“Whoa, girl. You are not guilt free for sure. Don’t go throwing stones.”
“Yeah, you are right,” she admitted. “I will admit to not being perfect, after all, you told trained me well. You taught how to fight, how to curse, how to shoot, and how to…”
“Okay, Collins. I get your point,” Shane capitulated. “Are we good?”
“We are good if you answer one question,” a disturbing tremor in her voice.
“Shoot.”
“Why did you get pissed when Bethany announced she was seeing the mayor Saturday night?”
“Why do you care?” Shane stopped walking, looking searchingly her eyes.
“No way, Travers. You can’t answer a question with a question. But, because I am a big girl, I will. I don’t like being the cause of a problem between you and Bethany if you really care for the woman. Do you? Genuinely care for Bethany, I mean?”
“I am ashamed to admit it, but my male ego took a hit, not my heart, Collins.” Shane confessed. “Okay? Are we good now?”
Travers had not said if he cared for Bethany. She studied him a moment before replying, “We are good now Travers.”
“Then you won’t mind me asking you some questions about this Alvarez guy? In the line of duty of course.” He hastened to assure her.
“Why? I know he owns Twin Maples, but I don’t believe Alvarez had anything to do with Dad’s injury,” she remarked, casting the detective a look of consternation.
“That’s not it, Collins.” Shane told her every detail of the briefing with Special Agent Scott. He realized this conversation with Collins to be the perfect example of the way Scott suspected the drug dealers received their information. Collins would not breathe a word of this to anyone, though, Shane would bet his life on her discretion. He vented about the animosity the new mayor has for HPD and the cuts he has made to department funding. Chief Preston retiring rather than work under the new mayor, and concern about the chief’s yet unnamed replacement. Shane reported Special Agent Scott suspicions about a leak within the department. Lastly, he informed her of Luis Álvarez heading a syndicate dealing with drugs and prostitution, and of Carlos’ separate organization.
“Carlos Alvarez is more into refined crimes like money laundering, extortion, gambling,” Shane elaborated. “Scott says the older brother knows of the younger brother’s dealings and does not approve but doesn’t interfere as long as Carlos’ group is not involved.”
“Well, I am not in the least surprised. Luis Alvarez can be cold, ruthless, and unscrupulous from what my former co-workers told me. While Luis is a womanizer with little respect for the women he targets, Carlos has a reputation as a gentleman and a connoisseur of beautiful women as well as an astute, unscrupulous businessman. My friend Shelia has worked there three years and says Carlos is always aloof with female staff. He does not want any breathe of scandal associated with the club, it surprises me, therefore, that Carlos would even tolerate his brother keeping an office in the club.”
“Blood runs thicker than water, as the old saying goes,” Shane remarked. “You like this Carlos Alvarez, Collins?”
“I neither like or dislike the man, Travers. He was my boss and treated me with respect, that its. I am not exactly his type, I think. An aura of danger surrounds him, and I think that appeals to some women.”
“But not you?”
“Not really. Truth to tell, I feel unsettled around the man, not threatened, just…I don’t know how to put it. It those dark eyes that bore straight through you. I always felt as if he were watching me.” Lenore admitted.
Shane knew just exactly why Carlos Alvarez always watched Lenore. Leni may not realize her attractiveness, but Carlos Alvarez did. Shane picked up undertones in the man’s conversation with Lenore that her naivety missed. “You are selling yourself short, Collins. The man finds you attractive.”
“Travers don’t’ be silly. I am not in that man’s league at all,” she protested. “Anyway, it sounds to me that the crooks discovered the undercover agent’s identity, for sure. But why bury his body in such a shallow grave when they could have just as easily tossed him in the river or thrown the body into a sinkhole. That area is riddled with some awesomely deep sinkholes.”
Shane shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows? The big bosses have others do the dirty work of disposing of bodies, so they don’t dirty their hands.”
“The low men on the totem pole?” she proposed.
“Exactly Collins. The worker bees who do what they are told,” he agreed. “The men or women gathering the seemingly innocent information about our department are not amateurs, for sure.”
“Poor Chief Preston, to have deal with an arrogant, overbearing mayor and now this his last week of work.”
His phone rang before he could reply. “It’s Dad,” he told Lenore. “Hey Dad. Is he back yet?”
“Yes, son. The doctor is on his way up to talk with Lenore.”
“Okay. On our way.”
“What is it, Shane? What did Mr. Bill say?” Fear splintered Lenore’s heart.
“Your father is back in the room from CT, Leni. The doctor is on his way up to talk to you.”
“Travers, will you hold my hand. I am afraid.” Lenore knew she sounded like the girl who once requested the same service. They were thirteen-years-old and Grammy Collins was nearing the end of her struggle with respiratory failure and heart disease. Lenore and Shane waited in the hallway while her father, Aunt Maddy, and the Travers spoke in hushed tones. Neither wanted to enter the solemn atmosphere of Grammy’ hospital room, but they were expected to say one last good-bye. The frenemies joined hands and walked in the room.
“No problem, Collins.” Shane grabbed her hand and she held on to him for dear life. “I am afraid too.” The very words he spoke when they were walking into Grammy Collins’ room to say good-bye.
The news was not good. James Collins condition had worsened. The bleeding in his brain recurred, increasing pressure within his skull. CT revealed a new area of infarct, stroke, the doctor said in addition to the first injury. He would take Mr. Collins to surgery and try to control the bleeding, but a successful outcome is doubtful. Without surgery, Mr. Collins will continue to bleed and have strokes and die. If the doctor did manage to stop the bleeding, from the amount of brain damage seen on CT, her father’s outlook was poor. Mr. Collins will have no memories; he will never speak again; never moved on his own again. He will be dependent upon mechanical ventilatory support for the rest of his life and will need feeding tubes.
“I will do as you wish. If you want surgery, we must return to the operating room soon. If you choose to forego surgery and stop all life-saving measures, your father will receive palliative care. We will care for providing comfort measures only until he passes.” The doctor watched the faces before him as the realization sank that the James Collins of two days ago was no more. It is not an easy decision to make. “Did your father have a living will, Ms. Collins?”
Bill Travers drew a paper from his jacket pocket and placed it in the doctor’s hand. “He requested no extraordinary measures if death was eminent and he would have no quality of life. He does not want to be kept alive artificially. Let go and let God. He wrote those very words below his name on that document, as you see.”
“Ms. Collins, I need to inform you that you can override your father’s wishes if you so choose.” He could see indecision in the woman’s eyes. “Why don’t you discuss it among yourselves and let me know what you decide. The only urgency is the need for an expedient return to surgery if that is what you decide.”
Lenore looked up and faced the doctor. “Surgery will not be necessary. I know my father’s philosophy on life. He said it what mattered was how well one lived and not how long. Keeping him on a machine from now until who knows when goes against everything he wanted. Please, stop all treatment and let my father join my mother. All I ask is that he not be in pain.”
The surgeon walked to face Lenore, placing both hands on her shou
lders, he said “I promise you your father will not suffer, Ms. Collins.” With that, he wrapped his arms in an understanding embrace. “I am sorry, Ms. Collins. Take a few minutes with your father while I alert the staff.”
Shane excused himself and followed the surgeon to the nurses’ station.
“We suspect that Mr. Collins’ injury was from an assault. We will need an autopsy,” Detective Travers informed the doctor.
“I understand, Detective Travers. I will inform nursing staff to relay the circumstances to the coroner. He will make arrangements from there.”
James Collins lived twenty-five minutes after the doctor removed the breathing tube. Lenore held her father’s right hand and his sister the left. The world was now short a good father, brother, friend, mentor, and a one hell of a man as Shane Travers said clutching his friend’s free hand as tears streamed down his own face.
Chapter 14
Monday, April 23, 2017
“Dr. James Collins, a noted local anthropologist and the subject of a Golden Alert issued Friday evening, has died from injuries received in a suspected assault. HPD issued a Golden Alert Friday evening when Dr. Collins’ daughter Lenore Collins, who lives in New York, became concern after repeated unsuccessful attempts to contact her father by phone. A neighbor sent to check on the man could not find him, either. The police searched Dr. Collins’ last know location Friday evening and into early Saturday morning. They found Dr. Collins car, cell phone, and a handkerchief but so sign of the missing man. Saturday morning, HPD Detective Shane Travers and K-9 Officer Tim Sells found Dr. Collins unresponsive in an abandoned house suffering from a head wound. Lenore Collins, Dr. Collins’ daughter, flew in from New York to assist with the search and was with the police when her father was found.”
“EMS transported Dr. Collins to St. Raphael’s Hospital where he was then transferred by helicopter to University Hospital in Louisville. Dr. Collins died Sunday morning around 2 AM according to a family spokesman. Funeral arrangements are incomplete, pending completion of an autopsy. The case is now a death investigation. Ms. Collins has been unavailable for comment.”
A recent picture of James Collins appeared on the TV screen as the newscaster highlighted his career and accomplishments.
Mitch Canner did not pay much attention to the local news his brother watched every morning. The face of the old geezer he whacked over the head Friday afternoon had caught is attention this morning, though.
“Look there Larry,” Mitch exclaimed pointing at the TV screen. “That is the old man I hit with my gun the other day. The one that found the grave. He can’t recognize me now.”
Larry’s stomach felt knotted as he stared at his naïve brother. “Did you not hear what that newscaster said, Mitch? The police are now investigating his death. If the autopsy shows he died from the whack you gave him, you could be charged with murder.”
“First, they would have to catch me and second, they have to prove it was me that did it,” Mitch said. He is not concerned. “I told you, Larry, they will put the blame on the creep that pokes around over there.”
“You don’t know that, Mitch. What if the old man lived long enough to give a description of you? Dammit Mitch that idiot saw you too; he can ID you.”
Mitch face paled and fear flared in his eyes when the full import of what his brother was saying hit him. “I need to find that dude and kill him Larry. I won’t go to jail for murder.”
“Be quiet, Mitch. Let me think.”
***
Luis Alvarez looked across his desk at Club Nocturno in the face of his brother trying to decipher what was going on in Carlos’s mind. His brother’s expression was more inscrutable than usual this morning. Sure, the man is tired, his jet hadn’t been on the ground thirty minutes yet, and Carlos spent the weekend dealing with business. But this is more than tiredness. There is something else bothering his brother, and Luis is about the find out.
“Well, Carlos. How was your trip to the Bluegrass State, the state of great whiskey, fast horses, and wild women?”
“Luis, are you aware that an FBI agent was recently killed and buried on my land, the plot named Twin Maples?” Carlos demanded, skipping the preliminaries.
“Why would I have a reason to know that, brother?” Luis questioned. “Kentucky is a long way from here and unless the story made national news, I would not have heard of it.”
“Twin Maples borders the property you use as a base for your organization’s Kentucky drug operation.”
Luis paled, his pulse quickening. “Damn Zach. What happened?”
Carlos studied his brother’s face and surmised that Luis was not of aware of the dead FBI agent, yet. “The FBI suspected someone around Hylton was involved with drug trafficking. Two undercover agents were dispatched to the town to investigate and now one is dead, buried on my property. Your last shipment was cancelled because of the situation, I hear.” Carlos sneered.
“Why is the FBI interested in a local drug dealer?” Luis asked even though he suspected the answer. “Local or state cops usually handle those cases.”
“The FBI obviously suspect they are not dealing with a local operation. Now, we both have FBI and local cops crawling all over the place,” his ire rising. “I tolerate your business, Luis, merely because you are family. I will not be as tolerant if your business brings down shame upon my own, Is that clear?”
The only outward sign of his brother’s anger was the thunderous look in his dark eyes. Inwardly, his temples throbbed with rage. “Sure, Carlos. I will deal with Zach today.”
“That’s not all, Luis.”
Luis began to worry the worst was yet to come. “Go on, Carlos.”
“The bartended you assaulted…” Carlos began.
“I kissed her, Carlos. Since when is that assault,” he scoffed.
“It is assault when she was unwilling, and under my protection,” Carlos seethed.
“How was I supposed to know you wanted her for yourself? That is your problem with women, brother, you want to gradually seduce them, make them come to you willingly.” Luis mocked. “You need to be more forceful, take what you want like me.”
“Like you, Luis? How many times and how much money I have wasted getting you out of woman trouble time after time because you are forceful?”
“Carlos, that’s all the women want anyway, the money. Besides, most of them like it.”
“Not this one, Luis. Ms. Collins made it plain, she wants no money. That slap was just a warning to you, brother. Take my word for it.”
Luis let go a mirthless laugh. “I am not worried about that woman. She is out of here Carlos and won’t be back.”
Carlos worried. “Her father received permission to visit Twin Maples this weekend. My informant tells me the police found Dr. Collins, our former bartender’s father, at Twin Maples Saturday morning, a victim of assault. The man died from those injuries, Luis. The property is now in the center of two murder investigations.”
“That should not affect me in anyway, Carlos.” Luis assured his brother. “I set up a contingency plan at the onset of this operation. I will not hesitate to take the necessary steps.”
“Luis, I want you to avoid Lenore Collins.” Carlos hissed, his cold eyes boring into his brother’s eyes.
“What are you talking about, Carlos? Still want her yourself?” Luis saw a flash of hate flare up in Carlos’ eyes.
“I am aware you have your spies out looking for her. I thought I made myself clear before I left town, that you will keep your distance.”
“The woman intrigues me, Carlos, just as she does you. I suggest we both try our own personal seduction techniques on the woman and see which method works? Your slow, subtle methods or the more straight forward method I find affective.” Luis laughed.
Carlos reached across the desk, grabbed his brother by the shirt collar, pulling the man up. Shocked, Luis felt of tremor of fear course through his veins. “If I hear of you or any of your associates so much as look at Lenore Col
lins, much less touch her, you will be the first man I kill, my brother. I promise.”
“She is not your Elenora, my brother, despite the resemblance. She will never be,” Luis warned.
Carlos cast his brother a menacing look and left the office, leaving Luis staring after him. Never has Luis seen his brother so angry. Carlos had never laid hands upon his brother before, yet Luis knew he would carry out his threat if this Lenore Collins came to harm. Hell, no woman was worth dying for, ever. Carlos could have the bartender, for now. Now he had to deal with the problem Carlos just dropped in his lap was more important. I need to call Zach. Someone will pay for killing that agent. Not that he cared that one less FBI roamed the face of the earth but killing this one might screw up the whole enterprise. Luis desperately needed a foothold in that area of Kentucky. With the casino across the river, the town’s proximity to Louisville and Churchill Downs, and expanded gambling in the state’s future once enough politicians came on board with the idea, money was there for the taking. He wanted control of that money.
***
Zach Felton expected the call from Luis Alvarez after hearing the news of the grave and the missing man, both on the property adjoining his own. The news did not mention the body in the grave was that of a dead FBI agent. His local informants hadn’t received this tidbit of information yet or Felton would know. Nope, he had to hear from the big man who heard the news from Carlos Alvarez who received the news from the mayor himself. Never a good thing. Zach is supposed to keep his finger on the pulse of Hylton news, always ready to adjust plans as needed, which he had. Larry informed him of that the police were crawling all over the old place and suggested they delay Friday’s night shipment. Sound advice.
How did Carlos know about that shipment anyway? Luis wouldn’t have told him. Carlos wants no part of Luis’s organization. He does not want to taint his reputation as a fine upstanding citizen. If the men weren’t brothers, Zach did not doubt that Carlos would turn Luis in. The elder Alvarez brother doesn’t know he is reaping some of the profits from Luis’ labors. The Club’s patrons like to party, especially those invited to Luis’ private gatherings. Luis’ excellent quality drugs fueled those parties even though none of the dope sold inside that swanky joint. Carlos is either a fool or a two-faced bastard if he does not realize that it is ecstasy keeping the dance floor hopping and money flowing.
A Tale of Two Lenores Page 10
