A Bullet for Carlos

by Giacomo Giammatteo

  He closed the door, locking it again, then made his way to the bedroom. After a cursory inspection, he parked himself behind the door and waited. She would be home before long, but no matter how long it took, Brownie would be worth the wait.

  Tip dug into the files with a new fervor, intent on finding something to pin these on Carlos. He took the files apart one by one, looking at every piece of evidence and every note. Half an hour after he started he got to Mason, the New York case. As he leafed through the notes, refreshing his memory, he re-examined everything meticulously. Mason was from Houston. Did she have any ties to charity? He looked, but didn’t see anything. She was in good shape but he didn’t see any mention of a gym membership, but she was so rich she probably had her own gym. He forced himself to look at the pictures again, in case something new jumped out; it didn’t. Then he picked through the bills, phone logs (cell and home), and emails and address-book records. He cross-checked them with the records from the other women but nothing matched.

  As he leafed through the rest of the papers he saw the charge receipt for the airline ticket from New York to Houston—first class of course—and there was a listing for car service to and from the airport. Tip almost passed it by, but something stuck out at him. Different amounts. One was $95, and the other was $70. At first he thought it might be that she tipped one more, but then realized the difference was too much. These weren’t the actual receipts; they were in an envelope. He opened the envelope and looked inside, pulling out the receipts. One was a car service from her house in New York to the airport. The other was from the Houston airport to her hotel downtown. Where the hell is the other?

  He dialed Connie’s number. “Gianelli.”

  “I hate to bother you, but do you know anything about these receipts from the Mason case.” He explained what he had and what was missing.

  “Never noticed it before. I looked at what was written on the envelope and left it at that.”

  “All right, I’ll check it out.”

  “No problem, I’m just getting home. Traffic was terrible.” She turned the key in the lock and entered the apartment. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Okay. See ya’.”

  He called Julie next, explaining to her what he found and asking her to check on it. “See if there’s anything left in the files. I’ll hold.”

  ***

  I went to the kitchen, got a bottle of water from the fridge, then went to the table where my computer sat. I opened it, clicked on the browser, and searched the local theaters for movies. If I had to go out with Maxwell, I was going to at least get dinner and a movie out of it. There wasn’t much playing at the Cineplex 24, and that in itself brought a laugh. How could you have twenty-four theaters with not a good movie in any of them. I remembered the little theater a few miles away where they played old black-and-whites, and even had tables where people could sit and drink coffee and eat. The Maltese Falcon. I hadn’t seen that in years.

  A pad of paper lay next to the computer, put there for times like this. I jotted down the times, then prayed that Maxwell liked old movies. I downed the bottle of water, threw it in the trash, looked at the dishes in the sink and pondered on whether to clean them now or later. I had time, so I grabbed a dishcloth and started cleaning. No sense in using the dishwasher for just a few things.

  ***

  Tip waited patiently, but after about two minutes he hung up and called back. Maybe he wasn’t as patient as he thought. Someone he didn’t recognize answered. “Get me Julie,” he said.

  “May I ask—”

  “This is Tip Denton. Get me Julie or I’ll kick your ass.”

  A few seconds later she came on. “I was going as fast as I could.”

  Patience was not a virtue, he decided. “Yeah, I know. What did you get?”

  “I went through everything. There’s nothing else here. In—”

  “You sure?”

  “Let me finish, will you. I was trying to tell you. Something strange. She never got on the plane.”

  “What?”

  “Sheila Mason never got on that plane to New York. That’s why there wasn’t any receipt for her car service.”

  “How did she get home? Did she miss the flight, take—”

  “I checked. She didn’t take any other Continental flight. I’ll check the other airlines later.” She paused. “The only thing I don’t know about, and sorry, I didn’t ask, but I don’t know if it would show up if she took a free flight. You know, like if she was flying on a Continental employee’s pass or something.”

  “You don’t need to worry about that. Mason wasn’t that kind of woman. She flew first class.”

  “Maybe she took a private jet?” Julie laughed.

  Tip sat silent. Private jet? “Julie, check and see if there were any private jets leaving Houston for New York that night or the next.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “As a goddamn heart attack.”

  “You know I’ve got to go home sometime.”

  “Hurry up, I’ll be waiting.” Tip hung up, grabbed another beer and went back to work. He finished looking through the Mason folder, then opened the computer to check his email and get that picture of Carlos. While the mail downloaded, his phone rang. “Tip Denton.”

  “Mr. Denton, this is the veterinary clinic.”

  Tip’s body tensed. “Is Flash okay?”

  “She’s fine. I’m sorry if I upset you. I was calling to tell you she’s doing great. I can hardly believe the recovery. I called to let you know that you can take her home in two to three days.”

  “Doctor, you don’t know how good that sounds. I—”

  “I know, Detective. I saw the damage. She’s a lucky dog.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad we could help her. Good night, Detective.”

  Tip sat in the chair and put his hands behind his head. Life could be good after all.

  Chapter 58

  Someone is Waiting

  I finished the dishes, threw the towel into the basket for laundry, then headed for the bedroom, kicking my shoes off by the front door first. A hot bath was in order before I went out. An old Four Seasons song popped into my mind as I walked down the hall, and I started humming, then singing it. The cell rang, beckoning me from where I’d left it on the kitchen table. I thought about letting it go to voicemail, but then turned back and grabbed it.

  “Hey, Gianelli.”

  I didn’t recognize the voice. “Who’s this?”

  “It’s Donovan.”

  “Sorry, Frankie.”

  “I hope your day has gone good, because I’m going to make it better.”

  “I could use that.”

  “I got the drugs,” Frankie said. “Twenty-five keys.”

  “Are you shitting me.” I pulled out a chair and sat. “Where? How?”

  “You sitting down?”

  “Actually, I am.”

  “Chambers was behind it all.”

  There was silence on both ends. I could hear my own breathing. “Chambers?” I almost whispered it, as if saying it louder would make it worse. “Lieutenant Chambers?”

  “Dirty as they come. We caught him selling it to the Colombians with two other cops. Guess who?”

  “Don’t leave me hanging.”

  “Randall and Green.”

  “Holy shit,” I said, then, “Holy shit!”

  “Yeah, Chambers had a sweetheart deal set up with several of the drug gangs, and IA managed to clear any of his men who looked dirty. They were taking down big money until you came along.”

  “So Chambers was behind the whole deal with Sean?”

  “Sean was dirty too. That deal was supposed to get rid of you, not Sean. The Mexicans either screwed up or had other ideas, or both.”

  “Where were the drugs?”

  “They gave the drugs to Chambers before the deal even went down. The money you took to the buy was only part of it; the rest he already gave to them. And from what it
looks like, the Mexicans were screwing their boss, too, looking to place the blame on the cops.”

  “Son-of-a-bitch.” I sat forward in the chair as I said it, not even believing it myself. I stayed quiet for a moment, then stood and walked. “At least Chambers is gone,” I said. “What about me, Frankie?”

  “You’re already cleared. I think our good captain is waiting to get the balls to call and invite you back. You know it’s going to hurt him to do that.”

  “Sure will.” I didn’t say anything for a second or two, then, “Frankie, thanks for everything. You’re top shit in my book.”

  “My life is now complete. But Mazzetti and Morreau and a rookie named Booker were in on this too.”

  “Tell you what, you thank them all for me and when I get back I’ll treat you all to something special.”

  “You mean…”

  “No, not that, asshole. I mean a nice dinner and a bottle of wine. Maybe a kiss on the cheek.”

  “I won’t be able to sleep. Never had a kiss before,” Frankie said, then, “Not to dampen your spirits, but even though we cleared your name, we might not have gotten all of them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Chambers couldn’t have put all that pressure on us by himself. Somebody higher up than him was in on this.”

  “I hate hearing that, but you can’t get me down today. I’ll work on that when I get home.”

  “Come home soon. We need good cops up here.”

  I sat silent for a moment, the phone almost slipping from my hand. All I could think of was what Uncle Dominic always told me about family, how they were the only ones I could trust. Now I could add Frankie to that list. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

  “I always knew you were a good cop, just had to prove it. So when you coming back to Brooklyn? Can’t let one hero cop run the whole damn city. Besides, Mazzetti will be retiring soon.”

  “Won’t be long. I promise.”

  Tears flowed as I hung up. Now I can go home.

  I dried my eyes with a dish towel, then headed down the hall to get that bath. It would feel much better now. As I passed the bathroom in the hall I tossed the towel on the floor. Near the end of the hall I peeled my top off and reached for the doorknob, tossing the blouse onto the bed as I stepped inside.

  I saw Maxwell as I turned my head, but it was too late. His fist slammed into my jaw, knocking me toward the far wall. Searing pain shot through my face and head. I stumbled and tried to regain footing. He came at me with a vengeance, and when I tried to scream, nothing but frantic sounds escaped. I raised my hands as he got closer, wishing to God I hadn’t left the gun on the dining room table. He grabbed one hand, yanking me toward him, then punched my face with the other. My nose cracked, blood squirting all over. Before I could do anything, he slammed my head onto the top of the dresser, then yanked me back by the hair and tossed me onto the bed.

  “Hello, Brownie. Guess you weren’t expecting to see me were you?”

  I cocked a leg to strike but he easily sidestepped it and pounded blows into my thigh. Each one felt as if he were using a hammer. I was a tough, trained cop, but this guy was beating the shit out of me. I tried thinking of things to do, but all that came to mind was…

  Jesus Christ, I’m going to die.

  ***

  Tip looked at the email from Julie. There was Carlos, big as life, with a smirk on his face as he hung a medal around some young woman’s neck. And sure enough there was Patti Green waiting in line for her neck to be adorned.

  As Tip stared at the picture, something caught his eye to the side. He looked closer, but couldn’t quite make it out. Even zooming in didn’t help much. He grabbed the computer and took it to the kitchen where the lighting was better. “I’ll be a monkey’s ass.”

  It’s Virginia Maxwell.

  He tried digesting the new information, and as he did, the phone rang again. “Tip Denton.”

  “It’s Julie. There were three private flights from Houston to New York that weekend. And guess what—one of them belonged to Maxwell Enterprises.”

  “Goddamn!”

  “Do you—”

  “No, thanks, gotta go.”

  He grabbed the phone to call Connie and heard a woman’s voice. “Julie?”

  A short pause, then, “Detective Denton? This is Emily Miller.”

  “Emily, I don’t have time now. I’ll call you—“

  “No, wait, Detective. It’s about the jogger.”

  Tip stopped. “What?”

  “The jogger,” Emily said. “I recognized that woman from the news report. I saw her when I was jogging at Cypresswood Park.”

  “When?”

  “The day they said. I remember because of who she was with. It was my dad’s boss.”

  Tip’s heart beat rapid fire. “Who’s your dad’s boss, Emily?”

  “Mr. Maxwell.”

  Goddamn. “Okay, listen Emily, I’m going to call you tomorrow on this. You did real good, but I have got to run right now. I’ll call tomorrow,” Tip said, and hung up.

  He dialed Connie, let it ring. No answer. He dialed again. Still, no answer. She’s probably in the shower. He was on his way back to the dining room when he realized she was supposed to meet with Maxwell. “Fuck,” he screamed and raced for the door, grabbing his gun as he left the kitchen. He dialed her number again as he jumped in the car, letting it ring all the way down the drive. “Come on, Connie. Answer goddamnit.”

  The car bounced down his driveway. He turned on the siren and, as he accelerated and turned onto the main road, he called the station. “Julie, get cars to Connie’s house. Now! Whoever’s closest.”

  “What’s the—”

  “Now, Julie. I’m on my way.” He came close to hitting a car as he spun out onto the main road. “Hang on, Connie.”

  ***

  My jaw hurt so bad I didn’t know what had happened. It didn’t feel connected; I didn’t feel anything but pain. I rolled sideways, kicking at the same time, but he yanked me back and, when he did, he pummeled my side. Fists slammed into my ribs one after the other. Every punch forced me to cough and each cough brought gut-wrenching pain. I didn’t hear a snap, but I know one or more of my ribs broke.

  If they puncture the lung… I tried talking, hoping to reason with him, but when I opened my mouth he shoved in a gag, sending the pain level to new heights. I tried biting, but had no control over my jaw. It was that moment, when he shoved the gag in, that I realized this wasn’t just Maxwell flipping out; this was the freak we’d been after. With that thought came images of Patti and Mena, followed by the terror of what awaited me.

  Tears filled my eyes, blood covered my face and ran from my nose into my mouth, choking me. I turned to the side hoping some would leak from under the gag, but then he began undressing me. I squirmed, grunting and moaning as he ripped the bra off. My gut reaction was to cover up with my arms, but he swatted them away. I felt hopeless. There was nothing I could do to stop him.

  He unbuckled my pants, unzipped them, then grabbed the waistband and pulled them down, lifting me up and tossing me around at will. Each time he moved me, I shivered with pain. I stared up into cold dead eyes as he yanked my pants the rest of the way off. He even ripped off my socks. I lay on the bed in horrible pain, naked, and I could do nothing about it. All my police training rendered useless in a few minutes.

  God, please let me die before this fucker rapes me. Please!

  He stood above me, staring, and smiling. “I guess you thought you were going to catch me. Foolish girl. But I’ll make it worth your while. Once I’m inside of you, you’ll forget about the other men in your life.”

  I mustered up enough strength to kick him, a good strike to his midsection, but all it did was knock him back a step. He returned with a new glare in his eyes. He walked to the side, to my right leg, and stroked it, ran his gloved hands up and down my skin. I wanted to puke, but feared I’d choke to death. Then he started punching, harder and harder, unti
l I felt as if my leg would break. Maybe it did. At this point, I couldn’t tell. When he finished with me, he returned to the foot of the bed, removed his clothes, then came back and stood between my legs.

  Please, God.

  “It’s time now, Connie. Aren’t you glad it is almost over?”

  ***

  Tip screeched around the last corner into Connie’s apartment complex and came to an abrupt halt in the street outside of her place. He jumped out, ran to the door and opened it, thanking God it was unlocked. He started to yell, but then saw her gun on the table and her shoes on the floor. With gun drawn, he raced to the bedroom, busting it open when he got there. If she was in the shower, she’d have to forgive him.

  Jeff Maxwell stood between Connie’s legs, naked. When the door burst open he launched himself toward Tip.

  Tip raised the gun and fired. The first shot hit Maxwell in the chest, straightening him up. A shocked look came to his face, but he kept coming. Tip held steady and fired again. This bullet went in below the neck. Maxwell reeled back toward the wall, his mouth wide open, eyes aghast.

  Maxwell hit the dresser, the back of his head cracking into the mirror. Blood poured from his chest and neck as he slumped toward the floor. Tip looked to Connie, naked on the bed, and bleeding, then he looked back to Maxwell—and fired three more times. Each one hit the chest.

  He ran to Connie, tears already forming in his eyes. Oh God, baby. Oh my God.

  Backup came a few seconds later. “Officer down! Get an ambulance.” Tip screamed as he looked for something to cover Connie.

  Chapter 59

  Don’t You Die

  The ambulance arrived within minutes, and Tip followed them out, barking orders to everyone on the scene. “Secure this place. And get that fucking scum out of her apartment.”

  “Yes, sir, but the crime scene—”