by G. K. Parks
“Did something happen?” I asked.
“No, I just…” Heathcliff rubbed the scruff on his jaw. “You were right about Cross and Gallo, which made me wonder what else you might be right about.”
I blinked, confused. “What?”
“Go back to bed. Everything’s fine. I’m just going to hang out here and make sure it stays that way.”
I sighed. “Come upstairs.”
“No. I’m good here.”
“Derek, we’re not having this discussion down here. Come upstairs.” I pressed the button for the elevator and stepped into the car the moment the doors opened. He got up from his spot, placed the magazine back on the table, nodded to the doorman, and joined me. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“I’m fine.”
“Fine doesn’t show up at your doorstep at two a.m.”
“I got here a little after 1:30.”
“Did you find the sedan? Has the threat level increased?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“So this is about you.” I gave him a pointed look. “You hate it when I try to protect other people. Who said you could protect me?” I cracked a smile and nudged him, so he’d know I wasn’t mad. “Is this what happens when you skip a meeting? You should see if you can find another one to go to tomorrow to make up for it.”
“It’s not about that.”
The elevator opened on the twenty-first floor, and I led the way to my apartment and unlocked the door. “What is it about?”
“We don’t know who killed Knox. We don’t know who’s been staying in the apartment. Gallo hasn’t given up anything useful, but I’m not convinced he did it.”
“I pointed this out earlier today.”
“You did, and I said you shouldn’t worry about it.” He stared at the refrigerator to avoid eye contact.
“But it got to you too. Annoying, isn’t it?”
“Look, I’ll go. This building is secure. You should be safe. We’re fairly certain Gallo left the threatening messages on your car, and he’s in custody. You should be fine. I just wanted to hang around in case the guy who disappeared in the white sedan was the one who planned to make good on said threat. But he should be running for the hills by now.”
“Don’t you think, even if Gallo didn’t leave the last note on my car, that whoever this unknown third man is, he has no reason to want to hurt me? It’s too late. We have Gallo. Cross is cleared. I’m done.” That made me wonder again why someone had been so adamant to have me back off the investigation. “Did you ask Gallo if he left the threats?”
“He denies it, but he denies everything.”
“What about handwriting samples?”
“The techs aren’t sure. Handwriting analysis isn’t an exact science, but the letter formation looks similar.”
“See, no reason to worry.”
“Which is why every light in your apartment is turned on, the closet doors are open, and your nine millimeter is tucked beneath that oversized shirt I can only imagine you were sleeping in.”
“Since you’re such a brilliant detective, what am I going to say next?”
Heathcliff smirked. “The extra pillows and blankets are in the closet. I’ll be on the couch if you need me.”
“Thanks, Derek.”
Thirty-seven
The phone rang, and I rolled over. Grabbing the device, I blindly hit answer and held it to my ear. “Hello?”
Nothing.
“Hello?”
Pulling it away from my face, I blinked the blurriness from my eyes and stared at the home screen. From the living room, I heard muffled grunts. Heathcliff’s phone. I moved to the doorway and combed my fingers through my tangled hair.
“What happened to him?” He paused. “Shit. Are you sure?” He shook his head a few times. “All right. I’ll be there soon.” He hung up and blew out a breath while he stretched.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Heathcliff turned to look at me. “State police spotted a white sedan with stolen plates. They tried to pull the car over, but the driver freaked and drove off. He lost control and wrapped his car around a tree. He’s dead.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah,” Heathcliff said sullenly. “The staties identified the driver as Paco Campos.”
The name rang a bell. “Mexican cartel?”
“He’s in the ledger.” Heathcliff clipped his holster and badge onto his belt. “I have to go. But since Campos connects to Knox, I’m guessing he’s the man we’ve been hunting.”
“Why would Gallo protect him?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged into his jacket and bent over to pull on his shoes. “But I plan to find out.”
After he left, I checked the time and phoned Jablonsky. It was just after seven, but that wasn’t too early. He’d be awake or getting ready to wake up. I gave him the details, itching to shadow the police to see what was going on, but I couldn’t. I worked for Cross. Until the charges were officially dropped, he wasn’t in the clear, which meant I had to be careful not to overstep. But this was driving me crazy. So I got dressed and headed to the office.
For the next few hours, I dug up everything I could on Paco Campos and Trey Knox. Campos worked for one of the cartels and had made several payments to one of Knox’s offshore accounts. The last payment had been made three days before Knox was killed.
The DEA had credited at least a dozen and a half kills to Campos. He’d burned and mutilated several of the bodies, but none of those murders had happened on U.S. soil. And since Campos paid off the federalis, nothing ever became of his violent streak. I could see him murdering Knox, especially if Knox had skimmed some product off the top when working import/export for the cartel soldier. But why would Gallo protect him?
When I couldn’t wait any longer, I called Heathcliff. Gallo still wouldn’t talk. He insisted he didn’t kill Knox and had nothing to do with the attack on the precinct. Without evidence as proof, it’d be hard to make a case. However, when asked about Campos, Gallo still wouldn’t say anything.
“That was his chance. I don’t see why he won’t talk,” Heathcliff said.
“Could he be working for the cartel?” I asked.
“I doubt it. We’ve ripped apart his life and financials, just like the Bureau’s done. Aside from the two offshore accounts which were funded entirely by Knox, we haven’t found anything else.”
“Did we know Campos was in the city?”
“No. His passport would have been flagged. He must have snuck in. If he was staying at Knox’s apartment, who knows how long he’s been here.”
“What about DNA?”
“The lab will run it as soon as they can.” Based on his wording, I didn’t think this was a priority.
“What about Cross?” I asked.
“We’ll do another deep dive into his connections, but if he doesn’t have anything to do with Campos, he’ll be cleared.”
“All right.” I headed upstairs to share the good news with my boss. Maybe he’d feel more like celebrating. I was too confused to see this as a win, even if it wrapped everything up into a nice neat bow.
Cross listened to the updates. “What’s going to happen to Gallo?”
“He admitted to planting the gun in your car and the ledger at your apartment,” I said. “That’s something.”
“It’s nothing. The cops were gung-ho to solve Knox’s murder when they had me in custody. Now, it’s just an afterthought. Funny how they wanted to take me down, but when it comes to punishing one of their own, they change their tune.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?”
“These things take time. Is there anything about Paco Campos or the cartel I should know?”
“Nothing.” He stared at me. “I’m not a criminal. Knox was, and apparently, so is Gallo. The money in Gallo’s offshore accounts came directly out of Knox’s account. The ledger opens a lot of that up. No one can deny Knox was involved with some scary people. More than
likely, he ripped them off, just like he did the Russians, figuring he’d get paid and retain some product to sell on the side. Gallo might have caught on, so Knox paid him to keep quiet. Knox was a cheap asshole, but he learned one thing from his time with Vasili. It was best to pay off your enemies than to piss them off.” Cross stuffed his hands in his pockets. “What about the murder weapon?”
“Gallo says he found it. He won’t say where, but the dirt and sediment pulled from the crevices are the same composition as the dirt at the dig site.”
“Do you think Gallo buried Knox?”
“I did until a cartel soldier wound up dead.”
“Gallo must have been tailing Knox. He saw him get killed and where he got buried. But he couldn’t do anything about it because he’d be implicated for taking a payoff. That’s probably why he held on to the ledger, to make sure no one else could find it.”
“Do you think Gallo was telling the truth when he said he gave you those things in order to clear your name?”
Cross mulled it over for a few moments. “Knowing that shit-for-brains, he must have thought I’d help him out.”
“How?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask Gallo?”
“He’s not talking.”
“That’s the first smart thing he’s done.” Cross snorted. “At least I’m finally in the clear.”
“Well, once the police and FBI make certain you don’t have any ties to the cartel or Campos.”
“I don’t.” Cross went to the wet bar, cursing when he found his liquor was gone. “Dammit. This is ridiculous. The police storm in here, upend my business, and still can’t get shit done. This is why I tell you they are incompetent and corrupt.” He pressed the intercom. “Justin, where’d you hide the liquor bottles from my bar cart?”
“I moved them to the supply closet,” Justin said.
“I’ll get them myself.” Cross released the intercom button. “Now what am I supposed to do?”
“I guess you carry the gin back into your office.”
He glared at me. “I haven’t been cleared yet. My trial date is looming. Are they going to finish this investigation before then?”
“Probably.” A small part of me enjoyed watching him sweat, but the worry that etched his face was beyond reasonable. “Why are you in such a rush? What are you afraid they’ll find?”
Cross inhaled, closing his eyes briefly and pausing. “I’m concerned this will circle back around and the police will dig deeper into Knox’s ties to the Russian mafia. There are a few things I’d like to keep secret regarding my involvement with Vasili Petrov.”
“Are you afraid Gallo knows something about what happened to him?”
“No, but Knox made that recording. Who knows what other traps he might have set for me?”
“Do you think Gallo knows anything?”
“No.” Cross looked around his office, unhappy with the disarray. “Have you found anything else out? I hear Detective Heathcliff spent the night at your apartment. Is there any particular reason for that?”
It was my turn to glare. “That’s my business, but if you must know, I was concerned about the threat left on my car. So was the detective.”
For the first time today, Cross looked contrite. “I’m sorry to have put you at risk again. I can arrange for security teams to follow you.”
“No, until I know more about how Gallo gained access to this building and your apartment, I’m not sure how much I trust the security specialists you hired.”
“But you trust the police? That’s ass-backward.”
“I didn’t say I trust the cops, but I trust Heathcliff.”
Cross let out a displeased grunt. “Where’s James? He didn’t come home last night. Is there any credence to Gallo’s claim that you’re dating the detective?”
“Now you’re stalking me? Do I need to remind you about boundaries?”
“I’m just curious.”
“You’re not fooling me. You’re curious about the status of your partnership with Martin Technologies.”
“In-house counsel informed me paperwork has been drawn up to dissolve our partnership. Due to the contract terms, I don’t have much recourse. But nothing’s been signed yet. Do you know what’s going on? Is our venture dead in the water?”
“You should speak to Martin about that.”
“He isn’t in the office. His people said he’s out of town. Is he hoping to save the project by pitching it to other investors? Or did he take off because you’re stepping out on him?” Cross narrowed his eyes at me. “That seems unlikely given your goddess status.”
“That’s the last time you get to say that before I bury you in an abandoned field. Do I make myself clear?”
He smiled, infuriating me. It’d be a lot easier to help him if he didn’t push my buttons, especially when he got such a perverse joy out of it.
But despite my irritation, something he said had sent my radar buzzing. I had to learn more about Officer Joe Gallo. And I knew just where to start. “I have work to do. I’ll see you later.”
“Tell James that App-med would be interested in the research.”
“Why would you want to help a competitor?”
“We aren’t competitors. I want to explore security and protection applications. They want to use biotextiles for tissue engineering and medical applications. Neither is necessarily in line with Martin Tech’s original R&D, but I’m guessing they’d still pay to have access to the research since MT’s focus is on increasing production and finding alternative sources, which will be useful for all of us.”
“I’ll let him know.”
Thirty-eight
I went back to KC’s bar in the hopes of gaining some intel on Joe Gallo. How deep was his connection to Trey Knox? Did the police officer do Knox’s bidding? Did he have ties to the cartels? Maybe he assisted narcotics on a bust at some point. Is that why he hadn’t given up Campos? Or was he afraid of the cartel soldier?
Or was Heathcliff right? Did Gallo track Knox from his home to the apartment, confront him, and end up in a struggle that resulted in Knox’s demise? Maybe Campos helped him dispose of the body, and that’s why Gallo hadn’t come clean. But I had no way of knowing any of these things.
I didn’t know much about Gallo or how he operated. Our previous interactions made me believe he had a conscience. He didn’t want to hurt people, but the road to hell was paved with good intentions. So it was time I did some digging.
“What are you doing back here?” Jim Harrelson asked when I entered KC’s. “Lucien’s out on bail. I’m not sure there’s anything else I can do to help.”
“You got him a bail hearing?”
“No,” Jim hefted the box onto the counter and began pulling bottles out and placing them on the shelves behind him, “I called his pops and let him handle it.”
“I’m sure Lucien’s grateful.”
“He’ll cuss me out for getting his father involved.” He shoved the new bottles behind the open ones and made sure everything lined up neatly. “So don’t tell him. Let’s just keep this between us.”
I looked around, but it was too early for anyone to be here. “I’ll keep your secret on one condition.”
“What’s that?” Jim wiped his hands on his pants and hefted a second box onto the bar. With a box cutter, he sliced through the tape, folded over the edges, and went back to stocking the shelves.
“You tell me everything you know about Officer Joe Gallo.”
“Why is that important?” He didn’t turn around, but he watched me through the reflection in the mirror. “Does Gallo have something to do with Lucien getting framed?”
“You haven’t heard?”
“I’m not a cop, remember?”
“Neither am I.” But Jim didn’t let anything slip. Maybe he really didn’t know what was going on, so I kept my mouth shut about Gallo’s arrest. If he didn’t know, he’d be less likely to censor his responses. “When we spoke last time, you remembered
Lucien interacting with Gallo. And since you had a mojito ready for the man, you must know him rather well.”
“He comes here to drink and only orders one of two things. Mojitos and beer. It doesn’t take a genius to remember that.”
“Still, that’s something. How long has he been coming here?”
“Since I took over the place, possibly before, but I couldn’t tell you that.”
“Did you ever work with him?”
“Nope.”
“Gallo says he’s driven the commissioner around before.”
“As a temp.” Jim finished with the shelves and turned around to face me. “Gallo caught some kind of case when he first became a patrolman. I can’t remember what it was about, but it was something high-profile. A politician had gotten into trouble for something. Y’know, the usual.”
“Did Gallo ever work any cases that linked back to the cartel?”
Jim stopped stocking the shelf. “Probably. Anything specific?”
“I don’t know.”
“Drugs and violence go hand in hand. A lot of cases we worked involved one or the other. I’m sure Gallo’s encountered someone or something cartel related. I’m sure every cop has.”
“Okay.” That didn’t help me any. “What was that high-profile case about? Why was the commissioner involved?”
“Someone did something they shouldn’t have in a hotel room. Senators and congressmen have pull. That’s how Gallo got on the commissioner’s radar. And since he did such a good job, Gallo got rewarded.” The words appeared to leave a bad taste in Jim’s mouth.
“I see. Did it involve anything nefarious?”
“You got a dictionary. I might have to look that one up.”
I stared at him, not buying the act for a second. “Any chance Gallo could be on the take?”
“If he is, he should pay off his bar tab.” Jim shrugged. “I don’t know. He comes here a lot. Always alone. He table surfs. He knows a lot of cops, but I don’t think any of them are particularly close to him. Your best bet would be talking to his partner. He’d know the guy better than anyone else. He could answer your questions better than I can.”