Bourbon & Blood: A Crime Fiction Novel (Bill Conlin Thriller)

by Garrard Hayes

  “When will I see you again?” she asked.

  I gave her a kiss and walked out the door.

  “I’ll give you a call later,” I told her. “I have some things to take care of. Thanks I’m really glad I had the nerve to ask you out and I want to see you again.”

  I started down the stairs, then stopped, and turned to see her closing the door. A sad expression crossed her face, as if she didn’t believe me.

  CHAPTER TEN

  After leaving Dana’s place, I stopped into Healy’s for a drink. Glancing around, I noticed the same old faces.

  “Hey Bill, where ya been?” Donnie asked.

  “Working nights,” I said. “Can I get a Guinness and a shot of Knob Creek?”

  He turned to get my drinks. “Yeah, Jimmy told me you were working on something big,” he said as he poured. He put the beer and shot in front of me. “Good luck. I hope things work out well.”

  “Thanks Donnie. Jimmy in today?” I asked, reaching for my shot.

  “Not yet.”

  Just then, my chair went out from under me and I hit the floor hard. Pissed off I got off the floor and came face to face with Kenny’s sleepy eyes.

  “You’ve got some fucking nerve showing your face here,” he said, grabbing my shirt. “First I find you goofing off at your girlfriend’s work and now you’re here having cocktails. Living the dream, aye? What are ya on fucking vacation?”

  “Are you tailing me?” I said, speaking through gritted teeth.

  “I’m gonna visit your new your girlfriend, if you don’t wrap things up fast.

  “Leave me the fuck alone, Kenny.”

  “You could’ve got a gold star if you took out Armando fast, but you didn’t.”

  “Couldn't do it yet. Things got complicated.”

  “Your assignment is not saving whores.”

  “Did Mr. Sullivan send you? Or, are you busting my balls for your own amusement?” I asked.

  “Your dumb ass cousin is supposed to monitor your progress. He can’t even do that, drinking all night and passing out.”

  “You asked Jimmy to follow me?”

  “Rescuing girls and shooting Mexicans was not part of your assignment. Did you at least get your dick wet?”

  “Did Mr. Sullivan send you to help? I was told I had to pull this off with limited resources.”

  “No, he didn't send me. But I think he’ll thank me later.”

  “I like that. It’s like we’re a team. You wanna be my sidekick, boy?” I sneered.

  “You motherfucker!” he growled, grabbing my shirt and trying to knee me in the balls. I blocked it by turning to the side, tripped his legs, and threw him down.”

  He held onto me and we both crashed to the floor. I heard two loud metal clicks and looked up to see Donnie holding a cocked shotgun, pointed at us.

  “Both of you assholes take it outside.”

  Once out on the street, I reached into my pocket, took out a green plastic lighter and fired up a cig. “You’re fucking unbelievable, Kenny,” I said, and blew out the smoke. “I don’t need any of your crazy shit.”

  “When I saw you busted out with that girl, I wanted to shoot you myself. This isn’t the Army where you can track terrorists for months and drop a bomb on them. Speed this shit up.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “Stay out of my way,” I told him. “I’ll track Manny and take care of business on my own.”

  Kenny handed me a piece of paper. “Take this.”

  I unfolded it to find an address in Fort Lee. “What’s this?”

  “I followed the Range Rover while you had your fun. Then came back, and found the streets buzzing with cops, emergency medical teams, and news reporters. Get your shit together or I’ll finish you and make it look like an accident.”

  “Fuck off, Kenny,” I said and walked off.

  When I arrived at my building I noticed a brown refrigerator box on its side with a dirty off white comforter sticking out from the bottom. A metal shopping cart sat to the left filled to the top with green plastic bags. I came closer to the box and a head poked out of the right side. All I saw was a mop of gray hair and beard. Ronnie.

  That’s a surprise, I thought. Maybe I can give him a hand and get him back on his feet.

  “Be careful son, they’re here and watching you. I’ll stay here on guard and report,” he said.

  “Good job, Ronnie. I need all the help I can get. You want something to eat or a shower? I asked.

  “No thanks, I’ll stay here and make sure no one flanks us.”

  “Okay, thanks. Keep up the good work.”

  I entered the building and ran up the stairs, blood pounding at my temples. Kenny sticking his fucking nose in my business had me reeling with anger. He was a loose cannon and I didn’t like not knowing when and where he’d interfere next.

  When I opened my door, I immediately realized something was wrong. The whole place had been tossed. The couch was gutted, the cushions cut open. The TV was smashed and the coffee table was shattered. I found Fat Paco sitting at my kitchen table with a gun.

  “You fucked up, Holmes,” he said, waving the gun. “Manny’s gonna cut your fucking nuts off.”

  “How did you find me?”

  He gave me a hard look. “I was at the subway station when you created that whole scene and killed my boys. They were stupid and too eager.” He stood. “Now sit your fucking ass down.”

  When I didn't, he moved closer, and put the gun to my head. “We’re gonna have a nice talk. Don’t get cute. He paused, and then said, “Things are not what they seem.”

  “Like what? Oh, you mean that gun isn’t loaded. Or, something else?”

  “There’s something you should know,” he said.

  “How much more of this guessing game crap is there?”

  “Manny is not the boss, asshole. Angel is. She hides it well and uses Manny as the front man.”

  I grabbed for an open pack of cigs on the table. I slipped one out. “Want a smoke?” I asked. Reaching for my lighter, I flipped the table over onto Paco. Then I swung a chair at him, and he went down, out cold. The gun skidded across the floor and I grabbed it.

  I smacked his face a couple of times. “Wake the fuck up.”

  He blinked and shook his head. “Let me explain,” he said. “I gotta tell you something.”

  “You came here to kill or deliver me. That isn’t happening now, Holmes.” I pointed the gun in his face.

  He held up his hands. “Don’t shoot! I’m an undercover FBI agent working to bust a Mexican sex-trafficking ring.”

  My mouth hung open. “Why should I care?”

  He wiped blood from the side of his head. “I know you care. You risked your life to save those girls, and almost blew a three-year investigation to find Angel’s partners.”

  I took out the clip and popped the bullet out of the chamber. “Get the fuck out. I’ve got shit to do.”

  “Don’t you understand? We need your help,” Paco pleaded.

  “All I understand is that you’re fucking me up. I’ve got people following me and they’re gonna want answers.”

  He slowly struggled up off the floor. I shoved him out the door. “Don’t forget your gun, Special Agent Paco.” I tossed him the gun and slammed the door.

  Warkowski had been right.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I left the apartment; Warkowski had moved his things across the street and up the block, but he still had a good view. I looked around for Kenny. I wasn’t sure if he was still following me, but I needed to get to New Jersey in a hurry and find out what was up with that address he’d given me. But first I needed a plan and had to get a car. I’d seen enough car parking lots to know how they operated. I felt bad about stealing someone’s car, but I didn’t have time to mess around. Motivated by the thought of ending up in Whelan’s chair, I went over to a neighborhood parking lot I’d walked past dozens of times.

  I waited at an outdoor parking lot on 38th and Eighth, watching as parking
attendants brought out cars and left the doors open while customers paid. I noticed an overweight businessman with a suitcase and shopping bags as he struggled with his wallet to get out a tip. The attendant pulled up in his tan BMW and ran off to get the next car. His wallet finally free, the businessman chased after the attendant, giving me a nice long gap. I jumped in and took off.

  I headed west, right through the Lincoln Tunnel, then headed north toward Fort Lee. I parked in front of the building that matched the address, a large brick house with a double garage. I watched and I waited. At three o’clock the garage door opened and a black Range Rover came out. The windows were tinted dark and I couldn't tell who was driving. It looked like the same SUV I’d seen Angel and Manny leave in from the club. I followed from a distance for ten minutes. The Range Rover stopped at a school, with little kids playing outside, laughing and running around.

  I saw Angel get out of the Range Rover and go into the school. After a while, she came out holding hands with a little girl, about four. The girl wore a flowery print dress and carried a baby doll that had no clothes on. She chatted and looked up at Angel with bright happy eyes.

  They got into the Range Rover and took off, I continued to follow them. Next, they stopped at a McDonald’s that had a play area. You could see the tubes and slides of the playroom from the outside. I parked a few spots over from them near the back of the parking lot. I watched Angel and the girl get out of the car and go inside; the driver stayed in the SUV.

  I quickly walked over to the Rover and opened the passenger door. Manny sat in the driver’s seat, and I shoved the Glock into the side of his head. He made a move for his gun. “That’s exactly what I want. I’ll blow your brains all over the windshield. Bits of your fucking brains are what they’ll see after playtime.”

  I reached under the seat, and took the gun he was reaching for.

  “What the fuck do you want? Money?” he asked, sweat running down the side of his face.

  “Get out now and leave the keys for the girls. One move and I’ll shoot you here.”

  I walked him to my car, and opened the trunk. “Get in.” I ordered.

  He gritted his teeth. “I’m not going anywhere, motherfucker.”

  I took out the Glock, and whacked the side of his head. He collapsed into the trunk. Then I duct taped his hands and feet and slammed the trunk closed. I got back in the car and headed south to the wetlands.

  Killing Manny wouldn't be easy, but I needed to wait for dusk. Could I actually kill him in cool blood? I didn’t know. One thing I did know, if I were in the trunk, he would have no problem killing me. I pulled over by an abandoned building and into the parking lot. No cars or people around, I waited a while for the sun to go down. I heard a thumping from the back of the trunk and knew Manny was awake.

  “Let me out, you fucking asshole!” Manny yelled, his voice muffled in the trunk.

  I should have taped his mouth. I got out of the car and walked around the back. Trying to get hold of myself and gather my courage, I leaned on the trunk and looked at the sky. I was fucked.

  After a while, Kenny pulled up in his blue Ford. He got out and joined me at the trunk. “Seems as good a place as any, right Bill?”

  “What are you doing here?” I said, under my breath.

  He spat on the ground. “I’m your coach, remember?”

  “No one said anything about you and me,” I sneered.

  “You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

  He gave me a grim smile, and wiggled his eyebrows, staring at me for a few seconds.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” I said.

  He tapped on the trunk. “Open it. Open it now, and let’s get this show started.”

  I opened the trunk. Manny was lying on his side, shaking with fear and dripping with sweat. “Don’t kill me. Please. I have money. You can have it. Millions of dollars and I’ll take you to it. Please don’t, please.”

  “You fucking kidnapped and tortured all those defenseless girls. You’re a fucking scumbag,” I shouted.

  My mind went to a cold dark place. My feelings disconnected like I pulled a plug inside my brain. Old reflexes came back that I hadn't felt since the war. It was after I’d seen the casualties of war. How many girls had Manny killed, raped and tortured? This fucker had to die. I had to act quickly before my humanity came back and I became the hunted one.

  I pulled a plastic bag over his head. Wrapped duct tape around his neck and watched as he suffocated. Manny struggled, gasping for air. He tried to bite the bag, but it was no use. His body convulsed for the last few seconds of his life then finally sagged. I stared for a while, numb from what I had done. Then took out my phone, and started taking pictures. Manny was dead and I needed to prove it.

  “You got what you fucking deserved,” I said to him.

  Kenny patted my back. “Well done. I didn’t think you had it in you,” he said. “I’m surprised.” He walked over to his trunk and opened it. Paco was in the trunk, duct tape over his mouth, hands, and feet. His eyes were filled with terror; tears rolled down his face. I couldn’t believe it.

  Kenny took out a gun and put it up to Paco’s head. Muffled screams came out from under the duct tape. His chest heaved as he struggled to get air through his nose. Soon his eyes rolled up and he passed out. Kenny stepped away and put the gun back in his waistband.

  “Let’s get out of here fast. He can tell his friends all about who snuffed Manny,” Kenny snickered.

  I took the tape off Paco’s mouth, hands, and feet. He was still out cold when I yanked his fat body out of the trunk. He hit the ground hard with a thud, opened his eyes in pain and glared at me as I walked away. I opened the passenger door and got into Kenny’s car and we drove off. Paco could take care himself, and I wasn't interested in helping him with his investigation.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I didn't go back to my armpit of an apartment. If Paco and his agents were going to pick me up, it would surely be there. I had to lay low for a while, stay at the uptown apartment with Jackie.

  Kenny dropped me off. “I’ll give you a call in the morning and pick you up to meet with Sullivan. Have fun,” he said, grinning.

  Jackie greeted me at the door in a T-shirt and panties, a margarita in her hand. Her nipples were showing through the shirt, but I was too numb to care.

  “You look like a ghost,” Jackie said.

  I walked down the hallway and looked in the mirror at my colorless face. I had just killed a man, a bad man that would’ve killed me. The last moments before I put the bag over his head flashed behind my eyelids. His face suffocating, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, struggling for air. What have I done? Panic, self-loathing and doubt pounded my brain. I headed into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The scalding hot water felt good on my face. I used a washcloth to try to scrub the murder away. I felt sick, dirty and evil. I scrubbed my skin raw, but it didn't work. I slid down the shower wall to the floor and let the water wash over me.

  Jackie came into the bathroom and opened the shower door. She handed me a glass of bourbon. “I’ll get you some ice,” she said, and she headed into the kitchen.

  I took a big swig of bourbon, and it made me cough. It burned the whole way down, warming my chest and stomach.

  Jackie returned with a bag of ice.

  “Are you going to be okay?” she asked.

  I didn’t move, but put the bag on my face. “I’ll be okay in a few days,” I replied.

  She pulled open the medicine cabinet and produced an orange prescription bottle with a white cap. She opened the top and handed me a few pills.

  “This should help you feel a little better.”

  “Thanks.”

  I recounted the day’s events as the pills started to take effect and the guilt started to fade and I wasn't so sure I would make it out of the shower as my eyes became heavy. I woke up on the shower floor with my head leaning on the tile wall, the water still hitting me. I got up a
nd stepped out of the shower, finished the rest of the bourbon, and went to bed.

  I slept like a rock. No dreams and I woke up still feeling the pills in my system. Jackie had made some coffee and the aroma filled the apartment. I drank the coffee and lit up a cig. After the second cup, I started to come out of my haze.

  My phone started vibrating. It was Kenny. I answered. “What’s up?”

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes. We have to meet with Morgan and Mr. Sullivan.”

  I finished my coffee and got dressed. Then I headed downstairs and went outside to wait. Kenny was already there. He opened the car door and I climbed in. He gunned the gas and nosed the car out into the street.

  “I hope you brought your phone. Mr. Sullivan’s gonna want to see those pictures.”

  There was something different about Kenny, something that just didn't feel right. I couldn’t place it, but he was treating me like I was something special. I wasn't sure if it was a good thing, but I definitely liked Kenny better this way.

  “You impressed me yesterday, kid. Your cousin would have pissed himself,” Kenny said. “Those Feds will be busting our balls for a while. I guess they still have their own work to do.”

  “What was your deal last night?” I asked him. “ You were gonna let that agent suffocate in the trunk?”

  He jerked the car to the side and pulled over, brakes screeching. He didn’t look angry, but his stone face and sleepy eyes locked on me. “That’s my fucking business, not yours,” he hissed. “Bring that up again and I’ll stick you and leave your body in the swamp.”

  I held up my hands. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

  “Keep your fucking hole closed. Are we clear?”

  “Crystal,” I said.

  He pulled out into traffic again, no longer in a great mood.

  A few minutes later we arrived at McKenzie’s and headed in. Mr. Sullivan and Morgan were seated at the back table, already having a meeting. Five other men were seated with them, and they appeared agitated, locked in a heated conversation. I couldn't hear what was being said, but the men were waving their hands with animated gestures. None looked familiar. They had tough-looking faces, and were dressed sharply in dark suits, with colorful ties and shiny shoes.