Cold Dead Hands (A Mike Casper Thriller Book 1)

by Sebastian Blunt

  “The truth is that she probably eliminates anyone who can point the finger at her. That’s why she bothered going after me. I had to die to close a ‘what if’ scenario so that she could move on. Right now, Claire is thinking about how to find me and kill me. She might even know who I am.”

  “Right,” Kim whispered back to him. “And who are you?”

  He grumbled. She noticed. “If you tell anyone, then I’m not banking with you in the future.”

  “That seems fair,” was her response.

  “Mike.”

  “Nice. Mike—?”

  He growled. “Casper.”

  “They made us watch those cartoons in black and white when I was in boarding school.”

  “No clue as to what you’re talking about,” he smirked.

  It was the lightest moment she’d had in two days, but then she became instantly serious. “What about that woman?”

  “I think you should take your brother back to San Pedro. Be with your family and let me deal with her. There’s a lot you don’t know about me—I’ve seen a lot of ugly things. You’re a good person, Kim, and your soul is untainted if you believe in that sort of thing; there is no need for you to take risks.”

  She shook her head. “I’m an adult. Don’t I get to decide that?”

  Casper twisted in his large, business-class seat. He reached out and took her hand tightly. “It’s not only about your brother, Ken. What I have to do has to be stealthy and perfect. If you cause me to screw it up, I go to jail or get dead, and there will be no justice. I owe it to the woman I pledged my life to protect. This isn’t a Grimm’s fairytale. It’s about ending her career as a killer. Do you have experience in doing that?”

  He eased off of Kim’s hand and leaned back. It felt warm in the cabin now.

  “I have zero experience, but I’m a fast learner. And when it comes to finding errors or holes in a plan—”

  “Yes. I get that you’re smart. Smarter than me, most likely. But this isn’t a formula. There are people after me, and they don’t give a damn if you get splattered as collateral damage. What about the rest of your family?”

  “Like who? My mother has Alzheimer’s. My father is gone. I only have my uncle at the bank, and his kids all moved to Texas.” She looked at her watch. “That pretty much leaves my schedule open for you to teach me how to stay safe.”

  Mike rolled his eyes. “I am street smart. Assuming that they find out that I’m back in the city, the people in New York are not into negotiating. They will shoot me down in an instant, and you too. You can still have a nice future.”

  “And you can’t?” Kim was starting to get pissed.

  “I had everything. Claire took it. And if it hadn’t been her, then the mob people might have killed me. I’m not optimistic, and that’s probably a good thing because it will make it easier to do what I have to do.”

  “I don’t care. I’m in.”

  “You sound like Cassie.”

  “Was that your friend’s name or an alias?”

  He could have cried right there on their approach to Atlanta. “That was her name.”

  “I’m sorry for you and for me. But I’m going to help.”

  Mike motioned in the direction of the attendant heading their way. “We can argue about this later. For now, please put your tray table back and return your seat to its upright position.”

  Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport was a swarming beehive and anthill combined. The effect of its gargantuan size on Kim was more or less expected. Mike figured out the gate situation, and they got on the Plane Train that ran between international and domestic flights.

  “This isn’t fun.”

  “Just another reason for you to go back to San Pedro.”

  She ignored the comment. Casper looked up and saw the old couple from the plane getting on the train. There were two seats open, so he waved for them to take them—he and Kim would stand.

  “Nice to see you learned some manners.” The old woman gave Mike a wink, but her husband just scowled.

  The train was quick. They got to the gate, and everything went smooth as silk. It occurred to Casper that he was back in America. Kim spent almost seventeen years in the U.S. getting a premium education. She was just as comfortable in the states as Belize.

  They sat in front of the gate as travelers drifted in. New York was the last place he wanted to be, but there was no alternative. He had to get it done for Cassie. Mike could see her, taped to the chair, covered with blood. The image slammed him again.

  There was no doubt that Claire would be getting ready for him. A vicious killer like that psycho never took chances. According to the paper, she had the money to hire a squad to protect her. Then again, maybe that wasn’t her style.

  “Hey. Collin.”

  “Sorry, I was just thinking about stuff.”

  Kim shrugged. “That’s okay. I’m pretty sure that over-thinking is probably a damn good idea.”

  He looked at her. She was 28, smart, pretty, and there was a lot of good in her. Why wasn’t she working in a lab somewhere with a husband and a couple of kids?

  “I want you to re-think partnering up with me.”

  “Mr. Jones.” Kim made a point of sticking with the façade. “You need to let it go. Some things you can’t change. But, when we arrive in New York, we’ve got to get on the same page. Details.”

  Mike nodded. “We’re gonna chill for a while. So don’t expect any excitement. I have a plan. Don’t ask. I’ll tell you when we get our taxi at LaGuardia.” Then he added vaguely, “Or, sometime after.”

  Chapter 24

  “Boring works for me.” Kimberly surveyed the rental house interior. It was in a place called Calverton, Long Island. “It’s got a lot of trees.” She gazed out the window of the single home. The nearest neighbor was 30 yards away.

  “Did you call your contact at the medical examiner?”

  “Yes. He asked me if I could come tomorrow at 11 a.m.”

  “Are you okay?”

  She smiled weakly. It was a best effort. “Not really. I’m not feeling very strong right now.”

  “Alright.” Mike tried to sound encouraging. “It’s ten. There are some noodles and sauce in the kitchen. I’ll cook up spaghetti, and then we can talk.”

  “Do you need help with the pasta?”

  “Nah. Maybe explore the house. Pick a room.”

  Kim twirled the last bit of noodles around her fork. Mike watched her with interest. Academically, he was a natural, but not like the woman sitting across the table. Kim gave off the impression that when needed, she could be very methodical. And yet, when there was no demand on her intellect, it was as if she just shut it off. He could imagine her sitting in a meadow smelling flowers and then spontaneously switching into overdrive to solve hi-tech equations.

  “Let’s go over what you can expect tomorrow.”

  She groaned. “I’m scared.”

  “I understand. Let’s just run through it so that you can manage as best you can. The news said your brother had a wound in his neck. The M.E. will only uncover Ken’s face. He will look pale, even though he is similar in complexion to you. Just focus on his features and make the identification. Only look long enough to verify it is Ken.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you want to remember him when he was alive. The body in the morgue is not your brother. Your brother was the man that you knew your whole life. His body is a container. Your brother isn’t there anymore.”

  “That sounds spiritual.”

  “It is. When my dad was killed in the line of duty, I spent a lot of time thinking about death. I was a teenager. My mom was gone—don’t ask. For me, it just makes sense that there is a spiritual component in every human being. We are made up of two forces that compete—our bodies are part one. Our physical component is just a tool that we can use for good or bad. The other part—our spiritual part is constantly trying to get us to choose the right thing to do.”

  “
And we don’t listen.”

  “No, Kim. Some of us do better than others, but I’ve seen a lot of bad shit out there on the street. The drug business is all about feeding the evil side of humans. I hated every damn second, even though the money was spectacular. The way I was trapped in it—my freedom to choose was destroyed. My only option was to do evil or die. When I got out and ran away to Italy, it was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  “Even though they put a price on your head?”

  “Yep. I went out fishing and washed away all that dirt. I knew that if they found me and killed me, at least I would go out with my soul intact. Your brother left the world like that. He was doing good. I’ll bet he was mostly a good kid, wasn’t he?”

  “He used to hide my toys. It made me crazy.”

  “But you love him, and your memory of him snatching your toys doesn’t make you angry at all, does it?”

  “No. It makes me laugh.”

  Mike sat down on the brown leather sofa across from her and put down a glass of wine on the coffee table between them. “Right, because, even when he was doing fifth-grade tricks that made you want to smack him, he was mostly telling you that he loved you.”

  “I miss him, Mike. I feel like fifty years from now, I will still be empty inside. How the hell will I survive this?”

  “You will always have that feeling like I have with my dad. But, it gets smaller, and you replace the hole with happy memories. And you will tell your grandkids about your brother Ken, the hero.”

  Kim began to cry. Mike didn’t budge; he let her cry it out, knowing that it wouldn’t be the last time. After a while, she wiped her eyes and gave him a feeble smile. “Thank you, Mike. I don’t think I could pull this off on my own. What else do I need to do?”

  “Don’t talk to the cops tomorrow. They will want to chat it up with you because you are pretty, and they are investigating your brother. Just make the identification. Stay strong, and then get in a cab. You’re not coming straight back here.”

  “I’m not? Why not?” she was confused.

  “You’re going to go to the Tanger Outlets at Riverhead. It’s just a little east of here. I’ll meet you there. I want to make sure you aren’t being followed. I will find you. Use the wall phone in the coroner’s office to call the house phone here. Let it ring three times. I will get over to the mall and track you down. Go shopping. Buy yourself some clothes and shoes that you can run in. I’ll give you a big wad of cash. Spend a good amount.”

  “What if you don’t show up?”

  “I will be there. Even if you are there for an hour looking in stores. Don’t get nervous. You’re a woman on vacation shopping. No one except me or someone who’s tailing you will know that you just came from the morgue. I need you to buy some blond hair dye also.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “I would never joke about a thing like that. Can you make my hair look not fake?”

  Kim looked at him. “I’ll read the instructions. Blond’s not really my forte—you did notice my African roots?”

  “I don’t see color, only good and bad.”

  “Alright, we’ll figure it out.”

  “Remember. You can sleep until 8:30. Then the taxi all the way to 26th Street. Do the I.D. and cry a little there, but be strong. To get Claire German, you’re going to have to practice being tough.

  “Maybe it will be easy, but I doubt it. Like I said, the widow knows I’m alive. Leave the M.E. then, after you shop, we’ll get a couple of burner phones, and you will contact the airline and the morgue about taking Ken back to Belize.”

  She looked worn out. Mike rinsed the dishes, checked the locks, shut out the lights, and they both went to sleep.

  The morning brought gray and drizzly weather. Kim was up and dressed an hour early when Mike slithered into the kitchen.

  “How are you feeling?” He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

  “I think the rest helped; surprising because I didn’t expect to sleep at all.”

  “Do you need a review?”

  “No. I’ve got it all memorized. Most important—don’t get into a conversation with the cops. Right?”

  “Yes. But if they ask you questions about your brother, then answer. Just not long diatribes. They might ask if he had a girlfriend or if he knows anyone in New York. Give them straight answers. No more, no less.” He yawned. “Is there coffee?”

  “Yeah, but no milk.”

  “Perfect. Anyone who adds chalk to their brew should be put in irons.”

  “Your way or the highway?”

  Mike smirked. “When it comes to coffee, yes.”

  Kim called a taxi to take her to the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner on East 26th. Those were the police instructions she received by email. The long drive was a daze.

  When she arrived, she paid the cabbie in cash, exited the vehicle, and stared at the building. The imposing brass and glass entry didn’t do anything to alleviate the depth of her anxiety.

  Within seconds, a cop in a suit emerged from the building. She sized him up as being professional, but he looked like he was in a hurry. His smile was out of place.

  “Are you my contact?”

  “Yes. Ms. Manshu. I am Detective Harley, like the motorcycle. Did you receive any correspondence regarding the identification process that we will be doing today?”

  “Yes,” she lied. There was no point in dragging out the pain.

  “So, we’ll be going to the lower level to meet one of the staff members. They’re very caring folks. The New York City M.E. is very concerned about the sensitivities of family members. Are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry,” Harley said as he held open the glass entry door. “I have to see a passport or some other picture I.D. Also, the staff member will need to see it.”

  “Fine. I have my passport.”

  The elevator ride was quick. The surreal part hit her as soon as Kim walked into the cold hallway. It was pale green tile, and there was a series of stainless steel doors spread out on either side of the long corridor. The place seethed an aura of death.

  “Right here, Ms. Manshu. Number 126.”

  She steeled herself. Inside, there were rows of steel drawers with handles. Behind one of them, her brother’s body was covered with a sheet.

  “Is this the sister?” An obnoxious voice emanated from behind her as a twenty-something woman with pinkish skin and blue hair entered while chomping loudly on a wad of gum. She didn’t wait for an answer but looked Kim up and down smugly. So much for sensitivity.

  Harley nodded.

  “Okay. When I pull out the body, don’t touch a thing, okay?” The second “Okay” was grating heavily on Kimberly’s nerves, and she’d only been in the presence of the attendant for 20 seconds.

  “This won’t take long; if you feel unwell, let me know, and I will get you a chair,” said Harley. He appeared to be the only warm thing in the whole building.

  She stood there and felt like weeping ice tears in the chilly, damp morgue. The overbearing worker slid out a drawer as Kim braced herself.

  “Okay. Let’s get an I.D. here,” said Blue-Hair as she folded back a sheet to reveal an elderly white woman naked from the waist up. “Whoops! That happens sometimes.” Kim felt faint. The worker slid the body back and pulled out the adjacent drawer.

  “Here we go. This is it, Kenneth Manshu.”

  Mike was wrong about the morgue; the wicked bitch worker pulled the sheet down far enough for Kim to see two fatal stab wounds—the neck and the chest. Her knees were momentarily weak. Harley was at the ready, but she was determined not to show distress, especially in front of this stinking New York City excuse for a morgue employee. She forced herself to remember what Casper told her; this wasn’t Kenny; the man who was her brother was hopefully somewhere else, in a better place.

  The blue-haired woman seemed to be dragging things out. Finally, cracking her gum, she asked, “Is that your relative?”

&nb
sp; “Yes.”

  “Okay. I’ve got a paper for you to sign. Also, the detective, then you gotta show me your picture I.D.” The woman’s Brooklyn accent was scraping away at Kim’s self-restraint. The attendant pushed Kenny’s body back into his drawer. Every microsecond was painful, even the sound of the morgue lady’s multi-colored nails clicking on the stainless handle.

  Fortunately, the cop pressured his fellow city employee to move it. Soon Kimberly was outside under gray skies, cursing the entire state of New York under her breath.

  Harley stood next to her on the sidewalk. He didn’t have any questions, but he cleared his throat and said, “I’m really sorry about your loss. I’m also sorry that you had to endure that bitch down there in the morgue. She’s not what we’re about here, but I want to keep my job, so I have to shut up about it.”

  “Thank you, Detective Harley. You seem like a nice person. Goodbye.” Kim turned and headed west in search of a taxi.

  “How’d it go?”

  She turned around to see Mike looking at a rack of women’s clothes in one of the premier outlet stores. He was facing the opposite direction.

  “It was hard, but I got out of there quickly with no questions asked. Is there a reason why you can’t face me directly?”

  “I’ll meet you at the Walmart across the parking lot on the north side.”

  Kim understood. She kept flipping through the clothes hanging on the rack and ended up buying a nice gray and white pinstripe shirt for twenty-four bucks. It would go well with some of the skirts and pants already safely tucked away in her bags.

  After the short hike, she entered Walmart and went straight towards cosmetics. There were a lot of options for blond hair color.

  Mike surprised her. She hadn’t seen him coming, and then he was suddenly within a few feet.