Dead Man Code: A Jarvis Mann Detective Novel

by R Weir

  “Not to worry, Jarvis. May my associate Lok bring this to you?”

  I waived my gun, and he walked over slowly, handing it to me, then stepping back a couple of feet. I motioned him to move back further, which he did. I looked down quickly with one eye, while the other was alert for any action. I pulled the contents out with my left hand and saw it was cash. A lot of cash, all in hundreds. I whistled out loud, wondering how much was there.

  “Ten thousand dollars,” said Cong.

  “What did I do to earn this?”

  “Simply walk away. Tell those that hired you that the police were correct and Aaron Bailey was killed during a robbery. You get a nice payday and we go back to our business, never to bother you again.”

  “And that business would be?”

  “Commerce.”

  “Legal or illegal?”

  “Does it matter? Free enterprise, whether legal or not, creates jobs for those who need them. Hell, we even pay taxes like you do. Capitalism at its finest.”

  “Will I need to pay taxes on this windfall?”

  “That is truly between you and your accountant. The money will not show up on our ledger in any way.”

  I stood there for a moment, staring at the wad of bills, thinking of all the things I could do with it. Money didn’t always come easy to me, and it would put me on easy street for a while. It was so tempting, yet something inside said taking this money, selling my soul, would come back to haunt me, as had some of the many other bad decisions I had made through the years. I tossed the thick envelope on my kitchen table, motioning for Lok to take it back.

  “Though it is a grand gesture, I must decline. I’ve made a promise to my client to find out who killed Aaron. And I generally keep my promises, or at least try to. So I must ask you to leave and allow me to do what I do best, which is find a killer. Whoever that may be. Hopefully it wasn’t you or Lok here.”

  “You are certain of this, Jarvis,” said Cong. “It is a one-time offer. A most generous one that won’t be repeated.”

  “I am a man of my word when it comes to my clients. Without it I would not be in business very long. Surely you can understand this, as you appear to be a businessman yourself.”

  “I am. May I say I respect and even admire your integrity, even if it is ill-advised. I often attempt to take the high road to avoid the unpleasantness I so dislike. Is there a higher amount to persuade you to reconsider? An agreeable number for both of us.”

  “I’m sorry, no.”

  “You realize then I must take the next step, a step that won’t be pleasant for you or me.”

  Even with his cool exterior I doubted he would dislike whatever action he took any more than I would.

  “You can try, as have others. So far I’m still in business and still standing.”

  “Yes, we have checked you out. Know what you’ve faced. You are formidable, though not infallible. Your brother was killed because of his recklessness. It can happen to you as well.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  Cong stood up from the sofa, straightening his slacks and buttoning his coat. My attention on him allowed his associate to move closer with hardly a sound. My gun hand tensed and pointed back at Lok. His body was loose and relaxed, no sign of fear on his face.

  “I will shoot you if I have to,” I said forcefully.

  “A shame we must do this the hard way,” stated Cong. “Take him, Lok.”

  The words surprised me, as my gun was pointed right at him. But he sprung like a tightly wound coil, and moved in a blur. His motion was swift and elusive; as I pulled the trigger a foot kicked up, the gun firing, the bullet hitting the ceiling. I felt another kick to the head, so fast that even as I raised my left arm in defense, I couldn’t block it. My knees buckled and soon I was face down, my left arm pulled upward and held by the wrist so I couldn’t move, a knee on my back. It happened so quickly I swore only a split second had passed. I was completely helpless.

  “Lok here has been hoping for a rematch,” said Cong, whom I could hear moving across my kitchen floor where I was pinned. “You sucker punched him, so he hoped to show you what you are truly up against.”

  I could feel the pressure increasing on my arm. Much more, and it would be broken at the elbow. I tried to relax, though wanting deep down to somehow come up with a magic move to free myself. But fighting his position on me would only lead to more pain.

  “I, though, am a patient, civilized man. I wanted to try and buy you first. Since this didn’t work, I often would give you some time to decide before my next action. But you seemed pretty confident that you couldn’t be persuaded with money. So now we take the next step.”

  I heard him speak some dialogue to Lok. It might have been Chinese or Mandarin, or some other language from that region of the world. It really didn’t matter, for I had no idea what he said, until Lok acted. He took the two smallest fingers on my left hand, and bent them completely backwards until they snapped. The pain was brutal, certainly as bad as I’d ever felt. He released my arm, both fingers still pointing upwardly. I gritted my teeth as long as I could before yelling. Though why we yell is uncertain, as it doesn’t help with the pain any and often makes it worse since our bodies tense up so much. I heard them both walking towards the door, a faint sound of sirens in the background.

  “Lok wanted to kill you,” said Cong calmly. “But I’m a civil man, as I said. So take this as a warning. The next time will be a shoulder, or a knee or your heart cut from your chest. Think on it long and hard as the paramedics straighten out your dislocated fingers. Good day, Mr. Mann.”

  With that they left the room, leaving the door wide open. I tried to fight off the pain, and even rolled over carefully and righted myself, all without further injuring my twisted hand. Deep within the agony, a humorous thought crept into my head, knowing I’d not kept my promise to Kate of not chipping the paint with a bullet. I would have laughed at my joke if I weren’t about to cry when I saw my mangled fingers.

  Chapter 32

  My place became a beehive of activity. Kate was the first to arrive, daring the danger. She saw my hand, took a deep breath and helped me to my feet, moving me over to my kitchen chair. She stood next to me, a hand on my shoulder.

  “I won’t ask the stupid question ‘does it hurt,’” she said.

  I gave a weak smile and took some deep breaths to control the pain. A minute later a Denver cop, one I knew, though not well, came through the door, gun at the ready. He saw us both and then my hand, holstering his weapon. He spoke into his shoulder-mounted microphone, saying he needed paramedics ASAP.

  “What the hell happened?” he asked, while walking the room.

  I explained as best as I could, as talking was difficult. Soon two paramedics came in, examined my hand, and concluded the next course of action. With a quick yank, they had both fingers pointing the correct way. It didn’t hurt as much as when Lok snapped them out of joint, but it was close. At least they were now at the correct angle. They pulled out some tape and ice packs, and went to work.

  “You’ll need a trip to the ER for some x-rays,” one of them said.

  “I’d rather not.”

  I didn’t care for hospitals or doctors. Especially when I was the patient.

  “No choice. They did a pretty good job with the dislocation. I don’t think anything was fractured, but you still need to make sure. Big difference in treatment for the injury.”

  I wasn’t happy but went on down. Kate said she’d lock up after the crime scene people were done, which would be a while. The officer on scene called in to have a detective meet me at Swedish to get a full statement. My .38 would be held for evidence, since it had been fired. I needed to have a rotating group of guns, one for use and one the police held after every firing event. While the supply was running low, the danger remained high.

  I went through the ER process, one that is no more thrilling than getting teeth pulled, without the Novocain. There was a wait, and since I wasn’t bleeding o
r my bones weren’t sticking through skin, it was maybe an hour before they got to me. Another hour for x-rays and developing, and I was about done with the whole mess to the point of walking out. A Denver detective did arrive to take my statement, and it was Dan Cummings, who despised me for some reason. I think I’d rather have my fingers dislocated again, instead of talking with him. But I did my best to rise above his disdain for me.

  “So give me the details of what happened,” he said, pulling out his notepad. “And don’t leave anything out, for I have no patience for you like Mallard does.”

  Normally I’d push his buttons and get under his skin, but I had no energy for it. My hand was throbbing despite the pain pills, wrapping, and ice pack. I gave him all the details, including the names they used, model of the car, license number, and what it was in relation to. Cummings listened to every word without interruption, which was rare for him.

  “So it was something to do with the Aaron Bailey murder?” he asked.

  “Yes. They tried to buy me off. I said no and that is when this man, Lok, attacked.”

  “Why not just shoot you?” he asked. “Seems like they had you cold. Would be what I’d have done, if in their shoes.”

  I think I saw a coy smirk on his face, as if he was the funny one for once. It was a rare show of humor on his part.

  “Puts unwanted focus on them. For now, scaring me off is their plan. Thinking I’m small time and won’t keep pushing.”

  “You are small time.”

  “Maybe. But with a big heart. I’ve been through enough the last couple of years to ride through this.”

  “In the end, though, they will be coming to put you down permanently. My advice is to walk away. Even I wouldn’t have faulted you for taking the money.”

  “Not my nature to walk away from a fight or accept a bribe.”

  Cummings shook his head. “I’ll be sure to send flowers to your funeral.”

  I’m sure they would be dead ones!

  Once he was done and gone, I finally got the prognosis. No broken bones, just stretched tendons and ligaments, which would be sore for some time. Fingers taped, rest, ice and anti-inflammatory medicine. Nearly four hours of my life lost, once I was done with all the paperwork and paid the bill. While I was here I decided to check on April. It was getting late, but not quite past visiting hours. She had been moved to a private room and was now out of ICU. After some assistance on location I found her a few floors up. When I arrived she had a visitor, a male I’d not met yet. He was reaching for his gun when April told him who I was. I soon learned it was brother number three.

  “This is Neil,” said April. “He finally was able to break away and see me.”

  We shook hands. He was tall, slim and as scruffy looking as you’d expect a Vice-undercover cop to be.

  “I’m sorry to intrude,” I said. “Good to meet you.”

  “April and I were just catching up. We hadn’t seen each other in some time. She was explaining what happened. She has always been a tough girl, even when we were growing up. Though I never imagined her being the first one of us to get shot.”

  “I will leave you two alone so you can talk,” I said.

  “No, please stay,” said Neil. “I have to go. Still working a case and must get back to it.”

  He leaned over and kissed his sister, while squeezing her hand.

  “Take care, Neil,” said April. “I should be going home in a few days, with any luck. So stop by when you can.”

  Neil walked out and she and I were alone. She noticed my hand.

  “Do I need to ask?” she said.

  “Another battle wound. Compared to yours, it’s minor.”

  “More issues with our Eastern Bloc friends?”

  “This time it’s Chinese bad guys.”

  “Same case?”

  “Yes. Apparently they have a stake in this as well.”

  “Don’t get dead.”

  “Not planning to. Though I may need some backup and you appear to be still recovering, so I’ll have to go to plan B.”

  She started to laugh and then stopped, for it was painful.

  “No belly laughs. Can’t be popping stitches. My other two brothers offered.”

  “I know. But being cops, they have to be careful about getting into any type of personal fight. I’ll keep them in mind. But I have a few other sources I’ll check into. People who don’t have to necessarily follow the law.”

  “You always are teetering on that fine line.”

  “Part of the PI credo. Well, visiting hours are almost over. I wanted to stop and see how you were. You look to be doing well. Let me know when you are back home, and maybe I can pick up some dinner and we can eat together.”

  “I’d love that.”

  I grabbed her hand and leaned over to kiss her on the cheek, but she turned her face so her lips met mine, kissing me softly.

  “Sorry about my breath,” she said. “Hard to brush regularly when hooked up to so many wires.”

  I didn’t mind and kissed her again, hearing the pulse rate on the monitor by her bed rising.

  Chapter 33

  It was obvious I was in need of some backup. After a restless night, with my Beretta on the nightstand, I was awake the next morning feeling sore, not only from my hand but other areas that had been thrown around by the martial arts expert. After hitting the gym, and soaking in the hot tub to ease some of my pain, I showered, ate some breakfast and starting making calls. The first was to Brandon Sparks, though I only was able to reach his assistant, Sue. She was tough, hard-nosed and liked to be in charge.

  “Mr. Sparks is away on business,” she said. “He can’t be disturbed and will be gone for several more weeks.”

  “So, no way for me to get in contact with him,” I asked.

  “I believe I already said as much.”

  “Even for your good old buddy Jarvis?”

  She swore at me. Apparently we weren’t as close as I thought.

  “What about Rocky?”

  “I have no connection to his outside associates.”

  “Thought you knew everyone Brandon knew.”

  “Hardly. Certain matters he handles himself, so as not to involve me.”

  “So you have no way of contacting Rocky?”

  “No. At least if it’s the man I believe you are referring to.”

  Rocky wasn’t his real name. What it was, I likely would never know, since he lived in the shadows of a dangerous past.

  “How is your love life?” I asked.

  “None of your business. Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Mann?”

  “I’d ask you to lunch, but I think I know the answer.”

  “I believe you do, but I’ll spell it out for you…” With a graphic four-letter word, she abruptly ended the call.

  I next called Max Groves. He was the second in command of the Toro crime family, though now likely first in command, as he helped me put his boss in the ground. A boss who had killed my brother. The wife now ruled the empire, but let Max do the day to day. When I tracked him down he was less than thrilled to hear from me.

  “I’m busy. What do you want?”

  “Crime never sleeps,” I replied.

  “Yes. And it pays the bills. But not by talking with you.”

  “I need someone to watch my back and possibly my client.”

  “Well, normally I have people on standby just for helping you, but you caught me in my busy season, so no.”

  “Any ideas on getting ahold of Rocky?”

  “He is your friend. Why would I know?”

  “Not really a friend and I don’t have him on speed dial. Seems as if he’d done work in the past for The Bull. Thought maybe you might have an avenue to reach out.”

  “Sorry, no. He is a lone wolf. Only takes jobs he cares to take. I wouldn’t have the foggiest idea on how to find him, or would want to. Now can I get back to work?”

  “How are Kellie and her son?”

  “Doing great. Kid
now has a normal life. Might even grow up to be something decent. Would you like me to give you a financial report of our earnings, or can I hang up now?”

  “Well, if you insist, but only the highlights.”

  He swore at me too, before hanging up. It appeared most of my resources didn’t care to bail me out. I still had April’s brothers but wanted to hold them only as a last resort. As I mulled over my next option, my phone rang. It was Mandy Bailey.

  “That detective called again,” she said.

  “Adam King?”

  “Yes. I did like you told me to do. Said I’d meet with him to discuss the possibility of hiring him. Washington Park in about two hours. Is that enough time?”

  “Perfect. I’ll be sure to surprise him and make it clear he is not to bother you anymore.”

  “Good. I was nervous talking with him. He seems kind of creepy.”

  “Understatement. How are you doing?”

  “I’m hanging in there. Though still hoping to get some answers about Aaron. Are you making any progress?”

  I didn’t want to worry her about my latest encounter. There was no reason to think they knew she hired me or have reason to go after her. Still no need to put thoughts in her head.

  “Yes, I’ve been ruffling feathers and making them nervous. Someone or a group of someones is involved. Right now trying to narrow down suspects, as the list keeps growing.”

  “I’m trying to stay patient, but it’s getting difficult.”

  “Perfectly understandable. We’ll get there.” I wanted to give her something positive to hold onto. “Remember that odd call I got, from the person who said he had some inside information.”

  There was a pause.

  “Vaguely. What was it about?”

  “He was a friend of Aaron’s. A Wilmar Boylan. Has his own cyber security firm. I’m sure you recognize the name.”

  “No, not really.”

  “No matter. He said he only met you a couple of times in passing. But he was working with Aaron and knows about what is going on. Possibly what got him killed. He has agreed to help look into it further. Gave me some information. Most of it I don’t understand, but will with some help.”