SHADOW MAN - Angie Bartoni Case File #6 (ANGIE BARTONI CASE FILES Book 1)
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SHADOW MAN
ANGIE BARTONI CASE FILE # 6
BY MW Huffman
SHADOW MAN© 2013 MW Huffman
All Rights Reserved
Thank you to my wife, Susan who has read each book I have written, given input, and occasionally wondered what planet I came from but puts up with me anyway. Thank you darling.
This is also for my good friend Steve McManaway who makes me laugh. I can always just be myself around him. Of course he also wonders what planet I might have come from and none of them are in this solar system. Love you buddy.
OTHER BOOKS PUBLISHED BY MW HUFFMAN
THE END–BOOK I of The Event Series
THE BEGINNING–BOOK II of The Event Series
THE REVELATION–BOOK III of The Event Series
The Second Civil War–BOOK I-A Nation Divided
The Second Civil War–Book II-A Nation at War
The Second Civil War–Book III–A Nation Healing
Project BlueBolt – BOOK I – American Gulags
Project BlueBolt – BOOK II - The Gulag Journal
Project BlueBolt – BOOK III – American Uprising
REVOLUTION
THE BRINK
CLOSE PROXIMITY
BLACKSTAR
CHIMERA
WORLDS END
SUN BURST
Sins of the Fathers
The Unfinished
Angie Bartoni Case File # 1 - The Alphabet Murders
Angie Bartoni Case File # 2 - Frost Bite
Angie Bartoni Case File # 3 - Dead Aim
Angie Bartoni Case File # 4 - What Goes Around
Angie Bartoni Case File # 5 - Nothing to Lose
Angie Bartoni Case File # 6 - Shadow Man
Angie Bartoni Case File # 7 – The Club
Angie Bartoni Case File # 8 – Shakespeare Murders
Angie Bartoni Case File # 9 – One Too Many
Angie Bartoni Case File #10 – Weak Link
Angie Bartoni Case File #11 – Vanishing Act
Angie Bartoni Case File #12 – Victim’s Advocate
Angie Bartoni Case File #13 – Payback
Angie Bartoni Case File #14 – Dead on Arrival
The Logan Files - Blond Deception
The Logan Files - Innocence and Avarice
The Logan Files - The Deal Breaker
The Logan Files – Pain Center
Norris Files – Insurrection
Norris Files - Silver2
CHAPTER ONE
The tires made a sucking noise as the car rolled along the slick streets. Lights did a dance in the puddles of water that had collected in the low spots of the pavement.
“Dan,” I said after a long silence.
“Huh?”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” I said looking over at him.
He was not amused because he was driving the car and all I had been doing was sitting here with my head tilted back on the headrest.
“I was just thinking. Do you know in a few more months we will have been partners for three years?”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Do you know that is a new world record for me?”
“World record?”
“Yeah. None of the others made it past two years. Well, except for Preston. He made it to two years and two months before they sent him to the loony bin.”
“Geez Bartoni, you are so damn depressing sometimes.”
“What? This is a pep talk. Here I am telling you that you have made it longer than anyone and you think that is depressing?” I asked.
“I’ll tell you what, just keep your pep talks to yourself. They depress the hell out of me.”
“Well pardon me for trying to say something nice.”
“Nice? That is what you call nice. No, I like working with you Dan. You’re the best partner I’ve ever had, Dan. That is nice. Saying you haven’t gotten me killed isn’t exactly nice.”
“Did I mention that you are touchy?” I said.
“Go back to sleep,” he grumbled.
We were looking for a place to park so we could watch a building. We had been tipped off that a guy we had been trying to locate for the last two weeks was going to be there. It was our fourth trip around the block and Dan was hungry and getting grumpy.
I’m Detective Angelina Bartoni. People just call me Angie or Bartoni. I do not wear short shirts, low cut blouses, or high-heels like those bozos on television and in the movies. I'm just north of forty, 5'5" and one hundred and none of your business pounds. I guess I'm ok looking when I put a little effort into it, but not a heart breaker. Of course that would require letting someone actually get close enough which I'm not good at anyway. I have brown eyes and long brown hair that I am secretly proud of, but keep in a no nonsense ponytail for work.
I do not try to duke it out with perps or use any of that fake judo crap. When I see it on television I almost shoot out the TV screen. Speaking of which, if some big bastard tries to take me out, I will shoot him. I’m not a tough guy, actually girl, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to protect myself. Besides I usually have Dan with me and he is big enough and mean enough to take on almost anything that comes our way.
After my pep talk, that Dan obviously missed the point of, I pointed to a coffee shop.
“Hey, pull over and I’ll get you a coffee. My treat,”
“Well that’s certainly more motivational than your damn pep talk.”
Geez, what a grump butt.
“What will it be?”
“Half coffee, one quarter mocha, one quarter espresso with whipped cream and Carmel drizzle.”
“Oh for...park the damn car and go get your own,” I said shoving a five at him.
“Five?”
“How much is the silly thing?”
“Seven-fifty”
“For a stupid coffee? That's crazy. Anyone who would pay more than a buck fifty for coffee is a certified moron,” I said, giving him another five.
“Great, another pep talk,” Dan grumbled as he parked the car, slammed the door, and stomped into the coffee shop that should change its name to StarStruck Dumbutts. Seven fifty for a cup of coffee. Morons.
Dan climbed back in the car and handed me a Diet Coke. It's the breakfast of Champions and costs less than a buck.
“Someone should be leaving soon. They can’t all be on welfare, some of them have to work,” I told him.
“Ha. In this neighborhood? These are third and fourth generation welfare recipients. They don’t know what the term work means. All they know is ‘give me’,” Dan said taking a sip of his coffee. It was all I could do to not laugh. He had whipped cream on the end of his nose. He started the car and put it into gear. He was just getting ready to take another sip before pulling back out onto the street when all hell broke loose.
Suddenly the windshield crashed in and the hood was shoved into the engine. Dan and I both jumped like we had been shot. Dan was cussing a blue streak because it had caused him to drop his cup of seven dollar coffee down the front of his shirt and into his lap.
I felt blood running downing my cheek and I knew I had a cut above my eye. I looked over at Dan and saw that he had blood on his ear and his chin. We could see the body outline through the spider webbed windshield.
“Well, that was certainly rude,” I muttered as I got out.
I looked up and didn’t see a single window open and the roof was at least five stories up.
“Call it in Dan, I want to get in and secure the ingress and egress.”
Dan was cal
ling it in as we ran into the building. The elevators were just inside the entrance and the stairs were off to the right. I pushed the button for the elevator three times and then once more for good measure. Why do people do that? Like it’s going to come any faster. You can push the button, see it light up and the very next person will push it again like yours didn’t get the job done.
Dan started up the stairs and a few seconds later the elevator doors opened. No one got out. I wasn’t really expecting them too. That would have been too easy. I jumped in and pushed the top floor button.
I got out on the fifth floor and saw Dan open the stairway door. He was a little red in the face and breathing pretty deeply.
“Didn’t see anyone coming down I take it,” I said.
“Nope. I guess nothing jumped out at you either.”
“I suppose they could have gone down one or two levels and waited. We need to get a team in here to sweep the entire place.”
“Better call the captain and the ME,” I told Dan.
“You just want me to be the one to tell McGregor about the car.”
“Damn right. I am not taking the hit for this one. No how, no way, buster. You were behind the wheel. This one is on you,” I told him.
The thing is, I have totaled so many cars that the captain is thinking about making me drive one of the meter maid units. This is the one time that Dan was driving.
We checked the upper door to the roof but it was barricaded or locked. We rode the elevator down to the lobby and surveyed the car. The body hit so hard that it had actually caused one of the tires to blow out.
We walked over and looked at the body of the man who had crashed through our windshield. He was pretty beat up and not just from the fall. It was evident that someone had worked him over good before tossing him off the building. Talk about anger management issues. Whatever he had done, it had rankled someone’s wanker.
“Damn,” Dan said looking the guy over. “Someone worked this guy over pretty good. Throwing him off the building was kind of overkill don’t you think?”
“Maybe the guy is just thorough.”
“What the heck is with you tonight Bartoni? You are acting all weird,” Dan lamented.
“I’m not the one with whipped cream on my shirt and crotch,” I pointed out.
“Damn it, that’s not funny,” Dan fumed.
I guess it depended on your perspective.
“Are we fighting, children?” the familiar voice of Captain McGregor said, coming up behind us.
“Bartoni is in one of her moods,” Dan said.
The captain just looked at him for a moment and said, “Easy Dan, I’ve seen her pistol whip someone for less. That is not a good thing to say under any circumstance.”
Dan didn’t reply but acted like he was very interested in the body imbedded in our windshield.
“You two have injuries. I want those looked at,” McGregor told us.
We both acknowledged that we would, meaning there was no way in hell we were going to do any such thing. I could see the yellow tape going up and it reminded me of this same scene being played out far too many times.
CHAPTER TWO
Our crusty ME, Doctor Sorenson came ambling along like he was just out for a stroll.
“Don’t hurry, Doc,” I said when he finally made his way over to the car.
“Well Bartoni, were you expecting him to get up and leave before I got here? Did they implement a new time card policy that I didn’t get the memo on?” he shot back.
See what I mean? He is grumpy and crusty. What? You think it could just be me tonight.
The thing is, I’m pretty fed up with people killing each other all the time over nothing. I mean, husbands kill wives, wives kill husbands, and strangers on the highway kill each other. What the heck is going on? It seems that we kill each other at the drop of a hat. It could just be me but it seems like we are losing our respect for one another. Whatever happened to just talking it out or even duking it out? Oh, I forgot, attorneys. Now you either sue them or kill them. Boy, isn't that better.
“This guy pretty much had the hell beat out of him,” the ME said.
“Beat the hell out of him, that’s a medical term, right?”
“Who put the bee in your butt Bartoni?” he said.
“Well hell, this week alone we have had two murders, two rapes, and now this. Yeah, I’m getting a little pissed.”
“Hey, this is what we do. We deal with the dregs of society.”
“I don’t have to like it.”
“So take up ballet then,” the ME replied.
Maybe he was right. I’m just being sensitive. The other thing that was eating at me was that for the first time I had two unsolved murders on the board at one time. This would make it three. We are supposed to be solving them not just putting them on the board.
“His knees are shattered and so are his wrists. That wasn’t done in the fall; I can tell you that. He is missing a few teeth and his nose is broken. None of that happened from hitting the car. Basically someone systematically beat the hell out of this guy.”
“As soon as they are done taking pictures we can see if he has any ID on him,” Dan said.
“Does he look familiar to you?” I asked Dan and Sorenson?”
“Hell, I can’t tell.”
The ME went over and studied the face closer. It was difficult to see in the dim light but I had the impression that he recognized him as well.
“Is that...no, couldn’t be.”
“Bruno Stillwell?”
“I’ll be damned. I think you're right. It sure looks like Stillwell,” the ME said looking closer.
“Who is Bruno Stillwell?” Dan asked.
“A real slime who had a slimeball crew that he ran. They would cruise the malls and grocery stores and grab women. They were usually housewives running errands. Sometimes they went after younger girls as well and offered them a place to stay. Bruno had this red Ferrari that he liked to drive to impress them. Actually it wasn’t even a real Ferrari. It was one of those wannabe kit cars as we found out later. He would get them hooked on drugs, pimp them out, and toss them away when he was finished with them. We know he had at least seven or eight killed but he was pretty smart. He kept a wall between him and the actual killing. I busted his butt but it wasn’t on what I wanted. Got him on trafficking. He got off with a ten year sentence. I thought he was still in but apparently he is out.”
“Well he won’t be doing anymore pimping,” Dan replied.
“All six of them got essentially the same sentence. Ten years. If he is out, maybe the others are as well.”
“You think they could have had a falling out?” Dan asked.
“Wouldn’t that be rich?” I said.
**
We sat and cooled our jets for the next two hours, waiting for the crime scene people to get done. Sorenson’s people were finally free to get the guy's butt out of our windshield.
“The ME said you thought it was Bruno Stillwell.”
“I’m not a hundred percent sure but he sure looks like him.”
“He just got released last month I believe,” the captain said.
“Maybe his old crew got back together and they had a falling out or blamed him for what happened.”
“Well I can tell you one thing, I’m sure not going to lose any sleep over someone like that shitbird,” the captain said.
He has such a way with words. The thing is, he is right. I doubt anyone in the world will give on hoot about Bruno Stillwell except for Dan and I. We care because it becomes part of our caseload and we will be the ones that have to clear it up now.
“You in a hurry on this one?” the ME said yanking his thumb over his shoulder.
“Captain doesn’t seem too concerned so why should I be? You can do the autopsy when you get the time. I would like to know if it is Stillwell.”
“I can have that for you,” he said and took out a cell phone.
He placed the guy's thumb on it and wa
ited.
“That can do that? Actually identify the person?” Dan asked.
“Sure. I saw it on NCIS. They do it in less than a second. Forget that there are about 300 million prints in the system. NCIS gets it in less than five seconds every time. Every frickin time. I really have to get one of those things,” Sorenson said walking off.
“He is getting grumpier,” Dan replied.
“Age does that. Or so I’m told,” I said.
“Uh-huh,” was all Dan would say.
Smart boy that Dan.
CHAPTER THREE
Dan and I were once again back in the neighborhood where we hand gotten our car totaled the night before by a falling body. This time my boy Dan did not have a seven dollar cup of coffee. In fact he had finally graduated to a real drink. Diet Coke.
“That was some awakening last night,” Dan said.
“It certainly was different. We don’t have bodies raining down on us very often.”
“So the ME said it was Stillwell?”
“Yep. 100 percent match. He gave me a quick rundown. Not many bones were still intact, and that was before he was tossed off the top of the building.”
“Think it could be his former crew?”
“If it was, he pissed them off big time. It would be pretty strange though. None of them were very bright and most were afraid of Bruno.”
“Are we eliminating them then?”
“Not entirely, but let’s just say I will be surprised if we get much,” I told him.
“So we break off this case then what?” referring to our current surveillance.
“We can do that after our...whoa. That’s him right there,” I said, pointing to a guy who had just come out of one of the rundown houses.
He had on a black hoodie, black jeans and a pair of tennis shoes that probably cost more the house he came out of.
“He is going to run, you know that, right?” Dan said.
“Yep. And if we start the car and he sees it, he will definitely run. This thing says ‘Oh look at us, we be the fuzz’,” I said.