Rick Cantelli, PI: Into the Darkness (Rick Cantelli, P.I. Detectives Book 3)

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “I’ll be careful, Cheech. I’m singing with my co-stars tomorrow night. I believe you’ll have a good time.”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  We watched Cheech leave. Trish got right to it.

  “Let’s go kill Ramos tonight. Why put it off?”

  “See, that’s the kind of talk we don’t appreciate at Madigan & Cantelli Security. We haven’t given Ramos the chance to realize Cheech isn’t horning in on anything he’s doing. I know you like playing Batwoman, but you have new aspects of your life to consider. You need to shelve the contract killer resume for the time being.”

  “Easy for you to say. You and Lo vacationed in the Mideast and massacred a bunch of third world troglodytes in the name of freedom.”

  We are evil. Trish and I whooped it up over her ace for a few inappropriate seconds with me pointing at her, but unable to speak. Hey… she’s a killer. A woman doesn’t fall into that trade because of a high school placement mistake. She’s born to it. Trish scares me, and I’m geezer enough to admit it. She has great instincts, a wonderful work ethic, and she truly cares about me and Lo. I have to follow through on helping her through the rough patches. Stacy met us as we exited the office.

  “Did…did Cheech seem satisfied with my performance?”

  Trish patted her shoulder. “Yeah, he has you down pat. As long as you keep doing what you’re doing, I doubt you’ll have any problems. We told him you were doing your job.”

  “Could I… you know… go to ‘Casablanca Night’?”

  “Sure,” I replied. “If you don’t mind waking up sealed into your bed, and Lo standing next to you with a propane torch and pliers. C’mon, Stace. You’re nuts thinking you can simply resurface, fresh out of prison with Lo, after all the crap you’ve done. Look. You need to concentrate on small steps back into society. Steps without drugs, cons, and setting people up for killing, not to mention prostitution, petty theft-”

  “Okay!” Stacy wiped away tears, no one knew if they were real, including her, I’d bet. “Thanks for the good review with Cheech.”

  Stacy walked past us into the office.

  “Why you unfeeling wretch… what kind of compassion was that?”

  “Good one, Trish. I’ll put you down for the next Stacy Telethon to raise money for the myriad bad life choices she’s made. You sounded so sincere too. What’s your secret?”

  “I’m an inveterate liar. What did you think of the tears,” Trish asked while we walked out toward the van.

  “Don’t know, and don’t care. Drugs, Sex, Rock & Roll happened to Stacy. When she disappeared, I had no clue where she went or what she did until the incident where Stacy set me up to be tortured and killed.”

  “Yet you kept bonking her on the side? You are one deranged individual. At least Sam didn’t reconnect with my death in mind.”

  I again let Trish get behind the wheel. “What answers are you looking for, Trish? I’ve already admitted to most of what went on between Stacy and I having to do with messing with Lo. We’re not sitting here tagging saints and demons are we? It would be best to scan what you’ve done, my friend, before going off on what Lo considers my backslides with Stacy.”

  Trish glanced over, her mouth tightening. “Sorry, Rick. That was uncalled for. I will take your advice about other avenues open to me now. I don’t want to end up back in prison. That’s for sure. I wouldn’t admit this to anyone but you. Sam treats me like we kept going non-stop from our fling long ago… as if no time has passed. It’s tough doing a balancing act between the sweet and sour.”

  “Hell yeah, it is.” I understood exactly what she was saying. “There is no more surreal happening than meeting with someone from long ago you cared about intimately. If at that point you both work to continue the relationship with positive expectations, then a blessing awaits. Sometimes hookups begin like me and Stacy. On the plus side, we’re too old to ruin our lives beyond what we already have.”

  Trish nodded with a smile. “Yeah, our hookups are not the same.”

  “Key in ‘The Nite Owl’ bar. You can drop me off there.”

  “No way! C’mon, Rick… don’t do this!”

  I met her gaze with my ‘I don’t give a fuck what you think’ look. “Head to the ‘Night Owl’ or pull off to the side of the road.”

  “I know where it is.” Trish drove me in silence to ‘The Nite Owl’. “What’s this all about, Rick?”

  “If I stop off at a bar on the way home from the job, and I take a taxi home, no laws are getting broken, so what’s your problem?”

  “Because I care for you, dumbass.”

  “Have you ever seen me drunk and incoherent at some time I’m unaware of, Trish?”

  “What about the last night you were at ‘The Nite Owl’?”

  “I was bullied, and I kicked the guy’s ass. Drunken had nothing to do with it.” The only thing this conversation accomplished so far was to make me glad I didn’t have a wife.

  “You ended up in the tank.”

  “Yeah… so what’s your point?”

  “You’re the point, Rick. I need to take you home, and you need to get some much needed sleep. You’re not thinking clearly.”

  Great… another mommy. Just what I need. “No… you need to take me to ‘The Nite Owl’, and then leave me the hell alone. We’ve had a good day, complete with a professional install, a gangbanger intervention, an interrogation outing Dane Ramos, and a nice chat with a dangerous man who has our backs.”

  “So… let me get this straight. We had a good day… so you want to end it getting into a barroom brawl, and spending the night in the tank?”

  “No brawls, and no overnighter in the tank.” At least I hoped not. “I’m going to sip a few, and listen to music.”

  “You can do that at home.”

  “You’re beginning to bore me, Trish. Turn the radio on to whatever you want to listen to, and give your vocal chords a rest.”

  “Okay.” Trish turned the radio on to a Rap music station.

  Damn it!

  * * *

  “Rick Cantelli! I haven’t seen you since that brawl you got into after taking T-Bone Griffin in. I figured you crossed The Nite Owl off your list.”

  “Hi, Lacey.” I sat down at the bar. It’s dark, old school, with a couple of pool tables and a dart board. The drinks are cheap, and the patrons salty looking at best. The music varies between country and old rock. Lacey is a forty something blonde, and I’m lucky she allowed me to stay. “I’m fine, thanks. How you been doin’?”

  “Still waiting for my ship to come in, but I heard it got torpedoed somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico by pirates.”

  Yeah, I liked the comeback. “I’ll have a double Bushmills, nothing back.”

  “Sticking with the classics tonight, huh?” Lacey served me the double.

  “That’s how I’m rollin’ today.” I put a twenty on the bar. Lacey made change, and I left it sit. The other patrons gave me the fisheye. They were regulars, and I wasn’t. They were older guys like me. Some other dive bar experimenters were sitting at a table near the pool tables. Two young couples with uneasy looks shared cocktails, thinking they might get mugged at any time. I sipped my drink while watching them with a smile. One of the youngsters, a redhead wearing a black halter top smiled back at me. I turned to the bar.

  Lacey returned after serving some other geezers at the bar. “I read a lot about you after your last visit. I remember you didn’t want company then. Do you feel the same way tonight?”

  No way in the world did I plan on getting my geezer ass into anything with a woman tonight or any nights in the foreseeable future. “I don’t mind the company here at the bar, Lace. Just friendly conversation, right?”

  Lacey hesitated. “Sure. I saw pictures of you escorting the stars from that movie ‘A New Beginning’ in the papers. It claimed you were dating a couple of them, Karen Bastille and Trish Medina. Is that true?”

  I finished my drink, and Lacey poured me another. I wondered where th
is was going. Lacey has one of those voices that carry, and I noticed some of my bar comrades were listening in. “They’re both married now, but I did date them. It was a case of mistaken identity. They thought I was Hugh Jackman. When they found out I was an old geezer, they dumped me.”

  I got some chuckles at my answer, including the youngsters at the table, and Lacey. The next song was Dolly Parton’s digitally remastered version of her song ‘Jolene’. I enjoyed it while sipping some more of my elixir of forgetfulness. A slight buzz mixed in with ‘Jolene’ cast a ray of light into the dark and forbidding Cantelli-land. Alas, it was not to be.

  “Hey Cantelli…” one of the geezers called out to me. “I hear you claim to be an ex-Navy Seal. You know under the ‘Stolen Valor’ law it’s illegal for you to lie about your service time.”

  I kept sipping, and listening. The guy’s right on all counts. Then he decides to come closer because I didn’t answer. He grabs my arm, but I’m figuring he’ll let it pass if he can’t get a rise out of me. I managed to set my drink on the bar, so I didn’t spill any.

  “Go sit down, Jake!” Lacey took a hand in it, bless her little heart. “Leave him alone. Don’t you cause any trouble.”

  Jake sat down next to me, still holding my arm. He was a big guy, my height, but carrying thirty or forty pounds extra in the gut, and maybe ten or so years less in age. Crew-cut hair with retreating hairline, Jake had a two day growth of beard going. His sleeveless gray t-shirt looked like it hadn’t seen the inside of a washing machine for an extended period of time - smelled like it too.

  “We’re havin’ a conversation, Lacey… right Cantelli?”

  “If you say so, Jake.”

  “I say so, wise-guy.”

  “If you keep holding onto my arm, I’m going to think you want a date. I don’t roll that way, partner.”

  The laughs my wise-guy reply evoked didn’t improve my standing with Jake, but he let me go. “Answer the question, asshole!”

  I’ll play, but I sipped some elixir first. “Yes, the papers claim I’m an ex-Navy Seal, and yes, I know about the ‘Stolen Valor’ law.”

  Jake gave out one of those angry idiot guffaws as he scanned the faces triumphantly at the bar. “I knew you were a damn fake!”

  I’m old, but I’m not a fake. “Actually, I am an ex-Navy Seal. I can prove it if you’d like.”

  “Bullshit!” Jake wasn’t having any, and he was killing my buzz.

  “Let me show you.” I took out the old photo I carried everywhere with me. I unfolded it carefully. It was an eight by ten glossy copy of my Seal Team, with a hell of a lot younger me in it. I handed it to Lacey. “See if you can pick me out for Jake, Lace.”

  It only took her a moment. She then held onto it while pointing to me for Jake’s scrutiny. Interested other patrons wandered over to have a look, including the young redhead. Next I took out my DD-214 copy I always carry, which lists my service, and showed it to Jake before handing it to Lacey. I could tell Jake understood what a DD-214 discharge form was. Lacey examined that too.

  “Damn, Rick… you got the Navy Cross… and three purple hearts.”

  “Let me buy you a drink, Jake.” It didn’t look like he was too interested in my military background anymore.

  Jake stood away from the bar in an angry backward lurch. “Fuck you, Cantelli!” Then he left the bar.

  I put away my picture and discharge form. “My buzz is fading faster than a tulip in the desert. I’m buying a round folks, if you all will forget this unfortunate incident. It would be nice if someone played ‘Jolene’ again, Eric Clapton’s Layla, and maybe ‘House of the Rising Sun’.”

  I was an instant hit amongst my compatriots, especially the geezers. Lacey served the round to my new happy friends. Trish was wrong. I’m not going into the tank tonight. ‘Jolene’ began playing. With another double, my buzz was back, especially since the Layla number was my favorite one, unplugged and jazzed. Thank you for that version, Mr. Clapton. I felt so good after House of the Rising Sun played I bought another round. The clouds cleared in Cantelli-land for yet another brief moment. Lacey, with the help of her other waitress, busily served everyone. The red head with the halter top, somewhere near what I’d figure my granddaughter would be in age, approached on my left, hugging me.

  “Wow… a real Navy Seal. You should have kicked that guy’s ass.”

  “Nope. I acted in the only manner I could without ruining Lacey’s evening.” I saw her date treading slowly over, a mixture of anger and caution warring across his features. If he’d been on the rooftop in Sana’a with me, I bet he would have kept his seat.

  “Hey, old man, I don’t give a shit if you’re a Navy Seal or not. I don’t like you hitting on my girl.” He grabbed the redhead in a property type manner. She didn’t object, because that was her objective. The redhead was still smiling.

  “Newbie! Take your girl back to the table,” Lacey ordered. “She ran over here to hug Rick. He didn’t approach her. Go enjoy the drinks he bought you, and leave him alone.”

  The kid was all for it, but the redhead was fired up. See… she wouldn’t be the one ending the night in the emergency room. She tried to pull away from him. I decided on my speech to young guys susceptible to female provocateurs. I stood up, because there was no way in hell I was going to let my little redheaded provocateur get the kid she was with altered in any way. “Dump her kid. She wants to see you get your face rearranged or for you to put an old geezer into traction. She’s the same age as my grandkid would be if I had one. I’m sixty, and I don’t want anything she’s dishing, so relax and go finish your drinks. Remember what I said though: someone who cares for you doesn’t put you at risk.”

  The redhead was outraged. “Are you going to let this old shithead talk about me like that?”

  Her young man smiled at me. He held out his hand. “I sure am. Thank you for your service, Sir. Sorry I interrupted your night.”

  I shook his hand with renewed hope. Someone had actually taken my advice. Somewhere… worlds were colliding as the cosmic balance shifted. “Thank you. Please enjoy the rest of your evening. I appreciate more than you can imagine that you had the good sense not to ruin mine.”

  He chuckled, as the rest of the bar patrons settled back into their seats. “C’mon, Linda… I think this gentleman knows you better than I do. Let’s finish our drinks in peace.”

  The redhead’s facial features had been gradually changing from rabid excitement to angry bitch with every word and action by her date. She tore away from him, and decided to slap me in the face, which I would have taken to end this crappy buzz killer incident. A hand grabbed hers though from my side. Stacy followed through with a push that propelled the redhead into her date’s arms.

  Stacy pointed at her with grim warning. “I just got out of prison, and I’ve been handling little smartass bitches like you for some time. Move along young skank, or I’ll show you what an old skank can do.”

  The bar crowd immediately adopted Stacy with backup cheers, and even applause. Linda wanted no part of Stacy. She started to sob as her date led her away. The young couples left, and believe me, three of the youngsters wanted out of there in the worst way. I’m certain if Linda the redhead could have figured out a way to cause a riot before leaving, she would have. Her date and I exchanged looks. I shook my head, and he grinned while nodding in unspoken agreement. The bar was ours after that. I bought a third round in celebration of not spending the night in the tank. Oh boy, were we a happy crowd following the close encounter of the young and stupid kind. Stacy had a ginger ale, and sat quietly, enjoying the ruckus and music.

  “Thanks for that, Stace. You altered the course of an evening in the balance. How the hell did you know where I was? Did you actually call Trish?” That in itself seemed amazing, but the only logical way she could know to come here.

  Stacy nodded. “I…I have something to tell you, and I don’t want to do it in a bar. Would you mind if I came home with you tonight? I’ll be your de
signated driver.”

  I looked into her eyes. She was dead serious. This was not good. “Okay… you’ve stirred the hairs on the back of my neck. I don’t care to play guessing games with the nice buzz I have on now.”

  She looked startled for a moment before gripping my left hand in both hers. “Sorry… it’s not a bad thing, Rick. It’s a really good and incredibly surprising thing. Please give me a chance to tell you about it in private. I won’t bother you, or screw with you in any way, shape, or form. I only learned about it an hour ago. It has nothing to do with gangsters, drugs, or me wanting to extort something from you.”

  Coincidence… I don’t think so. “C’mon, Stace… an hour ago? Something life changing happened having to do with both of us an hour ago? You were moving upward on my like list until you laid that pearl on me. I’ll play though. I’ve had enough of a good time here I guess. Going with you will keep me from getting shitfaced, which is not a good look for me.”

  Stacy met my cynical look with determination. “This will rock your world, Rick. It has nothing to do with sex, drugs, or rock and roll. I’m not trying to be cryptic… damn it. I don’t want to explain it until we’re in your house by ourselves. Someone very special followed you to the store today. I don’t give a shit if you believe me or not. I’m not saying any more until I get you out of here.”

  I smiled and patted her hand. Stacy was good… real good. I motioned Lacey over. I gave her a hundred dollar bill, because I had it, and I was happy. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Lacey. I hope to be back here sometime in the future.”

  She grasped my hand. “Anytime, Rick. Thank you. I have all your favorites inside my head now, so I will play them the moment you walk back in.”

  “Outstanding.” I turned upright to the bar. “Goodnight folks. It has been a pleasure.”

  The cheery sendoff was ruined instantly by some young, very big punk playing pool. He hurried over in outrage I’m sure no one else but him could fathom. “What the hell, old man? It’s early. Buy a few more rounds, and then you can wander off with your old piece there.”