Kill Crime: A Jeff Case Novel-Stunning crime thriller full of twists with an unpredictable ending. Book 1

by Mike Slavin

  “Great!”

  “I need you to come in for an interview. Could you meet me today at two-thirty?” Case asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Ronnie said.

  Case gave Ronnie the address of a McDonald’s a long way from Ronnie’s house, but close to Case’s motel, hoping to limit the number of people who might recognize Ronnie. He’d picked two-thirty because all restaurants slowed down at midafternoon. He’d need a disguise as a precaution, in case anyone decided to go over camera footage after Ronnie’s death.

  Back in Houston, Case had bought everything he’d need for a good disguise. But now, after putting on everything, including his makeup and a bushy mustache, he was amazed he didn’t recognize himself in the mirror. He’d gone from a good-looking, sharply dressed man in his thirties to a complete stranger. In the mirror was a balding man in his forties with a comb-over, generic and ill-fitting clothes, a potbelly, and brown eyes. Even his teeth had been changed from near-perfect and white to some imperfection and tinges of yellow. The man in the mirror was a perfect middle-aged businessman. He wasn’t Jeff Case. Even up close, a friend would never recognize him.

  An hour later, Case went to the McDonald’s and took a seat. He was fifteen minutes early. He brought some papers to look official and waited. He was prepared. He’d rented a cheap motel room for cash with a fake ID. Ready in his room was the chair he needed for Ronnie. Case had bought it at a second-hand furniture store. It was sturdy, with arms and a back. He worried about how to hold Ronnie steady, but duct taping him to the chair should work. It would give Case a way to inject Ronnie with the sux.

  After Ronnie’s death, Case would drive to McDonald’s, pick up Ronnie’s car, and drive it to the motel. He’d put Ronnie in the car and drive to the movie theater Ronnie liked to go to. He’d slide Ronnie behind the steering wheel, get out of the car in his disguise, and walk away. When Ronnie was found, it would be just a young man dying too early from a heart attack.

  He lowered his head slightly, shut his eyes for a few seconds, and prayed.

  God, I’ve always lived an honorable life. I don’t know why you took my wife and son early, but they didn’t deserve to die. Give me the strength and guidance to make the right decision today. Amen.

  When Case opened his eyes, Ronnie walked into the McDonald’s. He wore a white shirt with a dark blue tie and blue jeans. He looked like a kid dressing up for an interview. Case waved at Ronnie. With a smile, the kid hurried toward Case.

  Case stood up and extended his hand to the young man. Ronnie had a firm handshake, as did Case.

  He was there. He was part of my family being murdered. Without thinking, Case nodded a couple of times in agreement with his own thoughts.

  “Doug Bellows,” Case said. “You must be Ronnie. Nice to meet you.”

  Case had his drink and an empty cup on the table so Ronnie could take a drink. That would be where the GHB—the so-called date rape drug—would go. He pictured Ronnie with his eyes wide open in a death stare. At the same time, Case was self-conscious about his disguise. He feared the mustache would come undone and hang on his lip. He wondered if Ronnie noticed he kept smoothing his mustache with one hand like a villain in a movie.

  “What are your goals in life?” Case asked.

  “I really want to finish college,” Ronnie said. “I’ll be the first one in my family. I plan to do one more year of community college before transferring to the University of Missouri to get a BS in criminology.” Case noticed Ronnie’s knee bouncing up and down and beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead.

  Everything he says is probably bullshit!

  But Case didn’t pause his thoughts for a moment. “Why criminology?”

  “I live in a rough neighborhood,” Ronnie said. “All day, I see people being scared. I also see young men and women getting into crime because they don’t have any options. I want to be a protector.”

  And solve world hunger. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit!

  Case let Ronnie keep talking, even though he didn’t want to listen in case the boy swayed him toward mercy. Ronnie started rubbing his hands together. Case clenched his left hand into a fist under the table. He could feel his pulse pounding in his chest and his neck.

  What an odd situation. This kid, unaware, is interviewing to save his own life.

  When Ronnie stopped talking, Case asked him another question to keep him going.

  “Protector, huh? Wouldn’t you have a bigger impact if you worked in social services?” Case said.

  “Yes, sir. But only if I were in a position to make a real difference. Law enforcement is only the first step. I want to get a law degree or go into politics.”

  Case was surprised the kid was so articulate. He hated that he was starting to be impressed. Part of Case wanted to listen to Ronnie with an open mind, but not all of him.

  You’re still dying today, Ronnie.

  “Very ambitious. Have you ever been tempted to cross the line, to do something illegal to help yourself or your family?” Case asked.

  Ronnie was suddenly off his game. He hesitated and then said, “No, sir. I would never do anything illegal.”

  Case didn’t say anything right away. He gave Ronnie a blank stare, long enough to not feel natural. Case’s mind was racing.

  Fucking liar! You killed my family!

  “Tell me more about yourself,” Case said.

  Then Ronnie started talking again, about his family, his friends, and his dreams.

  Case had two choices. He had to either kill Ronnie or let him go. Case’s breathing picked up and his hands began to sweat. He wanted to stick to his decision to kill Ronnie. It was all set and only right that Ronnie should die.

  Isn’t it?

  Ronnie kept talking.

  Goddamn, shut the fuck up!

  Then a third choice dawned on Case. He could let Ronnie go, but kill him in the future if he felt it was justified. If he killed him a year or two from now, it would be even harder to connect Krusty’s death to Ronnie’s.

  Case’s fist relaxed. He felt like a weight had been lifted. He pictured a smiling Becky holding Little Jeff. He smiled and was surprised when Ronnie smiled back.

  This is the right choice, Case imagined her telling him.

  Case glanced at his watch. Had they really been talking for nearly an hour? “Well, Ronnie, I enjoyed our meeting,” Case said. “You have no idea how well you did.”

  Ronnie stood up and shook Case’s hand. “Thank you, sir. I really hope you’ll give me a chance. You won’t be sorry,” he said.

  “We’ll see. Someone will give you a call in a few days. I wish you lots of luck with all your plans. Don’t lose focus.”

  They left the restaurant together. Case planned to keep a close eye on Ronnie. With all his combat experience, Case knew nothing was ever truly black or white. The whole world was blurred in shades of grey. Case would make sure Ronnie got a job and see if he followed through on his plans, or if he’d just been talking bullshit.

  For now, Ronnie would live.

  49

  Houston

  August 11, 2018, Saturday

  Two weeks had passed since Case’s trip to Kansas City. Four months had passed since his wife and son had been murdered. It seemed like a lifetime, and it seemed like yesterday. Case sat in his pool with water up to his neck. He watched his two nieces, Olivia and Mia, playing in the water.

  He’d given their parents a day off to do some shopping while he took the girls to lunch. Their parents would be coming by later with supper, and they’d planned on watching a movie. Olivia had never again asked Case about being careful or finding the killers. All she or anyone knew was the killers were still unidentified. Case had always worried about Olivia after her rape, and now after losing her Aunt Becky. He wondered what she held deep in her soul and shared with no one. He wished he could take away her scars. But he had some comfort in watching her play with her sister, and in the fact that she had great parents and a therapist.

  Trish
had met Olivia and Mia for the first time that day. She’d come over after Case returned with the girls. She was inside fixing her famous frozen margaritas—two regular and two virgins for the girls.

  Case felt no romantic intentions toward Trish. He missed his wife and baby so much it hurt. It hurt badly—he could often cry if he let himself, but he held it back, always. He missed his friend and felt bad for Sandy too. It was tough.

  After Case collected the laptops from Trish, they never talked about Krusty or Ronnie. She did ask once if he’d seen that Krusty had overdosed. He told her he had. He didn’t elaborate and she never pressed him.

  It was a hot Houston day. Case wanted to zone out for a while, but he couldn’t do it. Relaxing in his pool always made him think of vacations. The smell of the chlorine, the cool water in his hair and around his body—the sensations transported him to another place.

  He remembered vacations with his wife in Hawaii, Las Vegas, and many other places. With his eyes shut, he saw how little Jeff’s tiny hands and feet would prune up if they held him in the water too long. How his constant smile would always put a smile on Jeff's face. In his mind’s eye, Case saw his wife drifting around the pool, her head just barely sticking out of the water. She swam over and blinked at him in the sunlight, a wide, mischievous grin on her face, ready to splash him.

  Keeping his eyes shut, Case could feel her dripping wet body lying across his, her soft breath as she whispered love into his ear.

  But his pool was empty.

  The repaired front door was visible through the open sliding back door. He remembered Larry being murdered right there. From Larry, his mind drifted back to Matt Baker, killed in Afghanistan.

  It must be pretty dangerous to be close to Jeffery Case.

  He felt good and bad that Krusty and Tony were dead. They had deserved to die, but he took no pleasure in hurting or killing anyone. He still felt like Pumpkin Head and Prego should die—if they were still alive. He felt good that he may never have to deal with them, but if he ever found them again, he had unfinished business.

  Right now, he was taking a breather. He didn’t want to go to work, as he was just too tired. The company could run itself for weeks at a time. It had been fun going to work when his wife had been involved in the business and imagining his son taking over someday, but that would never happen.

  They had just hit another well they were drilling, and it had proved to be a very large area of potential oil and production, to be drilled later. It would make his company sell at a premium.

  I’m selling it all. I’ll never have to worry about money. I’ll do whatever I want, whenever I want. I’ll call John at the Worldwide Oil & Gas Asset Clearing Company tomorrow. I’ll ask him to say nothing until I talk to the employees.

  They’d appraise the company and set up a virtual data room so potential buyers could evaluate the leases and wells Greenleaf Exploration owned. Case would make a call tomorrow and get the ball rolling.

  He was in no rush, but was definitely ready to let it go.

  Making the decision to sell was liberating, but there was another option. He could just step out of it and let Buster or someone else run it. He could go in tomorrow and work on a succession plan for handing over duties to people, then back himself out of the day-to-day operations. Out of the two options, he was leaning toward selling it. He’d call John, the broker, too.

  Maybe in a year or two, he’d start another company. Who knew? His options were unlimited.

  “Here you go.” Trish came out of the house carrying two margaritas, which she placed on the gray-patterned concrete patio by the pool. Case moved to the shallow end and sat on a step with half his body still in the water.

  Trish handed a margarita to Case as she sat on the edge of the pool, putting her feet on the first step. “I hope you like it.”

  Case sipped the margarita. “It’s great. You know, I just decided to sell my company.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “I’m done with any responsibility for now. I don’t want to have to go to work. To be honest, it reminds me too much of my wife. I may let Buster run it for a while, but I want to sell it all.”

  “What will you do?”

  “Maybe I’ll get a PI license.”

  Trish started laughing so hard, she snorted. She blushed and said, “Are you crazy?”

  “Maybe,” Case said, “but I do think I’ll get a bigger place on the edge of Houston, outside the city limits. Something with a lot of land on it. I want privacy and a place to operate from.”

  “You’re full of surprises,” she said. “And what do you mean, operate from?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll also probably play more poker, maybe some more tournaments. I guess I want to have fun and I want to do good in the world.”

  “I think you’re already doing some good, providing jobs and being aboveboard as a businessman,” Trish said. “If that isn’t doing enough good for you anymore, make a change. You just need to decide what you want to focus on.”

  “We’ll see. You know any realtors that might have what I’m looking for?”

  “I know a Sandra White who may be able to help you. She’s a realtor that handles big farm and ranch sales around Houston.”

  “Good. Get me her number when you can. I want to get a bigger place with lots of land. Maybe I’ll have a secret building where I can plan and store the things I might need.”

  “Like what?”

  “You know—trackers, burner phones, throwaway computers. I might even build myself a better gun collection and store a few things that may not be completely legal.”

  “Holy cow, what are you planning?”

  “I just want some space.”

  “Do I get an invite?”

  “Sure. I’d say you’re in the inner circle.”

  “Am I really?”

  “As much as anyone can be, for now. I’m not sure you really want to be all the way in the circle.”

  He was about to say more when his phone rang. He dried his hands and saw it was Jazz.

  “Thanks for calling me back,” Jazz snapped sarcastically. “I know how to find the author of Kill Crime.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You heard me.”

  “You said I was the author.”

  “Are you interested or not?”

  “Of course, but why come to me?” Case asked.

  “Because you have unlimited resources,” she said. “I might need those. And as you said, I figured you’d be interested.”

  “Okay, I’m interested. Now what?”

  “Nothing now. I’ll get back to you.” She hung up.

  Case was still discussing that brief conversation with Trish and enjoying his margarita while sitting in the pool when his phone rang again.

  The caller ID showed unknown. “Hello?”

  “Case, this is Ford.”

  “Agent Ragsdale. I never expected to hear from you again.”

  “It’ll be my ass if anyone finds out I called you.”

  “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “You know you fucked up a lot of work and assets that went into setting up Tony Testa. He’d essentially agreed to be an informant for us.”

  “So why are you calling me?”

  “You’re real proud of yourself, killing Testa, aren’t you?”

  “He’s dead?” Case said, smiling.

  “And a sniper rifle? Really? In Vegas? You got balls.”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “Well, the surprise is on you. He’s not dead.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Did you see him go down?” Ford asked.

  Case didn’t answer.

  “He’s badly injured, or so I’ve heard. You opened his forehead. I hear the bullet put a permanent crease in his skull. It gave him a concussion, too, but he survived.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Hard to keep something like that quiet. But he let everyone think he was
dead while he grabbed his family and some assets. Now he’s gone and taken off.”

  “Any idea where?”

  “Out of the country. We don’t know where.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Thought you’d like to know. And as odd as it sounds, I respect what you tried to do. Not to mention you saved my life and you seem like a good guy to know.”

  “Why do I get the feeling you told me so I’d find him for you?”

  “Maybe you have an active imagination.”

  “Yeah, right. And the two goons?”

  “What about them?”

  “I still owe them, too.”

  “Maybe later.”

  Epilogue

  Luna County, New Mexico

  The bank robbery was fully underway. Three deputies were already on the scene when Sheriff Gunner Latimer showed up. The sheriff, in his usual no-shit approach, asked the senior deputy, Sergeant Huff, “What’s happening?”

  “A passing patrol car saw a car backed up to the front of the bank with a driver wearing a mask,” Huff said.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “No, sir. The patrol car pulled in front and blocked the getaway car. As soon as he did, the driver jumped out and ran into the bank.”

  “Damn. Who was the officer?”

  “Anderson.”

  Deputy Anderson had squatted behind Sergeant Huff’s car on the other side of Huff. Anderson was new but was an NCO in the Army and had seen combat. He was the only hire the sheriff had made since taking office. All the other deputies had been hired by the old sheriff, or even before that. It was a mixed bag, and the sheriff planned to reshape his deputies. He had been elected on a ticket of cracking down on crime and he planned to do it.

  “Well, I’ll give Anderson credit—that was some quick thinking. But it might not have been the right decision. He trapped the robbers in the bank with hostages. Do we know how many people are in the bank?”

  “No, sir,” Huff answered. “Probably just the employees and a couple of people. There are only two cars in front of the bank besides the getaway car.”