"So tell me how this worked. You just took Paul on his word that he would hand over the violin when he was ready to do the insurance fraud?"
"I hardly knew him. Gary said he was a'ight. But that didn't go far. No man, Paul gave me a key to the kingdom so to speak."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Like I said. Paul didn't have that violin with him every night. When he came to talk to me about this arrangement, I needed some reassurances. He said he'd keep the violin in a locker from midnight to eight every night."
"How do you know he did that?"
"Because I've got a key."
"Did he tell you why he was carrying such an expensive violin around?"
"Sure did, 'cos I told him he could just leave the violin locked up all the time, but he said he was worried about that, because he was getting followed."
"So why did he feel safer at night?"
"He said they didn't tail him overnight, just during the day. Shit man, I don't really give a shit. The thing is he was good to his word."
"So you've seen the violin?"
JJ nodded and looked at fatty next to him.
"My nigger here, checked on Friday night just after midnight. Didn't you?"
JJ looked at the fat man and he nodded at JJ, not looking away from me.
"And since then?"
"It stays in the locker until Monday morning."
"Only now he's dead," I said.
JJ nodded.
"So you say."
"Who else has a key to this locker?"
"Only him and me," said JJ.
"Where is this locker?"
"Shit, you think I'm gonna tell you?"
"Doesn't matter, you said only you and him have a key. Why do you care?"
"I suppose it doesn't hurt. You don't know the number. Besides you could probably figure it out. Since nine eleven lockers have become real hard to find. Paul was using a place called The Glovebox."
I nodded.
"Did you notice anyone following him?" I asked.
JJ shrugged.
"I dunno, but when he got his coke about three weeks ago he was real nervous. He kept looking around. He nodded his head at this one car that was parked over there."
JJ cocked his head towards the park across the block where the baseball diamonds were. This is where I'd been dropped off by my cabbie.
"He said those were the same guys who had been following him. I had one of my guys take him home from the other side of this building."
"What happened then?"
"Well as soon as Paul disappeared into this tenement the car took off."
"What kind of car was it?"
"Black Mercedes."
"Did you get the plate?"
JJ frowned at me and grinned.
"Shit, man, do I look like I'm the cops to you."
I didn't say anything. Fatty leaned in and whispered something to JJ. JJ nodded at him.
"DLW0403," said the fat guy.
"It wasn't a New York plate neither," said JJ.
"I figured."
"How did you know when you first met him that he had a valuable violin?"
"He showed it to me."
"Right, like you know the insides of violins like you know the insides of a hooker's bra," I said.
"Man, you're a lippy mothafucka coming into my turf and talking to me like that."
"I'm just asking. How did you know the violin was valuable?"
"He showed it to me like I said, and he showed me the insurance papers on it. Gave me copies as a matter of fact."
"Seems to me like there are a lot of people looking to get that violin."
"How do you figure that?" asked JJ.
"Because it was stolen. His grandfather stole it from a woman in a German concentration camp. At least that's the story I heard."
"Is that a fact?"
"Not yet, but it's sounding more reasonable the more I get along on this case."
JJ looked down, took a last puff from his joint and then threw it on the ground where he ground it out with his foot.
"You've been helpful," I said. "I hope business picks up for you."
I started to back away from them towards the corner of the street.
"Don't go looking for that violin," I said. "Cops will be all over that place by the time you get there."
I backed my way all the way to the corner of the street. I crossed over and started walking south alongside Harlem River Drive. I fished out my phone and made a call.
"Terry," I said. "Are you free… I need a ride… I'm heading south on Harlem River Drive, not far from West 143rd… It's not such a bad place, if you're looking for gang bangers."
I hung up and pulled out my cigarette pack. I lit one up and kept up my pace heading south. This part of Harlem wasn't all that busy. The traffic was heavy but not many folk around here liked to walk around much. I felt safer with shiny gats nestled snugly against my butt cheeks.
I was just coming up on Park Avenue when Terry found me. It wasn't the Park Avenue that tourists would come to see, but I figured it was still filled with robbers. Just not of the Robber Baron sort. Those folks, the respectable robbers that got away with the biggest heist of the millennium lived down closer to the park. Some called them Captains of Industry, I much preferred the term Robber Barons, and I was employed by one.
And as I got into one of their cars I got to thinking about the class system in this country of mine that was once great. Now it was like an old mansion. It looked great on the outside but its insides were rotten having been eaten out by termites and their pals. Not that you're asking, but the American Dream seems to have turned into a nightmare for some.
FIFTEEN
Chapter 15
I had gone back to my hotel for a nap. After that I headed down to the restaurant for a steak. I was feeling fresh and vigorous. I had called Detective George Simms and he had offered to meet me at the Central Park Precinct.
Simms told me that the precinct was inside Central Park. Down by the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir on the south side. I was going to walk. I had a full belly and the sun was shining. I started out towards the middle of the park. Even some women looked my way and smiled. I was feeling invincible. But I needed to take a look inside the crime scene and figure out who had done what and why they'd done it. Simms had been a real mensch over the phone. Even more helpful than the first time I'd met him. It sounded to me like Sonia had reached out to the police commissioner. With deep pockets there's lots of space to keep your pawns.
Central Park Precinct is a mix of old and new. To me it looked like a turtle with feet and head stretching out from its shell. It was a weird architectural hodgepodge. I'd told Simms to meet me outside by the baseball diamonds. I told him I had a couple of presents that he might like to unwrap before we had our sit down.
Just south of the precinct was a place called The Great Lawn. That's something else that didn't make sense to me. A lawn is a lush field of immaculate grass. Almost like a putting green. This lawn was just a grouping of eight baseball diamonds.
Simms was waiting at the far end of this lawn. By the very first diamond by the precinct. He was standing around idly smoking a cigarette and with one hand stuck in his pocket. He nodded at me as I came up to him.
"Good to see you again," he said, offering his hand.
We shook, and I looked him in the eye. I figured he was sincere. I put my soft suitcase down. It was actually my carryon. It had nothing in it except for two blinged out bang bangs. I fished out my pack of cigarettes. Simms offered a light and I accepted. I inhaled as he looked at me.
"You've got some clout," he said. "Knowing people in high places helps, doesn't it?"
He grinned and I nodded at him. There was no one else on this lawn within a hundred feet of us.
"Better than knowing people in low places," I said. "So did the commish speak to your people?"
Simms nodded and puffed on his cigarette.
"Sure did. We've been to
ld to offer you all the help that you need."
"How nice," I said.
Simms grinned.
"Truth though, is that we could use your help. We're bringing in the husbands this evening for interviews. I'm betting you've travelled further afield."
"I've been doing some sightseeing in this fair city."
Simms nodded and flicked his cigarette out onto the baseball diamond and then ground it out with his shoe. He pulled out a small baggie from his pocket and picked up the stub.
"We've gotta set the right example," he said.
I nodded.
"So what have you got for me that can't wait until we're inside."
I looked down at my bag.
"Take a look inside," I said. "I didn't want to push the generosity of NY's finest."
Simms kneeled down and unzipped my bag. He took a peek inside.
"Jesus," he said. "Where did you get these?"
He didn't pick them up, but he looked into the bag for a while.
"I got them off a couple of bangers down in Harlem. Figured they weren't licensed so I kept them to give to you."
Simms looked up and grinned at me.
"You're right. A gold Beretta 92 9mm, and a silver Remington 1911 .45 Auto. That's good work."
"Well, I figured you scratched my back I'd scratch yours."
Simms stood up.
"Let's not waste any time," he said, and he picked up my suitcase and headed towards the precinct.
I followed him, smoking my cigarette until we got into the main outside courtyard where I put it out. Simms explained to me that originally most of the older buildings were stables which had been renovated for police use. It started to make a lot more sense to me.
We walked inside and through the main lobby. There weren't any metal detectors which I found weird. I could've walked in with my bling bling and lit the place up. I asked Simms about that but he said they weren't worried. The glass was bullet resistant and there was only one way in. They were thinking of putting in screeners, but he said that most of the traffic was police and not civilian.
He led me up some stairs and off to the left. Then down a hall a ways and we entered his office. He put my bag behind his desk.
"I'll need that back," I said.
"Yeah, let me just get some evidence bags and grab Cooper."
He walked out again and I stood looking around the sparse office. The floor was a golden yellow of polished wood and his desk and chairs in the room were the same modular furniture like you'd find in pretty much any government building anywhere. From municipal up to federal. It didn't inspire confidence. It spoke loudly of bean counters and budget men.
I took a seat. Simms didn't have much on his desk. A couple of folders, some pens in a coffee mug, a three level mail tray and a computer monitor. There was also a metal cabinet on the floor on the left side as you walked in. I took off my hat and put it on the corner of his desk. There was a picture frame with its black back to me. I picked it up and turned it around. It was his wedding day. Didn't look all that old. His wife was slim and attractive. But wedding photographs always put your best side forward.
Simms came back in with an even more disheveled Cooper. His face was as sullen and gray as the moon. He took the seat next to me but pulled it a bit further away. Maybe he didn't like the smell of my cologne. Simms sat behind his desk.
"I just want you to know that this isn't my choice," said Cooper, looking at me.
"I figured that out a couple of days ago at the Philharmonic," I said.
"So long as we're on the same page."
"We're not on the same page," I said. "The people who hired me have more clout than good sense and they could have you riding desk for the rest of your career if they wanted."
"Is that a threat?"
"If you want it to be. I can make one phone call, Cooper, and have you off this case and Simms and I can wrap it up by supper time."
Cooper stared me down for a while, his mustache twitching like a nervous caterpillar slipping off his lip.
"Let's just get to work on this together," said Simms, putting on his blue beret of the peacekeepers.
"It's no goddamn surprise you were kicked off the job," said Cooper. "I looked into it."
"Then you don't know the half of it," I said.
Cooper shrugged, and looked over at Simms.
"Carrick here brought us a present this morning," said Simms.
"Yeah, what's that?" asked Cooper.
Simms fished out my bag from behind him and put it on the table. Then he unzipped it and pulled out each gun, holding it with the plastic evidence bag. He put them down in front of Cooper.
"That looks like the Park Avenue Pimps firepower," said Cooper.
"That's what I was thinking," said Simms.
Cooper looked over at me. He nodded towards the desk where the guns were.
"How did you get those?"
"I found them on a couple of bangers who didn't want to dance."
Cooper shook his head.
"You're lucky," he said. "These gang bangers don't have any compulsion about killing."
"Luck had nothing to do with it," I said.
"I didn't tell you this," said Simms, "but Carrick here won the ninety-eight middleweight boxing title against Steve Little."
Cooper looked over at me again and sized me up.
"That's impressive," he said. "Little was unbeaten to that point."
"I still am," I said.
"Still what?" asked Cooper.
"Unbeaten."
Cooper shook his head.
"You're an asshole," he said.
"That's because I don't like you."
Simms grinned at me. I had a feeling he liked what Cooper was getting.
"Whatever happened to Little?" I asked.
"He's the captain over at the 104th in Queens," said Simms.
"Good," I said, "he's done well for himself. Seemed like a good guy."
"Listen," said Simms, looking at Cooper. "Carrick has a lot of respect for Little. I think he just gets a kick out of riling you up. He told me that the Little fight was the toughest he had."
Cooper shrugged his shoulders.
"Who did you get these from?" he asked, cocking his head over at the guns again.
"I don't know. We didn't exchange personal details. I was on my way to see Jamal Johnson, and at about West 145th down by the river I found these chumps drinking liquor by some baseball diamonds. Figured they could help me get a line on where JJ was."
"And I guess they were helpful?" asked Simms.
"After some polite banter," I said.
Simms grinned.
"Shit, we need more guys like you on the job," he said.
"Guys like me wouldn't last very long. There's a reason I'm no longer with LAPD. Like your partner Coop says, I couldn't adjust my attitude very well. Being a civilian allows me more discretion. I like that."
"True. The law can handcuff us sometimes."
"That's why I want us to help each other on this."
"You know you could be up on assault charges," said Cooper.
"Who said anything about assault?" I asked.
"I'm thinking those gang bangers didn't just hand over their guns because you asked nicely."
"A gentleman never tells," I said, grinning at him like a wolf that smells dinner. I didn't like him. If I wasn't in such a magnanimous mood and if he wasn't a cop and I wasn't on a case I might have thought about cleaning his clock for him. His timing seemed off.
"Jamal Johnson," said Simms. "How's he involved in this?"
"He's not, but I had to check him out."
"Why did you have to check him out?" asked Cooper.
I looked back at him.
"You've done some interviews with the musicians right?" Cooper nodded. "So you know Klee was a coke head, right?" Cooper nodded again. "And you've been working this city longer than I have so you might also know that Jamal is a coke dealer."
"Yeah, we know that," s
aid Cooper, "but that's not our precinct."
"Fair enough," I said, "but you know. Anyway, I heard from Gary Johnson, the trombone player at the Phil, that he used to get coke for Klee."
Cooper looked over at Simms and raised his eyebrows.
"See how helpful it is when we all work together," said Simms.
"Right," I said. "Gary probably didn't tell you that part, did he?"
Simms shook his head.
"Okay. So Gary gets drugs for Klee. But a few weeks ago he tells me that Klee, coming unbuckled decides he wants to go straight to the source. Gary tells me that Klee buys a kilo of coke from Jamal on layaway."
Simms laughed out loud.
"No way," he said, "these guys don't do layaway."
"I guess they thought Klee was a swell guy. The kind they could trust."
I smiled at Simms.
"You're shitting us. Tell us what really happened." Simms said.
"He went and got a kilo of coke from Jamal. He put ten grand down on fifty grand worth of coke. Gary thinks he's gonna try and sell it to his upscale friends and clients he's met through the Philharmonic."
"That's an interesting idea, but I'm not buying the idea that Jamal is going to front him forty grand," said Cooper. "That's not how those guys typically do business."
I nodded at him.
"I thought it was sketchy so I went to talk to Jamal about it," I said.
"And I suppose he told you everything. I bet you had a real heart to heart," said Cooper.
He looked at me smirking. I smiled at him.
"As a matter of fact, we did. See, when you're not a cop, it's funny what people will tell you when they know they can't be arrested."
Cooper didn't say anything.
"What did he say?" asked Simms.
I looked over at Simms. My black bag was still on the table. The guns were still on the table on top of their bags. They hadn't been made safe. It was a good thing I'd taken the bullets out and put them in a side pocket.
"Jamal said he had in fact fronted Klee the kilo of coke for ten grand. I mean, he didn't say it exactly like that, but that was the understanding. But it was a business arrangement."
"A business arrangement," said Cooper, shaking his head. "Please."
Anthony Carrick Hardboiled Murder Mysteries: Box Set (Books 1 - 3) Page 44
