Frankly, My Detective

by Mary Keeley

  “’Bout time, you little flake. What the hell were you doing? Squeezing the damned grapes yourself?” His tirade was cut short when he saw Jamal standing behind the perspiring Frankie. Monroe’s hand went for his gun in his shoulder holster, then he froze.

  “Wouldn’t try that, Goldilocks.” Scarlett had come quickly around through the dark hallway and dining room into the kitchen behind him. Monroe was greedy, but he wasn’t stupid. He put both hands in the air when he felt her cold gun muzzle beneath his ear.

  “Now that’s a smart cop, a dirty cop, but smart enough to know when he’s out-gunned. You prick!” Jamal spoke softly, but there was no mistaking the venom in his voice. Monroe sneered at his partner, as Scarlett reached around and took his gun.

  “Why, Irish, Sweetie, how clever of you to get yourself loose. Oh wait, I see, you had help. Well, I should have known you couldn’t accomplish much by your little self.”

  Jamal growled at Monroe, pushed Frankie aside and charged at his partner. Before he could reach him, Scarlett brought her gun down hard on Monroe’s blonde head with a solid “crack”. The tall policeman’s knees buckled and he grabbed the edge of the kitchen counter before he could fall. “God!” he exclaimed.

  Jamal was next to Monroe in an instant, had a handful of his golden hair, and pushed his face into the granite countertop.

  “Shut the fuck up, Monroe,” he growled. “Believe me, I could cheerfully take you out right now and not give a damn.”

  “Yep, and Frankie and I would be the witnesses to it being self-defense, wouldn’t we Frankie boy?” Scarlett whispered hoarsely into Monroe’s bleeding ear. Monroe stopped struggling. He was beat and he knew it. Frankie stood paralyzed against the wall, his eyes wide.

  Scarlett straightened up and looked at the young man. “Frankie, you are not cut out for this life, kid. Now, how many people are there with guns in the living room? And remember to speak softly or you might get hit again, huh?” Just to make sure, Scarlett reached over and turned on the small CD player near the refrigerator. She smiled as the Puccini opera aria floated across the room. She went over to the door, but no one outside the kitchen seemed to hear or care.

  Frankie reached his hand up and wiped the sweat off his upper lip. His voice was barely above a whisper. “Uh, there’s Uncle Cosmo, Bruno and Luca. You don’t want to mess with Bruno. He’s pretty mean, most of the time.”

  “I’ll make a note of that. Okay, that makes three guns to two. Time to call in the cavalry.” She reached in her back jeans pocket and pulled out her cell phone.

  “Frankie, are you still working on that ‘shit for brains’ certificate or do you think you can take down a text I’ll dictate to you? Kinda need my hand free for gun and such here.”

  Frankie nodded a quick agreement and she set up the phone and handed it to him.

  Outside, Rinder’s phone vibrated in his pocket. “Yeah, Rinder here,” he answered softly. He listened for a moment, never taking his eyes off the window in front of him. The scene had quieted down considerably.

  “Hey. Davison here. CHP has landed. There are four of us working our way up the hill to assist when you’re ready.”

  “Roger that, Davison. Got a P.I. friend cuffed to an unmarked SDPD car just at the left of the drive near a grove of manzanitas. She’s clean. Did you spot her yet?”

  Dawson listened closely to the exchange. Davison’s response made him feel colder than ever.

  “Negative, Rinder. Hold on a sec.” He could hear Davison breathing into the phone before he answered. “Nobody there, cuffs on the ground. Who are we looking for?”

  “God dammit! It’s Salerno, Scarlett Salerno. We kept her away from the action. She was supposed to hook up with you guys and wait.”

  “Nope, no sign of the lady.”

  Dawson swore under his breath and shook his head. “I fuckin’ knew it! Should’ve chained her hand and foot to the damned car!”

  The puzzled deputy turned to look at him, but said nothing. Just then, Dawson’s cell phone buzzed. Text message. He dropped the phone when he read it. “Goddamned stupid hot-dogging woman!” He spat out.

  Rinder picked up the phone, read the message and muttered, “How the hell?” He handed the phone back to Dawson who was checking his weapon for the fiftieth time that night. Hoping he’d read it wrong, looked at the message again. No, he’d read it right the first time, but a second reading didn’t make him any happier. He cursed again as his eyes swept over the words.

  “Hi, Cliffie. Check out the front window. Wanna join us?”

  They both looked up just as Scarlett, Jamal, Frankie and Monroe entered the living room. Jamal’s gun was on Monroe, Scarlett’s pointed at the hapless Frankie’s head.

  Dawson sputtered a “God Damn—Monroe, Jamal, how?”

  It was like watching a movie, but a bad one. Within minutes, the scene changed, Monroe threw himself bodily across the room towards Rosa. He landed hard on the floor at Jeremy’s feet. Jeremy quickly took the advantage and aimed a kick at Monroe’s head. But Monroe’s cop instincts were faster than Jeremy’s attempt so he rolled away from Jeremy’s alligator- booted foot before it could reach its mark. Scarlett pushed Frankie out of the way and pointed both her gun and Monroe’s confiscated one at Luca. He in turn raised his semi-automatic at Jamal and Scarlett. Bruno snatched Rosa out of her chair and held his gun to her head. Rosa twisted around and flailed at Bruno. She was so short the best she could do was whip her rosary around, aiming at his head. Bruno tried to duck the sharp crystal beads while trying to hold her tight. He cursed loudly as she stomped repeatedly on his foot, but didn’t let go. Cosmo grabbed Monroe, hefted him to his feet and smacked him across the face. Everyone with a gun was shouting to each other to put their guns down. Lizette screamed and stood on the red couch, jumping up and down. Screaming and jumping, she looked like she was on a trampoline in a horror movie.

  Stunned, yet somehow sounding amused, Rinder spoke clearly into his hand-held. “O.K. boys and pups, let’s make a nice, quiet but effective entrance, shall we? Remember, we’ve got hostages and crazy people with guns, lots of ’em. YeeeeHawwww!”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Like a small stealth army squad, Rinder’s men and their dogs moved toward the house. With so much yelling and confusion in the living room, no one heard the back and side doors being forced open. Rinder and Dawson crept up the stairs leading to the deck and the front door. Crouching low, Rinder barked, “Now!” into the hand-held. He kicked open the front door and loosed his giant dog, Bear, shouting “Gun!” in the dog’s ear. In an instant, Bear leapt into the room, launched his big furry frame, teeth bared, at the first gun he saw. At the same time, Brewskie, Sloan and Morales and their dogs came running in from the hallway and all was chaos. Scarlett shouted as soon as she saw Bear fly at the startled Bruno.

  “Mama! Hit the deck!” She fell to the floor and rolled into a ball. The dogs went after any gun they saw, clamping their jaws on the hands holding them. Between the snarling of the dogs, the deputies shouting for everyone to get down, Bruno, Luca and Monroe screaming in pain, Lizette’s maniacal screeching, Jeremy’s cursing while throwing wild kicks at the fallen Luca, and Rosa’s cheering, the combined noise was ear-splitting.

  Dawson grabbed Rosa’s arm and pulled her away from the melee. “Get down behind here!” He shouted in her ear as he pulled her further down behind the large wingchair.

  “Look out! Cliff, behind you!” Scarlett shouted. Dawson looked around just in time to see Cosmo looming over him with a large brass candlestick ready to come down on his head. Crouching and ducking quickly, he tackled Cosmo hard at the knees. Cosmo’s size and the force of the tackle propelled them both through the large window and onto the deck below. The glass shattering crash succeeded in silencing the room. The deputies gave their dogs the “Hold” command and quickly relieved their moaning captives of their guns. Scarlett ran to the empty window frame and looked out. Dawson and Cosmo were on the deck, glass all around them; neither
of them moving. Seeing that Rosa was still safely behind the chair, she went out the door, hurried down the steps to the deck. By the time she got there, Cosmo had rolled away from the still-inert Dawson and was reaching for the detective’s gun.

  “Don’t do it, Cosmo!” Scarlett was on the last step, the Glock aimed at his head.

  He swung his hand around, it was bleeding from cuts, but the gun he held was steady. “You don’t have the guts, you stupid bitch.”

  Just as he raised the gun to fire, Dawson lurched up to his knees and pushed him. The shot went wild into the trees causing a large snowy white owl to take noisy flight into the darkness. Cosmo whirled on Dawson, turning the gun on him. Dawson ducked, as another shot rang out. He looked down to see where he was hit, just as Cosmo groaned and fell face first onto the redwood planks, blood oozing from his left shoulder. Dawson struggled to his feet as Scarlett reached him, the Glock still warm in her shaking hand.

  “Cliff, you’re bleeding. Are you all right?”

  “What?” Dawson looked down as Scarlett pulled his jacket away from his shirt. The red circle was growing rapidly around the large shard of glass imbedded in his side.

  “Shit!” he said weakly, sitting back hard on the deck.

  “Stay still, Cliffie, for God’s sake! I’ll get help.” She helped him lie back on the cold wood then took off her own jacket and put it under his head. Running towards the steps, she shouted into the open door. “Rinder! Dawson’s down! Need some help out here.” Rosa and Rinder, having heard the shots, were already heading down towards her.

  “Bella Mia, are you all right?” Rosa elbowed the startled deputy out of the way and reached Scarlett first.

  “Yeah, but, Cliff’s not.”

  Rinder was already calling for EMT’s. “They’ll be here soon, just hold on,” he said to Dawson just as Brewskie shouted down through the broken window.

  “Hey, Sarge! We got everything secured down here. Morales and I are heading upstairs with Frankie to check out a few ‘extra’ guests in the house. I’ve checked with our CHP guys and they’re rolling here right now. Whooee, seems like everybody in the house wants to talk to us, now we got our pups in charge.”

  “Be up in a second. Thanks, Brewskie.” Rinder turned back to Scarlett and Dawson. She was kneeling on the deck next to the detective, her hands pressed against his bleeding side. Rosa was muttering Hail Marys as Rinder acknowledged the response from the EMT’s. He bent down and spoke to Dawson.

  “Hey, man, the guys are heading up the road now, you’ll be okay. They’ll fix you up.”

  Dawson gave him a shaky smile. “Thanks. No worries, just a little scrape. How’s Uncle Cosmo?”

  Rinder poked Cosmo’s prone figure in the side with his boot. Cosmo emitted a low groan but didn’t move. “He’ll live, I guess. We’ll have the medical guys fix you first. Priorities, ya know.” He grinned down at Dawson and Scarlett, loosened his flack jacket enough to be able to reach into his shirt pocket and pulled out a somewhat smashed cigar. He always had one, but never lit it; just a celebratory gesture he was known for. Jamming it between his teeth, he spoke around it.

  “Well, looks like our work here is almost done, Tonto. Gotta go check on my boys’ progress. Here come the reinforcements.” He swiftly freed Rosa’s hands, put his fingers to his forehead in a snappy salute, and went back up the steps.

  Sirens sounded in the distance. Red lights and headlights shone as the CHP rolled up the driveway, the paramedic wagon close behind.

  Rosa bent down slightly to Dawson and Scarlett. “They’re just about here, Bella Mia. How’s he doing?”

  Scarlett looked at Dawson’s pale face. His forehead was dotted with perspiration. “You heard Mama, Cliffie. How goes it?”

  Dawson blew out a long breath, raised his head slightly and grimaced as he saw the glass sticking out at an angle from his gold shirt. “That’s pretty much it for this shirt, I guess.” He tried a laugh, but it turned into a groan.

  Scarlett grinned. “Lucky thing, ’cause that is one butt-ugly shirt, and tie, and suit …”

  “Cut me some slack, will ya, Salerno?” Looking down at the bloodsoaked cloth, then up at Scarlett, they both laughed at his unintentional but still terrible pun regarding his sad attire. Dawson winced at the pain as he put his head back down. The sirens stopped short as the paramedic van pulled up below the deck.

  Rosa shook her head at the two of them. “Honestly, how can you two laugh after all that’s happened?” She straightened, put her hands on the small of her back and groaned. “You know, Scarlett, honey, maybe you should get another job or maybe somebody else to help you.”

  “Huh? Why?”

  “Because, Figlia Mia, ‘I’m getting too old for this shit’.”

  Dawson groaned loudly and not from the pain in his side this time. Rosa looked down at him and frowned. “What’s the matter, detective? You think my daughter’s the only one who likes movies?”

  Upstairs in the attic, Galina and Malaya heard the uproar downstairs. Malaya started to go to the window, but Galina pulled her back.

  “No! I think there is shooting. We must stay away from the door and window.” She pulled the trembling Malaya back against the wall by the cots. Almost as quickly as it had begun, the noise from below quieted down. Straining to hear, Galina could only make out loud voices. Then suddenly there were footfalls pounding up the stairs.

  Malaya cried out softly. “Sweet Jesus, please don’t let them kill us!”

  Galina looked around for something, anything to defend them with. She grabbed the wooden chair and held it in front of her like a lion tamer. Slowly she walked towards the door, hearing deep voices as the footsteps came closer.

  One of the voices said gruffly, “Come on, scum, get that key working.”

  The second voice Galina recognized as Frankie, the young man who had at least seemed kinder than the other horrible men who’d kept them captive. But this was no time to be cautious, so she kept her grip on the chair and advanced to the door, prepared to thrust it at whoever she saw first. The knob turned, the door was opened slowly and she charged, roaring like the she-cat she was named for.

  “Whoa!” Frankie jumped back when he saw Galina’s lips pulled back in a feral snarl. He caught himself before he fell down the steep stairs, as Brewskie quickly stepped forward and grabbed the legs of the chair, pulling Galina off balance. She dropped the chair and, screaming, lunged at Brewskie. In her weakened state, his reflexes were better than hers and he simply grabbed her, pinning her arms to her sides.

  She thrashed around, trying to twist out of his grasp as he shouted at her.

  “Hold on, Miss! We’re tryin’ to help. We’re here to get you outta here!” Brewskie had to side step as she tried to kick him. Frankie came forward and tried to calm her.

  “Galina! Stop! It’s over, he’s the cops, and you’re, uh, rescued. Get it?”

  She was breathing hard, tears streaming down her cheeks. Looking at Frankie, she stopped struggling and heard Malaya sobbing behind her.

  “Oh, my sweet Lord, we are saved!”

  Hearing this, Galina looked into Brewskie’s deep, blue eyes, and saw him nod slowly.

  “That’s right, m’am, we’re the good guys. You done been saved.”

  Galina’s legs suddenly felt like rubber, and she began to slide to the floor. Brewskie held onto her so she slipped to the floor slowly and spoke in her ear with the same soft voice he used to calm his dog. Galina sobbed softly, hugged her savior and thought she’d never heard such a beautiful sound in all her life.

  Two days later, Scarlett walked into Dawson’s hospital room just as Chief Chang was leaving. As they passed each other, Chang gave Scarlett a hard look and a curt nod.

  “Wow, Cliffie, your boss just gave me what Mama would call the malocchio, you know, the evil eye. What’s that about?” She put the plastic container she held down on his bed tray.

  “Gosh, Salerno, I have no idea. Maybe he’s just suspicious of lady dicks.” �
��Ha, Ha. So howareya? How’s the ouchie?”

  He batted her hand away as she reached to pull the sheet away. “It’s fine, thanks. I should be outta here tomorrow.” “That’s great. Hey, how about the double bust on Cosmo and his bunch! Wow, he rolled over on Monroe so we got that dirty mole for murder-one. AND we got Cosmo for conspiracy to commit murder and murder for hire, AND we got him for the human trafficking gig. AND the captives we found in the attic rooms have been treated and are safe in the women’s shelter downtown, operated by the Good Sisters of Social Service—thanks to Mama’s friends there. They gave great intel to your guys about the big yellow house and where the other workers lived as well.”

  Dawson nodded. “Yeah, the big raid there garnered so much evidence, Cosmo and his bunch will gone for a very long time.” He frowned. “Somehow we didn’t get all the staff, ya know. Cap says according to the ladies we freed there’s a woman who was Cosmo’s right hand; kinda in charge of that operation and more. We didn’t get her and didn’t get a couple of the ‘recruiters’ he used. They’re still out there somewhere. Too bad.

  Scarlett gave him a twisted smile. “Francesca Madonna Cavalcante, that’s the bitch we still haven’t got. If she’s as smart as everybody involved said, I’m betting she hopped a private flight to Italy or Morocco or somewhere we can’t get to her, yet.” Dawson raised an inquisitive eyebrow at this, but Scarlett just ignored his unvoiced question and continued. “I’m doing some pro-bono investigating to locate sponsors and family members of the two ladies. The little one is gonna head to San Francisco to her Auntie’s, and I might be able to get her into school, like she wanted. As for the Russian girl, she doesn’t want to go back, understandably, so with a sponsor, she can remain and look for a job. Lizette is gonna live very securely and nicely in the witness protection program after she testifies; have no idea where, but that’s the point, right? Good work all the way around, if I do say so.” She raised her fist for a bump, but he didn’t return it.