True Blue Detective

by Vito Zuppardo

  “Thank you,” Zack said, diving into his dinner like a starving person. “I don’t know how I can even eat at a time like this.”

  “Well, you need your strength, so eat up. You have been through a lot,” Emma Lou said with concern.

  “You should have seen the lunch we had today,” Dave interjected. “The biggest po’boy you’ll ever see. But we got it down, didn’t we, Zack?”

  “We sure did and an hour later, it almost all came up,” Zack confirmed.

  Dave leaned over to Pearl Ann. “That’s when we heard the radio call. We were still at VJ’s.”

  “I felt like my heart was ripped out of my chest when I heard that call,” Zack said.

  “I can’t imagine what you were going through,” Pearl Ann interjected, touching Zack on the hand.

  Zack looked up and saw Jack walk out of the kitchen. He was his usual pompous self, looking around the room to see whom he might intimidate.

  “Look at Jack. He has such an arrogant way. Just to look at him makes you want to kill him,” Zack said, reaching for a dinner roll. “Let me tell you all something. There are too many coincidences here. I’m not sure how or if any of this can tie together with what happened today at my son’s house or why we found Jack in our room, or what the connection is between Raul and Jack, but I will find out. We are now in a dangerous situation.”

  “I agree,” Dave said.

  Pearl Ann took another nervous bite of her dinner. “What can we possibly do?”

  “I’m getting us some protection, and I’m looking into this. I’m going to crawl up Jack’s ass and find out what the connection is,” Zack said, spreading a thick piece of butter on another dinner roll.

  “Protection? What type of protection? Why do we need protection?” Dave asked.

  “This steroid animal shows up in our room in the middle of the night, just to check on us? We found a cloth with chloroform on the floor and the room torn apart, and you don’t think we need some protection?” Zack asked in a frustrating tone.

  Zack stood up and leaned over the table and whispered. “I’ll be in touch when I have all the pieces together. For now, keep your eyes open and your mouth shut until I come up with a plan.”

  “Detective Nelson?” Pearl Ann said.

  “Yes,” Zack said with a smile.

  “Is this that serious?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Zack, let the police handle this; you’re not on the force anymore. Please, let them handle this,” Emma Lou said.

  “The police are overworked and understaffed. Jennifer’s death is not a priority. It will get looked at carefully for a few days and then it will be put on the back burner and never looked at again. I have to try to help,” Zack said as he walked off.

  Zack was in full detective mode. He felt sharper and looked at all the clues several ways. The pieces were just not coming together. He took a seat on the side of the bed and made a list of the events on a pad, trying to make something out of it. It was time to call for some help, so he called Johnny Guidry at the police station.

  “Johnny? It’s Zack Nelson.”

  “I heard you had a rough day, Zack,” Johnny replied.

  “I need a little assistance,” Zack said with a little hesitation in his voice.

  “Sure, anything,” Johnny said.

  “I need a little protection. You know what I mean, something not traceable.”

  “Give me an hour. I’ll have a black and white bring it to you,” Johnny said.

  “I hope I’ll never need it. But I’ll feel better knowing I’ve got backup,” Zack said before hanging up the phone.

  Dave came running into the room. “Zack! That Raul guy is in the kitchen,” he said as he tried to catch his breath. “He’s arguing with Jack.”

  Dave and Zack made their way into the dining room. They slowly moved closer to the kitchen doors, and Zack peeked through the glass.

  “I can see them. But I can’t hear what Jack is saying.”

  Dave carefully pushed the door open and held it open with his foot. It was only a few inches, but it allowed some sound to come through.

  “I paid you to do a job,” Jack said, pointing his finger in Raul’s face.

  “And I did the job,” Raul shouted back.

  Jack walked around the room in disgust. “It was too messy.”

  “It got done. Things don’t always go perfect, you know.”

  “Who did it? One of your spread-your-wing guys?” Jack demanded.

  “It doesn’t matter who,” Raul answered.

  With Jack and Raul roaming around the kitchen, it was getting too risky, so Zack slipped down below the glass.

  “Something went down, and it didn’t happen as Jack wanted,” Zack whispered to Dave.

  “Yes, it matters. You left a witness. That matters to me!” Jack shouted loudly enough for Dave and Zack to hear clearly.

  “We were not expecting two people in the house. I’ll take care of it,” Raul said.

  “Tonight!” Jack insisted.

  “I said I’d take care of it!” Raul said, storming out the back door.

  Zack and Dave quickly headed away from the kitchen, walking swiftly through the dining room and past the nurses station until they felt safe in their room.

  The phone rang, and they both jumped nearly six feet high. Just the sound of the phone ringing startled them. Zack picked up the telephone. “Hello.”

  “Mr. Nelson?” the voice said.

  “Yes?”

  “I have a package for you from Johnny Guidry. I’m in front of the building.”

  “I’ll be with you in a second,” Zack said with some relief in his voice.

  He hung up the phone, and he and Dave walked to the front entrance of Riverside. Standing at the curb at the rear of a black and white New Orleans police cruiser was an officer.

  “Mr. Nelson?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  The officer opened the trunk and took out a large, leather bag. “Johnny Guidry said to give this to you.”

  Zack took the heavy bag from the officer. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

  “No problem. We take care of our own. Here is my phone number. If you ever need anything, call me. My name is Ruben Taylor,” he said, handing Zack his card.

  “Sure thing. I appreciate all your help.”

  They made it back to the room with the leather bag without too much notice. In the room, Zack unpacked the bag while Dave guarded the door. “Stun gun, pepper spray, taser gun, telescopic steel baton, two bulletproof vests, and more,” Zack said, looking through the bag, pulling out a few items.

  “Are we at war?” Dave asked, looking at the things Zack was putting back in the bag.

  He zipped the leather bag and buried it deep in his closet. “Dave, the first thing you have to learn about law enforcement is that you never want to be overpowered by an attacker. You defuse the situation as quickly as possible; if you pull out a weapon, plan to use it to its fullest.”

  “I’ll remember that,” Dave said with some concern.

  Zack couldn’t sleep. There was too much going on, and now he knew Raul was involved. He called Detective Armando and tried to give him word by word the conversation he overheard in the kitchen between Raul and Jack. Armando was not overly excited about the news. He just kept saying it was under control. Zack wasn’t sure if he was not interested or just being a good detective and not sharing any information.

  “Did the request go through for a police officer to stay with Patty and Tom overnight or at least have a patrol car out front?”

  “I tried. The case was determined a random home break-in that went bad. The city does not have the money to protect every person personally. I wish we could,” Armando said with some compassion in his voice.

  “I understand,” Zack said.

  “For what it is worth, I went all the way up to Commander Waters for two units to sit in front of Patty’s house for one night. Just to be sure it wasn’t random. It’s still no,
” Armando said with some disgust. “I was able to get a few of my friends on the force to patrol her house every hour, and a few said they would sit in front of her house until they got a call.”

  Dr. Ross gave strict orders to Jack on how to handle the transfer of Jennifer’s body parts in exchange for the cash Raphael was sending. He had done it often, but this time the doctor seemed a little uneasy, and he was not sure why. Maybe because of the cash he was to pick up. Three hundred and fifty thousand dollars was a lot of money. But what could go wrong? The only people who knew he would be handling that much cash were the people giving him the money, and they had no connections in the United States. He wrote it off as his own distrust.

  The gatehouse guard accepted the envelope with hundred-dollar bills in return for his silence. Jack passed the gate and parked at the end of the runway, waiting for the aircraft to land. The black refrigerator box loaded with Jennifer’s donated, neatly packaged parts sat on the passenger seat. Now, all he could do was, wait.

  It was early morning, and from a distance, he could see lightning illuminating the dark sky. New Orleans was famous for thunderstorms during the night. The wind picked up, and he could smell the rain; it wasn’t far off.

  “Hopefully, the plane lands before it storms,” he whispered to himself.

  Raindrops sprinkled on the windshield, and the wind blew stronger, indicating the storm was getting closer. It was blowing from the east across Lake Pontchartrain.

  Jack looked at his watch. It was four-fifteen, and the plane should have landed two hours ago. He looked into the sky for any airplanes on approach, hoping to see the running lights when the pilot put the wheels down. He saw only dark skies.

  From a distance, he saw someone walking toward the car with a searchlight, trying to get his attention. Jack got out of the car and walked toward him.

  “Sir,” the gatehouse guard said, “the airport is closed until seven.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “A big storm is coming, and planes in the area were directed to land in Jackson, Mississippi, for a few hours until this storm blows over.”

  “Great! Just great,” Jack said disgustedly.

  He went back to the car and drove over to a covered area. The rain came down, and the lightning was drawing closer. It would be a rough couple of hours, and he took refuge in the car. He put his seat back as far as it would go and watched the rain come down, trying to get his big-framed body comfortable. It didn’t take long, and Jack fell asleep to the sound of rain pouring off the overhang.

  A few hours later, he was awakened by the loud roar of jet engines as the Gulfstream III wheels touched the ground. It was close to eight in the morning and over five hours late. The plane taxied to the tarmac, and Jack drove his car closer. The airplane stairway opened, and Jack stood at the bottom waiting for Raphael.

  “Jack, it has been a long time,” Raphael said as he walked down the stairs to greet him. He never liked Jack but tolerated him only for business.

  They shook hands, and Raphael waited while Jack got the black refrigerator box out of his car. He carried it up the stairs and placed it on a table in the airplane. Raphael motioned to his two bodyguards to check the box. They took inventory of the items and plugged the box into a wall outlet to keep it cold.

  “So, Jack, you’ve been okay?”

  “I’ve been fine. No disrespect, but I have been waiting for over five hours, and I need to get back to Dr. Ross.”

  “Sure, I understand; I control a lot of things, Jack, but the weather is not one of them,” Raphael said sarcastically. He motioned to his bodyguards to hand the leather bag over to Jack. They did and kept direct eye contact with him.

  Jack took the bag and unzipped it.

  “It’s all there!” Raphael said.

  “I’m sure it is. But I’m going to count it anyway.”

  “No problem,” Raphael said as he motioned to his bodyguards to handle it. Both guards pulled guns out and pointed them at Jack.

  “It’s time for you to leave,” Raphael said with a slight smile on his face. “And tell your boss, Dr. Ross, Amir said don’t ever try to hijack him again. Three hundred and fifty thousand! That’s outrageous.”

  Jack had no choice but to take the bag without counting the money and walk off the plane. He walked down the stairs and looked back at the two men still pointing guns at him. Jack’s stomach was on fire knowing he was helpless. If guns were not involved, Jack would have taken both on and made them sorry they ever disrespected him.

  He walked back to his car. The stairs to the airplane closed and the jet engines started. He had to contact Dr. Ross quickly. There simply was not three hundred and fifty thousand dollars in the bag, and he could do nothing about it. Making it back to the car and driving over to the security gate, he quickly made a phone call from the guardhouse. It was after nine in the morning, and Dr. Ross was waiting for his call. Hearing his private line, Dr. Ross answered the telephone on the first ring.

  “Where the hell have you been? You got my money?”

  “Yes and no,” Jack said as he counted the money out.

  “What kind of bullshit is that, Jack?”

  “They handed a bag over and pulled a gun on me; told me to leave without counting the money.”

  “How much?”

  “Looks like two hundred thousand,” Jack said.

  Dr. Ross looked across his desk. Staring at him was Larry Dunbar and Michael Vail. As promised, they were at his office first thing Friday morning, and they wanted their money. It wouldn’t take much for Larry to blow up, so he had to stay calm. He stood up and looked out the window away from Larry’s piercing eyes.

  “Good, bring the money to my office. I have people waiting for it.” He turned to Larry. “The money is on its way.”

  Larry sat motionlessly and gave only a glimpse of eye contact. “Good,” he said with no emotion.

  Dr. Ross sat back in his chair, for now, everything was acceptable. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  Larry and Michael just shook their heads. “No, thanks.”

  Knowing Jack was returning a hundred thousand dollars short, he was not sure what action to take. He had no backup plan because Raphael had always paid the agreed price.

  Would Larry accept part of the payment? Who wouldn’t? It’s only short a hundred thousand. I’ll pay that next month. Yeah! What the hell, two hundred thousand is better than nothing. Many thoughts ran through his mind, and somehow it now gave him some false confidence.

  Dr. Ross heard Jack come into the office, and he went out to meet him in the receptionist area. He took Jack into a private room with the money.

  “What the hell went wrong?” Dr. Ross firmly asked.

  “Next time, if there is a next time, I will be prepared for these assholes. Who do they think they are, pulling a gun on me?” Jack said looking like a bull ready to charge.

  “I’ll take care of Raphael. Right now I’ve got a bigger problem,” Dr. Ross said taking the bag from his hands.

  He counted the money as quickly as he could, then stuffed it back into the leather bag and went back to his office. Jack followed him for some support. Putting the money on Larry’s lap, he quickly said, “Two hundred thousand dollars. I’ll have the balance at the end of the month.”

  Larry opened the bag. He counted twenty, ten-thousand-dollar bundles and looked up at Dr. Ross. “Walter, is this a joke?”

  “Come on, Larry. Any bank would be happy with that much payment.”

  Larry and Michael stood up. Larry swept his enormous arm across the desk and with one motion he knocked the lamp on the floor, folders flew across the room, and pictures of the Ross family crashed into small pieces.

  Jack made a move toward them, and Michael stepped closer to him.

  Larry, who surpassed Jack in size, both in height and shoulder span, looked him in the eyes. “Make your move; it will be your sorriest day.”

  Jack was always the aggressor and not accustomed to being outnumbered
. He stayed put for now.

  “Any bank would be happy with this payment? I’m not any bank! I also don’t put up with bullshit. Have my money in five days, one hundred and fifty thousand plus fifteen thousand. Let’s call the fifteen a late fee,” Larry said, pushing Dr. Ross into his leather chair. As he moved forward, he drove his shoulder into Jack’s chest making sure they both knew Larry was in control.

  “You have five days—the clock is ticking,” he said as he and Michael walked out of the room.

  Chapter 11

  It was a routine police stop for a broken taillight on an older-model Honda. The officer put his blue and red lights on and pulled the car over on the corner of St. Charles Avenue and First Street. The Honda pulled over and came to a quick stop. The officer left his security lights running and walked to the driver’s door.

  “Driver’s license and registration, please.”

  “Yes, sir,” the person inside said as he reached for his wallet. “Here you go, sir.” The driver handed the officer his driver’s license.

  “Jason Sanders, you know why I stopped you?”

  “No, sir.”

  “You have a broken taillight on the driver’s side,” the officer said.

  “I wasn’t aware of that. I’ll get it fixed in the morning.”

  “Mr. Sanders, have you been smoking marijuana?”

  “No sir, Officer Maxwell,” Jason said looking at his name badge. What else could he say? The car was reeking with pot.

  “Would you step out of the car, please?”

  Jason slowly climbed out of the low-riding Honda. He nodded his head, acknowledging the officer.

  “Because I smell marijuana, I have a right to search your car,” Maxwell said.

  “I understand, sir.”

  The officer had Jason extend his hands over the trunk of the Honda. The usual course of action was to call for backup, because one officer could not watch the suspect and search the car simultaneously. It only took a few minutes for backup to arrive. Officer Williams rolled up with his police cruiser and pulled in front of the Honda.

  Williams questioned Jason while Maxwell searched the Honda. It took a while, and all he could come up with was one half-smoked joint and an address book. The car’s registration listed Jason’s father as the owner. The address book concerned the officer. It was dated, with names, addresses, and phone numbers. The odd part was handwritten notes next to each name: older couple, lives alone, ailing wife.