But last night, things were different. Kate had worked late at the hospital. He often asked her to resign and come live with him. She didn’t need the money with her parents living on Saint Charles Avenue and the owners of an insurance company dating back to the 1930s which her grandfather started. Her father’s family was wealthy, but the arranged marriage to her mother pushed their fortunes to the top of the list on the Who-Who’s of New Orleans, a status that got you invited to every elite party in town.
He’d met Kate Fontenot, an ER nurse, in the hospital after hitting his head on a steel beam when failing to duck at a construction site. As the owner of the high rise coming out of the ground and the soon-to-be tallest building in New Orleans, he chose not to wear a construction hat that day—something he would never do again.
His parents would have approved Roland dating Kate—especially with her being the daughter of such a prominent local family. His parents always put money above beauty and brains. It was their essential qualification in a woman for him to date. That was why he knew they would approve of Kate. She was intelligent, beautiful, and came from money—it was the making of true love and marriage in high society life.
As he settled on the couch, Roland’s phone beeped with a message from the Front Desk indicating someone was on their way up. That was one of the amenities the luxury building offered, along with a valet, underground parking, and package delivery to your door, including groceries. It wasn’t unusual for the doorman to call and say, “You have a guest coming up, sir,” and not provide a name.
Roland stood in the hallway, leaning against his open door, and waited for Kate to get off the elevator. He loved to watch her strut toward him, and she often gave the crossover leg walk like a supermodel. With one arm on her hip, she’d sway into his arms and give a hello kiss.
Roland’s smile broadened when he heard the elevator bell ding. He loved Nurse Kate, a pet name he called her in the bedroom or when he felt frisky. Their love was mutual, but he was the only one ready to commit to marriage. When marriage came up in discussions, Kate would use her fallback line—why ruin a great relationship with a ring.
His eyes quickly rounded wide when he saw four men dressed in dark suits, white shirts, and neckties get off the elevator. Surely, Kate is among them, he thought, and weaved to the side to get a better view. The men picked up the pace as his mind registered no sign of Kate. Then it raced with thoughts. Maybe this was a robbery? Kidnapping? A hit—they looked like gangsters. How could the doorman have let them up?
One man stepped faster than the others and reached in his pocket. Roland didn’t waste time and tried to close the door, but a large-sized shoe jammed between the door and frame and stopped the closure.
The man’s hand came around the door and flashed a badge. “Roland Rockford? FBI—you’re under arrest.”
CHAPTER 3
It had been three years since Kate Fontenot thought of Mario DeLuca, her one-time fiancée and love of her life. The breakup was one-sided, all-hers, and she never regretted the swift action taken to end the relationship. All she ever wanted to do was be a nurse and help people, never thinking her job could be life threatening because of who she was with.
As the girlfriend of a high-profile detective who put many drug dealers and straight-up bad guys behind bars—she never dreamed she’d be at risk. Her feelings—they deserved much worse than jail. All of them wanted Mario dead and made it vocal in open court in front of a judge at sentencing.
Mario promised Kate police work would never follow him home, and while he may have not talked about his day, the information appeared everywhere—on TV and in the newspaper. They all featured Mario walking some handcuffed gang-banger or high-profile drug dealer to jail. It was a regular occurrence she couldn’t escape.
At the Eighth District, Mario was at the highest level—Detective Third Grade. He oversaw a team on foot patrol and the homicide division. He couldn’t walk into a restaurant without being recognized. Many people, including some high-ranking politicians, shook Mario’s hand and gave a welcoming greeting whenever they saw him. Others glared with hatred in their eyes, wanting a chance to kill him or, better yet, cause him pain by killing his loved ones. When a well-planned attack at the hospital nearly took her life, that’s where Kate drew the line.
It was three years ago when a riot broke out at Central Lockup which sent more than twenty convicts to the emergency room. In the hospital, Kate had just become the lead trauma nurse. That was part of what made the attack so scary for her. How did anyone know she worked at the hospital and especially in the emergency room? Her new schedule had her coming to work later at night now, but a call at 9 A.M. required her to go to work within the next hour.
When the police bus arrived at the emergency entrance with a load of wounded prisoners, the hospital was in chaos. Convicts in shackles and handcuffs lined the hallways as Kate and two doctors evaluated the inmates and handpicked who would get treated first. It took a full team of doctors and nurses to stitch up the lacerations.
The attack against Kate was a dramatic attempt by the last inmate who managed to get her alone in an examination room. A shoulder injury required a correctional officer to unlock the prisoner’s handcuffs. Then the guard disappeared, which was part of the strategy later learned as the final blueprint to take out Kate.
While Kate worked on the inmate’s shoulder, he took the opportunity to leap forward and plant his filed sharpened teeth into her neck. He came away with a chunk of flesh and smiled with a bloody mouth as he watched her bleed out on the floor.
“Where’s your cop friend now?” he shouted, spitting blood and pieces of skin at her.
It only took seconds for the attack to occur and less for help to arrive. The inmate was shackled and escorted out of the room. Kate’s luck was with her that day—she was in a hospital and steps away from an operating room where doctors quickly save her life. But the event had been the final straw. Kate left Mario and never looked back.
Chapter 4
Mario DeLuca headed up the most prominent foot patrol officers and detective division in the city of New Orleans. They purposely converted a building smack in the middle of the French Quarter to protect the town’s most valuable commodity—tourists, merchants, and the unique architecture. The Eighth District stretched beyond the French Quarter into some rough neighborhoods.
Every morning, Mario sat at the head of a conference table with his top detectives and read updates from the night before. He was a numbers guy. He didn’t care how the case got closed, just as long as it showed on the record as solved. All the Chief of Police, Mayor, and the City Council wanted to know was that the crime rate for New Orleans was down. How Mario achieved this in the city’s most popular tourist area—they didn’t care. As long as crime was down, they were happy.
Mario’s meeting this morning was interrupted by the desk sergeant who sat at a podium downstairs at the entrance to the station. No one got in without the approval of the desk sergeant.
“Excuse me, Captain,” the man said, leaning into Mario’s ear.
It wasn’t uncommon for Mario to get interrupted during a morning briefing. He raised an eyebrow, looked out at the detectives, and asked them to give him a moment.
“What do you have?” Mario whispered to the police sergeant standing at his side.
“Sir, a lady is waiting. She said it’s important.”
It wasn’t the type of interruption Mario expected and he shot the officer a look. “Did she say what it’s about?”
“No, sir.” He looked at the name written on a piece of paper. “Her name is Kate Fontenot.”
Mario’s spine straightened. The Fontenot name was common in Louisiana, especially New Orleans. Could this be the same Kate he once knew and loved? His eyes did a funny roll with a head cock to one side. “Good looking, long blonde hair?”
“She’s blonde and beautiful, but her hair is short,” the sergeant said.
Mario stood and excused himself. With a s
light skip in his step, he slid down the one and a half flight of stairs to the lobby. His sergeant, at his heels, rushed behind him. From a distance, Mario saw Kate—his one-time fiancée.
“Better cancel my briefing with the detectives,” Mario said to the sergeant. “For her to be here, someone must have died in the family.”
He greeted Kate with a hug and got a return squeeze around his shoulders and a kiss on the cheek.
“Who died?”
She smiled. “No one died.”
“It’s been how many years?”
“I know, Mario, I only look you up when I have a problem.” She frowned, knowing it was true.
After their breakup, Kate ran into Mario in court where she was disputing a parking ticket. That was Kate. If she felt unjustly charged, she’d fight not to reduce the fine but because she did nothing wrong. Mario came to her rescue without being asked and got the judge to drop the ticket charge. The judge was happy to do so to move on with more serious offenders.
Later, Kate called on him for access to Gallier Hall, the historic building on Saint Charles Avenue. It was the hot spot for Mardi Gras parades to stop and view the King and Queen toast the city’s mayor and officials. Mario came to the rescue again and arranged with the office guarding the entrance to allow her and two friends into the grandstands. Another favor Mario would have to extend to a fellow officer who penciled their names in as having reservations for the highly sought-out seats and only available through the mayor’s office.
Mario did a side-glance at Kate so that he wasn’t obvious. Then he gave an intense look, not caring if she saw him. “Kate, I love your short hair.”
She gave a flirty smile and rubbed her hands through the back, then fluffed her hair back in place. “I like it—easy upkeep.”
Mario’s eyes didn’t leave her, and with one arm, he directed her to a room mainly used for questioning suspects. They sat across from each other at the table as Mario motioned his hand at the corner ceiling’s surveillance camera that monitored the entire room with a wide lens. The person in charge got the message, and the red light indicating the camera was operating soon went dark.
Mario reached across the table and held Kate’s hands. “So, what brings you here?”
She gently pulled back. The last thing she wanted was for Mario to think her visit was personal. She knew Mario had never given up on her, but her feelings for him departed years earlier.
“Mario, you know it’s hard for me to come and ask for help.” She gave a deep, long sigh. “I have no choice—Roland is in jail.”
Mario kept up with the latest gossip and knew she’d been dating the richest bachelor in town, but he chose to play as if he didn’t know.
“Roland Rockford, whose family name is on every major building in town?”
She exhaled. “Yes, Mario—I’m sure you knew I’ve been dating him.”
Mario sat deadpan and motionless. He knew how to make a lie convincing.
“Mario! You have a pulse on everything that happens in this town. I know one of your spies lets you know every time we check into the Fairmont Hotel.”
He sat, studied her, but couldn’t resist and showed his hand. “Yeah, that kind of bugged me. I couldn’t understand why a guy who lives blocks away from his multi-million dollar condo, with a view of the city no one has, would check into a hotel?”
Kate stood, hands resting on the table, and leaned into Mario’s face. “You just reminded me why I questioned myself asking for your help.”
“Kate, Kate,” he said as she walked to the door. “It’s locked from the outside. Please, sit—I’m sorry. I’m out of line. How can I help you?”
Mario called for two bottles of water and waited. Once an officer delivered the water, he apologized again, and this time, without taking her hand, he said, “How can I help?”
There wasn’t much Kate could tell. She received a call from Roland in the early morning. He chose her first, knowing she’d answer the phone at any time. Royce Franklin, his attorney, would probably have his cell phone off that early.
It was a quick conversation between Kate and Roland. His arrest was puzzling and something he couldn’t explain nor totally understand. Kate was to call his attorney at 7 A.M. when he’d usually turn his phone back on. She tried to ask Roland questions, but he talked over her. His only reply was to tell the attorney he was held at Central Lockup.
Kate did her part and called Royce. While she was concerned he wouldn’t recognize Kate’s number, he picked up quickly thereby dissipating her worry. He said nothing to defend or accuse Roland and said he’d call her back when he learned more about the arrest.
She patiently waited. Two hours later, Royce finally called, giving her some clarity on Roland’s arrest. She understood the charges against him, but it hadn’t penetrated, or maybe she didn’t want to believe what she heard.
One thing that came through loud and clear was the judge’s remarks. Roland had the means to arrange bail—any amount— but the judge made it clear, based on the charges, there was no bail set.
Kate’s anxiety escalated when Royce said he couldn’t help Roland, but recommended Eli Winston—a senior partner of a criminal law firm specializing in sex trafficking.
Chapter 5
It took some time for the news to sink in as Mario walked back to the police station after escorting a shaken Kate to her car. The desk sergeant gave Mario a stare when he returned. There was no need for him to say anything, the eye rolling and snicker on his face spoke volumes.
“Way to go, Boss!” a voice shouted from across the room, then a round of applause rang out. It was the usual child’s play from everyone when a good-looking woman came into the precinct.
“What? Are we in high school?” Mario said, heading for the stairway.
Another officer passed. “Funny, we get hookers in here day and night. You never walk them to their cars.”
“Yeah! Maybe because they’re HOOKERS!” Mario shouted. Standing on the third step, he looked out over the desks. “Everyone get back to work. Kate and I are long over each other.” He said it but knew it was only her that had moved on—he still burned a torch for her.
In the three years since their breakup, Mario had yet to find a woman to replace Kate and had given up trying. He and Margaret Dyson had dated off and on for the last year, but he couldn’t see himself marrying a professional poker player. Her true love was intensely sitting at a poker table for hours at a time. Occasional dinner and sex with Mario was a time filler for the next big game that started after midnight.
Mario returned to his office to find Howard Blitz standing at the window looking down at Royal Street’s tourists. Howard was his most trusted friend and partner. They worked together on high-profile cases dished out by Chief Gretchen Parks. Usually they were investigations that involved politicians, big businesses, or wealthy members of the community (the type of people that could usually buy their way out of trouble). She’d have Mario and Howard narrow things down to nothing less than one hundred percent certainty before she’d make a fool of herself and order an arrest without enough details to prosecute.
Mario suggested Howard have a seat for what he had to say might take some time to explain. Howard sat across from the desk and quickly pointed out he was up to his eyeballs in luxury car thefts in the city and didn’t have time for another case.
Mario assured him he’d want to hear this out and hooked him with one name—Kate. Then he detailed everything he knew. None of it made sense to have such a prudent businessman and pillar of the community involved in sex trafficking.
Howard reminded him of the case they broke a few years back that extended from the west coast to New Orleans. Chief Parks’s niece was spotted in Las Vegas by her mother some twelve years after her daughter went missing. Mario and Howard, already in Las Vegas for a convention, got the Chief’s order to check it out. A big-time movie producer had sold his step-daughter to secure the funding for his next project. The case took some time to sol
ve, and they ran back and forth from Los Angeles to New Orleans—never letting law and protocol stand in their way of justice.
Howard wrinkled his face and gave a shake of his head. “Do we have the time for another drawn-out case?”
Mario shot him a look. “It’s Kate. We have to help her.”
They had to start someplace, so Mario reached out to the attorney Kate called earlier that morning.
Royce Franklin was a family attorney who had a list of wealthy clients in the city and it was his job to keep their name out of the newspapers, which usually involved a visit to the journalists and persuading them not to write the story. Mario didn’t like such tactics but couldn’t control an attorney who undermined the law to get his way.
Mario bypassed talking to Royce and went directly to the law firm recommended—Winston and Winston, a well-known criminal law firm. The building was on Magazine Street. Oddly, the law firm occupied an entire floor of a high rise with the Rockford name stretched across the front entrance.
Mario asked for Eli Winston at the fancy receptionist desk in front of a waterfall streaming from what seemed to be the building’s top floor. The lady, dressed in a royal blue coat and a colorful scarf around her neck, could have passed for an international flight attendant. She directed them to the law firm of Winston and Winston on the fourteenth floor.
On a wall of the building directly in front of the elevator banks was Rockford in big gold letters. All the family buildings and retail centers were identified the same way. The name Rockford was in your face, making sure everyone knew the Rockford Family was the big dog in town.
On the fourteenth floor, the prestigious entry was unnecessary since most of the clients didn’t come to their office—most were in jail pending bail. A team of lawyers worked in the background, gathering information for prosecutors and judges to get criminals out on bail and a reduced sentence. Winston and Winston Law Firm was better known as if you have the money, they will make your freedom happen.
The Auction House Page 2