Peppermint Soul (Liza McNairy Mysteries Book 1)

by Dan Glover

  When she finally came home to him, apologized, and crawled into the sack, it was like fucking one of the blow-up dolls he used to keep as a teenager. Christ, she didn’t even move. Just laid there. Didn’t grunt. Granted, he wasn’t a Rudolf Valentino but he tried. She wouldn’t even help him find the hole. He had to poke and prod at her for twenty fucking minutes before finally finding the entry to that dried up snatch of hers.

  He'd made a mistake. But the next thing he knew, she was pregnant. Amy was born a year after their marriage and he'd never seen a more beautiful sight in all his days. Yeah, maybe his marriage was shit, but he had one special little girl. And then another. Jesus. Sometimes he just looked at Sally and she began swelling up. They might have had sex a dozen times during their entire marriage and that was being generous. He supposed some women were simply naturally fertile and he'd been blessed with one.

  After their third, little Frank, Sally decided he'd had enough of that sweet stuff. Not that he prodded her too much. By then, he'd amassed a harem of ladies, one for each night of the week if he so desired. Did she know he was screwing around on him? It worried him at first but later he simply didn’t care. By then, Sally had put on a good hundred pounds or close to it and he'd lost any yearning for her he once might have had.

  He winked at Amy. Covertly. When Sally's back was turned. It was their signal—between he and his daughter—to be patient... that he'd see to it things worked themselves out. He knew better than to go against Sally when she was on one of her rampages. Wait and she'd cool off. Hell, if he had to, he'd make up a story about some father-daughter shit going on at work. His wife ate that crap up. But then Amy surprised him by confessing her sins.

  "Okay... I admit it, mother. I crawled out the window to go with Missy and Melinda. They invited me to go down to the beach. There was a party going on. And I knew you wouldn’t let me go so I..."

  "You goddamned right I wouldn’t have allowed that, girly. Christ, Hank... see what happens when you pamper this girl? The next thing you know, she'll be banging all those surfer dudes just like your precious twins. God... my mother warned me about you..."

  "Shut up, Sally. Don't say another fucking word or so help me..."

  Maybe his wife'd heard something in his voice that night... a warning of impending doom, perhaps. He wasn’t sure how far he'd go to protect Amy but at that second he was ready to drop Sally where she stood. Cold cock the bitch. Knock her mouthy ass out. Instead, she'd whirled around and walked away. And now

  3

  Amy was married with girls of her own. He often searched his son in law's eyes for signs of frustration. The kind only a commiserating soul would recognize. One time the boy began to open up to him... they'd been in the back yard barbequing chicken and drinking copious amounts of beer when Omer began asking telling questions about Hank's marriage: did he and Sally still sleep together? No, not in the sense that you mean, Omer. You know... do you still do it, dad? He always called him dad. In a way Hank liked that but the next second he found himself stifling a stiff rejoinder to call him by his given name. Hank might have been many things but he damned sure wasn’t Omer's father.

  "No, son... I'm afraid not. But that's not unusual for couples our age, is it?"

  "I guess not. What about couples who are my age, dad?"

  "Well, to be perfectly honest, Omer, Amy's mother and me never exactly set the world on fire in that department."

  "Oh... so maybe that's where she gets it from..."

  Hank supposed mothers and daughters had a lot in common. There was no reason to think sexual appetite, or lack of it, would be any different. For a moment he thought about advising the boy to start playing the field like he did but that would be tantamount to telling his son in law to cheat on his own daughter.

  "Have you tried spicing things up a little, Omer? You know, taking Amy out to a nice dinner, get a motel room in a swanky place... that used to work wonders with her mother."

  "I think she's having an affair, dad."

  Oh Jesus Christ in heaven... that's just what he wanted to hear. It was easy enough to blame his daughter's lack of interest when it came to bedding her husband on her mother's genes... but all of a sudden his own infidelities came roaring to the forefront of his conscience. Was that the real reason why Sally cut him off? Did she know how much he played around? Quite possibly... he used working late as an excuse and yes it was true his job did consume an inordinate amount of time. But Sally wasn’t stupid.

  "How do you know, Omer?"

  He wasn’t sure if he was ready for the answer. Had Amy confessed? If the girl was anything like her father, that would never happen. Denial wasn’t simply a river in Egypt. It ruled their existence. Had some of their friends informed Omer of Amy's indiscretions? And if so, what did he plan on doing about it? Divorce? Or worse yet, try to make things work?

  "I don't know for sure, dad. It's more of a feeling I get than anything certain. She works late a lot. Not just an hour or two either. Sometimes she doesn’t get home until well after midnight."

  Do you really want to know that your wife is fucking her boss, Omer? I mean, think about it, boy. Knowing for certain that your wife is screwing someone else will change everything in your life. Your marriage will crumble. Your job will suffer. It'll be difficult for you to ever trust another woman again. Isn't it better to simply let this affair—if indeed that's what it is—play out and end, as it will? Amy will come back to you. You're a good man. She'll figure that out. If you really want my advice, give her some time.

  "We as men are chary, Omer. We doubt and we do it instinctively. It's in our genes. Our culture tells us to be like that. Want to know what I'd do?"

  "Well, yes, dad... that's why I came to you with this."

  "Forget about all your suspicions. Don't pressure Amy. If you do, it'll only backfire. Show her how much you love her. Buy her things. It doesn’t have to be expensive jewelry. Just little somethings that tell her how much you think of her... that you love her unconditionally. I know it'll be difficult, but in the end, you'll thank me, son."

  Was it good advice? He doubted it. Hell, if he suspected Sally of having an affair, forgetting about it would be impossible. Instead, he'd track them both down. Make them sorry. But this was his daughter they were talking about. She was nothing like those two little Picany sluts who disappeared all those years ago.

  4

  One day he found himself... forty years old, a newly minted dick, and in charge of finding the perp who kidnapped the twins. He'd always made his opinion known how they'd simply run off. Probably got tired of mommy and daddy crimping their style and took off for the footlights of Las Vegas where they'd be paid for pimping out that fine young ass instead of doing it for free. Maybe that's why he put the case on the back burner. Bigger fish to catch, anyhow, more high-profile cases waiting in the wings. Some cases weren't meant to be solved. The Captain wanted it like that.

  The Captain... that man ruled his life more than any woman would ever do. Yet there must've been a time... a moment when Hank could've said no. To refuse to follow the man any farther... yet try as he might, he couldn’t recall when it occurred. It was as if he'd been born into the entire deal. Sure, he could blame it on his ancestry... both his parents were full blooded Sicilians... just like the Captain's... but that wouldn’t be fair. His folks never engaged in any sort of crimes, organized or not. They'd raised him to be a good man, a fine upstanding citizen. They were so proud of him when he volunteered for the military, and later, when he joined up with the department. So what happened to all that? What'd become of the promises?

  The Captain happened. Yeah, that was it. But even that was just an excuse. The Captain hadn’t held a gun to his head. The man made certain suggestions, sure. But Hank either followed them or not. Mostly, though, he went where the Captain bade him to go. Without a thought, really, and without any compunctions when it came to hurting those he'd been charged with protecting, even the ones he loved. What if it'd been his daughters
who vanished instead of the twins?

  Christ, where'd the time go? Here he was thirteen years later still chasing tail and putting in time, riding things out until he could retire early, collect a pension, and get on with living the high life. Yet he'd stashed enough cash away that he could quit everything tomorrow—the entire façade of playing detective—and live comfortably the rest of his life. Hell... he'd accumulated enough money that even ten generations from now his descendents would still be trying to spend it all.

  He liked the action. Going back to being just another civilian held no appeal for Hank Lupo. What the hell would he do all day? That was the question. He had no intentions of becoming a drunk like Allen Picany. And that freak Johm? Keep that asshole away from me, thank you. Why the hell did the Captain allow that man access to their secrets? Didn’t he understand the ramifications? Johm wanted to be caught. And if the authorities ever managed to track the maniac down, the entire organization would go with him.

  We need men like Johm. That's how the Captain explained it. But when Hank asked him why, the Captain had no answer. We need him. But what did that mean? What sort of hold did Johm have over the Captain that he'd allow that man the leniency that he did? In the end, Hank supposed that wasn’t anything he needed to know. If it was, the Captain would've informed him of it long ago. He did have his plans, though... irons in the fire.

  Chapter 13—Loose Lips

  (Sinking Ships)

  Too many people knew and it bothered him. He was used to running a tight ship... did so in the Navy and he could see no reason to change course now. This business of theirs could be far more lucrative than drugs if managed correctly but everyone seemed to want to bring friends aboard. Hank Lupo was in just as deeply as he was so the man had no room to run his mouth but the man's old buddy Picany... he was a different story. Drank way too much the way he heard it and most times drunks tended to yap at the most inopportune of times.

  Now the man had gone and hired some psychics to help find his daughters. For Christ's sake, what would be next? Séances? Still, to hear Hank tell it, even if the girls were located they'd be in no condition to talk. The Captain had learned a long time ago how the dead kept secrets far better than the living but Hank had fought him on that, at least in the case of the twins. The man had feelings. That was dangerous in this business... in any business, for that matter.

  Still, they made their money off the girls. He supposed it didn’t hurt anything to let Johm practice his art on them. That man was a severe sicko. But he had talent. Had to admit that. Yep. To hear him tell it a nip and a tuck and the twins were as docile as fallen angels. Of course the Captain isolated himself from men like Thomas Johm. Allen Picany too. He ran a tight ship... always had.

  Maybe it was time to flex a little muscle. Call in reinforcements if necessary. But maybe a warning might suffice. A well-meaning phone call from a concerned citizen might go a long ways towards stopping the new investigation into the Picany twins' disappearance. What the hell was Allen thinking? That sort of shit could bring down the whole deck of cards that the Captain had so painstakingly put in place, one by one.

  Promoting Hank Lupo to full detective in charge of the cold case unit had its repercussions—mostly from old-timers who thought they should get the job—but it proved to be a stroke of genius. Some people weren’t meant to be found and Hank understood that. Plus it made overall operations far easier from a logistic point of view... their little enterprise soon blossomed into an enormously successful business. The main problem he had was laundering all that money flowing into the coffers.

  He'd heard how Hank stashed his cut. Smart man. Cash always spent. But the Captain tended to like the finer things in life. A civil servant like him only brought down a hundred twenty grand a year. It was difficult to justify multi-million dollar mortgages on the half dozen houses he owned and a fleet of luxury automobiles in his garage. So the bankers worked their magic... for a fee, of course. Suddenly the Captain was the recipient of huge inheritance from a long lost uncle he knew nothing about other than the old family birth certificate in the picture albums his mother had given him just before she passed away.

  No reason why anyone needed to know the uncle had died as an infant. The attorneys were able to fashion an entire history for a man who never lived, for a fee, of course. Still, he'd heard horror stories of men who tried to get cheap. What did it matter if he had to lay out thirty percent of a hundred million dollars?

  Yep. Dying was big business. No one wanted to meet the reaper. They'd spend their entire life fortunes just to buy a few more years... hell, even a few more months. Plenty of money to go around... enough to grease all the squeaky wheels in the world if they played it right.

  "How could you let this happen, Hank? I just saw an article online about how Allen Picany hired a pair of private detectives to investigate the twins' disappearance. You promised me that you had a handle on this case."

  "No worries, Captain. I've got everything under control. I know those two so-called psychics that Picany hired. Television show hucksters... that's all they are. I'll keep a close watch on them both."

  Maybe Hank Lupo was starting to lose his edge. That happened to men when they'd made just a shit load of money and were getting older each year. Hell, he felt it too. The thing was, once a person began getting sloppy in the business they'd chosen, it was only a matter of time before they were either caught by the authorities or done in by their own consciences. He'd seen it happen before.

  "I'll take your word for it, Hank. Don't let me down."

  "Have I ever?"

  Those psychics bothered him. Probably just a load of horse shit but then again one never knew what they might stumble upon once they started kicking over old tombstones. Liza McNairy had been one of them once... couldn’t cut it though. Women never could. The goddamned politicians made the commissioner hire them and he was the one stuck with their bitch asses. The dykes he could handle. It was the lookers like McNairy that gave him the chills. He saw the way Hank Lupo was with her. The man was a pussy hound from way back and even though the Captain always warned him not to shit where he ate, Lupo never listened.

  "No sir, you haven't, Hank. Take care of business and it'll take care of us. Remember that."

  McNairy might have to go. Her and that queer partner of hers... those homo types made him want to puke, the dykes and the fairies. Always wanting equality, even to the point of marrying one another. Where were they when it came to raising a family, though? He saw them out in the streets grabbing each other's crotches. Normal people didn’t act that way. Why should he have to turn a blind eye to that shit? It was a sign of the times, he supposed.

  Personally, he liked Liza McNairy. She'd been a good cop. A little too by the book for his tastes but you had to have a few of those types in the department, just to keep the others from being noticed. The ones like Hank Lupo—who didn’t mind feathering their own nests at the expense of the public—were more his style. They could be trusted, up to a point, of course. The Captain learned long ago not to put his complete faith in anyone.

  This Danners Forthright character bothered him. The man could be a problem. Even though Hank Lupo assured him that he had a handle on it, the Captain knew better than to let up on his guard. Forthright might not be a real psychic but the man had a knack for solving cold cases, or so it appeared. Between that and Hank Lupo having a soft spot in his heart for McNairy, the Captain had his doubts. They kept him up at night. And the less sleep he got, the crankier he became. The wife could testify to that.

  What really pissed him off was how the State of California had Danners Forthright in its grasp and let the little weasel wriggle free. The man came within hours of being executed. The goddamned liberal media... if they'd kept their traps shut, Forthright would be dust by now. Hell, whether or not he'd done the crime he'd been accused of didn’t matter to the Captain. What mattered was that Forthright was a freak of nature. At least queers didn’t propagate their seed, not in the
natural sense. He figured he could take at least a bit of comfort in that fact. But knowing the Forthright lineage would end with the death of Danners didn’t help the Captain sleep any better.

  The Captain had taken Hank Lupo under his wing years ago. The man'd been a good earner. He knew what needed doing and he saw that things were accomplished even if it meant stepping on some toes along the way. Maybe he'd gotten too close to the man. Instead of looking at Lupo through the lens of friendship that'd developed, perhaps he ought to step back a few feet. Christ. The Picany case was twenty years old. This sort of thing should never happen.

  He supposed he'd have to become personally involved now. It was dangerous, but to remain in the background only courted disaster. What was done, was done. There was no sense in going after Allen Picany. No... the place to start would be Liza McNairy. That girl and her sidekick needed to be taught a lesson. Yep... someone should inform them both just what they were getting into by digging up old bones. Instead of helping them, Hank Lupo should be quelling the investigation. But then again, the man knew his business. He didn’t need to be told that some cases were better left unsolved. Whatever help he gave to McNairy and Forthright would be negligible at best, and misleading. That's why Hank held that position. He could be trusted to do what was right and not simply what was expedient.

  There it was again... that question of trust. Just how deep did blood go? If those two dicks began getting closer to the truth, on which side would Lupo stand? Hank Lupo was more than friends to them... well, to the woman, anyway. He'd gone to bat for Liza McNairy in the past so there was no reason to believe he wouldn’t do the same in the future. It was just bad business, and Hank knew it. But that's how the man operated. Always had.