03_Cornered Coyote

by Dianne Harman

  Gino’s Pizzeria and several other buildings had been blown to smithereens by the explosion. Talking heads at the scene of the blast were commenting on the carnage. First reports indicated that the only casualties were several federal agents and some men who had been inside Gino’s when the blast occurred. Several nearby buildings had been leveled, but fortunately they were unoccupied when the blast occurred. The fire and police authorities wouldn’t know for sure the exact body count until they sifted through the debris from the shattered buildings. The confirmed death toll from the shootout and explosion was initially set at sixteen, but the destroyed buildings were still being searched for more bodies. The feds were already issuing reports that it was one of the worst bloodbaths in the history of the department.

  "Sweet Jesus," Chico said. "Ya’ think they got our pictures enterin’ the restaurant?"

  “Sure as hell they did. Rumor's been out for a while that the place was bein’ watched."

  "Slade, you're a hell of a lot more legit than I am. Tell you what. You make sure our photos never see the light of day and I'll make doubly sure the Brooks broad is safe for as long as she’s in jail. I’ll also make sure she’ll be safe even if she goes to prison. Deal?"

  “Yeah, might be able to make it happen. Time for ya’ to leave."

  Chico put his hand on Slade's shoulder. "If you ever want to cross over to my side, I could use you. Think about it. I owe you again." He turned and walked out the door.

  CHAPTER 29

  As soon as Chico was gone, Slade called Papa Romano. “Have ya’ seen the news?”

  “Lookin’ at it now. You get out okay?”

  “Yeah, Chico and I made it out, but I don’t think Gino and Mario did. From what they’re sayin’ on the tube, looks like it was a real bloodbath. We were bein’ watched. Sure as hell they have our pics in their database by now."

  “I was thinkin’ the same thing. Got any ideas?”

  “Met with Maureen O’Shaughnessy a few weeks ago. Got her daddy’s private number. Don’t know why I asked her for it, but I did. I’m gonna call him and see if he can make that tape disappear.”

  “Slade, he’s a very powerful man.”

  “That he is, Papa, but he’s got more to lose than I do. When yer’ re-election for United States Senate is on the line, ain't much that power can do. Call ya’ when I know somethin’.”

  Slade took his wallet out and looked at the number Maureen had given him. He punched it in and the call was picked up on the first ring. "This is Senator O’Shaughnessy."

  "Hi. Senator. This is a voice from the past, Slade Kelly. How ya' doin'?"

  There was silence on the other end of the line, then the senator spoke. "Maureen told me she'd given you my number. I thought we had an agreement that you would never get in touch with me under any circumstances."

  "Well, that was my plan, but things have a way of changin’. Ya' see, besides you, Chico, and Papa Romano, I'm the only one who knows what happened to yer’ wife the afternoon she died. Kinda like to keep it that way, but got a little favor to ask of ya’ that might insure that I never get in touch with ya’ again."

  "Slade, we decided long ago that our relationship was finished.”

  "Yeah, that's right. The reason yer’ a senator is because no one found out about yer’ wife's affair with your opponent when ya’ were runnin’ for that senate seat. Think with what I'm gonna ask, we'll be even now. You’ve been a senator for how long now? Probably wouldn’t be there if people knew. Unnerstan’ you've got some opposition in the upcomin’ primary and he’s got deep pockets. If it ever leaked that out that the senator he was runnin’ against hired a hit on his wife rather than her bein’ killed in a strong-arm robbery, not sure you'd still be the chairman of some of those 'portant committees, committees like the one on Mafia Activities."

  "What do you want from me, Slade? This is blackmail, pure and simple. If it’s money, tell me. If not, get to the bottom line and tell me what it is you want."

  "Well, there was a little incident in the ghetto out here in LA tonight. It's all over the television.”

  "Yes, I just heard about it. Why?"

  "Here's what I need. Think the feds were watchin’ us. Pretty sure our pictures are in their database by now. Think it would sure help yer’ primary campaign if ya’ made that information disappear, you bein' the head of the committee that oversees things like that."

  "Do you know what you're asking me to do? Destroy evidence in a case where ten federal agents were killed? Are you crazy? No, Slade, I can't do this. Were you there? Are you worried that you might have been photographed?"

  "Nah, just pullin' your chain. Well, I got a few other calls I gotta make. ’Fresh my memory, Senator. What's the name of yer’ opponent in the June primary?"

  There was a long silence on the senator's end, then he spoke. "Slade, I can probably make your problem go away in return for making my problem go away. Do we have an understanding?'

  "Sure thing, Senator. Hate to see pictures of anybody I know on the television screen when they talk ‘bout this ‘lil ol’ federal incident that happened tonight. Mighty grateful if you'd make it go away. Kinda hard thinkin’ ‘bout yer’ wife's tragic death all those years ago."

  "All right Slade. This conversation never happened. I've just been called into a meeting regarding the firefight and explosion. I'll make a couple of calls for you. Good night."

  "Night, Senator. Been a pleasure talkin’ to ya’."

  CHAPTER 30

  “Hey, Brian, it’s Slade. What’s happenin’ on the case? Is Maria okay?”

  “Yes, she’s fine. I see her almost every day. I called one of the guests who stayed at the Blue Coyote Motel and the guy was able to get a couple of other guests at the motel to agree to testify at the trial that Jeffery appeared to be insane. We have a Skype conference next week. I hear that the prosecutor has been out to the motel and is talking to everyone she can find. Evidently she’s interviewed a number of people who worked at Moore Labs as well. Bitch is as mean as a bulldog and as dangerous as a rattlesnake.”

  “Sounds like ya’ got a real challenge ahead of ya’. Imagine it was a bummer of a Christmas for Maria and Jordan. Well, let’s hope it goes to trial when it’s supposed to in February.”

  “A thought just occurred to me. Do you know whatever happened to that reporter who ran a couple of stories on them? Jordan said his neighbor told him he rented the reporter a room for a week or so. Then the reporter left with no trace, actually stole some stuff from him, and stiffed him for the rent. Five will get you ten Marsha’s moving heaven and earth to find him and get him to testify against Maria, if she hasn’t already found him. As of this moment I’m hiring you to find out everything you can about the guy. If anyone can do it, you can.”

  “I’m on it. I’ll get back to you when I know sumpin’. Know anything about the guy?”

  “No. The only thing I know about him is the name of the tabloid that published the article. He didn’t run a byline. Probably didn’t want anyone to know who wrote it. See what you can find out. By the way, Maria pays well. Talk to you later.”

  Slade ended the call and yelled, “Brad, get yer’ ass in here! Gotta project for ya’. Ya’ know that scumbag who wrote the article on Jordan and Maria for Celebrity Spotlight? Want ya’ to get me everything ya’ can on him. Find out his name, his habits, any dirty secrets, get an address, past employers. Ya’ know the drill.”

  “Got it, Boss. When do you want it?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “Okay, give me a couple of hours. Hopefully I’ll have something for you by then.”

  “Wait a minute. Ain’t through. Get me everything ya’ can dig up on a prosecutor with the Riverside County DA’s office. Her name’s Marsha Sinclair. Hear she's got a little taste for coke and I’m not talkin’ ‘bout the carbonated kind. See what ya’ can find out. Like to know if she’s got a supplier and where she keeps her stash. Find out who has access to her house, like housekeepers, gardeners. Wa
nt to know if any of ‘em live there. If they come certain days, find out which ones and when.”

  “What do you have in mind, Boss?”

  “Nuthin’ at the moment. Need that info ASAP, too, but first priority is the rag writer. Got a little time for the other.

  “Will do.”

  * * * * *

  “Slade, the reporter’s file is on your desk. Think you’ll be happy with what I got on him.”

  “Thanks, Brad. I’ll go have me a little looky-see.”

  Thirty minutes later, Slade walked into Brad’s office. “Nice job. Bastard sounds like a real scumbag. I’ve got some work to do. If ya’ need me, ya’ know the number.”

  Slade got in his car and drove to the address Brad had put in the report. It turned out to be a seedy part of town. The apartment building had been severely neglected. Brown weeds grew where grass had once been and paint was flaking off of the walls and the doors of the building. He drove down the street and made a right turn. Three doors down, just a short walk from the apartment building, was Sammy’s, the bar where the reporter, Daniel Lentz, was said to spend most evenings after he’d filed his stories with the paper via the internet. Brad’s report revealed that Lentz was a heavy drinker and a frequent customer of a drug dealer who hung out around Sammy’s. Evidently Lentz held court there on a nightly basis, boasting about his latest “literary” accomplishments.

  Slade glanced at his watch. It was 5:15, too early for Lentz to be boozing it up at Sammy’s. Since there was nothing he could do for a couple of hours, he went to a nearby restaurant, bought a paper, and looked at the schedule for the theater down the street. After sitting through a boring movie, at 9:30 he drove back to Lentz’s street and parked a block from the apartment building. On his way to Sammy’s, he saw a small glow coming from Daniel’s apartment window. When he got to Sammy’s, he opened the door and took the last seat at the bar.

  “Whaddya want?” the portly bartender asked. Slade took one look at him and knew the help at Sammy’s wasn’t rewarded for being tidy. His apron was filthy, spotted with food and drink. He’d missed a couple of spots on his cheeks when he’d shaved that morning and was badly in need of a haircut.

  “Gimme a Coors in the bottle.” Slade looked around the seedy neighborhood bar. The décor of the bar was in disrepair. There was a bar like this in almost every neighborhood – a bar where everyone knew your name, so the song went – and the only place on earth where a lot of these people felt welcome. After a couple of drinks, each was lost in a world of their own. He heard a loud voice coming from a booth behind him. Turning around, he noticed a middle-aged man talking and gesturing to a rapt group of listeners.

  “You gotta read the article I wrote about the slick prick. It’ll be in tomorrow’s issue. I nailed his ass.”

  Slade didn’t need to hear any more. The man had to be Daniel Lentz.

  “Get you another one?” the surly bartender growled.

  “Naw, I’m good. Say, that’s not Daniel Lentz, is it? I hear he’s a pretty good writer.”

  “Yeah, that’s him. Likes to brag about the columns he writes. Been comin’ in here almost every night for the last year. Usually stays ‘til closin’ time. Don’t know how good of a writer he is. I ain’t much for books or readin’.”

  Gee, Slade thought, there’s a surprise!

  “I overheard him say somethin’ about a story that was gonna be published tomorrow. Sounded interestin’. Doesn’t he write for ‘Celebrity Spotlight’ or somethin’ like that?”

  “That’s the one,” the bartender said, as he swirled a glass in the dirty sink water, halfway dried it, and put it on the shelf behind the bar. Thank God I ordered a bottle of beer. I don’t even want to know what living things are in that water.

  “According to him, he’s the paper’s fair-haired wonder boy, course you can’t believe all the shit that comes outta his mouth. Sometimes I see that rag in the store the next day with the story he was touchin’ on the night before. From what he’s been braggin’ about for the last hour, guess some detective’s gonna get it from him tomorrow.”

  “Thanks for yer’ time, bud. Got me a hot date,” Slade said as he slid off the barstool. “See ya’ around.”

  He walked back to his car and opened the small duffel bag he’d placed on the passenger seat, taking out a pair of transparent latex gloves and some locksmith’s tools. He sat in the car for a few minutes, looking at what was going on in the busy neighborhood. People were out walking their dogs and coming home from grocery shopping. He blended in and walked up to the door of the apartment where Lentz lived. Each apartment had a three-sided patio created from the stucco wall where the door was located. The arrangement made the patios private, but it also made it very easy for someone to pick a lock. He didn’t hear a dog, which was always a good sign. Slade was in the apartment in seconds. He stood and listened. Silence. The only light was the glow that came from a computer screen in the corner.

  Daniel had left the article he’d submitted to Celebrity Showcase on the screen. Slade quickly read it. Just as Daniel had been boasting about in Sammy’s, it was another damning piece on Jordan. This time the headline was “Police Commission Gives Rogue Detective Late Christmas Present.”

  On the corner of the desk was a printer which was attached to the computer. Slade quickly printed the article and began looking on the computer’s desktop for anything else that might be of interest. He found a contact list and printed it as well. When he was finished, he walked into the bedroom. He opened the drawer of the nightstand and found some joints and white powder that looked like cocaine.

  Slade put the folded computer printouts in his pocket. He peered through the blinds and looked out the window. There was no one around. He let himself out through the window and was back in his car in minutes.

  Half an hour later Slade sat down at his desk. He got out Jordan’s file and found Captain Raymond’s email address. He scanned the article that would be running tomorrow and sent it to the captain, using an email that was untraceable. He mentioned he’d been told that Daniel Lentz had some illegal drugs in his apartment, was known to be a user, and was a very heavy drinker.

  He looked through the contact list he’d printed. Slade assumed that a lot of them were people who gave Daniel leads for his stories, but several stood out. Two women’s names were circled. One of them had the words “Police Commission clerk” next to her name and the other one had the words “Riverside County DA’s secretary” next to it. He put their names in the email to the captain telling him he didn’t know if the names were relevant. He went on to say that it seemed odd, considering that confidential information obtained from the Police Commission and the Riverside DA’s office had made its way into ‘Celebrity Spotlight’ via articles written by Daniel Lentz.

  A third woman’s name had been circled - Luisa Ortega - with a phone number indicating that she lived out of the country. Slade remembered Brian telling him that a woman named Luisa Ortega wasn’t willing to testify on behalf of Maria. He also recalled that Brian hoped the prosecutor never got her name. He looked at his watch. It was 11:30 and he knew Brian would be in bed by now. He decided to leave a voicemail for him.

  * * * * *

  “Hello. This is Senora Ortega.”

  “Hi, it’s your reporter friend, Daniel. I just wanted to let you know I’m running a large exposé tomorrow morning on Jordan and Maria.”

  “Sounds like you’ve done a very good job.”

  “I’ve got my sources. Pays to have them and they get paid for the information they give me. Works well for both of us. And Maria’s time in jail is not going to be a walk in the park.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, it’s pretty much a given that a broad as good-looking as her will be a target for lesbian jail gangs as well as some of the guards who figure God put good-looking women in jail for them to use. I mean, everyone knows that. It would be pretty rare if she didn’t become someone’s bitch. Jungle law, it’s called.�
��

  “I don’t think I’d wish that on anybody else, but in Maria’s case, she deserves it.”

  “It’s out of your hands now. Don’t think anyone can help her in jail. I’ll be doing a few more stories when it gets closer to the trial. I’ll be in touch then. Thanks!”

  Luisa ended the call.

  CHAPTER 31

  Maria sat across from Jordan separated by the thick glass window. She sighed deeply. “Jordan, I don’t quite know how to tell you this. Remember when I said I wasn’t feeling well and I was going to go to the jail clinic?”

  “Yes, but I thought they gave you some pills. You said it helped you sleep and thought it was helping with your depression. Is there something more?”

  “I went back this morning because I’ve been feeling nauseous all the time. I wondered if the pills they’d given me were making me sick. They gave me a pregnancy test and it was positive. I’m pregnant.”

  Jordan looked at her, speechless. He half-stood, then sat down. He took a sip from a bottle of water he’d gotten from the coke machine. “Maria, I honestly don’t know what to say. This adds another layer to a very complicated situation. How do you feel about it?”

  “When they told me, I couldn’t believe it. I wondered where my God has been for the past year. What did I ever do to deserve this? Having a baby while I’m in jail or prison? You’ll have to raise it if I’m found guilty.”

  “We’ll work this out. I don’t know how, but we’ll find a way. Give me a little time. This is something I never expected.”

  “Jordan, I’ve been thinking about it and I know you’d probably like me to have an abortion. It would be possible. I asked the doctor and they do perform abortions for female prisoners, but I grew up in the Catholic Church. My mother still goes to Mass every morning. Abortion is a mortal sin in the church’s eyes and I can’t have one. I could never face my family again. Please don’t ask me to, because I can’t, and yet I know you can’t raise a child alone. I don’t know what to do,” she said, tears streaming down her face.