Bullet From Dominic

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Bullet From Dominic Page 11

by Giammatteo, Giacomo


  Tip’s car was parked in front of the garage. I pulled in next to it and got out. Halfway to the side porch, Flash ran to greet me. I got on my knees to give her a hug. She smiled and jumped on me.

  “It’s good to see you again,” I said, and rubbed my face in her fur.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Tip hollered from the porch. “You never know what she’s been rolling in.”

  “I need a man who greets me as enthusiastically as Flash.”

  “Good luck with that,” Tip said, and opened the door.

  I followed him inside. Sacco was on the floor by the kitchen. “Hey, Sacco,” I said, and got one wag of the tail in response. I reached to pet him. “He’s quiet.”

  “At least somebody around here is,” Mollie said. “Anything new on our case?”

  “How many times do I have to tell you?” Tip said. “We aren’t working any case.”

  “Don’t fret none. I heard you.” A timer sounded in the kitchen. “That’s dinner,” Mollie said. “Tip, get some plates. Connie, beer’s in the fridge.”

  Mollie placed ribs, coleslaw, and baked beans on the table then took a seat next to me. “I made pecan pie for dessert, so don’t fill up.”

  “Pecan pie?” I said. “Life doesn’t get much better than this. Good food. Good beer. All we need is a few Bon Jovi songs, and we’ll be set.”

  Mollie looked at me, squinted and said, “Who? Bon Javi?”

  “No. Jon Bon Jovi. He’s a musician.”

  “A foreigner?”

  “Sort of. He’s from New Jersey.”

  “Sounds like a damn foreigner to me. Gettin’ to be all there is anymore is foreigners.”

  I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing. “We were all foreigners once,” I said.

  She looked at me with one eye half closed. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Heard that before.”

  Mollie made tea for Tip and coffee for us. Tip got the files and laid them out on the table in the other room.

  “What have we got so far?” I asked.

  “Don’t go startin’ without me,” Mollie said.

  Tip was about to say something, but I shook my head. “Not worth it,” I whispered.

  A minute later Mollie brought in coffee and tea—and pecan pie for each of us. “What have we got?”

  Tip pointed to a couple of charts. “This is what we have so far.”

  Dead lawyer. Possibly a heart attack.

  Lawyer was with a prostitute—Tiffany.

  Meeting seems to have been planned. (According to LaDonna)

  Tiffany is missing. On the run?

  Bartender described her as:

  • Dark hair.

  • Dark complexion.

  • Not blonde.

  • 30ish, professional.

  • Mexican accent.

  • Probably didn’t leave with Lipscomb.

  • Was waiting for a guy named Andy.

  • Said Lipscomb was waiting for someone too, but might have been lying.

  • Hotel said our girl had blonde hair.

  • Tiffany has blonde hair.

  • Valet parking guy said dark woman went with Lipscomb.

  • Where did he meet Tiffany, and how?

  • If Tiffany said she had a big client, how did she know in advance?

  • If Lipscomb planned it, why would he be trying to pick up the other woman?

  I looked at what Tip had written on the chart and shook my head. “So we’ve got a dead lawyer, who may or may not have had a heart attack, but who was with a prostitute who has since disappeared.”

  “Let’s not forget the mysterious dark-haired woman at the bar who either left with Lipscomb, or with Andy, depending on who you ask.”

  “And that brings up another question,” I said. “Who the hell is Andy?”

  Tip scribbled a question mark on the bottom of the chart. “The bigger question is how did Lipscomb meet Tiffany?”

  The phone rang, and Tip reached for it. “I have you on speaker, Delgado, and ladies are present.”

  “No need to worry about me. I don’t curse.”

  “Have you solved that sticker case yet?” Tip asked.

  “You mean the fake inspection-sticker case that turned into a homicide that is now a drug case too? If you mean that one, the answer is no.”

  “How’d it get to be a drug case?”

  “Cruz and I went cruisin’ today. We rousted a bunch of low-life scum until we found a few who talked. Seems like our victim, Señor Martin, was dealing meth along with the stickers.”

  “Meth?”

  “Yeah. Ice is nice, as they say on the streets. He was dealing a lot of it, too. The crime-scene unit found twenty grand in spendable denominations in his apartment. It was stuffed in envelopes and stapled to the underside of cabinets in the kitchen. If it hadn’t been for the drug dog, we might have missed it, but the money had traces of meth and cocaine on it.”

  “Did you find the meth?” Tip asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “Ribs, this is getting stranger by the minute.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Are you by yourself?” Tip asked.

  “Just me and Rosalee.”

  “Yesterday, when Connie and I were tracking down our prostitute, I got a lead from one of my informants. He said somebody new in town has been dealing meth and selling it cheap.”

  Delgado whistled. “Amigo, this is getting strange. Martin had the number for the stiff at the hotel, and now we both get leads on meth.”

  “You know what’s even worse?” Tip said. “I called Bobby Stenson to ask about it, but he said he didn’t know anything about a new player.”

  “Nothing?”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “If Bobby hasn’t heard anything, and both of us have, that kind of makes me wonder what streets Bobby’s been working.”

  “Yeah, and I went to see Bobby at his favorite watering hole. Let’s say he wasn’t happy to see me. In fact, if it wasn’t for Connie walking in, I might have had to fight my way out of there.”

  “I can’t believe Stenson would turn,” Delgado said, “but you never know. Drug money buys a lot of things.”

  “And a lot of people,” Tip said. “So let’s keep this between us.”

  “You got it. I’ll keep you up to date.”

  Tip hung up and looked at me. “I think it’s time we had another talk with Bobby.”

  “That’s not our business,” I said. “Give it to IA or Coop. We’ve got our own case to solve.”

  Mollie moved next to Tip. “Speaking of your case, I see what’s wrong with your thinking.”

  “Don’t start,” Tip said.

  Mollie grabbed a pen and pointed to where Tip had written Andy’s name on the chart. “Instead of Andy,” she said, “Suppose the bartender got it wrong? What if it’s Annie?”

  “Son of a bitch!” I said. “I wasn’t thinking of a woman. But the bartender might still have had it right. What if it’s Andy, short for Andrea?”

  Tip gave Mollie a kiss on the cheek. “Be careful, or I might kiss you again.”

  Mollie narrowed her eyes. “I shot the last man who kissed me,” she said, but then she smiled.

  I ran through what we had, considering the new possibility. “If we assume Andy was Tiffany, then that solves all of our problems as far as how Lipscomb met up with her.”

  Tip nodded. “So Tiffany called the dark-haired woman in the bar, and they arranged to meet at the hotel.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “And then Lipscomb left with the mystery woman, went to the hotel, and Tiffany was already there.”

  “I like it,” Tip said. “But where did the mystery woman go? We didn’t see her on the surveillance tape.”

  I thought for a few seconds then said, “Maybe she didn’t go in. Or maybe she went to somebody else’s room. There are a lot of reasons that could explain why we didn’t see her on tape. But…”

  “What?” Tip said.

  “No matter what rea
son we come up with, it still doesn’t explain how Tiffany knew beforehand that she’d be getting a big payday. LaDonna said that Tiffany turned down two hundred dollars because she had a better deal that night. By all accounts, Lipscomb meeting the mystery woman in the bar was pure chance.”

  “That does knock the wind out of us,” Tip said.

  I took a few sips of beer. “Unless…we look at it from a different angle. Suppose Lipscomb wasn’t the one paying Tiffany?”

  “The mystery woman was?” Tip said.

  “And if she was the one paying, it makes a heart attack look a lot less likely.”

  “Y’all can thank me anytime you want,” Mollie said.

  I laughed. “Mollie, I may have to rethink who my partner is.”

  “Partner?” she said with more than a hint of sarcasm. “That man can’t think his way out of the bathroom.”

  Tip cracked a smile. “Be careful, old girl, or I’ll kiss you again.”

  “You better practice that too,” she said, and went to get more coffee.

  “I’m beginning to think somebody wanted Lipscomb dead,” Tip said. “We need to talk to his partners again.”

  “Looks like we got a case after all,” I said.

  Chapter 19

  A Midnight Swim

  Sahrina kept a safe distance behind Brent as he drove west on I-10. He took the Gessner exit and headed south. Within minutes he pulled into the driveway of a large two-story French Colonial. A balcony wrapped the second floor of the house.

  “I’m liking this,” Andy said.

  “Don’t forget the plan. We’re here to get pictures. When I tell you it’s time, get naked and get close.”

  “What if we can’t get the pictures?”

  “Then we don’t get paid.”

  Brent got out of his car and waited for Sahrina and Andy to join him. He opened the front door, and they followed him inside.

  “This is beautiful,” Andy said.

  Brent took them on a quick tour of the first floor, ending in the kitchen. Andy went to the sliding door and looked at the patio. “I love the patio. And the pool.”

  “I don’t mean to be rude,” Sahrina said. “But do you have anything to drink? My throat is dry.”

  Brent rushed over. “My apologies. I don’t know where my manners are tonight.”

  Sahrina looked at him and smiled. “What would your mother think?”

  He laughed. “She’d be appalled that I’m about to get naked with two beautiful women.”

  Sahrina raised her eyebrows. “Who said anything about naked?”

  “We talked about going swimming, remember? Unless you brought bathing suits…”

  Andy laughed. “I don’t care about naked, but I would like some wine if you have any.”

  Brent opened a bottle of Chardonnay. “How about you ladies pouring wine while I get towels?”

  “I’m not swimming,” Sahrina said, as he left the room.

  “I’ve got a hot tub. Maybe you’ll feel like taking a dip later.”

  Andy reached for the bottle, but Sahrina stopped her. “Wait and let the gentleman pour. We’re ladies, remember?”

  Andy smiled. “Sorry.”

  Brent turned out to be quite a conversationalist, showing off a broad-based knowledge of music, books, movies, and business. He also seemed to have a particular interest in the unclothed female body.

  After almost an hour of talking, and another bottle of wine, he started his spiel again. “I know you’ve got to be ready for a dip in the hot tub. Come on. It’ll feel great.”

  Andy looked at Sahrina and shrugged. “I’m game if you are.”

  Brent smiled. “Well?”

  Sahrina pursed her lips and shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure, Brent. I—”

  “What’s it going to take?” Brent asked.

  She put a finger to her lips and said, “Get the tequila, salt, and lime. We’ll see what kind of man you really are.”

  Brent almost jumped from his seat. “Hot damn,” he said, and went to the liquor cabinet. He returned with a bottle of tequila. “If one of you gets the salt and lime, we’re set.”

  “Get three shot glasses,” Sahrina said to Andy. “I’ll get the salt and lime.”

  Brent grabbed a towel, opened the sliding door, and walked out to the patio. “Don’t forget your towels,” he said.

  “Andy, grab some towels. I’ll get the door,” Sahrina said.

  As Andy stepped onto the patio, Sahrina grabbed a couple of pills from her purse and followed Andy out. She used her elbow to slide the door closed.

  Sahrina set the salt and lime on a table next to the tequila. Brent had the hot tub running. He reached for his pants.

  “Easy, mister,” Sahrina said. “I don’t get naked with just any old man. Here are the rules. After the first shot, my top comes off. Second shot, the bottoms come off. Third…” A seductive smile popped onto her face. “We’ll have to see about that.”

  Brent poured the tequila and downed the first shooter.

  Sahrina removed her top and her bra, leaned toward him and gave him a short kiss.

  Brent never took his eyes from her. He poured another shot and downed it as quickly as he had the first, his gaze shifting to below her stomach. She stepped out of her pants and removed her panties as well, revealing a taste of heaven. He moved forward and pulled her to him, kissing her.

  She pushed him back. “Easy, stud. You haven’t finished drinking. Pour another one.”

  Andy was in the hot tub already. “Hurry up. I’m getting lonely in here.”

  “We won’t be long,” Sahrina said.

  Brent fumbled for the bottle and poured another. Sahrina grabbed him, turned him around and locked lips, her tongue exploring his mouth. While he held her, she dumped 2 milligrams of alprazolam into his tequila and stirred it with her finger. She continued kissing for a short while, then broke the embrace.

  “Whew, cowboy. I think it’s time for you to finish.”

  He reached for the glass and gulped it down. “Damn, that one tasted bad,” he said, but a smile lit his face. He took Sahrina’s hand and said, “Shall we?”

  Sahrina moved her hand down and rubbed him. She smiled up at him. “I think you’re ready, big boy. But let’s take a dip in the hot tub first. That way we don’t have to shower after.” She stepped into the tub and sat near the edge.

  Brent stumbled over, almost falling twice.

  Sahrina said, “Help him, Andy.”

  Brent stood in the middle of the hot tub on shaky legs.

  “But you close your eyes while Andy gets naked,” Sahrina said.

  He covered his eyes while Andy stripped. He could barely maintain balance.

  It’s time, Sahrina thought. “Your turn,” she said. “And we’ll close our eyes.”

  “No need to,” he said, but Sahrina insisted.

  “Andy, close your eyes,” she said, and then to Brent, standing with his back to her, “Okay, you can take off your pants now.”

  Brent reached for his pants. Sahrina grabbed hold of his ankles and yanked backward. He fell face-first, his head smashing against the concrete edge.

  “Oh my God!” Sahrina screamed, and when she did, Andy opened her eyes.

  “Brent!” Andy cried. Blood poured from his forehead, tainting the water red. Andy reached for him.

  “Don’t touch him!” Sahrina shouted. “Get a towel.”

  “I’m calling 9-1-1,” Andy said.

  “Not yet. Let me check him.” Sahrina knelt beside Brent, lifted his head from the water, and felt for a pulse. She looked at Andy and shook her head. “He’s gone.”

  “I’m calling 9-1-1,” Andy said again.

  “No. They’ll think we did it on purpose. Especially after what happened at the hotel.” Sahrina looked around. “I’ve got to think.”

  Andy stood on the patio, shivering. “What are we going to do?”

  “Get dressed. We need to clean up so no one knows we were here.”

 
Andy started for the house. Sahrina yelled, “Take the glasses with you, all but his. Put them in the sink. But don’t touch the door handle.”

  As Andy walked away, Sahrina added, “And don’t wipe anything down. We don’t want them thinking someone cleaned prints.”

  When Andy’s back was turned, Sahrina pushed Brent’s head underwater. She held it there for a full two minutes, making sure he was gone, and then she got out, grabbed a towel, and headed inside.

  Andy stood in the kitchen, crying. “I can’t believe this happened again. My God. What are we going to do?”

  “Did you touch anything?”

  Andy looked around. “No. Wait. Yes, the glasses, and…nothing else.”

  “Wash all the glasses except his and put them away without leaving prints on the glasses or on the cabinets. Leave one wine bottle on the table. We’ll take the other one with us. Put the towels in a plastic garbage bag. We’ll dump them on the way home.”

  “I can’t believe it,” Andy said.

  “Hurry up. We can’t stay here forever.”

  Sahrina finished cleaning up, checking to make sure nothing would point to them having been there, and then she and Andy left, careful not to touch the door handles on the way out.

  Chapter 20

  What Are You Afraid Of?

  Sunday mornings were never my favorite. When I was young, they held promise of fun times with Mom, of family dinners with Uncle Dominic and Zeppe’s family. But along with those things was mandatory attendance at church. I never felt comfortable sitting there listening to a priest give sermons I didn’t believe in, and—even worse—being forced to sit next to all the fakes who pretended they were good people. It wasn’t until later in life that I understood why Uncle Dominic never went to church. He never was one to pretend.

  I sipped my coffee and wondered what I’d do for the day, then remembered that Julie had invited me to her house. I dialed her number. “Hey, Jules. What are you doing today?”

  “Nothing much, except cleaning a sink full of dishes, helping my son fix his bike, and trying to find an electrician for a bad outlet.”

  “This is your lucky day,” I said. “I’ll trade my awesome electrical skills for lunch and some of your good coffee.”

 

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