C T Ferguson Box Set

by Tom Fowler

  Chaoxiang nodded. “I was,” he said. “We had to cover it up. Vinnie said he couldn’t have a homicide come back on him.”

  “Now it’s about to anyway.”

  “I didn’t want to do it. It was Sal’s fault the guy was dead. Vinnie’s fault we had to hide it.”

  “I believe you.”

  “What now?”

  “My cousin is a detective with the Baltimore police. I’ll talk to him, and he’ll talk to the DA. We’ll see what kind of break we can get for you.”

  “What about Vinnie?”

  “Try to act like everything is normal for now. If you don’t, he may suspect something, and we don’t want him getting suspicious.”

  “All right. Have you talked to the others?”

  “We have Margaret on board,” I said. “Still have to talk to Sal.”

  “He’ll be a tough one,” Chaoxiang said.

  “He’s loyal to Vinnie?”

  “Not really. He likes money, and he likes hurting people. Doesn’t mind killing. He has it good with Vinnie. Wouldn’t want to give any of it up.”

  “I’ll have to be persuasive.”

  “Make sure you’re careful.”

  “I will.” I stood and offered Chaoxiang my hand. He shook it. “I’ll be in touch when I know more about a deal.”

  “All right,” he said.

  After talking to Chaoxiang, I grabbed a late lunch at The Abbey and went home. I didn’t know much about Sal, but I could use Vinnie’s phone records to find him, too. A scan of the data showed many calls to one Salvatore Mancini. Unlike Chaoxiang, Sal had a real address when I ran a search for him. I expected him to live in Little Italy, but his address was a few blocks from Vinnie’s in Rodgers Forge. I didn’t want to drop in on him there in case I ran into Vinnie.

  Rich would have taken lunch to Alice by now, which left me on dinner detail. I wanted to find Sal before then. Alice needed a shot of good news, and telling her we had flipped Vinnie’s little organization would be the best news of all. We would still have to deal with Vinnie, but without his people behind him, he wouldn’t pose much of a threat. Right now, he had only Sal, even though he didn’t know anything would be amiss. It still made him dangerous.

  I was pondering how best to search for Sal when Rich called. “Hello?” I said.

  “C.T., they got her,” Rich said.

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “Alice. She’s gone. I think Vinnie got her.”

  “Goddamnit.” I pounded the steering wheel. “How did he know where she was?”

  “I have no idea. You should meet me at the hotel, though.”

  “I’m on my way,” I said.

  Chapter 21

  I pulled into the lot at La Quinta and parked next to Rich’s blue Camaro. When I got to Alice’s room, the door was open. Even a novice like me could spot the forced entry. The jamb splintered, most likely from a boot when Sal kicked it. The frame showed extensive damage, the wood ripped away and lying in small shards inside the room itself. The chain lock had flown a few feet and settled near the foot of the bed. Rich stood in the center of the room, his arms crossed under his chest. “How did he find her here?” he said.

  “I don’t know,” I said. I had asked him the same thing a scant few minutes ago. Neither of us had an answer. I looked around some more. The room appeared lived-in but undisturbed. Nothing was toppled over or damaged. Sal’s snatch and grab had been a smooth one.

  “Do you think he would hurt her?” Rich said.

  “Maybe. He wants money out of her, and he wants it badly enough to kidnap her to get it. Vinnie thinks Alice got a nice life insurance check and can pay him off. He’s going to be disappointed.”

  “We have to find her.”

  “We have to do something about this room. No one’s noticed it so far. I guess the hotel isn’t very crowded this time of day. Sooner or later, though, a guest or a staff person is going to see the door.”

  “This is the county, so their people would investigate.” Rich frowned. “This is getting harder to keep unofficial. Now we’re in another jurisdiction. I can’t do anything here.”

  “Then let’s go,” I said. “We’ll close the door and hope it doesn’t get noticed. Put the DND sign up to make sure housekeeping walks on by. Maybe they won’t spot it for a while and give us time to find her.”

  Rich nodded and grabbed the “Do Not Disturb” sign off the floor. We walked out, closed the door, and put the sign on the handle. The door would open if someone bumped into it, and anyone looking would see evidence of damage. We had to hope no one did anything about it. “How are we going look for her?” Rich said when we left the hotel.

  “Vinnie doesn’t realize we know she’s missing. Does his ignorance give us any kind of advantage?”

  Rich shook his head. “Not really. He has to figure we’ll find out at some point. If he knew to find her here, he has to know you’re involved.”

  “But not that you’re involved. So we can investigate twice as quickly as I could on my own. It works in our favor.”

  “OK, but we have to work out where to start. You know Vinnie. Where would he take her?”

  “I went to school with Vinnie, but I wouldn’t say I know him. Not anymore. The old Vinnie never would have done something like this.” I paused. Maybe Chaoxiang would have an idea. It couldn’t hurt to ask. “I’m going to see if his Chinese associate knows anything.”

  “The midget who waylaid you? You talked to him?”

  “Yeah, he’ll play ball. I told him you’d try to get him a decent plea bargain from the DA if he tells us everything about Vinnie.” I took out my phone.

  “I wish you wouldn’t make promises for me,” Rich said, rolling his eyes. “He might not get any break at all.”

  “He would be happy to get deported back to China.” I called Chaoxiang, who answered in Cantonese.

  “Hello?” he said.

  “Chaoxiang, Alice is missing,” I said in his language. “We think Vinnie took her. Do you know where he might keep her?”

  “He called me right after you left. Said he wanted to get the girl. I told him I was too far away. He must have used Sal.”

  “Do they kidnap people a lot?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know where Sal might keep her? Anyplace he frequents?”

  “I try not to hang around him. Sal is tight with Vinnie. He likes him. I don’t.”

  He wasn’t telling me anything useful, but I didn’t think he had been lying to me. It sounded like Chaoxiang really didn’t know where Sal took Alice. “All right, thanks,” I said and hung up.

  “Did all of the Chinese you babbled end up with anything useful?” Rich said.

  I shook my head. “He doesn’t know where Sal would take her.”

  “You believe him?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right. We should split up and start looking, then. You poke around downtown. I’ll see what I can find out in Vinnie’s area.”

  “All right.” Rich and I got in our cars and drove off. We didn’t have much of a plan past looking for Sal and Alice in our respective areas. How would I find them? I couldn’t ask random people downtown if they had seen a burly Italian guy pushing an unhappy woman around. It might happen every day on The Block. I had to figure something out. I sped toward downtown in search of Alice, Sal, and an idea to help me find them.

  I came out of the Fort McHenry Tunnel when my cell phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

  “Is this C.T.?” said a quiet female voice. Slight pauses betrayed the caller’s nerves. I heard a background noise I couldn’t place.

  “It is. Who’s this?”

  “Margaret Madison.” I expected her to say something else there—namely, the reason she called me—but she didn’t. Something had her out of sorts, and she didn’t strike me as the type to be out of sorts often.

  “What can I do for you, Margaret?”

  “The woman, Alice? She’s here.
”

  “What? She’s at your house?”

  “Yes, Sal brought her. I’m in the bathroom with the water running so he won’t hear me. What should I do?”

  “Stay there and act as normal as you can. I’m on my way.” I already missed the Key Highway exit. The exit for I-395 to Howard Street would have to do. I stepped on the gas, zoomed in front of a few cars, and hit the exit ramp at 85. Traffic on I-395 hadn’t gotten heavy yet. I swerved between lanes, getting ahead of as many cars as I could. Horns blared at me, but I drove onward. I ran a yellow light to turn at Conway, made the left at Light Street, then made a fast right turn onto Pratt.

  I had to hope to catch the green lights on Pratt. Running a red in downtown Baltimore can lead to catastrophic results. I blew through a couple yellows, but had to stop at Calvert Street. As soon as the light turned green, I took off down Pratt. Traffic held until President Street, which turned red as I made the right turn at a speed not recommended in driver’s ed. The left turn arrow went red at Fleet Street, but the signal to go straight remained green. With light traffic coming the other way, I made a sharp left from the center lane. No one honked at me, but I imagined there were a few uncharitable expressions hurled my way.

  Once on Fleet, I got through all the necessary lights, then made the right onto Boston Street. I decided to call Rich in case I needed him. Calling earlier would have been a better idea, but I became wrapped up in Alice’s abduction and driving like a maniac. Rich picked up right away. “What is it?” he said.

  “Alice is at Margaret Madison’s,” I said. “She called me. Sal took her there. I’m a few minutes away.”

  “I’ll turn around and head your way.” He hung up.

  A few minutes later, I stopped three houses from Margaret’s. I called her house number and she answered. “Hello?”

  “It’s C.T. I’m on your street. Act like this is a normal call.”

  “Oh, hi. I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

  “I don’t want to run in there while Sal has Alice. Is he leaving soon?”

  “I think that would be great.”

  I got out of the car, crossed the street, and put my free hand on the grip of my .45. “He doesn’t suspect anything, then. Can you send him away? Tell him you’ll handle it.”

  “I’d love to. Let me call you back when I have more time.”

  “Great, thanks.”

  “Nice talking to—“ she said, but I hung up. I put my phone away, drew the .45, and started down her alley. I stopped and put my back against the house. Sal rounded the corner of the stone fence a few seconds later, saw me, said, “Shit!” and ducked back around the corner. I saw the barrel of his gun poke out from around the corner.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he said.

  “Looking for stupid goons who like to kidnap helpless women,” I said. “What a break to find one so quickly.”

  “Get the fuck outta here before I hurt you.”

  “You tried to hurt me once, remember? It didn’t go so well. Sure you want to try again?”

  “I got a gun.”

  “So do I, genius.”

  “We have a standoff, then.”

  “You want to try and hurt me again? Throw down your gun. I’ll do the same. Then you can try all you want.”

  “Yeah?” Sal took a step from around the corner. My finger tightened on the trigger. I didn’t want to shoot him, but if it looked like he might shoot me, I definitely would. Sal held a revolver in his hand that could have come straight from a Dirty Harry movie.

  He looked down the long barrel of his .44 at me. I watched his hand for any sign he was about to fire. Despite the cold, I felt a drop of sweat run down the side of my face. My finger grew sore. The .45 felt heavy in my hand. Sal looked at me a few seconds longer, then held his gun out to the side and tossed it up the alley. “Let’s settle this, then,” he said.

  I felt tempted to shoot him where he stood. It would be so easy, and the son of a bitch deserved it. I couldn’t do it. The legal nightmare aside, I knew I wasn’t a killer, and I wouldn’t change my principles (such as they were) for someone like Sal. I lowered the .45 and tossed it toward the far side of the alley. Sal stayed away from the open end. He didn’t want to attract attention. I was happy to play his game, so I walked toward him.

  I shook off my trench coat and flung it up the alley atop my gun. Sal took off his heavy coat and pitched it to cover his gun. The stone and chain-link fences would hide us from a lot of prying eyes, but anyone walking by could still see us fighting in the alley. At least the guns were out of sight. Sal backtracked toward the intersecting alley running behind Margaret’s house, and I followed him. Once we turned the corner, he took a swing at me. I saw it coming and avoided it. Sal threw another haymaker, which I also dodged. I felt like I was playing Punch-Out, and I had to weather the initial barrage from the champ.

  Sal had the size and strength advantages. His bulk meant he carried too much weight for his frame. If I could dodge or block his haymakers, I could tire him out and win this fight. He stopped throwing the haymakers, however, and instead went with a hard jab. I blocked it with my left forearm and gave him a good right to the stomach. Sal grunted but didn’t slow his assault. He threw another jab, then another. I blocked both, but didn’t have a chance to counter. Sal took a step back, lowered his head, and charged. I stepped to my left. He didn’t grab me, but his right arm still hit me in the midsection as he ran past. I staggered back a step, then recovered enough to turn and face Sal again.

  He tried the same bull rush. Before Sal could build a lot of momentum, I snapped off a quick kick to his face. He slowed and straightened partway, so I kicked him again—harder this time—in the belly. Sal grunted and doubled over. I took a step forward, then drove my elbow down onto the back of his neck. Sal’s neck crunched, and he crashed to the concrete. He rolled over onto his side.

  “Your boss is done,” I said. “Whether you go to jail with him is up to you. I know you killed Paul Fisher.”

  “So what?” he said.

  “So give up Vinnie. Say he ordered you to do it. Testify against him.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Unless you want to be cellmates for twenty-five to life, it’s in your best interests.”

  “What if I don’t care what you think?”

  I shrugged. “It’s your future—such as it is.”

  Sal raised his knee and bent his leg. He gave me plenty of warning for the kick, so I made sure to be well out of his reach when he actually delivered it. He scrambled to his feet faster than I would have thought he could and assumed something resembling a boxing stance. His earlier footwork and punching technique made me think he had a boxing background. The silly bull rush ruined my first impression. Maybe Sal was out of practice. I was, too, when it came to fighting boxers. Now I had added motivation to stay out of his reach.

  He advanced, moving his feet carefully and keeping good balance. I took a defensive stance, keeping my side to Sal. He snapped off a jab, which I blocked, and followed it with a hook. I blocked it with my forearm and paid for it when my lower right arm went numb. I tried to hide the wince, but a glint in Sal’s eye told me he saw it. He pressed the attack now, throwing jabs in quick succession. I blocked them all, mostly with my left arm. A strong hook I couldn’t block took me in the stomach.

  I almost fell over from the blow, managing to stay on my feet through some combination of balance and good fortune. Sal rushed again. I couldn’t let him unleash another telling barrage, not with one and a half arms to work with. I kicked at his legs, hitting him in the knee and the quadriceps. He stopped in his tracks. I had to press this momentary advantage while feeling returned to my lower right arm. I kicked at Sal’s legs again and again. He blunted a couple, but the majority hit him. I gave him a good kick in the back of the leg and drove him to one knee. Sal tried to punch me in the balls, but I blocked it with my left arm. The effort almost caused him to topple forward. I drove a side kick right into
Sal’s face, bending him backward over his right leg and making him howl in pain. Maybe I broke his nose again.

  Sal writhed on his back. I rubbed my right arm. It tingled a little, but the feeling came back. Sal had his hands under his back. When he sat up, he had a snub-nose revolver in his right hand. “You think you’re fancy with all those fucking kicks?” he said. I froze. Sal got to his feet, favoring his right knee. My pulse, already elevated from the fight, spiked.

  “Still time to roll over on Vinnie,” I said. “Make sure he takes the fall for this, not you.”

  “What if I don’t want to?” Chaoxiang told me Sal would be difficult to turn. I hoped he would be wrong. Sal took a couple limping steps toward me. I raised my hands, keeping them even with my shoulders. He held the gun a foot from my face. “Yeah, I killed Paul Fisher,” he said. “Maybe he won’t be the only asshole I kill.”

  I had to act. My right arm exploded forward, grabbing the barrel of the gun and moving it away from my face. Sal scowled and pushed against me. I figured he would and grabbed his right wrist with my left hand. “Last chance to let go,” I said.

  “Fuck you,” Sal said.

  “Eloquent as ever.” I pushed up with my right hand and pulled down with my left. Sal’s index finger crunched and snapped in the trigger guard. He shouted a curse in pain. His grip on the gun slackened. I kept my grip on the barrel and pulled it from his hand. Sal looked at his broken finger. I whacked him in the head with the butt of his gun. The crack of the grip against his skull sounded so much like a gunshot I wondered if the revolver went off. Sal crumpled to the ground. Blood ran from the side of his head.

  “I’m tired of people pointing guns at me today,” I said. I reversed the gun in my hand and pointed it at him. Sal made some incoherent groans as a reply. “This time, you might want to stay down, and you probably want to listen, too.”

  “You don’t care . . . what I think?” Sal said, holding a hand to his bleeding head.