by Blake Banner
I fired up the Jag and headed back to the station.
I dropped into my chair and stared at Dehan, who was staring back at me across the desk. She was good to stare at right then. “You have humanity, haven’t you, Dehan?”
She raised an eyebrow. “I try to avoid it, but it’s there. What can you do?”
“Did you talk to the captain?”
“He wants to see you. He wants to see us both.”
“When?”
“As soon as you come in.”
I looked at my watch. “That would be in about five minutes.”
“You want a coffee?”
“More than anything in the world, apart from sleep.”
She went away to get me some coffee. She had humanity.
Ten minutes later, we sat in front of the captain. He was looking at my face and seemed distressed.
“You look like hell, Stone.”
“Yeah, I didn’t have time to put my makeup on this morning.”
“This is no joking matter.”
“No, sir.”
“I understand you and Detective Dehan have your own methods, but I can’t help feeling this thing has gotten a little out of hand.”
“I have to take full responsibility for that, sir. I did not anticipate that dos Santos would drug me and kidnap me. I had never encountered that before.”
His frown deepened. “It’s like something out of a Sam Spade novel.”
Dehan coughed. “Dashiell Hammett, sir. Same Spade was the character… sir…”
“Thank you, Detective Dehan. I’ll try to remember that.” His voice could have etched metal. He looked back at me. “I don’t know what to say, John. Have you got a grip on this case? Do you need time to convalesce?”
“No, sir. I am confident I can wrap it up today.”
He looked surprised. “Today?”
“Yes, sir. Detective Dehan and I discussed it at length this morning, and I have made most of the arrangements.”
He nodded and looked at Dehan. “You feel equally confident, Dehan?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You need backup?”
“Just one unmarked car, Captain, outside my house. I’d like to explain my plan…”
He sat back and gave a smile that hovered between admiration and irony. It is not an easy smile to pull off.
At two fifty, I was ready in my house. I felt like I needed to lie down and die for a week, preferably on a beach in the Caribbean. I took a fortifying slug of Irish and sat down to wait. I had set myself up in my armchair, with a coffee table in front of me. I had my laptop on the breakfast bar playing Mozart softly in the background. I was ready.
The doorbell rang at three on the dot. I let him ring three times before I opened. He had an attaché case with him.
“You said at three. I am not accustomed to being kept waiting.”
“Then get accustomed. Sit down.”
He glanced at me resentfully, like I was being unkind, and sat on the sofa. Then he offered me an ingratiating smile. “Mozart. The number one Flute Concerto. G Major.”
I offered him a sour look back. “It eases me. I need easing.” I sat.
“Well, Stone—John, if I may—shall we get down to business? You have the box?”
“What’s your hurry?”
“My hurry? There is surely no need to prolong things. In view of what has happened, I am naturally eager to leave the country…”
I smiled. “I bet you are. Just answer me a few questions.”
He sighed. “Is this necessary? I have not time to waste.”
“It’s necessary. There are things I don’t understand. Last night you were going to take my fingers off with a pair of pliers. Today you can indulge me. Have a drink with me and answer my questions. Alternatively, you can get the fuck out of my house.”
I put the bottle and a glass on the table. He looked at it with distaste.
“Whiskey…”
“I have no vodka. Drink.”
He poured himself a shot, sipped, winced, and put the glass down.
“You work for the Vatican.”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“In what manner of speaking?”
He shifted his ass and looked uncomfortable. “It is a semi-official office, based near Santiago de Compostela, in Spain, in the castle of Soto Maior. I am the personal assistant of Cardinal Guzman, and our mission is to acquire unique treasures for the Holy Mother Church.”
“At whatever cost… to the people letting those treasures go.”
He made a ‘who gives a shit?’ face and said, “When an item belongs properly to the Church, I feel any means are justified.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d said that, and I thought about it for a moment.
“So Hugh Duffy had this… box. And in your opinion, it belonged properly to the Church. So you set about looking for a sexy young woman…”
He expostulated, “Please! Give me credit for being a little more subtle than a mule!”
“Of course. You did your homework, you found out about his fiancée…”
“And I set about seeking the perfect actress to play the part of his fiancée.” He looked pleased with himself. “And I have to say, she was brilliant. Quite captivating. She could have been a star, Detective. She had a quality about her that just made you love her.”
“So that’s what you hired her for. To make Duffy fall in love with her.”
“And when she had won his trust, then to take the box.”
“Did she know what was in the box?”
The complacent smile slipped from his face. “Not to begin with, but that fool Duffy told her what it was.”
I snarled, “Isn’t that what you wanted, for him to trust her? And once she knew what it was, she realized you were paying her a fraction of a fraction of what it was worth. She realized she could get several thousand times what you were paying her on a specialized market.”
He studied my face a moment. “So, I have answered your questions. Shall we do business?”
I nodded, reached in my pocket, and tossed him over a sheet of paper with the details of a numbered account Dehan and I had opened that morning in Belize. On a sudden impulse, I said, “But the price went up.”
He glared at me, then surprised me by asking, “How much?” As I had suspected, I was still well within his budget.
“Fifteen.”
He wrenched open his attaché case, and I saw it had a laptop built into it. He tapped furiously while muttering, “Do not push me too far, Stone. This far and no further.” He turned the computer toward me, like he was trying to wrench it off his lap, and showed me the screen. There were fifteen million dollars poised to be transferred into my account. “Now,” he said, “Show me the box.”
I smiled at him. “I wonder just how far I could push you.”
“No further!”
I reached down beside my chair and pulled up the wooden box that Emma had given me. I placed it on the table.
He narrowed his eyes at it. “Let me see. I don’t trust you.” Then he shifted his gaze to me. “You haven’t looked inside? I find that hard to believe…”
I shrugged. “What difference does it make? I am not an expert. As far as I know, it could be anything. I’ve got my money. That’s all I care about. At a cool fifteen percent, I am in clover, dos Santos.”
“Let me see it,” he grunted.
“What is that, two and a quarter million a year? I figure I could be happy living on that.”
I was playing for time, and he was beginning to sense it. He sat forward. “Why won’t you let me see it?”
“I am not stopping you, dos Santos. I am just wondering if you really do want to see what’s in this box.”
His face flushed. “Of course I do! Stop playing games, Stone! I am warning you! I have not transferred the money yet!”
“I am aware of that. But you will, don’t worry. Wait, I think I hear somebody coming…”
He turned an
d stared at the door. There were footsteps approaching from the sidewalk; they sounded like a woman’s high heels. They climbed the steps to the door, and the doorbell rang. He turned back and glared at me.
“What is this, Stone? You are going too far! I am warning you!”
I smiled, picked up the box, and rose to open the door.
TWENTY-SIX
She stepped through the doorway and immediately put her arms around my neck and kissed me. Maybe she sensed I was not really responsive. She pulled back and held my face in her hands, frowning, examining the swelling and the bruising.
“Oh, you poor darling. What did they do to you?”
“I’ll survive, which is more than can be said for Ronaldo.”
She frowned. “Are you very cross with me?” As she spoke, she noticed the box in my hand. “What are you doing?”
I smiled. “Come on in.” I closed the door behind her and said, “Take a seat, Emma. We have some things to discuss.”
As I said it, dos Santos stood up. He had a face that would have made a Carolina reaper wince. When he spoke, his voice was a rasp. “This is intolerable, Stone. My patience is not limitless.”
“Neither is mine, dos Santos. Shut up and sit down. We have business to transact. You don’t get the box and I don’t get the money until Emma and Tammy are safe.”
Emma stared at dos Santos, then at me, and made several false starts in trying to say something. “John, you should have… This is not… What are you…?”
“Sit down, Emma. Have a drink.”
I sat her in the chair opposite mine, put a glass in front of her, and nudged the whiskey bottle her way. “Help yourself.”
I sat and looked at them both, one after the other and back again.
“Where were we, Geronimo? Oh yes.” I turned to Emma. “Geronimo is about to transfer fifteen million bucks into a numbered account for me. Naturally, as you are my partner in crime, Emma, part of that money should go to you. Also quite naturally, Geronimo was saying that, before he makes the transfer, he wants to see the box and its contents for himself.”
She was shaking her head as I was speaking. “John, really, I want no part of this. I am not cut out for this kind of thing. I am not a criminal…”
“You saying I am?”
“You know what I mean.”
“You going to say no to half of fifteen million bucks, Emma? Seven and a half million is nothing to be sneezed at.”
“Please, John, this is not what we agreed. Just give me Tammy’s birthday present and let me go.”
I snapped my fingers. “You know what it is, dos Santos. Emma is English. Seven and a half million bucks, in pounds sterling, is chicken feed. I’ll tell you what we’ll do—you make that fifteen million pounds sterling, and then I think Emma will be happy, and I can let you see the box.”
He was shaking visibly. “I swear to God, Stone…”
“Do it.”
He tapped at his keyboard, then savagely turned it for me to look at. Over twenty million dollars. And he still hadn’t reached his limit. I smiled at Emma. Her hands were trembling.
“John, I am very frightened, and I would like to go now.”
“We are almost done, Emma. I am just trying to ensure your safety in the future. You understand that, don’t you?”
“Yes, and I am very grateful.”
“Stone! Let me see the box!”
“In just a moment, dos Santos. I just have a couple of questions I need to ask Emma.”
Her eyes fixed on me. “Questions?”
I laughed. “All these years as a cop, it’s become a habit. I have to understand how things happened the way they did. You know what I mean? Like last night, when you just reached over, cool as a cucumber, picked up Ronaldo’s gun, and boom! And then you were about to pop Geronimo here, too. See? I don’t understand that. I don’t understand what made you do that.”
“I panicked.”
“You panicked? I can understand you panicking when he’s holding the gun. But after he laid it on the table, and I finally had these fucking idiots talking, then you panicked? Then you pick up the gun, and with no provocation at all, you kill him?”
She stared hard at her hands in her lap. “Yes.”
I blew out through my teeth. Dos Santos was watching me like a hawk. I said, “I have to tell you, Emma, you panic with a hell of a lot of cool. Because, you were as cold as ice. And when you went through that door after dos Santos, and you stopped and adopted that stance, you looked just like a pro. You sure you’re not CIA undercover?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“So explain it. How come you were so cold? How come the professional shooting stance?”
“Training.”
“Training? What kind of training?”
“When I moved to the States and Tammy explained to me the kind of trouble she was in, I took several firearms courses, to advanced degree. I suppose it kicked in last night.”
“Huh. That’s a good answer.”
“It happens to be the truth.”
“I believe you.”
“Can I go now?”
“Yes, Stone, enough of this stupid inquisition. Let us finalize the deal and be done with it.”
“I am almost done, dos Santos. Let’s see a little of that Christian patience.”
“It is becoming tiresome, John.”
“I know. Just bear with me. I am just curious about Tammy.”
She sighed.
“What about her? It’s a shame you didn’t bring her. She could have answered these questions herself. You know, she and Duffy got real close. He was, and still is, crazy about her. What I have never understood, from the very beginning, is why she left him? At first I thought she was in love with that loser Steve. But it turns out she hated him enough to shoot him in the heart. So if she was after the kind of money this…” I lifted up the box and waved it at her. “… this box could bring her, why didn’t she just stay with Duffy?”
“I suppose she just didn’t love him.”
“Nah.” I shook my head. “Shall I tell you what I think?”
“I suppose we can’t stop you.”
“I think she had every intention of going back to Duffy. She is too smart a cookie to pass up a chance like that. But after losing her parents, twice, and her sister, she was not about to start trusting anyone, ever again. What she needed, what she was hungry for, was a fortune of her own. Money in the bank, that is something you can trust. And the only reason she went to see Steve was to have him fence the goods. He was the only connection she had with the criminal underworld. She went to him to help her find a buyer. It was a stupid thing to do.”
Dos Santos was sweating. “An interesting theory. Now, can we please get on…”
I sighed. “I guess you were having her tailed, right? It’s the obvious thing to do. And when she took off to the Big Apple, you came after her. You hired Danny to get a couple of heavies together and go and pay her and Steve a visit. Danny picked the Sanchez brothers, and they dropped in on Steve while Tammy was there. This is pure deduction, but I’m pretty sure it’s as near as dammit to what happened.” I watched Emma’s face as I spoke. “They’re laying into Steve, asking him where the box is. Tammy is begging them to leave him alone, but she can see that even the promise of all that cash is not enough to keep his mouth shut. He is going to spill. Especially when they start talking about mutilation and killing. So she makes a play. She pretends she is going for the box, but what she pulls out of the drawer is a .38 revolver that she has persuaded her husband to bring to her from San Francisco.”
Emma was staring at her hands. She didn’t say anything. Dos Santos looked like a man trying to crush a wasp between his buttocks. He suddenly erupted. “Yes! You are correct in every particular as far as I am concerned. You are a clever man. Unfortunately, Tammy is not here to confirm her part. Now! At last! Are we done?”
“Almost. Tammy knows that Steve is no longer any damn use to her, plus there is the r
isk that he is going to talk. So she blows him away. She knows that Danny and the Sanchez boys are going to be in shock for a couple of seconds. Nobody expected cute little Tammy to pull a gun, much less be able to use it. So she blows a hole in Ernesto, too. Danny panics and runs. Now she has a choice: kill Alfonso or go after Danny. She goes after Danny because he is going to report back to you, dos Santos. Trouble is, she loses him in the night, and meantime, Alfonso helps Ernesto to get away, leaving the crime scene that would later go cold. Ernesto died and wound up in the river. Which left Danny. And here is where it gets a bit weird.”
Her voice was wooden. “Weird how?”
“Weird because Danny got murdered just a few months later, by a very elegant, beautiful woman with short black hair and green eyes and a deep Southern drawl. She picked him up in a bar and left with him and then shot him.”
Geronimo was frowning.
Emma shrugged. “He was mugged by a hooker.”
“No, that won’t wash. I told you that Tammy made a few mistakes, and this was one of them. I guess she was desperate. But she made the mistake of shooting him with the same gun she used to kill Steve.”
She looked at me like I was crazy. “You just said she was a sophisticated woman with a Southern drawl, black hair, and green eyes. I can’t imagine a woman less like Tamara. Really, John, this has gone on too long. For goodness’ sake, let’s end it! Keep the bloody money! I don’t want it! Just let me get back to Tammy and start over!”
“Relax. That is exactly what I intend to do.”
And then there was a ring at the door.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Dos Santos stood. He was trembling. “What now?”
Emma looked really scared. I picked up the box again. “Come on, have you lost all your faith in human greed? It’s nothing.”
I stood, crossed the room, and stood with my hand on the door handle. “You see, I kept turning it over, again and again, and whichever way I looked at it, it just didn’t make sense.” I opened the door and smiled. “Hi, just hold on one second, would you?” I walked back a couple of steps so that I could look at dos Santos and Emma where they were sitting, watching me anxiously. “And then one evening, it hit me. It was obvious. I did my research on Google, and there it was.” I turned back to the door and said, “Come on in. Join the party.”
