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

by Bernard DeLeo

  “Can I at least have a cup of coffee at your place before I drive home? I’m beat.”

  “Absolutely. As long as you give me your word you won’t try anything funky.”

  Jadie glanced over at me slyly. “Define funky.”

  I ticked them off on my hand. “Stay dressed. Stay away from me. Be a friend. Did I miss anything?”

  Jadie sighed. “Only the loopholes. I know you want me, Rick. What the hell is this really about?”

  “The thing you can’t seem to grasp. Most of everything we are is mental. I have to wake every day and look at this same grizzled face in the mirror. I can’t do that and pretend I’m a player. I’m not.”

  I watched Jadie grit her teeth. She’s not used to being denied what she wants. The Lord only knows why that want would be me. “Jadie. I’m being polite here. I’m happy to give you a cup of coffee. I don’t want to be wary of what I see every single time I turn away and then turn toward you.”

  “Oh, all right. This is goofy. What’s your problem? Do you secretly go to bed in women’s clothing or something?”

  There’s a pretty picture. “Ha… ha. Fine. If it will make you feel better to take cheap shots at me during our visit, at least make them funny.”

  “If I stayed the night, I could drive you over to get your GMC.”

  “Lo will drop by tomorrow morning now that you drove me home. She’ll give me a ride.”

  Jadie glanced over at me as if she hadn’t heard me right. “What do you mean now that I’m driving you home?”

  “She knows what I’m going to do before I do it. She always expects the worst, so she’ll be arriving bright and early to find out if I resisted temptation. When Lo doesn’t find you at my house, she’ll still do a Vulcan mind meld on me to rip out every detail. I think of her as Spock-ella the mind munch in my head.”

  Jadie was laughing over my Lois explanation as she turned onto my street. “You two are pretty funny. So if she suspects you’ll do me wrong, why not do it for real? I’ll even answer the door for you. I’m not afraid of Lois.”

  Typical youthful ignorance. “For one thing, Lois won’t be angry. She would start cackling the moment she saw you, knowing I would feel like crap for what I’ve already told you feels like cradle robbing. She would needle me for months with that one. Secondly, you should be afraid of Lois. She likes you. If she didn’t, and you crossed her, you would quickly find out what the term ‘mean girl’ was based on. Just ask her sister, Karen.”

  “I know karate. I’ve studied Tae Kwon Do since I was a kid.”

  Now that was funny. I enjoyed her claim to self defense for a few moments of laughter. “You face off with Lo, you’d be better off with a shotgun and ten yards distance. Don’t talk. Pull the trigger. Otherwise, you’ll be looking like one of those Raggedy Anne dolls after a truck runs over it.”

  Jadie smirked at me after she parked in front of my house. “I’ve done kickboxing. I can probably kick your ass.”

  What’s the use of trading one-liners with a veritable child? I’m sure she’s capable of protecting herself. “Hey, great. I’m not looking for a fight. You can be champ… unless of course you mess with Lo. Then you’ll be number two. Come inside and I’ll make you your coffee, champ.”

  Jadie laughed and we exited the Lexus. I noticed a black BMW a couple of houses down I’d never seen here before. Yeah, I do notice those things. I paused, thinking about getting the license number, but Jadie yanked on my arm.

  “It’s chilly out here, Rick. Quit playing car recognition games and let’s go in.”

  Still don’t like that BMW. It’s setting off alarm bells right through my Bushmills buzz and the very nice figure Jadie is cutting, folding her arms over her chest. I made a mental note to check it out in the morning. “Okay, kid.”

  “Stop calling me kid. I didn’t mention it that one morning we recruited you for the restaurant business, but you have a nice place.”

  It’s way too big for me, but I got a good deal on it a couple decades ago. Best of all it’s paid for and in an upscale little neighborhood. Bernadette Lane doesn’t get much in the way of traffic either. As we rounded my garage on the walkway, I saw a shadow pass behind my front window. My front door began opening. I grabbed the stunned Jadie and headed directly for the dwarf palm tree grouping in my front yard. Bullets pinged behind us from what I recognized as the chattering fire from a fully auto Mac-10. Jadie screamed and I covered her mouth while diving behind the decorative rocks around the palms. Typical amateur gunman with a machine pistol – spraying rather than short aimed bursts.

  “Shut up, Jadie!” I pulled out the .45 auto. The gunman wasn’t advancing. Slugs tore into my palms and ricocheted off the rocks. I kept Jadie down under me, darting quick glimpses at the front of my house, spotting a hulking shadow blocking my line of sight to the front door.

  The chattering stopped abruptly. I rolled to my left, coming into a prone firing position. I aimed dead center shadow, firing three quick shots as the shadow fumbled a new clip into place. The .45 caliber hollow points slammed the shadow into the air and back onto my walkway. The Mac-10 clattered to the cement. I took careful aim at the slightly writhing form, firing two more I knew would rip through the body. Curiosity is one thing, but I only wanted one version of this story told. Jadie was again screaming like a banshee. I rolled to my former position behind the palms, switching gun holding hands while I gripped Jadie’s shoulder and shook her.

  “Shut up! Get a grip, Jadie! I have to pay attention!”

  She nodded, and curled into a ball. I watched all open approaches to our position. Lights were going on all over, and I heard sirens wailing in our direction. I planned on Jadie and I staying right the hell where we were until the PD arrived. I kept a reassuring hand on her while shifting my view.

  “The PD will be here soon, kid. When they arrive, sit still and lace your hands behind your head. I will kneel in front of you with my hands laced. We’ll stay still until they tell us otherwise. Acknowledge and repeat what I just told you.”

  “Sit… still, lace hands… wait for the police.”

  “Good girl.”

  Two squad cars streaked in front of my house, sirens blaring, adding to the discomfort my head and back were already jabbing into my brain. I set the .45 auto down in the grass. Kneeling in front of Jadie, I put my hands behind my head, staying very still as spotlights swept over our forms in the yard. The PD exited their squad cars, draping over their doors with weapons pointed. Two more cars arrived. I know the sirens are meant to disorient. Mission accomplished.

  The wall of noise finally ends, but the lights keep rolling. I close my eyes, enjoying the relative silence with slow grateful deep breaths. I know police arriving in a war zone don’t rush around. It takes a few moments before one of them calls out to us.

  “You can stand, Rick!”

  I recognize Terry Stanley’s voice. Thank God he and Jamile got the call. I do as I’m told and help the shaking Jadie to her feet, hugging her tightly to me. Three police officers approach the unmoving shadow with weapons at the ready. They won’t need them, but I’ll let them come to that conclusion on their own. Terry and Jamile join Jadie and I by my wounded palms.

  “You hit, Rick?”

  “No, but I think the prick killed my palm bush. It died with its boots on though, saving our asses.”

  “Damn Rick,” Jamile says, shaking his head. “Wasn’t one gun battle enough for one night? I bet we won’t need an ambulance for that poor schmuck lying in front of your front door, will we?”

  “I hope not. He hosed us down with a Mac-10, J. My .45’s at your feet. Want me to clear it for you?”

  “No, we got it.” Terry picked up my auto and popped the clip before clearing the chamber. He dropped the pieces into an evidence bag Jamile held for him. “You sure have been leading one hell of an exciting life lately, Rick. The mayor may have to issue you a get out of town order.”

  “Do you know who that is over there?”

/>   “Nope. If Terry will stay with my friend, Ms. Wentworth, I’ll go over and take a look with you, J.”

  “Sounds good.”

  I took off my now dirty ice cream coat, and put it around Jadie. “I’ll be right back, kid.”

  Jadie only nodded and gripped the coat around her tightly with both fists. Jamile and I walked over to the dead body. It was a mess. Jamile shined his flashlight into the dead man’s face. The eyes stared into eternity with a frozen final agonized expression on his face. Well, I thought while peering down, that’ll be the last time Neil Garibaldi crosses my path. Boo hoo.

  “It’s Neil Garibaldi.”

  “You mean the same guy that I heard ordered the snatch and grab at the restaurant? Jesus. This seems personal, Rick. You and Lo made a fool out of him. I guess he knew we’d be coming for him over it.” Jamile paused, looking around at the scene, and then at me. “I used to think you and Lo were kind of a joke – a couple of old farts playing the security and cheat sheet act into retirement. Man, if I ever need a couple of heavy hitters to bail me out of something funky, I’m calling you - that is if you can stay out of prison, killer.”

  “The darkness in the Force has caught up to us, J. We were quietly doing just what you hinted at. We’re appreciative of the understanding you guys have given us. Thank you.”

  Jamile grinned. “You do know I have to take you in, right?”

  “Yeah, I know. Any chance of the kid going home. She doesn’t have anything to do with this other than I was going to make her a cup of coffee after she gave me a ride.”

  “That all you planned on giving her, Rick?”

  “I could be her grandfather, J. Can she go home?”

  “Sure, Rick.” Jamile notices I didn’t take kindly to the jab he gave me. “I’ll talk to Terry. I’ll take her statement here and send her home.”

  “I appreciate it. Listen. Can I go in without the cuffs? My back’s not feelin’ real good after this extra workout.”

  “No cuffs, old man,” Jamile agreed.

  I pretended to sob, rubbing my eyes with my fists. “God bless you, young man.”

  Jamile laughed and patted my shoulder. “Any time, gramps.”

  * * *

  I did penance for my impure thoughts about Jadie. The decision to spend an overnighter until I could be interviewed turned out to be a bad idea. A couple of the cell inhabitants decided to tune up the killer. It didn’t go well for them… or me for that matter. They went to the hospital, and I earned a damned black eye and sore ribs. I refused to get treatment because I was pissed. The rest of my bunkmates left me the hell alone. Bill Staley came to get me the moment he arrived. He took one look at me and started laughing as he led the way to his office.

  “Damn Rick, why the hell didn’t you call Lo? She would have had Cleaver over here to bail your ass out before the cell door closed.”

  “I’m doing penance.”

  Bill laughed again. “Yeah, I’ll bet. I see you were with Jadie Wentworth when you guided Neil Garibaldi into hell. I have to admit I never saw that coming. We tried collecting him at his hotel, but he was gone. I set guys on watch at his door to get him when he came back. I figured he headed East by car. Instead, he headed to your house with a Mac-10. I like the way you solved this case – no loose ends.”

  I sat down at Bill’s desk with a sigh of discontent. I accepted the three aspirin and bottled water he gave me with gratitude. “No loose ends until Cheech Garibaldi decides to collect on the brother killing debt.”

  “Yep, but look on the bright side. Now the city doesn’t have to spend money protecting his ex-wife. You saved us some money, Rick. Congrats.”

  Yeah, I chortled a little over that glib assessment of my night’s adventures. “Good one, Bill.”

  “Promise you’ll write one of those fantastic reports of yours, and I let you go your own way.”

  I made a gesture of crossing my heart. “I will have a gem of a report in your e-mail by noon. I’m going to shower off the jail stink, get a nap, and then go face the harpy, but I’ll still get it to you. Can I enter my house? Garibaldi died outside.”

  Bill chuckled. “Yeah, just avoid the crime scene tape where you can. If you notice anything he displaced inside your house we missed, add it onto the report you send.”

  “Will do.”

  “You, my friend, are free to go. Want police protection from Cheech?”

  “That’s very funny, Bill.” I shook hands with him and made my way out to get a cab. Staley and I knew all the police protection in the world wouldn’t protect me from Cheech. For that matter, nothing protects me from Lois either.

  * * *

  After the cabby left me off at my GMC, I drove home to my crime scene taped house. I walked around the bloody walkway after inspecting my wounded palms. They glared at me with pain and disappointment. I’m lucky trees don’t talk. Inside the house, I did a quick assessment of my meager belongings. It looked okay considering I had a big weasel skulking around inside. With an ice pack over my eye and ribs, I took an hour’s nap, which could have led to frostbite, but it sure felt good. I popped a few more aspirin, shaved, and took a long hot shower. It’s the small things that keep geezers sane. On the way to the office, I could picture the harpy peering at the computer screen, watching my progress by way of her damn tracking device. I left it in place, so I can leave it somewhere and take alternate transportation off the grid.

  I was right. Lo met me at the door, hands on hips, in full harpy mode. “Hi, Lo.”

  “You went to pick that ripe Jadie, get into a gun battle, kill that sack of shit Garibaldi, and I don’t even get ten seconds of FaceTime! Then you get held in custody, start a jailhouse riot, and I still don’t get a damn phone call? You’re fired, Cantelli. Pack your things and get out.”

  I saw that wanker Steve chortling at his desk, while Shelly typed furiously at her desk, ignoring the scene completely. “I have to type a report for Bill and find a way to make him into my heroic cop mentor. It has to be in his e-mail box by noon. You probably already know that having interrogated poor old detective Staley into thinking about early retirement. Now, out of the way, harpy.”

  Lo cackled, but stepped aside. “Damn right I did. He’s a Captain because of us. Staley needs to keep me updated or else I’ll forbid you to be his C.I. from now on.”

  I walked past with a head shake. “Yeah, that’ll frighten him. I’ll be in your office in an hour with the report for you to look over before I send it. No visitors. I have to finish this so I can do a nooner with Stacy.”

  Lo laughed so hard at that line she was unable to get off a one liner before I disappeared into my office. The aspirin had kicked in so my ribs and back stopped throbbing while I wrote a masterpiece of detailed events with Captain Staley mentioned at every phase. We had deduced Garibaldi’s involvement after solid police work by the Captain led to our discovery of the endangered ex-wife. I finished with after going over final details, the Captain decided I should head for home while he put out an APB for Garibaldi. The last sequence of events and final confrontation surprised us both, leading to the unfortunate demise of a clearly mentally disturbed Neil Garibaldi. Even I was impressed. I quickly edited it and printed out a copy.

  I made the trip from my office to Lo’s without being intercepted. Her door was open, leading to where she paced like a starving panther behind her desk. She grabbed the report out of my hands and spent the next fifteen minutes in beady-eyed perusal of my creation. Satisfied, she tossed it across the desk to where I had sat down.

  “Damn good, Rick. Now… what were you really going to do with Jadie before you were rudely interrupted by that dimwit Garibaldi?”

  “I’d hoped only making her the cup of coffee she asked for. Was I sure you wouldn’t be banging on my door this morning looking for and being greeted by the seductress? I don’t know. I’d like to think not.”

  “Fair enough. I spotted the little minx heading back in, but I didn’t stop her. I went home with Frank an
d slept like the dead before awakening to head directly to your house for an early morning visit. Imagine my surprise finding crime scene tape blocking my way to the door.”

  “I knew you’d call Staley. I didn’t want to talk… period, so I did an overnighter in the gray bar hotel.”

  “I bet you didn’t figure on sharing rooms with Mango Jerry.”

  Mango Jerry was the nickname for a slime-ball pimp we helped the PD jail when he threatened one of our clients. One of his girls wanted out of the business, and Mango decided to tune her up. She came to us. The next thing Mango knew, he was doing a deuce for running an underage prostitution ring. I testified at his trial.

  “Small doubt about that. You should have seen his eyes when I was escorted into the cell. He thought his ship had come in and it was Christmas morning. He and his buddy Franco Bostick got arrested for assault earlier in the evening. Mango grabbed me after the usual chitchat, planning on holding me while Franco used me for a punching bag. I boxed his jug-head ears so hard, he’ll be hearing the Bells of St Mary’s for the next month, and kneed him in the nuts hard enough to end any line of descendants he planned on fathering. Franco got in a couple nice shots before I broke his kneecap.”

  Lois had been enjoying my recital of the jailhouse altercation. She leaned forward. “So how come Mango went to the hospital too?”

  I shrugged. “I may have accidentally stomped on his arm while attending to Franco. It was a compound fracture with bone. Luckily after the excitement, I talked the PD into taking signed statements from my buddies in lockup. They didn’t like Mango either. We had to wait until the Med-Techs came and got Mango. He was screaming like a campfire girl with her dress on fire. That’s probably an insult to the campfire girls.”

  Lois added a clap of the hands as she cackled. “Oh… oh Rick… I would have paid a hundred bucks to see that. I knew Mango was a pussy. What’s the fallout?”

  “In addition to Cheech payback, Franco made promises of thug revenge.”