He risked a glance in my direction and shook his head. “Not till he tells me where my girl is.”
The man looked at me. “Hey, man get this fucker—” It was the first time he had spoken to me. He looked scared. Real scared. I didn’t blame him. Lonny appeared to be a man who just might pull that trigger. When a gun is pressed against your head, it’s scary, no matter who it is. I imagined that if it was a man whose daughter you kidnapped, it was a whole lot scarier.
“Put it down, Lonny.” I walked closer, slowly, gun pointed at Lonny’s chest. “Drop the gun. Now.”
The man against the wall talked again. Lonny pressed the gun harder into his head and stood on his toes. He almost looked to be convulsing. “Shut up. Hear me? Shut the fuck up.”
I had to diffuse this situation before Lonny lost it. He wouldn’t maintain his control for long. “Lonny, who is this? Do you know him?”
“This is Willard, the guy I told you about. The one who recruits people and fences all the goods.”
“You’re sure?”
“Damn straight, I’m sure. I’d know that voice anywhere. This is the voice that ruined my life.”
“Have you ever seen him before?”
“Once. A couple of months ago. It’s him. No mistake.”
The man against the wall was shaking. I was surprised he hadn’t pissed his pants. I fixed him with a glare.
“Are you Willard?”
“I don’t know what this lunatic is talking about. If you’re a cop, get him off me. I’m gonna sue.”
“Lonny, how do you know it’s him?”
“I just know. Take him to the corner store if you don’t believe me. He gives the clerk disposable phones.”
I smiled. The man against the wall didn’t know it, but Lonny had just sealed this man’s fate. “And you say he’s the fence?”
“That’s what the word is.”
Lonny grew calmer. I had hoped talking would calm him. I was almost to him now. I reached my hand out. “Give me the gun.”
After going through what looked like an internal struggle, Lonny handed the gun to me. I had been right; Lonny was a good man at heart. “Go back to the car. Stay there this time.” Lonny started to say something. “Now! Lonny. Go back now.”
After he left, I focused on the man before me. “Face the wall. Spread your legs. You look like a man who knows the drill.”
“I’m an ex-cop,” he said.
I frisked him and found the holster for his gun—empty. “Where’s the gun?”
“That lunatic took it.”
That made me feel better; Lonny hadn’t come with a gun. “I hope you have a license for it.”
“I do.”
“So you fence the goods for that crew?”
“I don’t know what that crazy man was talking about,” he said, and started to turn around.
I grabbed his arm, leading him around front and inside the office. “Which office is yours?”
“That one,” he said, gesturing to the left with his head.
We went in. It was like the other office but much bigger. He had his own bathroom, a big closet, furniture. A cinder block wall separated his office from the reception area. If he wasn’t the big cheese here, why did he get this office?
“What are all the phones for?”
He didn’t bother denying he had them. “I use them with clients so the numbers can’t be tracked.”
I noted that he’d said I not we. “Lone Star Recovery. You guys do okay? Keep busy?”
“I do all right. Enough to keep the lights on.”
He’d done it again. Answered with I not we, even when I asked if the company did all right.
“Must have a lot of clients for so many phones.”
“Like I said…”
“Yeah. Enough to keep the lights on.”
“Tell that maniac I’m pressing charges.”
“I’m not sure I’m done with you yet. How about some ID?”
He smirked. “ID. Sure, why not?” He flashed a smirk again.
I looked at his gun license and his driver’s license. “Ed Harbough. I know that name.”
“I already told you. I’m an ex-cop. I’m sure you’ve heard my name around.”
“Yeah, probably so.” I stared him in the eyes. Didn’t like what I saw. “About that guy out there. He’s a little wound up. His daughter was kidnapped. They’ve had her two days. Shit like that wears on a man.”
“That’s not my problem,” he said, and gave me yet another smirk.
I had told him about the kidnapping, about the little scared girl, about her parents grieving. What did he do? He smirked. I explained that he was going in. He smirked again, smug in his knowledge that he’d get a high-priced lawyer and likely get off—this man who didn’t give a shit about a little girl’s life. Or her parents.
I’m not sure what it was that pushed me over. It wasn’t the phones. By themselves, they proved little. Not Lonny’s ID of the man either. I believed him, but Lonny was emotional and could have made a mistake. It wasn’t even the fact that I knew this guy was lying; lots of people lie to cops. Most do. It was the smirk. That fuckin’ little smirk he put on his face that told me, without any doubt, that he was the one. I didn’t need a jury. Juries made mistakes all the time. Smirks didn’t. As far as I was concerned, put all the criminals on a stage and accuse them. First one who smirks gets the needle. I hated smirks. Hated it when my kid used to do it when I accused him of using drugs. Hated it when I’d see them on politicians who’d gotten away with something—again. I guess it was fair to say that smirks and me—we didn’t get along.
My blow to the kidney dropped him; kidney blows tended to do that. He’d be feeling the residual effects for a day or so. Probably more. He was holding his right side, gasping for air. Despite that, he managed to get out a “What…” before I kicked him in the back. His face slammed into the cinder block wall, blood spewing from his nose.
“You can’t—”
I grabbed a handful of hair and yanked him back. Turned him and punched his face, punching that smirk right off his lips. Fuck police brutality. This man had resisted arrest.
***
Lonny waited in the car, nervous. Agitated. His nerves twitched, and his stomach roiled. He had almost killed that man.
Forgive me, Lord, for what I was about to do.
It seemed as if it had been a long time since Gino had gone in there with Willard. Suppose he disarmed Gino. Suppose he got the advantage on him. Or suppose someone else was in there. That thought scared Lonny. He got out of the car and stepped silently toward the building. He moved inside. Easy. Slow. Sounds of a struggle came from the other room. He looked around, picked up a small lamp from the desk, and went in.
Gino was beating Willard mercilessly. The man’s face was streaked with blood. He was doubled up on the floor. “Detective Cataldi. Stop!”
“Get the fuck out of here!” Cataldi said, then went back to beating the man. He kept screaming, “Where’s the girl?”
Part of Lonny wanted to jump in and help. The other part wanted to stop Gino. He stepped into the other office and called the Winthrop house. Someone answered on the third ring.
“Who’s this?” Lonny asked.
“Who is this?” the voice said.
“This is Lonny.”
“Lonny, this is Detective Delgado. What can I do for you?”
“I’m down here with Detective Cataldi. We came to the insurance investigator’s office, and he’s got some guy. He’s beating him something awful. I swear, he’s gonna kill this man.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I said he’s killing this guy. You need to get here. Now!”
“Where are you?”
“Down on 45, by Airline Road.”
“Too far, Lonny. You’re gonna have to stop him.”
“Not me. Far as I’m concerned, he can die.”
“You’re not like that. If you were, you wouldn’t have called. Do the righ
t thing.”
Silence.
“Lonny, if you won’t do it for yourself, do it for Gino. This will ruin his career. He’s got a son Jada’s age. He needs you. Be there for him.”
Lonny hung up and went back inside, where he watched Gino beat that man. This would be good blackmail material. If the detective killed the man, maybe he’d let Lonny go for keeping quiet. He struggled for what seemed like hours, though only a few seconds passed. He was through living in sin. He might have killed that man himself, but he couldn’t let Gino ruin his life. Lonny moved up behind Gino and yelled for him to stop.
“Back off!” Gino yelled.
Lonny grabbed him. Wrapped those bear arms around Gino and squeezed. Lifted him off ground. Gino fought the whole time. Lonny squeezed Gino until he gasped for air then set him down maybe ten feet away from the man.
Gino looked up at Lonny. He looked pissed at first. Then his eyes softened. Then he smiled. “Thanks.”
Lonny smiled back. “You’d do the same.”
***
The man on the floor, Ed Harbough, could barely talk. He held his side, dabbing blood from his face with his sleeve, but he had enough wits about him to request a lawyer.
“I’m not arresting you. You don’t need a lawyer.”
“I’m suing both of you.”
“Nah, you won’t be doing that, either.”
“What are you talking about?”
I dragged him to the door, pulled out my cuffs. I fastened one on his wrist and the other end on the doorknob. Somewhere between smashing his head against the wall and punching his face in, I remembered where I’d heard the name. Ed Harbough was the dirty cop Tip was looking for. Seems he knew something about the man who had killed Tip’s mother. At least, Tip thought he did.
I got on the phone and pretended to punch in some numbers. “I got a guy you might want to talk to. Guy by the name of Edgar Harbough. Yeah, that’s right. Harbough.” I hung up and stared at Ed.
“Who were you talking to?” Harbough asked.
“Guy named Tip Denton. He’ll be here in about twenty minutes.” I smiled at Ed. “If you have sins you need forgiven, I’d start now.”
I looked back at him before I left. Ed finally did piss his pants. I didn’t blame him. He knew Tip from the old days, back before the new regime busted up the bare-knuckle fights in jail cells. Back when the Houston police were more like the old Gestapo. I smiled as I left the building, figuring that in ten more minutes, he’d shit himself.
Before I got five feet out, he started screaming, begging me to come back. The bluff had worked. I walked back in. “What?”
“I want to be arrested. I’ll confess.”
“To what?”
“I brokered the deal for those people to rob the poker games.”
A good start, but not what I wanted. “Where’s the girl?”
“I have no idea. I don’t know what girl you’re talking about.”
“The same people are doing this deal. Where’s their base?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never even seen them. Everything is by phone.”
“You know a guy named Scott Winthrop? Rich guy from The Woodlands?”
“Never heard of him.”
”How did you know the Marshalls?”
He hesitated. Looked away from me. “I did an insurance claim investigation for the company about a year ago. Their house had been robbed.”
“So you gave it to these scum—”
“No, I swear. They must have taken it from my files.”
“What files?”
“I was broken into. Check the police reports. Two months ago, someone took all my files.”
This fucker was either the best liar in the world, or…I didn’t know what the alternative was. I knew he didn’t have any files, and had wondered why. Maybe this part was the truth.
“Who’s your secretary?”
“She quit.”
“When?”
“Right after the robbery.” He seemed to give that thought. “Do you think…”
If he hadn’t thought of that before, it was no wonder he was a bad cop. I was tired of this guy and had to go.
“See ya’ later,” I said, and started out.
“Detective! I know what this job can do to you, but if you have any good left in you, listen to me. I don’t know where the girl is. I swear. You can’t leave me here for Tip Denton. That man will kill me.”
“If you tell anyone how you got that beating, I’ll make sure it’s worse when you get inside.”
“I won’t. I swear. I know the drill.”
I stared him down.
“Call off Denton. Call him off, and I’ll say I was mugged.”
“We’ll see,” I said, and walked out.
I called a uniform I knew who patrolled the area and asked him to drop by in thirty or forty minutes to take Ed downtown. That would be enough time for Harbough to worry some more.
As I drove up the freeway with Lonny in the passenger seat, my phone rang.
“Have you found what you’re looking for yet?”
It was a woman’s voice. Not familiar. “Who’s this?”
“It doesn’t matter. If you haven’t found her, go over where you’ve been.”
She had to be talking about Jada. Where we’ve been?
“The motel?”
“There are more than two rooms in a motel.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“The girl reminds me of myself. Besides, if he’s in jail, there will be one less person to share the money with.”
“Listen, I—”
“Goodbye, Detective.” The line went dead.
“Son of a bitch!” I turned to Lonny. “We may have her. Goddamnit, we just might have her.”
“Where?”
“Hang on,” I said, then called Delgado. “Who do you have at the motel?”
“One of Lance’s guys. And I’m sure the crime scene guys are there by now.”
“Call Lance’s guy. Tell him to watch the rooms on either side of the two you have, but do not do anything. I’m ten minutes away.”
“What have you got?”
“An anonymous tip. It could be bullshit, but we need to check it out.”
“I’m heading your way.”
“Stay there, Ribs. I’ve got this.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. But get the rest of Lance’s crew back to the motel.”
Chapter 60
No Witnesses
Number Two hung up, a smile on her face. It was time to tie up loose ends.
“Is he really dead?” Driver’s voice came through the curtains as a muffled sound. Still, Two picked up on the nervousness. And the fear.
“Want to check?”
“No. I just…” Driver was silent a moment, then, “He told me Boss gave him the idea. He said Boss was the one doubting you.”
No surprise. Boss had been giving orders for a while now, relaying her orders, but still…put a person in charge, even if it’s fake, and they think they’re on top of the world. The problem with being on top of the world was that it was a long way to fall. Two slid the curtains back, checking the location. “Where are we?”
“About to exit the freeway. ETA seven minutes.”
Driver was playing the game, as if the alliance with Three had never been real, a figment of Two’s imagination. She fixed the money bags up the way she wanted them, putting the right amount in each one. The split was different now. Two had tried to build a nice business—professional, organized. But criminals couldn’t separate their greed and petty jealousies from business. Too bad. In the long run, it always cost them. Always. Two looked at her watch. One minute to go. She thought of the watch Three had in his pocket. Some things were worth dying for.
The terrain changed from a smooth, paved road to bumpy gravel. The speed slowed considerably. Driver had to navigate potholes. Two zipped up the bags, checked her gun, put her mask on, adjusted her gloves then closed
her eyes and breathed deeply. Each breath she took filled her body with life. Each breath out cleansed her soul. A tingling sensation ran through her body, beginning in her arms and extending to her legs and feet.
The van came to a stop. The engine shut off. “Stay in the van, Driver.”
“Yes, Boss.”
“If you move, I’ll kill you.”
“Yes, Boss.”
Two smiled. Someone knew how to follow orders.
She exited through the side door, weighed down by the two bags. One hundred fifty pounds was a lot for most men to carry. The majority of women would never be able to handle it. For Two, it wasn’t a problem. Religious workouts assured her of that.
She entered the main area of the “house,” as they called it, a bag in each hand, gun in her back waistband. Her mask was intact, her gloves on. Boss stood in the middle of the room, probably alerted by the van pulling in. Number Five’s body lay to the side.
“Why is that still here?” Two asked.
“Haven’t had time.”
“Where did you plan on disposing it?”
“The national park. Up by Crockett. If we bury it shallow up there, the wild hogs and coyotes will get it. They won’t leave enough to worry about.”
Two nodded. She glanced at Boss then set the bags down, tapping them with her foot. “I love a plan that works.”
“That’s all of it?”
“See for yourself. And I have to say, money is pretty damn heavy.” They both laughed.
Boss knelt and unzipped the bags. “Would you look at this!”
Two stared at Boss. “Three isn’t with us anymore.” Her hands were in front of her, but they were loose, ready to move.
“What happened?”
“He was having trouble with his math,” Two said. “He felt that a split two ways would be better than what we had set up.”
“Two?” Boss wore a suspicious frown. “You and him?”
Two shook her head. “Him and Driver.”
Boss looked quickly toward the door. “Where is Driver?”
“In the van, but there’s no need to worry. Driver is convinced that it was an improper decision.”
“Speaking of improper decisions, Number Four is stuck in the motel. They’ve got cops all over the place.”
“No choice,” Two said.
Necessary Decisions, A Gino Cataldi Mystery Page 29