Return of the Nomad

by Beatrix Banner

  I got back to Archie’s just before lunch time. I hopped in the shower again to wash off the run, and once I was toweled and changed, I headed out to the precinct to see if my buddy needed some food.

  Archie was in the bullpen with his back to me, talking to McDaid when I arrived. I hated McDaid, and the feeling was entirely mutual, which I had to admit I enjoyed. We couldn’t publicly rip each other to pieces, which meant we had to try to keep the majority of our distaste bubbling just under the surface. It kind of made me feel like a catty, British aristocrat. There aren’t many people you come across in life with whom you have the agreement that you both despise each other and you do not have to hide it.

  I approached the desk and McDaid’s eyes rolled like a ship in a storm. Beautiful.

  “Nice to see you too, assbag,” I replied. The classy Brit disappeared once we actually had to start conversing. “Archie, how’s it going?”

  He turned and smiled, noticing me. “Hey, buddy. Not bad, thanks, just going over these case files for the poisonings.” He shuddered dramatically. “Gruesome.” He hadn’t heard about Jesse yet, then.

  “So you’ll be wanting some food then? Something with lots of juicy, red tomato?” I grinned.

  McDaid grimaced. “God, you’re disgusting. Why are you always here?”

  “I haven’t been here for months, you vicious prude.”

  “Doesn’t feel like it.”

  “Is that you saying that you missed me?” I asked him, sweetly. He stared at me, for a little too long, then turned and walked away. We had fun.

  Archie packed his files away in his desk and stood. “What are you hungry for?”

  “Anything.”

  He nodded and we started off down the hall to the elevator. “What’s going on with your poisoned mobsters?”

  “You’re going to love this. McDaid got all of the tox and M.E. results back. It turns out each death was caused by a different poison, some plant based, some chemical. The first guy that was poisoned, I think I told you a little about him before, Albert DeMayo, a gangster down in San Diego.”

  “Yep, I remember. What did you find out?” I asked.

  “Well, he was kind of similar to Porcino in that he never really rose that far. He was found at his home, tox screen indicated that he was poisoned with a plant called Tansy. About a tablespoon’s worth, most likely in a drink of some kind. He had a couple fractured bones, but the M.E. said that they were probably the result of the convulsions and spasms induced by the poison.”

  “Yikes.” We had arrived at the end of the corridor and I pushed the button for the elevator.

  “Oh, you ain’t heard nothing yet. Mobster number two, a Mister Steven Morello of San Francisco, was found a couple of blocks from home. His internal organs have basically been burned through. M.E. says it was some kind of alkaline solution. Probably ingested, again, in some kind of drink. Would have been an extremely painful death, apparently it burned through his esophagus.”

  I shook my head, trying to process that as the elevator doors opened and we stepped in. “That really is gruesome.” Archie pressed the button for the lobby.

  “Sure is!” he replied, with the tone of someone that had probably been using whiskey to self-medicate while working this case. The elevator dinged and we stepped out into the reception of the building.

  “Next guy. This one you will be familiar with. Frank Porcino.”

  “Ah yes. In the jazz bar with the candlestick.”

  “Not quite, Miss Scarlett.”

  I grinned and bumped him in the shoulder. Miss Scarlett was obviously the best. “Appreciate it. Please continue.”

  We stepped out into the fresh air and Archie gestured towards a local deli. “So Porcino was, somehow, a little more interesting. In my opinion, anyway. He was poisoned by a plant called water hemlock. It grows all over the U.S., from Appalachia to the Pacific, but it’s not just out in the country. In California, it’s all down the coast, apparently there’s even some growing downtown in Little Tokyo. Crazy thing about it though, is that yes, the whole plant can be poisonous, but it’s the oil you get from it—kinda like that Tansy stuff—this kinda brown, sticky resin, that’s what would have been used to poison him. That’s what’s so dangerous.”

  “Okay, Botany Bill. Jesus.”

  He laughed. “Anyway, so Porcino’s at the club with his boys, and he goes up to the bar, alone, and gets to flirting with some of the women up there. Buys one or two a drink, et cetera, et cetera. He’s up there, away from his boys for maybe a quarter of an hour, twenty minutes? Statements from the folks in the bar, the ones actually up there at the bar with him, say that he started acting really weird, breathing funny and complaining about what one witness called ‘horrendous cramps’ in his stomach, then started vomiting violently before collapsing on the floor, and, I know you were waiting for this: frothing at the mouth.”

  “I’m sensing a theme, here,” I noted. We pushed into Joe’s Deli. It was crowded. We joined the line at the door and Archie sighed.

  “You know, I think I am, too? Weird. Our final vic was one Lawrence Faccio of San Jose, California. He was on his way home, about a block away from his house—this is according to his wife, Julie’s statement—when someone ran up to him in the street and shoved a syringe into his throat. They then beat the crap outta him, black eye, broken ribs, broken clavicle, his whole body was black and blue, and he basically crawled home. He scratched on the front door until his wife came to investigate the noise. She tried to get him inside, but could barely move him from the doorway. He was complaining of intense pain in his mouth, his chest and his stomach. He started vomiting and then collapsed again when she tried one more time to take him inside. She thought it was some kind of a heart attack, which, to be fair, does track with the foaming at the mouth.”

  “Classic.”

  “He was dead in a matter of minutes. Autopsy read as another alkali poisoning, but it seems slightly different to the other one.” Archie relayed the victim’s final moments to me. I noticed a couple of kids in the line behind us who had shuffled closer over the course of our conversation. They had to be in their early twenties, and were really digging the hipster scene. One of them was suffering with a nasty case of acne, probably not helped by the woolen hat drooping off his head. The other looked like he could’ve used a shower about a week ago. They eyed us and whispered between themselves. I reasoned to myself that they were obviously a part of the ever growing section of the population that considered themselves natural true crime specialists. Millennials.

  I digested what Archie had told me. “Holy cow. So… I mean, how do you even begin to unpack all that?”

  “How do you mean?” he asked.

  “I mean, like, how do you go about getting the evidence without committing a crime yourself? You’re hamstrung by the rules of evidence, what’s admissible and what ain’t. I mean, I have ideas, but you’re restricted by the law and all that bullshit.”

  Archie laughed. “It’s called being a cop. Honestly, I don’t know. McDaid is pulling his hair out. It’s insane. This guy is insane. There are no useful witnesses. No real evidence. I mean, he almost profiles like a serial killer.” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “We’ve just got to keep digging and see what comes up.”

  I scoffed. “Police work is such a ball ache.”

  He scoffed back. “So what’re you suggesting? We go all vigilante? No due process of law?”

  “Well, why not? You think this killer is losing sleep over due freakin’ process?”

  “Vigilante justice to catch a vigilante is a little on the nose, do you not think?”

  I stared at him. “Not if it works.”

  “I’m so glad you never became a cop.”

  “You and me both, brother.” I laughed. “Can you even imagine?”

  We got to the front of the queue and ordered, then took our seats while we waited for the food to be brought over.

  “So now, the press have started to get w
ind of it and their noses are up my ass, the mayor’s calling on a pretty much daily basis, the captain’s spitting blood and McDaid and the others are saddled with an insane amount of interviews that are basically a part of an un-coordinated, coordinated effort to find one guy.”

  “I’m kind of surprised that the FBI haven’t involved themselves already. Since, as you say, it’s getting kinda serial,” I said as I took a huge bite of my turkey, pastrami and emmental on rye. Delicious. I may be from the west coast and you’d never hear me say it out loud, but nobody makes a sandwich like the New Yorkers.

  “Me too. From what I’ve heard, they’re looking over our shoulders with a little interest, but we’re still in control. Don’t ask me for how long, though. I think they have a guy looking into the cases to see if there’s a legitimate link. Requested the file. Basically what we’re doing, but with less manpower. For now.”

  * * *

  Archie headed back to the precinct after lunch. He had managed to arrange an interview with Daniel Tanner for later that afternoon. I was intrigued to hear what would come out of it. The last meeting had been cut short, and I still had some questions I wanted to ask him. Like how close he and Pam really were, and about the meeting he’d had with Carter. The one where he kicked his ass. Unfortunately, that wasn’t what Archie called to chat about twenty minutes later.

  “You beat up my suspect?” he yelled down the phone the moment I picked up.

  “Hey, buddy, long time,” I replied.

  “God damn it, Ana, don’t play around. You beat the shit out of Jesse?” He had lowered his voice, but it was still very much an angry voice.

  “What? Did he say that?”

  I heard him swallow his rage. “No, he did not. But I’m not an idiot. What did you do? Do you know how much trouble I could be in if someone connected you to this? Not to mention how dangerous that was?”

  “Chill out, Archie. Let me know how he sings.”

  “Oh, cut the crap, Ana. Tell me what happened.”

  “Look, I might have roughed him up a little—”

  “Roughed him up a little? Ana, the man can barely see me, let alone stand up straight.”

  “Okay, okay,” I relented. “Listen, all I did was pay him a little visit at the bar Carter told me about and asked him a few questions. He did not answer them, hence my current inability to give you any new information. And besides, he started it, so technically it was self defense.”

  Archie sighed an annoyed sigh. “We’re going to talk about this when I get in.”

  I smiled, made an affirmative noise and hung up the phone. He worried so much, bless him. Maybe I’d let him chill out a bit before I pressed him about that interview, though.

  Nonetheless, I was itching to find out if Archie could get anything out of Jesse, especially since I had been unsuccessful. But I was also looking forward to hearing if Tanner would give up any more about his relationship with Pam.

  Archie got in late, and I went and fixed him some leftovers as a wordless apology for any trouble I might have caused him. I wasn’t looking to cause trouble, most of the time. Just make sure that the assholes that did, and didn’t care that they did, paid a reasonable price for it. That’s why I could never be a cop. Justice struggles to survive in the justice system.

  I sat down on the couch next to Archie and handed him a plate and a glass of wine. He accepted both and sighed deeply.

  “Thank you. Listen, I’m sorry I went off at you earlier, it’s just, you can’t go behind my back like that. Not without a heads up at the very least.”

  “I know, I know, I’m sorry too. Sometimes I get a little… carried away, I guess,” I replied as I rolled my eyes. Sincerity during an apology was not my strong suit. “Did anyone say anything?”

  Archie looked awkward and stopped drinking mid-sip. He gulped inelegantly. “Not exactly.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “Well, I mean, he is a large and angry-looking drug dealer so, it’s not like he stood out, particularly… Looking like he did. In a-a station full of….” He trailed off as my eyebrow rose.

  “So, there was no problem, then?” I asked, casually.

  “Well, no. Not exactly.”

  He braced. I let him sit in the moment for a second.

  “Okay, great! That’s good, I’m glad.”

  I’d hold that over him at a later date.

  “Yeah, yeah, it’s really lucky,” he replied. I rolled my eyes.

  I figured I would help him out and change the subject. “So how was the rest of your day?”

  He breathed what sounded like a sigh of relief. “Yeah, you know. Tanner came in later for a kind of informal chat. I spoke to him but, I don’t know, I think he’s hiding something.” Archie’s brow furrowed. “There’s something about him that unsettles me. He plays nice, he plays it well, but, mmm. Weird feeling.”

  This was a slight change of tune. “What do you mean?”

  He threw his hands up in the air. “I dunno, for one, he teaches people how to beat folks up for a living?”

  “C’mon, he teaches kids, you’re reaching. Try harder.”

  “He has skills!”

  “So do a lot of people.”

  “I wanna go see him tomorrow.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  He stared hard at me.

  “I’ll be good! I just wanna be there in case I think of anything I want to ask him,” I replied, nonchalantly.

  “You tellin’ me or askin’ me?” he questioned, giving me the side eye.

  “I think you know,” I replied. “So, what did happen with Jesse?”

  “Well, Jesse unsurprisingly maintained his closed book persona, but I don’t know if he realized that at the same time we arrested him, we managed to bring in another one of his boys trying to escape out the back. He cracked after about five minutes and told us that Jesse’s gang provide protection for a number of businesses downtown—actually, not just downtown, several smaller areas around the city as well.”

  “Are you serious?” I asked loudly.

  “As a heart attack. I think he’s in with the Mob, but he wouldn’t cop to that.”

  “Which means Jesse would be. And probably pretty high up, too. Wait, so what did this guy say about the protection racket?”

  “Basically,” he started, putting on a haughty voice, “just that ‘Jesse and his boys ensure the smooth running of some of Los Angeles’ more seedy recreational spots’. Some surprisingly not-seedy ones, too. I mean, you’ve seen the guy, it’s not exactly a stretch to imagine. Jesse himself lawyered up and refused to say shit.”

  “Of course. I wonder exactly which areas he covers, like, what is his turf? Because, there are a lot of gangs that operate in this city, but if he’s got even just a small part of downtown… Well, that’s a lot of power, man. A lot of influence.” I considered that I was pretty lucky to have only encountered a handful of his boys at Rico’s the other night. “I don’t know, I’m thinking and to me, it seems a lot more likely that he isn’t running the show. Not to say he’s just a pawn, but I don’t reckon he’s Mr. In Charge, you know?”

  “Why not?” Archie replied thoughtfully as he watched his drink swirl around the bottom of his glass.

  “Well, first off, I just don’t think he’s that ambitious. I think he likes being a kinda gray man. Secondly, I’m pretty sure downtown was Porcino’s turf, no? Correct me if I’m wrong. I mean, I know he was offed recently, but I don’t see his boys and the rest of the Mafia just allowing some random guy to walk in and take over without at least a small fight that we, especially you, might have heard about.”

  “A good point. I think you’re right, it was Porcino’s turf.”

  “In which case, it’s starting to look a whole lot more likely that there’s a connection there.”

  Archie nodded, but his face looked like he’d seen a ghost. “...Shit.”

  Chapter Nine

  We were meant to arrive at Fitness Flex bright and early the next mornin
g. We were not going to call in advance this time, and I was looking forward to the look on Tanner’s face when he saw us. Particularly when he saw Archie again for the second time in hours.

  But Archie stuck his head around my bedroom door at around eight and said he had to head into the station early. There had been a break in their poisoning case and he had rescheduled Tanner’s interview for sometime later in the week.

  I was not about to waste an early morning, so I figured I would head over to Fitness Flex and talk to Tanner myself. I had heeded Archie’s warning yesterday, and wasn’t planning on kicking his ass. It would be a very different fight to the last couple I had involved myself in, as this guy was not only a black belt in Jujutsu, but also appeared to have at least a half of a brain.

  I arrived around nine and held open the gigantic glass door for an older woman named Mabel I met on the sidewalk outside.

  “Have a great workout, Mabel!” I hollered after her as she shuffled to her Active Living Jazzercise class, enjoying the echo the high ceilings of the lobby afforded while I looked around to see if I could spot Tanner anywhere.

  I could not, and headed over to the reception desk where the lovely young lady that Archie had so admired the last time we were there was tending to her duties.

  “Hi there! I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of Daniel Tanner?”

  “Hey! Welcome to Fitness Flex, my name’s Janice. Daniel Tanner, you say?” Her long nails clacked on the keys for ten seconds or so and then her head popped up so she could look me straight in the eye with an uncomfortably friendly smile. “He’s just finishing up a kiddies class in the main hall, if you can wait five minutes or so?” she said in her unnaturally chipper voice.

  I smiled at her and thanked her, then headed in the direction her terrifying nails had pointed.

  I arrived at a set of double doors and peered through the glass in the middle. Tanner stood in the center of a circle of a group of cross-legged, what I assumed were ten-year-olds. At least somewhere in that area. He looked very serious, and I gently pushed one of the doors open a little to listen in on what he was saying.