A Mighty Fortress

by S. D. Thames

  She nodded back, reluctantly, and then crossed the lobby. Alexi took a few steps in my direction. I didn’t like that he all of a sudden had some power to leverage against me. “So if we were to go talk to our security personnel, you have some identification you can show him that you’re really a cable guy?”

  I kept my face tight. “You don’t really want to do that, do you?”

  “You’re right, I really don’t. And I think I know why you’re here.”

  “That right?” I said.

  He nodded. “We’ll keep it our secret, so long as you do me a favor.”

  Hector was walking up now, ready to go, but Alexi kept his eyes on me.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Let me know what you find out.”

  I nodded, barely, and stepped toward Hector, who had already pushed the up button and was waiting for the elevator. The doors opened, and I joined my partner inside in the elevator.

  Alexi stood facing us. “Nice outfits,” he said. He stood there, smirking, as the elevator door closed on us.

  Hector pushed the button for the penthouse, and asked, “Who the hell was that guy?”

  “Only one of the murder suspects,” I said, still trying to put my mind around the fact that Alexi lived in the same building where Scalzo was killed. As if his motive weren’t strong enough, he clearly had better access than anyone else involved in the case.

  “No shit?” Hector said.

  I nodded. “You know where we’re going?” I asked.

  He nodded back. “Believe it or not, I come here a lot.”

  “The penthouse, too?”

  “Not so often. But he told me the code.”

  A moment later the elevator opened to Scalzo’s floor. His front door was bordered by crime scene tape. Hector followed me to the door. I was about to get busy when I thought about what Hector was doing.

  “Why don’t you wait downstairs, buddy?” I said.

  He shook his head.

  “I’m not sure how to put this, Hector, other than that I’m getting ready to do something I shouldn’t do. Trespassing is bad enough, but interfering with a crime scene? I’m sure that’s some kind of crime in its own right. I’d hate you to lose your job over this, or worse.”

  Hector frowned. “Milo, I’m already a conspirator. I think they throw the book at them just as hard. I might as well get it all. Besides, I might be able to help.”

  He made some good points, so I gave him a pair of latex gloves and pulled on mine. Then I got started. I pulled out my bobby pins and bent them. They spared no expense at SkyGate with installing the best deadbolts. They could have spent a little more on air conditioning the foyer, though. I was sweating after five minutes of concentrating on rotating the inner pins. Anytime I started dragging them, the bobby pin would slip off the lock pins, and it’d be back to square one.

  As I sighed and took a break to wipe my brow, I noticed Hector was grinning. “What?” I asked.

  “Are you about done?” He pushed me aside and took the pins from me. “I know you New Yorkers think you know how to do everything, but let me show you what a Jefferson High grad can do.”

  I’d like to say it only took Hector a minute-thirty because I’d warmed up the pins for him, but it doesn’t work that way. Still, that was all the time that passed before he pushed the door open and said, “After you.”

  I entered. The first thing I noticed was that the living room was barer than my first visit to Scalzo’s condo. I scanned the room, and then closed my eyes to concentrate on what the room had looked like Sunday morning. Then I reopened them. Scalzo’s computers and video equipment were gone. The desk was empty. The LED TV seemed lonely. As did the Dennon receiver.

  Around the room, there was plenty of evidence of dusting. The police had left markers here and there of things that interested them.

  “Is this where he died?” Hector asked.

  I shook my head and crossed the room. I looked out the French doors to the balcony where I first saw Angie. Across the river, the lights of UT illuminated the minarets. It was a beautiful sight. I didn’t want to open the door.

  We crossed back through the room and entered the kitchen.

  “Bingo,” I said.

  “Hmm,” Hector said. “Looks just like on TV.”

  He was referring to the outline of the victim. There were two markers, indicating two shots. It looked like one bullet had missed. It took a big chunk out of the granite counter and put a scuff on the fridge. The other was probably the fatal shot that connected and did the damage.

  “What does this tell you?” Hector asked.

  “Well, for starters, the killer was someone he knew. A stranger wouldn’t have made it in this far. He was probably fixing them a drink or something.” I recalled seeing Angie make herself a drink at this same counter Sunday morning.

  “And pow,” Hector finished for me, firing his hand like a pistol. “Right in the head.”

  “Judging by these marks, probably in the back of the head.”

  Hector continued looking around the kitchen for other clues. He seemed to be enjoying this more than I did. “So, Milo, is this what you did in the Navy? What did you call it, an operations analyst?”

  “Yeah, kind of. We’d do the planning. And sometimes we’d have to go in afterwards and check on things to see what we got right and what we got wrong.” I turned and looked out through the living room again. As the sky was growing darker, the minarets seemed to be rising in the sky. Their silver curves pointing toward the heavens made me think of a lot of things I’d gotten wrong.

  We met up for a debriefing at Tap’s, the bar beneath SkyGate. I limited myself to one brew, since I was going to be meeting Val for a few more, so I made it count and went with a Cigar City Jai Alai.

  “Was it worth it?” Hector asked while sipping his IPA.

  “The risk of what we just did, you mean?”

  He nodded.

  I wasn’t sure. At least I knew what had interested the cops, and I’d confirmed how Scalzo had died. “Time will tell,” I said.

  “Who was that guy you saw earlier?”

  “With the blonde? His name’s Don Alexi. He works for that Pilka guy, the guy Mattie’s working for.”

  “And he lives here?”

  I nodded.

  “Some coincidence.”

  “You can say that again.” Just then, I noticed someone was standing on the sidewalk, staring me down. “Speak of the devil.”

  I took the last sip of my beer and joined Don Alexi outside. “Well?” he said.

  “I got to be honest with you, Don, the biggest thing I learned today was about you.”

  “That I live here?”

  “Yeah. Why didn’t you mention that yesterday?”

  “Why would I? It’s public record. I already talked to the cops about it.”

  “When?”

  “Jesus, just about every day this week. They’re about to give my wife a nervous breakdown.”

  I thought about the sight of Don’s assistant Charlene tucking in her shirt when I paid them a visit the day before. “I’m sure you really have your wife’s well-being in mind.”

  “Screw you, Porter. You don’t know what goes on in this head.”

  And for that, I was thankful.

  Just then, he grabbed me by the shoulders. “Listen to me, Porter. The cops are coming down hard on me, but I had nothing to do with killing Chad Scalzo. I need someone to believe that.”

  I was about to knock him back, but I was taken aback by something I saw burning in his eyes: sure, it was desperation, but more importantly, it was what he was desperate for—me to believe he was telling the truth.

  And call it a hunch, but I believed him.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  A Romantic Evening In the Woods

  Alexi and I agreed that we’d keep each other posted. Then I paid the Taps check and changed back into my clothes in Hector’s van with just enough time to get back in my car and drive over the
bridge to Four Green Fields. It was after eight o’clock when I pulled into the parking lot. The lot was damn near full. I’d forgotten that Tuesday nights were when the running club met there. They’d run a few miles around town and then congregate for a few pints inside the bar. I finally found a parking spot and called Val to see if she’d made it and to warn her about the crowd if she hadn’t.

  The call went to her voicemail. As I waited for the beep, I noticed a van slow down in my lane, presumably waiting for a parking space to open up. “It’s me,” I finally said. “I just got here …” My speech trailed when I caught a glimpse of the large figure jumping from the van and rushing my door.

  Kiki’s gun was pointed at me, again, in no time flat.

  He didn’t dilly-dally this time, and I could see he wasn’t going to trust me with the driving duties. He quickly opened my door and waved for me to exit. The van was running, and someone in the driver’s seat yelled for Kiki to hurry.

  “Is that Jimmy behind the wheel?” I asked.

  Kiki waved the gun toward the van. “Get the fuck in there, or I’ll blow your head off right here.”

  “Well, Kiki, only problem is, you’re in my way.” I pointed to the narrow gap between my car and the next car. “This is a tight squeeze.”

  Kiki took a few steps back.

  Jimmy yelled, “Watch out!”

  And then I saw why.

  In a split second, someone had wrapped an arm around Kiki’s neck and isolated his arm holding the gun. Kiki’s arm was hyper-extended now, and judging by the way Kiki grimaced, it didn’t feel so good. Then I saw two strong, feminine arms wrapped around Kiki, adorned in familiar body art.

  “I love you, Val,” I said, and went for Kiki’s gun.

  Jimmy leapt out of the van and pointed his gun at Val. Meanwhile, Val was still holding Kiki like a constrictor with its prey, only her grip had now moved up to his neck, and he seemed to be struggling for air.

  With my gun pointed at Jimmy’s head, I told him: “He’s not worth it, Jimmy. Besides, I’m a better shot than you. You shoot her, you’ll die a slow, painful death.”

  Jimmy was shaking, not sure what to do. I gave him an escape route. Nodded towards the van. “Get out of here, now, and we won’t hurt him. We won’t turn him in. You can pick him up here in exactly two hours.”

  “What are you going to do with him?” Jimmy asked, his voice cracking.

  “I just have a few questions about what happened Sunday night.”

  “Maybe . . . maybe we have questions too,” Jimmy managed to say.

  “Maybe you do. I’ll give Kiki a chance to ask them.”

  Still shaking, Jimmy took the easy out and hopped in the van. It sped away.

  I looked at Val and noticed that Kiki had turned purple. “Val?”

  She was shaking, consumed with anger.

  “Val?”

  But she was lost in the moment, and wherever she was, it wasn’t a place I ever wanted to see her go to again. “Val! Let him go.”

  She shrieked and threw Kiki to the ground. He hit hard. Didn’t move. She ran to me, crying. “I hate you!”

  She hit my chest and then dug her head into it. I raised her chin and kissed her. “I hate you too.” We kissed more, and then I pulled her back and looked her in the eyes. “I meant what I said earlier, though.”

  She looked embarrassed. “I know you do.” She managed to flash a smile. “But I still hate you.” Then she looked down at our prisoner. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “We can’t leave him here, Val.”

  “Like hell we can’t.”

  “I’m sorry. I need to talk to him.”

  She glared at me, trying to figure out whether I was serious. Then she seemed to realize that I was.

  “Come on, babe. It’ll be fun.”

  When Kiki finally woke up in the Volvo’s backseat, his arms were tied behind his back with twine that was wrapped around his feet and tied to the frame under the Volvo’s driver’s seat. He couldn’t move any limb more than about a centimeter or so—I’d left him that much wiggle room as a courtesy. Still, he sat in a rather painful posture. He moaned and shook around, trying to loosen the reins.

  I waved at my old friend in the rearview. “Sorry, Kiki, we learn to tie a mean knot in the Navy.”

  “Where the hell are we?” he moaned.

  “The middle of nowhere,” I answered. Pasco County, to be exact, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.

  He noticed Val in the passenger seat. “Who the hell is she?” he moaned again.

  “My girlfriend,” I said, avoiding her name.

  “This is his idea of a date,” Val added. “Mr. Romance.”

  “So tell me, Kiki, what was on your agenda tonight?”

  “I’m not saying nothing.”

  “Then say something.”

  “No.”

  I glanced at him again. “So, Kiki, after I left you and Jimmy snuggled up Sunday night, what the hell happened?”

  He snorted. “I was hoping you could tell me that.”

  “I have a few theories. Wanna hear them?”

  “I’m all ears.” He was breathing harder now, probably from being stuck in a bent-over position with a gut the size of a dry cement bag.

  “Your employer, Chad Scalzo, gave you and Jimmy clear instructions to finish the job with me. So, after the day he’d had, he was none too pleased when you two boobs came back bloodied and having failed to get the job done. Now, I saw Mr. Scalzo’s temper first hand, so I’m sure he tore into you two when he found out you’d screwed the pooch with me. You guys were a little out of sorts and patience after the long day you’d had, and weren’t exactly up for bending over for that hothead. So you did the right thing. You’d had enough of his shit. You finally stood up for yourself, and you did him in. Right there in his kitchen.”

  Kiki looked at the floor for a moment. Then he chuckled. “You done?”

  I shrugged. “For now.”

  Any hopes I had that Kiki would be scared of being made a suspect soon crumbled. “First thing, you bearded fucking hick—Chad Scalzo’s not my employer. He was just a spoiled little punk I been watching since he hit puberty. My real employer’s someone you need to be a little more worried about than Chad Scalzo.”

  “You mean like Art Scalzo?”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere. And you think I’d lay a hand on that little punk, you’re even stupider than I thought.” He caught his breath. “Besides, Jimmy and me, we both have a good alibi Sunday night.”

  “Is that so?”

  “We were getting treated at the Doc’s house.”

  “The Doc’s house?”

  “That’s right. He cleaned us up, had us good as new. We were there from nine until the wee hours of the morning.”

  “So you’re clear with Mr. Scalzo?”

  “Oh no, I’m not clear with him. But he’s got no notions I pulled the trigger. Though as far as he’s concerned, I might as well have, because I wasn’t there to protect his baby boy when whoever killed him killed him.”

  “Kiki, are you by any chance related to Yogi Berra?”

  “Fuck you, Porter. I don’t think you realize how serious this is.”

  If I didn’t, I was beginning to. And unfortunately, Val was too. “Sounds like your problem, Kiki, not mine.”

  “Then you clearly don’t understand. So here’s the deal: Art Scalzo and his associates arrived today. Art’s going to mourn for his son tomorrow, and he’s going to bury him. And then he’s not leaving Tampa until whoever was responsible—in any shape or form—has a bullet in his head.

  “Now, as I see it, I’d suggest you start talking about your alibi Sunday night. Though that won’t matter much in your case, since Art will just see you as the guy who started this anyways and made sure that Chad was to die somehow regardless of what you did.”

  I was silent. Too long. I pulled over on a dirt road flanked by old oaks decorated with stringy strands of Spanish moss.

&
nbsp; Val obviously didn’t like my silence. “Milo,” she said, opening the car door. “Can we talk?”

  I looked to Kiki. “Hang tight for a minute.”

  “Fuck you, Porter.”

  I met Val in front of the car. I could see her face under the light of the moon and stars. Methane from the nearby cow pasture cast a less-than romantic aroma on our tryst.

  “I don’t like this, Milo.”

  I took her in my arms and looked in her eyes. They shone like polished onyx in the moonlight. “It’s just cow manure. It’s kind of nice to get out of the city for a change.”

  She sighed. “I’m not talking about cow shit, and you know it.”

  I pressed her head against my chest and held her tight. “I know you’re not.”

  “This is serious. He’s talking about a mobster coming after you for killing his son.”

  “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

  She pulled away. “We’ll, I’m glad I did. At least now I know how dangerous your job really is.”

  “Val, this isn’t normal. I’m usually just serving papers and staking out some philandering spouse.”

  “I don’t know, Milo, but it seems like you really like this one.”

  I knew what she was saying, and I could hear Dr. J’s voice in the back of my mind agreeing with Val. “I can see why you’d say that, babe. But somehow, I always pull through. Something always protects me.”

  She pushed me away. “Give me a break, you sound like my brother.” Her pitch was nearly a scream now. “Listen to me, Milo. The Lord won’t always protect Rico when he’s dumb enough to go out and borrow money at twenty percent interest to pay off a twelve percent loan. He won’t always protect you when you’re dumb enough to start a war with the Mafioso.”

  “I know that, Val,” I said as calmly as I could. I felt anger and frustration bubbling up inside, and I had nowhere to direct them. Then I heard a car door.

  Kiki had stumbled out of the car and hit the limestone road with a thud. He’d also managed to untie the twine around his feet from the frame and loosen the knots enough to attempt to walk. I stood over him, knocked him onto his stomach, and put my foot on his back. “Don’t make another move.”