EIGHTEEN
The old man that Jack and Kate had talked to earlier in the day was no longer piled under dingy blankets beneath the Biloxi Bay Bridge. Frankie watched as he walked back and forth along the edge of the water. He's already hitting the meth. No matter. In fact, that might even work better for Frankie.
Frankie approached the man, a small, clear bag filled almost to busting held out in front of him. “Hey man. I want to make a trade with you.”
The old man stopped and turned toward him. His eyes seemed to cross and then straighten again as he made an effort to focus on Frankie. “Who you is?” His speech just barely slurred.
“That don't matter,” Frankie said in a low deep voice. “What matters is what I want from you in exchange for this.” He shook the bag and the old man's vision seemed to clear as he lasered in on it. The look of longing was not lost on Frankie.
“Let's make a trade.” Holding the bag between two fingers, Frankie pushed it closer to Harold.
With jerky movements, Harold reached for the bag. Frankie pulled it back.
“Whachu want?” The old man demanded.
“I want you to get word to John Juarez that Jack Roe Coming for him. Tomorrow. At his church,” Frankie moved closer to the old man. “Roe is setting him up, gonna make him take the fall for that murder on the docks the other day because Juarez killed someone important to Roe’s partner, Kate Giveans.”
“Abbie?” Recognition bloomed on the old man's face. “Mamoncetes didn't take out Abbie?”
“No,” said Frankie. “Pay attention old man.” Frankie shook the bag again drawing Harold’s attention back to him.
“I knew Abbie was smarter than to get involved with that crew.” the old man licked his cracked lips. “That's all you want? And you gonna give me that?” He pointed a shaky finger at the bag.
“One more thing,” Frankie said and he stepped closer to Harold. “I want you to make sure that the Mamoncetes know Frankie Deveaux is offering twenty grand to whichever one of them kills Jack Roe, but his partner, the woman? She stays unharmed.”
Harold's eye grew wide. “You want Roe dead?” He took a step back, shaking his head. “I can’t do that, man. He’s been good to me for a long time.”
Frankie took a larger step forward, moving in close. The stench was overwhelming, but he ignored it and reached out with his free hand to wrap a vice-like grip around the man's bony arm. He pushed the bag into the man's face. “You make sure the Mamoncetes know Roe's coming, and you make sure they know I want him dead. You got that?”
The old man pulled a handful of courage from somewhere. “What if I don't?”
Frankie moved his grip from the man's arm to his throat and leaned in so close he could see the blood vessels in the man's eyes. “If you don't, you die. Right here. Right now.” He squeezed until the old man's jaundiced eyes bugged and his head bobbled in agreement.
He let the old man go, and pushed the baggie of crystal meth into an old, bony and callused hand. “Fair trade?” Frankie asked.
The old man nodded and wrapped arthritic fingers around the bag and then scrambled out of arm's reach.
“Old man?” Frankie called after him.
Harold stopped and stared back at Frankie.
“If you don't do this, I will find you and I will kill you,” Frankie said. “And I will take my time.”
NINETEEN
Jack pulled into the parking lot of a nondescript gray block building. The parking lot was lit by a single security light, but Jack knew there were cameras focused on the lot from several different angles. He'd only been in the building the gang unit occupied one time before, but he was familiar with the security system designed to keep occupants safe from gang retaliation.
His thoughts strayed to Kate. Guilt ate at him. Lisa was right. He was the one that was out of line. Kate hadn't done anything wrong and he knew it. He took his frustrations out on her, and he didn't blame her for not coming by tonight. I'll call her when I finish up here. Maybe she'll be up for a late dinner and a sincere apology.
Jack loved Kate. He knew that. He hadn't told her yet, and that bothered him. She was always trying so hard to prove herself. One day she's going to put herself in the wrong situation at the wrong time. How are you going to protect her? The truth was, he didn't know how he would protect her, and that scared him. He'd failed people in his past. But arguing with her certainly wasn’t going to help.
Jack approached the building and held his badge up to the camera. He knew that someone on the inside had been watching him and was now checking his credentials. He heard the faint click of the remote locks and pulled the door open.
The inside of the building was brightly lit. A small hallway led to a reception area fully enclosed in block and bullet proof glass. It was a second line of defense in case the front door was breached. Jack approached the glass, just as a tall, thin African American man stepped around a corner on the other side of the glass.
“Jack Roe!” Wayne Meachum greeted him. “What brings you into the bowels of Hades?” He pushed a button on the counter behind the glass and the door separating the reception area from the interior of the building popped open.
Jack pushed through the door. “I'm here to see you about a murder at the docks last night. McKenzie said you might have some information for me.” The room he entered was large, with a bank of computer monitors on one side, lit up with various types of information. A conference table dominated the center of the room, but only three people sat at it, having an animated conversation.
Meachum indicated an office to one side of the room. “Let's talk in here,” he said.
“What are you hearing from the Mamoncetes?” Jack asked as soon as he was settled.
“What, no small talk?” Meachum smiled. “I was hoping to hear how that new girlfriend of yours is doing.”
Jack didn't want to talk about Kate. He wanted to see her. To apologize for being a jerk earlier. “She's fine.”
“She's not with you tonight. I thought the two of you went everywhere together.” Meachum's interest in Kate started to irritate Jack.
“She had some other things to do, and to be honest, I've had a long day. Do you mind if we just get to why I'm here?” Jack knew he sounded rude. He didn't care. He should, but all he wanted was to be done so he could go take care of what really mattered.
Meachum held up his hands. “Yeah man, no problem. No disrespect meant. I was just making conversation.”
“I know.” Jack said. “So what can you tell me? What kind of things are the Mamoncetes involved in these days?”
“I could tell you a lot,” Meachum leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. “But what you really want to know is if the Mamoncetes are responsible for the murder last night.”
“And if they've branched out to trafficking young girls into the sex trade. Who are they doing business with?”
“What I'm hearing is that John Juarez is taking credit for the murder. The story is that the boat captain was trying to branch out on his own. He was trying to sell those girls off without going through Mamoncetes. Juarez doesn't take kindly to being undercut. Only someone with no brains or a death wish would even try it.”
“Do you know who the buyer was?” Jack's only responsibility was closing the murder case, but if the Mamoncetes were getting involved in human trafficking, then his town was about to get a whole lot more dangerous.
“We're still working on that.” Meachum dropped his arms and sat forward. “Jack, you don't want to get mixed up with Juarez. He has no respect for law enforcement. If the stories are true, he’s killed cops before and he won’t hesitate to do it again.”
“He's not above the law, Meachum. I refuse to be scared off by rumor. If he killed Abernathy, we’ll find out and we’ll put him in prison.” Jack's phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen. Kate. He wanted to answer, but he needed to finish up here. I'll call her back. He let it ring through to voice mail.
“Of cours
e, it would be good if we knew who he was doing business with so we could get them off the streets, too,” Jack said.
Meachum’s demeanor grew more serious. “I heard the chief didn’t want you involved in the kidnapping and trafficking aspect of the case, Jack.”
“I’ve heard the same thing.” Jack changed the subject. “Do you have any idea where to find Juarez?”
“Jack.” Meachum raised his eyebrows.
“I'm going to talk to him. That's all. If he doesn't cooperate, then we'll bring him in for questioning.” Jack kept his voice even, almost uninterested, but impatience vibrated through his muscles. He wasn’t concerned about what the chief wanted. The kidnapping and trafficking aspects of this case were where the real criminals could be found. Whoever killed Abernathy was probably no more than a hired gun.
Cut off the head and the snake dies, right?
“It's your career, man.” Meachum pulled a pad of sticky notes over and wrote on the top sheet. He pulled it loose and shoved it at Jack. “Surveillance puts him going to this church every Tuesday morning at about ten for confession. If I wanted to talk to him, that's where I'd go. He's religious. He might not respect cops, but he respects the cloth.”
Jack tucked the paper into his shirt pocket. “Thanks, Meachum. I owe you one.”
“That you do,” Meachum walked back to the front entrance with Jack. “Maybe one of these days, I'll ask you to pay up.”
TWENTY
Harold hadn't felt this good in a long time. He had no pain when he walked. His back was straight. In his meth-addled mind, he was a proud, young man again, strutting through the streets like he owned them. It was a mistake, but his mind couldn't wrap itself around that. All he knew was that Frankie, that's what the man said his name was, brought him some good stuff. Lots of it. And it was worth what he was about to do.
The Blue Iguana was busy this time of night, even on Monday. The difference was, during the week, the men who usually worked the door were inside. On the weekend they stood outside and decided who they would let through and who they would send on their way. You had to be a hot, young girl or a member of the Mamoncetes to get past the goons.
Harold pushed through the double doors. The thumping of the loud Latin music, and the flashing lights was disorienting. For a moment, the world spun and all Harold could do was stand still and pray he didn't fall.
Just as the scene settled in his brain, a man the size of a small giant stepped in front of him. “What do you think you're doing?” The man's face was a mask of contempt.
“I got a message for the Mamoncetes,” Harold said, and pushed himself to his full height. Even at over six feet tall, the man before him towered over him. A thought wormed its way into Harold's brain. If he wanted to, this man could pick me up and break me in half. The image in his mind nearly sent him into a laughing fit.
“A message from who?”
“The man said his name was Frankie Deveaux. He wanted me to make sure the Mamoncetes know that a cop is coming after them. Tomorrow. At the church. A cop named Jack Roe.”
The bouncer took two steps back and looked the older man over. “Wait,” he said, and disappeared into the crowd.
Harold watched him go. Then the rhythm of the music and the pulsing of the lights took over his brain. He bounced on shaky arthritic legs, imagining himself throwing out impressive dance moves. The stares people threw at him seemed to be validation, so he danced harder.
“Careful, old man,” A tall blonde who couldn't have been more than fifteen called out as she walked by, a drink in one hand and a joint in the other. “You'll break a hip.”
The insult only barely registered with Harold. He was having such a good time that he didn't see the giant come back through the crowd. The man grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. “Are you stoned?” he demanded.
Harold just nodded and grinned and continued the wild jerking movements he thought was dancing.
The bouncer grabbed both of his shoulders and shook Harold so hard his rotting teeth clacked together. Pain blossomed in his jaw, shooting white stars into his vision.
“What the...” he slurred.
“Shut up and come with me.” The bouncer spun him around and pushed him into the crowd. People stepped out of the way as he drew near, some sneering, others calling out insults. Harold was too distracted to care. Where was the goon taking him?
They pushed through the crowd and into a dimly lit hallway. A couple of turns later, Harold was lost. He had no idea where he was, the music still thumped far in the distance, but the flashing lights were gone, as if he'd been in a dream.
Maybe he was in a dream. Man, this was a good trip. He would have to remember to thank that Frankie next time he came around.
They entered what looked like a storage room, and the bouncer pushed him into a solid wooden chair. Without the distraction of the music and light or the walking, Harold remembered why he'd come. “I need to talk to the Mamoncetes,” he said urgently, and his hand flopped toward the pocket he kept the drugs and his pipe in. They weren't there. Panic set in and he jumped up. “I gotta go. I dropped-”
“These?” A man held up Harold's clear bag of crystal meth. The man was short by male standards, probably not more than 5'7”, but what he lacked in height he made up for in muscle. His neck was so thick with corded muscle that to Harold he looked like a man with a cobra head. Fear prickled at his back.
“Those are mine!” Harold reached a hand out.
“They were yours,” the man said. “Now, they're mine.” His voice was smooth, almost soothing, with no trace of Southern accent. “I understand you have a message for me.”
“You with the Mamoncetes?” Harold couldn't pull his eyes from the packet of crystal meth.
“I am the Mamoncetes,” the cobra-man said. “Now tell me what you came here to say. I'm running out of patience.”
Harold repeated what he'd told the bouncer about Jack Roe. He was quiet for a moment after, and then it occurred to him. If he told cobra-man about the money Frankie offered, maybe he would give his drugs back.
“Frankie also said to tell you he would pay you twenty grand to make sure Roe gets dead. But don't hurt that woman Roe hangs out with. Frankie said that. He wants her left unharmed, he said.”
The cobra-man scrutinized Harold for a long moment before he said anything. Then, as if he hadn't heard anything Harold had said, “That where you got these drugs? You getting your supply from someone besides me?”
The venom in cobra-man's voice frightened Harold. “He g-g-gave them to m-m-me.” His buzz was completely gone now, eaten away by the adrenaline and fear. Suddenly, he felt like the old man that he was again. “P-p-please. Can I have them back? I didn't buy them. He gave them to me.”
Cobra-man nodded and tossed the packet in Harold's direction. It landed on the floor and skittered to a stop a couple of feet away.
Harold bent to pick up the bag. The blow that landed at the base of his skull and severed his spine never even registered as his lifeless body dropped to the floor.
“Clean that up, and send the counsel to my private room.” Cobra-man straightened his tailored suit jacket and stalked from the room.
TWENTY-ONE
The cobra-man, John Juarez, sat at the head of the table, a whiskey on the rocks held in one hand. “Someone tell me about this Jack Roe.”
“He's a homicide detective,” one of the younger council members spoke up. “I've heard of him. Never had any contact with him.”
Juarez glared at the young man. “Can someone tell me something useful?” He spoke as if he was talking to a room full of five year olds. Sometimes he felt like he was dealing with five year olds.
“Roe is ex-military,” the only woman in the room said. “He left the military to come back here after his daughter was killed in a car accident. The wife was stoned when the accident happened. She committed suicide shortly after that. Roe’s been in homicide investigations since he came back to Mississippi. He keeps his nos
e clean. Does his job. His sister was killed by some crazy woman last year. Since then, he's been raising his niece. I think she's probably seventeen or eighteen now, if I remember correctly.”
“Better.” Juarez took a sip of his whiskey. “And the woman, his partner I suppose?”
The woman spoke up again. “Yes. His partner. Kate Giveans.” Leave it up to his only female lead to have all the answers. That's what Juarez liked about her. She knew things. And she was not a woman you would want to cross. “She's unremarkable, but Roe sees something in her. As I understand it, they have been dating since shortly after the sister died in September.”
“She’s not at all unremarkable,” Juarez measured his words, his voice tight, his anger barely contained. “She’s the ex-partner of the narc I killed to get here,” he waved his hands in an arc, indicating the view of Biloxi that could be seen through the glass walls. “She has no idea that I alone have determined how long she would live.”
Juarez had quietly kept tabs on Kate Giveans. He hadn’t killed her the day her partner died because she’d had no part in Ryan’s humiliation of Juarez.
Giveans hadn’t known that Ryan stole his wife and took his place in the organization. But Juarez had figured it out; he’d made it public that Ryan was a cop. Then he’d taken his time hunting Ryan down when he disappeared and destroying him. It was the only way to regain his own honor.
Juarez had been rewarded well for his determination. Now his generosity was coming back to haunt him. He should have killed her before. Giveans and her new partner were coming for him, and he didn’t even know why.
A Biloxi Christmas: A Novella (The Biloxi Series) Page 7