Battle Axe

by Carsen Taite

  I stared into Diamond’s eyes and realized that even if I wanted what she had to offer, she wasn’t the one I wanted it from. “Nope, nothing you said. I just changed my mind. Got a lot to do today.”

  Her piercing look told me she didn’t buy my rambling lie, but I didn’t care. I wanted her to leave and then I’d figure out why I’d suddenly lost my way, turning down sure sex while I examined my feelings. Who was I?

  I was the person who was escorting Diamond Collier to the door. The person determined to keep our relationship all business. I held the towel with one hand and turned the doorknob with the other. “I’ll call you when I find Amato and Picone.”

  She paused as she crossed the threshold. “Oh, about that. That was the reason I came over. That matter’s been taken care of. Thanks for your help, but we’ve got it under control.” She blew me a kiss and disappeared down the walk.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I should’ve gone back to bed. Chance didn’t want my help. Diamond no longer needed my help—a fact that festered although I couldn’t quite put my finger on why. I’d wanted her to leave, but I hadn’t realized when I turned down her advances that that was the last time she’d be offering. Diamond had found her guys. She didn’t need me anymore. Well, I didn’t need her either, but I liked the idea of having a fallback, especially now that Jess was no longer interested in playing that role.

  That wasn’t right either. Jess seemed perfectly content to keep our fuck-buddy status, but something had changed. Her need had an edge to it. Different from the raw cravings we’d always shared. Maybe her relationship with Deveaux ramped up the dangerous, forbidden factor of sex with me. If her relationship was really over, if Deveaux had really left, would things change between us? Did I want them to?

  I didn’t know and didn’t want to think about it. I did know that the last thing I felt like doing was driving around Otis Shaw’s baby mama’s neighborhood, hoping to catch him out and about. Besides, after spending the night on an ancient twin mattress, I didn’t think my hungover self could handle a takedown.

  Instead, I spent the day doing things I don’t normally do. I made my bed, did laundry, then took another shower to try to get the smell of alcohol out of my system. I ended my housekeeping in the kitchen where I tossed the remains of some unidentifiable meal from the inside of the fridge and actually wiped a couple of surfaces down. When I finally shut the refrigerator door on my half-ass cleaning job, I realized I couldn’t clean away whatever was eating at me. The schedule on the refrigerator door told me where I needed to be.

  I traded my boots for my running shoes, grabbed my guns, and headed out the door. For once, I would be early. Cold day for a softball game, but it was the second to last game of the season and, knowing Texas weather, the last game would be played under a hot sun. I would have much rather been running, but I wasn’t here to play. Not softball, anyway.

  As I pulled into the parking lot, I scanned the cars, but Jess’s old Mustang was nowhere in sight. I forced myself to look for silver BMWs and sighed with relief when I didn’t see a one. Maybe Jess was late. She’d had a lot going on today. I decided to wait in the car, with the heater on. I’d sit here until I saw her, made sure she was okay, and then naptime for me. I parked the Bronco in the center of the lot and started surveillance.

  About five minutes later, the lot started to fill up, and uniformed dykes of all shapes and sizes started filing onto the fields. I glanced at the clock. Game time was only a few minutes away. I must have missed her. No way coach would show up this late to her favorite sport. I cut the engine and crawled out. Freaking cold, especially after snuggling in the warm cocoon of the car. I glanced around, but still no sign of Jess’s car or Jess. I could trudge over to the field and see if she’d managed to get by me, or I could drive away and let her take care of herself.

  I got back in the car and leaned toward the latter. Didn’t look like any crazy Russians mobsters were lurking. Besides, my being here was probably more about me than concern over Jess’s safety. This morning, I’d gotten all worked up and she was just out for a run. She didn’t need me lurking around, trying to save her. She’d be just fine without me. I looked at my cell and made a vow. Once John called me back, I’d fill him in on the new developments about Deveaux and make sure he had a decent watch on Jess, and then I’d back off. Leave Jess to manage her own fallout.

  A sharp knock on my window caused me to toss the phone to the floor. I grabbed the Colt out of her holster and turned to the glass, barrel first.

  Nancy held up both hands and assumed a mock “please don’t shoot me face.” I holstered my gun and lowered the window. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Sorry, pal. Thank goodness you’re here. We’re down one player and we’ll have to forfeit if you don’t get your ass on the field like five minutes ago.”

  “Hold on. I’m not playing.”

  “Then what are you doing here?” She reached for the door handle and yanked it open.

  “Who’s not here?” I had a sudden sick feeling in my gut.

  “Chance. Didn’t show. Didn’t even call.”

  “Not like her not to get a sub.”

  “What are you talking about? You’re the sub.”

  “I’m—” I started to say more, but shut up. It was totally out of character for Jess not to show up or at least find a replacement. Either she was love-struck or something had happened to her. She’d been out of sorts this morning. The logical conclusion was she was mourning on her own, but I didn’t feel like being logical. But I also didn’t feel like raising the alarm without something to back it up. I’d go by her house, check on her, or I’d call John one more time and nag him into doing it. “Nance, I’m sorry, but I can’t stay. I gotta take care of something really important.”

  “Luca, we’ll have to forfeit. Chance will have your hide.”

  My cell phone, still on the floor, rang loud. I offered a grimace to Nancy. “Sorry, I have to take this.” She gave me the evil eye and stalked off. I scooped the phone off the floorboard, and started to hit ignore. I wanted to drive away, not talk on the phone, but I checked the caller ID in the unlikely event it was Jess.

  It wasn’t.

  “Hey, John, I’ve been waiting for your call. Sorry to bug you on a Sunday, but I went by Jess’s place earlier and the cop the department assigned to watch her is a piece of work. Maybe you could swing by later and check on her. Her lady friend moved out and she’s not herself right now.”

  “Where are you?”

  The question had me shaking my head. What did it matter where I was? “At the softball field, but she’s not here. That’s my point.” I was rambling and I knew it, but I couldn’t seem to stop talking. John finally cut me off with a question designed to get my attention.

  “Your friend, Bingo? He’s in trouble. You might want to get over here.”

  And click, the line was dead. I roared the Bronco to life and spun out of the lot. I didn’t have a clue what I’d find when I got to Bingo’s place, but John’s calm tone didn’t fool me. I braced for big trouble.

  *

  The place was crawling with cops. I circled the block a couple of times before I even found a place to park, and then I went in search of John on foot. Yellow tape and a burly guy in uniform tried to keep me from my mission.

  “Step back. This is a crime scene.”

  I resisted shooting a look at the boldly marked, brightly colored tape and asking him if I looked like I couldn’t read. Instead, I said, “I’m looking for Detective Ames.”

  “He’s busy.”

  Master of the obvious. “I’m sure he is, but he asked me to come by. Said he had some questions for me about B—” I stopped myself and searched my memory for Bingo’s given name. “Uh, Mr. Hubbard. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it if you tell him I’m here.” There, I’d managed to wedge one true statement in my little spiel. He had called me and suggested I come over. Wish he’d been a little longer on detail. Might’ve helped me bluff bett
er.

  Apparently, whatever I’d said was enough to send Officer Gatekeeper in search of John. I paced outside the tape for what seemed like forever. When he finally showed up, he looked haggard, stressed.

  “John, what the hell’s going on?”

  He motioned for me to follow him, and we walked a healthy distance away from the swarm of cops. Despite the fact we were out of range of listening ears, he whispered. “I shouldn’t even be talking to you about this.”

  I matched his whisper by keeping my own voice low. “I wish I knew what ‘this’ was.”

  “When’s the last time you were here?”

  As much as I trusted him, I spent a minute assessing his reason for wanting to know before I answered. Did whatever was going on have to do with Bingo’s gaming? Or the prescription bottles I’d found tucked away in his guest bath? A quick look around told me whatever “this” was, it was way more serious than gambling and drugs. The crime scene techs were out in full force, and the medical examiner doesn’t make an appearance unless there’s a body to haul off. I made a snap judgment to tell John whatever he wanted to know.

  “Friday night. Actually, more like Saturday morning.” I didn’t add “with Jess,” but I suddenly realized if John was here, she should be too. Maybe that’s why she wasn’t at the softball game. “Is Jess inside?”

  His face scrunched like I’d asked him something hard to cipher. I pushed harder. “She’s not at her regular softball game. Have you called her?”

  “Yeah, but I had to leave a message.”

  “Not like her not to answer her phone. And that doesn’t bother you?”

  He pointed at Bingo’s house. “Only thing bothering me right now is what’s inside there.” He took a deep breath. “You still have a picture of those two guys you were looking for?”

  Amato and Picone. I pulled out my wallet and thumbed through the contents for the photos. I moved slowly, trying to process why I was standing outside Bingo’s house with a fleet of cops and crime scene techs, why John was asking about these guys, the ones Diamond said had been taken care of. When I found the photos, I handed them in John’s direction, face down, but kept a tight hold on a corner. When he realized I wasn’t letting go, he sighed. “Trust me, Luca. Just let me see them.”

  He was tired, worried, and harmless. I had to trust him if I wanted any more information. I flipped the photos over and released them into his grasp. He studied them for a minute and then handed them back to me.

  “That’s it?”

  “You can stop looking for them.”

  That wasn’t news, but his expression was different from what Diamond’s had been. Hers conveyed her job was over, but John looked like he had even more work ahead. There was something he was leaving out. I felt dense, like everyone around me got the punch line to a joke, while I was left sorting out the lines. “You told me to trust you. Spill.”

  He pointed at the photos I held in my hand. “Those guys are lying on Bingo’s living room floor. Dead.”

  I didn’t give a shit about the guys, but my thoughts raced ahead. “Where’s Bingo?”

  “Being questioned.”

  “Why aren’t you the one questioning him? Isn’t this your case?”

  “I wasn’t the first on the scene. I’m just an assist.”

  Maybe his secondary role explained why he wasn’t as concerned that Jess hadn’t responded to his call, but a whole lot of other questions were still unanswered. Why had he called me here? He could have ID’d Amato and Picone without me. “What can you tell me?”

  “Not much. Bingo called this in. Said he came home, found these guys, already dead.”

  “Dead how?”

  “Shot in the back of the head. Execution style.”

  “And you don’t believe him because?”

  “For starters, they’re in his house. Follow that up with they’ve been messing with his business.” Jess must’ve told him about that. Before I could ask, he counted off on his fingers. “Opportunity, motive.”

  Means. “You found the gun?”

  “Not yet.”

  I didn’t even try to stop the rising tide of anger and my voice showed it. “Let me get this straight. You think Bingo’s smart enough to hide the weapon, but dumb enough to leave the dead guys in his own damn living room?”

  “Lower your voice.” John glanced around. “I don’t know what the hell to think. I’m just telling you the facts. Bingo says he’s been out running errands all morning. He’s got receipts, and a neighbor can vouch for the fact he got back to the house just minutes before he called 911. ME’s going to give us an approximate time of death, but until then we can’t really pin down Bingo’s alibi. For all we know, those bodies could’ve been there since last night.”

  My mind started spinning. Toupee wearing, Elvis loving Bingo would go to great lengths to protect his business, but shooting two guys in cold blood? I’d never believe it. Besides, how would he have even managed the feat? Two Italian hoods, enforcers, come to his house and he somehow disarms them, gets them to lie on the floor, and then shoots them both dead? Unbelievable. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it, but as I tried, another answer, much more plausible, popped into my head.

  “Petrov.”

  “What?” John looked at me like I had Tourette’s.

  I didn’t disappoint as I spewed a string of words that made perfect sense to me, but made me sound like a crazy person. “Petrov. The Imperial. Threats. Fake meds.”

  He shook me like he could make all the words fall into intelligible sentences. It worked. I took a deep breath and then let loose with complete thoughts. “What if Petrov arranged this kill? Makes perfect sense. He’s been trying to get into Bingo’s business. Even gave him one of those fancy gold coins like he gave me. I think all this has something to do with the fake prescription meds the Feds are interested in. There are tons of them in there.”

  “Slow down. What are you talking about?”

  “Chance and I were here the other night. Bingo told us that Yuri’s guys had been to visit. Told him to clear the Italians out and let them have the run of the place. Yuri even gave him one of those coins, like he gave me. I’m sure Bingo can show it to you.”

  “Yeah, okay, I can ask him about that, but all that could mean is that he was highly motivated to get rid of the Italians.”

  “Give me a break. Have you met Bingo? No way he overpowered and shot those guys.”

  “Maybe not. And what did you say about prescription drugs? When I talked to Jess she didn’t mention anything about it.”

  Uh oh. Time to confess I hadn’t told her. I hadn’t told anyone. The bottle was still in the glove compartment of the Bronco. “Hang on.” I retrieved the bottle and handed it to him. He rolled it in his palm, reading the label.

  “Looks a lot like the one you gave us before.”

  “Sure does. Did you get any leads from Candy the other night?” So much for my resolution to stay uninvolved, leave the ruckus about prescription fraud to the Feds and the cops. But now Bingo was swept up in it, and I cared what happened to him. It would be too easy for the cops to decide he was responsible for the dead guys in his living room, close the case with an easy arrest.

  “She wasn’t exactly cooperative. Told us she didn’t know what we were talking about. To talk to her lawyer, who just happens to be some chump on Petrov’s payroll.”

  “Of course. But what about all the bottles in Bingo’s place? Vedda was probably dealing here and Petrov wanted a piece of it. Bingo’s place is perfect. Think about all the rich college kids who are in and out. He already has a ready and willing client base.”

  “Except there’s one problem with your little theory.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Crime scene’s been all over the place. Only one prescription bottle in the place and it’s from a legit pharmacy. Viagra, in Morris Hubbard’s name.”

  I pointed at the bottle in his hand. “I’m telling you, his guest bathroom cabinet was full of bottles, j
ust like that one.”

  “And Chance saw them too?”

  Shit. “She was a little preoccupied.”

  “I’ll take that as a no.”

  “Since when is my word not good enough?”

  “Settle down. I’m just being devil’s advocate here. You’ve known Bingo most of your life, right?”

  I got it. A prosecutor would tear my testimony apart. But this was more about getting the cops to follow up on a lead. We were a long way from a trial, and if we could sort this out, we’d never get there. My dormant private investigator juices were flowing. “Look, just promise me you’ll ask Bingo about it. He hasn’t lawyered up yet, right?” John shook his head. “Don’t you guys usually take that as a sign he’s got nothing to hide?” I didn’t wait for the answer. “Ask him about the pills. And ask him about the gold coin. And promise me you’ll let me know if you decide to arrest him.” I barked out the instructions as I ran back to the Bronco.

  “Yeah, I’ll let you know. Where are you going?”

  “I have an idea. I’ll be in touch. Tell Bingo, I’ll put him in touch with a lawyer.”

  I started the car with one hand, while I dialed a number on my cell phone with the other. I listened to the rings as I sped away from the crime scene, planning what I’d say when she picked up the line. Five, six, seven. Finally, the line connected and I started talking over the voice on the other end. “We need to meet, right now.” I paused for a response, but all I got was the repeat of the automated message: “The number you’ve reached has been disconnected.”

  In a fit of anger, I tossed the phone to the floorboard. Damn you, Diamond Collier.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Diamond’s last words to me echoed loud. “That matter’s been taken care of. We have it under control.”

  I’m not a conspiracy theorist. I’m one of those people who think the simplest explanation is the most likely way things went down. But I couldn’t ignore the coincidence. Amato and Picone show up dead in Bingo’s house hours after I’m told “that matter’s been taken care of.”