Crescent City Detective

by Vito Zuppardo

  The first call he made was to Myron, securing the money. Myron assured him the money and client could be in Mexico City when he called with arrangements. His next call was to Julie Wong, who’d called two days earlier representing the Crystal Castle casino, wanting to pick up the money owed. He explained the conditions in which he could pay the money due to the casino. She didn’t hesitate and agreed.

  The doctor’s third call was to set a meeting up with Dante Cruz. He waited for Dante to call back from one of the corner pay phones.

  The doctor’s secured phone line rang. “Dante?”

  “Yeah, doc,” he said.

  “I have a job for you. I hope you can handle it.”

  “No job too big or small we can’t handle,” Dante said. “As long as you have the cash.”

  CHAPTER 48

  When you worked, you fought every morning for those extra fifteen minutes of sleep, maybe hitting the snooze alarm a few times. Anything to get a few more minutes of rest. Zack and Dave were now creatures of habit, a routine that came with retirement or just old age. Neither set their alarm any longer and were up and dressed by seven in the morning, with no particular place to go. It was their usual routine. Dave fetched two cups of coffee from the dining room and met Zack in the garden. Zack would walk to the front entrance and buy two newspapers out of the paper box so they could both work their favorite puzzle at the same time.

  “Crap,” Zack said, seeing the box was empty. He had no choice but to walk to the corner grocery store, one of the few Mom and Pop stores still in operation.

  “Two papers, Mr. Joe. The box is empty,” Zack said, putting his money on the counter.

  “Either business is good, or someone stole my papers. I just filled the box not twenty minutes ago,” Joe said, flopping two newspapers on the counter.

  Zack walked down the narrow street that led to the side entrance of Riverside. The street was lined with small houses kept nicely with lawns manicured, fresh paint, and metal furniture painted bright colors, reminding him of the house he lived in as a child. This one house Zack always admired had a beautiful rose garden. One time, the owner, Mary Cook, let him take a rose home. It made Emma Lou’s day when he strolled into the house and presented the flower in red—her favorite color.

  Passing Mary’s house, Zack stopped and admired the new buds getting ready to bloom. He bent down and pulled a weed from the base of the rose bush as he often did. Then he heard a vehicle behind him at the curb. A heavy bag was placed over his head, and his body was carried into what he thought might be a van or enclosed truck. Zack had seen it many times in the movies—a vehicle pulled up and snatched a person off the street. This was real, and Zack had no clue why he would be a target. Thoughts ran through his mind of old vendettas from his detective days on the job. He had to shake the why it was happening and concentrate on surviving.

  Once Zack got his bearings, his police training kicked in, observing everything. Sitting, the smell of the interior of the truck and the person or people around him. At this point, he felt there were two people, one driving and one in the back with him. He ran through his mind being picked up on Wilson Drive and the truck turned left at the first corner, which was Dumaine Street. That would have put them passing right in front of Riverside. All he could imagine was Andrew at this time of the morning was more than likely cleaning the front walkway. Like all the others vehicles, on the street they passed right in front of Andrew unnoticed.

  “What do you want?” Zack said with a muffled voice from under the hood. “Who are you?” His training taught him to try and get your captor to talk. Anything, even someone telling you to shut your mouth, would help. Anything to hear if you knew the person or an accent.

  Based on the movement, Zack sat on a cushioned seat facing the rear door. His hands were tied with thick tape in front of him and his legs were free to move, and there was nothing over his mouth. There was no doubt in his mind these guys were amateurs, which gave Zack mixed feelings.

  The vehicle slowed down and came to a stop—maybe it was a traffic light. Zack could hear radio music coming from another car. He could scream, but it was doubtful anyone would react—it was best to hold off for a better opportunity. The speed picked up, and he could tell they were heading west.

  General Aviation in New Orleans had just finished fueling Julie Wong’s jet when Dr. Ross arrived and met her onboard. He dropped his carry-on bag to the floor and took a seat.

  “I appreciate your help,” Walter said.

  “Anything to get my client paid,” Julie said, taking a seat across from the doctor. “The casino is paying for the flight to Mexico—a perk they are throwing you for paying what you owe. Why, I don’t know.”

  “In the long run, they want me back as a customer,” Walter said, getting comfortable and feeling a little cocky. “Casinos are no different than any other business—they want to keep their customers happy.”

  Julie made no comment and kept an eye on Walter’s every move.

  They had a three-hour flight to an old airstrip sixty miles outside of Mexico City—more than enough runway for this plane to land. The secured area Myron promised would allow transfer of the body from the aircraft to a hospital where doctors would carve out the organs needed for transplant. Within an hour the body would be buried in some remote area of Mexico never to be found, Myron guaranteed.

  “Understand my pilot has fifteen minutes on the ground, than wheels up, and we’re out of there,” Julie said, blank-faced. “With or without you.”

  Walter assured Julie he’d take care of his part quickly, promising Zack would be dead before the aircraft came to a stop. He would hand the body off to Myron and collect his $500,000. The plane would be back in the air in no time.

  “Good. Speaking of money,” Julie said.

  Walter reached into his carry-on and pulled $200,000 in cash neatly wrapped in a plastic bag. Handing the money to Julie, he was paying his obligation to the casino and most of all calling off the collection thugs that had visited him one too many times. Walter was about to become debt-free for the first time in many years.

  The squeal of breaks indicated the truck had arrived in the hangar. The overhead doors closed, and when clear Zack was walked into the airplane and pushed into a seat, his arms were taped to the armrest, and the hood tightened. The hangar doors opened. The aircraft pushed out into the daylight onto the tarmac. They were cleared for takeoff.

  Zack pulled his arms. They were too tight to move. He tried to get a response from someone. “Where are we going?” Not a peep was said. “Say something!” he shouted.

  The thrust of the jet pushed Zack back into his seat—the plane was airborne. Within twenty minutes in the air, the aircraft started descending.

  “Did you feel that?” Walter whispered.

  Julie looked at him but didn’t respond. She remained a professional and wasn’t revealing her voice to a hostage.

  Walter looked out the window. “Something is wrong. Why are we descending?”

  The pilot announced over the microphone that it wasn’t an emergency, but wanted to check a minor issue before flying over water. There was going to be a brief stop in Mississippi.

  Zack jerked his head. His ears were perked on the person talking, but he couldn’t hear well with the noise of the airplane on approach for landing. Once the plane came to a complete stop, the stairs went down, and a pilot came from the cockpit.

  “How long are we going to be on the ground?” Walter said to the passing pilot.

  This time Zack was ready and hung on to every word that was said. The voice was still distorted with the sack over his head.

  The pilot said nothing and walked off the plane as an enclosed truck approached. Walter sat anxiously watching out the window. “This is not good—we can’t be sitting on the ground. We have a hostage, for God’s sake.”

  Zack heard the voice loud and clear and couldn’t believe it was Dr. Ross. He tried to sit calmly, but now he knew he was the doctor’s next vi
ctim.

  At Riverside Inn, the news spread fast that Zack was missing. Emma Lou and Pearl Ann gathered with friends in the dining room. Dave did all he could and checked with Joe at the corner grocery store, who confirmed Zack purchased two newspapers just past seven that morning. Dave called Mario for help, and he and Howard arrived shortly after. Nothing could be done other than driving around the neighborhood looking for Zack, hoping he was disoriented and roaming the area—a scenario they wanted to believe and not think about all the worst possibilities. It was too early to report Zack as a missing person. The police wouldn’t do much more than what Mario and Howard were doing, talking to people on the street, going over Joe’s story several times, and knocking on doors.

  Mario and Howard arrived back at the house with the bad news of finding newspapers in the street blowing around as cars passed. Mario broke the findings that all indications pointed to Zack being abducted.

  Emma Lou and Pearl Ann supported each other with busy work in the kitchen. “Coffee, anyone?” Emma Lou asked.

  Back in Mississippi at a private landing strip, Dr. Ross was consumed watching two men get out of a truck and walk around the plane with the pilot.

  Walter, with his nose pressed against the window, focused on the ground crew. “What the hell are they doing?” he shouted. “Answer me.”

  Julie pulled a small plastic bag from her purse and opened it slowly. All one hundred and ten pounds of her leaped on the doctor’s back. Pulling a small cloth from the bag she placed it over the doctor’s nose, winning the ten-second scuffle. Dr. Ross dropped limp into his chair. “You’re not the only person to use chloroform. A weapon of choice, mate.”

  Zack sat in shock hearing the struggle and knew he was next. He was helpless and kept observing his surroundings the sounds, smell, and anything else he could pick up on. Footsteps came up the stairs. It was several people based on the sound. Then a hand grabbed him by the arm. He was cut from the armchair and walked down the stairs and placed in the truck. Within seconds the plane was airborne, and the vehicle with Zack drove out the back gate of the small landing strip.

  There was no reason to be brave. Zack was frightened and couldn’t put much together. He thought for sure he was the doctor’s next victim; now it was how and who would kill him.

  The truck came to an abrupt stop. Zack observed a very faint sound of cars and trucks passing in the distance.

  Shit! I’m going to get two in the back of my head and be left for dead. Thoughts ran rapidly as Zack stood. His hands were cut loose, and he felt a hand on each of his shoulders. Zack braced himself and knew the first shot would kill him and the second bullet was just assurance. It didn’t matter—he would be dead before hitting the ground. The hands guided him for about ten steps.

  “I have someone watching you from afar. If you take the hood off before ten minutes, a high-powered bullet will split your skull,” a voice he definitely didn't recognize said.

  Zack’s clothes were spattered with dirt and rocks kicked up from the wheels of the truck, speeding off. He was puzzled. He was happy to be released, but confused about the terrible ordeal. He slowly lifted his hands and loosened the strings on the hood. Zack wasn’t taking any chances. He waited for way more than ten minutes.

  Fresh air was welcomed as Zack lifted the hood over his head. He saw two blocks of a welcomed dirt path that led to a highway. Cars and trucks zipped by and Zack walked towards the sound.

  At Riverside Inn, Mario’s phone rang—everyone in the dining room stopped talking. All eyes were on him. He looked into their eyes and knew he was going to be the hero or the bearer of more bad news. He answered the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Detective Mario? This is State Trooper Reed—someone wants to talk to you.”

  “He’s okay! Zack is fine” Mario shouted as the room erupted with screams, hugs, and tears of joy.

  Julie’s aircraft zipped through the air and was over water for about an hour. She kept Dr. Ross unconscious during the flight and slipped him into a body bag. The plane started descending, and that was her cue. She dug through the doctor’s carry-on bag and found his black box with the syringe fully loaded—his weapon of choice originally planned for Zack.

  By the time the plane came to a stop, so did Dr. Walter Ross’s heart. The engines shut down, and the dust settled before Myron, sporting a leather bag over his shoulder, was followed by two men who stepped onboard.

  “Julie?” Myron asked.

  “Yes,” she said from the front of the airplane.

  “Nice to meet you,” he said as he approached.

  “Stop. This is business,” she said, exposing her two hands strapped to an automatic weapon. “Put the money on the table. The job is finished.”

  “Very good,” Myron said, pulling two large envelopes out of the leather bag, showing $500,000 in cash. “As promised.”

  “You’re a man of your word. A good way to start a relationship,” Julie said, holding the gun to him steadily. “We need to get moving.”

  The two men zipped the body bag up and carried it to the truck.

  “I never did like that prick,” Myron said. “This is a win for both of us. Maybe we can do business in the future.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Myron smiled. “And next time without a gun.”

  “Possibly,” Julie said, nodding her head for him to exit.

  The jet engines started, Myron returned to the truck, and the stairway closed into the belly of the aircraft. Julie relaxed and secured the gun back into her carry-on, sat down, and buckled her seat belt. The thrust of the jet lifting off the ground pushed her deep into the seat. Julie was on her way home with $700,000 in cash. More importantly, Walter Ross was no longer a threat to Lorenzo, and she had locked down the Savino Family as a client for life.

  CHAPTER 49

  A small flashlight beamed a bright light into Zack’s eye. “Follow the light with your eye. Don’t move your head,” the paramedic said. “Very good. Now the other eye.” He turned the light off. “You look fine, but I would see your doctor when you get home.”

  “Thank you. I will,” Zack said.

  “Mr. Nelson, I have a jail cell open. You’re more than welcome to rest on one of the beds,” State Police Officer Reed said.

  Zack took a seat in the lobby, knowing his ride would be arriving soon.

  “Are you sure we can’t take a ride and look for your car?” Reed said, not letting up with wanting to help a man he found stranded on the highway.

  “My friends and I will drive around and find my car—I’m just not sure where I ran out of gas. I parked on some side road,” Zack said, keeping his lies in order.

  Through the window shone the chrome bumper of Howard’s limousine as it parked. It was a welcome sight for Zack, who was more than ready to get out of the police station.

  “Bay St. Louis?” Mario said, entering followed by Howard.

  “How did you get to Mississippi?” Howard asked, giving him a hug.

  Zack shot a look at Mario. “I ran out of gas, and this nice state trooper came along and gave me a ride.”

  Mario picked up on Zack’s hint and pulled him by the arm and walked to the door. “Come on, you can explain on the ride back. Thanks for everything, Officer.”

  “No problem. That’s why we patrol.”

  Zack got to the door and turned back to Reed. “By the way, is there an airport nearby?

  “No commercial airport, but about a mile away there is a small runway cut through the woods at the edge of the Interstate. It’s part of the Diamond Head Resort.”

  “Can jet planes land there?”

  “Sure. The rich folks fly in all the time with their fancy jets.”

  “Great, thanks,” Zack said, then walked to the limousine and got in the back seat with Mario. Howard hadn’t driven out of the police station parking lot before Mario broke the silence.

  “Your car ran out of gas?”

  “That was the best story I could come up w
ith,” Zack said, reaching for a drink from the limo bar.

  “Let’s start with why are you in Bay St. Louis, Mississippi?” Mario said.

  “No. Let’s start with when I was kidnapped.”

  Zack went through all the details from the time he left the grocery with the newspapers until he pulled the hood off his head. He wasn’t sure if Dr. Ross was dead, but he was on the airplane, that much he knew for sure. The doctor was overpowered by a woman.

  Mario caught Howard's eye, looking at him through the rearview mirror. “Why do you say a woman?”

  Zack explained, two people were walking in the cabin of the plane, one heavy-footed and one light. He knew one was a man, and the other had to be a woman. The smell of perfume was in the cabin. Zack no authority on perfume, but Chanel, was his wife’s favorite. The woman only spoke once and it was a short sentence. Good english but called the person mate. Hearing a struggle, he believed it was Walter that fell to the seat. Then he was hurried off the jet. Zack didn’t realize he remembered as much as he did and fell back in his seat.

  Howard looked in the mirror at Mario. His eyes said he was thinking the same. A jet plane, a woman smelling like Chanel and overpowering a man in a struggle—it fit Julie’s profile.

  An hour later, the limousine pulled up at Riverside and Zack was eagerly met by several of his friends, especially Emma Lou, who gave him a big kiss. Happy tears ran down her face. Mario drifted and sat on a step as he replayed Zack’s story, going over every detail twice. There were too many unanswered questions of Zack’s ordeal. He needed a one-on-one with him—privately. Mario joined the well-wishers.

  The door opened, and Mario got a whiff of aroma from the kitchen. “I smell a fresh brew. Let’s take this inside.”

  The group took their questions for Zack into the dining room, where coffee and pastries were served. After Mario had heard parts of Zack’s story during the drive back home, they came up with a story to tell his friends. There was no way the truth could be said to anyone other than Mario and Howard; they were the only trusted friends that could help.