Big City Heat

by David Burnsworth

  Detective Nichols walked in wearing his sport-coat ensemble and carrying two cups of coffee. Someone closed the door behind him, probably the same person now monitoring them from behind the so-called mirror.

  Nichols sat one of the cups on the table in front of Brack.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” From the inside pocket of his jacket, Nichols pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “Care to hear about the unfortunate guy you capped?”

  “I capped three of them,” Brack said. “Which one are you talking about?”

  Nichols eyed him. “You are aware of your rights, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I’ve been Mirandized.”

  “Good,” he said. “I’m talking about the dead one. The other two are in critical condition.”

  “Let’s hear about the good citizen then.” Brack eased back in his chair and took a sip of some fairly decent coffee.

  “He was no good citizen. But he was connected.”

  By connected, Nichols meant protected.

  By Vito.

  Or had been until Brack put two slugs in him.

  “Aren’t they all?” he asked.

  “Not like this,” Nichols said. “At least not in this city.”

  “We were running away from two guys who’d each put a gun in my back and my date’s. In addition, three more guys were blocking the exit. I showed them the nine millimeter I’d picked up from one of the two guys who’d confronted me and my date before we subdued them. All three drew down. I shot them. Case closed.”

  “What angle are you working here, Pelton?”

  “No angle,” Brack said. “I respect you. You’re a decent man. I’m playing this straight up.”

  “We could be talking jail time.”

  “I doubt it. That night club probably has surveillance cameras. If not for its own security, then from Atlanta Vice.”

  Nichols scratched his chin. “Why do you say that?”

  “I’m being straight with you. Don’t jerk me around. If you wanted to arrest me, I’d already be in cuffs and in a holding cell.” Brack knew how this game was played.

  “Good guess. The DEA was there. They caught the whole thing on video too. Like you said.”

  “The question I don’t have an answer for is how Levin found us. We didn’t have a game plan when we left the house. None of us knew Get Back was our destination until we were on our way.”

  Nichols tapped the table. “So they were tracking you.”

  Brack looked at him and felt his stomach tighten. “And the only way to do that is through cell phones, credit cards, or some car tracking device like Lo-Jack.”

  Nichols nodded.

  “So which is it?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said.

  “I need my phone to make a call.”

  “Are you requesting your one phone call?”

  “I need to warn Tara. She’d be in the same video I’m in. It was her car we were in last night.”

  Nichols stood. “I’ll take care of it. Anything else?”

  “Yeah,” Brack said. “Since we weren’t alone last night, why didn’t your buddies help?”

  “The story I heard was that by the time everything went down, you three were out the door. Frankly, the DEA guys are ticked off they had to clean up your mess.” The detective said it with almost a smile.

  “And you aren’t too upset about that, are you?”

  “No.” Nichols walked out of the room and shut the door, leaving his coffee untouched.

  Brack finished his own cup and got to work on Nichols’s.

  At eight a.m. when Nichols released Brack, Darcy was waiting for him in what could best be described as a busy lobby. Of all his friends, she’d spent the most time chauffeuring him from police stations.

  Brack went up to where she stood waiting. “Thanks.”

  She smiled. “Like I told you, you make good copy. Right now, all the other networks are eating my dust.” Then she really surprised him. She kissed his cheek.

  Brack tried not to think what that meant as they walked out to her Honda. Instead, he asked, “Could we stop by the hospital to see Cassie? I mean, after I get something to eat.”

  Five minutes later they crept out of a McDonald’s drive thru and into Atlanta’s morning traffic. A few minutes after that, enough time for Brack to wolf down a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit and chug a large orange juice, they parked in the hospital lot.

  Cassie was awake, sitting up, and eating breakfast. Brack gave her a soft hug.

  She said, “Hi, handsome. You smell like you been in jail.”

  “That’s because he was,” Darcy said.

  “Is Mutt there too?”

  “No,” Brack said. “We had a late night. I’m guessing he’s home sleeping.” At least, he hoped so.

  Darcy asked Cassie, “How are you feeling? You look much better.”

  “Thanks, sweetie,” she said. “I do feel better.”

  “Can you tell us what happened?”

  Cassie drank the rest of her orange juice and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I was in the kitchen getting the prep ready when these two men walked in. They tried to grab me and I hit one of them across the face with a cast-iron skillet.”

  Brack laughed.

  “I tried to hit the other one, but he was too quick. He punched me so hard I dropped the pan. Next thing I know I’m waking up in here.”

  Darcy asked, “Only you and Nina were working at the time?”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “I heard she didn’t make it.”

  Brack said, “I’m sorry.”

  Cassie sobbed, then fought to get herself under control.

  He asked, “Can you describe the men who did this?”

  Cassie nodded.

  Darcy said, “I’m sorry to have to ask, but can you look at a photo of someone and tell me if he was one of the attackers?”

  “Yes.”

  Darcy opened her phone and pulled up a picture of Townsend, the Aryan mercenary who shot at Brack and Tara when they’d staked out his house in Midtown.

  After one look, Cassie averted her eyes. “The police already showed me his picture. He was the main one.”

  “That’s good, Cassie,” Darcy said. “The police will probably bring in a sketch artist for the rest of them. Are there any other details you can think of? Anything that comes to mind. Sometimes the smallest thing becomes the key.”

  Cassie thought for a moment. Then she said, “Well, I guess I’m wondering why they killed Nina and left me alive.”

  Brack had wondered that as well. One of the bikers at the Lion’s Den said Nina wasn’t innocent right before they opened up on the police.

  Darcy persisted gently, “Anything else seem odd to you?”

  “They somehow knew I was the only one in the kitchen.”

  “How so?”

  “I don’t know,” Cassie said. “Just like they knew I was back there.”

  “Okay,” Brack said. “That’s real good.”

  Darcy patted her on the shoulder. “You get better. We’ll find out who did this.”

  “It’s connected to Regan, isn’t it?” she asked.

  Brack said, “I think so. We’ve been stirring the pot.”

  “Don’t get yourself killed now, handsome.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said.

  “You neither, Miss Darcy.”

  “I’ll be fine, but the boy wonder over there thinks he’s invincible.”

  “It’s worked for me so far,” he said.

  Chapter Thirty

  Saturday, ten a.m.

  Riding in Darcy’s Accord along Peachtree and listening to Katy Perry croon about Friday nights, Brack thought again about Mutt. What a mess of a situation.

  Darcy said, “W
here is Mutt?”

  “I hope he isn’t still at the hotel we left him at last night.”

  “Hotel?”

  He realized he’d let one of their several black cats out of the proverbial bag. “Ye-es,” he said, with more than a hint of hesitation. “Our getaway ended at the South Side Hotel, where we left Darnel and his date. Mutt stayed behind.”

  “Was Mutt alone?” she asked.

  “On the dance floor, no. But in the car and in front of the hotel, yes.”

  She said, “I always find that when someone gets real specific with the details, an implication is in the air.”

  “I just told you everything I know as fact.”

  “Okay,” she said. “How’d you end up at that particular hotel?”

  “I drove us there.” The next question she asked would not be good.

  “I don’t think you’re familiar enough with the city to head there without help. Was it a random choice?”

  Rubbing the headache out of his temples, Brack said, “No.”

  “Tara knew about it?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “But she wasn’t the one who guided you there, was she?”

  “No.”

  “Her brother, perhaps? Please tell me it was him.”

  “I cannot tell a lie,” Brack said. “I chopped down the cherry tree.”

  “So Mutt guided you there. Any reason why Mutt would want to go there and not somewhere else, like an all-night coffee shop or something?”

  All the words that came to mind would be filtered through a lie before they left Brack’s mouth so he kept it shut.

  “Uh-huh,” she said. “Okay. Let’s pray for the best, plan for the worst.”

  “Levin must have tracked us to the club from Mutt’s house or from the hospital. I used a credit card for the cover charge and several rounds of drinks. It’s either that or my phone or there’s a tracker on Tara’s SUV.”

  She said, “I’ve got a guy who can check for bugs and things. Let’s rule the car out first, for her safety. He can also check your phone, but that takes a little more time.”

  “Nichols said he’d take care of it.”

  After a smirk, Darcy said, “My guy is better than anyone they’ve got. Trust me.”

  After two phone calls, one to Darcy’s tech guy and one to Tara, he and Darcy headed to the Preservation parking lot to pick up the 4Runner. Tara handed over the keys, giving Brack an awkward smile. Darcy took a call and stepped away.

  Brack said, “How’re you doing?”

  “Well,” she said, “I can say I haven’t had this much excitement since college.”

  “Full-contact fighting and gunshots, huh. Which college did you go to?”

  She laughed. “You know what I meant. And thanks for doing this.”

  “They found us somehow,” he said. “Either it’s this”—he tapped the hood of her SUV—“or it’s my credit card. I have a feeling it’s me, but we need to rule out your car. I’ll bring it back to you. It’ll take a few hours.”

  Darcy came back to them and gave Tara a hug. “I’d never had anyone shoot at me until I met him either. I learned it goes with the territory.”

  Brack wanted to say that wasn’t a fair assessment, except he couldn’t dispute the accuracy of her statement. Intent was always hard to prove, though he never intended anyone to get shot. Especially Darcy. But that was two years ago.

  Darcy drove her Honda through an industrial section of town and Brack followed behind in the 4Runner, sampling Tara’s music, which was mostly jazz. They pulled up to an abandoned warehouse. The big roll-up door opened automatically, and a short round man stepped out and waved them to drive in.

  They parked, got out of the vehicles, and the man pressed a button to lower the door.

  “Jim,” Darcy said, “this is Brack Pelton.”

  Jim wore overalls and his bald head shone under the fluorescent lighting. He smiled and held out a hand. “The guy making the headlines.”

  Brack shook his hand.

  “In the flesh,” Darcy said.

  Motioning to Tara’s SUV, Jim asked, “Key in it?”

  “No.” Brack fished out the ring and handed it to him.

  “Take your time with it, Jim,” Darcy said. “We need to be sure it’s clean.”

  “No problem,” he said. “Network paying?”

  Brack said, handing him his phone. “I am. You take cash, right?”

  Jim said, “Always, and twice on Sundays.”

  They left Jim to his devices and drove into the city.

  “Where’re you taking me now?” Brack asked.

  “I thought you might like a tour.”

  Not sure what to make of that, nor did he care, he reclined the seatback and stretched out. The next thing he knew, Darcy was nudging him awake.

  “We’re here, sleeping beauty.”

  He opened his eyes. “Where are we?” It looked like a parking garage.

  “You’ll see. Come on.” She got out.

  He rubbed his eyes and followed.

  It turned out they were at Turner Field and Darcy had tickets to a baseball game. The Braves were playing the Pittsburgh Pirates. He hadn’t been to a baseball game in a long time.

  Brack bought them each ball caps because the sun was fierce and the sky was clear, with no clouds in sight for relief. After raiding the closest vendor of nachos, hot dogs, and peanuts, they found their seats—right behind home plate.

  Darcy had a beer and he stuck with bottled water. They ate until they were stuffed.

  Around the seventh inning, Brack finally got around to saying, “Thanks.”

  “For what?” Her eyes were green, which told him she was happy. With her hair pulled up under the cap to keep her neck cool, she was everything he wanted but couldn’t have.

  “For this. Today.”

  “You say that now,” she said. “But you don’t know how much Jim is going to charge you.”

  “True,” he said. “I’ve got a couple thousand in cash. If it’s more than that, we better stop at an ATM. But I don’t care how much he charges. If he wasn’t worth it, you wouldn’t be using him.”

  “You are correct.” She sipped her beer.

  At that moment, something sparkled, catching his attention. Her engagement ring. Already sober, he was ready to move on.

  “What’s next?” he asked.

  “The eighth inning.”

  “I mean after that.”

  “Why rush things? It’s a nice day. We don’t have to be anywhere else. Can’t you relax and enjoy the moment?”

  Not as long as you’re marrying that peckerwood, he thought.

  What he said was, “I’m sorry. Paige and I’ve been so busy with the new place that I haven’t had time to breathe.”

  “So stop talking shop. Now is your chance.”

  He signaled a soft-drink vendor making his rounds with a tray full of Cokes. He bought two, handing one to Darcy after she’d finished her beer.

  The Braves handily won the game and they walked to the car with the celebratory crowd. Brack and Darcy, however, were in no hurry.

  Jim found nothing wrong with Tara’s 4Runner but a leaking valve cover gasket, which he fixed. Given the skill set required to check the SUV for any tracking devices, fix the leak, and look for any traces on the phone, the bill seemed reasonable to Brack, although it did clean him out of cash. On the way back to drop off Tara’s 4Runner, he stopped at a bank and made the max ATM withdrawal. Since the 4Runner and his phone were clean, the only other source he could think of was his credit card, so he decided against using it anymore.

  Returning to the Preserve, Darcy and Brack helped Tara and a coworker feed Mr. Grumpy and the other elephants. One of the huge females took a fancy to Darcy and gave her a trunk hug.

  Tara
said, “Her name’s Princess.”

  Darcy turned to Brack. “Don’t say it.”

  “What am I gonna say?”

  “Some comment. Us being namesakes or twins or something.”

  Tara laughed.

  Brack handed Grumpy a bundle of hay. “You said it, I didn’t.”

  “Yeah, but you were thinking it, or something worse.”

  “How long have you two known each other?” Tara asked.

  He said, “About two years.”

  Darcy said, “It feels longer.”

  Tara changed the subject. “The guy who looked over my 4Runner—he found nothing wrong with it? I mean, no tracking device?”

  “Just a leaking valve cover gasket, which he replaced. We think Vito’s been tracking me by my credit card. I’ll be using cash from now on.”

  “Okay,” Tara said. “Thank you both. What’s our next step?”

  Surprised by her willingness to continue to hang with them, given the likelihood of violence to follow him like a rabid dog ready to bite, he swallowed hard and said, “Did you have something in mind?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I’ve been thinking we need to just go in there and kidnap Regan.”

  It was a crazy idea, but he’d been thinking along the same lines. He asked, “How would we do that?”

  “Hijack her limo.”

  Darcy said, “That’s not a bad idea. Limited guards. They’re vulnerable.”

  “Except that Mutt and I are the trigger pullers. And the targets.”

  Tara said, “I was thinking more like a distraction. You and the other guys keep their attention long enough for Darcy and me to grab Regan.”

  “What if she doesn’t want to come?” he asked.

  “Then I’ll knock her upside the head.”

  Darcy put her arm around Tara. “My kind of woman.”

  Princess nudged Brack out of the way of the two women and blew a loud trumpet blast from her trunk, as if to say “we girls have to stick together.”