by Jack Huber
“A few times,” Greco replied. “In New York City, poisons at restaurants were used twice and at a bar or lounge three times. They know what they’re doing.”
I thought about options.
Jimmy must have been, too, because he asked, “Has the venue been chosen yet?”
Henson replied, “Not as far as we know.”
“If we were to have an industry event, maybe an after-hours concert and drinks just for agents and music industry execs, would they choose that to hit?”
“I like that,” Greco said. “We can control the setting, pick a place easy to watch and make arrests.”
I jumped in, “Can your man make the suggestion and see if it’s chosen? We could put out the word so it looks legit, then substitute our undercover folks for the execs.”
“Why not try?” Henson answered. “If it doesn’t work, we’re no worse off. But where?”
“A riverboat,” I replied. “I saw a dinner cruise advertised for a riverboat a couple of days ago. Talk about control. No one gets on or off without our knowing it, and we can flood the areas below deck with agents and police.”
“That sounds perfect,” Jimmy said. “What do you think?” he asked Ronin.
“Hey, we’re on board with whatever you experts think will work,” Ronin said with some distaste in his voice. “We’re just backwater cops chasin’ moonshiners.”
“Wait, sir,” Henson said. “Do you think that’s what’s happening? You think we don’t trust you to police your own city so we have to step in?”
“Sure seems like that’s the case.”
“Well, get over it,” Henson told Ronin flatly. “The FBI has enough to worry about without having to take over for every shorthanded police department. Do we think you’re out of your league? Maybe.” A little anger was starting to show in his voice. “Have you ever handled one of the mob groups before? Hell, your organized crime group has four cops in it.”
“Okay, okay,” Jimmy said, standing up. “For Pat and myself, please accept our apologies for not being inclusive enough for you. We just want to finish the case and get out of here.”
Greco added, “Detective, no disrespect was meant by any of this discussion. Please give us your thoughts on what we should do.”
Jimmy sat down and Ronin paused, having been put on the spot. “Okay, maybe I overreacted. This isn’t the first time the feds have taken over one of my cases.”
“Obviously, that’s going to happen, from time to time,” Jimmy replied. “Do you know how many times that happened to us in Denver? Dozens.”
“At least,” I added. “It’s going to happen. Jurisdiction is jurisdiction. We were just happy to be involved at all at the end of the day, plus the satisfaction of the bad guys being caught and charged with federal crimes.”
“There is that,” Ronin said, his hackles down. “I like the idea of the riverboat event. I know someone who books for the ‘Music City Mayhem Riverboat Company,’ and I’m sure we can get on the schedule soon.”
“Thanks,” Henson said, seeming relieved. “That would be excellent.”
Ronin spent a few minutes looking through his phone and said, “Found it,” before punching the screen to dial. After a short discussion, he said, “It’s on for next Tuesday at 7 p.m. Will that be enough time to get an answer from your undercover?”
“That’s almost a week away,” Greco replied. “I’m sure we can have something solid before then.”
“Let’s move on this,” Henson said while getting to his feet. “Here’s the ‘to-do’ list: Detective, we need a list of possible invitees to this gala event. My people will take care of the invites and the riverboat arrangements, as well as getting to Mr. Rutledge to gain his cooperation. We’ll also need about a couple dozen officers, men and women, probably a 50-50 mix, in plainclothes. I’ll let you take care of finding the right people on your force.”
Ronin nodded.
“Pat, Jimmy, can I count on you guys to get to each of the invitees and let them know the event isn’t real? They need to plan on it like they were going, but then leave town for the evening when the time comes.”
“Sure, we can do that,” I answered. “Agent Greco, please make sure they take the bait.”
“Yes, sir,” he answered with a laugh and a pronounced salute.
“Go to hell,” was my simple reply.
Chapter 16
“We’ll wait,” I told the receptionist. “It’s important.”
“Suit yourself,” the old biddy replied. She acted like she might have missed her morning coffee and was taking it out on everyone else. An older Caucasian woman dressed in well-worn gray workout sweats, with that attitude, well, she just didn’t present the best image.
Jimmy and I sat in uncomfortable wooden chairs in the reception area. After about thirty minutes or so, the unhappy woman looked up and said in a bitter voice, “Mr. Seaver will see you now.”
We stood and approached the desk and counter. I didn’t bother to thank her as it wouldn’t have made any difference in her day and might have made it worse. We walked through the opening in the counter and entered the office behind her through partially open French doors.
“Gentlemen, what can I do for you?” Seaver was a middle-aged Caucasian but with a dark suntan. He was dressed in an ivory linen business suit without a tie. When he came around his desk to shake hands I noticed he was wearing an expensive pair of tan-colored leather sandals without socks.
We shook and I said, “Didn’t your receptionist tell you? We’re here to explain about the party on Tuesday night? The riverboat?”
“Oh, sorry about Miss Ellsworth … Linda. She recently found out she has stage two cancer and she’s acting out a bit. I don’t blame her.”
I suddenly felt bad for being irritated. Everyone has a story and I knew better. “Very sorry to hear that. Is there anything we can do?”
“No, thanks, but she is looking forward to that party. It should help take her mind off of things and let her play dress-up.”
“Ooh, about that,” Jimmy said. “Sorry to say, that party’s not going to happen. It’s a fake event so we can get the mob together all in one place.”
“Damn, that’s really too bad. You trying to get them out of the industry so business can get back to normal?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “That about covers it.” I thought for a minute and asked, “Can we send you and Linda to Atlanta or somewhere for a gourmet meal and show of some kind?”
“That’s a great idea,” he said. “But you don’t have to pay for it. We’re doing pretty well here, so we can cover it. I’ll make the arrangements myself so it will be a surprise for her.”
“Let us know if there’s anything we can help with,” Jimmy said. “We’d be glad to.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“By the way,” I added. “Please act as if you are attending the riverboat party. We don’t want word to get out that it’s anything less than authentic.”
“Sure, that’s better for Linda anyway.”
“Thanks for your time.” Jimmy said, shaking his hand.
I followed suit and we left. On the way past Linda, I said, “Have a great day!” in as nice a tone as I could muster.
Linda looked up and forced a smile, and I hoped it would help improve her morning.
We stepped back out to the street and walked the half-block to our parking space. I opened my door and heard some commotion around the corner, then a muffled scream. Jimmy didn’t hesitate and sprinted toward the noise. I grabbed my handgun from under my front seat and quickly ran to catch up. The sounds had come from an alley jutting off to the right about 100 feet in front of the car. When we turned the corner we saw about eight ruffians, most in their 20’s and a mixture of races, surrounding and holding on to a couple in their 30’s that had perhaps been to a business function of some kind.
As we approached, one punk hit the man in the stomach, which bent him over and dropped him to his knees. The woman ha
d a knife to her throat and I was positive there were some guns hidden among them.
“Hold on, there, mates!” Jimmy yelled. I had seen him get into his Irish character many times before and was always amazed how easily he slipped into it. “That doesn’t seem like a fair fight at all,” he said with an Irish accent as he jogged to a stop.
“Get lost!” one of the thugs yelled. “You don’t want any part of this.”
“Oh, but I do,” Jimmy replied. “I’m new here, but I’m guessing you want to rob these nice people.”
“Yeah, so what?” the same guy said. It seemed like he was the leader of this little soiree.
Jimmy focused on that punk immediately. “Well, I’ve got $200 in my pocket, and probably three credit cards. What’ve they got, 20-30 bucks? Let them go and you can try to rob me.”
“Why don’t we do both?” the kid replied.
I pulled out my gun and said, “I don’t think so.”
I pointed it right at the kid’s head as two of the gang members brought out their pistols. I said, “You might get us but you won’t live to see it.”
Everything paused, seemingly waiting for the gang leader to decide what to do. Eventually he nodded at the two holding the couple and they were let go. The couple wasted no time to scurry away to safety.
“What’ya doin’ gettin’ involved in somethin’ like this? You cops?”
“No,” Jimmy replied. “But you’re gonna wish we were.” He looked around and said, “Eight against two — sure don’t seem fair. You sure you don’t want to call some friends to come and help you out?”
“That shit don’t fly, old man.” He looked around and smiled. “You guys got balls, though, I’ll give you dat. I’ll tell you what, you hand over that wallet of yours and we’ll all walk away.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Jimmy answered, still in his Irish voice. “You and two of your friends can come try to take it. If you can, then you can have it.”
“You serious?”
“As a heart attack,” Jimmy said. “I’m unarmed, and my friend, here, won’t shoot you if your guys don’t shoot.”
“Remember,” I said, still flipping my barrel towards the kid. “If I have to shoot someone, it’s gonna be you first.”
“Terry, Darrell, let’s take this old man down.”
Jimmy didn’t wait. He leapt forward and cold-cocked either Terry or Darrell, the African-American and larger of the two. The dude went down hard. The other two jumped on Jimmy and he flipped one over his shoulder and gave him five fast smashes to the face and one in the groin. That guy was down and not getting up any time soon. The leader was left and he gave Jimmy a couple of hard punches to his side. Jimmy winced and threw the kid off him.
The thugs with the guns seemed unsure of what to do. The kid waved them off and lunged again at Jimmy, who landed an expert punch in the dude’s face as he arrived. The kid fell backward, dazed.
The gang broke up and scattered, leaving the three dudes to fend for themselves. Just then a quick spurt of a siren sounded and a squad car pulled up. I set my gun down, dropped to my knees and raised my hands. Jimmy was already on one knee and struggled to get his hands up.
“We’re ex-cops!” I yelled. “These guys were robbing someone and we stopped them!”
“We know, you can put your hands down,” a cop said and we did so. “The people they were robbing flagged us down and told us what happened. Looks like you made our jobs here easier.”
“Glad we could help,” Jimmy said.
“In the spirit of no good deed ever going unpunished, you guys are going to have to come downtown with us and give us statements. Paperwork, right?”
The officer speaking to me was a big fellow, Hispanic with a thin, almost drawn-on line for a beard and no mustache. “You okay?” He asked while helping me up.
“Jimmy, there, took the punches.”
The officer helped Jimmy to his feet and his partner cuffed the three gang members. Another squad car pulled up and all three young thugs were taken away.
“I think I’m getting old, Patty,” Jimmy said. “There were only three of them and I feel like crap.”
I looked around and said, “Looks like the gangs are moving in on the Flaks’ old neighborhoods.”
The officer seemed surprised. “What do you know about the Flaks?”
“More than we wanted to. Give Detective Ronin a call.”
Chapter 17
The stars were brilliant that Sunday night. One of the benefits of boondocking can be getting a great view of the night sky, away from city lights. You couldn’t always see the Milky Way but it was memorable when you could.
Jimmy walked over to the campfire while he was finishing up a phone call with his wife. “Love you, bye,” he said and put away his phone. “Erin sends you her love. The kids are doing well. All’s good.”
“Good to hear,” I said as I handed him a bottle of Shock Top Amber from the six-pack I had picked up earlier in the day. “Take a load off.”
He accepted the bottle and took a big swig before sitting down. “Thanks. Hey, this tastes pretty good.” He leaned back to admire the astronomical display. “Thanks for grilling brats and burgers. Everything was delicious.”
“Thanks, it’s hard to mess up brats.”
“True enough.” He reached his bottle neck over and I clinked my bottle’s neck on it.
“I can’t wait for this to be all over so I can enjoy … well, this.” A shooting star scooted across the sky as if to punctuate my statement.
Jimmy chuckled at the timing. “I guess I know who’s on your side.”
I laughed. “If only.”
“I got a question for you,” Jimmy said, matter-of-factly. “You have plenty of money, with all those diamonds you still have left from the Caribbean. You still have them, don’t you?”
“Yeah, after giving away about a third of them to you and the girls, some to charity, I still have several million dollars’ worth.”
“Well,” he continued. “Why didn’t you buy one of those nice, new bus-type RV’s? The ones we see on TV all the time?”
“That’s a good question.” I sighed and thought about how to answer him. “First, I wanted to be somewhat invisible to the public. I was getting weary of attention everywhere I go. It wasn’t like a rock star or the “Bachelor,” or anything, but irritating enough.”
“Okay …”
I continued, “Then there’s me. I’m not comfortable in serious luxury. It’s nice not to need money and that’s the biggest benefit I can enjoy.”
“I guess I understand that,” he said. “But, come on. Look at all the new motorhomes in the campground we were just in. You can buy a shiny new one and fit right in with those guys.”
“Maybe you’re right,” I answered. “More and more people are buying them, that’s for sure.”
We finished our beers and I decided to turn in. Jimmy said he would stay out for a while and I said good night.
It didn’t take long to get to sleep and dreams came quickly. In one, I was evidently a Secret Service agent protecting the president, who was giving a speech in an auditorium, when a transgressor in camo rushed past the agents in the entrance and ran up the center aisle, guns blazing. I jumped in front of the president, who had no face I could recognize, and bullets hit my leg, hip and left arm. Another agent had tackled the man and the president was ushered away, leaving me alone with my wounds. No one seemed to care that I was hit, nor did they seem to hear me calling out.
That dream faded and the next had me in a restaurant with Ellen, my late wife.
“I haven’t seen you in a while, Ellie,” I said to her. She was dressed up, with her long brunette hair pulled up into a black scarf, and her brown eyes made up, as always. She looked elegant in her black silk skirt and short white top. “I sure have missed you.”
“You must not have needed me. It’s always nice to visit.”
“So, what am I missing this time? You always seem to give me a tidbit a
bout whatever is going on in my life. Right?”
She laughed. “Well, if that’s true, you’re probably giving yourself those little tidbits. I see you’re not with anyone right now. Is that permanent? I hope not.”
“I hope not, too. Women like you and Amanda, they just aren’t sitting around waiting for a middle-aged man to come into their lives.”
“True, but it’s a big world. It will happen for you. It’s only been, what, three years?”
“Almost four. It’ll help when I’m not working cases. That’s getting old.”
“I’m happy you didn’t go along with the designs of that Andilee lady. She’s hiding something.”
“Well, Lee’s not the type of woman I’m looking to have a relationship with. Since I met up with Bonnie, who is a wonderful woman and great in bed, sex just hasn’t been fulfilling. I don’t need that, I need a partner in my life.”
“I know, but she’s especially dangerous. Speaking of that, your current case … why are you letting other people run point? You know how to take precautions. It doesn’t seem like they are.”
“You think something is up?”
“You tell me. Does everything seem kosher to you?”
“Not really, now that you mention it …” A slam of my front door woke me up. For a moment I was disoriented, then the room came into focus. “Jimmy?” I called out.
“Yeah, sorry if I woke you. I forgot that this door slams pretty easy.”
“Don’t worry about it. Get a good night’s rest and I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Okay, good night.”
I went back to sleep, hoping to see Ellie again, but that didn’t happen. It seemed like only minutes when the sun shone through my curtains and woke me up. I smelled coffee and got up, slipping on my robe.
“I had a premonition last night,” I said, still a bit groggy.
“Ellie come to you?” Jimmy was already dressed, though it was casual attire — blue jeans, navy blue In-N-Out T-shirt, complete with a purple muscle car and palm trees parked at the drive-through, and white tennis shoes.
