The clerk’s voice came back after about two minutes. “There is one under that name. It’s located on Wagon Wheel Road. The address is 11048 Wagon Wheel. Purchased in August of 1984. Do you want the sale price?”
Streeter’s mouth went completely dry. “Sure,” he answered weakly. But he didn’t bother to write that information down.
When he hung up he spent a long time just staring at the wall across from him. If Marty was behind Grover and all that had happened since the robbery, could Richie have known about it? Not likely. That would mean that he was in on the attack at the warehouse where he was shot. Richie. Streeter thought of him and his relationship to his uncle. He looked down at the phone, picked it up, and called Littleton Hospital. The receptionist switched him through to Richie’s room.
“Hello.” The voice at the other end sounded hoarse but strong.
“Richie?”
“Yeah. Who is this?”
“Streeter. Have you seen your uncle lately?”
“No. But he called a while ago. For some reason he’s still after those files. Tina told me she gave them to you yesterday. Are you about finished with them?”
Streeter ignored the question. “I understand you’re going to work for Marty.”
“Just as soon as I’m feeling better. They’re saying now that I should be out by Monday.” He paused. “That was pretty bad. Rudy getting killed. Tina and I were just talking about it.”
Streeter frowned. “Have you ever heard of something called MoCo?”
There was no response at first. Then, “No. Why?”
“Can I talk to Tina?”
“Sure.” There was a muffled sound as he handed the receiver to Tina.
“Hello.” Her voice indicated she was in a good mood.
“Can you come over to the church?”
“When?”
“Now would be good.”
“You found something, didn’t you?”
“Can you come over?”
“Give me half an hour.”
When he hung up, Streeter went to his loft to make coffee. He was too dazed to eat lunch, although it was almost noon. When his cup was filled he went downstairs and was glad to see that Frank had returned.
“Hey, Street. Any luck this morning?”
“I think so. Tina Gillis is stopping by in a minute. Let’s wait until she gets here and then I’ll fill you both in at once.” He paused. “Do you trust Marty Moats?”
Frank looked puzzled. Finally he answered, “I don’t know. He’ll shave the corners with the best of them and I doubt if he’s ever filed an honest tax return in his life. But other than that, I suppose I’d trust him okay.” He shrugged. “I never gave it much thought. Why?”
“Nothing.”
Tina arrived at quarter past twelve and came back to the office. “What’s up?” she asked Streeter after everyone was sitting down.
He looked at both of them. “I found out who was behind Grover, pulling most of the strings.” He looked hard at Frank. “I know what and who MoCo is. Martin Moats is the man we’re after. He’s the president of MoCo. I figure MoCo stands for Moats Company. ‘Tired’ must have been Grover’s snide way of referring to him.”
Frank’s mouth dropped and he looked down frowning. Tina just about jumped out of her chair. “I remember seeing MoCo on some of the papers.”
“I took a flier with the Secretary of State this morning,” Streeter explained. “It’s all there in black and white in the company’s articles of incorporation. Then I called the Jefferson County assessor’s office and found out that MoCo owns a big house near Conifer. It’s valued at almost half a million. The address is 11048 Wagon Wheel Road. Does 11048 Club ring any bells?”
She nodded but before she could speak Frank jumped in. “This can’t be right. I know Marty’s got a lot of scam in him, but if he’s the guy behind Grover that means he set up his own nephew to be killed.”
“That he did. Either he set him up or Grover was acting on his own.” Streeter stood up. “But that’s not likely. How would Grover even know where Richie and she”—he nodded toward Tina—“were staying? Marty was working with him all along.”
“Which explains why he’s been so hot to get his hands on the files,” Tina said. “You know, he’s still after them.”
“That’s what Richie told me on the phone.” Streeter paused. “He wants them when I’m done.”
“But what about all that other stuff,” Frank said. He looked pale. “Didn’t Grover burn up his trucks? And what about Marty’s getting knocked out the other night.”
“The trucks were nothing,” Streeter answered. “Marty was bragging to me how he made out with the insurance on those. And as far as that bump on the head goes, it was just window dressing for the police if Grover had killed us. Plus, how would Grover even have known about that meeting. Tina and I sure didn’t tell him.”
“But Jesus, Street,” Frank continued. “Killing his own nephew? The guy’d have to be some kind of monster to do that.”
“True. But he tried to talk Tina and Richie out of the files first and when they wouldn’t play ball he probably figured they had it coming. Marty’s a bottom-line kind of a guy and even if killing them wasn’t his original plan, it was his fall-back position. Keep in mind he didn’t know everything that was in them but Grover must have told Marty that they could lead to him. No way he was going to take any chance of that happening.”
Tina crushed her cigarette in the ashtray and leaned forward. “He never cared much for Richie, anyhow. And as far as me, Martin always thought I was trash. I wouldn’t put killing us past him. But I wonder why he killed Rudy.”
“Maybe he gave Marty a hard time,” Streeter responded. “More likely, Marty just wanted his money and the drugs and he didn’t want anyone else knowing about his involvement.”
Tina stood up. “How can he run things without coming out in the open?”
“I’m not sure. He probably has someone in line to take over. Maybe he just didn’t trust or like Rudy Fontana.”
“There’s always that long shot,” Tina deadpanned.
“Makes me sick just to think about it,” Frank said. “I always liked old Marty.”
“He’s a charmer, all right,” Streeter said. “Hell, he’s the Waterbed King of Colorado. But he’s also a killer and he still doesn’t have the files.” He glanced at Tina. “He might come after you to get them. We have to figure out a way to keep him off guard and get the police on his ass. And we better do it now.” Streeter paused for a moment. “I think I know someone who can help us.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Marty Moats tried to settle back on the recliner in his central Denver office. He sipped his bourbon, swirling the thick brown fluid in the glass in one hand as he straightened the front of his silk robe with the other. The last few weeks had been more of a strain on him than he’d realized. All that wheeling and dealing and killing had screwed up his sleep most nights lately. And now this. It had been a long time since Marty had been so preoccupied that he couldn’t perform up to snuff in the bedroom. Sure, he’d been hit-and-miss with Marlene for years, but that didn’t rightly count in his mind. Sex in marriage is a whole different breed of cat, he reasoned. A man’s not supposed to stay hungry for the same woman after all those years. But this afternoon actually bothered him.
He glanced at the door to the bedroom. On the other side, Cheryl was getting dressed. He wondered what she made of his failure. Seventy years old or no, coming up short like that was horseshit and Marty would never get used to it. Relax, he told himself. Get those files back and he’d hit his former stride, sex-wise that is. And that would happen soon, one way or another. Marty didn’t care what had to be done. If Richie and Tina needed to be shot, consider it done. Whoever had the files had to be dealt with. Killed, bought off, or scared off. No problem there. Those files could still sink him, and old Marty had come too far to let that happen. Hell, he’d even let Grover smash him in the head so it would look like he wa
s out cold for the cops that night at his store. And that turned out to be unnecessary, as the big goof botched up the hit on Streeter and Tina. But now he had Dexter on standby, waiting to do what it took to get the files back. Whatever it took.
Cheryl coughed from beyond the door and Marty glanced back in that direction. Hell, the main reason he got into business with Royals in the first place was to have access to women like Cheryl. Not much different than Rudy Fontana on that score. Just then, the bedroom door swung open and he winced as the latest Baywatch type appeared, damned near popping out of clothes at least one size too small. Cheryl shot Marty a grin and then studied herself in the wall mirror behind his desk.
“We’ll give it another try real soon, Marty,” she said, still looking at herself. “Just don’t worry about it. If I had a dollar for every time that happened to a man, hell, I’d be as rich as you.” Then she turned around to face him, throwing a smile. “A man like you’s worth waiting for.”
She walked over to him, bent down, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I just know you’re a real animal once you get her cranked up.” She winked. “Call me anytime for a rematch.” Then she turned and walked toward the front door.
When she was gone, Marty again swirled his drink. First thing when Dexter starts managing the 11048, he told himself, I’ll tell him to fire that bitch. No way Marty Moats would have Cheryl running telling his friends what happened just now. Or, rather, what didn’t happen. Not on Marty’s payroll time, thank you. Cheryl was history. Marty knew there were a thousand others to take her place.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Detective Bob Carey held a can of Budweiser in one hand and several photographs of the Conifer parties in the other. “Jesus, Streeter,” he said, looking at the bounty hunter and Tina Gillis, both of whom were sitting on his couch. “These are pretty disgusting. All of them.” He glanced back at the photos.
“What’s the matter, Bob?” Streeter responded. Carey was a friend and poker-playing buddy, as well as his best contact in the Denver PD. “Haven’t you ever seen five people in love before?”
Carey’s frown deepened. “What the hell are these idiots thinking about? I hope that was chocolate sauce on that one broad.”
He shook his head incredulously once more and then tossed the photos on the cocktail table in front of him. After taking a long pull from his beer, he looked back to his two guests. Streeter had called him shortly after lunch and they had agreed to meet at Carey’s house after work at six. His eyes kept wandering over to Tina, who was looking particularly good in a short black skirt that fit her like nylons. Carey even waived his usually ironclad no-smoking rule for her and let Tina light up all she wanted to in his basement rec room.
“I tell you guys what,” Carey said. He nodded to the material from Tina’s files that were scattered over the table. “You’ve got some interesting stuff here. No doubt about that. But is it enough to get a warrant to arrest Marty Moats?” He shook his head. “No way. I mean, what do we got? Some dirty pictures. Dirty as hell, I’ll grant you that. We’ve got Moats owning a big house up near Conifer where these pictures may or may not have been taken. We’ve got the word ‘MoCo’ written on some ledgers that may or may not be connected to some alleged illegal activities done by one recently deceased piece of shit. There’s nothing here, really.”
Tina took a quick drag from her cigarette. “But if you could get a search warrant for Martin’s office or maybe his house, you’d likely have all that cash we delivered and probably a ton of Quaaludes.”
Carey shrugged. He was a big man, standing maybe three inches taller than Streeter. And he’d been with the Denver Police Department for almost twenty-five years. “Maybe, but I’d need probable cause to get a search warrant. I doubt if you have that here.”
“Don’t you think it’s at least worth a shot?” Streeter asked. “Get it to a judge and let him decide if you have PC.”
Carey looked at him long and hard. “Normally, I’d say yeah, let’s roll the dice. I mean, everyone knew what a asshole Grover was and if we got a shot at who was behind him, hell, let’s go get the guy. Not to mention that whoever it is might have killed that little pervert Fontana. But this is Marty Moats. This guy has juice everywhere. He contributes to every police benefit and I even know for a fact he golfs with the chief. I’m not saying Moats’s got him on the payroll or anything, but let’s just say there’d be a much higher standard of evidence for old Marty. Now, maybe if we take some time and build on this and dig into it for a while…”
“We may not have time,” Streeter said. “What if he thinks Tina’s holding out on him? He could come after her right now.”
Carey raised his eyebrows for a second. “I see what you mean. Have you talked to the nephew about all this? What’s the kid’s name?”
“Richard,” Tina answered. “No. He doesn’t have a clue about it and I want it to stay that way. If I told him he’d confront Martin with it.”
“Which might not be a bad idea,” Streeter interjected. “I don’t mean the part about telling Richie, but maybe we could rattle his uncle if we confronted him.”
Tina and Carey both looked at him. “What are you talking about?” the detective asked.
“Maybe I can get Marty to cop to some of it if I meet with him and throw this in his face. I could rig up a wire and get something on tape. I think he half trusts me and if I make it sound like I’m shaking him down for hush money he might say something we could use against him.”
“That sure wouldn’t hurt,” Carey said. “You’d be willing to do that?”
Streeter nodded. “This guy’s been using me all along to get to Richie and Tina for the files. I wouldn’t mind giving him a taste of his own medicine. Plus, if it helps put him on the hot seat for what he’s done, sure I’ll do it. We could set it up so he couldn’t come after me right away. Somewhere in public. I could tell him that Tina gave the only copy to me and if he wants it back it’ll cost him. That way, he’d lay off of you,” he added, looking at Tina. “If I do it right, he might say something damaging.”
“What if he doesn’t bite and instead comes after you later?” she asked. “Martin is no fool. He might pretend he has no idea what you’re talking about and then hit you when you’re not expecting it.”
“The lady’s got a point, Street,” Carey said. “This could get dangerous.”
The bounty hunter glanced at his broken wrist. “Could get dangerous? What’s it been up until now? We’ve got two people dead and two in the hospital, with Sid Wahl not looking at all well. Tina and I have been attacked and I got this little memento. It can’t get much worse. Besides, if I press him hard for a quick answer, he’ll bite. Marty’s almost got all he’s after. Being this close, he’ll want to end it fast. My hunch is he’ll fall for it if I approach him the right way.”
“Where would you do it?” Carey asked.
Streeter thought for a moment. “Well, the hospital Richie’s at might work. It’s too public for Marty to make a move on me. Not in Richie’s room, though. Maybe in one of the waiting rooms or in the cafeteria downstairs. I’ll walk him through what I found out about the Conifer place and MoCo.” He nodded at Carey. “You could be there as a backup, Bob. He doesn’t know what you look like, does he?”
“I doubt it. We’ve never met and I’m not what you’d call a public figure.”
“Will you do it?” Streeter asked and then took a long drink from his beer.
“Why not?” Deep down, Carey had his reservations, but he didn’t want to look reluctant in front of the gorgeous redhead. “It might not hurt to have a little firepower there just in case. If I can help shut down Grover’s operation, it wouldn’t hurt my career none, either. ’Course, if we’re wrong about all this…” He just shook his head. “Like I said, the man has a lot of friends.”
“Have you talked to Martin lately?” Tina asked Streeter.
“Not for a couple of days. But I spoke to Marlene before and she swore she’d have him call me at th
e church tonight.”
“I want to be there when you confront him.” Tina focused hard on Streeter as she spoke.
His face soured and he shook his head. “No way. There’s no need for it—plus, how can I tell him that you and Richie are out of the way if you’re standing right there. He has to think this is strictly between me and him or it defeats the whole purpose.”
“He’s right, Tina.” Carey finished his beer. “No point taking any chances on you getting hurt. Streeter has to do this on his own or Moats won’t bite.” Turning to his friend, he added, “Get yourself home now and wait for him. When he calls set it up for real soon. Tomorrow would work best. The hospital has a lot of visitors on Saturdays. Plus, that way there’ll be less chance that I come to my senses and call it off.”
Frank wasn’t home when Streeter got back to the church, so he waited in the first-floor office by himself. It was almost ten when Marty called. He sounded tired but in a good mood.
“Marlene here says you wanted to talk to me, Streeter. What’s up?”
“Nothing, really.” His voice was calm but firm. “What do you make of our friend Rudy Fontana getting killed like that?”
“Can’t say that I think much about it one way or another.” His voice hardened slightly.
“Listen, Marty. I went over those files from Rudy’s office. There were a couple of things in them that I’d like to discuss with you a little further. No big deal. I just had a quick question or two.”
“Richie told me that you were going to give the originals back to him and then he’d give them to me for a glance of my own.”
“So I understand. But like I said, I had a couple of questions before I give them back.”
“Not much I can help you with there, son. I haven’t even seen them.”
“I know. It’ll just take few minutes and then they’re all yours. I did a little digging into something called MoCo. Found out all about it. Seems we might have an issue over money to discuss, too.”
Streeter Box Set Page 66