Rick Cantelli, P.I. (Rick Cantelli, P.I. Detectives Book 1)

by Bernard DeLeo

  Staley was back leaning forward again. “If you’re right about this, Rick, how the hell do we catch these guys in the act without a bloodbath?”

  “Leave that to me. None of this will happen without the Collinswoods being on board. Do you have a couple uniforms on duty tonight around the midnight hour you trust, and will you be available?”

  Bill nodded. “You bet. I think I understand what you have in mind. You’re thinking you can tempt Julio into doing this next one himself as a statement if you provoke him. If you get him, do you really believe he’ll wear a wire to get Kensington?”

  There’s the rub. “I’m betting he would, Bill. It would be his third strike if I read his record right. That’s why I need to entice my little gang-banging pal into making this personal. It’ll still be tough nailing Kensington.”

  Bill chuckled. “If anyone can piss someone off, my money’s on you, Rick.”

  * * *

  “Yeah?”

  “Julio. This is Rick Cantelli, the guy you sent your crew over to annoy this morning.”

  “What the hell you want? How’d you get this number?”

  “I’m a detective, you idiot. Listen closely! Stay the hell away from The Collinswood Café, pussy. They’re under my protection.”

  I disconnected, and called one of our investigators, Steve Ramirez.

  “Yeah, Rick?”

  “Want in on a touchy one this evening late with me and Lo? We hang out at a café in half ass disguises starting around eleven.”

  “Count me in. By disguise, you mean a ball-cap and casual?”

  “Perfect. We’ll pick you up to play about 10:30.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  Next on the recruitment list was Lois. She would be back from the beach by now, but this operation was going to take some explaining. It actually was an easy sell as Lo had been thinking about the morning gang-banger visit to Cantelli land while at the beach.

  “I’ll take a nap. I don’t want to steal the Collinswoods’ business either. Fetch me on the way to Steve’s. Do you have a plan as to how you want to do this?”

  “I’m heading over to the café now, and get a firsthand account of how they’ve been robbed. Staley says he’ll be ready to back our play.”

  “Okay, Rick. Nice work on this. You really do have a bug about doing a Casablanca Rick deal, huh?”

  “A little,” I admitted, “but mostly I want Julio out of our lives before the unintended consequences start arriving at our doorstep.”

  “Amen to that. See ya’.”

  * * *

  Tim Collinwood still wore the signs of his beating. He and his wife sat across from me listening to my pitch. When I finished, they looked at each other as if I’d been dropped off by Martians.

  “Why would you do this for us?”

  “Because we know you’re being pushed out of your business illegally. We’ll do this sting whether you decide to consider a partnership or not. We certainly won’t do this without your permission.”

  Tim held out his hand. “If you can get the bastards that had me beaten, I’m with you. When do you think it will happen?”

  I shook his hand. “I think it will be tonight. Can you take me through how they approach you?”

  “They jog at us right from the door, pulling masks over their faces under ball-caps,” Sally said. “When they get near our greeter at the front, they make her walk them back to us at gunpoint.”

  Lois will be greeting them this time. “That’s perfect. They’ve never come here before eleven though, right?”

  “Not so far,” Tim answered.

  Perfect. Plan A for Julio. “Thank you both. We’ll try and stop your gangbanger problem tonight. I’ve alerted a detective our firm knows real well, and he’ll be standing by.”

  “If you can help us, we’d be glad to consider anything you have in mind with the business.”

  I left, but the thought of playing Rick from Casablanca once a week was really growing on me. Lois would of course torture me, but if it wasn’t that it would be something else.

  * * *

  Lo was ready when they bounced into the front. I could tell right away from the way they moved something from the illegal pharmaceutical department kept them at a four hundred cycle hum. Lois pushed the actual greeter away by prior agreement. She hurried to the back.

  “Hi. Welcome to The Collinswood Café.”

  “Come with us, bitch!” One hoodie reached around to grab Lo and sprouted Taser needles out of his chest.

  Steve and I deuced the other thug from the sides, giving him a real hummer. Lois tried to resist, but started cranking up the juice, smirking as the punk flopped.

  “Hey… hello… Lois… this isn’t San Quentin’s electric chair room, partner. The customers are starting to get uneasy.”

  Steve of course busted up laughing at Lois’s caught look, her head swiveling to see the looks of horror on the café guests’ faces. She dialed it back quickly while I called Staley.

  “We got ‘em, Bill, all wrapped in a tight package and waiting for a deal,” I told him, while stripping the masks off. “Look here, we got us a Julio. Lois fried him around the edges a little. It was self defense, but I hope you don’t mind the smell of burnt dog in the squad car.”

  I had to wait a moment for Bill to quit laughing.

  “Give me fifteen minutes, Rick. I’ll kick it into gear.”

  “Thank you.”

  Steve and I plastic tied our two gang-bangers, while Lois gave them an up close and very personal pat down with gloved hands. She bagged their belongings, including weapons. Detective Staley arrived with our favorite uniforms, Officers Jamile Crosby, and Terrance Stanley. Jamile leaned down, looking at Julio with a smile.

  “Lo, I think Julio’s a little rare on this side. Maybe you better hook him up again.”

  “One more word out of you, funny-guy, and I light you up too,” Lois snarled, as the rest of us shared a laugh. “We did all the work, and we’re giving over the package for your benefit. Show a little gratitude, you wanker.”

  “Sorry, Lo,” Jamile replied, stifling his he-haw over Lois’s wanker remark. “C’mon, Terry, let’s go canvas the patrons, and find out if they witnessed the barbeque.”

  I reached down and pulled Julio to his feet. “Hi, sunshine. Detective Staley has a real nice deal for you. This is your third strike, meat. We have your apprehension on four different camera angles we had in place for the event, combined with three solid witnesses in court you couldn’t scare with your entire gang. Keep it in mind when Detective Staley asks you to be cooperative.”

  I patted the sullen Julio’s cheek, and Staley guided him out with a wave. The PD scribbled down statements and addresses for the next twenty minutes before exiting the premises with a few more swipes at my partner, who endured them with a promise of retribution. I didn’t say a word. I soaked it all in like a big dumb happy sponge. Naturally, Lo punched me in the shoulder.

  “You’re enjoying this too much, Cantelli.”

  “Yeah, heaven forbid there is happiness in Cantelli land for more than ten seconds. Quit yipping like a hyena, Steve, and let’s go home. You still want me to come over for dinner tomorrow, Lo?”

  “If you want to play Casablanca Rick in this café, you better come with a business plan.”

  “Casablanca Rick?” Steve was now enjoying this too much.

  “Yes, that is correct. Lo, do you know anyone else named Steve besides Urkel. We should have an Urkel night. How about it, Stevie?”

  “I’ll wait outside.” Steve walked to the door with Lois’s cackle as an escort. Been there, done that.

  “You have chosen wisely.”

  Chapter 9: Meth Lab Mixup

  I waited with my eyes tightly closed in concentration, tightening my grip on the Ruger 9mm automatic in my hand. I breathed deeply, clearing my mind as slugs from the asshole firing a MAC-10 machine pistol tore into the shelving over my head. The moment the firing stopped, I leaped to my feet, firing a
tight pattern into the darkness toward where I thought the firing originated. Yeah, I smiled when the screams started in the pitch black. My assailant had night vision goggles, but lucky for me they hadn’t improved his shooting ability. Using his screams to mask my movements I kept low, moving away from the sound. Other footsteps running through the warehouse toward my wounded buddy enabled me to move toward the exit as the screams from the wounded man echoed gruesomely in the building.

  It had all been so simple – a stakeout of an abandoned warehouse near the docks. Floyd Whittier owned a construction business quartered across from the warehouse. His wife believed he met his mistress in the warehouse. Everyone in our office was out sick with the flu except for Lois and me. We’d all gotten the flu shot, but apparently it only worked on us old geezers. So, we had to split duties and make the best of it. Floyd’s wife Carol had based her suspicions on the fact Floyd’s place was dark when she drove by after he told her he was working late. She noticed a few lights and banging around in the warehouse, assuming wrongly it was her cheating husband. Lucky for her she called Lois and hired us to catch him in the act, instead of surprising the folks really in the warehouse banging around after dark.

  The meth lab under the warehouse took me only minutes to find after I spotted a few of the perps banging around in the main warehouse on the way down to the meth lab. I was surprised. They were surprised. It was a surprise party. Instead of letting bygones be bygones, a few nasty looking guys ran up out of the well lighted lab with night vision goggles, MAC-10s, and no desire to hear my heartfelt explanation. I ran for the trash and shelving littered inner darkness with an escort of bullets whizzing by all around me. Two of them struck my vest in the back, propelling me face first onto the warehouse floor. Think the slimiest, most revolting morass you can imagine – yep, face first. It did put me in the mood to return fire though. I’d have to burn my clothes and find where I had stored the lye soap at home. I’m an incurable optimist. I make plans, assuming I will survive.

  So, here I am near the exit with slime all over my new Ruger, my hands, my face, and my attitude toward humanity. I considered running out, calling the PD, and FaceTiming Lois to perk up her night. I didn’t do any of those things. I took out my stun-gun nightstick, and decided I would make some other peoples’ night a crappy one too. Waiting until my breath returned to normal after having my lungs jolted and compressed from the two slugs still sticking in my blessed vest, I did what I was sure these jerks didn’t expect – I snuck back through the warehouse. The screaming had dwindled to a moaning, groaning crescendo, spiked by the intermittent shriek. I crept through the warehouse with the utmost care. The wounded guy’s companions were absorbed in either their friend’s misery or discussing a way to shut him up.

  It was a surprise party again, only with fireworks. I zapped those two until they glowed in the dark. Once I had possession of their MAC-10s and clips, I plastic tied the three stooges, including hurt-boy. That one wailed like a banshee… poor baby. I then called my buddy, Detective Bill Staley. He answered on the second ring, so I figured he was on duty.

  “Hey Rick, how’s the café business? That Casablanca night was a kick, my-”

  “I’m right on top of a meth lab, Bill. I have three banditos down, one wounded, and an unknown number of lab workers under me in the lab.” I gave him the address. “They had fully auto MAC-10s, buddy.”

  “I’ll send SWAT in first. If you have those clowns you took down restrained, bring the weapons out to the front, and keep your hands behind your head until our guys get a good look.”

  “Will do. Heading there right now.” I exited the warehouse and did as I was told. The SWAT van arrived, disgorging some very competent people I did not know personally. I stood still with hands locked behind my head.

  “Are you Cantelli?” The lead guy with Sgt. Culbert on his nametag ran up to me immediately, ahead of his crew.

  “Yes. I have three perps plastic tied above the meth lab and an unknown number of people down in the well lighted lab. I would hope they know the danger of gunshots in the lab, but there’s no way to know.”

  “Put your hands down. Damn. I’ll try to talk them out. Is the warehouse relatively safe if there is an explosion?”

  “I glanced down there and it looks like an in ground structure. I have a vest on. I don’t mind guiding you in, because the only place with lights is the lab. There’s a wounded guy screaming in there. He’s a bad guy.”

  Culbert nodded. “Staley said you were an ex-Seal, but you look a little past it.”

  I snorted toned down laughter while he smiled. “Yeah, but you don’t need me to assault the lab. I can save you some time though and guide you in.”

  “Let’s do it then. Staley has an ambulance on its way.”

  I guided them in. They spaced out at my suggestion with their night vision equipment in place. I didn’t think anyone would have the guts to come out of the lab with that guy still shrieking intermittently. We reached the lab entrance, where I checked on my hogtied buddies. They were all squirming around, one in pain, the others in rage. Culbert and his men dragged the perps about twenty feet away, and he began to negotiate.

  “This is Sergeant Culbert of San Diego SWAT. We have your lab surrounded. We’d prefer not to cause an explosion. Come out with your hands locked behind your heads, one at a time. We will not shoot unless fired upon. If you have weapons, leave them on the floor of the lab.”

  “We want a deal!” One of them called out. “We heard you torturing a guy up there!”

  Culbert glanced at me.

  “Did not.”

  Culbert grinned. “We can’t make deals except to guarantee safe transport to the station. It’s better to surrender peacefully, and make your deals at the station rather than stay down there and get blown to hell and gone.”

  There were rapid mutterings down there for a time before the guy who demanded a deal replied. “We’re coming up! Don’t shoot!”

  Up they came – six men and three women. One of the women is Stacy. Oh boy, does that girl get around. I’m already wondering how long she’s been working in the lab. They all had masks on and lab clothes because of the toxicity. I spotted those wild lyin’ eyes within seconds. This was going to be a lively explanation. She blinked at me in disbelief as they cuffed her.

  “Rick? Don’t let them take me. I didn’t do anything. They forced-”

  “Shut your face, bitch!” The leader of the crew shut Stacy up as if he turned her switch off. I kind of liked him a little.

  Culbert is curious though. “Do you know that woman, Cantelli?”

  “Yep. Working a meth lab is even a bit out of character for her, but very little else is. She’s a pathological liar without a conscience. She will rat out everyone in seconds for an ice cream cone.”

  “Rick!” Stacy didn’t like the looks from the rest of her crew she was getting after my remarks. Boo hoo, she was very disappointed in me.

  Bill Staley arrived with the EMT’s at that point, exchanging pleasantries with Culbert. They did triage on the wounded guy. Two of my bullets had hit him, one near his nuts by the blood, and the other through his shoulder. Staley watched the EMT’s work for a moment while SWAT secured the lab. Bill glanced at each of the now barefaced perps. When he reached Stacy, Bill turned to me in grinning surprise.

  “Did you bring a date to this, Cantelli?”

  “Oh, that’s very funny, Bill.” It wasn’t. “Stacy there is broadening her horizons. Distribution just wasn’t enough. She wanted to get her hands in making the product. I know you won’t believe this yet, but I’m here checking on a cheating husband, who not only is not here, but has nothing to do with this place.”

  Staley laughed, shaking his head. “If it were anyone else, I’d be cuffing you. Did you have to shoot that guy?”

  I turned so he could see the slugs sticking out of my jacket and vest. I could tell they were still there because my jacket felt like it was pinned to my back. “They were spraying me. I
had to get their attention.”

  Bill moved hesitantly next to me, sniffing distastefully. “You took a header into the slop on the floor, huh?”

  “Nope. This is my infiltration Ninja makeup.”

  Even a few of the SWAT guys watching the prisoners laughed at that one.

  “Okay. Take off Cantelli. Thanks for giving me this one on a platter. I’ll be back in at the station at noon. Be there with one of your intricate reports all typed and ready for me to read about your latest adventure.”

  I sighed while clearing my Ruger for depositing in the bag Staley held out. “Thanks, Bill. I know you’re only letting me go because you don’t want me in your car.”

  “That’s a given. Want to have a word with your girlfriend before you go?”

  I turned to Stacy. “Don’t call. Don’t write. Have a nice life, Stace. See you tomorrow, Bill.”

  * * *

  In the process of creating a thorough report combining our original case file along with the resulting gun battle, Lois and Shelly barged into my office to interrupt me. My back throbbed from the direct hits on my vest, but the slop on the warehouse floor had prevented any visible scrapes, although I was certain I’d be coming down with Dengue Fever soon.

  “Shelly just took Staley’s call, Rick. Your latest shooting victim didn’t make it. What the hell? Since when don’t you call your partner before, after, or during a gun battle?”

  “I have to finish this report for Bill. I figured it would cause less of a disruption if I gave you a copy instead of being interrogated this morning. I’m due over at the station in person at noon. Nice to see you, Ms. Fontenot. I’ll bring you the report in fifteen minutes, Lo.”

  Lois took one look at my face and grabbed Shelly’s arm. “C’mon, Shell, he ain’t in a joking mood this morning.”