“All right, man! Amigos!” Hector couldn’t believe his good fortune. His friends shuffled their feet aimlessly and grunted. “Come inside, baby, for a little bong action. What you say?”
Ronnie took a step toward Hector, placed her left hand on his shoulder, and shot him a look that would stiffen a priest. They were eyeball to eyeball, and her words came out in a husky whisper. “One problem, big guy. My old boyfriend, the fucker that used to beat me silly, him and his buddy are right outside. He’s pissed because I dumped him. If they get their hands on me, I’m history. Can you boys make them go away? Then we can party our asses off. Can you get rid of them?”
The large man on Hector’s left fielded that one. “They beat you, little lady? That’s pure horseshit.” He sounded much more cowboy than Hispanic. “We’re gonna tear both them bastards new assholes. You just watch this.”
Hector nodded, his face twisted in concern. “We see who beats who now, baby. You let Hector take care of their shit.” He pulled Ronnie around behind him so she was facing the doorway with the three heroes between her and the world outside.
The door swept open a second later and Jacky Romp and Leo Soyko strolled into the hall. The confidence on their faces waffled when they saw the three men waiting for them. They stopped about five feet from the men, and Soyko looked past them to Ronnie. “Hey, Goldilocks. You got bodyguards now?”
“Damned straight she does,” the cowboy-sounding guy said as he glared down at the two. “Maybe you two shit buckets want to see how tough you are with men instead of girls. Maybe you come to the right place.”
“Damnit,” Jacky sputtered in rage. “You stupid cracker fucks don’t know what you’re doing. Just move on and you don’t get hurt.”
Hector took a step forward so he was a couple feet away from Soyko. “She stays and you go. Now. We not shittin’ around here, man.”
End of discussion, Soyko reasoned. His right fist snapped up and shot into Hector’s mouth before anyone else could move. It wasn’t a full punch, but that was usually more than enough to put someone down. Hector was stunned and he staggered back two steps. But he didn’t come close to falling. Soyko knew they were in for a fight. The big cowboy rushed Jacky and threw him against the wall. Jacky screamed and started throwing punches, but he was clearly no match for the big man. The guy on Hector’s right then rushed Soyko, and they both fell to the ground clawing each other. By this time Hector had recovered, and he jumped on top of Soyko.
Ronnie wasted no time. She slid along the wall closest to the door, past the fighting bodies, and grabbed the door handle. Then she looked back for just a second. Neither Soyko nor Romp noticed. She opened the door and was in a full run toward her car before she realized that in the excitement she’d squeezed her pepper spray down her leg. She figured the fight would last long enough for her to get to her car and drive at least a few miles. It didn’t matter to her which side won. None of the five men would ever see her again.
NINETEEN
“A lot of this crap seems to be coming back your way, Mr. Cooper.” Sergeant Haney’s voice was low and smoldering.
The lawyer looked up but didn’t actually see the sergeant. He couldn’t stop worrying about Ronnie, not to mention himself. She’d called him late last night and wouldn’t say where she was staying. She was screaming with rage and crying from fear at the same time. Ronnie was mad because he had gotten them involved with Leo Soyko, and because Cooper hadn’t been home for her call earlier in the night. Afraid, obviously, because the two hit men were still on the loose and still looking for her. Ronnie said she was “just outside of town” and she’d call him back this morning so they could make plans for getting together. He knew something drastic had to be done: Soyko and Romp were coming after both of them.
“What are you talking about?” Cooper said automatically. “What’s coming back my way? My fiancée, the woman I love, has just been threatened in the most brutal and reprehensible fashion, and you’re making it sound like I’m responsible. My God, she could have been killed.”
They were standing in the hall outside Cooper’s office along with a second detective, a chubby Hispanic man. He had the scarred complexion of a public golf fairway but wore an impeccable herringbone suit. The Hispanic cop didn’t speak and Haney didn’t introduce him. Cooper had returned to his office from a quick court appearance and found the two of them waiting. Although the sergeant wasn’t smoking at the moment, his clothes reeked of tobacco and his breath smelled like a tiny reptile had died inside his mouth some time ago.
“Oh, you could maybe convince me you didn’t do that particular thing,” Haney responded. “That brawl. She is your fiancée, like you said. All I’m saying is, a lot of crap seems to be headed your way. That guy up in Commerce City. Bill McLean. Now this.”
“And just how am I connected to McLean, for God’s sake? Or that witness in Commerce City?”
“We know you were in court against McLean last week and that he kicked the living shit out of you. And we know what happened to the case against your murder client, Borders, when the witness died.”
Cooper looked at the detective like he just really noticed him for the first time. Haney had that all-over-bloated look that middle-aged men get from beer, fatty foods, and inactivity. The guy’s heart was probably encased in sludge, like a filthy carburetor, and any beat could be its last, Cooper thought. To the attorney, Haney seemed utterly diseased and foul.
“I can account for my whereabouts at all of those times,” he told the cop. “Are you really suggesting that I beat up a fellow attorney? You’re not even as smart as you look, and that hardly seems possible. And what do I get out of attacking and possibly killing Ronnie? I love her.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure you do. And she’s a real hot number, from what I hear. We got a tip from a woman on Sunday, two days ago. She tells us a guy named Soyko and someone named Romp were involved in McLean and Dopps. Turns out they both know you. So we go talk to those two first thing yesterday morning, and guess what? Your secretary or fiancée gets chased later by two guys matching the descriptions of Soyko and Romp. Several people get beaten like—how’d you put it?—‘in the most brutal and reprehensible fashion.’ All this happening right outside your fiancée’s apartment. Incredible how it shook out like that.”
The news about Ronnie talking to the police hit Cooper visibly. He looked away for a moment.
“Seems you didn’t know about that call, did you?” Haney, seeing an opening, stepped closer. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told that warped motherfucker Soyko. We’re going to be looking long and hard at everything. We know those guys work for you. We’ll put it all together, counselor. You got my word on that.”
Cooper’s stomach felt like Greg Norman was practicing his short irons off of it. So Ronnie called the cops on those two and this was their response. She never mentioned that call. Not Sunday or last night. He straightened up and returned Haney’s glare.
“Sergeant, I resent this obvious attempt at intimidation. Believe me, your superiors will be hearing about how you have conducted yourself here. And I do not choose to continue this conversation without my lawyer present.”
“That’s probably not the dumbest idea you ever had.” Haney nodded and looked at his partner. “Or will have.”
When they left, Cooper stood in the hallway for several minutes considering what Haney had said. Then he went inside and told his receptionist to hold his calls unless it was Ronnie. He went into his office and sat down. He was sucking air in shallow blasts and his exhales sounded like a crippled accordion. Everything seemed beyond his control. He thought of how he wanted to call Ronnie into his office but couldn’t. He opened his bottom drawer and pulled out the shiny Colt Python. He shifted it from one hand to the other, but the gun didn’t give him any clarity. And it was options and clarity that he desperately needed. His life was unraveling laboriously around him. Soyko and Romp on a rampage, probably gunning for him. Ronnie terrified and in danger. And, h
ell, it would be just a matter of time before Haney would be back with a search warrant and then an arrest warrant.
He was pretty sure his investigators wouldn’t roll on him. Certainly not out of loyalty, but they’d both rather get bone-marrow cancer than cooperate with the police. Still, they almost certainly would come after him themselves. They’d probably think he put Ronnie up to that call. They were so far out of control, who knew what they’d do next? What was it Ronnie had said? “They work for themselves. You’re just the guy that gives them stupid ideas and pays them.”
He thought of her. That woman always was far more perceptive than any three of his classmates in law school. Damn, she was right about a lot of things, but she must have been out of her mind to call the cops.
Got to do something, he told himself. If he went to the cops, he could finger the two men for Dopps and McLean. He could say he never asked them to do it but just paid them to go have a talk. Ronnie’d back him on all of that. It was almost true, and he knew Haney was drooling to clear those cases. He could say that, when he heard about what they did, he was too scared to call the police. But after the attack on his secretary, he knew they had to be locked up.
“Think again,” he muttered to himself. How could he explain why he hired them to talk to McLean after he knew they killed Dopps? He was sure to get nailed for conspiracy, among other charges. Plus, he reasoned, as long as those two were alive, either in prison with him or on the street, eventually his sorry ass would get whacked. They’d have to be stopped with no chance of getting started again. Only one way to do that. He looked at the revolver for a long time.
Who was he kidding? He knew he could never shoot anyone.
He shifted to his next option. It was his only real option and he knew it: get far away and fast. Hook up with Ronnie and get them both out of Colorado by the next afternoon. It would take him that long to pull his money out of his accounts and sell his second car, the old Corvette, to that dealer on South Broadway who always was so hot to buy it. His quick calculations told him he could get maybe sixty-five or seventy thousand together that soon. Enough for a new start somewhere else. It would probably mean the end of his legal career. That certainly wasn’t what he had in mind when he left law school, but it was better than getting shredded by Soyko, or spending the next fifteen years playing house with a three-hundred-pound ape in Cañon City. He’d like to do something to avenge the assault on Ronnie, but getting himself killed was in no way suitable. Better he should live, preferably out of jail, to keep her happy, he told himself. Leave all that Chuck Norris nonsense to those better suited for it.
“Someone here to see you, Mr. Cooper,” the receptionist barked through the intercom. Her voice was drenched in satisfaction. “A police detective.”
Cooper frowned. What did Haney want now? As he was reaching for the intercom button to tell her he’d be ready in a minute, his door swung open and in walked a man he hadn’t seen since Doug Shelton’s preliminary hearing.
“Looks like this ain’t your week, counselor.” Art Kovacs shut the door behind him and approached. “And here it is, only Tuesday.”
“Well, come right in and make yourself comfortable,” Cooper said with mock indignation. He paused. “You look familiar.”
“We met on that Doug Shelton bust.” Kovacs now stood at the desk.
“You’re Korchak. No, wait. Kovacs, right? Arthur Kovacs, wasn’t it?”
“It still is.” The detective smiled quickly at his own cleverness. He dropped into the chair across from Cooper like he hadn’t sat down in months. “I think we should have us a talk here. You look like you could use help. And I mean help from someone that’s got a little pull.”
“Let me guess. You just happen to have a little pull.” Cooper was confused.
“Bingo.” Kovacs pointed a finger at him like a pistol. “I don’t want to waste a lot of time, so I’ll just lay it all out. You’d be very mistaken to consider this a suggestion. We’ll call it a mandate. That’s a new buzzword we hear downtown. Now, I know for a fact that you’re basically fucked with the department. It’s just a matter of a day or two before that birdbrain Haney’ll have something to go to the DA with. That means you’ll be charged and they’ll come down your throat with a meat cleaver, believe me. When Haney gets a hard-on for someone, he don’t let up.”
“I figured that one out for myself.”
“I’ll bet you did.” Kovacs loosened his light-tan tie and rolled his neck like it was stiff. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt the approximate color of prune juice, and his forearms were so hairy there was practically no skin visible. “Here’s where your new friend could come in handy. I’m working on this investigation, too. I can make sure it drags out for a while, and I can give them enough troubles that maybe you don’t burn. Maybe. They got a circumstantial case on this McLean thing, and that guy up in Commerce City—forget it. They got very little unless Soyko flips you. Is that possible?”
“Not likely.”
“Well, then, with my help you might not be in such big trouble, after all. At the very least I can let you know what’s coming down, and when and where. Think that might be helpful to you?”
“It might at that,” Cooper acknowledged. “I just wonder what it is you want in return for all this magnanimous assistance?”
“I want you to stop chasing after Doug Shelton’s estate. I want you to forget that guy ever existed.”
“How did you know I’m chasing anything?” Cooper sat up straight in his chair.
“This coke whore that used to play with Shelton told me Soyko was trying to scare information out of her. He did a good job of it. I’ll level with you, partner. That estate was located a long time ago. By me. Mr. Shelton told me a lot of interesting things about himself and his business ventures right after he was arrested.”
“I gather that would have been about when you two hatched up a deal to steal the evidence against him.”
“Basically. He took a fair amount of persuading, but he finally opened up.”
Cooper broke into a smile of recognition. “So that explains who beat the snot out of him right after his arrest. How much did he leave?”
“There was some snot beating, all right.” Kovacs grinned. “Dougy left enough to make me happy but not enough so’s I’d want to share it with you or this Story what’s-her-name. I don’t need no interference from anyone. I’ll deal with Story and her big, bad bounty hunter on my own. You just deal with those two jerkoffs that work for you. Pull them off the hunt. That sound like something you can handle?”
“It certainly does.” Cooper sat back for a minute. He knew that if he told Kovacs how out of control Soyko was he’d get no help. “I’ll be glad to do all that’s within my power to keep my associates from making further inquiries into Mr. Shelton’s estate.”
“I don’t give a shit what’s within your power. Just call off those two mutts.”
Cooper nodded. However, he had no intention of coming away from this Shelton search empty-handed now that he knew who had the money.
“You know, Kovacs, I put a lot of time and effort into looking for this money. If I were to suddenly cease my efforts, I feel as though I should be compensated in some fashion.”
“No fuckin’ way!” Kovacs yelled. He could feel his stomach churning. He’d been popping Pepto-Bismol tablets like they were breath mints and still his intestines complained. No one ever cooperates. Everyone’s always got their own angle. “You maybe keep from getting skinned alive on this thing. That should be compensation enough.”
“I am not certain that it is.” Cooper frowned thoughtfully. “But for, say, twenty thousand, my comfort level would increase dramatically.”
“Oh, would it now?” The cop calmed down and studied the attorney. “Let me get back to you on that one. I’d hate to do anything to disturb your fuckin’ comfort level.”
“Fair enough. Can I ask you one more question?”
“Would it matter if I said no?”
&n
bsp; “How much did Douglas pay you for your help with his evidence?”
Kovacs stood up in disgust. His stomach was burning fiercely now, and he wondered where the restrooms were.
“Go to hell. Just get those two nut cases off my ass and away from my money and I’ll let you know what’s going on from our end.”
He walked out of the office in determined search of the nearest “facilities.” When the detective planted himself in the toilet stall on Cooper’s floor, he was sweating from a gastric burn that gripped him like an enormous swamp slug. His insides were getting worse every day. His so-called partner had suggested this stupid talk with Cooper. Plain to see that the lawyer was more trouble than he was worth. No way he could control Soyko and Romp. Kovacs knew he’d have to do that himself. Turned out he had to do everything himself. And his partner was becoming as useless as Cooper. The stress of all these decisions was turning his stomach into a mini-Chernobyl. He just wanted to end the anguish, and it was becoming clear that that meant he was going to have to end several lives.
Streeter got information on Soyko from Cooper’s receptionist on Monday. Without hesitation, she gave his and Romp’s phone number and address. The bounty hunter had gone to their apartment a couple of times that day, but no one was home. Finally, about ten o’clock Tuesday night, he went back and saw a light in the window. Walking up to the third-floor unit, he could feel his nine-millimeter tucked into the small of his back. It was there strictly for self-defense.
From the outside walkway leading to the apartment, Streeter could see the shaky blue glow of Soyko’s television dance off the curtains. He tried to look in the window, but the drapes were drawn too tight to give him much of a view. He rang the buzzer several times. No one answered. Then he pounded on the door. Still no answer. He rattled the handle, and was surprised to find it unlocked.
“Anybody here?” he asked calmly as he opened the door a couple of inches. Nothing. He pushed harder and repeated the question. “Anybody here?”
Streeter Box Set Page 15
