No Justice: A Michael Sykora Novel

by Darcia Helle

  “If she does talk, all they’d have is a vague description of a guy that could match thousands of other guys.”

  “What about your car?” Nicki asked. “That’s pretty distinct.”

  “I didn’t use my car.”

  “I should’ve known that.”

  Michael stroked the dog, which was lying on the couch between them. He said, “She’s kind of nice to have around.”

  Nicki glanced down at Chelsea. She said, “You should get one.”

  “I’m not home enough.”

  “You could train it and take it with you.”

  “Talk about a dynamic duo,” Michael said with a laugh. “A toy poodle and an armed computer programmer. That would make a good comedy.”

  “The computer programmer is a very small part of who you are. There’s a huge part you keep hidden from everyone. I’ve glimpsed a tiny bit and someday I intend to uncover the whole thing.”

  “Yeah?” Michael said. “Well good luck with that.”

  “It’s not about luck, baby,” Nicki said with a wink.

  “You plan on seducing it out of me?”

  “Could be a fun process, don’t you think?”

  Thinking about Nicki seducing him was something Michael did not want to do. He had enough to deal with as it was. So he said, “This should be over by the weekend. I know you’re restless as hell and I don’t blame you a bit.”

  “There you go again,” Nicki said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You switch subjects when I talk about sex.”

  “Talking about sex won’t help get your freedom back.”

  “No, but it might help relax us both.” Nicki chuckled and added, “Well, the talking would stimulate. We’d have to act on the talking in order to relax.”

  Michael rubbed his hands over his eyes. If only he could go back to the casual sex thing with Nicki. He sure as hell wanted her bad enough. But casual wasn’t the type of sex he wanted.

  Nicki gave Michael a playful nudge and said, “Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll be serious now. You said the cops are watching Lott.”

  “Yeah,” Michael said.

  “So how are you going to get to him?”

  “I’ve got a few ideas. Nothing you need to worry about.”

  “Michael -”

  “I know. Stop treating you like a fragile, helpless female.”

  “Please,” Nicki said.

  “It’s really better if you don’t know.”

  “Better for who?”

  “Both of us,” Michael said quietly.

  They sat in silence for awhile. Michael was about to suggest take-out when Nicki turned to him, her brown eyes holding his, and asked, “When this is over, are you going to disappear from my life again?”

  Michael opened his mouth but the words all jumbled in his head and he couldn’t form a reply. He swallowed, cleared his throat, then forced some words from his mouth. “That was a shitty thing for me to do. I’m sorry. You deserve an explanation.”

  “I can live without the explanation,” Nicki said. “I’d just like to know what to expect this time.”

  Michael looked down at the dog, then back at Nicki. Her eyes remained fixed on his. He pushed a strand of hair from her face and she smiled at him. He said, “I was having a hard time. You know, with losing Christina and what was going on with you and me. I have no excuses. I was an ass.”

  “Would it have been different if I hadn’t been hooking?”

  “We wouldn’t have met. I wanted a professional so there’d be no emotional ties. Just sex.”

  “That wasn’t my question.”

  Michael had to smile at Nicki’s persistence. He said, “No. That had nothing to do with it.”

  “It changes your opinion of a person.”

  “Does what I do change your opinion of me?”

  Nicki’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “I find everything you do highly erotic.”

  Michael resisted the urge to pull her into his arms. He said, “To answer your original question, no, I won’t be disappearing from your life. I kind of missed your insanity.”

  “Gee thanks.”

  “Now let’s look at some menus. I’m starving.”

  Chapter 53

  “Pete’s dead,” Wiz said when he arrived back at Lotto’s apartment.

  “Fuck!” Lotto exclaimed. “How?”

  “Bullet to the head.”

  Lotto swiped his hand across a shelf holding Isabel’s figurines. They tumbled to the floor, smashing into little pieces. “So they are hits,” he muttered.

  “Looks that way,” Wiz said. “The talk I hear about The Ghost points to him.”

  “Pete was no fool. He could handle himself.”

  “I know.”

  “Who the hell is this guy?” Lotto asked. “And how could that little bitch afford contracts on all of us?

  “Don’t know,” Wiz said. “But it’s not looking good for you and me.”

  “We’ve got to find the son of a bitch.”

  “Tough to do when we don’t even know who the hell he is. Or where to look.”

  Lotto paced the room, muttering to himself. How had this gotten so out of hand? All because of one whore at a shelter. He turned back to Wiz and said, “Let’s go see Frankie. If anyone knows who this Ghost is, it’ll be him. And we need to pick up some merchandise anyway. Fucking crew dropping like flies around us but no way is Frankie going to hear excuses. We’ll have to get one of the wannabes at the bar to help us move it.”

  Lotto headed toward the door but Wiz remained where he was. “Something else you need to know,” Wiz said.

  “What more can there fucking be?”

  “You’ve got a tail outside. Plain clothes. Two of them. Driving a Taurus.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Frankie will blow our heads off if we show up with cops on our ass.”

  “No shit,” Lotto muttered. “But we don’t show up and there goes our business. And maybe our lives.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “You see anyone around back?”

  “Didn’t look.”

  “Well fucking look,” Lotto said. “We can go out through the alley, down to the next block. Grab a car off the street somewhere. Cops will be watching the Lincoln sitting by the curb all fucking night.”

  “The Ghost, or whoever the hell he is, will probably be watching it too. Might buy us some time.”

  “So fucking move.”

  ***

  Michael was three-quarters of the way through a greasy steak and cheese sub when his phone rang. He dug in his pockets, taking a minute to find the one that was ringing. Isaac’s number flashed on the caller ID. Michael flipped it open and answered around a mouthful of half-chewed food.

  “You just have Novocain or something?” Isaac asked.

  “Had a mouth full,” Michael replied after swallowing.

  “I don’t want to know what your mouth was full of,” Isaac said. “I’m in a shitty mood. Feel like having a beer with me?”

  In truth, Michael had been content to kick back on the couch and watch a movie with Nicki. But, for whatever reason, he didn’t want to share that with Isaac. Or Nicki, for that matter. So he said, “Sure. Give me a half hour.”

  When Michael arrived, Isaac was tossing darts with a 300-pound steamroller with arms as big as tree trunks. Isaac won the game and the big man clapped him on the back as a form of congratulations. While the gesture was friendly, the power in those arms almost knocked Isaac on the floor.

  Isaac and Michael took a seat at the bar. Isaac ordered a beer to go with his whiskey. Michael stuck with just the beer. “Bad day?” Michael asked.

  “This case I’m working has me on edge,” Isaac replied.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Everyone around this guy is dying. First his girlfriend. Now both his cousins.”

  “So the guy’s on a little murder spree?” Michael asked.

  “No. I’m 99-percent sure
he did his girlfriend. But not his cousins. Looks and feels different. Like those two were professional hits.”

  Michael averted his eyes. He looked down at his beer, then feigned interest in the people around them. Anything to avoid Isaac’s probing gaze. It was as if Isaac was asking him something without actually forming the words.

  “This the same guy you told me was involved with kiddie porn?” Michael asked.

  “One and the same. We haven’t been able to track down where that’s coming from, yet.”

  “Maybe that’s what’s getting them all killed.”

  “Could be.”

  “But you don’t think so.”

  Isaac shrugged. “The guy knows something. He’s not talking, though. No surprise there. I just don’t get the feeling it has anything to do with the porn. As sick as that is, it’s a business thing. And, this guy, he was blindsided by these murders. When business is going bad, you know it. You expect shit to happen. This he didn’t expect.”

  “So what do you think is going on?” Michael asked.

  “Wish I knew.” Isaac grabbed Michael’s eyes with his own and said, “But we’ve got guys all over it. Lott, the dude in the center of this mess, won’t be able to take a piss without our guys knowing about it.”

  Chapter 54

  Lotto and Wiz pulled up to Frankie’s place, which was actually an old apartment house. On paper, the apartments were leased to nonexistent tenants. In reality, two of the apartments were used for shooting the movies, one for offices and storage, and the other three were temporary housing for whichever girls and staff needed them.

  Men armed with automatic weapons kept watch throughout the building. One of them, Razor, met Lotto and Wiz at the side door. Razor had gotten his name by slicing up two men who’d tried to break into the building one night. No shots had been fired. No attention had been drawn to the place. Razor was good, and quick, with a blade.

  “What’s with the Honda?” Razor asked, motioning to the car Lotto and Wiz had gotten out of.

  “Long story,” Lotto said. “Lincoln’s out of commission for awhile.”

  Razor nodded, then said, “Weapons.”

  Familiar with the routine, Lotto and Wiz placed their weapons in a crate by the door. A long-haired guy Lotto didn’t know stepped close and patted them down. While Lotto understood the procedure, it pissed him off. He’d been dealing with Frankie for years and shouldn’t have to put up with this shit anymore.

  The long-haired guy gave a nod to Razor, who stepped aside allowing Lotto and Wiz to pass. “Frankie’s in his office,” Razor said.

  Lotto and Wiz walked up to the second floor apartment. Another man with arms so large he was barely able to fold them in front of his enormous chest stood outside the door. In all the time that Lotto had known Frankie, this mammoth of a man had always been around. The guy never spoke more than necessary, never smiled, and, as far as Lotto knew, didn’t have a name. They called him Hulk.

  “Frankie inside?” Lotto asked.

  The guy narrowed his eyes at both Lotto and Wiz as if he’d never seen them before. He said, “Wait,” then spoke into his Walkie-Talkie. After getting the okay from Frankie, the big man pushed the door open and glared at Lotto and Wiz until they disappeared inside.

  From the moment they walked in the door, Lotto could tell something was up. Frankie watched them through hooded eyes, his expression serious and his body still. Lotto thought about the big man outside the door and Razor downstairs. This would not be the end he’d write for himself.

  “Lotto,” Frankie said. “My condolences.”

  Lotto nodded. He said nothing, waiting to see how Frankie would play this.

  “I hear you’ve got a tail,” Frankie said.

  “Easy enough to lose,” Lotto replied.

  “You’d better hope so. I don’t want to find out you led them here.”

  “Won’t happen.”

  “And the hits?” Frankie asked.

  Neither Lotto nor Wiz replied. What could they say? No doubt Frankie already had the same details they did. Maybe more.

  “I don’t need this shit coming down around me,” Frankie said. “You don’t need to be here.”

  “We’ve got a pickup to make,” Lotto said.

  “No merchandise. I ain’t taking that chance with the way things are around you. The money, though? You can still give me that. We’ll call it insurance.”

  Lotto glared at Frankie. The skinny little son of a bitch! Wiz stiffened beside him, no doubt feeling the same rage. Yet neither of them could react. Not if they wanted to live.

  “Sure Frankie,” Lotto said as calmly as possible. He handed over a wad of bills. “We’ll have this fixed real soon.”

  “Don’t come back until then,” Frankie said. “If you live through this, that is.”

  Lotto swallowed back his anger and asked, “Have you heard of The Ghost?”

  “Hasn’t everybody?”

  “Happen to know where we can find him?”

  Frankie smirked. “No one knows that.”

  “We think he’s the one who took out our guys.”

  “So I hear. The only way to find him is through another pro. Sean. Know him?”

  “No.”

  “Didn’t think so. He’s big money.”

  Lotto wanted to reach out and rip the smirk right off Frankie’s face. He swore to himself that when this was over he’d get back at Frankie. He’d find a way to make the prick pay for this treatment. For now he held his temper and said, “Know how I can contact this Sean?”

  That smirk remained in place as Frankie shrugged. “It’s possible. But it’ll cost you. Information ain’t free.”

  “How much?”

  “Five hundred.”

  Lotto held his hand out to Wiz. For a moment Wiz looked as if he’d refuse. The two men locked eyes and Lotto could feel the rage boiling in Wiz. But then Wiz pulled the cash from his pocket. He had $550. Frankie took it all and said, “The extra 50, that’s for wasting my time.”

  Frankie grabbed a scrap of paper from his marred desk. He scribbled a number and handed it to Lotto. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he said through his smirk.

  Chapter 55

  Michael left the bar at 7:30. Since he had to drive right past his father’s neighborhood, he decided to stop in. His father looked better, less pale. Or maybe it was because the blinds were closed and the light was softer. They spent a half-hour talking about everyday things, which was a pleasant distraction from the insanity currently surrounding his life.

  When his father went into the bathroom, Michael left a $100 bill on the kitchen counter. Suddenly his father had stopped asking for money or even wanting to accept it. Strange how at the same time Michael developed a need to give his father whatever he could.

  He arrived back home as the darkness swallowed the last of the day. Nicki sat on the floor in the living room sharing a bowl of Cheerios with the dog. The sight made Michael smile. He sat with them and told Nicki about his conversation with Isaac.

  “You think he knows about you?” Nicki asked.

  “No,” Michael replied. “I don’t see how he could.”

  “Weird how he’s feeding you this information. It’s like he wants to keep you safe.”

  “I know. Especially weird since Isaac isn’t normally given to sharing information about his cases like this.”

  “Maybe he’s really stressed,” Nicki said as she made the dog sit for a Cheerio. “And he needs to vent.”

  “That’s what he says.”

  “Odd timing.”

  “This entire mess has been odd.”

  “Have you given any more thought to letting me help you?” Nicki asked.

  “No.”

  “I bet we’d make a good team.”

  “No.”

  “If I was a guy you’d let me.”

  “If you were a guy you wouldn’t be sitting in my house wearing my t-shirt.”

  “Does it make you want me, baby?” Nicki ask
ed.

  Michael wanted to say yes. What he said was, “It’ll be over in a couple of days.”

  “Have you come up with a plan?”

  “Sort of.”

  “You could tell me about it,” Nicki said. “It helps to talk these things out.”

  “No.”

  “You’re such a stick in the mud.”

  Michael laughed. “How about we forget all this craziness for the rest of the night?”

  Nicki ran her fingers lightly along Michael’s bare thigh. “What do you suggest we do instead?”

  Endless sex sounded like a plan. “A movie and lots of junk food.”

  Nicki frowned and rolled her eyes. “Not exactly what I was thinking but it’ll do.”

  ***

  Wiz maneuvered the Honda through traffic while Lotto sputtered and swore in the passenger seat. How the hell could this have happened? Three of his men lost in less than a week. A hit dangling over his head. And now Frankie was treating him like dirt. Frankie! The fucking weasel. Forty years old and still doing teenagers. The man was a lowlife loser. Yet that loser had stripped him of his cash and his dignity in under five minutes.

  “He ain’t gonna get away with this,” Lotto muttered. At that moment he wasn’t sure which man he was referring to. The Ghost. Frankie. The hulk of a bodyguard. All of them. They’d all pay in the end.

  Wiz nodded his agreement. “You gonna call that number now? Sean?”

  “Not yet. I gotta unwind first. I’m about to fucking snap.”

  “Where to?”

  “Lennox Street.”

  Wiz cast him a sideways glance. “You sure?”

  “Just go where I tell you.”

  Twenty minutes later Wiz pulled into the parking lot of Club 52. He said, “You think the cops will track us here?”

  “They're probably still sitting outside my apartment watching your Lincoln leak oil.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Wiz glanced around the parking lot. “Frankie’s guys hang out here now and then,” he muttered.

  “Fuck ‘em,” Lotto said. “Let them report what we do to Frankie. You coming in?”

  “Frankie took all my cash.”

  Lotto fished in his pocket, pulling out a bunch of folded bills. “Asshole didn’t get it all,” he said as he handed Wiz a 50.

  The strip club was about as rundown as a building could get before crumbling to the ground. Inside a potent mixture of smoke, whiskey, perfume, and sex floated through the air. Wiz hung back by the door, scanning the place. Lotto took a seat by the stage and waited.