The Coconut Swindle (Black Cape Case Files Book 2)

by Matt Abraham

Then Monday said, “Son of a bitch. I don’t believe it.”

  And neither did I.

  Blocking both lanes were three parked cop cars. Standing in front of them were six officers with their guns pointed at a blue SUV that had stopped in the middle of the road. And it was spitting smoke from its tail.

  “They got him,” Monday said.

  I pulled to a stop and we jumped out.

  Monday drew his gun. “Gold Coast Police. Vacate the vehicle with your hands high.”

  I yanked out Rico and Lois. My Thumper’s hammer stood poised to strike while the Kapowitzer was looking froggy and bound to my bones. And neither one was shaky. They were steady floating, ready to deal out doom to Scourge and Gunmetal before either one had a chance to shoot me a nasty look.

  Then the driver’s door opened.

  “Hands up,” a cop on the far side yelled.

  “Stand fast,” I said.

  Scourge slipped one leg out. Then the other. And he stepped away from the vehicle.

  I lowered my hardware. “What the hell?”

  Monday said, “I don’t think that’s Scourge.”

  And he was right.

  The driver was standing there, with his hands up, in a green sweater and tan slacks. And he was clearly Asian. Behind him the back door opened and a little girl got out. Throwing both arms around her daddy, she plunged her face into his side.

  “Son of a bitch.” I powered down Lois and slipped her and Rico into their holsters.

  “Get on the ground,” one of the cops yelled. “Now.” He charged forward.

  I moved to intercept.

  The cop ignored me and leapt at the duo like an angry jungle cat. Reaching out I snatched his belt and jerked him back.

  Dangling in my hand like a suitcase he said, “Release me now.”

  I said, “You sound a lot like Officer Heralds.”

  Another cop with chevrons on his shoulder ran around the auto and aimed his piece at me. “Hands up.”

  I looked at him. And didn’t move.

  “Stand down.” Monday had his badge up high. “All of you. These aren’t the perps, and he’s with me.”

  “Got that, Sarge? Now catch.” I tossed the cop to him, then turned to the civilian. “You. What just happened?”

  The Asian pop held his kid close. “We were… we were parked at the light when a crazy truck drove by and shot up our car. I thought we were dead for sure, but then the police arrived and we-”

  “Yeah yeah, I got it.” I looked at the SUV. Scourge laid the holes perfect. They were blowing as much black smoke as the ones he put in ours.

  “What kind of truck was it?” Monday said. “I’ll put out an APB.”

  The guy looked at him. “Sorry. I was too busy praying to notice.”

  Monday stared at the guy. Then he looked at the closest boy blue. “Officer, get their statements. Dane, let’s go.”

  As we walked back to our car Sarge called out, “Monday. Consistency’s only a virtue if you get the right guy.”

  I turned around and walked towards him. “Keep waggling that tongue and I’ll use it to shine my shoes.”

  He stepped back. “Easy big fellow. If you’re working with Monday you’ll need a better sense of humor.”

  Monday said, “Dane.”

  I spun his way.

  “Let’s go.”

  I turned back to Sarge, gave him two stink eyes, then headed to Monday’s car. He was already behind the wheel when I slid in and said, “What’d the law hog mean by that?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  I slammed my door.

  Monday pulled away and said, “You realize Scourge’s been tailing us for two days now, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You know why exactly?”

  “Let’s find out who got him the ni-tri,” I said, “and then we can ask him directly.”

  Chapter 32

  Allen-Fox’s office took up three of the topmost floors in one of City Centre’s sky scratchers, and like the last two stops it had a helpful receptionist who pointed us to their representative, Mr. Errol. He was a silver haired man behind a walnut desk sporting Italian cotton from his shoulders to his shoes. And while the room was clearly decorated with a hefty corporate budget, the most expensive thing in it was Errol’s rich man’s expression, the kind he thought would protect him from the rest of the world. “Gentlemen,” he said with a gleaming smile, “please, have a seat.”

  Of course Monday obliged.

  But I remained standing.

  “Thanks for seeing us,” Monday said. “I trust you know why we’re here.”

  “I do,” he said. “This is about stolen nitro… something.”

  “Nitro-tri-phosphorus,” Monday said.

  “Yes. That’s correct. We produce and store it. But our entire stock lies in the facility in North Dakota.”

  My heart dropped. “North Dakota?”

  “Yes. And I can assure you, it’s quite safe.”

  I said, “When did you last ship any to the city?”

  “Gold Coast? Never. There’s not much use for it within a populated area like this.”

  Monday looked to me, then to Errol. “Where’s the closest location you’ve delivered to?”

  Errol turned to his computer and typed in a few words. “Vancouver. About one month back.”

  “Canada,” I said. “Great.”

  “Could some have been stolen from that shipment?” Monday said.

  “I seriously doubt it. Our technicians are very careful, and in order to syphon any off, the thief would have to be extremely knowledgeable in chemistry. That particular compound is very-”

  “Volatile,” I said. “Yeah, we’re aware.”

  Monday said, “Can you send me a list of everyone in your company who has access to that plant?”

  “Of course, but that’ll take days to compile. Hundreds of workers are stationed there, but I’ll send it over when it’s done. Is there anything else I can help you with?” He looked back and forth between the two of us.

  “I suppose not,” Monday said.

  “Glad to hear it,” Errol said. “Have a good day.”

  The cop left. I stayed for a second, and stared at the wealthy man. I wanted to grind him into paste. But not because I thought he was a liar. So I followed Monday to the elevator. He pressed the down button and a few seconds later the doors slid open. We stepped in, and began our long descent.

  “Do you believe him?” Monday said.

  “I don’t think he was lying, but he’s probably wrong. Of all those we talked to today he seemed the least plugged in. If we want to be certain though, you could subpoena all his records.”

  “Oh, I will. But that’s going to take a week, at least. There’re parking violations that’ll take precedence over running that kind of interstate paperwork for black cape bodies.”

  “We could always swing by the Badlands.”

  Monday said, “I don’t have jurisdiction.”

  “And I don’t need it.”

  “So when’re you leaving?”

  I studied my loafers. “I’m not. Even if I could comb through their whole warehouse it would probably take forever to find the man who pinched that juice.”

  The elevator kept sinking, faster than my hopes, and I was deep in gloomy thoughts when we stopped on the twentieth floor. Its doors opened and a young man, all smart and clean cut, got in. Behind him, on the wall, was a name I’d seen before.

  “Hold it.” I shoved the kid aside, grabbed a sliding door, and pushed it open.

  “What’s wrong?” Monday said.

  I pointed at the big, beautiful logo. “Stronghold.”

  “What?” Monday said.

  The kid turned to me. “Hey, I got a very important-”

  “You work here?”

  He looked me up and down. “What’s it to you?”

  I grabbed his tie and lifted him up until he dangled. “You guys ever do any deals with Allen-Fox up on the fortieth?”


  He grabbed his tie tight. “Jeezus pal, let me go, I can’t breathe.”

  “If that were true you couldn’t speak. Now answer my question.”

  The kid stopped fussing and said, “Ok. Yeah. We do a lot of work for A-F.”

  “Thanks.” I tossed him against the back wall and stepped off the elevator. “Monday, head downstairs and start the car.”

  He motioned to the kid. “What’s this all about?”

  “I’m just shaking some trees.”

  “And what’re you going to do now?”

  The door was already closing when I said, “Uproot them.”

  Chapter 33

  I kicked in Mr. Errol’s door.

  He jumped up from his desk. “What’s the meaning of this?”

  Crossing the room I said, “Why didn’t you mention Margaret Shelly?”

  Errol had that indignant look rich guys get. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Just tell me, when did she work for you?”

  “Margaret?” He tapped his chin a few times to let me know he was thinking. “Years now. She was the project manager for a number of our plants.”

  I reached over that walnut desk, wrapped my claw around Errol’s throat, and dragged him to me. Then, holding the VP an inch from my face, I said, “Listen pal, if I thought you were swell, I’d still break you in two for jerking me around, and Errol, I don’t like you one bit, so I’m going to ask some questions, and if you don’t answer them, I’m going to hurl you through that glass like a cannonball.”

  “That glass?” The smug around his sneer was so thick it looked like day old stubble. “It’s shatterproof.”

  “Shatterproof? You don’t say?” Lugging Errol to the window I jabbed the pane with my free hand. It burst through easy. I grabbed the jagged edge and pulled the whole thing inside.

  Cold, fierce wind rushed into the manicured office. Papers whipped around. Over the din I said, “Now, what did Margaret Shelly do for your company?”

  Despite the sudden drop in temp Errol was sweating. He clawed at my hand, and scraped his heels against the expensive rug, anything to put some distance between us.

  “Stop that,” I said. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “But you can’t do this, you’re the police.”

  “Sorry, no shield here.” I pulled back my jacket, exposing Lois. “Just a heavy sword and a heart that would swell at the sound of you smacking concrete. So answer quick before I hurl you like a frisbee.”

  Errol glanced out the window, then at me. And finally, there was respect. Sure, it was the kind that only comes from fear, but I’d take it. “Margaret Shelly was head of our compound project.”

  “So she did security?”

  “Security? No. More like asset protection, she-”

  I pushed Errol out the window. And grabbed his tie as he leaned way back. He snatched my wrist, and looked over his shoulder at the long drop. “No. Don’t let go.”

  “Then don’t get wise.”

  “I’m not, I’m not. Security is the manpower onsite, Margaret designed the facility itself. Created the safeguards. She was the chief architect on how to protect our most valuable assets.”

  “Has she been in contact with you since?”

  “Of course. She runs annual audits on everything. The last one was two weeks ago.”

  I pulled Errol back in and tossed him onto the brown, leather couch. “You’re telling me that Margaret Shelly was at your plant recently, and she’s in charge of protecting your stockpile of nitro-tri-phosphorus?”

  He blundered down the sofa backwards, but stopped when he hit the armrest. “Yes. Of course. Who else would?”

  I rubbed my jaw. “Brother, anybody would’ve been a better choice.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “What’s that mean?” I lunged at Errol.

  He flinched, and cowered behind his hands. “I’m sorry, nothing, it means nothing.”

  I loosened up some. Errol was seconds from jabbering away with what he thought I wanted to hear, and that was never a good way to get to the truth. So I laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and said, “Relax. I’m sorry I almost threw you out the window. But I’m calmer now, and I promise, you’re safe. Just tell me why you think Shelly’s the best choice.”

  Errol lowered his hands. And took a steadying breath. “Because. She’s the expert in making hard to access buildings. Jewels, money, information…”

  I said, “And chemicals?”

  “Of course. She’s done all the big spots. Napier, Franklin, that big job Chemi-Labs built in the mountains.”

  “And isn’t that a thing?” I looked out Errol’s window, taking in both the breeze and the view.

  Margaret Shelly.

  She was the last person the boys stole from. But that job got them hoosegow bound for five years. Was that not enough punishment to slake her lust for vengeance?

  God damn scorned women.

  Errol broke my train of thought. “I’m sorry, but did we do something wrong? Margaret Shelly’s a respected member of the community, I’m sure this is a misunderstanding.”

  “No, it’s not.” I turned and walked towards the door. “And now she’s going to jail for a five-year-old robbery.”

  “Oh,” Errol said. “You mean the one that crippled her son.”

  That stopped me cold. “What did you say?”

  Errol wasn’t scared anymore. Just sort of sad. “When those men broke into her apartment they cut the gas lines, and when the walls sealed up they got out.” He took a deep breath. “But her son did not. He was still there, trapped in his room.”

  “He died?” I asked.

  “No. But the brain damage… Death probably would’ve been kinder.”

  “You’re telling me that, because of those two thieves, her kid’s in a hospital eating through a tube?”

  “Yes. It was the teddy bear’s nanny cam that caught the whole crime on film. How do you not know this?”

  Because the damn Fletcher Act suppresses certain facts on black cape trials. “Don’t worry about it. Thanks for the help.” I turned to go. “And sorry about the window.”

  When I got down to the garage Monday was waiting by the car. “How’d it go?”

  I said, “Call your dispatch, I need an address.”

  “On who?”

  “The woman who murdered Firewall and Thermite.”

  I explained everything to Monday and he looked up the address, then we headed over to her condo with me marveling at her patience the whole way. Margaret Shelly. The boys break into her pad, steal her jewels, and harm her kid, so she waits over five years, and takes vengeance.

  It was just like Mrs. West said, an impossible assassination.

  And it made perfect sense. Bundy didn’t have the dough and Scourge didn’t have the knowhow to put this into play. But Margaret Shelly, she had both. Along with the greatest motive I could think of: she’d lost a child. To a God damn flammable chemical. Just like the one used on Thermite and Firewall.

  That’s what the poets call justice.

  But what the rest of us call murder.

  Chapter 34

  Like most buildings in this burg Margaret Shelly’s condo was all steel and glass with a top so high it poked through the clouds. The doorman out front opened up for us and we took the elevator to her penthouse.

  Monday pounded the door. “Police, open up.”

  But a full minute passed and our entry remained barred.

  So once again he trounced and announced. Yet the gate stayed shut.

  “My turn,” I said.

  Stooping down, I pulled out my lock pick, and slipped it into the brass knob. I fished it left. Then right. Up, then down. I wiggled and jimmied, and finally Monday said, “Having some trouble?”

  “No.” I straightened up. And punched the door. Its wood frame splintered as it popped open. “After you.”

  We walked in and Monday pointed to the kitchen. “You go that way, and be carefu
l.”

  I pulled out Rico. “Why?”

  “Are you serious?” The look of concern would seem out of place on most other cops. “This woman has access to chemicals that burned a flamer. Who knows what she’s got on her now? And what she’s willing to do with it to remain free. Hell, this whole place could be booby trapped.”

  I looked at the scorched spot on my thumb. Monday was right. This dame could have a slew of wretched liquids and gasses that would burn, poison, or melt my hide. I nodded, then began my search with a new sense of caution.

  I started through the kitchen. It had no place to hide. So I kept going and hit the hall. Three doors ran down it. I got to the first, kicked it open, and aimed Rico inside. Beyond my pistol’s sights were a wall of books, a glass desk, and two leather chairs. But no Margaret Shelly.

  I moved to the second door, took a moment to focus, and lunged forward, throwing my shoulder into the wood. The oak seemed firm. But I flew through it like rice paper, stumbled a few feet through the dark room, and fell into a wall.

  Hot liquid sprayed me. It covered my face like a mist, ran into my eyes, and up my nose. I scrambled backwards, clawing my way out of the room.

  I screamed, “Monday. Help.” Then I gagged. And wretched. What was this? What was I covered in? It burned. My flesh felt soggy, like it was flopping off my skull.

  “What’s wrong?” Monday said. “What happened?”

  “Chemicals.” I hacked. “I’m sprayed.”

  He clicked on the light. There was a long pause. Then, “Ha ha ha, open your eyes.”

  I did.

  I was in the hallway, leaning against the wall. In front of me was the busted door. On the other side, a powder room. With a shower.

  “This thing’s got no dials, you hit the touchscreen.” He pointed to a pad on the wall. “And the mist setting got you good. Lucky it wasn’t set on oscillation. You could’ve lost an eye.”

  “Hilarious.” I wiped my brow clean and stood up. “Did you find her?”

  “Yeah. Turns out she’s only three inches tall. I slipped her in my pocket so she could call her tiny attorney.”

  “And the jokes keep coming,” I said. “Come on. Let’s check the third room.”

  Monday led the way.

  When we got to the last door I stood on one side while he took the other. Monday nodded. I turned the knob, and charged in.