Zack agreed and wished them well, asking them to give him updates daily. Tom agreed and hung the phone up. Talking to Patty helped Zack, but he still felt empty inside. A part of him wanted to do something for her, but he had no control over the problem or the solution. He had always treated Patty like the daughter he and his wife never had and wanted her to know he was genuinely concerned.
Zack met Dave and the women in the recreation room. It was a boring night, and Zack’s concentration on board games was hard; his thoughts kept going back to Patty.
“Zack, I’m sure she will be okay. You need to move on and let things take their course,” Emma Lou said.
“We need to go do something. A road trip,” Dave said.
“A road trip, what! Are we in college?” Zack replied.
“I used to do it all the time until you old people got here,” Dave said, knowing he would get a reaction from Emma Lou and Pearl Ann.
Zack had just the idea for a road trip. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the orange ID card that Tom had dropped. He had been wondering what he could do for Patty, and then it just hit him. Patty would need a cap, maybe in pink, and a light blanket during her treatment. It was time to go shopping. The thought of helping her made Zack feel better, even if it was just a small gift she might like. He gathered his group together to sneak out of the house. Dave was the only one ever out after curfew, so he led the way. One by one they went to the garden area and met by the bench. Dave led them to Andrew’s small apartment at the rear of the property. Through an unlocked gate, they made their way to the side street for their exit.
Andrew sat on a box, cleaning his tools from his day’s work when he saw them sneaking out the gate.
“Where are you going?”
“We’re going for a walk,” Dave said.
“It’s going to be dark in an hour,” Andrew said as he got off his box and walked over. “Where are you going?” he asked again.
“We’re going downtown,” Zack said.
“Yeah, a road trip,” Pearl Ann said excitedly.
“Be careful,” Andrew said.
They walked down the street to the corner and waited for the public bus that ran from City Park to Canal Street. They were so excited to get out of the house that they failed to ask Zack where they were going. He told them they were going to buy Patty a gift at the department store.
“Zack, by the time we get there, the store will be closed,” Emma Lou said.
“We have a special pass,” Zack said, showing her the orange card.
They were still waiting for the bus when they heard loud music coming from a car that passed them. The car stopped, and the music was turned down. A white, old, Chevrolet convertible backed up.
“Hey, Raul, what do we have here?” Wesley, the driver, asked. He pulled the car over to the curb and Raul got out.
“Looks like a little payday,” Raul said walking over to Zack.
Zack knew he had to defuse the situation quickly. That is the only way to stop this harassment. Out of sheer habit, Zack reached behind his back to where he’d kept his gun on his belt for thirty years while on the police force, only to realize it was not there. He felt helpless that he had gotten his friends in such a dangerous situation.
“Look, we don’t want any trouble,” Zack said, trying to talk his way out of it.
“Shut up, old man,” Raul said as he walked around the ladies who stood terrified.
“Get their purses and let’s go, Raul,” Wesley, shouted.
Raul strolled around the ladies just looking into their eyes, knowing he was making them nervous.
“Take the purses and go. There is no reason for anyone to get hurt,” Dave said.
“Get your punk asses out of here. I’ve seen your type for too many years. You’ll never amount to anything,” Zack said in disgust. Raul grabbed Zack by the arm, pushing him against the light pole.
“Okay! That’s enough. Get in your car while you’re still alive,” Andrew said as he came from behind Wesley and put a large knife blade against his throat. “I’ll cut him, and he’ll bleed like the fat pig he is. Come on, give me a reason,” he shouted as he pushed the knife deeper into his throat.
The city transit bus pulled up, and they all jumped on as quickly as they could. Raul yelled at Zack as he stepped on the bus. “I’ll get you, old man!” His finger shaped like a gun as he pointed it at him.
Zack couldn’t believe his eyes. What he had searched for, for years, was right in front of him. Raul had shaped his hand like a gun, and when the trigger was pulled, a butterfly opened up. It was Raul who robbed his wife. He was in a gang, and that was the gang symbol illustrating he was a member. It didn’t matter; this was the first substantial lead he’d ever had for his wife’s murder.
“It’s 425G918, 425G918,” Zack repeated as he got on the bus and the doors closed. He took a seat next to Emma Lou and asked her for a pen. At the bottom of her purse, she found a promotional pen from her local bank.
“Okay, 425G918,” he repeated as he took the pen from her and wrote it on his hand. “I got their license number; I’ll get them, I promise,” Zack said as he sat back in his seat and exhaled as if he had just run a race.
The bus arrived at the department store, but the group was too rattled even to consider shopping. They stayed on the bus until it made a complete rotation of its route, then got off where they had started over an hour earlier. Zack and Dave were the first to get off the bus and made sure Raul had not been following them. Once clear, they all walked swiftly through the neighborhood, past the back gate, and through the garden area into the house. Feeling safe, one by one they breathed normally. They invited Andrew to join them in the dining room for dessert. It was little more than soft serve ice cream coming from a machine, but it was refreshing considering the day’s ordeal. They felt such an obligation to Andrew for coming to their rescue. Without him following them, there is no telling what might have happened. Thank you was the only thing they could say.
“In the future, if you are going to break curfew, include me in your plans. I can be a fun guy, you know. Plus, you never know when you might need this,” he said, waving his twelve-inch knife.
Zack broke away from the group and went to his room to call the police. He reported the incident to the 5th Police District and gave the license number to the desk clerk. Knowing the response was nothing more than what he used to say when he worked at the same desk on the night shift. “We’ll look into the problem.” The city simply did not have the time or the resources to follow up on every case reported. There was no crime; no one got hurt or robbed. It was just another happening written in a report, and maybe the police would check the license plate, but there would be little investigating.
Zack knew the chances of an investigation were slim. He planned to follow up first thing in the morning with the detective division regarding cold cases and the similarity of the butterfly tattoo.
That night, Zack tossed around the bed for hours trying to get to sleep. His mind was in overdrive, every clue to his wife’s case flashed through his mind like a filing system. No detail was left out, but it all led to a dead end until the recent sighting of the butterfly tattoo.
Zack took three days to find someone he still knew on the police force. A few guys who were uniform cops when he was working were now detectives, and that was the contact he needed. He finally got a call back from Ronnie Moore. He was a motorcycle cop and had been the first on the scene the day of his wife’s robbery. About noon he showed up, and Zack met him at the front door. Ronnie was a big guy, about six foot five, two hundred and forty pounds, intimidating as hell, and it was helpful in his profession.
They had lunch at a small deli on Canal Street, and Zack filled him in on all the details. Ronnie suggested Zack come with him downtown to the police station. Looking through some mug shots might help. If Zack could identify Raul, they might get a lead on his whereabouts. It had been a long time since Zack had ridden in a police car, and it
sure felt good.
“My god, things have changed. Computers on the dashboard, cameras, and phones,” he said.
“I’m sure we have a lot more equipment than you had back in your day,” Ronnie said pointing to the camera. “This has helped a lot. Before we get out of the car at a crime scene, we turn the camera on and let it run for about an hour.”
“How does that help?” Zack asked.
“You know how the perpetrator hangs around the scene, mixes with the crowd. You know the game they play—the dumb ones, that is.”
“Sure, they want to see who’s going to talk and if they do, they will be the next target,” Zack said.
“One of the first things we do is look at the film when we start the investigation. You would be amazed at what we see. Almost like a hot-and-cold game that kids play. At a scene, a police officer might question someone, and we look at the people standing near the suspected person. Sometimes we get lucky, and the perpetrator is there, right at the scene. You’ll see him slowly backing out of the crowd until he vanishes into thin air. That is what makes a dashboard camera so valuable.”
“That is amazing. I can see where it would help,” Zack said.
“We have a camera in every police vehicle.”
“So you’re telling me that when my wife got mugged, the person responsible for it could have been standing right there in the crowd?” Zack asked, but wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.
“Good possibility,” he said as they pulled up in front of the police station.
Zack spent over two hours at the station looking at mug books, but he recognized no single person. He took a break, waiting for Ronnie to get back so he could drive him back home, and wandered into a makeshift breakroom. It was just like he remembered, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. Coffee stains on the floor, dirty coffee pots, and a sink so dirty you wouldn’t want to wash anything in it. But, there were a table and chairs for the officers to take a break from their desk duty.
Ronnie returned, and he took Zack around the station to see if he knew anyone still on the job.
From nowhere came a big, deep, loud voice. “Zack Nelson! You old geezer.”
“Johnny Guidry,” Zack said, recognizing the voice. “You’re still here?”
“They will have to throw me out or find me dead at my desk; that’s the only way I’ll go out.”
“You’re still in the evidence room?” Zack asked, shaking hands with Johnny.
“Kind of, I do inventory for equipment release and the evidence room,” he said.
“Johnny, it was nice to see you, but my ride has to get back to work,” Zack said.
“Call me if you ever need anything. I mean anything,” Johnny said in his tough-man voice.
Zack knew what he was referring to and gave a nod of his head. Back when he was on the force, there were times that officers needed items from the evidence room for research, and other times they just needed evidence to disappear. You could always count on Johnny.
“Thanks, Johnny, I’ll keep that in mind,” Zack said as he walked through the door that Ronnie gracefully held opened.
Chapter 6
It was time for dinner, and one by one everybody took his or her seat. Zack, Dave, Emma Lou, and Pearl Ann sat at their regular table. The servers came out and placed the food on the buffet, and, like little, trained monkeys, everyone got in line and made their way down the buffet line, picking and choosing the food they had seen time and time again.
“How many ways can they camouflage chicken?” Emma Lou asked.
“They never seem to run out of creative ways to cook the same food,” Pearl Ann said.
“I think we need a road trip,” Zack said.
“Yeah, the last one was so successful,” Dave quickly interjected.
“I’ve got a better idea. Be ready at nine,” Zack said with a grin from ear to ear.
“Where can we possibly go that late?” Emma Lou asked.
“Don’t worry, the man has a plan,” Dave said, gently hitting Emma Lou on the shoulder.
“Yeah, the last one almost got us killed,” she said.
They finished eating and moved to relax in their rooms until nine.
Zack had realized that after all these years he still had friends. Friends at the police station and friends he had helped over the years. Earlier that day he called a man, one who told him if he ever needed anything, to please call on him. That was many years ago, and Zack wondered just how sincere these people were.
Ben Stein, a local business person, owned one of the largest limousine companies in New Orleans. Weddings, Mardi Gras, gradations, even funeral homes used his services. Right before Zack retired, one of the last cases he worked on was Ben’s son’s death. His son, Benny, had spent three years at Louisiana State University with poor grades. Knowing he was going into the family business, he just couldn’t see need continuing his education. He convinced Ben to let him join the family business as a driver and dropped out of school.
It was a Friday night, and Benny had a job. He was to pick up two men at their French Quarter hotel and take them to dinner at a restaurant in the Garden District. After dinner, he would drop them off at a nightclub in the French Quarter. It was a three-hour minimum fee for the limousine, and that is just about how long it would take to complete the job. He was expected back at the limousine warehouse by midnight.
The next morning it was discovered that his son never returned. At first, Ben hoped it was just a young guy getting carried away and staying out all night. But that wasn’t like Benny, and deep inside he was concerned. Ben called the police, wanting it treated as a missing-person case, but it had not been twenty-four hours so the police couldn’t do anything. Ben, knowing Zack, called him directly, and he quickly took charge. It caused problems within the chain of command of the police department, because Zack was a homicide detective and there wasn’t a body or any sign of murder. But Zack outranked the others, and they worked with him.
The men Benny drove never returned to their French Quarter hotel. The credit card they used to pay for the limousine turned up at the Garden District restaurant at 9:50 p.m. The owner remembered seeing them getting in the car and Benny driving off. Within hours, they found the limousine off Highway 90, about twenty miles east of New Orleans. There was no sign of foul play.
Ben kept telling Zack and repeated it several times, “Don’t spare any cost, just find my boy. I’ll pay whatever it costs.”
Zack knew he had a short window of time to find a missing person alive and the window of opportunity was closing. He got a call at nine p.m. that a charge came in on the missing man’s credit card. Zack got into his car and took off at full speed with every light flashing and the siren blasting. He had three police units dispatched to a liquor store on Morrison Road. They converged on the all-night liquor store as if it was a bank robbery in progress. They got everyone against a wall and had the store owner point out who used the card. He pointed to an old, black man.
Zack grabbed the man by the back of his neck and pushed him into a corner. “Like a fool, you stuck around.”
The other eight police officers kept everyone else in the building against the wall.
“Where are the three men who were in the limousine?” Zack shouted at him, pushing him by the throat deeper into the wall.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the old, black man shouted back.
“Where are they?” Zack shouted.
The old man gasped for breath, and Zack knew he had to back off with such an audience watching. One last push into the windpipe did it.
“They were dead when I found them,” the old man whispered the best he could.
It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but he knew there was a very slim chance that Benny was still alive. Zack took his hand off the man’s throat and let him lean against the wall to catch his breath.
How can I tell Ben that his only son is dead? At the speed of sound, that thought kept running through Zack’s mind.<
br />
The old, black man took them to the bodies in an abandoned house. And there they were, all three on the floor with a single gunshot to the head. It had to be a drug deal gone badly, but they never could figure out how it went down. There was no murder suspect, and the old man was charged with robbery and failure to report the findings. He got a two-year sentence but served only nine months.
Zack met with Ben, and as hard as it was to tell him, he gave him every detail. Ben had one request of Zack, and it was a big one. Ben stood up for his son like any father would; denouncing Benny was ever involved with drugs. Zack handled his request, and to this day his family and the entire city believed the story Zack gave the local news reporter.
The next day the front-page headline read: Benny Stein, Jr., Son Of Local Business Owner, Found Dead After Apparent Carjacking.
Ben was very appreciative that Zack helped. It was just a small favor he could do for a friend. What was the big deal how it happened? The result was the man lost his son.
Over the years, Ben and Zack stayed in touch and Ben would always say, “Please, call me if you ever need anything. You can always use a car, and it would be my pleasure.” After all these years, Zack took Ben up on his offer and the gentleman he was said yes, without hesitation.
The phone rang, and Zack answered. “We’ll be right down.”
He gathered the others, and they met their stretch limousine in the front of the building. The driver introduced himself as Howard. He had a slight British accent. “Mr. Stein told me to take good care of you. So don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything. Madam,” he said as he took Emma Lou’s hand and helped her into the car.
“I like this already,” she said as she gently sat in the overstuffed seat.
Zack and Dave got in on the other side while Howard helped Pearl Ann in. The new Lincoln stretch limousine had that new-car smell, comfortable seating for eight, and a stocked bar. Zack directed the driver to Holmes department store.
True Blue Detective Page 6
