins Avenue, right across the entrance to the condominium building.
Tico pointed, “How close you want it? It’s right there,” he said, as we all glanced at a corner restaurant, featuring Argentinian specialties.
I needed sleep more than food, but, both had been in short supply lately. Sleeping was not an option right now, the couple of hours I got on the plane will have to do for a while. Hopefully, my calculations were correct, and Belford would show up tonight.
We ate and got to know Jote and Tico a lot better. Colorful characters who had been in vice way too long. Not anywhere like Detectives Crockett and Tubbs, from the NBC hit series of the late nineties; Miami Vice. Jote and Tico were not going to set a trendy look; these guys were the real vice cops. And like I said before, I think they are into their characters’ way too deep.
As planned, we set up surveillance across the entrance at about ten. Jote and Angela in the van. Tico sat on the sidewalk, by the door to the underground parking lot. Anyone paying attention to him, would no doubt think he was a homeless person resting.
Mr. Pat and I had taken other positions from which to surveil. We did not want to be where Belford could see us. We sat and waited.
The phone Jote had given me, was sitting on my chest, as it rang and vibrated, waking me abruptly from a sound sleep. It was two in the morning. The ID caller read 305 something, I knew that to be Miami’s area code. “This is Joey,” I answered.
“Joey, this is Jote, a white Jeep SUV just went into the underground parking lot. Tico saw a man and a woman inside the van, couldn’t confirm it’s them, but license plates are Pennsylvania’s.”
I replied, “Okay, Jote. That’s got to be them. I knew he would change plates. We got this.”
“What do you want us to do?” Jote asked.
“I’ll let you know,” I replied.
“Mancuso, you sure you don’t want to call for backup? Or, the FBI, man? I mean your lady is FBI, right?”
“We have a plan, let’s stick to it. ¿Entiendes amigo?”
Jote replied, “Have it your way, bro.”
Patrick and I sat inside the unit belonging to Marcy and her parents. As expected the window’s hurricane shutters were closed. Something the Rodriguez’s would do every time they left the unit to go back to Jersey. There was not a speck of light inside the unit. I took a position to the left of the door, just inside the small kitchen. Patrick, was about four feet ahead of me on the right side, in a hallway leading to the bedrooms. The plan was to let both Marcy and Belford walk in. My assumption was Marcy would walk in first, followed by Belford. I would not expect Belford would be holding a gun on her at this point. I was to let Marcy walk by me, then, grab Belford, as Patrick pulled Marcy into the hallway, and out of the way. Finally, I was going to be reunited with her and end her nightmare.
The front door opened, it was pitch black inside the unit, the hallway light made it so that only a silhouette of the two figures walking in could be seen. I waited, a female figure walked by me, Marcy. Then, a male was upon me. He felt for the light switch to his left on the wall. Before he had a chance to turn it on, I said, “Now!”
Immediately Patrick pulled in the female into the hallway, as I pounded the male, by driving my shoulder, upper arm, hip, and elbow into the man, the definition of a check in hockey. As I did, Belford gasped from the pain and the surprise, as his head hit the wall. Marcy screamed in fear from the hallway. The man slid, maybe unconscious, down the wall to the floor, as I hit the light switch.
“What are you doing?” the female asked screaming?
“Joey,” Patrick said, from the hallway location, “this is not Marcy.”
“And this asshole is not Belford,” I said, looking at a male figure, who was knocked out in front of me, and on the floor. He looked like a Justin Bieber look-a-like. Big teeth, skinny little punk, blonde bleached hair with streaks.
Patrick brought her into the open area, by the kitchen where the light was now on. “Who are you?” I asked.
She looked at the man on the floor, “Oh my God, what have you done to him?” she queried, running over to the man and kneeling beside him. “Did you kill him?” she asked.
“The lad will be fine in a few minutes,” replied Mr. Pat, “Missy, answer the question, who are you?”
She looked up, as the man began shaking his head, trying to knock out the cobwebs, “I’m Joan, this is my boyfriend, Jack.”
“Why are you here?” I asked, dumbfounded.
Jack, who was sitting on the floor with his back to the wall, looked towards me, closed his eyes and responded, “This man gave us five hundred dollars, and told us to drive here and enter the condo. He said we could stay here tonight. He wanted me to call him after we came in.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Sir,” he said, still recovering and on the floor, “Joan, and I are broke. Two guys stole all our money last night, as we walked on the boardwalk. The five hundred was going to get us home tomorrow. We don’t know, —”
A phone rang, I looked at Patrick, he shrugged. We both looked around. Jack reached into a pocket of his Bermuda shorts, and answered, “Yeah? Yes.” Three seconds later he handed me the phone, “It’s for you.”
“This is Mancuso.”
“Hell-oo, Man-cue-so.”
31
“Belford, it’s time to end this,” I said.
“Why, my boy? You tired of chasing me? Always one step behind,” he said, with deep sarcastic laughter.
Fucking asshole, was, in fact, one step ahead all the time. I wanted to ask him; how he knew we were here, but, I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
“Mancuso, Mancuso, you’re probably wondering, how I knew you were waiting for me, right?” He asked, and paused, expecting an answer from me. When he heard no reply, he added, “You see Mancuso, I’ve never underestimated you. I give you the credit you deserve, as a thinker and observer. You, however, well, you’ve never seen my good side, and are unwilling to give me credit, I deserve. That’s why you are one step behind, all the time.”
“So, what do you want Belford?”
“What do I want? What do I want?” he repeated. “It seems the honeymoon and happy life ever after with Marcy are not in the cards. Although, we still have this moment together, she and I.”
“I will kill you,” I said, loudly into the phone. Immediately, Patrick moved Jack and Joan into a bedroom and closed the doors.
“Here’s what we’re going to do Mancuso,” Belford began, “I’m going to get out of town without any interruption on your part. I’m leaving the country, my boy.”
“You’re not going anywhere with Marcy,” I said.
“You need to pay attention, Mancuso. I said, my future with Marcy is at an end. Perhaps in our next lives, Marcela and I we’ll be reunited in a lustful and romantic relationship. So, as soon as I am safe, I will tell you where to find her.”
I had no cards to play, “Belford, do what you need to do, no one is going to stop you. Just tell me where I can find Marcy. However, if something happens to her, there’s no place on earth safe for you, not a fucking solitary place. Understand?”
“I’m terrified, so much so that, let me see, oh good; I thought I had crapped in my pants. But, I didn’t. Listen to me, in a little while I’m going to leave, Marcy will
be fine for a few hours. After that, no telling what might happen to her. So, what I’m saying is, if I’m somehow delayed, or detained, well that would not be good for her. Do you understand?”
Mr. Pat came out of the bedroom where he had been with Joan and Jack. He was motioning to his mouth and pointing at me. I interpreted that to mean he wanted to talk to me. I raised my index finger, asking him to wait a minute, realizing I had not responded to Belford.
“I need to talk to Marcy,” I said.
He didn’t reply for a moment. Then, I heard a muffled sound on the other end. Before I could ask again, Marcy said, “Joey, I’m fine.”
“Marcy?” I asked.
“She just told you she’s fine. I will call you as soon as I’m safe, and tell you where she’s at,” Belford said, as he disconnected the call.
I looked at Patrick who was standing in front of me, “Fuck!” I expressed loudly.
Mr. Pat grabbed both my shoulders with his massive hands, “Listen, this fellow Jack, may know where Belford and Marcy are.”
“How so?” I said, raising my head and opening my eyes widely.
Patrick went on, “They said, they walked into a beer bar, a few blocks away. Inside a boutique hotel lobby, and Belford was sitting there alone.”
“How do they know it was Belford?” I asked, without thinking.
“Belford talked to them for a few minutes, bought them a beer. They told him their sad story, about being robbed, et cetera. That’s when he offered them the cash, gave them the burner phone, and told them to drive here.”
“So, where was this?”
Patrick went into the room to get Joan and Jack. As he did that, I called Jote on the phone he had provided me. “Jote, get ready, Belford is nearby. Maybe just a few blocks from here.”
“Jote asked, “What happened up there? We were just coming up.”
“We’re coming down, get the van,” I replied disconnecting the call.
Jack came out of the room first, with Patrick gently prodding him forward, Joan followed.
“So, where did you meet this man?” Quickly.” I asked.
Jack pointed to the street, as if to indicate somewhere, then said, “The Arlene, on 29th and Indian Creek Drive.”
“Was he alone?” I inquired.
“Yes, he was,” Jack said.
“Do you think he was staying there?”
Jack glanced at Joan, but, didn’t answer.
I shouted, “Was he?”
“He said he was not. That he had stopped in for a beer. But, yes, he is or was. We have his room key,” Jack replied, as he moved back and away from me.
“Let me have the fucking key,” I said, turning to Joan, and putting my hand out.
Joan reached into her purse and pulled out a bright aqua colored plastic diamond key holder. The Arlene was written on one side, and 717, the room number, on the other side.
Mr. Pat’s face took on an inquisitive look, as he glanced at me.
“These two aren’t without funds or stranded in Miami, Mr. Pat. They’re con-artist, preying on tourist and locals. They go from place to place, pulling the same shit. I’m sure our gal here, Joan,” I said, looking at her, “was ready to bait our guy at the bar, go up to his room and steal everything he had.”
Jack said, “We, —”
“Shut the fuck up. We are with Miami vice; you’re lucky we have bigger fish to fry. We’re going downstairs now, and I want you to get lost, understand? Lost. Both of you. If I see you in Miami, or New York City, am throwing both your asses in jail.”
We entered the elevator, with both Jack and Joan, looking down at the floor. As the door opened on the lobby area.
Jack asked, “We can’t go to New York City?”
“That’s right Justin, stay the hell away from New York. Now, get the fuck out of here,” I said, opening the building’s massive double glass front door leading to Collins Avenue, and seeing Tico’s van, parked in front of the apartment building.
I climbed into the passenger seat, as ‘big red dude,’ Mr. Pat, made his way to the side door of the van.
“Who were those two?” Tico asked,
“Not important, we need to go to The Arlene, on Indian Creek and 29th,” I said.
Jote said from the back, “Bro, that’s three blocks from here.”
I asked, “Is that the street that’s one-way south?”
Tico replied, “Yeah, we were on it earlier today. Right there,” he said, pointing with his left hand.
“Hang on a second. We have to go around the block to come back south, right?”
“Exactly,” Tico replied.
“We may miss Belford if we go around. He was leaving now. Can you light it up?” I asked, referring to police blue and red lights.
Tico glanced at me and smiled, “We’re vice, bro. We have no lights. But, I can drive against traffic, if that’s what you want me to do, it’s just three blocks.”
“Yeah, go slow, let’s inspect every car coming our way. Patrick, Angela, keep an eye out for Belford,” I said, as Tico began a slow drive north unto oncoming traffic.
Tico drove slowly, close to the curb on our right side. We only encountered three cars, after all, it was late and, most everyone was sleeping, and those that were not, were clubbing. No one looked like Belford. A few minutes later we were in front of The Arlene.
“Tico, drive around the side street. Does this hotel have underground parking?” I asked.
“No, bro,” replied Tico. “This hotel has no parking. Everyone has to find a spot on the street.”
“Good,” I said, “so, no surprises. “Mr. Pat and I are going up to the room. Angela and you guys stay down here. Angela, you know what Belford looks like, right?”
Angela replied, “No, but you’ve described him. But, Joey, you guys are not armed. You can’t go up there like that.”
“Here,” Jote said, reaching down to his ankle. He pulled out a revolver from an ankle holster. “Tico, give yours to the ‘big red dude.’”
“Nice one Jote,” I said, admiring the gun momentarily, “a K6S, 357 Magnum, Kimber. Beautiful small revolver. Thanks. Stay alert. We’re on our way up.”
“How do you know where to go?” Jote asked.
“We know, even have a key. Tell you later, not important now,” I replied, entering the quaint lobby of the boutique hotel.
Mr. Pat asked, “Elevator, or stairs?”
I thought for a second. There was a night clerk behind a small counter by the front entrance. He was sitting and working on a computer. But, was looking at us with a concerned look on his face. Walking over to him, I asked, “Is there another elevator?”
The clerk remained seated, and asked nervously, “Who are you?”
“Look, we are with the vice squad. Is there another elevator?”
The clerk stood up. He was not much older than twenty, clean cut, wearing a white shirt and black tie. Probably working at nights while he went to school. “Yes, there’s the cargo elevator all the way back in the hallway. What’s going on?”
“How about stairs?”
“Just this one,” he said, pointing to the stairs in the lobby.
“I want you to go outside. We have three associates there. See the lady. She’s a cop too. Stay out there for now.”
“I can’t leave the front desk, there’s—,”
Mr. Pat addressed the young man, “Son, do as you’re told. This is for your safety.”
“Before you go, tell me how many rooms are occupied on the seventh floor?” I asked.
“That’s our top floor and most expensive rooms. They have a view—,”
I interrupted, “How many rooms occupied?”
“Just two rooms, 701 and 717,” he replied.
“Okay, get out.” I said, “tell one of the pirates outside to come in here.”
“What?’ the kid asked.
“You’ll see, tell one to come in here, pronto kid.”
Jote walked in the lobby, “What-sup?”
“I’ll be here,” Jote replied, holding another Kimber pistol. This one, a Micro Sapphire 380 automatic.
I turned to face Patrick, “Mr. Pat, I’m going back to the cargo elevator and hitting the ‘off button,’ do the same on this elevator. Then, we’re going up the stairs.”
“Couldn’t we at least take one elevator to the sixth floor, then turned it off?”
I looked at Patrick, “Wait for me here a second, let me deal with the other elevator. Then, I’ll walk up the stairs. You take the elevator to the fifth floor and wait for me by the stairs. Is that better?”
“Much better, thank you,” Patrick said, as he nodded, and smiled.
I ran to the back and hit the ‘off button’ on the cargo elevator. Belford was not coming down on that one. Then, running back to the lobby again, I sent Patrick to the fifth floor, and I began walking up the stairs. If Belford were still here, the only way down would be the stairs.
32
Holding the revolver with both hands in front of me, I walked up the stairs slowly. The only person I wanted to see, on my way up, was the ‘big red dude.’ Although in all honesty, if Belford were still here, an encounter in the hallway, or stairs, would be preferable than in the room with Marcy in it.
As I was reaching the landing of the fifth floor, I heard a door, I softly asked, “Red?”
“I’m here Joey,” Mr. Pat replied, almost in a whisper.
“Okay let’s do this.”
I led the way, as we both walked up the final two floors. Room 717, was to the left of the stairs, almost all the way to the back of the hallway, near the cargo elevator. As I reached the door to the seventh floor, I stopped before opening it, and said to Patrick, “If we both walk down the hallway and Belford steps out of the room, either we kill him quick, or we’re sitting ducks, if he still has his shotgun.”