Honorable Death

by Linda S. Prather

  I dialed Marcone’s number. “Thank you for returning my call, Detective Lang. I have some information for you.”

  “How did you know it was me?”

  “Meet me at your partner’s favorite restaurant at three.”

  The dial tone sounded loud in the empty office. The only other sound was Dave’s ragged breathing. “My favorite restaurant?”

  “Arlene’s or Micky’s?” I replaced the receiver.

  Stevens poked his head in the door. “They’re headed this way.”

  We slipped out the door and closed it behind us, moving at a quick pace in the opposite direction. “It’s two-thirty, and we still have a warrant to serve.”

  “What do you want to do?” Dave asked. “You could take Arlene’s, and I could take Micky’s, but I don’t think serving that warrant is a one-man job.”

  “You guys want to fill me in?” Stevens opened the door to the outside and held it. “I wasn’t in the room, remember?”

  “Marcone wants to meet at Dave’s favorite restaurant at three.” I sighed. “Problem is there’s two, and we don’t know which one he means. Plus we have the warrant to serve on Frederickson.”

  Stevens pulled out his keys. “I don’t think splitting up is a good idea.”

  Dave nodded. “I agree.”

  Your partner’s favorite restaurant. Dave loved Micky’s pancakes, but when he wanted to talk, we always went to Arlene’s. “We’ll go to Arlene’s. If we’re wrong, he’ll have to set up another meeting.”

  Stevens unlocked the car. “This guy hasn’t seen me yet. I can find a spot and keep an eye out in case it’s a setup. By not giving you the name of the restaurant, he may have figured he could split you up.”

  I slid into the passenger seat and fastened my seat belt. “Sounds great in theory, but you’d be wasting your time. You might as well join us.”

  “I don’t understand.” Stevens waited until Dave was buckled in then headed toward Arlene’s. “Why would it be a waste of my time?”

  “You want to tell him, Dave, or should I?”

  “You stay in this business long enough, kid, you’ll meet a few men like Marcone. They don’t kill unless they have orders to, and if they have orders to make sure you’re dead, then no amount of backup will save you. He gave us thirty minutes to meet him at a place he’s already scouted. If the plan is to kill us, all he has to do is have a sniper on a building close by or blow us up.”

  I slid a glance at Stevens’s face. To give him his due, he hadn’t paled, nor did he look frightened. “You still want to be a detective?”

  “Yeah, I do.” Stevens turned left on Boston and picked up speed. “If we get there a few minutes early, we’ll have time to look around a bit before we go in.”

  “We can, but we don’t need to. Dave didn’t finish. Men like Marcone don’t kill you. They get involved only after one of the people they represent kill you. The reason he didn’t call my cell phone is that would have made us suspicious. By calling the station, he left a trail of his call, and that’s the reason we agreed to the meeting.”

  “Lesson number one, right?” Stevens kept his eyes on the road. “I wish you guys would quit winding me up.”

  “There are different types of criminals in the world. If you live long enough, you’ll learn there are some you have to accept and work with. He’ll give us the name of one of Lenglases’s employees that later he’ll bring in to make a full confession saying the drugs at the warehouse are his.”

  “A fall guy.” Stevens’s hands tightened on the wheel. “And we accept that and let Lenglases go?”

  I nodded. It didn’t matter that we knew Lenglases had chosen one of his employees and convinced them to do the time for his crime either through fear or opportunity. It was hard to fight a confession. “We’ll do our best to break down his confession, and Marcone will do his best to get the guy the least possible sentence. We’ve been here before, Greg. Sometimes you have to take what you can get and hope for a break in the future that allows you another go at the big guys.”

  “Why didn’t Marcone tell you that over the phone? Why the game with Dave’s favorite restaurant?”

  “Because he has something else. Something he wants to trade for a better deal.”

  “Like what?” Stevens drove through the lot and parked facing the street.

  Marcone was already there, seated in the back with a cup of coffee. He glanced our way and smiled.

  “The name of the person who killed Officer Moore.”

  Stevens grunted. “The way this is going, he’ll give you the name of one of the men that’s already been killed.”

  I studied Marcone’s profile through the front glass windows. It was a possibility he would give us the name of one of the men who had tried to kill Simon, but I didn’t think so. Whoever had killed Officer Moore and our suspect in the hospital had gotten in and out without being seen. We weren’t looking for a street thug. We were looking for a highly skilled professional assassin who could blend in with the crowd around him, slit a throat, and disappear without anyone knowing he was there.

  “There’s only one way to find out. Let’s do this.” I climbed out first, but waited for Dave and Greg. “We’ll play it by ear, see what he has and what he wants.”

  Arlene smiled and waved as we came in. “Coffee?”

  “Three blacks, please.”

  Marcone stood as we approached his table. “Detective Lang, it’s nice to see you again.” He stuck out his hand, and this time, I gripped it in a firm shake. He nodded to Dave and briefly scanned Greg. “Please have a seat.”

  I took the chair across from him, allowing Greg and Dave to take the seats next to him as Arlene placed three cups on the table and filled them. “Thanks, Arlene. We’ll let you know if we need anything else.” I sipped my coffee, waiting until Arlene was out of earshot. “You called this meeting, Mr. Marcone.”

  “We’ve managed to find the employee responsible for the drugs in Mr. Lenglases’s warehouse. His name is Tom Culver, and I’ll be bringing him into the station tomorrow morning for a full confession, if that’s agreeable to you. He asked for one last night with his family.” Marcone’s lips lifted slightly. “I hope you’ll take my word for it that he won’t run or try to disappear.”

  “And so we understand each other, Mr. Marcone, he won’t write out his confession and hang himself tonight. Is that understood?”

  “I believe we understand each other, Detective Lang.” He picked up his cup and sipped his coffee. “We all have a job to do here, and someone has a great respect for your enthusiasm and dedication.” Marcone reached into his pocket and pulled out a note. He held it between his index and middle finger. “We were able to track down some of the information you requested.” He passed the note across the table. “There’s the name and current address of the man who killed your officer. I don’t think I have to tell you to proceed with caution. Mr. Sevier is a dangerous man.”

  I passed the note to Dave without taking my eyes off Marcone’s face. “And the corporation my brother was working for and his murderer?”

  Marcone wiped his lips on the napkin. “We’re willing to continue working on that.”

  “And your employers want something substantial in return for that agreement and information, right?”

  “I don’t believe you’ll find it substantial. Mr. Culver isn’t a hardened criminal. He needed money, and he made a bad choice on the manner of accomplishing that. He has a wife and two small children. I will be arguing for him to serve his sentence at a local minimum-security prison.”

  “With three million in cocaine, I’m sure you’re aware we have no control over that.”

  “I’m asking that you not argue against it.”

  “We’re agreeable to that.” Dave spoke up for the first time. “If there’s nothing else, we’ve got a cop killer to apprehend.”

  Marcone’s eyes flicked over Dave then Greg. “There is one more thing, but it’s between Detective Lang and myself.”
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  The tingling started in my fingertips as the spiders crawled down my back. I couldn’t take my gaze from Marcone’s as the shadows in his eyes darkened. “I’ll meet you guys in the car.”

  “Not happening.” Dave motioned for Arlene. “We could use some more coffee over here.”

  Marcone wasn’t going to budge, and whatever he had to say, I needed to hear it. “Anything you have to say can be said in front of Detective Capello. Officer Stevens, would you mind stepping outside and calling Commander Park and gearing up a team to go after Sevier? Officer Moore’s funeral is tomorrow, and I’d like to have that bastard in custody before then.”

  Stevens nodded. “I’ll be watching through the front windows.”

  Arlene brought a fresh pot of coffee, and Marcone placed his hand over his cup. “None for me, please. I’ll be leaving in a moment.”

  Arlene filled our cups and hurried back to the counter. Tension was thick and radiating around the room. The one customer she’d had besides us had already left and as much as she loved Dave, I was sure she would be glad to see us go.

  “You don’t strike me as a man who likes to build suspense or drama, Mr. Marcone. As you said, we have a job to do. Whatever you have to say, get it over with.”

  “You won’t need that gun you’re holding under the table, Detective Capello. I would never hurt Miss Lang.” Marcone stood up and placed a digital recorder on the table. “You can consider this a gift. The man you’re looking for goes by the name of Jonathan Drysdon. His real name is Min Wong. He’s watching you—again.”

  Marcone placed the tape recorder on the table. “Give me five minutes before you play that.” He nodded to Dave, dropped a twenty on the table, and walked away.

  Dave reached for the recorder. “Screw his five minutes.”

  “Don’t.” I snatched it out of his hand and glanced at my watch. “We still need him to look into Kyle’s case. It’s a matter of trust, and we won’t be the first ones to break it.”

  Stevens joined us as soon as Marcone left the parking lot. “Park is calling in a SWAT team.” He glanced at the recorder clutched in my hand. “What’s that?”

  Somewhere deep down inside, I knew what was on that tape. I watched the second hand on my watch.

  “Sit down, Stevens.”

  Dave’s voice was soft, and I think he knew too. Five minutes passed, and I swallowed hard and hit the play button.

  “Ninety-nine shovels of dirt in the grave… ninety-nine shovels of dirt…”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Dave’s hand came down on the table hard enough to rattle the cups as I switched off the recorder. “Jesus!”

  “What the hell is that?” Stevens asked.

  “One of my nightmares.” I stored the recorder in my jacket pocket. It was the one clue to my kidnapping Dave and I had kept to ourselves. “We’ve got a cop killer to catch.”

  “He gave us names, Kacy, and he said this guy was watching you again. We need to find him.” Dave was peering at me, looking for signs of the panic attack he was expecting.

  “We don’t need to find him. He’ll find me. Only this time, I’ll be ready for him.” I waved for Arlene to join us and passed her the twenty Marcone had left, along with another. “I’m sorry things got heated.”

  “Forty dollars for four cups of coffee?” She smiled. “I think I can stand a little heat once in a while.”

  Stevens was quiet until we were all buckled in. “I know I’m low man on the totem pole here, but if I’m going to run with you guys, you need to fill me in. I keep stumbling in the dark, and I’ll take a bullet or shoot the wrong person.” He started the car. “Where to?”

  “It will take Park at least an hour or two to organize the SWAT team, research Sevier, and get surveillance in place. We have a warrant to serve.” Dave was squirming in the back seat. He wanted to talk.

  I did too, but only after I’d had time to sort out the implications of what Marcone had given us and how it tied into Kyle’s death. I turned in the seat and met his troubled gaze. “We’ll all sit down and talk as soon as we have Frederickson locked up, his books safely stored away, and Officer Moore’s killer either behind bars or at the morgue. I promise.”

  “I’m holding you to that.”

  Frederickson had converted a small house into a payday loan business for purposes of legitimacy. Once he hooked his clients with small loans, he never let them go. He’d also made some influential friends in the political world, which is what had saved him from a raid so far. Park could expect a call from someone on the local council before the night was over.

  “What’s our plan?” Dave asked.

  “When we go in, we’ll serve the arrest warrant on Frederickson. While Greg takes him in for booking, we’ll crack open that safe under his desk and seize the real books.” I opened my door. “Frederickson will want to call his lawyer immediately, Greg. Confiscate his cell phone and make sure he doesn’t get a phone call until after he’s booked.”

  Dave laughed and joined me on the sidewalk. “He’ll be madder than an old wet rooster.”

  “I think that’s old wet hen.” Stevens passed me the arrest warrant. “Thanks, Greg. Payback is a real bitch. I owe this guy one.”

  Dave was still watching me closely, but I was okay with that. I’d surprised myself by listening to that tape without falling apart. I’d linked my kidnapping and burial to my roughing up Frederickson when he’d threatened to kill Kyle. The problem was we’d never been able to prove it.

  Shoving open the front door, I held up my badge. “Police, and this is a raid. Hands where we can see them.”

  One lone woman, a tall slinky blonde with bright-red lips, stuffed paperwork into a shredder. “Stop right there!” Stevens raced to where she was and grabbed the last of the paperwork. “You bought yourself a trip downtown, lady.”

  I nodded to Dave and drew my gun as Frederickson came out of the men’s bathroom. “Hello, Georgie.”

  “What the hell is this?” He reached inside his jacket.

  “Hands over your head!” Dave bellowed. “One more move and I’ll shoot.”

  Frederickson raised his hands. “I was only reaching for my phone. I’d like to call my lawyer.”

  Dave grinned and frisked him, removing the cell phone and a .22 strapped around his ankle. “You’re under arrest for loan sharking. You have a right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” Dave slapped on the zip ties and shoved him toward the front. “I think you know the rest.”

  Three female employees remained, all wide-eyed and terrified. I picked up a notepad and pencil from the front desk. “Ladies, if you’d be kind enough to write down your name and address and a telephone number, we’ll see if we can get you out of here.”

  Dave and Greg returned from placing Frederickson and his blonde in the back seat of the cruiser. “What about these three?” Greg asked.

  “Do any of you ladies know anything about Frederickson’s loan sharking?”

  They all three shook their heads in unison. “Once you’ve listed your name, address, and phone number you can go.” They finished quickly and rushed from the building. “What was Blondie trying to shred?”

  Greg grabbed the paperwork he’d saved. “Looks like a phone log.”

  “Take a picture of it. We need a box.” I studied the room. “Or trash cans might do.” I grabbed the nearest can and emptied it. Greg dropped in the paperwork. “Take those two downtown and book them. Dave and I should be finished by the time you get back.”

  We waited until Greg had driven away from the building. I grinned at Dave. “Let’s do Frederickson’s office first.”

  Dave locked the front door, and we headed to Frederickson’s office. Our warrant included all books, paperwork, and computers. We didn’t need those, but we would take them anyway. What we were looking for was stored in Frederickson’s safe and ceilings and underneath his floorboards.

  “High or low?” Dave asked.


  I studied the ceiling tiles. “Let’s do the ceiling first.” I climbed on top of the desk, and pushed aside a tile. “I need something to stand on.”

  Dave hefted a small filing cabinet onto the desk and held it as I climbed up. “Bingo. Couple of boxes.”

  “Take a picture and let’s wait for Stevens. Be easier for him to lift them out. You’ve got a bum arm, remember?”

  I hauled a box to the opening and hopped down to the desk, bringing it with me. “Couldn’t manage a picture, and we don’t have time to wait. Park will want us with him when he goes after Sevier.”

  Dave retrieved the box and set it to the side. “How many more?”

  “One, I think.” I climbed back up on the filing cabinet and reached for the box, tugging it toward the opening. “This one is heavy. Look out below.” Dropping down, I jumped to the side as the box fell onto the desk, sending up a cloud of dust. “Must be old records.”

  The box split and bundles of cash spilled onto the floor.

  Dave whistled long and low, took out his phone, and took pictures of the cash and two boxes. “We need to call for a CSI team. There has be hundreds of thousands of dollars there.”

  My lips lifted in a smile then widened into a grin. “I do believe old Georgie has been skimming from his employers. Call it in while I take a crack at his safe.”

  “No need. We must have caught him putting things away. It’s open. I got pictures.”

  The safe contained three more bundles of cash and two books. I flipped through the red book and let go with my own whistle. “Guess who owes over a hundred thousand dollars?”

  Dave shoved his cell back in his jacket. “Don’t want to know.” He took the book from my hands and dropped it in the trash can. “And neither do you.”

  I stood and dusted off my hands and pants. “We’ll leave the rest for the big guys. We’ve got enough to nail Frederickson and put the fear of God into him.”