Snitch

by Rene Gutteridge

  Jesse slapped his hands over his face. “I think we’re going to have to sell the idea that you’re trying to quit smoking.”

  “Good idea,” Ron said, going over to examine Kyle. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  Kyle nodded. “I’m great. These guys are really taking care of me. I’ve learned how to order German beer.”

  Dozer said, “I voted for Coors.”

  Ron held up a hand. “Okay, look, let’s just move away from alcohol and cigarettes for a moment. I called the number. It’s Doodah’s.”

  “Doodah’s! You’re kidding,” Jesse said.

  “The guy’s smart enough to give the number to a bar.”

  “Kyle will have to go in on Friday night and try to spot him,” Dozer said.

  Ron nodded. “We need to come up with a plan. Where’s Mack?”

  “She went to get her brother from the airport,” Wiz said.

  “That was quick,” Ron said. “Good. We need somebody by this weekend.”

  Just then, the front door opened and Mack walked in. Trailing her was a man who almost looked like her identical twin, except he was slouching and his hands were buried deep into his pockets. Mack encouraged him toward the breakfast table. “Hey, everyone, this is my brother Hank.”

  Hank hardly managed to look up. He gave a quick wave and stared at the carpet.

  “He’s … He can be a little shy. Until he gets to know you,” Mack said. “But he does know cars, and he’s ready and willing to help.”

  Jesse sighed and leaned back into his chair. “He’ll come in real handy as soon as we can teach him to speak.”

  By now, Jesse had figured out Ron’s game. He was going to pair Jesse up with Mack as often as possible until Jesse finally accepted her as part of the team. While Wiz and Dozer went to file paperwork for the body shop, Jesse, Mack, and her brother, Dumbstruck, went to get lunch.

  Mack’s brother sat in the backseat of the Cadillac, staring out the window, while Mack pointed out the obvious: “There’s a casino … There’s a hotel …” Mack explained that Hank had never been to a big city. And that today was the first time he’d flown on an airplane.

  Jesse looked in his rearview mirror. “How was your flight, Hank?”

  “High,” he replied.

  Jesse looked over at Mack, who gave an apologetic smile. “So, Jesse,” she began, “I’m curious. How do you separate yourself from your undercover identity?”

  “When I’m with criminals, I’m Tony. It’s not rocket science.”

  Mack glanced back at Hank. “His undercover name is Tony Romaine.”

  “Tony Ramone. I’m not a head of lettuce.”

  “I know,” Mack smiled. “But I thought that was funny since we’re driving by Caesars. Get it? Caesars salad?”

  Jesse kept his eyes locked on the road. “Mack, I’m sure you’re a great cop, okay? And there’s no getting around it. You’re on the team. But you see by now that you don’t really belong in the undercover world, right?” He glanced at her as she looked out her window. “I’m not trying to be harsh. I’m really not. There’s a certain personality type made for undercover work. I can see you working your way up to captain.”

  “Why do you think I don’t fit?” Mack asked.

  From the back, in a quiet voice, Hank said, “Its because you were homeschooled.”

  “You were homeschooled?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  Jesse whipped around the corner, narrowly missing the curb. “That’s terrific.”

  “He doesn’t know about the convenience store?” Hank asked.

  “Was that your previous job?”

  Hank leaned forward. “She saved a store clerk who was being held at gunpoint.”

  “Look, it doesn’t matter what I did or where I went to school,” Mack said. “This whole thing isn’t going to work unless you trust me.”

  “This isn’t personal, Mack. It’s about the safety of the team. If you’re not ready for this, you could put us in jeopardy.”

  “I’m ready for it. I’ve been ready for it my whole life. No, I don’t have your experience, but I’m a fast learner, and if you could dial your ego back a notch, maybe you could teach me something.”

  Jesse tried to remain calm and not let his impatience get the best of him. “I have no problem with your inexperience. But is this the best time for you to jump into something like this?”

  “Everybody has to jump in at some point.”

  Jesse pulled to the curb in front of Pizza House.

  “It’s going to take us all working together,” Mack said. “As a team.”

  “There’s no ‘I’ in team,” Hank said from the backseat.

  Jesse wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel. Mack and Hank might be good at undercover work … if they needed a duo to bust a pencil-theft ring in the fourth grade. “There’s no ‘we’ in undercover,” he snarled. “I’m going in to get the pizza.” He slammed the door and found Mack waiting for him on the other side. He walked past her but she followed, stopping him at the entrance to the restaurant.

  “I proved myself to you once. I won’t be a liability. I promise.”

  Jesse folded his arms and glanced toward Hank, whose face was pressed up against the window. “Fine. What about your brother? You don’t have a mute button; his seems to be stuck.”

  “He’ll be fine. He’s not a big talker, except when it’s something he’s interested in, like cars, and now, apparently airplanes. He couldn’t stop talking about them on the way back from the airport.”

  Jesse couldn’t put his finger on what made other people believe in her. Maybe because she was the kind of person many people wished would fill up the world. Of course, if that happened, he’d be unemployed.

  “Okay, look. I’m stuck with you. I get that. Ron’s calling the shots here and for some reason, he wants you on the team. There are some things you just can’t control—”

  “My dad taught me a prayer to help with those things: ‘Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.’” Mack smiled.

  Jesse pushed open the restaurant door. “Is there something for keeping my sanity?”

  Mack followed him in. “Try the New Testament.”

  Ron was trying to concentrate as he formulated the plan. His number one priority was to keep Kyle safe, so he arranged for a backup team to be ready outside Doodah’s. He’d just confirmed that decision with Captain Gates. He could hear the eagerness in her voice. They were lucky to have this break, and everyone knew it. Now he waited for Jesse and Mack to return with pizzas, Wiz and Dozer to return with the Title 3 wiretap warrant, and Kyle to stop pacing the room.

  Ron cleared his throat.

  Kyle stopped pacing and sighed. “Sorry. I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”

  “You’re supposed to be working on projecting a calm demeanor.”

  “I know. But every time I think about trying to be calm, I get nervous.”

  He couldn’t fault the kid for being nervous. It was Ron’s stupid idea to get him involved in the first place. “Kyle, tell me what is the most nerve-racking thing about your job.”

  Kyle gave it careful thought. “I suppose it would be the organist calling in sick on Sunday morning. That can take out the singing of hymns, the special music, and the altar time.”

  “Right. Okay, so … what do you do when that happens?”

  “It’s never happened. It nearly happened. Vera had the stomach flu once. But we just put a wastebasket next to the bench and prayed for reprieve.”

  “We don’t have a backup organist?”

  “We did. But she died on her eighty-seventh birthday. The only other musician I know of is Bulldog, and his instrument requires an amplifier. Apparently, ‘Nearer My God to Thee’ can’t be played on an electric guitar.”

  Ron laughed. He knew Bulldog. Really liked the guy too. The church was warming up to his leather jacket, not to m
ention his ear, eyebrow, lip, and nose rings. He hadn’t missed a Sunday since the day he crashed into the Jesus Saves sign on the front lawn with his motorcycle. A few feet to the left and he would have hit the church bus instead. Bulldog was Kyle’s one postmodern claim to fame.

  “Let’s pretend then. What would happen if Vera couldn’t make it? What would you do?”

  “I guess I would … I would expand the prayer time, read the full Scripture text instead of the abbreviated version, and”—Kyle smiled—“do a little song and dance?”

  “Undercover work is all about the song and dance, Kyle. You have some idea about what’s going to happen, but there are a thousand things that could swing the pendulum. You have to adapt to the situation. The plan is for you to be in that bar no more than fifteen minutes. Not a whole lot can go wrong in fifteen minutes, but you’ll need to be prepared. We’ll go through several scenarios tonight.” Ron smiled. “It probably will be pretty uneventful. In fact, you’ll most likely be disappointed by the lack of drama.”

  “Well, I can tell you that I’m excited. Nervous, but excited. How many people can say that they set up a drug deal, right?”

  “About eighty percent of the population in federal prison, but this isn’t a drug deal. Why don’t you get out a piece of paper and start writing down some bio stuff, just so you’re familiar with who you’re supposed to be.”

  “Sure.” Kyle paused. “Listen, um, I wanted to ask you something.”

  “What?”

  “I was thinking about asking Mack out.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I know, I know … we’re really different. But opposites attract, right?”

  “Look, Kyle, now’s not really a good time to be thinking about this. There’s only one thing worse than two undercover officers dating, and that is a personal relationship between a UC and a CI.”

  “What’s a CI?”

  “A confidential informant.”

  “A snitch?”

  “Yeah … a snitch. Except we don’t ever call them snitches, at least to their faces. Criminals have egos too. That title, confidential informant, gives them a sense of importance.”

  “Why would a UC and a CI ever date?”

  “It happens more often than you think. A lot of emotions get stirred up during an undercover operation. Sometimes UC guys are alone for days on end; their only company might be a female informant. I can’t tell you the number of operations that have been wrecked by officers getting involved with informants.” Ron felt the walls around his emotions starting to crumble. It was years ago, but every time he thought of that day, he felt himself sinking to that low place he thought he’d never be able to climb out of.

  “So … I can’t ask her out?”

  “What’s the rush?”

  “I start a fast on Wednesday. It’s awkward when you’re on a date and can’t eat.” He paused. “I just didn’t know there were police officers like her.”

  “There aren’t any police officers like her. Look, Kyle, just forget about it for now. We’ve got more important things to deal with. I’m sure you and Mack would get along just fine, but we can’t go complicating this already very complicated situation.” Ron glanced to the window. “Oh, great.”

  “What?”

  “Here comes Ruth.” Ron steered Kyle by the shoulders toward the front door. “Go out to the front porch. Handle Ruth.”

  “How?”

  “Make up a story about your love for water-skiing. And your favorite food is french fries.”

  That should keep him busy for a few hours.

  Chapter 22

  Mason sat in front of the television clicking through the channels while Rhyne answered some important phone call that was going to secure his financial future and give him more voltage than all the casino signs in Vegas.

  Masons cell rang. He’d already missed one call. Glancing at the closed hallway door, Mason decided to take the call.

  “Hello?”

  A female voice said, “This is the county jail. Will you accept a call from Brandi Brown?”

  “Yes.”

  “Please hold.”

  Mason held his breath.

  “Hello? Mason?”

  “Brandi, hey.”

  There was an awkward silence.

  “Uh … how are you?” Mason asked.

  “I’m in jail, Mason. How do you think I am?”

  “I’ve been trying to come up with some money to post bail,” he lied.

  “It’s not that much. Talk to Chris. Maybe he’ll give you some extra hours.”

  “I got fired, Brandi. What did you think happened? I’m in Vegas now.”

  “Why? I thought we agreed you weren’t going to hang out in Vegas anymore.”

  Even steel bars couldn’t keep this woman from trying to control his life. “Look, Brandi, I’ve got a life to live, you know? I’m trying to make some money. Steady money, you know? I was out of options.”

  “No, Mason, I’m out of options.”

  “Things are complicated right now, okay, baby? You’ve got to understand that. It’s nothing personal.”

  “What happened at the bar sure seemed personal to me. Why’d you do that?”

  “It was stupid. I was just trying to hide the money, hoping he’d forget about the rest and let me off the hook. I panicked.”

  “You owe it to me to get me out of jail. You put me here.”

  “Like I said, I’m trying to work some things out.”

  Just then, Rhyne came strutting down the hallway. Mason snapped his phone shut as Rhyne rounded the couch and fell into the easy chair.

  “What was that about? Was that your woman?”

  “She’s trying to hook back up with me.”

  “I told you to cut all ties.”

  “I’m working on it. You know how women are. Anyway, she’s still in jail and won’t be out anytime soon.”

  “Good. Be done with her.”

  Easier said than done, but Mason nodded anyway.

  “What are you doing tonight?” asked Rhyne.

  “I’ve got to go back to Henderson, take care of some loose ends.”

  Rhyne smiled. “That’s what I like to hear.” But his smile faded. “Just don’t do anything stupid. Take care of your business and get out. And start looking for your own place too. I don’t want a roommate forever.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Thought I’d hit the casinos. Might run into some people, you know?”

  Mason stood. “I’ll call you later.” He walked out the front door, got in the car, and headed for Doodah’s. He’d gambled too. If luck would have it, he’d be doing his own big deals tonight.

  Ron parked one of Ruth’s cars, husband number two’s ride, in a tight alleyway. Jesse sat in the passenger’s side, staring up at the four-story building that was peeking above the flat roof of the building next to them.

  They got out and Jesse walked toward Seventh Street. Ron followed. As they emerged from the dark gloom of the alley, the bright morning sun accosted them. They slipped their sunglasses back on.

  It was an empty street now, but come nighttime it was going to get crowded. Doodah’s was stuffed in among a long row of old single-story buildings. Most were bars. The ones that weren’t didn’t have a good view of the front door. Ron pointed to the four-story building across the street. “We’d be a block away,” he said, “and I don’t like that. But we can have a team on the ground near the alleyway.”

  “I want Dozer as an eyeball,” Jesse said.

  “Fine.”

  “Let’s see if we can set up in that window on the fourth floor. It should have a clear view.”

  “I hope so,” said Ron. “Setting up there will give us a little elbow room. Moving around down here after sunset is going to be like trying to march an elephant through Mardi Gras.”

  “What is that building anyway?”

  “A hospital.”

  “Perfect. Exactly where I’ll end up after this is all over.�
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  At undercover school, Jesse learned the fine art of reading body language. But it didn’t require much training to read the language this morning. Everyone’s body said the same thing: this was a bad idea.

  Kyle’s shirt was soaked with perspiration. He tried to look calm and collected, but “I’m about to pass out” trumped the “I’m cool” expression Kyle attempted. They’d already proposed a number of possible scenarios. Most weren’t likely to happen, but they wanted him to be prepared. The most important piece of the plan was getting Kyle out of there as quickly as possible.

  That’s where Jesse came in. He’d pose as the money guy, the one calling the shots. Kyle wouldn’t introduce him until he felt he had gained the guy’s trust. Then Jesse would take over and convince the man they’d be ready to deal next week at the body shop. Kyle’s role was small, but it would take finesse—not a skill Kyle seemed to have much experience with.

  “So,” Kyle said to Wiz, “if you put your finger to your eyebrow and scratch, that means … What does that mean exactly?”

  Wiz looked at Jesse.

  “Kyle,” Jesse said, “this isn’t science. Think of it as art. It’s all about interpretation. It might not mean anything. You have to look at the big picture and then bring into play the small things. There’s no formula, but there are some telltale signs. If he’s leaning forward, he’s eager to do business. If his arms are crossed, he’s not ready to let you in.”

  Kyle nodded. “Okay, got it. What about the eyebrow, though?”

  “Forget the eyebrow. Eyebrows mean nothing. When he leans forward, when he looks engaged like he trusts you, then you call me over, and I’ll take it from there. Don’t flag me like I’m a race car. Do it subtly, like you’re in control of the situation.” Jesse glanced at the rings underneath Kyle’s armpits. “But before you do anything, take a bath in antiperspirant and put a T-shirt on under your shirt.”

  Kyle swiped his forehead. “I get a little sweaty when I’m nervous. My robe usually hides it on Sundays.”

  Jesse glanced at Wiz, who shrugged. “What robe?”

  He noticed Kyle’s eyes grow wide. “My bathrobe, I mean.”