DEAD MAN'S JUSTICE - A Place of Evil (Stone & McLeish Thriller Series of Stories Book 2)

by Gregory Stenson

  Ramirez checked around the office again, re-sealed the sticky flap and put the pouch inside his briefcase. If he had any chance of closing out Maloof’s orders the documents could never be logged in to the murder file.

  Ramirez had helped Maloof on a number of minor matters from parking fines to the not so minor, illegal gun possession. The degree of seriousness seemed to be increasing all the time, then again the money that he’d been paid, into a hastily arranged offshore account, was keeping pace with it. What started out as one favor to a rich and persuasive businessman was rapidly escalating to burying Stone for a murder he didn’t commit. Ramirez knew he was in over his head but saying ‘No’ to Maloof was impossible. When he was approached to take the Stone case he said he was too busy, snowed under on a serial killer case. It didn’t wash, on the way into the precinct one morning he was pulled over by Maloof’s heavies, their Chevy almost ran him off the road. They made sure he knew that they knew where he lived. They had photographs of his wife and daughter.

  Saying ‘No’ to Maloof was not an option.

  ‘Sir?’ Finch dropped Stone off at his hotel and thought he would check in with Ramirez to update him. He had a little time to kill before making his way over to the funeral. He called his cell phone.

  ‘Finch. Where are you now Detective?’

  ‘I’m driving around ‘til Guy Randall’s funeral starts in about an hour. I’ll hang around there to keep an eye on Stone.’

  ‘Good. I want to know where he is every minute of the day, we’ll need to pull him in again real soon, this isn’t over, I’ll outsmart that fancy lawyer Bloom.’

  ‘But Sir, we don’t have anything on Stone. How are we gonna…’

  ‘We will, you’ll see.’

  ‘Say Sir, did you get the pouch? The evidence bag? It’s been delivered to the precinct, do you have it?’

  ‘Pouch? Err..no I got nothing Finch.’

  Ramirez was lying to his partner, he needed time to think, he couldn’t log it in, if he did his chances of pinning the murder on Stone would be over.

  Rachel Parker waited for Maloof to leave the apartment, he didn’t say where he was going, he seldom did, at any time day or night his driver would come around for him and he’d be gone. She was curious as to why the manager of the Saudi Royal family’s property in New York would need to go out at all times, especially in the middle of the night.

  Rachel had finally recalled where she’d heard the name Anthony Bloom before. He was Guy Randall’s personal lawyer and had arranged the joint ownership deeds for the apartment she was living in right now. She also recalled that she had felt uneasy in his presence, his sly looks at her whilst Guy’s back was turned was just one reason, his clingy handshake was another. Nevertheless she would call him to find out what was going on for herself.

  He told Rachel about Brad Stone’s wrongful arrest and that he was in New York to attend Guy Randall’s funeral. She feigned surprise at that news but was surprised to hear about the funeral.

  ‘When is it?’ she asked.

  ‘The funeral? In just over an hour at Cypress Hills Cemetery.’

  ‘Will he be there?’

  ‘Who Brad Stone you mean? Yes. He’s a guest of Mrs. Randall. You can understand after the events in the Caribbean a short while ago.’

  Again she injected just the right amount of empathy into her voice to convince Bloom of her concern. ‘Yes, yes of course.’

  Bloom couldn’t let this opportunity pass him by, when he’d first met Rachel Parker he was overwhelmed with her beauty. Now that Guy was no longer around he thought he’d try his luck.

  ‘Rachel, could we do dinner some evening, how about this Saturday?’

  Rachel was taken aback, this time the surprise was real. She stalled him but kept the option open; she thought his contacts and talents could come in useful. She also never let an opportunity pass her by.

  As soon as the call with Bloom ended Rachel called Shadow and told him to get over to her apartment saying, ‘They had a funeral to go to.’

  He luck was in, he was in the Manhattan area, and said he’d be over in fifteen minutes.

  Chapter 16

  Stone was at the hotel and had just shaved and showered away two days of journey and overnight jail cell when reception called his room to let him know that Mac had arrived. Mac’s room was on another floor and he left a message for Stone to meet him down in the bar in thirty minutes before heading off to the funeral.

  They had a lot to talk about.

  After a steaming hot shower Stone was glad that he’d packed some winter clothes before he left Trinidad. He also unpacked a suit and sent it down to the laundry to be freshened up and steam pressed. Thirty minutes later he met up with Mac as planned. Mac was already at the bar when Stone crossed the lobby he saw him and they both ordered a scotch to loosen up. Mac preferred to call it a ‘stiffener’.

  Loose or stiff, either way they needed something to fortify them against the December chill.

  ‘Mac. Good to see you buddy, seems like the forces of evil have followed me here, can you believe it?’

  ‘Well there’s no prize for guessing who’s behind it all. She had her brother falsify the fax on the very day you were leaving so she must have known your movements and she has to have someone pulling strings here as well. It’s not over mate, not by a long way.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ said Stone. ‘What did the Chief say?’

  ‘He was furious, he gave me all the evidence he had on Shadow and arranged for me to bring it up here, he couldn’t have been more helpful.’

  ‘Guy’s like Shadow always manage to keep their noses clean, they’re masters at it, he was probably wearing gloves, sides you don’t have a gun.’

  ‘Yes we do,’ said Mac with a wry smile.

  ‘What? How’d you get that?’

  ‘The Chief gave me an officer and we went up to the Royal, figured he’d had to have dropped it when he was making his escape in the roof space. We searched and searched and Kahn poked around and saw the gun under an AC duct.’

  ‘So can we put Shadow with the gun?’

  ‘We have a partial print on the gun and prints lifted from his hotel room. The chief explained that it’s probably not enough on its own, he sent up a request here in NY to get a set of prints for Loman, he’s sure to be on file, he said he’d call me when he had an answer.’

  ‘So what was all that about when you delivered the evidence bag?’

  ‘Dunno, Ramirez? Is that the guy? He must have it by now the desk sergeant said he had put it in his desk drawer where he always leaves stuff for him.’

  ‘I was with the other cop, Finch - a straight up guy - when I called you, he said he had to be there in the precinct still. Ramirez was definitely trying to stitch me up, wouldn’t listen to a word I said. If it hadn’t been for Bloom I’d be sleeping in a cell again tonight. Guess I have Mrs. Randall to thank. He’s her lawyer. He ran rings round Ramirez.’

  As Stone and Mac were catching up with each other they got a call from reception telling them that a car had been delivered for them out front.

  ‘Hmm, I forgot to tell you Mrs. Randall has arranged for us to use one of Guy’s old cars whilst we’re in NY, we’d better make a move anyway,’ said Stone.

  They finished their drinks and they both left a twenty on the bar and made their way to the lobby. Stone entered the revolving door first followed by Mac and when they were both outside they scoured the forecourt looking for the car. They were looking for an old car, taking what Mrs. R had said literally. They were both checking out several saloons parked up across the other side of the forecourt, wondering which one it was. There were a couple of Chevrolets, an older Lincoln, which had seen a few miles for sure, and a Ford, which was a newer model, and looked acceptable, thought Stone. A doorman walked to hand Stone a set of keys.

  ‘Mr. Stone?’

  ‘Yes, are they for me? Which one is it?’

  ‘I’m not sure Sir, I wasn’t out front when it
was delivered, I was just asked to find you,’ said the doorman.

  ‘Okay thanks.’

  Stone checked over the key ring for a nametag or a plate number but nothing, just a single short key stub, the new type that has a remote sensor to lock and unlock the car and even open the trunk. Mac saw him looking puzzled.

  ‘Zap it Brad.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Press the unlock button and we’ll see which car it is when the lights flash.’

  ‘Oh yeah, see what you mean.’

  Stone pressed the button. They heard two high pitched squeals and spun their heads around to see where it was coming from. It was none of the older saloons. The vehicle was somewhere over to the left.

  ‘Do it again Brad.’

  He pressed the button again and then they saw where the sounds and the flashing orange lights were coming from. They did a double take and looked at each other.

  ‘Can’t be,’ said Stone.

  ‘Has to be mate, look at the plate 999GUY.’ Mac read it out.

  They walked slowly over to a gleaming, dark blue 911 Porsche Carrera. Stone opened up the driver’s door, Mac opened the passenger door and they sat inside.

  ‘The man had taste,’ said Mac.

  ‘He sure did.’

  Stone fired the car up and they headed off towards the funeral.

  Chapter 17

  As the black Lincoln with darkened out windows approached Jamaica Avenue. Shadow reminded Chang what to do when they reached the cemetery. His usual practice was to only ever enter somewhere when he was certain of a safe route out in case of any trouble. It was the same MO today, especially considering Shadow’s instruction to Chang.

  ‘First make sure you see a clear route out then when you fix sight on him, a clear sight, take him out. Okay?’

  ‘Yes boss,’ said Chang.

  Shadow called Rachel as they turned into the street of her apartment, she answered and within minutes she was climbing into the back seat of the Lincoln. Shadow’s mind flashed back to the first time she had sat in that very seat just a few short months ago. He could still remember seeing those eyes look at him through the rear view mirror and so they were again today.

  ‘What’s this all about girl?’

  ‘I needed a ride, that’s all.’

  ‘Bullshit, you could’ve taken your limousine.’

  ‘There’s gonna be some interesting people there. As well as Stone, there’s a rich lawyer, Mrs. Randall’s lawyer called Bloom, he was close to Guy. He could come in handy one day.’

  ‘How’s that?’ asked Shadow.

  ‘You still want your money don’t you? Don’t tell me you’ve given up. If anyone knows where it is he does. Sides, he’s got to be useful, he must know a way into Mrs. R’s accounts.’

  Shadow was puzzled. A number of possibilities were running through his mind. Was Rachel setting a trap? The thought occurred to him that the police might be there, a recently unsolved murder, the funeral attended by the only witness. It was sounding a bit risky to Shadow. He pulled his gun from his shoulder holster and turned in his seat and aimed it straight at Rachel. She didn’t flinch. Chang took a sideways look and Shadow told him to keep driving.

  ‘Listen sister we’ve been here before, you screwed up last time and wasted nearly a month of my time and now you want me to believe you’re doing me a favor?’

  ‘I am trying to help you.’

  ‘Guilty conscience huh?’

  ‘Look, I know what you’re capable of Shadow; would I lead you into a trap? I’m not exactly a saint you know; don’t forget I’m still wanted also, especially by Stone.’

  Shadow listened and it made sense but he couldn’t help thinking she had an ulterior motive.

  ‘You just want to see Stone don’t cha?’ he said.

  Rachel didn’t answer.

  Chang continued to drive, they crossed the Queensboro Bridge and there was silence for most of the rest of the way to the cemetery. Shadow put his gun away.

  Mrs. Randall’s kindness had extended to her leaving a printed invitation to the funeral at Cypress Hills Cemetery on Jamaica Avenue in Brooklyn in the Porsche for Stone and Mac. The invitation was tastefully designed with a glossy black tri-fold brochure with gold embossed lettering. Inside was the running order of the service and burial, a memorial note from Guy’s wife, Mrs. Sandra Randall and there was a map with directions on the reverse.

  Mac looked it over.

  ‘What time is it now Brad?’

  Stone checked his watch and the digital clock on the dashboard, ‘It’s four seventeen,’ he answered.

  ‘We’re a touch late Brad, if we push it a bit,’ Mac looked around and saw that they had just turned onto Jamaica Avenue and figured they had a couple of miles to go, ‘we should catch the tail end of the service, if we’re lucky. We’ll have to sneak in.’

  Five minutes later they entered the cemetery’s south gate and followed the green route towards the Cypress Hills Abbey. Stone parked the Porsche at the end of a long line of shiny Limos. At the head of the line was the hearse and huddled around outside were the pallbearers and limo drivers smoking and chatting, the smoke and the mist from their cold breaths were rising into the air. It was a clear, blue-sky day yet the temperature was barely above freezing. A cemetery in winter, with the spiky, leafless trees and the colorless flower borders, contrasts starkly with the same scene in summertime. At least a funeral in summer would be marginally more cheerful, thought Stone, with top-heavy trees and bristling flower borders accompanied by birdsong and butterflies hovering to cheer the soul.

  Memo to self, December was the wrong time of the year to die, Stone decided.

  The heavy gnarled doors of the white stone Abbey building with its gothic window were closed. As Stone and Mac approached and climbed the stone steps to the entrance they could hear the church organ playing and the assembled people singing a hymn. Stone gingerly opened the door, the music and sound of the voices grew louder and after a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the main hall, he could see a handful of people sitting on each side of the aisle. Stone and Mac crept forward as quietly as they could and sat on the right side of the aisle, on the same side as Sandra Randall who was on the front row. He could see Anthony Bloom at her side and just behind them he could see what must have been Mrs. Randall’s sisters and family.

  They both picked up a hymnbook each from the oak shelf on the back of the seat in front of them and began to mouth some words to the hymn being sung. They had no idea what they were singing along to. Stone didn’t expect to recognize anyone else, there was no reason that he should, but then he saw a familiar face turn in his direction. Detective finch was sitting on the other side of the aisle five rows in front of them. Stone leaned across to Mac and whispered as loudly as he could that the Detective he’d told him about was also at the funeral. It was pretty obvious, thought Stone that he had been told to keep an eye on their number one murder suspect.

  Well Ramirez’s number one suspect that was for sure.

  The Communion Hymn came to an end and the Priest spoke the Words of Remembrance and a Eulogy to Guy Randall. He mentioned Guy Randall’s family and his wife, Mrs. Randall, and afterwards he spoke the Concluding Rites. There was a final hymn and the Priest, Father Michael O’Hanlon, invited the family to make their way to Guy’s final resting place.

  Everyone stood up and waited patiently for the family members, led off by Mrs. Randall, to proceed out of the Abbey. When Mrs. Randall passed by the row where Stone and Mac were standing she paused briefly, smiled, shook their hands and thanked them for being there. ‘It means a lot to me, thank you so much,’ she said.

  Stone waited until the Abbey was almost empty. The final person to walk out just in front of them was detective Finch. Stone caught up with him outside and introduced Mac to him.

  ‘This is Mac, my business partner.’ They both shook hands. ‘He brought the murder weapon, bullets, a ballistics report and finger print evidence with him to
day and delivered them to the precinct.’

  Stone’s manner was a no-nonsense statement of facts. He also knew that Finch was not the one to be converted and hoped that he would rectify the situation on his return to the station.

  ‘Look Stone, I believe you, I’m carrying out orders, I’m not in charge of the investigation, I’m just the supporting officer, but I’ll find the bag and …’

  ‘The guy you need is called Chad Loman, we both saw him shoot Randall. He’s back here in New York somewhere. I didn’t tell Ramirez, he would have just brushed it aside. There’s got to be prints on the guy somewhere on file, he’s a gangster. I know it’s difficult for you but use the information at the right time okay?’

  ‘Okay. Chad Loman you say?’

  ‘Yeah, he’s a black guy, about six-three, heavy built with shades welded to his face.’

  ‘Okay I’ll see what I can do.’

  Chapter 18

  The pallbearers waited for all of the limousines to fill up and move out so they could collect the coffin and transport it to the plot, which was just a few hundred yards away, ready for the final service.

  The grave was on a beautiful, grassy slope, only yards from the main road through the cemetery. The area around the grave was covered by a ten-foot high, pitched, white tent with open sides, which would afford the mourners protection should there be inclement weather. The mourners were gathering around under the tent, nestled between five, tall, strong, maple trees standing guard at Guy’s resting place. The graveside was decked out with a non-slip timber platform upon which were a dozen or so chairs for the mourners to sit. The Priest stood at the head talking to one of Mrs. Randall’s sisters who looked strikingly similar to her, albeit perhaps a few years younger.

  Stone stood on the same side of the grave as Mrs. Randall and Mac stood just behind Stone, standing directly under one of the maple trees.