The Wrath Walker (The Wrath Series Book 1)

by Matthew Newson

  I paused to let that sink into Frankie and Enzo for a minute for them to appreciate what we had lost.

  “Did Joey’s cameras happen to catch who did this, and what did their forensics guys find at the scene?” Enzo asked.

  “The killer took the drives and destroyed the rest of the surveillance equipment, so we got nothing there. Joey didn’t back anything up to an offsite server just in case the cops ever found out about it and wanted to seize it for evidence against us.”

  “That was a smart move,” Frankie said.

  “Yeah. Yeah, it was. Joey was good at thinking things through like that. Anyway, the forensics guys didn’t find anything at the scene, not even a print from the killer on Joey’s corpse. They didn’t even find a single hair or skin sample. The guy must have used gloves and had on a special suit or something. He was definitely smart enough to cover his tracks, I’ll give him that. Let me ask you guys, have any of you heard anyone talk about having a beef with Joey out on the streets or anything?”

  “I haven’t heard of anyone say anything like that, Skeeter,” Enzo spoke up while he continued to go over the pictures.

  “I bet you it was Ron’s old partner,” Frankie blurted out. “What was his name? Brent or Brandon? Maybe he did this?”

  “Oh yeah, you guys remember how hard up he was to get even with us after Ron’s trial.”

  “Well Frankie, my police friend doesn’t know if it was Brandon, because they don’t have evidence linking him to the scene. However, they did say that Brandon was there that afternoon and talked to Joey in private in the back. Brandon said he went there to warn Joey, he said he thought Ron’s killer was going to go after him based on something the killer said to him at Ron’s house. The next thing we know, Joey is beaten to death in his own restaurant.”

  “I can most certainly see that as a possibility, but by any chance could this be the work of the Riccis? It might also be a family member of someone we had to take care of in the past.” Enzo looked up from the photos. “I just want to make sure none of us jump to conclusions and go after the wrong person while the real threat is still out there.”

  “You bring up some very valid points, Enzo, so thank you for that. We all know the Riccis are finished in this city, we all saw to that personally. It could be a family member of someone we killed looking to get revenge. We have all seen that stuff before, but like Enzo said, it’s usually done quick with a gun.” I leaned back and lit the cigar I had wanted to smoke all day. I took several long puffs and savored the taste before I exhaled the smoke in the air to give everyone a minute to remember anything that could pinpoint who killed Joey.

  “What do we know about this then, Skeeter, and how are we sure about what Joey and Brandon talked about?” Enzo asked.

  “Brandon was picked up and gave a statement and said that he wasn’t sure if Joey was a target, and that he wanted to warn him just in case. Brandon also said he didn’t do it, but he’s convinced it was the same guy in the red suit who killed Ron. If you ask me, that’s all a load of crap. This has revenge written all over it.”

  “How do you figure that, Skeeter?” Enzo sat back in his chair.

  “Well, I see it like this. Brandon killed Ron to get even for using him when they worked together. Since Brandon used to be a detective, he knows just how to set up a crime scene to make it look like he had nothing to do with it, even though he was there. The guy in the red suit is the equivalent of a fall guy, so the cops or any of us won’t suspect he’s the one doing this stuff. No one has ever seen him, but everywhere Brandon goes as of late, someone dies. This would explain how the guy knew how to commit the crime and not leave a single trace behind. I mean, tell me this doesn’t sound suspicious to any of you?”

  “You’re right, boss, and we are thinking the same thing you are about all of this. So, it’s settled, we are going to take care of Brandon. Say the word, Skeeter, and it will happen tonight,” Frankie said on the verge of running out the door to perform what he perceived as my bidding. I could see it in his eyes that he wanted blood, and I did too, but we had to be careful how we went about it.

  “Easy now, Frankie, you’ll get your chance. It’s clear to me that something has snapped inside the guy for him to start killing people in the way he’s doing it. I’ve only ever met a few guys in this line of work who are capable of inflicting that amount of punishment on another human being. We have to be absolutely sure that it was Brandon, and we need to make sure none of us are walking into a trap. We are going to need to be careful in how we take care of this one.”

  “I agree, boss,” Enzo chimed in.

  Frankie jumped up fully enraged by my words. “What? You two have got to be kidding me. No, this guy has to die tonight! Joey is our family, and if you won’t do anything about it, I will. There’s too much at stake here to let this go unpunished. If we don’t do something then we are going to lose a lot of respect and authority in the streets, and then we will end up like the Riccis, and I’m not going to let that happen!”

  While he yelled, I calmly placed my cigar in the ash tray in front of me and turned the ring on my finger to catch him just right across his cheek as I shot up and delivered a hard-right hook to his face. As the lights temporarily dimmed in Frankie’s eyes, I grabbed him by his jacket and drove him back into and up against the wall.

  Enzo stood up too and got in Frankie’s face.

  “You want to threaten me you piece of trash? Where do you get off? Did you forget that I’m the boss of this family, and that includes you the last time I checked!”

  “No, boss, I’m sorry,” Frankie yelled out as he struggled against my grip. He began to panic at the potentially fatal error he made by stepping out of line with me.

  “Do I have to remind you that the chain of command is extremely important in our business? And when it’s not followed to the letter, bad things start to happen for all parties involved.”

  “You don’t, Skeeter, I’m sorry! But this guy has to pay. Joey was like a brother to me.”

  I pulled Frankie from the wall and pushed him back down in his chair as he rubbed his cheek like a scolded dog. I nodded at Enzo, and he sat back down.

  “Joey was like a brother to all of us,” I yelled as I stood over Frankie. “You’re not going to cry about that punch to your face, now are you? Take it like a man for crying out loud!”

  “I’m not going to cry, Skeeter, and I’m sorry. I stepped out of line, and it won’t happen again.”

  “Good. Now, like I was trying to say before you decided to flip a switch, is that I agree with you. Brandon needs to be taken care of, but we have to be smart about this. Every guy we clip leaves us open to exposure to the police and other federal agencies if it’s not done right, so we don’t need to take any unnecessary risks. Our business already has enough as it is,” I said as I got up and poured myself another drink.

  I downed it quickly, and then poured myself another before I continued. I was mad that the alcohol had little to no effect on my mood, and all I wanted to do was bury my fist in Frankie’s face.

  “Brandon is a person of interest in this case for the cops, so they are going to be watching him. So, Frankie, since you want blood so bad, you’re going to take care of this quietly, and you better not screw it up. I mean it, if you get busted, you’ll never make it out of the first holding cell they put you into.”

  “Okay boss, I hear you, but don’t you think Enzo should do this? After all, it is his specialty,” Frankie said as he tried his best to keep his voice from shaking.

  Enzo continued to give Frankie a dirty look from across the table, but he knew better, and kept his mouth shut.

  “Did you not learn anything from a second ago? You don’t make the calls around here, I do. If I wanted Enzo to take care of Brandon, then I would have told him to!”

  “I didn’t mean any disrespect, Skeeter. I just meant that don’t you think Enzo should help me do this?”

  “What are you, deaf? Am I speaking in a foreign lan
guage, or did that punch knock you stupid?”

  “I’m not deaf, and your punch didn’t knock me stupid.”

  “Then stop acting like a weasel. You’re making me sick. You’re a captain for crying out loud, so act like one, but you’re doing this. Do you understand me? You, by yourself, no outside help. That’s your penitence for the stunt you just pulled with all your big talk.”

  “Okay Skeeter,” Frankie said as he looked down at the table.

  The pity party he was trying to have for himself made me sick. Grown men in our line of work didn’t act like that.

  “Don’t look so sad now, didn’t you just say you wanted blood? Didn’t Frankie just say that, Enzo?” I picked up my cigar and continued to enjoy the smooth flavor of it again as the aroma soothed my nerves. I took in a mouthful of smoke and blew it at Frankie, who didn’t say a word about it.

  “That’s what he said, Skeeter,” Enzo replied, still glaring at Frankie.

  “Yeah, that’s what I heard too. Look at me, Frankie.”

  Frankie looked up with a sober expression on his face. I knew I had gotten to him, but I had to make an example, so he never tried something like that again. It always started off with bucking orders and raising their voices, and if the individual was never put in their place, it always ended with them taking a shot at the boss. I wasn’t about to let something like that happen to me.

  “Go and take care of Brandon for us, Frankie, and make sure no one sees you or ever finds that piece of trash.”

  Frankie got up and buttoned his jacket and nodded respectfully to me. “I’ll take care of everything, Skeeter, you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

  “Do I look worried to you, Frankie?”

  Right before Frankie reached the door, I stopped him for one last word of encouragement.

  “Hey Frankie, wait a second.”

  “Yeah boss,” he said as he turned to face me as I took another long draw on my cigar.

  “I want to be clear on this. If you get busted or you fail to take care of Brandon, then it will be you that gets taken care of. Have I made myself clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Now get out of here, and don’t come back until it’s done.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Brandon Farmer

  The Black Castle

  AFTER I FOUND MY OLD Bible, I read the story of Sodom and Gomorrah repeatedly after Wrath disappeared from the hallway, but there wasn’t a part of the story that struck me as the key to stopping Wrath’s murderous rampage. I took several pages of notes on the story that night, but I was still unable to connect any dots before I tried getting a few hours of restless sleep. I knew Wrath was a killer and nothing more, but I still found myself intrigued by the guy and his wild story about his origin. Even though it made no sense whatsoever, the man still possessed abilities that seemed to be from another world. However, he still wanted to kill me for a reason I had yet to determine, and how he was able to lump me in with the Amaras was beyond my detective skills.

  I got out of bed around eight the next morning, and quickly got ready for the day. I rescheduled all my clients that week and moved them to the next, so I could focus all my efforts on what had been placed before me. Besides, I couldn’t find any cheating spouses if I was a dead man. I packed my notebook and a couple of pens in my backpack, grabbed my gun, and tucked it into my waist before I went outside. I had to remember to leave the gun in my car because the Black Castle was government property, and it was considered a felony to carry a gun into government buildings unless I was law enforcement. The humid air smacked me in the face as soon as I stepped out of my building. I wondered if the Spring would ever cool back down, and then I figured we were in for a hotter than normal summer. I got into my car and started to make the drive to the Black Castle. I listened to the audio version of the story of Sodom and Gomorrah as I drove, hoping for something to stick out to me, but nothing did.

  When I pulled into the parking lot of the building our town was named after, I marveled at the massive structure. The castle stood at an impressive five stories tall, with giant windows set into every floor that ran across the structure. The attached six story tower on the right of the castle had a massive clock installed at the top. The bell could be heard throughout most of the city at the top of every hour. The grounds were meticulously cared for by the city, and citizens were fined if caught walking across the grass. The bushes at the front were already in full bloom, as I watched the bees jump from flower to flower, and then dive bomb people as they walked out of the building.

  It was almost hard to believe that the now Black Castle had only been what remained of an old castle that had burned up a long time ago, and no one really knew what had caused the fire. I heard that lightning had struck it, a rival group burned it, and aliens had set it on fire. That had been my personal favorite tale of the castle because it was so beyond the scope of reality that I found it amusing. Some believed it to be fact. What we did know was the fire had darkened the stone walls and left the place without a roof over most of the castle. Even though the city owned it and the land it sat upon, and it was what our town was named after, no one had tried to restore it until the early sixties. The city government decided to renovate it and turn it into a place for school kids to go on field trips. When the tours died down, the city decided to use it for their various needs. That is where they decided to store the public city records and news articles from years past on the lower floor, and the upper floors were used for meetings and other city business needs.

  I placed my handgun underneath my seat and grabbed my bag and headed toward the entrance. The lamps designed to look like old-timey gas lamps that were around the front of the building were a nice touch. I had to dodge a group of bees as I approached the door just like everyone else had, and I figured the city wouldn’t do anything about the bees until someone who was severely allergic got stung. I was greeted as I entered the building by a lady at the front desk who was the gatekeeper of the facility. A police officer stood guard with her next to the metal detectors. He gave me the all too familiar angered expression on his face upon seeing me. He turned and whispered something into his radio, but I couldn’t hear what he said. I wondered if he reported my presence at the Black Castle to someone at the station since I knew the police had to be watching me, but the Amaras had to be also. I figured they had fully suspected I had killed Ron and Joey by that point, and I needed to be extremely careful until I found a way to stop Wrath.

  I turned to the woman and smiled. “Hi, my name is Brandon Farmer, and I’d like to visit the archive department.”

  “Of course, I’ll just need to see your ID so I can sign you in, and then you’ll be good to go.”

  I handed her my ID and signed my name on the visitor sheet as she handed me my license back.

  “Okay sir, the archive room is located on the floor below us. Food and drinks are not allowed at any time on that floor. Here is your guest sign-on, and you can use any computer that is available.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” I said as I took the card and proceeded through the metal detectors and down the stairs. A few people were scattered about the floor, so I decided to pick a computer the farthest away from them, and one that faced the stairs so I could see who came and went.

  I logged into the computer and went directly to the old city newspaper called The Black Castle Times and went back forty years. I remembered Phillip said he heard his parents talking about the corrupt city leaders when he was a kid, and since he was older than me, I figured that would be a good place to start looking and go from there with my search. At first all I found was headline after headline of the city partnering with various local businesses and other puff pieces before I found anything about corrupt city officials. But as I dug deeper, I discovered a thread that connected them all together.

  The first story I came across about corruption amongst the city officials accused them of favoritism in giving out city contracts to their family member
s. The article talked about how the other businesses in the city weren’t given a fair chance in the bidding process, while some businesses said they were completely excluded even though they had followed the appropriate steps. I noted the name of the writer of the article because I had a feeling of what would come next, and sure enough, a few editions later, that writer had left the paper. I found a small editorial where the reporter said they had decided to leave town to pursue another career. Then I went back through the previous article and wrote down all the companies the city had partnered with up to the article where the corruption accusation was made before I continued my search.

  A year after the previous reporter left town—or most likely went missing—another article was written about the mayor and the city council’s suspected ties with the Ricci crime family. The picture started to become crystal clear. I was surprised the article even made it into the paper with everything the reporter claimed the city officials were doing with the Riccis. There were not only allegations of giving city contracts to favored companies, but also bribes, special favors, and jobs in the city government were given to people who were clearly not qualified to work them, and there was even a picture of the mayor at the time meeting with the head of the Ricci family. That picture alone didn’t prove anything, but it was like the old saying, a picture is worth a thousand words. Then a few editions later the reporter was found brutally murdered in his house. Apparently, he had walked in on a home invasion. The robber hadn’t expected him to come home, and when he did, the criminal killed the reporter by bashing his head in with an award they had won for their efforts in journalism. I did some digging and I discovered they never found the reporter’s killer. And why would they when it most likely was a mob killing?