JACKS ARE WILD

by Christopher Greyson

  Replacement put her elbows on the counter as she leaned her face into her hands. “I don’t get it. Don’t kidnappers call right away?”

  “That’s the movies. They’re all different. Sometimes there’s no call, but if it’s related to her father, they could be giving him time to raise cash.”

  “It’s crazy to kidnap a crime boss’s daughter. Why not just rob a bank?”

  “It’s not that crazy. In fact, it’s crazy smart. Severino has to have cash. Untraceable cash.” Jack paced. “And with the whole Omerta thing, they’re not going to the cops.”

  “What’s Omerta?”

  “It’s an honor code. They handle things themselves. It’s how the Mafia started. Back in the old days, the police were corrupt, so you couldn’t go to them even if you wanted to.”

  “So…” Replacement stuck her tongue in her cheek, “you get ready cash, and they won’t go to the cops. That’s smart.”

  “Crazy smart because it’s also dangerous. The Mancinis aren’t a family to take lightly. Whoever has Marisa is willing to take them on. They have guts.”

  “What was that deal with Kiku’s pinky? How did you know all that?”

  Jack shrugged. “The pinky thing I learned in Kendo. It’s like Japanese fencing—sword fighting. You hold the sword real loose with your fingertips. When my instructor taught me to hold it with just the tips of my fingers, he told me how they punish people in the Yakuza. They start with your pinky to weaken your sword grip. They don’t mess around.”

  “She knew a lot about you.”

  “I’ve been all over the stupid paper. Damn.”

  “What?”

  “I may have led them here.”

  Jack hung his head.

  “You don’t know that. They would have had to recognize you and…”

  Jack put his hands behind his head and then exhaled.

  Damn.

  “What now? Kiku found out nothing?” Replacement asked.

  Jack lowered his arms. “We know she didn’t take the business card.”

  “What?”

  “I forgot about it until Kiku started talking about Marisa’s apartment. There’s an art contest or something Marisa’s entering next week. There was a business card on her kitchen counter. Someone wrote a note for her on the back of it and offered to buy the piece she’s entering in the festival. After Kiku attacked me, I noticed the card was gone. I thought Kiku took it, but she didn’t know it was gone. So she didn’t take it.”

  Replacement moved for the computer. “What do you remember about the card?”

  “It was for the de Lorme Galleria.”

  Replacement wiggled the mouse and began to press keys. After a few minutes, the screen was covered with various websites regarding the gallery and the upcoming art festival.

  “It’s a local thing. It doesn’t look that big.” Replacement scanned the pages.

  It was to her.

  “Who’s running it?” he asked.

  “Some board. It’s going to be at the Art Center,” her voice acquired a fake French accent, “with a wine tasting at the de Lorme Fine Art Galleria beforehand.”

  “Look them up.”

  “Already on it.”

  Jack leaned over her chair as she navigated the Web.

  “It’s right downtown. Swanky.” Replacement wiggled in the chair.

  “Who runs it?”

  “Arber de Lorme.” She twirled her hand over her head and clicked the mouse. “French. Thirty-something years old. Tall. Very handsome. Rich.”

  “Go back to the gallery.” Jack frowned. “He’s not that tall.”

  “One second. I want to see his biography.”

  She continued to click and tile different windows on the screen.

  “This guy’s in love with his own face.” Jack reached for the mouse, but Replacement blocked him with her shoulder.

  “He could be a model.” She clicked on another page. “Oh, he was one.”

  She looked up at Jack, who scowled back. “Go back to the gallery page.”

  “What? Are you jealous?” A little smirk spread across her face.

  Jack scoffed, “No.”

  “Good. You shouldn’t be.” She reached back to squeeze his hand.

  She clicked on the link for past festivals. Jack scanned the pictures of people dressed in their Saturday night, formal best—sipping wine, looking at paintings on the walls. He cringed at the thought of being there.

  Replacement made a face. “I think I’d last about five minutes at that party.”

  “I’d race you for the door. I—”

  Jack’s hand tightened on the back of the chair. In one of the photographs of an older couple posing for the camera, Marisa stood in the background, looking at a painting. She stood next to Arber. His arm was around her waist and, from the way his hand rested on her hip, it was obvious they were more than acquaintances.

  “What year was that festival?” Jack felt his stomach tighten.

  Replacement kept her head down, clicked and typed. “I think three years ago. It may have been two. It wasn’t last year’s.”

  “Go back to that guy’s website. Where does he live?”

  Replacement cracked her neck. “Just because they’re standing like that doesn’t mean…”

  “They dated.” Jack pointed to the screen. “Someone mentioned it in passing once. Don’t ask. Get the address, please.”

  “Does this mean we’re taking a ride?”

  Jack nodded.

  Someone’s compensating

  The Impala stopped at the end of the long driveway that wound its way up to a large stone house. On both sides of the pavement, small lights illuminated the way.

  “What’s he park here, a plane?” Jack quipped as he turned in.

  “He has one.” Replacement looked up from her phone. “And a huge yacht. Look at the picture. It’s massive.”

  “Someone’s compensating,” Jack jeered.

  “For what?” Replacement shrugged.

  Jack laughed until he saw her puzzled expression. “Uh…nothing.”

  They parked the car at the end of a wide, stone walkway.

  Replacement looked at Jack as they strode up to the door. “You ever want a boat?”

  Jack smirked. “I don’t need one.” He rang the bell.

  Replacement looked at him, still perplexed, but kept her mouth shut as they waited at the enormous black door for someone to appear.

  Jack rang the bell again. After another minute, the door flew open.

  Arber de Lorme looked just like his photos. Tall, fit, and handsome. His feet were bare; his loose shirt was untucked. His black hair was swept back, and he held a large, almost empty, wine glass in his right hand. His frown turned to a look of annoyed disgust when he looked from Jack and Replacement to the old Impala parked in his driveway.

  “There’s a gas station about four miles down the way.” He rolled his eyes as he looked back into the house. “Push the car out of the driveway before you go. I don’t want it to leave any spots.” He started to close the door.

  “Actually, Arber.” Jack felt his hand tighten into a fist as he pressed it against the door to hold it open. “I’m here to ask you a few questions.”

  The disgusted look remained on Arber’s face. “Are you with the authorities?”

  I’m suspended. I don’t even have my badge.

  Replacement stepped forward and flashed a badge. “Do you want to answer our questions here or downtown, Mr. de Lorme?”

  I’m going to kill her.

  Jack stepped forward. “We’re here to ask you some questions about Marisa Vitagliano. Or should we speak with your guest first?”

  Arber looked back into the house and then leaned forward. “This isn’t the best time.” He angled his head inside. “I have company. Come back later, okay?” He thinly smiled.

  He started to close the door again, but this time Jack’s hand stopped it with a loud thud.

  “It won’t take long.”
r />   “You can’t force your way in here.” Arber glared as he leaned in on Jack.

  “Really?” Jack rolled his shoulders.

  “Jack.” Replacement put her hand on his arm.

  He cast a quick glance back at her and, when he did, Jack’s eyes darted to the far edge of the yard, where he saw someone move.

  Arber’s hand relaxed on the door. “I’m sorry if I sound rude, but I’ve had a glass or two to drink. I do have company tonight. So, if you don’t mind, call the gallery and I’d be happy to speak with you later. Goodnight.”

  Jack stepped back.

  “We’ll do that. Thanks for your time. Have a good night.” Jack nodded.

  The door thumped closed, and they heard the lock click. Replacement looked at Jack, perplexed.

  As Jack headed down the stairs, she hesitated at the door.

  “Come on, kid,” he called back.

  She glanced at the closed door again and then jogged to catch up with him.

  “You’re just walking away?”

  “Talk in the car.” Jack kept moving.

  As they jumped in, he tossed the Impala into reverse and started down the long driveway. Replacement did a double take when he turned right instead of left.

  “Where are we going?”

  Jack drove around the corner and scanned the sides of the road. He pulled over when he saw a car parked on the edge of the road. He shut his lights off as he stopped behind it.

  “Roll your window down.”

  “What?” Replacement asked, but she still cranked the window down.

  “Wait,” Jack instructed.

  A few seconds later, Kiku appeared silently out of the brush and walked over to the car.

  “Officer.” She smiled.

  Jack nodded as he leaned over. “A business card was missing from Marisa’s apartment. The guy who lives here owns an art gallery downtown that’s sponsoring an art festival Marisa entered. His name is Arber de Lorme. He dated Marisa. I have no idea how often or how long. He didn’t want to talk to me. There’s one other person he said was in the house. I didn’t see who it was. I assume it was a female. He’d had a couple of drinks, and the alarm was off. The alarm panel is just to the right of the door.”

  Replacement’s mouth continued its gradual slide until it hung completely open.

  “Dogs?” Kiku asked.

  Jack shrugged. “Didn’t see any. I assume cameras.”

  “Let me have a look and I’ll stop back at your apartment for a nightcap.”

  “BYOB.” Jack put the car into drive. “Pick up enough for two.”

  Kiku smiled, turned, and then disappeared back into the darkness. Jack put the Impala into drive and, after he pulled out, he turned the lights back on.

  “You sent her after him?” Replacement turned around in the seat and peered back into the night.

  “She’s the best way to get the information I need.”

  “But she’s…she’s Yakuza.”

  “Kiku’s looking for Marisa. That guy’s a scumbag.”

  Replacement held up her hands. “I’m fine with that. I knew you were too easy about leaving.” She grinned.

  Jack gripped the steering wheel and resisted the urge to pull over. “What the hell was that back there?”

  “What?” Her smile vanished.

  “The stupid, fake, plastic badge.”

  “It worked.”

  “It’s called impersonating a police officer. It’s a felony.”

  “I never said I’m a cop.”

  “You flashed the badge. You implied it. That’s the law.”

  “They do it all the time.” She crossed her arms.

  “In the movies. But they don’t go to jail in the movies. In real life you do.”

  “No offense, but didn’t you just instruct a ninja to go break into his house?”

  “But I’m not breaking in.” Jack pointed at himself.

  “So if I let you pull out your badge when you’re suspended—”

  Jack interrupted her. “You didn’t know I was going to pull out my badge.”

  “I saw your arm twitch, and you looked at your jacket pocket,” Replacement explained.

  Jack pulled over and then glared at the dashboard as his hands twisted around the steering wheel. He exhaled loudly. “Okay, I appreciate you watching out for me, but we have to sit down and go over what you can and can’t do.”

  “I’m a big girl.” She sat up straighter. “I can handle myself.”

  “You had a fake gun and a fake badge. You’re going to end up really shot.”

  Replacement huffed as she turned to look out the windshield.

  Jack started to drive again.

  “I actually thought you didn’t have a badge and you were going to try to bluff him.” Replacement put her feet on the dash.

  “I don’t have my badge.”

  “I know. I learned that from movies. When you get suspended, they take your badge.”

  “What about my gun? Do I have it or not?” Jack raised an eyebrow.

  “Not. No, wait. You had it in the alley. They didn’t take it?”

  “No. The movies get that wrong. It’s my gun. I own it.”

  Jack’s smile vanished when they came out to the main road. Ahead, ambulance lights mingled with the lights of police cruisers and a tow truck. Replacement sat up and Jack stiffened.

  He pulled over behind the last cruiser. As he stepped out of the car, Officer Tom Kempy called out, “Hey, Jack.” He waved as Jack jogged over.

  “What’s up, Tom?” Jack stopped and turned as he heard Replacement run up.

  He shot her a look so she moved slightly behind him.

  Tom pointed toward the ambulance. “He’ll be all right. He said he hit black ice and slid off the road. He clipped a couple of trees, but the paramedics said he looks fine. Not even a scratch.”

  “Who?” Jack looked at the ambulance.

  “Murphy was driving.” Tom’s words rang in Jack’s ears. “But he’s fine.”

  The EMTs lifted a stretcher up and into the back of their vehicle. As they did, Jack could see Billy Murphy was the one they were transporting.

  “The car took the brunt of the impact,” Tom added.

  Jack darted around Tom so he could look off the road and into the ditch.

  “NO,” Jack screamed and his stomach turned.

  Replacement rushed up next to him. They both looked down at the police car that rested on its side in a rocky ditch. Two tow truck operators were trying to tip it upright. The Dodge Charger crashed down on its wheels as the rear quarter panel fell on the ground.

  Damn it.

  The ambulance pulled away, leaving Jack to turn and scream a string of obscenities after it. All of them were directed at the man who was on his way to the hospital—Billy Murphy.

  Jack turned back to look at the car Jack loved as they winched the Charger out of the ditch. The whole left side was smashed in and the rear window was broken. Jack stormed furiously around the car. The right rear quarter panel had a large dent, too.

  “Did he bend her frame?”

  The two tow truck drivers looked at each other and then back at Jack. They shrugged.

  “Idiot,” Jack muttered as he walked onto the road. “Stupid moron can’t drive a freakin’ lawn mower. Damn it.”

  Jack studied the tar as he paced back up the street.

  “Tom. Come here.” Jack held up his hand. “You have to note this in your log.”

  Tom walked over, nodding nervously.

  “There’s no black ice.” Jack pointed along the road. “None. The road is bone dry—and look. LOOK.” Jack walked back as he thrust both hands at the pavement. “He was doing doughnuts and lost control. That moron killed that car by screwing around. Did you write that down?”

  Jack got right next to Tom as the policeman pulled out his notepad and began to frantically write.

  The sound of broken glass hitting the ground caused Jack to turn back to the tow truck. The Charger list
ed to the side as it came to rest on the flatbed.

  Murphy killed her. I’m going to kill him.

  The Boar’s Butt

  Jack passed their exit, and Replacement raised an eyebrow but kept her mouth closed. He glanced at the speedometer: 82.

  He eased his foot up as his grip tightened on the steering wheel. Replacement shifted in her seat. The green exit sign was a blur, and Jack hit the brakes. The Impala flew down the off-ramp; Replacement slid into the door as she clung to the ceiling handle. The rear of the Impala slipped into the curve, and Jack pressed down on the gas a little and adjusted the wheel.

  “I’m sorry about your police car.” Replacement angled her head.

  Jack slowed down as they turned onto the side road. “Thanks.” He tapped the steering wheel. “I swear he beat on that car just to get to me.”

  He rolled into the parking lot of the Boar’s Butt and checked for Kendra’s car. It was parked near the staircase so he pulled up next to it.

  “What’re we doing here?” Replacement eyed him suspiciously.

  “They have great pizza. Want a slice?” Jack smiled, but he could feel his shoulders tighten even more.

  “We could’ve ordered delivery.” Replacement’s nose wrinkled.

  They don’t deliver whiskey.

  “I need to ask someone a favor.”

  “They don’t have a phone?”

  “Some favors you want to ask in person.” He forced himself not to slam the car door when he shut it. “Is there some reason for the third degree?”

  Replacement tilted her head. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because the last time you went to a bar, you beat a guy senseless and the police had to drive you back to the inn.” She shut her door with a frown. “Or maybe it’s because the warm fuzzies I’m getting heading into a place called the Boar’s Butt.”

  He shook his head.

  “Come on. What restaurant has ‘butt’ in its name?” She stuck her tongue out.

  As he climbed the steps that led to the outside deck of the bar, he made sure not to touch the railing. “Don’t touch the railing,” he cautioned.

  “Crap,” Replacement grumbled as she yanked her hand away from the metal. “That warning came a tad too late.” She rubbed her hands together to wipe off the rusty orange color.