Hard Case: Boxed Set Books 1,2 & 3 (John Harding Books)

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “No. The guy on the sidewalk tried to pull the Glock. I tossed the clip into the yard when I took it off him.” I keep my hands up as I walk over and point at the clip. I knew where I threw it, even in the dark. “Okay if I pick it up for you?”

  “No, I’ll get it,” Earl comes over and bags the clip. He walks back and has a conference with the other cops who had arrived.

  I hear the chopper go over with its spotlight on. I turn away in time not to get the flash full in the face. It keeps going once it passes. Enrique does a quick check for weapons on Ali’s buddies while another officer watches. I see the other cops spread out to knock on doors while Earl returns to the group, taking a better look at the crew. He recognizes all of them.

  “What the hell you bunch doing backing Ishmael Ali’s play? The murderin’ son of a bitch could have gotten all of you killed.”

  “If we spite Ali, he come over in the night and torch the house, man,” the guy who brought the Glock says, still groggy from my attitude adjustment. He gets some quick verbal backup from his friends.

  Enrique chuckles a little, looking down at Ali’s corpse. “Looks like Ali ain’t torchin’ anymore places. Ding dong, the witch is dead.”

  This pronouncement gets a laugh from everyone.

  “Sorry, John.” Earl walks over to me. “We have to take you in.”

  “I know.” I turn around and put my hands behind my back. I glanced over at the crew Ali brought. “It would be a good idea if I don’t see any of you bunch in the near future.”

  “You want me to call Tommy?” Enrique asks while Earl cuffs me.

  “No. He has to take the kids to school. He needs his beauty sleep.”

  “How about that lawyer lady you work for?” Earl adds questioningly. “She’s always around.”

  “I’ll wait this out on my own,” I reply as Enrique guides me into the backseat of their squad car.

  “Suit yourself but you better behave in lockup if it comes to that, John,” Earl cautions me. “The city’s still paying off on the dental surgery for those three gangbangers you kicked the crap out of the last time I had to put you inside overnight.”

  I shrug. “Those guys wanted to get romantic. Let me stay home. You have my word I won’t go anywhere.”

  “You killed a guy. The coroner has to be called. ‘Rique and I have to make out tons of paperwork. Even if we could let you go, I wouldn’t let you sleep while I’m writing reports.”

  “I’ll sleep anyway.”

  Both cops laugh and ‘Rique closes my door. At the station I get a few hellos from cops I know. Some have watched me fight and made money. After a couple hours sitting around dozing in my chair and helping them fill in my info, Earl stops back by, all smiles.

  “Good news, John. I hear if the DA was in his office, you’d be walkin’. As it is, we’ll have to keep you overnight until the DA comes in tomorrow morning. It seems Ali’s lawyer screwed us in court on some technicality. It put one of the new prosecutors on the hot-seat with the DA for blowing Ali’s conviction. The kid knew Ali would go out and kill somebody. He wanted to come over and spring you himself but he’s on suspension.”

  I nod at the appropriate moments during Earl’s news flash. “Sounds good. I guess you’re here to escort me to my room, huh?”

  “We have a very entertaining crowd in lockup tonight,” Earl tells me with a big smile as I follow him. “The only thing I can guarantee is there aren’t any weapons. A couple guys you know will be sharing lodging with you: Devon Constantine and Terry Nelson.”

  “Oh goody.”

  “I figured you’d like the company.” Earl laughed. “I saw you fight Constantine. He never fought again. You were a guest with us because of Nelson the last time. He harboring any bad feelings for you?”

  “Nelson put the bangers on me the last overnighter you were talkin’ about.”

  “He tried to mug somebody you were escorting around, right?”

  “Yeah. Tommy set up a sweet gig with this out of town couple who wanted to see Jack London Square and the pier. So Tommy’s drivin’ the limo. I’m doing the escorting. Nelson walks up and tries a quick pick and pull on my clients as they get out of the limo. I hurried around to tell Nelson to keep moving but he’s dumber than a bag of rocks. I broke his arm. Naturally, you gentlemen of the law arrested me.”

  “You know how it is, John,” Earl tells me as he opens the cell door. “We always have to haul in the one still standing, especially when the one on the ground has to visit the ER. It didn’t help your cause when the couple refused to press charges against Nelson.”

  “They were scared. Tess got me off quick but it cost me two freebies with her firm. I hate freebies.”

  Earl laughed. I walked into the cell and trade looks with my bunkmates for the night. “I’ll check on you later.”

  “Thanks, Mommy.”

  Constantine’s over sitting on a bunk against the wall. He gives me a nod and closes his eyes. Nelson hasn’t seen me yet. He’s jawin’ with a few of his jail brethren. Nelson makes his appearance in a detention cell at least once every few weeks. I stay out of his view range and find a spot I can keep an eye on things. It looks like mostly drunks. The cell smells like urine and puke, just like home with my Dad. A kid seventeen or eighteen walks over hesitantly. He sits down a few feet from me. I can see his whole life is passing before his eyes as he looks around the holding cell. He has nearly black hair cut above his ears and dark complexion. From his features, I’m guessing he has some Iranian blood. Having spent some covert time in Iran’s border communities I recognize a few similar features.

  “What are you in for?” I ask him.

  “I stole my Dad’s Town car and tried getting out of the state,” the kid answers a little shakily.

  “Did that once myself.”

  “You did?” The kid wants to grasp for anything to take his mind off where we were.

  “Yeah, my old man whooped me one too many times. It didn’t end well for him.”

  “You…you killed him?”

  “I don’t know for sure. I took off for parts unknown and didn’t look back. A little while later I managed to join the Marine Corps.”

  “I didn’t kill my Dad but if I had… you know… stayed any longer at home, he would have killed me. He gets smashed out of his mind about half the week. Those are his good nights. The bad ones are when he doesn’t have enough booze to get smashed out of his mind.”

  “Maybe we’re related.”

  The kid laughed. He remembered where he was, shutting up instantly. It attracted Nelson’s attention. When he saw me his eyes lit up. One of those smiles you see on a snake formed but with crooked, missing, and broken teeth. He whispered to his homey’s and jay walked over slowly toward me. I leaned over toward the kid.

  “Keep your mouth shut. No matter what, stay seated.”

  The kid nodded, open mouthed, his eyes focusing on the unknown rather than the known. I’m under no delusions I won’t meet up with someone badder than me. I just don’t care.

  “What’s so funny, pussy?” Nelson asks the kid, never taking his eyes off me.

  “Talk to me, Nelson. I’m the kid’s attorney. I’ve advised the kid to plead the fifth.”

  Nelson and his buddies laugh, snorting and jiving like they’re so cool, the birds sing when they see them. I’m cynical. They look like low life punks to me. I see Devon Constantine open his eyes. Devon looks at Nelson’s posse. He smiles, leaning back with his eyes shut again. Nelson gives me the head shake like he’s incredulous.

  “Stay the fuck out of this Harding.”

  “I’m on commission. My client is simply following my advice. I have some advice for you, Terry. Take a hike before you get hurt.”

  “What’d you call me? You talkin’ like you know me. You don’t know me… you-”

  I kick his right ankle out. When Nelson drops forward, I meet his face with a right forearm snapped at just the right moment. He flies to my left, hits the bars, and slides to the ce
ll floor, unmoving. His homey’s don’t know what to do so I help them out.

  “Anybody still standing in this cell when I finish counting to three, party’s with me like Nelson over there. One… two-”

  Where there weren’t enough seats, guys dropped their asses onto the cell floor. I looked around and smiled amiably.

  “Good. Now that the introductions are over, you gentlemen go about your business. Sorry for the interruption.”

  Constantine starts laughing. The rest of my cellmates at least give it a chuckle. Just like that, all the conscious guys in the cell are friends now.

  “So,” I reengage the kid, “your old man wasn’t drunk enough to let you get out of the state with his car, huh?”

  “Hey… ah… thank you for… you know…”

  “Forget it.” I wave off his thanks, pointing at Nelson. “That wasn’t about you. Nelson and I had some history to sort out.”

  The kid nodded his understanding. “I was stupid. If I’d let him rant and slap me around for a while, I could have split when he finally passed out. If not for my Mom I would already have been gone. She pretends everything’s okay but I can’t take it anymore. It took her nearly four years to immigrate to the United States.”

  I perked up believing I was right about his heritage. “Immigrate from where?”

  “Iran,” the kid answered. “My Great Uncle vouched for her. He lived in Detroit. Uncle Sayyed married her off to my Dad. She thinks my Dad bought her which is a common practice.”

  “You speak Farsi?”

  “Yes,” the kid answers, getting a curious look on his face, “and Arabic.”

  “No need to steal cars. The government would kill to get interpreters. Kick free of the family and you’ll be able to get fast tracked in the military or government. I might have a proposition for you on the outside. Think you’d be interested? I’m John Harding.” I stuck out my hand which he shook.

  “I’d be interested, Mr. Harding. My name is Jafar Kensington.” The kid looked at me like I had just landed in a UFO.

  “Your Mom snuck in an Iranian first name for you, huh?”

  “Mom says my Dad wasn’t always like he is now. She’s right. He wasn’t so bad when I was younger. He worked as a computer engineer at a company over in Silicon Valley. The company folded up a few years ago and he’s been working odd jobs ever since.”

  “He might snap out of it. I could-”

  “Damn it, Harding!”

  It’s Earl. He’s seen Nelson. I look up and wave as Earl arrives outside the cage with ‘Rique laughing his ass off.

  “I told you…” ‘Rique chortles, holding out his hand. “You owe me twenty, compadŕe.”

  “Shut up!” Earl slapped ‘Rique’s hand down, still staring daggers at me. “John… haul Terry over to the door, will you? He ain’t dead… is he?”

  I sighed, getting up. “No… just terminally stupid.

  I walk over to Nelson and prop him up against the bars. I check his vitals and feel for any breakage in his head. Once I’m sure Nelson won’t croak when I touch him, I start bitch slappin’ the prick - little wake up smacks that have my cellmates laughing. Nelson begins to groan.

  “Wakey… wakey… my little man.”

  “Wha… what the fuck… get away…” Nelson squirms back from my continuing wake up call. Terry blinks his eyes around groggily. He looks like a badly carved Halloween pumpkin. “How the fuck I get here?”

  This draws wild laughter.

  “The officers saw you sleeping on the floor. They wanted to make sure you’re okay,” I explain to him. I see the light bulb of recognition glowing through his mean little eyes. “Get up and say hello or I’ll punt you over in front of them. Take your pick.”

  Nelson scrambled over and away from me, using the bars to help himself up on his feet. “I’ll kill you man. Nobody do me like this and live.”

  “You know… Ishmael Ali told me that. In fact, he told me he was going to kill my whole family.”

  “You dead then, man.” Nelson snorts, snapping his fingers at me. “Ali burn you down. Look out… dead man walkin’ here.”

  “Ali’s dead, genius,” Earl informs him loud enough for the whole cell to hear. “He went over to visit Harding tonight.”

  “Now his head’s pointed the wrong way on his neck,” ‘Rique adds with a twist of his hands. “C’mon out of there, Nelson. We don’t want the same thing happening to you, at least while you’re in our cell anyway.”

  Nelson scoots around me with agility, offering his hands behind him at the door to be cuffed without comment. Earl opens up and takes Nelson out by the arm.

  “Ali really dead?” One of Nelson’s cohorts asks Earl.

  “He better be. He’s on a slab at the morgue,” Earl answers, looking at me again. “No more trouble tonight, John… hear me?”

  “Hey, we’re all gettin’ along fine, right guys?” I look around and immediately get confirming head nods from my overnight buddies.

  “Just for the record, anyone see what happened to Nelson here?” ‘Rique asks.

  “He trip… went straight into the bars,” the guy who asked if Ali were really dead answers.

  Another confirming wave of head nods and murmurs wash through the cell, prompting a laugh from Earl. Nelson’s fuming. I can tell the news of Ali’s demise has enlightened him somewhat.

  “Well, all right then,” ‘Rique says happily. “Good night to all, and to all a good night. Thanks for the twenty, John.”

  “You’re welcome… if I knew what you were talkin’ about.”

  “Yeah, thanks a lot, John,” Earl mutters before guiding Nelson out.

  “Man… you staked Dracula,” the crony of Nelson says to me - the one who said Nelson tripped. “Never figured anyone’d kill that crazy son of a bitch.”

  A murmur of approval buzzes through the cell. Devon Constantine perks up at the news.

  “You goin’ down for it?” Nelson’s buddy continues.

  “No. The DA’s as happy as you are about it,” I answer, sitting down again.

  “The mayor should give you a key to the city,” Devon remarks, sparking a new round of laughter. “Are you sure he’s dead? Cats like him got nine lives.”

  “Ishmael’s dead, Dev,” I assured him while the others laugh at Constantine’s remark. “When he hit the sidewalk, black slimy mist creatures poured up from the cement and ripped his soul right down into hell. Can I get an amen, brothers?”

  Cacophonous laughter and amen’s rang out through the cell.

  Chapter Four: Recruiting

  “John Harding?” An officer’s voice calls out from the cell door.

  “Over here,” I stood up. Everyone should spend a night in lockup. It gives you a whole new perspective of the world. The kid looks startled. The night passed with a minimum of problems… other than it being the drunk tank. I had a proposition for the kid but it’d have to wait until I could spring him. Devon looks up at me from across the cell and we lock eyes. He nods. He’ll look after the kid. I give the other guys a little wave at the door which draws a laugh and away I go. Tess is waiting for me. Oh boy.

  I smile at her and gather my belongings. She looks a little hung over, but hey, it’s Friday. Besides, she had a big night playing spy.

  “You stink, Hard-head.”

  “A night in the drunk tank will do that to you. How’d you hear I was in?”

  “You made the Oakland Trib in time for their morning addition. Since you didn’t call me, I assumed you’d called Tommy until the precinct told me you were still here.”

  “Thanks for checking. I need two others out of there, on my dime of course: Devon Constantine and Jafar Kensington.”

  To her credit, Tess didn’t question me for a second. She gestured to a line of chairs by the wall.

  “Have a seat. I’ll look into it.”

  “Thanks, Tess.” I lean against the wall. I’ve been sitting enough. Twenty minutes later, Tess walks toward me with two folders. She looks damn good
in her white blouse and thigh high black skirt, hangover or no hangover.

  “Constantine’s no problem.” Tess looks over the folder. “Minor altercation at a bar. The Owner says he’ll settle for damages. I called Kensington’s Father. His Mom answered. She says they won’t press charges but she sounded scared. Anything I should know about?”

  “Drunk Father kicks crap out of son. Son splits with the family car. Father reports it stolen.” I’m always in awe of how quickly lawyers can get the wheels of justice moving, especially ones as good as Tess. “The kid’s half Iranian. I think I can use him.”

  Tess catches on fast. “I see… he’ll need a place to stay. His Mom told me his Father doesn’t want to see him anytime in the near future.”

  “I’ll find out where he’s going to school from the parents and pick up his stuff. When can they be released?”

  “Who do I get to bill this to?” Tess smiles because she already knows what I’m going to say. When I don’t answer, she waves me off. “The government it is then. I will forward all inquiries to you.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “I’ll have them out by noon. We’ll take a release of custody form over to the Kensingtons. You can pick up some stuff for him then.”

  “I guess you better take me home first so I can shower and put on some visiting clothes, unless you’d rather I take a cab.”

  “I have my notebook computer and portable printer with me. You can cook me breakfast while I do the paperwork.”

  “It’s a deal,” I agree without objection. I’m not a bad cook. “Will you need my special hangover breakfast?”

  “That obvious, huh?” Tess leads the way briskly out of the precinct. “What does your hangover special consist of?”

  “Cheese and tomato omelet with rye toast and Advil on the side.”

  “Yummy.”

  I direct her to my house. Everything seems okay. My little indicators tell me no one has breeched my perimeter while they knew I was in lockup. Tess scopes out my house without comment on the way to the kitchen. I get the coffee maker going while Tess sets up her notebook computer and printer. By the time she has the preliminaries done I have the coffee made and a cup in front of her. It only takes me fifteen minutes to shave, shower, and put on a respectable outfit for visiting the Kensingtons. I wear my strap t-shirt into the kitchen and carry the pullover black Henley I planned to wear. No use getting my cooking errors all over the clean shirt. Tess figures out why I drape the shirt over the kitchen chair instead of wearing it, and laughs.