Lloyd Corricelli - Ronan Marino 01 - Two Redheads & a Dead Blonde

by Lloyd Corricelli

  “The Irish crime boss?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “My God, Ronan, what the hell have you got yourself into?”

  “Something far bigger than I ever expected.”

  “You talked with Uncle Sal?”

  “Yeah, he’s been feeding me information.”

  “Watch him too. You know he has his own agenda.”

  “Are you saying our own uncle would stab me in the back?”

  Marc didn’t understand the code and his attitude of law enforcement superiority could get tiresome. Maybe one day he’d learn his lesson. That or I’d find out I was really the naïve one in the family.

  “I’m just saying to be careful. You don’t really know what he’s capable of.”

  I almost laughed at him. I loved when my little brother lectured me on matters of the world especially when the only foreign country he ever visited was Canada…and I was the one who brought him there for his bachelor party.

  “Okay, bro. What did you tell Frances?”

  “That we had a partial plate on a hit and run and his car didn’t match the suspect’s car.”

  “Good call. Let’s hope their guys don’t put Marc Marino and Ronan Marino together and figure out what we’re up to.”

  “Shit, I hadn’t thought of that. Where are you?”

  “On my way to Lawrence to see another of Karen’s clients.”

  “Lawrence? Yuck. Anyone I’d know?”

  “Probably, but it’s better if you don’t know who it is.”

  “Not another chief I hope.”

  “No, but this could be worse.”

  “You’re right, I don’t want to know. Take it easy, brother.”

  ****

  I parked outside the Lawrence District Courthouse and went in. I had to leave my pistol in the Jeep to get past security. With the latest news from my brother, I didn’t feel comfortable doing that but without a badge, I’d never get the gun past the metal detectors at the door.

  I asked the overweight guard where Judge Forester’s chamber was and he directed me to the second floor. I jogged up the stairs, passing a cute woman dressed in a very short skirt and carrying a stack of files. She smiled at me and for a minute I forgot I was in Massachusetts. It was a California moment.

  I got to his chamber and peeked in the adjacent courtroom. It wasn’t in session so I knocked on the judge’s door.

  “Come in,” someone yelled in a gruff voice.

  I pushed open the door and walked in. Judge Forester was sitting back with his feet up on the desk. He wore a shiny black pair of cowboy boots and was smoking a pipe. They’d banned smoking in most public buildings but being a judge meant he didn’t have to follow the rules.

  A young female clerk with stringy brown hair and the bone structure of a linebacker stood next to his desk holding a stack of manila folders. She looked pissed that I was intruding on her self-perceived important business. I’d learned long ago that all court clerks believe their business is important, even if it’s just taking the lunch order.

  “Judge Forester?” I asked, knowing damn well that it was him.

  “Yeah, can I help you?”

  “Yes, sir, I need to speak to you in private.”

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “My name is Ronan Marino. I’m a friend of Karen Pommer’s.”

  “Don’t know a Karen Plummer.”

  “It’s Karen Pommer.”

  “Don’t know her either.”

  “You knew her as Misty.”

  He sat up in the chair, turned to the clerk and waived his hand at her.

  “That will be all, Carolyn,” he ordered. “Please close the door behind you.”

  She frowned but made her exit, intentionally turning her gaze away as she left. Forester inhaled on his pipe and let out a long stream of smoke.

  “Have a seat.”

  I sat in a cracked vinyl chair next to his desk. It was standard government furniture that should have been replaced five years ago.

  “What did you say your name was?”

  “Ronan Marino.”

  “You a cop?”

  “Used to be.”

  “What happened?”

  “It was time to move on.”

  “I can usually read people pretty well. You were probably terrible at taking orders.”

  He was wrong, but I didn’t dispute it. I took orders well, at least when I agreed with them. The ones I didn’t like were usually followed but under protest. Fortunately I’d never found myself in a situation where I’d been given orders that I found illegal. I was pretty sure how’d I react to that.

  “Sir, I’m not here to give you a hard time or make trouble.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  “I was a friend of Karen’s and I’m trying to make some sense of her death.”

  “Maybe I don’t know anything. Maybe I deny even knowing her.”

  “The agency gave me your name.”

  “So much for discretion,” he said rolling his eyes.

  “Don’t blame them, I forced the information out of them.”

  He looked me over. “You’re not that big.”

  “I’m very influential.”

  He nodded. “I knew her. She was a really great girl. I read about her death and to be honest, it seemed a little suspicious to me. What do you want to know?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me something I could use to piece this thing together.”

  He thought about it and shook his head. “I didn’t see her all that much, only about twice a month. I wanted more but she said she had another client who was very powerful and demanded her time.”

  “She didn’t say who?”

  “No, and I really didn’t want to know. Her business was her business and to be honest, I sometimes felt guilty enough without knowing who else was involved.”

  That was interesting. I initially thought maybe it was Chief Fontini, but while he was a powerful man, not nearly as much as a senior judge. The CEOs and doctor were connected but wouldn’t be considered powerful to a man like Forester.

  “Did she ever say anything about this person? It would be helpful.”

  “No, she was very private. I asked her about her life a few times but she didn’t say much at all. I really wish I could have gotten to know her better.”

  I raised my eyebrows to this statement and he took offense.

  “What? You’re going to pass judgment on me because I used an escort service?”

  “No, sir. I just thought that was somewhat odd that you wanted to get to know her.”

  “I know, but I never used hookers or anything like that. My wife died about five years ago and I’ve been alone since and never had time to date or develop a relationship. Even at my age a man gets lonely and in my desperation I saw an ad in the sports section of the paper and called it.”

  His eyes were starting to get watery. The man had genuine feelings for Karen. I started to almost feel bad–almost.

  “Misty was like a breath of fresh air in my life. Sometimes, we’d even just talk.”

  “What about?”

  “Sports, politics, religion, the girl was pretty intelligent. I expected some bimbo with a great body and no brain but she shocked me.”

  “But you did sleep with her?”

  Stupid question, I don’t know why I asked it. While he was on my list of suspects, my gut was telling me he wasn’t my guy. Unless he was a sociopath, there was no sign what so ever of any deception in his words or non-verbal expressions. It was clear to me that he was almost as upset as I was about her loss.

  “Of course, I’m a man just like you. I’m going to assume there was some type of relationship between the two of you.”

  “We were dating.”

  “She must have made a strong impression on you or else you wouldn’t be here talking to me.”

  “I was with her right before she was killed.”

  He nodded and we sat looking at each other, not really
sure what else to say. He pulled a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s out of his desk drawer with two plastic cups.

  “Would you like a drink?”

  “What the hell.”

  “It’s a bit early for this, but…”

  He poured each cup about half-full and put the cap back on the whiskey. I picked up one of the cups and looked it, swirling the brown liquid around. I wasn’t a big fan of Jack, but why insult the man?

  “I’d like to know a bit more about her,” he said. “If you don’t mind.”

  I didn’t. In fact, I was in a surprisingly talkative mood.

  About an hour and two drinks later, I left the courthouse with a new ally. Judge Forester told me if there was ever anything I needed to call him and he’d help me out. Judges, especially of his caliber, were always good friends to have.

  I initially suspected that perhaps he was on Duffy’s payroll too; a powerful judge beholden to a mob chieftain would be a huge asset. He claimed however he had been paying for Karen’s services himself and I found him convincing. I warned him that Duffy now had dirt on him and someday he might get a video or photos in the mail demanding a favor. He didn’t seem too concerned. Other than that lack of discretion, Forester struck me as a standup kind of guy.

  Meanwhile, I had a new piece of information to run with. Whoever this potential phantom sixth client was, he probably wasn’t in the agency’s records so going back there wouldn’t accomplish anything.

  I went straight home and took a nap. I don’t normally take naps, but as hard as I was pushing myself the past few weeks my body demanded it. The liquor didn’t help any either. I only intended to sleep for an hour or so but when I woke up it was dark. I looked at the clock and I’d been out for at close to three hours.

  I went down to the kitchen and made myself a grilled cheese with ham and ate it with a tall glass of chocolate milk. I pulled down all the blinds for fear someone would see me drinking the chocolate milk and it would ruin my tough guy reputation.

  After I cleaned up, I decided to pay a visit down to Max’s. I was hoping to get a chance to talk to Cassie and maybe she could shed some light on who this sixth client was. It was a long shot but there was no game on and I had nothing better to do.

  As I approached downtown, I spotted a tail in my rear view mirror. I told Shea I wasn’t ready for backup but he seemingly decided to ignore my request. Garcia was five cars back in a white Buick. I’d seen worse tails, but not by much.

  I made a few quick turns to let him know I saw him but the kid didn’t catch on. Finally I just slowed down and waved. He quickly looked away and peeled off down a side street. If the poor guy had a decent partner to show him the ropes he would have never been spotted so easily. Maybe I’d spend some time when this was over teaching him how to do a proper surveillance. There could come a time he might actually need to follow someone important and I’d hate to see him get embarrassed or worse.

  I entered the club through the back alley. The staff was milling around waiting for the heavier crowd to arrive. As I learned during my time in clubs, the big partiers usually don’t start rolling in until sometime past nine.

  Max saw me and waved me over.

  “I don’t remember your band being booked for tonight.”

  “We’re not. I need to talk to a few of your people.”

  “I guess that’d be okay. Making any progress?”

  “Some. How’s business?”

  “It sucks, things are way too slow.”

  He could have had people packed in wall-to-wall drinking five beers an hour and business would suck.

  “Sorry to hear it. Is Cassie here?”

  “Yeah, she’s out on the floor. She’s been showing up for all her shifts the past few days.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Do me a favor will ya’, Ronan?”

  “Sure, Maxie, anything for you,” I said sarcastically.

  “I’m serious. Don’t mention our little discussion.”

  “Scout’s honor.”

  “You were never a Boy Scout.”

  “No, but I always had honor.”

  “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

  I went around the back bar and walked out into the club. Cassie was standing at the end of the main bar, waiting for a drink order. I stepped back behind the bar so she couldn’t see me and watched. The bartender filled her order and she delivered them to a table full of businessmen, their ties undone and hanging off their shirts. They looked like management from the gas company across the street having a few pops before heading home for the night. With all of the bars in the downtown area, this wasn’t exactly the type of place I’d have expected to find them.

  She gave them her “you might be able to fuck me if I get a good tip” smile and walked right back to where I was. She looked back at something and ran right into my chest, almost dropping her tray.

  “Hi, Cassie.”

  She had a look of dread on her face. I’d caught her off guard and it wasn’t your “Daddy bringing you home a new toy” type of surprise.

  “Uh, Ronan, hi. I didn’t see you there.”

  “You have a few minutes?”

  “I’m really kind of busy, maybe if you come back later we could talk.”

  “Bullshit, we’re going to talk now.”

  She started to protest but I put up my hand and she bowed her head, put her tray on the back bar and followed me outside into the alley. When we got out there, she stared at the ground and her hands trembled slightly.

  “Cassie, it’s okay. You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

  “I–I’m not,” she mumbled.

  “I know about the escort agency.”

  She looked up at me, then around the alley to see if we were alone.

  “It’s just us.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ronan.”

  “AAA Diamond Escorts. You don’t work for them?”

  “What kind of girl do you think I am?” She put her hands on her hips and feigned anger.

  “Knock it off, Cassie, I’ve seen their web page and I know you and Karen both worked for them.”

  Her face softened and she nodded. “Did someone tell you that?”

  “No, I found out on my own. I just want to know what’s going on.”

  She looked at me for a brief moment then back to the ground. This was going to be tough on her.

  “I’ve been working for them for about two years,” she said. “When I met Karen, she was complaining about the high cost of rent near the university so I thought maybe she’d be interested in making some real money. Now she’s dead because of me.”

  She turned away and began to cry tears of guilt and shame. I put my finger under her chin and lifted up her head to look in her eyes.

  “Do you think the agency had something to do with her death?”

  She nodded. “Karen told me she wanted to get out; she had more than enough money to get her through the rest of college and was afraid you’d find out. A few days before she died, she said she’d laid down an ultimatum and wasn’t going back.”

  “It’s not your fault, Cassie. Don’t let the guilt get to you.”

  “But if I’d never gotten her involved…”

  “Karen was a big girl. She made the decision to do what she did all on her own.”

  “I guess.”

  “I talked to some of her clients. One of them mentioned her seeing someone very powerful. Any ideas who?”

  “How did you find them?”

  “I have sources in low places.”

  “Oh my God, you’re not the one who broke Richard’s nose, are you?”

  I just nodded.

  “People always underestimate you, don’t they?” she asked.

  “Sometimes,” I replied. “So any thoughts on who this client might be?”

  “That was one thing we never really talked about all that much. They were just guys paying us for sex, nothing else,” she said coldly.

  “Wh
y work here? She didn’t need the money and I assume you don’t either.”

  “If anyone ever asked how we could afford things, we just used this job as an excuse. No one can ever really track tips from waitressing, even Max.”

  “Pretty weak cover story but that’s kind of what I figured. I assume you’re still working for them since you saw what happened at their office.”

  She nodded yes and looked me in the eyes. I only saw desperation and fear in her big green eyes. It stirred feelings inside of me that I didn’t want to have but my damn sense of responsibility was about to take over.

  “How much do you charge for a night?”

  “What?”

  “I’ve been lonely,” I said with a grin.

  “For you, on the house.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  She half-smiled and I wiped a tear from her eye. I took her hands and held them.

  “Be honest with me. Do you want out?”

  She slowly nodded yes, never making eye contact.

  “Have you tried?”

  “No. I don’t want to end up dead too.”

  “I’ll protect you.”

  “How? I know you were in the military and in wars and stuff, but these people are fucking ruthless. I’ve heard horror stories about some of the shit they’ve done to people who cross them.”

  “I know exactly how bad these people are, Cassie but if you’re willing to trust me, I can make this work.”

  “Okay.”

  She hugged me in a death grip and I could feel her body quiver. She was scared for her life and I didn’t blame her. I knew the feeling intimately.

  Within the hour, Tony was parked outside of Cassie’s apartment. Shortly after I’d come back to Lowell, I had also bought a house up at Perkin’s Cove in Ogunquit, Maine right on the ocean; I had a thing for waterfront property. It was convenient to disappear to when I needed time alone, my own little Fortress of Solitude. Few people outside of my immediate family knew of it so it would make a good little safe house for Cassie until I could figure out how to get her out of Duffy’s claws.

  I put her suitcase in the backseat of Tony’s immense black Suburban and slammed the door. Cassie sat in the front seat alone, looking straight ahead and nervously rubbing her hands together.

  “This is really going to piss off the Micks,” Tony said.