Hoping he could steer away from his faux paus, the Senator held out the vodka bottle, indicating a refill. Mobydick nodded and held out his glass. “Well, we do have extra funds in the Voter Registration Fund, so we should make use of it. Of course, when we get campaign funds into our office, we’re more than grateful to our voters.” The senator paused while they each downed their shots.
Mobydick turned somber, the veins in his thick neck pulsating. “Be sure you know what you’re doing, Senator. I don’t want to visit any of my homies in prison because I got caught money laundering. I can’t effectively do my job on the inside. It’s possible, but harder, if you get my drift.”
The senator cleared his throat. He had never heard Mobydick use a sophisticated tone of voice before. He sounded like a different man—an educated man. Had he been putting on an act this whole time?
The senator didn’t want to think too hard on it. This was a sweet deal, something he didn’t want to end. Mobydick diverted voting money back into his campaign while he reciprocated by keeping the cops away from the warehouses. The guns were the icing on the cake, so to speak.
“Of course, of course. I assure you, this is all kept close to my heart.” Evans patted his chest with his palm for emphasis.
There was a silence as Mobydick downed another shot of vodka and ate more chips. He was a big man, and the senator envisioned him downing a fifth without experiencing any side effects.
“What are you doing in the warehouses, may I ask?”
Mobydick didn’t laugh this time. He leaned forward in his seat and stared deep in the senator’s eyes. He held his gaze so long the senator squirmed in his seat. In an instant, he changed his mind about comparing the mobster to a snake. Instead, Evans concluded Mobydick was akin to a rabid dog. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be liable to get bit.
The senator brought up his shot glass and took a sip, letting his eyes slip away first, giving Mobydick the win. He understood he was not the dominant one. At least not here, in Mobydick’s territory. The man had money and power, like the senator did. He was the bulldog on his own turf. The senator understood; he was top dog in his own little world himself.
“It’s all good, Senator. The less you know, the better,” he said, holding up his shot glass to see the lights above the bar. “You know the phrase, Senator. ‘If I have to tell you, I’d have to kill you.’”
Senator Evans gulped and cleared his throat. “Okay. Yeah. Well, like I said, I’ll keep my end of the bargain.” He leaned back in his chair and without realizing it, fiddled with his tie. “With the car rallies located on the opposite end, you’re good to go and can do anything you want in that part of Warehouse Row.”
Mobydick stood up. His six body guards stepped forward to pave the way out of the restaurant and to the waiting limo. Mobydick stopped in front of the senator and held out his fist again. “See ya, Senator.”
Senator Evans waited several minutes after Mobydick and his gang left before he called one of his lawyers. He had to create another bogus corporation; the money had to be funneled somehow. He had plenty of attorneys who were greedy and waiting on retainer. They launder money without a second thought, charging exorbitant fees for this service.
They’re the real monsters, not us politicians, the senator decided as he got up to leave.
Chapter 23
Bonding Before the Storm - San Francisco
When the weary trio arrived at Jim’s house, there was no one home. Joey texted Jim, who replied he’d be home soon and Brett would join them.
In the meantime, Joey now trusted Barry enough to allow him to open his backpack. They flipped through the documents Barry had stolen from the doctor’s study. Both Jenny and Joey were in awe over what he had done. They didn’t know him well, but they both couldn’t fathom getting into someone’s house and rifling through their work.
“I would be scared to death of getting caught,” Jenny said.
Barry shrugged, embarrassed. He wasn’t ready to divulge everything he had learned from the doctor. He had to make sure the couple wouldn’t deter him from his goal of a new life and body.
Spreading out the files on the dining room table, they reviewed the one marked Terry Evans.
“Terry Evans,” Joey said, thinking for a moment. His eyes lit up. “Our senator! Bam!” He hip-bumped Jenny, catching her off balance as she bent over the table. “And you didn’t think I knew anything about politics,” he joked. Jenny smiled back, shaking her head.
Inside the folder, they found transcripts of phone conversations. Dates and times of when the doctor spoke to the mobster, Mobydick. There were Excel spreadsheets full of formulas and amounts of money, as well as police reports from crimes committed around Warehouse Row. Beneath was a stack of old newspaper clippings going back thirty years, documenting Senator Terry Evans’ climb to success.
They found a date circled on a calendar: Saturday, July 23, with the notes 12 bd/Sched. Car Rally.
“What does twelve bd mean?” Joey rubbed his neck with fatigue.
Jenny shuffled through the documents. They found another notation. “June sixth: four bd/A&S/Anthony’s/Chrissie/Headbanger.”
“A&S. Anderson and Sons.” Joey’s eyes glazed over, trying to figure things out. “When I went to the warehouse with Brett, they took the coffin to the back room and returned it. I assumed we were dropping the body off for cremation.”
“Why don’t you guys do your own cremations?”
Jenny spoke up, ignoring Barry’s question for now. “So, if what you’re saying is true, ‘bd’ means body. But you only dropped off one body, right?”
“Yeah, we only had one. The notations must mean there are other businesses dropping off bodies. The other names I recognize as being in the business, but I don’t recognize the name Headbanger.”
Barry frowned. He stared at the floor, trying to jog his memory. “Headbanger…Where have I heard that name before?”
“Why would the doctor note the car show on this calendar?” Jenny pointed out the date. “Doesn’t it look staged? Maybe to time the car show with bodies being delivered. What can the car rally and delivered bodies have in common?”
“Well, car rallies are noisy events,” Barry mused as he flipped opened the file. “Perhaps to divert attention?”
“Twelve bodies though?” Joey whistled. “Where are they all coming from?”
Jenny shook her head. “The real question here is why?”
Jenny and Joey both stared at Barry, remembering he had said something about dead bodies and head transplants when they first met him.
“What aren’t you telling us, Barry?” Joey asked in a quiet voice.
Barry shrugged. “I don’t know. I was only making shit up, you know, theorizing,” he said, not making eye contact. He realized he didn’t want to give them any more information. Too many cooks in the kitchen meant word would get out and he wouldn’t get a chance to get his new body. Before he knew it, the doctor will get too popular and there’d be a waiting list.
Or the crazy doctor would be arrested for murder.
Yeah, there was that.
“I’ll be right back. What do you want to drink, honey?” Joey queried as he started for the kitchen. They’d been brainstorming for close to an hour now and they all needed a break. He didn’t know what game Barry was playing, but he figured they’d find out soon enough. His focus needed to stay on his brothers more than Barry, a guy he only met that day.
“Get me a soda with lots of ice, babe. And hurry back. I’ll miss you,” Jenny said with a wink, letting him know she had forgotten and forgiven.
“And I’ll take one too, sweetie,” Barry teased as he blew a kiss in Joey’s direction.
When Joey returned to the family room with the beverages, he saw Brett had arrived. He was sitting on the couch facing Jenny, his arm alongside the back of the couch, way too chummy towards her for his taste.
Joey strode over and sat next to Jenny on the couch, drawing her close. Jenny eyed him,
wondering what was going on.
“Hey, man,” Brett said as he nodded to Joey. He glanced at Jenny.
Yep, he still wants her. He’d put a stop to this pronto.
“Hey, let’s play a game of pool while we wait for Jim,” Joey challenged.
Jenny laid her palm on Joey’s arm. “Honey,” she warned, knowing what he was doing—trying to show his brother up again, to egg him on.
Joey moved her hand off. His laughter sounded forced. “Brett must have time to play a game of pool, don’t’cha buddy? I mean, he has time to flirt with my woman, drop off random bodies—”
“Jesus, Joey!” Jenny slammed her iced drink down on the glass coffee table, her beverage sloshing over its rim.
This outburst didn’t seem to faze Brett. His eyes stayed focused on Joey as he nodded, acknowledging Joey’s dare. “Sure, bro. It’s your quarter,” Brett said, his smile tentative. He took a gulp of his beer, trying to keep his eyes away from Jenny.
Jenny watched as they played. From a distance, the scene appeared to be brothers bonding. Jenny knew better. They were both hitting the balls with their cues as if they were trying to launch them off the table. She noticed Joey flinch in pain a few times.
It may have been a mistake to talk to Brett without telling Joey, Jenny realized. Jenny still found him attractive, but their relationship hadn’t worked. He was too much of a workaholic and a pretty boy. He attracted women like flies to honey. Jenny wondered if he knew this, or if he was simply acting like he didn’t.
After their dad had died, Brett changed. He began working day and night, taking extra shifts, his dream of owning his own cyber-security business kept off the books. She noticed the dark circles were back under his eyes. Poor guy must be working too hard, she thought, but she couldn’t get involved again. Brett had to fight his own battles now.
She watched Joey. He was more down to earth than Brett, and would rather work with his hands outside than be stuck in an office. He didn’t care about money like Brett did, and he took life more relaxed. He was a ‘come as it may’ type of guy. She was proud of him for keeping his body shop afloat.
Two handsome men: one light blond, assured; the other tall, dark, and intense. She had made her choice with the blond one. Five-eleven versus six-two. Her lover, her friend.
If only Joey believed it.
The men played the games fast, with Joey winning two out of three. They must have called a truce, Jenny thought with relief. She hoped this evening could end without another outburst.
After the guys finished their games, Joey explained what had happened.
Brett shook his head. “It’s stupid to go back there, bro,” he commented, his remark cryptic. “Have you talked to Jim yet?”
“No.” Joey explained what they saw, or what they thought they’d seen. A glint in a warehouse window, for starters.
“That could have been anything,” Brett said, scratching the label off the beer bottle he was holding.
“Why don’t you want to help us, Brett?” Joey stared at Brett as if challenging him to answer.
Brett took a deep breath. “Let’s not get into this now.”
“Or what, Brett? Dad’s dead. He can’t protect you now, can he?”
“Enough,” Jenny said, worry creases across her forehead. “Why do you two egg each other on? You’re brothers!”
“That may be, but Brett’s always been Dad’s favorite,” Joey continued, heedless of the warning. “I guess being a favorite makes up for not being his son.”
Brett’s mouth dropped open, his eyes betraying the hurt he felt.
“This is not the time or place, Joey!” Jenny bounced up from her sitting position on the couch and pointed. “Now sit down, damn it. Both of you!”
They both stared at each other, breathing hard, neither wanting to back down. They either hadn’t heard Jenny, or were ignoring her.
Jim interrupted the tension when he walked into the family room.
“Oh, I see someone beat me to it,” said Joey, pointing to Jim’s black eye, sneering.
“Well, excuse me and get in line. And hello to you, too. Jenny,” he said as he nodded to her.
“Hey, Jim.”
“Brett.” Jim nodded, acknowledging Brett, now sitting on a bar stool with a drink in hand. “Kind of early for drinking, isn’t it?”
Brett downed his drink and banged the glass on the counter. “Another, bartender!” He stared at Joey, his eyes betraying the hurt and anger he felt.
Jim scrutinized the two of them. “Okay, you two. Something’s up. What happened?”
“I may not be your blood brother but—son of a bitch!” Brett exclaimed when he noticed Jim’s bruised, swollen eye. “I’m going to kill whoever did this to you!”
“Yeah, who did that to you?” Joey demanded as he peered closer at the shiner.
Jim waved a hand at them. “You wouldn’t believe me.”
“Jim, tell us. Now!” Joey was beginning to get angry.
“Short answer: Mobydick,” Jim responded.
Everyone in the room exclaimed in surprise. They knew of Mobydick. Everyone who lived in the area had heard of him.
“Have you gone to the police?” Jenny walked over to examine Jim’s eye up close.
“No!” Barry yelped. Everyone turned his way, surprised at the outburst. Barry’s face turned red. “I mean, well…”
“Jim, Barry. Barry, my brother, Jim,” Joey said, making quick introductions as they both nodded to each other. He ignored Brett, knowing they must have introduced themselves while he was in the kitchen. If not, that was their problem.
“Barry’s right,” Jim asserted. “Get real; the police? You got to be friggin’ kidding me. Mobydick of Oakland. Some may think he’s a simple gangsta, but we’ve all heard the rumors. The police won’t arrest him, he pays them off. Haven’t you read the news lately? His name pops up all over the place. He’s chased by his followers like a damn rock star. If they do arrest him, it’ll be years from now, after they’ve investigated and collected evidence. In the meantime, he’ll be out.”
“So stop with this nonsense!” Jim continued. “You guys are going to get yourselves killed.”
Brett took a deep breath. “Why Mobydick, Jim?”
“You two deserve the truth. You think you are men? Buck up and quit your sissified bellyaching.” Jim hesitated for a moment, but kept talking. “Mobydick wasn’t getting his payments, and he was pissed—”
“What are you talking about?” Joey paced in front of the couch. “You owe him money? What money?”
Jim ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Remember all those times Dad went out and came home late?”
Brett and Joey nodded. Jenny placed a hand on Joey’s thigh for support.
Jim shrugged and mumbled, stalling for time.
“We’re waiting,” Joey barked, impatient.
Jim took another deep breath and shook his head. “Sorry to tell you the condensed version, but I’m tired of long, drawn-out stories. Sorry to burst your bubble, Joey, but Dad was a gambler.”
Joey shoved Jim so hard he landed on the couch. “You’re lying!”
“Why would I make this up? I loved Dad as much as you did.” Jim was thoughtful for a few seconds. “Why do you think I put the fear of God in you two? I don’t want you guys to get hurt. I don’t want you to know too much.” Jim shook his head and sighed. “Don’t you get it? People who know too much get hurt. Even killed.”
“But this is Dad’s business—” Brett protested.
“Was Dad’s business,” Jim said. “He died over two years ago. You and Joey didn’t have the pressure I did. I have to support you guys—”
“Don’t bullshit me, Jim. You were greedy!” Joey said as Jenny tried to calm him with a touch on his shoulder.
“Listen, I didn’t want to admit to you guys we got behind. I’m the big brother.” Jim’s eyes turned down at his feet. “I was ashamed. When I heard they would pay good money for bodies in exchange for ashe
s, I wanted in on it. I swear, I didn’t know what else was going on with Dad.”
“You must have had a clue, Jim. This sounds ridiculous!” Joey said with disdain in his voice.
“Yes, but I was in denial. I turned my head.” Jim put his head in his hands. His shoulders shook in anguish. Brett stood up and went over to him, laying his hand on Jim’s shoulder. Everyone in the room was silent.
After several minutes, Jim wiped his eyes and faced them. “What do you want from me? I can’t get out, bro. Unless I die, I’m forever tied to this mobster.”
“I can get you out, bro,” Brett said with a confident tone to his voice, not knowing what he could come up with but wanting to show support.
‘Yeah, let’s talk, man. Let’s make a plan to do something,” Joey said.
“No! I’m dead if you talk. Don’t do it!” Jim begged the brothers.
“Okay. Do one thing for us, bro,” Joey said, “you owe us that.”
Jim dipped his head in thought. Brett knew his brother. Well, he thought he knew his brother. He still loved him though. They had a bond. But this was going too far, even for Jim.
“Okay, what is it?” Jim’s shaking leg showed that he wasn’t in control as he wanted them to believe.
“Get me into the warehouse somehow,” Joey said.
“And how am I supposed to do that? I heard about the incident with you and one of the guards on Saturday,” Jim said, slapping Joey upside the head.
“Oh, you heard?” Brett had a touch of accusation in his voice. “And you didn’t ask us about it? Huh.”
“Don’t ‘huh’ me. Of course I knew it. I had to deal with the insurance for the broken window, didn’t I? How do you think I got this,” he pointed to his black eye, “and this?” Jim pulled up his pant leg and twisted his leg around. There was a long gash, and the entire calf was black and blue. He pulled up his shirt next, showing another big bruise on his back.
“My God,” Brett breathed. Whatever Jim had gotten himself into was not good news. “I swear, I’ll kick some ass for you.”
Heads Will Roll Page 10
