by Wayne Block
“Should I?”
“You’re not from Vegas, are you?” she asked.
“No, I’m not, but neither are you.”
She stared blankly at him.
“Where in New York are you from?” he asked.
A smile slowly enveloped her face. “It’s still that obvious? I’ve been here for five years and thought the accent was gone.”
The detective grinned. “Yeah, it’s that obvious. You can take the girl out of New York, but you can’t take New York out of the girl.”
She laughed. “Canarsie, but I lived in Coney Island for a while.”
“I spent a lot of time in Canarsie. It’s a wonderful place.”
“Yeah,” she replied, regressing comfortably into a more pronounced Brooklyn accent, “but I really love Vegas. It’s New York without the bad weather.”
The detective shifted his weight and leaned slightly on the desk, aware that his charm was wearing thin. She regarded him one last time. “What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t say, but it’s Michael Johnston.”
“Okay, Mr. Johnston, you look like a decent guy, and you are a fellow New Yorker, so hold on. Let me see if he’s still around.”
She picked up the telephone and dialed an extension. “Hi. Are you here for a visitor? A Michael Johnston is here to see you. He’s from New York and he’s not a reporter. He seems legit.”
Detective Johnston watched with interest as she listened intently to the voice on the other end of the conversation.
“Oh yeah, I forgot to ask. Hold on.” She turned to the detective. “He wants to know if you’re a cop.”
“Yes, I am.”
He watched as she repeated the information and listened to the instructions.
“Okay, I’ll do that,” she answered. She hung up the telephone and frowned at him. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a cop?”
“You didn’t ask.”
She made a face. “He’s in his office on the other side of the garage. He said to come over and he’ll give you a few minutes.”
“Thank you. It was lovely meeting you.”
She smiled. “Yeah, same here. Give my regards to Broadway!”
He waved goodbye and walked out past the garage, entered the offices of V&C Private Investigators, and walked through the empty reception area.
“Mr. Chesney, are you here?”
“Come on back. I’m in the corner office.”
The detective found the small office where Harry Chesney was seated in an old brown swivel chair, feet propped on a desk.
“Come in, sit down,” he said, pointing to an empty chair on the other side of his beat-up wooden desk.
Detective Johnston sat down and both men sized each other up. Harry had his hair in a ponytail and was wearing a Grateful Dead tee shirt.
“Are you a detective?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You totally lied to Karen about the Red Rock murders, didn’t you?”
“That’s right.”
“I would have done the same.”
Detective Johnston chuckled. “Would I be correct in assuming you were watching me the whole time?”
“That would be accurate. We’ve got some rather unsavory characters in both of the businesses, so video cameras are essential.”
“Then why did you let me in? I could be anyone.”
Harry Chesney considered the question. “You looked okay to me. I was a cop for twenty years and I trust my instincts. However, in case my instincts are wrong, I have an insurance policy from my pals at Smith & Wesson.” Harry casually raised the .44 Magnum sitting on his lap.
Harry removed his feet from the desk and sat up in his chair. “What do you want?”
The detective withdrew a photograph of Steven Capresi from his jacket and handed it to Harry.
“I’m trying to find this man.”
Harry inspected the photograph. “Is this guy wanted by your department?”
“No. He’s not a criminal. His wife and daughter were murdered. I think he came to Vegas for revenge. I don’t want to see him hurt.”
Harry continued staring at the photograph.
“Do you recognize him?”
Harry shook his head. “His face isn’t jumping out at me.”
“Harry, let me be frank. Steven was in Vegas a few days ago. I’ve confirmed he was on the trail to Turtlehead Peak the same time as your partner. It may just be a coincidence, but I’ll bet my pension that you know something about what happened.”
Harry looked up from the photograph but said nothing.
“I’m also willing to bet that you know exactly what I’m talking about and that you may have even met Capresi.” Detective Johnston knew it was a bold move to make. He was bluffing, but at this point, he felt he had nothing to lose.
Harry shook his head. “I can’t help you.”
The detective ignored him. “Who killed your partner?” he asked.
“No idea,” Harry replied, a little too quickly.
“Bullshit! You know! Was it Capresi? Did your partner kill his family?”
“How the hell would I know,” Harry barked, visibly perturbed at the accusation.
Detective Johnston figured he would try a different tactic. “Harry, your partner and everyone else on that trail were assassinated by a pro.”
“I don’t know,” Harry interrupted. “It seemed pretty amateurish to me.”
Detective Johnston frowned. “I wager my pension that you have a damn good idea who killed Veeksburn!”
Harry relaxed back into his chair and placed his feet back on the desk. He continued staring out the window for a few moments. “How much are we talking about?”
Detective Johnston smiled. “About $750,000, give or take a few thousand.”
Harry whistled. “Wow. I always heard New York cops had good retirement plans! That’s way too rich for my blood. I’ve got nothing I can put on the table to match the stakes.”
“Does that mean you’ve lost your balls and don’t want any part of the bet, Sally?”
Harry pursed his lips, ignoring the insult. ”Let’s say I do know something. How’s that going to help?”
“Let me be the judge. Just tell me what you know.”
“Let me see your identification first.”
Detective Johnston removed his wallet and showed Harry his credentials.
“I shall return.” Harry stood up and walked toward the door.
“After you’ve checked me out, why don’t we grab a burger? I’m starving.”
Harry laughed. “Don’t get cocky detective. I haven’t made up my mind yet. I want to speak with my sources.”
“I’ve got all day,” Detective Johnston yelled, as Harry disappeared out the front door. “I have an unlimited expense account!”
-------------------
Ten minutes later Harry reappeared. “So Michael…”
“Call me Mike,” the detective interrupted.
“Okay Mike. You are who you say you are. I also confirmed that you’re the lead detective on the Westhampton homicides. I hear your captain has you on a pretty tight leash!”
Detective Johnston was impressed. “You obviously have a very good source.”
“That’s why they pay me the big bucks, Mike,” he laughed.
“So what’s it going to be Harry?”
“Well, Mike, I met Steven Capresi and I drove him out to Red Rock Canyon. I took him to Turtlehead Peak trail and waited for him. He had no idea who I was or that I knew he was meeting my partner. Capresi is a pretty cool customer. I had fun interrogating him about what he was doing on a God forsaken trail in the middle of nowhere, but he never cracked.”
“Why was he meeting with Billy Veeksburn?”
“Billy got a call from one of our associates in Chicago.”
Detective Johnston stroked his chin and nodded his head. “So, why the meeting in the desert?”
Harry frowned. “Billy was extremely paranoid, especially if t
he Scorpion might be involved.”
“The Scorpion? Who’s that?” the detective asked.
“That’s who probably killed Billy and who is tracking Capresi,” Harry answered. “He’s a professional hit man.”
“Catchy name,” the detective said. “Billy knew the Scorpion?”
Harry nodded. “Billy worked with him many years ago.”
“So Billy could identify the Scorpion?”
“No,” Harry retorted. “Billy never saw his face.”
The detective looked confused.
“Let’s get that beer and burger and I’ll tell you everything I know.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It didn’t take Nick long to find Jackie Cairo. In Nick’s world, Jackie Cairo was the absolute scum of the earth. Nick couldn’t fathom why Tony employed him. Cairo was seated at a table in a corner of a hole-in-the-wall Soho bar, polishing off his fourth beer when Nick and three soldiers walked in. Cairo spotted Nick and bolted down a little hallway, through a back door into the alley. Nick and one of his men followed Cairo while his other two men ran out the front door, breaking right and left toward each end of the alley in a Mafia Panzer move.
The alley was narrow, poorly lit, and strewn with garbage, making it difficult for Cairo to gather any speed. Nick had the advantage of observing where Cairo stumbled, and picked an easier route through the debris. Cairo grabbed garbage can covers on the run to throw at his pursuers, but kept missing them. Cairo launched his last object and turned directly into the fist of one of Nick’s men, sending him sprawling. Nick and his second man caught up, and all three lifted Cairo off the ground and took turns punching him into submission. The last of Nick’s group finally arrived to a hail of insults.
“Jerry, my grandmother runs faster than you! You’re a fat slob! Get to the goddamn gym and start working out.”
Jerry was huge; six foot eight and three hundred pounds. He was keeled over, breathing hard. He spoke with great difficulty. “Nick, gimme a break. I hadda run around the whole block. That was twice as far…as you guys…hadda go.” His chest was heaving.
Nick softened as he watched the big man struggling to stand. He vented his frustration by kicking Cairo one last time in the groin, causing him to slump to the ground moaning.
“Jerry, get the fuckin car and bring it here,” Nick ordered.
Jerry hung his head and muttered, “I swear I’ll start taking care of myself.”
Nick shook his head in disgust. “Just get the car.” He watched as Jerry limped out of the alley as fast as he could.
“What are we going to do with Cairo?” Pete asked.
“Roll him over,” Nick ordered.
Louie and Pete rolled Jackie onto his back. Nick looked down at the crumpled mass at his feet.
“Jackie, I know you were giving out information on JTS. Who were you snitching for? I need a name, and I need it now!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he groaned.
Nick gritted his teeth. “Sure you do, Jackie. Why the hell else would you run when you saw me?”
Cairo grimaced in pain. “I figured if you were looking for me, it couldn’t be good.”
Nick snorted. “Well, you figured right, Jackie.” He moved his face closer. “We can make this painless or I can permanently fuck you up. Tell me about Sal, Joey, and Tony.”
Nick nodded to his men to help Cairo stand. “Understand this,” Nick added, as he pulled out his gun and pointed it at Cairo’s face. “I know what happened, so one wrong answer and the last thing you’ll taste is a bullet.”
At that moment, Jerry drove into the alley and Nick motioned for him to park the car and wait.
Nick returned his attention to Cairo. “What was going on at JTS?”
Cairo took a deep breath. “Sal and Joey were screwing Tony, making phony invoices, and selling computers on the side.”
“I know that. What was Tony’s role?”
“Tony wasn’t involved. He was in the dark. Sal and Joey were double crossing him.”
“Tell me about Roberto Milani in San Remo.”
“He was just a stupid kid being played by Sal and Joey. Sal paid the kid to shut his mouth and ship some of the computers to Sal’s house. Tony had no idea what was happening, but I think the kid was getting nervous. Joey and Sal thought the kid was going to tell Tony, so they were making arrangements to go to San Remo to kill him.”
Nick nodded, satisfied with the information. “Here’s the really big question, Jackie. Who was paying you for the information?”
Cairo swallowed hard. “I can’t rat these guys out, Nick. They’re animals! They’re worse than us.”
Nick pushed his gun into Cairo’s mouth, chipping a tooth. “I want you to consider your situation. On one hand, you’ve got these bad people who aren’t here. On the other hand, you are sucking on my gun like a queer.”
Louie and Pete burst out laughing, but Nick shot them a dirty look that silenced them.
Cairo nodded obediently and Nick removed the gun. “If I give you this information, you gotta swear to me on all that’s holy that you won’t kill me.”
“You’ve got nothing to bargain with, Jackie.”
Cairo realized that time was running out for him. He tried to keep up a confident façade. “Without me, you’ve got nothing.”
Nick walked away a few steps and then turned back toward Cairo. “I already know they’re Brazilians in Rio, but I want to know their names! I don’t want to wait for my sources to track them down, which they will.”
“Rio is a big place, Nick,” Cairo continued with renewed confidence, sensing he had bargaining power. “You’re going to have a tough time finding them. These are big boys with Colombian backing, and you can’t just go push them around like you do in New York. They’ll kill you! They already know about your little whore from Italy, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want to see her killed.”
Nick slapped him across the face with the gun. In the dim light, Nick could see Cairo grinning back at him, blood oozing from his mouth.
“I didn’t realize you cared about the bitch,” Cairo sneered. “Looks like I hit a nerve.”
“Nick, just kill him now,” Louie said, taking a step closer to Cairo.
Nick stretched out his arm to bar Louie’s way, never taking his eyes off Cairo.
“Just give me their names,” Nick demanded, “and I’ll put you out of your misery.”
Cairo shook his head. “No way. That’s my ticket to freedom. You want the names? You let me go, and I’ll see what I can do to make sure you and your girlfriend don’t get hurt.”
“I’m only going to ask you one more time Jackie,” Nick said, venom dripping from his voice. “Give me the names!”
Cairo knew he was finished, but he had one last card to play. “Nick, I know what really happened to your brother Carlo, and so do a few other people. You’re good, but you’re not that good! Let me live and I’ll help tie up those loose ends. Then I promise you’ll never hear from me again!”
“What the hell are you blabbering about?” Nick demanded.
Cairo stared at Nick. “I know you killed your brother. Others are waiting for the right time to use the information against you.”
Nick slapped him again. “Don’t you ever talk about Carlo, you piece of shit!”
Cairo smiled. “You can preach your damned bullshit all you want, but I know the truth. My offer’s on the table and I’ll turn over their names so you can kill all of them. I can make it easy to protect yourself.”
Nick stepped away from Cairo. “Screw you, Jackie. You’re nothing but a lying piece of shit!”
Cairo knew it was over and he wanted to make it quick. He raised his middle finger and spat in Nick’s face. “Kiss my ass and die with your whore! You killed your brother just as sure as I’m standing here, and you’d pimp your mother on the street if it put a dollar in your pocket!”
A soft flash from the silencer took out Cairo’s middle finger before entering hi
s face. His head sprang back and pieces of skull and flesh splattered over Pete, who reflexively dropped Cairo to the ground.
Pete was visibly irritated. “Damn it Nick, what the hell did you do that for? My girlfriend just bought me these clothes, and I was wearing them for her tonight.”
“You can swap clothes with Jackie Cairo,” Louie howled.
Louie and Jerry enjoyed a good laugh at Pete’s expense, watching him scrape chunks of Cairo’s head off his clothing.
“What are we going to do now?” Pete asked, still irritated. “You swore to Alberto you weren’t going to kill him!”
“I’ll deal with Alberto,” Nick replied. “As for being our only lead, I don’t have a name yet, but at least I know they’re in Rio. We’ll find them. I promise.”
“Wait a minute,” Louie said, looking confused. “You told Cairo you already knew they were from Rio, didn’t you?”
“I told him, but I was bluffing. I didn’t know they were from Rio. I guessed. It was the only city in Brazil I knew.”
“Wow,” Jerry said, impressed. “That was really smart.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “Get him in the trunk and let’s get the hell out of here! Whoever these guys are, they’re going to figure out we whacked Cairo, and they’ll be looking for us.”
-------------------
Nick drove to Alberto’s New Jersey mansion where he took a shower and changed clothes. He came downstairs and found Alberto comfortably seated in his easy chair, reading the New York Times. Alberto folded the newspaper and removed his glasses. “You look like crap, Nick. What happened?”
Nick finished pouring himself a scotch. “We had a run-in with Jackie Cairo.”
Alberto nodded. “Where did you find him?”
“Soho.”
“What did he tell you?”
Nick gulped his scotch. “Tony was clean, and so was Giovanna’s brother. Joey and Sal were running their own operation, diverting some computers for themselves.”
“Scumbags!” Alberto yelled, as he pounded the table. “I knew they were useless morons. I should have sent them to the Gates of Hell with a bullet in their heads long ago! Still, I find this interesting,” Alberto mused.
