A Bullet for Carlos

by Giacomo Giammatteo

  “Twenty-five kilos.”

  “A lot of money…” Dominic thought about the money, but then shook his head as he rinsed the cup and saucer. “Quite a lot. But she is worth it. The problem is, it will be difficult to convince even Manny to support us on this.”

  “Doesn’t he owe you?”

  “Not so much as that, Fabrizio. And this is business, after all. If he hears about it, he will want a piece.”

  Dominic called and let Manny know he was coming. Manny wanted to meet at his house, but Dominic insisted on a public place less likely to be under surveillance. He arrived early, accompanied by Fabrizio, and got a table near the back of the restaurant, one with a solid wall behind it and a good view of the front door. Manny arrived ten minutes late, Giorgio and Rudy by his side. Dominic stood to greet Manny as he crossed the floor wearing one of his famous smiles.

  “Good to see you,” Dominic said, and they embraced.

  Manny slapped his back. “Dom, you’re looking as good as ever. I don’t know how you stay so thin.”

  “Because I nibble all day. I don’t eat three meals at one sitting.”

  Manny laughed, then took a seat next to Dominic. Giorgio and Rudy sat with Fabrizio. “What’s up, Dom? Must be important to meet in person.”

  Dominic pulled out his pipe, sucking hard on it to draw the flavor, but he never lit it. “A drug deal is going down in your back yard. Twenty-five kilos.”

  Manny’s eyes narrowed. “What it’s got to do with you?”

  “Remember when my Concetta was shot?”

  “Of course.”

  “These are the drugs.”

  Manny scratched his chin, eyes still narrowed. “Cops?”

  Dominic nodded. “And they are selling them to the Colombians.”

  “No shit?” Manny signaled the waiter. “How about a couple of bottles of something good over here. Maybe a Barolo.” He gestured to the table where Giorgio and the others sat. “Get them whatever they want.” After the waiter left, Manny leaned toward Dominic. “You didn’t come here to tell me about Colombians buying dope in my neighborhood.”

  Dominic shook his head. “I came to tell you I’m going to have this deal busted by the cops.”

  Manny didn’t try to hide the shock on his face. “That’s a lot of money. We could turn these cops.”

  “It’s money you would not have had anyway,” Dominic said. “Besides, Concetta needs her name cleared.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “But nothing. I’m doing this as a courtesy. We have a good relationship, and I want nothing between us. With the Colombians, the Russians, and now these Mexicans, we cannot afford to be at odds.”

  Manny sat silent for a moment, then nodded. “Who you thinking about giving this to?”

  “Donovan. I don’t like the man, but he deserves respect. And he keeps his word.”

  “I can vouch for that, Dom. Don’t let him fool you, though. He’d bust any one of us if he could.”

  Dominic dabbed his mouth with the napkin and sipped on his water. “If I must deal with cops, I prefer to deal with honest ones. You always know where they stand, so you always know how they will act.”

  Manny stayed silent while the waiter brought the wine and opened it, then set a plate of cheese on the table. Manny sipped the wine, nodded to the waiter, then returned to the conversation. “Okay, Dom. I’m with you on this, but this makes us square.”

  “Square,” Dominic said.

  Manny held up his glass. “Amicizia, Domenico.”

  Dominic tapped Manny’s glass with his. “To friendship, Manny. It is all we have.”

  Chapter 31

  Elena

  Tip got home, cleaned up, and had a cup of lousy coffee—even for him—and still no call from Elena. Maybe he read it wrong. Maybe she wouldn’t call. Forty-five minutes later he decided he wasn’t the stud he used to be and started unloading the dishwasher, a preparation for another dull evening.

  Somewhere between the silverware and the plates, the phone rang. He wanted to lunge for it, but managed to keep his cool enough to let it get to the third ring. “Tip Denton.”

  “I figured you’d never call, so I decided to do it for you.”

  Tip relaxed, made sure his voice was normal. “So what’s going on? You got a lead for me.”

  “I was thinking about what you asked at the gym, and as I thought more about it there were a couple of men who seemed to dote on Patti. They always worked out by her, asked if she needed spots, that kind of thing.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m looking for. You should come over and discuss it.”

  “Even if that is a new line, I’m on my way.”

  Tip hurried and finished the dishes, then straightened up. Mollie would be here tomorrow but he wanted it clean for Elena, extra special clean. He took another look around, said the hell with it, and sat in his chair. He wondered if she’d want to see a movie. He hoped not. Damn kids nowadays talked during the whole show. And when that happened he had to tell them to shut the hell up. Then they wanted to fight him and he had to show them his badge. It was either that or shoot the little fuckers, and too often he found it more tempting to do that.

  Elena showed up half an hour later, vibrant and full of smiles. She leaned down and petted the dog. “Flash, is that you?”

  A snarl greeted her. “I can’t believe she remembers you,” Tip said.

  Elena straightened. “Yes, it has been a while.” She looked around. “I thought you had more dogs. Didn’t you have three?”

  “The others are outside. They’ll be back soon.” Tip closed the door and led her to the kitchen. “Hungry?”

  “I am. I planned on you cooking.”

  “I can put something together, or we can grab something later.”

  “Later is fine by me.”

  “Beer or wine?” Tip said, and headed for the cabinet.

  “Bed.”

  That stopped him dead. “What?”

  “I could have had beer or wine at home. It’s been a long time, Tip.” She walked toward the bedroom. “I don’t see the sense in wasting hours talking nonsense.”

  “Sounds good to me,” he said. “When we get up, we can always go to Whataburger and get some taquitos.”

  Elena looked at her watch. “It’s eight o’clock. That gives us three hours minimum.” She grabbed him by the hand and led him through the bedroom, into the bathroom and undressed, then turned on the shower. “It’s your lucky night, Tip, you get to scrub my back.”

  Tip waited until the water was just right, not too hot or cold. No way he was risking spoiling this night. He reached in and felt the spray. “Feels just right.” He draped two towels over the shower door, grabbed two washcloths, stripped down, then stepped inside.

  Elena followed him and moved to the rear of the shower. She took a bar of soap from the rack and handed it to him. “Do your work, boy. It’s time you earned your rewards.”

  Tip took hold of the washcloth, soaped it up, and started on her shoulders then gently rubbed her back. Over the course of fifteen minutes, he worked his way down her back and onto her buttocks. He scrubbed her good, sometimes light, sometimes harder, and he nibbled on her back after rinsing the soap off.

  Elena leaned against the walls of the shower, the warm water beating down on her back. “This is good.”

  “You bet your sweet ass it is,” Tip said.

  “How would you know, you haven’t tasted my sweet ass?”

  Tip nibbled on the top of her butt. “All in good time,” he said, and worked his way lower.

  About three hours later, Tip rolled over in bed. “It’s almost eleven.”

  “Elena threw the covers off and stretched. “This reminds me of old times. Why did we ever stop?”

  “It must have been your idea because I can’t imagine me breaking up this routine.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Elena said. “Want to place bets on how long you’ll last?”

  “Hell no, you might kill me. I
n fact, you might be an assassin trying out new ways to kill perfect cops.”

  “You figured it out already. I told them you’d be too smart.” She grabbed her panties and slipped them on. “Hand me those clothes, please.”

  Tip grabbed her bra and top from the dresser then reached for her slacks and tossed them to her. “I’ll be ready in five,” she said.

  They finished dressing and were eating taquitos at Whataburger within twenty minutes. “Damn they’re good,” Tip said, as he downed his second one. “It’s been way too long.”

  Elena wiped her mouth. “For the taquitos?”

  He positioned his head as if he were thinking, “Maybe both,” he said, then gathered up the trash and walked it to the can.

  “Where to?” he asked when he got back to the car.

  “Wherever you want.”

  Tip rode around for a while, then took a quick right into a parking lot of a strip center.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Looks like we got some kids hanging out, obviously doing no good.”

  He pulled up alongside a lone car in the lot, four teenagers scrambling to get back inside. “Shit, I know these kids.”

  “Don’t be too tough on them,” Elena said.

  Tip got out of his car and walked up to them. “What the hell? Are you just stupid dicks or are you really mentally deficient?.” He poked his head in the window. “Greg, is that you back there?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Get out of the car. All of you.”

  Doors popped open and they climbed out, one of the boys defiant. A kid from the back seat tried to be a real tough guy. “What are you doing? You can’t do that.”

  Tip laughed, then leaned over and whispered in the boy’s ear. “I’ll do whatever I want. I ought to beat the fuck out of you and drop you in a ditch for being such a stupid dick.”

  Elena rolled her window down. “Come on, Tip. Leave them alone.”

  Tip waved her off then turned to one of the girls. “Emily, what the hell are you doing?” He leaned close and smelled her breath. “You’re driving like this? I ought to lock all your asses up.” He paced a bit, then faced them, addressing the two kids he didn’t know. “I need your names and phone numbers.”

  “What for?”

  “I’m calling your parents to come and get you.”

  The girl he didn’t know nudged past Greg and got in front of Tip. “Please, Officer. Our parents—” She started crying.

  Tip hated to see girls cry. He stood silent, looking at them, fixing them with his hard glare. “I might make a deal if I can trust you.”

  “Anything,” she said.

  “You’ve got one shot. Stay here for two hours before leaving. You leave before then and all deals are off.” He shook his head. “I’m not having you brats drive drunk and kill some innocent son-of-a-bitch.”

  “We can’t,” the girl said. “I’ve got to be home.”

  “Figure out a lie. Do whatever you have to, but stay here. I’ll be back to check.”

  She was crying when Tip walked away and got into his car.

  “You’re nasty,” Elena said. “I thought I softened you up. I hate to see what you would have been like before.”

  “I’d have shot them.”

  Elena looked out the window at them. The girl was crying. “Look at that. Do something.”

  He sighed, but opened the door and walked back over. He handed each of them his card, then said, “You can tell your parents you were witnesses to an accident and had to stay to give testimony. If your parents have questions, tell them to call me.”

  Tough-guy smiled. “Are you shitting? Thanks, man. I mean, Officer.”

  The girl who had been crying hugged him. “Thank you, Officer.”

  “Thanks, Officer Denton,” Emily said, and Greg echoed it.

  Tip laughed as he walked back to the car. Fuckin’ kids.

  “You did good,” Elena said when he got back in. “In fact, that kind of got me excited.”

  Tip smiled, and though he tried to think of some other things to do, he and Elena wound up at his house within fifteen minutes, watching a bad movie from the 80s. The only thing good about it was the music.

  Before long Elena was stretching and yawning. “Let’s go to bed,” she said. Her voice was full of invitation.

  Tip woke up with Elena next to him. He tapped her on the shoulder. “Damn, you look good, baby.”

  She rolled over and traced the line of his scar with a long white fingernail. “You look pretty good yourself.”

  As he lay in bed with Elena, a knock at the bedroom door startled him.

  “Tip, you in there?”

  He popped up in the bed. Who the hell was in the house, he thought, then recognized the voice. “Mollie, is that you, girl?”

  “Of course it’s me. You told me to come here today.”

  Shit. “Sorry. I forgot. Be right out.”

  “I’ll put coffee on.” There was a short pause, then. “She want any?”

  Tip looked at Elena, whose expression was as confused as any he’d ever seen. “You want any coffee?”

  She nodded, but whispered, “Who is that?”

  “That’s Mollie, my cleaning lady,” Tip said, then hollered. “Mollie, make that two cups, please.”

  Right after that the phone rang. “Tip Denton.”

  “Get your ass out of bed. Turn on the news, or your computer, or get a paper.”

  Tip knew it was bad if the lieutenant was calling at this hour. “What, another murder?”

  “No, but the press has the lips story and they’re all over it.”

  “Aw shit. All right. See you soon.” Tip slammed his fist on the dresser, then headed to the bathroom to dress.

  “What’s the matter?” Elena called to him from bed.

  “Gotta go to work, baby. No need for you to get up though. There’s plenty of food in the fridge, and Mollie’s making coffee.” He came out of the bathroom, dressed except for his shoes. “I’ll call you later,” he said and leaned over to peck her cheek.

  “Let’s do something tonight,” Elena said.

  “Soon as I get a chance, I’ll call.” Tip turned the TV on, but didn’t see anything on the news. A few seconds later he was searching the kitchen. “Flash, where are my damn shoes?”

  “Coffee’s almost ready,” Mollie said.

  “I don’t have time, but Elena will have some. She’ll be out in a minute.”

  Flash came out from behind a chair, one of Tip’s shoes in her mouth. She dropped it at his feet then snarled at him, bending her body into a “u” shape as she did—her way of apologizing.

  Tip examined it for bites. “You’re lucky it’s not ruined. Where’s the other one? You better get it.”

  Flash ran into the room, raced to the other side and came back with his shoe. She looked proud.

  Tip reached down and patted her head. “Good girl, Flash. Damn good girl.” As he was petting her he realized something and turned to the kitchen. “Mollie, how did you get in here without the dogs barking?”

  “Dogs never bark at me. I don’t know why, but they don’t.”

  He shook his head, wondering what good the dogs were if they barked at him but not a stranger. Before racing out the door, he petted each of them on the head. “Gotta go, girls.” As he walked to the car he pondered the psychology of praising them for stealing his shoes and then bringing them back.

  At least that’s better than shitting on the floor.

  When he got to the corner store, he picked up a paper and laid two dollars on the counter. “Give me a coffee, too, will you, Pasha.”

  “Let me make a fresh pot. This has been sitting—”

  “I don’t care. Just give me what you got.” He stared down at the paper while he waited. The headlines weren’t good.

  ‘Serial killer claims another victim. Takes victims’ lips with him. Police have no clue.’

  “Some crazy man out there, Tip?”

  “There�
�s always some crazy man out there. This one is just crazier than most.”

  “Your case?”

  “Yeah, and now it’s going to get nasty. Once the press gets on it, the pressure kicks up a few notches.”

  Pasha handed him the coffee, then Tip was on his way. As he drove, he thought about who could have leaked the story. Connie came to mind right away, but he hoped it wasn’t her.

  It better not be.

  Chapter 32

  Where is Tony?

  I popped out of bed before the alarm went off, eager to meet Tony and see what he found out about the club. I needed good news, and nothing would be better than getting a start on clearing my name. I could go home. A lot of people dogged Brooklyn, thought it was the pits of the earth, but I couldn’t wait to get back. Brooklyn was excitement. Good food. Real people.

  I got to the coffee shop early and got a table, pondering the big question mark about the mysterious iPod that was delivered to Patti’s house.

  What the hell is that about?

  A couple dressed in matching suits passed by and took the table behind me. I listened to them gossip while I read the news, then I fidgeted, and waited some more. After draining my second espresso, I checked the time. Tony was half an hour late. I walked outside and checked the street, but there was no sign of him, and no answer on the phone. I got another espresso and a biscotto to go along with it, figuring I’d give him a while longer. By the time I finished that one, I was almost as hot as the coffee. Shedding my jacket, I thought of reasons why he might be late, trying my best to justify the tardiness even though it was difficult. I called his cell phone again. Still no answer. I cleaned off the table then left, cursing as I walked toward the car.

  He better have some damn good news. Or a good excuse.

  The station was busy, cops milling about drinking coffee and tea, but they weren’t eating donuts. The jokes about cops and donuts seemed to have little basis for truth, at least in Houston, Texas.

  “Hi, Connie,” someone yelled from across the room.

  I waved without really looking. “Hey,” I said back, and started the climb the stairs. I saw some funky shoes attached to rail-thin legs above me, and a head with purple hair perched atop it all. “Hey, Julie, how’s it going?”