The Lagotti Family Series

by Leopold Borstinski

  Goodwin strode around the devastation at the front and reached the vehicles, where uniforms and a medic were hard at work.

  “Hey, doc.”

  “Hi Ted. Quite a morning.”

  “Telling me.”

  Beat.

  “What you got?”

  “Three bodies all piled into a van and torched. The fire service arrived in time for them to douse the crime scene in gallons of water. But at least the corpses are partially intact. By which I mean there are clearly three Caucasian males thrown in the back of that van: all shot. The boys have already searched for shells in the vicinity.”

  “Thanks, doc.”

  “More for you once these fricasseed felons are back to the lab.”

  The detective winced at the pathologist’s gallows humor. Goodwin was facing a major robbery with violence and five dead souls. Word from above was that the take had been over a million. Unimaginable. What was a small town bank doing with that much cash in its vault?

  Who knew? Someone had piled those bodies into the van and had sufficient gas to burn the fucking lot up in smoke - just like at the bank. They had been prepared and there must be at least one of them still alive. Chances were they were in a vehicle this minute high-speeding out of Baltimore and, most likely, out the state too.

  Without a description, all he had was person or persons of unknown gender and racial profile. So he had nothing to hang his hat on. Just a trail of carnage running parallel with the I-295. Trouble was they were only ten minutes away from the 895 which meant the person or persons unknown drove from the vicinity east or west and he’d have no way of knowing in which direction to try. This would need to be a mighty wide net to cast.

  Instead of focusing on the great unknowns, Goodwin examined what was visible to him, in front of his nose. Eye witnesses reported seeing a white Ford Econoline leaving the bank area after the robbery and he was standing next to the shell of a van right now. There was a saloon, a once-feisty sports car and a beast of a Cadillac. He recognized the logo lying on the floor.

  Presumably the saloon and Barracuda were used by gang members now deceased but the Caddy? It didn't fit. Perhaps the inhabitants came to meet the crew. If bullets flew that meant there was some disagreement and discussions went south from that point. So he either had the gang in the back of the van and the owners of the Caddy ran off with the money or vice versa.

  The first glimmer of good news for this crime scene was the collection of slugs found by the uniforms. There were five different calibers bagged up and ready for inspection. Five guns and only five people in total: anyone holding a knife to this gunfight would be first into the back of the van. With three dead, there were only one or two at large.

  His best bet was a search for a single vehicle with two inside. What kind? Dunno but probably a saloon. What do the people look like? Arms, legs, torsos, a head each and a million dollars in the trunk.

  Goodwin scuffed the scorched earth with his foot and returned to his car. He sat inside and knew this was not nearly enough information to keep his boss happy.

  When he returned to the station, his prediction proved accurate.

  “Goodwin. Looks like you got jack for me.”

  Lieutenant Fred Hester stared at Ted over his glasses while seated at his desk. Goodwin remained at attention.

  “Tomorrow’s headlines will say the Baltimore Police Department knows zip about a million dollar heist. No description. Nothing. We don't even know how many are alive in the perps’ gang.”

  “They are professionals, sir. Covered their tracks well. In our favor is Reinfeldt in hospital, who stole the money before the crew hit the joint. Doctors say he’s survived surgery and when he regains consciousness, we can interview the hell out of him.”

  “Is that the only lead?”

  “There’s also his girlfriend who visited him most days these past nine months. Even though uniforms stayed at the bank all day, she hasn’t appeared. Sounds like she’s hit the road. If she doesn’t show tomorrow then she’s gone for certain.”

  “And what about today? I can't believe your best idea is to hang around and wait a while.”

  “The chances are they’ve flown the coop. I think we should call on the resources of the FBI, sir.”

  NO POLICE FORCE likes to seek federal assistance. It’s almost written into the Constitution, but Lieutenant Hester had little choice. They had a violent armed robbery and an enormous haul to chase down with no tangible leads to work with. The press was baying at the Mayor’s feet and soon they’d be clamoring for his blood. It was the natural way of things. Hester gave the order for Goodwin to place the call.

  “Outside line, please.”

  Beat. He dialed the number and waited until a girl on reception answered. He explained his mission and she put him on hold.

  “Phil McNamara. How can I help?”

  “Detective Ted Goodwin of the Baltimore Police Department. We need your assistance.”

  “I thought we might get a call from you. No offense, but our Intel informed us you've quite a case on your hands.”

  “Well, yes.”

  “Look, I know asking for our support wasn’t easy and I don't want to tread on anyone’s toes, okay?”

  “For sure.”

  “I’m in the area so why don’t we meet in an hour’s time. Does that work for you?”

  “Sure, Phil.”

  “Gather together what you got and we’ll take it from there, Ted. See you at your station house in an hour.”

  Sixty one minutes later, Phil McNamara stood by Goodwin’s desk. The piano had stopped playing the minute he entered the building and you could hear a pin drop within two hundred feet of where McNamara stood.

  Goodwin hustled him into an interview room and fetched him a coffee. And brought a cup each for himself and for Sam.

  “Thanks for coming.”

  “Don’t mention it. Just to be clear: I'm not here to take over your case. I'm here to offer you resources you can't access so we can catch the bad guys.”

  “Okay.”

  He knew not to trust Hoover men: their reputation traveled before them but this guy appeared reasonable - at first glance at any rate.

  “What do you need from us right now?”

  “We're sitting on a lot of burnt corpses and no identities to attach to them so anything to help with that...”

  “You got it.”

  “And we have a poor description of a girl who is a person of interest with no address for her.”

  “Give me what you have and we’ll see if we can figure something out for you.”

  “Right. Also, it doesn’t take a genius to work out they ain’t staying in Maryland.”

  “One step at a time, Ted. Once we have a better idea of who we are looking for then yes, I’ll get sufficient men on the ground to search for them on an interstate basis. We don't have enough to wipe our asses right now. No offense intended. Just saying what needs to be said.”

  “None taken. My boss isn't the least bit happy to see you - as you no doubt know. But Sam and I are fine with anyone who can help us catch these guys. They slashed a woman in the tit for Christ’s sake.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Twenty stitches and she’ll be on the road to recovery in a couple of days. Her biggest issue at the time was the amount of blood she lost. Next week, the docs tell her she’s scarred for life.”

  McNamara nodded and allowed everyone’s thoughts about Theresa Galtieri’s tit to hang in the air for ten seconds. Then he sighed and carried on.

  “They’ll get theirs. Robbery with violence at a state bank, murder, arson. Sounds like the gas chamber to me. Robbery in the first degree. Murder in the first degree.”

  “Phil, now who’s getting ahead of himself?”

  Goodwin smiled at McNamara, who returned the favor.

  “You’re right. Just want to get to the end of the journey.”

  Sam had been silent until then, allowing his older colleague to take
the lead.

  “Do you need to pitch tent here or are you in the local FBI store?”

  “Here would be good. I used to live in Baltimore but moved away five years ago.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “In a nearby hotel. Don’t worry. I'll be okay. This is how I spend my life - on the road living out of a suitcase.”

  “The least we can do is take you out tonight for a bite to eat and a drink.”

  “Sounds like a mighty fine plan. Is there somewhere with a phone to call the cavalry?”

  WEDNESDAY JUNE 18

  12

  MARY LOU WOKE first and enjoyed the time to stare at Frank and feel the warmth of his body next to hers. He appeared to be back on her side. She only hoped his words would translate into action and he wasn't about to shaft her. There was a lot of cash in those bags and people make bad decisions because of money.

  She dozed twice and finally remained awake. Frank had rolled over to face her and had draped an arm on her hip. It slithered down to land between her legs. His eyes were shut but he was most certainly conscious. Mary Lou took his fingers and placed them on her groin.

  One of Frank's eyelids opened and stared at her, soaking in her head and upper torso - all he could see without moving his neck.

  “Sorry babe, but we should get going.”

  “I know.”

  He removed his hand and kissed her rose, got up and threw on their only set of clothes.

  “We can’t wear these things all the way to Vegas.”

  “Better buy some more.”

  They checked their cash and realized they had enough for gas and some diner meals but not much else. A thrift store would be handy and if they couldn't find one, they’d have to be creative.

  Back to the diner for breakfast with their bags and into the car for Frank’s turn to drive. Before he hit the expressway, which ran round the edge of town, they drove until they found just the right place.

  They could tell by the quality of the eaterie in what part of Frederick they'd landed: there was a lot of grease and not much else but the coffee wasn't bad. A store with clothes for next to nothing was an inevitable consequence of the local demographic. Frank and Mary Lou hopped into the place and grabbed jeans, a T-shirt each and underwear. They each threw one shirt into the shopping basket too for some variety. Frank also found a jacket to hide his handgun and back to the motel so they could change before the journey.

  “We’ve spent too long here. We'll need to make a move before people notice we’re hanging around.”

  “Sure. A sweep of the room before we go. Let’s not leave any incriminating evidence behind - like a black bag or two.”

  Out the door, into the car. Frank hit the gas pedal hard until they joined the on-ramp for Pittsburgh.

  ROCK ‘N’ ROLL continued to spit out the speakers and Frank drove and tapped on the steering wheel in time to the warped blues of the music. Over the years Mary Lou had got used to Frank’s taste though it was far from her favorite. She was a Country and Western girl.

  On the hour the news cut into the musical extravaganza to reveal the FBI had been called in.

  “We’ve dead people strewn all over Lansdowne. That was inevitable even if you ignore the size of the take.”

  The broadcast carried on to say the haul was over one million dollars.

  “Brilliant. The bank’s doing an insurance fraud! Why else would they lie about how much we stole from them?”

  “Don't know but it’s not going to be good.”

  “Yep. Let’s make some distance between us and Maryland. Then we'll deal.”

  “Sure Frank.”

  He drove for ten miles, both sitting in silence while the world flew by five below the speed limit.

  “We need to get off the freeway.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “If the FBI are on our trail, they’ll man the largest roads so we should avoid them while the Hoover men put up road blocks.”

  “Good point.”

  Two miles later and he left the expressway. He didn't want to turn up at a gas station to buy a map because that would make them too visible. Instead Frank used his vague memory of the countryside and a careful eye on the signs to help them wend their way to their destination.

  Vehicle after vehicle in Frank's rearview mirror looked like a G-Man to him. The cropped hair and inky black color of the car conspired in his mind to equate to an unmarked FBI team. He would take extra side roads to lose them and they’d stop following him but another unmarked vehicle appearing further down the route would only feed the fire in his head.

  “Do you think they’ve found us so soon?”

  “No idea. I'm just being cautious.”

  “The only way to catch us is if someone saw you and I leave the barn, but there wasn't anyone for miles around.”

  “Apart from that cop car that screamed by.”

  “Yeah, but it didn't stop us - twice. If they were doing something, they’d have pulled us over then.”

  “I s’pose.”

  “And they don't have either of our descriptions and you swapped the plates. Frank, they’ve got shit.”

  “We still need to be careful.”

  “I know. All’s I'm saying is that losing FBI cars that aren't there is slowing us down. Take it easy, hon’.”

  Despite her words, Frank kept off the expressway and rattled along the narrower roads in and out of towns with no names. The Falcon trundled out the other side and they headed towards the next place further down their route.

  One hour later and the vehicle edged into yet another conurbation - only this time it was the outskirts of Frederick, announced by the usual signage: ‘Welcome to Frederick’. Frank drove past a used car lot and a diner stood immediately after on the right-hand side.

  “Let’s pull in here. If you’re correct about the Feds, we can get back on the expressway and be in Pittsburgh before midnight.”

  ANOTHER MEAL COMPRISING a burger and fries. Frank ordered a coffee and Mary Lou took a vanilla shake.

  “Is this all we’re eating?”

  “You still hungry, babe?”

  “No, I mean there’s more to life than flipped burgers.”

  “Mary Lou, once we get to our destination we can eat steaks for the rest of our lives. Right now, we need to keep under everyone’s radars, so that means coming to a lot of crappy diners and having the shit food. That way we fade into the background, never to be noticed or remarked upon.”

  “Sure, Frank.”

  “But places like this do sell good homemade desserts.”

  Mary Lou's eyes lit up and she ordered a piece of key lime pie as soon as she caught the waitress’s eye. The pie gave Mary Lou a frisson of nostalgia for her childhood. There wasn’t much for her to remember that was positive but the treat of her ma baking key lime pie for Sunday afternoons before her father died enabled a small ripple of happiness to echo on her face.

  “We’ll take turns at the wheel, okay?”

  “Of course, Frank. As long as we are creating some distance between here and us, everything’ll be fine.”

  “There’s more to it than leaving Maryland. We must sort out something with our packages.”

  Both pairs of eyes pointed below the table to reinforce the circumspect language Frank chose whenever civilians surrounded him and he needed to talk business. Once his look returned above the ceramic surface, he glanced around the room to check everyone - if they’d reacted to his words and if anyone appeared too intent on their conversation. Frank eased back into the seat of their booth until he slumped onto his coccyx. Mary Lou realized the rest of the world was eating, sitting and chatting as the afternoon degraded into the night.

  Like every diner in America, there were truckers on their own taking a pit stop before the next leg of their cross-country haul. Frank noticed they always sat at the counter - almost as if they wouldn't allow themselves the comfort of a booth or a normal table. There was an occasional couple, chowing down befo
re they heading home to destroy their brains on beer and game shows hosted by men who used to be comedians.

  One exception to this scenario sat next to Frank and Mary Lou: a mother and her child. The kid was three, maybe four but no older.

  “Sit on the seat like a good boy.”

  A pair of feet appeared on the shared backrest between Mary Lou and the kid. She turned as she noticed small movements in her peripheral vision. The legs disappeared and were replaced by his head. The boy was staring straight at her.

  “Eat your burger like a good boy.”

  The skull bobbed down and resurfaced as soon as Mary Lou turned away to resume her conversation with Frank. She looked back at him and he vanished for a second time but she was not in the mood. She scowled at him until he cried and leapt off the seat to perch next to his ma on the other side of the table, far from Mary Lou.

  The woman hugged the boy and stroked his forehead. With his mother’s attention secured, the tears stopped flowing.

  “You shouldn’t bother the lady. Remember what I say: nice things happen to boys who behave nicely.”

  Mary Lou eavesdropped on this maternal advice and pondered for a second. Was that true? What did it say about her time with Frank?

  “You all right?”

  “Yes thanks. Just thinking is all.”

  “Don't make a habit out of it.”

  Frank winked and squeezed her hand. She smiled back, knowing he was not demeaning her. The trust between them was building.

  “We will need to hit the road. Are you okay to take a turn behind the wheel?”

  “Yeah. I prefer it to being a passenger.”

  “Me too. Watching America fly by is no fun, is it?”

  “Nah. Do you think we’ll make it?”

  Frank looked into Mary Lou's eyes, boring a hole straight through.

  “I reckon. It won't be easy but we have an advantage: we've no idea quite what our route will be. So no-one else can predict it either.”