“Huh?”
“Sanguillen, and whoever else was with him, could have gotten in the building and then hidden in the ducts until it was time to strike.”
“No way,” Harris said. “Our cameras would have spotted them.”
“Well,” said the chief, “we’ll have to go up to the control room and check the tapes.”
At that moment there was a thumping sound over our heads, and then Joe came down the ladder from the air duct. “The diamonds?” he asked.
“Gone,” I said. “I got here too late.”
“Naomi?”
“She’s out cold, along with Bobo and every security guard in the area.”
“Dang!” I could tell Joe was was angry—but the guys he wanted to bust were already long gone.
10.
The Aftermath
“Where’s Shakira?” I asked. My job was to protect her, and I’d failed miserably.
“I’m here.”
I wheeled around, and there she was, still in the shimmering gown she’d worn onstage. However, she was missing every single diamond she’d had on.
“He had a gun,” she explained. “I had no choice but to give him everything.”
“Just one guy?” Chief Collig asked her.
“Yes.”
Shakira seemed really calm, considering what had just happened to her. Most girls would have been totally shaken up, but not her. Either she was really cool under pressure, or she knew something she wasn’t telling. I hoped it was the first—I kind of liked her, and I would have hated to think anything bad about her. But her reaction did seem strange.
I wondered if Chief Collig had noticed. If he had, he wasn’t letting on. He just kept taking notes, nodding his head as she told everyone how she’d been ambushed on her way back to her dressing room.
“He had a gun,” she repeated. “I don’t know what kind. I just let him take the diamonds.”
“And you never saw his face?” Chief Collig asked.
“No, he had a gas mask on,” Shakira said.
“But you didn’t smell any gas.”
“No.”
“And he didn’t spray gas at you.”
“No.”
Chief Collig looked at Hal Harris and raised an eyebrow. “That’s interesting,” he said, “because they knocked everyone else out with gas.”
If Shakira was rattled, she didn’t show it. She just shrugged and said, “I already told you, it was a gun. You know, the kind that shoots bullets.”
Officer Con Reilly walked over to Chief Collig. “Chief,” he said, “the control boxes for the alarms and motion detectors have all been tampered with.”
“Mmm,” said the chief. “Definitely a well-planned, professional job. Just like we were afraid of.” He shook his head in frustration. “I wish the feds had gotten involved when I asked them to.”
“You called the FBI?” Harris asked, surprised.
“I did,” the chief said, “but they said they had bigger fish to fry.”
I could tell he was upset. A major robbery had succeeded right under his nose, blackening the reputation of the Bayport Police Department.
Of course, without more sophisticated help, the chief really couldn’t be blamed for not stopping the robbery. If the mob had joined with Carlos Sanguillen to pull it off, they would have had much better technology than the local police and security combined. And Frank and I hadn’t been able to prevent the crime either. We’d all failed—but I wasn’t ready to admit defeat. Not yet, anyway.
“Well, let’s see what the videotapes tell us,” Chief Collig said. “Mr. Harris, if you’d be so kind as to lead us to the control room? In the meantime, Officer Reilly, please make sure everyone present stays put. Nobody’s to leave the building until I say so.”
“Er, Chief . . . ?” Reilly began.
“Yes?” the chief barked. He was definitely not in a good mood.
“What about food and drink? I mean, it’s gonna be awhile till we take statements from everyone, right?”
“All night, probably,” the chief agreed. “Call the diner and have them bring over some dinner. They’re open all night, anyway.” Then he turned to Shakira. “I’d like you to stay too, please.”
“I already told you all I know!” she complained. “And where am I supposed to wait? Out there in the theater with that crowd of people?”
The chief sighed. “Okay, you can stay in your dressing room. But don’t go anywhere until we’re done with you.”
“When will that be?” she asked.
“Whenever we say,” he shot back. “Mr. Harris? Lead on.”
Harris gave me a wary look. “Are you sure it’s okay, Chief? I mean, to leave these folks here unsupervised?” I knew he meant me and Frank, but I couldn’t blame him for doubting us after what had just happened.
“They’re all right,” Chief Collig assured him. “We go back a long way—believe me, they’re the least of our worries.”
As soon as they were out of sight, Shakira reached for my arm. “Joe?”
“It’s okay,” I assured her. “It’s all over now. You’re safe.”
She looked down, and I saw her shudder slightly. “I . . . I could have . . . he could have . . .”
“I know. It’s okay now. You’re going to be fine.”
“What happened to you, Joe? Where did you go?”
“I’m . . . I’m sorry, Shakira. I should have been there with you when—”
“I could’ve been killed.”
“I know . . . I’m sorry. Look, I’ve really got to go investigate. But I’ll be right back, okay?”
“That’s what you said the last time.” She went off to her dressing room, leaning against the wall as she went. She seemed bummed—but probably not more bummed than I was. My chances of going out with her were shrinking by the second.
I turned and saw Frank standing there. Great. He’d seen the whole thing go down with Shakira. That made me feel even worse.
“Man, she’s tough,” he said.
“Tell me about it.”
Frank and I exchanged glances. We were both dying to see what was on those tapes. On the other hand, who was going to track the thieves’ escape route? And what about Naomi and Bobo?
“So, what do we do first?” I asked.
“The girls,” he answered. “They’re our assignment. Let’s keep it simple.”
“Huh?”
“Chief Collig will tell us what’s on the tapes. If the mob, or Sanguillen, was behind this—and it sure looks that way—the police are better equipped to round them up than we are.”
That was true.
“Then what use are we?” I asked.
“Joe, my instincts tell me those thieves succeeded way too easily.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning they had to have someone on the inside, helping them.”
“Someone on the inside? Like who?”
“That’s what we’re here to find out. But right now, let’s make sure the girls are all right.”
I walked with him to Naomi’s dressing room. She was sitting slumped over in her makeup chair, massaging her temples. She looked like she was going to heave any second.
Bobo was in even worse shape, curled up on the floor, groaning like he’d been punched hard in the gut.
Whatever gas the thieves had used, it had faded away quickly—and it must have been heavier than air, or it would have gone up into the air ducts and knocked me and Frank out too.
“I saw the criminals burst in here, Joe,” Frank said as he mopped Naomi’s brow with a cold washcloth. He proceeded to tell me everything he’d seen, from the gas masks to the nail gun.
“Man, those guys came prepared,” I said. Still, considering that the police and security knew something was coming, Frank was right—it had been way too easy.
I knelt down next to Bobo. “You okay?”
“I’m great,” he said, opening one bloodshot eye. “Fantastic. Never been better.”
“Sorr
y. Anything I can do to help?”
“Water . . .”
I got him some, and he sat up . . . sort of. “Ugghh. I think I’m gonna blow chunks.”
“Please don’t,” Naomi begged him, covering her own mouth. “Don’t even talk about it.”
Frank was still patting her down with that cold washcloth. His other hand was massaging the back of her neck.
“So tell me, Bobo,” I said, switching topics, “I hear you did time in Sing Sing.”
That woke him up. He opened his other eye and shot me a killer glance. “Are you saying I was part of this?” he said, grabbing my shirt.
I didn’t back down. “I’m not saying anything. Why don’t you let go of me?”
He pushed me off, but he did let go. “I’m strictly legal now, man,” he said. “I turned a corner. I’m never gonna see the inside of that place again.”
“Bobo’s telling the truth,” Naomi said. “I knew all about his past when I hired him, because he told me before I even asked. He’s totally loyal to me, I promise you.”
“All right,” Frank said. “Tell me something, Bobo. You’ve been in prison. You’ve spent years with the kind of people who pulled off this heist. Could you know some of them?”
“I might,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I was working with ’em.”
“Of course not,” Frank said. “Still, it’s possible the police might get curious about it—if they felt you weren’t being helpful.”
Bobo grunted. “Like I said, I might know one of ’em.”
“One with a foreign accent?” Frank asked.
Bobo looked confused. “Foreign accent? You mean, like, Spanish?”
“No. More like Filipino.”
“I wouldn’t know that accent even if I heard it,” Bobo said. “All the guys in Sing Sing were Americans. English speakers, some Spanish, that was it. But I did recognize one of the others.”
Frank and I came to instant attention.
“Are you sure?” Frank said. “They knocked you unconscious pretty quickly.”
“Not before I saw that hand shaking,” Bobo said, his expression darkening. “I’d know that guy anywhere, mask or no mask.”
He looked straight at Frank and added, “Why do you think they call him Shakey Twist?”
SUSPECT PROFILE
Name: Shakey Twist
Hometown: Atlantic City, New Jersey
Physical description: Age 34, 5 ‘, 11 “, 200 lbs. Pencil-thin mustache, horrible scar on left cheek. Snarling expression, scary dude, even though he doesn’t look very physically menacing. He’d just as soon kill you as look at you.
Occupation: High-ranking mobster in his home town. The other dons down there regularly kiss his ring. Involved in all kinds of rackets, but diamonds aren’t exactly new to him, and he’s pulled off quite a few complicated heists—none of which he’s ever been nailed for.
Background: Son of a con man, he learned well from his daddy and rose in the ranks of the A.C. mob. Unlike many of his fellows, he had the smarts to avoid serving time in prison—until he was finally caught for jaywalking and tax evasion. He was released just a year later (money buys the best lawyers) and is once again the guy New Jersey cops would most like to nail.
Suspicious behavior: E-mails indicate that he and his guys were plotting to steal the diamonds from the Bayport Convention Center. Was photographed meeting in Antwerp with Philippine warlord/terrorist Carlos Sanguillen.
Suspected of: Being the brains behind, or at least providing the personnel for, the heist. He’s connected to both Shakira and Bobo Hines, so either one of them could have been in on it with him, working from the inside.
Possible motive: You can never be too rich—or too evil.
There was nothing more either of them could tell us right now, and anyway, the identity of the thieves was becoming pretty clear. So Frank and I excused ourselves, explaining that we wanted to check around for clues.
Frank went to examine the thieves’ escape route while I went back to see Shakira. Now that Bobo had identified Shakey Twist as one of the robbers, I was going to have to ask her some hard questions. After all, she was the only person who had an encounter with one of the robbers and stayed awake to tell about it. It looked very much like Shakira was in this thing up to her pretty little neck.
I found her in her dressing room, and right away, I knew something was different. She’d changed from her show gown back into street clothes—stylish jeans and a tank top with sandals—but it wasn’t just her outfit that I noticed right off the bat.
Her whole attitude was different. Before, she’d been tough but flirty—definitely in a good mood. Now she was more like a cat who’d been scared within an inch of its life.
“About time you showed up,” she commented as I entered the dressing room. “You’re some lame bodyguard, let me tell you.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I got chloroformed.”
“Oh, really? Well, that takes skill.”
Man, she was really being harsh!
“Hey, I didn’t do it on purpose,” I said.
“Well, forget it,” she said. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s all over now, isn’t it? The crooks pulled it off and made you guys look silly. Not much more to say, is there?”
“I guess. But maybe my brother and I can nail these guys yet—with your help.”
“My help?” She laughed, but I could tell she didn’t really think it was funny. “What am I supposed to do, wrestle down a bunch of guys with guns?”
“You might start by telling me everything that happened, from the time you left the stage till the time the police showed up.”
“Haven’t I already done that once? I’m sick of reminding myself.”
“You never know,” I said. “Sometimes you leave out something the first time—some small detail that winds up being really important.”
Shakira sighed. “Oh, all right, but I’m telling you, you’re wasting your time. I was walking back to my dressing room—you know, to take off the jewelry, get changed into my next gown, and put on the next bunch of items to sell—when this guy steps in front of me, points a gun in my face, and says, ‘Okay, babe, off with the jewels.’”
“He called you ‘babe’?”
“Yeah.”
“And was his voice at all familiar?”
If I thought she was scared and angry before, she suddenly amped it up into hyperdrive.
“You’re trying to tie me up with this, aren’t you?” she said, looking at me as if she’d never seen me before.
“Not me, certainly,” I said. “But the police might start leaning that way. Especially since we now have a pretty good idea of who it was.” I was using one of the oldest tactics in the book to get a criminal to speak: pretending I knew exactly who organized the crime, even though my evidence was a bit . . . shaky.
“Well, if that’s true, why don’t the police just arrest him?”
“I’m sure they would, if they could find him. But something tells me he won’t be staying in this country for very long. Maybe you have some idea where he might go.”
She picked up a hand mirror and threw it against the wall, shattering it. “I could have been killed, do you realize that? No thanks to the police or you!”
“Did he actually threaten you?”
“You think he wouldn’t have killed me if I hadn’t handed the diamonds over? He was in a major hurry.”
“I’m sure he was.” And, in fact, I had to wonder why he hadn’t just sprayed Shakira with whatever gas he’d used on everyone else. I wanted to ask her, but she was already mad enough.
Maybe, just maybe, her ex-boyfriend Shakey had wanted to talk to her one more time before he disappeared for a while.
Or maybe Shakira had never really broken up with him. Maybe she was his little secret for the past three months—the ace up his sleeve.
Well, she sure wasn’t going to admit to that. Not yet, anyway.
I excused myself and found Frank. “Find anything?”
I asked.
“No, but I didn’t go outside.”
“Why not?”
“It’s crawling with police out there,” he said.
“Where were they when the thieves were pulling off the robbery?” I wondered.
“Probably watching the show on all those big screens in the hallways. Checking out Shakira in all those diamonds, just like everyone else.”
“The perfect distraction,” I agreed. “That’s how Sanguillen could come and go without being noticed.”
“Human nature, I guess,” Frank said. “Who could ignore Shakira? Certainly not you, Joe.”
“Shut up, you dog,” I retorted. “Like you’re not being a total fool about Naomi Dowd.”
When we entered the control room, everyone was looking as down as could be. On the monitor, there was an old-time cartoon playing—one where clever cat thieves were being pursued by dumb dog police.
“What was on the security tapes?” I asked, confused.
“You’re lookin’ at it,” Harris said. “Seven cameras out back, covering a whole sector of the convention center, had their tapes switched sometime late this afternoon.”
“I’m not surprised,” I said. “I got chloroformed trying to check that out.”
“There were trucks around from a New York City–based company,” Frank added. “I saw them before I . . . before I got jumped from behind and sent to la-la land.”
“This is an absolute disaster!” Carrera said. “Why didn’t I insist on a Manhattan theater? The NYPD would never have let themselves be made fools of like this.” He was near tears over the loss of his precious diamonds and the wreck of his big show.
“Gas was the Twist mob’s weapon of choice last year when they robbed the Getty Museum,” Chief Collig said.
I saw Frank take a seat in front of a computer and key in some commands. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“Searching Shakey Twist,” he said. “Check this out—three Interpol sightings just this past week. Manila, Antwerp, then Atlantic City.”
“Sounds like he and Sanguillen have been keeping company lately,” I said.
“It’s an open-and-shut case,” Chief Collig said. “Trouble is, these guys are geniuses at getting away with it. Sanguillen has escaped from prison as many times as Shakey Twist has been found not guilty.”
Death and Diamonds Page 7
