The rest of the group greeted Kate with a smile and wished her well. Mario made eye contact with Zack, and they met in the hall.
“I’m going downtown to check on how the interviews are going with the inmates.”
Zack pulled at Mario's arm. “Let the sheriff do his interviews. It’s not your case.” As a retired detective, he never forgot you didn’t poke your nose into someone else's investigation. You watched and listened from afar.
Mario looked him straight in the eyes. “I know it’s not my case. It’s all personal.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Zack said, talking to the back of Mario's head as he walked away.
Howard had come to the hospital for more than to check on Kate. While he was concerned for her well-being, he was more concerned that all his friends were in danger. His experience told him Kate’s attack was just the start of things to come. Howard had his strategy outlined from the moment he arrived at the hospital. He was the one who killed the gang members and Jack from the rooftop. His quickness and precision rifle shooting killed them and dropped them all to the floor at the same time. He couldn’t count on the New Orleans Police Department, so Howard took the shot when he had the opportunity.
Few people knew of his training in the British Special Forces other than Zack, and apparently, Dave. Howard later took a job in the private sector as a bodyguard and a corporate investigator. That was how he met Ben Stein, the limousine company owner. It was his training that gave him the ability to look at a crime scene differently than most law enforcement people. You analyzed and retained the information when it came to life or death, and you quickly took the enemy out. It was that simple.
When Howard got the call about Kate, he rushed to the hospital. People were screaming, and police were running around in every direction, as well as doctors and nurses.
Arriving at the hospital, he stood in the middle of the waiting room and just let people fly by him. He focused on everyone that wasn’t moving, people that looked unconcerned to what had just happened. Books they were reading, drinks, the food they might have been eating. He picked up a trash can cover and pulled the trash liner out and did the same with the only other trash can in the waiting area. No one gave him a look; they were too busy running around gathering up the prisoners, tending to Kate’s protection, and making sure nothing else happened. Howard carried the two bags of trash to his car and gently put them in the trunk of the limousine. Before he checked on Kate or looked for Zack and the others, he roamed into an area with a police officer doing paperwork and an inmate handcuffed to a steel post.
Howard flashed his badge, and the police officer just glanced at it. “Can I talk to this prisoner?”
Catching only a glimpse of the badge, the detective figured he was local law enforcement. If he had looked closer, he would have realized that stamped in bright gold letters was United Kingdom Chief Inspector.
“Sure, he’s not going anywhere.”
Howard stood close to the inmate and whispered directly to the point. “How did this go down? Who planned the yard fight?”
Being in and out of prison since he was fifteen years old, the inmate had been questioned many times before and knew how to handle himself. “Get out of my face, asshole.”
Howard turned to the officer and asked, “What’s his name?”
The officer turned the pages to the beginning of the report. “Cosmo Walker,” he said.
“Now look, Cosmo, we know this was not a random attack on a nurse. You are involved in some way, if not someone would have died in the yard.” Howard got in Cosmo’s face. “The target was Kate, and you are going to tell me why. There was an attempt on Mario’s life too, but they killed the wrong guy. And you’re going to give me all the answers.”
“Who the hell is Mario?” Cosmo asked.
Howard dug his fist into Cosmo’s shoulder blade. “Come on, you know Mario and Kate live together. They couldn’t get to Mario, so they took a shot at Kate. Very creative move. In a hospital?”
“Man, I don’t know anything other than there was going to be a fight and I had to push people around. Make the guards scramble,” Cosmo whispered. “Man, I don’t know anything!” Cosmo screamed, making sure the police and his fellow inmates could hear him.
“How long are you in for?” Howard asked.
“A long time. I leave tomorrow for Calabar Prison,” Cosmo shot back at him.
“Oh, you’re one of Louisiana’s finest criminals,” Howard said, trying to get a reaction.
The officer closed his file and stood up. “Are you about ready?”
“Give me a minute?” Howard asked, and leaned into Cosmo. “Now look, I can protect you in Calabar, give me some information.”
“I don’t need any protection. My boys are already in Calabar locked up for ten to fifteen years. They will take care of me.”
Howard gave Cosmo a card with only a phone number printed. “Look around. All your homies are wondering what we are talking about.”
Cosmo looked behind and saw the chain gang standing in the lobby. Their eyes were focused on him. “Man, what do you want from me?”
“You’re going to think about how it all went down and who first approached you. When you’re ready, you call this number,” Howard said, tapping on the business card. “I’ll come up to Calabar as your visiting attorney. You’ll tell me every detail.” He ground his teeth, wanting to snap this career prisoner’s neck in two.
Cosmo smiled. “I’m not telling you shit. I’m no snitch.”
“Here is what is going to happen. When you arrive in Calabar, there will be money put in your account. It will say the New Orleans Police Department, per our agreement. You know, more money than most inmates have to start. To buy cigarettes and essentials—giving you bordering power in prison. Every day mail will show up for you. Snacks, videotapes, prepaid cell phones, all the conveniences of home. How long do you think your homies are going to protect you when they believe you snitched? I’ll make it look like you sang like a bird.”
Cosmo was stunned, his smart-ass answers ceased, and fear took over his face. “Man, I can’t do that.”
“You can and you will,” Howard said with a blank look on his face.
The officer came over and cuffed Cosmo’s hands to the chain around his waist. “We’re done here. Any other questions, you have to see the sergeant in charge.”
“Man, what kind of cop are you?” Cosmo said, looking at Howard with fear in his eyes. He was all but pleading.
Howard never blinked and just stared at Cosmo. “I’m like no cop you ever met. Remember to tell everyone I’m your attorney. Tomorrow your mail will start flowing.”
Cosmo walked off with the officer and continued looking back. His chains were attached to the other prisoners, and they were all escorted into a van.
After Howard had visited Kate, he got Zack and Dave on the side in the hallway. “You have to get me a picture of this guy Willard.”
“I’m sure Mario is working on that,” Dave said to Zack.
“I’m sure he is,” Zack replied.
“Good, I need it as soon as possible. Like now. Can we call Mario and see if I can go pick it up downtown?”
“Now?” Zack questioned. He took a deep breath. “I just told Mario to stay out of the investigation and let the sheriff handle things.”
“Well, we all know, and the sheriff surely knows, that Mario is going to be fully involved in this with or without approval. He will pull every string he can all the way to the police commissioner to get appointed to this case.”
“Okay, I’ll give him a call,” Zack said.
Mario wasn’t available but did call back. He said the police were working with the hospital going through all camera angles and should have a picture of Willard within the hour.
Howard agreed to sit with Mario for a brief informal interview, and Zack would accompany him. They arrived at the police station, and the squad room was buzzing with officers. Brutal attacks like Kate�
��s would get particular attention from the police department, but as a longtime girlfriend of a decorated detective, this was personal for all New Orleans law enforcement.
Howard wasn’t a suspect, and Mario had no plans to interview him in a traditional interrogation room. Zack, Howard, and Mario sat in a small glass office with just a round table and four chairs mostly used for a private coffee room.
Mario opened his folder on the glass table and quickly got to the point with the first question. “Last year during Zack’s abduction, why were you at the scene?”
“I told you why,” Zack quickly said to Mario.
“Please, Zack?” Mario said, grabbing Zack’s arm. “Let Howard answer the question.”
Howard sat back on the chair. “Zack called me and said he was heading down to the Cornerview Gang’s flophouse to confront Raul. By the time I got there, the police were everywhere, and Zack was in the ambulance already. That’s it.”
“Why did you disappear for a few weeks?” Mario asked.
“I had airline tickets for the UK the next day. It was a planned trip, and I returned a few weeks later,” Howard said.
Mario shuffled some papers around. “Can anyone vouch for your visit to the UK?”
Howard leaned over the table at Mario. “Cut the bullshit. I had nothing to do with Jack and Raul’s murder, and who cares that those scumbags are dead? Now, unless you have cause to question me, you need to tell me your motivation. And right now! Because every second we sit here, your girlfriend's attackers are getting further away from being found,” Howard said, overpowering any doubt Mario might still have regarding Howard’s involvement.
“We just wanted your side of the story and why you were there and then disappeared,” Mario said.
“Very well, you have my story, now let's move on and find your attacker,” Howard said, standing and reaching for an envelope Mario had on the table. He took one of the pictures out of the envelope and looked closely at it. “So this is Mr. Willard Smith?”
“I’m letting you have a picture only to pass around among friends at Riverside. You can’t get involved; this is an ongoing police investigation,” Mario said.
Howard without any emotion effortlessly said, “Trust me. You won’t know I’m around.”
It was those words or the confidence with which he said them that stuck in Mario’s head and made him realize there as more to this guy than met the eye.
CHAPTER 5
Howard drove down Broad Street with the limousine windows down and the sunroof open, allowing the wind to circulate fresh air and push the garbage odor out the car. He was trying not to catch any traffic lights and sometimes running it just not to have to stop. It was a sight to see and unusual for a limousine to have all the windows down, but the smell coming from the garbage bags in the trunk from the hospital waiting room was overpowering. I definitely will have to have the leather seats and carpets detailed, Howard thought to himself.
Howard met Zack and Dave in the back of Riverside Inn. In the rear yard, Andrew had everything that he was instructed to have ready when the limousine arrived: a tarpaulin and several pairs of rubber gloves. The limo was backed into the drive out of the way of passing traffic and came to a stop when Howard hit the button that popped the trunk open. Andrew pulled the two bags out the trunk while Howard opened all the doors to air the car out.
“Gently, don’t let anything fly around, and keep it on the tarp,” Howard said. “Everyone put gloves on and make sure not to step on any of the trash.”
Zack looked at Dave as if to say let's just go along with him, for it seemed like a useless effort. “I’m sure the police don’t know you have these bags?” Zack asked Howard.
“They don’t care. If I hadn’t taken the bags, they would be in a dumpster on its way to some landfill by now. Your police department is a little slow in finding suspects—if at all.”
Dave pulled a chair off to the side and sat while looking through the trash. “Is this something we want to keep?” Dave asked, holding a Burger King bag up.
“Anything with a logo. A bag, cups, a sandwich wrapping,” Howard said.
“And why?” Andrew asked.
“I’ll get to that later,” Howard said, taking a can of Coke from Dave that he disregarded. “I said everything with a logo.”
“Do you know how many cans of Coke we are going to find in here?” Dave pointed out.
“Doesn't matter. Everything with a logo,” Howard insisted.
It took about an hour, but neatly laid out on a second tarpaulin were all the logo items on the floor of a small makeshift hothouse that was not in use.
Howard pulled up an old barstool and sat in front of the tarpaulin and just focused on everything in front of him.
“So now what?” Zack asked.
Howard made some crazy facial expressions. “What do you see here?”
Dave had to laugh. “A lot of trash neatly organized?”
“You have to look for the obvious. What stands out?” Howard said. “One time I was on assignment.”
“Assignment?” Zack said, afraid to hear.
“Yeah, assignment,” Howard repeated. “I was to protect this ambassador from Dubai, and we were not in a friendly country. It was critical for him to sit face to face with this son of a sheik that was trying to control the oil in the region. It was six of us at the table, and it was beautifully set, and my role was to stand behind my ambassador and observe. We went through security and a metal detector before walking in the room. No one had a weapon. When we first sat down, I looked over all the utensils, and everyone had the usual forks, spoon, and a knife. The knife was more like a butter knife and round at the end. Nothing sharp was on the table. They all took a seat—I stood. The other four were bodyguards for the sheik’s son. The usual pleasantries were extended to each other, but I knew this group could not be trusted.”
Zack, Dave, and Andrew were engrossed in Howard’s story and stood listening to his every word. “So what happened?” Zack asked.
Howard rubbed his face like he was thinking of the best words to describe the situation. “One of the bodyguards touched a fork; he just kept rubbing it. I felt sure he would use it as a weapon, but then he moved the knife. That was when I realized something was going down.”
“What? From moving the knife?” Zack said.
“This one guy’s knife had a different handle than any of the other knives. He kept rubbing the knife. I rechecked the other knives on the table and the best I could see all but this knife had a different handle. The ambassador said something that didn’t agree with them and one guy at the far end stood up and pounded the table. The man with the different knife put his right hand on the knife handle and his left hand on the knife blade. That is when I realized this was going to be an assassination of my ambassador.”
If Dave’s eyes opened any larger, they would have popped out of his head. “So what did you do?”
Howard sat back on his stool. “The only thing I could. I grabbed the knife, and sure enough, when holding it with two hands and pulling at the handle, a sharp pointed knife came out of the base all in one swift move. I stabbed the guy closest to me in his hand, pinning it to the table. I elbowed one in the throat, and he fell to the floor, trying to catch his breath. I took the knife out of the man’s hand and had the sheik by the neck with the knife against his throat. Dragging the sheik’s with me by the neck, my ambassador and I walked back out the door. I kicked the sheik’s son to the ground and pushed the ambassador into the back seat of the limousine. Within seconds we were moving at high speed, heading to our jet that waited.”
They all stood shocked, and finally, Zack said, “I wish you hadn’t told us that.”
“You’re a real live James Bond,” Dave said with a big smile like Howard was some celebrity or superhero.
Zack was worried that Howard had shared too many details of his life. Over the years, Zack had learned little pieces of his past, but this was over the top. They might have disregar
ded this sheik’s son story as fabricated for shock purposes and entertainment. But the problem was they all knew Howard was the one that climbed on top of the house without anyone seeing him in spite of an entire SWAT team surrounding the gang’s flophouse. He got off three shots, killing three people, saved Zack’s life, and walked away without being noticed. He was a real live version of James Bond.
“So the three of you stand with me in front of the tarpaulin,” Howard said as they jumped to his command.
“Now, how many soda cans do you see?” Howard asked.
Zack counted. “Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen. Sixteen counting the twelve-ounce plastic bottle of Coke and the can of Barq’s Root Beer.”
“Correct. Now put the Barq’s Root Beer can and the plastic Coke bottle in this box,” Howard said, handing them a small box. He continued to gaze at the items in front of him. “Now you have about ten bags of Doc’s Burger Bags but only one sandwich wrapper from Last Call Bar and Grill. Put that wrapper in the box and that plastic cup from the Last Call Bar.”
“In all my detective years I have not done this. What is this going to prove?” Zack said.
Howard carefully selected his words. “It doesn’t make you a bad detective, Zack. I was trained to look at things from the obvious to the why.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Dave asked.
“From looking at the trash, there are a lot of burger bags. The Last Call Bar and Grill is within a few blocks of the hospital,” Howard said.
They all looked confused, and Andrew mumbled to Dave, “Why does that even matter?
Zack in frustration bawled out, “So what? We are looking for the best place to have lunch?” Andrew and Dave let out a chuckle. “What the hell, Howard?”
Crescent City Detective Page 3