The Auction House

by Vito Zuppardo

  After the second checkpoint, Mario had enough and flashed his badge, telling the clerk behind a desk who he wanted to see—and now. The young man, who appeared to be still wet behind the ears, made a phone call. Then a woman dressed in the same uniform as the receptionist came to their aid. Yet another person involved among four or five since Mario and Howard walked in the front door

  “What a waste of workforce,” Mario mumbled to Howard who frowned in agreement. The detectives followed as the woman escorted them to Eli Winston’s office. Eli sat behind a massive wood desk, and unlike Mario’s or Howard’s back at their office, the top had no clutter. A single file folder rested in the middle.

  Mario knew Eli from college, Loyola University, just a few blocks away. They were in the same Criminal Law class, but, in the end, they went separate ways. Mario didn’t have a rich daddy and grandfather who slipped him into a prominent law firm fresh out of school.

  They shook hands, and Mario introduced Howard. They sat across from the desk, and Mario went into the little he knew of Roland Rockford’s arrest. Mostly he was fishing for information from Eli, much like Mario maneuvered around a suspect.

  “Mario, you are well aware I can’t discuss a client’s case,” Eli said.

  Mario rolled his eyes Howard’s way. “Eli, I know it’s an FBI case, and he’s charged with sex trafficking. I’m just trying to help my friend Kate.”

  “Kate Fontenot? Weren’t you two an item around town?”

  “An item?” Mario shot back. “How old is that saying?”

  “My parents used to say that—I guess it stuck with me,” Eli smiled. “So what happened—I mean between you two?”

  “It’s simple—we broke up.”

  Eli shook his head and directed his comment to Howard as if Mario wasn’t in the room. “What an asshole to screw up and have a woman like that walk away.”

  Howard knew better than to reply and didn’t look Mario’s way. It wouldn’t take much for Mario to rip into Eli—Kate was a touchy subject.

  “Let’s get back to Roland,” Mario said, doing his best to remain professional.

  Eli opened a file drawer and pulled out a folder labeled Roland Rockford. Then he sat on the sofa across from the detectives, scanning through the file.

  “I’ll level with you,” he said. “There are some questions I have for him but I need to get Roland out on bail to talk privately in an office and not a room with cameras and microphones.”

  “Can you share?” Mario asked.

  “I’m concerned with one of Roland’s associates,” Eli stopped.

  Mario waved his fingers. “Don’t stop now.”

  “I did some checking on this guy and he’s got a few questionable years. I think Roland is not aware of this or chose to look the other way—that’s all I can say.”

  The detectives headed to the door. Mario knew the attorney priority routine—get clients out of jail as well as attorney-client privileges. Mario made a note of Eli’s concern and would squeeze the name from him at their next meeting.

  “Mario?” Eli blurted out, getting Mario to stop and turn back to him. “Why are you involved? It has nothing to do with local law enforcement.”

  An unemotional Mario replied, “As I said, I’m helping a friend.”

  “If all the charges don’t stick—this is still going to be messy.”

  “I know. I hope to avoid Kate from having another meltdown. She’s been through a lot,” he said. He gave Eli a nod, saying, “Thanks for your time,” and closed the door behind him.

  Eli smiled and mumbled, “Poor bastard, he still has a thing for Kate.”

  Chapter 6

  Against Mario’s better judgment, he and Howard pursued some FBI contacts before letting the Chief know why they were poking into the Fed’s business.

  Howard headed to US Customs, an area he knew was the best place to seek information on any major bust in recent days.

  Mario, meanwhile, had worked the New Orleans Drug Enforcement Division before becoming a detective and had rubbed shoulders with some federal agents who had moved up the chain of command. Arriving at the Hale Boggs Federal complex housing the FBI and ATF, he checked in at the front desk. Knowing the system, Mario had called ahead and got approval for a face-to-face meeting with an old buddy. He didn’t like to call in favors but kept them back in his mind when he could use them to his advantage.

  Mario walked the building’s halls and passed courtrooms he’d sat in before waiting for a judge to hand down a stiff sentence to criminals he brought to justice. One court brought a smile to his face—the scum of the earth guy who took a chunk out of Kate’s throat. In jail on federal drug charges, he was an easy recruit to kill Kate. He was going away for a long time anyway, so successfully killing Kate was no big deal to a thug who lived most of his life in prison. Mario’s smile broadened as he thought about the sentence of life without parole that was added with the attempted murder of Kate. The drug lord recruiter had other thoughts, and the thug had backed into a homemade knife four times the day after sentencing. In Mario’s view, it saved the state thirty or so years of housing and feeding the creep.

  Mario arrived at the office of Tony Walker, who now headed up a division for the FBI. His name identified him as Commander Walker on the door. A perk one gets with a promotion.

  Greeted by a lady, Mario quickly saw she was his type of woman. She was wearing a pulled-down holster for her Glock strapped across her white starched shirt. Nothing sexier than a good-looking woman with a gun was Tony Walker’s motto—Mario agreed.

  He gave a boyish grin and identified himself with his badge in hand. “I have an appointment with Commander Walker.”

  She didn’t return the smile nor react to his gold shield, just motioned for him to follow her.

  “Commander Walker,” the woman said, hugging the doorframe of his office. “Detective Mario DeLuca.”

  Mario greeted him with a welcoming handshake. “How long has it been?”

  “Got to be since the Task Force,” Walker said. “You know me and my family will always be grateful to you.”

  “Please,” Mario said, eating up the praise. “It was a lucky shot.”

  “It may have been lucky, but it was right on target. You had a window of inches between me and the gun that asshole had to my head.” Walker shook his head and motioned for Mario to take a seat. “The bullet passed me so close my ears are still ringing. So what brings you here?” Tony asked.

  Mario did a quick layout of Roland Rockford’s arrest and the little he knew from Kate and Eli Winston. Tony listened intensely to Mario. It was a good sign. Tony gave a nod and rolled his eyes a few times as if he disagreed with Roland’s arrest.

  “That’s it,” Mario said. “Anything you can add to help me understand how he’s involved in sex trafficking would be appreciated.”

  Tony pointed out Eli Winston had called just that morning asking the same. Then his mood changed. “I’ll tell you as I said to Eli. The Bureau will present their case tomorrow, and at this time, we asked the judge to hold Roland in jail. No bail.”

  Tony reached in a drawer for a folder. Roland Rockford’s name appeared on a label right under the FBI logo. He flipped through some pages and flopped the open folder on the desk.

  “I’m surprised at you, Mario. Playing the ‘I saved your life card,’ especially in an ongoing FBI investigation.” Then he walked to the door and took a few steps down the hall. His voice echoed as he asked the stone-faced lady at the front desk to let the agents waiting for him in the conference room know that he’d be a minute.

  It didn’t take a detective to figure out Tony was indebted to Mario for saving his life. The folder on the desk was opened to the perfect page, showing a list of charges against Roland Rockford. Thank God for cell phone cameras, Mario thought as he clicked as many shots possible before Tony returned.

  “Thank you for your time, Commander Walker,” Mario said as they crossed paths in the hallway.

  “Any time, De
tective.” Tony gave Mario a stern stare, then slipped his chin down to his chest and gave a wink of one eye.

  Chapter 7

  Mario all but ran out of the FBI building and didn’t wait for the elevator, preferring to take the steps. He gave Howard a call in the car, and they met at the only place he went to when he was stressed out—Café Beignet. The café two doors down from the Eighth District Police Station on Royal Street was a convenient place he and Howard could meet without interruption.

  Howard ordered coffee and Beignets full of powdered sugar at the counter. By the time he got to the table, Mario had thumbed through the pictures he’d taken of the file folder.

  Howard thought he knew a lot about Mario’s career and the contacts he kept, but someone new always popped up now and then. He’d never heard the story on Tony Walker. When asked, Mario gave a simple reply.

  “We were in a shootout when I was on the Task Force. Tony was a hostage,” Mario said. “After hours of negations, I walked in the back door of the house, shot two dead, and came face to face with Tony and a gun pointed to his head.”

  Howard raised an eyebrow. “I had a few shootouts myself. You don’t think—when you’re out of time, you react.”

  “It was a lucky shot. It could have easily been Tony I hit.” He flipped through the pictures. “Tony stuck his neck out, leaving the folder open on the desk—that could get him jail time.”

  The inside of the folder showed FBI Sealed Records. Such information could get Mario in a lot of trouble, too. He made a note on his pad to delete the pictures and call the city cell phone provider to remove the images permanently. Then he wrote notes on the contents of each photograph.

  They analyzed the first of the information—Roland’s full name, date of birth, and address. Mario flipped to the next image, a picture from a surveillance camera. It looked like the Rockford building was the target, but the detectives weren’t sure since the photo was of Roland and Kate at the front door. It appeared someone took the shot from above, maybe from a balcony across the street.

  “This isn’t good,” Mario said. His eyes twitched, something that happened when he was about to have a meltdown. He moved the picture so Howard had a closer view. “Kate and Roland are under surveillance by the FBI?”

  “Maybe Kate just happened to be with Roland at the time,” Howard suggested. “What’s the big deal? He’s walking into his own building.”

  Mario slammed his hand on the table. “You know as well as I the FBI will use her. They’ll charge her with collision and turn Kate’s life upside down, anything to get to Roland if he’s the target.” Mario pointed to the date of entry.

  “Who the hell doesn’t know a federal agency is poking into their life for almost a year?” Howard erupted but softly as possible. Then he bit into a Beignet, dropping the white powdered sugar on the table. A displeased Mario shot him a look. “What? There’s no such thing as eating Beignets gracefully,” Howard quipped, grinning with the powdery sugar stuck to his lips, knowing it would distract Mario from the present issue.

  “You’re like a ten-year-old.” Mario shook his head.

  “You think?” Howard gave a devious grin. “You want some ten-year-old action?”

  “Don’t you dare!” Mario pushed back from the table, but it was too late.

  Howard took a Beignet, one solidly topped with sugar, and before biting into it, blew. The white powdered sugar landed on Mario’s dark blue coat from his shoulder down his right arm.

  “You’re such an asshole!” Mario said out the side of his mouth, then had to laugh. It was something he’d done many times himself.

  Howard was famous for breaking the mood with some foolish behavior in the middle of a serious investigation. When Mario’s anxiety cranked up, Howard would defuse the situation by pulling a childish prank. It always calmed him down.

  Mario’s cell phone rang. The screen showed Avery Moreau, a summer apprentice now turned full-time employee with his office while studying for the Bar Exam. Mario flipped the phone Howard’s way. “I’m having her check something through her father’s law firm.”

  Howard shot him an unpleasant look. He’d repeatedly preached to Mario about getting close to Avery, Asking him to instead let her file records, or work with other people in the office and not take her orders directly from Mario. Her father, a prominent attorney, headed up a powerful law firm and belonged to the Who’s-Who’s clubs around New Orleans. One slipup by Avery mentioning the detectives were looking into an FBI investigation without their knowledge, and Mario and Howard would share a cell with Tony Walker.

  “Detective,” Avery said when Mario answered the call. “I ran a face recognition on that picture you sent. His rap sheet is too long to text. I’ve prepared a report and will have it on your desk by the time you return, sir.”

  “We have a hit on this guy,” Mario said, flipping the image Howard’s way of a man walking into the auction house right behind Roland and Kate.

  Howard looked closer. His eyes flickered in recognition. “I think I remember this guy.”

  Mario’s phone dinged. A text revealed the name of the man in the photograph. “Simon Kade is his name.”

  “Yes,” Howard said. “I’ve heard Julie Wong talk about him.”

  Mario’s reddish complexion turned two shades whiter. “That’s not good.”

  Julie Wong and Howard had similar training, they were highly trained assassins, just from different countries. Howard had worked for a foreign government, protecting royalty and carrying out their wishes on those who attempted harm but failed. Julie Wong was a killer for hire and very good at her job, taking on everything from collecting receivables of half a million and up to a simple contract for murder, something she did well, leaving no clues and the person never knowing what hit them.

  Howard’s first encounter with Julie was picking her up at the New Orleans airport’s private jet area. His job as a limousine driver was to protect the passengers contracted by his boss, Ben Stein. As the sleek Gulfstream Jet pulled to the tarmac, a stairway came down from the belly of the aircraft, and a knockout woman walked down—her swagger down each step demanding attention. She could have been anyone’s trophy wife. But Julie was much deadlier than a beautiful woman waiting for her older wealthy husband to die or some arm candy getting paid with fancy cars, furs, and cash from a boyfriend.

  Howard did his job and protected her while she was under contract with Ben in New Orleans, but he always watched his back—she wasn’t to be trusted.

  Mario’s first encounter with Julie was a few years ago when she came to his aid with a tip on a contract for hire—on him. Mario’s first question was, how did she know? The reply was a shocker—Julie passed on the offer. She had boundaries as an assassin—children and cops were off-limits. Who else but Julie could get close enough to a cop to kill him and leave no prints or details to follow up on an arrest? That was why the drug dealer that wanted Mario dead went to Julie first—she was the best person for the job.

  Julie, Mario, and Howard had been through a lot together. They had saved each other’s asses more than once, but this was personal. Julie refused the kill and helped track down the person responsible for ordering the hit. Mario had no idea how Julie arranged its cancellation. He never asked questions, and he stopped watching over his shoulder a long time ago—his trust was in Juile.

  Mario flipped through two more pictures, and no new faces surfaced. “So all the FBI has is Roland, Kate, and Simon going in the Rockford building.”

  Mario gave a dead stare while Howard dialed a number on his cell phone.

  “Who are you calling?” Mario asked.

  “Our friend,” he said, as a smile came over his face. “Hello, beautiful. Do you know why Simon Kade is in New Orleans?” He looked at the picture. “Any clue why?”

  Mario listened. Surprised Julie answered.

  There was silence. “Julie?” Howard asked, not sure she was on the line.

  A slight whisper came over the phone, “
Yes?”

  “Can you share it with me?”

  “Sure, but I’d have to kill you,” she said. “Howard, I mean it. If you get close to this, I’ll have to kill you.”

  “What the hell?” Howard’s phone went dead.

  Mario’s eyes widened, waiting for an answer. “Does she know anything?”

  “Oh, she knows something—and I think she’s knee-high deep into it.”

  Chapter 8

  Two days passed, and Mario was still in crisis mode. His pen tapped rapidly on his desk, his eyes locked on the window at the start of a beautiful morning. He considered telling the Chief about the FBI case he stumbled across. That’s as far as it went before he ruled it out.

  He hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before—Kate was on his mind. After seeing the FBI pictures of her under surveillance with Roland, things hadn’t gotten any better for the detective.

  As a cop, you always think the worse, especially when you know the person. In this case, Mario never stopped loving Kate even though she moved on.

  A takedown of one of the Rockford family members would make all the news outlets. The Chief would rip Mario a new one when discovering that he butted into an ongoing FBI investigation. Mario’s usual answer to a problem was to keep working on the details until something broke, then update the Chief and hope it perked her interest thereby taking the heat off him. But that wasn’t going to work here.

  A knock at the door broke his concentration, and standing in the doorway was Howard. “How deep do you want to get into this Roland case?” he asked.

  Mario’s eyes shifted, and his hand tapped the pen faster.

  “Just got a call from my limo dispatch. A car is en route for a Code Red pickup.” Howard didn’t need to explain anything further. Mario was well aware of Howard’s past and what a Code Red meant from Howard’s involvement with Ben Stein and how they worked the right and wrong side of the law.