Three Shot Burst

by Phillip DePoy

  ‘Of course,’ I answered.

  ‘Mr Redhawk explained some of this to me when he found me at Saddlebag,’ Ellen sniffed. ‘I don’t want David’s money. I told him.’

  ‘The thing is,’ John Horse said, ‘David needs to make restitution to you for what he did. And he needs to take care of his child. If he were alive, I would insist. Since he’s dead, and it’s already taken care of, you should take the money.’

  Ellen looked confused.

  ‘So, we’re done,’ Lena said. ‘We’re finished, right, Foggy?’

  ‘If this insurance thing checks out, and everything else is level,’ I said slowly, ‘and the Feds make good on their Witness Protection scheme, I’d say you’re not just finished, you’re sitting pretty. All three of you.’

  Lena turned to Ellen. ‘Can I see her? Can I see my niece?’

  Ellen nodded, took Lena’s hand and they went into some other room.

  I nodded. ‘It’s not really finished, is it?’ I asked John Horse.

  ‘Not really.’ He wouldn’t look at me.

  ‘You want to take down Ironstone Waters,’ I said, looking between him and Mister Redhawk. ‘That’s not going to be easy.’

  ‘You don’t have to be involved,’ John Horse said softly.

  ‘Well,’ I sighed, ‘he did shoot me.’

  ‘And Lena and Ellen won’t ever be safe as long as he’s left to his own devices,’ John Horse said in a very convincing manner.

  ‘I guess we have to get in touch with the Feds,’ I mumbled, trying to sort it all out in my brain, ‘to make sure Lena and her sister and the baby are all taken care of in this Witness Protection deal. I’m not quite certain how I should go about that.’

  ‘We could talk to their primary agent on the case,’ Mister Redhawk said. ‘You’ve met him.’

  ‘I have?’

  ‘Seminole,’ John Horse said. ‘Cut his hair off. Posing as Ironstone’s bodyguard.’

  My head jutted forward. ‘Crew Cut is a Fed?’

  John Horse laughed. ‘His name is Jim Cypress.’

  ‘He’s an inside man?’ I couldn’t believe it.

  ‘It’s a long story,’ John Horse said. ‘And wouldn’t you rather make the world safe for Lena and her family and then ask questions?’

  ‘By screwing with Ironstone Waters?’ I asked. ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Good.’ John Horse stood up. ‘What’s your plan?’

  ‘My plan?’

  Mister Redhawk stepped forward. ‘I’ve done my part. I don’t want to have anything to do with whatever else happens. I don’t want to be an accessory. So if you don’t mind, plan your mayhem outside of this building. I’ll make sure that my guests are well cared for.’

  John Horse smiled and headed for the elevator. ‘He’s right. Let’s go.’

  I was a little reluctant, but I knew that Lena and her kin would be safe in Redhawk’s care. And they were having family time. Best to let that be.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  We were out in the parking lot and almost to my car before we spoke again. The day was shaping up nicely, high clouds still blowing in from the sea, but the good kind of ocean smell, the one that reminds you of summer and suntan oil.

  Unfortunately, my mind was distracted by our much more autumnal situation: dark skies and rain in the forecast.

  ‘I want you to know that I’ve already thought up and discarded two plans to take down Ironstone,’ I said as I opened the car door to my T-Bird. ‘One involved a guy in Lake Wales named Tony. The other one involved Yudda. The problem with both those plans is that I like those guys and I wouldn’t want to see them in the middle of this mess.’

  John Horse climbed into the passenger seat.

  ‘So where does that leave us?’

  ‘I’m trying to think.’ I cranked the car. ‘A couple of things don’t add up, to me, not the least of which is why Ironstone would go to a lot of trouble to nab Lena and then not really do anything with her; just let her go.’

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘I wonder about that.’

  I steered the car toward the police station.

  ‘Baxter said to come by his office,’ I muttered. ‘That’s a part of my third plan. The one where a cop is in league with the Seminole businessman who is, in turn, a part of a very large drug concern.’

  ‘And you don’t mind seeing Baxter get in the middle of the mess,’ John Horse said.

  ‘He’s already in the middle of it; that’s my point. He told me. But I think maybe he’s looking for a way out.’

  ‘That’s where your third plan comes in,’ he surmised. ‘You want to give him a way out that includes bringing down Ironstone.’

  ‘Yes,’ I acknowledged, ‘but it also involves you.’

  ‘Me?’ He smiled.

  ‘I need your help with someone. Betty Mae Jumper to be specific.’

  ‘Oh.’ He nodded and stared for a minute.

  ‘Hachi said something about David having molested one of Mrs Jumper’s little girls, right?’

  ‘Teresa,’ he said softly. ‘Not her daughter, her niece.’

  ‘Nevertheless,’ I went on, ‘Mrs Jumper would be happy to see some sort of retribution, right?’

  He nodded once.

  ‘And it was clear to me that Ironstone didn’t care for Mrs Jumper. He’s a woman-hater, that’s clear. Hard to believe in this modern day of Ms. Magazine and NOW, but that’s who he is.’

  ‘You always surprise me,’ John Horse said. ‘Would not have taken you for a feminist.’

  ‘Are you kidding me?’ I shook my head. ‘I was raised by two women, either one of whom could kick Ironstone’s ass all the way to Pittsburgh and have fun doing it. In fact, if my plan doesn’t work out, I’ll just call my Aunt Shayna. Then he’d really be in trouble.’

  ‘Right,’ he interjected, ‘so what do you want me to say to Betty Mae?’

  ‘The truth. Tell her that Ironstone knew what David was doing with little girls and didn’t care. Even aided and abetted.’

  ‘You think?’ he asked.

  ‘By knowing about a crime and not turning him in,’ I assured him, ‘he became an accessory after the fact, someone who had knowledge that a person committed a felony who also helped that person avoid arrest or punishment. Believe me, everybody in my neighborhood where I grew up was aware of the intricacies of that particular legal gestalt.’

  ‘I believe you. But how does this help us, exactly?’

  ‘Mrs Jumper puts the weight of the Tribal Council behind her request that Ironstone be arrested. We have all kinds of witnesses as to David’s behavior, and I personally have knowledge that Ironstone knew all about it, found it disgusting, but didn’t do a thing about it. See?’

  ‘So when Baxter arrests Ironstone for this accessory after the fact charge,’ he said slowly, ‘he gets to say that he’s bowing to the pressure from our council.’

  ‘Which, in Fry’s Bay, is no small statement. And then, with Ironstone under investigation for that, we coordinate with the DEA, and the walls come tumbling down.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he began.

  ‘Hasn’t it occurred to you that Ellen Greenberg knows a whole lot about the Waters family and their nefarious activities? Inside information? If she was clever enough to send coded letters that she thought the DEA would intercept and interpret, she probably has some very convincing proof about everything that’s going down between Waters and the Columbians.’

  ‘Yes, but that’s really all we need, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘Let the Feds handle this. Let Ellen turn over her information, testify, take care of the whole thing.’

  ‘I would agree with that if the DEA had been able to decode Ellen’s letters and help her out when she needed them most,’ I grumbled. ‘But apparently they aren’t so bright. And who knows who else Ironstone has on his payroll. You say that Crew Cut is a Fed, but you’ll excuse me if I’m cautious. Because, you know, Baxter’s a cop, and he’s on Ironstone’s side. So much so that he’s killed this guy Fidestra who I
was about to convince to turn State’s evidence.’

  We were nearing the police station.

  ‘Let me out here,’ John Horse said abruptly.

  I slowed the car. He opened the door.

  ‘I’m going to make some calls,’ he said. ‘Betty Mae can call the mayor, a couple of the big guys in town, as well as the council. I’ll make sure that they get moving this morning. Right away.’

  He got out of the car and headed down the sidewalk in the direction of the ocean.

  ‘Where are you going to use the phone?’ I asked.

  ‘Yudda’s,’ he said without looking back. ‘I want a fish sandwich.’

  That was that. I continued down the street to the police station. Then, out of nowhere, thunder.

  I parked the car and got out, looked out toward the sea. Sure enough, way in the distance there were black clouds, and lightning was zigzagging the waves. I tried not to take it for a sign.

  Instead, I put on a smile and motored through the front door of the police station. It was an exhausted place: too small, too much desperation in the stale air. Cigarette smoke and burnt coffee assaulted the nostrils. Florescent lights hurt my eyes; the sloppy demeanor hurt my feelings. Everything about the place, in fact, conspired to be depressing. But I felt the same way about every police station I’d ever been in.

  There was Baxter behind his chaos of a desk, glaring at his Royal typewriter.

  ‘You should go electric,’ I said as I approached his havoc. ‘IBM makes a very nice—’

  ‘Shut up,’ he said without looking at me, ‘and sit down.’

  I did both.

  ‘Now this Fidestra character,’ he began.

  ‘No,’ I interrupted. ‘That’s my opener: why did you kill the guy when I was just about to make a deal? And why did you call Ironstone? And how’s our little gambit regarding Lena coming along? Have you added the syringe to the David Waters crime scene? See I keep asking questions without giving you time to answer because I know you don’t have answers. Not for me. Because as I put two and two together, it adds up in your favor, doesn’t it?’

  The barrage-of-questions technique was one that Brooklyn cops had used on me a lot when I was younger. I got pretty good at ignoring it eventually, but the first couple of times it was used on me, I was very disconcerted. I was hoping the same might be said of Baxter.

  He stopped what he was doing. He looked up. I didn’t like the expression on his face.

  ‘The thing is,’ he said, barely above a whisper, ‘the money’s just too good.’

  Which was a complete answer to all my questions: he wasn’t ever going to be on my side. He was always going to play for cash, for Ironstone’s cash in this case. And the fact that he wasn’t even bothering to protest or hide was a real danger sign.

  ‘It could be good for you too, Foggy,’ he went on, even softer.

  I chewed on my lower lip for a second before a couple of things came clear.

  ‘I didn’t really order an English muffin,’ I said.

  He blinked, momentarily confused by the non sequitur.

  ‘Cass suggested it,’ I said, staring him right in the eye. ‘After I called you and said to meet at the donut shop, you called her, and she fixed up the mickey.’

  He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

  ‘Cass is working with you,’ I told him, ‘for Ironstone. Of course your donuts were all right. All of your gab about helping with Lena, that was just an act. The only one you’re really helping is yourself.’

  ‘And I say it again,’ he answered, ‘it could be good for you too.’

  ‘No, it couldn’t,’ I demurred. ‘I don’t really care about money all that much. I used to care about the kick. Now all I care about is atonement. I never really thought much about the pay. That’s what gives me my devil-may-care attitude.’

  I leaned forward and smiled to demonstrate the attitude.

  Baxter leaned back in his chair. ‘Well. I’m sorry, then. Sorry about the kid.’

  At first I thought he meant that he was going to go ahead with criminal proceedings, charge Lena with murder. But a moment’s meditation made me come to the conclusion that he wasn’t so stupid. He was just going to get rid of Lena. And her sister.

  I stood up. A small line of sweat turned my hairline. I had a flinty taste in my mouth.

  ‘You’ve been tracking Lena this whole time,’ I concluded. ‘You were hoping she’d lead you to Ellen. And I helped her do that.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he laughed. ‘Pretty neat, huh? Once we figured that Lena really was Ellen’s sister and that Lena killed David on account of what he’d done to her, it was easy enough to let you do the leg work. That’s your fault, really: you’re too good at your job. I was positive you’d find Ellen. I told Ironstone to give you a long leash, and with a little help from the redskins, you came through. We would never have thought to look in Lake Wales and certainly not the Cherry Pocket. But once you were there, and Fidestra tipped us, the rest was just a kind of wait-and-see proposition.’

  That flinty taste in my mouth turned out to be panic.

  ‘You’ve had someone following me everywhere,’ I managed to say.

  ‘Even when you went to Redhawk’s place just now,’ he answered. ‘Yes. Ironstone’s probably there right now. We have Ellen, and all, as they say, is right with the world.’

  If I’d been the kind of guy who prayed, I would have laid one down for Crew Cut, hoping that he was there with Ironstone and that he was really an honest Fed, watching out for the sisters.

  I backed away from Baxter. He shook his head.

  ‘It’s too late, Foggy.’

  ‘Ellen is a lot more than just a witness to all the stuff that the Waters family’s done,’ I finally realized. ‘She has some sort of proof. Documentation. Something that could really bring down the whole operation.’

  He just shook his head. ‘Don’t go back over to Redhawk’s, Foggy. I actually like you. I wouldn’t want to come to your funeral.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be invited,’ I told him.

  And then I ran.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Everything was a blur: getting out of the station, into my car, back to Redhawk’s. The next thing I knew I was parking in front of the building. I really didn’t care for what I saw. The lobby lights were off. The day outside was very bright, and the relative black inside the building made it hard to see through the big glass windows.

  Against my muscle instinct, I took it slow. I felt for the pistol in my suit coat pocket as I got out of my car, checked to make sure the gun was loaded, and eased open the front entrance to the building.

  Right away I could see that somebody had dumped a load of laundry on the floor. Once my eyes adjusted to the lower light, I could see that the pile was Crew Cut, face down in a pool of blood, absolutely dead. I checked all my questions about what had happened to him for later reference. There were more pressing matters.

  The elevator up to the penthouse was whirring. I looked around and found the stairs. Then I let my muscles have their way, and I flew up the stairs, working to beat the elevator up to the top floor. I made it to the stairway door just as the elevator doors were closing. I saw Ironstone’s back. I also saw the Stoner 63 machine gun in his right hand. I didn’t care for the gun myself, but some of the guys who went to Vietnam liked it, a few SEALS, some Marines. I couldn’t help wondering where Ironstone had gotten it.

  Didn’t matter, of course, all I had to do was shoot him in the back before he could use it.

  Unfortunately, the stairway door scraped behind me and he twirled around, spraying bullets. I barely had time to dive to the floor.

  The next thing I knew there was more gunfire from inside Redhawk’s living room. Ironstone hadn’t come alone.

  I rolled, fired the pistol, rolled again.

  When I was able to glance over at Ironstone, I could see that I hadn’t hit him, but at least I’d made him nervous. He was tucked behind one of the fancy art deco pillars tha
t separated the foyer from the penthouse proper.

  There was no place for me to hide, so I just aimed my gun at the shadow behind the pillar and fired again.

  A second later, Lena appeared in the entranceway. She moved like a ghost right up to Ironstone and dug the muzzle of her Lilliput pistol into the back of his neck.

  ‘I’m going to pop this gun four or five times,’ she screamed like a banshee, ‘and sever the part of your spine that leads to your brain!’

  It was so shrill and hysterical that Ironstone dropped his machine gun.

  I got up, pistol leveled at Ironstone’s face, and walked up to him as fast as I could.

  ‘And then when she’s done,’ I told him, burning my eyes into the back of his skull, ‘I’m going to pull out your eyes, cut out your tongue, and shave your head clean!’

  That was something I’d gotten from my friend Philip. If you were any sort of Seminole, you really didn’t want your body to be mutilated like that because you’d have to go to the other side blind, dumb, and bald. I didn’t know if it would work on Ironstone exactly, but I thought it sounded like a match for Lena’s hysteria.

  ‘Hi, Foggy,’ she said, smiling. ‘You weren’t gone long.’

  ‘I missed you,’ I told her, my gun still pointed at Ironstone’s chest. ‘And a good thing too. Ironstone’s not joking. He killed your friend Crew Cut.’

  She ground the muzzle of her tiny pistol harder into Ironstone’s neck.

  ‘He what?’ she growled.

  ‘Yeah,’ I assured her. ‘Dead on the lobby floor.’

  ‘Why?’ she asked.

  ‘That’s right,’ I remembered, ‘you were out of the room when John Horse told me he was an undercover DEA agent. Got next to Ironstone after your sister took a powder.’

  ‘Took a powder?’ she mocked. ‘You really are playing up the whole I’m-a-gangster-from-Brooklyn gestalt.’

  ‘Look who’s using the word gestalt,’ I countered.

  ‘Could we dispense with the cozy banter,’ Ironstone interrupted. ‘My neck is starting to get sore, and I really have to see Redhawk. As you know, I’m not here alone. I have a dozen men outside, and several more on their way up the stairs. The way you came up, Foggy.’