by Harper, Chap
Lester shook his head. The report had not been delivered to him yet.
“Lester, once we get enough evidence we can raid all of these at one time and clean them up. This Spider woman is a genius at building a crime organization, and by God, she has the bloodlines for it. Her son carries Marcello as his middle name. The only reason she’s here is that all the bosses aligned with Richie Gambini’s family thought Spider killed him. By the time she was cleared, she’d built a Mafia kingdom in your backyard. Now, you and I know that prostitution, drugs, and illegal gun sales all existed before she got there. A new coach is in town. Left unchecked, that bitch’ll build and build until it’ll take all of our Navy Seals to clean it up.”
“I didn’t know about the clubs being purchased by her. Ownership passes hands without being public record. I’ve heard prettier girls were being brought into town. So, I guess she moves them from New Orleans when needed,” Lester said.
“Not only from there, but she gets the ‘closed down’ girls from various part of the country where raids have taken place. All they need to do is call her and send a picture. She has them shipped to one of her clubs. You know, when you have money and a big enough operation, you also grow by acquisition. In another year or so there’ll be enough call girls to supply the United States out of Hot Springs,” Jim said. He put the information back in his envelope when the food arrived.
“Lester, do you have someone in your department that is a computer whiz? I mean, really knowledgeable?” Jim said.
“Little Richard has set up stings on child molesters by posing as a thirteen-year-old girl.”
“Ask him if he knows about the deep internet sites…you know, the dark sites that don’t have IP addresses.”
“I’ve studied it myself, and know a little about the search engine TOR and Onion. The Silkroad was just shut down, and that guy was arrested. Richie talks to me all the time about it,” Lester said.
“Good. Gambini and Evola use it. Pay attention to automatic weapons, drug, and prostitution sites. Learn everything you can about bitcoin, feathercoin, and cyber-currency,” Jim said.
“Okay, but it’s a creepy place.”
“Think we don’t know that? We can view all the criminal activity and can’t do a goddamn thing about most of it. It’s all non-traceable and all of it is encrypted,” Jim said.
“You’re aware that Jake and I are going to S & G on Monday. Just a friendly welcome call. I don’t know if Spider will be around. Sheriff Jake called me yesterday to tell me he’d put out some surveillance cameras that look like game cameras, except they take a digital picture every minute. We’ll have those to look at before we visit. My guess is that it’s all underground for now. I don’t think you can cook meth without ventilation. We’ll look for anything that’s out of place,” Lester said.
“Keep me in the loop,” Jim said.
“Hell, you are the loop.”
After lunch, which Jim picked up after considerable complaining, Lester headed for Cantrell Gardens. He asked a pretty young hippie-looking girl to help him with some roses. She was very attractive without makeup—very natural, with perfect features and a great figure. Her blond hair was streaked with shades of light brown, and she wore torn jeans that fit nicely over her shapely body. He had seen Debi now without makeup, and she was still pretty. Lester knew the kind of beauty that existed when a girl washed up on shore somewhere and still had a pretty face was rare. Her nametag said “Ribbon”—a real live flower child.
“Ribbon, were your parents hippies?” Lester asked. He blushed a little, after he realized he shouldn’t have asked without first getting to know her.
“Yes, and I guess they still are. They live up in the Ozarks in a house that’s built into the ground. They grow tomatoes on the roof,” Ribbon said.
“Do you have brothers and sisters?” Lester asked.
“Have a brother—his name is Cloud.”
“Cool. You are very pretty. Uh, can I see some David Austin English roses, please?”
She looked directly at Lester, locked eyes for a short while, and smiled. She liked him and the way he looked, but so did most girls. She walked out of the main building and led him to an outdoor aisle lined with roses. Many had not been priced and were huddled in circular clumps, waiting to be displayed.
“Did you have some varieties in mind?”
“Abraham Darby—own root, if possible.”
“Here’s one, but it’s grafted—I think all of ours are that way. You may have to order one on the internet to get it as an ‘own root.’ Let me call for you,” Ribbon said. She pulled a small two-way radio from her belt and chatted with a supervisor. She talked for a minute or two before she walked over to where the large shipment of fall plants were stacked by the aisle, and started checking labels. In a few minutes, she smiled and handed Lester an ‘own root’ Abraham Darby rose in a gallon container.
“Is this for you?” Ribbon asked. Again, she looked directly into his eyes, much like a child would do.
“It’s for the mother of my new girlfriend. I’m trying to win her over.”
“The mother or the girlfriend?” she said, laughing.
“Both!” Lester said, with a huge smile.
“Just take it to the front desk to pay. I hope you come back.”
“I guess a pretty girl like you is already married.”
“Was. Didn’t work out. Single again. If the roses don’t win her over, come back to see me,” Ribbon said, and locked eyes again.
Lester thought about her all the way back to Hot Springs. He had always had this problem with girls. It was just too easy for him. He loved to flirt, and he loved the chase. Now, he had to give that up. He hoped he could because he didn’t want to lose Debi. As that guilty thought was crawling around in his brain, his cell phone rang. It was Debi.
“You’re on tonight, big guy. It’s going to be fun watching my mother eat you alive.”
“I’ll just hang with your dad—he likes me.”
“Where are you and what are you doing? Or is that secret police shit?”
“I’m driving back from Little Rock with Abraham Darby.”
“Who’s he? Oh, I remember—the rose. Hope it works, but don’t hold your breath. I will be by at six to pick you up. We don’t need a sheriff’s cruiser parked in front of our house.”
“Can I bring my gun?”
Chapter Eleven
A black Cadillac Escalade pulled up to the secured gate to Whispering Oaks subdivision and the driver keyed in a code. There was a dinging sound, signifying he had hit the jackpot number that caused the ornately designed iron gate to swing open. The driver was a large African American man wearing a business suit. His passenger was a young woman with a tight dress and too much makeup. They didn’t drive far before they turned into 179 Spanish Oak Drive, and pulled in the rock-lined driveway.
The woman in the tight dress got out and spoke to the driver before going to the door. Dr. Farley Simpson, a wealthy widower in his early sixties, answered the door. He was also lonely and very horny. So much so, he had called one of the listings in the phone book for Wild Girls Escort Service. The girl, who looked like she was born for the job, was at the door. He was beyond excited.
“Hello, Farley! I’m Destiny Jones. Are you ready for a good time?” she said. She stepped inside the huge house and gave Farley a kiss on the cheek.
“You bet, my girl. I’ve been ready for a while,” Farley said. He patted the boner he had worked up from taking two large blue pills an hour before.
“Can we get the pesky paperwork and payments out of the way before we get started?” Destiny said.
Dr. Simpson led her to a large couch that looked out on his deck at Lake Hamilton. She didn’t really have any paperwork, and it was doubtful a piece of paper with the name of the escort service existed anywhere on the planet.
“My services for your party tonight will be two thousand cash. I assure you it will be worth it.”
“What the hell? Y
our people told me it would be one thousand!” Farley yelled.
“Now, Dr. Simpson, please calm down. I guess they failed to tell you that the agency gets a thousand, and I get a thousand for my services. They do a piss-poor job of explaining it sometimes,” Destiny said, trying to sell the extra payment.
“You know, Destiny, I can fly to Vegas and screw myself goofy for that much. If you want to work for the amount the agency quoted me, fine—otherwise I’m going to ask you to leave.”
“It doesn’t quite work like that, Doctor. You see, we have expenses for coming out here, so we don’t leave until you pay. You aren’t taking us to court, because we don’t really exist, and it would be an embarrassment for you to tell anyone. So if you’ll just pay me, I’ll be in your bedroom or on my way. One thousand to leave and two thousand to stay,” Destiny said. She pulled her two-way radio out of her pocket and hit something that made a buzzing sound.
“Fuck if I pay you a goddamn dime!” Farley said, and walked to a small table in the hallway, opened a drawer, and pulled out a 1911 .45 automatic. Before he could look at her again, the front door burst open and a large black man stepped in holding a machine pistol.
There was a loud noise from the couch area, and a round fired by Destiny’s 9mm Berretta struck the doctor in his right ass cheek and slammed him into the wall. He quickly fired a shot at her. The bullet broke her right humerus, and she screamed. The black man had opened up with his machine pistol, spraying Farley and everything around him, but Farley was firing in his direction. The doctor got off six shots before one of the machine pistol rounds found his right temple. Two of the doctor’s shots struck the man in his right chest, and brought him to his knees.
With only one good arm, Destiny helped him walk to the Escalade, leaving a long blood trail and all their weapons. After helping him into the front seat, she headed to the National Park Hospital Emergency room. Her former driver was dead on arrival at the hospital, and she was rushed to surgery in an effort to save her arm. Police were at the hospital within minutes, and soon were swarming all over the crime scene at Dr. Simpson’s house.
Neighbors called the police about the small war that had just taken place in their normally quiet and peace-loving gated community. There didn’t appear to be a mystery to solve—only a mess to clean up. The city police called the last number punched in on the doctor’s phone—no answer or recording. Phone records identified it as Wild Girl Escorts at the same address as the Asian massage parlor. The next day, it would no longer be a working number. A couple of the coroner’s attendants sported big smiles as they rolled Dr. Simpson’s body to the waiting ambulance. A huge erection made a nice tent effect on his ride to the morgue.
Lester saw Debi’s Z-3 pull up in the parking lot of his condo. In seconds, he climbed in next to her with a container in his hands and accepted a long kiss before he settled into his seat. When she ended the kiss, the briefing began in earnest.
“Call my mother Susan and my dad Marty…his name is Martin. My mother is a Democrat and my dad is a Republican. Mother was a cheerleader for the University of Arkansas and both are huge Razorback fans. They have season tickets for everything…probably ping-pong if we had a team. Mother is in a garden club…but probably more for the wine they serve than for the flower info. You could have just bought her a vase of cut roses, a bottle of cabernet, and done just as well, but of course your attention to detail is a sickness. My mom is from a Greek family—the Polycrons of Little Rock…the reason for my olive complexion and dark hair and eyes. Dad is a typical European-mutt origin and his mom also lives in Little Rock. My grandfather passed away last year. Dad is a duck hunter and has two labs that rule the house—Bongo and Hershey—the chocolate lab. We came to Hot Springs when I was very young because the hospital needed a radiologist. My mother works in the real estate business. And there you have enough information to ease your way through the mine field,” Debi said, without taking a breath.
“Jesus…I hope you didn’t leave anything out—like your parents’ favorite positions or turn-ons and turn-offs—you know like the centerfolds of a Playboy Playmate of the Month interview.”
“People who spit when they talk and rude drivers who give you the finger?” Debi said.
“You read Playboy magazine, don’t you?” Lester asked.
“Only for the articles,” Debi laughed, and swung her car into position to head towards her parents’ lakeside home.
In a few minutes, they turned into the driveway that led to a three-car garage. Dr. Martin Green was outside one of the opened doors of the garage, closing the lid on a green ceramic smoker while nursing a beer held in his other hand.
“You must be Lester. I’m Marty Green. Nice to finally meet you. I’ve followed your career for years and have to say I’m a big fan,” Martin Green said. He smiled and took hold of Lester’s large hand.
“Nice to meet you, Dr. Green. Want to thank you for getting the MRIs so Debi could go over them with me.”
“No problem—and it’s Marty, please. Understand you are going to Little Rock to see the Doc next week?”
“Yes—can’t say I’m excited about it—but needs to be discussed,” Lester said.
“If anything can be done, he’s your guy—best in the country I’d say,” Marty said.
Debi walked over and hugged and kissed her dad, and led Lester to the front door. She continued into the house and yelled for her mom.
“Mother! Cops are here! Better hide your dope.”
“Already flushed it, dear. Is he packing?” Susan said.
Susan Green walked into view. Lester was in shock. There stood a slightly older, but almost identical version of Debi Green. She smiled, not just to be friendly, but because she knew a handsome face when she saw one. She held out her hand but instead decided to hug him. Debi frowned at her mother.
“Mother, he’s taken, so don’t get any ideas.”
“Lester, my daughter is always dragging home handsome guys, but you might just be the winner,” Susan said, laughing.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Green. I can’t believe how much you two look alike.”
“It’s Susan, Lester, and what do you have in your hand?”
“Debi said you liked roses, so I thought I’d bring you a peace offering. I’m so sorry that Debi had to be exposed to that incident,” Lester said. He decided to go directly to an issue that he knew was festering in Susan’s mind.
“Boy! You don’t dodge an issue do you? I know you didn’t plan your date with Debi around a gunfight, but I do worry that you’ll never back down from one in the future. I’ll just ask to always consider her safety first before you start shooting up a place,” Susan said.
“I promise to always do that, Susan.”
“Thank you, Lester. Now, what kind of rose did you bring me?”
“It’s a David Austin English rose called Abraham Darby. I hope you can use it. I also offer to be the hole digger, if you need me,” Lester explained.
“I love it. I had one before but lost it to a virus,” she said. She held the container and flipped over the tag with her other hand.
“Own root. Wow! You do know your roses. Own-root ones rarely have viruses. The one I had was grafted,” Susan said, and an enormous smile emerged on her face.
“Lester, you’re amazing, especially how you’ve educated yourself. Debi told me about the college credits you earned by correspondence from a blind school. It seems whatever problem is placed in front of you, you find a way around it,” Susan said. She walked through the kitchen and out the rear door to her garden, and placed the rose container on her potting table. Lester followed, and she took his arm and led him to her rose garden. Once there, she let go of his arm and raised a rose from the top of a bush and placed it in his hand. It was buttery yellow with a cupped shape, displaying an ample number of petals.
“Graham Thomas or Golden Celebration?” Lester guessed.
“It’s a Graham Thomas, and again, you continue to amaze me, espe
cially since I know you just learned all this for my benefit,” Susan said.
“Hey, it’s made me a big fan.”
“Good. Then you don’t mind coming over and spraying for black spot for me every week,” Susan said.
“Mother. Enough on stealing my boyfriend’s time. Can we have a drink?”
They all went inside, and Susan poured wine. Lester excused himself to go help Marty at the grill.
Lester approached Marty while he was poking at a big pork loin on the grill. “Can I be of any help?” he asked.
“Grab me a beer out of the fridge over there in the garage, if you don’t mind.”
Lester found a Shiner Bock and opened it for Dr. Green.
“Did Susan chew on your ass about the shooting?” Marty asked.
“I brought it up first and tried to just put it out there.”
“She loves people to be direct. And you won a couple of points with the rose. Let me warn you though—I’ve been married to her for thirty years and can’t ever please her,” Marty laughed.
“Marty, you have a beautiful wife and daughter. Debi’s a very special young lady,” Lester said.
“Debi is crazy about you, even if she did fire you as a client. And you two certainly make a good-looking couple.
“Do you have any questions about your doctor’s appointment next week?”
“When you talked to him—any indications as to whether he was willing to operate?”
“I think he will ask you if the risk is worth the reward. You’ve done so well by going around the system, so to speak, to educate yourself without formal reading skills. What makes it so important to you?” Marty asked.