Blood Brothers: A Jarvis Mann Detective Novel

by R Weir

  He was not a big man, probably 5’9”, maybe 160 pounds, with receding, blonde hair and nice tan. His golf clothes were expensive and more traditional, with plaid knickers, tall socks and argyle sweater. I wanted to ask him if he had a leprechaun on his shoulder, but resisted. I gave him a warm smile as he sat down, something he didn’t return, as his eyes bore through me like acid.

  “What the hell is the meaning of the note you wrote?” he said, softly, but with angry tones.

  “I figured ‘Hi sailor’ wouldn’t work,” I replied. “So something a little more direct would solicit a response.”

  “A note ‘You killed my brother and now I’m coming for you’ would, indeed,” Gabriel said. “Of course, I have no idea what you are referring to. So I’d suggest you leave before I call the manager. I carry a lot of weight around here.”

  “I’m certain you do, but I couldn’t care less. Bring over the manager and I will show them some things you won’t want others to see. Documents, pictures, and even say a few things about your niece, Casey, and your brother’s girlfriend, Tina.”

  I pulled out my phone and brought up a document and then handed it to him. He looked at it with little apparent reaction, though you could tell he recognized it. He handed me back the phone quickly.

  “No idea what this is,” Gabriel said.

  “Sure you do. But if not, then I’ll start going around and showing others here, starting with the two men in your foursome. Now, to prevent this, have your brother join us so we can discuss this nice and calmly.”

  Waiting for a few moments, he stared, maybe in hopes of scaring me, but failed. He shook his head and went over and whispered in his brother’s ear. He looked shocked and didn’t care to leave his table. Gabriel said some more words and then got tense, before he agreed.

  Edward appeared to be the older of the two, dressed in slacks and a golf shirt, with blonde hair though, unlike his brother’s, his wasn’t thinning. He was a bit taller and thicker, and appeared to be nervous. He didn’t look to be the alpha in this relationship.

  “Okay, say what is on your mind,” stated Gabriel. “And make it quick so we can return to our guests.”

  “Prospective clients,” I said. “Or maybe patsies would be a truer term.”

  Gabriel made a mean face, while Edward was startled. I decided to direct all of my conjectures his way.

  “Edward, I know what has been going on here,” I said, loudly enough so they could hear but others couldn’t. If I was losing them, my vocal pitch would increase. “The stealing, lying and the killing. All so you can afford this fancy lifestyle you and your brother live. Nice for you and the wives or girlfriends, or both. A couple of movers and shakers like you two probably keep a little sweet honey on the side. Pussy on demand.”

  Edward was getting nervous. His hand was shaking as he took a long draw on his wine he’d carried over. My next words wouldn’t help any.

  “Speaking of which, Tina says ‘Hi Eddie.’ We spent some time together at lunch after her work out, and I provided her some stimulation. It didn’t take much to get her off. Apparently, she’s a little backed up, since you don’t measure up when it comes to satisfying her.”

  Edward blushed, as if embarrassed by his shortcomings.

  “Don’t be crude,” stated Gabriel.

  “Oh come now, Gabe, I’m only speaking the truth. Her words, not mine. A hot gal like Tina would only be with an old man like Eddie for one reason, and that would be the money he spends on her. You and Eddie here are living high on the hog. Of course, it’s tainted money, since you’re stealing from people and running money for Alexander the Bull.”

  When I said the name, it startled Edward, and he spilled his glass and nearly fell over backward in his chair. Gabriel put his hand on his brother, grabbed the glass, but didn’t show anything but disgust. The waiter came over and cleaned up the wine and refilled the glass, which Edward immediately drank from.

  “Let me tell you what I know,” I stated. “I know Eddie here has a Hedge fund, all on the up and up, pulling in a pretty good return for its investors. Money from Alexander Toro’s criminal business is laundered through this fund: dirty money in, clean money out. Giving him a way to hide it from the feds and keep his enterprise operational. I don’t really completely understand all this fancy accounting, but I’m certain a math whiz with the bureau would.”

  I was on a roll now and wasn’t about to stop.

  “Gabe here ran his own investment dealings, pulling in money from people with the expectation of huge profits. But only a few profit, while others see very little if any of their money back. Gabe is one, Alexander another, and maybe a collective of ten other investors. People like my brother and his friends get the shaft. You tell them the businesses you invested in failed or went bankrupt and their money is lost. You point to the contract which says you could lose some or all of your money in the deal, which is pretty standard. Yet it’s a scam, a house of cards which will soon collapse on itself, for there is no more money coming in to replace what you are taking out. Maybe you plan to close up shop, cut and run, maybe start up something else when the timing is right, and the funds you are living off of dry up.”

  Edward had finished his wine and called for more, while munching on an appetizer he had ordered when sitting at the other table. Gabriel continued to nurse his Scotch and ice, his expression rarely changing.

  “The thing is, all is good until my brother comes along. Flynn never was good at leaving things alone. He was in a money bind, thanks to his poor investment in your scam, which he’d dragged several of his friends and clients into, and needed a way out. So, he started looking into things and found a weak link, and this was Casey. She liked men, and seemed to want to be with several at one time. Flynn has always been a playboy at heart, even when married. Good looking and smooth talking, it didn’t take much to get Casey in the sack. Hell, she was ready to jump my bones if I’d let her. He worked her for several months, biding his time before asking her about getting him a job with her dad, which is you, Eddie. You met for dinner and he charmed your pants off, almost as well as he did your daughter. Flynn could run a line of bullshit with the best of them. He was in, now, and all he needed was to find something, which my persistent brother did. Problem was you learned about it, somehow. Maybe your systems inform you when files are accessed. Could be it was a carrot you placed there to lure him out, figuring you could get it back. You two probably aren’t complete idiots. Once learned, you knew trouble was around the corner. So you called in your buddy Alexander the Bull and he sent some men after poor Flynn. Tortured him, beat him up, cut off several of his fingers, and when it was all done shot him in the head.”

  This part I didn’t care to relive, but needed to use it for effect. Edward was now sweating profusely from his forehead and through the pits of his gold shirt.

  “One thing about Flynn was, he wasn’t stupid. He had the evidence, but knew it would do him no good if you found him with it. So he hid and password protected it, putting it somewhere he hoped I would find it. Maybe even had a copy you did find, thinking it was the only one. Well, gentlemen, I did locate it and I have it all right here. This flash drive shows you all of what he found. It, of course, isn’t the only copy. I’ve made sure my lawyer has a duplicate, and copies are stored in cloud servers waiting to be shared with my friends at the FBI. I think you’ll find the evidence here is sufficient to bring you down, or at the very least get the IRS to look more deeply into your books and operation. ‘Probable cause’ I believe is the term they like to use.”

  “So let’s say what we have here is what you claim it to be,” said Gabriel. “What will it take to make it go away?”

  “Nothing short of confessing to my brother’s murder, coming clean on your money stealing operation, and rolling over on Alexander Toro. Short of that, we have nothing to talk about.”

  “So then, why the grandiose show in front of us if you don’t care to make a deal?” said Gabriel. “If you have all of
this, why not go to Agent Wilson and see what happens?”

  I slid my chair over to Edward and put my arm around him.

  “Because I want it all,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. “I’m going to get you for all of it. No ifs, ands, or buts. I’m going to bring you all down and make sure my brother didn’t die in vain.”

  I could feel Edward cringe at my words and I moved my lips to his ear.

  “And I wanted to see you sweat,” I said loudly so everyone could hear.

  I stood up, grabbed a cloth napkin, and tossed it to Edward.

  “It would appear I succeeded.”

  Chapter 44

  There was little doubt I’d put myself in the line of fire. This was fine, because this was what I was hoping for. Putting Helen and Jolene in the crosshairs as well didn’t thrill me, but Rocky was skilled and they were in good hands. All we needed was to be prepared.

  We had spent time going over the house, the weak points and the best place from which to fight. The ladies knew, when told, they should take Molly, go upstairs, lock the door, and hide in the cast iron tub. Helen was given a small snub nosed .38, to be used, only if directly threatened. There was a basement, but the two windows had bars over them, making entry challenging. The front and back door by the kitchen were solid wood from a time long since passed, when doors were made this way with good deadbolt locks that were difficult, but not impossible, to breach. There was a large window in the living room where the couch sat, a pair of smaller windows on the driveway side, easy to smash or shoot through. The kitchen had a tiny window you could access from a small porch where the doorway existed. If there was time and money, we’d get all of the windows barred, but for now we’d have to deal with it. The best protections were the stairwells leading upstairs and to the basement, and the archway connecting the living room and windowless office. Also, a coat closet by the front door provided some cover, as did the small half bathroom. Each night one of us rested on the sofa, while the other slept in Jolene’s room, while she shared a bed with her mother. That night I dozed in a recliner, my gun sitting close by. Molly slept on the floor next to me, ever vigilant for any sound out of place, one of her strengths even in her later years.

  Sleeping as well as could be expected on a ten-year-old recliner, I awoke and used the restroom. When walking back I saw Molly’s head rise, her ears flopping at something outside. Jolene was coming down the stairs and I motioned her to stop. I walked over to the front window and peered through a crack in the dark curtains. It was barely light out. I saw an overgrown SUV parked across the street. The windows were tinted, so I couldn’t see who was inside. The engine was running and, for all I knew, it was a neighbor’s car. Of course, I’d memorized all the vehicles which came and went, and this wasn’t one I’d inventoried. Molly started to growl when four men stepped out in unison. All were dressed in black with masks over their faces, each carrying a weapon capable of firing multiple bullets per second. I spoke to Molly to come and took her to the stairwell.

  “Take her upstairs, grab your mom, and lock yourself into the bathroom as we discussed,” I stated firmly. “Get Rocky down here right now.”

  Smartly, she didn’t hesitate and ran up the stairs. I put on my pants, made sure my Beretta was ready, the shoulder holster with extra magazines, and my .38 as backup in a holster on my belt, leather sap in my back pocket. Rocky came down, shotgun and Glock at the ready, his knife on his belt.

  “How many?” he asked.

  “Four with automatic machine pistols. As we discussed, you hold the fort here while I take the kitchen. Do what you must, but I’d like one alive so I can talk with him.”

  Rocky didn’t argue, though I knew he would shoot to kill, especially with the amount of firepower coming at us. I made it to the kitchen, making sure the door was bolted, tipped over the table so it faced the door, and got low in the stairwell to the basement, ready for any noise or movement. Since they didn’t know the layout of the house, we’d use it to our advantage. If they saw the table, they would assume someone was using it for cover. Rocky would do the same thing with the sofa, which he would move with ease. Now we waited, time on our side.

  The waiting game was easy for me. I had plenty of time. I thought of my life the last year, the highs and lows, love and death. Melissa, Dennis, Bill, Ray, Raven and Kate had been the positives. Emily, Leather, Marquis, Grady, Mack, Roland, Dirk, Merrick and Jack were the negatives. Then there was Brandon and Rocky, which bled over into both, for which I was thankful and fearful at the same time. Several of the bad people had died. Most had deserved death, but a few – like Ariela, Jack and Dona – hadn’t. They had done bad things, but should still be alive today. Not directly my fault, but certainly I’d done little to prevent it. Those events continued to swirl around me, jump in and out of my thoughts, never leaving me for too long. Maybe it was making me a better detective and person. It for damn sure didn’t make sleeping at night easier.

  Now two more deaths, Flynn and Carlos, with more likely to happen now. These men would not leave without killing me and everyone else in the house. Standing up and saying “Hey, let’s talk about this before we shoot it out” wouldn’t work. They were here to do a job and kill. I had goaded the bad guys into action, so I had expected no less. Mine was to prevent it, those I was protecting to live another day.

  The moment was at hand. I heard them working the backdoor, finding it locked. There was a long pause, then I heard the sizzle of a fuse. A loud pop went off and the door flew open. Another pop came from the living room, both timed to open simultaneously. No one stepped in, and I waited, having a clear line of sight. A head peeked through the doorway and back again. In came one man high, another behind coming in low. They saw the table and fired into it, the noise loud, the table never standing a chance. The high man walked over and looked to see no one there, then turned and I fired, squeezing off three rounds, taking out his legs, his scream of pain filling the kitchen. The low man rolled and I fired three more rounds, catching him in the shoulder and neck. He fired back, but I was protected by the stairwell, his aim high anyway. He tried to get up and run out the backdoor, but I fired again into the back of his head and he fell down the porch stairs.

  I crawled out of the stairwell and saw the man I’d shot in the legs clutching his wounds. His machine pistol was nearby and he tried to reach for it, but I pointed at him, ready to fire again, so he stopped. I slid it away from him and waited. Rocky walked in, dragging one of the other men, having shot him in the side and hand, a wide grin on his face.

  “One to talk to like you asked?” he said. “The other is dead.”

  Checking on the one outside I found him dead as well. We had to talk with them before the police arrived. So we needed to be quick.

  “So which one of you cares to tell me who sent you?” I asked.

  Neither responded at first. Over by the archway to the living room, leaning against the wall, was one of the aluminum baseball bats Rocky had taken from the James Brothers. He grabbed it and tossed it to me. I pressed the end of it into the leg wounds of the one I’d shot. He yelped in pain, but still nothing.

  “The first to talk lives,” said Rocky. “If neither talks, then I’ll shoot one of you at random.”

  Both remained quiet other than the loud breathing from their pain. Rocky took his gun and killed the man he was holding, shooting him in the head. The other on the floor saw this and cringed. I then pointed my gun at his head.

  “You have ten seconds,” I said. I could hear sirens in the background and started to count.

  “Alexander Toro hired us,” he said.

  “Who were you supposed to kill?”

  “Everyone in the house I found.”

  “Did he say why?”

  “No. Kill you all and then burn down the house.”

  I pulled out my phone and called Frakes.

  “I need you here right now. We are about to be stormed by the West Des Moines police and I need a friendly face.”
<
br />   “What happened?”

  “Alexander the Bull made a run at us at my brother’s house and lost. I have three dead bodies and one still alive.”

  “Crap. I’ll be right over.”

  I was really screwing up the violent death average for the greater Des Moines area.

  Chapter 45

  A couple of squad cars arrived, so Rocky and I surrendered our weapons. I dropped Frakes name to keep them from shooting us. When he showed up, they let us loose and I went and got Helen and Jolene, for they weren’t supposed to leave until they heard from either of us, and had been told to shoot if anyone opened the door that wasn’t us. The place was crawling with tech people going over the scene, and they had plenty to do. Three dead bodies, one in the living room, one in the kitchen and one out the back stairs. The fourth man was being attended to by paramedics, with strict orders not to leave him alone. Since the sofa and table had been shot up, we moved outside to talk. Frakes wasn’t thrilled with the carnage, but seemed impressed with our accomplishments.

  “Wow, four guys with automatic weapons and you took them all down,” he said.

  “Yes, and left one for questioning,” I answered. “Don’t you dare leave him alone or he won’t live long, either in jail or if he gets out.”

  “Did you get any answers from him?” asked Frakes. “He is not saying a word to us at this point.”