The Drop Dead Blonde

by Bill Craig

  “What do you think about it?” For some reason, this was important to him.

  “I agree with you, but I wish that Emma had never been put in that position,” Sylvia sighed.

  “I agree, but she was. I don’t know where she came up with my name or why she was bringing it to me. Maybe I never will, but I have to try and find out,” Harker said with a sigh.

  “I understand, Mr. Harker. Maybe more than you can know,” Sylvia said softly.

  “What do you mean, Miss Cain?”

  “That’s a story for another day. Maybe, one with whiskey involved,” Harker could almost hear her smile through the telephone.

  “I think I’d like that, Sylvia.”

  “I’m sure you would. I think I would too.”

  “Except right now, I’m expecting some dangerous company. I spent the day rattling cages.”

  “Another time then. Be careful, Mr. Harker.”

  “You too,” Harker told her before breaking the connection.

  Now he had to get his head in the right place for what was coming. It wasn’t going to be easy. The fact was there was a good chance that he would die before it was all over. He was good with that. As long as he could take Raoul Cervantes with him.

  The feud between him and Cervantes went back to the days when he had been a cop working Vice. Cervantes had been an up and comer back then. One of many. He had turned up on the Metro-Dade’s Vice Squad radar around 1988. Harker had been partnered with a guy named Sammy Wolski. Sammy was the veteran partner at the time. He had been AJ’s mentor. Sammy had spotted Cervantes working out of the Fontainebleau Hotel.

  So, they had set up shop, surveilling the guy and seeing who he was working for. That was the very first time that Harker had ever heard the name Costanza Industries. Sammy was one of the best undercover agents that Metro-Dade Vice had. He lived in deep cover and had for at least half a dozen years. They were all set up to make a buy from Cervantes, when something went south.

  Suddenly, Cervantes knew that Sammy was a cop. He shot him in the face with a .44 magnum. The damage was so bad that they had to have a closed casket funeral. Harker had taken a bullet, too. However, Cervantes had managed a clean getaway. He had been a ghost ever since. Except this time, Harker didn’t plan on letting him get away.

  Harker had quit the force soon after that. Somebody on the inside had blown Sammy’s cover. There was no other way that it could have happened. To this day, Harker wanted to find out who that person was. He wanted to take Cervantes down, but he also wanted to know who was responsible for Sammy’s death.

  Harker wanted to know the identity of the dirty cop that had sold Sammy out. He laid the shotgun on his desk. He had his .40 in his shoulder holster, and his 9mm rested in his pants pocket. He was loaded for bear, in more ways than one.

  Eduardo Torres sat in a car across the street from Harker’s office. He contemplated going over there and tried to decide if it would be a worthwhile endeavor. So far, he had been unable to decide. It seemed like the best course of action would to be to take Harker down while he was walking from his office to his car. Going after him in his office just felt like it would be a really bad mistake.

  Instead, he waited, and he watched. Sooner or later, Harker would have to emerge. And when he did, Torres would strike. It would be fast and painless like the majority of his kills. Sometimes, he liked to make them suffer, but not always. It depended on why the person was supposed to be executed. Would it be a problem? Sure, for a little while, but not for the long run.

  Lisa Castela pulled her car in behind Harker’s and got out, heading for the front door of his office building. There was another car parked across the street with somebody sitting in it. She thought that was a little strange as she pushed open the glass double door and went inside. Lisa was glad to be inside out of the heat. It was close to a hundred as the late afternoon sun beat down on the city and was creating shaded concrete canyon that seemed to serve as locks to keep the sweltering heat and humidity inside them. The air-conditioned lobby was a welcome relief compared to outside. It was almost hot enough out there to make her sweat.

  She was glad she was wearing a bright yellow sundress and white wedge sandals. She had her over-sized purse slung over her shoulder, the strap crossing her body from left to right. Probably the safest way to carry one on the streets of Miami. It had her notebooks, cell phone, pens, wallet, digital recorder, make-up up and a few other things every woman had to keep on hand for emergencies. She pressed the button for the elevator and waited for the doors to open. They did, and she stepped inside.

  As the doors closed, she saw the man from across the street come running across the road and inside the building. The elevator was already on its upward journey before he could reach the doors. Lisa was curious about the man and his last second dash to catch the elevator. She would mention it to AJ and see what he thought about it.

  He wasn’t really expecting him, but she had decided to drop by and see if he wanted to go out for dinner at someplace nice. Even though it had been a long day, she wasn’t ready to go home alone to her apartment. The elevator doors opened after it stopped and settled on Harker’s floor. She got out and walked down the hallway to his office. The outer door was unlocked as it usually was, and she opened it and stepped inside.

  “AJ, are you here?” Lisa called out. The door to the inner office opened and Harker looked surprised to see her.

  “Lisa? Did we have a date tonight?” Harker asked, looking puzzled.

  “Not a planned one, but I wanted to see if you wanted to catch dinner. Did I pick a bad time?”

  “Maybe. I did some pot stirring today,” Harker told her. They heard the elevator ding its arrival on their floor from down the hallway.

  “Get inside my office now!” Harker told her, taking her arm and half dragging her inside. He shut the door behind them and had her kneel behind his desk.

  “AJ, what the hell is going on? It’s probably the guy that was sitting in the car across the street. He missed the elevator when I was coming up,” Lisa explained.

  “Aw, hell,” Harker sighed, as he snatched up the shotgun and racked a round into the chamber and leveled it at the door. Lisa was just starting to ask what was going on when the door flew open and Harker pulled the trigger.

  Chapter Twelve

  The shotgun roared and all the glass in the door shattered into thousands of splinters. Gunfire ripped into the office from the outside, driving Harker undercover behind the desk as well. Lisa’s eyes were wide and terrified, as Harker pumped a fresh round into the chamber, then stood and fired again, the roar of it firing deafening in the small enclosed office. He worked the pump again and fire again, and then started for the open doorway.

  By the time he reached the hallway, the elevator doors were closing, and it started downward. Harker ran for the emergency stairs. He dropped the empty 12-gauge before hitting the door and had drawn his pistol as he took the stairs two at a time. He still reached the ground floor after the elevator and the glass doors were swinging shut as he reached them and charged outside. The car across the street was peeling out, leaving rubber and smoke from the wheels as it accelerated. Harker stabbed his Ruger SC.40 at it and fired four times. The rear windshield shattered, but the car kept going, swinging around a corner, leaving Harker standing in the street.

  Harker swore a blue streak before turning and heading back into his building. He hoped that Lisa had dialed 911 in his brief absence. This had been a hit. Nothing less. He took the elevator back to his floor, retrieved the Mossberg shotgun, and headed back tom his office. Lisa was on the telephone. As Harker reloaded the shotgun with a box of shells from a drawer in his desk, he could hear sirens approaching. So, at least she had called the cops before phoning the story in to the Miami Herald. Harker rolled his eyes. It was something that happened when you dated a reporter.

  Harker swapped out the magazine from his .40 caliber and swapped it for a full-sized 14-round magazine. Then he holstered the pisto
l and fired up a cigarette. He looked at Lisa, but she shook her head, indicating that she didn’t want one right now. Harker exhaled the smoke and waited. Pretty soon they heard the elevator again, and this time they knew it was the cops arriving. Lisa had finally hung up the telephone.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, I am. Thanks for asking,” Lisa said, primly.

  “I guess this wasn’t quite the evening you had in mind?”

  “Not exactly, no.”

  “I’m sorry, kid.”

  “Don’t apologize, AJ. Life around you is never dull.”

  “I guess not,” Harker admitted.

  Harker told the uniforms he would wait for the detectives, so he only had to explain one time. Lisa took a cigarette while they waited, and they sat in silence, smoking as they waited. Harker had snapped some pictures for his insurance company and Lisa had shot pictures with her phone and e-mailed them to the paper. Harker hoped that it wasn’t such a slow night that he would make the front page over this.

  Finally, the detectives showed up. Harker knew them both and he disliked one of them. Detectives Grant Simerly and Steve Corsetti. Simerly, he couldn’t stand, but he had worked with Corsetti before. Simerly was barely five and a half feet tall and fat. His tie had a gravy stain on it just above where his jacket button. He was losing his hair and had a bad attitude. Corsetti was tall and muscular with dark hair, blue eyes and a face that had made many a young women swoon when he smiled.

  “Steve, good to see you,” Harker said, when they entered. He purposely ignored Simerly.

  “So, what went on here, AJ? Besides world war three, I mean?” Corsetti asked.

  “I wish I could say it was an unhappy client, but I can’t,” Harker told him.

  “You sure about that, Peeper?” Simerly asked, as he chewed on a burnt-out cigar.

  “Yes, I am, Simerly. When was the last time you actually saw your dick?” Harker smiled at him.

  “Fuck you, Harker, I oughta . . .” Simerly started to pull a blackjack out of his hip pocket.

  “You sure you want to do that in front of the press?” Corsetti asked, nodding towards Lisa Castela. Simerly’s face turned red and he turned and walked out of Harker’s office.

  “You just gotta push things, don’t you, AJ?”

  “Only when assholes like Simerly are involved. Steve, you know that ass hat is dirty, right?”

  “Yeah, but there ain’t much I can do about it because IAD hasn’t managed to catch him with his hands dirty yet.”

  “Yeah, then they must be blind,” Harker ground out his cigarette in the ashtray on his desk.

  “How about telling me what the hell went on here tonight?” Corsetti asked.

  “I can do that,” Harker told him. He then related everything that had occurred from Lisa’s arrival to the shootout and the guy driving away. Harker offered as clear a description of the car that had gotten away as he could, and Lisa confirmed it.

  “Okay, I’m going to leave a couple of officers here overnight to keep an eye on the place. You have repair men coming?” Corsetti asked.

  “Yeah, I do. ‘The Glassperts’ are sending a couple of guys over.”

  “They should have photo ID’s to prove who they are,” Harker replied. “Good to know. I’ll let the guys that are staying know. Where will you be if I need to reach you for anything?”

  “Lisa and I are going to go grab a late dinner and then I’m going home,” Harker replied.

  “Give me your cell, just in case,” Corsetti told him.

  “Sure thing,” Harker replied, before giving him the number.

  “Where do you want to eat at?” Harker asked Lisa, as they exited the building.

  “To tell you the truth, AJ, I’ve kinda lost my appetite. Rain check?” Lisa asked.

  “I can understand that. Tomorrow for lunch?”

  “We’ll see,” Lisa said, heading to her car. Harker watched her go.

  He didn’t really blame her. His appetite wasn’t the best at the moment either. Being shot at had that effect on a person. Harker felt bad that Lisa had gotten caught up in his problems. He hadn’t recognized the guy, but that didn’t really mean much. Hitmen were a dime a dozen in Miami. Hell, some of them could be bought for less than a hundred bucks. Except Harker had a feeling about this one. He had been good. Very good. Which meant that he was a professional. Did he work for Cervantes? It was a good question.

  Harker unlocked his Jeep and headed back to his house. He was unhappy that Lisa hadn’t agreed to join him, but he knew that she had driven straight to the newspaper to write the story in time to get it into the morning edition. He was surprised to see that there was a car sitting in his driveway; one with rental plates. Harker turned off the motor and stepped out, locking it before climbing the steps to his porch.

  “Harker, I want to talk to you,” Sylvia Cain said. She had been sitting in one of the plastic chairs on his front porch. Cain was wearing a short blue dress, blue shoes with a four-inch heel. She carried as small black clutch purse. Her hair hung down over her face.

  “Sylvia, what are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I came to talk to you. If you have anything else to say about my niece, I want you to call me instead of Joella. It will be easier for her to hear things from me,” Sylvia said.

  “I can do that,” Harker nodded.

  “Glad to hear it, Harker.”

  “Me too.”

  “Let’s go get something to eat, Harker.”

  “What are you in the mood for?” Harker asked.

  “Seafood?” Sylvia asked.

  “I can think of a few good places.”

  “I bet you can,” Sylvia smiled at him.

  They went to the Greenstreet Café on 3468 Main Highway. Sylvia ordered the Penne Tetrazzini, and Harker ordered the Meat Lasagna.

  “You are an unusual man, Mr. Harker,” Sylvia told him.

  “I try to be. I don’t like being predictable,” Harker smiled at her.

  “You succeed. Would you like to sleep with me?” Sylvia asked, smiling at him.

  “I would, but at the moment, I am involved with someone who would view it as a betrayal of trust. Therefore, I must decline the invitation,” Harker told her.

  Too bad. I like you, Mr. Harker. Maybe someday you’ll be free.”

  “One never knows,” Harker smiled at her. Harker paid the bill and left.

  Sylvia Cain sat in the chair and waited. Harker never came back. Sylvia Cain didn’t like being turned down, yet that was exactly what Harker had done to her. He had left her holding the proverbial bag where her sister’s death was concerned. She had no more information than when she had started her investigation into her sister’s death. She didn’t like that.

  She hadn’t told Harker that she worked for the Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms Agency and was currently on loan to the Miami office of the Drug Enforcement Administration. She was working the Raoul Cervantes case and hadn’t been aware that Emma, her niece, had gone to work for Costanza Industries until Emma had been murdered on Harker’s doorstep. As a government agent, there were certain rules that Sylvia had to follow. Being a private cop, Harker could operate more in the gray areas.

  She had hoped that by thinking she was a civilian that had hired him, that he would be a little more forthcoming about the status of his inquires. Maybe she had over-played her hand with the seduction routine, but Harker had surprised her there. He didn’t seem a likely candidate for monogamy. AJ Harker was turning out to be quite surprising. Sylvia finished her drink and left, dropping a five on the table as a tip for the waitress.

  Eduardo Torres cursed in Spanish as he fled the scene of his botched attempt on AJ Harker. Somehow, Harker had been expecting him. The question was how? Could it have been the woman that had entered the building ahead of him? He hadn’t seen her in Harker’s office, but that didn’t mean anything.

  Raoul would not be happy about his failure to kill Harker. But Raoul knew Harker, so he had probably ex
pected that the first attempt wouldn’t be successful. Eduardo had been with Cervantes a long time. He had joined up right after the first encounter between Cervantes and Harker. So, he was more than aware of the deep hatred that Raoul had for Harker.

  For Cervantes, it was a visceral thing. He wanted nothing more than to cut Harker’s head off and mount it on a pole outside of his mansion. Torres had tried very hard to talk him out of that, since it would only bring the wrath of the police down upon their operation. Eduardo headed home. He would sleep on things and then plan out a course of action in the morning.

  Harker drove back to Coconut Grove. He was surprised that he had turned Sylvia Cain’s advances down. He was still trying to figure that out when he pulled into his driveway. Sure, he had a steady thing going with Lisa, but Sylvia was quite a woman. Still, there was something about her that didn’t quite ring true.

  Harker had no illusions about his sex appeal. So, Sylvia’s come-on had been a bit over the top. Why was that? Why was she so interested in what he had learned? Sure, she was Emma’s Aunt, and she was paying for his investigation, but there was something about her that didn’t quite ring true.

  Harker unlocked the door and then locked it behind him after he had entered his house. He flipped on lights as he moved from room to room inside the house. He had definitely rattled some cages today in his investigation. But which ones? That was what he had to figure out. Had word got back to Cervantes that he was looking? It was possible. Still, Harker had nothing concrete as of yet. He had to get past that, find something concrete. Then he would be able to make a move on Cervantes, and maybe, just maybe, he would be able to nail the son of a bitch once and for all.

  Lisa Castela had returned to the paper and written up the story about the attack. She had tried to remain objective while writing it up, but it was hard given that she had been on the receiving end of it. Still, it made for good reading and Marko Chavez the night editor liked it and had promised that it would run in the early edition. Lisa hoped that Harker wouldn’t be angry. She tried very hard to keep their professional lives as separate as she could. She clocked out and headed for home.