Rules of Engagement (Lexi Graves Mysteries, 11)

by Camilla Chafer

  Damien turned. "Mooch? Yeah."

  "I remember him from my time on the force. The name wasn't familiar but the face is. What's left of it," said Maddox, taking a step closer. "I think I busted him a couple times. Nasty piece of work. Never figured him for something like this."

  "He's just been sitting there for the last twenty minutes. Barely moved except to yawn," said Damien.

  Garrett stepped into the room with a thick folder. I wondered if he planned on repeating the "what's in the envelope" game that worked so well with Mikey, or if he had a new tactic.

  "Timothy Mooch," said Garrett.

  "Timothy?" repeated Damien softly.

  "Tiny Tim?" I suggested.

  "I can see why he likes to be called Mooch," said Maddox before we all fell silent.

  "What of it?" said Mooch.

  "Well, Timothy," began Garrett. "You've been arrested on a charge of solicitation of a hit man. Why don't you tell me about that?"

  "I don't know anything about it."

  "We have a witness that claims you hired him to kill another man."

  "Yeah. Who's that?"

  "The man you hired, or the man you wanted dead?"

  "Both, since I never heard of this before now."

  "You can cut the crap, Timothy. You promised two thousand dollars for the death of John Solomon. Why did you want him dead?"

  "I don't want him dead," said Mooch. "If I wanted him dead, he'd be dead."

  "So you admit to hiring a man to hurt him?"

  "Um, no."

  "Did Mr. Solomon interrupt some business of yours? Piss you off in some way? Hit on your girl?"

  "The only person hitting on my girl is me," said Mooch, thumbing his own chest.

  "Lucky girl," I said.

  "She must be so pleased with a catch like you," said Garrett dryly. "So if it's not personal, then it's business? You have a nice, little thing going with your club, don't you? Lots of new business. Do you want to know what we found in your house?"

  "You've got no business going to my house!"

  "A judge told us we did. We found fifty thousand dollars under a floorboard in your bathroom sealed in waterproof pouches along with a couple kilos of heroin. Using waterproof baggies was smart. Everything was preserved so nicely for us."

  "Who says it's mine?"

  "You're the only one who lives there," pointed out Garrett. "Any judge is going to look at that and say yep, Timothy Mooch has enough money to pay a hit man. Did it ever occur to you that you get what you pay for, hmm?"

  "It was that little snitch Mikey Gibb, wasn't it? He set me up," growled Mooch. He slammed his fist on the table and one of the legs buckled. Garrett didn't move a muscle. "I'm gonna turn him into finely ground meatloaf."

  "Glad you brought up Mikey. We're currently putting together a nice, little deal for Mikey. He's not going to do a whole lot of time in prison. In fact, he'll probably get out in just a few years for a reduced charge of aggravated assault. You want to know how he's getting his sentence reduced?"

  "How?" asked Mooch.

  Garrett pointed a finger at Mooch's chest. "He's going to sell you out. He's going to tell the DA how you hired him, and offered him the deal, and gave him the gun, and what you promised to pay him. He's even got a nice piece of notepaper with John Solomon's address, one that you wrote and an interesting statement about how you sent him there to kill a couple."

  "A couple?"

  "The two people in the house. A double murder charge, Mooch."

  "If there was someone else, that's nothing to do with me! I didn't tell him about anyone else, just the... Shit!" Mooch trailed off.

  "So there wasn't a hit on the woman?"

  Mooch folded his arms and looked over Garrett's head.

  "Here's the thing," said Garrett. "You know and I know that I can make this stick. We both know Mikey will have no problem selling you down the river, and you know what else Mikey is going to do? He's going to see about getting no jail time whatsoever if he decides to enter the witness protection program. He'll get cleaned up and get to live a nice, little life far away from here, a place where you will never find him, which sure beats you finding him and us never finding his parts. And you know what else? I think I'm going to encourage him to take a deal like that. There're a couple things you can do now. You can refuse to cooperate, and you go to jail on your two feet and come out lying in a box. Or, if you're the middleman, you can sell out whoever is above you and we can start looking at a reduced sentence for you too. You've got no way out and just a couple ways forward. What's your call?"

  I held my breath, waiting for what Mooch would say. I was afraid he would say nothing at all.

  "I'm just the middleman," said Mooch. "I set up Mikey to deliver a warning, but only on the Solomon dude. I didn't say anything about a woman. Maybe she got in the way. Mikey's an idiot."

  "Who put you up to it?"

  Mooch shook his head. "It ain't worth my life to say."

  "This got something to do with your gang? The Niners?"

  Mooch shrugged.

  "We know someone's shipping heroin into Montgomery and after the money we found in your house, I'm guessing it's the Niners. What did Solomon do? Interrupt the supply line? Piss off the boss?"

  "Naw," said Mooch. "This is the first I ever heard of him."

  "So what did he do to deserve getting shot?"

  "It was warning," said Mooch. "That's all I know."

  "To the woman?"

  "I don't know anything about a woman."

  "Someone came after Solomon again last night," said Garrett. "One of your people?"

  "I don't know anything about that."

  "Who is supposed to be warned by this shooting? Who's the warning for?"

  "All I know is someone owes a lot of money and if they don't pay up, they're gonna see a lot more people paying instead; and eventually, someone's gonna wind up dead. Now, I want a lawyer."

  Next to me, Maddox said, "Should have asked for that fifteen minutes ago."

  "He's going down for this," said Damien. His hands curled into fists. "That's two down."

  "And how many more to go?" I wondered.

  Chapter Nineteen

  "He didn't tell us anything useful," I complained. We were sitting in Garrett's office, each of us nursing a coffee.

  "Yes, he did. He told us no one was coming after you," said Garrett.

  "Didn't he say that right before he said other people were going to pay?" I reminded him.

  "Yeah, but we don't know for certain if that means you. Solomon is caught up in some kind of circle where someone thought that shooting him was a good warning to the unknown person who, they feel, wronged them." Garrett paused, thinking. "This has to be involved with the Niners and the heroin trafficking. We need to look at Solomon's agency files."

  "I agree," said Damien. "Lexi, we should turn them over. There has to be something in there."

  "Did any of the names my colleagues gave you have a connection to the Niners?" I asked.

  "We didn't look into that angle but we'll run the names again." Garrett got up, walking over to the door and beckoning two detectives. He spoke quickly and they took off for their desks.

  "I don't think Solomon worked any cases that involved them directly," I said as Garrett sat down again. "We did get a drugs case a while back but everyone involved in that went down."

  "Would he have told you about it?" asked Garrett.

  "Maybe not," I conceded.

  "Damien?" he asked.

  Damien shook his head. "He doesn't usually discuss cases with me but I don't ever recall him mentioning this gang."

  "Maddox, do you have any intel on the Niners?" asked Garrett.

  Maddox nodded. "A little, but not much. The Niners have been around for decades but only recently have they become more unsavory, pretty much ever since a guy called Gerard Copley took over as club president. He's into just about everything nasty and illegal you could think of but he's smart too and always stays a s
tep ahead. Officially, he is employed by his brother, Grant. Grant Copley's business is legitimate, and he always files its taxes, and lives in a nice house in Bedford Hills. So does Gerard. There was some talk a while back that the Copleys were involved somehow with a gang out of Boston. They were using the Niners as their pipeline to move further into the country in order to funnel more drugs, but nothing was ever proven."

  "Damien, you said you work for Boston PD. Do you know anyone who works in gangs or narcotics?" asked Garrett.

  "Sure. Why don't I take that off your workload and reach out to my contacts? They know me; and I can find out if there's any chatter," agreed Damien. "Lexi, what about the files? I called and spoke to a guy named Lucas but he was dragging his feet."

  "I'll talk to my colleagues again. If they agree, Garrett, you'll get access."

  "Sounds good," said Garrett. To me, he pointed at Damien and said, "Glad you brought this guy in. He's got some fresh ideas.” Then, to Damien, he said, “Remind me to let your captain know how much we appreciate your assistance in this investigation. It can't be easy for you."

  "Please," said Damien. "Don't say another thing. There's a clamor about the lieutenant job opening and I don't want people thinking I'm calling in favors just to get a leg up."

  "They'd think that?" asked Garrett.

  Damien nodded. "It's getting pretty tense. I'm glad I took some vacation time."

  "My wife is bugging me about taking vacation time," smiled Garrett. "There's some quaint, little, mountain town she wants to visit. Apparently, I have to go with her. That said, she mentioned something about not taking the kids with us, so remind me to file my vacation request."

  "I don't know why you aren't filing that request now," said Maddox.

  "Bigger things, buddy," said Garrett. "Much bigger things."

  "If you solve this, I'll pay for your vacation," I said, the thought of Solomon's check pinging in my head. I hadn't cashed it yet, or done anything with it. The idea of cashing it meant Solomon would never wake up. In which case, he was right to leave it to me.

  "If I solve this, you two should come too," said Garrett. "You both need a break."

  "Then who would solve all the crimes in this city?" I asked. Garrett nodded to Maddox. Maddox laughed.

  "I'm gonna step out and make some calls," said Damien.

  "Take the office across the room," said Garrett, standing up and walking around his desk to show Damien where to go. "There's a phone in there you can use along with anything else you need."

  "Thanks," said Damien. He already had his phone to his ear before he left the room.

  "Nice guy," said Garrett. "He's been a lot of help in this case. I felt kind of strange about it at first since he's Solomon's brother but he's got a smart brain and he came up with a lot of suggestions that we're following up on. Neither of us ever imagined there could be any gang connection though."

  "I'm glad he's able to help. I think he'd feel useless if he weren't here. You've helped him focus his efforts in a good way," I said.

  "You spend much time with him?"

  "No, the first time I met him was after Solomon got shot. We never managed to get together before. Actually, I was pretty surprised to hear he was working with Boston PD."

  "Damien said he transferred there a few months back. You'd think he'd want to reconnect with his family."

  "I figured he was a lone wolf like Solomon," I said.

  "Solomon might have been that way a long time ago, but he hasn't been alone for quite a while now," said Garrett. "You probably destroyed his peace."

  "If you're going to do something, you should always try to do it well," teased Maddox. "Why did Damien transfer to Boston if it wasn't to be closer to his brother and sister?"

  "Anastasia lives in New York," I explained. "So, he probably saw her more when he was there. As for why he moved, I don't know. I don't recall Solomon saying anything. Maybe he planned to reconnect with Solomon but never found the time. You heard what he said about the promotion. He's probably been really busy with whatever that might entail."

  Garrett murmured agreeable noises, then said, "Maybe you'll all see each other more often now. Solomon might need some help through his recovery."

  "Speaking of which, can I use your phone to call Delgado for an update?"

  "Here." Garrett handed me the phone and I stepped outside the room.

  "Any news, Garrett?" asked Delgado. "How's Lexi?"

  "I'm fine, it's me," I said. "Are you with Solomon?"

  "Never left his side," he said. "I'm rotating with Fletcher and Flaherty. We're patting down every doctor and nurse we don't recognize before they can enter."

  "I'm sure that's going well," I said, trying to imagine the medical personnel getting the treatment from my touchy colleagues.

  "Everyone is cooperating. They're all pretty shook up about the shooting so they fully understand. The good news is Solomon won't know a thing and the doctors say he's even showing some improvement."

  "Really?" My hopes soared.

  "Yeah, no word of a lie. When are you getting here?"

  "As soon as I can. Garrett wants me to keep out of sight until they pick up the hit man but I'm not sure it's totally necessary. Mooch was dumped on PD's doorstep this morning. Garrett just interviewed him and he says there wasn't any hit on me."

  "Doesn't matter if someone shot at you anyway. I agree with Garrett. Lie low and get in touch whenever you can. I won't leave Solomon. I promise."

  "There's one more thing. I think we should let Garrett take a look at our files. There's a possibility that this hit could have something to do with the Niners but we don't know why or how yet. Could there be anything in our files that might explain everything?"

  "So far as I know, we've never worked a case involving them."

  "That's what I thought too, but maybe it's not as obvious as directly involving them."

  "Turning our cases over exposes both us and our clients."

  "What if the eyes on them are limited to a precious few?"

  "That could work. There're too many cases to send over and many of them are archived already in a secure facility. It would probably be easier to search the digital files. If the pairs of eyes were strictly limited to Garrett and someone he trusts, we could work something out."

  I hung up and returned the phone to Garrett, feeling a brief moment of elation, before I hit a horrible low. If I couldn't get out anywhere, how was I supposed to help? I couldn't interview anyone. I couldn't go home. I couldn't stake out Frederickstown or even bug the Niners' suspected boss at his fancy Bedford Hills house. I was useless. One thing I hated was feeling useless, unless it was helping me to recuperate in some way.

  The answer came to me as I stared at the stack of business cards on Garrett's desk. While he and Maddox spoke, I slipped my hand into my pocket, feeling the small card that I deposited there. Duncan O'Malley's hotline. He already delivered once. Would it hurt to ask him again? Despite that he scared the crap out of everyone else I knew, he appeared to exhibit genuine friendship and a deep loyalty for Solomon. I wasn't sure what he might ask for in return, if anything at all. The longer I thought about it, the more the lifeline he offered me seemed to be my only option.

  "Maddox, can I borrow that burn phone?" I asked.

  "Sure. You want to call your mom?" he asked, patting his pockets for it.

  "Yes," I replied while crossing my fingers behind my back. "Thanks," I said as I took it from him. "I'll head out here and leave you two to talk."

  In the corridor, I fished the card from my pocket and dialed the number. It went directly to messages. "Hi," I began hesitantly since I didn't know who would be listening to it or if it would be recorded forever. If Mikey and Mooch had anything to offer me by way of learning about criminal enterprise, it was a clear warning not to be so stupid. I wasn’t about to leave a direct message that could be used against me in court later.

  "Thank you for the delivery and gift. I really appreciate it. I wonder if yo
u heard about all the excitement after you left yesterday? One of the guests departed before we got the chance to talk and he didn't leave his contact details but he might have been somewhere near Ninth Street. It would be great if he visited us again. I don't have my phone with me but I hope we can talk soon. Bye!" I hung up, wondering why I left such a cheerful goodbye but figured it fitted in well with the cryptic message. I was sure Duncan O'Malley would know exactly which unwelcome guest I was referring to. I only hoped he could work his network and produce him soon. I wanted to say more about the Niners but I had no doubt O'Malley had already connected those dots long before we did, since he located Mooch so quickly.

  One thing I was sure about: the Niners had nothing to do with O'Malley. I couldn't see him being thrilled about business contacts taking shots at his friend. All I could hope for was that O'Malley had plenty of gift wrap.

  I called my mom next and she answered the phone with a cautious, "Hello?"

  "Mom, it's me."

  "Lexi, thank the Lord! I was afraid someone was calling with bad news."

  "No one would call you in that case. They'd simply knock on your door."

  "That would be so much better," said Mom dryly.

  "Didn't Garrett call you?"

  "Yes, but he wouldn't tell me anything and that doesn't stop me from worrying. I'm your mom. It's what I do. Lily's here and she's worried about you too."

  "Tell her I'm okay."

  "When can you come over? Or should we come see you at the hospital?"

  "I can't come over. Not yet anyway," I told her, "but say hi to Lily and Dad and I'll call you again as soon as I can."

  "Where are you?"

  Garrett didn't give me express instructions not to say where I was, but he didn't say I could either. Plus, what if the phones were tapped? Maddox kept insisting it was a good thing I left my phone behind. He dismantled his and was already prepared with another burner, which made me wonder: what did he need to be prepared for?

  "I'll call you soon, Mom. I promise," I said and hung up before she made me feel any guiltier than I already felt. My parents were worried. My family was worried. My fiancé was in a coma and surrounded by armed guards and I couldn't get to him. His family were worried. And... my cheeks burned when I remembered last night... I kissed Maddox. My guilt was so overwhelming, I seriously wondered if I should cash the million dollar check, hire a therapist, and take up residency on the couch while I talked it out for the next decade.