Duke City Split

by Max Austin

  The screen filled with a shot of Mick’s building.

  “Aw, shit,” he said.

  The anchorwoman continued: “Police are releasing few details at this time, but they did identify a person of interest in the case. This man—”

  A mug shot of Mick filled the screen.

  “—is being sought for questioning. Police say his name is Mick Wyman, and he’s grown a mustache since this photo was taken.”

  “Goddamn, that’s an old picture,” Mick said. “That’s from when I got busted twenty years ago.”

  “Look at that haircut!” Bud said. “It’s got ‘jailhouse barber’ written all over it.”

  The anchorwoman went into her give-and-take with the weatherman, and Mick reached for the remote and muted them.

  “You need to get out of town,” Bud said.

  “Nobody’s gonna recognize me from that picture, and I’m checked in here as ‘Charles Franklin.’ But you’re right, the sooner I leave Albuquerque, the better. Let’s finish splitting up this money, then I’ll think about getting a new car.”

  “I can help,” Bud said. “Cars are my specialty.”

  “You need to take your share and go home. Linda’s already pissed off.”

  “She’ll be all right.”

  “So far, none of this is sticking to you. We need to keep it that way.”

  Chapter 75

  It was nearly nine o’clock that night before Bud finally got up the nerve to call Linda at her mother’s house. She answered on the first ring and told him to hold on while she got some privacy.

  “All right,” she said. “I shut myself in the bathroom like a teenager. Now we can talk.”

  “How are the girls?”

  “They’re in bed already,” she said. “Worn-out. I told them they could stay home from school tomorrow.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Don’t know that it’ll be enough. They’re shook up.”

  “I’m sure. It was a harrowing experience.”

  “I told them you and Mick were dealing with the police, who would lock up the kidnappers forever.”

  “How did that go over?”

  “Angela believed it, but you know how Amy doubts everything. My mom’s having trouble with it, too.”

  “I’m sorry to put you on the spot,” he said. “We still aren’t sure how those guys got on to me. But they won’t be bothering us again.”

  A long silence. Finally, Linda said, “But you can’t be sure someone else won’t show up.”

  “They didn’t tell anyone about us. They were too intent on getting the money for themselves.”

  “Always the damned money,” she said. “People will do anything for it.”

  “What Mick did, it wasn’t about saving the money. It was about saving the girls and me. He didn’t have a choice.”

  “Right there in our home.”

  “I’ve been cleaning it up,” Bud said. “I got down on my hands and knees, scrubbing between the tiles with a brush. I’ll have to patch the drywall in a couple of places, but it’ll be good as new before you know it.”

  “That’s not what I meant—”

  “I know, I know. The girls. I said I’m sorry.”

  Another silence.

  “We can’t go on like this, Bud. You’ve got to find a new line of work.”

  “I’m finished. I promise. I’m delivering a car to Mick in the morning, then I’m done.”

  “A car?”

  “Yeah, his car is, um, gone, and his face is all over TV. He’s staying in his motel room, getting some sleep, until I bring him a car. Then he’s clearing out.”

  “Where will he go?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t want to know. A different state, where he can buy a different car under a different name. As long as there’s no paper trail, the feds shouldn’t be able to track him down.”

  “He can leave, just like that? Leave everything behind?”

  “He won’t exactly be empty-handed. We split that, um, windfall earlier. I brought our share home and put most of it in the safe in my office.”

  “Most of it?”

  “It wouldn’t all fit. The rest is in a big box in the attic.”

  Bud let that sink in.

  “My God, Bud, how much?”

  “One-point-four.”

  Pause.

  “Million?”

  “All in cash.”

  “Good Lord.”

  “I know. It’s a helluva thing. We’re set for life, Linda.”

  “I don’t know that it’s worth it. Not after what happened to the girls. They’re traumatized.”

  “They’ll be okay,” he said. “We can pay for a lot of counseling, if they need it.”

  She sighed. “I guess we’ll stay here tomorrow. Make sure everything is all right before we come home.”

  “I’ll pick up some spackle and paint in the morning,” he said. “The place will be good as new. I promise.”

  “Okay.”

  “We’ll start over, Linda. A new life with no worries about money.”

  She made him wait through a long silence before she said, “Good night, Bud.”

  “Good night, hon. See you tomorrow.”

  Click.

  Chapter 76

  Friday morning, agents Pam Willis and Hector Aragon were still on their first cup of office coffee when they got a phone call from a Bernalillo County Sheriff’s deputy.

  “You the agents looking for that Charger?”

  Pam grabbed a pen. “That’s right. Did you find it?”

  “Think so. Out on the West Mesa. Burned up.”

  “Aw, hell.” She tossed the pen back onto her desk.

  “Wait, there’s more,” the deputy said. “Inside the car were a couple of crispy critters. Adult males, but that’s about all we can tell at this point. They were really incinerated.”

  “Are they still out there?”

  “Oh, yeah. Coroner’s taking her time on this one. You want directions?”

  She snatched up the pen again and scribbled down the route to the burned car. She thanked the deputy and hung up.

  “They found our Charger,” she said to Aragon. “Torched. With two bodies inside.”

  “The guard and his girlfriend?”

  “Deputy said two men, but it might be hard to tell at this point. Coroner’s still there. We’d better go take a look.”

  Hector made a face. “Good thing I didn’t eat breakfast yet.”

  “Come on,” she said. “We don’t have time for joking around.”

  “Who’s joking?”

  Even with Pam’s lead-footed driving, it took them half an hour to reach the crime scene, and they didn’t say much on the way there. Hector kept sighing.

  “What’s the matter with you?”

  “I hate that smell,” he said. “When someone’s been burned up. It’s the worst.”

  “We won’t stick around long,” she promised. “But we’ve got to see what happened. Seems like these assholes are doing a lot of settling up.”

  Pam located the gravel road the deputy had indicated. They bounced along its rugged surface for a couple of miles before they spotted patrol cars up ahead.

  “You gonna be okay with this?” she asked her partner.

  “I can take it if you can.”

  The smell hit them as soon as they got out of the car. Scorched paint and melted plastic and the unmistakable tang of burned flesh.

  “Ah, jeez.” Hector cupped a hand over his nose as they approached the half-dozen crime scene investigators poking around the blackened Charger.

  After the agents identified themselves, a young blond woman came around the car and peeled off a rubber glove to shake hands. Like the others, she wore clear plastic overalls over her regular clothes. Pam noted her red University of New Mexico sweatshirt.

  “Sally Robbins. With the coroner’s office. These remains of interest to the federal government?”

  “Maybe,” Pam said. “The car is, for sure. We’
re looking for a Charger in connection with that First State Bank robbery.”

  “TV said the robbers used a white van.”

  “This may be one of their personal vehicles.”

  “Ah. Well, whoever torched it did a thorough job. We’ll have a helluva time identifying the victims.”

  “Mind if we take a look?”

  “Sure your partner’s up to it? He looks a little green around the gills.”

  Pam glanced at Hector, who still had a hand cupped over his nose. He waved her on with the other hand but didn’t open his mouth to speak.

  They stepped over to the charred remains of the Charger.

  “As you can see,” the coroner said, “one guy was stuffed in the trunk. We think they poured gasoline on him and set the fire back here.”

  Blackened bones filled the trunk, but they weren’t even assembled into a skeletal shape anymore.

  “Wow,” Pam said. “A hot fire.”

  “You said it. The body in the backseat is in no better shape, plus it was wrapped in some kind of plastic, which melted over the bones.”

  Pam bent to look through the opening where the windows once had been. More black bones. An eyeless skull. When she straightened up, she saw that Hector had walked away. He stood facing the city, gulping deep breaths through his mouth.

  If the crime scene techs found Hector’s reaction amusing, they didn’t let on. They kept taking photos and measurements and scraping at places on the car.

  “Okay, thanks,” Pam said. “Give us a call if you get an ID.”

  “We’ll do what we can, but it’ll be tough,” the coroner said. She grinned. “Don’t hold your breath.”

  Chapter 77

  Milton Abeyta cradled the phone and looked up at Vincent Caro, who sat in the guest chair on the far side of Milton’s desk.

  “It’s getting interesting. Bodies turning up all over.”

  Caro cocked an eyebrow, waiting for details.

  Milton told him about the two bodies found in Wyman’s burned car, and about the death of Johnny Muller, who’d suffered a broken neck in his own apartment.

  “Hmm,” Caro said. “These deaths are related to the bank robbery?”

  “That’s the theory,” Milton said. “They haven’t identified the ones in the car, but police think Wyman and Muller were involved in the robbery.”

  “This information is solid?”

  “The APD lieutenant who told me this is an old friend,” Milton said. “He picks up a lot of spare change from us, working security details on the weekends.”

  Caro nodded. “He didn’t have any idea where Wyman might be?”

  “That’s the big question,” Milton said. “All the cops are looking for him. They put his face on TV.”

  “I saw that,” Caro said. “The photo doesn’t even look like him.”

  Milton shrugged. “It was all they had. He’s been the invisible man since he did a stretch in prison nearly twenty years ago.”

  “We can guess why,” Caro said. “The guy’s been pulling bank jobs the whole time and getting away with it.”

  “I think his luck’s run out this time. The cops and the FBI have a real hard-on for him.”

  “Not as much as I do,” Caro said. “I need to find him fast.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Did you get me a gun, like I asked you?”

  “Of course.” Milton opened a desk drawer and took out a Beretta similar to the one Wyman had taken from Caro. “Will this do?”

  “That’s perfect.” Caro popped out the clip, checked the load, and rammed the magazine back into the pistol. “Who’s it registered to?”

  “It’s not registered,” Milton said. “That took a little doing, but I figured that’s the way you’d want it.”

  Caro nodded.

  “The rental car?”

  “Gone forever.” Milton smiled. “Did Enterprise bring you a replacement yet?”

  “I got it. Looks just like the other one, except it’s white.”

  “They didn’t give you any static about the blue one being stolen?”

  “They said I’d have to talk to the police, file a report, but I haven’t done it yet. Maybe your friend in the department could take care of that, too.”

  Milton wrote himself a note. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Caro got to his feet and slipped the Beretta inside his jacket. Today’s suit was black as onyx and perfectly cut. Milton wondered how much Caro paid for it.

  “Let me know immediately if you hear anything about Wyman’s whereabouts.”

  “Of course.”

  Caro turned to leave, and Milton said to his back, “I hope you’re keeping our friends in Chicago posted.”

  Caro looked back at him. “Don’t worry about that.”

  “I just want them to know how cooperative we’re being here. Part of the good relationship we try to maintain.”

  “Help me find Wyman, and we’ll all be happy.”

  Chapter 78

  Bud was pleased with the car he landed for Mick. It was a ten-year-old Chevy Monte Carlo SS, black and sleek as a shark. Trunk large enough to hold the loot, nice interior, enough power under the hood to give it some scoot on the highway.

  He parked in the narrow lot outside the Rodeway Inn and carried the keys to Mick’s room. He knocked, stepping back so Mick could see him by peeking through the curtain of the room’s front window.

  The door opened, Mick standing behind it so no one could spot him. Bud slipped through the gap into the dim room. Mick wore jeans and a plain white T-shirt. His feet were bare. Bud was dressed casually, too, the little Raven weighing down one pocket of his windbreaker.

  “How do you like that car out there? The black one.”

  “Not bad.”

  Bud handed over the keys. “It’s yours. I picked it up for nine grand over at Jimmy Smither’s lot. They were asking ten, but I paid cash.”

  “Good deal.”

  “Probably a gas guzzler, but I figured you could afford it.”

  “Who’s it registered to?

  “Dealer plates. I figured you wouldn’t try to register it in New Mexico.”

  “You got that right.”

  “Dump it and get a new one when you get settled.”

  “Will do.”

  “You leaving right away?”

  “I got one last bit of business to take care of before I leave town.”

  Bud didn’t like the sound of that.

  “That Chicago guy who tried to run over me? I don’t want him behind me when I go.”

  “How’s he gonna find you?” Bud said. “You pop up in another town far away, plenty of money, a new ID—”

  “He said he’s got friends in Chicago, friends with reach. I don’t want some fucking mobsters on my tail.”

  “What are you going to do? You don’t even know where to find him.”

  Mick smiled, his thick mustache stretching wide across his face.

  “Why would some guy from Chicago be meddling in our business? Some guy with ‘friends’? I thought about it and decided it must be connected to the casino.”

  Bud nodded. “I’ve heard rumors the mob was behind that casino.”

  “Silent partners, I always heard. So, if he was sent down here to help out the casino Indians, where would he stay?”

  “Ah.”

  “I called the Tewa’s hotel and asked if Vincent Caro was a guest, and they confirmed it. Wouldn’t tell me what room, but I thought it might be worth poking around a little, see if I can turn him up.”

  “Then what?”

  “Depends on how he wants to play it, I guess.”

  “If it gets bloody, won’t the Chicago guys come after you for sure?”

  “I’ll be gone. They’ll have a harder time finding me. Feels like this guy is right on my heels.”

  Bud took a deep breath. He knew what he was going to say and how much Linda would not like it, but he said it anyway. “You want some backup?”

&nbs
p; “Nah, man. You need to stay out of this. You’re in the clear now, as near as we can tell. You should keep it that way.”

  “I’m not in the clear until you are,” Bud said. “If you think we need to get rid of this guy, scare him off, whatever, I’m here to help. You’ve got to drive me back to my car anyway. I left it parked at Jimmy’s lot.”

  “Help me load up these bags,” Mick said. “That’ll be help enough. I’ll drive you to your car and you can go home.”

  “You should just keep going,” Bud insisted. “You’ve got your money, new wheels. Just split and don’t look back. It’s madness to go after this guy Caro.”

  “I don’t like loose ends.”

  “Nobody does. But Caro’s no danger if he can’t find you.”

  “What about you, Bud? If he found me, maybe he can find you, too. You willing to take that chance? This motherfucker’s dangerous. You want him showing up at the house when Linda and the girls are there?”

  “He won’t find me. I’m clear, you said so yourself. You’re clear, too, if you’d allow yourself to believe it.”

  Mick shook his head. He was looking right at Bud, but he didn’t seem to be seeing him. Bud wondered where his partner’s thoughts had gone.

  Had Mick lost his mind? Is that what all the killing was about? The rage? It felt sometimes as if they’d slipped over into a sort of mutual insanity, ever since the first deaths. But maybe Mick really was crazy.

  If so, why the hell did he keep letting Mick call the shots?

  Chapter 79

  Pam Willis and Hector Aragon were crossing a bridge over the muddy Rio Grande, on their way back to their downtown office, when Hector’s cell phone rang. He answered it to hear the drawl of Bill Hensley, a native Mississippian who’d worked with them in Albuquerque the past two years.

  “Hector, I may have something on that rental car.”

  Hensley had been calling rental offices, looking for a Chevy damaged by gunfire.

  “Somebody find bullet holes?”

  “Not exactly,” Hensley said. “But the guys over at the airport Enterprise say they had a Chevy stolen. The manager said a customer reported the car stolen from the parking lot outside the Tewa Casino. If your boy was trying to ditch a shot-up car, reporting it stolen would be one way to go.”