Finders Keepers

by Shirl Henke

  He snorted. “Looked to me like that goon had things pretty well in hand—a .45 caliber Smith & Wesson.” He glanced down at the gun he had taken from the unconscious Russian, then stuffed it into his belt and reached for the stunner.

  “You know guns?” she asked.

  “Four years in the Army. Don’t look so surprised,” he said, remembering her comments about being a cop back in Miami. “Help me drag the tall fellow onto that chair.”

  As they worked at the arduous task, Sam couldn’t resist asking, “Why would a rich preppy type join the military—is ROTC a college requirement if your family landed on Plymouth Rock?”

  Matt shrugged after depositing the goon on the chair. “Nope. I enlisted. To piss off my family.”

  Sam grinned. “Bet it worked.”

  Not wanting to discuss his family’s quirks—or his own—he looked at their Russian captive slumped on the chair. “I don’t think he’s going to come around anytime soon.”

  “Don’t be too sure of that. It’s what I thought about the fat one. They must be tough as fried round steak,” she said, trying not to shudder as she recalled the mobster’s sweaty body pressing the breath from her while he pinned her beneath him. He stank of cabbage and garlic.

  As she secured his companion with the straitjacket, Matt said, “If I’m going to intimidate Russian mobsters, I think it’d work better without the robe and slippers.” She had little choice so she didn’t argue. He went out to the van and retrieved his clothes.

  By the time Granger had dressed, the tall goon was groaning his way back to consciousness. Meanwhile, Sam had cuffed his companion’s wrist to the bed frame and left him lying on the floor.

  “Let’s take a look at their ID,” Matt said, quickly going through both men’s jackets and removing their wallets. “Nice tailor, guys,” he commented as he tossed the heavy suit coats on the bed.

  “Whaddya wanna bet they’re from Miami?” Sam interjected, checking the label on one smelly jacket.

  “Wouldn’t bet against it,” Matt replied, flipping open the unconscious one’s wallet. “Yep. Florida driver’s license. Yuri Garzenko, Coconut Grove.” He opened the other. “Vassily Kuzan, Bal Harbor.”

  “The addresses don’t fit with the tailoring,” she commented. “Bet they’re phony.”

  As he riffled through other materials, he grunted agreement. “Probably, but I wouldn’t be surprised if their boss lives in a high-rent district.” No photos or personal mementos, just a big wad of cash and an Allstate insurance card. He looked over at Sam, showing her the cash.

  “Enough to pay my rent for a year,” she replied.

  Matt gave her a quizzical look. “Where do you live—Liberty City?”

  She gave him a cutting glare. “On NE 110th just off Biscayne. I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth like some people I know.”

  “Or a brain in your head. A woman alone—”

  “I know how to take care of myself,” she interrupted.

  “Yeah, I could see that,” he replied wryly, then turned back to business. “Now, give me that key.” She complied and he removed the cuff from his hand, then turned his attention to the gunsel slumped in the chair.

  “You stand behind him and be ready to do your version of the Vulcan nerve pinch if he tries to squirm too much.” He paused as she walked behind the prisoner, making sure the guy was coherent enough to understand. “After all, having that much voltage flowing through his cock and balls might make him just the tiniest bit twitchy.”

  The Russian was either a damn good actor or just naturally stoic. Given the world the man had come from, Matt didn’t doubt he’d be a lot tougher than your average Jersey leg-breaker. What the hell did old Vassily have to lose? He’d find out soon enough once Matt zapped him in the nuts with the stun gun. Leveling a hard stare directly into the mobster’s expressionless gray eyes, Granger showed him the stunner.

  “You know what one of these babies can do? Now your pal over there—” he jerked his head in the direction of the still-unconscious man lying on the floor “—he could give you a real vivid description. I’d bet on it, and my friend didn’t even use it anyplace strategic.”

  Matt paused to see if this was sinking in. No dice. “I know you’re the bastards who beat Hugo Zandski—tortured an old man so he’d tell you where two women and their kids were. How long’d you work on him before you figured out he wasn’t going to talk? You leave him for dead or did somebody interrupt you before you could finish him? Believe me, even if he knew, he’d die before he’d let you kill them.” He watched the thug’s eyes, praying his faith in Hugo wasn’t misplaced.

  The Russian just returned his stare without a trace of emotion.

  “If their bodies turn up, I will personally see that you get murder one. I have friends in the San Diego D.A.’s office. You’ll be so deep in the gulag they’ll be feeding you with a slingshot.” He was almost sure these apes wouldn’t have had time to get rid of the women and kids and then follow him. But what if he was wrong?

  “Did you find Tess Renkov?” Still no dice. Matt placed the stunner on the outside of Vassily’s thigh, then gave him a short blast. Kuzan yelped and writhed inside the straitjacket, his whole face now as red as his nose. Sam kept one hand on his neck and when he tried to lunge up at Matt she applied pressure to just the right spot. That slowed him down—combined with the stunner which now was jammed in his right nostril.

  When he settled back in the chair, Matt lowered the stunner to his crotch. “Now we go down and dirty, Vassily, my friend.” He looked into Kuzan’s eyes and read emotion for the first time. Stark terror. “Do I have to repeat the question?”

  “Nyet! Old man tells us nothing. Woman and boy are gone. Then she—” Vassily glared at Sam “—she takes you away before we can get you. So, we follow.”

  Matt was inclined to believe him. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but it made sense. Now that he had the men who put Hugo in the hospital, the women should be safe for a little while.

  “Okay. Who sent you after Tess?”

  “Is difficult…you will not believe…” Kuzan’s voice faded and he shivered.

  Matt jammed the stunner into Vassily’s crotch with enough pressure to elicit a sharp intake of breath. “Talk or howl, my friend. Up to you.”

  “Da, da, I talk! I talk.” Staring in horror at the stunner, which was strategically placed to shatter his family jewels, Kuzan looked as if he’d either faint or toss his cookies. “Yuri and I, we are hired by someone we do not know—I swear it on my mother’s grave!”

  “Funny, but that tough old man you worked over said a Russian would lie on his mother’s grave.”

  Sam applied pressure to the nerve cluster at the base of their captive’s jaw. “I don’t think you had a mother, ace. Wadda you think, Matt? Did this lizard hatch or crawl out from under a rock?”

  “Personally, I’d vote for the rock,” Granger replied as Yuri groaned, once more, incredibly regaining consciousness. “His associate for sure is made of stone.” He turned his attention back to Vassily Kuzan. “Let’s go over this again. How could someone hire you without you knowing them?”

  “We never meet person who pays. Only a voice over phone. We do not know who,” he entreated, those marble-cold eyes bulging out, his expression desperate.

  “You freelancing for somebody local, Vassily? Too afraid of him to talk?” Matt taunted, jiggling the stunner between his captive’s thighs.

  “If I were you, I’d be more afraid of this guy,” Sam said with an evil grin.

  The gunsel’s eyes were glued to the weapon held against his crotch. Taking a deep breath he plunged in. “We work for Valentin Pribluda’s man in Miami, Niki Benko. Renkov has him killed. We have no boss. Then Yuri gets phone call saying we will be paid to get rid of Renkov’s daughter-in-law and her son. Money is good.”

  “Kill the kid, too!” Sam was aghast.

  Kuzan nodded, suddenly realizing he may have made a blunder.

  “For su
re it’s not Mikhail. He’d never kill his only grandson,” Matt said.

  “If this goon’s telling the truth,” Sam replied. Her eyes were hard as glass when she looked at a man willing to kill a mother and child. “Who else would want Tess and her son dead?”

  “Pribluda in New York?” Matt speculated. “It’d sure as hell send a message to Renkov for offing Benko in Miami.”

  Sam shook her head. “I’m Irish, remember? Trust me on the vengeance thing. We do it as good as the Russians. Killing his grandson would set Mikhail Renkov out for blood. He’d declare full-scale war from Miami to Little Odessa in Brighton Beach.” She looked at Kuzan. “My people and yours have long memories.”

  Kuzan nodded. “Da, but Renkov, he already opens the war. He kills Benko. Maybe is Pribluda after Renkov’s family.” He nodded, happy with his answer.

  “What do you know about Alexi Renkov going ‘boom’?” Matt asked.

  The Russian looked blank.

  Shrugging, Matt pressed the gun hard against Kuzan’s sausage. “Trying to suck it up into your body won’t work, you know,” he said conversationally, starting to press the trigger.

  “All right!” the Russian gasped. “I tell you rumors. Maybe true…maybe not.”

  “Smart man.” He withdrew the stunner a few inches and asked, “What about Alexi?”

  “P-Pribluda. Maybe he tells Benko, kill Alexi.”

  “But Benko was already dead, right?” Matt asked logically.

  The Russian nodded dumbly. “Old Mikhail hears this and kills Benko first,” he suggested hopefully.

  “Good mob reasoning,” Sam said.

  “Did you set that car bomb?” Matt asked Kuzan.

  The Russian shook his head no. “We do not know bombs.”

  “I believe him. These goons couldn’t set an alarm clock without help,” Sam said.

  “Why kill Alexi or his wife and kid? Why not hit Mikhail if Benko’s New York bosses wanted to take over Miami?” Again, Matt applied more pressure with the stunner. “Was that bomb really intended for Alexi or for his wife?”

  Kuzan’s thought processes were obviously not exactly swift. “I do not know…only…”

  “Yeah?” Granger prompted.

  “Benko hears rumors before he is died. That Mikhail’s son tries to make deals for weapons. From Kazakhstan.”

  “Now we may be onto why Alexi was wasted, but it doesn’t explain who’d be after Tess and their son,” Matt said.

  Changing tack, Sam asked, “Tell us more about Alexi’s deals. If you and Yuri weren’t the guys who offed him, who was? We’ll sort through rumors,” she added with a sarcastic smirk.

  The Russian shrugged inside the straitjacket helplessly. “Lots of weapons, bombs in old Soviet countries for sale. Maybe when he travels for golf, he sets up deal for nuclear device.”

  “In Kazakhstan?” Matt prompted.

  “Is all we hear. Know nothing about how he is died. We are to kill wife, son. Is all we know.”

  “And how did rocket scientists like you track down Tess Renkov?” Sam inquired, already anticipating the answer and exchanging a knowing look with Granger.

  “We follow you from Miami,” Kuzan mumbled, looking worriedly at Matt.

  “And you never imagined it’s your dead boss’s boss who hired you until now?”

  The expression in the Russian’s eyes now was a combination of utter confusion blended with fear. Sweat ran down his face in rivers, soaking his whole body, even through the straitjacket. The room stank of it.

  “Use these to lock him to the other bed, well away from his pal,” Matt said, tossing the cuffs he’d taken off to Sam. “Let’s adjourn for some fresh air and think things over.” He picked up her fanny pack, stuffed the stunner and her .38 inside, then opened the door, waiting while she did as he instructed. It felt good to be in command for a change.

  “You believe him?” Sam asked once they were outside.

  Matt shrugged. “He’s scared shitless. And, Lord knows, he’s dumb enough to take a job by phone and not have a clue who hired him. The part about Alexi and arms sales is interesting, though. I need to talk to Tess. First to be sure she’s all right. Then to see if she can corroborate any of Vassily’s story.”

  “I’d say Vassily made it up but he doesn’t have enough imagination,” Sam replied.

  “What’d you do with my cell?”

  “It’s in the van.”

  He scrutinized her, an unreadable expression on his face. “Can I trust you not to try anything, Sam? No bullshit now.”

  “Hey, I just got a demonstration that proved you aren’t paranoid, remember? Of course you can trust me.” She wasn’t crossing her fingers behind her back, but she felt as if she should. How the hell could she explain about Patowski and the Feds? Darling Matthew would wring her neck—or use her own stunner on her. But on the other hand, how could she let go of ten K? She had a lot invested in this enterprise already. Not all of it was material, but Sam wasn’t going there right now. The time to sort out her feelings about the sexy Mr. Granger was later.

  “Let me dig the phone out of the van for you. You have Tess Renkov’s number programmed in?” She knew it, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.

  He still didn’t trust her, but what the hell could he do? Muttering, “Keep your friends close but your enemies even closer,” he strolled after her, watching as she unlocked the van and dug around in the backseat until she came up with the cell she’d relieved him of that morning. She handed it to him, then waited. He pressed a speed-dial number, praying. “Pick up, please, Tess.”

  After two rings Tess answered and Matt began to breathe again.

  Sam wanted to eavesdrop, but he placed his hand over the mouthpiece and said to her, “Go inside and check on our boys. I’ll be right with you.” It wasn’t a request. And he had all the guns. Grudgingly, she complied.

  In moments he called her back outside. “I told Tess about Hugo. She’s calling the hospital to make sure he’s okay and tell him they’re safe.”

  “Yeah, I guess you were worried about the guy—now that I know your story’s legit,” she admitted grudgingly. “What’s she say about Alexi?”

  “Tess doesn’t know jack about Alexi dealing black market arms, but agreed it was the kind of risk he’d get off on. Seems our playboy liked skating on the edge.”

  “He skated over the edge big-time,” she said.

  “Tess is still convinced that old Mikhail intended to kill her from the minute she started talking divorce. Didn’t want to lose his grandson. She still thinks Alexi’s death was an accident because he was driving the car she’d been using.”

  “Then Pribluda and the Brighton Beach crowd aren’t involved.” She sounded skeptical. “I don’t trust our Ruskie goons, but I can’t believe a dim bulb like Vassily could think up those ‘rumors’ on his own.”

  Matt scratched his head. “Good point. None of this adds up. Let’s take a look-see at our boys’ wheels,” he said, holding up the keys he’d taken from Yuri’s jacket.

  Sam led the way through the cottonwood thicket to the big Town Car. They searched it thoroughly, but as they did, Sam was careful not to leave her prints. They were still on file from her days as a Miami-Dade cop and that was one can of worms she for sure didn’t want opened. “Zilch,” she said in disgust, tossing an empty pack of short Camels onto the pile of junk-food wrappers and other debris littering the backseat floor of the luxury sedan.

  “Kinda renews your faith in the power of American merchandising, doesn’t it?” Matt said with a grimace, dropping a bag filled with soggy French fries. Then he suddenly reached down and fished out a grease-stained carryout menu. “What have we here, hmm?”

  “That looks familiar. Joe’s Catch ’O the Day. It’s a diner on Palm, right next to Hialeah. You suppose our boys like to play the ponies?” she asked.

  “For a dame from Boston, you sure seem to know a lot about Miami,” Matt said suspiciously.

  Sam shrugged. No use fibbing
on that one. “I was raised in Boston, but I moved to Miami after dropping out of college.”

  “Then how’d Aunt Claudia find you?” Now his radar was on full alert.

  Dammit! She thought fast. “A referral. Happens all the time in my business. Believe it or not, I do have friends all over the country, especially in my hometown. Benny Hilton, he’s a Beacon Hill shrink now, but he went to school with me in south Boston. He set me up with your aunt.”

  Matt didn’t look entirely convinced, but chuckled humorlessly. “He should have set you up with another shrink in Miami.”

  “Real funny, Granger. What are you thinking about Joe’s place? A lead?” she asked, trying to divert him.

  “Could be. A pair like those bozos, somebody might remember. Speaking of them, we have to get them off our backs. If we leave them in the motel sooner or later they’ll find someone to release them.”

  “I have an idea,” Sam said with a grin. “Just leave everything to me.”

  He followed her back inside with a dubious expression on his face. After I get rid of them, what the hell am I going to do about you, darling Samantha? The first thing he had to do after disposing of the thugs was to call Aunt Claudia and get her “retrieval specialist” off his back. He might learn a few things about who sicced Sam on him from his aunt while he was at it.

  “First of all, we’ll have to take the jacket off Kuzan, the cuffs off Garzenko, then tie them up good. I have tape in the van.”

  “How well I remember,” he replied with a grimace.

  She dashed out and retrieved the tape. By this time Yuri was grunting in pain, fully conscious. He glared at them and his cohort in the straitjacket with equal venom. “Something tells me Mr. Garzenko here might not have been as talkative as his pal,” she said as Matt held Kuzan’s gun on the thug. With professional dispatch she quickly trussed him up and secured him to one of the beds.

  Granger scoffed. “He may think so, but he was never threatened with a shot in the nuts from a stunner.”

  “If you’d done it, you might’ve killed Kuzan. Looks like he’s overly fond of vodka. Could have a bum ticker.” Sam studied Vassily’s paunchy midsection as she unfastened the straitjacket. “Would you have risked it?”