Rick Cantelli, P.I. (Rick Cantelli, P.I. Detectives Book 1)

by Bernard DeLeo

  “I’m serious, Rick. She wants field work, and with my back giving me problems without warning, we need a female. I’m tired of carrying you boys by myself.”

  We trade withering stares. She can’t keep a straight face.

  “Please.” Lois throws in the chipmunk face for leverage. “You need a partner staking out the place.”

  “I’ll be fine by myself.” I did not need this.

  “You know you need another set of eyes. You’re getting old and cranky. I need someone I can trust with you.”

  I fold like a cheap cot. “You’re screwing with the office chemistry.”

  “I’ll mix up a new formula. I’ll go call Spangler’s to make arrangements now, and go over our fee for this extracurricular enterprise they’re ordering.”

  * * *

  “How did you know that Stassin guy would show tonight, Rick?”

  It had been a few days since we installed our camera feeds, but I did my homework on Stassin while Lois put the screws on the bookmaker. Santiago would sell out his own mother to stay away from a third strike. He let us know when Stassin dropped a bundle on the Laker game last night. I checked his account. He didn’t have the money to cover it. I glanced over at Shelly, who was dressed to impress. I’ll admit it. When Lois and I went on a stakeout together, she didn’t wear skirts, especially a short one like Shelly had on.

  “You’re checking me out again.”

  “Remember, Shell – old not blind. You could have taken it easy on a geezer like me and wore sweatpants. Anyway, Stassin made a bad bet he can’t cover last night. I figure he’ll set up a withdrawal either tonight or tomorrow night, seeing as how it’s Saturday, and Spangler’s doesn’t open on Sundays.”

  “If he does come tonight, are you going to nab him?”

  I chuckled a little at that. “Hell no. We’re here to get pictures and videos. You’ve been with us a couple years, Shell. You know we don’t do confrontation stuff.”

  “You just killed two guys a month back, the day after a violent confrontation on a stakeout. I thought maybe you were changing tactics.” She grins over at me.

  She got me on that one. “Has Lois been training you in wise-ass remarks for this gig?”

  Shelly laughed and squeezed my leg above the knee.

  “Hey, no touching.”

  Spreading her legs, Shelly moves her left knee against mine as her skirt rides up to the promised land. “Sorry, you want a squeeze to get back at me?”

  I pat her knee, returning my attention to the job at hand. We’re parked perpendicular to the plumbing warehouse with a great view of the only approaches. “That’s enough of the gild the geezer game, Shell. Go ahead and doze off for a while. I’ll wake you if Stassin shows.”

  “I wouldn’t need to if you had let me bring a thermos of coffee.” Shelly yawned and settled against the window.

  Settling back in my seat with a quick glance at my laptop feed from our cameras, I get as comfortable as possible. “I don’t have a porta-potty in the GMC, Shell. It’s only on TV where the people on stakeouts suck down vast amounts of food and drink.”

  “Oh… good point. What about you?”

  “I took a nap before we came over here. It’s almost eleven. I figure Stassin will show between now and 2AM if he’s coming. Like I said, I’ll wake you if he shows or I start fading.”

  “Okay, Rick.”

  Stassin shows at just past midnight. He goes in dark after opening the main lot gates. I elbow sleeping beauty who pops awake with a gasp. She sees me filming with our HD digital telephoto camera, and takes a deep breath while wiping at the drool on her mouth with a quick swipe of the hand. I have our camera locked into place, moving it in small increments only. With low light videos at distance, it’s best not to move rapidly. We take most of our stills from the video, but I’ll snap some HD stills too when his cohorts arrive.

  “Here comes a truck with no lights on your left.”

  I nod while keeping an eye on Stassin using the interior camera feed into my laptop. I video capture the truck backing into the lot near one of the delivery bays. “Yep, it’s show-time.”

  “This is fun,” Shelly tells me. “Now, you just film the theft, and we’re done?”

  “That’s the plan.” But then it wasn’t.

  After three guys load what Stassin puts out for them on the bay platform, one of the moving men pushes him against the outside wall, holding a gun on him. The other two move inside to help themselves. I shove my iPhone at Shelly. “Uh oh. Call 911, and report a warehouse theft in progress with weapons, Shell.”

  “Wait! Where the hell are you going?”

  I’m already out of the GMC. I have the dome-light circuit disconnected. “Keep the camera going. I have to try and keep Stassin alive. Make the call now!” I whisper emphatically.

  With my Ruger in hand, I stay low to the ground while making the approach. I get inside the warehouse outer gates, and stay inside the fence perimeter. I’m quiet enough not to draw the thieves’ attention. When I’m within twenty yards of Stassin and the guy watching him, I keep a bead on the gunman. Stassin’s on his knees with hands laced behind his head. The sirens sound, and the boys know it’s not a coincidence. The gunman does what I was hoping he wouldn’t do. He gets ready to pop Stassin. I pop him instead, staying close to the building’s darkness. The gunman’s buddies hustle back out in confusion. They have no idea what happened. Hopping back into the truck, they get it moving out of the yard in time to get a police escort. Stassin ran back inside the warehouse the moment I put the gunman down. I holster my Ruger, lace my hands behind my head, and go out in front of the delivery bay.

  The truckers surrender without incident. The PD secure me. I don’t know these guys, so I follow directions, explain who I am, and tell them I’m armed. I also tell them where they can find Stassin. They disarm me, pull out my P.I.’s license, and put me in the back of a squad car in cuffs. Stassin joins me shortly. Yep, it’s going to be a long night. I see Lois walk into view with Shelly. Lois shakes her head at me. Shelly looks at me as if I’ve got horns sticking out of my forehead. I get a free ride to the station, and an overnighter. The next morning Lois and Cleaver arrive. She pulled some strings to get me out on a Sunday.

  I gather my belongings and join her out front. “Thanks for springing me on a Sunday. That must have been quite a presentation for them to release me.”

  Lois shrugged. “No biggie. The PD’s happy as hell with the bust. The videos made it clear what happened. Shell’s yelp of horror when you aired out the bandito didn’t go over well, but they could see you waited until the guy was going to blow Stassin’s head off.”

  “It was a piece of cake until then, Lo. Is Shelly okay?”

  Lois gestured for me to follow her out of the station. “She’s fine, but I think my idea of putting her out in the field is as dead as the bandito. I’m hoping she won’t quit our front desk.”

  Yep, and there it is. “Where’s that test tube of new office Karma chemistry you were mixing up?”

  Lois whipped around on me with a warning finger. “Don’t make me pull out my pliers and blowtorch, wise-guy. You won’t like it!”

  I grin at her tightlipped ‘I’m annoyed’ look. “I’d probably like it a lot better than your matchmaking skills.”

  Her mouth trembled, holding in a laugh. “Three dead in the same month, Rick. Show some remorse, you unfeeling zombie.”

  “Ouch.”

  * * *

  Monday morning I zip into the office after a good night’s sleep, feeling pretty good for an unfeeling zombie. I duck my head inside Lois’s office door and exchange pleasantries. She always beats me to the office. I think she has a spy cam somewhere in my apartment. When I turn around to head for my office, Shelly’s sitting at her desk, thank God. Like I said, she’s a great secretary. She gives me a little wave of her hand.

  “Good morning, Mr. Cantelli.” She keeps her eyes on the computer screen as I walk behind her.

  “Good mo
rning, Ms. Fontenot.” I play along with the formal card I’m dealt happily. Office liaisons are not for us geezers heading into our seventh decade anyway. Maybe I should check around and see if any of the churches have bingo nights. It was good to have Cantelli land back to normal.

  Chapter 3: The Bodyguard

  I glared at Lois with my no nonsense Cantelli glare. It had no effect. She waved me off from her desk as if I were a tsetse fly. This is my part in the partnership. Lois gives me orders, and I’m supposed to take them.

  “I don’t do bodyguard work, Lo. You know that.”

  “You are this time, sunshine. These are hard economic times, and you’re an aging private eye on his last legs. You should be thanking me.”

  I laughed. Okay, that was funny. “I’m not doing it.”

  “You’ll do what I tell you to do,” Lois nails me where it hurts. “You hold the new P.I. record for killings in a month. No one wants you around their loved ones, or even their exes. A movie star asked for you by name to bodyguard her to an event. She’s willing to pay an extravagant amount of money for you to do it. You’re doing it.”

  “No, I’m not. I quit.”

  This time Lois laughed. “I’ll put you on alarm installation for the next month if you give me a bad time about this.”

  Rat-shit! I hate alarm installation. I tried reasoning. “Listen Lo, Steve’s got charm, charisma, and he’s dying to get more into body-guarding, investigations, or anything other than the regular security duty. Let him do it.”

  “Steve’s at the bottom of the list. He was stupid enough to go toe to toe with some stranger, and got his ass kicked, leaving our client with no bodyguard. You have never in all these years ever done something like that.”

  “He got excited. I went over it with him. Mace, mangle with the stun-gun, and plastic tie. He was really sorry. Give him another chance. He’s just a kid. How’s he going to learn otherwise? Steve went toe to toe. That in itself should count for something.”

  Lois made a buzzer noise like I just answered wrong on the game-show Jeopardy. “This isn’t a trial by error business, cupcake. Suck it up. Take the file, and go earn us a nice payday. Just as an added caution for your mission plan, our friend Detective Staley called and warned me if you shoot anyone else it better be a suicide. His words.”

  Uh oh. “Granted, I had a bad month. What the hell was I supposed to do, let the drug dealers torture and kill me, or let that poor warehouse guy get popped? I thought Staley was happy with the warehouse theft ring bust.”

  “He was, but he’s a ‘what have you done for me lately’ type. Lately, he wants you to quit killing people.” Lois snorted in that annoying way I hate. “C’mon, Rick, get your head in the game. Count your blessings. You’re not banging that used up hooker from your past anymore, and Shelly hasn’t quit yet after you abused her on that warehouse stakeout.”

  Oh man, that was low even for Lo. She cackled in delight, clapping her hands together and the whole nine yards. In Shelly’s defense, she’d never seen anyone die. We had a great working relationship now. I say good morning, Ms. Fontenot, and she says good morning, Mr. Cantelli. What the hell more can you ask for from a first class secretary? “Okay, what’s the bottom line here, Lo? Shelly’s happy now at her job as secretary.”

  “True, but you’ve screwed me out of a replacement for me on stakeouts. Forget your multiple misdeeds lately. We need this one, Rick. Karen Bastille asked for you by name because of your recent notoriety. One escort deal with her to an event like the Grammy’s and we are solid gold. What is it with you? This Prima Donna crap you’re pulling is beginning to annoy me. Is this some kind of male menopause?”

  She had me howling in laughter. Damn it! That male menopause line was really good. I’m starting to suspect her husband Frank is collaborating on her lines. I shift my hands into a surrendering gesture. “O…Okay harpy, you got me. I don’t know why in the hell a good looking dish like Bastille wants an old cardboard cutout like me at her elbow, but I’ll do it. Being in counterintelligence in your younger days, I suspect you’ve already run that question to ground.”

  I hear crickets. I hear the sounds of silence. What I don’t hear is anything from my partner. I sit down across from her. Something’s wrong she ain’t telling me. That never happens. “What is it, Lo? I got your back. We being audited, or did you make some bad gambles at the roulette wheel… what?”

  Lois meets my worried gaze. “Karen Bastille’s my half sister. My long dead Dad was her Dad. I’ve known it for a quite a while because I’m a counterintelligence whore. I have to find out every detail of everything, Rick. I ain’t into the celebrity scene. When I got the call from Ms. Bastille, she rolled me. Apparently, she’s known about me for some time too. She has a stalker, a creepy one who even has all her regulars worried. I admit it. I didn’t want you to know she’s related.”

  “You were funny until now, Lo.” Man, I’m out on the fringes when Lois starts hiding details. We’d take a bullet for each other in a heartbeat. I don’t get this.

  Lois grins at me with a shrug. “I thought I could get you easy with the celebrity gig. Karen’s early forties, hot, famous, and single. I figured you’d check on her before giving me grief. I played the relative card, Spanky. You’re a bust.”

  Small doubt about that. “I’m in, Lo, as long as you want me. I ain’t going to give you the myriad ways I could fail. I will say this: if I need to I will be guilty of another killing.”

  Lois reached across and grabbed my hand. “That’s all I ask, brother. I hid the relationship with Karen because I don’t want you killed for a sister I’m not sure I trust or even care about. I was hoping you’d just take the gig without any question. I should have known better.”

  Oh, I so had her ass now! I stared deeply into her eyes. “Yeah, why trust me with your mind altering addition of a celebrity sister now?”

  Lois grinned. “We have a couple of ex military on staff who I know killed on the battlefield. I only know one guy who would, could and did kill in cold blood. I need a hero.”

  Damn it! “I hate that song.”

  Lois snorted again annoyingly. “Think about me, cupcake. I can’t stand her Mom, her acting, her persona, or any of her real life habits. I only agreed to speak to her because she name dropped my dead Dad. I’d rather open a vein than have you think I owe you, but here we are at a crossroads. Want to help me or not?”

  I so got this now. “Okay… but it’ll cost you.”

  Lois sighed. “If you mean forget about the fact you’re still bangin’ that drug dealin’ ex classmate of yours, kiss my ass. I’ll settle with her later.”

  My mind’s racing. No way she could know about Stacy still coming around occasionally unless… “you bitch! You put Steve on me? You no good, rotten old canker-sore. I-”

  “Shut your pie-hole. You were just telling me how Steve needed seasoning and a second chance. Well… there you go. Another few weeks following that worn out bed mat of yours, and he’ll almost be ready for a real assignment.”

  I dropped my head to embrace the agony of defeat, pulled from the thrill of victory as only Rick Cantelli can.

  Lois laughed, patting my hand. “When were you going to tell me about hitching a ride on the Stacy steamboat again?”

  “Never.”

  Lois shoved Bastille’s file under my nose. “Take this and get busy. She wants a meet and greet today at 11:30 unless you have a nooner planned with that barfly of yours.”

  I left without comment, dragging the file behind me. The payback for this morning’s utter humiliation would be biblical. The moment I grew back a pair, Lois was in real trouble. I trudged to my office with the sound of her cackle haunting each step. Shelly smiled in commiseration at me as I walked by.

  * * *

  A guy big enough for his own zip code opened the door of Karen Bastille’s Beverly Hills home. I figured him at probably six foot five inches, and around three hundred pounds. He had a razor cut head that shined in the entrancewa
y light. He glowered at me.

  “What you want, little man?”

  The only thing missing was the rhyme from Jack and the Beanstalk. I hand him my card. “Rick Cantelli, Sir. I’m here to see Ms. Bastille.”

  The giant smiled. “You’re a bodyguard?”

  I grinned. “I’m very scary. It’s a gift.”

  The giant laughed. “Why does Karen ask for something silly like you to watch over her? What is it you do that is so scary, little man?”

  “Well, I can speed draw a can of Mace so potent it will make your eyeballs leap right out of their sockets. When you’re writhing on the floor at my feet, I’ll take out this six million volt stun gun nightstick and zap your balls with it until smoke comes out of your pee hole. Want a demo?”

  He held out his hand with a wide grin. I shook it.

  “I am Toby Zinglov, Mr. Cantelli. My boss waits in den. Come.”

  One of the keys to being a bodyguard is an ominous presence. I’m six - two, a hundred and eighty pounds. I can still do a hundred pushups or a hundred sit-ups without puking. I’m fifty-nine, but I can hold my own. If I were stalking Karen and saw Toby with her, I’d go find a new woman. I’m getting that sinking feeling I’m missing something on this assignment besides good judgment. Toby leads the way into the spacious den where the blousy in a good way blonde movie star Karen Bastille awaited me on her leather sofa. Karen makes those romantic comedies that if I were chained in a room watching them, I’d gnaw my own arm off to get out. I wasn’t a fan. She folds her hands in front of her.

  “Mr. Cantelli. I have heard a lot about you, both from my sister, and from the news. I need you to escort me to the Grammy awards, and find out who is stalking me. Toby is an excellent bodyguard, but he has no experience predicting danger. My sister told me you were a Navy Seal, and are very proficient at foreseeing dangerous situations.”

  The ‘I Need a Hero’ song started sounding in my head. I stifled my barf reflex. “Ms. Bastille. Who is it you’re afraid of? Have you seen your stalker?”