True Blue Detective

by Vito Zuppardo

  Armando walked around the room and stopped by the closet. “You don’t mind if I look in here, do you?” He opened the door and looked back at Jack for his reaction. He knew he had him when his eyes opened wide. Was it because he was surprised Armando would do such a thing or did he have something to hide?

  “You don’t have the right to be in there,” Jack said, getting up to close the doors. The two officers stepped in and pushed Jack back down on the chair.

  “Don’t get so excited. Do you have something to hide?” Armando asked as he looked at the hanging clothes, feeling the walls, looking under the clothes for any door or hiding place. He felt around, but all he could see were outdated clothes. He wasn’t even sure why he was doing it, but it got a rise out of Jack, and that was enough to continue.

  “I don’t have anything to hide. But you need a warrant to do that,” Jack expressed in his most well-mannered voice.

  Armando turned to him. “You’re right; I guess I’m out of line. That’s the cop in me,” he said as he closed the closet door. “Why don’t you sit here with these two nice gentlemen and I’ll go talk to your friend, Barry,” Armando said as he turned Jack’s face to the side. “Wow! He got you pretty good.” He knew that would rattle Jack.

  “Yeah, a sucker punch. Bring him in here and I’ll show him,” Jack said with every vein in his neck about to pop out.

  Armando smiled. He had Jack right where he wanted him, and he was ready to explode. “Sit tight, champ; I’ll be right back.” He opened the door and quickly turned back to Jack. “By the way, do you know a Ms. Lucy?”

  Jack sat motionlessly and then carefully said, “No, never heard of her, should I?”

  “How about the Cornerview Gang?” Armando shot right back and watched Jack’s emotions change.

  “Of course I’ve heard of them.”

  “Ever stop by there?” Armando paused, trying to find the right words to describe their living quarters. “Well, let’s just say, in their urban apartment?”

  “No! Why are you asking me all this? What does that have to do with Barry?” Jack asked, getting all fired up again and standing.

  “Like I said, sit tight, champ,” Armando said as the officers put Jack back in his seat.

  Armando gathered his thoughts and got a cup of coffee. Zack and Dave were quick to follow, wanting any information he could supply. He was not revealing much until after he interviewed Barry.

  “Come on, give us something,” Zack said. As usual, Armando just walked away.

  “That’s what I love about that guy. A true detective, he won’t give up anything until he has all the facts,” Zack said watching him shut the door behind him to interrogate Barry.

  The police officer asked Barry to sit in the chair in the corner of the room so Armando would be directly in front of him and the officer sat guarding the door. That way they could stop him should he try to escape and finish the job he started on Jack’s face.

  Armando took a seat and smiled at Barry. “So, what is going on?”

  Right off the bat, Barry blew up. “What’s going on? That asshole has been screwing my wife, and I finally caught them in action.”

  Armando couldn’t help but smile. “Now, Barry, come on. Last time I checked, it takes two to tango. I mean, I’m not taking sides, but she was willing.”

  “And I’ll take care of her too,” Barry said, pointing his finger at Armando.

  Armando took his finger and jammed it back at him. “Now that is the kind of talk that will get you locked up. Let’s calm down and start from the top.”

  It didn’t take long, and Armando got him talking. He chatted, sometimes off the subject, but that was the quality of good detectives, to just listen. They write down what they want to follow up with and the rest they disregard.

  “She assured me it was over. But Jack kept calling her late after hours. It was like she had no life outside her job. Of course, she would always answer his calls,” Barry said. He described the situation in a manner that made Armando feel sorry for him.

  You could hear the tone in his voice—he loved Christie. Every word was pointing the blame at Jack. It was Jack’s fault because he kept pursuing her. It was blind love that she couldn’t see contributed to the affair.

  Then Barry burst out random thoughts. Things he would have liked to ask her but never did. Things Barry should have never said in front of a detective. “It was like he had a spell on her and she would follow his directions. No matter where Jack sent her. It was always an important job-related issue. At two in the morning? Come on!”

  “Wait a second, Barry; back up. Jack asked her to run an errand in the middle of the night?” Armando inquired in a way he hoped Barry would answer.

  “Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about; he just wouldn’t leave her alone,” Barry said, putting his face into his hands in frustration.

  Armando had to dig into it, and with kindness in his voice, he asked, “Did you ever go with her on these night runs?”

  Barry asked if he could stand. Armando allowed it if he stood in the corner. It was best to give him what he needed, and if standing kept him giving information, Armando was okay with it. “Only once; her car wouldn’t start, and she didn’t know how to drive my truck. It’s a big Dodge Ram with a six-speed manual. So I drove her. That is why I didn’t think anything was going on between them. Only that she jumped at his every command.”

  Armando also stood and did his usual pacing. “So, where did you take her?”

  Barry’s face turned from anger to compassion. He believed everything he was saying. “It turned out to be just an innocent task. Some private jet came into the lakefront airport and delivered some medicine that is hard to get in the United States. Jack knew this guy from some other country, and he would bring it in. Something about experimental drugs for Alzheimer’s that he needed for some patients at the retirement home.”

  “Did you see the medicine? Was it a large bundle?” Armando asked, fixing a small picture on the wall as if that was more important than Barry’s answer. He was good at distracting people during an interview, and in return they kept talking, giving more information than they intended and sometimes not at all to their benefit.

  “I didn’t see the drugs. But it was just a small package,” Barry replied.

  Armando looked at the police officer. “Was it too small to be a key of cocaine?”

  The police officer made a face, “Too much risk for one key; a jet coming in with one kilo? No way.”

  “Did they take any luggage on or off the airplane?” Armando drilled into the issue.

  Barry just lifted his shoulders. “One package and then the steps to the airplane went up, the engines started up, and it taxied down the runway.”

  Armando stood in front of him and looked him in the eyes. “So, what happened to the package?”

  “We went home, and Christie put the package in her purse and took it to work. At least that is what she said,” Barry said as his anger reemerged and he continued to spew information. He was a detective’s dream interview. Barry talked and talked without being asked a question. It was like he wanted to get it off his chest. “Then she started coming home a little looped. You could see she was on something. When I asked her about it, she would just get mad. Said I should stay out of her business and work stressed her enough. It was happening more often.”

  Armando looked into his eyes. “Is that what prompted this outburst today?”

  “Yeah, she never came home last night.”

  Armando had collected a lot of information and knew Barry had more to give. It was best to shut the interrogation down for now and get him downtown.

  “You know I have to book you with assault.”

  “Come on, man. He had it coming,” Barry blurted out.

  Armando put his hands on Barry’s chest. “I can’t arrest him for screwing your wife. Turn around.”

  He instructed the police officer to handcuff Barry until they could confirm that Jack wanted to press c
harges. After hearing the details, Armando wanted to kick Jack’s ass himself. He took his business card and stuck it in Barry’s top shirt pocket. “If Jack ever sends your wife out on an errand, call me.”

  Armando walked into the room, and Jack was still sitting in a chair across from a police officer. He asked the officer to leave them alone. He complied and said he would be right outside the door if Armando needed him. The door was closed, and Armando took the officer’s chair and stared at Jack’s swollen face. He couldn’t help himself, and with a slight smile, he said, “Boy, he got you good,” knowing that would just piss Jack off, and it did.

  “Bring him in here. How dare he sucker punch me, that asshole,” Jack shouted as he started to get up from the chair.

  “Sit down. Don’t give me a reason to shoot you,” Armando said, putting his hand on his gun. “This is what you are going to do. You will not press charges. It was just a misunderstanding.”

  Jack’s face turned red except for the cheek that was now purple. “Why?”

  “Let’s just say it’s a good gesture on your part,” Armando said, knowing he was pushing Jack to his limits.

  “He attacked me,” Jack said waving his arms, knowing he better not stand.

  “True, but I don’t think her straddling you on your desk chair helps your defense,” Armando said with just enough arrogance in his voice for Jack to consider.

  He thought for a few seconds. “Make sure he doesn’t come back here. I will make him sorry if he does.”

  Armando smiled. “If you were to tangle with him again, my money would be on the guy who just kicked the shit out of you. You have a nice day,” he said, tipping his head as he backed out the door.

  Zack and Dave were ready to pounce on Armando when he came out of the room. They were ready to interrogate him on everything Jack might have said. Armando, being the good detective he was, gave them nothing. A detective never discusses an open case. There were still a few pieces to the puzzle that Armando had to figure out, and then he would head back to headquarters to discuss his findings with Gilbert James, the New Orleans district attorney.

  Chapter 21

  Armando took his wine glass and lifted it up in front of Katie. “Ti amo,” he said in Italian, trying to be romantic but not always able to pull it off.

  “Yes, I love you too,” she said touching his glass. She smiled, and they both took a sip of their wine.

  It was hard to plan an evening with their jobs, but somehow they pulled this night off and dined at their favorite restaurant, Angelo’s, a popular Italian eatery on St. Charles Avenue just down the street from the Audubon Zoo. The place was always packed, but Armando did some special detail work at the restaurant when it had private parties, holiday events, and just because it was Saturday night, which was a big cash evening. Angelo’s was one of the few restaurants stuck in the 1960s and did not accept credit cards. It was cash only at the restaurant, and somehow Angelo thought it was easier to hire an off-duty police officer to protect his money than to accept credit cards and pay a bank a fee.

  It didn’t matter to Armando. He worked there often on event detail and knew everyone in the place. He even escorted Angelo himself home at night or to the bank to make a night deposit. Not all the cash got to the night deposit box. It didn’t take but two trips to understand that no credit cards just meant less tax to pay, no bank fees, and an off-duty police officer escorting the cash to your home.

  When Armando showed up at the restaurant as a customer, Angelo would always welcome him and tell the hostess, “I’ll handle this,” and escort Armando and his guest to a prime table overlooking the avenue.

  As much as Armando loved the charming surroundings of the restaurant and the fabulous Italian cuisine, he seldom would come in for dinner, even if it was date night. Angelo wouldn’t let Armando pay for anything, the meal, the drinks, not even the tip. It was embarrassing, and he felt if he came in too often he would be taking advantage of Angelo.

  They finished their meal, and Armando poured the balance of the wine into their glasses, mostly in his because Katie was a light drinker. The waiter asked if they wanted dessert and they both declined and asked for the bill.

  The waiter quickly returned, “Mr. Angelo said dinner was on him and hopes you enjoyed your evening.”

  Armando stuffed thirty dollars in the server’s top pocket. He quickly returned it. “Mr. Angelo said no tipping; he was picking up everything.”

  Armando stuffed the money back into his top pocket. “Tell Angelo I have a big gun, don’t make me use it.”

  They both laughed.

  “You’re too kind,” the waiter said, taking the money and putting it into his pants pocket.

  Armando was off duty, but like any good detective, he had his radio with him for emergencies. It was rare he was ever called in on his night off, but an address came over the radio that caught his ear. Frenchmen Street was all he heard before he turned the volume up. He called dispatch and was told that gang members were surrounding an emergency unit at 2900 Frenchmen Street, stopping them from doing their job.

  He wasn’t far away and didn’t have time to take Katie home, so he told her to buckle up tight for the ride. He hit his blue and red flashing lights and the siren. They drove at a high rate of speed down St. Charles Avenue but had to slow up through the narrower streets of the French Quarter. Pulling up at the corner of Frenchmen Street, several police officers were keeping a few gang members in check. Mostly, it was orderly. Anytime police show up on the self-proclaimed turf of a gang; there will always be resistance.

  “What’s going on?” Armando asked one of the police officers.

  “Some old lady called nine, one, one,” he said.

  “Ms. Lucy?” Armando quickly responded.

  “I believe so. That old lady who is a shut-in and lives upstairs,” the officer said.

  “That would be Ms. Lucy.”

  “Here they come,” the officer said as they turned to the entrance of the bottom floor.

  Armando couldn’t believe his eyes. Two paramedics rolled a stretcher with a body covered by a white sheet from head to toe. He followed the stretcher to the edge of the emergency van. “It’s Ms. Lucy?”

  “Yes, it is,” one paramedic answered.

  “What the hell happen?” Armando asked, putting his hand on her covered leg.

  “She was able to make a call to nine, one, one. We had to break in the door and found her on the floor,” the paramedic said, looking around at who might be listening. He lifted his end of the stretcher into the back of the emergency vehicle.

  From out of nowhere, a gang member rushed to the edge of the van and shouted, “Bitch!” and spit into the van. Armando grabbed him by the neck and dropped him to the ground, putting his face between his shoe and the dirty street.

  “I should break your neck, you asshole!” Armando said, crushing his face on the street.

  The gang members got rowdy and pushed the police. Armando knew he would have a riot on his hands if he went any further.

  “Detective, it’s not worth it,” an officer said, pulling Armando by the arm.

  Armando couldn’t help himself and gave one last push on the guy’s face. “Go, you piece of shit,” he said lifting his foot.

  Two police cars roared up, and four police officers assisted with disbanding the crowd. One officer walked over to Armando and said, “The commander wants to see you downtown as soon as possible.”

  “Now? It’s almost midnight,” Armando said.

  “He said now,” the officer repeated.

  The EMS workers had just put the stretcher in the ambulance when the coroner’s van pulled up.

  A doctor jumped out of the van and went to the back of the ambulance. “We will take it from here. No need to take her to the hospital. She was pronounced dead in the house,” he said.

  The gang members dispersed but not without some mumbling among themselves. “Let it go, man. The old lady is out of our life, and no one has to take the rap fo
r her death,” one said to the group.

  Raul came up behind him and put his arms around two of the guys as they walked off. “That’s right, man, she is out of our life. The Lord took care of her in a much easier way than I was going to. I was going to make her pay for what she has been doing to us. That bitch snitch,” he said as they walked into their flophouse.

  The coroner’s van pulled away, and Armando got in the car with Katie. “Was that the lady you told me about?” Katie asked.

  “Yeah, Ms. Lucy; been knowing her since I was on the beat twenty years ago,” Armando said.

  “How did she die?” Katie asked.

  “The emergency people said heart attack and the coroner’s doctor thinks the same. I will need to see the autopsy results. I know the Cornerview Gang had some involvement. With her testimony, we would have busted all of them. The DA was close to signing off on a SWAT team to go in and get her, I should have acted quicker,” Armando said, starting the car.

  Katie knew Armando was beating himself up over this as he did every time a case took tragic turns. She should have let him vent.

  He drove her back to his condo and pulled up in front. The doorman greeted them and opened her door. Armando held her hand. “Sorry, it was not the night I had planned.”

  Katie smiled and blew him a kiss. It was hard, but she knew what she was getting into when she fell in love with a detective whose first love was his job.

  Armando was in no hurry to get over to headquarters during the night. Good news could always wait until morning, so this had to be a real front-runner of a problem.

  There were few people around that time of the morning as he walked through the hallways. Two police officers stood in the lobby of the entrance to Commander Waters’s office. “Good morning, sir. They are waiting for you,” one officer said.

  Armando opened the door and was greeted by Commander Waters with several other members of the police department at his side. The commander introduced a few people, including one legendary to the police force, SWAT Commander Blake Rogers. Armando had heard about him but never had direct contact with him.