“Unless he was trying to get us thinking that way,” Sherri said.
“We know who that girl was yet?” Lou asked.
Sherri shook her head. “Not a clue. No matches and nothing on missing persons.”
Carol popped her head in the door, a printout in her hand. “We do know about Mr. Thomas Jackson, though. And the news ain’t good, as they say in Tyler, Texas.”
Sherri jumped up and took the report. “Thanks, Carol.”
“Share the news,” Frankie said.
“Whew! Army Special Forces, and even worse, special assignment. Left one month ago with a dishonorable discharge.”
“What does ‘special assignment’ mean?” Lou asked. “Does it say?”
Frankie chewed on a cigarette he couldn’t light in the office. “It probably means they can’t, or won’t, say. But if he was in Special Forces and he was on special assignment, that’s not good.”
“Were they divorced?” Lou asked.
“Not according to this,” Sherri said, then leaned back in her chair. “So let’s imagine this. Tom Jackson comes home, finds out she’s screwing half the building where she works and starts taking them out like they’re members of the Taliban or something.”
“Sounds good,” Lou said, “But where does the girl fit in? I doubt Lisa was screwing her, and if she was, I doubt her husband would care.”
Frankie tossed his smoke away and stood. “Get Carol to run all her credit cards, see if any of them have been used. Check all relatives. Send some unis out to see them, but warn them about this guy. They should go wearing vests and with plenty of help. Send a pair down to her building to see if she had any friends who might know where she’d go in a pinch.”
“You know this won’t do any good,” Lou said.
“Yeah, I know, but we’ve got to do it anyway.”
“So what do we do now?” Sherri asked.
Frankie cracked his knuckles and stared at the wall. “We wait for him to make a mistake. Or kill someone else.”
***
LISA JACKSON LAY ON the bed naked, hands and feet tied, gagged, and waiting for Tom to return from getting ice. She played the events of the past few days over and over in her mind, knowing that before long it would be her turn to be found by the cops with something carved into her chest or ass, or somewhere.
No one ever accused her of being smart, but she always had a sense for survival. She had used it to latch on to Tom Jackson and get out of that hick town she lived in, and then, when he went into the army, she used the other men for her needs. With men around, she seldom had to buy dinner and never had to buy jewelry or clothes. All she had to do was whisper the right things at the right times. Now, though, she felt as if she would need all of her skills just to stay alive. Dealing with Tom Jackson now was a bit different than dealing with him before. The army had changed him.
The sound of the door opening interrupted her thoughts and brought her focus to the present. Tom came in, checked the room with a glance, and sat on the edge of the bed next to her.
“Ready, girl?”
She nodded.
Tom untied her, then removed the gag and sat on the bed next to her.
Lisa reached for a bottle of water on the end table. After taking a long drink, she wiped her mouth and punched him. “I told you never to call me that again. I swear, I’ll be the one doing the killing if you call me girl again.”
Tom laughed and smacked the side of her ass cheeks. “I like that spirit, girl. I was thinking of killing you, but maybe I won’t.”
He popped the lid on a beer, took a big gulp, then took off his clothes. “I’ve been thinking about what to do. If I don’t kill you, it might be better if we head out. Maybe we’ll go back to Texas.”
Lisa curled up and tucked her hands between her legs. Tom mentioning a place to settle down frightened her more than anything. He might have forgotten he told her, but she knew there was a lot more than Beau buried on that farm. A lot more. And unless she missed her guess, he aimed to expand the graveyard by at least one more. Something had to be done. But what?
Lisa thought about it all night while Tom drank and watched TV. She even thought about it while he fucked her. An idea came to her as he was finishing up. She waited until he lay beside her, flat on his back. Lisa turned to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Tom, if we’re going to leave I want to start a brand new life.”
He looked at her. “I already told you, I’m thinking of going back to Texas, to the farm.”
“I know, but I want to clear the air between us. I don’t ever want to have to lie to you again.”
He raised himself up on his elbows and got that mean look in his eyes. “You been lying to me, girl?”
She cowered. “There is one more name…”
“Who?”
“I don’t want to say. Can’t we just leave it at that?”
“Who is it?”
“I’m afraid to say.”
“You better tell me now. I won’t hit you if you do.”
“No. I’m afraid for you.”
He laughed. “Afraid for me? Now that is heartwarming, but I don’t think you need to worry about that.” He grabbed her by the throat. “Who is it?”
She put her hands over her face and mumbled. “That cop, Donovan.”
“What?” He smacked her when he said it, then he smacked her again, and again. He didn’t stop until she lay still, blood dripping from her nose and lips and ears. Tom paced the room, cursing and muttering to himself. He finished two more beers before he said another word, then he looked at her and shook his finger. “I don’t know if you’re going to make it to Texas, girl. It’ll be a coin flip at best. But one thing’s for sure, your boyfriend ain’t gonna make it. No, sir. He won’t last the week.”
CHAPTER 44
Another Interrogation
Wilmington, Delaware
I had to find out about Jack McDermott and his involvement in Bobby’s murder, but more importantly, I had to go to work. All day I thought about how to get him to talk to me, and finally, before leaving to go to Teddy’s bar, I figured I’d take the head-on approach. Confront him and see how he reacted. The bottom line was I had enough to convince me he had something to do with it, but as far as real evidence goes, I had nothing.
By the time I got to Teddy’s I had a plan, a stupid one, but a plan nonetheless. I waited down the block until I saw Jack pull in, like he did almost every night, then I gave him a few minutes before I entered. Jerry was the bartender. I sat one seat away from Jack, but on the corner so I faced the front. I ordered a beer for me and another for Jack.
He nodded in my direction. “Thanks, Nicky. I could use it tonight.”
“Why’s that, Jack, you need to kill someone?”
He chuckled and sipped his beer. “Yeah, that’s what I got going. How about you?”
“I’m serious. I’ve been busting my ass looking for Bobby’s killer, and all this time, you’ve been sitting right here.”
Jack pulled a smoke from a pack of Marlboro Lights on the counter, struck a match and lit it. I wondered what these people were going to do if anyone ever enforced the law banning smoking in bars, at least in Teddy’s. Probably keep smoking.
Jack squinted and closed his right eye as smoke from the cigarette curled around it. “I don’t know what fucking game you’re playing, but I didn’t kill Bobby Campisi. Not that I didn’t want to…”
“Yeah, that’s a good defense. The way you always let people know that you hated him or wanted him dead. I’ve got to tell you, it worked for a while. Threw suspicion off right away. At least, for me, it did. I don’t know about Borelli, but then again, he hasn’t been doing much investigating, has he?” I stared at Jack trying to pick up a read. “Is he in on it? What’s Borelli got to do with this? Is he getting a cut?”
Jack scoffed. “You don’t know shit.”
“I know you got Bobby down to that parking lot on Maryland Avenue. I know you killed him and put him on t
he train, then dumped him at the Den. The way I figure it is you either walked or caught another train to Elsemere and came back up Union Street to get your car.” I leveled my gaze at him. “That close enough?”
“You got no proof. And no jury—”
“I’ve got two kids who saw you dump him at the Den, then saw you take his wallet and climb back up that hill and over the tracks.”
He shook his head, but with less vigor than before. “Won’t hold up.”
I stuck the tip of my gun into his gut and pushed a little. “You feel that, Jack? It’s the barrel of a Beretta. I know I don’t have proof, but I also know I’m right. So we’re going outside, going somewhere very quiet. When I’m done with you, trust me—you’ll tell me everything.”
“I ain’t telling you shit!”
I laughed while I stood and tossed a ten onto the bar. “Let’s go.”
“I ain’t going nowhere, you crazy fuck. What are you going to do, kill me in front of everyone?”
I looked around. Millie was here, and Billy Finn, and of course, Jerry. “Not here, Jack, but I’ll get you, even if I have to wait outside until the joint closes. It’ll just be worse on you.”
Jack lit another smoke, took two drags and crushed it out with a vengeance. “Ah, fuck it!” He turned to me and looked me square in the eye. “What do you want to know? I’m tired of this shit anyway.”
He looked, and sounded, like a tired, broken man. It shocked me, but I wasn’t about to let the opportunity slip by. “I want to know what happened. All of it.”
He signaled Jerry for another beer. “You want one?”
“I’m good. Keep talking.”
Jerry delivered the beer and Jack took a quick sip. “Why don’t we get a table? Then—”
“I like it where we are. I can see the front door from here.” I pushed the ashtray his way, the smoke from his cigarette drifting into my face. “Go on. You were saying?”
“I hated Campisi. I’d been waiting to kill him all these years, but we both worked for Doggs, and you know how he is about that. It would have been too risky.”
“So what changed?” I knew Monroe’s story. I wanted to see if Jack’s matched.
Jack sipped his beer, looked around the bar, lit yet another smoke, and started his story. “Bobby was never too bright, you know that. But he stole money and dope from Doggs and this guy named Carlos, a Mexican drug dealer, a mean motherfucker. Anyway, he ends up with a price on his head. Not a big one, but enough to give me incentive to kill him.” Jack chuckled again. “Like I said, I’d have done it for nothing.
“So I follow him for a week or two, waiting for the right time and then that shit happens here with Frankie, and I figured, okay, right time. I followed Bobby to the parking lot and found him by his car. He was pissed at Bugs and he didn’t want to go home so I invited him to have another drink but said he’d need to drive. We left the lot, and as he drove down Fourth Street, I stuck a gun in his gut. ‘What the fuck is this?’ he asked. And I told him, ‘This is where you take a right and head down Maryland Avenue.’ So I took him to the parking lot by the railroad tracks. You remember it, Nicky, halfway down the hill on the way to the old creek?”
“Sure I remember. Used to be an old Acme Supermarket at the bottom of that hill, the one we stole cartons of cigarettes from all the time.”
“Yeah. There was a lot of fun between cigarettes and trains back then.”
“You bet. Lot of action.”
Jack looked lost in the past, and once again I felt a twinge of pity for him.
“Anyway, we parked his car in the back of the lot and we drank some. I had a couple of quart bottles of Pabst—didn’t want to waste the good shit on him. While he was drinking, I whacked him alongside the head, right where Frankie hit him. Figured it would at least take them a while to distinguish my beer-bottle glass from the mug Frankie used.”
“How’d you get him into the box car? Bobby was a heavy guy.”
“It took me almost half an hour to get his fat ass in there, but I did it.”
I sat and thought a minute. “Why’d you get off the train? Why not just dump him?”
“Shit, I was half lit and forgot to get his wallet. Stupid of me, I know, but Christ, he could have had some good cash in there. Know what I mean?”
“What did Johnny Deuce and Pepe have to do with it?”
Jack shook his head. “Not a damn thing that I know of. He might have owed Deuce some money. Hell, Bobby owed everybody, but it couldn’t have been big, or Johnny would have gotten to him long ago.”
“You’re trying to tell me that it’s just a coincidence that Pepe, Johnny Deuce’s man, leaves the bar as soon as Bobby does, and he’s got nothing to do with it?”
Jack lit a smoke and looked to the sky. “Must be.”
“And it’s another coincidence that Bobby is waiting in the parking lot for you to come get him and take him to the slaughter like that lamb in the Bible.”
Jack took another long drag, very slow, but his hand was shaking. When he spoke his voice quivered. “Hey, Nicky. It is what it is, man. What the fuck? Why are you busting my balls? I already told you.”
“You told me you did it because you think I’m not going to do anything. Because we’re old prison buddies, and your brother was a friend. You’re thinking because I hated Bobby Campisi, I won’t follow through with this.” I stared him down, made him turn away. “You’re wrong, Jack. Wrong on all counts. You won’t be able to protect Pepe or the Deuce, and you won’t be able to protect your Mexican buddies, either. And you won’t get your dope or your money.”
Jack slipped a notch, showing the surprise I figured I’d generate with that comment. “Yeah, I know about that. I think I have a good picture, but why don’t you fill in the details?”
“You’re really not getting off this, are you?”
“I’m not getting off this for one reason. This is for Bugs. Because I promised him I’d find out who killed Bobby and clear his name.”
“I ain’t going back inside. No fuckin’ way.”
“Then call the Maldonaddos and order some coffins. One each for Pepe, the Deuce, whatever Mexicans are involved, and one for yourself, Jack.”
He looked like he was going to reach for a gun, or something. I shifted in my seat and shoved the gun in his gut again. “Don’t do it. When we were kids you kicked my ass, but that was a very long time ago.” I paused to let it sink in. “If you try something, I’ll do things to you that will make you remember that limp with affection, like your first piece of pussy.”
His hand moved back up to the counter and he stared at the ceiling. “Fuck, Nicky. This is complicated, man. You don’t want to know this shit. Back off and go home to Angela.”
“Talk.”
He slammed his hand on the counter. “Jerry! Get me another goddamn beer.”
Jerry purposefully took his time bringing it, and spilled a little when he set it down, again, on purpose, I was sure. Jack waited for him to leave before picking up the story.
“All right, here’s the short and sweet. Bobby took the money like I said. Doggs was looking for it. He had Deuce and Pepe trailing Bobby. I knew that Carlos had a tag on Bobby, so I go to Doggs and offer to get his money for five large. The Mexican was willing to pay me another five large if I whacked him, but I had to get the dope. I figured what the fuck, I’m getting ten grand and I get to whack Bobby Campisi besides. What a fucking deal. It was like Christmas.”
“Where did it go wrong? Sounds like you had it figured out.”
“Went wrong because I fucked it up…like I do everything. You had it close to right. Pepe followed Bobby out and held him until I got there, then I took Bobby down to Maryland Avenue. But I guess I had too much to drink that night. All I wanted to do was make him talk, tell me where the money and dope were, so I could get my payday. When he wouldn’t say, I hit him with the bottle, and…Jesus Christ, don’t you know the fucker goes and dies on me.” Jack slammed the counter again. “One f
ucking whack, and he dies.”
I let him sit there in silence for a while. “That messed up everything.”
“Tell me about it,” Jack said. “I can’t claim I did the job or the Mexican and Doggs would think I took their goods, so I’ve got to hope it goes unsolved, all the while telling Doggs I had nothing to do with it.”
“How did you clear that with Pepe?”
“Me and Pepe go way back, and Deuce is my cousin by marriage. When I told them the situation, they went along with it, but I had to promise to cut them in on the money if I ever found it.”
“And it didn’t bother you that Bugs might go down for this?”
“I never counted on that, but then again, I didn’t figure on Borelli buying into this. I mean, who taught this fucker how to investigate? He barely asked me any questions. I figured he’d clear Bugs in no time. Next thing I know, Bugs is suspect number one.”
Jack took a while before talking again. “I’m telling you this for old times, but don’t expect me to sing for the cops. Like I said, I ain’t going back inside.”
I nodded along with him on that; besides, something was up with Borelli and I had to find out if I was going to get to the bottom of this. I finished my beer with a gulp and turned to Jack. “I don’t know what I’ll do yet, but one way or another this case is getting solved, and I really don’t care if there are a few lies involved as long as Bugs is cleared.” I pointed my finger at him, like Angie always did to me. “Come up with something, Jack. I’m going to talk to a few people, but I’ll be back to see you.”
CHAPTER 45
Conversation with a Cop
Wilmington, Delaware
I left the bar with my mind racing, trying to figure out which way to turn. I had Jack as Bobby’s killer, but it would be another thing to prove it. I shook my head, not even believing what I was thinking. Who was I to prove anything? The best I could do was get the information to Borelli and hope he did his job.
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