by Carolina Mac
“Oh, fuck, do not tell me this.”
“That’s right. I think she belongs to Donovan’s little group of bandits.”
“Do you have an ID?”
“Hooker. Nineteen years old. Thelma Bond. Goes by ‘Taffy’ according to her jacket. Ring any bells?”
“I’ll be there in half an hour. Farrell is out of town on a job.”
“Bring me coffee.”
Blaine grunted and staggered towards the bathroom.
Starbucks. Downtown Austin.
SITTING and waiting in the drive-through line at Starbucks he made some calls. “Lil, call everybody in for seven and issue them all vests. Print out the list of George Street gang members from the file—the one with the addresses on it—and give one to each team. And phone me with the clubhouse address. We’re gonna sweep them and tear apart their digs.”
Lil asked sleepily, “They do something else, boss?”
“Killed Farrell’s informant. I’m on my way to the scene.”
“Shit,” said Lil, “does Farrell know?”
“Negative. I don’t want him to. You know how he blames himself for everything, including global warming.”
Lil giggled. “Where do you want the troops?”
“When they’re ready send them to DPS. I’ll try to round up more manpower, then we’ll leave from there all at once.”
“Do you want Mary?”
“Yeah, good idea. Wake Mary up and tell her to bring Raj Singh.”
Fairfax House. New Orleans.
FARRELL SMILED at Miss. Thibodeau, the lady who ran the bed and breakfast. “This is about the best breakfast, I ever had, ma’am.”
“Why thank you, Farrell, dear. I’ll pass your praise on to Ethel in the kitchen.”
Luke nodded his head in agreement. “I’ve never stayed in such a fancy place,” he whispered. “The muffins are huge.”
“Boss wants us staying here because it’s Misty’s favorite and she never checked out of her room. She might happen to come in.”
“What’s our plan for today?” asked Luke. “We should check out Jackson Square if we have time.”
“And we’ll check in with MP downtown. I’ve got the name of the Detective handling Misty’s case, then we’ll go to Misty’s house. Blacky gave me the keys to the new locks he had installed.”
“I’ve heard things about the house on Saint Gillian,” Luke whispered.
“I ain’t afraid of ghosts,” said Farrell.
“I think I am,” said Luke.
Alley behind Grady’s Pub. Austin.
BLAINE arrived solo at the crime scene with a large coffee for Lieutenant Lopez from Austin homicide.
“Morning, Blacky, and thanks for the caffeine.”
Blaine nodded and took a few steps towards the corpse. He could barely stand to sneak a peak at Taffy to make sure it was really her. He hoped against all odds that it wasn’t, but it was. The emaciated body of a young hooker with a drug habit. Strangled. Another wasted life.
Goddammit, Farrell. I wish it wasn’t her.
“Send her to our morgue,” Blaine choked out the words to the ME on duty. “She belongs to a case I’m working on.”
“You stirring up a hornet’s nest, Blacky?” asked Lopez.
“I’m going straight from here to make it a lot worse than it is already—I’m gonna tear down the hive.” He downed the last of his coffee and tossed the container into the blue dumpster next to Taffy’s body.
I’m not telling Farrell until he’s back from New Orleans.
Ranger Headquarters. Austin.
TRAVIS stood on the front steps of the building smoking and talking to Chief Calhoun. The rest of the crew were standing around with coffees in their hands waiting to go.
“Was it Taffy?” asked Carlos when Blaine jumped out of his truck.
Blaine nodded. “Each team have an address?”
“Yep, Lil sorted it all out,” said Fletcher.”
“Who’s on the clubhouse? I’ll need four in there. I want it ripped apart.”
“Me,” said Travis and pointed to the gang squad detectives he’d recruited to help him, and Blaine nodded. Lil had it sorted. She always did. A better assistant was never born.
“Vests on everybody? The little fuckers are gonna panic and go sideways so don’t hesitate to use your weapons. That’s what you have them for—self-preservation.”
The Chief nodded and came down the steps. “I’ll ride with you, Blacky.”
“Where do you want me?” asked Mary. “I didn’t see Farrell.”
“He can’t work until his shoulder heals so he went to New Orleans looking for Misty.”
“I hope he finds her.”
Me too.
Blaine pointed. “Follow at the back of the line, Mary. I don’t want you or Raj on the street until we’re putting the punks in the bus. Then you can take all the pictures you want. Try to get some good shots of the clubhouse too.”
I want to show them to Andreas.
Raj nodded. They were ready.
George Street. Austin.
GEORGE STREET was a dead end. One way in and one way out—in a vehicle. On foot, you could jump fences, run through yards and try to escape any number of ways. Blaine placed uniforms at the open end to plug the gap. Then he sent everybody to their assigned addresses while he and the Chief went with the crew to the clubhouse.
The clubhouse sat on a vacant piece of dirt next to the dead end marker. What was once a fifty-foot mobile home now had an addition—a room built along one side constructed from chipboard and strips of corrugated tin. No windows and no door. The access to the add-on was from inside the trailer.
The take-down team kicked in the door and swarmed the interior. Blaine and the Chief followed behind. Blaine was hoping some of the club members slept there to keep an eye on their product.
“Two in here,” hollered one of the lead officers. “Cuffing them.”
Blaine stuck his head in the room and spotted two gangers stretched out on a bare mattress on the floor. “Toss them in the bus with the rest,” said Blaine. “Hope you guys find their stash.”
“We’ll find it.”
Blaine and the Chief strode down the street and watched the rest of the team bringing handcuffed kids out of houses and loading them into the police bus. No trouble so far. A few parents or a single parent—most of the gangers didn’t have two—one or none—stood on their front step watching. A couple hollered out curses but most just stared.
Peyton and Fletcher came out of a rowhouse halfway down the block with two gang members between them that strongly resembled each other—possibly brothers. Big guys, both of them, and Blaine was concerned Peyton might not be able to hold her prisoner if he decided to bolt.
“Yeah, I see it,” said the Chief, and Blaine took off running.
Peyton’s ganger jerked quickly away from her and launched a vicious kick to her leg. She fell to the ground, rolled in the dirt and was back on her feet in seconds with her taser in her hand. A good move, but the guy was gone—running through the yard across the street, his hands cuffed behind his back.
“Stop or I’ll shoot,” hollered Blaine, and the guy never looked back.
Bang.
The ganger fell face-first into a pile of dogshit in his neighbor’s yard.
“Another one for the infirmary,” said the Chief. “Two in two days.”
“I’m pissed,” said Blaine.
Calhoun grinned. “I can see that.”
Ranger Headquarters. Austin.
THE POLICE BUS backed up to the rear entrance of the building and the gangers, yelling and hollering curses and threats, were unloaded in twos and taken to booking.
Jesse sauntered outside to watch the proceedings and stood with Blaine and the Chief. “Y’all had a busy morning.”
“We did,” said Blaine, “and I’m about fuckin starved.”
“Shooting gangers always makes him hungry,” said the Chief with a smirk.
“You go
t a good supply coming in for my lineup.” Jesse checked his watch, “In about an hour.”
“Are the witness’ parents coming with her?” asked Blaine.
“Uh huh. I requested it.”
“Good. She might be upset when she sees these guys again.”
“Where’s Travis?” asked Jesse.
“He’s at the clubhouse helping with the search,” said Blaine. “I hope to hell they find enough to take these assholes down.”
Peyton came out the door and joined the group. “So sorry about my guy getting away from me like that, boss. Shouldn’t have happened.”
“We needed more manpower for a sweep that big,” said Blaine. “Don’t worry about it. He’s in custody.”
“I feel bad you had to shoot him.”
“Don’t,” said Blaine. “His own fault. I told him to stop.” He hooked a thumb towards Calhoun. “The Chief heard me.”
“Sure did. And did he stop? Nope. Not until Blacky shot him and he did a nosedive into dogshit.” The Chief chuckled.
George Street. Austin.
TRAVIS searched walls, floors and ceiling in the trailer/clubhouse for anything that looked like a hiding place for the drugs belonging to the gang. Nothing he could see on the inside and he’d been thorough. He started looking outside and crouched down low enough to see under the added-on section. When this addition had been built on, the club might have incorporated a spot to hide product.
Travis shone a Maglite underneath in an arc, back and forth until the beam of light came to rest on something metal. “That’s attached to the floor, but it’s farther under. It’s under the original trailer. What room is it?” He stood up and got his bearings, circled the unit and he was staring at the small bathroom window. “Okay, the bathroom. Let’s check it again.”
Back inside, he went straight to the stinking hell-hole of a bathroom. These guys never heard of toilet cleaner or air freshener. He should have worn a gas mask but didn’t have one. Instead, he pulled his shirt up over his nose while he searched. He looked everywhere, and the room was so small, it couldn’t be too many places. Finally, he pulled back the torn plastic shower curtain and stared at the grubby bathtub.
Why would these animals have a tub mat? Are they afraid of slipping?
He pulled up the rubber mat with the suction cups on the back and bingo—there was a square of plywood covering a hole about a foot square, maybe a bit bigger. Travis pried the wood up and underneath was the lid of a metal lockbox. “In here, guys,” he hollered. “I think this is what we’re looking for.”
Ranger Headquarters. Austin.
JESSE GREETED Regan Middleton and her parents in the lobby of the DPS building and escorted them to the lineup room near the back of the Ranger’s section.
Regan appeared to be nervous and close to tears as she followed Jesse. Her father stuck close with a comforting arm around her shoulder.
“None of the men will be able to see you,” said Jesse as he tapped on the one-way glass. “They’ll be brought in possibly five or six at a time and you can take all the time you need to look at them. You don’t have to hurry, and if none seem familiar, just say no.”
“Okay, I understand,” said Regan.
Blaine came in before the lineup started and introduced himself.
“Nice to meet you, sir,” said Mr. Middleton. “I’ve seen you a few times on TV. You do a lot of good work against these gangs.”
The door opened again, and Perry Leighton came in. “Morning, all. Hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Not at all,” said Jesse. “Mr. and Mrs. Middleton and Regan, this gentleman is Perry Leighton, Austin’s district attorney.”
Leighton shook hands with the three of them.
Jesse called for the first six and a uniformed officer brought them into the room on the other side of the glass.
Regan took a step closer to the glass and inhaled sharply. Blaine took it as a sign that she recognized one of the gangers.
“What do I do?” Tears rolled down her face and her hands shook.
“Just say the number,” said Jesse, “If one of them looks familiar.”
“Two,” she whispered. “He was the one laughing when he hurt Lori.”
Blaine made a note and they went on to the next group. Gus Andreas, the gang leader, was in the second group and Blaine hoped she’d ID him, although he might have sent junior gang members looking to prove themselves to do the deed at the University.
Regan stared for a long time at each dark-haired ganger in the line. They all looked a little alike, and she’d only seen them for seconds at the scene before she’d run to the dorm to call 911.
“Number six was there. I’m pretty sure.”
“Thank you,” said Blaine. He let out the breath he was holding.
Andreas was there himself. He wasn’t in Mexico like he claimed.
After another dozen, Regan hadn’t identified anyone else and Jesse sent her home. She’d done well, and everyone thanked her for coming.
The Chief convened a little meeting in his office while Perry Leighton was on his turf. “Two positive ID’s and I think we’ve matched one more up from the security tape. At least three of them will go to trial for the rape and murder.”
“Great work,” said Perry Leighton, “and fast too. The sweep was a great idea. They weren’t expecting it.”
“Travis found their stash and it’s being removed from the clubhouse right now by a crime scene unit.”
“A good day all around,” said Chief Calhoun.
New Orleans.
“IT DOES LOOK kind of creepy,” said Farrell, as he and Luke parked in the laneway behind Misty’s house. Farrell shaded his eyes from the New Orleans’ sun and peered at the upper windows. “I think it’s the lace curtains.”
“Do we have to go in?” Luke tossed his smoke to the ground and stepped on it.
Farrell laughed. “Course we do. What kind of investigators would we be if we just stayed out here and wondered what was inside?”
“Yeah, I guess,” said Luke. “I’m not scared, it just gives me the shivers.”
Farrell clomped up onto the back porch. “Besides, Blacky’s already been here, checked the whole place out and had all the locks changed. He didn’t see anything creepy. Not one spook.”
Luck chuckled. “He was lucky.”
“Either lucky, or there was nothing inside in the first place. He said all the old furniture and pictures are still there.” Farrell turned the key and the door creaked open. He watched Luke’s face. “That was scary, wasn’t it?”
Luke wasn’t laughing. “Let’s get the job done. We’ll make sure she hasn’t been here since the boss was here, then we’ll go have a Po’boy and a beer.”
“I’m for that,” said Farrell. “I’m in love with those Po’boys.” He pointed at the stairs. “Let’s start with the attic and work our way down. MP said somebody tossed the attic and made a big mess up there.”
Luke’s eyes widened as he followed Farrell up the first set of stairs.
“Wonder which door leads to the attic?” Farrell opened a couple and they were bedrooms full of furniture. Every room had that closed-up stale smell. He pulled open a third and revealed a narrow staircase. “Bingo.” He pointed. “You go first.”
“I ain’t going first.” Luke chuckled. “I’ll catch you if something pushes you down the stairs.”
Farrell climbed the stairs, the heels on his cowboy boots tapping on the bare wood. No runner on these stairs like at Blacky’s house. These babies were slippery.
There was a small landing at the top of the stairs with a window looking out at Saint Gillian Street. “Good view from up here,” said Farrell.
Luke joined him at the window, then stuck his head into the room to the right of the landing. “Jeeze, it’s a pigsty up here.”
“Wonder what they were looking for?” asked Farrell. “It might have been Misty looking for something, although I’ve never known her to be messy. Not like this.”
Farrell raised an eyebrow. “His spells? Like witch spells?”
“Men can be witches too,” said Luke. “Witches aren’t only women.”
“If they didn’t find it,” said Farrell, “I wonder if its hidden somewhere else in the house?”
“A lot of these old places had secret rooms,” said Luke.
“How we gonna find a secret room?”
“We could measure the rooms, make a little drawing and compare to the outside measurements to see if any space is unaccounted for.”
“That’s smart thinking, Luke.” Farrell grinned. “Let’s do it.”
Ranger Headquarters. Austin.
BLAINE exited the front door of the DPS building and was swarmed by the media. They’d heard about the sweep and were lying in wait for him to appear.
“We heard you rousted the George Street gang early this morning, Ranger B. Were they responsible for the murder of the girl on campus?”
Before he could answer the first one, another twenty questions were hurled at him. “We have evidence that Gus Andreas and his gang were responsible. A lot of arrests have been made and names of all those charged will be released later today. A large quantity of drugs were seized from the George Street clubhouse and more charges will be forthcoming when the crime scene unit is finished processing the evidence.”
“My source said two of the gangers were wounded,” said one reporter.
“Uh huh. That is true,” said Blaine and didn’t elaborate.
“Will Mary Polito have details for us?”
“As soon as I get copies of the reports, I’ll have Mary send y’all an email.”
“Will Chief Calhoun be making a statement?”
“I’m not sure. He may.”
Jackson Square. New Orleans.
FARRELL and Luke strolled around Jackson Square sizing up the tarot readers, fortune tellers and all the others wondering if any of them knew Misty or anything about her.
“Blacky mentioned a woman named ‘Zara’, said Farrell. “See if you can spot her.” He removed his hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Too fuckin hot out here.”