Rick Cantelli, P.I. Deadly Liaisons (Rick Cantelli, P.I. Detectives Book 2)

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  I had set up everything out there, midway between the water and our beach house, with easy access to the bathrooms inside. A barbeque, beach chairs, umbrellas, ice chests – yep, it was going to be a nice day in the neighborhood… I hoped. Although Temple warned everyone, I was challenged for swim races by Danny who scuba dived, and Ken as well as Jadie, all thinking they could outswim an old geezer US Navy Seal. Lo cackled, Trish was no dummy, and Frank merely smiled. Bone didn’t budge off his beach chair, beer in hand, and umbrella shading him. Karen held up the countdown while I consumed a double shot of Bushmills as a handicap. Temple counted down and Karen waved the racers into the water. I walked down to the water. Hell, if I couldn’t beat this bunch, even with two Bushmills in me, I should be held up to ridicule.

  Boy, they were humming along when I passed them before they even rounded the buoy. Again, I was on shore, sipping my second double shot of Bushmills as Lo ate the other participants’ breakfast, lunch, and dinner in ridicule as they exited panting from the water. Danny was the first one over, his hand held out. I shook it.

  “Damn, Rick, I thought Karen was exaggerating. Man… you beat us like we were two year old toddlers.”

  “I went through Hell Week in the Seals, Danny. That’s when I first learned there are things worse than death. A race with you young whippersnappers ain’t even close.”

  That garnered the laughs I was hoping for, and set us off on a nice couple hours of lighthearted beach palaver. It centered around Bone retelling his favorite Cantelli tale of being Tased by mean old Rick and Steve, hauled into jail, and eventually ending up in the same tank as me when I got hauled in later. I admit Bone’s storytelling expertise improved with each telling. Trish noticed the fossils taking turns casually scanning the ocean skyline with our range finders. When I was sitting, checking out a boat on the horizon, Trish sat down next to me. She was wearing a navy blue bikini, which she already knew was driving me nuts.

  “Are you and Lo into boats or something?”

  “Or something. I know what’s behind me because I have the gate closed and the audible alarm on. I’ve had the spots surrounding us on land pinpointed for a long time where an attack would be possible. We can be approached easily by sea. If we are, we’ll have plenty of warning. Navy Seals took out those pirates from a moving ship, but unless the Seals attack us, anyone wanting a piece of our party here will have to drive up close to shore.”

  “I keep forgetting that was Yuri on the roof. It was the two goons in the motel sent by Velez. You don’t think losing his partner slowed him up then, huh?”

  “I don’t know, Trish. Too many things are happening to get complacent. Besides, watching boats out on the water has its high points. A few minutes ago, that cruiser steaming out of sight had a blonde hottie sun bathing nude on the bow.”

  Trish smiled and sighed. “Lo’s right. You are a lecherous old goat.”

  Then it was time to start barbecuing, my least favorite hosting duty. I’m adequate at it, and I’d bought potato salad, chips and dip for side dishes. The weather cooperated with very little breeze to prevent one of the real annoyances of beach barbecuing – grains of windblown sand in all your munchies. I took orders for fillet mignon, crab legs, and spare ribs while drinking a little beer. Then I served the only thing I barbecue on the beach - hot dogs and hamburgers. About four in the afternoon, I collected trash from my guests. It looked to be a beautiful sunset coming. We adjourned to the beach house, where we took turns getting cleaned up, and changing so we could sip an after dinner drink while watching the sunset. The only problem was darkness descended before the sun did.

  “We have company approaching from three o’clock.” Lo was on our deck with the range finders.

  I grabbed mine without making it obvious I was anxious to get out on the deck. A pontoon style craft was jetting in toward our shoreline, and there weren’t any nude sunbathers. Six guys with vests, masks, and automatic weapons arrayed themselves on deck for debarkation on our beach.

  “Now this is what I call a beach party,” Lo said, ditching the range finders. She ran for our bag.

  I pulled out my Draganov from its case inside our rear exit. I heard the yelps, panic, and hustle of Lo getting the ones we couldn’t trust with a weapon down, and the two we could positioned to watch our front. She made it back beside me with her forty round clip MP5 with extras. She pointed to the right and headed that way, reaching the beach where she dropped into a shooters stance on one knee, weapon braced. They were still a hundred yards off when I popped the driver.

  The boat spun to the right, nearly throwing its occupants out. I then took out the motor. One of the other men reached the driver and died with a Draganov double tap. Lo opened up broadside, sweeping the deck with controlled short bursts, nailing two more. Then she went to work on the pontoons. Soon the boat was dead in the water, leaning down toward us. The remaining three were target practice. Only one even got a shot off into the air. I put in a fresh clip and made certain of only one side to the story being told.

  Lo stayed in guard position, zigzagging up to the house while I watched her back. She grinned at me going past my crouch at the doorway. “We’ve hit the mother lode of old age, Rick. No bingo games and quilting for us.”

  Frank laughed, having watched over my shoulder the entire time. “Nice shooting, hon.”

  I wasn’t in a party mood anymore. I was wondering who the hell we could even call to explain this. Our beach house wasn’t in Staley’s precinct. Lo bopped me on top of my head.

  “Don’t ruin this for me, Hooterville. I’ll make a call. Come on, Frank, we’ll quiet down the kids, and make sure the front’s still covered. You got our six, Rick.”

  “Check and come back, Lo. Leave Bone at the front. Bring Trish with you. I need to go visit the boat, and see if I can get some clues before we’re under siege with the law.”

  Lo patted my shoulder. “Damn good thinking. I hope they have something on there.”

  A couple minutes later, Lo and Trish were next to me. I put down the Draganov. Then I went to my bedroom and found my cheapie underwater Lumix TS25 camera. I stripped down to my swimsuit again, and put the Lumix strap around my neck.

  “What the hell are you doing, Rick?” Trish asked as I went past.

  “Shush, Skipper,” Lo ordered. “He has to go out and search the Titanic before it settles to the bottom.”

  I was off and running then. I hit the less than refreshing water with full on strokes, swinging to the pontoon’s right. Moments later I was aboard the ghost ship. I pulled off each guy’s mask, took photos, and put it back on. I started searching the boat from bow to fantail, coming up with nothing. None of the guys even had pocket money. That meant the night was only beginning for us. I reentered the water and made it back to the beach house before any cops were investigating. No one even called a cop. Granted most of the beach houses around us were summer rentals, but still, I would have thought we’d stir up some interest.

  “I’ll check on the front before I hit the shower, Lo.”

  “Nothin’, huh?”

  “Faces, but that’s about it. No papers.” I handed her the camera to transfer the digital card.

  Lo accepted it with a sigh. “Ratshit.”

  I stopped to calm the troops. “It’s all okay now. We just have to figure out someone to contact, and make sure everything’s good at the front. Just a little longer.”

  Bone and Trish watched the front without turning. “Any movement up here?”

  “No, Rick,” Bone answered. “A couple cars drove by, but that’s it.”

  “I’ll take a quick shower, and Lo will call someone we can hand this over to.”

  A half hour later, I was dressed, and passing out cocktails to our rattled guests. Temple had positioned herself next to Lo and Frank by the rear door. She’d peek out the window every few minutes. Lo had her phone, reaching out with my digital pictures of the guys on the pontoon, to contacts she had in the FBI, DEA, and HS. It was limited to pe
rsonal numbers on a Sunday night though, which slowed things down.

  Lo motioned me over. “A guy in the DEA I know went nuts over the pictures. Velez sent a hit team that can be tied to him from South America, Rick. It was enough for my guy to touch base with a contact he knows in Homeland Security. They clicked with a couple of faces, and we have a couple of entities to take this off our hands, partner, no questions asked. He didn’t fool around. The forces of light arrive in the next half hour.”

  “You are the best. Maybe we should put everyone up for the night here. We have the room, and it may take the stress off our guests.”

  “I’ll deal it along with a limo ride home and see if we have any takers. I don’t think they have a secondary attack plan, so it should be a quiet night, Rick.”

  “Yep, with us sitting at both ends of the house with MP5’s and forty round clips.”

  A cackle and a nod was all I got in response.

  * * *

  The forces of light indeed arrived from land and sea. Lois had called in a marker with a CIA bigwig. The arriving people left us the hell alone. The DEA agent arrived in person, asking only the right questions as his Homeland Security counterpart listened, and they turned our beach house into a command center. We gave them the background, including the fact this Velez had already killed three FBI agents, including the disgraced Conus. The Coast Guard secured the ghost ship and its deceased crew. It took hours, where our guests sipped, and we played music. We made the best of a bad situation in the infamous Cantelli Land aftermath. The authorities left at nearly two in the morning. Our guests were given rooms, while us geezers took the dozing night shift until morning. Frank and Lois watched the rear while I stayed in the front. Lo and I didn’t go through a beach invasion so we could get jacked in our sleep.

  * * *

  My hand tightened on the MP5, but I caught the essence of Trish in the air: the essence of heartbreak and unfortunate love. I relaxed. “Hey, kid. Hell of a beach house gathering, huh?”

  She slid into the chair next to me. “Want to play a little game, Hooterville? I call it the silent love. See… here’s how it goes. I climb aboard like this… a lot like Doc Stuart did in her office. Then I reach down and expose the only puzzle piece that needs to fit… oh my… uh… maybe you have played this game before. Now… now we remain as silent as… as… can be.”

  And we did.

  * * *

  The urgency of our war against Velez became a delayed event as every eye and media outlet picked up on what they called an ocean massacre. I’m sure the media would have rather had a headline like beach house massacre of innocents. It seemed unfair and boring to them that only a bunch of hired thugs with masks, planning an unprovoked attack with automatic weapons, died in the incident. Another complication of having so much attention was not being able to make the rounds of docks and launch points in order to find out where the pontoon launched from. Yes, Lo and I repeated our perceptions on how to pursue the investigation where they might really find the pontoon launch site, but were smilingly put off – like a couple of old dolts. The same old dolts who had thwarted the beach house massacre, by killing all six hired men and their boat driver.

  The DEA and Homeland Security guys never wavered. They didn’t double talk us or whisper sweet nothings in our ears. They knew Velez was out for blood. The FBI hit his fledgling operation like a nuclear bomb, keeping his attention on surviving instead of messing with us. Monday, we were all in the office, doing our own investigation with faces and names from the ghost ship. Because of her indoctrination and training, Trish was able to fill in for Shelly perfectly. The cabal working the next phase of our undertaking worked the keyboards for logistics so nothing on the geezers Velez road trip would be a mystery if we could help it. The unexpected happened of course. A visitor right out of the Twilight Zone arrived. Trish brought him in.

  “May I present Cheech Garibaldi. I know Hooterville knows him, but you and Bone probably don’t Lo. He’s come to help us out, and ask for a favor in return.”

  Trish patted Cheech’s shoulder. “Yes… I’ve done some work for Mr. Garibaldi. We’re all friends here. The past is past.” She turned then to Cheech with a smile. “That good enough for an intro, Cheech?”

  “I am sorry you are out of the game, Trish. You could be counted on,” Cheech said. “I’m out too, and tying up loose ends, my friends. I have hinted at this with Rick. It is past time for me to get my family out of my former business. Let us not dwell too much on trivia. I wish to help you with this Velez. He is using his drug operation back East to piss into my legitimate operations. I admit I do not come with clean hands, but we here are not without sin in this room.”

  “We’re not judging, Cheech. We’re working to stay alive,” Lois said. “If you have intel on anything to do with Velez, we’ll work with you on your legitimate projects. Hell yeah, you have sinners here.”

  We all chuckled at that very true statement. Cheech kind of seemed a little stunned. God only knows why. His intelligence network into everything must be extensive. I guess he didn’t arrive at his age, in his business, without a darkness. I knew the darkness. I don’t pretend it’s some kind of all-encompassing reality where none of us do any good. We have a separate plane of existence. It’s reality. Some media labeled sinners do redeem themselves, and others have to be put down like rabid dogs. Maybe none of us see any light when we look in the mirror, but only a reflection of what we wish could be true. I already knew I could work with Cheech. Now would be the time to find out what our end of the bargain would be to get his Velez information.

  “What can we do to get you to share, Cheech?”

  “Nothing, Rick. I’m going to give you the info on Velez, no strings attached. If it pans out, I hoped you would present a script to your two movie star friends, Karen and Temple. I was very impressed with them in person. I’m considering delving into the movie business, and one thing I’ve found out is it’s contaminated with hype artists and lunatics. I have a wonderful script by a relatively unknown screenplay writer I would like to have Karen and Temple look over. It’s about an older single Mom who gets pregnant, and her relationship with her teenage daughter. The sarcastic dialogue and action in this is hilarious. The budget won’t have a zillion dollars in special effects, and the local is LA. I think it could be one of those inexpensive breakthrough movies. Karen was listed in the entertainment section as being pregnant. This could be a real winner for her. The director I have picked out wants to start filming in a couple weeks to a month at the latest. What do you think?”

  “I’ll get them to read the script. It could be Temple’s big break to get away from her ‘Sally Waters’ costar. As you say, I don’t see any downside for us. What do you have on Velez?”

  “I have man on the inside at Velez’s Arizona hideout. He’s a caretaker there, who lives on the grounds. It took me a year to get him in place. He’s already saved me from being steamrolled back East. The only catch is, he wants out, and no one gets away from Velez.”

  “Damn… that’s good stuff,” Lois agreed. “Is he able to communicate with the outside world? Is there a town the place is near? It looked like Nogales was might be the only place close by of any size.”

  Cheech took out a folder from his briefcase. “These are photos, maps, and blueprints for the ranch estate house. My man’s name is Rafael Silva. I’d like to get him out of there in one piece. After what Velez did to some of the people back East who worked for him, I… hell… I’m a monster, but I never ordered whole families murdered. I promised Raf a way out. I’d like to make good on my promise.”

  “When Lo and I get there, we’ll stop in Nogales, and meet with him.” I looked at Lois, who had to be thinking the same thing as me – this was a cluster fuck of biblical proportions. More people would know we were in Arizona than any covert op we’d ever done. It was like a suicide pact we didn’t have an escape clause from.

  “His E-mail drop is in the file, Rick. I can tell by the looks you and Lo
is are exchanging this may not be to your liking. How can I help?”

  “It’s not you, Cheech,” Lois replied. “Rick and I hit the outlaw trail a few times in our sordid past, but the only people who knew anything about what we did was us. I wish the FBI would step up and nuke this sucker Velez from orbit. They’re hitting his shit back East like a hurricane. The only problem is they’re concentrating on evidence to get him on trial rather than fixing him the way he deserves. We appreciate what you’ve given us, and we will make good on our side of the deal. I’ll read the screenplay myself.”

  “Thanks, Lois. I included the site address where you can download the screenplay. I believe you’ll like it. I’ll leave you all to your planning. Your firm is lucky to have Trish. She’s the best. You already have my number if you need to discuss anything, and Trish… you ever want another job, see me first.”

  Trish waved as Cheech left with our other assorted goodbyes.

  Bone was the first to speak after Cheech’s exit. “It’s hard to believe I was in the same room with Cheech Garibaldi. Didn’t you kill his brother, Rick?”

  “Best not to call up ‘The Ghosts of Christmas Past’, Bone,” I replied.

  Bone chuckled. “Yeah, but that Christmas hasn’t even passed yet.”

  “Let’s focus on the new info. This Arizona field trip is beginning to stretch even my limited optimism. I know Cheech has threads into everything. I know it’s no secret now that Velez wants Lo and I dead. I think we have to come to grips with the fact everyone in the Western Hemisphere may know we’ll try and stop him. We might as well be doing this on stage in front of a live audience.”

  “Rick’s right,” Lo said. “He and I know exactly where something like this ends: disaster. Cheech brought us intel, but he also proved beyond any doubt too many people know what we’re up to. We need a new plan.”

  I smiled inappropriately for the moment, which drew the instant ire of Lois. “Okay, Hooterville. I see you grinning in that annoying as hell way of yours. What did I miss?”