by Blair Howard
We’d been friends and partners—and for a while more than partners—since she was a rookie cop. Now we were just good friends. We still work together sometimes though. I have a sort of semi-official standing as a consultant at the PD, both to Kate and, more recently, the chief.
“I’ll have one too, please,” I said, but I got no reaction, nor did I get a latte. She was in one of her moods. She finished making her own latte, then took it to the table and sat down next to Bob, which pleased him greatly.
I was beginning to think those two had a thing for each other.
I sighed, made myself another cup of Dark Italian Roast—any more of that and I’d be wired like the damned national grid—and I sat down between Amanda and Jacque.
“Talk to me, Harry,” Kate said, looking across the table.
“About what? You know what happened up here last night. Besides, Rose and my father are—”
“Forget that crap,” August said. “We want to know. Now answer the lady.”
That was my dad, bless him. Never one to sugarcoat a situation.
“There’s nothing to tell, not until I hear from Benny. I can’t make plans if I don’t know where those guys are. Look… oh shit.” I stood up, frustrated, shoved my chair back and headed for the Breville, and tossed what was left of my coffee into the kitchen sink. I could get my own damned latte.
“Amanda, Rose,” I continued, “you really don’t need to be a part of this. Why don’t you go out and lie by… the… oh forget it.” The look Amanda was giving me would have turned a lesser man to stone; hell, even I felt a little stiff.
“Okay, you’re the boss.” I shook my head, beyond frustrated. “So the first thing we need do is address this contract Greene has put out on me. That means another visit to the Tower. We’ll head on down there in a few minutes. Second, as soon as we hear from Benny, and we know where Tree and his gang are holed up, we move, and quickly. Another situation like we had here last night is something I’m not prepared to risk. We take it to them, and we take it fast and hard. Yeah?”
I looked around the table. Bob was nodding. Dad was holding Rose’s hands between his own. Jacque’s color was something I’d never seen before. Her usual caramel skin had a pasty look about it. Amanda looked both vexed and anxious. Kate? She was leaning back in her seat, one arm curled over its back, legs crossed, a half smile on her lips.
“Thoughts?” I asked.
But if they had any, they kept them to themselves.
“Kate,” I said. “What are you thinking? How are you going to try to fit yourself into this mess?”
“Oh, I’m in all the way, Harry. Fully sanctioned by Chief Johnston. His final words to me when I left were, ‘Try and keep his ass out of jail, and your own.’ ”
“Right then,” I said lightly, though I didn’t feel light. “Here’s what we’ll do while we’re waiting for Benny. Amanda, you can put Kate in the spare room at the end of the hall, but not right now.
“Kate. What weapons do you have with you?”
“Glock 26, as always. Shotgun in the car.”
“Vest?”
“Yep. The Spider.”
“The vest is good, but you need to ditch the Glock. I’ll let you have something more appropriate. Bob, you, Jacque and me need to retool. Lookout Mountain’s finest took every handgun we had in the place, except maybe Jacque’s backup.
“We still have the long guns, but that’s about it. So, first we’ll go to the office, and then the Tower. Yeah?”
Nobody spoke. I wasn’t surprised.
I nodded. “All right then. Amanda, Jacque—Jacque, you still have your 26, right?” She nodded. “Good, I want you both to stay here with Rose and my dad. We’ll be back as soon as we can. Those guys won’t be back during daylight, especially not with the cops still prowling about outside, so don’t worry.”
I thought for a minute that Jacque was going to argue, but she didn’t. I think maybe she was a little relieved to be let out of this one.
I got up from the table and grabbed a lightweight navy Burberry jacket and slipped into it. Yes, it was warm outside and I didn’t really need a jacket, but I did need to cover the empty shoulder rig.
“Alright, let’s go.”
Chapter 11
Wednesday, Late Morning
We were at my offices only long enough to visit the strong room and rearm. Bob stuck with Sig 1911’s, but I was having none of that; that seven-round mag had almost cost me my life. Instead I chose twin Heckler & Koch VP9s. Each held fifteen rounds, sixteen if I kept one in the chamber, which for this job I would. I handed a like VP9 to Kate, which she took, along with a custom-built holster. She also decided to hang onto her little Glock 26 and use it as a backup.
I grabbed six extra mags for the VPs, handed three to Kate, then grabbed a replacement for Jacque’s Glock 19 and a full box of sub rounds. Ten minutes later we were parked at the rear of the Tower building.
I wasn’t sure what we would find up on the top floor, but whatever it was, we were certainly ready for it.
As the three of us rode the elevator up, I glanced at Kate. The stoic look on her face told a story all its own. She, like me, was having flashbacks to the times we’d made the same ride together to interview Little Billy Harper, Kathryn Greene’s father. I wondered what Kate was thinking. I’ve never been good at reading her; she always was one of those “the less you say the better” types.
Deep down, I was glad she’d found a way to be a part of this, glad that it was her case. But I wasn’t sure if her being here with me right then was such a good idea.
For the second time in two days, I slammed through Kathryn Greene’s front office, hit the double doors, and marched into her inner sanctum. And there she was.
It’s hard to believe this one sprang from the loins of that poisonous little bastard Billie Harper. I wonder how he’s doing these days. Probably a whole lot better than he deserves.
I shoved the thoughts out of my head and concentrated on Kathryn, which wasn’t at all difficult, because as soon as we entered, she stood and picked up her iPhone. Today she wore a navy pencil dress that turned her figure into a work of art. She wore her dark hair cut short in the back, but the sides were longer, layered and shaped to frame her face; in short, she was a beauty. She was also angry. “Livid” might have been a better word to describe her.
“You have exactly thirty seconds to get the hell out of my office. If you don’t”—she waved the iPhone at me—“I’ll call the police and have you arrested for trespassing.”
“I am the police,” Kate said quietly, pulling aside the hem of her jacket to reveal the gold badge clipped to her belt, and the Glock 26. “My name is Lieutenant Catherine Gazzara, Major Crimes Unit. I suggest you put the phone down and sit. Where’s your husband?”
That took Kathryn aback. She put the phone down on the desk, stared at Kate, then glanced at Bob, and finally she cut me a look of pure and utter evil.
Damn. Methinks the lady likes me not.
Slowly, she sank back into her leather chair, took a deep but almost imperceptible breath, straightened her back, and placed her hands together on the desk in front of her.
“I see,” she said quietly. “I won’t say it’s nice to finally meet you, Lieutenant. My father has told me a lot about you. You’re not quite what I expected. He said you were beautiful. I find you rather plain.”
I almost choked, and I almost laughed, both at the same time. The lady had style, I had to give her that. Kate, however, was unfazed.
“How is Little Billy?” she asked. “Is he someone’s bitch, or does he have one of his own?”
I looked across the room at Bob. I could see by the grin on his face he was thoroughly enjoying himself—as was I, I must admit.
“Touché, Lieutenant. Now, why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”
“I need to see your husband. Where is he?”
“He’s out of town, on business. Why do you need to see him?”
“
She doesn’t. I do,” I said. “Now where the hell is he?”
The lady was unflappable. She looked up at me in distain. “You? You, Mr. Starke? I do not have to speak to you, much less answer your questions. Indeed, I’d like to know what the hell you’re doing here. You’re not a sworn officer.”
“I’ll tell you what I’m doing here, you self-righteous…. Your piece of shit husband put out a contract on me, as you well know, and last night a small army of assassins invaded my home trying to collect on it. Four of them died. God only knows how many were wounded, and my mother and father are totally traumatized. Now you know why the hell I’m here. So where the hell is he?”
The change in her was dramatic. Her shoulders slumped forward; her mouth opened; her knuckles went white as she squeezed her hands together.
Hell, she didn’t know. The son of a bitch didn’t tell her.
She glanced warily up at Kate, then at me and said, slowly, “I’m sorry Mr. Starke, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
And then I almost lost it. I stepped toward the desk, only to feel Kate’s restraining hand on my arm.
“Easy, Harry,” she said. “This is a lady, not one of her thugs.”
“Lady, my ass. She’s barely one step removed from the low lifes she and her shyster husband employ. She knows damned well what contract. I was here yesterday when she told him to lift it, for Christ’s sake.”
“Well, be that as it may, she’s hardly likely to admit to it in front of me, now is she? I could, after all, be wired.”
Kate was right, but I pushed past her anyway. I leaned forward over the desk, put my hands down flat on the glass top. That put my face less than two feet from hers. She leaned back in her chair, a look of total disgust on her face.
“You tell him,” I said, “that he’d better pull that contract, and now. If he doesn’t, I’ll jerk his balls out of his pants, stomp on them, and then feed them to him. Got it? You pick up the phone and call him, right now.”
The look on her face changed yet again. The snarl was gone, replaced by an angelic smile. She leaned forward, rose from her seat, placed her hands on the table next to mine, which in turn put her face so close to mine I could smell her breath.
Minty.
And then she leaned even farther forward. For a moment I had it in my head that she was going to kiss me. She didn’t. Instead, she put her lips next to my ear.
“Go. To. Hell, you arrogant bastard,” she whispered. “If he has cancelled the contract, you can bet your ass that I’ll reinstate it, and that I’ll double the fee. I’ll see you dead and in Hell, Harry Starke, and before the week is over. Sleep well, you slimy son of a bitch.”
And then she sat slowly down again, the same angelic smile playing across her lips.
“Was there anything else?” she asked. “If not, you know your way out.”
I’m still not quite sure who won that round. I had a sneaky feeling she might just have gotten her nose in front. Whatever. I didn’t see how we could further our cause by lingering, so we left.
“So what was all that whispering about?” Bob asked, as we waited for the elevator.
“Oh, she made me a little promise,” I said. “I think I may have upset her; can’t think why.”
At that, they both burst out laughing, and so did I, only I wasn’t really laughing at all. The bitch, I was certain, meant to do exactly as she’d promised, so now I had double the number of reasons to put an end to this fiasco.
And where the hell is Benny?
Chapter 12
Wednesday Afternoon, Early
It was a little after twelve thirty when we walked out of the Tower Building. I was at a loss for what to do next. I could go ferreting around Chattanooga’s seamy side, looking for answers, but that would, I was sure, be a waste of both time and energy. No, there was nothing I could do but wait for Benny Hinkle to produce. But what if he didn’t?
I didn’t even want to entertain such a thought. He could and would get the information we needed, but the waiting was making me as antsy as a dog loaded with fleas.
I settled into the driver’s seat of the Maxima and looked at my watch. It was almost twelve thirty. I took out my iPhone, checked my e-mail: nothing important. I checked my messages: same story. I sighed, and looked sideways at Kate. “Lunch, anyone?”
They both answered in the affirmative, and I hit the starter button, shoved the stick into drive, and headed south on Market Street to Warehouse Row.
“The Public House okay?” I asked, not really caring whether it was or not.
No one objected, so that was where we went. The Public House is one of my favorite places to eat in Chattanooga, but why they call it that I have no idea. It certainly bears no resemblance to its namesakes across the pond.
Fortunately the small room at the back, beyond the cooking area, was vacant, so I requested we be allowed to sit in there. It was private, quiet, and a good place to talk.
I really didn’t feel like eating, but we had to do something to pass the time, and eating was better than sitting around staring at the walls.
We ordered drinks from the waiter—iced teas all round. He promised to be back forthwith, and he was. I sipped on the tea as I flipped through the menu. I don’t really like ice tea, but beer or anything stronger was out of the question.
Kate ordered a burger with aged cheddar and fries.
Damn, that woman can put away the groceries, and she never puts on so much as a single pound.
Bob, bless him, ordered two burgers with cheddar—no fries.
Me? I settled for a crab cake sandwich and gribiche sauce, no fries.
We ate, for the most part, in silence. Henry’s death still hung heavy over us all and I was having trouble concentrating on anything other than Benny Hinkle; he was fast becoming an obsession.
When the meal was finished, I called Amanda, made sure all was well on the mountain, and then we ordered coffee.
I could tell that Kate wanted to talk; I didn’t, but what the hell.
“Harry,” she said, thoughtfully, “this thing between you and the Greenes. It’s personal, right?”
“Ummm, yeah. I put her dad away for fifteen years. What do you expect?”
“True, but it’s more than that. I think she truly wants to see you dead.”
“Which is probably why the contract wasn’t lifted…. Kate, we have to squash that, whatever it takes. I don’t want any more of that home invasion stuff. Somehow, we have to head the Greenes off at the pass.”
“We gotta cut the head off the snake, Harry,” Bob said.
What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked. “Okay, okay, I know what it means, but… you’re saying we kill them, the Greenes?”
“Oh hell,” Kate said, getting to her feet. I don’t need to hear any of this. I’m going to the restroom. You two sort out your war before I get back.”
Bob watched her go, shaking his head in admiration.
I smiled. He really does like her.
When he was sure she was out of earshot, he said, “Look, Harry. We’ve got to end this thing with Harper and his cronies once and for all. Yeah, I say we do just that: kill them. Alive, they’ll come after you again and again; dead, not so much.”
“Jesus, Bob. You’re talking murder. Hell no. I might be a lot of things, but a murderer isn’t one of them.”
“It doesn’t have to be murder,” he said, thoughtfully. “This contract thing, that would make it self-defense, right? If we could draw them out…. Yeah, self-defense. Better yet, I’ll do it for you. Shouldn’t be too difficult. I could—”
“Not only no, but hell no. I let you do that, and I’d be just as guilty as you. Forget it.”
“So what if I don’t tell you?”
“You just did, dummy. I said forget it. You do it, I’ll turn you in myself.”
“Yeah right. And I believe you…. Okay, so how do you propose we do it, smartass?”
Well, he had me there. I had no earthly idea.
“We’ve got nothing yet,” Bob said. “But, Kate,” he continued nervously.
Now there’s something I’ve never seen before.
She tilted her head a little, narrowed her eyes, and smiled at him, but she said nothing.
“I… I’ve been meaning to ask you something for quite a while. Now seems as good a time as any.”
Hah, here it comes.
“Okay, so ask.”
“Would you… would you, umm…. Ah forget it.” His face was as red as a fire truck.
She continued to look at him, but now with her head lowered, through her eyelashes; she was still smiling. He couldn’t look her in the eye. Then she put him out of his misery.
“When?” she asked.
He looked up at her, sharply. “When what?”
“When would you like to go out?”
“What me? Me? On a date, you mean? With you? Er….”
“Jeez.” She shook her head. “Yes, on a date. With me. That’s what you wanted to ask me, right?’
“Well yes—that is, I um. Well… yeah.”
“So the question stands. When, and more to the point, where?”
He looked at her, dumbfounded, and I knew right then that he hadn’t expected her to say yes. He hadn’t thought it through. I sat back in my chair, arms folded, grinning, waiting for what I was sure would come next, and I wasn’t wrong.
“Tell you what, Bob,” she said. “How about I take you out? My treat.”
“Hell no…. No. No!”
“Then what?”
“I’ll… I’ll take you to dinner,” he said, nodding enthusiastically.
“Fine. I want to go to St. John’s. When?”
Now you have to understand what was going on here. We have an extremely tough, very big man—not fat, big: 245-pounds and six foot two big, a man who had just offered to kill the Greenes for me without a second thought. And we have a slender woman, lovely for sure—and yes, she was a cop and well able to take care of herself, but a woman half his size nonetheless, and he was intimidated down to the tips of his toes. It was funny. You had to be there, but it was.