by Wally Duff
“Nope.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely, why would you even ask?”
“Rumor has it that there might be a ‘Jimmy Hoffa’ goin’ on in the basement. Guessin’ you might know about it.”
“What did your partner say?”
“Might have mentioned some wet work Frankie and his boys are involved in. Didn’t want to check it out, for obvious reasons. Here to make sure it’s all being handled.”
It took a few seconds for me to understand what he meant. Janet was using Tony to make sure the body was totally covered so Frankie, his boys, and I didn’t have any risk of getting caught. “Got it. Janet covering all her bases.”
“What a woman does for the man she loves. Think I need to go in there?”
“The builder’s guys are covering the basement floor with a thick layer of cement,” I paused, “especially the area where some dirt seems to have been recently turned over to fix some broken pipes.”
“Broken pipes? From what I heard, a lot more than pipes are buried there.”
“A shotgun blast to the chest can necessitate that.”
“Double tap from a Glock’ll do that too. Good thing I taught you how to shoot.”
My father was my first and only shooting instructor. Later, Tony shot on the range with me, and because of that, he always took credit for any of my recent shooting successes.
I turned on the rear windshield wipers and checked the rearview mirror. “Did you spot that SUV behind me when you drove up?” I asked.
“Yeah, you been pissing off the feds again?”
My hands began to sweat even though the interior of the van was still cold. “Why would you ask that?”
“Chevy Suburban. Two passengers. Man driving. Woman in the passenger seat. Both watching you. Might as well have FBI painted on the side of the truck.”
73
Tony climbed out of my van and went inside David and Rick’s house. Through the open front door, I saw him walk up to Sullivan. He didn’t badge him, so my guess was Tony had probably identified himself as a neighbor and not a cop. He laughed it up with Sullivan, but I was certain he was going to double check the cement work in the basement.
I reached down to put the van in gear, but a knock on the driver’s side window stopped me. I powered it down and saw a man and a woman standing in the street staring down at me. I remembered the man from Zhukov’s office. The woman I’d encountered during another story, but I didn’t know her name.
“Mrs. Thomas,” the female said, “I’m FBI Special Agent Michelle Jana. It’s been a while.”
Her hair was tucked under a black stocking cap. She wore a buttoned-up, long, black wool overcoat and black slacks.
“It hasn’t been that long, Agent Jana,” I said. “I think the last time was when the president came here to speak.”
She didn’t respond.
“Is that what this is about?” I continued. “David John? I can save you a lot of time. I haven’t seen or heard from him, and I don’t know where he is.”
I started to power up my window, but the man put his hand on top of the window to stop me.
“We would like to find Mr. John, but another man also seems to be missing,” he said.
Wonder who?
“Do you know what happened to Alexis Zhukov?” he asked.
I began sweating under my winter coat. I was afraid that Adley, the head of security in Zhukov’s building, had given them the security recordings from Monday night which showed me running out of the office and then returning with a gun.
The agents stood huddled together in the freezing drizzle and blowing snow waiting for me to respond. I should have taken pity on them.
But I didn’t.
“I’m sorry,” I said to the man, “do I know you?”
“I’m Special Agent Patrick Gillman,” he said.
“Really? It’s hard to be certain since I haven’t seen your credentials.” I nodded at her. “And now that I think about it, Agent Jana, I haven’t seen yours either.”
They fumbled in their jackets for their wallets. Finally, they had to take off their gloves so they could produce their FBI credentials. I gave each one a protracted examination.
“Good to know you are who you say you are,” I said. “Now, what was the question, Agent Gillman?”
“According to Alexis Zhukov’s secretary, Heidi Rae, you had an appointment for an interview with him,” he said. “He hasn’t been seen since that night. What happened to him?”
“He wasn’t in there when I arrived. I waited in his office for about fifteen minutes and then left. Later, I was told that Zhukov sent Heidi Rae an email and informed her that he was flying out of Chicago and leaving the country.”
“There’s a problem with that,” Jana said. “The airport security recordings prove Zhukov was never there and never got on the plane.”
“Maybe he took a different flight. Happens all the time at O’Hare.”
“I’m sure you’ll alert us if you hear from him,” Gillman said.
“If I know you guys, you’re trampling on my civil rights with a phone tap, or something equally as devious, so you’ll know the same time I do.”
Jana’s lips compressed into a thin line. “Rest assured we will be watching you.”
74
Due to the spring blizzard that was still bombarding our area, there was no school on Wednesday, so the Irregulars had play day at Cas’s home. The older children hung out in the family room. Molly’s were the loudest, but they always are. The raucous, often destructive behavior of her four sons has made me appreciate Kerry’s girly-girl demeanor. I hope Macy will take after her big sister.
We needed to talk about our stories, but we had a snack first. David and Rick were working. I would fill them in later about what we discussed.
Linda threw down her half-eaten sandwich. “Are you sure David John isn’t hiding out in Chicago somewhere? I miss his food.”
He used to prepare scrumptious lunches for the Irregulars, but after he disappeared, it was now up to us to provide our own lunches. Since Molly’s husband owns several different fast food chains, finding food isn’t much of a problem. Food that we like is another matter.
“Gosh, guys, I don’t know why you always complain so much about Greg’s food,” Molly said. “The kids and I have it all the time.”
“It’s not exactly that we don’t like these sandwiches, but how old are they?” Cas asked.
“Don’t have a clue,” she said. “Greg hates to let anything go to waste, so they might be left over from yesterday.”
“Or the day before,” Linda said.
I held up my hands. “Stop complaining. We have a lot to discuss.” I turned to Linda. “Do you want to tell them or should I?”
She took a swallow of her iced tea. “After what happened to Tina and me at the hospital, Diane Warren has, in effect, declared war on us.”
“What are you talking about?” Cas asked.
No one spoke after Linda finished talking about our recent visit to MidAmerica Hospital.
“Any ideas, Cas?” I asked. “Molly?”
“Maybe we should try and contact David John,” Molly said. “He’s good at making bombs. He could blow up Diane’s hospital and cook another meal for us before he left town again.”
“Or, better, blow up Diane,” Cas said. “That woman pisses me off.”
“Guys, we still don’t know if the guy with the missing fingers was working on his own or for her,” I said.
“What difference does it make?” Linda asked. “Those security guards weren’t just going to throw us out of the place. They were going to kill us.”
“That’s a little dramatic,” Cas said. “Are you sure?”
“You weren’t there,” Linda said. “I’m positive they were going to murder me.”
“What about you, Tina?” Cas asked. “Were they going to kill you too?”
“I’m not sure, but it was scary,” I said.
&n
bsp; “Terrifying enough for us to come up with a plan,” Linda said.
“We need to set Diane Warren up to take a fall,” Molly suggested.
“I don’t even know what that means,” Cas said.
Molly began scrolling though Facebook on her phone.
“Molly?” I said. “What do you mean?”
“About what?”
Talking with Molly is always fun.
“Setting Diane up to take a fall,” I continued.
“Oh, right. The farmers taught me that. She’s greedy so she’s probably willing to do something crooked — especially if she’s short of money.”
“Or she might already be using other money illegally,” I said.
I told them about Diane’s access to the MidAmerica Hospital Foundation’s one hundred million dollars and how she might be illegally using that money to keep her hospital solvent.
“We need to bait a trap to catch her,” Molly said.
“Bait a trap?” Cas asked.
“We could have someone present an illegal financial opportunity to her that would cover her tracks,” Linda said.
“When she goes for it, Janet arrests her,” Molly said.
“All we need is the bait,” I said.
75
Before Carter came home from work, I called Rick to tell him about our meeting.
“We can hear all about it at Marcia’s dinner party,” Rick said. “We have more pressing matters to discuss.”
He was on speaker with David.
“We’re on our way to our construction project,” David said. “Meet us there in ten.”
“But...” I protested. They had already hung up.
When their baby was born, they would learn parents can’t always drop everything for spur-of-the-moment meetings. Fortunately, Alicia’s daughter Liv was home from school and could watch both girls.
David and Rick were outside of their house when I drove up. The sun had come out but the temperature was still in the low thirties. They stood on one of the wooden planks to keep their boots out of the slush.
I walked up and stood on a plank facing them. “Guys, what’s wrong?” I asked.
“We keep losing subcontractors,” David said.
“Not losing, David,” Rick reminded him. “They keep disappearing.”
“I can relate, having lost a body myself,” I said. “What happened?”
“Three days ago we scheduled a meeting with the plumbing person,” David began. “We have very specific ideas about our master bathroom.”
“Which will require innovative plumbing,” Rick added.
“Well, honey, he didn’t show up,” David said. “Completely blew us off.”
“David didn’t complain,” Rick said. “He’s such a softy, but I completely blew my stack and went to the man’s home. That’s when the trouble began.”
“Trouble?”
“It seems he has disappeared,” David said.
“Vanished,” Rick added.
“Guys, Sullivan told me this happens a lot, especially if the subs are illegals,” I said.
“You’re not hearing us,” David said. “According to his wife, he left to meet with us and he disappeared instead. She hasn’t heard from him since he left their house.”
“Did she call the police?”
“Not yet,” Rick said. “She doesn’t have her papers, meaning she’s afraid of the cops.”
“Should we check into it?” I asked.
“We better do something, or we’ll never finish this house,” David said.
76
“There have to be other plumbers Sullivan can hire,” I suggested.
“There are, but that’s not the only problem,” Rick said.
“It’s also the framer,” David said. “If we ever find another plumber, we can’t proceed until the framer finishes his work.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “He’s gone too.”
“Positively evaporated,” Rick said. “Right from here, according to the two men who worked for him.”
“He was here, and then he disappeared?” I asked.
“The men had finished for the day and their boss, the sub, was putting away his tools as they drove off,” David said.
“They came here the next day, and he didn’t show up,” Rick said. “His tools were still lying on the floor, and they said he would never leave them overnight unless something had happened to him.”
“Did you go to his home?”
“We did,” Rick said. “Spanish language newspapers are piling up in his driveway.”
“And the mail is overflowing in his mailbox,” David said.
“Maybe we need to check inside his home,” I said.
David glanced at Rick. Rick nodded back at him.
“We already did that,” David said.
“I learned how to pick locks in the service,” Rick admitted.
“What’s Sullivan say about all this?” I asked.
“The poor man is pulling out his luscious hair,” Rick said. “It’s naturally curly, you know.”
“A fact that probably isn’t going to help us here,” I said. “How many subs are missing?”
David began counting on his fingers. “The framer we were just discussing, the plumber, the electrician, the cement person, and who was that smelly man, Rick?”
“The heating and air conditioning sub, but we won’t miss him,” Rick said. “His body odor was atrocious.”
“But he is missing?” I asked.
“Like the others,” David said.
“Maybe there’s a lot more than a possible story here,” I said. “I wonder if someone is actually killing these guys.”
77
“Where are my girls?” Eddie Wallace asked, as he walked into our entry hall.
Friday afternoon, Eddie flew into O’Hare using the frequent flyer miles he had acquired from paying his alimony with a United Airlines credit card. He used Uber to deliver him from the airport. He used the same credit card to pay for the ride.
Eddie is a few inches taller than I am, but he is about the same weight as he was when he played baseball at the University of Nebraska.
“Macy is doing what she does best, other than breastfeeding,” I said.
“Sleeping?”
“She is.”
“Where is my lover girl?”
“Kerry is presently in time out.”
Attitude is something she has acquired since she began going to preschool. The tough-love mommy has to be the bad cop. Carter, not so much.
“How much longer?”
I looked at my cell phone. “Three more minutes.”
“Ah, come on. I want to play with her.”
“I said ‘three minutes’.”
“Whoa, okay, warden. I see you don’t let the inmates run the prison.”
“I don’t, but it does give us time to talk. I have a problem.”
“Is somebody trying to blow you up or shoot you?”
“Both.”
His eyebrows elevated. “You have to be kidding me. Is this why you want to know more about the business of medicine?”
“Kind of. I think Diane Warren is behind this, and we need to stop her.”
“You mean you’re not going to shoot her?”
“Why does everyone keep saying that? It’s not like I go around shooting up the neighborhood.”
“Tina, look at me.”
I stared at my hands. If I made eye contact, he would know I was lying.
“Don’t tell me you shot somebody else,” he said.
“I had to,” I said to my hands. “The guy was going to use an RPG to blow us up.”
“Is that a rocket?”
“A big one, which is why I had to shoot him.”
“Tell me.”
I did, and now I would have another sleepless night.
78