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

by Robert Tarrant

  “My uncle? Who? When?”

  “Oh, yesterday afternoon, maybe three or so. I was coming in the building and he was looking at the directory in the entrance. I asked him if I could help him find someone. I know everyone in the building and I can often help people find someone. He told me he hadn’t seen you in years and that he was passing through town and just wanted to stop in and say hi. I brought him up here and we knocked but you were gone. I thought you had probably already gone to work so I told him how to get to the bar. Guess you hadn’t gone to work though. I should have given him your cell phone number. Too bad you missed him. He seemed real interested in finding you, but said he didn’t have much time.”

  Sissy was frozen. I stepped forward and stuck out my hand and introduced myself to Mrs. Feldman. “Sissy has a couple of uncles that she hasn’t seen for years. Did he give you a name? Can you describe him?”

  “No, he didn’t mention a name. Only that he was Sissy’s uncle. He was tall. Taller than you. Rather dark complexion. Black hair. Looked very trim and fit. Guess that’s about all I noticed. Does that help Sissy?”

  Sissy found her voice, “Ah, yeah, sounds like my dad’s younger brother, Max. How old do you think he was?”

  “Oh, I’m not a very good judge of age, probably because I’m so old myself. Maybe his forties.”

  “Yeah, that sounds like Uncle Max. I haven’t seen him in years. To tell you the truth, I don’t much like him.”

  “Oh dear, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. He seemed so interested in finding you. I was just trying to help.”

  “I know Mrs. Feldman. No problem, but do me a favor. If you see him again don’t tell him that you have seen me and call my cell. I want to think about whether to see him or not.”

  “Sure thing Sissy. I’m real sorry if I caused you any stress. I didn’t know.”

  I interjected, “Other than where she worked, did he ask anything else about Sissy?”

  Mrs. Feldman gave me a quizzical look but responded, “Well, he did ask what kind of car Sissy was driving these days. Said it would help him determine if she was at the bar without going inside. Seemed like he really wanted to see her but that he was in a hurry. I told him about Sissy’s red convertible but I couldn’t remember what kind of car it is. I told him I knew it was an American car but that was all I knew.” Turning toward Sissy, “I knew that it is American because you and I have talked about how many foreign cars there are around Fort Lauderdale.”

  Sissy gently started closing the door and said, “Thanks so much Mrs. Feldman. Just give me a call if you see my uncle again. I’m just not sure I want to see him.”

  “Sure will Honey.”

  Sissy closed the door and latched the dead bolt. She turned her back to the door, with the pan clutched to her chest, sliding down into a squat. She squeezed her eyes shut, “Jack, what am I going to do. I don’t have any uncles left living. They know where I live. Where I work. What I drive. I’ll never get away.”

  I squatted in front of Sissy and took her head in my hands, “First of all, my friend, you’re not alone. I’m with you and I’ll be with you until I know that you’re safe. Secondly, you have PJ in your corner and I have the feeling that she’s one formidable ally. I do know that we need to keep our heads about us and keep moving so let’s get up and get out of here. Are you finished packing? Is the one suitcase all that you need?”

  Sissy and I stood and stared into each other’s eyes for several seconds. I knew that she was looking into mine to gauge my sincerity and I was looking directly back into hers to give her that assurance. I so much wanted to mitigate her paralyzing fear, but at the same time I was asking myself how in the hell I was going to get her out of this mess. I’m an ex-lawyer, turned bar owner, not a Superhero. Jack, pull your shit together and make something up.

  Sissy answered, “I got everything except my makeup. It’s in the bathroom. It’ll just take me a minute to get it.”

  Sissy walked through the living room, dropped the pan on the kitchen counter, and went down the short hallway to the bathroom. I picked up the suitcase from the center of the room and set it next to the door. On impulse I walked to the window and peered out. Great view of the New River. I focused and realized that Sissy’s apartment was on the side of the building opposite to the parking lot. We wouldn’t know what was out there until we got outside. What’s the plan Superhero?

  Sissy came back from the bathroom carrying a red makeup case. She set it next to the suitcase and turned toward the room, “Now let me focus. Is there anything else I should take?”

  “Do you have your credit cards? Your address book? What would you take if you were going on vacation?” Wasn’t much, but was all I could think of at the time.

  “I don’t know. I never really went on vacation. Went on a four day cruise once but that’s about the longest I’ve gone away in years.” Thinking for a minute Sissy went on, “My credit cards, both of them, are in my purse. My phone is the only address book I have.”

  “In that case, I think we’re ready to go. Here’s what I want to do. You stay here and I’ll walk out to the parking lot and check things out. I’ll come back here and get you and we can leave together.”

  Sissy pleading, “I really don’t want to be left alone.”

  “I’ll only be gone a couple of minutes. Just long enough to go downstairs and make one lap around the parking lot. I’m sure that everything is fine, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. We don’t want any surprises.” I turned and started out the door, “Latch the bolt. I’ll knock. Don’t open the door for anyone but me.”

  “Not a chance. Please hurry. I can’t get out of here fast enough.”

  I walked down the stairway rather than taking the elevator. My logic was that someone could be hiding in the stairway watching who came and went, but that it would be difficult to hide on an elevator. Sounded like Superhero logic to me. When I got to the lobby I took a good look around. Not much to see. Small rectangular lobby with a nook at one end housing the mailboxes for the tenants. No one in the lobby. I went down the walk into the parking lot. In a flash of Superhero brilliance, I took my keys out of my pocket and held them in my hand as if I was going to my car. I started walking in the general direction of the car parked in the far corner of the lot. I walked slowly down the center of the lot and tried to see into every vehicle on both sides. Unfortunately, most of the vehicles in South Florida have dark tinting on their windows and it’s nearly impossible to see if they are occupied. I got almost to the far vehicle, stopped and scratched my head as if trying to remember something. I turned and started back to the building shaking my head as if I’d just remembered something I needed. I was confident that it was a performance worthy of an Academy Award.

  I used the stairs to go back up to the third floor. One last check of the stairway. I walked down the hall to Sissy’s apartment and froze. Her door was standing open several inches. What the hell am I going to do now. I stepped to the door and listened. Nothing. I could see the suitcases just inside. I pushed the door open a few more inches. Still no sound. I’m too late! I grabbed the doorknob and pushed the door fully open until it was flat against the wall. No one behind the door and no one in the living room. Still no sound. I stepped quickly into the living room and across the room to the kitchen counter. I peered over the counter and confirmed that there was no one in the kitchen. My heart was racing and my breaths were coming in short gasps. I went down the short hallway and into the bathroom. Stepping quickly into the room I jerked the open door half closed with one hand to verify that no one was behind the door at the same time I used my other hand to push back the shower curtain. The sound of the shower curtain and tension rod crashing into the tub broke the silence. I immediately sprinted the four steps to the bedroom. No one. The closet was standing open from Sissy’s packing. No one. I dropped to the floor and looked under the bed.

  I stood and screamed, “Sissy, where are you?” Damn it! Somehow they got past me and got Sissy. Damn! Damn!
Damn!

  Suddenly, Sissy was standing in the hallway, “Jack, I didn’t hear you come back.”

  I rushed forward and wrapped her in a bear hug, “Where the hell were you? I thought I had lost you.”

  “I got scared and went across the hall to be with Mrs. Feldman. I left the door open for you and thought I would hear the elevator bell when the doors opened.”

  “I came up the stairs. Doesn’t matter. Let’s get the hell out of here. Both of us are coming unglued.”

  Sissy took the makeup case and I carried the suitcase. We took the elevator to the lobby and made our way outside and to my car. We put the bags in the trunk, and a minute later we were northbound on SE 3rd Avenue. We took a left at Broward Boulevard and headed for I-95.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I was doing my best to determine if anyone was following us on Broward Boulevard, but with the volume of traffic and my relative inexperience as a Superhero, I couldn’t be certain if we were being followed or not. The situation was even worse as we headed south on I-95 as most of the time it’s nothing short of the straightaway of a NASCAR track. It’s tough enough to survive while looking forward without trying to look back at the same time. In reality, I was clueless.

  Sissy was slumped in the passenger seat looking like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. Her makeup was in need of another repair job and her clothes just seemed to hang on her. Noticing me looking at her she said, “I hate going to the Winner’s Circle Bar looking like something the cat dragged in.”

  “You don’t look like something the cat dragged in, and what’s so special about the Winner’s Circle?”

  “Nothing special about the bar itself. Haven’t you ever been there?”

  “Guess not. Been to the casino a few times and to the clubs and restaurants at Escapade, but guess I haven’t been to the Winner’s Circle.”

  “The bar itself is nothing special. Just a round bar in the center of the casino floor. It’s just that it’s a favorite watering hole for bartenders and wait staff after they close their joints and are looking for someplace to unwind. It can really be packed at four in the morning. May not be much happening this early, but you never know.”

  “Sweet deal those guys have going for themselves. Able to sell booze twenty-four hours a day.”

  “Probably nothing compared to the money they rake in with their casinos.”

  Escapade is a large entertainment complex located at US1 and Sheridan Street. It’s anchored by the Pinnacle Hotel and Casino and the Ocean View Race Track. Mickey had told me about the origin of Escapade. The Seminole Tribe of Florida had been the big dogs on the block in the casino business for many years. They ran casinos and entertainment complexes on their reservations twenty-four hours a day while similar establishments located anywhere except the reservations were limited to hours of operation. They also were allowed gambling games that other casinos were not. Several powerful casino and bar owners joined forces and lobbied the legislature for the opportunity to “compete on a level playing field.” Eventually, the lobbyists prevailed and the Florida Legislature created a jurisdictional fiction similar to an airport authority. This Authority is a type of special city. It has its own government authority and provides its own municipal services such as police and fire protection. The Authority is authorized to pass ordinances that mirror the special opportunities allowed the Indians. Its only citizen is Escapade which consists of restaurants, bars, shops, the Pinnacle Hotel and Casino and the Ocean View Race Track. Consequently, Escapade is a twenty-four hour entertainment complex offering everything from high stakes poker tournaments to championship fights to world class horse races. To say nothing of the thirty bars, restaurants, and the forty-story five star Pinnacle Hotel.

  I exited I-95 at Griffin Road and took US 1 southbound. I called PJ and caught her up on our actions including what Sissy and I had learned from Mrs. Feldman. PJ told me that she had met with Allison’s roommate and that she agreed that Allison was likely missing. PJ said that, due to the short time since Allison was last seen, she couldn’t initiate a missing person investigation, but that she would have someone stop by Cap’s and see if anyone remembered anything relevant from last night. The information we had learned from Mrs. Feldman only reinforced the concern that both of us held that Allison had been mistaken for Sissy. If that was the case someone was probably working to correct the mistake at this very moment.

  PJ told me that Sissy and I should park on the second floor of the Winner’s Way Parking Garage at the Pinnacle. She said that orange cones would be blocking several parking spots directly in front of the skywalk to the casino and that we should just move the cones from one of the spots and park there. It had all been prearranged with her friend who was director of security at the hotel and casino. PJ said that we could wait for her at the Winner’s Circle Bar. There would be plenty of casino security in the area and a uniformed Escapade Police Officer would be stationed in the area.

  As we passed Sheridan I watched the cars behind us. None followed when we moved to the center lane to make the left turn into the Pinnacle main drive. I didn’t think we were being followed. We found the parking spots PJ had specified. A total of six spots were blocked off with cones. I stopped and moved the cones from one of the spots and we parked. Must be some type of VIP parking. It was right next to the entrance to the skywalk and even I could see at least two security cameras focused on the area. I wonder if anyone is watching the cameras? Oh well, it makes you feel secure.

  Sissy and I walked across the skywalk and down the stairs to the casino floor. As we hit the floor, we were engulfed by the roar that belies the actions of thousands of people simultaneously attempting to do the impossible--beat the house. Casinos have always intrigued me. Every day thousands of people with average intelligence enter somehow convinced that today they’re smarter than both everyone else coming through the door and the house. Maybe they pump stupid gas into the air in the parking garage.

  Sissy and I weaved our way across the casino floor to the Winner’s Circle Bar. The winding walkways are obviously designed to provide you maximum exposure to the multiplicity of slot machines and table games. The floor was packed, with very few slot machines unoccupied. I didn’t see one available seat in the sea of table games. Amazing. Maybe I am in the wrong business. We reached the Winner’s Circle Bar and found the last available table. A high top for two on a pedestal modeled as a woman’s leg in a fishnet stocking. Reminded me of the lamp in A Christmas Story.

  A waitress came by and Sissy ordered a glass of white wine. I ordered a club soda. James Bond can save the world after a martini, but I’m still new at the Superhero stuff so I need all of my mental faculties. After the drinks arrived, we tried to make small talk but soon realized that it was impossible. First, neither of us wanted to make small talk. We wanted to talk about the problem at hand. Second, you could not talk. The Winner’s Circle Bar, nothing more than an open raised area surrounded by roaring casino floor, required us to shout. We gave up on conversation and set back in our chairs lost in our individual thoughts. It looked like the wine was easing some of the tension obvious in Sissy’s face. The lines in her forehead began to fade and the natural blush returned to her cheeks.

  While reflecting on our situation, I began to take closer note of our surroundings. For the first time I realized that there were two entrances to the Winner’s Circle Bar and at each was posted a large man in black slacks, black silk tee shirt, and black blazer with a small gold name plate on the pocket. Casino Security. The security officer closest to us saw me looking at him and gave me the slightest nod of acknowledgement. A couple of minutes later, I noticed a uniformed police officer come up the ramp to the entrance closest to us and speak to the security officer. The security officer gave the slightest indication toward us with his head. The uniform looked toward us, said a couple of words to the security officer and disappeared down the ramp. It dawned on me. Sissy is in the midst of a crowd of thousands, but she is the saf
est she has been all day.

  Sissy was on her second glass of wine and I was chewing on my club soda soaked straw when PJ came walking up to us. She was accompanied by a 6 foot tall, squarely built, man dressed in a dark gray suit with a pale blue button down shirt open at the collar. His tan face was framed with medium length black hair graying at the temples. He carried himself with the relaxed confidence of a man in charge. PJ introduced us to Jeff Spencer, director of security for the Escapade including the Ocean View Race Track and the Pinnacle Hotel and Casino. His handshake was firm, but not bone crushing.

  Spencer looked around the bar and said, “This isn’t the place to talk. Let’s go to my conference room. Follow me.” With that, he turned and led the three of us down the ramp from the Winner’s Circle Bar back onto the casino floor and across the floor to a simple black door set into a section of black wall. If you were not looking for it you could probably walk by this door a thousand times and never see it. Spencer took an electronic fob from his jacket pocket and waved it in front of the small reader next to the door. He reached down and opened the door, gesturing for us to enter. We found ourselves in a narrow brightly lit hallway that soon intersected a larger hallway. Spencer again took the lead and we turned right into the large hallway. It was as if we had stepped behind the scenes at Disney World. Costumed people were hurrying in every direction. Cocktail waitresses, blackjack dealers, black clad security officers, white clad cooks, restaurant waiters and waitresses. You name it, they were all represented. Everyone who makes the front of the house hum were represented here in the back of the house.

  We made a couple more turns down intersecting corridors, I was now totally lost, and came to a stop in front of a door marked Security. Spencer pushed a doorbell, the camera above the door winked, and a buzzing sound signaled the unlocking door. Spencer held the door open and we entered. We found ourselves in a typical business office foyer with an attractive blond sitting behind a desk at the front of a modular workstation. If I had a knockout secretary like that I would keep her behind locked doors too. Jack focus!