The Drop Dead Blonde

by Bill Craig

  The question now, was who would make a suitable replacement for Ricardo? He poured himself two fingers of tequila and took a sip. First, he must replace Ricardo. Then he would deal with Harker. This time he would rid himself of the man once and for all!

  Cervantes would never forget this event. It had been years ago. Back when Harker had been a cop and he, Cervantes, had been an enforcer for Miguel Noches, a powerful force in the Cali Cartel. Cervantes was Noches’ man on the ground in Miami. Somehow, Harker had managed to turn one of Cervantes men, got him to roll over on the cartel.

  Harker had put a bullet into him at a face to face, but Raoul had managed to escape. To this day, he had trouble with his left shoulder, problems caused by the bullet that Harker had put into him. He owed the son of a bitch for that. Harker had gotten a promotion, but six months later he had quit the police force for reasons that Cervantes had never managed to uncover . . .

  Cervantes took another sip of tequila as he stared at a blank wall. AJ Harker was going to die this time around. He would make sure of it!

  Harker plugged the hard drive into his computer and was waiting as it loaded. All the files were lists of numbers. He frowned at them, wondering what the numbers meant. His finger stabbed the intercom button.

  “Tina, come in here please,” he requested. Maybe she could figure it out. It was giving him a headache from hell.

  “Be right there,” her voice crackled over the intercom. A moment later she was walking through the door.

  “What have you got for me, boss?”

  “Do these numbers mean anything to you?” Harker asked. Tina leaned over his shoulder and studied the screen for a long moment.

  “Maybe. Can I take the thumb drive out to my computer?” Tina asked.

  “Be my guest,” Harker smiled at her.

  “Happily,” Tina plucked out the thumb drive and carried it back to the outer office. Harker was on her heels. Tina plugged the device into her computer, waited for it to load and then began typing in commands. Pretty soon, her screen was lighting up.

  “I have something,” Tina told him. Harker leaned over her shoulder to look at the screen.

  “You know what the numbers mean?” Harker asked, clearly impressed.

  “They are shipping manifest, AJ. Each number corresponds to a shipping crate. Costanza Industries does a thriving import export business.”

  “So, what is so special about these particular crates? Why would Emma Cain have them and bring them to me?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but I can take a pretty good guess. See these three numbers here? Those are country of origin codes. These numbers here at the end? Those are destination codes.”

  “Okay, so what does it actually mean?”

  “Costanza Industries is receiving a lot of goods from Colombia and is shipping a lot of stuff to Belize,” Tina explained.

  “In English, kid, please?” Harker rolled his eyes.

  “Guns for drugs, AJ. Colombia is shipping Costanza drugs, probably cocaine, and in turn, they are shipping arms to Belize. There is a border war going on down there with Guatemala. Well, between rebel groups anyway. Don’t you ever watch the news?”

  “Not if I can avoid it,” Harker told her.

  “How do you survive?”

  “I survive just fine. So, you think, is this why Emma Cain was coming to me?” Harker asked.

  “I think it could be,” Tina admitted.

  “But, do we know for sure?”

  “The only way to know for sure is to find one of these crates and open it.”

  “I had a feeling that you were going to say that,” Harker shook his head.

  “I hate being predictable,” Tina replied.

  “But it’s one of the things I love about you,” Harker kissed the top of her head. Then he was heading out the door leaving Tina looking exasperated.

  “Where the hell are you going?”

  “To find one of those crates!” Harker called back over his shoulder before the door closed behind him. Tina shook her head, wondering exactly how he planned on finding one of them.

  Harker was on the move, heading for the Port of Miami Foreign Trade Zone. Whatever was coming in and going out had to pass through there. Especially, if it was large enough to be moving in wooden packing crates. Harker had a friend in the U.S. Customs Department, Shane Gerhatey. Shane was a customs inspector and he owed Harker a favor. Harker planned on calling that favor in. It took him forty-five minutes to reach the Port of Miami FTZ from his office. He had used the Bluetooth in the Compass to dial Shane’s number.

  “Hey, AJ. What’s cooking?”

  “I am looking for some packing crates. I need to find out where exactly they are,” Harker told him.

  “Why?” Shane asked warily.

  “Because I think somebody is trading guns for drugs, Shane.”

  “And you think they are running them through my port?”

  “I have proof. Proof that got a young woman murdered on my sidewalk,” Harker told him.

  “What?”

  “Didn’t you see the paper today?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I made the front page,” Harker told him.

  “You usually do, AJ,” Shane told him.

  “Not like this. A girl was murdered on my sidewalk. She worked for Costanza Industries.”

  “I see a lot of their stuff going in and out of the country.” “That’s what got her killed, Shane. You holding any of their crates right now?”

  “I got a few, yeah.”

  “Put a hold on them until I get there, okay?”

  “Yeah, I can do that. At least this time anyway, for old time’s sake,” Shane sighed.

  “I appreciate that, pal,” Harker told him.

  “I figured, AJ. See you soon,” Shane told him, breaking the connection.

  Tina Frowned as she studied the numbers on the screen. She thought about it for a moment and decided to run them against shipping manifests of every boat in the Free Trade Zone. By doing that, she could trace where every single shipment was being delivered and picked up. AJ wouldn’t be happy about it, but she was going to send it to Manny, as well. Then the cops could nail Cervantes once and for all.

  Eduardo had put Elim and Franco on the boss while he hit the streets. He was looking for Harker. He had explicit orders from Raoul Cervantes to take Harker out. Tracking the bastard down, that was the hard part. Harker didn’t spend a lot of time at his office. That wasn’t a lot, but it was something. He would have to track the private detective down. That was something that he could do. He was Cervantes Siccaro, his assassin. His job was to locate and kill AJ Harker. One way or another.

  The Port of Miami was a big place. Harker drove around until he found the free trade zone. Shane was waiting on him.

  “How you doing, AJ?” he asked.

  “Finest kind, Shane.”

  “I thought as much,” Harker shook his head.

  Chapter Nine

  Shane Gerratey was about six-foot-tall with blond hair and blue eyes, his skin was darkly tanned. He still had the muscular build as when he had been cop. Now, he was a little bigger around the middle than when they had been on the force together, but AJ was pretty sure that Shane could still handle himself in a fight. There were just some things that a guy never forgets.

  “Took you long enough to get here,” Gerratey grinned at him.

  “Traffic, what can I say?” Harker shrugged.

  “Currently I’ve got twenty crates from Costanza, ten coming in and ten outgoing,” Gerratey waved some sheets of paper at him.

  “Those the manifests?” Harker asked.

  “Shipping orders. I’m not sure what you’re looking for. Customs already had k-9 units sniff the crates.”

  “Shane, you know as well as I do that dogs can be fooled. We need to check one or two crates going in each direction randomly.”

  “AJ, you are asking a lot here. I could lose my job,” Shane shook his head.

  “Or you
could be responsible for making one of the biggest drug and gun busts in Miami’s history,” Harker pointed out.

  “You don’t make friendship easy, Harker.”

  “Life ain’t easy, pal. You know that as well as I do.”

  “Sure. Okay, if we’re gonna do this, let’s get it done.”

  Eduardo Torres pulled up to the curb across the street from AJ Harker Investigations office. There was no white Jeep Compass parked out front, so it was likely that the investigator was not there at the moment. It would give him an opportunity to scout and check the investigator out. He shut the engine off and unfastened his seatbelt before exiting the car.

  He tugged his jacket down and into place. Then he walked to the corner so that he could cross the street at the light. Jaywalking in Miami was a gamble where the odds favored the cars on the street rather than the pedestrians.

  Torres crossed the street at the light, and then walked back half a block to the doorway that led up a flight of stairs of AJ Harker’s office. He was surprised to find that the stairwell was clean smelling and fresh. Not at all what he had expected. Eduardo headed up the stairs. Harker was defying expectations in all areas it seemed.

  Tina looked up as a tall, gaunt, Hispanic man entered the offices from the hallway. Something about him made her edgy. She was glad that her pistol was within easy reach in her open desk drawer.

  “May I help you?” she asked.

  “I am looking for Mr. Harker. Is he available?” Eduardo asked, smiling.

  “Mr. Harker is currently out of the office working a case. I can’t honestly say when he might return,” Tina said, never taking her eyes off the man.

  “Then I shall come back later in the week,” Eduardo bowed and stepped back through the door, disappearing down the stairway.

  Tina bounced out of her chair and headed for the window. She wanted to see where the mystery man went. She watched him cross the street and go to a gray car parked across the street. Moments later he pulled away into traffic. Tina returned to her desk and dialed Harker’s cell phone.

  “I’m kind of busy right now, Kiddo,” Harker answered.

  “There was a strange man here looking for you. He said he’d come back around next week,” Tina told him.

  “I’m sure he did. Thanks for letting me know,” Harker told her before hanging up.

  “What was that about?” Shane looked at him.

  “I figured,” Shane nodded, slipping the end of a pry bar under one corner of the wooden crate. The nails screeched as they pulled free of the wood. A strong smell of coffee filled the air.

  “Just the thing to throw off the dogs, we both know it’s true, coffee grounds mask the smell of cocaine coming in from Colombia,” Harker pointed out.

  Harker dug beneath the coffee on top and pulled out a white powder brick wrapped in cellophane.

  “Cocaine,” Harker said triumphantly.

  “This for sure proves that they are importing it,” Shane agreed.

  “That it does. Now we need to check and outgoing shipment,” Harker said.

  “And check it, we shall,” Shane nodded. The outgoing shipments were labeled as machine parts, but Harker and Gerratey both knew better. They pried open a lid and found more coffee, but this time it was being used to hide the smell of Cosmoline and gun oil. Harker retrieved a Colt M-4 assault rifle from the crate. He looked at Shane.

  “We have proof of guns for drug trade. Are you willing to make the call?” Harker asked.

  “I’m on it,” Shane nodded.

  “That’s good to know. I figure the DEA and the ATF will want in on this too,” Harker nodded and added, “So, will Metro-Dade Vice and the OCB boys.”

  “Yeah, but they all have to take a backseat to Customs on this one,” Shane grinned. He walked over to a phone mounted on a girder inside the warehouse and dialed his boss. Harker lit a cigarette and stood back to watch as the sirens started filling the air and the representatives of the various law enforcement agencies arrived.

  Lisa Castela arrived after getting a telephone tip form Harker so she would be one of the first to break the story of the guns for drugs trade working through Costanza Industries. She gave Harker a wink and pushed her way forward to ask her questions. Harker winked back and slipped away in the confusion. He figured

  that this was something that Cervantes would not be able to let go. It was, in effect, a direct slap in the face.

  The late afternoon sun was blazing down on the city as Harker got into his car and headed back to his office. His cell phone rang, and he used the blue tooth feature to answer it.

  “Mr. Harker? My name is Sylvia Cain, and I want to talk to you about my niece, Emma,” the person on the other end of the call told him.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Miss Cain, but how do you think I can help you?” Harker asked.

  “Emma was murdered on your doorstep. I want to know why she was coming to see you,” Sylvia Cain replied.

  “If you would care to meet me at my office, I’ll be happy to tell you everything I know,” Harker told her.

  “I thought you might. Joella asked me not to pursue this, but I felt I had no choice but to pursue it.”

  “You might be the one that can, Miss Cain,” Harker told her.

  “Give me the address and I will be there within the hour,” Cain told him.

  “Miss Cain, nice to meet you,” Harker extended his hand. Sylvia Cain had been waiting when Harker arrived back at his office. Tina had made her comfortable

  and she was drinking coffee, watching a soap opera in Harker’s office when he walked in.

  Sylvia Cain took it and shook it. Her hand was small with long fingers tipped with red polish. She had long brown hair and blue eyes. She was wearing a blue knee-length skirt and a pearl colored blouse with short sleeves. Her shoes were also blue. She wore stockings and her tanned legs were as long and well-muscled as a dancer’s or a woman who was at the gym a lot.

  Tina rolled her eyes as Harker regarded the victim’s aunt. Harker ignored her as he escorted Sylvia into his private office. Harker dialed Tina and she answered on the first ring. “What’s up boss?” she asked.

  “I want you to keep an ear on things,” Harker told her. He wasn’t sure that he trusted Sylvia Cain, and he wanted to keep his options open.

  “Gotcha, boss. You want me to call Manny and have him ready?”

  “Not yet, no.”

  “I’ll be waiting to hear from you,” Tina told him. She opened up the intercom from his office and started a tape recording to capture every word.

  “So, Miss Cain, what do you want from me?” Harker asked her.

  “I want to know what you are doing to find my niece’s killer,” Sylvia said.

  “I’m doing everything I can. I know what your niece died for, the information that she came to me with. I’ve already scrambled the police to take command of that. I just don’t know why she chose to bring it to me,” Harker told her.

  “Why not?”

  “That is a loaded question. Maybe she knew I used to be a cop, and that I left the department because I was an honest one,” Harker sighed. “Do you think that is the answer?”

  “I don’t know. But then there are a lot of things I don’t know.”

  “And yet, you don’t like it?”

  “I don’t like a lot of things about this case. I don’t like not knowing why your niece singled me out. Why she came to me, why she thought I would be willing to help her. I especially don’t like knowing why she was killed on the sidewalk leading up to my door!” Harker was almost shouting now.

  Sylvia smiled at him. “I’m willing to pay for your time to find those answers, Mr. Harker. I know from talking to the police and your secretary that you are doing this ‘on the cuff’ so to speak. I’m willing to foot the bill for it because I want answers! I’m not like my sister, Joella. I believe in the old testament eye for an eye approach to things.”

  “I’m not a killer for hire. If I agree to do this for you, it
will be to see the people behind it punished and sent to jail, not six-feet underground.”

  “And if it comes to the latter?”

  “Then, I guess I’ll handle that too,” Harker snapped before tapping out a cigarette and lighting it. He blew smoke towards the ceiling fan that was turning lazily overhead.

  “Then we’re agreed. You’ll work this for me?” Sylvia asked him, a hint of a smile on her face. Harker looked at her through hooded eyes. She was the kind of dame that could get a man in trouble. But he was already in trouble, and she was willing to pay for his time.

  “I get $500.00 a day plus expenses, and I’ll need a seven-day retainer up front,” he told her.

  “Will that be cash or check?”

  “I trust greenback better than I trust checks,” Harker said truthfully. Sylvia reached into her purse and pulled out a thick white envelope. She put it on the desk and slid it across to him. Harker picked it up, opened it and counted the bills. $3,500.00 in cash. He pursed his lips and gave a low whistle. It had been a while since he had seen that much green in one place. He pulled a receipt book out of the drawer of his desk and wrote her out a receipt.

  “Go out front and Tina will have you sign a contract and give you a copy. Give her a number that you can be reached at.” Harker stood at the same time Sylvia did, and his mind was full of lustful thoughts as he watched the sway of her hips as she left the room. The door swung slowly closed behind her.

  Harker dropped back in his seat and puffed on his cigar, then opened the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out the bottle of Jim Beam that he kept there, along with a 6-ounce tumbler. He poured two fingers, recapped the bottle and put it back in the drawer.

  Sylvia Cain had been unexpected. Joella Cain hadn’t mentioned having a sister, so maybe it was time to go back and talk to her again. He took a sip of the bourbon and let it burn down. Nice and smooth. He spent the next ten minutes smoking and drinking. He had just finished the glass when the door opened, and Tina sashayed into the inner office. She sat on the edge of his desk, making sure that he got a nice display of tanned flesh.