They stopped the banter and took a seat in the living room. Howard talked and wanted to do everything possible to avoid the bedroom. That would lock him into the relationship when he was close to being out.
She squirmed on the sofa and worked herself closer.
“Monique! It’s over.” It was like pulling a Band-Aid off. He said it, and there was no reeling it back in.
He knew it would happen. Tears ran down her face.
“Howard, we have a little history together. We can make this work,” she said, laying her head on his shoulder. “It seems like everyone I love leaves me.”
Howard did his best to stand, but she latched on. He was a sucker for women’s tears.
“My parents died just a few years ago in a car accident,” she said, latching onto his arm.
“Monique, it was an accident. No disrespect, they didn’t leave you. They died in a car accident.”
“When I was younger, maybe ten years old, I’d walked to church on Sunday with my grandfather on my mother’s side. I called him Poppa O. He walked proudly through the streets and shook hands with people he didn’t even know. Businesses of the community gave him gifts all the time, no special occasion. Deliveries to the house just showed up. I spent a lot of time with him growing up.”
Howard sat up on the sofa. “Ortega?”
“Yes,” she replied and gave him a tight hug. “Like others, he was taken away suddenly.”
Howard stretched up and turned toward her. It was important to see her face when she answered his following query. “Ortega was his name?” he asked again.
“Yes, Nicolas Ortega. My grandfather was the mayor of Belle Gardens.”
Chills ran down his spine, his eyes bulged and focused on the wall. How can this be? He calculated the year his contract called to take out the mayor. Every hit had a planning stage. This one demanded that the mayor died before a vote to change two local laws. Nicolas Ortega promised that if elected, a change would make Belle Garden the place to live and work and operate a business without intimidation. The upper government didn’t approve and planned to replace Nicolas Ortega with a mayor they controlled.
It was years ago, what Howard liked to call another life. He patted her arm out of reaction, not that he cared. Howard was and always would be a cold-blooded killer that worked both sides of the law.
“That’s why I’m fighting for you, Howard,” Monique said, holding his hand.
He straightened up and went into assassin mode—the one trained for getting out of any situation. A breakup with a girlfriend should’ve been more straightforward. He was going about it the wrong way. Now, Monique had to go.
Howard excused himself and went to the bedroom. In the closet, he punched in a code to a floor safe. He removed some weapons and pulled out an envelope. Ben Stein, the man who saved him from the previous life of crime, only brought him to this country for personal use. Ben told him to destroy everything that connected him to his days for hire.
Routing through the envelope, he pulled two pictures and a driver’s license. Then closed the safe and returned to the sofa.
“Monique,” he said, taking a seat next to her. “I should level with you and not just break up without explanation.”
“Howard, I want to make this work.”
“Monique, I’m not who I say I am.”
She smiled nervously. “What? You’re some kind of secret agent, living two lives?”
“Close,” he said. “I’m married?” he said, showing her the pictures and a driver’s license with his image and a different name.
It was something he carried if ever caught. A license and fake family pictures might get him out of harm’s way. Showing he was a family man, with a different name might persuade his captive. Hopefully, it would give him time and an edge to figure how to kill his assailant.
“You’re married?” Monique pulled away.
“Yes, that’s my wife and two children.” He pointed to the driver’s license. “They live at this address.”
“You have a family!” she shouted and stood. “A wife, kids, and a house.” She paused. “You creep!”
“I felt I needed to come clean. You wanted to move in—”
“That’s your explanation for being an asshole?” Lost for words, she reached for her purse and dug out the apartment key. “You bastard!” Then she threw the key at Howard. She slammed the door so hard when she left the sounds echoed through the hallway.
Howard stared at the pictures. “Not sure who you kids are with this pretty woman, but I’m sure glad I kept you.” He broke into a smile and went back to bed.
Chapter 34
Mario arrived at the Chief’s office early—so he thought. Until the receptionist informed him the Chief and others were waiting in the conference room.
“Any reason why the meeting location changed to the Chief’s office?” Mario asked. He knew the lady since the Chief hired her, she loved to leave information to him.
“Mario, I don’t know what’s going on—a lot of unknown faces.”
Mario checked himself out in a mirror over a small accent table. He positioned his tie perfectly and turned the doorknob, and walked inside the conference room.
He was a little taken back by so many people he didn’t know. Other than the Chief and the mayor, he didn’t know anyone else.
The Chief stood and introduced him as Detective Mario DeLuca, and he went around the table and shook hands. He acknowledged the mayor by name, and the others introduced themselves.
Mario repeated their names and titles in his head. Deputy Secretary Ronald Toups, Jerry Bowen assistant to the US Ambassador, Logan James. Mario took a seat next to the Chief, facing the other four across the table.
Ronald Toups opened the first question by reading from his laptop. “Detective DeLuca, some of the questions may sound repetitive, but we just want to get the facts straight.”
“Not a problem, Mr. Toups,” Mario said.
They discussed everything Mario said in his statement to a military field officer at the airport.
“Mr. DeLuca, you claim a bundle of money was wrapped in plastic on a pallet?” Logan James asked. “Exactly where on the plane was this money.”
“In the cargo area. It was behind the galley,” Mario said. “I believe it’s all in my report.”
The Chief shifted her hand under the table to Mario’s leg along with a side-glance.
The questioning went on for longer than Mario expected. He turned to the Chief. “Should I have my representative here?”
“No, Mario, they just want facts. They have people to answer to.”
Logan James was the most polite one shooting questions, more inquiring rather than demanding an answer. He read from a laptop how Mario chased the U-Hal down to the airport and watched them load it onto the aircraft.
“Could you confirm that is your statement?” Logan asked.
“That’s correct, sir,” Mario said. “And what department are you with?”
Logan gave a side-glance to the rest of them. “It doesn’t matter. One last question, Detective. How did you know the money was counterfeit?
“I worked the streets and headed up a division for the city’s gang enforcement. I’ve seen a lot of counterfeit money,” Mario said and stretched his hands across the table. “I might add this fake money is the best I’ve ever seen.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “And your people let them take the money and leave the country. Millions of dollars will surface back to the United States at the cost of taxpayers.”
Logan stepped away from the table and took a phone call. He huddled around his cell phone at the far corner of the room. Mario noticed and considered him plain rude.
“By the way, I thought the governor was joining us. What, international terrorists doing what they please doesn’t interest him?” Mario said.
Chief Parks pulled his coat sleeve and whispered, “Tone it down.”
Mario pulled away. “Bullshit! You want to fire me for doing my job
, go ahead.”
“Detective DeLuca,” a voice said. Mario had no clue where it came from. “This is Governor Tillman.”
Jerry Bowen turned his laptop around. “The governor has listened since we started the meeting.
“Good Morning, Detective. Sorry, I couldn’t be there in person,” Governor Tillman said. The computer pushed closer, so the camera picked up Mario’s image.
“Governor,” Mario replied. “I’m happy to tell you to your face what I just said.
“Not necessary, Detective. The fact is I do care about the State of Louisiana. But the law is the law, and this is federal.”
“We have to respect Mr. Frederick Grenfell’s international rights,” Ronal Toups said.
“Gentlemen,” Logan said, pointing in their direction. “Yes, sir. Consider it done.” He hung up the call and walked to the conference table. “This conversation is no longer needed,” he said, resting both hands on the tabletop. “Detective, I’m Agent Logan James with the US Secret Service.”
“Well, Secret Service is involved,” Mario said, leaning back of the leather chair.
“I just got off the phone with my supervisor. There was over three million dollars in counterfeit money on board the aircraft. The plane, money, and Mr. Frederick Grenfell are still in the country being held by Secret Service.”
Really?” Mario asked.
From the looks of everyone’s face, Mario wasn’t the only person surprised.
“We intercepted him before takeoff. His diplomatic immunity will hold, and he will be allowed to return to his country,” Agent Logan said. “Without the money and only if he gives up details and names of everyone involved with the counterfeit money.”
Logan pulled Chief Parks into her office for a one on one. When they returned, she announced Mario would meet with the Secret Service and turned over all the auction house investigation details.
“Mario,” Chief Parks said. “That means Kate Fontenot, too.”
“I doubt she’s involved,” Mario said. “But if she is, I’ll walk away from helping her.”
Chapter 35
When Mario walked into the police building for his meeting with Chief Parks, his head was down, his shoulder slumped, and the most depressing thoughts ran through his mind. Would he have a career after the meeting or be stripped of his title of Homicide Detective III? The highest level until he’d be promoted to Chief of Detective a title he worked toward for all his life.
He walked out with a different attitude. Outside, the sun shined brightly, making for a beautiful day. Now he was heading to a briefing at the Federal Building with the Secret Service.
On the drive over, he called Howard and caught him about ready to head to the Eighth District. Mario filled Howard in on the high notes of his last forty-eight hours, but Howard said it would take longer for him to catch Mario up to speed.
Mario met up with Howard at the federal building parking lot and strolled in together. He continued to fill Howard in on his last two days. Howard offered no details of his days away.
Neither detective had reason to visit the Hale Boggs Federal Court Building. Most of their court cases were at the city and state level. They walked through several checkpoints and took two different elevators to arrive at the door labeled the United States Secret Service.
“Impressive,” Mario said. The wood frame door with frosted glass in the center was something you’d see for an entrance to an upscale home.
“Nothing but the best for the Feds,” Howard said.
Mario gave a headshake and rolled his eyes.
Inside they were greeted by a pleasant receptionist that immediately walked them to Agent Logan James. There was no small talk or time wasted. Agent James took Mario and Howard directly to what he called their War Room and introduced them to two agents closest to the Auction House case—their names didn’t stick with Mario. His eyes focused on the large corkboards with pictures of every relevant person of interest.
Mario recognized some names but not faces. He chewed on his lip and studied Heinz, a man he heard Julie speak of many times. For now, he’d keep it to himself.
Logan James pointed out the first picture on top with a pointer stick. “Known as Mr. Heinz, we believe he is the organizer of a talent pool that specializes in everything from running drugs to human trafficking worldwide.” He pointed to one picture down and tapped the rubber point. “This is Julie Wong, beautiful, sweet-talking, and deadly as a rattlesnake.”
Mario followed along, but his eyes kept drifting to Kate’s picture, which broke his heart to see. Below Julie’s photo were a few of the people she flew to New Orleans for the auction.
Mario waited for Logan to finish before asking a question. Then his opportunity came. “Are we trying to break the local counterfeit ring or catch the top guy?”
“Both,” Logan said. “We believe Heinz double-crossed a client, and it backfired on him. He’s dead.”
Mario’s eyes drifted to Howard. There was no reaction. “When did he die?”
“Murdered. Earlier yesterday—a knife to the neck and two bullets to the chest.”
“All we know is Heinz is dead, and Julie Wong has vanished.”
Howard tiptoed with his question. “Is Julie a suspect?”
“No, whoever took Heinz out were professionals. The cameras were disengaged. Way before they caught anything,” he replied.
Logan had no idea Howard played him when asking, “No one else in the house? No maids or bodyguards?”
No,” Logan said. “The guards were drawn to the front gates, for some reason. The only maid said she was running the vacuum and didn’t see or hear anyone come in the house.”
Howard had but one question left. “Any leads on who killed Heinz.”
Logan made a face. “Who cares, one less bad guy in the world.”
“How about Julie Wong? Any leads on her whereabouts?” Howard asked.
Logan looked through his notes. “We think she headed for London. We only wanted her to lead us to Heinz, and we don’t have anything on her other than flying some people to an auction, which isn’t a crime. I hoped to use her to get to the counterfeiters, but we got something better. Frederick Grenfell.”
Logan detailed something Mario was surprised to learn. Feds can walk a fine line of the law like him. They held Frederick for questioning and gave him a choice. Give up the names of who were involved in the fake money, or the man traveling with him would go down for all the charges. He didn’t have immunity.
“Frederick gave up everything,” Logan said, pointing to Roland Rockford’s photo. “We’re not sure why a rich guy got involved with trafficking, counterfeit money, and drugs.”
“Greed?” Mario said.
“So he’s the target?” Howard asked.
“Rockford will take the fall, but Simon Kade was the mastermind,” Logan said, pointing to their pictures. “Little Ms. Hot Pants Jennifer Gray, we’ll take her in but not sure of her involvement.”
Mario hated to be so bold but had to ask. “What about the woman, Kate Fontenot.”
“We knew she wasn’t involved. I had some bogus charge, a phony file with pictures of her walking in the auction house with Roland. In his company a lot, even with Simon Kade. I have plenty to make her life miserable but nothing that would allow an arrest. A reasonable attorney would have told her to give up the boyfriend.
“She’s small potatoes anyway.” Mario gave a surprised look. “Right?”
A nod was all he wanted to see and he got one.
Mario whispers to Howard, “What more could we ask? Kate and Julie are in the clear.”
They left the Feds with a plan shared with them on trust as law enforcement officers. As local NOPD heading up the investigation, Mario and Howard would get credit for Roland Rockford’s arrest and Simon Kade.
All parties were happy.
The detectives stopped and filled Chief Parks in on their last two days in her office. Mario detailed every move he and Avery Moreau made in tracki
ng Camila Garcia. Howard sat back and listened. He didn’t add to the conversation, giving a few head motions with a smile now and then.
Everything rolled along fine until the Chief asked, “You think Julie Wong took out her boss?” The room went silent.
“Come on, Howard,” she said. “I know you still have an inside track in that arena.”
“No, Chief, I’ve lost all contact other than an occasional phone call from Julie. I’m out the loop.”
“You knew her better than anyone, care to guess? Could she have killed Mr. Heinz?”
Howard’s eyes shifted at Mario, out the window, and back to the Chief. He took longer than the Chief wanted to wait, and she asked again.
“Come on, Howard. It stays in this room,” she said. “Could Julie have killed Heinz?”
“No, Chief. As you said, I know Julie better than anyone. She wouldn’t be that bold to take out an international crime head.”
Chapter 36
The following day, the Secret Service and FBI teams rolled from a parking garage under the Hale Boggs building that few people knew existed. Mario and Howard waited in their vehicle as the stream of black SUVs came from the garage before tailing the last car.
Across town, Kate Fontenot had a routine she kept on workdays. Leave the hospital at seven in the morning and head to Roland Rockford’s condo at One River Place to join him for breakfast. She pulled from the parking garage and drove up to Saint Charles Ave. A block after she turned, a police car came up behind her and flashed its overhead lights.
Kate pulled over. “What the hell?”
The officer asked for the usual things. He waited while Kate rooted through a massive purse for her driver’s license. She pulled the registration and insurance from the glove box and handed the items to him.
“What’s the problem?” she asked, peeking over her sunglasses at his name on a silver pin under his badge. “Officer Davis?”
“You have a taillight out.”
“Officer, I’m a nurse,” she said, pulling on her green scrubs. “Can we agree that I’ll get it fixed? I just put in a ten-hour shift, and I’m dead tired.”
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