The Auction House

by Vito Zuppardo

  Confident Julie wouldn’t run, Howard watched her get comfortable in the luxurious lifestyle she was used to living. A beautiful suite, room service, and a concierge ready to handle any wish, her only issue was she could soon be the hunted and not the hunter—it was a concern that was out of character for her.

  Before leaving, Howard had no choice but to direct a question Julie had sidestepped several times. Who or what was being held captive behind the locked rooms. These men paid a lot of money for the keys that would gain entry to their winning bid.

  “Julie? No bullshit, is it a product or people these men gained access to?” Howard asked, his eyes watching her movement. He knew her tells when lying.

  “You think we’d go through all this to move drugs?” she asked, her cutthroat attitude coming forward. “I’m not one hundred percent sure, but my guess is young women, men, maybe even boys. I don’t know what these freaks are into.”

  “Damn it, Julie!” he shouted. “You’ve crossed the line. They charged Roland with sex trafficking, so I’m sure your guess is correct.”

  “Sure, condemn me! You’ve killed heads of state,” she shouted back. “Took out the wife and children because they’re collateral damage—that’s okay?” She reinforced it was her best guess that the Rockford business was involved in sex trafficking. She just wasn’t sure.

  There wasn’t much Howard could say. He’d killed in the same manner she described and thought nothing of it—always claiming it was part of the job. An assassin becomes immune to torture and killing. They bury the horror of being at a dinner party having cocktails in a palace one moment, placing the drink down and following their mark to the restroom, killing him and destroying the weapon within seconds. Then returning to their drink before the ice melted and picking up on the conversation they left as if nothing happened.

  He slammed the door behind him and took the elevator down but not without gaining additional information from her first.

  Howard returned to the lobby and took a seat with Mario. Flipping through a notepad, he shared the details he got from Julie.

  “The bottom line, the scumbags that she flew in are here to win a bid and gain access to an apartment and pick up their prize,” Howard said, chewing on his lip.

  Mario’s eyes shifted around the room, watching anyone that approached the elevator. Howard assured him it wasn’t necessary. Julie wasn’t in jeopardy—yet. Howard learned there were three men on the flight that would receive the keys. The others were bodyguards for them and her brother the shill. He made sure the bid got to the correct price.

  Mario made it clear he wasn’t worried about Julie or her brother—it was Kate that concerned him. They agreed the keys were probably all distributed by now. None of the men were going back on the jet with Julie. She had said the plan was for each man to make their way out of the city with their prize-winning bid.

  “What about the brother?” Mario asked.

  Howard made a face. “It wasn’t until after they landed in New Orleans that Heinz instructed her to kill Jin—he’s the only one who has nothing to lose if he talked.”

  “Only the people whose hands are dirty are allowed to live,” Mario said.

  “A classic move,” Howard added.

  Mario scuffed his feet on the floor then stood. He started to talk, then stopped. Then paced a few steps and turned back to Howard. “I don’t know how this works—what’s the protocol in the assassin world?” Mario did a few more paces, and his hands flopped as he walked. “Does she send a picture, a body part—what’s the procedure?” His face burnt red and all but smoke came from his ears. He waited for a reply.

  Howard’s head slowly raised, and his eyes lifted. “Proof can be in many ways,” he said. He stood a bit taller. “Mario, for now, we get Julie out of this jam. Then we save Kate—hopefully, she’s not involved.”

  Across the way, the elevator bell rang, and seconds later, the shinny gold-colored doors opened. Out came Julie. With her purse tucked under her arm, she strolled to the front entrance. Howard quickly intercepted her.

  “What the hell, Julie?” he demanded, pulling her to the side.

  “Before I kill my brother—I’ll kill everyone involved,” she said. “Including Heinz, he might have to go regardless.”

  Howard gave a stern look. “It’s been tried before—didn’t work out for the aggressor.”

  “I know every detail of his compound and how to gain access,” she said. “I’m his most trusted go-to person.” She took a deep breath, and her head motioned up and down. “He must have known Jin is my brother.”

  “He’s testing you?” Howard asked. “Why.”

  “Control, it’s all about his control and your loyalty.” Julie’s eyes wondered and blinked at the same time. “I needed time to process things.” She opened her purse and unzipped an inside pouch, pulled a gun, and jammed a clip into position. Snapping a hook under the bag, a knife slid out; a long Stiletto knife banned in some states with its double edge blade—it was her weapon of choice. She tucked it in a pocket for easy access. “I need my phone.”

  Howard snapped the battery in the phone and handed it to her. “Welcome back.” He held her by the arm. “Mario and I can’t help if you get in trouble. There are too many eyes on us, and the Fed’s have you on their radar.”

  She kissed Howard on the cheek. “You know the drill,” she said with a smile. “When an assassin gets backed against a wall, and they are one hundred percent sure there is no way out, the last bullet in the chamber is reserved to take themselves out.”

  Chapter 18

  It took Mario a while to wrap his head around the seriousness of Julie’s dilemma. His main concern was still Kate and he was no closer to solving why the FBI had pictures of her with Roland at the auction house. He and Howard charted people in question on a corkboard in the conference room—much like a crime scene.

  The top name printed on a yellow stickie note was Roland Rockford, and under him was Kate Fontenot. Then a blue stickie note with Julie Wong’s name and Jin Wong below her.

  The detectives studied the board for a fair amount of time. Then Howard wrote on a yellow sheet Simon Kade’s name and stuck it under Kate’s. Mario wrote on the same colored sheet adding Jennifer Gray’s name.

  “There is something about this Jennifer woman,” Mario said. “She stopped bidding so Jin would win—with no authority to bid that high.” The second note in Jennifer’s name went under another list, the auction house, as well as everyone who participated in the so-called scam.

  Howard made a third list on the board. Across the top, in white notes, he wrote, KEYS in caps. “Who are the people behind the doors that the keys unlock?”

  The detectives had a problem in completely trusting Julie. Her credibility in dishing out information wasn’t always honorable—she was an assassin first, anything else took a backseat to her end goal. She would betray anyone for her benefit—even her closest friend Howard if necessary. They weren’t sure if Jin was all that pure as the driven snow, as Julie indicated. The last thing Howard wanted was to protect Jin if he was neck high into peddling humans.

  They decided to work all angles and brought in Avery Moreau and Margaret Dyson. Avery would gain information on any arrests of the questioned people, and Margaret could get close to Jin, or Never, whatever was best to call him at the time.

  Margaret, through her close ties with the poker room, got a lead on Jin. He called to reserve a seat at a game that was starting within the hour. He made it clear he was leaving town in a few hours and would take a shot at running the table. Margaret booked the last seat in the game, and Mario arranged a motorcycle cop to escort her from her home to the casino. It was a strange request for a cop to receive, but one never questions an order sent down from a top-rank detective.

  Margaret pulled from her garage and followed the motorcycle with its lights blinking and the siren sounding. The officer weaved her through traffic lights, then sped up to block the next intersection. She made it to t
he casino in record time.

  Margaret’s assignment was to keep an eye on Jin and inform Mario should he leave the table. Her goal was to win all his money back before he left. The game started, and the two faced off across from each other. They played as if the other eight people were not even there. Margaret gave a pleasant smile. Jin sat expressionless, still pissed that she beat him out of a big pot the last time they played. Especially since she slow-rolled the winning hand.

  Avery took the task of tracking down missing persons using a guideline made for males or females below the age of twenty-one missing recently. The detectives were sure if the auction house were involved in human trafficking, it would have to be local, not brought in from another country.

  Mario and Howard headed out to visit Jennifer Gray again in hopes she’d slip and provide some helpful information during follow-up questioning. They walked over to Masterpiece Antiques a block away, and this time the detectives were prepared if she played the attorney card.

  Greeted by an employee, Mario asked for Ruthie Golden. Jennifer wasn’t around that they could see. The first rule to talking to an employee was to run it through the employer when at the business location. The detectives had no clue how Jennifer was involved, if at all. There was no law against running up a bid and dropping out.

  The employee directed them to Ruthie’s office. When they entered, she sat behind her desk and greeted them with a smile. They exchanged their pleasantries, then Mario pumped her with questions about Jennifer: personal information—her family, friends, residence, how Ruthie came to hire Jennifer—and anything else he could pull from his pocket of trick questions.

  Howard strolled the room and let Mario do the talking. He stopped at a picture frame hanging of Ruthie on the cover of Worldwide Antiques. She was an attractive older woman, but the photo was clearly from earlier years. Howard gave a smile and stepped to another frame. This one stopped him in his tracks, a picture of Jennifer Gray and Simon Kade on a yacht. Soaking up some sun on the deck in bathing suits, they were a little too close. He took a snapshot with his phone camera then lifted the frame from the wall.

  Howard butted in just as Mario asked another question, dropping the picture frame on the desk. “Cut the crap, Ruthie,” Howard said. “Looks to me Jennifer and Simon were friends. From the cheek-to-cheek pose, I’d say very good friends.”

  “Who took the picture?” Mario promptly added.

  When Ruthie didn’t answer quick enough for Howard’s liking, he replied, “I’m guessing you did.”

  An attitude change came swiftly, and Ruthie shot back, “So they know each other.”

  “We asked questions about the auction house, and you never once thought to say Jennifer and Simon were—” Howard paused and licked his lips. “I’ll put it nicely—parked his shoes under her bed.”

  The conversation got heated. Mario shouted, “Quit lying,” while leaning over the desk into her face. He’d easily broken down a crackhead or prostitute without a second thought, but a prominent business owner in the French Quarter with deep roots in the community wasn’t usually his style. Her eyes told him she knew more—then she crumbled. Mario had pushed the older woman to tears. She opened a drawer and pulled a tissue from a fancy box.

  “What do you want from me?” she asked after a little toot of her nose. She threw the tissue in the trash. “I introduced Jennifer to Simon—thought they were a good match.”

  “Him a rich older man, her an eyeful to any man who’d stare at her all day,” Howard said. “What’s in it for you?”

  Ruthie’s face turned red and her eyebrows narrowed. She jammed her hands to her side. She never liked talking about business to strangers.

  She growled at the detectives through her teeth. “I allowed Jennifer to use my company name and participate in bidding and back off at a specific price,” she said, touching up her nose with a tissue. “It never cost me anything, and I received a check for two grand.”

  “Isn’t that illegal?” Mario asked, sitting on the side of her desk.

  She nodded her head. “Of course—but who’s going to enforce it?” She touched up her watery eyes with another tissue.

  Mario played good cop and fetched her a bottle of water from the wine cooler in the corner. He opened the twist top and placed it on a coaster on top of her antique desk.

  “No reason to get upset, Ruthie,” Mario said. “I just need information. At this point, you and Jennifer are not my concern.”

  He caught a side-glance of a wide-eyed Howard after the statement. Mario continued asking questions. It was his way to treat a suspect—anything to make them feel comfortable and keep talking. It was all about gaining Ruthie’s confidence. In Mario’s world, everyone was guilty until proven innocent, and right now, he had her talking.

  Ruthie swore her only involvement in using the company name was to have Jennifer run the price up. She didn’t know why Simon needed the price bumped or the name of the person who won the bid.

  The detectives left a teary-eyed Ruthie at her desk. They had squeezed all they could get from her that connected Jennifer with Simon. The next step was to confront Simon.

  The chances of Simon voluntarily giving up information was slim. Howard preferred to use a method he called snatch and go. It wasn’t legal but very effective. Mario disagreed, wanting to follow the law—for now.

  The detectives arrived at the auction house in time for Simon to put on his fake smile, showing off his bright white porcelain veneers.

  Taking a seat in the back of the room, Mario asked Howard, “What do you think his pearly whites cost him?”

  “Don’t know what his fake teeth cost. I’d love to send him to a dentist to have them put back together—when I land a punch to his mouth.”

  Simon Kade was one of those people you’d love to take apart with your bare hands. At least that was Howard’s feeling, so he said the first time he saw the creep at the podium.

  Mario gave an elbow to Howard and nodded toward Jennifer, who sat with an older woman in the front row. The stage behind Simon turned and exposed the next item up for bid. He was pointing out the quality and curves of a Chippendale collection, describing the dining room table with ten chairs, a china cabinet, and buffet as if made of gold then showing the underbelly chair construction with dove-tailed leg support.

  “This guy’s got some bullshit,” Mario said.

  Howard tapped Mario on the leg. “I’ll be right back.” He left the auction room and caught a woman whose name tag identified her as an employee. He smiled when he approached the woman who could have easily worked as a librarian or funeral home director. Howard thought that of every homely-looking woman. He pointed out Jennifer through the glass windows surrounding the bidding section.

  “Who’s the older lady next to the blonde in the first row?”

  The employee flipped through a logbook. “She’s a new client,” she said, running her finger to a name on the page. “Harriet Plauche, a sweet woman.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure she is,” Howard said. “That’s why the vulture got a hold on her.”

  Howard took a few steps and returned to the employee, asking what Jennifer’s role was with the auction house. He listened as the employee gave free information—to someone she didn’t know was a cop.

  Howard no sooner slipped back into his seat when Simon slammed the gavel down and shouted, “Sold!”

  The Chippendale collection sold for eighteen thousand dollars to bidder #110. Jennifer and the gray-haired lady clapped along with the rest of the audience. Howard focused on Jennifer, and the woman he just learned was Mrs. Harriet Plauche. A smile and a wink from Jennifer to Simon came while she hugged Harriet.

  “Jennifer’s working both sides of the street,” Howard said in a whisper to Mario.

  “What do you mean?”

  “A chatty employee said Jennifer finds customers for the auction house.”

  Mario gave him a look. “She a bird dog?”

  “If finding customers to sell
their possessions through the auction house for a fee is what you mean,” Howard said, raising an eyebrow, “then she’s a bird dog.”

  Harriet Plauche’s name got a glance from Mario when Howard said that was the woman with Jennifer. He went into detail about one of his first cases as a detective involving Johnathan Plauche, the owner of an insurance company. A team of employees scammed the company for more than a quarter of a million dollars.

  “I wonder if that’s her husband?” Mario asked.

  Jennifer escorted Mrs. Plauche behind the stage, where she received a voucher to take to the cashier. The auction house got the money into the customers’ hands as quickly as possible—especially people like Harriet Plauche, who had many more items she could auction. A happy Harriet Plauche was all giggly with Jennifer as she waited for her check minus the house fee.

  Mario and Howard flashed badges and walked backstage. The dusty hardwood floors and props hanging on the wall weren’t as glamorous as the curtain’s other side.

  “Mrs. Plauche?” Mario asked, approaching the two women.

  Harriet gave a pleasant smile. Jennifer didn’t hold back. “How can I help you, Detective Mario?” she asked, blocking Hattie from their approach.

  He stuck his hand out to the woman, and they shook. “Mrs. Plauche?”

  She gave a broader smile. “Yes.”

  “Is your husband’s name Johnathan?”

  “Why yes,” she said. “My late husband’s name was Johnathan.”

  Mario took her by the arm and stepped away, and Howard stood in front of Jennifer, stopping her from following.

  Mario and Harriet’s conversation gave off smiles when she learned he was the detective that recovered most of the company’s money. She asked him to please call her Hattie when he kept referring to her as Mrs. Plauche. Mario made a nod and agreed. They had a quick private conversation with a lot of nods and smiles.