Wild Spring

by Tripp Ellis

  JD called for an ambulance, then he pulled on a pair of latex gloves and picked up the gun from the driveway.

  “I hope this was all worth it,” I said. “How much did you get from the convenience store?”

  Luis glared at me.

  34

  Luis was taken to the ER, where he was treated for the gunshot wound. The punk had gotten lucky and only suffered a soft tissue injury. There was no trauma to any major nerves or arteries. It was a clean shot, through and through.

  The trauma surgeon cleaned the wound and removed the dead tissue. He thoroughly irrigated it with an antibiotic solution and stitched Luis up. He would be sore as hell for a while and wouldn’t be able to lift his arm over his head until things healed, but he got off easy in the scheme of things. His arm was black and blue. The discoloration extended beyond the edge of the bandages.

  We visited him in the recovery room. His good arm was cuffed to the bed rail. They had him dosed up on pain meds, which made his eyes droopy. But they filled with anger upon seeing us.

  "How's my brother?" he slurred.

  "I think you know the answer to that,” I said.

  A frown tugged his face, and his eyes filled.

  "Please explain to me the thought process behind knocking off a convenience store only two days out of prison?”

  Luis shrugged. "I don't know. It was Mario's idea. He didn't have any money. We were broke.”

  “No money for beer, huh?” JD asked.

  Luis frowned at him. “Fuck you, pig. You don’t know shit. You don’t know what we have to do to survive.”

  “Talk to Mario about survival,” I said.

  His eyes filled again, and he broke down in sobs. "I didn't think it would go so wrong," Luis said. "We were just supposed to go in, grab the cash, and get out. I didn’t know Mario was gonna flip out. He didn't want to leave any witnesses. That's the only thing I can figure."

  "Just like you silenced the witness in the other case, right? You killed Chuck Kennedy."

  "No way, man! I didn't shoot that guy. I don't know who did. That guy dying was a lucky break for Mario. But I didn't have anything to do with it.”

  "I smell bullshit," JD said.

  "I swear, I'm telling you the truth."

  "Armed robbery, attempted murder… you’re going away for a long time," I said. “Might as well come clean about everything.”

  “Attempted murder?”

  “You shot at the store clerk,” I said. “That's attempted murder."

  Luis’s face crinkled. "What kind of bullshit is that? He shot my brother. It was self-defense."

  "Sorry. It doesn’t work like that. Why don't you save us all a lot of trouble and admit to killing Chuck Kennedy?”

  “You’re not going to pin that on me. You get me a deal, and I'll admit to the robbery, but I didn’t kill nobody.”

  I chuckled. "You're not getting a deal, Luis. In what crazy, bizarre world do you think that will happen? The whole thing is on video. Your brother’s bloodstains are on the bottom of your shoes. That ties you to the scene, as well as the slugs from your pistol. Not to mention your obvious gunshot wound. I don't care who your attorney is… you’re not getting out of this one."

  I could tell the nurse was getting irritated with us, and this conversation was going nowhere.

  We left the recovery unit and drove back to the station where we filled out after-action reports.

  "We may not get that guy on Chuck's murder," JD said, "but he's gonna do serious time."

  I had no doubt about that.

  We typed out reports on iPads in the conference room. About the time we were finishing up, Daniels poked his head in. “I’ve got bad news for you two."

  I cringed. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear.

  35

  "The lab ran ballistics on the weapons the two perps used. Neither one of them matched the weapon used to kill Chuck Kennedy," Daniels said.

  I deflated.

  JD shrugged. "So? Maybe they used a different weapon."

  "Anything is possible," Daniels said. “But keep looking. There's a very real possibility Chuck's killer is still out there. Do you have any other leads?"

  "Nico and his crew," I said.

  "That scumbag is rotten to the core,” Daniels replied.

  "Agreed. But somebody's protecting him. There's no telling who he’s got on his payroll—cops, judges, prosecutors."

  Sheriff Daniels frowned and sighed. "Well, maybe one day we’ll clean up this town."

  "It's whack-a-mole," JD said. "We bust one of these perps, and another one springs up."

  "They keep popping up, and we’ll keep putting them away. It’s what we do,” Daniels said before he left the conference room.

  We finished up our reports, then found Denise at her desk.

  “You two look rather glum,” she said.

  “Sometimes it feels like we’re fighting a losing battle,” I said.

  “Bailing water on the Titanic,” JD added. “The world’s going to hell in a handbasket.” He paused for a moment and forced a smile. “Might as well make the most of it.”

  "Nico's crew is headed up by a guy named Slater," I said to Denise. "His number two is a guy named Griffin. See what you can find out."

  Her fingers stroked the keyboard, dancing across the keys like a virtuoso pianist.

  Several mugshots appeared on the screen. She scrolled through the list of thugs that had Slater as either a first or last name.

  I pointed at the screen. "That's him!”

  She clicked his file, and her emerald eyes surveyed the data. “Slater Magnus. Looks like a real nice guy. Former military, EOD. Dishonorable discharge. Assault and battery. Drunk and disorderly. Possession of a controlled substance. Certainly not an upstanding member of the community."

  She searched for Griffin and pulled up another series of mugshots. We went through the same drill.

  "That one," I said, pointing to the screen.

  "Griffin Gardner. Burglary of a habitation. Assault, resisting arrest, possession of a controlled substance. These guys are real winners."

  We were able to find rap sheets on Ajax and Jagger as well.

  These were the guys that had vandalized JD's car and threatened us. I was sure of it. But none of them shot Chuck Kennedy. “They're all too big to be the shooter. They don't match the video footage from the liquor store."

  "Those are pretty beefy boys," JD said. “The shooter was definitely leaner.”

  “We can question them about the vandalism,” I said. “Since we never saw their faces, we don’t have much. But I might be able to recognize a voice."

  "I'm down to stir up a little trouble if you are,” JD said with a grin.

  Denise gave us a concerned glance. "You guys be careful. One of these days you're gonna stir up too much trouble.”

  JD shook his head, dismissively. "No such thing."

  I thanked Denise before we left the station. We strolled across the lot toward the Trans Am. The black car looked just as good at night. I couldn’t help but marvel at the beast every time I saw it.

  We hopped into the car and drove over to La Baldaria. I found a place on the street near the entrance. We parked, climbed out, and I clicked the alarm. It chirped, and the headlights flashed.

  We walked in through the main doors like we owned the place. I glanced around, looking for Nico and his thugs. I didn't see Caprice right away.

  There was a decent crowd, but it was still early. The vibe was pretty chill, but it would pack up later.

  We strolled through the club and headed toward the VIP area on the far side, passing by the little red door that led to the illegal gambling operation that nobody seemed to care about.

  Slater and his lapdog Griffin marched toward us, puffing their chests out with scowls on their faces. Slater held up a meaty palm to stop us. "You two aren’t welcome here. We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone. And I mean anyone."

  I flashed my badge. “Official police
business.”

  Slater was unimpressed. “You got a warrant.”

  JD seethed with anger.

  “Vandalize any cars lately?” I asked.

  Slater grinned. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  His was definitely the voice that warned us to stay away from Caprice and stop nosing around.

  "Try it again, and it will be the last thing you ever do," JD said.

  "Are you threatening me, Deputy Donovan?" Slater asked. He’d clearly done research on us. "Do you have any evidence? Can you prove your allegations?"

  “I can put a bullet in that fat head of yours,” JD muttered.

  "This is starting to sound like a personal vendetta. This is harassment. I think I should file a complaint with your internal affairs division."

  "You do that,” JD said.

  "You two are really getting in over your heads,” Slater said.

  I scoffed.

  "For your own good, I think it's time you leave,” the meat-head warned.

  We stared each other down for a long moment. Slater's lapdog stood beside him, trying to look tough.

  "What's going on here?" Caprice asked, suddenly appearing out of the crowd. She must have seen us from across the bar.

  “Your friends were just leaving," Slater said.

  "They are my friends, and they can stay as long as they’d like," Caprice replied. "Deputies, can I get you anything to drink?"

  JD smiled. "Whiskey. Rocks."

  "The same," I said.

  "Follow me, gentlemen," she said in a voice that tried to mask her concern.

  I smiled at the two thugs and backed away cautiously before turning to follow Caprice. She led us to a sidebar and slipped behind the counter. She grabbed a bottle of top-shelf and poured two whiskeys. We took a seat, and she slid the glasses across the counter.

  With a tense face and a clenched jaw, she asked, “What are you two doing here?"

  "Causing trouble," JD said innocently.

  "You shouldn’t do that," she said with a grave expression.

  "Why not?" JD asked. "It's so much fun."

  “You have an interesting definition of fun."

  “We’re looking for a little payback," I said.

  “You should let it slide.”

  Jack’s brow lifted. “They beat the crap out of my car! And you want me to let that slide?”

  Caprice’s face tensed. “You don’t want to mess with Slater and Griffin!"

  “You underestimate us, my dear. Slater and Griffin don’t want to mess with us,” JD boasted.

  The two thugs hovered twenty yards away, glowering at us.

  “I don’t underestimate,” Caprice said. “I just don’t want to see you guys get hurt.”

  We shrugged it off.

  "I can tell you this,” I said. “We’re bringing this place down. You might not want to be anywhere around when this thing explodes."

  She cringed. "I can't ask you not to do your job, but is this a battle you want to fight?"

  "I've never been one to back down from a challenge."

  "You might be biting off more than you can chew,” she said.

  "So I've been told."

  Her nervous eyes flicked about the club. She looked tormented, torn between two worlds. She wasn’t a bad girl, and I believed her when she said she didn't have any involvement in Nico's criminal enterprise. Maybe I was being naïve. Maybe I didn't want to believe she was involved.

  “You know, a sworn affidavit from a credible source might be enough to get a warrant,” I said, just tossing it out there.

  Caprice’s eyes kept flicking to the goons watching us. She looked spooked. “I told you, I’m not getting involved in this.”

  “You’re already involved,” I said.

  She frowned at me.

  We sipped the liquor and sat there for a moment, trying to act casual. But I never let my guard down. I sat at an angle and always kept an eye on the goons.

  “We’re having a little gathering on the Avventura if you feel like stopping by,” I said.

  “You’re not sick of me yet?” she asked coyly.

  “Not totally,” I teased.

  She rolled her eyes. “Are you sure you’re not trying to seduce me to get information?”

  “You’re right. This has all been an elaborate undercover sting.”

  She gave me a doubtful glance.

  “You bumped into me, remember?”

  “I didn’t bump into you. I got shoved and almost fell into the pool.”

  “And who kept you from falling in?”

  Her face tensed as she saw something unpleasant across the club. “Nico’s here.”

  I casually glanced over my shoulder. Nico spoke with his goons, then headed toward us.

  “I see you just couldn’t keep away,” he said when he arrived.

  “What can I say? It’s a great place. There are quite a few attractions here.”

  His face tightened, and his eyes flicked to Caprice.

  “I like it so much, I was hoping I could join your private club,” I said.

  “I don’t think you would like it.”

  “I’m a hell of a poker player.”

  “In that case, maybe I should give you a tour of my VIP members club.” The scumbag had a smug smile on his face.

  “That would be so kind of you,” I said, surprised.

  JD and I climbed from our barstools and followed Nico across the club. I gave a glance to Caprice as we strolled away. She shrugged with confusion, then hustled around the bar and followed.

  Nico gave a nod to the bouncer by the little red door, and he pulled it open. Nico motioned for us to enter, and we stepped inside. I discovered the reason he was so eager to show it to us. All the gaming equipment had been moved. There were no blackjack tables, no roulette, no craps, no poker tables. Just leather couches and coffee tables.

  My jaw tightened.

  “Still want to join?” Nico asked.

  “You moved it.”

  “Moved what?” Nico said innocently.

  “I will catch you,” I said.

  “Deputy Wild, I think you’ve developed an unhealthy fixation. You should let it go.”

  “I’m a very stubborn individual.”

  “We all have our flaws, don’t we?”

  I wanted to wipe that smug grin right off his face.

  “Feel free to stay as long as you like,” Nico said. “Drinks are on the house.”

  He ushered us back into the main bar. “Gentleman, enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  Nico forced a smile, but his eyes blazed into Caprice before walking away.

  Slater and Griffin glared at us, hovering uncomfortably close for a moment, then followed Nico.

  “When did he move the stuff?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Caprice said innocently.

  I gave her a look.

  “I swear.”

  We watched for a moment as Nico had a conference with his goons. There were angry gestures and the occasional glare in our direction.

  “He’s mad,” Caprice said. “When he starts acting nice, he’s mad. To move all that stuff and set up shop somewhere else… he has to be livid. But that also means you’re scaring him.”

  “He should be scared.”

  “Now is not the time to discuss this. We’ll talk later. You should probably go now.”

  “Will you be alright?” I asked.

  She smiled. “I’m always alright.”

  “He said drinks were on the house,” JD said. “I think we should take him up on his hospitality. We wouldn’t want to seem rude.”

  Caprice sighed. “You two sure do like to push the limits.”

  36

  We stayed for another drink. When we left, Slater and Griffin followed us to the exit and watched us climb into the Trans Am.

  JD smiled and waved at them as I pulled away from the curb. My foot mashed the gas, and the engine roared, echoing off the buildings. The car wasn’t nearly as f
ast as JD’s Porsche, but it could definitely slam you against the seats with just a blip of the throttle. It felt fast, and that’s what mattered.

  “Of all the girls in Coconut Key, you gotta get involved with the sister of a thug,” JD said.

  “You’re one to talk.”

  His face crinkled at me. “At least all the women I date aren’t hazardous to my health.” He thought about it for a moment. “I mean, some of them try to give me a heart attack, but what a way to go.”

  We headed back to the marina at Diver Down. I parked the Trans Am next to my sportbike, and we ambled down the dock. I was surprised to find a relatively tame party aboard the boat.

  Dizzy and Crash played acoustic guitars, and Styxx banged on a bongo. They did a little jam on the sundeck, but they were lacking vocals. JD joined them shortly after we arrived, and Wild Fury ran through an acoustic version of their show to a bevy of appreciative groupies in short skirts and low-cut tops.

  It wasn’t long after the show before the Jacuzzi was overflowing with topless beauties, pawing on band members. Panties were soon tossed aside, and the guys lived out their rock ‘n’ roll fantasies.

  I wasn’t left out in the cold for long. Caprice strutted down the dock in a huff and crossed the passerelle. I greeted her on the aft deck.

  “I’m done with his bullshit,” she said, looking flustered.

  “What happened?”

  "We got into it after you left. He blames me for bringing heat on the organization. Says my relationship with you is causing problems." Her face crinkled.

  “We have a relationship?” I teased.

  She sneered at me playfully. “I have needs, and you satisfy them. That’s a relationship, sort of.”

  I smirked.

  “He's not the boss of me. He can't tell me what to do."

  "You need to get away from him," I said.

  "Easier said than done."

  "Does he know where you are right now?"

  "No. I snuck out the back of the club and caught a cab over here."

  "It won't take a rocket scientist to figure out where you are," I said.

  "Does that make you nervous?" she asked, taunting me.

  "No. If anybody should be nervous, it’s Nico.”