The lead cop with sandy-brown hair and wire-framed glasses said, “Is that what that mess is back on the corner?”
“Yeah, it’s an OIS, and Mack”—I pointed to the Honda—“that’s his wife. She’s the chief of police for Montclair. She was working a kidnap. The suspects had one of the children with a gun to her head. His wife took the shot. Took out the suspect, but she caught one too.”
“No shit. Is she going to make it?”
I couldn’t answer and just shrugged.
They holstered their weapons. Their bodies, pumped up with adrenaline, started to calm down.
“You want me to go in and get his ID for your report?” I asked.
“No, man, he’s got enough to worry about.” He took out his notepad. “What’s his name and where’s he work?”
“His name’s John Mack, he’s a detective with LASO. That’s his car, the Honda, and it’s registered to him and or his wife, Barbara Wicks.”
He finished writing. “Hope it works out for him. Tell him our thoughts are with him.”
“I will, thanks. I’d shake your hand but—” I held up my hand, let him get a better look at the blood.
“I understand. You take it easy.” They got in their cars and left.
The license plate on Mack’s car, once they ran it, would confirm everything I told them.
I didn’t like being alone. I sat down on the asphalt with my back to the wall. More cars arrived. Uniformed cops and plain-clothes detectives ran into the ER. I should’ve gone in as well but couldn’t face Mack.
A few minutes later, the double doors to the ER wheezed open. Out came Mack with a stunned expression.
I stood, brushed my hands off. “How’s she doin’?”
His eyes refocused on me. “Emergency surgery. They won’t tell me anything. What the hell happened, Bruno?”
“They’re professionals, John.”
“What are you talking about?”
“These aren’t street-thug dope dealers we’re dealing with. These guys are professionals, probably ex-military, Special Forces or something like that. It doesn’t make any sense, but that’s the way it is.”
“I don’t care about all that shit. She was with you, Bruno. What the hell happened? Tell me.”
“I am, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. Look at their tactics, the sniper, the Suburban, and the silenced weapon. And—”
He grabbed a hold of my shirt and yanked me up close to his face, his breath humid on my skin. “Tell me.” His emotions were boiling up and he didn’t know which way to turn, what he should do, who to blame.
All of a sudden I wanted him to hit me. I wanted him to put the boot to me and spit on me. I deserved every bit of it. Instead, my old training kicked in, and I gave him the official report. “Barbara and I tracked the children to a possible location, two blocks from here, just down from the corner of Arbor Vitae at Prairie. We believed the suspects would be moving the children at any time and wanted to take them down before they did. We didn’t believe there was time to wait for backup. We created a ruse to draw them out. I took one apartment and confronted the suspect I recognized from my prior contact with her on the pier. She fired a silenced handgun at me, and I was forced to shoot her. Barbara—”
“Chief Wicks to you.”
“That’s right, Chief Wicks went to the second apartment and made contact with a second suspect who had both children. The suspect had a gun to the head of one of the victims. Chief Wicks, fearing for the safety of the children, took the shot. The suspect’s gun fell to the floor and discharged, striking Chief Wicks.”
“Where were you? Where were you, Bruno, exactly?”
“Behind her.”
He pulled back and slugged me. I caught it just below the eye. My world lit up. I bounced off the wall. My knees turned weak and I sagged. I kept my hands down at my side. I deserved it and a lot more.
Mack grabbed hold of me and propped me up. “I’m sorry, Bruno. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
His emotions bled off just that fast.
“I know you did what you could, you did what was right. I’m sorry,” he said. “You got the kids back, that’s what counts. That’s what Barbara would say. Right? That’s what she would say.”
I held my hand over my eye. “I don’t know how to express how sorry I am.”
“I know.” He pulled me into a hug. “Come on inside. Let’s wait inside.”
“I’m good. I think I’ll stay out here for a few more minutes. I’ll be in. You go.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Go.”
He backed up, watching me, then turned and disappeared into the hospital to wait word on his fiancée. My good friend.
I put my back to the wall and slid down until I sat on the ground. In a gradual shift, my grief and guilt turned to anger, building steam without a place to vent. Those people shot a good friend of mine. Those people kidnapped my grandniece and nephew. Those people groped and menaced my wife, rammed our car, jeopardized the welfare of our unborn child. Those people still had my brother. I stood and brushed my hands together, knocking off the grit. I pulled the keys to Barbara’s Dodge Charger out of my pocket.
I started to run.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
MY LUNGS ACHED and my heart pounded by the time I made it to the corner of Arbor Vitae and Prairie. I stayed to the opposite side of the street to The Langston Arms as I huffed and puffed. I made a promise to start up running again if I made it back to Costa Rica.
I went right to the side of the 7-Eleven and, in the recessed shadow, used the spigot to rinse off my hands and arms and face. The blood on my clothes had started to dry and without the wetness, blended in better with the dark colors.
Lots of emergency vehicles jammed into the narrow parking area to The Langston. The red-and-blue rotators lit up the neighborhood. Cars on Prairie in both directions slowed to look. Gawkers stood out in front of the 7-Eleven, the closest place to stand without getting shooed away by cops guarding the crime scene behind their yellow police line tape. I blended in with these folks to get a longer look without being noticed. The police had to be looking for me by now.
Minnie Jenks stood out in front of her manager’s apartment talking with two plainclothes detectives, a Virginia Slim in one hand and a tall boy, Old Milwaukee, in the other. She waved her arms as she spoke with great animation, the star of the hour, enjoying every second of it. I could only imagine the lies she spun.
After all the excitement, the post-adrenaline symptoms hit my nervous system hard and gave me the shakes. I went into the store. The pink coconut cake of a pair of Sno Balls caught my eye. I bought them along with a carton of chocolate milk, eight Eveready D batteries, and three burner phones. I went back outside to wait for my chance to cross Arbor Vitae. I needed to get farther west on Prairie to where we’d parked the Charger. I didn’t have much time; the task force would be writing warrants to swoop in and pick up the rest of the co-conspirators. They wouldn’t care about Noble, an escapee from state prison. He didn’t pay taxes, he didn’t vote. They’d want him only to throw his skinny ass back in the can to finish wasting away the rest of his life. I needed to find him first.
And I needed a little alone time with the guy responsible before the cops got to them. I wanted to put the hurt on them—whisper in their ears. That’s what Robby used to say when he severely counseled a crook.
My nephew pulled up in his old Toyota Corolla. He stopped at the yellow tape, parked illegally right in the middle of the street just as the coroner’s wagon arrived. From the passenger seat, a young and pretty Hispanic girl wearing a pink angora sweater—obviously his girlfriend—also got out. The Inglewood cop on scene security yelled, “Hey, hey, you can’t park there.”
Bruno and the girl ran up to him. Bruno flashed him something and spoke low enough that I couldn’t hear from where I stood. Rebecca and Ricardo, who stood over by the manager’s open door, saw their father and started crying, “D
addy. Daddy. Daddy.”
The Inglewood cop jacking Bruno up over the parking job now waved him on. Bruno ran to his kids. All the personnel at the scene stopped and watched the reunion. I fought the strong urge to go over there and join in the group hug. My turn would come later, I hoped. I also looked forward to Marie’s expression when she saw them for the first time.
I took the opportunity to cross the street and move past the corner and down Prairie to the Dodge Charger. I got in and started her up. The car rumbled at idle like a big mountain cat. Of course Bruno would have a girlfriend. Good-looking kid like that with his life wrapped tight, of course he’d have a nice girlfriend.
I opened the burner phone and dialed my nephew.
“Hello?”
“It’s me, your Uncle Bruno.”
“Uncle.” He said it too loud, then lowered his voice. “Where are you? I want to thank you in person for what you’ve done.” His voice caught as he tried not to cry. “I want to shake your hand. You have no idea … I mean I can’t tell you how scared I’ve been and—”
“Kid, I’m glad it worked out.”
Saving the kids had come at a heavy price.
“I know you can’t come back here,” my nephew said. “Where are you? I’ll come to you. I have some things I need to say.”
“I know, and we’ll get together soon, but right now I have something I have to do.”
His tone changed. “What? You’re going after my father, aren’t you?”
I said nothing.
“I’m going with you.”
“You need to take care of your family.”
“Carmen’s here. I have to go with you, Uncle; he’s my father.”
I hesitated, my mind running through all the options. I would need someone to create some sort of a distraction if I wanted to have any chance at all. And Bruno did have the right to be involved.
Then I thought of what had happened to Barbara. Her words rang harsh and loud in my head. They made me sick to my stomach, made the Sno Balls and chocolate milk roil and threaten to come up. Bruno, every time you take a hand in something like this, the odds of someone getting shot, run over, or beat to within an inch of their life increases exponentially.
“Please, Uncle. I need to do this.”
“Okay, I’m down the street, to the west of you.”
“I’ll be there in two minutes. I need to get the kids in the car with Carmen.”
“Bruno?” I said.
“Yeah, Uncle?”
“Bring your girlfriend’s sweater with you.”
“Huh? What? Ah, yeah, sure.” He clicked off.
He didn’t wait for a reason, he just trusted me. I liked the kid more and more.
Three minutes later, he jogged around the corner. The pink sweater in hand pulled in every bit of the ambient light and all but glowed. He recognized the Dodge. He got in and, before his door closed, he offered me his hand. I took it and shook.
He closed his door. “Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me, we’re family. That’s what families do.”
I put her in gear and pulled a U-turn.
We drove in silence for a few miles. The thought that this new caper we were headed to was a bad idea wouldn’t leave me alone. If something happened to my nephew, my brother Noble’s son, I’d never forgive myself.
Bruno broke the silence and spoke as he watched the scenery go by. Something was eating at him. I wished we had the time to go somewhere to sit and watch the ocean or the moon rise in a park and let it come out naturally.
I waited for him and let him take his time.
“You know, I have hated you all my life,” he finally said. “I never told anyone, but I have always hated you.”
I looked from the road to him and back. “I can understand that. You had no reason, otherwise.”
He turned from the window. “You put my father in prison for the rest of his life.”
I said nothing.
I didn’t want to argue with him, but what he said wasn’t entirely true. Noble shot and killed two people. I only detained him. Did my job. Though that lame excuse no longer held up. I’d done worse, a lot worse, since that night I arrested him. Not always legal, but definitely morally correct.
I should’ve listened to Noble that night, heard him out. But would it have made a difference? Not legally. But morally? Without a doubt it would have.
“My father,” Bruno said, “he never held it against you. He always, always said nice things about you.”
He started to choke up and passed that emotion onto me. “Okay, kid, thanks, that’s enough, please.”
“No, wait, now I understand. I’ve gotten older. I work at Lennox, and I understand the job and the responsibility. I feel bad about hating you all that time. I was wrong and want to apologize.”
“Thanks, kid. Now quit talking or I’m gonna pull over and let you out.”
He complied, but not for very long.
“Where we going?”
“Beverly Hills.”
He nodded.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
I CRUISED BY the Beverly Hills Hotel, down the long drive, around the half circle where the valets waited to take the patrons’ cars. Lots of people moved about, all dressed a lot better than me, which made our infiltration all the more difficult.
My nephew watched out the window as I tried to decide the best way to get in and to finesse Don the Don Brodie’s bungalow number from the front desk personnel.
Bruno turned to look at me as I pulled back down the driveway, headed back to the street. “It’s Bungalow 135.”
“What? How do you know that?”
He shrugged.
This kid really had it going on. If he didn’t get caught up in my caper to get Noble back, and thrown in prison, he’d make a hell of a street cop.
“Make a left right here,” he said, “and then a right on the first street. We’re going to have to walk back.”
I did as he said and parked in the dark shadows. The black Dodge Charger all but disappeared as it blended in.
“You scouted this place, didn’t you?”
He said nothing and only peered through the dark at me.
“You were going to come here on your own. That’s why you had this Sig on you, isn’t it?”
“They had my family, Uncle. They had my kids. I wasn’t going to let them get away with it. Now they have my father. Are we going to talk all night or are we going to make our move?”
Our move. The words sounded bad and reminded me I shouldn’t be involving him. What would Marie say about it? Bruno, come here and let me slap you upside the head. I missed her something fierce.
I watched his eyes, his face in dark relief, and couldn’t see them. “Gimme your socks,” I said.
“My socks?”
I snapped my fingers. “Come on man, we don’t have all night.”
He took off his shoes and tugged off his socks as I opened the bubble pack to the eight Eveready D-Cell batteries. I put one sock inside the other while Bruno watched and added the batteries. “Oh,” he said, “12020.”
I stopped, stunned. “That’s right. Kid, you just keep amazing me.” He smiled. His teeth glowed.
I tied a knot close to the batteries, forcing them down snug, and then two more knots higher up to act as a handle. I handed it to him.
“I’ve read about these but never saw one or learned how to use it. PC 12020, possession of a deadly weapon; to wit, a slungshot, felony, sixteen months, two years or three years with a ten-thousand-dollar fine.”
“You’re gonna have to be the one to use it,” I said. “I’m too old and look too much like a threat to get in close enough. You think you can handle it?”
“Sure, just tell me what to do.”
He had too much false bravado that came with youth.
“We’re going to walk in together,” I said. “This Brodie has security outside his bungalow, and from what I understand, it’s not some fly-by-night operation
, it’s top-drawer professional.
“When we approach, we’ll separate. I’ll draw his attention, and you keep the battery end of the sock in your back pocket with the other two knots hanging out. Once I distract him, you grab the two knots and swing it around and upward, aim for the back of his head. Don’t put everything you have into it or you’ll kill him. You understand?”
“Sure, I got it.”
“You think you can pull this off?”
“No problem. But what makes you think this guy’s going to let us get close enough to him for me to use this?”
“You’re going to wear the sweater.”
“What?”
I watched his eyes as his mind processed what I’d said.
“Ah, man,” he said as he figured out the play.
We got out of the Charger. I held up the pink fuzzy sweater.
“Why me? Let’s flip for it.”
“Come on, look at this thing.” I held it up to my chest. “No way’s this gonna fit me.”
He took it and put it on. Carmen wore a few sizes smaller than Bruno. The sweater fit tight and gave off the desired effect. I put my arm around him as we walked. “You’re going to have to pretend we’re lovers or this isn’t gonna work.”
“Uncle, I like you and all but—”
“Funny. Keep moving.”
“You really think we look like that, I mean—”
“This is LA, where anything’s possible as long as we own it in our own minds. You look cute, sugar.”
“Oh come on, Uncle Bruno.”
“Which way?”
“Down this path,” he said. “And when we come to the fork, we go right. This is a big place, we got a little ways to go.”
Plants and shrubs and trees decorated the smooth concrete path, illuminated every ten feet by subdued landscape lights alternating yellow, blue, and green.
Up ahead, a golf cart loaded with two hotel security officers dressed in suits and ties came right at us. “Remember what I said, we gotta own it.”
My nephew said nothing and added a sway to his hips. Just enough.
The cart slowed as it approached. I stepped to one side and pulled Bruno into a hug, chest to chest, and put my hand on his butt. “Come on, sugar, let the nice men pass.”
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