Hassinger spoke first, "Have you two had a chance to think about how this task force should be structured? You do need help, don't you?"
Tim took the lead, "No doubt we need help, Lieutenant. We believe it's very significant that the first two robberies were separated by over two weeks and now we have two in two days. Looks like they may have been refining their technique, but are now satisfied and drastically upping the tempo. That's saying nothing about the shooting. There wasn't the slightest hesitation by the shooter. We can only expect more violence if vics resist."
"Speaking of the vic, any additional from the hospital?" asked Hassinger.
Tim nodded toward PJ and she replied, "Talked to the hospital a few minutes ago. He is now out of surgery, but in very critical condition. They say the next few hours are crucial. The vibe I'm getting is that the prognosis is not good."
Hassinger rubbed his forehead as if fighting a headache. He opened a desk drawer, took out a note pad, stood and motioned toward the conference table saying, "Okay. Let's get to it. How are we going to stop these two?"
Over the next hour, Tim and PJ laid out their approach to the investigation. With virtually no leads to follow-up, the immediate focus would be to squeeze informants and see if any potential suspects could be developed. Additionally, all of the scenes would be revisited physically with an eye on looking for similarities that could potentially lead to a pattern. Hassinger said that he would have Beans assigned to the task force for compilation and computer analysis of incoming information as well as establishment of an incident management system.
While PJ felt included, she could certainly see that Tim was much more comfortable in this discussion than she was. Why shouldn't he be? He was third generation NYPD, having served ten years there before coming to Hollywood fifteen years ago. Tim was comfortable because he was a real cop. How could she ever think he would have leaked the information that nearly cost Sissy her life? She was snapped back to the moment when she heard her name as Hassinger said, "I suggest the first thing you do Johnson is compile a one-page outline of the limited descriptions we have of the perps as well as the basic MO being employed. Something that can guide everyone when they're squeezing their informants. We can also distribute it through roll call to all of the uniforms. Maybe we'll get lucky and someone on midnights will see these guys lurking around somewhere."
PJ asked, "Do you want to see it before it goes out Lieutenant?"
Hassinger frowned, "Hell no. You're a detective. You know what's important. I'm only suggesting you do it because I think it needs to be written clearly, and done quickly, and I've known Donovan long enough not to expect either." For the first time since they had seen him this morning, Hassinger almost smiled.
Hassinger told them to develop briefing packets for the incoming task force members and be prepared to lay out investigative assignments at an organizational meeting at 4:00 p.m. He told them to expect six additional detectives and two uniforms to be assigned to them by that time, in addition to Beans. Then he rose, signaling the end of the meeting.
As they left Hassinger's office, PJ could feel the specter riding heavy on her back.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Thursday afternoon I was running errands, but I couldn't quit thinking about PJ's concern that somehow Tim had leaked the information that almost got Sissy killed. I don't know Tim well, but there has never been anything about him that troubled me in the least. He seems like a stand up guy to me, of course I've been known to misjudge people in the past. I once thought Justin was a fisherman, to say nothing of the fact that I thought my ex-wife was faithful. Obviously, I'm not really that good a judge of character. Probably better to follow PJ's instincts.
I was just pulling back into the parking lot at Cap's when my cell phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen and saw 'Elena'. I answered, "Hello there good looking, this is a pleasant surprise."
Elena purred, "Jack, you're so smooth. No wonder I find you irresistible."
"That's me, ol' irresistible Jack. So, what are you up to on this beautiful South Florida afternoon?"
Another warm purr, "Well, I left the office early today and I was thinking of trying to entice some irresistible guy I know to come to my condo for dinner tonight. I know it's short notice, but I was afraid I'd lose my nerve if I didn't do it on the spur of the moment."
I'm sometimes slow on the uptake, but I recognized this was a large and significant step in our relationship. If it wasn't for the fact that Elena's father is reputed to be one of the top mobsters in the Miami area, I'd have made a full-court press in our relationship a long time ago. She's beautiful, intelligent, poised, and contrary to her self-effacing comment, quite self-confident. She really held herself together when she and I were kidnapped by Anthony Bracchi. Self-discipline and fear have inspired me to, uncharacteristically, move slowly in our relationship. We've been out several times to dinner and South Beach clubs, but I've never even picked her up at her condo. The venues of our dates have limited us to what has amounted to no more that a little light petting. The last couple of good night kisses at her car were more lingering, but that's it. Moving our date to her condo created an entirely different circumstance. I wanted to take that step, but knew it was just too dangerous. If I break her heart her dad may well break my body. Luckily, the short notice certainly gave me an easy out.
I took a deep breath and said, "It is short notice, but I'd love to come to your place for dinner. What time would you like me to arrive?" What the hell, I can't live forever.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was 3:45 p.m. when PJ walked into the conference room. She dropped the stack of briefing packets she was carrying on the table and took a vacant seat near the head of the table. Nearly every seat around the table was occupied, but everyone present knew that the seats near the head of the table were reserved for the detectives running this gig, PJ and Tim.
Dick Kahn, a crusty, but very effective and seasoned detective seated across the table said, "Hey Johnson, sounds like you guys have a live one. Good call to get a task force together and hit it hard. What's the status on the latest vic?"
PJ shook her head, "He died about an hour ago. Never regained consciousness."
Kahn nodded, "Too damn bad. Did they recover the slugs?"
PJ answered, "Shots were through and through, but the lab guys found two of them in the trunk of the car. Never found the third."
Now Jimmie Moore, another experienced detective sitting next to Kahn joined the conversation, "Ballistics?"
"By the time they went through the windshield, the victim, and both the front and rear seats, the slugs were pretty well mangled, but the lab guys say there's enough to make a match."
Kahn asked, "They enter the slugs in NIBIN?"
"They did," replied PJ.
One of the two uniform officers who were seated in a row of chairs along the wall leaned forward and asked, "What's NIBIN?"
Kahn turned in his chair and replied, "It's the National Integrated Ballistic Identification Network. It's the brainchild of ATF. Local and state agencies, feds too, enter slugs or shell casings from crime scenes or test firings of seized weapons into this national system. The system identifies links between weapons and crimes. Pretty damn powerful tool since usually the same weapon means the same perp. Helps identify other jurisdictions looking for the same perps. Gives us a chance to collaborate."
"Collaborate, is that your new word for the day Kahn?" asked Moore with a chuckle.
Before Kahn could reply, Lieutenant Hassinger entered the room and took the seat at the end of the table. The room fell silent. Tim followed Hassinger into the room and took the seat next to PJ. Hassinger looked around the room pausing at the two uniform officers seated along the wall and said, "Officers, you two are members of this task force because your commanders feel you can carry the ball. Get up here to the table. We don't have a second string on this team." The two officers stood quickly and found seats at the table. Hassinger continued, "Detectives Donovan and
Johnson are point on this case. They will run this task force, but you are all experienced investigators, so I would not expect they will need to do anything more than coordinate things and see to it that all tasks get assigned." Looking slowly around the room again he asked, "Any questions?"
Hassinger took the murmurs of "No Sir," to indicate that his message was received and understood. He turned the meeting over to Tim and PJ and left the room.
PJ distributed the briefing packets and she and Tim began reviewing the material with everyone. Questions were asked and answered and the immediate tasks PJ and Tim had defined were assigned. It was the general consensus around the table that the increased violence and frequency of the robberies demanded that they immediately hit the investigation hard. A troop of focused investigators filed out of the room at 5:30 p.m.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Elena had suggested I arrive at her condo around 6:00 p.m. Traffic was heavy, but I calculated accurately and arrived just a couple of minutes late. Her condo is located in a tower adjacent to the fabled Fontainebleau Hotel on Miami Beach. I opted for valet parking rather than struggle looking for parking this time of the day. I grabbed the bouquet of flowers and bottle of wine I'd picked up on my drive south and took the elevator to the twenty-fifth floor.
Elena looked radiant when she opened the door. Her platinum blond hair literally glowed in the still bright early evening light streaming through the windows that lined two walls of her corner condo. She was wearing a pale yellow sun dress that ended just above her knees. She was barefooted. Her warm blue eyes sparkled as she said, "Welcome Jack, I'm so glad you're here." She raised up on her toes and gave me a quick kiss on the lips.
I stepped into the condo and handed the flowers and wine to Elena, "For the hostess."
She purred, "Thank you so much. This is very sweet of you."
"I'm the one who should be saying thank you. I'm getting a real home-cooked meal. I honestly can't remember the last time that happened."
Elena laughed and said, "You haven't tasted my cooking yet."
"I'm totally confident it will be wonderful."
Closing the door and starting toward the open kitchen area Elena asked, "How about a drink? Would you like a Landshark?"
"You have Landshark?"
With a twinkle in her eye, "Of course I do. It's your beer. You think I'm going to invite you over and not stock your beer?"
I know it wasn't a monumental undertaking, but somehow the fact that Elena had gone to the trouble to stock Landshark really impressed me. I replied, "I'd love a Landshark. What are you having?"
She cocked her head to one side and said, "I think I'll have a gin and tonic. It's such a beautiful day, we can sit out on the balcony."
"Point me in the right direction and I'll mix it for you."
Once we had our drinks, we went out onto the large balcony that ran along the two glass walls of the corner condo. The view of the Miami Beach area and the Atlantic was amazing. It was the same Atlantic I see from my balcony, but there is something different about being twenty-five stories high rather that two. There is also a distinction between Hollywood and Miami Beach. We settled into the deep cushions of two wicker chairs facing the ocean and clinked our glasses. Elena had insisted I have my beer in a chilled glass she had waiting in the freezer. We each took a long drink.
Our conversation was light and flowed easily. When I'm not with Elena, nearly every thought of her includes a nagging caveat about her father, but when I'm in her company I completely forget my reservations. There is something light and warm about her personality, as if being friendly just comes easily to her. No pretense, just a nice person. Careful Jack, this is a slippery slope you're traversing. Just as I was about to ask Elena if she would like for me to refill her empty glass with a new drink, a buzzer went off in the kitchen. She stood and announced, "Dinner is ready. I'll get the dinner, you open the wine."
As we moved into the kitchen, I asked, "The wine is where?"
Elena gestured over her shoulder to a small wine refrigerator under one of the kitchen counters, "In the wine fridge, there is a bottle of the Pinot Noir on the top shelf. I believe it will go very well with the lamb."
I responded, "You made lamb, I love lamb."
Smiling Elena said, "I know you do Jack. One night when we were out for dinner, you attempted to order the lamb, but they were out of it. You were very disappointed at the time." With the twinkle in her eyes again, "I don't intend for you to be disappointed tonight. I made a crown roast of lamb. It had just gone into the oven when you arrived."
I found the bottle of wine Elena had indicated, opened it and filled the wine glasses at the two place settings on the dining table. Elena took the roasting pan holding the lamb surrounded by roasted vegetables from the oven and placed it on top of the stove, covering it with aluminum foil. It smelled heavenly. She came to the table with two chilled greek salads from the refrigerator and set them on the table saying, "By the time we finish these, the lamb will have rested the requisite time."
The next hour was one of the most enjoyable meals of my life. Turns out that Elena not only holds a Master's Degree in Architecture from MIT, but she's also a self-taught gourmet cook. She's not only gorgeous, a solid twelve on the ten scale, she's a wonderful conversationalist. I would say she's perfect, but we haven't been to bed, so I'm holding my final opinion in reserve. We were well into the meal and the bottle of wine when I remembered I would need to drive back to Hollywood at some point. I'd started to refill my glass after refilling hers, but stopped and set the bottle back on the table. Elena noticed and asked, "You don't like the wine?"
"Oh, I like the wine just fine. It's great, it's just that I have to drive back to Hollywood. I need to take it easy."
Elena reached out, picked up the bottle of wine and while refilling my glass said, "I'll make certain you don't leave until you're sober again." The mischievous glint in her eyes was undeniable.
After we finished dinner and the bottle of wine, we cleaned up the dishes and the kitchen. Elena told me I didn't need to help, but I ignored her protest. I was very much enjoying this casual domestic setting. I hadn't experienced anything of this nature as enjoyable since early in my marriage to Katherine. Somewhere along the way, Katherine and I lost the spark to ignite an evening like this. Too focused on building our life together to enjoy our life together. Oh, Sissy and I played house for a short time a while ago, but our meals together were casual, hurried events that we both viewed as standing in the way of our next frolic in the bedroom. This evening was . . . well, it was wonderful.
After we finished cleaning up the kitchen, Elena looked up at me and said, "I bought a very nice bottle of cognac for after dinner, but . . .." Her voice trailed off as she coyly batted her eyelashes at me. I didn't really care to have cognac, I've tried to acquire a taste for scotch, but without much success. Yet, there was no way I could turn down anything this woman was offering. Not tonight. She had me, and we both knew it.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was just after 7:00 Friday morning when I pulled into my favorite parking spot in front of the dumpster at Cap's Place. My last car was blown up is this same spot, but no remnants of that most unfortunate episode of my life are still visible. This spot is usually available as the 'No Parking' sign deters most people. Of course at this early hour, I had my choice of every spot in the lot. The only spots unavailable were a few at the very back occupied by vehicles belonging to people with boats in the marina behind us.
I wouldn't normally be up and around at this ridiculous time of the day, but Elena kicked me out this morning, telling me she needed to get dressed and be in the office by 8:30 for an important meeting. She muttered something about it taking her longer to get ready since she'd only had a couple hours of sleep. Then she batted her eyelashes and said, "I promised you'd be sober before you drove home."
Usually, on the drive back from one of my sojourns into the world of casual sex, I find myself questioning the prudence of
my decisions the previous night. Certainly this situation presented ample material for just such a self-deprecating analysis. After all, Elena is the daughter of a reputed organized crime kingpin. I've always felt that the affairs I've had with the wives of wealthy men were like juggling flaming torches, but this situation is more akin to juggling the torches by intentionally grabbing the burning ends. I can't avoid getting burned, one way or another.
Yet, something was different on this early morning drive. First, it didn't feel like casual sex. More caring than sensual. Like it was the natural progression of our relationship, not just an offhand hookup. Like it was something meant to be, not just an opportunity. Each time my mind focused on Mancuso and what he might do to me if he was displeased by my relationship with his daughter, I would summarily dismiss the picture with thoughts of how nice it felt to be with Elena. As I stepped from my car, I realized that this was not like me, I'm usually much more pragmatic than this.
Quick Be Jack: A Jack Nolan Novel (The Cap's Place Series Book 3) Page 4