“Hey, Flash. Morning, Sacco. How are my best dogs today?”
Flash barked a few more times, and then her lips curled up in a snarl.
“I hear you, girl,” Tip said, and then he let them outside before sitting down with his tea.
It had been six months since he’d helped Gino with the kidnapping case, but no matter what Tip tried, he couldn’t clear his mind of Ed Harbough, the scum-sucking son of a bitch who more than likely had a lead on who had killed Tip’s mother. Gino had Harbough dead to rights, too, and he hadn’t even given Tip a shot at breaking the guy. In hindsight, it was probably a good thing. Tip might have killed Harbough if he hadn’t given up the information. Now Harbough was safe—at least from Tip—tucked away in a cell at Huntsville.
Tip grabbed his phone and dialed the first six numbers of Gino’s cell, like he’d done a hundred times since that last case. Tip’s finger hovered over the last digit for what seemed like a minute. “Fuck it,” Tip said, and punched the number.
“Cataldi.”
“I need to know what the fuck Harbough told you, and I need it now.”
“Good morning, Tip.”
“It’s not a good morning.”
“You know I wouldn’t mess with you on something like this. Harbough didn’t tell me anything. Niente. Nada. Nothing. Did that sink through your thick head in any language?”
“You had him for twenty minutes, and you didn’t get anything? I’d have—”
“Tip! Are you listening? I told you before, I wasn’t grilling Harbough about your mother’s case. I had a kidnapping to solve. We had a missing girl. She was my focus.” There was silence, and then Gino said, “What’s going on? What got you thinking about it again?”
“I haven’t stopped thinking about it. I’m going up to Huntsville, and I plan on getting something out of that son of a bitch.”
“Let me know if I can do anything. I’m tied up on a strange case now, but when I finish here, I’ll have time to help you.”
“All right. Thanks.”
Tip hung up and headed to his car. Huntsville was about 50 miles from his house. He’d be there in an hour.
Once Tip got on the freeway, he dialed Connie’s number. She answered right away.
“What’s going on, girl? It’s been a while.”
“A while? You pester me every week.”
“Are you ready to come home?”
“In case you forgot, Texan, I am home.”
“Nah, you’re a Texan now. You don’t know it yet, but you are.”
Connie laughed. “Whatever you say.”
“By the way, Gianelli, you still got that crooked nose?”
“It’s not crooked. It’s just got a little bump.”
“Same thing,” Tip said.
“If you ever wonder the reason you’re not married yet, it may be your idea of sweet talk and flattery.”
“I’ve heard it all before,” Tip said.
“How’s your new partner working out?” Connie asked.
“Gino? I got rid of him. He was a damn troublemaker.”
“He was a troublemaker? Somehow I don’t believe that.”
“He got me a lead on my mama’s case. In fact, I’m on my way to check on it.”
“Tell me about it,” Connie said.
“Gino found a guy who may know something. It ties in with a few other leads I had. Reliable leads.”
Connie was silent for a moment. Then, “Now I wish I were there with you.”
“Plane flight’s only a few hours. I’ll wait.”
“Fill me in on what you find out. You never know; I could decide to come down.”
“All right. See ya.”
Half an hour later, Tip exited the freeway and pulled into the prison. He’d called ahead to let the warden, an old friend, know he was coming. Tip checked in both of his guns, his cell phone, and a wad of cash big enough to bribe a guard or two, if it came to that.
The guard recording the items looked at him. “Still the Tipster, huh?”
“Guess so,” Tip said.
By the time Tip got to the holding cell, Ed Harbough was waiting, sitting at the table like a real human being, as if he belonged in this world or had a right to be alive. He kept his eyes focused on the table in front of him. A bottle of water sat to his right.
“Mind giving us a few minutes?” Tip asked the guard.
The guard cleared the room, locking the door behind him. Tip pulled up a chair and sat across from Harbough. “You remember me?”
Harbough looked up. His eyes opened wide, and then his head darted from side to side. “Where’re the guards?”
“Where I told them to go,” Tip said.
The man stood and smacked his hand on the table. “Guard!”
“Sit down,” Tip said. “I’m not keeping you here, but if you leave, you better watch your back. Or should I say, your ass from now on.”
Harbough took another look at Tip before sitting. “What do you want?”
“Information. If you tell me what I need, I can do you some good.”
“What kind of good?”
“It can’t be easy for you being an ex-cop in prison. Gotta be a lot of guys waiting to shiv you just to start their day off.”
Harbough scoffed. “What’re you gonna do about it? Get me out?”
Tip shook his head. “I can’t do that, but I may be able to make it easier for you.” He looked around, leaned close and whispered, “Me and the warden go way back. We shared six nasty months together on the East Side, patrolling Mexican gangs in the Navigation area. So the way I figure it is this: I can either whisper suggestions to some of the Mexican Mafia, or I can talk to the warden about putting you in protective custody.”
“I’m already scheduled for that,” Harbough said.
Tip laughed. “Yeah, I hear you. But there are different levels of protective. I think you know what I mean.”
He didn’t take long to decide. “How’s this going to work? I tell you something, and you get me moved?”
Tip shook his head. “You tell me everything. If it checks out, then I get you moved. I only have one favor to call in. I won’t be able to move you again, so whatever you tell me better be good.”
“It’ll be good.”
“Remember, if it doesn’t check out, I practice my Spanish.”
Harbough looked around the cell again, his eyes shifty and filled with fear. He started to talk. He checked the cell again, then leaned close and whispered, “You’re looking for a guy named ‘The Ranger.’”
Tip scoffed. “Shit, I already knew that. I need something new. Who paid him and why?”
Harbough slapped his hand on the table again. “Listen, I’m telling you what I know. Don’t fuck with me on this.”
A guard poked his head in. “Everything all right?”
“We’re good,” Tip said, then he turned to Harbough. “Go on. I’m listening.”
“I don’t know who wanted her dead, and I don’t know why, but whoever it was had money. From what I heard, the Ranger was paid fifty thousand to do her.”
“Bullshit!”
“I’m telling you, Denton. Fifty grand.”
“Who would pay that kind of money to kill a waitress?”
“I have no idea who’d pay that kind of money, or even who wanted her dead. Are you gonna listen to the rest or not?”
Tip set his elbows on the table and leaned in close. “Go on.”
“I got called to the scene. I thought it was odd, because it wasn’t my rotation, but I did what I was told. When I showed up, I found the fake ranger badge.”
Tip knew the stories. Any cop who’d been in Houston more than ten years had heard them. The brass tried to hide the stories now, but you can’t hide a legend. And if one thing was true, the Ranger was a legend. His case file took up a whole drawer—a case that every cop dreamed of solving, even though deep inside, they were probably scared shitless of it. Tip didn’t blame them. If the tales were to be believed, the R
anger had killed anywhere from twenty to fifty people, but nobody had a clue who he was.
Tip looked Harbough square in the eyes. “Where was the badge?”
Harbough took a sip of water, then wiped his mouth. “Underneath her. Right by the waist.”
Tip nodded. The Ranger always left the badge under the bodies. “What else?”
Harbough looked around the room again, eyes darting toward the door and then the corners.
“Nobody’s here,” Tip said. “And nobody’s listening. It’s just you and me.”
“I was told to keep it quiet,” Harbough whispered.
“Keep what quiet? Who told you?”
“They told me not to put the Ranger in the report.”
Tip’s heart beat faster. This was more than he’d ever gotten in all his years of searching. “Who told you?” he asked again.
Harbough looked at Tip and cocked his head. “You’re getting me transferred, right?”
“I said I would.”
“It was my captain, Henry Richardson.”
Tip closed his eyes for a second and squeezed his fists together. “What’d he tell you? Exactly.”
“He said, ‘Write up the report exactly as it is,’ and then he grabbed me by the collar and pulled me close, and he said, ‘but leave out any mention of the Ranger.’”
“Why?”
Harbough shook his head. “No idea.”
“You didn’t ask?” Tip said.
“Denton, you don’t know what it was like back then. Things were different. If your captain said to forget something, you forgot it.”
“What else?”
“That’s it,” Harbough said. “That’s all I know.”
“What about the money?” Tip asked. When Harbough didn’t answer, Tip asked again. “Let’s get back to the money, Harbough. Who would pay fifty thousand to kill a waitress? It doesn’t make sense.”
“I agree. It doesn’t,” he said. “Maybe she was more than a waitress.” The way Harbough said it implied more than the words said. Tip hit him—hard. Knocked him off the chair onto the floor.
“Guard. Guard!” Harbough curled up, his arms protecting his face.
The door burst open and two guards rushed in. “This maniac is trying to kill me,” Harbough said.
Tip straddled Harbough and hit him again.
One of the guards grabbed Tip by the arm. “You need to go, Officer.”
“We have a deal, Denton,” Harbough said. Tip didn’t answer, so Harbough yelled louder. “Denton, you hear me? We got a deal, right?”
Tip turned when he got to the door. “You’ll get your deal. I gave my word on that.”
Tip went to see the warden before he left.
“Did you get what you came for, Tip?”
Tip shook his head. “Not what I wanted, but something. And now I need a favor.”
“What?” the warden asked.
“Can you give Harbough the best protective custody?”
“Not without a reason,” the warden said.
“Somebody’s gonna kill him,” Tip said. “But if that’s not reason enough, he might be a witness in another murder.”
“I’ll see what I can do, Tip.”
“Help me out with this. Transfer him someplace where we can keep him safe.” Tip looked at the warden. “Do this and we’re even.”
Twenty minutes later, Tip was heading south on I-45, thinking through all he’d learned. It wasn’t much, but it confirmed the lead he’d gotten from Cybil. Every little bit helped. He made a few voice memos on his phone and thought about how he could move forward.
As he drove through Conroe, the phone rang. Caller ID showed it was Captain Gladys “Coop” Cooper, scourge of the Houston Police Department.
“Denton, where the hell are you? I’ve been trying to reach you for an hour.”
“Sorry, Coop. I’m up near Huntsville. Must have had bad reception.”
“Huntsville? What are you doing up there?”
“Felt like going for a drive.”
Cooper was silent for a few seconds. “A drive? To Huntsville?”
“Scenery’s great up here. They even have hills.”
“I don’t have time to figure out what line of shit you’re giving me, or why, so just get back to civilization and find out why a poor middle-aged male is dead in a room at the Four Seasons.”
“Four Seasons? Dead or not, at least he went out in style.”
“Just get there,” Coop said.
“On my way, Cap. And don’t think I’m ungrateful, but the least you could’ve done was given me a female body. I hate looking at dead guys.”
“You’re a pervert,” Coop said.
“I know, but it’s fun. Besides, I was beginning to feel like I wasn’t needed anymore.”
“Get down there quick,” Coop said. “I’ll pair you up with Branch.”
“Like hell. I have a partner.” When Coop didn’t say anything to that, Tip added, “We know who the body is yet?”
“A lawyer, so we’ll be getting press. And I hate to tell you this, Tip, but we haven’t enabled our long-distance homicide investigation, so Connie Gianelli is out of the question as your partner.”
“How about Gino?”
“Busy.”
“Give me Delgado then.”
Long pause. “He’s on a case—”
“It can’t be that important if you put Delgado on it, and it’s only until Gianelli gets back.”
“When are you going to realize that she’s not coming back?”
Tip was silent. Coop sighed. “I’ll see how busy Delgado is.”
Tip hung up and dialed another number.
“Gianelli.”
“How cold is it up there?”
“What are you doing calling again, and why are you asking about the weather?”
“Just wanted to let you know that on this fine November day, it’ll hit 70 degrees down here in Houston. Sun’s shining. No clouds in the sky.”
“And I’m sure the birds are singing and money is falling like raindrops. Didn’t we just talk a few hours ago?”
“Did we?” Tip said.
Connie sighed. “What do you need?”
“I need help.”
“You mean you finally caught a case?”
“The captain just called with a body. A lawyer, for God’s sake. It doesn’t get much better.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
“Are you comin’ down?”
Connie didn’t answer.
“Well? Are you comin’ or not?” Tip asked.
“I don’t suppose you’ve got any friends who have apartments open?”
“No, but you can sleep with me and Elena.”
Connie laughed. “Go to hell.”
“I miss hearing you laugh,” Tip said.
“All right, for God’s sake. It’ll take me a few days to get there. I have to pack, and I’ll need to drive down so I’ll have a car.”
“Like hell. Pack a few things and get a flight. You can go back later for your car. I’ll even go with you.”
Connie laughed again. “All right, you made up my mind. I laughed twice talking to you, and that’s more than in the last month.”
“I can’t wait,” Tip said.
“I’ll call with the flight information as soon as I get it,” Connie said. “See you soon.”
“See you, Gianelli. You better hurry, or I’ll finish the case without you.”
Chapter 5
A Legal Corpse
Tip exited the freeway into downtown Houston and headed to the Four Seasons. The last time he’d been here it was to listen to a speech by some bigwig. He parked and headed inside, making his way to the sixth floor. Detective Hector “Ribs” Delgado was pacing the hall in front of room 614.
“Tip, what are you doing here? I thought I was getting a real partner.”
“Go to hell. But first tell me what we’ve got. I heard it’s a lawyer.”
Delgado lowered his head and sho
ok it, a grim expression on his face. “Not good, amigo. You know I don’t like lawyers, but this…nobody should go like he did.”
Tip pushed him aside. He walked in the room, nodded to one of the medical examiner’s assistants, and made his way toward the bed. “Ben, what’s it look like? Delgado said we got a nasty one.”
Ben Marsh, the M.E., turned around. “Nasty? Looks like a heart attack, if you ask me.”
Delgado was already laughing when Tip looked at him. He shot Delgado an I’ll-get-you-back glare and turned to Ben. “You sure? The guy’s a lawyer; that gives us plenty of suspects with motive.”
“As much as you want to make this a murder, I’m tempted to say this is a case of a man having too much fun and suffering the consequences of an unhealthy lifestyle.” Ben lowered his head and looked at Tip over the rim of his glasses. “Know what I mean?”
“You can go to hell with Delgado.”
Delgado stepped up alongside Tip. “You didn’t ask the big question. Who was he having fun with?”
“Who was it?” Tip asked.
Delgado shook his head. “We don’t have her name yet, but Officer Griggs said the clerk saw the guy checking in with a blonde. A young blonde. And the concierge said he thinks he’s seen her here before, but not with Lipscomb. He thinks she’s a pro.”
“Lipscomb? That’s his name?”
“Forrest Lipscomb,” Delgado said.
Tip stepped to the side, where the victim’s clothes lay. “This wasn’t a shyster,” he said. “This suit cost a fortune.”
“Everything about the guy screams money,” Delgado said. “It was probably a high-end hooker too.”
“We need to get surveillance from—”
“Already ordered it.”
“Okay, good,” Tip said, then to Ben, “What’s the TOD?”
“Best guess is about ten last night.”
Tip looked at his watch. “Four o’clock. Why are we just hearing about this?”
“Whoever his companion was put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door when she left. Probably to give her time to disappear.”
“Did she take his wallet?”
“She left it, including his credit cards and license. And his cell phone,” Delgado said. “I have his phone records being checked.”
Bullet From Dominic Page 3
