Blood Brothers: A Jarvis Mann Detective Novel

by R Weir

  I put in a call to Detective Frakes, leaving him a message, hoping to get a name off of the plate. The glee in his voice when he called back was overwhelming.

  “Carlos DePaolo. Lives in the center of Des Moines near Drake University.” He rattled off the address. “Looks to be twenty-seven, with no record but a couple of speeding tickets, which haven’t been paid yet. But something is bugging me about that last name. It seems I’ve heard it somewhere before.”

  “Can you dig a little more?” I asked. “It could be key to my case.”

  “Oh, well, if it’s key then I’ll get right on it, since I have nothing more to do right at this moment.”

  “Might be worth another prime rib dinner. Though I may have to sell a kidney to pay for it.”

  “I’ll see what I can find. My shift is over, though, so it will have to be tomorrow.”

  Being impatient, I decided to punch in the last name on my phone browser and see what came up. It wasn’t common, so there weren’t ten million Bing results to sort through. The third one down was from eight years ago and might be something. DePaolo was the surname of one of Italy’s main crime families. Reading through the news clipping, I learned the family had been shot down and killed in a power struggle. This included the father and mother, along with body guards and a couple of assistants. Arrests were made and the crime leader and associates who initiated the massacre where arrested, convicted and put to death. There were claims a son of the DePaolo family survived, as he was living in the US at the time going to college. No first name was given or where he was living.

  It might not have been Carlos, but it was a wild coincidence if it wasn’t him. If this was a clue, I wasn’t sure where it led me. More pieces with no connecting parts. My puzzle was a mess.

  Chapter 26

  I was beat, tired and done with this whole predicament. Wanting to flee, but knowing I couldn’t, I needed a break. Flynn had returned to the hotel, which wasn’t a surprise since Casey was with Carlos. He said very little on the way in or out, only other than he was making progress. It was good to hear, but I doubted it, just as I was doubting the progress I was making.

  The weather was warm and humid, so I put on my bathing suit, went for a swim, sat in the hot tub and then lay on one of the outdoor chaise loungers soaking up some sun near the pool. It was Friday and the hotel was quiet, but a new throng of weekend travelers would likely be coming in this evening. I was tired of the hotel life, living out of a suitcase, and wanted to go back home and see Melissa, if only for a day or two. I debated this, figuring I probably couldn’t afford it, but physiologically I couldn’t deny myself. If Melissa was free, I would escape, if only for a while. I called and texted her, but got no response. So, I resigned myself to enjoying the sun and resting the day away.

  While lying there, I thought over all I had learned. I knew much, but didn’t know anything. All the facts, but nothing connected. Most of it seemed tied to Casey. Flynn had met her, slept with her, and got the inside track to her father’s business. The FBI was interested in the business implying it was a front for laundering money, though whose money was unclear. Flynn liked sex, which I already knew, as did Casey. Of course, most people like it, though it seemed those two were almost obsessed with it. Casey appeared to sleep around a lot, including with Carlos who had beaten up and threaten to kill Flynn. His apparent family history of violence was of major concern, given he was the surviving son of a murdered Italian crime family. And I had Helen and Jolene struggling to come to terms with Flynn’s indiscretions and financial mismanagement. There was more clues and evidence, but my brain couldn’t take any more. I jumped into the pool for a few more laps, lounged in the hot tub, and went up to take a nap.

  Though certainly much less dramatic, dad drove me to meet with Sherriff Campbell at the jail several more times. Once, he gave me a taste of what one of the prison cells was like: small, cramped, and if you shared with someone, no privacy. No TV, no phone, no computer, no internet, and a lot of time to do nothing. If you were lucky, you might have a book or magazine to read.

  Another time I got to see the activities outside when the inmates got some time in the fresh air. A little basketball, maybe a football to toss around; but mostly hanging out with a bunch of macho men trying to see who was the toughest of the bunch. There were pockets of them hanging together and occasionally a fight or two would break out, the various groups squaring off, before a guard would break it up, but only after some blood was shed. They never seemed to be in a rush to end the entertainment.

  Then he took me to the weight room the guards got to use. It was small but had free-weights, a nautilus machine, a treadmill and a heavy and speed bag. Dad had told me to dress for a workout, so I did, in spandex and sweats. At first I had no gist what to do. My idea of a workout was walking or riding a bike, or playing baseball. All good activities, but not done often enough to work off the excess fat.

  “Kid, if you’re going to end up inside,” stated Campbell, “you need to get into shape or you won’t last long in here. We need to turn some of your flab into muscle.”

  I was reluctant at first, uncertain of the benefits.

  “I’m not sure what to do.”

  “Do as I do, as much as you can. In time, you’ll look forward to it.”

  It would be the summer of my growth spurt, shooting up almost two inches. I was a little leaner, but not firm. He worked me to the bone, showing me the proper way to workout. I had to say he was right:, this part I enjoyed the most, where I learned the importance of getting in shape. For a man pushing fifty, he was just that. I soon looked forward to coming there. We even started getting together to jog, running the open area around the jail. By the time the summer was over, I was leaner, fitter, and of the right mind. I had become a different person.

  Several hours of sleep helped me to feel better, but didn’t clear anything up. I called Helen to see if she and Jolene wanted to go to dinner. She was onboard, but Jolene had a date tonight. So I would pick Helen up at six and we’d go somewhere quiet to talk. On the drive over, Flynn called me on his cell phone.

  “I think I’ve got it,” he said excitedly. “I hacked in, and I think I found what I’m looking for.”

  “Where are you now?” I asked.

  “I’m at my office.”

  “Don’t say anything else and go outside.”

  I heard him walking out, the street noise coming through the speaker.

  “Are you happy?”

  “Remember, there are bugs in your office. You can’t be blurting out statements willy nilly.”

  “Sure, sure. I forgot in my excitement. But I believe I found the financial records the feds are wanting. I was able to copy it onto a flash drive since I was on an unrestricted computer. I’m going to look it over now. I know I’m close.”

  “Take it straight away to Wilson. Let him go through it.”

  “I will. I want to make sure it’s the goods.”

  “Let me come over and help you. You might need backup.”

  “I’m fine. You worry too much. I’ll be in and out in no time, and be off to the FBI. Waiting for us will be a… dollar sign Smitty 723.”

  I was confused by the gibberish. I wondered if he’d been drinking or maybe he was losing it.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. “I’m not sure what you mean by that last part.”

  “Never been better. I’m on top of the world. Remember what I said.”

  “Flynn, don’t fool around with this. I mean it. You don’t know what they will do if they find out. It won’t be someone coming to beat you up for screwing their girlfriend. There will be no sweet talking your way out of this. They will kill you.”

  “Casey won’t let it happen. I’ve got to run. My cell phone is dying. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Damn it,” I said to myself.

  I called Helen and told her I’d be late. I rushed over to Flynn’s office. Friday traffic was a bear and a light rain was falling, so it took me twenty-five
minutes to get there. When I arrived the office was locked and no one was inside. I didn’t see Flynn’s bike, so I figured he’d headed to the FBI office, if he had half a brain. I couldn’t babysit him forever. I headed back to get Helen and enjoyed a quiet, uneventful dinner, never once mentioning my conversation with him to her, the tinge of worry nagging the back of my neck.

  Chapter 27

  Saturday and Sunday passed with no word from Flynn. I called his cell, but it always went to voicemail. A trip to his office showed nothing there. Helen hadn’t heard from him and, when I followed Casey around, there was no sign of him there either. I wanted to grab her and ask where he was, but I resisted. I needed to remain calm.

  The FBI office was open on the weekend, with a minimal staff, as crime never takes a day off, but Wilson was nowhere to be found and wasn’t expected back until Monday. When I asked for a personal number to reach him, they only laughed and threatened to arrest me if I didn’t leave. I called up Frakes to see if any John Does had shown up, either alive or dead, and he said no. I asked for him to put out a BOLO on Flynn’s motorcycle and he said he would Monday if there was no word, since he needed to wait forty-eight hours. By Sunday evening, I had exhausted all avenues I could think of, so I called Melissa.

  “What is wrong?” she said.

  ‘Flynn appears to be missing.”

  “How long?”

  “I haven’t heard from him since Friday night.”

  “He’s been out of touch this long before, hasn’t he?”

  “Yes, but normally he’d be with his girlfriend, Casey. I’ve been watching her and he has not shown up.”

  “What could have happened?”

  “He said he’d found what he was looking for and was going to take it to the FBI. I don’t know if he made it to them or not. I can’t get hold of the agent we had been working with.”

  “Could they have him in hiding? Didn’t you mention witness protection?”

  “Yes, but then they should have gathered up Helen and Jolene as well, and they haven’t.”

  “I’m sorry you are going through this. I wish there was something I could do. I imagine whispering sweet nothings won’t help in this case.”

  “Thanks, but no. Is there such a thing as phone cuddling? I could use a good hug right about now.”

  “You’ve got my hugs across the airwaves. Please be safe and call when there is news. I should be available, as it’s a light week at work and school.”

  I made it through Sunday night, getting some sleep, but uncertain what to do. Monday morning I decided to retrace my steps. I went to the FBI office first and Wilson was there. He came downstairs again and led me outside.

  “Have you heard from Flynn,” I asked.

  “He left me a message on Friday, but I wasn’t here. Said he was coming in with something, but he never showed.”

  “So, no log of him by security. He’d have been on his bike. What about video of the parking lot?”

  We went to security and they checked after 5 p.m. Friday and there was no sign of him.

  “I’m sorry,” said Wilson. “If he contacts me, I’ll let you know.”

  I called Frakes and he’d put out the BOLO for the motorcycle and Flynn Sunday night. So far, nothing. He would keep me informed of any news.

  I went to his office again. There was no sign of his bike and the front was locked. I checked with the building management to see if they had a master key and would let me in. When I explained the circumstance and threatened to break the glass and enter myself, he agreed. As he opened the door, you could smell the foul air.

  “Oh my, what is that?” he said.

  “Don’t go in, and call the police,” I stated.

  He ran back to his office and I used my elbow to open the door. I walked in, afraid of what I’d find. There was nothing in the front office, but in the back in his chair, was Flynn, dead. A trickle of blood flowed from the hole in his forehead. His face was bruised and several of his fingers tips had been cut off. I stepped back and slumped down to the floor, a wave of shock overwhelming me. I couldn’t think and could barely breathe. My head slumped down. I couldn’t look at the scene. I needed to get up and search for clues before the police arrived, but I couldn’t move. The sight and smell nauseated me and the whole room around me faded into grayness.

  I had been living in Denver for a few years now, enjoying the mile-high air, dry environment, and all the activities a big city life afforded me. I was finishing up college, getting the skill set I needed to work in the investigative field. I was employed at a private security firm doing guard work, which I didn’t much care for, but it paid the bills. I was working when a call came in. It was Flynn, who I’d not heard from in some time, and he sounded excited.

  “Jarvis, I have some great news,” he said. “I’m getting married. You’ll be getting an invite, so I hope you can come. It will be in a couple of months.”

  I was a little surprised to hear this.

  “Who is the lucky lady?” I asked.

  “Helen. I’m sure you remember her.”

  I did, as he had brought her to a Thanksgiving dinner at our parents’ house the previous year. I’d been surprised, as he’d never brought anyone he was seeing to a family event before. This appeared to be a good sign at the time, and apparently it had been. She seemed quite nice, from the little interaction I had with her. And I didn’t say this often about the girls he’d bedded. His choices left a lot to be desired.

  “Well, I’m happy for you. I guess I need to start shopping for a gift.”

  “Damn right brother, and make it a good one!”

  At the wedding he l so happy, as did she. I came to find out she was about five months pregnant at the time, but he seemed generally at peace with being with her. And, for one of the few times in my life, I was overjoyed with my brother’s happiness. It was a wonderful time I would never forget.

  Siren’s disturbed the stillness. The past blurred into the distance. Bodies came and went, and voices spoke. I was moving, but it wasn’t me, as my position changed. Something bitter shook my senses, and I came to life. I pushed away the horrible smell as my eyes opened. Two paramedics were checking me over and I sat up quickly, remembering.

  “Oh God, no!” I yelled out, wishing I was unconscious again, remembering the happy times, and not the horror that stretched out before me.

  Chapter 28

  The next several days were spent in a fog. Conversations with police, FBI and annoyances from the press. The grief of telling Helen and Jolene, the horror on their faces when they learned, the process they had to go through to arrange a funeral and a burial. The moments moved slowly and quickly at the same time. I was there, and then I wasn’t. I was helpful and then I was distant. Melissa flew out and was in my arms, the one moment I remembered clearly. She was in tears and I soon joined her, burying my face into her chest. There was sadness, grief and anger boiling deep down.

  The funeral was peaceful, and respectful, with many people on hand. Familiar faces abounded, all of which spoke with kind thoughts, shook my hand and embraced me with sorrow. The Fishers, old friends I’d not seen since high school, neighbors past and present, co-workers; even former Sheriff Bryer Campbell showed, with the help of his nurse, to give his condolences. Roni was there to support Helen, but I barely noticed her with everything else going on. I tried to speak about Flynn at the funeral, but couldn’t make it through. He was my big brother, my pain in the ass, who I hated and loved at the same time. There weren’t words to describe our complicated relationship, though I tried and failed. I wanted to again sit down and lose myself as I had done when I’d found him.

  A couple more days passed and Melissa and I flew home. I couldn’t think while there, and needed to go away. I knew I needed to help Helen and Jolene, and in time would be fine, but I was of no use to them now. It was good to be home, sleeping in my own bed, making love to my girlfriend, though my heart wasn’t completely in it and it was mostly to escape the void I felt.
I wrestled with what to do and mostly sat and slept. Melissa stayed with me for as many days as she could, but had to get back to work after two weeks away. I thanked her for being there and prepared for a Monday to begin sleuthing again. Staring in the mirror, it seemed I had aged many years in this short time, looking tired and not as stout and strong physically as I normally felt. I had to get on with life; find some normalcy. Being a detective was what I did.

  I had flown back home to see my parents with a favor to ask. It was a big one, and something I didn’t feel right doing over the phone. So, I was there at the house I grew up in, sleeping again in the bed I’d spent a great deal of time in, noticing the toll the years had taken on their health. They had sold the business, no longer able to handle the strain. Both moved slowly, a smoker’s cough seemingly never ending. Their days in this world were becoming short. I worried for them, but knew they had no regrets in their lives.

  “You look well dear,” said mom when she first saw me.

  I knew I couldn’t say the same to her.

  “Thanks, mom. I love living in Denver.”

  “Well, it seems to suit you.”

  We talked for some time about how my life was going. Mom wanted to know if I had someone special to share my time with, which I didn’t. Dad was more interested in my career. I was working, but unhappy. It was time for me to take the next step, but I needed help. Dad was the money man, so as the evening cooled off, we went and sat outside to discuss what I’d come there for. The air was still thick, the bugs a flying, the fireflies lighting the darkening background. He was silent, waiting for me to speak, sensing a query coming.