Stratagem

by Robin Caroll

  He closed out that system, opened the next database, and typed in Colton’s information. No record of any outstanding warrants or charges. No past convictions either.

  Moving on to the next system, Brandon did a search on legal documents filed regarding Game’s On You. Maybe there was something connected to the business. That might also include Grayson, although Brandon couldn’t imagine Grayson Thibodeaux having a thing in common with Big Al. Well, except for knowing Colton York. It was worth looking into anyway.

  He typed in the information and sent in the request.

  “Hey.” Danielle tapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, we’ve got a date, and I don’t think we should keep Big Al waiting.”

  Brandon stood, grabbing his notebook. He made sure his sidearm was locked in his desk drawer before following his partner down the hall to the hot box.

  “You take lead, since you know Big Al,” Danielle said outside interview room three.

  He nodded and squared his shoulders. Brandon had served in vice for a couple of years before moving to homicide. During that stint, he’d had the opportunity to speak with Big Al on numerous occasions regarding his involvement in various prostitution rings. He’d always found the man to be cordial if not downright likable, considering their respective positions.

  Brandon opened the door and walked into the room. “Hello, Big Al.” He was never sure if the moniker had been given to him as a child, a parent hoping he’d grow up to be big in his field, or if it had been bestowed on him in adulthood as a joke. Alfonse Marcello stood maybe five feet nine or ten inches tall and weighed in at no more than a buck seventy-five, soaking wet. He was forty-nine years old but already had a growing, round bald spot in the back of his crown. What remained of his once dark hair was now peppered with harsh gray.

  “Why, hello, Detective Gibbons. How nice to see you again.” Big Al smiled as Brandon took a seat across the table from him. Danielle sat beside Brandon. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting this fellow detective.” He nodded to her.

  “This is my partner, Detective Witz.”

  Big Al zapped a wheelbarrow load of charm into one smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Detective Witz. How may I assist you two good detectives today?”

  Danielle cut her eyes at Brandon, who swallowed his grin. Al could be the most pleasant of criminals, but then again, if rumors were true and he was part of the original Marcello crime family of New Orleans, then the politeness and charm were ingrained.

  Since Big Al was so focused on her, it would be better for her to start asking the questions in the interview. Brandon nudged his knee against hers under the table.

  She got the point, being very congenial toward Big Al. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. I believe my partner and I saw you not too long ago. Outside the Darkwater Inn.”

  He smiled, not saying anything.

  Brandon could feel Danielle’s frustration. He eased into taking over the questioning. “With the rain coming down so hard, I’m sure you understand why I didn’t get out and say hello when I drove up to you.”

  “Oh. That was you?” Big Al’s smile lost a fraction of its wattage. “I completely understand. This weather is just horrid. I do hope my cleaners can do something with my suit, because even with an umbrella, it got drenched.” He brushed the fine material. “It’s Armani of course.”

  “Of course.” Brandon smiled. “What on earth would have you having a discussion under an umbrella in such weather?”

  Big Al stopped smiling. “You aren’t going to make me ask for my lawyer now are you?”

  “Hey, we’re just sitting here having a conversation about a conversation. I don’t see anything wrong with that, do you?”

  Big Al glanced at Danielle, then back to Brandon. He pushed his chair out from under the table and turned ever so slightly in his seat. He picked at his fingernails as he spoke. “I was merely stressing to an associate the importance of keeping one’s word.”

  Brandon nodded. “Certainly people should keep their word.” He studied Big Al. What was Colton’s connection to him? Had to be something pretty big for Big Al to contact Colton directly. And, as he’d already pointed out, in this miserable weather. “Especially when money is involved, yes?”

  “Most definitely.” Big Al sized him up as well. “Debts can pile up quickly, you know.”

  “Oh, I do.” Okay, Colton owed Big Al money. How much? Had to be enough to get Big Al out in an alley during a storm. “I can think of tens of thousands of reasons why.”

  Big Al raised a single eyebrow. “I could think of half a million reasons why it would be important.”

  Half a million dollars in debt to Big Al? What was Colton into?

  Danielle shot him a quizzical look. He gave a slight shake of his head before staring back at Big Al. “That would buy an awful lot of medication.”

  Big Al kept his head down, his focus on cleaning his fingernails. “I wouldn’t know.”

  Not drugs. What else could put him that much in debt? “Or make some of the NRA folks very happy.”

  “I wouldn’t know.” Big Al shook his head, still looking at his fingernails.

  Okay, not drugs or weapons. Half a million dollars.

  Big Al looked at Brandon. “But that’s nothing but a drop in the bucket compared to what some of those professional athletes who play in big games every week are paid.”

  Ah. Gambling. Brandon gave a brief nod to Big Al. “I would’ve said hello to the man you were speaking with, Colton York, but the rain, you know.”

  “I’m sure Mr. York would’ve enjoyed speaking to you had it not been storming.”

  Confirmation. Brandon smiled. “I wonder if I would have time to speak to Colton sometime next week.” He lifted his voice and his brows on the last word.

  Big Al gave a slight shake of his head. “I would try closer to the end of this week. By this weekend at the latest, I would imagine.”

  “I see.” Colton had to pay Big Al half a million dollars by the weekend. Wow. That was a lot of money to rack up in a gambling debt.

  “You know what a nice, congenial sort I am, right, Detective Gibbons?”

  “Of course, Big Al. It’s one of the reasons I enjoy speaking with you.”

  “So you know that I sometimes give people a second chance. In rare cases, a third.”

  Extensions. Brandon nodded. “I’ve heard that. Very generous of you, Big Al.”

  “Oh, it is very generous indeed. Our mutual acquaintance, Mr.

  York?”

  Brandon nodded.

  “He’s a rare case.”

  Big Al had extended Colton’s half-million-dollar deadline three times. That was serious enough for him to be out in a storm, making sure Colton knew the deadline and understood the consequences.

  “I see.” What was Colton doing? Surely he understood Big Al wasn’t one to mince words, but was one to have your face minced if you didn’t pay.

  Especially to the tune of a half million dollars.

  Did Grayson know? What would happen if Colton was taken out?

  The room’s intercom buzzed. Ah, narcotics was ready to interrogate Big Al. Danielle pushed to her feet, and Brandon followed suit. He smiled at Big Al and extended his hand. “Thank you for talking with me, Big Al. As always, it’s been enlightening.”

  Big Al shook his hand. “Perhaps, if the opportunity arises in the near future, you could speak to someone on my behalf?”

  “I’ll certainly see what I can do.” He opened the door for his partner as they left.

  “Okay,” Danielle said as soon as they were in the hall, “I followed that Colton owes Big Al half a million dollars, and it’s due this weekend.”

  “For a gambling debt, and his deadline has been extended three times. There’s no way Big Al will let it go unanswered. If Colton doesn’t have the money by this weekend, he’s in serious trouble.” While no evidence could be traced back to Big Al and his organization, a couple of homicides had taken place in
the city’s recent past, for which everyone in the precinct believed Big Al was responsible.

  Danielle let out a low whistle as they made a straight line to their desks.

  “Exactly.” Why would Colton take such a chance? How did he even know Big Al? Brandon shook his head. Gamblers just knew. They usually started out with a local, small-time bookie. They’d win sometimes, usually just enough to pay off their debt, then get in for even more. When they lost, they’d have to go to another bookie to pay the first one. And the cycle would repeat until someone like Colton York ended up owing someone like Big Al Marcello a half million dollars. It was insane.

  Brandon dropped into his seat and checked his email. The initial report he’d requested on Game’s On You filed papers was there.

  “I’m going to talk to Commander Ellender. He asked to be updated after we spoke with Big Al.” She grabbed a sip of water from the bottle she kept on the edge of her desk. “I’m not sure how this connects to Anna Belle Thibodeaux’s murder yet.”

  “This might be an answer.” Brandon read from the attachment, his gut instinct going into overdrive. “I’m looking at parts of the partnership papers between Colton York and Grayson Thibodeaux that they signed and filed.”

  Danielle sat on the edge of her desk and took another swig of water.

  “In the event that either owner dies or is incapacitated, the company and all of its assets automatically default to the remaining owner.” This was it. Brandon’s gut was rarely wrong when it wound tightly into a knot like it was right now.

  Danielle pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m not following what that has to do with anything. Was Anna Belle one of the owners?”

  Brandon shook his head. “No, she wasn’t, but if Grayson is convicted and sent to jail for her murder, that’s considered incapacitated, and Game’s On You and all of its assets would divert solely to Colton.” He locked stares with Danielle. “And Colton needs at least half a million dollars to pay Big Al, not counting any other bookies he might owe.”

  “Is Game’s On You worth half a million dollars?”

  Brandon tapped the monitor. “According to this report, the business and its assets are valued at two point six million.”

  “You think Colton set this all up—killed Anna Belle and framed Grayson so his partner would go to jail and he’d get the company?”

  He hadn’t really thought it through, but… “Yeah. It could be. We know Colton and Tim took the deal to Grayson. Colton pushed Grayson to actually create the game, but he was the one who was on-site.”

  “The time’s pushing it. I mean, it’s Wednesday evening and he has to pay Big Al by this weekend.”

  Brandon nodded. “But as you said many times, that energy drink with the cherry juice could’ve been put in Anna Belle’s room from the beginning. She drank at least one, sometimes two a day. It was just a matter of time before she got the one with the cherry juice. Could’ve been Wednesday when she got there or any time after.” He shrugged. “And nobody could have known that Grayson would lose his cell phone. No way to call him back early to start the accusations and questioning.”

  Danielle shook her head. “And I played right into it, suspecting Grayson from the start and pulling every scrap of evidence to make it fit my scenario.”

  “Hey, natural tendency. And I don’t know it’s Colton, but…”

  “Your gut instinct tells you it is, right?”

  He grinned. “Yeah. I’d at least like to ask him some questions.”

  “Okay. Let me update the commander, and then we’ll get in a little OT and go talk to Colton York.” She set down her water bottle and grabbed her folder.

  Brandon stared at his computer screen again.

  Poor Grayson. If they were right, his partner and friend had not only stabbed him in the back in the worst way, but he was a murderer to boot. A murderer who owed a gangster a whole lot of money. That could make someone more than a little desperate.

  Desperate people panicked and made bad choices worse.

  TWENTY-SIX

  “I didn’t even hear you come in.” Grayson stared at his partner, wondering if he knew the man in front of him. Had he ever known him?

  “I came in the back. It’s really messed up out there.” Colton looked from Pam to Grayson, then checked his watch. “Sorry I’m late. The rain. Traffic was almost at a standstill.”

  Grayson nodded. “Yeah, it’s really coming down out there. Electricity went out about twenty or so minutes ago.” He needed to think. There was something different in Colton’s eyes.

  “I guess everybody else has already gone?”

  “Yes. Pam was just leaving too.” Grayson stared at his assistant. Hard.

  She stood, a death grip on her cell phone.

  “You don’t have to leave on my account.” Colton took off his jacket and laid it over the back of the chair in front of Grayson’s desk.

  “No, it’s okay.” She turned to Grayson. “I’m just going to make that call I was telling you about, then I’ll head out.”

  Good. She’d call Brandon. While he’d been against it when she’d suggested it, something about Colton’s demeanor right now … It was … off? Different? Somehow, he seemed threatening, which wasn’t usually the case at all.

  “Okay. I’ll talk to you later.” He nodded at her, hoping she’d leave the building and call Brandon from her car.

  She started to leave, but Colton blocked her exit from Grayson’s office. “You know what, maybe you should stay for our meeting. Like take notes or something.” His eyes were wilder than Grayson had ever seen.

  He needed to think, and fast. Something was definitely wrong here. Grayson forced a laugh. “Pam take notes? Seriously?” He laughed again. “Since the weather’s so bad and the power’s out, why don’t you and I just meet in the morning?” He caught Pam’s expression—she was scared, and Pam Huron didn’t scare easily. “Pam, go on and head on out. I’ll talk to you later.”

  She took a step to move around Colton, but he sidestepped and blocked her path again. His grin at her reminded Grayson of the Cheshire cat.

  It unnerved him and chilled him more than the dropping temperatures.

  Pam put her hands on her hips and widened her stance. “Colton York, what’s going on with you? Move out of my way.”

  Colton’s sardonic smile spread even wider as he reached behind him and pulled the door to the office closed.

  In that moment, Grayson knew he was right about his partner. About what he’d done to Anna Belle. About what he’d tried to do to Grayson himself. He took a step toward the two of them. “Colton, I think it’s about time you and I had our meeting, don’t you?”

  Quicker than Grayson would have ever thought possible, Colton grabbed Pam and spun her around facing Grayson. He tugged her back against his chest and pressed a gun against Pam’s head.

  “Whoa!” Grayson held up his hands. “What are you doing?”

  “I think you know.” Colton pushed the gun against Pam’s head. “Sit down. Now.”

  “Fine. Just put the gun down. Let Pam go. This has nothing to do with her.” He stumbled backward until he sat on the love seat.

  Colton laughed, the tone blending eerily with another rolling clap of thunder. “I don’t think so, buddy. I think a lot of this has to do with Pammy here.” He let her go and pushed her forward.

  Grayson caught her before she fell over the ottoman. He steadied her until she got her balance, then helped her move over to sit on the other side of him on the love seat, keeping himself between her and Colton. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “Lost my mind? Lost my mind?” Colton tapped his chin with his left hand. The one not holding the gun. “Hmm. Maybe I have.” He laughed again. It came out much higher pitched than his natural laugh. He sat on the arm of the couch. “Maybe I have.”

  Grayson sat forward, blocking Colton’s direct line to Pam. “Colton, talk to me. What’s wrong with you?”

  Colton’s laugh d
ied. He glared at Grayson. “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?” His voice shook. “You’re what’s wrong with me.”

  “Me? What did I do?” Just keep him talking. That was the only thing on Grayson’s mind. Keep him talking and not shooting.

  “What didn’t you do? You, always with your perfect life. You had the perfect parents in the perfect house in the perfect part of town. You went to the right high school, were an athlete hero, got into the right college—on scholarship of course—and fast-tracked into the right frat house.”

  “You were in that same fraternity. That’s how we met, remember?” Keep him talking.

  “Oh, I remember. What you didn’t know was that I had to scrimp and save to attend college. I had fourteen scholarships—fourteen, and all of them combined only paid for half of my tuition. Half. I had to work to pay the other half, and forget about living on campus—I had to live at home until I could move into the frat house.”

  Keep him talking. “But you graduated and excelled. Really surpassed many others in our med school.”

  “That’s because I had to. I couldn’t waste all that money.” He shook his head. “That’s not the point. I had to work to get what I got while you were able just to float on by in your little perfect world.”

  “My life was far from perfect, Colton. You know that.”

  “Really? ‘Cause it looked pretty perfect. You graduated with honors, skated through med school, passed your boards without really having to cram like the rest of us. And then right out of the shute, you join a private practice with your buddy’s and his father’s head shop.”

  Keep him talking. “Those were a lot of long hours. I wasn’t just the low man on that totem pole, but I was also the outsider, which meant I got all the nights and weekends on call. I got all the cases that had state insurance. I got all the hopeless cases that nobody else wanted.”

  Colton waved the gun in the air, tracing an invisible line up and down Grayson’s torso. “Yeah, my heart’s bleeding for you. I was out there trying to beat the odds to make enough money for my next meal, and you’re out there making money listening to some rich brat whine about how Daddy doesn’t spend enough time with him and just buys him new cars. Wah wah wah.” Colton shook his head. “And you just walked away from that. Walked away from making all that money, while I was making my rounds with the local bookies.”