by Jeff Abbott
‘Oh.’
‘The owner of the club, Paul Bellini’ – she put an emphasis on the last name – ‘got gunned down in a parking lot last night. His Porsche was abandoned near Shepherd and Alabama. It was wiped clean of prints. Oddly enough, there was a van parked not far from where Bellini’s body was found. Gooch’s van.’
Whit let go of her hand.
‘So I’m freaking, I’m calling hospitals, Whit, not knowing if you and Gooch are dead or alive. Eventually I find Gooch here. You haven’t talked to the police about all this, have you, Whit?’
‘I told the doctors my friend had gone missing for a few hours, turned up beaten and sick. They gave the information to the police. They ran a check, found his van was near the Bellini death scene. They came back and talked to me. I told them I didn’t know why his van was there. And Gooch isn’t up for much questioning yet.’
‘So you lied to the police.’ Claudia couldn’t keep the outrage out of her voice.
‘Tell them what you suspect. I don’t care.’
‘You came to Houston to find the Bellinis. You sure as hell found them, Whit.’
‘So where’s Bucks now?’
‘They questioned him and let him go. His story is that this Jose Peron is a hit man hired by disgruntled Energis investors to get rid of him.’
Whit raised an eyebrow. ‘They bought that?’
‘No. The man killed at Bucks’ place, a guy named MacKay, is a suspected drug dealer and hit man himself. But never arrested with cause. They don’t have a charge against Bucks, other than fleeing the scene of a crime. His apartment was clean. There’s nothing hard yet to connect Bucks to any illegal activity. He drove around Houston all night, slept in his car, then drove to Polo’s house this morning. The police are talking with his girlfriend, to see if she’ll give him up.’
‘Bucks is out there,’ Whit said. ‘Thanks for telling me.’
‘I get the feeling it’s not telling, it’s warning.’ She paused. ‘Where’s your mother?’
‘I have no idea. Dead, probably.’
‘Whit.’ She touched his knee; he didn’t move. ‘I’m sorry.’
He said nothing.
‘Wait.’ Her eyes widened. ‘Does that mean you found her? Or didn’t?’
‘It doesn’t matter, Claudia.’
‘You found her.’
‘Found and lost,’ he said. ‘Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?’
‘What does that mean? She ran away from you again?’ Then she said, softly, ‘Did you kill Paul Bellini?’
‘No.’
‘You can tell me if you did, Whit. It’s okay…’
He crossed his arms, gave her a crooked smile. ‘And why is it okay if I killed Bellini? Because he was scum?’
‘I didn’t say it was okay if you killed him. I said it was okay if you told me.’
‘I absolutely didn’t kill him. Neither did Gooch.’
‘What really happened to Gooch?’
‘Gooch can tell you all about it,’ Whit said, ‘on that long drive home.’
‘And you’re doing what? Staying in Houston to play high noon with Bucks?’
‘Thanks for the coffee, but it’s visiting time.’ He stood up and walked away. If Gooch was conscious, now was the time to get their stories straight, whispering to each other under the hum of the medical equipment.
‘Jose Peron’s mother was killed two years ago,’ Vernetta Westbrook said. Claudia sat across from her in the hospital cafeteria, sipping coffee. ‘He was once on the fringes of the Miami drug trade, a guy who didn’t deal anything harder than pot, but after her murder he started taking on the dirty jobs no one else wanted and he accelerated up through the ranks.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Does Judge Mosley know Peron? His Honor like to snort a little coke?’
‘No. Tell me about the mother’s death. Was she dealing?’
‘It’s the kind of story the drug czar tells to boost budgets,’ Vernetta said. ‘Mrs Peron was a high-school drama teacher. Staged Shakespeare in the Projects with underprivileged kids, did volunteer work, well-loved in the community. She walked into a drug deal going down in the school lot. She told the boys to get the hell off school property. They shot her four times.’
‘They catch the guys?’
‘The suspects – two of them, both eighteen – were found floating two days later near the very busy Bahia Mar marina in Fort Lauderdale. Shot in the head.
Dumped rather publicly, the police thought, to make a statement.’
Claudia’s eyes widened. ‘Jose Peron killed them.’
‘He had an airtight alibi. But I talked with the Broward County DA’s office and they believe the guys were offed as a favor to Jose. Then Jose began his heavier involvement in the organization. It’s headed by a guy named Kiko Grace. We got an anonymous tip today that his body was ready and waiting for us, in a leased condo near downtown.’
‘So Peron’s boss is here and dies around the same time as Paul Bellini.’ Claudia felt cold. God, Whit, did you… No. She could not believe it of him.
‘Your judge isn’t saying much more than what you told us. That he hired Chyme to find his mother, that he hasn’t found his mother, and that his friend Guchinski had nothing to do with Paul Bellini’s death. He either is lying or he really doesn’t know. Which is it, Claudia?’
‘I’m not a mind reader. If he says he doesn’t know, I have to believe him.’
‘I don’t,’ Vernetta said. ‘I don’t have to believe him at all. We’ll invite him for a long leisurely chat for hours on end.’
‘You won’t convince one judge to sign a warrant to arrest a fellow judge without hard cause.’
Vernetta shook her head. ‘Mosley’s a rural JP, not even a lawyer. He’s nothing to the judges here.’
‘Why don’t you drag in Greg Buckman again? He was friends with Bellini, and Peron and Grace must’ve wanted Buckman dead if Peron came after him with guns blazing. Leave Whit alone. Buckman’s clearly in the middle of this.’
‘We’ve got tit for tat. Kiko Grace comes here, wants to move into Houston drug territory. He whacks Bellini. Bellini’s group whacks Grace. Or vice versa, it doesn’t matter who died first. They have a short little war and then it’s done. Peron shooting for Bucks is the next stage of the war. Let them kill each other. They’re a cancer.’
‘You have no problem with murder, Vernetta. Assuming innocent people don’t get hurt.’
‘That’s not so. And your pet judge isn’t innocent, Claudia. He knows more than he’s saying.’
‘If Grace is Miami-based, Jose Peron might head back to Florida and pull forces in here.’
‘I hope he goes home. Stays there and runs Grace’s ring. You wonder why a guy would get involved in the trade that killed his mother. Shortest line to revenge, I guess.’
‘Yes,’ Claudia said. But Vernetta had a point. It made her wonder. ‘None of your informants have skinny on Peron?’
‘He’s too new in town. Nothing yet.’
‘When Leonard Guchinski’s well enough to travel, and assuming he’s not charged with anything, I’m taking him back to Port Leo. It’s a long drive. He’s a friend, of sorts. I can hope he’ll talk.’ She stood.
‘Talk more than your precious judge, at least,’ Vernetta said. ‘But let me ask you a hard question. Guchinski talks, or Mosley talks to you, in confidence, tells you the truth of what’s happened between all these people, what do you do, Claudia? Rat on your friends if they’ve broken the law?’
‘I’ll worry about that when I cross that bridge.’
‘Girlfriend,’ Vernetta said, ‘you’re running out of road.’
41
Eve no longer knew if it was day or night. After killing Kiko, Jose had given her another painkiller, bound her, dumped her in the back of a black Suburban, tossed a cover over her, driven into the dark of Houston. She slipped into the emptiness, dreamed of gunfire, heard Jose jumping back in the car. Then driving, fast, short, lots of sharp turns that made her nauseated, the
n a long haul on the highway. She fell asleep.
She woke to a radio, tuned to jazz, played soft as a gentle whisper in the dark. Jose bound her to a narrow cot, then sat by her with a syringe in his hand, sliding the needle under her skin while she protested, pumped her full of chemical bliss that made her head hazy and cloudy and sweet. She was conscious of Jose coming in once, feeding her a chocolate shake and a package of lukewarm French fries. Then another shot. In the darkness once, cool water sponged on her face, her hands, a kindness, then medicine daubed the back of her mouth, where her teeth had been, across her busted lips. The taste of the medicine lingered a long while. When her thoughts became clearer she remembered Kiko, his face blown away. But mostly she thought of Whit.
Whit. Here and gone. Like the life she should have had. She wanted to cry but her face felt too numb to know whether or not she was weeping. An ache that defied the drugs settled in along her arms, her chest, her jaw, like years of unshed tears letting her know they waited for release. She slept. Awoke in the dark. Listened. Heard voices, a man and a woman.
Her purse lay on the floor, all its contents spilled across the carpet. Makeup, brush, a package of mints. Her gun was gone. And something else. She tried to remember what was in her purse that would matter so much. The room was small, carpet the color of clay, the ceiling old and worn. It had the impersonal dimensions of an office. Boards covered the one window.
She tried to reason it out. They knew she didn’t have the money. They found the money? Or had they had it all along? They didn’t need her. But they did. They’d kept her alive. Through the fog she remembered he had called her the key. Key to what?
She made a noise in her throat, tongued her numb, parched lips.
They were keeping her for bait.
The idea rose up, tumbled back into the mess of her drugged brain. If they wanted her alive, it was because they wanted Whit.
The door opened. Jose stood in the doorway, smoking a cigarette. He shut the door behind him, crossed to the bureau, extinguished the cigarette in a small plastic ashtray.
‘Secondhand smoke’s bad for you,’ he said. His voice was quiet but not warm.
She said, ‘What are you going to do with me?’ Her voice didn’t sound like her own anymore.
Feed you. Eggs. Toast. Sound okay? Mouth up to eating, or you want another shake?’
‘Depends. Is it my last meal?’
‘I told you that you were valuable to me.’ Now he smiled, a bully’s knowing, taunting grin.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘You’re Open Sesame,’ he said. ‘You’re gonna tell us how they do it. How they hide and move the money.’
‘They.’
He smiled. ‘We’ll start with Kiko Grace’s organization and his rivals back in south Florida.’
A cold nausea prickled her guts.
‘Then the Dominicans in Dallas and New Orleans. The cartels in New York and Los Angeles. You’re gonna help us break their backs.’ Jose’s voice went low. ‘We call ourselves Public Service. We do what the cops can’t. Take the war on drugs to the streets. We get in with the dealers. Learn their setup. Then we kill the leaders, gut the organization, take their money and go after the next group.’ He leveled a hard look at her. ‘Dealers killed my mom.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘No you’re not. You’re not one bit sorry, bitch. What was my mother to you or your kind?’
The door opened. Tasha Strong stepped inside. Beautiful face stern. A gun in her hand, barrel lowered.
‘Tasha?’ Eve blinked. ‘Tasha?’
‘ “O tiger’s heart wrapp’d in a woman’s hide!” ’ Jose quoted, making guns with his fingers, grinning at Tasha.
‘Don’t give her more of a headache with that crap,’ Tasha said. ‘Mouth better, Eve?’
Eve managed to nod.
‘She’s been tending to you. She worked Paul’s side, I worked Kiko’s.’ Jose smiled. ‘Tasha lost her brother to a drug gang. It tends to gnaw at you, knowing that the police alone can never beat these people. So we work together. Dozens of us.’
Eve glanced over at the spill of her purse. The CD Whit took from Tasha. It was gone. ‘The cooked books…’ she said.
‘Those files that listed other revenue sources for Paul on the CD? Faked. By Tasha and me. Paul gave her access to your house so she could check your finances, see if Frank had been doing any more stealing. But that was a chance to copy those fake files to your hard drive after she copied your real financial files without anyone knowing. False trail for the authorities to follow if you got caught or killed right away. She already planted those files on the computers at the Topaz after you vanished. We didn’t want the Feds grabbing the Bellini money before we could. But that’s not a worry. Now that we have you. See? We plan as thoroughly as you do.’
She closed her eyes. ‘You want me to help you, but I can’t. I don’t know how other rings clean their money.’
‘You know the tricks. The processes. Like, I’m intrigued, the exchange place for Kiko’s money being done at what appears to be a simple insurance company. You cleaning money through insurance policies?’
‘Yeah.’ Suddenly there was no point in not telling him. ‘You buy a life insurance policy, overseas, then cash it out a few months later and transfer the money back into the country. You don’t get watched as closely. It’s a loophole I found. You can move millions in short order and there’s no question of legitimacy.’
Jose patted her cheek. ‘Sweet lady, you’re exactly what we need to destroy the worst people in this country.’
‘I said, I can’t.’
‘You got a choice,’ he said. ‘Help us, give us what we want, crack open the vaults for the major dealers in this country, or watch Whit Mosley die. Slowly. Painfully.’
Tears of anger, frustration, welled up in her eyes. ‘But Whit’s not a drug dealer, he’s not Kiko or Paul.’
‘Definitely. He’s a judge, a justice of the peace down on the coast,’ Tasha said.
Eve gave a sharp little laugh. ‘A judge.’
‘I had a chance to kill him when I killed Paul, and I didn’t,’ Tasha said. ‘You owe me one. Don’t forget it.’
‘I don’t consider your partner a good guy,’ Jose said. ‘He’s a guy who could cause us a lot of trouble. And if you want him to keep breathing, you do what you’re told.’
‘Eve,’ Tasha said. ‘I kissed Paul, slept with him, listened to him cry about his dad. Then I killed him. We won’t show Whit one moment of mercy if you don’t help us.’
‘Don’t hurt him,’ Eve pleaded. ‘I’ll do whatever you want.’
They left her alone in the room, an old office at one end of the warehouse, walked to the other end of the warehouse.
‘You think she’ll cooperate?’ Jose said. ‘With what she knows, she could accelerate our schedules.’
‘No,’ Tasha said. ‘We need her son. Whit.’
‘Son?’
‘Look at him, look at her, Jose. It’s obvious. If he was just her business partner she wouldn’t plead for him like that.’ Tasha shook her head. ‘She’s been in the business for thirty years and was never caught. She’s forgotten more than most people know. She could lead us down blind alley after blind alley, slow us down without us even knowing. We need Whit where she can see him hurt. Hear him scream.’ Tasha touched Jose’s shoulder. ‘Weigh his life against all the lives we save doing this. The innocents. The kids. He’s nothing compared to them. He’s the guarantee she’ll work her best.’
‘But the police are looking for me. I don’t know if I can hunt him around Houston. We don’t even know if he’s in town.’ Frustration in his voice.
‘You want him as bait to get her to deliver what we need,’ Tasha said. God, men could be dense at times. She already had a plan. ‘It works both ways. Use her as bait to get him.’
‘Only works if we can find him to have a conversation,’ Jose said. ‘Eve won’t want to get him anywhere close to us. She won’t talk.�
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Tasha frowned at this hard, unappealing truth. ‘Try Frank Polo,’ she said. ‘He’s dumb as a stump but maybe he knows how to find Eve’s son. His number’s on my cell phone.’
‘Just call him up and ask him where Whit is?’
‘Make it worth his while. He’s gonna be signing autographs on the unemployment line with Paul dead. Or maybe tell him he gets Eve back if he helps us.’ Tasha went back in to feed Eve, make sure she ate. When she came out of the office, Jose was clicking off her cell phone and smiling as though he’d won the lottery.
‘I just had me,’ Jose said, ‘one brilliant idea to kill two birds with one stone.’
Monday afternoon thin rain fell from the sky, clouds wandering in from the Gulf, and the wet lot of Club Topaz, closed, was empty. But it was where Robin agreed to meet Claudia. Robin sat in Claudia’s passenger seat. Claudia handed her a coffee, one of those cinnamontoffee-mocha latte creations that was sweeter than a box of candy.
‘Her name is Tasha Strong,’ Robin Melvin said. ‘Tasha dances here. Nice girl but a little uppity. Paul was all crazy about her.’
‘Have you seen her since Paul died?’ Claudia asked.
‘No. She’s probably scared to death. I sure am,’ Robin said.
‘These aren’t good people, Robin. I know you have feelings for Greg Buckman-’
‘No. I had hopes.’ She said the word like it left a bitter taste in her mouth. ‘I knew he wasn’t the nicest guy on the planet but I thought, if he and I could get away from these people, he would be better. All that goal stuff he says. He wants to be better. But I’m not sticking around for the home improvement anymore.’
‘Can’t change ’em, Robin,’ Claudia said. Tried not to think of Whit.
‘Clearly not.’ Robin poked at her puffy lip. ‘I never, ever, had a guy hit me. Not once. I swore I would never put up with that Lifetime-movie shit. And he did it, and I was so surprised I acted a fool. I’m sorry.’
‘It’s okay, don’t apologize.’
‘But I want to help. I don’t know anything about any illegal stuff, okay? I told the police that about a dozen times. They don’t believe me, they think Bucks must have talked plenty on the pillow.’ She lowered her voice. ‘He never did. But Bucks wanted me to watch Tasha. So I’m guessing she knew bad shit about him and Paul. I searched her changing room, where she keeps her stuff. Nothing odd. A few pictures.’
