by Deanna King
“Sorry, we both know you can be a bitch, you can’t deny that, now can you?”
A rather bitter laugh escaped her. “You’re right, I can. Come in, take a seat, and then tell me why the hell you’re here.”
She led him down a long hallway, past one closed door and into a nice sitting room. Sarge looked around. “Nice place, must be nice to live in a place like this.”
“Yeah, it’s nice. Okay?” She crossed her arms, waiting for an explanation.
“Jed here?”
“He’s upstairs.”
“Tell him to come down, be nice to see him too.”
“He can’t.”
“Why not, are his legs broken or what?”
She walked over to a chair, sat, crossed her legs, and then looked across the table at Sarge. She let out a huge sigh. “He can’t because he had a stroke two weeks ago.”
“Sorry to hear that. How bad is it?”
“Bad. The right side of his body is weak, he has a hard time with his speech, and he has a very hard time remembering things. Why are you here, to ask us how we are, you could’ve picked up the damn phone for that, so?” Her attitude was back.
“Skip’s dead.”
“Oh yeah, well, sorry to hear that, did he have a heart attack or what?”
“Yeah, someone put a bullet in his head, guess that was sort of a heart attack, it made his heart stop beating.” Max’s eyes never left her face as he watched her reaction.
She was composed and unmoved. He had been right all these years, she was heartless. He admired her back then for her ability to get the job done, no petty girly emotions ruling her head, but now he saw her as a cold, self-centered bitch.
“When did it happen, do the police know who?”
He didn’t answer; instead, he asked her another question.
“Anyone tell you that Daphne died too?”
“No, no one told me. Someone put a bullet in her head?”
“No, she died of lung cancer, what the fuck, Celeste. I know plenty of people died on your watch, but some people died, as nature planned it, when it was their time to go.”
“Died on my fucking watch? So what, none of that has anything to do with you.”
“Is that what you think, well, it’s come back to haunt me and Jenna. I called you what, three months ago, let you know HPD had reopened your damn murder case, and this is your ‘thank you, Sarge,’ is that it? Cops have questioned Jenna, me, and one more person.”
“Oh yeah, who, cuz I don’t know of anyone who would talk?”
“She did and she died, that she is Daphne, your star whore.”
“The ramblings of an ex-hooker, Christ, don’t make me laugh.” She leaned back and crossed her legs.
“She knew you weren’t dead, you didn’t know that, did you? Skip, he knew, and he let it slip. Simpleminded, sweet Skip, he told her. What you did was sign Skip’s death warrant, you killed him.”
“How did I do that? I didn’t put a gun to his head.”
“He was the one you sent to get Scottie out to that drive-in that night. Scottie thought he was meeting you and you knew Scottie would trust Skip, everyone trusted Skip. Skip set it up for you, and you sent the cop, Simpson, out there. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“Scottie had to be whacked, you knew how dangerous he was. He knew I wasn’t dead. I found out he was the one who had been sending me the threats. I had to make that call, it was him or me. I’m sorry about Skip but what do you want me to do, I can’t raise the dead. And Skip’s murder, what does that have to do with anything?”
Sarge didn’t answer her.
“It happened before too, someone was a threat to you, and you’d order their death, it was easy for you.”
“Jesus, now what are you talking about?”
“Richmond Ave, ring a bell?”
“Why do you want to talk about this now, Sarge, are you trying to clear your conscience because mine is clear enough? Roger was a slimeball and Archie was a time bomb. If I recall, you were the one who pulled me out of the way when the car almost crushed my legs, and that was Roger’s doing, remember, he hired those thugs. How about when Archie and that bitch JoAnn held me at gunpoint, you forget about that. I could’ve been dead then, and we wouldn’t be having this goddamn conversation. So yeah, they needed to go, both of them. Scottie was happy to do it for me, he wanted to have it to hold over my head, and I knew that as well.”
She moved in her chair but did not get up. She was so pissed off her voice had cracked and she had to wipe the spit off her chin.
“Jesus, woman, no reason to get your panties wadded into your crack.”
“I’ve known you, Sarge, over thirty-something years now. If it were anyone else sitting in that chair asking me these kinds of questions, I would get a gun and shoot them in the face. So, I’m going to ask you again why any of this matters any longer?” Her hands on the arms of the chair had balled into tight fists.
“Jenna is afraid to leave the house to even check the mail, and I want to make sure that with Skip it stops. Besides, you know I never asked anything back then, maybe now after over twenty-five damn years, someone can tell me the motherfucking truth before I croak. There is only one person left alive that can answer my damn bloody questions, and that’s you. That’s why I’m here.”
She leaned back into the plump, comfortable armchair and closed her eyes. Her past flashed like an in-color cinematic film. Without opening her eyes, she spoke.
“All right, Sarge, what do you want to know that I haven’t already told you?”
“JoAnn—tell me what happened that night?”
She sat silent, her eyes stayed closed. She guessed Sarge needed closure for a past life.
He was about to reach over and shake her out of her so-called trance when she spoke.
“You knew I had enemies. I needed to be out of the picture, as in dead. Scottie never controlled things, even you knew that back then. Yes, I set JoAnn up. It was a plan that we, Jed, Scottie and I, weren’t even sure if it would work, but it did, beautifully. He knew JoAnn was an S&M maniac, and so was he back then. Scottie wanted JoAnn gone because she saw him that night on Richmond. Jed hated her, and she was the perfect body double for me. We told her to dope his whiskey up with more than a normal amount of coke. I told her to get crazy with him, and Jed told him to go overboard with her. He did, she did, and he killed her. It was an accident, but we hoped…” She opened her eyes and looked at him.
“Then you had him in your pocket, and I helped cover your evil up because I was loyal to you back then. Is he still in your pocket?”
“No, he knows I know about the past and that if I needed to, I’d crush him. Sometimes it’s best to have a judge in your pocket. Wolff was a good addition to my so-called executive stable.”
“Did you know Daphne was married?”
“No, I didn’t. Who was she married to?”
“Harvey Walden.”
“Yeah, well, good for her, or it was good for her I guess.” She was tired; this little unexpected visit had drained her.
“You don’t remember Harvey, do you?”
“Why should I? Who is he?”
“He used to work for you, he bartended at the Blue Marble, that’s how him and Daphne met.”
“So many people came and went, and he was only a stupid bartender. They were a dime a dozen.”
“Like Randy Simpson was, am I right?”
“Jesus, are we going to discuss all my evil sins? Haven’t I confessed enough for one millennium?”
“Naw, you just answered my question. By the wa
y, Walden wasn’t Harvey’s real last name. Walden was either his middle name or his mother’s maiden name.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe he was fatherless. Used his mother’s last name, it happens, you know.”
“Nope, don’t think that was the reason. You asked me a question earlier that I didn’t answer.”
“What was that?” Her voice uninterested, she didn’t care, she wanted him to leave.
“Who killed Skip Johanson…I never answered you.”
“Well, then, who did kill Skip?”
“Harvey Walden…Buccella.”
A sudden jerk and her eyes opened in alarm, and her face went pale. Did he say Buccella, as in relation to one Scottie Buccella?
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The information that was spilling out of her mouth was more than Jack had expected.
“Man, who would have guessed she would sing like a canary, Jack?”
“Not me, I thought he’d have to pry the information out. Huh, maybe she lost her edge, or could be Max Renner was never a threat to her.”
Jack was pleased, and Art was getting it all. His cell phone chirped.
“West,” he answered, then listened.
“You’re sure? It was her card then. What was rented?” Jack ended the call.
“Who was that?”
“I had an alert put out on Daphne Walden’s credit cards, the cards she didn’t share with Harvey. Daphne Walden rented a Silver Nissan Versa not more than thirty minutes ago.”
“A trip from the grave, is that it? That was a smart move, Jack.”
“Jace, you copy?”
“Roger, Jack, what’s going on, we moving in, what?”
“No. Ya’ll be on the lookout for a Silver Nissan Versa, newer model will have a sticker on the back window—Airport Car Rental.”
“Who’s driving it?”
“My fat pain-in-the-ass, and your cold-blooded killer: the one and only Harvey Buccella.”
“You’re joking?”
“No, and don’t stop him either, let him come this way because he’s coming for her. When he turns on the street, move in with caution, roger that?”
“Oh yeah, we copy.”
. . .
“Sarge, I’m tired and I hafta go check on Jed, are we done now?”
“I suppose so, you gave me the answers I came for. I do have one last question for you though.”
She stood, looking over at him, wanting him to walk toward the door. “Just one last question, haven’t you asked me enough questions already?”
“Yeah, maybe, but I want to know what you’re going to do?”
“About what?” She huffed and began walking toward the door that led to the front hallway.
“When Harvey Buccella comes calling? He’s not coming to talk to you, you know, don’t you, I mean, what will you do, call the police and tell them he’s coming after you for calling in a hit on one of his relatives? Mob families are tight, of all people, you should know that.”
“He doesn’t know it was me, how could he?”
Sarge’s laugh was bitter. “You believe that, don’t you? You of all people should know how much hookers talk, and in turn how much their johns talk back. Fantastic sex, a great blow job, you mix that with drugs and booze, those girls got the men to tell them anything. Harvey Buccella bartended at the Blue Marble, the Blue Marble, understand what I’m saying? How many of your top-notch whores worked there, huh? So he knew. He knew who, what, and why, but then Daphne came along, she didn’t want to lose him and she begged him to wait it out, thinking maybe he’d let it go. I know I shouldn’t say this because I don’t want anything on Jenna’s head, but…”
Jack looked at Lucky. “You know that’s a message to us, right?”
“Yeah, I get it. Now he’s telling the truth. How nice of him. Are you going to do anything?”
“No, Lucky, I’m going after the big fish and leave the bait alone…because the minnows are cooperating.”
“What would be on her head?” Celeste had had enough of this game of twenty questions.
“She knew who Harvey was, Daphne told her everything. She knew about Harvey, and about Scottie, even about Skip’s part. Jenna knew once Daphne found out she was dying of lung cancer, that Harvey would be out for revenge, even after all these years, he never forgot. I’ve had to live with Jenna for these past twenty years while she’s been scared to death waiting for a bullet to the head, because she knew too much, enough to get her shut up permanently.”
“Well, she’s not dead and neither am I. I’m not going to spend the rest of what years I’ve left being afraid. Now, just leave me in peace.”
“I wanna see Jed before I go, be the last chance I get. I’ve known him longer than I’ve known you, at least give me that.” Sarge didn’t budge; he brought his bulgy arms up, crossed them, and took a stance that said I’m digging in.
“He won’t like it that you are seeing him this way, but if that’s what it takes to get you the hell out of our house, then fine, damnit, you can go see him.”
. . .
Jace radioed in. “Jack, silver Nissan headed your way, he just turned onto her street. Xi is circling back to the next street that enters the neighborhood. We’re going to come up the back way.”
“We see the car. He’s about six houses away. Art, you copy?”
“Yeah, Jack?”
“Call for patrol back up, 10-40, no lights, no sirens. Tell them to go to the end of this street and one street south. Block it off, no one in or out, copy that?”
“Roger, I’m on it.”
“Jack, he stopped, one house away, and he’s out of the car. We have him on the Skip Johanson’s murder, shouldn’t we…?”
“No, we’re not doing anything yet, Lucky,” Jack cut him off in mid-sentence.
“Man, as soon as she opens that door he’s gonna put a bullet in her head, I—”
Jack cut him off again. “No, he won’t. Skip was a petty job. He didn’t know why he was luring Scottie out to the abandoned drive-in. Buccella just has to take care of all involved, maybe even Ian Simpson. She’s different, he’s going to want to ‘discuss’ this first, then kill her. Besides, he doesn’t know Max is there. What’s he going to do, kill everyone?”
Lucky was afraid another murder was about to be committed while they sat and watched.
Jack’s eyes never left the front door to her house as Harvey rang the bell. When she opened the door, Jack didn’t see her flinch, until she realized who he was.
“Jack, units en route arrive in three minutes.”
“Roger, Art. Jace, where are you?”
“Two houses behind you, came up without lights, we coasted in.”
“Okay, vest up, we’re going in.”
“Jack, are you…” Luck said as he put on his vest.
“Look, Lucky, I want the bastard for several reasons,” Jack interrupted his partner one more time, ”mainly cuz he popped Skip, and part of me wants him cuz he played me. This way we get her, and we have more on him, like attempted murder, because we know he is intending to kill her.”
“Okay, you’re the lead, and I trust you. Let’s get going, Xi and Jace are waiting.”
“Okay team, here’s the plan. He knows my voice, so Lucky, you stand front and center, Jace, Xi, and I will flank the sides. When she opens the door, I’m banking on Buccella to be behind it and he’ll be holding a gun on her. He won’t let her go to the door without him. Give her the sign to be quiet, and then say something like, ‘sorry to bother you, but I want to know if you
take the paper,’ or some shit like that. Hold this note up telling her not to lock the door. Okay, guys, let’s rock-n-roll and get this job done.”
Lucky rapped on the door.
“Were you expecting company?” Buccella asked her.
“No.”
“Okay. We’re going to the door together, get rid of whoever it is, or they can die with you.”
She opened the door just enough to see who it was, Harvey behind the door, his gun aimed at her. Seeing a detective in Kevlar, her mouth dropped open, but no sound came out. Lucky held one finger up to his lips, shaking his head telling her not to say a word, and held the note up for her to read. Then he began his fake sales pitch, “Sorry to bother you, ma’am, I’m soliciting new customers for…”
She interrupted him. “We already take the paper, but thank you.” Then she shut the door and pretended to lock it.
“Good, now go back into the other room.” Harvey nudged her with the end of the gun.
“Take a chair, let’s talk. Let’s talk about my cousin, his name used to be Scottie, you remember?”
“Yeah, I remember him, so what?”
“So talk then.” Harvey took the seat across from her, the gun never leaving her face.”
“Fine, but can you point that fucking gun somewhere else? Jesus, I’m sick of men pointing guns at me.”
“Yeah, well, none of them ever pulled the trigger. I’m thinking your luck is about to change.”
Lucky opened the front door, Xi behind him, Jack behind Xi. Jace covered the door.
Jack motioned for Xi to move to the right and Lucky to move to the left. The hall was wide and long enough to be able to creep up the sides to the doorway leading into the front living room.
A squeak sounded, and Jack looked up toward the staircase that led off to the left of the hall. Sarge had set his foot on the first step. He signaled for him to back it up, then with another gesture to stay put.
If this hadn’t been such an intense moment, he would have laughed at the look on the big bald man’s face. The one thing Sarge hadn’t expected was to see HPD detectives decked out in Kevlar with guns drawn. Sarge picked his foot up and inched back. Lucky and Xi were waiting on his next call. He moved up next to Lucky and made a hand signal to wait.
