Mario switched ears with his phone. “What do you mean?”
“We closed down a drug problem and have eight prisoners in the hole, and I expect more arrests when I sort through this mess.”
“That’s good—”
“The bust went down clean except Felipe Cruz resisted and took a large bite out of Joey Savino’s shoulder. During the struggle, Felipe fell and hit his head on the edge of a steel table.”
“And,” Mario said as his eyes widened in anticipation.
“Felipe died this morning.”
“Well, Warden, I can’t say I’m sorry to hear. That’s one less scumbag the State of Louisiana doesn’t have to support for the next twenty or thirty years.”
“I just thought you should hear it from me,” Cam said.
“I appreciate your call, Warden,” Mario said, and he flipped the phone off. Walking in circles in the bedroom, through the living room, around the kitchen table and back to the bedroom, he shouted, “Yes!” Then flopped on the side of the bed with his hands on his face. “It’s over—it’s really over.”
Out of Mario’s life for good were Felipe, Dante, and even Marina. There were no living relatives other than Jacalyn Cruz, their mother, and Felipe’s daughter, Rebbeca, and neither of them were a threat to him. Even Pedro, who knew about Kate’s whereabouts in Paris, was now dead. Drug dealers always found a way to get themselves killed. If they would have kept a low profile and not harassed Mario and went after Kate, they would still be alive.
The phone rang again. He didn’t recognize the number. With his heart pumping
fast, there was no consideration for a nap. He answered the call.
“Detective—Lorenzo Savino.”
“Lorenzo, I’m having a great day—hope you are as well.”
“In fact, my nephew Joey called—he’s been transferred to the Warden’s Good
Old Boy group. Tells me he will be living large doing work around the main house. This Cameron Leblanc is a man of his word.”
“Yes, he is,” Mario said, and couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear.
“Mario, meet me at four this afternoon. Bring some of your friends. You know,
the ones that assist you with special assignments.”
“I understand.”
“Lakefront Marina, at West End four o’clock. Should be a nice cool day for a boat ride. I’m taking my yacht from Mandeville across the lake. You can’t miss it.”
“Sure, Lorenzo. I’d be happy to join you,” Mario said.
“Good, we have a few drinks and float around the lake for a while—a celebration
is in order.” Then the phone went dead.
Mario sat on the side of the bed. He thought long and hard what he might say or if he should make the call at all. He pressed one on speed dial. The phone screen lit with Kate’s name.
Being in Paris, he thought it would take time for the call to connect—it didn’t, and she answered on the third ring.
“Good evening, Mario,” Kate said.
He was surprised she called him by name. That was good news and meant she didn’t delete him from her address book.
“Hello, Kate,” he said. “What is it, about five p.m. your time?”
“No, six, getting ready to go to work. I have the late shift for two weeks.”
“I’m not going to keep you long. I just wanted to let you know that under separate circumstances the entire Cruz family has been killed. No more Felipe, Dante, even their sister Marina—all dead.”
“I guess thugs don’t have longevity.”
“I want you to know,” Mario said, and paused. “You’re totally safe now—I mean forever from any thugs.”
“That’s wonderful, Mario, but I believe I was very safe in Paris. Street punks aren’t coming across an ocean to settle a vendetta.”
“Kate, as it turns out they weren’t just street criminals. These guys were bad people, drug dealer bad.”
“Mario, come on. I’m almost five thousand miles from New Orleans, do you really think I was in danger?” Kate said with disbelief.
Mario rethought what he wanted to say. It was best for her to think her world in Paris was a beautiful and safe place. “No, I just wanted to call and give you the news of their death,” Mario said. “After all you have been through.”
“I hope they died a horrible death for what they did to me and all they put us both through.” Kate paused. “Mario, I have to be at work in an hour and if you think New Orleans traffic is bad, traffic in Paris is crazy,” she said in a way that portrayed she was at peace and had started a new life.
“You think you would ever come back to New Orleans?” Mario asked.
“Maybe to visit. I love it here. Mario, I have to go.”
“Kate, it’s been nice talking to you,” Mario said, and flipped his phone closed.
Mario was to meet Howard downtown before the press conference, and it was way early. A phone call to Howard and he was ready and up for breakfast. Meeting Mario at a restaurant off Carrollton Avenue, they sat quietly while the waitress took their orders. She poured them both coffee and went to the kitchen and placed their order.
“What happened?” Mario said.
“Everything was going to plan. Pedro called Dante, not willingly, but he called. I delivered Pedro to Dante’s front porch. He came out with two guys and his sister. I let Pedro out the car and told Dante this was a truce. His soldier returned alive, and you would make sure his drug business was protected.”
“Did he buy it?” Mario said.
“He was thinking about it, then a jacked-up Cadillac came behind us, and they started shooting at Dante. I pulled the limousine out fast, made the corner on two wheels. Big Gabe said the Cadillac was another gang’s car, might be a turf war.”
“A late-model Cadillac? What color?”
Howard paused. “It was dark—we couldn’t tell.”
“Wow, that was a hell of a turn of events. The plan was to drop him off. SWAT was right behind you, and I’m sure Dante would have resisted. SWAT would have taken them out,” Mario said, taking a sip of coffee but not moving his eyes off Howard.
“I know the plan, but what if Dante didn’t resist and let the cops cuff him? Then his fancy lawyer cuts a deal, and he walked. The whole crew would be after you, Kate, your families,” Howard said without pausing. “The way I see it, a thank you is in order to whoever took those scum of the earth assholes out.”
Mario chuckled. “It gets better.”
“How’s that?” Howard said.
“Felipe was killed in prison this morning,” Mario said.
Howard smiled. “At the race track, we call that a Tri-Factor—Dante, Marina, and Felipe out of your life for good. Mario, this is perfect.”
“I know, it just hasn’t totally sunk in yet.” They ate breakfast, and Mario invited Howard to the lake for the afternoon boat ride. He agreed to pick up everyone in the limousine. With a firm handshake and a direct look in Howard’s eye, Mario said, “Thanks for all your help.”
Howard grinned. “It’s all in a day’s work, my friend.”
Friday—11:45 a.m.
At police headquarters Mario sat next to two State Police officials in a chair. The night cleaning crew did an excellent job converting the training room to a clean and almost professional area for the chief and mayor to hold a press conference. This was when the top brass performed at their best, taking credit for the arrest and take-down of criminals that they had nothing to do with and usually didn’t know about the mission until it was completed. Truman sat in an empty seat next to Mario as people in the room ended their chatting, anticipating the press conference was about to begin.
“Have you ever seen so many mucky mucks in one room?” Truman whispered.
Mario looked around. “Everybody wants a piece of this story.”
Truman leaned into Mario. “What the hell is ATF and DEA here for?”
“I can understand DEA because we took down a lot of drugs, but Alcohol
, Tobacco, and Firearms? Were they bootlegging too?” Truman said with a chuckle. “You must have taken down some bad dudes. See that guy over there?” Truman nodded.
“Blue suit?” Mario said.
“No, brown suit next to him.”
“What about him?”
“That is Alexander Taylor, they call him Lex. Was with the FBI now heads up DEA.”
Mario gave a look his way, but Lex turned away. “How do you know him?”
“I was up in Arlington, Virgina one day for a court hearing to expedite a prisoner back to New Orleans. He was outside the courtroom, and I was introduced to him. He is high up the chain—DEA headquarters are in Arlington,” Truman said.
“No shit, and I bet the FBI is in Washington, D.C.” Mario grinned. “Smartass.”
“Well, I didn’t know you knew where the DEA was housed. I didn’t know until I went to Arlington,” Truman said.
Friday—NOON
Edgar Waters took to the microphone. “Please look at the TV screens on the wall. We will begin with a press conference from Calabar State Prison by Warden Cameron Leblanc. Unfortunately, we had a feed problem, and the warden has started his press conference.”
Warden LeBlanc stood at a microphone in his dress blues looking sharp. “In closing I want the people of Louisiana to know we are here to serve you and protect you. Criminal responsibility doesn’t stop when people are incarcerated but is a continued effort by all law enforcement to see that the law at the State and Federal levels are upheld. As long as I’m the warden, we will continue to shut down drugs from coming in my prison. I will take just a few questions.”
“Warden Leblanc, how were the drugs discovered?” a reporter asked.
“It was a month-long investigation by a few of my officers,” Cam said very proudly.
“Warden Leblanc?” Another reporter shouted. “Is it true during the drug bust an inmate was killed?”
“Yes, but it was a self-inflicted accident,” Cam said. “Next question.”
Another reporter stood and asked, “The inmate that died, has his name been released?”
Cam paused. He couldn’t dodge the question any longer and said, “ Felipe Cruz.”
Talking could be heard from the back of the room. Mario didn’t turn but gave a side look at Lex Taylor’s way. Lex returned the eye contact with a pokerfaced look.
“Sir, how did the drugs get into the prison?” A reporter stood and asked.
“That is still under investigation—I can’t answer that at this time,” Cam said, putting his hands up in the air. “Thank you for coming. That’s all I have today.”
“As a real politician would do—when you don’t have the answer, it’s time to go,” Mario said to Truman.
Truman nodded his head. “He’s been in charge of that prison for over twenty years—he’s got more bullshit than the inmates. Some prisoner possibly came forward and squealed about the drugs for a lesser sentence.”
“You never know,” Mario said.
Gilbert James, the DA; Bill Johnson, the SWAT Commander; and Gretchen Parks stood behind Edgar Waters, the Police Chief at the center of the room.
“Good afternoon,” Edgar said. “I have little details I can share, as we are still gathering information for this ongoing investigation. This morning a raid supported by SWAT, Chief Parks, and myself raided a distribution warehouse and a drug flophouse. Law enforcement agencies followed up on information that several violent suspects were in the area packaging cocaine for sale on the street. The suspects were reported to be armed and dangerous. A total of twelve people have been arrested, and we expect more as we dig into this cocaine ring.”
“Chief, I understand five people were killed?” a news radio reporter asked.
“That is correct. Five people are dead. A witness saw a late-model Cadillac pull up right before the police arrived and in an apparent gang war five people were killed.” Edgar thought for a second. “I know two of the victims were Marina and Dante Cruz.”
The whispering could be heard from the back of the room interrupting the conference for a minute then Edgar got control, asking everyone to quiet down. “That’s all I have for now,” he said, and Edgar stepped back from the microphone.
Mario was left out of the press conference, and that was okay with him. A few fellow workers knew about his involvement and gave smiles and whispered “Good job” as they passed.
From the back of the room came Olivia, the one person who knew how much Mario was not only involved, but how he broke the case and spearheaded the entire operation. “They didn’t have to praise you or give a standing ovation, but a few words of simple thank you would have been in order,” she said.
“Olivia, I was just doing my job. That’s what I get paid for,” Mario said.
“Bullshit, and you know it. They blow their own horn every chance they get but can’t dare give credit where credit is due.”
“Bullshit? Such language from a pretty—” Mario said, stopping in mid-sentence. He couldn’t believe the words had come out of his mouth.
“Mario, your face is red as a beet, go ahead and finish the sentence,” Olivia said, staring into his eyes, standing only an inch or two shorter than Mario’s height of six feet.
“Such language from a pretty little thing like you,” he said.
“Except I’m not little, I’m as tall as you,” she said, getting closer to his face. “With heels on, I’ll be several inches taller—I bet you’ll like that.”
“Is that some kind of foreplay?” Mario said, now undoubtedly awkward and blushing.
“Take it however you want. Congratulations, Detective,” she said, and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
Mario reached for her arm, pulling her to him and looking around the room. Most had left, and others were engaged in their own conversations. “Would you like to join me for a boat ride this evening?”
“You mean a date?”
“No—well. Like two friends going for cocktails on a yacht.”
“Are you going to pick me up?”
“Well, of course.”
“Mario, that’s called a date,” she said with a smile. “Yes, I’d love to go.”
“Good, I’ll need your address. I’ll pick you up at five,” Mario said. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Sound like a date,” Olivia said, and walked away.
Mario made his way back to his cubicle and found Truman. They discussed Dante’s murder, and the word from Gang Control and all the city leaders was that whoever drove the late-model Cadillac did the city a favor. They had very little to go on and had no plans to pursue who wiped out five thugs, including the leader of the Cornerview Gang. Their conversation was cut short by a phone call summoning Mario to the chief’s office. Truman declined the afternoon boat ride. He told Mario it wasn’t a good idea for any of them to be seen with New Orleans Kingpin Lorenzo Savino, especially socializing on a yacht.
“You’ll miss a great boat ride and free cocktails,” Mario said. “You know how you like free stuff.”
Truman nodded his head like he was reconsidering. “I’ll pass, but you better be packing. Sitting in the middle of Lake Pontchartrain on a yacht full of gangsters, you better have your vest on and firepower—maybe a bazooka.”
Mario opened his coat and flashed his Glock. “This is all the weapon I need. It’s a social visit—we’re not arresting anyone.”
“Maybe not today,” Truman said.
Mario gave a chuckle. “Okay, partner,” he said as he took to the stairway and headed to the chief's office on the third floor.
“Go right in, Detective. She is expecting you,” Gretchen’s secretary said as he made it through the maze of desks leading to the chief’s door.
In the office, Gretchen sat behind her desk, and two men were sitting across from her. From the back of their heads, Mario knew one man but couldn’t place the other.
“There’s my star detective,” the chief said. “Mario, this is DEA Agent Bobby Berry.”
&nbs
p; “Agent Berry,” Mario said, shaking his hand.
“And of course you know DEA Commander Alexander Taylor,” she said.
“Lex, happy to see you,” Mario said, shaking his hand.
This was one of the few times Mario had seen the chief smiling and cheerful in the presence of the top of the law enforcement chain like a DEA Commander. “Mario, good job and a great plan. The Cruz thugs are out of our life. The warden is happy, and the mayor is walking around like he just won his third term.”
“Well, I can’t take credit for Felipe going all crazy on the warden and banging his head on the side of a steel table. Nor can I take credit for a gang taking out the rest of the Cruz family before SWAT arrived.”
Lex stood up. “Doesn’t matter how things went down. My report reflects that under your command, in less than fifteen minutes you put an end to the Cornerview Gang, halted a cocaine chop house, distribution of cocaine, and found an outflow of drugs in a wholesale food delivery system. Today you’re the star. Tomorrow you might be on the shit list again, but today, my friend, you’re a star.” Lex laughed. “Congratulations, Detective. Good job.”
Mario accepted the praise, but deep down he owed a lot of the success to his team with the police department and those that were barely law-abiding citizens: Howard and Big Gabe.
“Chief, could Agent Berry and I have a word with Mario?” Lex Taylor said.
“Sure, I’ll step outside,” Chief Gretchen said as she walked to the door and closed it behind her. It was evident she was pissed and showed a little discomfort to be asked to leave her own office in front of one of her detectives, but she was outranked. It was how the Feds worked when they came to town—a take over attitude showing their authority.
Friday—4:00 p.m.
Howard picked up Mario at his condo and had the limousine minibar fully stocked like he was ushering a rock star around town for the night. Olivia lived in a row house subdivision built in the 1950s at the entrance of City Park, in an area that was once bright little homes filled with first-time buyers until their families got too big for the house. Like most cities, it had its peak and downturn, and now it was on its way back. With professional people moving in—usually, single individuals or couples recently married—it was a cycle that was starting all over again. The homes were nicely painted, had flower gardens, and some even used retro lawn furniture, adding a little buzz to the neighborhood.
Crescent City Detective Page 39