Anthony Carrick Hardboiled Murder Mysteries: Box Set (Books 1 - 3)

by Jason Blacker

  "What the fuck do you want?"

  He used foul language but there was no mustard in the tone. I looked down at him. I wasn't smiling any more.

  "Don't feel so good on the receiving end, does it?"

  He looked away from me.

  "You touch your wife again and you and me are gonna keep having heart to hearts," I said.

  He didn't look at me.

  "You understand?"

  I squatted down close to him so he could see my five o'clock shadow and smell my cheap cologne. He looked at me and nodded his quickly. He massaged his throat.

  "Now tell me why you didn't kill Paul Klee."

  I stood up again, my knees don't take kindly to squatting for any length of time. Kieran wheezed and coughed and tried to clear his throat.

  "Because I didn't, that's why," he said.

  "That doesn't tell me anything. Let me give you a hand. Your wife was banging him. You were upset about it, so you went and paid him a visit. Now he's ended up dead and you look good for it."

  Kieran shook his head.

  "No, I didn't kill him. Hell, I don't even know where he lives."

  "Then tell me what happened."

  Kieran nodded his head.

  "Okay. I found out that asshole was banging my wife, so I went to speak to him about it. I was gonna tell him to back the fuck off. So I followed him through the park one night and I confronted him about it. He told me he was finished with that skanky whore anyway. And what's more, he said, shouldn't I be dealing with my wife and not him. After all, she's the one stepping out. So I lost it on him and smacked him around a bit. I told him to lay off."

  "Or?"

  Kieran looked up at me and then back down at the floor. His wrists were dangling limply off his knees.

  "Okay, I threatened him. I told him he better lay off or I was gonna come back and do worse. But I didn't kill him."

  Kieran looked up at when he said the last bit. He didn't strike me as a man who was capable of murder.

  "Do you have any handguns?" I asked.

  He shook his head.

  "Did Paul say anything else before you clocked him?"

  Kieran looked up at the ceiling for a moment.

  "Actually he did. When I first caught up with him and tried to get him to stop so I could talk he told me he didn't have time, that he was being followed."

  "And did you see anyone following him?"

  "No, I was more interested in giving him a piece of my mind. But after we'd finished our chat, he took off like a rabbit. That's when I did notice a couple of men in gray suits follow after. They were walking hard in his direction but they weren't running."

  "What did they look like?"

  Kieran shook his head and hung it low for a while before looking back up at me.

  "Man, I dunno. I was more concerned about delivering my message than anything else."

  "Give me something to go on."

  "They were well dressed. The suits fit them well. They were both tall, taller than me by a few inches or so. The one guy was thin, the other guy was thick."

  "What about their hair color or styles?" I asked.

  "The thick guy had a buzz cut. They both had dirty blonde hair. The taller one's hair was normal length. That's all I got."

  "Do you think you could recognize them if you saw them again?"

  "I don't think so. I mean I didn't get a good look at them. Maybe if they were dressed the same, they were big. But I couldn't ID them in a lineup."

  I walked out to the end of the kitchen. It was an open floor plan. Where the kitchen stopped a creamy colored sea of carpet with frothy peaks spread out into the living room. At the end of the living room was a fireplace and on top of the mantel were photo frames with a photograph of what looked like a nice African American family. It was too far away to make it out very well. I turned around and looked back at Kieran.

  "Did your wife tell you she and Paul were going to get married next summer?"

  I smiled at him. I do that sometimes just for fun. He looked at me, searching for the sincerity of what I'd just said.

  "I guess that's gonna be called off then," he said.

  It was funny as hell, but I didn't get the impression he'd said it with that intention.

  "I'll give you a tip for your pain and suffering. It's better to leave a cheating wife than stay and end up the chump."

  He looked at me.

  "We've been together since high school," he said.

  "Seems to me then that it's time to graduate."

  Kieran was heading down a one way street called misery. And if he kept going he'd end up a wreck at the T junction. He looked down and shook his head. Then he combed his hands through his hair.

  "I've been down that road, friend. Better to let her have half now than take it all from you at the bitter end."

  He looked up at me and nodded slowly.

  "Yeah, I guess you're right."

  I nodded at him and looked around the kitchen.

  "You've done some good work here," I said, and I turned and walked out the house.

  In the yard, the two yahoos were dabbing at their upper lips to try and clean themselves of the residual blood. The middle of their noses were thick and swollen. They looked at me with hard stares that had no stones behind it. I smiled at them and tipped my hat.

  "Stay out of trouble, son," I said to them, and I walked on down the road.

  I figured I'd make a stop at the golf course. A little hair of the dog might not be a bad idea. A golden, liquid brunch with a sandwich on the side might just do the trick. I fished out my phone and dialed a number.

  "Terry," I said, when the voice on the other line answered, "would you mind picking me up at the Brentwood Country Club in about an hour?"

  TWELVE

  Chapter 12

  TERRY picked me up. It was more comfortable and cheaper driving in the Maybach than it was in the yellow cab. I was grateful for that. We were on our way to the Bronx Zoo. I don't regularly go to zoos. They remind me of prisons, and I'd sooner not visit prisons either.

  So your question might be, why am I heading to the zoo? And that's a good question. I was hoping to interview a monkey. I'd seen one earlier in the day out on Long Island, and I figured while I was dealing with one chump, might as well deal with others.

  Perry Alcantara's construction firm had won the bid to renovate the Bronx Zoo's cafeteria. Not a huge job, but in this economy beggars couldn't be choosers.

  Terry dropped me off at the parking lot just off Southern Boulevard. He was gonna wait for me, Sonia didn't need him and I didn't think I'd be longer than an hour. The admission price was over twenty bucks by the time the man had taken his share. Tax was the biggest legalized racket I'd ever encountered. At some places in LA I can get a steak dinner for the same amount. And it'd be more satisfying.

  Didn't matter in the long run anyway. Like I've said before, these are expenses. Something Sonia or the Philharmonic were going to pick up. And I didn't think Sonia would be all that concerned about a Jackson for some monkeys.

  I grabbed a map and found that the cafeteria wasn't far from the parking lot. I made my way there. Half of the cafe was closed for renos, that was the half I was looking for. I called over one of the laborers and asked him to fetch Perry for me. He did. He was just one of those guys who didn't ask too many questions. I liked that.

  After a short while an average looking guy walked out from behind the construction sheets. The laborer pointed at me and this guy walked up to me and introduced himself. He was about my height, but about nine months pregnant. His stomach was hard and round though the rest of him didn't seem all that fat. His face was a bit puffy though and he shaved his head because the top of it was getting sparse. He was clean shaven and he had a pleasant demeanor. I didn't think I'd have to be strong arming Perry like I had with Kieran.

  "Anthony Carrick," I said, after he'd introduced himself. "I'm looking into the Paul Klee situation."

  Perry nodded and smiled
at me. He pointed his hand out.

  "Right, you're the private investigator that the orchestra hired."

  I nodded.

  "Do you mind if I take a few minutes of your time?"

  "Not at all," he said, then he turned around and shouted. "Alvarez, you're in charge until I get back. I'm taking a break."

  A guy kneeling down over some blueprints with short, black, curly hair and a heavy five o'clock shadow looked up and nodded at him.

  "Have you taken a look around the zoo?" asked Perry. I shook my head. "It's quite something. How about a walk?"

  A walk suited me just fine. The weather was warm and the vegetation was lush, and if this got Perry chatting then I was all for it. We exited the cafeteria and headed towards the Butterfly Garden. The zoo was busy. We walked slowly, casually, as if we were two old friends with nothing new to say to each other. So I decided to start.

  "You've probably heard about Paul's death."

  I looked over at Perry as he walked hands in pockets. He nodded but kept his gaze on the ground in front of him.

  "Yes, I did. My wife told me. Quite unfortunate."

  Quite unfortunate was one way of putting it if you didn't particularly care for the man. And I figured Perry didn't care for him. From what I'd heard, Paul probably wouldn't have buoyed my boat.

  "You don't seem all that upset," I said.

  Perry looked over at me.

  "I'm not." Then he stopped for a moment and faced me. "Listen, you've spoken to my wife already, you know I was no fan. But just to get it out into the open, I didn't kill him."

  "I've been hearing that a lot the past couple of days," I said as we started walking again.

  "What? That I wasn't a fan or that I didn't kill him?"

  "Both. Seems he wasn't likable if you had something he wanted. Though the ladies seemed to like him."

  Perry didn't say anything to that. We walked on, passing a family with two kids. Both kids, a boy and a girl, engrossed in their ice cream cones.

  "How well did you know him?" I asked.

  "Not that well. I'd only met him a handful of times over the years. He seemed nice enough on the surface, though I got the sense he was a bit arrogant. Everyone was always fawning over him like he was the best violinist the world had ever seen."

  I nodded as we walked on. We veered right before the Butterfly Garden, heading towards the Mouse House. It was peaceful to be in nature, as fake as it might be. The people were the problem. Too many of them.

  "You had a heart to heart with him a while back."

  Perry nodded.

  "Yeah, I went to speak to him about screwing around with my wife. It got pretty ugly."

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "Well, I just wanted to tell him to stay clear. He thought it was funny. He made fun of what I looked like, saying it was no wonder that Lauren was stepping out on me, a fat blue collar worker. That got me going, so we got into a shoving match. The musical director stepped in before it got worse. I swear to God I wanted to smack that grin off his face."

  We passed on by the Mouse House on the right side. I got to thinking about that. Mouses in houses, if you'll indulge me, didn't seem to be an attraction. Most folks I know are trying to get rid of the mouses in their houses. On a side note, doesn't that sound better anyway, rhyming it like that?

  "I heard something similar from Kieran," I said.

  Perry nodded.

  "Yeah, I think Kieran came by to talk with Paul a couple of days after I did. From what he tells me though, he let his fists do most of the talking."

  "And that's how you and Kieran got to know one another?"

  Perry shook his head. We stopped to look at the giraffes and ostriches. They generally ignored us.

  "I knew Kieran from some time before. Occasionally, the Philharmonic had family days where the families of the musicians got together for BBQs and picnics and things like that. It's happened here at the zoo more than once. Anyway, I knew Kieran that way. But after I heard what he'd done to Paul I had renewed respect for the man. So I reached out and contacted him."

  "So it didn't bother you that he was beating his wife."

  Perry leaned on the railing and looked over at me.

  "I don't think you're getting the full picture of the man. He lost a really good Wall Street job a couple of years back. That was around the time that we both started finding out that our wives were sleeping with dick face. I'm not condoning what he's done, but Rosanna and him had a good marriage before that. I think the stress just got to him."

  I nodded and took off my hat. It was making my head hot. I looked out across the African plains, that didn't look like any African plains I'd ever seen.

  "And you gave him a job?"

  "I offered to give him a few gigs if he wanted. I'd learned that he had always enjoyed woodworking. And he does good work."

  I nodded.

  "He does indeed."

  "You've been to see him then?" asked Perry.

  "Yeah, had a heart to heart with him out in Long Island this morning."

  "And the work's good right?"

  "Yes, it is."

  Perry looked out at the giraffes, and then straightened up and we started off walking again around the Zoo Loop.

  "So you two became friends?" I asked.

  "Yes, in a way. I really like him. Perhaps it's a shared pain. Whatever, he's a good guy really. I'm happy to have him work with me until he can find something he likes better. Though he might stick around for a bit. I think he likes the work."

  "Your business wasn't hurt during the recession?"

  Perry turned to look at me and smiled.

  "No, I was hit just as bad as everyone. I don't have a big business, and maybe that was a bit of a lucky break. I don't do big projects, but building houses almost came to a standstill and renos dropped by more than half. It's just been in the last couple of years that I've been able to get back to where I was before and rehire all the guys I had to let go. I didn't hire Kieran for charity, I needed the help. It's been mutually beneficial."

  "You know what a cynic might suggest listening to this?"

  "No I don't," said Perry.

  "He might think it's strange that the two of you get to working together just weeks before Paul ends up dead. I can't think of any two men who had as much of a vested interest in Paul's death than you and Kieran."

  We were heading towards Somba Village. Perry stopped again for a moment and looked at me.

  "Listen," he said. "Like I said before. I didn't like Paul. He was fucking my wife. I get that, but that's no reason to kill a man. If anything, I was going to leave Lauren, but to suggest that because I help a man get back onto his feet means that I killed Paul is a reach. I'm only talking to you out of courtesy. It'd be much easier for me to wait for the police when they finally get around to interviewing me."

  I smiled at him. He was an agreeable sort, but I got the feeling that I was starting to needle him a bit too much.

  "I'm not thinking that you helping Kieran is why you killed Paul. I'm just saying, that the two of you have a shared anger and that anger was towards Paul. I'm not saying it was unjustified, I'm just saying it gives you motive."

  Perry started walking again and I kept to his side. Our steps were in unison as they often are when walking with someone of similar stature.

  "I can see how it gives us motive. I'm just saying I didn't do it, and I don't see Kieran doing something like that either. What it really is, is coincidence. Nothing more. I mean, we had a shared anger towards our wives too. And they're not dead."

  He had a point. I'd become more pissed off at Racquel when she stepped out than the douche bag she's since married.

  "Still," I said. "The cops are gonna ask for your whereabouts on Friday."

  "What time are we talking about?" he asked me.

  "Dunno yet, they haven't determined TOD."

  "TOD?"

  "Time of death."

  Perry nodded as we strode past Somba village t
hrough the thick forests, keeping to the nicely paved pathway, weaving between thick clots of families and toppling old ladies.

  "Well," continued Perry, "I was working here most of the day. I got in at eight in the morning and I didn't leave until eight p.m."

  "What did you after eight?"

  "I went down to this Italian restaurant close to where we live and ate some pasta. I probably got home by ten when I went to bed."

  "And Lauren wasn't there?"

  Perry shook his head.

  "She had a concert in the evening. I don't think that was supposed to finish until ten thirty. I can't say what time she got home as I was asleep. I woke up next to her though."

  We walked on for a while longer. Talking with Perry he seemed to be a straight shooter. I didn't fancy him as a murderer. Though I'd been fooled before.

  "Do you own a gun?" I asked.

  Perry looked over at me as we walked on.

  "Is that how he was killed?"

  I nodded.

  "Yes, I have a gun."

  "What kind?"

  "A Smith & Wesson 4006."

  "That's a .40 caliber right?"

  Perry looked at me and didn't say anything as a young couple wearing University of New York hoodies walked by.

  "Yes," he said. "Is that what caliber was used to shoot him?"

  "Don't know yet," I said. "Where is your gun?"

  "At home in my safe."

  "You sure about that?"

  Perry looked at me as we walked on.

  "Pretty sure, is there something you want to tell me?"

  "You just need to be pretty sure, that's all. When was the last time you took it out?"

  "A week ago."

  "So you don't know that it's still in your gun safe then?"

  Perry sighed.

  "I suppose not. But we haven't had any break-ins so I'm assuming that it hasn't gotten lost or grown legs."

  "Just be sure when you get home tonight," I said. "If your gun has gone missing and it's the same kind and caliber used to kill Paul, well, you get my meaning."

  Perry nodded.

  "Doesn't matter if it is my gun anyway, like I've told you a couple of times now, I didn't kill anybody."