“Bianchi had intended to frame Derek Fister as the perp who fudged the security tapes and took money to cover it up. Which is where I came to the rescue,” Ham added bitterly. “The little shit ‘sold’ me the tape and I used it to convince Drew that we had our shooter.”
Drew took up the explanation before he had the chance to go on. “Where I very helpfully accused Preston of attempted murder, at which point I might have suggested I’d kill him, or something like that.” Her wide-eyed innocence convinced no one. Ham could see that, and she probably could as well, he concluded. Nevertheless, she doubled down. “Needless to say, I would never actually harm him or anyone else—shut up, Ham—I just wanted to get him to fess up as a help to the proper authorities.” She batted her lashes and added, “Such as your good-looking self.”
Karl’s beam exposed both his amusement and likely secret wish, Ham decided. Trust Drew, he thought, to build the fence, mend it, then lock the animal in. “I think that pretty much sums it up,” Ham confirmed.
Genta cleared his throat, an unobtrusive bid for attention. “I would like to add, Lieutenant, that she speaks for all of us. It is well known in the international community, including in my own country, that Preston Talbot is an honorable man who will stand by his word. Should he have taken it in his head to commit such a deed, he would have had the honor and decency to refrain from casting blame upon the innocent.”
“Yeah, I’m not going to argue that.” Looking Preston in the eyes, Karl added, “You’re a known commodity in this state, including to me. I know you to be, as Mr. Akiyama says, honorable within your sphere of business. You refuse cooperation at times, but you have never deliberately misled. That’s the word in my circles.”
“I appreciate that, Lieutenant. And I guarantee that this has changed nothing, that in future my conduct will remain constant.”
Neely nodded, stepped beyond him and the immediate group and pointed to the late Mr. Bianchi. “Let me get a look at what we got here.” The men stepped back into the background to allow the lieutenant unfettered access.
He examined the bullet-riddled body for about ten seconds, then turned palms up, as if truth be held therein. “Looks like a pretty clear case of suicide to me.”
Ham hid a grin behind his hand, coughed a cover to his delight. “That was my thought,” he assured Neely.
“I witnessed it,” Jennifer offered.
“As did I,” Genta confirmed. “We tried earnestly to talk him out of it but, as you can see, he was quite determined.”
“Let’s hope your coroner agrees with you,” Drew said.
“You mean my sister-in-law?”
Ham and Drew both laughed, pleasure evident in the humorous shakes of the head. “Never mind,” she replied. “I didn’t say anything.”
While Karl busied himself with arrangements for transportation of the body, Ham checked his watch. Late as it had grown, he felt less tired than anxious. So close, he mused, so very near to the end. So little yet known, he sighed.
The door opened and an abashed appearing Sergeant Larry Pendleton was led in by two of Adam’s men, each of which was shadowed by one of Genta’s. Much to Ham’s amusement—and surprise—Pendleton was sporting his own pair of cuffs on his wrists. Obviously, he’d pissed off at least one someone in his escort party.
Before Ham could focus on the rush of movement, the whirl of advance before him, Drew launched at the cuffed detective, exploded with a brutal kick to his left temple, and detonated a pointed shoe to the groin on his way to the ground. Ham only imagined the spit she hurled to his downturned face full of agony.
Nobody bothered to interfere. No one made any effort whatever to comfort the fallen man. On the contrary, Ham detected approval, if not outright admiration, on the faces of those within his sight.
“He always was a clumsy bastard,” Neely intoned. “I knew someday he’d take a nasty fall to the face. Guess today’s the day.”
Preston pointed at the groaning erstwhile cop. “Pick him up,” he ordered his men, “and set him down over there.”
Genta, not to be outdone or left out, added an order to his men. “If he tries to get up, beat him back into the ground. I’m talking hard.”
Ham regarded Adam with curiosity, for he was the lone holdout. He neither looked angry nor concerned, rather almost bored. Something annoyed his mind, a thought unattainable, a realization too opaque for clarity. Let it go, he ordered himself. Let it come.
Preston walked to the seated cop, stooped down and lifted the man’s chin to force him to look in his eyes. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.”
Pendleton refused to hold eye contact, instead shifting his downward despite Preston’s grip upon his chin. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“I’m not interested in the sound of nothing. If you have something useful to say, say it now or forever hold your breath.”
His wild eyes sought out, found Adam Vicante’s. “We made a deal. What the hell is going on? Are you going to let them do this to me?” When Adam just shrugged, Pendleton exploded. “Alright, then, you want to play it that way, we’ll play it that way. Because I guarantee you, asshole, I’m not going down alone.”
Adam’s tone matched the ice in his eyes. “You, asshole, are indeed going to go down alone. You think you got something? Really? Then go ahead and spill it to the lieutenant here. Give it up, all of it. I’ll give you time to say your piece before I off your fucking ass.” He nodded his head toward the sergeant cum prisoner. “Curtis, keep his worthless self in that chair while I ask Ms. Thornton if she’d like to have another shot at him before I take him out.”
The delight on Drew’s face, the light in her suddenly shining eyes, must have convinced Pendleton that, indeed, she would very much relish the opportunity. “Just keep that bitch away from me,” he mumbled.
Pendleton didn’t even see the slap that rocked him near to the floor, caused his eyes to swim and his head to snap back and forth like a kite caught in a gust of wind. What he did see was Drew drawing her head next to his. And he clearly must have heard what she whispered in his ear because the look of fear that overwhelmed him was so extreme it was comical in its effect. At least to Ham who bothered not to stifle the fun it evoked.
Adam grabbed Pendleton’s chin and used that as leverage to force the man’s vision up into his own. “Whatever she said, I’m in. Now talk.”
Pendleton, though unable to twist out from under Adam’s grip, turned his eyes sideways, an attempt to seek out his lieutenant. “Karl, this is all a mistake, not what it look likes. They’re playing you and I’m the bait.”
“We can make that happen. The bait part, I mean,” Genta told him. “At the end of a chum line comes to mind.”
Drew’s laughter split the air, a demonstration of delight and amusement probably inappropriate to the circumstances, Ham thought. But funny all the same. He grinned at his partner and flashed her a gleeful thumbs up.
The change that overcame Pendleton caused a palpable transformation in the room. Ham regarded the man with a large measure of curiosity, a small dab of pity, and a modicum of expectation. From the looks of it, he decided, they verged on the road to truth. Probably they would not drive a straight line, but definitely they rode that winding road to its final conclusion.
“I want an attorney,” Pendleton announced. “I’m not saying anything else.”
The amazement that statement induced caused jaws to drop and eyes to dance with wonder. “Who is this man?” Karl Neely asked. “Is he from anywhere on Earth?”
“What he means,” Ham interpreted for him, “is that your chances of getting an attorney are about as small as my chances of flying to the moon.” He shrugged his shoulders, a correction on the way. “Smaller, I’d say.”
Adam still held Pendleton’s chin in a death grip, with no apparent intent to let go. “Talk your piece. Quickly, before I lose my patience. And my temper along with it.”
Pendleton tried, with zero success
, to shake his head free. The result of his effort left a smiling Adam Vicante gripping the man’s cheeks rather than chin. A result, Ham surmised, that must have been much more painful in its effect.
The sergeant mumbled something, clearly impeded by the hold on his face. Adam responded with a gentle withdrawal of his hand. And a resounding slap across the cop’s face. “Better?” he asked him.
A still handcuffed Larry Pendleton jumped to his feet. Scratch that, Ham thought. A manacled Pendleton attempted to rise from his chair, obviously intent on getting in Adam’s face. An old cop trick, he recognized, one that in this case could not possibly do anything but fail. Spectacularly, at that.
As Ham had silently predicted, a rather large cadre of men, from all groups involved, lunged forward, many hands, too many for Ham to count, reaching for the offending creature. The alarm on Pendleton’s face matched the alacrity with which he plopped himself back down and out of reach and immediate threat of destruction.
Again, the disgraced cop tried his ace. “Look, Vicante, you agreed to give me protection. What the crap is all this, then? You can’t be trusted to keep your word?”
“I gave you protection at the behest of my family friend. Jennifer told me you were under threat from the Waterson group, that they were under the impression that you let Liam Waterson’s killer escape.” He shrugged his shoulders, an apology of sorts to Preston, it appeared, and explained to Talbot, “I had no reason not to protect him from you.”
Preston sighed, a deep and clearly angry response. “If you mean in terms of business, yes, I get it. If you mean a personal act, that’s quite a different thing. An unpleasant different thing, one which could cause more problems than either of us might wish to see happen. So you tell me, Adam, which is it? Business or personal?”
Genta chose that moment to step forward and address them, much as to wayward children in a playground fight. “Gentlemen, this gets us nowhere but lost.” He pointed at a now grinning Pendleton. “It benefits no one but him. If you two cannot set aside your differences long enough to question this fool then I suggest you step aside and let our people handle it.”
“Or perhaps,” Ham objected, “Lieutenant Neely here has other ideas. Like taking this piece of shit down to the station and breaking out the rubber hoses.”
Neely threw up his hands, a small grin playing on his lips. “I don’t really feel like going all the way into the station, not this late at night. In fact,” he added, stowing his gear, “I think it’s time to send my men home and time for me to go home to the wife and kiddies. So,” he said, leaning into Pendleton’s face, “see ya.”
“Alright, alright, alright,” Pendleton bellowed. “I killed him. There, is that what you wanted?”
Karl smiled, lopsided and plainly unamused. “I didn’t, and don’t, want anything. The fact is, I don’t care.”
Drew reached across, grabbed Pendleton by the hair and pulled his head sharply to the side, directly into her eyes. “He doesn’t care. I do. Very much. Very. Very. Much.” Without taking her eyes off the captive cop, she spoke to Neely. “You should feel free to leave now. I’ve got this.”
“Why, yes, I believe you do.” To Ham he added, “You’ll intercede with the governor? You’ll keep me out of this?” Ham nodded and Karl responded with a sarcastic, “Goodnight, Sergeant. Consider yourself off duty. Permanently.”
Neither Drew nor Pendleton turned to look at Neely as he withdrew, Drew because she obviously didn’t want to, Pendleton because he couldn’t. But the sergeant managed to yell above the murmurs of the assembled group, “You can’t do this, Karl, for god’s sake, you can’t leave me here. I mean, come one, we’ve been friends, colleagues, we’ve known each other too long for you to fuck me over like this. Besides, how are you going to explain the fact that you didn’t bring me in, huh? Tell me that.”
With a tight smile and a casual shrug, Karl replied. “What’s to tell? You ran, you eluded me, I lost you. My bad.” And with that, he bowed out, taking his people with him.
All, that is, but his poor, unfortunate, out of favor sergeant.
18
FLY AWAY HOME
For several long minutes after Karl Neely withdrew his team, the cadre mingled, directionless and less than decisive, it seemed to Ham. He had just taken it in his head to lead them out of wavering uncertainty and on toward a path of action, nearly did, before Drew stepped forward. She again put her face up against the now agitated cop and, her voice firm and resolute, advised him of his choices.
“You can talk to me. You can not talk to me. But then you will have to talk to Preston Talbot. And to Genta Akiyama. You’re choice. Make it a good one.”
As she spoke, and as all attention was on her and the cuffed prisoner, Ham noted a wide-eyed Jennifer back softly, slowly, almost unnoticed toward the rear exit. And it hit. It all fell together, a building folding in upon itself. Dust all around.
No way, he vowed. No freaking way in freaking hell.
He stepped forward, through the crowd, and reached her just as she grabbed the handle to the patio door, intending exit and into the darkness shrouding the yard. “Going somewhere?”
“Let me go.” Ham bothered not to reply, which must have sparked a flaming anger within. “Adam,” she screeched, helplessness and pleading a design in her voice. “I’m under attack. Help me!”
Adam snapped his fingers and in less than a flash three men surrounded Ham, each with a weapon pointed at and between his eyes. Before Ham could process the situation, two more snaps of the fingers resounded and immediately six men, each armed with weaponry of his own, surrounded the three surrounding Ham.
“What,” Drew sneered. “The Three Stooges start a fight? What the hell is wrong with you people?” With a rapid, though deep, sigh she snapped, “Never mind. That was a rhetorical question to a horde of laughable Neanderthals. Now back the hell off, all of you. If Ham detained her, he had a reason. Let’s hear him out. Ham?”
“I think Jennifer Fister has something she wishes not to tell us. Isn’t that so, Mrs. Fister?”
“Adam, make him let go of me.” When Adam merely shrugged, an admission of inability, she snapped, “I have nothing to say. I want the cops back here and I want them now. I’m going to have you all charged with breaking and entering, assault and battery, kidnapping and murder.”
Drew, an amused smile upon her lips, stepped forward so as to catch her attention. “Well, my, my, my, that’s quite a laundry list of wrongs. However, I see no need to call the cops. I think we can handle this in house. So here’s an idea,” she snarled as she grabbed Jennifer by the shoulder, squeezed until she saw the tears form, and dragged her back to the couch. “You sit here while Sergeant Pendleton tells us a story.” She leaned down, nose to nose, and whispered, “If you get up, I’ll break your knees.”
Ham pressed the advantage as he himself gave his attention to the sergeant. “Your life is on the line, as you damn well know. Your only chance of surviving this, of living long enough to get to death row, is to tell us everything.”
Preston also spoke up, voice soft and grim. “Let me correct Mr. McCalister. While what he informed you is true, what he neglected to say was that the short time you have to live should you refuse our reasonable requests, that short amount of time will be filled with a maximum amount of pain.”
Pendleton expelled a gust of defeated breath and his shoulders slumped to match. But to Ham’s surprise, the man proved game. “I don’t suppose we could make a deal here?”
“Not a snowball’s chance on an inordinately hot day in hell.”
“Alright, I’ll talk. It started with Jennifer Fister. She came to me and—”
“And I offered him five-million dollars and Vicante family protection,” Jennifer admitted before Pendleton could tell it all.
With that one statement, it all fell together for Ham. He now understood Derek Fister’s threat at the station that Ham was a dead man. Derek had expected the Vicantes to take care of him on Derek’s
and his wife’s behalf. Which meant Derek knew everything, was involved down to his dirty techie hands. The bastard. But no worries, Ham determined. It would be rectified.
Adam laid a gentle hand on Jennifer’s elbow, either in tender relief or in support. “Jenn, I don’t understand. What are you trying to tell me?”
“Oh, Adam,” she sighed. “You’re good at what you do, I love you, but you don’t know how to handle the seemingly impossible. Liam would not back down, not ever and not for any reason. You were no match for him and he knew it. As for Preston, he can’t be bought. That left only one maneuver, one which you were much too weak to take.”
Adam regarded her with what appeared to Ham to be half pity, half rage. And when he spoke, Ham still was not sure which dominated. “What did you do, Jenn? Am I hearing this correctly?”
“Yes, Adam, you are. It’s true, we had Liam Waterson killed and we set up Preston Talbot to take the fall. Once all that happened, we would be free to take the state, to take the business to Japan and, as God is my witness, to continents beyond. And we still can,” she rushed on, fire burning her eyes, “we still can. Look at these weaklings,” she said, arms spread wide to encompass the room, “and tell me we can’t have it all.”
“My god, child,” Preston sighed, a long sad exhalation of disappointment. “Do I know you at all? Have I ever known you? You would do this? Do it to me?”
When she stoically refused answer, Ham jumped in. “How does Nicole Waterson play in this? Or does she not?”
Jenn’s snort of disgust gave a hint of what the answer might be. “Where do you think I was going to get five-million dollars? She provided the seed money. Her plan was, and I suppose remains up until this minute, to seduce your Genta Akiyama, get her hands on his affairs as well. What short future he may have had left to him I do not know. But basically, she’d planned to cut the yakuza out of Nevada and align with Vicante to stop them, then move into Japan without Vicante, whom she planned to cut out there.”
“So it was her plan?” Ham inquired. “She came to you?”
The Biggest Little Crime In The World Page 25
