by Rayna Morgan
"It wasn't hard to figure out with your rap sheet."
"Then you saw my priors ain't no big deal." He hooked his feet around the chair legs and tipped back against the wall. "I only been picked up for minor stuff."
"That's all about to change. This time, you're going down for assault and attempted murder."
"How you figure that, copper?" His eyes were in continuous motion; they never landed on the Detective's eyes except in passing.
"You told the young woman you held captive you were going to take her out on your boat and throw her overboard as shark bait."
"Talking and doing is two different things. I was just trying to give the lady a bad scare. She don't hear so good, or if she does, she don't pay attention. I told her before to stay out of my business."
"You weren't just talking when you hit Eddie King with a crowbar hard enough to put him in the hospital in a coma."
The man crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Yeah, I heard the guy had a bad accident. Poor Eddie. Some guys get all the tough breaks. But I don't think he fingered me for that. In fact, I'm sure he didn't give up no names."
Tom would have liked to smash the smug look off the prisoner's face. Instead, he walked behind him, kicking the legs of the tilted chair so forcefully the man was pitched forward landing chin first on the table. He reached over grabbing Hector's collar so hard it snapped his head back as he jerked the chair upright. "Sit up straight, Hector. Slumping is bad for your posture."
"Damn you. You can't rough me around. I got rights. I want to call my lawyer."
"Your lawyer or Mickey Flynn?"
Tom moved around the table, threw one leg over a chair and leaned in until he was within inches of Hector's face. "Listen up. Let me make things crystal clear. We're going to throw the book at you. A jury will decide whether your intent to Lea Austin was bodily harm. If I were a betting man, I'd bet their sympathy will lean toward her. Your chances of their believing you meant no harm are zero to none. In Eddie's case, the hospital photos are proof positive of the assault. As you know, we have an eyewitness to the attack."
Hector slumped in his chair. His tough guy demeanor began to fade as the likelihood of a prison sentence loomed before him. Tom knew the time was right. "Look, man. You've screwed things up real bad alright but I still may be able to swing a deal for you. It'll be hard, but I can talk to the prosecutor about reducing your sentence."
The captive responded, shaking his head back and forth. "I know what you're gonna ask. I can't give you no information. Especially not what you're after."
"It's the bookie's operation I'm after. You were never even on my radar until your attack on Eddie King. But your subsequent actions involved two of my closest friends. That's turned this whole thing real personal. I can either try to swing a deal for you, or I can become your worst nightmare."
"Who are you talking about?"
"The woman who saw you in the alley and the woman you threatened to make shark bait. In fact, her husband's also a close friend. One of the nicest guys you'd ever hope to meet, except when it comes to his wife and kid. I've seen what any threat to their safety does to the man. Believe me; you don't want to get in the way of that."
"Look, I didn't mean to get involved in any of this. The engine on my fishing boat was giving out. If I couldn't get it repaired, I wouldn't be able to handle any fishing charters. I'd have to go back to crewing on the trawlers. I went to my cousin, Vinny, asking for money. He didn't have no cash to spare, but he told me about a way to make some fast dough."
"Working for the bookie?"
"Yeah. My cousin had been making some sweet change collecting bets and doing odd jobs for the guy, but Vinny got busted last month for roughing up some guy. He needed to lay low for a while. Told me I could take over his spot."
"Did he explain what you'd be doing?"
"Collecting bets. Delivering payoffs. Basically, running money. The bookie never handled the green stuff himself. Never wanted to give the cops the chance of busting him with proof of his operation."
"Did the bookie accept you?"
"Oh, yeah. Vinny's word was good enough for him. Besides, my cousin knew what the guy would do to him if I didn't work out."
"And did you work out?"
"Yeah. Things were going great until Eddie got so stubborn about making his paybacks on time. The bookie don't stand for late payments. Eddie was showing real attitude when I went to collect. I admit I lost it with the guy that night in the alley. I'd already given up one fishing charter working on my engine, but I couldn't get it running. That meant I'd have to pull it out of the water and put it in the repair yard. They'd want a deposit before they'd even start to work on it. I needed money bad, and I didn't get paid if I didn't make good on the collections."
"You mean your boat was already out of commission when you snatched Lea?"
"Yeah, comical, ain't it? I'd threatened to take her out to the middle of the ocean and dump her body overboard knowing I probably couldn't have got my engine started."
"Stupid is a better word to describe it. But I can use the fact your engine wasn't working as proof to the prosecutor you didn't have the intent to carry out your threat."
"Will that get me off?"
"Threat of bodily harm is cause in itself for conviction so no, it won't get you off but it might get you a lighter sentence. You'll still have Eddie's assault to deal with."
The lines on Hector's forehead eased. "I'll take anything I can get."
"Not so fast. That only happens if I'm willing to try to get a deal for you. I'm not willing unless you give me what I'm after."
Sweat broke out on the prisoner's forehead. "You don't know what you're asking, man. It's too dangerous. The bookie would be after me for sure. Even my cousin will be after me for screwing up and getting him in trouble with the boss."
"How can your cousin blame you for carrying out the bookie's orders?"
The light faded from Hector's eyes until they were dark and empty. He wrung his hands. Tom grasped the answer. "You snatched Lea on your own; those weren't orders from the bookie."
"When I told him about what happened in the alley, he told me to make sure the young woman would never identify me. He wasn't specific about how to do it. I figured out on my own the best way to get her to back off was through her sister. I never planned on her sister coming after me. Things just went off the rail."
"You got yourself in a real fix, Hector, the kind you aren't going to get out of without my help." His voice was detached and clinical. "Mickey's going to make you his fall guy. He'll never admit to giving you those orders. He'll say it was all your idea.
I'll give you forty-eight hours to make up your mind to tell me what I want to know. After that, you're on your own to face your cousin, the bookie, and probably the kingpin behind the bookie. You'll want to consider my offer very carefully. You've got a lot at stake."
Tom called the jailer. "Get him a shower and put him in solitary. He needs a nice, quiet place to do some serious thinking."
• • •
Tom and Pat Fisher stood in front of two corkboards in the Homicide Division at the precinct. One board was labeled Mason murder, the other, Kingpin Operation.
"What we've got is a big bunch of nothing on both these cases. I think Angelo's good for the Mason poisoning but I need proof. As for this," he said, pointing to the Kingpin board, "we've got Hector who's not willing to give up the bookie, Eddie King who's not willing to testify about his attack, Maddy who didn't actually witness the assault, and Lea whose testimony will amount to her word against Hector's."
"At least Eddie gave us the name of the bookie once he found out we had Hector behind bars."
"He's trying to get the heat off himself. Maybe he's afraid of us looking at him closer for Mason's murder."
"I thought you liked Russo for that one."
"Nobody's been scratched from my list of suspects. At any rate, the name Eddie gave us wasn't news to me and it won't do us much good. I've thought for some
time Mickey Flynn was running a bookmaking operation out of his Card Club. He set the Club up as a nice, legit business where card players can enjoy a friendly game of blackjack but I'd bet my reputation he's up to his neck in illegal betting. Busting him is a whole different matter."
"Hector could make it a whole lot easier, except he's not talking," Pat pointed out.
"But Mickey doesn't know whether Hector's spilling his guts or not. That's our ace in the hole, and it's the only card we've got to play."
"What are the odds Mickey will think we've got a strong enough case he should consider ratting out his boss?"
"I guess we're going to find out. After all, that's what betting is all about. I'm taking Detective Jones with me to the Card Room to pay Mickey a visit."
"I thought I was working this case with you."
"I haven't seen the place since they moved it from the warehouse district but the old place was a pit, filled with unsavory types. With your good looks, you'd stick out like a sore thumb."
"I'll take the comment about my looks as a compliment, but does that mean there are a lot of assignments you won't take me on?"
"It means there are places and times when you'll be an asset. This isn't one of them." He noted her disappointment but appreciated her restraint in not arguing. "Go take a statement from Eddie before he has time to change his mind about revealing Mickey’s name. Get it on video. I want it to hold up in Court."
• • •
Security cameras at the Card Club were evident as the officers pulled into the parking lot. A beefy hunk at the door welcomed them to the Club, someone physically capable of handling drunks or troublemakers.
The minute they stepped in the new venue, Tom realized he could have brought the recruit. The original Card Room had been a dark smoky room filled with men hunched over their cards at folding tables. The new location was furnished with thick carpeting, plush velvet on the tables, and chairs padded with leather seats and armrests. The walls were covered with brightly-colored beach scenes. There were two rooms for the card players. The room to the back featured a small dining area with television screens above the bar and outdoor patio seating.
Most of the players were dressed in khakis or jeans. Others wore typical tourist garb of shorts and Hawaiian shirts. The four or five women in the room were easy to spot; they had the drinks with cutesy umbrellas.
Tom passed the tables but didn't stop at the restrooms. Following close on his heels, Jones knew where he was headed. Before they reached the door at the end of the hallway, a security guard stepped in front of them. "Sorry, folks. All the game tables are up front. This area is the business office."
"That's alright, pal," Tom said, brushing past the guard. "We're here on business."
When the guard made the mistake of trying to strong-arm the Detective, Tom threw him against the wall and twisted his arm behind his back. He flashed his badge in the man's face. "Go tell your boss I'd like a moment of his time."
While they waited, Tom pulled a comb from his pocket, smoothing back the lock of hair which had fallen across his forehead. Jones smiled.
The guard returned, glaring at Tom before opening a door leading to a second hallway. "Go on in. First door on the right."
"Thanks, buddy."
The guard escorted them to make sure they didn't stray off course. The officers took note of a padlocked room on the left.
"Ah, Detective. We meet again, this time in my house." The raspy voice came from behind a huge black desk which dwarfed the short, bald man sitting behind it. Mickey Flynn didn't bother to stand up or shake hands. His eyes roamed up and down giving Tom's partner a once-over. "Nice looking chap you got for a sidekick. He'd make a good dealer at my Club. I could put him on the table with all the married women having a girls' night out. You could pull in some great tips, sonny. What do you say?"
Jones stared ahead without batting an eye. Mickey shrugged. "Not interested? Let me know if you change your mind. You'd make more than you're making on this copper's payroll."
He turned his attention to Tom. "What brings you, Lieutenant? You look like a man on a mission. Surely you're not making one of your idiotic attempts to bust me again."
"I've got one of your thugs enjoying our accommodations."
A cloud passed over Mickey's eyes, but he didn't give away what he was thinking.
"And who might that be?" He pulled a cigar from a humidor, lighting it with a gold lighter.
"Don't you have no-smoking rules in this establishment?"
"That's for the customers out front. This is my parlor. In here, the only rules are mine."
Tom ignored the veiled threat. "Your boy Hector's been making a lot of stupid mistakes; mistakes you're going to pay for. You need to keep a tighter rein on your goons. What's the matter; losing your touch?"
"If you're referring to the unfortunate incident in the alley at the Finish Line, I heard rumors about that. Can't imagine Hector having anything to do with it, but I don't control the boys on their time off. It was nothing I told him to do. Must have been a personal grudge or something."
Tom pulled up an armchair and sat down while Jones remained standing. "The vic got over his head with his little gambling habit. Someone was kind enough to give him a loan so he could keep betting. Came up short of cash when the marker was due; a marker with your name all over it."
"You're bluffing, Detective. Anyone would be a fool to engage in illegal activities like gambling or loan sharking unless they had a foolproof system which couldn't be traced to them."
"When are you guys going to learn, Mickey? There's no such thing as foolproof. You can't control how people will act, especially the dumb ones you employ."
The security guard grunted and took a step forward. "Back off, Bruno," Mickey barked. "Our guest is being rude. Don't pay him any attention. He fails to appreciate he's not the only one with loyal employees." He stared directly at Jones. "I, too, employ people who never turn on their boss." He shoved his chair back from the desk. "Now, Lieutenant, unless you have something better to do besides insulting my employees and me, I'll have to ask you to leave."
Tom turned his head in his partner's direction. "Sounds to me like Mickey doesn't appreciate how much trouble his flunky is in." He paused, letting the words sink in before turning back to stare at the bookie. "You think he hasn't heard about Hector snatching a woman at the Marina yesterday and threatening to turn her into shark bait?"
The veins on Mickey's forehead stood out. His pallor turned a deathly gray. He sat down crossing one leg over the other. "I'm afraid my grapevine has failed me in that regard. Would you care to share?"
"Yep, dumbest thing I ever saw. Grabbed her in broad daylight, forced her in his fishing boat, and would have taken her out to sea and thrown her overboard except the motor on his boat wasn't working any better than his brains."
"What reason would Hector have for that outrageous behavior?"
"Apparently, he was afraid her sister could identify him as Eddie King's assailant. He was trying to warn them off but ended up going overboard. That's where we caught him, overboard and quacking like a duck out of water."
Mickey tried to make his next question sound casual, but it came out sounding strained. "There was an eyewitness to the beating?"
"Wait, you haven't heard the best part." Tom sat back, brushing lint from the cuff of his chinos.
"Go on," Mickey urged.
"Those two women he planned to snuff are two of the best friends I have in the whole world."
With that, Tom leaped up pounding his fists on the desk sending cigar ashes flying. He squared his shoulders to block Mickey's view. The security guard advanced as Tom knew he would. Jones sucker-punched him and he dropped to his knees, gasping for air. Tom's next words came out in a hoarse whisper barely loud enough for the man across from him to hear.
"Your goon made a big mistake messing with my people. That's going to cost you big time. You're in my sights, and you're going down for two counts of attem
pted murder." Tom leaned back and dusted off his hands. "I'm throwing the book at Hector so hard he won't know what hit him. His only way out is going to be to hand you over to me on a big silver platter."
He turned, jerking his head toward the door for Jones to follow. On his way out, he kicked the guard bent over on his hands and knees. "Don't bother to get up. We'll show ourselves out."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Tom dropped Jones off at the station and went to meet Paul for a game of pick-up basketball. After the game, they headed for the Tap Room at the Harbor. Walking into the pub, Tom got a call from the guard at the jail telling him the prisoner wanted to speak to him. "Put him on the line."
"That you, Detective?"
"Yeah, Hector. What do you want? I hope you're calling to say you've come to your senses."
"I'll tell you. Tell you things nobody else will, things nobody else can. But I want something in return."
"I'll be there in an hour." The phone went dead.
• • •
Grabbing a stool at the bar, Tom asked, "What time will Lea and Maddy be here?"
The four friends got together at least once a week for drinks and dinner. Paul and Lea had started the tradition when Tom's divorce left him drowning his misery in solitary drinking at some of the cheap bars in town. Rallying around their friend, they included him in all their family outings and made sure he did his drinking with them over dinner. When Maddy moved to Buena Viaje after going through her own divorce, she was the perfect person to pull Tom out of his funk. She became his closest friend and the fourth leg of their weekly wine and dine.
"Lea should be here any minute. Maddy's not going to make it. She's spending the day at the Miller Ranch."
Tom choked on his beer. "What in the sam hill is she doing out there?"
Noting his friend's displeasure, Paul figured an explanation was needed. "She told Lea that Scott heard what happened at the Theatre. On top of her witnessing the beating and her sister almost getting killed trying to protect her, he figured she could use a day away from it all. She jumped at the chance. The last couple of days would take a toll on anyone, even someone as strong as Maddy although she'd never admit it."