The 13th Hour: A Marston Thriller (The Marston Series Book 4)

by Brigitta Moon

  “Wait, you went to SUDS?” Romero frowned. “Without me? Since when did my bar become your hangout? And what the hell is this poppa garbage?”

  “Hang on, Boss, I was doing you a favor. I was giving you time to patch up things with Linsey, so when Thorn called, I went.”

  “Called for what?”

  Billy walked over to the desk and sat down. “It looks like the circus has come to town and elephants are dropping loads of shit along the way.”

  Romero followed Billy’s lead. He took a seat on the window sill, gazed over at the building blocking their view of the Harbor, and then down at the walking path. No one was there. He reached into his pocket for the toothpicks Becky had given him. “Loads of shit, huh?” He broke out into laughter. “I’m sorry, but ‘loads of shit’ doesn’t sound like you.”

  “Laugh all you want. Have a great time of it while you can.”

  Romero threw up his hands, still laughing. “I guess I won’t be able to keep calling you Kid. Looks like you have a five-o’clock shadow.” Romero drew his fingers and thumb across his chin. “Are you growing a goatee like mine?” Romero lifted his chin and pulled the hair.

  “Alright, you win, I’ll king you.”

  “Like in checkers?” asked Romero.

  “Forget it. We don’t have much time. The sun is going down. Thorn is certain that something dirty is going on in the club district.”

  “Thorn? How does he fit in?”

  Billy snorted. “I am doing my best to enlighten you, but you’re making me feel like the minister who is preaching to a crowd while they’re looking the other way, toward their next sin.” Billy pinched the bridge of his nose the same way he had seen the chief squeeze his. Surprisingly, it relieved the pressure. “Just look out the window and listen.”

  Romero nodded. “Okay, you’ve got it.”

  “First, that load of sh..., well you know, that was Thorn’s description.”

  “Forget about it, Kid.”

  “You’re supposed to be listening, not interrupting.”

  Billy let a few seconds tick by before saying one word. When he was sure Romero’s tongue was tied down, he began again. “Thorn and Riley have been running this detail for the past few months; always on the weekend. They barricade one block of the club district with their cruiser. One sits at the inlet, and the other at the outlet. No one gets in or out during that golden hour.”

  Staying quiet, not asking questions wasn’t sitting well with Romero. “Why the barricade?”

  “You see, Boss, that’s what they want to know. They have been side tracked to this assignment for a few months now and they have no more information than they started out with.”

  “Which is what?”

  “Like I said, nothing. They show up, block the entrance and exit with their cars, and hang out on their phones. Nothing happens. After an hour they leave.”

  “Sounds boring to me.” Romero scooted around on the window sill so he could talk to Billy eye to eye.

  “That’s the same thing they said. They want answers. They want to know why they have this detail, what’s going on down there while they are twiddling their thumbs on the corners.”

  “And, I guess we fit in to getting these answers somehow?”

  “We do, Boss. They want us to show up during the golden hour and club hop.”

  “Wait a minute. I thought you said no one goes in or out.”

  “Correction. No automobiles go in or out; only foot traffic.”

  Romero nodded. “Ah, we’re going to be the foot traffic.”

  “Yep, so, we have to be there between nine and ten.”

  Romero turned and gazed out the window. Dusk was setting in. He drummed his fingers on the window sill, thinking. “Something is off here. Why don’t one of them just get up off their lazy ass and walk down the street and take a peek?”

  Billy shook his head ominously side to side. “Strict orders. They can’t leave their cars. If a car gets through, they’re fired.”

  “That’s a load of crap. Suppose one of them has to take a leak?”

  “They have to hold it. An hour isn’t that long.”

  “You’re right. Something is off here. Who assigned them this detail?”

  “I assume it was the chief. I didn’t ask.”

  “Never assume anything, Kid. Facts, we deal with one hundred percent, home grown facts.”

  “We can ask when we meet Riley and Thorn.” Billy’s phone vibrated. He pulled it from his pocket and read the screen, chuckled. He looked at Romero and laughed.

  “What’s so funny,” asked Romero.

  Billy held up his phone. Faith wants to know if you are missing your manhood after visiting Linsey.”

  “Not funny,” Romero said. “She was pissed at me.”

  “I guess if I was her, I would be too. Have you seen the video?”

  Romero shook his head.

  “Well, you should watch it. You looked like Tarzan running through gunfire like he swings through vines to rescue Jane.”

  “Really?” Romero’s forehead creased.

  “Yes,” Billy answered nodding. “It made me wonder if something was going on between you two.”

  “There’s nothing what so ever going on between me and Copeland—nothing.” Romero hopped up and brushed his pants off. “We need to get going. We have a date with a club. But, as soon as we finish with this little side trip we have to start looking for Gina. We’re on the clock.”

  “How many hours have we lost so far?” asked Billy.

  “None. Copeland is working on it too. She stayed with the mayor. Later we can meet up and draw some lines.”

  “Later? Are we working around the clock?”

  “Maybe. Remind me to call Pool. We may need his help. He is always in the market for an exclusive.”

  Billy checked his watch. “We have an hour and a half to kill, so how about we take a look at my timeline.”

  “Timeline for which case?”

  “The mayor’s niece. I’ve been working some leads.”

  Billy went to the chalk board. Romero followed.

  Billy picked up a piece of chalk from the ledge and pointed to his first line. “Five p.m. yesterday Gina left work. She spent five dollars and twenty-five cents at Coffee Haven, bought thirty dollars worth of gas over in Federal Hill, and then nothing. I’m still waiting on her cell phone records. I’ve also put out a BOLO for her car.”

  Romero scanned the chalk board. “You’ve been busy. What’s all this other stuff?” He pointed to the lines and words Billy had printed on the board.

  “For starters, I think the arrest of the little league coach ties in with the riots and the drugs somehow. For some reason this man has been set up to take the fall—"

  “Exactly,” said Jeffrey Brodsky.”

  Chapter 35

  “Mr. Brodsky.” Romero stuck out his hand as he approached the lawyer. “What brings you all the way down here?”

  Jeffrey Brodsky shook Romero’s hand, nodded at Billy. “I have some information that may be of help to you. I figure If I hand you something, you’ll return the favor.”

  Romero dug through his pocket for a toothpick. “The little league coach, right?” Romero asked.

  “You’re on the money. He’s innocent.”

  “Aren’t they all,” said Romero with a snort. He stuck the toothpick between his teeth.

  “This one is. I believe him,” Jeffrey said.

  “An innocent client; isn’t that what all of you guys want?”

  “That’s somewhat of a generalization, don’t you think? I haven’t a clue what everyone wants, but right now I have an innocent man who is locked up in a cage without bail, for a crime he did not commit.”

  Romero went back to the window sill and sat down. “Do you have proof?”

  “Not yet. That’s why I’m here in your neck of the woods, hoping you can help me.”

  Billy went to his desk and sat down, watching the dance between the lawyer and the seasoned
detective.

  “You first, Brodsky, whatcha got for me?”

  Jeffrey went to Romero’s desk and sat on its surface with one foot on the floor. “Nice drawings on your chalk board.” He pointed at the scribblings on the board. “It’s all about Gina, isn’t it?”

  “She’s missing,” Romero told Jeffrey. “Been missing for more than a day now. And as of noon today, we have forty-eight hours to comply with a demand we haven’t a clue about.”

  “Sounds like you have a shitty job.”

  Billy laughed. “Is yours any better? You have an innocent client who’s facing twenty-five years in jail. Sounds like you were dealt a hand of cow dung to me.”

  “Sounds like you all need some help focusing on Jesse.”

  Jeffrey whipped around. “Gloria, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be home with your son.”

  Gloria pressed her hand on her hip and waggled her finger. “My son is just fine. Jesse isn’t. He’s still locked up. I need to make sure you are on his case.”

  “I told you I am, Gloria. Look, you can’t follow me around. How am I supposed to do my job with you stuck to my shoe like a piece of gum?”

  “Excuse me, ma’am, how were you able to get in here without being announced?” Romero asked.

  “The same way Brodsky got in,” Billy said.

  “Becky,” declared Romero.

  “Becky’s shift is over,” said Billy. “Jamie should be manning the door now.”

  “Right, Jamie, I should have known.” Romero looked at Jeffrey. “She gave you directions and sent you on your way, right?”

  Jeffrey nodded.

  “And you, ma’am, same thing?” Romero asked pinning Gloria with an inquisitive stare.”

  “She gave me the green light. I’m here, so let’s get to work.”

  Jeffrey slipped off the desk and ambled over to Gloria. “You can’t stay. I said I would give Jesse excellent representation, but you are hindering that promise. Now, you let me do my job. You go home and take care of your son.”

  Romero cut in, “I hate to interrupt this lover’s spat—”

  Gloria’s face turned as red as a tomato. “Lover’s spat! Have you lost your mind, Cop? This ain’t no lover’s spat. This man here is married.” Gloria jabbed her thumb in Jeffrey’s direction. “My man is in jail—for a crime he did not commit. And what are you men doing? Standing around here shooting the breeze.”

  “Calm down, Gloria,” Jeffrey said. “These detectives may be able to help Jesse. Go home. Let me work on Jesse’s case.”

  Romero asked, “Brodsky, who is this woman?”

  Jeffrey said, “Careful, man, you don’t want her looking you up.”

  “What?” asked Romero.

  “Never mind,” Jeffrey told Romero. To Gloria he said, “Go home. I’m doing my job.”

  Gloria pouted. “Oh, alright, you win this one.” She turned and stormed out.

  Romero said, “Let’s get down to business. Billy and I have an engagement we cannot be late for.”

  “Well, let’s get started, detectives.”

  Silence fell over the room. The hush increased in volume as the detectives and the lawyer eyed one another.

  Jeffery broke the through the eerie calm. “This is ridiculous. We can help each other.” He went to the chalkboard. “I’ll go first.” He pointed at the fourth entry on the line. “Look, right here. Gina goes missing. I can add some detail before she goes missing.”

  “Trace her last whereabouts and contacts,” Billy said walking toward the board. “I have chased my tail on this.” He picked up a fat piece of white chalk and pointed it at the board. “Fill in the blanks for us.”

  “I can shed some light on her movements before she left work.”

  “Really,” interrupted Romero. “How?”

  “My client. How else?”

  “Right, your client, Jesse.”

  Jeffrey pointed at the entry, Gina leaves work. “My client was with her before she left work. Seems there was some kind of clandestine meeting that happens between Gina, one of the guards, Ethan, and a select group of inmates.”

  “How does this group of inmates fit into Gina’s kidnapping?” asked Romero.

  “Who knows. Right now, that’s not what’s important. According to my client, Gina was to meet this guard, Ethan after work.”

  “Where?” asked Billy.

  “His apartment.”

  “Where they involved?” asked Billy.

  “Do you know where this apartment is located?” asked Romero.

  “I’m not sure about any romance between them and, no address, but I figure you can track the location down.”

  “Last name?” Billy wrote Ethan – prison guard on the board under Gina leaves work, and drew a line straight down to connect them.

  “King,” answered Jeffrey.

  Billy added King next to Ethan. Next, he drew a line from Ethan King to Jesse Owens, and another from Jesse Owens to city unrest and riots. The three men stepped back and took a broad look at the map Billy had drawn.

  Romero said, “Looks like we need to find this Ethan character.

  Chapter 36

  Since the night air was warm and the distance to the club district was short, Romero and Billy walked. It seemed that walking added a whole other layer to their work surroundings. Street lights were on tenting the pavements with white cones of light. Burley bouncers hung out in doorways protecting the performers inside the clubs. A steady stream of men entered the clubs. Props of risqué pictures and mannequins dressed storefront windows like Christmas decorations up and down Sixth Avenue in Manhattan, New York.

  As the detectives passed, they drew no attention of the men or the bouncers. Work proceeded as usual.

  Romero shook his head. “And all this pimping of young women and prostitution goes on right under our noses.”

  Billy glanced at a bouncer inside the doorway of Club Pussycat. The broad-shouldered man tipped his chin at Billy. Billy tipped his chin back at the man.

  Another block, and they could see a cop car slanted on the street corner blocking ingress and egress. They walked faster. Romero checked his watch—nine-forty-five. As they approached, Thorn saw them. Lines riddled his forehead and his lips turned down.

  “Where have you two been? You’re forty-five minutes late.”

  “We’re not late. You gave us a time block,” Romero said. “And we are within the golden hour.”

  “Forget it. No time to debate this. Riley has the bottom barricaded. We need to see what is going on in there, why we are here every damn weekend.”

  Romero spread his hands. “We’re here, ready to work. Billy and I will walk down and see what we can.”

  “No,” Thorn said. “Let Billy go. He will fit in with the crowd.”

  “What are you insinuating? I’m too old?”

  Thorn laughed. “Naw, man, you’re not getting old. It’s just, well, Billy looks more like a college frat kid than you.”

  Billy guffawed. “I think Thorn is dead on. You would look like my father tagging along.”

  Romero’s brows knitted. He took in a big breath. “Great observation, Thorn.” He looked at Billy. “Go in, walk down the street like you belong. See what happens.”

  Billy started down the street. It curved around so that Thorn and Romero lost sight of Billy. Thorn texted Riley asking if he could see Billy. The answer was swift. No. He too was unable to see anything around the curve on his side.

  “Well, we’re going to have to wait on Billy,” said Thorn.

  Thorn and Romero sat in the black and white cruiser. Waiting. Riley sat on his end doing the same. Waiting. Thorn checked his watch.

  “Ten o’clock, man. We have to move. Gotta open the street.”

  “What about Billy?” asked Romero. He hasn’t surfaced.”

  “We gotta do this by the book. I’ll pull off and circle around.”

  “What do you usually do?” asked Romero.

  “We have strict orders to r
eturn to the precinct promptly.”

  How do they know if you are there or not? And who is they?”

  “Who else? The chief. According to the assignment, Becky gave us, It’s the mayor’s way of cleaning up crime and drugs in the club district. He claims between nine and ten is the golden hour when things tend to go south.”

  “And he would know this, how?”

  “Beats me. Maybe he did some research or had a focus group test out his theory. I don’t know.”

  “You call him? Is that how it goes?”

  “Yep, as soon as we get to the station.”

  Romero was quiet for a second. Thinking. “Here’s what we’ll do; text your partner. Tell him to go and make the call.”

  Thorn did it, texted his partner.

  “Circle around,” said Romero.

  Thorn pulled off slowly attempting to see around the curve. Nothing moved in their direction. Thorn drove to the next corner, made a left and merged in with the slow-moving harbor traffic. They sat at a red light.

  “I Sure wish we were in your car,” said Thorn. “We wouldn’t stand out like we are now. If we run the traffic signal with our emergency lights, we’ll be seen by whoever or whatever is happening around the curve.”

  They pulled to the curb in a no stopping zone at the bottom of the curved street. Riley was gone.

  “What’s our next move?” asked Romero.

  “We wait,” answered Thorn.

  Romero frowned. “We can’t sit around—”

  Romero’s phone trilled in his pocket. He slipped it out and answered without checking the caller I.D.

  The voice was weak, pleading. “Help...”

  Chapter 37

  “Billy! Kid! Where are you?” Romero yelled into his phone. He received silence as a response.

  His hand was already on the door handle. “Billy’s in trouble,” he told Thorne.

  The two men vaulted from the car—Thorn in his uniform and Romero in jeans and a shirt. They hit the pavement at a sprint, scanning both sides of the street. Cars had begun riding along the curved block. Music blasted onto the street as doors were opened and closed. Men and women covered both sides of the street, entering and exiting clubs—laughing, conversing, smoking. Some were hugged up—men and women, men and men, and women and women. Others looked lost, glassy eyed. None were Billy. The two men stopped running. They began scrutinizing every face, every person. No Billy. Romero held his phone up, redialed Billy, hoping he answered.