Stairway to the Bottom - a Mick Murphy Key West Mystery

by Michael Haskins

  “You find out, make sure to tell me,” I said.

  “Not much of a paradise today, is it?”

  “Paradise lost.”

  “I’m sorry, Mick.” Richard replaced his glasses. “I wish there was something…”

  “Find out who did it,” I said, not wanting sympathy because sympathies were fruitless efforts for when all else was useless. “Maybe do something the feds can’t.”

  Richard gave me a hard-edged stare. “I can keep informed on what they’re doing. He’s the one to do something the feds can’t.” He nodded toward Norm. “I’ve got restrictions.”

  “I know.”

  “But I can always answer questions.” Richard looked at Norm.

  “If I have any I’ll call,” Norm said.

  “Let me know what you’re up to,” Richard said. “Maybe tell me where I shouldn’t be or where I should be a little slow in responding.”

  “Count on it.” Norm nodded and grinned his understanding.

  Turning to the door, Richard stopped. “Mick…”

  “Find the sons of bitches,” I said.

  Richard nodded and left the room.

  “Do you think he believed you?” Norm asked.

  “No,” I said. “What’s the game plan?”

  “I’m worried about you.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “But I am. I expected you to be a raving lunatic.” Norm’s words were harsh. “I know you. I’ve been in this movie before.”

  “Yeah, I know. I also remember that nothing got accomplished before,” I said. “I want to get Alexei. I want to put a bullet in his fuckin’ head as he looks at me and knows it’s coming.”

  Norm’s stare went toward the chair where Padre

  Thomas had been. It was empty. He did a quick scan around the room. “Where did he go?”

  “I didn’t see him leave.”

  Norm bent down a looked under the bed.

  “You expected to find him there?”

  “I wouldn’t have been surprised.”

  “He’s gone for a smoke,” I said. “He can’t go a half hour without one.”

  “He’s creepy sometimes.” Norm looked out at the corridor. “He’s like a ghost.”

  “He’s gone. What were you going to say that he couldn’t hear?”

  “Alexei’s moved on. Maybe on the run,” he said. “That’s his M.O. I think the guys that did this did it without his approval. Screwed up his plans.”

  “Why?”

  “He wanted the diamonds. He needed you alive, temporarily at least. Chris is checking with Langley about chatter. My guess is the guy I killed at the reef was with family, so it’s personal for them. If Pauly’s guys hadn’t killed them at the scene, Alexei would’ve because they acted on their own.”

  “Where’d Alexei go?”

  “Don’t know and it’s unlikely we’ll ever know. My guess is he was on a private plane before you reached the hospital. He’s perfected escaping and not being found.”

  “What the fuck does that mean? He walks?” The blood pressure monitor beeped.

  “Calm down, hoss.” Norm raised his hands, palms out. “He got away with a couple of guys we believe are from Miami. We find them and they’ll lead us to Alexei.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “I can’t check into this officially,” he said. “But people owe me or want me to owe them, so I can get it done. Chris will help when she can. You need to do something too.”

  “Anything.”

  “You need to listen to the doctor and recuperate. Fully mend before we go forward with this.”

  “The doctor said I had no serious injuries.”

  “But you do have injuries.” He rubbed his eyes. “The wound in your side needs to heal properly. You’re cut and bruised all over. Your body needs time to heal. You’re no good to me if you’re not one-hundred percent.”

  “How long are you talking about?”

  “Let me find the guys in Miami and put them under surveillance,” he said. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  “If you don’t get lucky, I want to be there when you grab them.”

  “You gonna kill ‘em too?”

  “I’m gonna do what I have to, to get Alexei.”

  Norm raised his arms and scratched the back of his head with both hands. “You never killed anyone, Mick. You’ve been in firefights and, yeah, you probably shot a few people that were shooting at you and maybe some of ‘em died.” He put his hands on the bed safety railing and leaned toward me. “You ain’t a cold blooded killer. You’ve never killed anyone up close. It’s different.”

  “If that’s what it takes, that’s what I’ll be.” I spoke quickly and the words came out as callous as I could make them.

  “You look into the eyes of the man before you kill him and you feel shame even if you don’t feel pity. Most people, it’s not in their nature to take a human life. “ The words came slowly. “You pull the trigger, you hear all his pleading over and over in your head. You see the bullet enter, blood splatter and if you’re close enough, it splatters on you, maybe brain matter too. There’s a fraction of a second after the bullet enters when the victim’s eyes still show terror and if you aren’t sick to your stomach, if you enjoyed your vengeance, you’ve killed a piece of yourself too. There’s no joy in taking a life. It changes a man. Maybe you enjoy it, and that makes you no better than the man you killed.”

  The words were somber and hinted at first-hand knowledge. Norm’s expression remained hard as he waited for a response.

  “I don’t care, Norm.”

  “I know.” He stood straight. “That’s what concerns me. You’re focused on killing Alexei and nothing else.”

  “Wouldn’t you be?”

  “Yeah, I would. But I’d know what I’d do after and you don’t.” He leaned forward again. “You think your world ended when Tita died. You thought the same thing twenty years ago in Tijuana. You were wrong then and you’re wrong now. I understand and I’ll help you, but I walk away if it looks like a suicide mission. If you expect to die settling scores, I walk away and you’re on your own.”

  Chapter 69

  Norm left and I stewed in anger and self-pity even though I wouldn’t admit it. What he said came as a warning to my rashness and hostility, and I reluctantly understood that. I didn’t display my rage with hysterics as I did in Tijuana. This time I calculated my vengeance, a different side of insanity. I may have confused Norm, I didn’t fool him.”

  My body needed rest because I slept soon after he left. Doctor Carpino woke me, took my vitals and read my chart.

  “If I send you home tomorrow, you promise to behave?” She smiled and her nose wrinkled. It was cute and a mental distraction.

  “I always behave.”

  “Not what I heard,” she said. “You need to rest.”

  “I’m too tired not to.”

  “In about two weeks, I want you to begin taking a walk. Not sooner than that and not too long, but keep it up until you can do a two-mile round trip without muscle aches.”

  “How much time are we talking about?”

  “Before what?”

  “Before I’m back to normal.”

  She sat on the bed. “You go without complications, and you should be back to your old self in three months. You cheat or try too hard, it could be six months or more.”

  “Three months sounds good.”

  “You’re beat up inside, Mr. Murphy,” she said. “You were tossed about in the cabin, your wound opened up and tore wider, bones and muscles were bruised. All that needs time to heal. I can give you medication for the infection in your side, but there’s nothing for what else afflicts you except time.”

  “I’ve got time.” I tried to smile but don’t think I did a good job.

  “I’ve talked to Doctors Norris and Boros,” she said and stood. “When you are up to the daily walk, make appointments to see them. Norris will take out the stitches.”

  “Where are you goin
g?” I liked her bedside manner.

  Her nose wrinkled. “If I tell you, I’ve gotta kill you.”

  “You’re a dangerous person doc. Are you sure you’re a real doctor?”

  “Classified. You know how we do things, need to know only and you don’t need to know.”

  “Thanks for doing what you do.”

  “That’s what I’m paid for.” She put my chart back. “You screw up my good work and I’ll really have to kill you.” She walked out of the room and I heard her soft laugh.

  My dinner included chicken noodle soup that I ate and left everything else untouched. I went back to sleep and never heard anyone pick up the tray. A nurse woke me once, asked me how I was, took my vitals and I went back to sleep. It was a good sleep because I didn’t dream. I knew the dreams were coming, but not then.

  Padre Thomas woke me. The room was dark. I tried to shake the grogginess from my head when I saw Thomas in priest’s clothing that hung loosely on his thin frame, black everything and a clerical collar.

  “Padre?” I thought maybe I was dreaming after all.

  “Mick,” he whispered and his tone was anxious. “You’ve gotta get out of here…” He looked at the hallway. “Now.”

  “Tomorrow,” I said, still trying to accept this wasn’t a dream.

  “They’re coming for you,” he said. “Please, let me help you. Get up.” He found the button and raised the bed until I was in a sitting position.

  “Slow down Padre. Who’s coming?” I moved until I felt comfortable.

  He looked toward the hallway again. “Men,” he said. “Federal, but they’re lying. I called Norm but he didn’t answer. I left a message. Come with me.” He pulled the sheet off me and had my cargo shorts and shirt in his hand.

  “You’re not making sense. I’ve talked to the feds.” I moved my legs so they hung off the bed and took the clothing. He often acted strangely when he learned something from the angels. The thought rid me of my grogginess and I became anxious.

  “These are bad men, Mick,” he said and looked at the IV in my arm. “We have to go. We need to find Norm.” He fumbled with the IV connection.

  I could see the hallway and heard the ringing noise the elevator made when it stopped on the floor. It must have been late for the whole area to be so quiet. Three men turned into the hall. I knew they were feds—suites, ties, short haircuts and a fast-pace to their walk.

  “Padre.” I touched his shoulder. “Find Norm.”

  Padre Thomas turned to see the men approaching. “We need to do something. Call the nurse.”

  “Get Norm.” I moved his hand away from the IV.

  The first man entered. Two stayed in front of the door.

  “Father,” the big man nodded toward Padre Thomas. “I’m afraid you have to go. I have business with Mr. Murphy.” He produced a badge case with an FBI I.D. and photo.

  The room was too dark to make it out clearly.

  “I need a few more minutes,” Padre Thomas said. “I’m hearing his confession.”

  “As much as I’d like to help, Father, I’m on a tight schedule and have to move Murphy to Miami,” he said. “There’s a plane waiting.”

  “Go on,” I said. “My confession can wait.”

  Padre Thomas’ face showed concern. He turned, took a long look at the FBI agent and left the room, pushing through the agents at the door. As he passed the nurses’ station, he snapped on the overhead lights. The florescent brightness surprised me and brought the night nurse.

  The agent disconnected the IV line from my hand. “Get dressed,” he ordered. “You don’t want to be responsible for the nurse becoming a patient.” He opened his jacket so I could see his shoulder holster.

  He went to the nurse. “Is there a problem?”

  “What are you doing?” She demanded, a childlike person compared to the three beefy men.

  He turned to the agent with the blond crew cut. “Agent Ryan, show her the paperwork.”

  Ryan produced his identification and a document that he handed to her.

  “We’re taking Mr. Murphy into custody,” the agent from my room said. “The paperwork is in order.” He turned abruptly, not waiting for a reply, and came back into the room.

  “I have to call the doctor,” the nurse said and rushed to her station.

  “You’d better hurry,” he said to me.

  I leaned against the bed and pulled my shorts on. It hurt. Everything hurt. “You don’t have a plane.”

  “You’re a smart boy,” he snarled. “You want to be real smart you can end this now and I’ll go away.”

  “Tell you where Walsh is,” I said realizing these were the men who’d kidnapped me. This time they weren’t hiding their identities.

  “Doyle. Where is Doyle hiding?” He came close and spoke softly. “Tell me the truth and you can go back to your confession.”

  “How do you know I won’t lie to get you to leave?” I left my shirt mostly unbuttoned because even my fingers hurt.

  “You lie and when I come back, I won’t be a nice guy.” He stared at me.

  “The truth is, I have no idea where he’s gone,” I said, but wasn’t prepared for the swift blow to my stomach that followed. I doubled over, saw stars and he caught me before I went to the floor.

  “Now we get to play a little game,” he said into my ear. “I ask you a question, you answer it and we decide if it’s the truth or not. You won’t like our way of making that decision.” He shook the IV pole. “This has painkiller in the mix, so in a little while you’re going to feel like shit.” He took the IV package and wrapped the tubing around it. “You’ll tell me the truth when you want the pain to stop.”

  “I’m gonna kill you,” I said, short of breath and already in pain.

  He moved me toward the door. “Not in this life, Murphy. In this life, I get to kill you.”

  Chapter 70

  We walked past the nurse’s station and the petite woman gave us a hard stare while she talked on the phone. I heard her tell whoever was on the other end that we were leaving. The hallways to the ER exit were deserted. Sane people were sleeping. The two agents helped me move along and the pace they set sent pain shooting through my legs and back. I slowed and they pushed me forward.

  Outside a black SUV waited with the engine running. Agent Ryan opened the back door but no one offered to help me in. I hadn’t realized how painful my legs would be after a short walk. I grabbed the top of the seat for leverage and that hurt too.

  I learned something about pain, it’s a great motivator. I knew what these guys wanted and I couldn’t give it to them. What were my options? They weren’t playing around and even if they didn’t intend to kill me, they didn’t care if their interrogation tactics did.

  The agent from my room got in the front. Agent Ryan and the balding agent got in back, on either side of me. Did they think me capable of escaping?

  “No hood this time?” I directed my question to the front. “Don’t care if I see where we’re going?”

  “If you were as talkative when we wanted you to be, this wouldn’t be necessary,” the agent said from the front. “Now shut the fuck up. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  The streets were dark and wet from a brief rain. Streetlights became fewer, the roadway darker as the car went deeper into Stock Island, through residential areas and finally to the waterfront. The car turned onto Shrimp Road and the night engulfed us. I’d walked the road after they dumped me in the mangroves last time. The car pulled into the dirt lot and stopped next to an old shack. I could smell the saltwater and knew the shrimp fleet was in from the pungent odor that swept over the area from the processing plant.

  “Out,” the agent said.

  Agent Ryan held the door open. I slid across the seat and spasms of pain shot through me.

  “Are you really FBI agents?” I bit down fighting the pain in my side.

  “We ask the questions, Murphy,” the agent from my room said.

  “I know Agent Ryan,”
I said. “Who are you?”

  “Do you think it matters?”

  “I don’t like to kill people and not know…”

  He struck me in the stomach and I went down.

  “Gallagher,” he said pulling me up. “Not that it matters where you’re going and you’re not killing anyone.”

  I walked slowly and they seemed to accept my pace. “Four fucking Micks,” I said between breaths. “Your mothers must be proud.” I didn’t know the other two, but I had a feeling these were the Boston FBI agents who escaped arrest when Whitey’s handler, Special Agent John Connolly, took the fall.

  He hit me again. I fell again. He yanked me to my feet. “Keep this shit up and you’re gonna beg me to kill you.”

  I spit in his face. It wasn’t much because my mouth was dry, but it got his attention. He hit me in the face, a straight right, and let me fall. I tasted blood.

  “Drag the prick in,” he said to the others and walked toward the shack wiping his face with a handkerchief.

  I tried to stand but the two agents grabbed me by the armpits and dragged me toward the shack. I was facing away so I couldn’t see where Agent Gallagher was, but I saw the moon low in the west and knew a sunrise wasn’t far behind. Pain stabbed me in the side like a hot poker and I didn’t want to cry out but I heard myself moan.

  When we arrived at the steps, they lifted me to my feet. No one spoke. A dull light spread out on a small deck atop the four steps. I held onto the railing and took each step slowly. In the hallway, they pushed me forward, tired I assumed, of my slow pace. Ryan forced me into a chair in the middle of the room.

  I looked around. No other furnishing and the closed dirty windows kept the room stuffy. This must have been where they questioned me before.

  “What time is it?” I said trying to hide the difficulty I had getting the words out.

  “Time has run out for you,” Agent Gallagher said. “You’re going to tell us where Doyle is hiding and then we have to make sure you’re telling the truth.”

  “I already have.”

  “Why would Doyle call you so many times before he ran if it wasn’t to ask you for help?”