by Tom Barber
‘Her name?’
‘Bianca, but everyone calls her by her last name: Stefani.’
Carla nodded and as Natalie glanced at her, she saw an expression on her face that would become very familiar in the future, when she became the most powerful woman in the crime family.
A cold focus.
She suddenly looked like a different person, and Natalie felt a glimmer of fear.
‘We’ll see how tough she is.’
*
‘How’d Carla catch his attention?’ Vargas asked.
‘Found out he had tickets for some jazz night at Radio City. She borrowed all the cash she could scrape together, got a seat two rows in front of Gino and Stefani and maxed out a credit card buying a designer dress. Carla pretended to bump into him in the lobby after he left to take a leak. You both’ll know, that’s often all it takes. She was a hottie and had a smokin’ figure. Knew how to use it too.’
Natalie heard her kids shouting again from out back as they played and stubbed out the rest of her cigarette, waving her hand in the air to clear the smoke.
‘She went back to her seat, and the way she told it, he barely watched a second of the rest of the show. Thought it best never to ask her how she knew that when he was sitting behind her. I was learning fast to choose my words real careful around her. As they were walking out, she slipped him her number.
‘She wouldn’t give it up to him for a while either. Made him work his ass off for it. Some men that works for. Others just lose interest. But she played it right. Told him she wasn’t like other girls, and he believed her. And she was right. That bitch was cold-blooded like I never seen.’
‘How long till Stefani found out?’ Marquez asked.
‘About five months.’
‘How’d that go down?’
‘How’d you think? And that was before Carla tried to have her killed.’
TWENTY THREE
Delta’s direct flight to Houston from La Guardia left at 3:30pm on the nose; it was a four hour journey, but Archer gained one back due to the change in time-zone and was on the road in a rental Dodge Avenger within twenty five minutes of landing, his badge and pistol back on his hip after having the Sig and magazines stowed securely in the hold. The shield didn’t hold the weight it did in New York City for obvious reasons, but he was licenced to carry his sidearm anywhere in the United States.
The journey south from the airport to the boardwalk took almost two hours, past oil refinery after oil refinery. The highways were sometimes six lanes across, and Archer quickly learned trucks switched constantly, pulling back and forth without indicating, which kept him focused. There was only going to be one winner if he got hit by one of those things.
By the time he was getting close to Galveston, the night air was settling in. It was approaching 9pm, however in July he figured the boardwalk wouldn’t be closing for business until somewhere around midnight. As his thoughts wandered during the drive, he found himself feeling increasingly uncomfortable being so far from Issy right now, but he knew she was in safe hands with Chalky, thousands of miles away in England. He’d guard her, as promised. And his protection was allowing Archer to fully focus on the task at hand.
Catching whoever was going to such lengths to murder the child.
After he drove into the parking lot at Kemah, Archer pulled into a space and stepped out. A large section of the boardwalk was on the other side of a line of waterfront stores which offered tourist souvenirs, artwork, iced coffee and sweet treats, all of them now closed for the day even though other parts of the site were still open. A few people were ambling around, a slow trickle of them leaving for the day, many with red skin from being in the sun for too long.
Archer checked his phone for messages, and saw one had come through from Shepherd, telling him the body of the missing examiner’s assistant from Queens OCME had been found at the bottom of a trash dumpster a hundred yards from the hospital. Her throat had been cut, and she was still in scrubs, but her ID card was gone.
It almost certainly explained how Isabel’s attempted killer had gained access to the building and discovered the child’s body wasn’t in one of the lockers.
Another innocent victim.
After dwelling on that for a few moments, feeling his anger rise when he considered the man who he had little doubt had killed her, Archer looked around for the management’s office; instead, he saw a sign to an Irish pub and went up a flight of stairs, figuring he could ask whoever worked in there where to go. Kemah Boardwalk, Where The Fun Never Stops! a sign told him as he pushed open the door.
As he walked in, he enjoyed the wave of air-conditioning that hit him and headed straight for the bar. ‘S’up man,’ the bartender said, flicking a coaster over to the wood in front of the NYPD detective. He was a couple of years older than Archer or thereabouts, and seemed friendly. ‘What you drinking?’
‘Just some water, right now,’ he said. ‘I’m looking for a manager’s office for the boardwalk.’
‘You got an interview?’
Archer shook his head and showed him the badge on his waistband. ‘I’m from New York City. We called earlier in the day, but whoever was in the office wasn’t very chatty. Figured I’d do the polite thing and come to talk face-to-face.’
‘What about?’
‘Questions concerning someone who I think might’ve worked here at some point.’
The bartender weighed him up for a moment, but read the subtext and nodded. ‘I’ll call through,’ he said, going to the phone behind the bar; he passed on the message, as Archer drank the glass of water the barman had placed on the beermat.
Less than two minutes later, he saw another individual enter the pub. He was slightly older than the bartender, wearing a white shirt with short sleeves, a tie clipped in place and with a look on his face that showed Archer his surprise visit wasn’t a welcome one.
‘That’s him,’ the bartender confirmed. Archer showed the manager his badge when he walked over, but the man didn’t offer a handshake.
‘Mind if we talk alone?’ Archer asked.
‘You should have told us you were planning a visit.’
‘We would have, but your office kept hanging up before we could inform you.’ Archer gave him a smile. ‘Now we can talk uninterrupted.’
He walked to one side with the man, and they stepped through a glass door to some outdoor seating. People were sitting a few benches away enjoying drinks and bar snacks, so Archer chose a spot at the edge of the balcony, away from everyone else.
‘What do you want?’ the manager asked abruptly.
‘Someone’s made several attempts to kill a child in New York in the few days. We think the person responsible might have worked here, or passed through some years ago.’
‘Makes you think that?’
‘You had that group of children go missing, five years ago, right?’
‘So? How can you possibly link that to this kid in New York City?’ the manager replied, avoiding answering the question directly.
‘In one of these attempts, the guy threw a knife sold from a store with an outlet less than thirty miles from here. And he went after her at a carnival, where no-one reported seeing him, despite him throwing a knife. It’s making us think he’s got experience with fairgrounds or parks like these.’
‘We try not to make a habit of employing murderers, Detective,’ the manager replied snidely. He gestured behind him. ‘Built on the shores of Galveston Bay and Clear Lake, this is one of the best boardwalks in the country. We got restaurants, rides, midway games, a hotel and marina. No charge to walk in and no killers on our staff, neither now or in the past. That I can assure y’all.’
‘I’m not looking to ride one of the coasters, I’m trying to catch who might’ve killed those children. From what I understand, those cases were never solved.’
‘Correct.’
‘So what do you think happened to them?’
‘They must’ve fallen into the bay and were washed o
ut into the Gulf. Extremely sad.’
‘The report said they all disappeared in the parking lot. Kind of hard to tumble into the ocean from out there.’
The man looked at him coldly. ‘You wanna take this up, go talk to Kemah PD or the County Sherriff. We all moved on. Try one of our cocktails. Good day.’
Archer watched him go. ‘Son of a bitch,’ he muttered quietly, going back inside and walking up to the bar. He looked at the bartender, who’d been watching them.
‘Didn’t wanna talk, huh,’ the man asked. ‘He do something wrong?’
Archer shook his head. ‘I’m trying to find this person I told you about. I read that some kids went missing here, five years ago or so; it’s a long shot, but I think there’s a chance the guy I’m after was involved. Or entirely responsible. I’m not sure.’
The bartender stopped what he was doing, cleaning some glasses. The mention of the children seemed to have focused his attention. ‘What makes you think he worked here?’
‘He’s got skills that have me suspecting he’s spent time in a carnival. He’s throwing knives sold in this area and putting away cans of Shiner in his spare time. And he’s tried three times to murder a child up in our city. No other kids in the last fifteen to twenty years have gone missing permanently from amusement parks in the entire State, aside from this place. Not that many from all over the country, in fact. Except for here.’
The bartender gave Archer a long look, as another couple of customers sat at the bar.
‘Meet me out on the boardwalk in twenty minutes,’ the man said to him quietly, checking to make sure the manager hadn’t doubled back and was listening or watching them. He pulled a paper map from a stack on the bar-top and circled an area with a pen before passing the map to Archer. ‘Near Landry’s. It’s a seafood joint by the water. I’ll take my break.’
Archer felt a flicker of optimism as he folded and tucked away the map. ‘Got any decent drinks? I hear the cocktails are good.’
Squeals came from a big drop ride down the wooden walkway, hair flying as the line of seats rocketed downwards, the machinery slowing just before the riders reached the concrete. More shrieks came from a wooden rollercoaster called The Boardwalk Bullet, bright lights from the park reflecting off the water in the bay, the Gulf of Mexico, the water dark and inky from oil. Drinking a booze-free concoction out of a plastic cup, Archer watched the people around him having fun.
For a moment, the screams reminded him of those from July 4th at Coney Island, the blood on Isabel’s chest, that second he’d looked at her limp body and thought that maybe she really had been shot, despite being fully aware of their plan. Vargas had given Issy their agreed signal before activating the squibs hidden under the girl’s shirt using the small trigger hidden in her bag. The whole scene had been so realistic.
Then finding out what a close-run thing it had been, the shooter already in position.
He felt cold for a moment, and drank more of the cocktail. If Vargas had delayed by a couple of seconds…
‘Walk with me, man,’ the bartender said, arriving alongside Archer and rousing him from the unpleasant thoughts. ‘Heat’s keeping management indoors, but good to keep moving in case White Shirt decides to come lookin’ around. Don’t want him cuttin’ my hours because I talked to you. They told us all never to mention what happened to those kids without a lawyer present.’ As the two men headed on down the boardwalk, the bartender opened a Coke and sipped it, his eyes on Archer. ‘How close was it? This kid you were talking about?’
‘First time, a knife was slung at her head at a place like this. Sliced open her cheek and buried itself in the wall behind her. Second attempt, a load of blades clamped in her bed almost impaled her like a bear trap. Then he came for her when she was rehearsing a play at school with a sub-machine gun. Killed three men in the process, one of them by throwing a knife.’
‘Man, must be something in the water up there in New York. What this kid do?’ He frowned. ‘I saw on the news the other day that another got shot at Coney Island on July 4th.’
Archer’s facial expression didn’t change. ‘Yeah, that was tragic too. Can you tell me what the story is around these children who went missing?’
‘Management don’t like talking about it, as you can tell. Think it’s still recent enough to keep people away and they’re desperate not to lose business. It was bad. Real bad. I’d just started working at the bar. Driving down from Pasadena for my shifts. First time it happened, a boy disappeared on a Wednesday night. Eight or nine years old, I think. People thought he mighta fell in the water and drowned, or someone took him. Police came in, searched, asked questions and all that shit, but couldn’t find him.
‘Few months later, another kid went. Then a brother and sister too, and that’s when we realised something real bad was goin’ on. They went missing on a Sunday in the parking lot, just before they started the drive home. Sweet-looking kids, too. Rafferty twins; still remember their name.’
‘Police response?’
‘We got shut down and county sheriffs took the place over to launch a big-ass investigation, but they didn’t find shit. Even the FBI showed up. Every employee was questioned, and the cops held press conferences on State TV asking anyone who was here that day to call in and speak to ‘em. Figured they had a serial killer on their hands hanging around here who preyed on children.’
‘But no bodies were ever found,’ Archer said.
The bartender nodded and drank from his Coke again. ‘White Shirt gave you the sell on the place, right? He can’t help himself, times I’ve heard him talk to out-of-towners.’
‘Always looking for business, I guess.’
‘It’s a starting point for most people. Easy to figure out the work, easy to get laid off from it, but it ain’t a bad place. After the last boy and girl vanished, Staties and the Feds cross-interviewed everyone who worked here, several times, and called in people who’d moved on to other places or who’d been fired. I was in an office with them for a couple hours, going through my actions on the days the twins vanished while they checked if I had alibis. They dragged sections of the bay, case the kids fell in.’ Archer looked at the inky water again as the man described it. ‘We dipped hard for a while, and the place almost folded. Lost a load of employees. I was thinking about moving on, but then things started pickin’ up again.’
‘I read the Raffety kids disappeared in the parking lot.’
‘That’s right, just like the others. Parents stopped in a store out front to buy souvenirs. Kids were outside eating a hot dog or ice cream, somethin’ like that. When mom and dad came out with some keyrings and a new beach towel, the food was on the floor. And the two young bucks were gone.’
‘How about cameras?’
‘Whoever took the twins knew where they were. Police went through every frame of every camera after, but no sign of either kid. Why they always thought whoever took them worked here.’
‘What about vehicles?’
‘They told us the police traced the plates of every car which drove out the gate and tracked down who was driving. Dead ends. Nothing conclusive.’
‘So how do four children vanish in broad daylight?’
‘You figure it out, y’all get a prize on the house,’ the bartender said, as he and Archer watched several college kids nearby launching baseballs at a stall. ‘That was the question everyone asked and no-one could answer.’ He looked away from the water, directly at Archer. ‘Have a photo of your guy? The one you think did this? I might remember him. Got a good memory for faces.’
Archer took out his cell phone and did some scrolling. He held up his phone so the bartender could see. It was the composite sketch of what Chalky described, the only one who’d seen the man up close. He didn’t mention the man’s height for the moment. ‘Best I’ve got, for now.’
The bartender peered closer. He took the phone, shielding the screen from the lowering sun.
‘Shit, man. I remember a guy who kinda looked like t
hat. He used to come in and drink at the bar.’
‘You know his name? Or what he did?’
‘I can’t. It’d be on file, but management probably won’t let you go near any of them without a warrant or something.’
‘Anyone else still around who might know his name?’
‘I’ll give Cynthia a call. She’s been here ‘bout the same time as me. Think she and this guy were tight, or worked together at least. She helped run the midway games before they got her running the Bullet.’
‘Is she still here?’
‘Already left for the day. I’ll call her and see if she’ll talk or come back. She don’t live too far away.’ He took out his cell, but then nodded at Archer’s own phone. ‘One thing I do remember is, that son of a bitch was tall,’ he said. ‘As in, could play for the Rockets tall.’
At that, the optimism Archer had felt earlier flared into a full-on rush of adrenaline. ‘Everything you or your friend can remember about this guy. Anything. It’ll help.’
The bartender nodded, lifting his phone to his ear. He motioned to Archer to let him look at the sketch again. ‘We talked a couple times at the bar, when he was having a Shiner or Lone Star. I remember where he told me he was trained. He had the accent too.’
‘Where?’
‘Some fair in Louisiana. Said he was from New Orleans, originally.’
‘And he doesn’t work here anymore?’
‘No, man. Haven’t seen him in a few years.’
‘And no more kids have gone missing since,’ Archer said, looking around at the boardwalk theme park, more screams of joy coming from the rides near them.
The bartender didn’t answer.
TWENTY FOUR
‘Nah, some trash-bag whore is trying to take my man,’ Bianca Stefani said on her cell phone, as she left the luxurious lower Manhattan apartment that she shared with Gino. Just as Natalie had told her new friend at the gym, Stefani was also a head-turner, young, blonde, with a tight figure and also, like Carla, extremely ambitious. She revelled in the kudos and envy dating one of the most powerful up-and-coming men in the mob scene in New York City created, and was prepared to do whatever it took to maintain her position. Gino had finally given her an engagement ring, just before this new woman showed up.