by Jeff Abbott
‘For now.’
‘Prove it to me.’
‘He’s unconscious. Not in good shape.’
‘How do I know you have him?’
‘Hmmm,’ Bucks said. ‘His name is Gooch but his ID says Jim O’Connor.’
Whit closed his eyes ‘I assume you’re not just calling to gloat.’
‘Of course not. I’m calling to discuss Gooch’s future.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘I’ll guarantee Gooch’s safety. You give me half of the five million. You keep the other half.’
‘We don’t have the money,’ Whit said.
‘I think it would hurt poor Gooch’s feelings to know you don’t value his life.’
‘I do. But we don’t have the money,’ Whit said again, but then thinking: maybe Gooch told them we do to keep them from killing him, so play along to buy time, dumbass. But if Bucks has the money, this is nothing but a trap.
He had to choose. Now.
‘There are people hunting you right now, asshole. People who make me look like an Eagle Scout, okay? This is really your best option. And I’ve got a 9-millimeter aimed right between Gooch’s eyes at the moment. He’s asleep and he’ll never know what hit him. I suppose that’s a mercy. Oh, wait, I feel a hand spasm coming on-’
‘Okay,’ Whit said. ‘Okay. I’ll deal.’ Eve stared at him, shook her head.
‘You have until tomorrow at six p.m.,’ Bucks said. I’ll call you back with details. Call the police, the Feds, your friend dies. In a fashion that won’t be pleasant. And then we’ll come after you and Eve anyway.’
‘Since we’re negotiating,’ Whit said. ‘There’s a little matter of way cool data we have. Computer records about Paul Bellini’s accounts. The paper trail that leads to fat federal indictments. Release Gooch. Tell Paul to cancel the hit on Eve. Right away.’
There was silence for a moment, then a soft laugh. ‘I admire the ballsitude, man. Truly. You’re a focused individual. But I know what was on that computer, and it was crap that doesn’t matter. That laptop’s got nothing. You think I wouldn’t check her files as soon as Eve went running? Whatever you got, it’s nothing to me. Six o’clock tomorrow, man. I’ll call you back with details.’ He hung up.
‘Jesus,’ Whit said. ‘Is he a moron?’ He told Eve what had been said.
‘Bucks has the money,’ she said. ‘It’s a trap.’
‘I don’t think he does.’ But then Whit stopped, thought it through. ‘Unless Paul was listening in on that call and it’s all for show. And Bucks knows we’ll say we have the money just to save Gooch.’
‘That’s a distinct possibility,’ she said.
‘But then, why not spring the trap immediately? Why give us until tomorrow to deliver the money?’
Eve shook her head. ‘The money’s got to be due to Kiko in the next day or so. If they have it earlier, they can close the deal earlier. Bucks doesn’t want that deal closed now.’
Whit rubbed his face, paced. ‘I don’t think Paul was on that call. More likely Bucks wants Paul and Kiko both badly off-balance. He could have taped that call, play it for insurance if he needs it. It makes him look better than us, even when he said he’d deal for half the money. The question is who has the money, and I’ve just admitted to it. Shit!’ He punched hard at the sofa cushions.
She hugged him. ‘It’s okay, you did it for Gooch. But let’s keep our thinking simple and clear, Whit,’ Eve said. ‘I still think Bucks has the money right now. He needs as many fingers pointing away from him as possible. So he keeps Gooch as a tool to keep us in line but also as a means to delay the deal – he can say he’s in negotiations with us that only stay open as long as Gooch is alive. He’s got our hands tied and Paul’s hands tied. Either until he can vanish with the money or cut a separate deal with Kiko that shuts out Paul and leaves him on top.’
‘And he’s not afraid of the cooked-book computer records. That doesn’t make sense. He should be scared to death-’
‘But he’s not,’ Eve said. ‘Because he’s not staying with the Bellinis, so he’s not worried about getting caught with them. He’s playing every side against the other because he’s flying.’
‘I played right into his hands,’ Whit said. ‘He-’
Eve put a finger to his lips. ‘Someone just came in the back door,’ she whispered.
27
‘I blew off a third date for you,’ Vernetta Westbrook said.
‘I appreciate your sacrifice,’ Claudia said.
‘I suspect he has back-hair issues,’ Vernetta said in her rasp. ‘But a sweet guy. I’m on the fence in that petty, should-I-date-him-again way.’
The two women sat under the not-moving ceiling fans of the Goode Company barbecue restaurant on Kirby, the air heavy with winter damp and the wood-scent of ribs and brisket. Their plates held shreds of stray meat and onion and pickle chunks mired in barbecue sauce. The benches under the fans were mostly empty; it was too cool for outside dining but Vernetta smoked.
They had eaten their way past the awkwardness of old school friends who have not spoken in too long. They covered Claudia’s failed marriage, the embarrassing level of coverage she’d gotten in capturing a serial killer on the coast, Vernetta’s move from defense lawyer to working at the Harris County DA’s Special Crimes bureau, her endless parade of wrong guys, mutual college friends’ misfortunes and triumphs.
The meal done, Vernetta opened a fresh Shiner Bock, lit a cigarette, and took a relaxed puff. Claudia edged toward the subject she’d wanted to touch. ‘So for real, how are you liking working for the DA’s office?’
‘Now we’re getting to the favor,’ Vernetta said. ‘Work-related. Color me surprised.’
‘I have a friend who was murdered here a couple of days ago. Harry Chyme.’
‘God, I’m sorry.’ Vernetta bit at her lip, tapped ashes into her plate.
‘Does his name ring a bell, Vernetta?’
‘You mean has the special crimes division gotten involved in the case?’ Vernetta poked at a dollop of coleslaw on her plate. ‘I’m not sure.’
Claudia could smell a blow-off coming. ‘Arturo Gomez is the investigating officer. You know him? He hasn’t returned my calls yet.’
‘Gomez is very capable. Very ambitious. I imagine he sees police chief ahead of his name one day.’ Vernetta blew out a stream of smoke. ‘You have information on the case or are you wanting to dig around?’
‘Before I go barreling in as the rural cop and make myself look stupid I’d like to know the players. Obviously Harris County has a much more elaborate setup than what I’m used to in Encina County. So can you give me the lay of the land?’
Vernetta raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, from my side of the map, the DA’s Special Crimes Division, we’re involved in crimes where the police department needs the input of lawyers. We focus on gangs, narcotics, major and consumer fraud, major offender and theft rings, asset forfeiture.’
‘You reacted like you’d heard Harry’s name.’
‘I have.’ But then she sipped her beer again, and Claudia waited. She had to be careful. She wanted to give the Houston authorities whatever help she could in Harry’s case, but she didn’t want to get Whit in trouble. Something was terribly wrong, when Whit would not talk to her, when he would warn her off and tell her to go back to Port Leo.
Maybe he had information, and he hadn’t contacted the authorities. He might be breaking the law in this crazy search for his mother.
Claudia waited, sipped tea. Finally Vernetta stubbed out the cigarette.
‘Tell me why you’re meeting with me instead of Gomez if you’ve got info.’
‘I need to know details of the case before I go in and talk to him,’ Claudia said.
‘Why?’
‘I just do, and I know we haven’t talked in a while, because life gets in the way, but I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. Please. I can tell you know more than you’re saying.’
Vernetta lit a fresh cigarette. ‘Harry Chy
me and a senior VP from Coastal United Bank named Richard Doyle were found shot to death in an insurance office on McCarty, one exit up from the Port of Houston. The office is owned by an eighty-three-year-old insurance agent named Joe Alvarez. We’re not sure who all his insurance clients are, but his family lives rather well. Since yesterday, the Alvarezes have their lawyers talking for them, which means they’re saying nothing.’ She shrugged. ‘I suspect our office will serve a grand jury subpoena on Mr Alvarez by Monday morning if he’s not more forthcoming.’
‘What if he doesn’t talk or takes the Fifth?’
‘Then we give him a grant of immunity. That way, he can’t take the Fifth. He refuses to answer then, he’s in contempt of the grand jury.’
‘So Alvarez is covering for someone.’
‘McCarty Street’s not exactly a hotbed of high-dollar insurance clients,’ she said. ‘I bet Alvarez Insurance is a front. We’ll find a connection between Doyle and Alvarez as we subpoena Alvarez client records and records from the insurance companies.’ She took a sip of beer. ‘Doyle was known as a high-roller, heavy gambler. We’ve started going through his finances, and he seemed to have very heavy debt. But he had clean hands at the bank.’
‘So far.’
‘So far. Divorced a few years ago, alienated from his teenage kids, the kind of guy who’d bet on paint drying.’ She paused. ‘Most likely Doyle owed money and didn’t pay. What we haven’t known is Harry Chyme’s connection. Do you know?’
Claudia took a deep breath. ‘Harry was investigating a case with a loose connection to the Bellini family. I take it you’re familiar with them?’
Vernetta let nearly ten seconds pass before she answered. ‘Oh, sure. They were being watched from the moment they arrived in Houston. But they’ve stayed clean. Mrs Bellini is old Houston money, a debutante who never outgrew the gown. Her husband’s set himself up as an art importer. They haven’t gotten into trouble.’
‘Are you sure?’
Vernetta tapped her nails on the worn wood of the picnic table. ‘Trouble that could be proved, let me say. There was a little dust-up a few years ago. Anonymous tip that they were dealing drugs, not anything you could get a warrant on, but a hotshot investigator decided to chat with Tommy Bellini, went to his house. Mr Bellini and hotshot got into an argument. Hotshot shoved Bellini down in a marble foyer, Bellini got a fractured hip. He sued HPD. Big mess. Almost funny, a guy who was certainly ex-mob suing the cops for brutality. HPD paid through the nose, people lost careers over it. They’ve left the Bellinis alone, but in fairness, they’ve had no serious reason to look at them again. Don’t expect the police to rush at the Bellinis without hard evidence. They don’t want another killer lawsuit.’
Claudia considered. ‘Say Doyle had a connection to the Bellinis, and Harry was trying to get information from him. The Bellinis didn’t want Doyle talking to Harry.’
‘Or Harry got caught with Doyle at the wrong time. Or these gamblers, Claudia, they get in deep real fast. The level of debt can quickly rise into six figures, and they get desperate and scared. Maybe Doyle was trying to sell info on the Bellinis to Harry.’ Vernetta tapped fingernails on the table. ‘I’ like to know about this case Harry was working.’
‘A friend of mine… his mother had not been in touch with him for many years. Harry thought a woman working for the Bellinis was my friend’s mom.’
‘Gomez is attacking this case from every angle Doyle brings to it, not from anything to do with the Bellini family. You better talk to him.’
‘Yes,’ Claudia said, her stomach twisting, the smell of the barbecue suddenly making her queasy. ‘I think I better.’
‘The Bellinis?’ Arturo Gomez said. ‘You got any proof?’ They stood on the lawn of Richard Doyle’s ex-wife’s house, where Gomez had been questioning her about Doyle’s acquaintances and where he agreed to meet Claudia and Vernetta.
‘No,’ Claudia said. Gomez was immaculately groomed in a gray suit, haircut no older than two days and still styled as though he’d just left the salon. Fortyish, ready to make the career leapfrog from investigator to executive and a shade impatient.
‘Maybe the Bellinis lent him money,’ Vernetta said.
‘I’ve got two detectives and an accountant going through Doyle’s finances. So far we’ve found he owes money to at least three small-scale loan sharks who hang at the racetracks and at the Biloxi casinos. But no one we can connect to the Bellini family.’ He laughed. ‘It hasn’t exactly occurred to anyone. They keep their noses clean.’
‘Perhaps Doyle used the small sharks for his gambling loans, and the Bellinis for bigger amounts,’ Claudia said.
‘How big is Port Leo?’ Gomez said, not unkindly. ‘You deal with a lot of loan sharking down there between the shrimpers and the retirees?’
‘Claudia bagged a serial killer,’ Vernetta said. ‘You got one on your wall, Art?’
Gomez cleared his throat.
‘Vernetta, don’t,’ Claudia said. ‘Harry was looking for Eve Michaels, and he ended up with Richard Doyle. There has to be a connection.’
‘True enough,’ Gomez said. ‘This friend of yours. I want to talk to him. Now.’
28
They heard the slow click of the back door shutting.
Whit moved through the den to the window that faced onto the backyard. No sign of Charlie’s car in the little curve of driveway. Whit glanced at his mother; she pulled her Beretta from her purse, leveled it at the den’s opening. She shook her head and mouthed the words get down, jerked her head at the couch. Telling him to take cover. He stayed right where he was.
No way that anyone had followed him, not with the chaos of Gooch rescuing him. Unless Gooch broke. Unless he talked.
‘Eve?’ a voice called. ‘Are you here?’ Not Charlie’s voice. Velvety.
She aimed the gun at the door. Whit moved quietly next to her.
‘It’s Frank. I’m alone. Paul, Bucks, nobody knows I’m here.’
Eve glanced at Whit. The gun shook slightly in her hand.
‘I’m coming in. My hands are up. I’m unarmed. I’ve got news about your friend.’ And with that a man stepped into the opening of the den, arms up, fingers spread in high five, open palms, one hand bandaged. He was pale and frowning.
It was the man who had watched Whit from the upstairs window when he jumped from the roof.
‘Eve, baby.’ He glanced over at Whit, then back at Eve. ‘Hi, sweetheart.’
‘How did you find us?’ Eve asked. Her voice was jagged. Not happy.
‘Your friend’s cell phone. I took it without Bucks knowing. It had a call to this number in the call log section. I got a reverse directory on the Internet, I found the address.’ He stared at Whit. ‘Hi. I’m Frank Polo. I’m Eve’s boyfriend.’ He wiggled fingers in a wave.
‘That’s up for discussion,’ Eve said.
‘I’m here to help you, sweetheart. What would Bucks and Paul do to me if I knew where you were and didn’t tell them?’
‘Shut up, Frank. Check him for a gun,’ Eve said. Whit patted Frank down. No gun, no knife, just the paunch of soft flesh under the silky shirt and black slacks.
‘Nothing,’ Whit said.
She lowered the gun. Frank stepped forward. She brought the gun back up.
‘Baby, baby,’ he said quietly and she put the gun down. Frank embraced her, and she stiffened, then sagged against him. She started to cry, then shook her head and wiped the tears away. Frank kissed her forehead, held her, murmured, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ again and again. He looked at Whit.
‘Is your name Whitman Mosley?’ Frank asked.
‘You don’t need to worry about his name,’ Eve said. She stepped away from Frank, wiping at her nose, her eyes.
Frank glanced at Eve’s face, then Whit’s, then Eve’s again. ‘Okay, whatever.’
‘Where’s Gooch?’ Eve said. ‘Our friend.’
‘Bucks has him. They’ve moved him to the house on Lazy Lane. It’s the most secure.’
‘Is he hurt?’ Whit asked.
‘He got a real bad whack on the head. Unconscious but they had our doctor look at him. Bucks wanted to get Gooch moved and get Paul’s mom out of the house. Paul’s sending her to Vegas for the weekend with a friend before they start rough on Gooch to get him to talk.’ Frank paused. ‘Everyone’s believing that Eve stole the money.’
She hit his shoulder, once, twice. ‘Sure they are, thanks to your damned skimming. How could you, Frank, and how could you be so dumb?’
‘I messed up, so I’m here to help you out of this,’ Frank said. He held up his bandaged hand. ‘They’ve already been at me. I can tell you exactly what they’re doing, what they’re planning, so you can get away.’ He took her hand and Whit saw her fingers close around his.
‘What’s your plan?’ Whit said.
‘Before I start sharing my brilliance,’ Frank said, ‘I’d like to know exactly what role you play.’
‘I’m helping Eve,’ Whit said. ‘That’s all you need to know.’
‘You’re the problem,’ Frank said. ‘Bucks and Paul know you got new friends, Eve. That doesn’t mesh well with the money being gone.’
‘You must care about her,’ Whit said, ‘since you’re here at considerable risk.’
‘Considerable ain’t the half of it,’ Frank said. ‘Eve. You’re never gonna convince them you didn’t take the money. So you got to turn. Go into Witness Security. Call the FBI, offer them Bucks and Paul.’
Eve shook her head. ‘You know what happened to Gene O’Brien. And Lydia Mancini. They went into WitSec and they still made the hit parade.’
‘They also were stupid as mules, calling friends in old neighborhoods,’ Frank said. ‘They let a trail be created back to them. You won’t. What else you gonna do?’
‘If I had that five million, I could vanish on my own terms. Anywhere in the world,’ Eve said. Whit shook his head.
‘Bucks ain’t leaving it around to be found or mouthing off about how smart he is,’ Frank said. ‘Was this the idea behind hiding the voice recorders? We found one in the kitchen. But they’re tearing the house apart. Max already found three.’
