by Mike Slavin
The driver spoke first. “You’ve got two guys you need to get rid of, right?”
“Yep, that’s right,” Ford said. “Can’t you hear them?”
Both of the goons were talking nonstop, mostly obscenities.
“Are they handcuffed or zip tied?” the driver asked.
“Duct taped, hands and feet. At least they were when they went in there,” Ford said.
“I have them covered,” the other man said with his weapon out and trained on the trunk.
The driver opened the trunk. He grabbed Marco, jerked him out of the trunk, and slammed it shut. The trunk nailed Greg on the head as it closed. The other man roughly put duct tape over Marco’s mouth. He shoved a black bag over Marco’s head and zip tied his hands before cutting the duct tape off his hands and feet. He pulled Marco over to the Escalade, pushed him into the back, and handcuffed him to a metal rail in the vehicle. The other man put shackles on his legs.
Ford was impressed with how efficient the men were. Without missing a beat, they did the same thing to Greg. Both goons were now tied up, quiet, and secured inside their new transportation. With the dark glass, no one would ever see the cargo bound up in the Escalade.
“Is that it?” Ford asked.
“That’s it,” the driver said.
“No paperwork?” Ford asked.
“We got it from here.” The two men got into the Escalade and drove away.
“I've seen a lot of unusual things, but that was very strange,” Ford mumbled.
He didn’t know who the guys were or where the goons were going, but it probably wasn’t going to be good for them.
“Walker, they just took Greg and Marco away. Everything else taken care of yet?” Ford asked.
“You should be clear to stay undercover,” Walker said. “Plus, the police chief should be set to let your guy Case go. I’ll stay on top of it. When they do pick him up, he won’t be in custody long.”
“Good. I plan to tell Testa that his men accidentally killed a police lieutenant, but I got away.”
“Will he believe that?”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
When Ford arrived at Houston’s Bush Intercontinental Airport, he made a call to Testa.
“What’s wrong?” Tony asked.
“Greg killed a police lieutenant instead of Mr. Case,” Ford answered.
“That fucking idiot! Where is he? Let me talk to him.”
“The cops got ‘em both. I barely escaped.”
“What happened?”
“Greg shot the guy who answered the door. I heard on the news it was a police lieutenant who was murdered at Jeffery Case’s house,” Ford said. “I didn’t know they planned to kill somebody.”
“Fuck!” Tony said. “How’d they get caught?”
“A patrol car was right around the corner. The only way out was a single lane road going through the golf course. Cops were waiting at the other end,” Ford said.
“And you?” Tony asked.
“The road was dark and winding, no houses, just the golf course and lots of trees. I jumped out as they went around a corner. They didn’t see me. I was able to cut through the woods. Unless the guys give me up, I don’t think anyone even has a clue I was there.”
“I don’t think they’ll say anything. I’ll deal with the fuck-ups myself, but I have a shipment for you to arrange in a few days or so. Come in and see me tomorrow.”
“I’ll be there.”
Ford felt pretty comfortable that his undercover identity wouldn’t get blown. He didn’t know who those guys were who had taken away Greg and Marco, and he didn’t want to know. He had to trust Walker, who had assured him there was nothing to worry about. Ford was most concerned that Tony believed him. He might be walking into a bullet. At this point, he had no choice. He had to return to Vegas.
30
Houston
June 8, 2018, Friday
Jeff Case wanted to go to the office for some normalcy, though it was hard to think about the oil business.
It was surreal that he was on his way to work in his Escalade. Less than twelve hours ago, his best friend had been murdered in his house and he himself had almost killed three men. He should have called the cops before going into the office, but he just didn’t feel like it. His attorney could coordinate a time for him to talk to them.
He got in after picking up his phone from the gas station. Everyone was coming back from lunch.
Case sat at his desk, holding a cup of coffee in both hands to soak up the warmth. The coffee smelled great as he looked out his big windows from the tenth floor. He loved the view of downtown Houston about fifteen miles to the south. As Case set down his cup and took out his cell to call Larry’s wife, Sandy, his intercom buzzed. A West Pointer he knew had made an unexpected stop. Since Case had been the president of the West Point Society of Houston for a year, most of the grads in the city either knew him or knew of him. The current president, Chuck Lee, was stopping by the office with no appointment. Case felt he should see him, out of respect.
Case was in his office talking to Chuck when Buster buzzed him on the intercom. “Jeff, there’s a Brett Marr on the line. He has a ready-to-drill oil prospect.”
“Put him through,” Case said. “Chuck, this won’t take long. Is that okay?”
“Please, take your time,” he said.
“Thanks,” Case said. He punched the flashing light on the phone and left it on speaker. “This is Jeff.”
“Mr. Case, this is Brett Marr. I’m an independent geologist and I have a prospect I hope you might be interested in looking at.”
“Before you start telling me about your deal, let me tell you what we look for. We generally like drilling prospects that are Gulf Coast on-shore with multiple pay zones and non-pipe setters, and they must have 3D seismic. We prefer a developmental well and, ideally, more locations to develop farther out if the first well hits. Do you have anything like that?”
Case wondered why he even cared. There were much more important things he needed to deal with, but it was routine. It felt comfortable, even if just for a little while.
“It’s a developmental well, but we don’t have 3D seismic,” the geologist said reluctantly.
“That’s a deal killer.”
Case hung up and turned back to his guest.
“What the hell were you guys saying?” Chuck asked.
Case was explaining the types of wells they looked for when he heard a commotion in the hallway. Unannounced, Detectives Pat and Mike O’Leary barged into Case’s office.
“Jeff Case, you are under arrest for the murder of Larry Marsh,” Detective Mike said.
“You can’t be serious. Why would I kill Larry?” Case said.
“Read him his rights,” Pat instructed his partner.
Mike read Case his rights as Detective Pat walked over to stand beside Case’s desk. Case was still seated.
“Stand up and turn around,” Pat said to Case.
“I was just about to call you guys.” Case stood from his chair but didn’t turn around and offer his hands.
“Sure you were. Ready to confess, were you?”
“What? No. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“What’s going on?” Chuck asked with concern.
“A case of mistaken facts. Nothing to be concerned about.”
Detective Pat O’Leary spun Case around and shoved his upper body down onto his desk. He pulled Case’s hands behind his back and slipped on the cuffs.
“Cuffs? Really?”
Buster entered and stepped behind Detective Pat, blocking the door. With his big body, Buster was more than intimidating.
“You don’t want to do that,” Detective Pat said in a slow, deliberate voice to Buster as he pulled Case back up to a standing position. “Mr. Case, we’re holding a warrant for your arrest. Any trouble or resistance will only make this worse.”
“Okay, okay … Buster, thank you, but stand down,” Case said. “Call Rook and Camp Perkins. Tell him
I just got arrested for the murder of Larry Marsh.”
Buster backed off to make the calls.
“I don’t like you,” Detective Pat whispered into Case’s ear. “You just can’t stop killing people, can you? Don’t worry. We got your ass now.”
“Where will you be taking me? The same place?” Case asked calmly.
“Yes, the same place,” Detective Mike replied. “It’s becoming a routine, isn't it?”
“Tell Rook and Camp they’re taking me to the same place,” Case called out to Buster.
They walked Case out of his office with his hands cuffed behind him. He wasn’t embarrassed—he was furious. Case prided himself on keeping his cool. Detective Pat shoved Case, first out of the office, then onto the elevator.
“It’s pretty odd that you arrived just in time to see Robert Guess get thrown off a building, don’t you think?” Detective Pat asked as he reached behind Case’s back and squeezed the handcuffs tighter. “Maybe you pushed him? We don’t know why you killed Marsh, but we think you had your wife and son killed, too. I don’t know how, but I feel it in my bones. I promise you—we’ll prove you’re guilty of murder and, if we’re lucky, for all those other deaths. I’m sure you know that murder in Texas gets the death penalty. Lieutenant Marsh was our friend.”
“Yeah, he was my friend, too. I didn’t kill him! What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing that seeing you get the needle won’t solve,” he said. “You could confess and save everyone a lot of time and money.”
“You guys are way off.”
“Why did you kill your wife? Got a honey on the side?” Detective Pat asked. “We’ll find her if she’s out there.”
“Fuck you both! I loved my wife and child. I’m done talking to you guys. I’m waiting for my attorney,” Case snarled.
31
Attorneys Camp Perkins and Rook were at the police station waiting for Case when he arrived. Case and his attorneys sat on one side of the table while the O’Leary brothers sat on the other.
“Okay, let’s hear your story,” Detective Pat said. “Why was a police lieutenant dead on your floor, and why did you leave after he got shot?”
“May I have a few minutes alone with my client?” Camp Perkins asked.
“Take as long as you need. We’ll get our chance,” Detective Pat said. The O’Learys left the interview room.
As soon as the cops shut the door, Camp asked, “So, what happened?”
“I need to stall this as long as possible,” Case replied.
“What? You’re in serious trouble. You’re being charged with the murder of a police lieutenant. If you don’t open up and tell me what’s going on, how can I represent you?” Camp demanded.
“Look, Camp, I know this may not make sense to you right now, but I need you to stall as long as possible,” Case said.
“So, you don’t want to tell me what’s going on?”
“We can talk about anything you want, but when they try to come back in the room, tell them you need more time.”
“What happens when they say that’s enough and sit down to start asking questions?”
“I’ll whisper to you what you need to know.”
Camp looked beyond exasperated, but agreed to go along with it.
About fifteen minutes later, the O’Leary brothers came back into the interrogation room and sat down.
“Enough is enough. We're through waiting. Tell us what you know about Lieutenant Marsh getting killed in your house last night,” Detective Pat demanded.
Case was about to tell them as little as possible when the interrogation room door opened. The O’Learys’ lieutenant stuck in his head and said, “I need to talk to both of you, right now.”
Frustrated, they stood and walked outside the room into the hallway. The lieutenant didn’t look pleased. The detectives didn’t close the door, so it was easy to hear the conversation. The lieutenant didn’t seem to mind whether or not Case and his attorneys heard them.
“Cut ‘im loose,” the lieutenant said.
“You’re shitting me,” Detective Mike said.
“Nope. I got a call from the chief. He said to release Mr. Case and drop all the charges. The chief said it’s all part of a bigger case the DEA has working. He said it’s no longer any of our business.”
“Look, even if he didn’t kill Marsh, he must have seen something. Let us at least find out what he can tell us,” Detective Pat said.
“This is bullshit,” Detective Mike said, kicking a chair in the hallway.
The lieutenant turned to Pat. “Give everyone the good news.”
Detective Pat went back into the room and said, “Well, I guess you heard that. Mr. Case, I was just told to release you and that the charges will be dropped. I don’t have a clue what’s going on. My brother is sure you’re guilty of something. I’m not so sure. I mean, I really just don’t know, but if you were Larry’s friend, tell me something, anything, to give me some idea of what we’re looking for. Will you do that?”
“Okay,” Case said.
Camp stopped Case. “I advise you against saying anything.”
“Duly noted.” Case stood and leaned into Pat. “Larry was eating supper with me. We had just finished when someone knocked on the door. Larry answered and they shot him through the door. I checked Larry. He was dead. I grabbed my Glock, jumped in my car, and tried to find the bad guys. I was out all night. I cleaned up this morning and went to work. I planned to turn myself in, but you guys grabbed me first. I’m free to go, right?” Case asked.
His attorneys were shocked. “My God, Mr. Case, you have some real juice,” Camp said.
“I’m sorry, I can’t discuss it now,” Case said. “Please bill me whatever you need to, Camp, and I’ll let you know if I need you again. Rook, I appreciate everything. Someday, I’ll explain it all to you both, but not right now.”
They offered to drive Case home, but he took a cab.
It had been an unbelievable twenty-four hours and a horrific few weeks. To think that six weeks ago, his life had been perfect.
Now his wife, his son, and his best friend were all dead.
The people who had committed these murders and taken away those he loved were all still breathing. Case intended to kill whoever had taken his family from him. He would have to wait to seek justice for Larry’s murder. He didn’t know when he would get a shot at the goons, but unless they were killed before he could get to them, he would kill them too.
However, Tony was just as guilty, just as available, and he was on Case’s hit list.
If not for the DEA guy, Case would have had some justice for Larry already. Although they’d be locked up, he’d keep track of them, if he could, and when they got out, they’d get their due. The undercover DEA agent, Ford, had complicated some things.
Case wasn’t blind with revenge.
He was trying to be very careful and patient.
Trish and Bobby were still collecting information about the two goon assholes, but Case didn’t think they’d find them. He might have to use some of old military contacts when time permitted. He would have to wait. He wasn't worried. He decided to concentrate on Tony. He always had at least one bodyguard with him. The only way to cleanly get Tony might be with a sniper rifle. Case had never been formally trained as a sniper, but he was a good shot and could easily hit a target at a reasonable distance. It would all be about his escape. The closer the shot, the more problems with the escape.
Time to go to Vegas.
The cab pulled up to the house. The whole ride home, Case had been thinking that he hadn’t gotten a chance to call Sandy yet. Then he saw his house. Case’s front door wasn’t restored, but there was a frame and a makeshift door. Thanks, Sam. He pulled out his key. To his surprise, it worked. Note to self: Change the locks. He opened the left makeshift door in the set of double doors, then stepped into his house and turned on the lights. The house reeked of antiseptic. He imagined it would take a few days to restore everything to normal
.
Case walked into the kitchen as the yard lights kicked on. He poured himself a glass of Cabernet and went to sit in a big overstuffed chair in the corner of the room. He turned on the table lamp beside the chair, then took a deep breath and shut his eyes. With his eyes closed, Case raised the wine glass and inhaled its aroma before taking a good mouthful. He held it in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing.
He was blessed to have a cheerful disposition. Case could always take bad news easily, or at least get over it quickly. This was so different. He could visualize his wife holding their baby and goofing around with him. It made him smile. But they were dead and never coming back. His smile faded. Then he thought of Sandy again.
Case had never forgotten his murdered best friend’s wife, Sandy. He knew this would be horrible for her. Case and Becky had been quite close to Larry and Sandy. With Larry murdered, both Case and Sandy had lost the loves of their lives. Case had a lot of dirty work to do, but he needed to talk to Sandy, to let her know he was after the people who had killed her husband, to reassure her he’d take care of her and anything she needed to get back on her feet.
He stared at the phone in his hand. This would be a difficult call. His finger hovered over the number. Case took a deep breath and tapped it.
He was surprised at how quickly Sandy answered.
“Jeff, I’ve been trying to call you and I texted you. What happened? Why haven’t you called me?” Sandy asked. She was sniffling, then she burst into tears. She managed to get out, “I loved him so much.”
“I’m so sorry,” Case said. “They were after me. When Larry answered the door, they thought it was me. I want to come see you, but I can’t right now.”
There was no immediate answer. Case heard the sniffling slow down, then silence. When Sandy spoke again, her voice was different. It had turned from vulnerable grief to icy cold.
“What did you say?” Sandy asked.
