by Doug Ball
Tan asked the medic, “Is he gonna make it?”
“If I can get this shock under control. The wounds won’t kill him unless infection beats us.”
Tan leaned back against the cabinets and closed his eyes. He was smiling.
Phoenix
Chuck unlocked the door to the office, walked in, and sat down next to the answering machine that showed 27 messages waiting. Three minutes later he had listened to the first three and then checked each one to make sure it was the same message as the first three. The Governor wasn’t happy and was sick and tired of not being kept up to date.
The last one was Leon. “Hey guys. I need a pee break and something’s going down at this place. FedEx just delivered a bunch of boxes right after they opened this joint this morning. I am still at the gun store. The lady with the bakery next door is really nice, but she needs a check for the sticky buns I been eating. Disregard the need for a pee break. I was only getting your attention. She lets me use her bathroom and I watch out the window. I do need a shower, though. Is there anybody there?”
Chuck called Leon.
“Well, well, well. There is someone alive that returns calls.” Leon wasn’t happy.
“I’m here. No one else is. They are all down south capturing the bad guys. Tan said we were not to be here, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. I was all alone and nobody reminded me.
“You getting’ senile on us, Leon?”
“Nah. Just old and feeble. My butt hurts from siting in this wheeled contraption too long, way too long.” Leon took another bite of Mrs. Wilcox’s latest pastry, nodded his approval, and looked out the window.
He said, “Chuck, you better round up a couple of boys. There’s a U-Haul pulling up at the side door.”
“There is nobody else.”
“Okay, take this down. U-Haul. Medium. License AZ C-49PR85. WM 6 foot, brown, dark. WM 5 foot 8. Rusty long, pale. Both in camo. First one is packing in a drop holster on his left thigh. Can’t read the name tabs. I’m going out there.”
“You stay put.”
Leon hung up.
“Mrs. Wilcox. Would you loan me your car, please?”
“No.”
“Mrs. Wilcox. I need to follow that U-Haul and see where it goes.”
“No.”
“Mrs. Wilcox, how would you like to take me for a ride?”
“I could do that, Leon. That could be fun.”
“I’ll help you close up the shop, Mrs. Wilcox.”
Ten minutes later they were on the tail of a U-Haul truck moving slowly through the traffic of north Phoenix, north on 51 to Indian School, east to 24th, north past the Biltmore Country Club and into the high dollar neighborhoods of Paradise Valley. Mrs. Wilcox’s Beemer fit right in.
When the truck pulled into a gated property, Leon said, “Go right on past,” as he wrote down the address. There was no name on the mailbox.
Mrs. Wilcox found a shady park not half a block down and parked in the shade. “What now?”
Leon pulled out his cell and tapped at the numbers while he said, “We wait. Can you see the gate in the mirror?”
“Yes.”
“Chuck. I followed the truck to a place in Paradise Valley. Need reinforcements. Mrs. Wilcox and I are alone out here.”
He smiled at Mrs. Wilcox.
“Yeah, she drove the shadow car. Nice Beemer. Sweet lady.”
Mrs. Wilcox beamed as she said, “Call me, Sylvia, please.”
Leon smiled, “She’s very nice and we owe her rental on the car, driver pay for the time she is working, and a visit to her bakery.”
“On the house, Leon.” Mrs. Wilcox, Sylvia, was leaning over to hear what was being said on the other end of the call.
“No. I don’t have enough for a warrant.”
Silence.
“No. There’s no way I can get in there while I am in the wheel chair and I don’t even have it with me. Wouldn’t fit in the Beemer.”
Silence. Leon smiled at Sylvia and checked her out top to bottom like he never had before.
“No. I can’t walk that damned far.”
Sylvia liked the way Leon looked at her and got a bit antsy in her seat.
“Work on it.” Leon stabbed the end button on the phone and cussed a bit under his breath.
“Oh, Sylvia. I’m sorry. I was crude and vulgar there. Please forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive, Leon.” Sylvia fussed a bit more. “I can get in there, Leon.”
“How?”
“All I need is the man’s name and I’ll deliver a dozen donuts to him, free.”
“We don’t know his name, Sylvia.”
“Wait. Someone just called and said to deliver these donuts to this address, which of course most anyone will accept.”
“That might work, but where’s the donuts?”
“In the back seat. I brought some with me, just in case you got hungry, Leon.”
Now Leon was squirming and excited. Although, he couldn’t tell what he was the most excited about; the idea, the trick to get in, or Sylvia. “That oughta work. If the guy argues, just say you must have written down the wrong address.”
“Yes, Leon, that really should work and the donuts are those cherry filled ones you like so much.”
“If the owner of that house doesn’t want them, bring them back. I still have 20 pounds to gain before I overload that wheelchair.”
Sylvia laughed, “Oh, you silly man.”
She started the car and drove back to the house, parked on the street, grabbed the box of donuts, and walked to the gate where she pushed the button.
“Yes.”
“Delivery.”
“Certainly, come on in.”
She looked down and realized she still had her apron on. “Camouflage,” She said.
The gate swung in just far enough for her to walk through. As she passed the ends of the gate, it started closing. ‘Oh, dear, what if they won’t let me out?’ she asked herself.
She walked to the door where she was met by a swarthy man of an obvious military history from the way he stood, “Yes?”
“I am Martha Golightly from the Elite Bakery. Here are the pastries you asked for. That will be twelve dollars for the pastries and another ten dollars for the delivery.” She held out the box and lifted the lid.
“I did not order these. One moment.” He closed the door.
A few short moments passed and the door swung open again. “I do believe there has been a mistake, neither I nor anyone else here has ordered these pastries.”
“Oh, no, I’ve done it again. I must have written down the wrong address somehow.” She closed the lid. “I am sorry to have bothered you.” She started to turn away and then turned back. “Would you like some pastries for your trouble, sir?”
“Why, yes I would. Did you say twenty two dollars, total?”
“Yes, but you can have them for nothing for your trouble, and my apology for disturbing you, of course.”
“No. I insist on paying for them.” He dug in his wallet and came out with the exact price in bills. “Here you are.”
She handed him the pastry and turned to leave with a smile and a, “Thank you ever so much. It’s been nice meeting you, Mister, ah . . .
“Most folks call me, Colonel.”
“Well, then, thank you, Colonel. Enjoy.”
She walked to the gate watching it open, slid through, and resisted the urge to run to the car. Instead she walked sedately, got in, started the engine, and peeled out.
“Well?” Leon said.
“His name is Colonel.”
“Colonel what?”
“Just Colonel. A very nice man with a military bearing and soft voice. Oh, yes, a generous and forgiving man.”
“All that from a conversation over cherry filled pastries?
“Oh, yes. I have spent two thirds of my life conversing with people over pastries. I am an expert.”
“You are, are you? When did you realize I was a c
op?”
“When you rolled through the door. Even in a wheelchair you have a cop persona.”
“Find a nice place and I will be pleased to buy you the best lunch you’ve ever had.”
She pulled into a steak house Leon had never heard of.
Leon was on the phone within moments of her letting him go after helping him walk in from the front door while the boy parked her Beemer.
When he was done, he apologized for the call and said, “By the way, you can invite Mr. Wilcox to join us if you wish.”
“There is no Mr. Wilcox. James died two years after we were married. Terrible really, he had such a fantastic career started. I do miss him after all these years.”
“I am so sorry. What did he do?”
“He was a cop. Died in the line of duty, they said. Even had a full blown funeral and burial for him. I found out later, he was killed by a pimp while soliciting a whore. He was not in the vice squad, Leon.”
“I am so sorry.” Leon buried his face in his menu as he smiled.
An hour later, they returned to the bakery. Sylvia had agreed to become the second Mrs. Leon Baldinado.
Leon called in. “Come get me, Chuck.”
28
“Take the bus.”
“If I do, you better not be there when I get there. Send a car.”
“See ya in five.”
Tucson
Tan, with six stiches and a broken rib, slowly worked his way into the car Matarese had brought to rescue him from the doctors and nurses at the hospital. He had checked the room of his prisoner to insure it was well guarded. Brad had spent three hours on the table as they put his arm back together and stitched up his leg. There was also the matter of a broken jaw caused by the kick that had taken the suppressed gun out of Brad’s hand.
The doctor in the room had said, “That jaw was a bear to piece together. He had some deterioration already and your kick turned the bone into splinters. He’s lost most of his teeth on that side of his jaw and may never be able to open his mouth all the way. Oh, he kept saying something about the Colonel in the recovery room. I did try to get him to talk about it, but to no avail. I’m sorry.”
“Why did you do that?”
“My dad was a detective, military type, and he always tried to get to people in the recovery room, if they went there of course, and chat them up about all they wanted to talk about. We do use some drugs that make folks chatty when we do surgery.”
Tan smiled and said, “Thanks for trying.”
“He wouldn’t go any farther than saying the word Colonel almost as a bad dream.”
“I’ll bet.” Tan turned and left.
“Where to, boss?”
“Lunch, you decide.”
Just as they finished lunch at Arby’s, Tan’s phone rang.
Chuck said, “Hey, boss. When you coming in?”
“Never. I love it down here.”
Chuck up dated Tan on the four men in jail for the train robbery and told him of Leon and the engagement.
“Dang. We are getting everybody a new spouse in this office. I’ll stick with the one I have, thank you,” said Tan.
“Yeah, only three more days and I get hitched. You are gonna make the graduation and the wedding aren’t you?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Tan thought for a moment. “Tell me about the donut delivery again.”
Chuck went through it until he got to the part about the man’s name.
“Hold it. Did you say Colonel?”
“Yeah.”
“Couldn’t be the same one.”
“What same? Same as what?”
“Nevermind. I’ll be back tonight late. Get some surveillance on that house. See ya then.” Tan disconnected.
Matarese asked, “What you gonna do with me once you leave?”
“Looking for a job, are you?”
“Could be. Although, Sara would be some put out if I left. She sent me to cop school and was grooming me to work with Santa Cruz.”
“I will need another person, at least one more.”
“I’ll think about it.” Matarese replied. “Oh, they found this phone on Mr. Dickens when they cut his camo off. Looks like a throwaway. Only one number on it, called and memory.”
“Let’s see it.”
She handed the phone to Tan who examined it, pushed a few buttons, and checked the history. “One call to one number. Phones been active for four days. Sounds like a short list for a handsome fella like Mr. Dickens to be carrying. I’d say this was his contact with his boss.”
Tan stopped and looked up like the light had just come on. “I wonder. He mentioned a Colonel and Leon’s lady met up with a Colonel at the end of a truck run of material from a gun shop. It couldn’t happen that easy. If it is we have one try, one call on this phone and then that number will never be available again. Let’s go talk to the folks at the cell phone company, any cell phone company.”
“I know a gal that is a tech with Open Air in Tucson.”
“Miss Gravit, I need you on my team. Let’s roll.”
“I can help you. It won’t be easy to set up and it may not work if the called phone is moving, but I can get you the number of the tower that is used when the phone is answered. We can watch for a while and see if the phone is moving. If it is not, we can give you a fairly close location. Metro Phoenix, we’d get you to within a half mile.”
“That leaves us with a lot of houses to check, along with a ton of businesses if its downtown.”
“You are so right. It’s more than you’re gonna get any other way.”
“Miss Jan, you are a genius.” Tan liked it when things came together. A half mile would pinpoint his Colonel if it was in Paradise Valley.
Matarese asked her friend, “How long will it take to set up?”
“Twenty minutes or so.”
“And this phone will go through your circuits?” Tan asked.
“Yes, sir, it will.”
Tan thought of the odds. The danger of losing their only tie to the Colonel he wanted was also a danger. He turned and walked away saying, “Let me think on this and I’ll be right back.”
Matarese asked, “What do we have to lose? All we can do is gain or stay where we are with this phone call.”
“Yeah, but I want to win with this phone call.”
Within five minutes he was back. “Let’s do it. You set it up. Matarese, you get to make the call. Tell the man that answers you are Mr. Dickens’ fiancé and that he is dead. Ask him for the money. Got it?”
“Oh, yeah. I can do that.”
An hour later Tan dialed the number on the phone and handed it to Matarese.
It rang three times. “I told you to never call me again. I will call you.”
“Colonel?”
“Who are you and how did you get that phone?
“I am Brad Dickens’ fiancée. He told me to call this number before he died to collect the money you owe him.”
“He is dead?”
“Yes.”
“You are his fiancée?”
“Yes. Where can I pick up the money? He said it was thousands of dollars you owed him.”
The other end remained silent for too long. Tan motioned for her to hang up.
She shook her head.
“How long has this relationship been going on?”
“A year or so, why?”
“He never told me of a future wife.”
“He told me everything, the ambushes, the recruiting, the guns, the killing, even the rape that he did not take part in, or so he said.”
Tan smiled.
Silence.
“Mister Colonel, I need that money. He has left me with lots of bills; the cars, the house, the flowers, the dress, all of that must be paid for and then there’s this baby on the way. The delivery and setting up a nursery are not cheap, you know.”
Silence.
“If I do not get my money, Colonel, I will notify the police of what I know.”
&nbs
p; “You sound like a reasonable woman and a wise one. Can you meet me and I will give you cash?”
Tan nodded his head and mouthed, ‘It’s up to you.’
“Why, sure I can, Colonel. Maybe you’d have a job in your organization for a wise and reasonable woman?”
“It just might be.”
“I cannot meet you today, I have a nail appointment and a perm this afternoon, but tomorrow in Tucson would be great.”
She could hear the Colonel gasping at her audacity.
“Tomorrow in Phoenix. Two PM. Park at the Taco Bell on 7th Street, north of Northern. I will call you on this phone promptly at 2 PM and give you directions from there.”
“I don’t know Phoenix very well. I will come up I-10 then what?”
The Colonel spelled it all out for her and said, “See you tomorrow, my dear. We will work something out that fits your credentials.” He hung up.
She hit ‘end.’
With a smirk on her face she said,“How did I do, boss?”
“Couldn’t have asked for more. But, you put yourself on the line.”
“Isn’t that what cops do?”
“Yup.”
Jan came back in the room a few moments later. “Here’s an area map with the reception tower pinpointed for you and a circle of probability lined out. High dollar section of Paradise Valley.”
“Yeehaw, Tan yelled. “We got our man. Let’s head for Phoenix and get set up for a take down tomorrow.”
29
Phoenix
The next morning, early
Leon rolled into the office, pushed by the beaming baker lady, Sylvia Wilcox. He grabbed a donut from the table as he was pushed past. “These are nowhere as good as my Sylvia makes. Her cherry filled are to die for, but I ain’t dying anytime soon.”
“Oh, Leon, you say the nicest things about me.”
Chuck walked over to the lady, “Do you know what you are getting into marrying this reprobate wannabe cop?”
“Now that wasn’t a very nice thing to say. Who are you, anyway?” Sylvia turned with hands on hips and gave Chuck the glare.
