Fatal Chances (The Red Lake Series Book 5)

by Rich Foster

  Working a bit late, eh boys?

  Two men efficiently searched his office. Harry recognized them as the crew cut man from McCarran Airport and his partner. The file cabinets and desk locks posed no difficulty for them. One rifled the files while the other placed a tap on the telephone and a second microphone in the ceiling fixture.

  They gotta be feds! Ever since the fiasco at ADX Praxis, the local super max prison, Harry carried a bit of contempt for federal agencies.

  There was nothing to do but bide his time. If he pulled the bugs they would be back, or they would find a nearby office and use a parabolic microphone to pick up conversations by sound vibrations on his windows.

  Harry rummaged in the closet until he found a pair of binoculars. He left Paula in the office to carry on the charade. It was a two blocks over to Cody's Marine. The work crews and barge cranes had been busy, the fixed docks were assembled and the floating fingers were taking shape.

  I'll be able to move the houseboat into its slip, soon. The thought pleased him. Being on a mooring was an inconvenience.

  “Hey Jeff, can I borrow a boat for twenty minutes?”

  “Sure Harry. Take that one.” The youth nodded to a rowboat with a twenty horse power outboard.

  Harry idled out of the marina and then turned north along the shore. A short time later he was trolling in front of his house, a fishing pole in one hand and the binoculars in the other.

  To Harry it seemed probable whoever set the electronic bugs in the office might be at his house as soon as he and Paula were gone. Something moved behind the French doors, but he was too far off shore to make the movement out. A few minutes later someone stepped out onto the side porch and looked cautiously around, a minute later a second person followed.

  Harry opened the throttle and motored toward the shore below his house. He was not trying to catch them, only attempting to spot the vehicle they drove. Between the trees he saw the men climbed into a white Cherokee. It pulled out onto the shore road and disappeared from view.

  Over the next week the Cherokee became a regular sight in Harry's life. Either the men were not very good or they were indifferent as to whether or not he knew they were there.

  Paula and he amused themselves making up office conversations. The downside was the knowledge the cabin was bugged, which proved to be a suppressant to sex.

  We may have to go to a motel soon. Harry morosely thought.

  Things grew worse.

  Paula bumped into a friend at Willet's Market while shopping for dinner.

  “Hey Michelle, how are things at the bank,” It was an idle question, however, momentary panic flashed in her friend's eyes.

  “Is something wrong?” Paula quizzically asked.

  Michelle looked around as if imminent danger loomed She lowered her voice to a whisper.

  “I shouldn't say anything, Paula, it could cost me my job.” She glanced around nervously.

  Paula wondered, Has the whole world gone paranoid? Or is our bank about to fail?

  Michelle made up her mind to speak. “We've been friends for quite a while. I think you should know a federal agent delivered a subpoena to examine Harry's bank records!”

  “What sort of agent?”

  “I don't know I overhead the manager and the man talking.”

  “And you don't know what they are looking for?”

  Michelle shrugged her shoulders. “No, but I thought you should know if Harry is into something illegal.”

  A stranger came around the end of the aisle, he appeared to be merely shopping but it caused Michelle to scurry off without further comment.

  Harry and Paula went out for a walk after dinner. The need to watch their every word both at home and the office was taking a toll on their temperament.

  They were a half mile from their house when the white Cherokee screeched to a halt beside them. The crew cut aimed a gun at Harry, “Get in!”

  “Who are you? Why are you doing this?” Paula shouted.

  Harry opened the back door and slid in but before Paula could follow the driver put the pedal down, burning rubber. The rear door slam closed from the motion,.

  Crew Cut turned around and reached back over the seat. He held the gun in one hand and a pair of handcuffs dangled in the other.

  “Put these on!”

  Harry shrugged and reached for the cuffs but as he came close, his right hand went flat and with a horizontal chop caught Crew Cut in the Adam’s Apple. His left hand grabbed the barrel of the pistol and twisted away and up. An explosive concussion ripped the car and a ray of sunshine popped through the new hole in the roof. The gun was out of Crew Cut's hand before his first choked gag.

  Harry jammed the barrel roughly against the driver's head.

  “What the...” Harry moved so fast that with his eyes on the road the driver missed it.

  Crew Cut choked and hacked, rendered harmless as he gasped for air.

  “Pull over,!” Harry ordered. “You have three seconds. Try to accelerate and your brains will be flying out the window.”

  The driver obeyed.

  Crew Cut, though still gasping for air, tried to turn and reach toward Harry, for his efforts he received a crack from the butt of the gun against his head. He slumped over, out cold and oblivious to the blood that flowed from his scalp onto the seat.

  “Reach through the steering wheel with your left hand, friend. And then put those cufflinks on your wrist and then on Crew Cut here.”

  “We're federal...”

  Harry rapped the barrel against the back of the driver's head.

  “I did not ask you to speak. Do as I told you and then we can talk.”

  The handcuffs ratcheted closed. Harry reached under the man's jacket and found the .38 in the holster on his hip.

  Harry spoke softly, into the man's ear. “If I swung a tad bit harder Crew Cut's esophagus would be crushed, I think you know that. So if you have another piece I wouldn't go for it. It might get you killed. Besides it's tough to shoot with your arm cuffed. Don't piss me off or I might lose my temper.”

  “Listen smart ass...''”

  The gun smacked against the driver's head hard enough to leave him stunned. Harry reached forward and removed the keys from the ignition, then he stepped out of the vehicle.

  In the distance he heard the wailing of sirens. Harry pulled out his cell phone and called 911.

  “Your emergency?”

  “I was kidnapped. I have disarmed the attackers and am waiting assistance on the East Shore Road. Please tell the responding officers not to shoot me!”

  “What is your location, sir?”

  “I told you the East Shore Road, north of Rocky Nook Park. Now call Sheriff Gaines and tell him to get out here because he will want to be here!”

  Harry hung up as the woman began a new litany of questions.

  The sirens drew close. The driver's head was clearing, Crew Cut was still out, possibly with a concussion. Spittle dripped from his mouth.

  As the squad car's skidded to a halt Harry laid the pistol on the car roof and held up his hands.

  Jimmy Hughes stepped out of one cruiser and Mitch Conners who never cared for Harry from another. Both man's sidearm was drawn.

  “Freeze!” Conners shouted.

  *

  “Damn it Harry, you knew they were DEA agents!” Sheriff Gaines gave his desk a blow with his fist for emphasis.

  Harry lounged in Gaines' office chair despite its discomfort. He gave the Sheriff a small arching of this brows.

  “As I told you once and now repeat, two armed men accosted Paula and me. They never identified themselves, you can ask Paula. I was taken at gunpoint. What was I suppose to do?”

  Gaines rubbed his mustache both annoyed and amused by Harry. His actions would cause headaches with the DOJ, on the other hand, he was not fond of their heavy handed and uncooperative techniques.

  “What are you into Grim?”

  It was always surnames when Harry was in trouble.


  “I don't know? I don't even have a client.”

  “So this was unexpected?”

  “No, these two guys have been turning up all week. But why they would be interested in me I can't say.”

  “Well neither will they. They flashed their badges and thought they could walk away.”

  “And what did those badges say?”

  “D.E.A. Have you taken up smuggling drugs?”

  “I took a dozen aspirins with me into Canada last month.”

  “I don't think your attitude will amuse them.”

  “So did they walk?”

  “Would I permit that after the insolence I took off of the feds over ADX Praxis? They thought they could take over my town!”

  Just speaking of it riled Gaines who was generally unflappable. He continued, “I have one in a holding cell threatening and cursing me, the guy you clobbered is in custody over at St. Catherine's Hospital.”

  “I want to file a citizen's complaint against them.”

  “Come on Harry, you'll just make paperwork for me and we both know it will be thrown out of court.”

  “But Sheriff, wouldn't you like to know why they are in town? What better way to make them cooperative than the threat of publicity?”

  Gaines leaned back and returned to fondling his mustache. Harry put his hands behind his head and silently waited.

  “Okay Harry I'll play along, but level with me, why are they on your back?”

  “I spotted Mr. Crew Cut when I was in Las Vegas. He tailed me at McCarran Airport.”

  “Why?”

  “Maybe he mistook me for a mule, I don't know?”

  Gaines appeared mildly perturbed.

  “Can we cut the song and dance, Harry? Why were you in Las Vegas”

  “Rico Marcelli wanted to see me.”

  Gaines began to repeat the name and quit, instead he let out a long breath. “I'm not sure I want to know this, but, why does a mob kingpin want to see you Grim?”

  He's back to calling me Grim, this is not going well.

  “I made inquiries about Vito Donatello. He's a mid-level boss who was a brother-in-law to the Stockmans. His wife was murdered here in Red Lake.”

  “I know damn well who he is Harry. I told you about him the other day!”

  Gaines slammed his fist for the second time which was a record in Harry's experience. Harry smiled.

  “Are you working on the annual budget sheriff? You always get testy like this when its budget time.”

  The pencil in Gaines' hand snapped in two.

  “Yes I am Harry. And you are beginning to annoy me more than the budget, which is saying something!”

  Harry stood up.

  “Sheriff, I have no idea why the D.E.A is following me other than my contact with Marcelli. I'll tell you what I told him, my questions had nothing to do with Vegas business it was only about events in Red Lake. Secondly, I do not have a client but I do have an interest in what happened to Harvey Stockman but evidently, someone is unhappy about that.”

  Gaines stood. “Okay, I'll book the D.E.A. boys and take my time running their names through the data base that should rile them. Tomorrow I will send them over to arraignment and as you know, the judge will kick them loose.”

  “Someone will want to talk before then.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I'm going to get Lou Harding to call the Drug Enforcement Agency and ask for a comment. The Clarion may be a small newspaper but it did get a Pulitzer Prize.”

  *

  Lou was eager to stir the pot for Harry. It was by information Harry provided that Lou won his long coveted Pulitzer for his expose on the ADX Praxis.

  Harry wished him luck, “The DEA media rep will stone wall you but make enough calls to be annoying.”

  “My middle name is pest. When can I get the rest of the story?”

  “As soon as I figure what it is. Right now I'm fumbling in the dark.”

  “Do I get an exclusive on this?”

  On the story yes, but for now I need to turn up the heat. I plan to give this to Channel 13.”

  “Talbot and her sycophant videographer will eat it up.”

  “I don't think it will see airtime, I doubt these guys will make it into court.”

  He hung up the phone as someone entered the outer office.

  Paula was off to the gym and before Harry could get there to greet the visitor, a firm hand rapped on his office door. The door swung open.

  “Mr. Harry Grim?” The voice belong to woman whose well built body and blue suit exuded dominance rather than seduction.

  “Speaking.”

  “Crystal Rosen, UBI Insurance.” A well manicured hand without a ring was offered.

  Harry took it and found her grip as dominate as her suit.

  “I have everything I need, car, boat, house, and professional liability coverage.”

  “What about life?”

  Harry shook his head, “No, and I am not interested.”

  He pointed at the door and turned back toward his desk.

  Instead of going, Miss Rosen seated herself.

  “Doesn't matter, Mr. Grim, I'm not in sales I am an investigator.”

  Watching her red lips purse and blue eyes flash, Harry found he was willing to let her talk.

  “What are you investigating?”

  “Harvey Stockman..”

  “An unfortunate accident.”

  “Was it?”

  “I don't know. And I'm not sure it concerns me.”

  “Are you working for Julia Stockman?”

  “If I was I couldn't tell you.”

  “You visited her in the Miami lock-up.”

  Harry spread his hands. “Let's say we are not personal friends and if I did work for her I am no longer in her employ.

  “What was your interest in the case?”

  “You first Miss,...” Harry looked at her business card then added, “Rosen. What is your interest?”

  It was her turn to spread her hand as if laying all her cards on the table.

  “I get ten percent of any money I save the company. Harvey Stockman's life was insured for two million dollars.”

  Harry made a wry face, “I doubt he was worth it either financially or as a person.”

  “Financially he was in the toilet, which makes his disappearance very convenient for him and troublesome for UBI.”

  Harry walked over to the office's small refrigerator and got a bottle of water, he held out a second toward Rosen.

  “No thank you.”

  Harry took his seat behind the desk, perhaps as symbolic protection from Crystal Rosen who was a force of personality.

  I bet she is successful, with a bat of those eyes, most men would melt.

  “But why are you here? Without a body Mrs. Stockman cannot collect for seven years,” he asked though he knew the answer.

  “She filed a claim, that starts the clock ticking. Secondly, there is the possibility a Panamanian court might declare him presumed dead in a matter of months not years.”

  “And UBI would be forced to pay?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And if you prevent that, Crystal Rosen stands to be 200k richer?”

  The woman nodded. Her smile was unambiguously promising.”

  “What's in it for me?” Harry bluntly asked.

  Rosen skipped the usual pitch about being a good citizen and went right to the chase, “Ten percent of my ten percent.”

  “Not bad, let's talk. Have you eaten lunch?”

  *

  When Harry entered Marie's restaurant with Crystal he noticed Marie arch her eyebrows slightly, he returned this unspoken question with a sardonic grin and slight negative shake of his head. One thing he did not need was for the local rumor mill to start tongues wagging.

  The hostess showed them to a table, when they took their seats, Crystal chose the chair facing the street, Harry got the one facing the bar, the upside of that being he could now see both sides of his lunch pa
rtner due to the large wall mirror. She was in fact quite intriguing to watch, her hair remained perfect no matter the number of times she made a small toss of her head. Her glossy lipstick made her smile seductive and Harry found he had a tendency to watch her lips move as they shaped sounds rather than to actually hear her words. Her animated eyes silently promised he was the most fascinating person she had met that day.

  Harry was not foolish enough, nor vain enough ,to believe his thoughts. But being a male he enjoyed the moment and willingly played along. Crystal spoke a great deal of how together they might crack the case. Invariably she employed word like 'we' and 'our'. Somewhere in Miami, Harry figured there were other men who had been given the same spiel. In fact, there was in his mind a flicker of a thought that Crystal Rosen might try the same tactics on a member of her own sex if a woman seemed useful and she sensed a proclivity that way. Crystal was everything Harry despised about insurance salesmen but in a much better package.

  For lunch she ordered a shrimp salad. Low on calories, healthy, good for the figure and not messy to eat, he thought, as he himself asked for the beef dip. I'll play my part of the tough guy and tear into some red meat.

  During lunch Crystal offered little information of her own, while gently pumping Harry about what he learned in Miami, knew about the Stockman's, or who in the area might be useful.

  Harry countered this with Miami was a wasted trip, his acquaintance with the Stockman's cursory, and in that they lived in Beaumont and he resided in Red Lake, he was unable to steer her toward anyone in particular.

  A couple small slips in her conversation confirmed for him that she had checked him out before flying all the way to Beaumont and driving over the pass just to talk to him. The fact that she never mentioned his involvement in the national scandal at the local maximum security prison was also suspect in that any search of his name would bring up that story. Each time he successfully parried one of her inquires she would return to Harry's tenth of her tenth with a conspiratorial and seductive smile. She seemed quite certain sex or money motivated his skills professionally, which showed how little she had learned about him.

  *

  Paula studied at herself in the mirror. At thirty-three she was fit.