Cap's Place: A Jack Nolan Novel (The Cap's Place Series Book 1)

by Robert Tarrant

  Taking a green tea bag from her desk drawer PJ busied herself with the process of preparing her tea while Tim read the report. She stole an occasional glance at him and noted the deep furrows in his brow. Tim finished reading the three page report, two pages of which were merely the endless boxes of basic information on which the mountains of statistics generated by police departments are based, and he tossed it down on PJ’s desk.

  “Wish the hell this had found its way to us a couple of days ago.”

  PJ finished steeping her tea and dropped the tea bag into the trash can, “You and me both. Patrol sergeant says the uniform caught a serious traffic crash at the end of his shift and didn’t get this report in before he went home. Was off the next day. Would have been off another day, but he had traded shifts with another guy so he was back a day early. Guy didn’t think it was that significant until he came back and they reviewed the cabbie murder case at briefing. Anyway we’ve got it now.”

  Tim looked to the ever inspiring ceiling, “Wish we could talk to this Mohammed before we make a decision about the focus of this investigation and find ourselves trying to sell it to the LT.”

  PJ smiled, “Well for once the gods of police work have smiled on us. I called the store to check on the schedule for this Mohammed. Turns out that his relief is coming in late today so he’ll be there,” looking at her wrist watch, “two more hours.”

  As they were walking out of the office Tim turned to PJ, “I had an interesting conversation with the LT at the coffee pot. Seems that the feds are sniffing around this case.”

  “Really. What do the feds care about this case? Who was asking?”

  “None other than Vince Cremonte.”

  PJ cocked her head, “I’m surprised the SAC of the Miami Field Office of the FBI even knows about the shooting of a lowly cab driver in little old Hollywood.”

  Tim chuckled, “Hey, they’re the FBI, they know everything.”

  Thirty minutes later PJ and Tim were in the back storage area of the 7-Eleven store with Mohammed. He had related to them the same sketchy information he had given to the uniform officer. Tim looked at his notes, “Let’s go over this one more time Mohammed. Your information may be very important to us and it’s important that we get the details right.”

  “Yes, Yes, I understand. Let me tell you again just as I remember it. I feel terrible about Abdul. He was a good friend to me. We had many warm talks. I will miss him.”

  PJ and Tim spent forty-five minutes with Mohammed going over the details of the thirty seconds he had last seen his friend as well as the limited personal information he knew about Abdul. They left their business cards with Mohammed and drove away pondering the likelihood of finding a specific stooped old man among the herds in South Florida.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I awoke early on another beautiful South Florida morning. I got up, made a pot of coffee, and settled into a chair on the deck off of my bedroom looking out over the marina to the ocean. The morning sky was pale blue and clear with the exception of a low bank of clouds out near the horizon. I watched a couple of fishing boats make their way south and a freighter slowly gliding north toward Port Everglades.

  I had just finished pouring my second cup when the bar phone, which also rings upstairs in my apartment unless I turn it off, rang. The sweet young voice on the other end identified herself as Allison’s roommate and asked if I knew where Allison was. She said that Allison hadn’t come home last night and that never happened without Allison calling and telling her. It was a roommate rule they had so they didn’t need to worry if one of them wasn’t coming home. She was clearly concerned. I told her that Allison left after we closed last night and that she was alone. She and I had been the last here and I stood outside and watched her get into her car. I also told her that Allison had seemed in good spirits when she left, after her night of tending bar, and that possibly she went somewhere else and just forgot to call. I told her that she could call the police, but that I doubted they could do anything until Allison was missing for much longer. I told her to not worry, that I was certain that Allison would be home soon, probably with a dead cell phone. I slumped back into my deck chair hoping I was right.

  The remainder of my morning was mundane with the exception that Allison’s roommate had called back twice to see if I had heard from Allison. I had not, but didn’t really expect to since Allison was not scheduled to work today. The afternoon brightened when PJ came in around four. She was alone and told me she expected to meet Sissy here. I offered her a coffee that she declined but said she would love a Coke. I thought all cops drank coffee. She said that she hadn’t eaten lunch and asked to see a menu.

  PJ was sitting at the end of the bar poking at her chopped salad when Sissy arrived. Sissy sat down at the bar next to PJ and they made small talk for a few minutes while PJ finished her salad. I hovered in the area ostensibly helping Marge tidy things up behind the bar for the shift change when Sissy would take over. I was hoping to get invited into the conversation but had no luck until PJ turned to me and asked if she and Sissy could use my office a few minutes and if I would join them. Of course. Absolutely.

  Once we were all in the office with the door closed PJ turned to Sissy and said, “Sissy there’s a reason I wanted to talk with you in person. A task force took down some real bad people on an extortion deal the other day. One of the guys who was arrested has been a snitch for us before and he’s looking to trade some information. What he’s told us so far is that there is an active contract on the street for a hit on a witness against Yuri Muskof. He hasn’t told us the name of the witness or who has the contract. Says he doesn’t know. Of course he’ll find out if the prosecutor can find a way to cut him some slack in the case. At this point we tend to believe what he’s given us and that he knows more than he’s telling us. We’re working with the prosecutor and this slime ball’s attorney to fashion some kind of deal.”

  “You’re telling me this because . . . because you think I’m the target?” Sissy interrupted.

  “Yes, Sissy. We believe that you would be the most likely target. Your testimony was most critical to Muskof’s conviction,” replied PJ with a directness to her words that left no room for doubt.

  “Why come after me now? The trial is history. He’s long in prison. What’s to be gained? Just revenge?” Concern was evident in Sissy’s voice.

  “Probably several reasons.” PJ started raising the fingers of her right hand one by one. “Revenge can be one. Not just revenge to get back at you but also to show anyone else what happens to people who testify against him. Another reason is that there is a possibility that Muskof may get a new trial and if you were not available to testify again it would greatly improve his chances.”

  “Why would he get a new trial after all of these years?” questioned Sissy.

  “Some legal technicalities. If you can get an appeals court to agree that something was wrong with your first trial that made it unfair to you as the defendant you can get a new trial no matter how long ago it was,” replied PJ. “It really puts the prosecutors at a disadvantage.”

  I started to interject my thoughts about the legal intricacies of retrials but decided this was not the time to dazzle them with my legal prowess. Sissy was becoming more upset by the minute. So, turning to PJ I focused on the problem at hand, “Do you have any plans on how to protect Sissy?”

  “We have talked about it and we think it would be best if Sissy just went away for a while. At least until we can sort this all out. She’s just too vulnerable here and there’s no way we can provide her around-the-clock security in this situation. I was hoping that you’d give her a few days off and that she’d go visit a friend. Preferably somewhere outside of South Florida.”

  Sissy looked back with defiance in her moist eyes, “I don’t want to give up my life here. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life hiding. My life may not be much, but it is my life, damn it.”

  “No. No. Sissy, we’re not talking about forever. We
’re talking about a few days until we can sort through this and see if there is any real validity to it. Could well be that this guy is just blowing smoke at us in hopes of cutting some kind of deal and that there is no truth to his claims. We need time to get to the bottom of it,” responded PJ.

  Sissy found a tissue in the pocket of her shorts and blotted the corners of her eyes, “Well I guess Allison could fill in for a few days. She would love that.”

  Suddenly it hit me like a ton of bricks. Allison had filled in for Sissy and now she was missing. Well, only maybe missing. Yet the years sorting through police investigations as a prosecutor had taught me that there are few real coincidences in life. Allison doing something totally out of character the same night she had filled in tending bar for Sissy at a time when killers were looking for Sissy just didn’t feel like a coincidence. I hoped I was wrong.

  Sissy continued, “What do you think Jack? Do you want me to call Allison so I can go on the lamb?” At the end of the sentence her eyes twinkled just a touch telling me that she was getting her emotions under control. Tough gal.

  “Don’t you worry about the bar. I’ll take care of that. You need to focus on making plans on where to go. Do you have family you can go visit somewhere?”

  “No family to speak of and certainly none that I’d visit,” responded Sissy with a tone that left no room for debate.

  PJ interjected, “I’d feel better if Sissy were to go somewhere less directly connected to her than family or close friends. We don’t know how well informed these people are. If they have access to background information about Sissy they could easily track her to people closely connected to her.” Turning toward Sissy, “It would be better if you went somewhere that you can blend in and feel comfortable, but otherwise is unconnected to your life.”

  Sissy looked back. The eyes starting to glisten again, “You’re really scaring me PJ.”

  PJ reached out and clasped her hands over Sissy’s now shaking hands, “I don’t want to scare you Sissy, but we must take this seriously until we determine otherwise. We’re not going to let anything happen to you. I promise.”

  Sissy bit her lip struggling to keep control, “I need a minute. I’m going to the ladies’ room before I find my eye liner running down my cheeks.”

  Sissy stood and I said, “Use the bathroom in the apartment. You can go up the back stairs so you don’t have to go through the bar and have six people ask you what’s wrong. The door is unlocked.”

  “Thanks Jack.” With that Sissy left the office and went up the back stairs to the apartment.

  This was my opportunity to tell PJ about Allison, “You need to know that I’ve gotten several calls from Allison’s roommate. Allison is a waitress who works here. Allison didn’t come home or call last night. Evidently they have a rule that if one of them is not coming home they call the other and Allison didn’t do either. According to the roommate, this is the first time that’s ever happened. Sissy doesn’t know. What worries me is that Allison tended bar for Sissy last night. Is it possible that Allison was mistaken for Sissy? I’d feel better if you talked to her roommate. See what you think.”

  PJ opened her shoulder bag and took out a small notebook, “Do you have her number?”

  PJ had just finished jotting down the number when Sissy came back into the office. She’d composed herself and freshened her makeup. She looked like she was back in control. I hoped it was not just a facade. I knew that Sissy was tough but believing that mobsters are out to kill you would stress even the toughest. PJ seized the moment and said, “Sissy, why don’t you let Jack take you home so you can pack some things. I suggest enough clothes for a week.” Sissy started to look like she was going to resist, but PJ plowed ahead, “I have a couple of things to do in followup and then we can all meet at the Winner’s Circle Bar at the Pinnacle. Plenty of security and cameras there. You’ll certainly be safe. Call me when you’re on the way there. Let’s say we meet in three hours. That enough time for you?”

  “Yeah. Sure. I still don’t have any idea where I’ll go though,” replied Sissy with waning confidence. Turning toward me, “If you take me home who is going to run this place? Besides why does someone need to go with me?”

  PJ responded, “I’d just feel better if someone was with you. Do it for me. Okay?”

  I added as light heartedly as I could fake, “No worries. I’ll ask Marge to stay over for a few hours. We both know she does a better job of running the place than I do. After we know what we’re doing I’ll get someone else to fill in. The bar is the least of our worries at the moment. Our first priority is your safety.” I heard a tone of firmness in my voice that surprised even me.

  Sissy remarked, “I’m sure Allison will jump at the chance.”

  “Sure. Maybe I’ll call her. Just don’t you worry. You focus on the task at hand. Keeping you safe.”

  The three of us walked out to the parking lot together. On the way I stopped and told Marge that Sissy had to attend to a personal matter and asked if she would stay over a few hours. In spite of it representing a last minute change she was more than willing. Maybe it was because she saw it as doing something for Sissy rather than me. When we got to Sissy’s car, PJ and I exchanged cell phone numbers and she told me to call her if anything seemed unusual. She said she was going to make a call and do a little follow-up. She was looking me directly in the eyes when she said it, and I knew she was referring to Allison. Were the situation different, I could have stayed lost in those mesmerizing green eyes.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Sissy and I drove to her apartment located in a small three story building two blocks off Las Olas in Fort Lauderdale. Sissy’s one bedroom apartment was on the third floor with a nice view of the New River from the small balcony. It was comfortably furnished with a flair toward Ikea. While Sissy was busy packing clothes in the bedroom, I sat at the counter that divided the kitchen from the living room and leafed through one of the several magazines piled on the end of the counter. I knew that Sissy always looked fit and occasionally we would get into a discussion about running, but I was beginning to see from the variety of magazines, all related to health and fitness, that she is a real jock. With guys, you have hard core fitness nuts and guys who do nothing, but you also have the guys who fall into the “weekend warrior” category. With women, it seems they either do nothing or they are fanatics.

  Sissy came into the living room carrying a suitcase which she dropped loudly onto the floor. She stood there looking every bit the scared little girl. “Jack, what am I going to do? Where am I going to go? I don’t want this to be happening.”

  I walked over and put my arms around her, “Don’t worry Sissy. We’ll get through this. For all we know at this time the whole thing may be a fraud some scum bag is trying to use to get himself out of trouble. There may be no truth to it. We just need to be careful until PJ can determine if it’s a real threat or not.”

  “Jack, when you were a prosecutor did you ever know of a witness killed in a situation like this? You know after the trial and everything?”

  I looked into her misty blue gray eyes and knew that the answer had to be a lie. “No. I can’t ever remember a witness being killed after the trial. I don’t remember that we ever lost a witness before trial either. You get threats but they are usually just an attempt to scare witnesses into not cooperating. That does happen. Sometimes the threats work. No, I don’t remember anyone being killed.” The truth of what I remember happening to witnesses and snitches was not something I thought Sissy could deal with right now.

  Sissy looked up at me and suppressed a sniffle. “I just don’t know where I will go. I can’t think of anyone to go visit. Besides, PJ thinks I shouldn’t go anyplace where I know people. How would these guys track me anyway?”

  “Well, if they have the right connections they could do the same kind of background investigation that the police would do if you were running from them. You know, start with family and friends. Get addresses and check to see if
you had been around. Just basic stuff like that. I really don’t know if this Russian is that well connected. That’s for PJ to determine.”

  Just then we were both startled by a knock at the front door. A cold chill ran up and down my spine. I was obviously more keyed up about this situation than I was letting on to even myself. Raw fear flashed across Sissy’s face. I whispered to her to take a look out the peep hole to see if she recognized the person. Suddenly, I wished I had Mickey’s old nine millimeter that was in the drawer on the night stand next to my bed. Sissy moved toward the door just as a second set of knocks echoed. At the sound, Sissy took a step back but then again stepped up to the door and leaned forward to look through the peep hole. She immediately stood back up and exclaimed, “It’s only Mrs. Feldman from across the hall.”

  Sissy opened the door and revealed a silver haired woman in her eighties dressed in an old fashioned housedress with a large floral pattern. She was smiling and holding a cake pan in her hand. Sissy smiled at her, “Hi Mrs. Feldman. How did dinner with your son and his family go?”

  Mrs. Feldman beamed, “Oh it was wonderful. It had been so long since I’d seen them. Missy is half grown up now. She’s already a teenager. I sure wish I could see them more, but I know that they’re busy with their lives up in New Jersey. I wanted to return your pan. You were a lifesaver. Thank you so very much. Would you like to come over for a cup of tea?” For the first time she seemed to notice me standing in the living room, “Oh goodness, I see that you have company. How rude of me. Of course you don’t want a cup of tea.” Her smile seemed to brighten and a twinkle crept into her eyes.

  As she took the pan from Mrs. Feldman Sissy replied, “You’re most welcome for the use of the pan. Anytime. You know that. Yes, we’ll have a cup of tea another time. I do want to hear all about your son and his family.”

  Mrs. Feldman started to go back toward her apartment, but then turned back and said, “Did your uncle find you, Sissy?”