Chapter Thirty
They dumped Andy in a dark alley, his hands and feet tied, and a cloth bag stuck over his head. He was able to get the sack off by pulling his legs up as far as he could, and catching the end of it in his knees. It took half an hour of rubbing the ropes against the ragged, concrete edge of the building, periodically scrapping his flesh as well, but he was finally able to break through. Both his forearms were raw and bleeding. He sat up against the building wall and untied his feet.
He got to the street and looked around. Nothing looked familiar. There was some traffic to the right and he walked toward it. His cell phone and wallet were gone. He always kept a hundred dollar bill in his shoe. Sure enough they had overlooked it. At the corner he stuck out his hand and a cab pulled over.
“Twenty fourth and Park,” he told the driver.
“Manhattan?” asked the cabbie.
“Of course. Why, where are we?”
“Off the Grand Concourse, the Bronx.”
This was going to be some cab fare.
When he got to the office Andy went up and opened the door with his key. He turned on the light on Sarah’s desk and started going through her phone book. Without his cell phone he couldn’t remember anyone’s number.
He called Sarah and Mort, both of whom arrived in twenty minutes.
“We have to call the police,” said Sarah, after she’d cleaned Andy scraps and put some antibiotic ointment and bandages on.
Andy put his shirt back on. “They won’t be able to do anything. But at least try and reach Lieutenant Roland and tell him what’s happened. Though I doubt that he’ll be there at one in the morning.”
Sarah picked up the phone and called.
“Nineteenth precinct,” said a female voice.
“Lieutenant Roland.”
“One moment.”
“This is Lieutenant Roland.”
“Lieutenant, this is Sarah…”
“…after the beep please record your message.” Beeeeeeep!
“Lieutenant, it’s Sarah Palmer. David’s been kidnapped, and we think they got Vivian Younger, too. Please call me back on my cell phone, 917-555-0312.”
“Now what?” said Mort.
“Now,” said Andy, “we go find them.”
“How?”
“The limo has a tracker.”
“I don’t think we should go busting in on kidnappers,” said Sarah.
Andy thought for a moment. “Well, unless we hear from Roland there isn’t much help we could get this late at night. And if we wait until morning it might be too late. Let’s at least find them, then we can decide what to do.”
They went to the garage in the building’s basement where Lowell kept a Mazda. Andy had keys to all of Lowell’s vehicles. They quickly piled in with Andy reading the information from the limo’s GPS, and headed downtown. They crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, drove up Smith Street through Carroll Gardens, and through the borough down to the waterfront.
Andy stopped the car. “It should be right around here.”
There was nothing but a few rundown warehouses and cracking streets with vegetation growing within the crevices, life struggling to survive wherever it can.
“Now what?” asked Mort.
“There’s the car.” Andy pointed to the warehouse. “I’ll bet they’re in there.” He crept up and looked in the gated window. “They’re in there, alright. I recognize one of the guys that jumped me.”
“How many are there?” asked Sarah.
“I don’t know, I saw about three or four.”
“Did you see the boss or Vivian?”
“No. It looks like there’s a back room. They must be in there.”
“Look,” said Sarah, “I’ve got an idea.”
Chapter Thirty-one
Lowell and Vivian were brought into a smaller room and placed in a wire cage about eight feet by ten feet that was used to store valuables. There was a small padlock on the door. The small mean-looking man, Leo, was left to guard them.
“I didn’t forget what you did to me last week,” he said, once Lowell was safely locked up.
“I hope you didn’t. I wouldn’t want to have to remind you again.”
The little man sneered and walked away.
“What are we going to do now?” asked Vivian.
“Wait and watch.”
Leo returned with Fat Jimmy.
“I want to know what you know,” said Jimmy.
Lowell smiled. “You couldn’t know what I know in a dozen lifetimes.”
“Don’t get smart with me, Mr. Private Detective, or I’ll have Leo splatter your brains all over the lady’s pretty dress.”
“There’s a pleasant thought,” said Vivian.
“I’d like that,” the little man waved the gun at them. “I’d like that very much.”
“Be careful with that thing,” said Vivian, “it might go off.”
“Yeah, it just might.”
“Look,” said Lowell, “you’re in over your head, Jimmy. About the only chance you have of getting out of this with your ass intact is to let us out of here.”
There was a loud banging at the door. “Who the hell would that be? Leo, you and Murray go check it out.” He turned to Lowell. “Don’t try anything stupid.”
Lowell held up his handcuffed wrists. “What am I going to do with these on?”
Leo went to the front door with his gun drawn. “Who’s there?”
“Our car broke down and you have the only lights on in the whole neighborhood. Do you think we could use the phone?” asked a female voice.
Leo opened the door a little bit and looked out. He saw a pretty redheaded girl and a skinny, lanky man.
“We don’t have a phone.”
“You must have a cell phone. Couldn’t you just let me use it for a minute? We’re lost and it’s so late.”
“I don’t have a cell phone either.”
Leo started to close the door. Andy shoved his two hundred thirty pounds against the door pushing Leo onto the floor, his gun spinning across the room. Andy rushed in, his gun drawn, followed by Sarah. While everyone’s attention was on them Mort was able to sneak in and scurried unnoticed toward the back of the warehouse. Murray lunged at Andy and grabbed for his gun.
Fat Jimmy fired once into the air. “Everybody freeze.” They all stopped in mid-motion. “What have we here? The cavalry to the rescue? Everybody sit against that wall, now!”
They sat.
“Where’s my boss?” asked Sarah. “Where are David Lowell and Ms. Younger?”
***
Lowell and Vivian had heard the commotion and assumed correctly what was going on. The door to the back room opened slowly. Vivian held her breath.
Mort crept low to the ground and popped his head up in front of the cage.
“Mort,” said Lowell, quietly, “am I glad to see you.”
“Likewise.”
“Can you get us out of here?”
“Piece of cake.” He took his tool kit out and removed two long pieces of metal, which he inserted into the lock. In about thirty seconds the cage door was open. Then he took a smaller piece of metal from the kit and started working on the handcuffs. In a few moments they were off.
They crept out of the office and into the main warehouse room. The three crouched down behind some large boxes.
“Now what the fuck am I going to do with all these people?” Fat Jimmy paced back and forth in front of his captives.
“What about the other two in there?” Leo pointed toward the back room.
“Yeah, you might as well get them, too.”
Leo walked to the back of the warehouse past the boxes. As he reached for the door Lowell came out from behind and put one hand across his mouth, grabbed the hand holding the gun and quietly disarmed him. Then he twisted the man’s neck, knocking him out.
He picked up the gun, jumped out from behind the boxes and pointed it directly at Fat Jimmy. “If anyone moves you get it right between the e
yes.” He turned to Vivian. “I always wanted to say that line.”
“Well, the reading was wonderful. Just a touch of humor with the malice.”
“Hey, take it easy, don’t anyone do anything stupid.”
“Jimmy, you’re really starting to piss me off,” said Lowell, “and I’m done with it. We’re taking this whole mess downtown and let the cops sort it out.”
“You,” he pointed to Murray, “drop your gun and kick it over here.”
Murray took his piece out and dropped it on the floor.
“Good,” said Lowell, “now kick it over.”
Murray did so.
He looked at Skinny Jimmy. “Now you.”
Jimmy had his gun out and was about to comply when Leo came barreling out from behind the boxes. His head was twisted in a strange manner.
“Leo, Jesus,” said Skinny Jimmy, “what happened to you?”
Leo roared like a crazed lion and charged Lowell, head down. The aikido training had more than prepared Lowell for such an attack, and Leo was soon on the ground once again, holding a sore neck. Skinny Jimmy was nervously holding his gun aimed at Lowell, his hands shaking, and it suddenly went off. As he went down, Leo managed to get a piece of Lowell’s shirt and inadvertently pulled him out of the way of the bullet. The shot went past Lowell’s head and struck the side of the boiler. The spark it created was just enough to set off the highly flammable packing material lying in a pile. A small flame began unobserved behind the boiler.
“God damn it, Jimmy,” said Lowell, “if you do that again I’m going to shoot you. Now put the damn gun down.”
Jimmy held it defiantly.
Lowell aimed the gun at a light across the warehouse and took it out without a second glance.
“Damn!” said Sarah, “It thought you didn’t know anything about guns.”
“I said I didn’t like them, not that I couldn’t shoot them.” His attention returned to Skinny Jimmy. “What’s it gonna be, Jimmy?”
“All right.” He bent down to put the gun on the floor.
Sarah suddenly yelled: “Fire!”
They looked to the back of the warehouse and saw the flames beginning to grow.
Fat Jimmy was closest to the door. He ran toward it and was the first one out.
Sort of.
They all ran to the sole exit only to find Fat Jimmy stuck in the door jam.
“Get out of the way,” they all shouted.
“I can’t, I’m stuck.”
“You got in here.”
“Well, I can’t get out.”
“It’s the fucking chicken legs,” said Skinny Jimmy. “I told you that food would kill you, I just didn’t plan on going with you.”
“Suck in your stomach,” said Mort.
“Is he kidding?” asked the fat man.
His nephew and Murray began to pull and tug various parts of the man’s body, to no avail.
Lowell looked back at the fire, ever growing. “What’s in those crates?”
Fat Jimmy turned his head so he could see. “Propane tanks.”
“Are they full?”
The fear in Jimmy’s face told Lowell what he needed to know. “The windows are all gated, no fire escape or hidden passages you guys built?”
“What is this, the Great Escape?” answered Fat Jimmy. “It’s a freakin’ warehouse down by the docks.”
“We have to ram him through,” said Lowell.
Andy and Murray started from a good twenty feet back. They both got a running start and BAM! They slammed into Fat Jimmy simultaneously using their shoulders.
“I think we moved him,” said Murray.
“Cut it out!” shouted Jimmy. “You’re killing me.”
“We haven’t got much time left,” said Lowell. “You better get him out this time.”
On the second try they did manage to eject him out of the doorway. He rolled onto the sidewalk and slowly got to his feet. The rest all ran from the warehouse.
Fat Jimmy’s limousine was parked about ten feet from the building right next to Lowell’s. Jimmy took his nephew’s arm and walked nonchalantly to the car and opened the back door. Leo got behind the wheel and Murray got in the passenger’s seat in front.
“Floor it,” Jimmy told Leo, once they were in. The limo peeled out.
Andy jumped into Lowell’s limo and spun the car around. Lowell, Sarah, Mort, and Vivian got in the back. “Boss?”
“Follow them.”
“You got it. Hang on.”
As they approached the ramp to the Brooklyn Bridge they heard an explosion and turned to see a gray puff of smoke where the warehouse used to be.
Jimmy saw it too, one more piece of his empire gone.
Sarah’s phone rang. “Hello? Oh, Lieutenant…Yes that’s right…no I wasn’t kidding... Well, he’s all right. In fact, he’s here. Hold on.”
She handed the phone to Lowell.
“We’re just about to cross the Brooklyn Bridge in my limo following Fat Jimmy DeAngelo…Yes, he’s still alive. He’s in a limo too…Yes, he’s involved in this mess…All right, we’ll see you there.”
He hung up.
“Well?” asked Sarah.
“He’ll have the cops stop him when he gets into Manhattan.
When they crossed the bridge they saw Jimmy’s limo on the right side of the road, several patrol cars surrounding it.
Andy pulled up behind the cop cars and they all got out.
Roland arrived about ten minutes later. He walked over to Lowell.
“Well,” said Roland, “what’s this all about?”
“It’s a long story, Lieutenant. I’ll fill you in on the details tomorrow. It’s almost four in the morning and we’re all very tired.”
“Just be at my office by nine.”
“Let’s say ten.”
“Thank god we caught the murderers. I’ll schedule a press conference for noon tomorrow.” Roland looked sheepishly at Lowell. “And I’ll mention how helpful you were in solving the case.”
“But I don’t know if they killed anyone.”
“What do you mean? You said…”
“I said that Jimmy was involved. I just don’t know to what extent.”
“If he didn’t do it, then who did?”
“I don’t know if he did or didn’t. We’ll discuss it all tomorrow at ten.”
“Lieutenant,” called out one of the policemen, “what should we do?”
Roland turned and saw the problem. They couldn’t fit Jimmy into the patrol car. “Ah, hell. You’d better drive him to the precinct in his limo. He won’t fit in anything else.”
As Fat Jimmy sat in the back of his limo waiting to be driven to police headquarters Lowell walked over shaking his head. “So Jimmy, did you learn anything from all of this?”
He thought for a moment. “Yeah, don’t use Jewish gangsters.”
Chapter Thirty-two
The next day Lowell picked up Vivian and they went to the precinct. Mort and Sarah were already there and had given statements.
“Hi boss,” said Mort.
“Good morning everyone,” said Lowell.
“All right, Lowell,” said Roland, “what have you got for me? Who killed Freddie? I’ve got to have something to give the press. If I don’t give them a killer, and soon, I may be looking for another job.”
“Did you get anything out of DeAngelo?”
“Nah, he swears he had nothing to do with killing them. He made bail this morning, but we’ll be all over him from now on. He does have an alibi for the time of Freddie’s death.”
“You don’t really think Fat Jimmy killed him and then strung him up, do you? I doubt that he could lift Freddie. And there’s isn’t a chair that could hold him as he strung up the body.”
“Of course not. But several people, or that big guy, Murray could.”
Lowell nodded.
“We’re looking into his financial records and the whereabouts of his known associates at the time of Freddie’s demise.”
“Well, let me know what you find out. I’ll follow some other leads.”
When they were outside, a town-car pulled up behind Lowell’s limo and the driver got out and nodded toward Vivian.
“Sarah, let’s go get some shoes.” Vivian turned toward Lowell. “See you later?”
“Of course.”
***
Vivian hired a car and driver whenever she was visiting New York. She always used the same chauffeur, a charming, polite young man named Philip. He drove them to the Village and dropped them off at Broadway and 16th Street.
“How long have you worked for David?”
“A little over three years.”
Two Japanese tourists recognized Vivian and snapped their picture. Sarah smiled broadly for the camera.
“How did you two hook up?”
“A friend of mine had been an astrology client of David’s for years. When he went into the detective business I was unemployed and my friend recommended me.”
“Was it a difficult interview?”
“He asked for my birth information, punched it into his computer and said: Can you start tomorrow?”
“He obviously puts a lot of faith in astrology.”
“And how.” Sarah pushed her bright red hair behind her ears.
They walked through Union Square and bought some muffins and bottles of fresh apple juice from upstate at the farmer’s market. Then they crossed Fourteenth Street and walked past University Place.
“Look at all the young people.”
“Sure,” replied Sarah, “you’re in the middle of NYU.”
They strolled down Fifth Avenue and Sarah pointed out some of the tiny cobble-stone side alleys left virtually unchanged since the eighteenth century.
“There isn’t really a campus, per se, but all these buildings,” Sarah waved her hands in a circular motion, “are part of NYU.”
It was getting very hot, so they went to Eighth Street and the air conditioning. There were several shoe stores in a row and a few more down the block and across the street. They entered the first and began ogling the merchandise.
“So how is it working for him?” Vivian had a red pump in her hands.
Sarah admired the shoe. “He’s not like anyone I’ve ever known.”
“How so?”
Death in the 12th House Page 16
