by Bill Craig
The Escalades were slowing to stop as he charged at them. He fired his Ruger .40 CP at them as he ran up on their tails, shattering their rear windows. As he drew abreast of them, he had transferred his pistol to his right hand and fired through the open passenger window, hitting the driver in one car and a back-seat passenger in the other. The Escalade with the dead driver forced the other car into the retaining wall and both vehicles ground to a halt. Harker drove on. He figured the cops would show up soon enough.
He had no sooner thought it, when two Miami-Dade cars passed him going back towards the wrecked cars. AJ smiled as he headed for I-395. He would take it and hook up to I-95 and eventually to the Dixie Highway which would take him into the Grove. He wondered who the shooters in the Escalade had been. Did they work for Raoul Cervantes? Or someone else? There were just too damn many things that he didn’t know about this case. He hated being behind in the game.
Lisa Castella stepped out of her car. Joella Cain lived in a small house on Coral Way. From what she had been able to find out, Joella was a hard-working woman at a local factory. Her husband had passed away six months ago, and she had been doing her best to carry on ever since. Emma was her only child. Lisa took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she exited the car. This was one of the worst parts of being a reporter, talking to the surviving family of a homicide victim. They were usually grief-stricken and willing to strike out at anyone and everyone. Especially reporters. But, Joella had taken her call and invited her over to talk about Emma. Lisa hoped that it would be a positive conversation.
She locked her car and walked to the door. Today, she was wearing a stylish white dress with black stripes that made her feel like a zebra. She was also wearing her four-inch high cork-heeled sandals. Lisa carried a purse that held not only her notebook and digital recorder, but also her Ladysmith Smith & Wesson .38 special with pink neoprene grips. Everybody went out armed in Miami.
Lisa walked up the sidewalk and climbed the steps up to the porch and knocked on the door. She took another deep breath and let it out slowly, and then knocked again. She heard footsteps from inside and then the door opened. Joella Cain was a surprise. She was tall, but stout. Well-rounded would probably be a more apt description.
“Hello?” she asked.
“I’m Lisa Castela from the Miami Herald. I’m the reporter that called about your daughter, Emma,” Lisa introduced herself.
“Yes, miss. I’ve been expecting you. I know Emma’s dead, but I don’t mind talking about her. She was my baby girl,” Joella smiled.
Lisa followed Joella inside and took a seat in a chair across from her and asked, “Tell me about Emma. What was she like?”
“Emma went to church on a regular basis. She was a hard worker, and she had good grades in school,” Joella told her.
“Do you know much about her most recent job?” Lisa asked.
“Not a lot. Once she took it, Emma became much more secretive,” Joella explained.
“Do you know where she actually worked?” Lisa asked.
“Sure, it was an office building in South Beach. Give me a minute and I’ll get you the address from my address book,” Joella said.
“I’ll be happy to wait,” Lisa told her.
Chapter Seven
It only took Joella Cain three minutes to retrieve the address book from her bedroom and return. She opened it up to the right page and held it out to Lisa. Lisa copied the address down on her notepad.
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Cain. I promise you, I will look into what happened to Emma and do everything I can to see that her killer is brought to justice,” Lisa told her, handing the address book back to her.
“Thank you, Miss Castela. Emma was a good girl. I can’t think of anything that she would have done that would make anyone want to kill her,” Joella said, wiping a tear from her eyes.
She saw Lisa to the door and locked it once Lisa was outside. Lisa walked quickly to her car, unlocked it and climbed inside, relocking the doors before starting the engine. There had been a large number of car-jackings in Miami of people who left their doors open while they started the cars to get the air running before shutting the door. She had even done a feature on it for the Sunday edition of the paper. She could deal with a few minutes of sweating before the air conditioner began cooling her car. Lisa pulled into traffic and used her Bluetooth to call Harker.
“Hey Lisa, what have you got?” AJ asked when he picked up.
“I have a physical address for where Emma Cain worked. I got it from her mother,” Lisa told him.
“I knew there was a reason I love you. Where can we meet so I can get it?” Harker asked.
“How about Seasons 52 on Miracle mile?” Lisa suggested.
“I’ll see you there in twenty minutes,” Harker told her before hanging up. Lisa smiled. She was looking forward to seeing him as well. Not to mention she was hungry and it was supper time.
They met outside Seasons 52 at 321 Miracle Mile. Everything on the menu was under 500 calories, which was actually considered pretty healthy for restaurant foods. They entered the restaurant and were glad to escape the heat from outside.
“So how did you do it?” Harker asked once they had been seated.
“I called her,” Lisa grinned.
“You called her?”
“I did. I told her who I was and said I wanted to know more about
her daughter for an article in the paper.”
“Which was the truth, at least on the surface,” Harker nodded.
“Yes, but I also asked about her employer, and Mrs. Cain had an address for where Emma worked,” Lisa explained.
“Fantastic, Lisa. Are you willing to share?”
“I am,” Lisa smiled.
“And you want an exclusive once I find out who and why she was killed?”
“Is that unreasonable since I am helping you?”
“Not at all,” Harker replied, kissing her on the lips.
Manny Mendez frowned as he looked down at the report in front of him. According to paycheck stubs in her purse, Emma Cain had worked for Costanza Industries. Except there was no record of them having office space anywhere in Miami. He frowned. The address of record was one of those a rental mail boxes in Overtown. He would have one of the other detectives in the Homicide Department check it out. He wondered if Harker was having any better luck. He could call him, but he had a feeling that AJ might be ducking his calls. No, it would be better to run him down in person. Manny headed for the door. He would go to Harker’s place in Coconut Grove and wait on the private eye to get home.
Lisa had finally given him the address that she had gotten from Joella Cain and now he was on his way to check it out. Costanza Industries was a ghost company, something unusual in Miami. Still, the whole city was built on illusion. It had started when Miami Vice was filmed there and had returned when CSI: Miami had come to town. Both television shows had created a city built on illusion, one of art deco style and a diversity that didn’t really exist except in the mind of the viewers. But both shows had been good for the city, even though they had shown little of the real city of Miami.
It was around four o’clock in the afternoon when AJ Harker parked his car in the parking lot outside the Miami Beach building that housed the offices of Costanza Industries. Harker climbed out of the Compass and locked it before heading up the walk towards the front door. It was hot and humid, and Harker was sweating by the time he reached the front door. The air conditioner was blowing hard once he stepped inside, and it chilled him to the bone in short order. His shirt was stuck to his back and his chest, plastered against his wet skin. Harker went to the front desk and asked to speak to the CEO. He wasn’t happy, and he was pretty sure that the person at the front desk knew it.
“AJ Harker to speak with Raoul Cervantes,” he told the girl at the desk. She looked at him with an odd expression.
“There is nobody hear by that name,” she told him, shaking her head.
“You’re sure of
that?” Harker asked her.
“Yes, sir. Ricardo Montez is our CEO. He has been for the past half dozen years,” the receptionist told him.
“Interesting,” Harker said. He shook out a cigarette it and lit it.
“You can’t smoke in here.”
“So, call the cops,” Harker replied, blowing smoke at her.
The receptionist picked up the telephone and dialed a number. Harker was looking elsewhere, but he heard her ask someone to send security to the reception area. He smiled, as he took another deep drag on his cigarette and expelled a cloud of smoke. It took less than a minute for the uniformed security guards to arrive. Patches on their sleeve identified their company as Atlas Security. That was good to know. It was another avenue of investigation. Harker raised his hands as they approached him.
“All I want to do is speak to Raoul Cervantes,” Harker told them.
“As Miss Carpenter told you, there is nobody here by that name,” the biggest guard told him.
“And yet, I was told that he runs the place. That leaves us at something of an impasse,” Harker smiled.
“You like using big words. Impasse. Wow,” the big man smiled.
“It’s really not that big a word, friend. Are you sure you want to do this?” Harker asked him.
“I’m bigger, pal,” the man smiled.
“Bigger isn’t always better,” Harker said, taking his cigarette from his mouth and holding it in his right hand.
“You might be surprised.”
“I doubt it, but I’m sure you will be,” Harker flipped the lit cigarette into the man’s face and drove his fist into his belly, doubling him over. He drove his knee up, shattering the guard’s nose and then slamming his head into the wall. The second guard charged him. Harker spun away from him and delivered a side kick to the guy’s right knee. It dropped him to the ground and Harker kicked him in the chin, snapping his head back. He crumpled to the carpet. Harker looked at the receptionist.
“Do you want to get Cervantes on the line?” he asked.
“There is no one here by that name,” she insisted.
“Then you tell him I’m looking for him,” Harker told her before walking out and heading for his car. He was pretty sure that they wouldn’t call the cops. Cervantes didn’t work that way. No, he would send his own soldiers out after him. Harker was pretty sure that he would be able to make one of them talk and tell him where the big man was hiding.
Manny Mendez was sitting in his driveway when Harker returned to his house in Coconut Grove. His house was on Gilford Lane. Harker looked surprised to see him.
“Hey, Manny, what’s up?” Harker asked as he hopped out of his Compass.
“I’ve heard that you’ve been busy today, Amigo,” Manny shrugged.
“I have,” Harker agreed, unlocking his front door and inviting Manny inside.
“Costanza Industries. You find out who owns them?” Manny asked.
“They are owned by Raoul Cervantes, but Ricardo Montez is on the books as the CEO of record,” Harker shrugged.
“But you don’t believe it.”
“No, I don’t. Emma Cain worked at Costanza Industries, and she discovered something that made her feel very uncomfortable. So, she came to see me, and somebody had her killed,” Harker explained.
“You are positive of that?”
“I am, Manny. Raoul Cervantes is a monster. He doesn’t care who he kills to get what he wants.”
“He’ll be coming after you, AJ.”
“And you are sure that he is after me?” Harker shook his head, as he fired up a cigarette.
“I’m sure enough, mi amigo,” Manny told him.
“I’m not so sure, Manny. Not yet anyway,” Harker told him.
“I talked to the boys over in OCB, Organized Crime Bureau, and they are scared shitless of Raoul Cervantes. They say he makes the Columbian drug dealers look like kindergarten students.”
“You’re worried about Tina,” Harker said.
“Not just Tina, I’m worried about both of you. If this Cervantes freak is as bad as I’m told, he’ll wipe out not only you but everybody you associate with.”
“Come in and have a drink, Manny.”
“I could use one,” Manny admitted.
“Then come on inside. I think the Marlins are playing today and it should be on television,” Harker told him. The two men went inside and poured drinks. The two of them watched the game, cheering on the home team against the Boston Red Sox. The Marlins came up with a win.
“Be careful, AJ. I don’t want anything to happen to Tina because you won’t let this go,” Manny Mendez said, after the ballgame.
“I’ll do everything I can to keep her out of danger, Manny,” Harker assured him.
Harker walked Manny out to his car. They fist bumped and Manny drove off, leaving Harker standing under the evening sun. Keeping Tina out of the middle of things was going to be difficult if not impossible, but Harker would do his best. He had promised Manny that much. Except they both knew exactly how hard-headed Tina could be. She wouldn’t take kindly to being shut out of the investigation. So how was he going to keep her out? That was one helluva question and one that he would have to sleep on. Hopefully, he would come up with something before morning.
Sunshine was cutting laser-like beams through the blinds as Harker opened his eyes to the new day. He had an idea for Tina, one that would remove her from the field of fire while giving her the opportunity to feel like she was actually contributing to the case.
Harker climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom to take care of business and shower and shave. He returned to his room to dress and then micro-waved a couple of eggs for breakfast. Harker ate them quickly, drank his morning coffee and headed out the door. He stopped on the way to the office to pick up a Café con leche, his favorite coffee treat. He was drinking it as he unlocked the office and headed inside. Tina hadn’t showed up yet when two bruisers pushed their way in through the front door.
“Can I help you?” Harker looked warily at them.
“You Harker?” the bigger of the two asked.
“I am,” he replied, hands in his pockets.
“You a dead man,” the big man said.
“I doubt that,” Harker smiled. He pulled is SC9 out of his pocket and shot the son of a bitch in the heart. The second man pulled a gun and Harker shot him, too. Both men were dead on the floor as Harker pulled out his cell phone and dialed the Miami Dade Police.
Chapter Eight
“I warned you this might happen,” Manny Mendez sighed, as he looked around the office. The CSU was shooting photos and taking measurements.
“Yeah, you did,” Harker acknowledged and went on, “That was why I was ready when I came in.”
“What if Tina had gotten here first?”
“I called her and gave her the day off.”
“You gonna do that every day?”
“Nope. I’ll lay it out for her and let her decide.”
“You know she won’t quit.”
“I know that. The question is, do you? Do you really think thugs are going to scare your sister out of doing her job?”
“Oh hell no. But I count on you to keep her safe, AJ.”
“I promised you I would after you make sure she got flunked out of the police academy. You never wanted her to be a cop. You think she doesn’t know that?” Harker asked.
“I know she does. But she’s my little sister. It’s my job to protect her if she likes it or not,” Manny sighed.
“Try telling her that. She’s going to be mad as hell that she missed out on this,” Harker replied.
“I know that too,” Manny sighed.
Tina showed up two hours later, mad as hell that Harker had tried to give her the day off.
“Really, AJ? You think I wouldn’t find out?” she yelled at him.
“Manny told me to try and keep you out of it,” Harker raised his hands in submission.
“Manny can kiss my ass, AJ. You can too
if you try to pull a stunt like this again,” Tina snarled.
“Yeah, I get that, Kid.”
“So, who the hell were these guys?”
“They were working for Raoul Cervantes.”
“You know that for sure? Or are you just guessing?”
“I know it for sure,” Harker told her.
“So, this means I keep my gun on me,” Tina replied.
“It does.”
“It’s about goddam time you started treating me like an equal,” Tina told him.
“Maybe it is,” Harker agreed.
“So, tell me about Cervantes,” Tina prodded.
“I can do that, but it won’t be pleasant.”
“I never figured that it would be.”
“How does he fucking know?” Raoul Cervantes looked at Ricardo Montez and shouted.
“I have no idea. The girl, she knew nothing about our business,” Montez swore.
“Are you sure about that?”
“I am, El Jefe.”
“I am not, Ricardo. I think that you have a leak in your agency. One that can make my life most difficult,” Cervantes told him.
“What would you have me do? The girl is dead.”
“She might be dead, but you foolishly had her murdered-on Harker’s doorstep. He will not let that go!”
“No, he won’t. But if he had an idea of why she was killed while seeking his help, she might,” Cervantes shrugged.
“What are you suggesting, El Jefe?”
“I am suggesting that you pay for your mistake, amigo. You, will take a bullet for our Sicario.”
“But I have been loyal, El Jefe!” Montez begged.
“Not loyal enough,” Cervantes smiled. He drew a revolver from a shoulder holster and shot Montez in the head.
“Have that cleaned up and disposed of,” Cervantes ordered, holstering the revolver, as he looked at Eduardo.
