Frankly, My Detective

by Mary Keeley

  “Well, you might just have to tough it out, Grandma. Just get your damned coat and shut the hell up, will ya?” One of the men could be seen hustling toward Rosa’s voice. He stood close by her while got her coat out of the hall closet and slowly put it on. Luca roughly grabbed Lizette and put plasti-cuffs on her wrists. Once Rosa had her coat on, he cuffed her as well.

  Scarlett gasped again, “Oh, God! Oh Rosa, you are something else. Do you know what she just did, Cliff?”

  Dawson continued to look at the computer screen. Watching the men pushing Lizette and Rosa towards the front door, he shook his head in answer to Scarlett’s question.

  “She’s trying to let us know she’s got a clue as to where they’re taking them. Cliff, Mama and I know from my sources and Lizzie that Uncle Cosmo has a place in the mountains by Cuyamaca Lake! I told you he’s into bad stuff. That’s where he hides his most precious cargo.” Dawson started to ask what she meant, but she continued in a rush.

  “Wait, what the hell is she doing now?”

  They watched as Scarlett’s mother once again began to cross the room towards the T.V. and the statue. One of the men reached for her, but she moved too fast.

  “Gotta make sure my stories get recorded again. Never can remember if I did that,” Rosa mumbled. But as she got to the television the man grabbed her arm. She turned on him and despite the plasti-cuffs, deftly pinched hard the hand that held her. He yelped.

  “Now, you just keep your hands to yourself, young man!”

  He pulled away stunned, rubbing the welt on the back of his hand. Luca growled at him from the end of the room.

  “Frankie, grab her and come on! It’s getting late.”

  “Yeah, I’m comin’. Now, listen lady, you gotta come with me, and now.” Frankie’s tone was more pleading than ordering. Rosa had clearly intimidated him. He turned to Luca and said lamely, “Boss, I can’t just grab her, she’s too much like my Nonna!”

  “Get her now, or your Nonna will have one less grandson, tu capisci?” Luca moved one step closer to the two of them. Frankie looked at Rosa and tried to grab her again. She pulled away.

  “All right, all right, just let me find my rosary beads, they’re here by the Madonna somewhere.” She turned to the statue bent slightly pretending to look around the top of the cabinet and mumbled in Italian softly. “Andiamo a montagna, Bella Mia.”

  Aloud to Frankie she said, “Oh, here are my beads, right where I left them. O.K. hot shot, let’s go.” With a wink and a blown kiss to the Madonna, Rosa turned, took the bewildered Frankie’s arm as if they were off to Sunday Mass and walked out her front door.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Scarlett disconnected the USB cord, grabbed the mini CD. “Back this thing out, Cliffie,” she said as she slid out of the car.

  “What?”

  She tossed the CD in her still-running car and headed up to the house. Dawson hurried to catch up to her.

  “Scarlett, what the hell?” He tried to grab her arm, but she shook him off.

  “Back your car out, so I can move mine, dammit!” She pushed her way past a uniformed officer and opened the entryway closet. Reaching in, she pulled a battered gym bag out and opened it up. Dawson reached into Scarlett’s car turned it off and pulled the keys out of the ignition.

  “What are you doing?” Dawson demanded, following her into the house.

  “Can’t go chasing around the mountains in a dress, gotta find … good!” She pulled out a pair of scuffed athletic shoes, faded black jeans, a long sleeved shirt and a jacket.

  “You’re not going anywhere, Salerno. Kidnapping is matter for the police and the feds. You’re done here!”

  Scarlett whirled on him. The look in her eyes made the officer watching take a step back. Dawson stood firm.

  “Look, Dawson, this is not any kidnapping junket for you and your little friends here. This is my case and my mother! You’d feel the same way if you’d ever had a mother, which I’m beginning to doubt. Now, like it or not, I’m going up there! So move your car. I gotta change.” She tried to push past him towards the bathroom but he grabbed her arm and held fast.

  “Cuff her,” he said to the stunned officer.

  “What the hell?” Scarlett turned to kick him as she struggled to get away.

  “I mean it, Salerno!” Dawson expertly dodged her kick and spun her around, pinning her to the wall. Scarlett’s breath whooshed out as her cheek hit the cool pale green plaster.

  “I’ll cuff you and take you to the station if you don’t calm down right now and let me do my damned job.” Scarlett had momentarily stopped struggling but he didn’t relax his grip. The officer took out his handcuffs and waited. Dawson’s voice softened only slightly as he leaned in and spoke in Scarlett’s ear.

  “Listen, I promise we’ll do all we can to get her back safely, but you gotta chill a little. Let me call this in, get the sheriff and feds involved and we’ll move on this right away. Don’t make me get any rougher. O.K.?”

  Scarlett turned her head as best she could with Dawson’s thick hand holding her by the back of her neck.

  “Sure, Cliffie, that all sounds good except for one thing: I know where the house at the lake is and you don’t! The title for the house isn’t in Cosmo’s name, but I know it’s his. I got better sources than you and your lame crew at HQ. So getting them to try and find out will just be a big waste of time. We don’t have that kinda time and you know it. So you can either follow me or we go together; your call, Hot Stuff.”

  Dawson flinched and stared at her in disbelief. After several tense seconds, he emitted a growl low in his chest. Waving away the handcuffs and the bewildered uniformed officer, he slowly let his grip on her ease.

  “Shit! All right, I’ll call this in, and you go change, but you’re riding with me, not ahead of me. He held up her car keys for emphasis. Got it?” He let her go and she whirled on him with a triumphant sneer.

  “Two birds, one stone, Cliffie. You call it in while I change in the back of your car. Saves time. Let’s go.” She grabbed the gym bag and her shoes, ducked under his arm and went out the door before he could turn around. Dawson quickly gave cursory instructions to the officers and the forensics team to lock down the house when they were finished. He knew deep down he was taking a risk not calling in the FBI right away, but figured there was always time. Besides, the Fibbies always horned in on the good cases, anyway. He shook his head and muttered to himself, “Yeah, more time to get into more deep shit. What the hell.”

  He found Scarlett in the back seat talking on her phone as he slid into the driver’s seat. He put his own phone down when he heard her speaking.

  “Rinder, hey, still got your big-ass dog squad? Great! Got something fun for you and the pups.”

  Dawson whirled around, frowning at her. She gestured to him to start the car and continued talking. “Yeah, it’s the big stone house you and me staked out on the sneak a while back. The one on the north side of the lake; nothing around it for acres. Yep, that’s the one my source told us about and your team’s been watching. Great idea of yours to keep it unofficial so far. Security gates in front will be closed—probably electronic with a generator back up, so cutting the power won’t work. And we know they have their own dogs, so you and your guys gotta be careful. Sure, I’m on my way with an … associate.” She ignored another fierce look from Dawson and went back to her call.

  “Yeah, but we will need all the deputies you got on this one. SDPD guys can’t take this down. They’ll be back up. We gotta move fast before somebody calls in the Fibbies. Okay, meet me at the lake store and we’ll go up from there. Remember what we talked about before; could be some really bad collateral damage here, so let’s make this work. Be on your phone.” She put the phone down and turned to Dawson.

  “Why the hell are you so slow getting out of here? 8 East to Hwy 79 and pronto, Cliffie. And don’t use your rear view mirror to watch me change. They only do that in movies and I should know. Now move!”

 
; “Who the hell did you call, Scarlett?” Dawson snarled.

  “A friend of mine in the sheriff’s department. He’s gathering the cavalry and we can meet up. Now can you please get us the hell out of here? Time’s a wastin’!” She pulled the dress over her head and Dawson quickly turned away.

  “Salerno, I was calling the sheriff.” His hands shook as he pushed the key in the ignition, trying to put the vision of her black lace bra out of his head.

  “Yeah, but you didn’t and I have an ‘in’ with this guy, so we’re covered.” Her voice sounded muffled as she put the black tee shirt over her head and bent to pull on the jeans. Dawson cursed under his breath and stomped his foot on the accelerator. Scarlett fell forward against the front seat as he squealed out of the driveway.

  “Shit, Cliffie, one car accident a month is my limit. Try to get us there in one piece, will ya?” Red light on the roof whirling, siren shrieking, they sped and bounced down the steep hill, took the right turn onto the unusually quiet Sunset Cliffs Boulevard on two wheels. By the time Scarlett zipped up her jeans, tied her shoes and put what she figured were helpful “instruments” in her socks and pockets, they were on HWY 8 East.

  The chatter on the police radio picked up. Scarlett leaned toward the front seat, straining to listen to the conversation between the dispatcher and the other officers.

  “Badge 846, request for back up acknowledged. All units east notified.” The dispatcher’s voice crackled over the radio.

  Dawson responded curtly, “846 proceeding on 8 East. Advise number of units available.”

  A deep voice responded over the unit open to both the sheriff and police frequency. “10-4 SDPD 846, Deputy 770, of sheriff’s canine unit en route and standing by. Got four of my best guys and dogs ready. Hey there, 846, got my buddy Ms. Scarlett with you? You lucky man, you! Whoo Hoo, fun times ahead tonight!”

  Sounding almost relieved, Scarlett said, “That’s my boy, Rinder! Hear that, Cliffie, we’re covered! Just like Sherlock and Watson—‘The game’s afoot!’ Drive steady, I’m comin’ up.” She threw her left leg over the seat and climbed into the passenger seat.

  The Highway Patrol responded to the call from Rinder. “Hey, has Salerno got a lead on the capo? We want in. Can we play?” Dawson slapped Scarlett’s hand as she reached for his hand-held two way radio.

  “God, Scarlett, is there anybody in law enforcement you don’t know or haven’t talked to about this case?”

  “Head of the Secret Service doesn’t return my calls, but other than that… Hey, at least 10-4 my CHP guys, we could use them if Uncle Cosmo decides to take off.”

  Dawson grumbled a response to the officer and then asked for radio silence until they got to HWY 79. Scarlett stuck her tongue out at him and checked her gun. She put the extra clip in her jacket pocket, checked the safety. While she made a pretense of sitting quietly, her body language conveyed her tension. Dawson glanced over at her and took note. Her arms were crossed so tightly around her body that her fingers were white. She’d popped a large piece of bubble gum in her mouth and was alternately chewing furiously or blowing huge bubbles and popping them, with a loud, strawberry-scented snap. After a few minutes of this, Dawson reached over tentatively and let his hand hover just above her knee.

  “We’re gonna get her back, Scarlett. We’ll get the bastards, and your mama will be fine.” He heard his words and knew instantly how lame, how very policeman-reassuring-clap-trap they sounded, and quickly put his hand back on the steering wheel. Not for the first time, her response stunned him into silence.

  “Forest Gump said it right, Cliffie. ‘Stupid is as stupid does’ and I’m afraid I’ve been real stupid. Real, real stupid. I should have told you earlier what I know about Uncle Cosmo.” Something in Scarlett’s quiet, regretful tone hit Dawson hard. He felt his stomach tighten, but said nothing and waited for her to go on.

  “My friend Rinder and some other friends in a special investigation division confirmed to me what Lizette told me when this job started with her, a while back. It was also confirmed by my other source and, no, I can’t tell you who it is. This was before Yano bought it, and his unfortunate demise gave Lizette more reason to get lost, you know.” She paused and Dawson just nodded silent encouragement, afraid to speak lest she not continue.

  “You know about the Human Trafficking Task Force that the governor appointed some time ago? Well, at first, the group reviewing and investigating started studying what info they got from Vice and Sex Crimes. But there is so much more to this than sex crimes or even sex slavery. Human trafficking is in everything, Cliff. These people are your busboys and girls, waiters, house cleaners, farm workers, shop workers. They come from loads of other countries besides Mexico; more than you would think come from our good old USA. So many runaways, so many broke kids who are lured with promises of drugs, good money, or a so-called glamorous life. Estimates read more than 300,000 victims now, and growing faster than stats can be accurately gathered. It’s seriously sick, Dawson, and Uncle Cosmo is in it as deep as any capo can be, and, from what we figure, has been for a long time. We just gotta get him and kill his whole sick business once and for all.”

  Dawson let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Scarlett, you know how big this is? We’ve been trying to find at least one of the heads of this racket in our area for a long time. Just hard to get funding for education of officers, prosecutors, you know the excuses as well as I do. SDPD has suspected Cosmo of lots of crap, but haven’t had luck pinning this on his sorry ass. He must be hiding this operation behind the drug and other stuff he’s running. Lately it’s been like ‘maybe we can Capone him’ you know, get him with IRS violations, but, shit, this is what we want. We want to put him and his bunch of thugs away forever! God! I wish you’d clued me in sooner, before he …” Dawson stopped, not wanting to put voice to what they were both thinking.

  “Yeah, I know, before he snatched my mama. Now he’s taking her to where Rinder and my buddies figure he’s got more victims hidden. One of my sources even sent me video he got at the big yellow house I told you about. Some of these people look so scared and lost, ya know? Mostly young, pretty women there, doing all kinds of work if you get my drift. Can you go faster, please?” She bit her lip and turned her face quickly to stare out the window. The last lights of Alpine were behind them and her pulse quickened as they turned on Japatul Road, went under the bridge and sped down Hwy 79, climbing farther into the dark, dark mountains.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The north hill facing Lake Cuyamaca commands the best view of the lake, the meadows, and wooded areas that rim the glassy water. There are few houses on this hill, fewer since the last big fire. Some of the residents just gave up after the firestorm flattened their dream homes for the second time. “Property for Sale” signs dot the hillside. Some hearty souls set up trailers or motor homes with the thought that they could at least move a home on wheels if fire threatened again.

  People who chose to live in this area, an hour’s drive from San Diego and only nine miles from the old historic mining town of Julian, want to be remote for many reasons. The beauty of the vast Cuyamaca Rancho State Park is legendary to hikers, backpackers, lake fishermen, and tourists from all over the United States. As a peaceful oasis between the big city and the often tourist-crowded Julian, it calls to those who wish to be in the quiet of the back country and yet close enough whenever the need to be in a more cosmopolitan area beckons. At more than half the land still wilderness, the homes in the area will always be few and far between, just the way the residents liked it, for reasons as different and diverse as the residents themselves.

  Cosmo Dante Di Stefano was a mean man, but he was also a practical man. Like the wise little pig in the story, Cosmo built his house of stone. Not only did he build his huge house out of stone and block, he put in superior water and well systems. His electronic security devices were designed to convert to generator power in the event of fire or if the high winds of summer knocked o
ut his electricity.

  The entire ten-acre property was so secure, that the sheriff deputies assigned to the area called Cosmo’s lake home the “Fortress Fagioli”. Like all fortresses, this one held secrets inside: safes behind portraits or panels, rooms that held small arsenals, and the always-useful hidden, locked attic rooms.

  Inside his fortress tonight, Cosmo Di Stefano stood looking out the huge living room window at the dark lake across the road. His eyes surveyed the terraced property below. Although he could not see them in the darkness, he was confident his men and guard dogs were walking the perimeter, armed with their dimmed flashlights and night vision goggles. Cosmo eschewed the large floodlights his far neighbors often installed on their home and garages. He liked his home, like his life, to be in the shadows as much as possible. Taking a long drag on his twisted, rope-like imported Italian cigar, he enjoyed the strong smell of the smoke as it fogged up the window. A very definite voice behind him caused Cosmo to hunch his shoulders up towards his large ears.

  “You know, young man, that cigar is most annoying and besides being harmful to your health, the second hand smoke is not good for the rest of us.”

  Rosa sat primly in a chair so large her feet dangled inches above the dark inlaid bamboo floor. “And is it too much to ask to have one of these rude men get a footstool for me? I’m not that comfortable in this huge chair, and with these things on my wrists, I can’t get one for myself.” She held up her hands with their plasticuffs binding her slender wrists.

  Cosmo turned from the window and gave a quick nod to Frankie who rushed to the other end of the long room, snatched up a small leather ottoman, and placed it in front of Rosa’s chair. He adjusted the stool as she placed her feet on it and beamed as she purred a sweet, “Thank you.”

  “O.K., Frankie, that’s enough sucking up to the Strega Nonna here. Go make yourself useful someplace else, if you can. Geeze, kids!” Cosmo waved Frankie away, took another sip of his Black Sambuca and bent to stub out his cigar. He straightened and spread his hands, palms up, towards Rosa.