***
Back inside Molly, I called the M&Ms. “You boys finished with your carne asada and chili verde?” They always ordered the same things no matter the time of day.
“Almost.”
“I’m swinging by. Be outside and ready to follow me in five.”
“On it.”
When I pulled into the parking lot my watch read five after nine. Meat sat behind the wheel of their lifted dually with the monster tires, his younger, slightly smaller brother Manson standing nearby with a white Styrofoam carton. They both wore clean jeans and calfskin jackets, their version of “dress like P.I.s.” Leather fedoras like hats out of Rocky covered tattoos of crosses on their foreheads.
Could be worse.
Manson handed the box through my open window and I placed it in my lap, unwrapping the first warm breakfast burrito as I talked. My stomach rumbled. The pastries had long since digested. I stuffed the wrap into my face, hardly chewing. Once I’d finished with the first roll of heaven, I spoke.
“There’s a little girl that’s been kidnapped for leverage in a heist. This guy Lattimer works at the security center and he helped cover up the job. Someone just wacked his boss, a guy named Bill Clawson that was helping me. I need to find out what he knows, so you guys do your best to scare him shitless. If that doesn’t work, we start with pain and proceed to injury. Cool?”
Manson nodded solemnly. “Cool,” the younger one said. Meat scowled. I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that expression.
“Follow me, then. Stay back a bit. That cowboy Cadillac of yours is memorable. When I pull in at his place, park at the end of the block and join me on foot. He’s supposed to be a geek but he may rabbit, so we’ll run a standard bounty drill.”
“Got it, boss.”
I handed them most of the green in my money clip. “Down payment for today.”
“Thanks.” Manson saluted me with the folded cash before climbing into the passenger side of the truck. When I pulled away, they followed.
The address I had turned out to be a small single family home in a decent neighborhood of pre-World-War-Two construction. Not rich, but no broken-down cars adorned the green front lawns, which seemed more or less neatly kept. Few garages, but most had carports on the side and lots of mature trees. Quiet.
I parked Molly at the curb on a property line a couple houses away beneath a spreading Eucalyptus. The smell washed over me when I stepped out, reminding me of my childhood in Menlo Park. An old tabby gazed momentarily at me once from the front porch of the nearest home before turning to continue cleaning its flank.
I leaned against the big tree and idly peeled off a section of its papery bark, staring across at Lattimer’s house as I waited for the M&Ms. It seemed exceptionally neat and tidy, this one. Combined with Sal’s description of him as a nerd, I pictured a small guy with thick glasses, acne and dandruff.
“Dogs?” Meat asked as he walked up beside me.
“Forgot to ask. Sorry. Other things on my mind.”
“Guns?”
“I doubt it.”
Meat slapped his chest. “Got vests and stunners.”
“Good. Firearms?”
Meat shuffled uncomfortably, remaining silent.
“Okay, just keep them holstered unless you see a deadly threat. He’s a bit player, I’m pretty sure.”
“Pretty sure?”
I turned to raise an eyebrow. “That’s all you boys get today. Wanna back out?”
“Naw. Let’s do this.” Testosterone has its uses, especially when it lets me dare men into doing things I want them to.
A teenaged girl walked past us with a well-behaved Lab, iPod in her ears and head down to text one-handed on her flip-phone, oblivious. Other than her, the street was empty.
“Okay.” I shoved off the tree with my shoulder and sauntered across the shady asphalt, the two ogres behind me doing their best to look inconspicuous. We approached the target’s house and turned in.
Meat went around the rear while Manson backed me up at the front door. I motioned him off to the side, out of sight, and then pulled out my P.I. badge and knocked. A moment later I saw movement behind the inset upper window. I spoke loudly. “Mister Lattimer? I’m Inspector Jones from the San Rafael Police Department. Can I speak with you?” I waved my P.I. badge, and then closed the wallet with a decisive snap.
“What do you want?” he asked as he opened the door. A small man with short, mouse-brown hair, neatly dressed in slacks and button-down shirt, he didn’t seem to be any threat. I almost felt bad about what we were about to do until I remembered Bill lying dead, and Talia…
“It’s about your boss, Bill Clawson. May I come in?”
“Sure.” He stepped back to allow me to walk past.
Manson pushed in behind me and grabbed the little guy by the shoulders, hustling him over to throw him down on a nearby sofa while I shut the door. Lattimer gibbered on his back, hands up in front of him. I quickly let Meat in the back door and then returned.
“Listen to me, Lattimer.” I leaned over the terrified man while the M&Ms loomed behind me looking scary. “Bill Clawson is dead and you helped get him killed. Homicide will be here soon enough and you’ll be arrested for accessory to murder. You can talk to me or you can talk to them.”
“I…I…what?” His eyes fixed on the muscle behind me.
I slapped Lattimer across the face. “Look at me. What’s your first name?”
“Ow. It’s Phil.”
“So Phil, here’s the deal. Tell me everything or I turn these guys loose on you. After that, if you’re lucky the cops will take you to the hospital before they throw you in jail.”
“You said you were a cop!”
I slapped him again, drawing a whimper. “Focus, Phil. I lied. If I was a cop would I be threatening you with severe pain? Tell me about the heist?”
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
“My mom is in a home. This guy who called me told me he would make her suffer if I didn’t do what they said.”
“That’s it?”
Lattimer looked away. I could see what Sal meant. Shifty.
“I guess a few slaps won’t be enough.”
I jerked my head at Meat, who reached down and grabbed the man’s left hand. Manson exhibited the teamwork the brothers were famous for by covering Lattimer’s mouth with one large paw. He tried to protest, but all that came out were muffled throat noises.
Meat bent Lattimer’s pinkie back until it almost folded against his hand. The man screamed and jerked beneath Manson’s gag of flesh, but the M&Ms held him effortlessly.
“That’s just the beginning of the hell you’ll experience if you don’t tell me everything. Your mom was the stick. What about the carrot?”
Manson lifted his palm enough to let Lattimer speak. “They promised me a hundred thousand dollars.”
“See? That was easy. When and where are they supposed to pay you?”
“Tomorrow. Said he’d call with the details.”
I cursed under my breath. Catching the bad guys after the fact was cop work. Nothing Lattimer had said was getting me any closer to Talia.
“Anything else you can tell us about the heist? You’re only helping yourself if we catch these guys and get the kid back.”
“The kid?”
“Yeah, didn’t you know? They kidnapped a ten-year-old girl for leverage.”
“Damn. I didn’t know. What could I do?” He actually had the decency to look distressed.
I shrugged again. “Water under the bridge. What did the guy who called you sound like?”
“Middle age. White American, probably.”
“Very helpful. Only a million of those around here. Anything else? Anything at all?”
Lattimer shook his head.
“You ever hear of someone called Houdini? A dealer, maybe?”
The little man’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, just a few whispers. Moves a lot of product, I hear.�
��
“Cartels? Mob?”
“I don’t know. Really, I don’t.”
I stared at him for a while but he didn’t flinch. “What about Luger?”
“Him I heard of.”
“Anything to do with this heist?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know.” I nodded to Meat, who prepared the next finger.
“Really, I don’t! I only know what I told you!”
I could see the naked fear in the man’s eyes so I decided to believe him.
“Okay. Let him up,” I said to Manson. “Let’s go. Cops could be here any minute.” Pointing a finger at Lattimer, I said, “The less you say about us the better. It will only complicate your life and it will piss my friends here off. When they get pissed off they like to break more than just a finger or two. Get it?”
“Yeah. I know how to keep my mouth shut.”
“Not that I could tell,” I said.
“Cops don’t break fingers.”
“Some do.” Jay had.
A knock came at the front door, startling everyone in the room. Manson clamped down on Lattimer’s mug. I jerked my head at Meat, who looked carefully out the front window from the farthest edge, peering between the blinds and the frame. He held up a hand for silence.
The knock came again and Meat stood there, palm out, while I waited and Manson held Lattimer immobile. After a long minute, Meat dropped the hand and said, “He’s gone.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Slim white guy in expensive sunglasses. Long dark hair, light colored trench coat. Twenties.”
“Cop?”
“I doubt it. Besides, where’s his partner?”
“Around the back?”
Meat padded into the rear of the house to check. “Nobody.”
“Did you see a car?”
“Yeah. Dark green foreign job.”
I jumped to my feet and ran the several steps to the front window. I saw the back of a trench coat sauntering across the street and down a couple houses toward a green Audi. “Damn. You see that guy again, grab him.” I began moving toward the back door.
“Who is he?” Meat asked.
“No idea, but he’s involved,” I called as I walked. “Bill saw him the other evening when we were staking out the heist. I’m guessing he’s with the perps, tying up loose ends.” I turned at the kitchen door to look into Lattimer’s wide eyes. “If I were you, I’d forget about your hundred grand and lay low. Get out of town, maybe. If we hadn’t been here you might have joined Bill in the morgue.”
When Manson lifted his hand from Lattimer’s mouth he said, “I’m so screwed. Why does this shit always happen to me?”
I shrugged. “Some people got all the luck. Guys, let him go. I’ll call you later. I’m gonna try tailing this guy.” With that, I slipped out the back.
Loose Ends - California Corwin P.I. Mystery Series Book 1 Page 10