Blood Brothers: A Jarvis Mann Detective Novel

by R Weir

  The pleasure in her eyes turned to anger.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “Jarvis Mann. My brother was Flynn Mann and I believe you know something about who killed him.”

  She sat up and started buttoning up her top, and tried to stand, but I pushed her back down again.

  “You aren’t leaving until I get some answers.”

  “Who the fuck do you think you are? You can’t keep me here against my will.”

  “Actually, I can. And with a phone call I can get an FBI agent down here who will lock you up until you speak. So we can do it easy and talk nicely to each other, or we can make it more difficult.”

  I pulled out my phone and called up the number to show her. The anger had now turned to fear.

  “Please don’t.”

  “All I have to do is press the call button and get him on the line. Should be able to lose you in the system for a day or so.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Like hell I won’t.”

  It took a minute, but her eyes changed from fear to phony passion.

  “Come on now,” she said seductively. “We paid for the room and you’re a good-looking guy. I can provide you pleasure like you’ve never had before. I’ve been told I provide the best blow-jobs any man has ever had.”

  “Lady, I don’t want your mouth anywhere near my crotch!”

  The anger of my words startled her. Panicked, she looked for her purse, but I grabbed it and checked inside. Among all the womanly items, a wallet and her cell phone, was a 22 caliber pistol. Finding it loaded, I removed the bullets and then gave it a quick sniff. It did not smell like it had been fired recently.

  “Do you have a permit for this?”

  She looked away without answering.

  “Flynn was killed with a 22. Could this be the gun?”

  Silence still. I pocketed it and the bullets for testing later. I doubted this was the gun, as she didn’t seem the killer type. But I was going to run with the leverage it provided.

  “I guess we take this gun and test it and see what the FBI says. Probably three to four days they could hold you now. Same change of clothes and no shower for that long will certainly be unpleasant. Would you agree?”

  She pouted, but remained defiant. Now it was time to find out how much she really knew.

  “Hard to believe you are out picking up men so soon after Carlos’ murder,” I said.

  There was a look of shock on her face.

  “You are lying.”

  “No, I’m not. Did you see it on the news or read about it in the paper?”

  “I don’t care for either. Too depressing.”

  “Well then here, look at this.”

  I pulled up my phone, opened the browser and found one of the local TV stations website. It was still big news and was easy to find. I opened the page and handed to her.

  “Oh my god!”

  She read through it and started to cry. It seemed sincere and genuine, though I had been fooled before by women. But it appeared she didn’t know about it. She handed me back the phone and cried for ten minutes, sobbing into her palms.

  “So it would seem you didn’t have a hand in his death,” I said. “And I’m sorry to be the one to tell you.”

  I grabbed some tissue and tossed it to her.

  “I was wondering why he hadn’t called.”

  “Now the question is, what you know about Flynn’s death?”

  “I don’t…I mean I can’t…”

  “Come on now, Casey, it’s time to tell me everything you know or I’m dragging you down to the Feds and let them have at you. They won’t be as kind as I’m being.”

  She was beat. You could see it on her tear-stained face.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Start at the beginning. Don’t leave anything out. I have all night to enjoy a pleasant conversation with you.”

  Chapter 41

  I got her to tell me all, or at least concluded I’d rung all the available data out of her. I took her back to her car at the bar and she left without a word. Heading back to Helen’s, I had much to mull over, but fell asleep in the bed upstairs before all I’d gathered overtook me.

  The next morning I awoke and found Rocky again cooking, this time making a full sized breakfast of omelets, pancakes, bacon and sausage. His large body moved easily around the kitchen and I imagined the heavily-armed cook working for Roni, and snickered. It was hard to mock him too much. His meal had me in cholesterol heaven. He could kill you slowly by clogging your arteries, or quickly at the end of a gun. I preferred the slow method, for I’d witnessed his skill with a weapon and it was lethal.

  Once we finished eating, Helen mentioned something I’d forgotten about, Flynn’s motorcycle.

  “The police returned it yesterday,” she said. “They found it in a parking lot several miles from his office. They had impounded it, but found nothing of value, so they said I could have it back. It’s out in the garage.”

  I needed to stretch my legs and walk off some of the meal, so I grabbed the keys and headed outside, Molly hot on my tail as she hugged my leg step for step. I opened the old style swing-up garage door and saw the bike. It was dirty but still in good shape. It didn’t look as if it had been wrecked. Only abandoned. I found an overhead light so I could see it better. He had saddle bags and I searched them, knowing if anything had been there of importance the police would have found it, but I like to be thorough. I meticulously started at the front of the bike and checked every area. Molly found a comfortable spot after sniffing carefully and sat down. I took the keys, warning her I was about to start the bike, but the loud roar was familiar so she sat undisturbed. It started right up and I turned on the lights. I’d often wanted a bike like this one, but never could afford it. I revved the motor and desired to take it for a spin. Helen walked into the garage and smiled.

  “You look good on it, Jarvis,” she said. “I never liked Flynn riding it because I thought it was dangerous, but the times I rode on the back were pretty fun. I’d say take it for a ride, but one of the rear brake lights is out.”

  Turning the unit off, I left the key on to see. Sure enough a rear brake light was out. I found a screwdriver and removed it. The bulb was missing, but inside was a small flash drive. I showed it to Helen and she put her hand over her mouth.

  “How did it get in there?” she asked.

  “Flynn put it there for safe keeping,” I answered. “The shrewd devil occasionally did something smart.”

  “What’s on it?”

  “Let’s go in and find out. But I’d hazard to guess it’s the files Flynn found on their network.”

  Helen brought me her notebook. I plugged the drive into the spare USB port. When I tried to access the data on the drive I was prompted for a password. What the hell could it have been?

  “Did he have a standard password he would use?” I asked Helen.

  “Oh wow, I can’t say for sure. He was so secretive about things of that nature. I know for basic items he wasn’t concerned about he would use Jolene, Molly or my name in certain combinations.”

  “I don’t believe he’s used something easily guessed like those,” I said. “Possibly something I would think of, figuring I’d be the one to find it or, if the police did, they would come to me. Not sure if he thought that far in advance, but hiding the drive makes me think he did. Now I need to figure it out.”

  Think Jarvis, think. There had to be something, some clue he left or gave me. My mind ran back over the last conversation we had on the phone. Didn’t he say something I was supposed to remember later? I squeezed my eyes closed and let my mind roll back in time. There was something, a word or phrase, which seemed out of place when he said it. Something he normally didn’t say when we talked or hadn’t heard from him in sometime. Then it hit me.

  “Dollar sign Smitty 723,” said Flynn on our last call.

  I was so perturbed and confused over the words that I really hadn’t put it to
gether. He had hesitated before saying it. When I questioned what he said, he stated, “Remember”. And sure enough, I now did. A dollar sign, Smitty which had been my fake name as a kid and 723 the street number of our home in Old West Des Moines where we were raised.

  “I think I figured it out” I said out loud. “Flynn said it in our last conversation. Something I’d only deduce. Damn, he sometimes could be pretty sharp!”

  “What is it?” asked Helen.

  “It could be several things. It’s a matter of figuring the combination.”

  So, did the dollar sign replace the S in Smitty? I tried $mitty723 and it didn’t work.

  Then I tried $smitty723 and no go.

  Finally $Smitty723 and I was in.

  “Hot damn!” I yelled out.

  Molly got all excited and I reached down and hugged her, while Helen came around and looked over my shoulder to see what was on the screen. There were several folders containing many files of varying formats; spreadsheets, databases, MS Word and PDF. I began combing through them. There was much to look at and most of it didn’t mean a damn thing to me, at least the data files. But there were several text-based files showing names of customers through the years, some of which I recognized and others I didn’t. Flynn’s name, along with several others who had joined him in pooling their money, was shown. One memo from Gabriel Gaines to his brother said to bring in more clients or their scam could collapse. This appeared to be the smoking gun. Now, it was a matter of what to do with it. I quickly made copies of everything and stored it to the cloud and emailed it to my lawyer, Barry, in Colorado. I, like my brother, was not ready to share this with the FBI. But I did plan to expose what I’d learned to the two Gaines brothers.

  “I need to go shopping,” I said to Helen. “Where is there a computer store nearby?”

  Chapter 42

  I was ready to stir things up. With enough to work with, the time was right. My time with Casey had been revealing. Whether she ran to her dad or step-father for help afterwards didn’t matter to me. But after what she learned about Carlos, she might fear them and keep quiet. No matter, for today I would stoke the fires even more. After dropping Casey’s .22 off at the FBI office for testing, I was going to pay a visit to Edwards’s girlfriend, Tina Bailey. She liked to work out at Anytime Fitness in Clive, Casey had informed me. According to Tina’s Facebook page, she was there now, sweating into her spandex. She was an internet poster child who enjoyed flaunting what she was doing every second of the day. It wasn’t far, and I was in the door with a flash of my ID, and a little name dropping, and was standing in front of her staring as she ran on a treadmill.

  Dressed all in workout clothes that hugged her toned body, she was moving at a steady pace. Her long auburn hair was tied back, her face showing little strain from the run. She was probably only an inch shorter than I was, and well-built, with all the right curves and proportions, which moved seductively, especially during exercise. I gave her a low-wattage smile which was charming, but not so she would jump over the front of the machine and wrap her legs around me, as would happen with the high-wattage version. Her concentration was good as she smiled back, maintaining her speed. Apparently she was used to men staring at her at the gym.

  “Can I help you?” she said, her breath as if she were standing still.

  “Tina, how have you been?” I said, as if we were old friends.

  “Great,” she responded with a bare look of uncertainty.

  “Man, you look fabulous!”

  “Thank you.”

  She slowed the machine down until it stopped. Grabbing the towel on the hand rest, she dried off her face and stepped off, looking me in the eye.

  “You don’t remember, do you?” I said.

  “I’m sorry, no I don’t.”

  “Not surprised, as it’s been some time. We went to Hoover High together.”

  More information gleaned from her Facebook page.

  “What was the name?”

  “Smith. Pat Smith. My friends called me Smitty.”

  “And we were friends?”

  I looked down, giving the timid by-golly look.

  “No, not really. I sort of had a crush on you. I don’t think you ever really paid attention to me. I was too shy to come up and talk with you, since you were the school hotty.”

  She smiled brightly.

  “My loss. Not sure if I recall the face though.”

  “I’ve changed quite a bit. I was a gawky teenager. Overweight, with acne. I was a late bloomer.”

  She looked me up and down, slyly admiring what she saw in my six foot frame.

  “Apparently. I doubt I’d have missed you looking as you do now.”

  “Thank you. And I will say you look even better today than in your teens.”

  “Believe me, I have to work at it. Sweat like a pig to keep my form.”

  “I’m sure it’s a rush for you to see men admiring your body.”

  “Yes, it can be a turn-on.”

  “Like now?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Damn, I certainly wished I’d had the courage in high school to talk with you.”

  “Who cares about then, when we have now.”

  There was a hint of excitement in her eyes.

  “So true. Can I buy you lunch when you are done toning your body?”

  “Well, I normally run another couple of miles, but what the hell! Let me shower and I’ll meet you outside.”

  “Sounds great. I’ll try my best to keep the vision of you showering at bay.”

  She laughed and maybe even blushed a bit.

  “Play your cards right and who knows…”

  Walking away, she looked back and I smiled full wattage, knowing I had her, though she didn’t come running and wrap her legs around me. Around thirty minutes later she was outside, in white shorts and a tank top, which barely contained her bra-less chest. She jumped in my car and we found a nearby sports bar which served food. We walked in together, finding a small two-seat table. I decided on a beer. She wanted a wine cooler. We added a basket of popcorn chicken to fill the food void.

  “Hard to believe you are here with me,” I stated. “I figured on a pretty thing like yourself being married or with someone.”

  “Does it matter if I did have someone else?” she said with a wicked smile.

  “Not really. Though I wouldn’t want some jealous husband coming after me.”

  She stopped to drink her red wine cooler and enjoy a couple of bites of chicken, a hint of desire flushing across her face.

  “Well, I’m not married. And my guy is busy playing golf with his brother. A normal Sunday for him.”

  “Wow, his loss! And what do you do on Sunday?”

  “Well, as you saw, I work out, then take a hot steam and do a little shopping.”

  “So I guess you skipped the steam after the work out.”

  “There is still some time for steam if I so desire.”

  Under the table her hand grabbed at my inner thigh and began stroking. I must say it felt good, and for now I was going to let her enjoy herself. I put my hand on top of hers, sliding it further up.

  “So may I ask what your guy does? I want to make sure he isn’t a cop or something before contemplating my next move.”

  “He is some stuffed shirt banker. He wouldn’t and couldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “So why are you with him?”

  “Money mostly. Spends a lot to keep me happy. And I give him what he wants.”

  “Which would be?”

  “Well I’m pretty enough to go to social gatherings and be his smiling hot girlfriend he can show off.”

  “Is that all?”

  She leaned over and spoke into my ear.

  “No, I let him fuck me however he desires. And believe me when I say this, I’m willing to give you the same for an afternoon you’ll never forget. I suspect you would be way better in the sack than he is. And from what I can tell right now, endowed better too.”

  It was
pretty clear where this was leading. I took her hand and moved it to her inner thigh, sliding it up until it reached her zipper. Her eyes closed. Pleasure was overtaking her. Again, the old me would have taken her and then flaunted it in Edward’s face.

  “Gee Edward, I had sex with your girlfriend, once in the shower at the gym, once in the bathroom at the bar, and then one last time in the car. Oh, and by the way, she had more orgasms with me in one afternoon than she’s had with you the entire time you’ve been going out!”

  While I guided her hand to stroke herself, I looked her square in the eye, her breathing getting heavier and heavier, her excitement building and building until her body began to shudder and shake in climax. With my other I pulled out a business card and tucked it down her shirt. She looked up, surprised and uncertain what I’d done. I leaned and whispered in her ear.

  “I’ll be sure to tell Edward how I mind-fucked you today,” I said. “I’m certain he’ll be thrilled to hear his girlfriend had an orgasm while sitting in a bar with the man who is going to put him in jail.”

  I threw down two twenties for the drinks and food and walked away satisfied in a different way than she was, the moment before the horror of my words filled her mind.

  Chapter 43

  I was neither angry with myself nor proud of the games I’d played with the two women. They both were easy targets I had taken advantage of, but I didn’t really care. I was on a mission now and nothing would get in my way. If either of them reported back to the men responsible, it would not matter. I had learned enough and was about to light the fuse on the power keg that would blow things wide open.

  One of the items Casey had shared with me, which Tina had confirmed, was the Wyche brothers played golf every Sunday, with a standing reservation at the Urbandale Golf and Country Club for noon, and would finish up between three and four. Then, they’d enjoy a drink or two at the bar, along with a meal. Today I planned to pay them a visit with lit match in hand.

  When I arrived at the club, I made my way into the dining room and took a seat. A waiter came by and took my drink order and I watched the room. It was a little after three, but it had been raining some today, so golfing would be on the slow side. I had been provided pictures by Agent Wilson, so I knew who to look for. At around 3:30, they came in and took a table with two other gentlemen, probably part of their foursome. I called over the waiter again, wrote down a note, and asked him to give it to either of the Gaines brothers. When they read the note, they looked my way and I waved. I wasn’t certain if they would join me, but what I wrote should have gotten their attention. They each talked back and forth, then Gabriel excused himself and sat next to me.