He pushed the memories aside and his reflexive instincts of detection kicked in. Alex searched the house, room by room. The place had been combed over as articles were moved from their original location.
In the living room, just off of the entryway, all of the furniture was moved; the indentations in the carpeting were not in line with the legs of the furniture. That was not unusual, as forensics most likely went over the area looking for hair fibers, blood, anything which could yield a DNA sample.
In the office, the drawers were pried open and the filing cabinets were rifled through. Again, it all seemed normal enough. Detectives on scene would have wanted to know what cases Jack worked on from home. They would have searched his records for any indication as to who was motivated enough to murder a cop.
Through it all, Hi-Def followed Alex like a lapdog. When they were done with the main level, Vaughn had enough of the computer geek and sent him upstairs while he moved onto the basement. At first, Hi-Def thought to protest, but with a death glare from Vaughn, he scurried up the staircase.
As Hi-Def went up, Alex went down. The basement was where Alex and Jack spent most of their time. It was a pure hangout room, built for a man. The leather chairs and wood paneling made the place feel comfortable yet like a camping lodge. Alex was still envious of the sixty inch flat screen mounted on the wall and the complete bar that lined one side of the room. He slid behind the bar and a quiet chuckle escaped his lips as he rested his hands on the wooden rail.
He could hear Jack admonish him, “Now now, just the owner gets behind this bar!”
Alex took a shot glass and grabbed a bottle of rum. He poured a shot of Jack’s favorite and set the bottle back down. How many times his friend stood in this very same spot and listened to Alex gripe about his situation at home with Charlotte?
“She just doesn’t get me,” Alex would complain.
And always Jack would give him that knowing look. That look that said, “I get it, but don’t screw it up buddy.”
On one such occasion, soon after Charlotte threw him out, he sat on a bar stool across from this very spot as Jack poured him a shot. Alex went on about the righteousness of the job and how important catching the bad guys was.
He declared, “If she can’t see how important this work is, then maybe she doesn’t deserve to have me around anyway!”
Jack, looked into a glass as he rubbed it dry with a towel, looking the part of a bar keep. “Alex, I am going to tell you something. Don’t go getting all blustery when I say it, because believe me, I know how important this job is. But why do you want to go on working so hard when it is hurting your marriage so bad? Alex, there will always be more bad guys to catch. It doesn’t matter how many you lock up. Tomorrow, there will be another one. Sometimes that’s the one thing I am certain about. While that’s great for job security, it ain't so great on a marriage.”
Jack put the glass down and grabbed up the rag as he walked around the bar behind him.
Alex was listening with half his heart lingering in the shot glass resting between his thumb and forefinger.
Jack continued as he walked toward the stairs leading upward.
“Tomorrow, next week, there will be some asshole that needs cuffs. But I can promise you one thing, there is one Charlotte. Enjoy the rum. Then go back home, to your wife.”
Jack threw the towel across the room as he turned and walked up the stairs.
Alex, of course, did not go back home.
Vaughn looked at the full shot glass sitting in front of him. He poured the glass out on the floor between his feet.
“Enjoy the rum, Jack.”
Alex expected to see the rum pool there on the basement floor. Instead, it trailed off in either direction and then disappeared under the rug Alex was straddling. Vaughn sucked his breath in and crouched to the floor. He flipped the carpet over and pulled it to the side. He sucked in his breath as excitement crept in.
There was a clear outline of a two foot concrete slab. Alex, in an attempt to steady his trembling, told himself it was a place to keep excess alcohol. Vaughn took his pocket knife out of his boot and slipped it into the crevice of the slab. Using it like a crowbar he pried the concrete up and slid his fingers underneath the stone. With a heave, he pushed the block to the side revealing a tiny cubby.
Inside the cubby was a sack and a tiny palm sized booklet, the kind used for taking notes. Alex pulled the notebook up and tried to open up the sack. Noticing the sack was closed tight with plastic wire, he made a slit in the fabric with his knife. As he pulled the pieces apart, Alex almost fell back when he realized its contents.
Money. Lots of money.
Before Vaughn could get a handle on what he was dealing with, he heard the thud of footsteps descending down the stairway. In a hurry, he slid the stone back into place and kicked the rug back over it. Just in time, he tucked the notebook into the folds of his jacket, as Hi-Def came into view.
“Just like I said, nothing.”
Alex gave him a smirk and said, “Sorry for dragging your ass out here. Let’s go.”
Hi-Def was all too happy to oblige.
Outside in the street, Hi-Def started toward the car, but Alex began to walk through the rain up the block.
“Where ya going?” Hi-Def called to him.
“I just need to go for a walk and clear my head.”
Hi-Def hesitated but then got in the car and drove off.
Alex, familiar with the neighborhood having lived in it, walked with a purpose. He needed to see Charlotte and he had to see what was in this notebook. With any luck, it would explain the money he found. One thing kept sneaking to the forefront of Alex Vaughn’s mind, no matter how hard he tried to beat it back.
Jack was a dirty cop.
Chapter 24
Rafael Rontego walked down the street, oblivious to the small drops of rain that pelted his hat and trench coat. His hands were stuck in his pockets and his head watched his feet as he strode forward. He wouldn’t even be going home tonight. He loved a woman once and he felt like now was as good of a time as any to say goodbye.
Love.
It felt like a millennia since Rontego allowed himself to even think of the word. Hell, Rafael didn’t even know if he did love her or if he just thought that maybe he should have. Could a man give his love to a whore anyway? Then again, maybe whores were all a killer like him deserved to love.
If anyone could have seen underneath the brim of Rafael’s hat, they might have noticed something that looked foreign on the creased and worn face of the veteran hit man. A natural smile emerged as Rafael thought of that night. He spent five hundred bucks to lure a real looker of a broad as a date to Don Ciancetta’s wedding.
At first, Rontego didn’t even want to go, but The Pope made it clear that if one didn’t go, it would be considered a real insult, the type that would not be forgotten. So Rafael acquiesced and decided to attend.
Then, as if they were sticking it to him, The Pope and Don Ciancetta said they expected everyone to have a date. Something about no creepy lurkers watching people dance. Rafael didn’t know any women. Women made you sloppy. They made you weak. But rules were rules and so Rafael made a visit to the local Madame. She had a solution for him and all it would cost him was five hundred bucks.
“Be here at six. She’ll go with you to the reception. What you do after, well, that’s up to you two.”
Rafael handed her the five crisp bills. She smiled with the satisfaction only a business owner could flash when presented with cold cash.
“Oh and Raf, do be gentle. She isn’t tainted yet like all the rest.”
“What’s her name?” he asked. Not because it was important, but it felt like the right question to ask.
“Elyse.”
Elyse.
Oh how it purred off the tongue. You could hold the ‘S’ just long enough that you could taste it, and then it was gone. Disappeared in the vacuum that absorbed all words ever uttered.
When he picke
d her up, it wasn’t the long legs that seemed to continue forever under her bright red dress that held untold mysteries that caught his attention. Sure, it was the legs too, but more than that it was the eyes, nestled as they were beneath slanting blonde hair that cascaded like a gentle waterfall and hid the brilliant blue orbs from view.
In all his years of killing and fighting battles that almost ended his existence on the earth, Rafael was never as close to dead as the moment he gazed into those baby blues and felt his heart quite literally stop.
They enjoyed an almost perfect evening. He danced with her and he twirled her around like the dainty little thing she was. She laughed at his jokes and he was almost charming in his way. When it was over she invited him up and after they crossed the threshold of her apartment, they were on top of each other.
Rabid animals that reached an unspoken agreement.
He could still feel the smooth texture of her lipstick as she glided over him and he would never forget the sweetness of her perfume.
“Something French”, she said.
Rafael looked up from his walk. He was under the stoop that led to her familiar room. By the light in the window, he knew she was awake. She was the only one who kept similar hours to the assassin.
There was something about Elyse that rung true in the assassin. He loved the way that she would take care of him. She even made him lunch a time or two. More important, she was there for him and there were not been many times when a person could be considered ‘there’ for Rafael Rontego.
The way she made him feel, Rafael felt it gripping him like drugs would an addict. He would lie with her at night or in the early morning and feel contentment he did not know in his childhood. He could watch her sleep and feel at peace. In the end, Rontego wanted to know that contentment to be his own.
He asked her one day, “What if you put aside the whoring business and you let me take care of you?”
It wasn’t that she said no, that hurt the worst. It was the way that she scoffed at the idea. “I won’t let myself rely on any man, Raf. Men come and go, but I have got me to take care of.”
And that was that. She wasn’t, at the end of the day, there for Rafael the way he assumed. Life was full of choices. Hers went in a different direction and so, Rafael did what he did best. He continued to perfect his craft and she took a backburner to anything that could advance the hit man in his profession.
At first, they thought maybe they could still play the game together. She would keep on in the whoring business and Rafael would do what he always did, but they would know they were for each other and she never did charge Rontego again.
As time went by, that spark in her eye began to diminish. Life began to reflect in those baby blues and they weren’t so baby anymore. He started to resent her for giving away that one of a kind, brilliant type of light she had. As it grew dimmer and dimmer, he felt himself hating her for selling it so cheap.
The assassin climbed the stairs to her apartment and gave the door one loud rap. In a moment, she answered, and she stood silhouetted against the warm and inviting glow of soft lights beyond. She was wearing a pure white nightgown that slit along the leg. It revealed just enough of her thigh.
“Raf!” She said in surprise bordering on delight. It felt almost musical to the assassin after all of these hard years.
Her eyes seemed to catch some of their previous fire in that second, but then it faded away. She shifted her weight and revealed a bit more thigh. Rafael couldn’t tell if it was on purpose or not. Eyes were overrated anyway. He took off his hat as he brushed past her and entered the room. He threw his hat on a plush sofa off to the side and turned back around to face her.
“Doll.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’ve come to say goodbye.”
Just like that, she was upon him. For a moment, Rontego felt like he could still love this woman. But then it flitted away as they fell over one another in search of that instant of ecstasy. That was all life really was, anyway. A series of moments that drifted on too fast; so fast that one could scarce enjoy them before they searched for the next.
They passed out next to each other, exhausted. When he woke up, Rafael took great care not to wake her. He pulled five crisp bills from his clip and laid them on the dresser.
He let himself out into the hallway beyond and whispered, “Elyse.”
*
Alex walked towards the north end of the block and stood in front of the doorway to the house that used to be his home. It was a quaint home, two stories tall and built mostly of brick. A solitary bay window overlooked the street. That was the main reason Alex purchased the home.
It’s funny sometimes, the small, unnecessary things that remind you most of what a home should be. He passed by the place a few times since Charlotte and he separated.
She was asleep. All the lights were out and somewhere inside, in a crib he built, was his baby girl.
Vaughn felt weary. His head throbbed and he became ever more aware of his disheveled appearance. His jacket was in tatters, parts of it were scorched. His hands were filthy and he could only imagine the layer of film that accumulated due to dust and ash and blood.
Alex turned around to leave. Then, he turned around again and before his courage could leave him, leaning on the door with one hand, Alex lifted the other and gave a sharp knock on the door, once, twice, and a third time.
At first, there was nothing. Alex thought that perhaps Charlotte slept through his attempt at awakening her. But then the house began to come alive. A light in the second floor turned on and Alex almost ran. Then a baby, his baby, began to cry from within. He heard the shuffling of feet inside and then the bolts to locks he installed began to click. All of a sudden, there she was.
The door was open and she was standing before him. She wore a ragged pink robe that he always hated, and her brown hair was tied up behind her head. Sleep was in her eyes and the baby wailed in the background. But there she was. There Charlotte was. Absolute in her beauty.
All of Vaughn’s strength seemed to flee from his limbs as he stood there and a moment of silence passed as the two sized each other up. They spoke at the same time,
Alex whispered, “Charlotte.”
“Alex!”
He leaned forward and threw his arms around her, having no more strength for words. Charlotte pulled Alex inside, and shut the door.
Fortunately, Charlotte could tell by looking at Alex that the questions would have to wait. For now she just said, “You are going to have to take a shower before you lay down anywhere in this house. You know where the guest bath is. I’ll lay out some of your old clothes, but I’m going back to bed. I’ll wake you in a couple hours when I get up. Then, you can explain what the hell has happened to you.”
Alex smiled weakly at her and walked through the living room to the guest bathroom. As he slid the door shut behind him, he glanced back over at Charlotte who was about to walk up the stairs towards her bedroom, their bedroom.
“Charlotte?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks.”
She shook her head as she continued up the stairs, “Of course, Alex, of course.”
Vaughn let the warm water wash over him, and felt its gentle sting enter his wounds one cut at a time as the cleansing crept over him. When he was done there was a set of clothes that were all too familiar to him resting on the carpet outside in the hallway. He slipped on the pair of jeans which felt a bit loose to him and a baseball sleeve knit sweatshirt, very much an outfit he would wear on most any weekend.
Alex wanted to go upstairs and look on the face of his beautiful baby, but he didn’t want to wake her. So he walked over to the couch and settled in under a hand woven blanket his grandmother made him as a newborn. It just fit over his grown body, but it felt all the warmer for the memories it brought back.
As bad as Alex Vaughn wanted to sleep, he found it difficult to sleep. He kept flashing back to the unopened notebook lying on top of the p
ile of clothes at his feet. He was dying to know what the contents held, but he was fearful of what they might say about Jack and any extracurricular activities he might have.
It became too much to bear and Alex rolled over to his side and lifted up the red booklet. Besides, what if Jack was dirty? Did it make him any less of a true friend to Alex? The answer was unequivocally no. The two of them grew up together, and time and again Jack proved his friendship to Alex on a very personal level.
Alex decided right then and there that whatever this book revealed, it would do nothing to diminish Jack in his eyes. It was with that sense of resolve that Vaughn flipped the cover of the notebook over on its spiral joint. The first pages scribbled in Jack’s handwriting were the words, “Private: Case File Notes.”
Alex sucked in his breath. Jackpot. He thumbed through the notebook, page by page, and his excitement faded to amusement and reminiscing as he recalled some of the cases that went back three years or more. It was like a freaking yearbook of Jack’s last years on the force. But as he thumbed through the booklet he thought it less and less certain that he would find anything useful. His fears were confirmed when he got to the last page and it was a case from a few months back.
Alex took the notebook and tossed it on the floor. It didn’t make sense. Why hide a notebook that contained nothing that should be hidden? Alex sat there for a moment and then picked the notebook back up. He flipped it right to the last page. He ran his finger across the paper and felt its smoothness on his fingertips. Alex noticed that there was a slight indent along the side of the paper. Perhaps it was just the indent from the pressure of a pen resting on it. But the impression ran along the page vertical, and it ran in to straight of a line.
Vaughn peered more close at it and realized it was not an indentation, but more like the softening of the paper. The detective lifted the pad of paper up to his nose and caught the faint smell of glue. He could feel his heart beat in his ears. Vaughn pulled out his knife and found where the two pages connected up near the top. He slid his knife in between the two pages and brought the blade down around the edges of the paper, pulling the parchment apart. There in front of him was information about the case for sure. But how it fit together, Alex was not so sure. It read:
For Nothing Page 18