“We’ll need his number,” I said.
“Why don’t you get us all of their numbers?” Tip suggested.
She typed a few commands on the computer and said, “They’re printing now, detectives. Is there anything else I can get for you?”
“No, this has been helpful,” I said. “Thanks.”
She handed me the printout of the contact information. “Has there been any news on Mr. Davids? I mean…was it an accident?”
“We’re not sure yet,” I said. “Why? Is there a reason you asked?”
“No. It’s just…well, Mr. Davids wasn’t the kind of man to have accidents. He was meticulous about everything he did. It just seems strange.”
“We think so too,” Tip said. “Let us know if you think of anything else.”
As we got in the car, Tip said, “We might have hit the mother lode. Any one of those guys he plays golf with could be a target.”
“Yeah, but Snider looks prime. He’s the one dealing with money, and drug lords need money laundered.”
“Then I guess we talk to him first,” Tip said.
Chapter 34
A Convincing Argument
Patrick Snider finished with his tie, making sure the knot was perfect. He adjusted the collar stays and fit the tie snugly into place. Then he grabbed his coat and went downstairs. Marissa and Trish were seated at the table, waiting for him.
“Good morning, girls. Were you waiting for me?”
Marissa smiled, baring a few missing teeth. “You’re always late, Daddy.”
“That’s because Mommy doesn’t help me get dressed,” he said. “Besides, little girls are never late.”
“Trish is late all the time,” Marissa said.
Patrick leaned down, kissed her on the head, and whispered, “But she’s older. Pre-K girls are the ones on time.”
Marissa stuck her tongue out at Trish, and then smiled.
Patrick walked to the counter and kissed his wife, Cathy, and then he poured a cup of coffee and returned to the table. He positioned his iPad in a holder and flipped to his favorite news app.
“Patrick, put that away. The news isn’t going anywhere.”
Marissa took a bite of toast and a sip of milk. “Is there anything in the news, Daddy?”
“The only thing that looked important was an article that said milk mustaches can make little girls laugh.” He reached over and tickled her.
Trish shook her head. “Are you ever going to quit doing that?”
“You liked it when you were her age.”
“I don’t know why,” she said, but she hid a smile.
Cathy grabbed her coat and car keys. “Hurry up, girls. I’m driving you today, and it’s almost time to go.”
“I’m ready,” Marissa said.
Trish wiped her mouth and took her dishes to the sink. Marissa did the same, and then stopped to kiss her father. “Bye, Dad. Love you.”
“Love you too,” Trish said.
“Bye, girls. See you tonight,” Patrick said, and kissed Cathy on the cheek.
After they left, he drained the coffee cup, grabbed his coat and briefcase, and headed out. He had a big day planned.
It was almost noon before Patrick finished addressing the board regarding his investment plans for the Second Ward. He’d done a good job of allaying their concerns about the rise in crime statistics, and he assured them that it would not interfere with the bank’s plans to invest in the community. He also addressed the rumored budget cuts for road improvements. Nothing got investors in an uproar quicker than rumors. For all of that, though, the Second Ward was making headway. Young people were moving into old warehouses converted into lofts, and businesses were springing up to support the new crowd. That’s what was needed to get money flowing into the area again, and Snider was making certain his bank was positioned to profit from the financial influx.
As the last board member left, he shoved a hand into his pocket and retrieved his cell phone. It had been on vibrate, but the damn thing had gone off four times while he was talking. He looked at the caller ID—all four calls listed unknown. Who the hell was calling him, and so often? No one had left a message. He speed-dialed his secretary. She answered right away.
“Mr. Snider’s office.”
“Janet, it’s me. Did my wife call?”
“No. The only call you received was from a Mrs. Mercer, something about a leak in her apartment building. For some reason, she thought you could help her.”
“If she calls again, tell her to call a plumber. I’ll be going out for lunch. Don’t call me unless it’s an emergency.”
“Yes, sir.”
The Mrs. Mercer nonsense had to be Sharon’s way of telling him to meet her at the hotel. Damn, she was horny, but he loved every minute of it. And that fact would make doing what he had to do all the more difficult. Snider switched the phone to ring and headed out the door.
It only took fifteen minutes to reach the hotel. He parked in the garage, then went straight to the room where he knew Sharon would be waiting. She was so hot, he could barely control himself, but it didn’t matter today; he hadn’t come for that.
After receiving the call from the blackmailer, Patrick decided to stop seeing Sharon. It would be a major step toward cleaning up his act should those photos leak, and besides, Sharon had begun asking questions about marriage and divorce. Stupid bitch didn’t realize there would be no divorce. For God’s sake, he wouldn’t ever marry someone like her. Fuck her? Hell yes. Marry her? Not a chance.
Using his key, he let himself in. “Sharon?”
“Right here.”
He turned to the sound of her voice and found her lying naked on the sofa with her legs crossed.
“Are you ready for a gourmet lunch?” she asked.
He sat on the sofa next to her, trying to muster the nerve to tell her. Then his cell phone rang.
“Don’t answer it,” she said, and wrapped her legs around him.
He tried getting up, but she began unbuttoning his shirt. The phone rang two more times. Then the room phone rang. Sharon tried to hold on to him, but Snider pulled away. “Does anyone know you’re here?” A hint of panic clung to his words.
“Nobody,” she said, her own tone defensive. “Come back.”
Patrick hovered above her, torn between her luscious body and the urgency of a ringing phone. “Get the phone,” he said. “It might be important.”
She lifted herself off the sofa and moved to the bureau. “Hello.”
“Mr. Snider, please.”
Sharon held her hand out to him. “For you.”
A knot formed in Snider’s stomach as he took the receiver from her. “This is Patrick Snider.”
“Señor Snider, how are you today?” The voice was smooth and polite, almost like a news announcer.
“Do I know you? Who is this?”
“How soon we forget. We talked a short while ago, after your last speech. Remember? I told you about the pictures of Sharon.”
She’d wrapped her arms around Patrick and started fondling him. He shoved her away. “Listen, I don’t know who you are, but I told you before what you could do with those pictures.”
“Yes, but that was before I had Cathy. Now you must meet me, or I will not only show her the pictures, I will kill her.”
The knot in his stomach tightened. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Goodbye, señor.”
“Wait!” Snider screamed, but the line went dead.
“What’s wrong?” Sharon asked.
“Nothing. I don’t know. Some lunatic is trying to blackmail me.” Patrick dialed Cathy’s number, pacing as he waited for her to answer.
After five rings, it picked up.
“Hello, Mr. Snider.”
Patrick’s heart raced. His chest tightened. It was the same voice. “Where is she?”
“All in good time,” the man said. “Go outside and wait at the corner for someone to pick you up. They will arrive in less than ten minutes. And
don’t worry about our business. It won’t take long. Perhaps an hour or two.”
Patrick turned to Sharon. “I’ve got to go. You need to get out of here too.”
“What do you mean? What’s going—”
“Never mind!” he shouted. “Just get out of here. I’ll call you when I want you.”
She grabbed her clothes and started dressing. “I won’t be waiting,” she said.
Snider buttoned his shirt and raced to the elevator. Ten minutes left him barely enough time to meet them. While he waited, he thought about the man’s demands and how to keep from making himself dirty. The man had a Spanish accent. In this part of the country, that usually meant Mexican, and that usually meant drugs. Snider shook his head. I won’t get involved in drugs.
Two minutes after he reached the corner, a blue Honda van pulled to the curb. The side door slid open. “Get in,” a voice called from inside.
Snider climbed in the back seat, the door closing automatically. Two men sat in the front and another sat alongside Snider in the back. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see when we get there,” the one next to him said, his accent confirming him as Mexican.
“You’re not blindfolding me?”
The driver laughed. “This isn’t the movies, señor.”
The man in the passenger seat said, “If we don’t want you telling anyone, we’ll kill you.”
Within fifteen minutes, they pulled up to an old warehouse being renovated into new condominiums. It was in the Second Ward, where Snider’s investments would take place.
“What are we doing here?”
The man in the passenger seat said, “Perhaps we would like to buy some condos, señor.” The doors opened, and everyone got out.
“Follow me,” the driver said. He walked into the building and headed for the construction elevator.
“Are you the one who called me? You don’t sound like him.”
“Not me.”
“Where’s my wife?”
“Everything will be answered in time.”
The elevator took them to the third floor, which had gutted old walls and signs of new construction everywhere. New plumbing, wiring, all new metal studs. Patrick looked around as he exited, searching for his wife. Halfway across the room, a man greeted him with a warm embrace as if they were old friends.
“Welcome, Señor Snider. I am sorry we had to meet under such circumstances.”
“You’re the one I spoke with?”
Carlos bowed. “Forgive my rudeness. I am Carlos Cortes, and these are my associates.” His hand swept to encompass them. “The one who drove you is Tico, and this man to my right is Roberto. Behind you is Chaparrito.”
“I don’t care who your men are. I just want to know where my wife is and what you want from me.”
Carlos walked toward a table in the center of the room. “I like a man who gets to the point. I am that way myself. Now, as to your wife—in good time. As to what I want...” Carlos pulled out a chair and offered it to Snider. “Please, señor, make yourself comfortable.”
Patrick sat, and then Carlos pulled his chair next to him and leaned forward, facing him. “You have done a good job of bringing new investments into this...how do you say it...ward?”
Patrick nodded.
“Yes, well, I have made major investments in this area.” Carlos spread his arms wide. “This warehouse is mine, as is the one next to it. And soon, there will be luxury apartments here. I like that.”
Snider stared, his expression prompting Carlos to continue.
“But I also have other businesses that bring in a lot of cash.” Carlos grinned. “And that, my friend, is where you can help.” He leaned in until he was inches from Patrick’s face. “I’m sure you understand my dilemma.”
“You’re talking about cleaning money?”
“I see you are an intelligent man.” Carlos smiled and lit a cigarette. “This is not something I ask as a favor, but as a business proposition. Your cut will be lucrative.”
Patrick jumped from his chair. “Forget it. I’m not getting involved in drugs.”
“Your friend Señor Davids felt the same way. I believe he was about to change his mind when he had his…accident.” Carlos stared at Snider. “But enough of this talk of death. Besides, you are already involved in drugs. Doesn’t Sharon use drugs before she has sex with you?” Carlos wagged his finger to drive the point home. “Yes, I believe she does, and perhaps you do too, maybe to make the sex just a little better?”
“That’s nothing. And it’s over with.”
Snider had said it was nothing, but that was his weak attempt at a bluff. The news about Davids had shocked him. He’d never imagined that his friend’s death was murder. He hadn’t been too concerned about his affair, but this man was a lunatic. There was no telling what he might do.
Carlos’ face lost all of its humor. “You say it’s over? I believe you, but it doesn’t matter because I do need this favor.”
Snider stood and walked around. If he believed the man, he’d already killed Davids. God only knew what he was capable of. Snider had to think of something to stall this maniac. “I have no problem with an occasional deposit, but I can’t do this on a regular basis.”
Carlos slapped Tico on the back. “You see, Tico? I told you we could count on him.”
Patrick shook his head. “I said an occasional deposit. I’m not getting into bed with you, and I can’t get involved with drugs. Not only can’t but won’t.”
Carlos’ face wrinkled into a concerned look. “I am sorry to hear that, señor. Truly, I am.” He glanced at Chaparrito and nodded.
The other man picked up a rubber mallet from the table and slammed it into Snider’s thigh.
Snider reeled. His knees gave out, and he crumbled to the concrete floor. He tried to stand, supporting himself with one arm, but Chaparrito grasped the mallet with both hands and swung again, bringing it down onto Snider’s left kidney. A low-moaned cry took the wind out of Patrick as well as his consciousness. He fell onto his back.
Snider came to a few minutes later.
“See if he is more amenable now,” Carlos said.
Snider was tied to the chair, hands bound behind his back. “I don’t care what you do to me.”
Carlos nodded to Roberto, who walked over and stood in front of Patrick.
“Take your pants off, Roberto. Señor Snider is going to suck your dick.”
Patrick tried to stand, but the ropes held. “You’re crazy! I’m warning you, you better let me go.”
Carlos looked to Tico. “If he doesn’t do it, blow his head off.”
Patrick shook his head. “Kill me if you want, but I’ll never do that. If you try to force me, I’ll bite it off.”
A smile came quickly to Carlos’ face. Too quickly. “I see I have underestimated you. My apologies, and my respect. But this forces me to resort to other measures.” He turned to Tico and nodded.
Tico left the room, returning in a moment with Patrick’s wife.
“What is she doing here? Let her go.” He tried his best to stand and hop forward in the chair, but he couldn’t. “I’ll kill you. Do you understand? I’ll kill you.”
“Yes, I understand,” Carlos said, then turned to the wife, smiling. “I did not want to resort to this, señora. It is not my style to involve ladies, but your husband has left me no choice. If you do not do everything I say, the moment I say it, I will kill your husband. Do you understand?”
Cathy cried. “Why are you doing this? What have we done?”
Carlos grabbed her by the cheeks, his eyes glaring. “Do you understand me, señora?”
She sobbed more. “Yes. Yes, but why—”
“Good. Now, my friend is going to pull his pants down. When he does, you will suck his dick.”
She screamed. “No! I won’t—”
“Kill him,” Carlos said.
She ran to Patrick, arms outstretched. “No. No. I’ll do it. Just don’t hurt him.”
“No!” Patrick screamed. “Don’t you dare. I’ll do it. Make me do it.”
Carlos smiled. “That’s better. I like cooperation, but I think Roberto would rather have your wife do it.” He nodded to Roberto, who seemed unaffected. He pulled his pants down.
Patrick fought to get free, but the ropes still held. He tried standing, but the one called Tico shoved him back. Finally, he gave up and looked away.
Carlos would have nothing of it. “Tico, make him watch. And take pictures too.”
When Roberto was finished, Carlos let her go to Patrick. She wiped her face and spit several times, and then she wrapped her arms around Patrick.
Carlos stood above them, staring down. “If you tell anyone, or if you decide at any time that you no longer need to help us, then I will take your daughter Marissa and make her do the very same thing. Only I will make her do it to all of my men, and then I will let them do whatever else they want with her.”
Patrick’s eyes nearly bulged from his head. He tried kicking and even biting Carlos. His wife jumped up and tried to scratch him, but Tico restrained her in time.
Carlos’ smile did not disappear. “Yes, señor. I know about Marissa. I also know the security code to your home. I know her teacher, Ms. Christie, and I know the secret word for her school—alligator.”
Patrick’s tears were drowned by his wife’s screams. “What do you want? Haven’t you done enough?”
“All I want is your husband’s cooperation. Will you guarantee that?”
“Yes!” she screamed. “Anything. Just leave us alone.”
“Good. He knows what I want.” He turned to Patrick. “Are we clear on this, señor?”
There was a pause, and then his wife nudged him. “Patrick!”
He looked up at Carlos with venom in his glare. “I’ll get it done.”
Carlos clapped his hands. “Excellent! Then everything is settled.” He turned to Tico. “Untie him and help Señora Snider clean up.” For a minute, Carlos seemed lost in thought. “You know, there is a very good restaurant a few blocks from here where they serve the best fajitas. Would you like to join me for lunch?”
Patrick lunged for Carlos, but Cathy stopped him. “Not today,” she said. “We need to get home.”
Bullet From Dominic Page 18
