Fatal Chances (The Red Lake Series Book 5)

by Rich Foster

"Sure, Billy Crystal and that cute blonde."

  "Meg Ryan," Harry said.

  "Yeah. That's her."

  "I need her to record something for me, here's what I want her to do."

  *

  His office was worse than the house. But at least it held fewer breakable objects. Harry was sweeping up the glass from the coffee carafe when the phone rang.

  "Harry Grim," a female voice said in a tone he heard too often from women of late. "This is Crystal Rosen."

  "Hey, hi Crystal!" Harry said in an unnaturally cheery voice. "Did you get my check?"

  "Yes you thief. You stole my deal."

  "No, you told me you were off the case. We once had an agreement and I reciprocated the offer. You told me you were not interested. However, I sent you a tenth of a tenth out of goodwill. But I am willing to stop payment."

  "Your nuts, Grim. Shrop is going to send the lawyers after you and take back UBI's money."

  "That me be so, but my attorney says the contract we signed is quite clear, if I showed that Julia Stockman could not legally cash their check and I provided proof, then I was to be paid ten percent of the policy's value. I believe I fulfilled that. If I were you I would cash my check and take a nice vacation."

  There was a silence, then a small chuckle. "You know, I'd like to see Jamaica."

  "I hear it is very nice."

  "You're a sneaky bastard, Harry Grim but I like the way you think. I'll tell Mr. Shrop that in my opinion he would be wasting his money. And, if you got a signed contract I suppose the lawyers will say the same. Take care of yourself, perhaps our paths will cross again."

  "Maybe, Crystal. We'll see."

  *

  By midweek Harry was ready to set his plan in motion. First he called Special Agent Lawrence.

  "Drew! It's Harry Grim."

  "Fuck you, ass hole! What do you want?"

  "How would you like too have Donatello and Salvador Montoya on a charge that will put them away for years?"

  "I'd love it. What happened, are you getting afraid of spending your days picking up a bar of soap in a prison shower?"

  "Wouldn't know about that, I'll have to take your word for what it's like."

  Lawrence snorted. "What about Marcelli?"

  "I have nothing to give you."

  "Bull!"

  "Sorry but true. But I assume you should be able to get Donatello or Montoya to roll over on him."

  "What's the set up?"

  "Be in Red Lake ready to move this Saturday night. you will get a call, and Donatello and Montoya will be in the same location and you will have a solid case to put the cuffs on them."

  "If I catch Montoya cold, he's coming out in a body bag not in handcuffs."

  "Well that is your affair. As for me I want to receive immunity from anything you think I may be guilty of."

  "Which is?" he replied.

  "Use your imagination. Are we on for Saturday night?"

  "I need more information before I commit."

  "That's all you're going to get. If you want to take a pass on Montoya go ahead."

  "Okay, we'll have team in place, but if you screw me on this Grim I swear I will set you up so you will never slither out of it.

  "Well thank you Special Agent Lawrence. I guess it's a date. Dress nice and don't forget your flack vest. I'll be in touch."

  Harry's levity was unappreciated. Drew signed off by suggesting Harry commit an anatomically impossible act.

  *

  Vito Donatello never saw Baron Dirk the night Harry and he broke into his house. So when a large black man rang the gate buzzer he did not recognize him, but it left him nervous as he studied the security camera monitor.

  "What do you want?"

  "I have some information you would like."

  "About what?"

  "A guy I don't particularly like who was bragging about you being his punching bag. He couldn't shut his mouth up about you."

  Donatello pushed the gate code, "Come on in."

  When Barton pulled up in front of the house Donatello was in the doorway with a rifle barrel poking out. "Step out and keep your arms out."

  Dirk did as he was told.

  "Turn around, pull your shirt off and keep your hands where I can see them."

  Again Dirk obeyed.

  "Okay, face me," Donatello commanded, some of the nervous rattle had left his voice.

  "Look Mr. Donatello, if you don't want what I have I can find another way to get some payback, but the word I heard is you're connected so I thought we might help each other."

  "What do you have?"

  "I ain't standing here and talking like I was your cotton nigger. I have humored you but I am now going to put my shirt back on and we will sit down inside your lovely house and talk, or else I am going to leave or beat the crap out of you, I'm not sure which."

  Despite his rifle Donatello found he was frightened of this man and sensed he could do what he said he might do. "Come on in." He nodded inside. The gun he placed in an umbrella stand near the door. Barton followed.

  "Lets talk on the deck. Care for a drink?"

  "I'd take a beer if you've got one."

  Donatello was suddenly the perfect host.. "Glass?"

  Barton shook his head no. They went out onto the deck.

  "What do you know about Grim?"

  "Well he said he kicked your ass, sir, but looking at you I figure the only way he could do that is to sandbag you." Only a fool would have believed this but Dirk bet on Donatello's vanity.

  "Suffice it to say I have reasons to dislike him. Why do you dislike him?"

  "I did five long ones in Leavenworth because of him. Left me with a dirty record too. I thought it was time to settle up. The egotistical jerk is so stupid he didn't even recognize me in the room while he slung his bull shit."

  "I'm curious, what did he say."

  "Mostly he laughed at you. Said you were hot for this piece of pussy he heard you talking about in Marie's Restaurant one night. Why he has a hard on about you I don't know but he told these drunks in the bar that he made a point of going over to Beaumont and setting about getting into this broad's pants."

  "Did he?"

  "Hell yes, he went on an on, and I mean in graphic detail. Said the first time he didn't leave her house for three days!"

  Barton noticed as Donatello grew increasingly agitated, his fist clenched the beer bottle in his hand until his knuckles were white.

  "He said this little pussy's bitch sister got whacked last year, probably humping a bunch of Mexicans."

  Donatello's jaw was rigid.

  "Well, thank you." He barely choked out the words.

  "That's not the worst of it. He then started saying you were sniffing around, bringing flowers to this chick and she was laughing her ass off about it. She said a guy your age couldn't get it up without one of them blue pills for dicks.'

  Barton wondered if Donatello was about to have a stroke. His face was close to purple.

  "Now, I probably shouldn't tell you this..." Dirk paused for effect. "And don't blame this poor nigger me if I do..."

  "What is it, damn it?" Donatello roared.

  "Well..." he paused again. "He said this piece of snatch wasn't really who she said she was. He claimed she was really your wife, said she swapped places with her sister after the Mexicans killed her over some smack. Said it made him hard every time he rode her knowing he was sticking it to both of you.'

  Donatello flew up out of the chair. "I'll kill the son-of-a-bitch. I'll rip his balls off and feed them to him. And I am going to kill that bitch, too!"

  Barton put both hands up out open. "I didn't hear that. I don't want to know your plans. I just want to cause problems for that rat Grim. So here is what I have to offer. I heard him talking to her on the phone in the bar. They are going to get together Saturday night."

  "Where?"

  Dirk grinned. "I'm not stupid, sir. I am also not going back to jail. Give me a number and I will call you with the address S
aturday at which time I will be far away in another state surrounded by a dozen credible witnesses.

  "What else do you want?"

  "Nothing, just make the bastard suffer!"

  *

  In Juarez , Mexico, Salvador Guezman looked at the photo's on his computer screen. Vito Donatello kissing his daughter Carmen, groping her tit, he swore in disgust, "Puta!" His anger only rose when he played the audio clip. It was from another time and he heard the banging of a bedstead against the wall as Carmen urged he lover on. She cried out oh Vito, of Vito of my God! as she came in what sounded to Salvador's jealous ears absolute sexual ecstasy.

  The email read,

  Señor Montoya,

  I regret having to send you this unfortunate information.

  I do know where Mr. Donatello will be this Saturday night. If you are interested call me when you arrive in Red Lake.

  Your luncheon guest.

  "Andres!" Montoya roared, "Call the field and have my plane fueled!"

  *

  Saturday night was stiflingly hot and humid, despite which, Harry's sting went pretty much to plan. At eight o'clock Donatello received a call with the address where Harry and Jullian were having a tryst. The DEA on stakeout had a clear view as he pulled up around the corner ten minutes later and mounted the stairs to the porch with a pistol in one hand and a baseball bat in the other. From the open windows on the second floor the sound of a couple making love drifted out into the summer night.

  Sweaty work in this heat, Donatello thought. Won't be hot for long, at least until they reach hell!

  The oak door stood open, only the screen was hooked. Donatello slit the screen with his knife, he cautiously entered holding the pistol with a silencer in front of him.. Behind the drapes across the street Agent Lawrence began mentally listing the charges. Switchblade, breaking and entry, illegal silencer, not what Grim promised but it's a start. He began to get nervous about losing control of the situation. Grim set this up. Lawrence never got inside the house across the street.

  Who was screwing upstairs?"

  Instinct said he should move in before Donatello killed whoever he came for but the desire to nabbed Salvador Montoya held him back.

  Donatello shut the door. A minute later the lights came on behind the open window but the drapes blocked the DEA men's view.

  "What the fuck?" Donatello's voice boomed into the night. This was followed by the crash of something being smashed and the sound of sex ceased.

  Hurst looked at Lawrence, "Should we go? I think he just shot or clubbed them!"

  But before he could issue the order four men ran across the street. They held automatic weapons and moved with military precision. One swept around to the rear of the house, another held, up out front, hidden by the shadows. The other two dashed up on the porch. The bigger of the two threw his shoulder against the door, the jamb splintered, and the door flung open. In the light from the room Lawrence recognized his target.

  "Let's go!" he shouted. Montoya was already in the house.

  While they ran gunfire broke out inside and the heavy burp of automatics was clearly audible.

  The man in the bushes raised his gun when he saw more armed men crossing the street, but Lawrence pulled his trigger and the man was dead before he hit the ground. From behind the house, more gunfire erupted as other agents came over the fence and another of Montoya's men was caught from behind.

  Inside the house a brief battle ensued and as quickly as it began silence fell on the neighborhood. Salvador Montoya lay on the second floor landing riddled with bullets, the heavy set man was down on the floor leaning against a door as if he got weary and sat down, staring blankly with two brown eyes and an ugly hole like a bloody third eye socket in the middle of his forehead.

  Inside the bedroom Vito Donatello lay on his back, his eyes wide in wonder, his hand still clutched his empty .22 pistol. His shirt reminded Drew of a clown he saw as a youth at the circus, it was covered by red polka-dots. Bullet holes riddled the plaster walls and the raised windows were shattered. Lawrence looked around for the other two bodies but there were none, only a CD player smashed in the corner, no longer connected to the speakers that had fallen onto the floor.

  Lawrence smiled, mumbled, something unintelligible about Harry Grim and slid his gun into its holster.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The lights of Las Vegas shown a bit brighter that night for Rico Marcelli. On his desk, and ready to be dropped into the shredder were the original documents he received anonymously in the mail. The damage they could have done was unimaginable.

  I will need to review the security of our system, he silently chided himself.

  The evening news reported that a Waco type shootout occurred during a DEA narcotics raid in a small resort town called Red Lake and that two narcotics dealers Vito Donatello and Salvador Montoya were no longer among the living. For Rico, Montoya's death would be a passing inconvenience and Donatello's death saved him the effort of having him killing him now that he recovered the incriminating papers

  Someone will take the reins in Juarez before long.

  Dirk and Grim proved to be stand up guys. He wished he could lure them into his organization but knew they would be loose cannons.

  A few loose ends and this will be behind me.

  A smile crossed his face as he began to feed the shredder.

  *

  Special Agent Lawrence was out of town as quickly as possible. Harry possessed his written immunity from prosecution. When he handed it to him, Lawrence maliciously grinned, you're off the hook, Grim, but it doesn't say a word about your buddy."

  It troubled Lawrence that Harry appeared unperturbed by this. An hour later as he drove over the pass toward Beaumont and the agency's waiting jet, his cell rang. A familiar voice spoke, one Drew lived with all his adult life.

  "If I catch Montoya cold, he's coming out in a body bag not in handcuffs."

  Suddenly Harry Grim's voice came up, "Hey, Drew buddy, how do you like my new hit single? I recorded it last week."

  "That's an illegal wire tap."

  Harry laughed, "I have immunity for that. Do you have immunity for premeditated murder? You're a busy man Agent Lawrence, I suggest you just forget Red Lake, me, and my friends. Ciao!"

  *

  When Jillian Donatello received the news that Vito was dead, she took it well, in fact she toasted his death with the drink a businessman from Wichita bought her moments before. She downed the drink.

  "Listen sweetie, I'll be right back, I need to use the little girls room."

  The business man looked forward to her return. To be ready, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a blue pill. He washed it down with whiskey.

  Jillian walked across the casino, slid into the first cab in line at the hack stand and gave the driver an address.

  Thank god, I can go home. Clean clothes, a hot bath, and a decent bed all to myself.

  Twenty minutes latter the driver dropped her off at a modern upscale house that was all angles and horizontal lines.

  I sure hope Vito left the hide-a-key behind the cactus plant.

  The key was where she first put it. However, when she stood up and looked at her front door, a paper stated in large letters:

  UNITED STATES DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE

  DRUG ENFORCEMENT AGENCY

  NO ENTRY UNDER THREAT OF PROSECUTION!

  THIS PROPERTY AND ALL CONTENTS ARE SUBJECT TO IMPOUND PENDING CRIMINAL FORFEITURE PROCEEDINGS.

  Jillian turned around and began to walk toward the highway. A car pulled alongside, with the window down, "Hey Jillian."

  She recognized a familiar face, he worked with Vito, perhaps if she was not a bit drunk and too defeated she may have wondered why Vito's friend wasn't surprised that she wasn't dead.

  "Let me give you a ride."

  Grateful for a lift she slid in and closed the door.

  Someone put a rag across her nose and mouth, it smelled strangely, she tried to struggle but her mus
cles failed her, Then the world went dark.

  She awoke in a room, lying on a bed with her wrist was cuffed to a brass bedstead. Judging from the sounds coming from adjoining rooms, the stench of too much perfume and the tasteless decor she slowly comprehended she was in low end brothel.

  The door opened. A man eyed her with indifference. "The word is you caused trouble for certain people who do not like trouble. It has cost these individuals a lot of dough. You owe them. You can work it off in a high class place or in this hole, the choice is yours.

  Jillian was a realist. "Let's get out of here, then."

  Epilogue

  Harry was working on resealing the upper deck of his house boat. The season was two thirds over and he had yet to use it other than for work.

  "Harry" A familiar voice called from below on the dock.

  He looked over the rail, Paula was looking back.

  "May I come aboard?"

  Harry shrugged, something he did when he had little to say. Finally he managed, "Sure."

  Paula mounted the dock box and Harry went down the deck ladder, they met on the aft deck.

  "Barton told me about the girl at the house. I'm sorry."

  Harry shrugged again. His tongue was knotted up. Slowly words formed, "Don't be. Remember last year with your ex?"

  Paula looked pained, "Harry please don't start in on that."

  "No. That's past but I'm no better. It wasn't Carmen but after you left there was someone."

  "Somebody you care for?" The words came out wounded

  He shook his head, "No. She was a person nobody could love. It was a mistake," he added, "it was just sex."

  Water slapped against the dock, a gull cried, and somewhere the throaty rumble of a boat's diesel engine turning over broke the stillness.

  "Perhaps, we should let go of the past," she said softly.

  Harry nodded his head, then asked, "But what about the future?"