Primary Target: a fast-paced murder mystery (Double Blind Book 2)

by Dan Alatorre

  Sergio pretended to be busy with his sandwich, keeping his head facing his lunch but his eyes on the strangers.

  They might be customers, but they sure aren’t acting like it.

  Customers usually stood by the “Please wait to be seated” sign or watched for a hostess. And unless they were Secret Service agents waiting for the President to enter, they wouldn’t check the door and seating area so much.

  And if they were going to rob the register, they’d have done it already.

  So, what are they doing?

  Sergio glanced at the entrance. A third man stood outside the restaurant, practically blocking the door. When a man and a woman walked up, he shooed them away.

  This looks like a mafia hit, but there’s almost nobody in the restaurant.

  Putting his hands on the edge of the table, Sergio eased it away from himself, allowing for some maneuvering room if he had to get up in a hurry.

  Dolly came out of the kitchen, carrying two full tumblers brimming with water and ice. She beamed at the large strangers. “Two for lunch, fellas?”

  “We’re, uh . . .” The gray-haired man surveyed the room of empty tables. “We’re waiting for someone.”

  Dolly gestured to a table. “Would you like to go ahead and be seated until your friend arrives? I can bring him over when he gets here.”

  The man in the hat frowned. “No.”

  “We’ll wait here.” The gray-haired stranger forced a smile.

  “Sure.” Dolly walked to Sergio’s table and set down the water glasses. Pulling out a dish towel from her apron, she strolled back to the center of the restaurant and wiped down a table, looking at the two men. “Let me know when you’re ready, boys.”

  The strangers huddled together, whispering. Another check of the door. The gray-haired one flexed his shoulders. “Give it a few more minutes.”

  They’re not here for anyone they’ve seen in the dining room. The target has to be someone they expected to be here, but who they don’t see.

  Sergio slid his ice water away from his plate, near the front edge of the table, keeping his hand on the large plastic tumbler.

  If they’re a couple of local shakedown artists wanting to muscle the owner, they’d have already gone into the kitchen. Who are they looking for?

  The ladies’ room door opened, and Abbie walked out. When she reached the center of the room, the two men approached her.

  The gray-haired man moved into her path. “Mind if I have a word, counselor?”

  Abbie’s eyes went wide. “Morton. Are you stalking me now?” Frowning, she turned sideways to go past him. “I told you to leave a message with my office.”

  Morton’s pock-faced companion took a step toward her.

  Coughing to cover the noise, Sergio splashed his drink over the tile floor in front of his booth.

  “I’ve left messages.” Morton stepped in front of Abbie again. “Lots of messages.”

  “Leave another.” Abbie pushed past him.

  Morton grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her backwards. “Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

  “Hey!” Sergio jumped to his feet, climbing onto the bench seat in the booth. “That’s enough.”

  The pockmarked man turned around, glaring at Sergio as he walked toward him. “This doesn’t concern you, pal.”

  Sergio stared at the big man. “Better watch your step when you talk to me—pal.”

  “Yeah?” The man growled. “You a tough guy?”

  When the soles of his shoes hit the ice water, the tile did its work. The big man’s feet went out from under him and he landed on his back with a crash. His age and weight did the rest. His arms raised slightly before his head sagged to the side and his body went limp.

  Sergio stepped around the puddle, his eyes fixed on Morton. “I warned him to watch his step.” He squared his shoulders, advancing. “Here’s the deal. Leave right now or take a nap on the floor with your ugly friend.”

  Morton grabbed Abbie by the hair, backing away. She screamed in pain, grasping at Morton’s hands as he pulled her away. “I’ve got business with this shyster.”

  “That wasn’t one of the options.” Sergio launched his hand to Morton’s throat, squeezing the windpipe. Eyes bulging, Morton released Abbie and grabbed Sergio’s arm with both hands. Sergio pushed forward, putting his free hand on Morton’s shoulder and swiping the thug’s legs out from under him. As Morton went over backwards, Sergio ensured the back of the big man’s head met the front edge of the bar.

  The crash rattled the beer glasses and silverware on the countertop. Morton’s eyes rolled back in his head as he slid to the ground in a heap.

  Sergio extended his hand to Abbie where she sat on the floor. “I think we should go,” he said. “They have one more guy out front. Maybe more.”

  Taking his hand, Abbie got to her feet.

  Sergio retrieved her purse. “You okay?”

  She swept her hair away from her face. “Not your typical client lunch.”

  “I wouldn’t know. I never had lunch with a lawyer before.” Putting his arm on her shoulder, he looked for Dolly. She was standing by the kitchen, holding menus, her eyes wide.

  “Dolly,” Sergio said.

  Dolly’s gaze remained on the two men lying on her dining room floor.

  Sergio snapped his fingers. “Dolly!”

  She glanced at him.

  “Which way is the rear exit?”

  Pulling open the kitchen door, Dolly pointed to a spot in the rear, past the grill and stove.

  “Thanks. Are you all right?”

  Dolly’s head slowly bobbed up and down.

  “Okay. You’re doing good.” Sergio guided Abbie toward the kitchen as he addressed the server. “Have all the employees follow us out back, then call the police from there, okay?”

  Dolly swallowed hard. “Okay.”

  “Okay.” Sergio guided Abbie to the exit.

  She stopped at the kitchen door. “What about my car?”

  “It stands out a little, you know?” Sergio said. “My guess is, these guys followed us here. Let the guy out front keep watching it while we go out the back. He’ll think we’re still inside with his friends, so we’ll be able to slip away and grab a cab. We’ll come back for it later. Sound good?”

  “Sounds good,” Abbie said.

  Sergio looked up and down the alley. Seeing it was free of additional thugs, he ushered everyone outside. “Dolly—thanks for your help. Call the police now. Tell them everything you saw.” He took Abbie by the arm and headed down the alley. “Incidentally, counselor, is anyone else angry with you?”

  Trembling, Abbie nodded. “I’m a lawyer. People are always angry with me.”

  Sergio pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Then we’ll give our statements to the police from the cab.”

  Chapter 22

  Sergio had the cabbie let them out half a block from his condo, at the corner. When the taxi was out of sight, he walked to his unit holding Abbie’s quivering hand.

  At the elevator, he turned to her. Abbie’s shoulders were hunched up, her face frozen in a grimace. “Hey.” He clasped her hands in his. “Take some deep breaths. It’s over. It’s okay that you were scared back there. That was a scary situation, but you’re safe now.”

  She nodded, inhaling deeply. “Were you scared?”

  “Sure.” He pushed the button to call the elevator.

  “Then why am I the only one with shaking hands?”

  Sergio smiled. “You’ll be okay.”

  The elevator doors opened, and they stepped on. Sergio pressed the button to the second floor. Leaning against the wall, he put his hands in his pockets.

  Abbie stared at the floor, her arms wrapped around herself. When the elevator doors opened again, Sergio stepped out and led the way to his unit. He unlocked the door and held it open for his guest to step inside.

  Abbie entered, peering around the little condo. A tiny artificial Christmas tree sat in the middle of the
coffee table. “Nice place.”

  “Thanks.” Dropping his keys on the end table, Sergio headed to the kitchen. “It’s adequate for now. Money’s been a little tight lately.”

  “Because of your suspension?”

  “Because I’m putting my sister through college. Drink?” He opened his refrigerator. It was mostly empty except for condiment bottles, half a leftover sub from Publix, a few cans of Coca-Cola, and an unopened bottle of asti spumante. Sergio shut the fridge and grabbed two plastic cups from the dishwasher, holding them under the ice cube dispenser. “We’re pretty much limited to Coke and water right now. What’ll it be?”

  “Got any Xanax?” Abbie sat on the couch, still hugging herself. “How are you not shaken up? I mean, I know you’re a cop, but there were three of them! You didn’t even flinch.”

  “Flinching might have gotten me shot.” Sergio filled the cups with water. “You can’t display fear in a tense situation, even if you’re ready to pee down your leg.” Carrying the drinks to the living room, he handed one to Abbie. “I imagine it’s the same in a courtroom. If the opposing counsel is acting nervous, you know they don’t have a good case or they’re scared to be in front of a judge. Either way, they’re off their game, and that’s an opportunity for you to exploit.”

  “So you were scared,” Abbie said.

  “I said I was, yeah.” He took a sip of water, sitting in the chair opposite her. “But I couldn’t act like it. And—”

  “How did you know they were after me?”

  “Well, I am a detective,” Sergio said. “When they grabbed you, that was a pretty big clue.”

  Abbie frowned. “Be serious.” She took a deep drink of her water. The cup shook in her hand.

  “That’s adrenaline leaving your system.” Sergio set his cup on the coffee table. “In a little bit, you’ll feel emotionally depleted and you’ll crash like a ton of bricks—so let it happen.”

  “I . . .” She took another deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t think I’ll be relaxing anytime soon.

  “And that’s exactly how you’ll feel until you doze off. That’s why they call it a crash. Now, my turn.” He leaned forward. “What does this Morton character want with you in the first place? Why’s he calling your cell phone and showing up at lunch with intent to kidnap?”

  “He was a prior case.” Setting her cup down, Abbie put her hands to her forehead. “A sheriff’s deputy, suspected of links to organized crime—which turned out to be true.”

  “You defended him?”

  “And we lost. Ever since, he’s been a little pissed off. Not being a deputy messed up his ability to cover up illegal activities down in Ruskin.”

  “Ruskin?” Sergio said. “There’s not much out there but farms. What’s he doing, smuggling strawberries?”

  “OxyContin and Vicodin, mostly. Some Fentanyl. But they weren’t picky. They diversified into stimulants two years ago—Adderall and Modafinil. Morton covered for guys hijacking it off the docks.”

  “Opioids and stimulants.” Sergio rubbed the beard stubble on his chin. “That’s big money. I wouldn’t think there’s much of a market for it in Ruskin, though. Not a big population down there.”

  “They offload it there and distribute through the state—allegedly.” Abbie closed her eyes and shook her head. “I did a good job of obscuring his role in most of it, but there were too many solid links. By the end, I knew we were toast. He was staring at ten years, so I suggested we cut a plea deal. Now he’s going to prison for two years, and he was okay with that at first, but I guess he’s changed his mind. Last week he made bail, so . . .”

  “That explains why he’s mad at you, but not why he’s trying to drag you out of a restaurant in broad daylight. With witnesses.”

  “Maybe that’s why I’m still shaking.” She wrapped her arms around herself again.

  “Yeah.” Getting up from the chair, Sergio walked to the window. Across the street, a pond shimmered in the breeze. A Christmas wreath rocked back and forth on the fence surrounding the clubhouse pool.

  He didn’t buy Abbie’s story—not all of it, anyway. There was more she wasn’t telling him. But the first rule of interrogations is to let the person take their time. Watch for inconsistencies, but mostly, just be patient and listen. If there was more to tell, she’d offer it up when she trusted him better—or when keeping her secret would put her in more danger than she was already in.

  But nobody ever admits to a hundred percent of their wrongdoings in their first confession. Nobody.

  And if people were trying to actively kidnap her in broad daylight, Abbie probably had more to talk about than just losing a court case. A kidnapping conviction carried a life sentence. Few people would risk that over a lawyer who negotiated a two-year drug conviction.

  He pulled the blinds shut and adjusted the slats, making sure he could see out but others couldn’t easily see in, then turned to Abbie. She was staring at her water cup, rubbing her hands up and down her arms like she was freezing.

  She may not have expected Morton to abduct her, but she had to expect something. Especially after the way she treated him on the phone.

  “Well,” Sergio said. “Until the police pick up Morton and his accomplices, it’s probably not safe to go back to your house or office. Hang out here while I make a few phone calls to see what’s up. Do you have someplace you can go tonight? Somewhere safe?”

  She peered up at him. “I . . . could stay at my ex’s.”

  “Is that in Tampa?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nothing in Tampa,” Sergio said. “Not yet. We need to assume that Morton—”

  “What if I got some security?” Abbie sat up. “Could I go to my house and office if I had an armed bodyguard with me?”

  Wincing, Sergio cocked his head. “Maybe. But I meant you should fly under the radar. Spend a few days at a friend’s place in Jacksonville or something, until the police can figure out what’s going on.” He walked to the couch and sat beside her, lowering his voice as he looked her in the eye. “The gorillas who jumped you at lunch aren’t likely to try a dumb stunt like that again, but if they wanted you that bad, they aren’t going to just give up, either. They’ll be where you’re supposed to be. Places you’re known to go. Why make it easy for them to find you by being at those places?”

  Abbie nodded. “Then I definitely need personal security.”

  “Uh, that’s one way to go, but—”

  “You work for a security company now. How about you?”

  “No, no, no, no.” Sergio got up from the couch, pacing back and forth across the small living room. “Abbie, I’m one guy. There are some bad people hunting for you right now, and we don’t know why. Just because I knocked out Morton and his buddy, that doesn’t mean their plan has been stopped.” He paused, facing her. “Leave town and lay low. That’s a way better idea until the cops can get some answers out of Morton and round up whoever he’s working with. Go to a friend’s house out of town. Get security there, if you like.”

  “Wouldn’t that be like flinching?”

  “What?” he said. “No. This—”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Showing fear?”

  “Abbie . . .”

  “Running will make them think I’m afraid.” She got up from the couch and walked toward him. “I want to show I’m not afraid.”

  “Yeah, but . . .”

  “But what?” She put her hands on her hips. “It’s a good strategy for you, but not for me? Because you’re a man and I’m a frail, weak little woman?”

  “I’m a cop,” Sergio said. “I’ve been trained. I know what I’m doing.”

  “All the more reason for you to protect me. You proved your worth at the restaurant. If I hire someone else, who knows if they can keep me safe the way you did?” She folded her arms. “If Morton and his bozos see you with me, they’ll know they can’t do anything.”

  “Don’t bet on it.” Sergio threw his hands out. “But it doesn’t matter.
I’m up to my ears trying to assemble enough security personnel for the political debate. Besides, isn’t it a conflict of interest for my defense lawyer to hire me as her bodyguard?”

  “If you say no and I get killed, how are you going to feel?”

  “Well, awful,” Sergio said. “But—”

  “I don’t trust anyone else.” She sat back down on the couch, lowering her head and sticking her bottom lip out.

  “I know you feel that way right now,” Sergio said. “But that’s not . . .”

  “Please?” She gazed at him with those piercing green eyes.

  He sighed. “You aren’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer, are you?”

  “Only if there’s no other option—but there is.” She kept her eyes fixed on his, her voice falling to a whisper. “Please help me, Sergio.”

  “Ugh. Okay.” Grumbling, he grabbed his water cup and walked to the kitchen, emptying it into the sink. “With all your verbal maneuvering, it’s hard to believe you lost Morton’s case.” He opened the fridge and grabbed a Coke, popping it open and filling his glass with ice. “But you need to listen to me about a few things. First, I need to call some friends at Tampa PD and see if they have Morton and the other guy in custody. We may need to press charges to help them corral the third kidnapper and anyone else who’s connected to this thing. Second, I’m supposed to be on-site in Ybor City to help coordinate the security for the debate area, so I don’t know where you’re going to be during that. Third, at some point we need to pick up your car—and mine. And fourth . . .” He poured some of the cola into his glass and returned to the living room. “I need you to—”

  Abbie was lying on the couch with her eyes closed, her head on the arm of the sofa and her knees drawn up.