Rebels and Thieves

by Russell Williams

  Rebels And thieves

  Russell Williams

  REBELS AND THIEVES

  Copyright © 2018 by Russell Williams

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental and is not the intention of the author.

  Cover design by The Cover Collection

  Dedication

  The author wishes to thank his family and friends for their encouragement, support, and optimism.

  Chapter 1

  Detective Sergeant Rick Malone took a drag on his cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke. He looked down at the corpse. The deceased was a white male, mid-thirties, about five- foot-ten, and close to two hundred pounds. “If Miami wasn’t one of the worst crime-infested cities in America, it would be a sun-soaked paradise.”

  Officer Tim Jones cleared his throat. “It looks like the same killer has stuck again.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Malone knew this crime scene was different from the last one they had investigated. The deceased wore a blue button-down shirt, black slacks, black dress shoes, and a gold Rolex watch. “We’re dealing with a different perpetrator.”

  “Oh, come on, Sergeant.” Officer Jones let out a long exasperated sigh, as if to say this was an open and shut case. “I mean, it looks like the same killer’s MO to me.”

  “Is there any identification on him?”

  Officer Jones gave him a cocky look. “Someone stole his wallet, just like the last victim.”

  Malone got the picture. The rookie cop thought he was in league all by himself. “That doesn’t mean the murders are related. Don’t jump to conclusions.”

  “I haven’t missed anything.” Officer Jones sounded irritated. “It’s as plain as day.”

  “It takes a keen eye to work a crime scene.”

  “Tell me about it.” Officer Jones raised his chin defiantly. He was average height, with fair skin, short red hair, and brown eyes. He was dressed in full police uniform. He kept looking at his watch, as if he had a better place to be. “It doesn’t take me long to put the pieces together.”

  Malone felt frustrated. “So, you think the victim was robbed?”

  “Like I said before, I never miss a beat. I have a sixth sense, so to speak.”

  “Think again.” Malone pointed at the deceased. “Look at his gold Rolex watch.”

  Officer Jones turned up his palms and shrugged. “Oh, I didn’t see that.”

  Malone could tell the rookie cop was distracted. Given his reputation, he had a good idea what was bothering him. “All right, let’s hear it. You might as well get it off your chest.”

  “Huh?”

  “You have a big gambling debt, don’t you?”

  Officer Jones clenched his jaw. “I had a run of bad luck, that’s all. No big deal.”

  “Twenty grand is a lot to be in the hole for, especially for a guy as young as you.”

  “How did you find out about that?”

  Malone felt a flash of anger. He needed officers in the field he could trust. “You have a monkey on your back. And it’s interfering with your ability to conduct your job.”

  Officer Jones’ face reddened. “That’s not true, Sergeant. You’re wrong about that.”

  “You can’t pay your bills. You’re always preoccupied, worried about your debt.”

  “No, I’m not, Sergeant. I’m focused on doing my job and nothing else. I bet you this stiff took two slugs in the chest, just like the guy who was shot to death last week.”

  “Let’s find out.” Malone took a drag on his cigarette and blew out a long stream of smoke. Being careful not to contaminate the crime scene, he crushed the cigarette under his shoe and dropped the butt into his blue blazer’s coat pocket. He slipped on a pair of latex gloves, stooped to his knees, and unbuttoned the victim’s blue-button down dress shirt. There were three deep stab wounds in the left portion of his chest. “Look at that,” Malone said, pointing at the knife wounds. “He wasn’t shot in the chest, just like the last victim.”

  “So, I made a mistake.” Officer Jones gave him a hard look. “That’s not a big deal.”

  Malone looked back at the corpse. “From the angle and position of the knife wounds, I’d say the killer is left handed and about the same height as the deceased.”

  “I’ll take your word for it, I guess.”

  “I’m open to theories.” Malone stood up and faced him. “In fact, I’d like to hear yours.”

  Officer Jones waved him off. “What’s the use?”

  Malone felt his face growing hot. He was determined to get his point across. “Don’t dodge the question. Go on. Shed some light on the investigation for me.”

  “Why should I? You won’t listen to me anyway.”

  “That’s because I’ve been doing this job for over twenty-five years.” Malone looked around the crime scene. His fellow police officers were running crime-scene tape, taking pictures, and shooing away onlookers. Two TV news vans raced into the parking lot and came to a screeching halt. Malone was happy his team was working hard to solve the crime.

  “I graduated at the top of my class, Sergeant. I was a rising star at the police academy.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything to me.”

  Officer Jones smirked. “It means I’m a lot smarter than everyone else.”

  Malone knew he was fighting an uphill battle. The rookie cop couldn’t see the forest through the trees. “Textbook knowledge doesn’t impress me. It’s more important to have street smarts, a keen eye, and good instincts.”

  “Don’t sweat it.” Officer Jones gave him a big grin. “I have a ton of those qualities, too.”

  “Stop living in a dream world.” Malone moved to a park bench, combed through the tall grass, and picked up a cell phone. Using his thumb, he pushed a few buttons, checking the call log. He noticed over ten calls were made to the same number. “Pay more attention to the crime scene. I’m not going to tell you again.”

  Officer Jones looked down at his feet. “I would have seen it, Sergeant.” There was a note of anxiety in his voice. “I mean, I was just getting ready to search that area.”

  “Knock it off, will you?”

  Officer Jones glared at him. “You make me nervous. In fact, it makes me ineffective.”

  “Don’t blame your problems on me. That’s not why you joined the force.”

  “I don’t sign up to get criticized, either.”

  “Remember, that’s part of the learning curve.” Malone knew Officer Jones was going to confront ruthless criminals in Miami. If he didn’t get his act together, he would probably end up dying in the line of duty. Malone bagged the cell phone in a clear plastic baggie and handed it to him. “This is a hard business to be in. I’ve seen a lot of people die over the years. Have you ever thought about changing careers?”

  “That’s a terrible thing to say to someone, Sergeant. Stop giving me the third degree.”

  “On the contrary, I’ve been being too nice to you.”

  Officer Jones’s jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious, can you?”

  Malone decided to cut to the chase. “I need officers in the field who have a clear head. That’s not you, kid. So, you can either deal with your gambling addiction or sit behind a desk.”

  “All right,
Sergeant.” Officer Jones’ voice grew serious. “I’ll get my act together.”

  Malone was relieved to hear that. Perhaps he was finally getting through to the rookie cop. “That sounds good. Now, go find out who the victim called twelve times.”

  “It’s your world, Sergeant. Everyone else just has to live in it.”

  The white and blue Medical Examiner’s van raced into the parking lot, tires screeching as it braked thirty feet away. Malone cut across the grass, refusing to answer questions from a group of eager reporters, and slid behind the wheel of his unmarked police car. Looking into his rearview mirror, he saw the rookie cop standing at the crime scene, shaking his finger at two police officers. He’s still acting like he’s a big shot, he thought. Shaking his head, he twisted on the ignition and sped out of Lemon City Park.

  Chapter 2

  Malone stood in his living room, staring at his wife, Karen. She was wearing a yellow dress, a white belt, and expensive high-heeled shoes. Her shoulder length blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Her blue eyes were red, glassy, and puffy. Clearly upset, she put her house keys on the coffee table. Two suitcases were on the floor, one on either side of her.

  “What’s wrong?” Malone asked.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” Karen said, her voice trembling. “I’m leaving you.”

  Malone felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach. “We buried the hatchet, though.”

  “No, we didn’t. Nothing has changed between us. It’s the same old song and dance.”

  “No one has a perfect marriage.” Malone paused. “I mean, it just doesn’t exist.”

  “Things could be a lot better between us, don’t you think?”

  Malone had worked hard on their relationship. Instead of spending all his time conducting psychological profiles of criminals for the Miami Police Department, he’d spent a lot more time with her. “I thought we’ve been making progress.”

  “Over the years,” Karen said, “you’ve given me so much grief.”

  Malone was sick of rehashing the past. “I thought we put this behind us.”

  “No, we haven’t. You’re going down the same path again.”

  “Nothing could be further from the truth.”

  “You wouldn’t know the truth, if it bit you in the face.”

  “I’ve made a lot of sacrifices for us, haven’t I? What more do you want from me?” Everything in Malone’s life was coming to a head—confronting criminals, putting up with an overbearing boss, and dealing with his marital problems. Stressed out, he’d purchased a bottle of whiskey over the weekend. He didn’t plan to drink a lot, just enough to take the edge off.

  A haunted look filled Karen’s eyes. “I can’t do this. I can’t go through this again.”

  “Can’t go through what again?”

  Karen looked at him with disgust. “I found a bottle of whiskey in the cupboard.”

  Malone felt overwhelmed. He wished he could get her to understand his point-of-view.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Malone waved his hand. “I’m not going to drink like I used to.”

  “I thought I could change you.” Karen’s voice cracked with emotion. “Now, I see how wrong I’ve been.”

  “Well, my birthday is coming up, isn’t it?”

  “Don’t go there.” There was an angry edge in her voice. “That’s not an excuse to drink.”

  “You don’t expect me to stay sober, do you?”

  Karen’s expression turned gloomy. She opened her purse, took out a tissue, and dried the corner of her eyes. “I should have known better.”

  “So, I’ll have a few drinks. No big deal. It’s not the end of the world.”

  “You can’t just have one.” Karen glared at him. “You’ve never been able to do that.”

  “Look, this time it’s going to be different. I’m not going to turn back into drunk.”

  Karen removed her wedding ring. With tears in her eyes, she set it on the coffee table. She looked around the room, as if she was never going to see it again. “I don’t see any way around it. You leave me with no choice. I have to move on with my life.”

  “You’re just being closed-minded.”

  “You’re just going to end up getting blitzed all the time.”

  “That’s not going to happen. Have a little faith in me, all right?”

  Karen’s face darkened with anger. She grabbed another tissue and dabbed her eyes. Shaking her head, she picked up her suitcases and walked to the front door. “It’s no use. You’re too hardheaded. You’re never going to change.”

  “Don’t leave me.” Malone chased after her. “Let’s try to work things out.”

  “Like we did last night, huh?”

  “That’s not fair. I’m conducting an important homicide investigation, you know that.”

  “My mother called, remember? My sister was in a serious car accident.”

  Malone felt bad about how he had treated her. “It was bad timing, that’s all.”

  “You slammed the door in my face, remember?”

  “I was on an important business call, you know that.”

  A disappointed look crossed Karen’s face. “I really needed you to be there for me.”

  Malone felt a wave of guilt. He wanted to be a better husband, but he was too stressed out. “Don’t you see? That’s why I need a few drinks every night. It will help me to unwind.”

  “I’m sick of hearing this.” Karen threw open the front door.

  “Take it easy.” In the distance, Malone could see dark clouds in evening sky. It looked like it was about to start pouring down rain. “Don’t give up on us.”

  “You’re lying to yourself again.” Karen’s voice was tense. “You can’t even see it.”

  Malone knew it was the end of the line. He had to think fast on his feet. “Fine, you win, honey. I won’t drink every night. I’ll only drink on special occasions, all right?”

  “How many times have I heard that before?” Karen slammed the door in his face.

  Malone stormed into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. Heading into the living room, he stopped and looked at himself in a mirror that hung above a glass table. He was a tall and physically fit man, with high-set cheekbones, a strong chin, and dark blue eyes. His black hair was swept back with no trace of gray despite his forty-four years. Disgusted with his wife, he dropped down on the couch and took a swig off the bottle. What’s the use? He realized things would probably never get better between them. He hit the bottle again, this taking gulping down several mouthfuls.

  Chapter 3

  On the way to the Miami Police Department, Malone decided to stop at a bagel shop. Sitting in his unmarked police car, he noticed two suspicious men across the highway. Wearing black trench coats, they jumped out of an old, beat up red pickup truck and rushed into the 7-Eleven. Malone sped out of the shopping mall, whipped across the highway, and parked behind the building. He slipped into the convenience store, suspecting a 10-31 was in progress, and hid in the back of the store. Peeking around the aisle, he watched a man talking to the cashier.

  “I’m Pete,” he said, holding a shotgun in his hands. “This is my partner, Mark.”

  “Settle down,” the cashier said, his voice tense. “I don’t want to get hurt.”

  “Shut up,” Pete said, pointing the shotgun at him.

  “Take it easy,” the cashier said. “I’m not arguing with you.”

  “Give me all the cash. Or you’re going to die.”

  The cashier gave him the money. “It’s about seventy bucks, I think. That’s all we have.”

  “Stop lying to me.”

  The cashier’s hands were shaking. “If you don’t believe me, check the drawer yourself.”

  Pete turned the shotgun around and used the butt of it to smash the cashier’s face. Moaning, the young man collapsed to the floor. Pete flew over the counter and stomped on his head until he was unconscious. He reached into the cashier’s back pocket, grabbed his wal
let, and opened it. Frowning, he stuffed a few bills into his front pocket. He moved to the cash drawer and checked underneath it. When he didn’t find anything, he slammed his fist on the counter. His partner, holding a pistol to his side, shook his head.

  “You said this place had a ton of cash,” Mark said. “Enough for us to get to Mexico.”

  “Take it easy.” Pete raised his hand. “Sometimes, things don’t go as planned.”

  Mark stared at him. “This isn’t good.” He sounded worried. “I can’t go back to prison.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “But we don’t have enough cash to get out of the country.”

  Pete pointed at the front door. “Look, an old man is about to come into the store.”

  “So?”

  “Sometimes, I think you have a screw loose. Go see how much cash he has on him.”

  Unaware that there was a robbery in progress, the old man walked into the store. Mark shoved the pistol in his face. He patted him down, fished out the wallet from his back pocket, and tossed it onto the counter. Pete put the shotgun down, tore through it, and grabbed a handful of bills. He set them on the counter. Sighing, he hung his head low.

  “Oh, that’s terrible,” Mark said. “That’s not even forty bucks.”

  “We’ll just have to hit another store, that’s all,” Pete said. “It’s our only option.”

  “I wanted to be in Mexico by now. I wanted this nightmare to be over with.”

  “Take it easy, will you?”

  Mark shook his head. “The cops are looking for us.” He looked around the store, as if he expected them to come barging in at any second. “We’re really pushing our luck.”

  “It’s a setback, that’s all.”

  “I don’t want to kill any more people. I don’t want to spill anymore blood.”

  “It’s too bad, bro. We have to kill them. They’ve seen our faces.”

  “I hate you, Pete.” Mark shook his head. “I hate you for getting me mixed up in this.”