Fatal Chances (The Red Lake Series Book 5) Page 10

  “Owned?” Harry queried, “did you sell it?”

  Julia grew flustered. “Yes. Afterward I could not bear to go there.”

  Harry played the part of the innocent.

  “After what?”

  “Jillian was murdered in the house while I was there!”

  Harry laid down his fork and feigned disbelief. “When?”

  “Last fall. You must have seen it in the newspaper?”

  He shook his head slowly, “No. I don't recall it but I was out of the country for most of that month. It sounds dreadful. Can you talk about it?”

  Jillian's eyes were pained. “I find it hard, but it may explain why I think Vito has a guard on me.”

  Harry lent her an empathic ear.

  “Jillian met me at the house. She hired a rental car at the Beaumont Airport, Harvey insisted that he did not want us to be seen driving together, he was almost paranoiac on the subject. It was good to see her though, I must confess, after the first rush of being together I think we both struggled to find common ground to talk about. We were different in high school but the rift was greater than ever. We came to verbal blows on several subjects.”

  “Such as?”

  “Over politics, money, personal taste. Jillian belittled the way I dressed, she said I looked like a country club Republican.”

  “Aren't you?”

  “Well yes! But Jilli made it sound like an accusation. I am afraid I lost my temper and said it was better than dressing like a hooker and living with a two bit thug.”

  “I'm surprised either of you stayed.”

  “I wish we hadn't. About mid-morning I was in the vanity bathroom. The lake house is two story but the living areas are upstairs and the bedrooms down. I heard a crash as the downstairs door was smashed open and then the rush of feet on the stairs. Then Jilli let out a scream.”

  Tears welled up. She wiped them away with her napkin then dropped it over her barely touched plate.

  “I peaked out the crack between the door and jamb. One man held Jillian and the other put a hypodermic needle into her throat. The Medical Examiner latter told me they injected pure heroin into her carotid artery.”

  Many questions came to Harry but he let her tell the story in her own way.

  “I was terrified. I should have screamed but I was too afraid and it was too late for Jillian. Then one of the men pointed out the window and after a brief exchange of words they left.”

  “What did they say?”

  “I don't know. It was Spanish but I think they saw a boat coming. It seems Vito either thought Jillian needed a bodyguard or he didn't trust her. Maybe it was a bit of both. In either case, he had a man at a cabin on the other side of Gulls Bay. He saw the attack and rushed down to his boat. Of course I didn't know this until later.”

  She sniffled. After dabbing at her nose with a handkerchief she continued, “Jillian's attackers came by boat. Vito's man, Frank something or other changed course and chased them. During an exchange of gunfire he was knocked down and wounded. By the time he staunched the blood flow the Spanish men were running across the road to the airstrip where a small plane waited.”

  “Did the authorities catch them?”

  Julia snorted in contempt, “You must be joking, they assumed it was drug related and the killers were south of the border.”

  “Was your sister into drugs?”

  “Not around me but I know Jilli liked coke. Probably other stuff too.”

  “So what happened?”

  “I was a wreck. After they left I rushed to Jillian but there was no pulse. I should have called 911 right away but I wasn't thinking straight. Eventually, Vito's man rushed in and I believe he called the police. When the ambulance left, the driver didn't even use his siren, I knew then it was too late for her.”

  Tears flowed and Julia choked up. Harry handed her his linen napkin.

  “I assumed her murder was a result of mob business. But now Harvey has been murdered and I don't know what to think.” She stared straight into Harry's eyes. She reached across the table and laid her hand atop his. “I am scared Mr. Grim, very, very, scared.”

  Harry did not trouble to withdraw his hand. “So you think your brother-in-law is worried about you?”

  “Yes, but I don't know why. Obviously it has something to do with his business.”

  “Could Harvey have been quietly doing business with Vito?”

  “God no! If he was, Harvey should get an Academy Award for acting. I have no doubt he detested Vito.”

  “Did you receive any threats? Were there any break-ins at your house?”

  “Nothing, until Harvey disappeared.”

  Maybe Harvey was less than candid as to why he wanted me to follow his wife?

  “And Harvey never said anything about any kind of trouble or implied that he wanted to get away from things?”

  “Never!”

  A lull came to the conversation. Julia evidently realized her hand was still resting on Harry's because it withdrew suddenly as if touching a snake.

  “Have you spoken to the police?”

  “No. What would they do? Nothing, believe me.”

  “So why am I here?”

  “I want to hire you for protection.”

  “From whom?”

  Julia's shoulders moved, “My brother-in-law, his goon, or the people who murdered Jillian, or the people responsible for Harvey's disappearance.”

  “That's not what I usually do.”

  “I can pay you well, Harry.” Her eyes promised something more than money. “I am afraid to be alone. At least until we know who is watching me.”

  “Maybe you should call your brother-in-law and ask?”

  A frisson passed over her. “Not if I can avoid it. But you could?”

  Again the pleading look came.

  “Okay, I will give it some time.”

  Julia's hand was back to pat his, “Thank you, Harry.”

  Julia signed for their meal. They strolled out the double entry doors. As they waited for the valet to fetch her car Harry watched closely when he asked, "Did you know that your brother-in-law was the buyer for your lake house?"

  Her fear was visible, it was not an act, and obviously this was news to her. She failed to question the fact that twenty minutes before Harry implied he didn't know that the house was no longer hers.

  "Help me Harry, I need you!"

  Her hand trembled as she rested it on his arm. As if to seal the deal she unexpectedly gave him a hug, "I knew I could count on you."

  Julia was still waiting on the valet as Harry crossed the lot to his own vehicle. He left the club parking lot before Julia, drove one block and circled back, where from the side street he was able to watch the entrance.

  Moments later Julia pulled out. Harry almost missed her, the older Lexus was gone and Julia was driving a small red sports car with a dealers temporary license taped to the window. A moment later the gray sedan exited too. He let a few cars pass before he too followed.

  Julia said she was going home so Harry passed both cars. He was in the Holiday Inn parking lot before either arrived at Julia's street. Harry slouched down. The sedan wheeled into the lot and parked.

  Harry pulled his belt off and walked over to the car. He flung the rear door open, slid into the seat and slammed the door. Julia's watcher attempted to turn around and see what was happening but a belt dropped over his head and around his throat.

  Harry pulled back firmly. The thugs head became pinned against the headrest, the metal uprights provided useful pivot point for Harry's grip. The man reached and clawed but could not find anything to grasp. In the rear view mirror Harry could see the bulging eyes, gaping mouth, swollen veins and discolored face that moved from scarlet toward a bluish hue.

  “Sit still and I might not kill you.” Harry hissed.

  The man tried not to struggle but asphyxiation was a strong motivator to move. Harry eased the belt and the thugs fingers grasped at it. Harry rolled his fists on the backsi
de of the headrest and the man's raspy gasps for air were choked off.

  “Let's try this again. Don't move.”

  He eased the strap slightly and the man sucked air into his lungs. Harry knew his victim would be disoriented by the lack of oxygen followed by the rush of hyperventilation.

  “Why are you following Julia Stockman?”

  “I don't know what the fuck you're talking ...” The man failed to finish as Harry cinched the belt tight. He held it there until the bulging eyes rolled back in the head. It was a fine line between life and death, a skill he honed in Afghanistan.

  The man's head lolled forward. Harry reached over and found the shoulder holster. From the breast pocket of the jacket he pulled a wallet. Harry took a pair of handcuffs and by leaning forward handcuffed the mans arms through the steering wheel.

  The gun was a nine millimeter, the numbers filed off. Inside the wallet was a Nevada drivers license for Nick Cassini. In the front seat Nick's head rolled and came up. He shook it like a dog coming out of the water, as he tried to lose his confusion. The sound of the cuffs jerking came to Harry in the back.

  Harry laid the wallet and pistol on the rear seat and cinched up the belt.

  “You're dead asshole! You don't know who you are fucking with!” Cassini shouted.

  “In that case I may as well finish you off before you run back to Vegas and snivel. Who are you working for?”

  The man said nothing but struggled against the cuffs and belt at his throat. Harry sent him back to la-la-land. When the man returned to the land of the living Harry quietly asked, “Do you work for Vito Donatello?”

  “You seem to have all the answers, you tell me!”

  “Mrs. Stockman's sister was murdered, her husband is missing and you are out here following her while carrying an unregistered weapon. Maybe I should call the cops?”

  “Okay, okay. I'll level with you.”

  Harry gave a bit more slack.

  “Mr. Donatello is worried about her. I am here to keep an eye on her.”

  “Why?”

  “How the hell should I know, he isn't my pal, he's my boss!”

  “I have a message for him and you can't deliver it if you are dead. Tell him, leave Julia Stockman alone. And if you are wise you will too.”

  “”Fuck you!”

  The rest was choked off. By the time Cassini regained consciousness his wrists were freed and his assailant gone. His wallet and gun lay on the seat beside him.

  From inside the downstairs hallway Harry watched the man start his car and lay rubber out of the parking lot. At the highway he pulled out in front of an oncoming car, that locked up its brakes as Cassini floored it in the direction of the motel where he stayed before.

  *

  From Rico Marcelli's office large thunder heads drifted over the desert like a mountain range cut adrift. Their towering anvil heads reached for the jet stream, from their slate gray bellies shafts of rain fell but most evaporated long before it reached the valley floor. A few drops did find their way to the floor to ceiling windows.

  In the military Vincent Lucia would be listed as Rico Marcelli's aide-de-camp, but in the Organization he was know as Marcelli's mouthpiece. This was not merely because he was a lawyer, but because the street soldiers knew that when he spoke it was for Mr. Marcelli.

  "Vito Donatello has fucked up."

  "Please Vincent, I know your command of the English language is more erudite than that."

  "I'm sorry, sir but that is the best way to sum it up."

  Marcelli moved his hand in circles, "The facts, Vincent."

  "Last year, Donatello was a house guest at Salvador Montoya's ranch. Salvador has a daughter."

  "He has a dozen kids by a half dozen women."

  "That's right but Carmen Montoya is his daughter by his wife. She is eighteen and very beautiful. While staying at the ranch Donatello took an interest in her. Here the facts are a bit obscured. When Salvador finally realized that Donatello was drooling over his daughter he pulled a gun and would probably have killed him had his daughter not sworn he had done nothing. However, rumors among the house staff was that he was screwing her, but Montoya was between a rock and a hard place. If he executed Donatello it made a public liar and a tramp out of his daughter."

  "So, he swallowed his pride and let our man walk?"

  Vincent nodded.

  Marcelli's jaw flexed, his nose flared, the high ball glass in his right hand vibrated and then shattered. "Is he crazy?" Marcelli roared. "He fucked our partners daughter in his host's house?" Marcelli was incredulous. "I'll kill the bastard myself! What was he trying to do start a war?"

  Vincent waited until he sensed his boss's anger had subsided. "The problem with doing that is it might be interpreted south of the border that we have knowledge of Donatello's actions. This embarrasses Montoya's daughter because it would be interpreted as proof the rumors were true. It would also prevent Montoya from avenging his honor if she was exposed."

  "Are you recommending we do nothing?"

  "I think it best if we pretend we know nothing about this and let Mr. Montoya resolve it as he see's fit. If Donatello should die I recommend we turn a blind eye. But perhaps the situation has resolved itself. Last November, Jillian Donatello was visiting her sister in Red Lake. She died from a hot load of heroin shot straight into her carotid artery by persons unknown, Hispanic persons."

  "Payback?" Marcelli asked.

  "It would seem so. Business has progressed as usual. I think Montoya is mollified."

  "What did the nephew have to say?"

  "Grim was telling the truth. He grew up in Red Lake. A girl disappeared twenty years ago. Last year when her body turned up Vinnie and a dozen other guys were looked at as suspects. Vinnie was cleared. As for Donatello and Montoya he claims to know nothing."

  "Do you believe him?"

  "I do. Vinnie is a club manger, brains is not his strong suit, I doubt his uncle would confide in him. Besides, he has never been out of the country so I doubt he even knows Montoya."

  Marcelli noticed the shattered glass had cut his hand, a trickle of blood dripped onto his leather desk top. He pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket, wiped the desk top and then dabbed at the cut. He let out a sigh.

  "Very well Vincent, we will wait, but keep on this. If anybody even thinks about starting something foolish I want to know about it. Did you ask Donatello why he was using our assets to watch his wife?"

  "Yes. In fact he was the source for much of these details. Although he denied banging the broad."

  "Really?"

  "Yes, of course I am sure he was lying. Anyway, he claims he was afraid that Montoya might avoid a war by hitting people in his life rather than going after him, consequently he had a man on his sister-in-law. Since last November things have been quiet, that is until two weeks ago when his brother-in-law disappeared from a cruise ship between Nassau and Miami."

  "What is this a god damn soap opera?" Marcelli shouted with dismay. "Was Montoya behind it?"

  "We don't know. But Donatello has bought his in-laws old waterfront house in Red Lake."

  "Where?"

  "It's a small resort town in the northwest, over the pass from Beaumont where the sister-in-law lives."

  Marcelli pursed his lips. "So he has the hots for his sister-in-law."

  Vincent shrugged. "Could be. He's not the sentimental type. I doubt he cares who gets whacked as long as it doesn't bring the roof down on him."

  Marcelli waved his hand in a combination of dismissal and disgust. "Keep me informed, Vincent. Thank you."

  *

  After Cassini left the hotel Harry got into his truck, crossed the street, circled the block and parked on Camden Court opposite the Stockman's house. Harry crossed the street, walked up the drive and glanced in the garage door window, the sports car had replaced the Lexus and Range Rover which were gone.

  He rapped on the front door. A moment later it opened. Julia Stockman wore a blue bikini that would barel
y make an ascot. Her perfect tan spoke of tanning booths this early in the season.

  “Harry, come in.”

  She conveyed the sense they were old friends and she hadn't seen him in ages rather than at lunch.

  “Can I fix you a drink?” she asked holding up the highball glass in her hand.

  Harry stepped into the house. It was furnished in a cool modern, monochromatic black and white, which was incongruous with the brick and mullion exterior. He followed her into the family room. Beyond the French doors a swimming pool sparkled.

  “Gin and tonic?” her scarlet lips cooed.

  “A beer if you have one.”

  Julia smiled coyly, “I thought you looked like a beer sort of guy.”

  A flirtatious air stronger than her French perfume permeated the room. She handed him a beer and curled herself up and the sofa. As they sipped and chatted, Harry was self deluded when he told himself he was merely playing along. Paula's disquieting snits left him vulnerable to blatant flattery.

  Julia mixed herself another drink.

  “I talked to the man who followed you,” Harry said, “his name is Nick Cassini and he works for your brother-in-law.”

  She stomped her foot impetuously, “I knew it!”

  Harry sensed there was something false about the action.

  “I doubt he'll return but I think you should keep an eye out, they may send someone else.”

  The phone rang shrilly, “Ignore it, Harry. Let's talk on the patio.”

  She more sashayed than walked. Her hips rolled like a boat going down the trough. Harry paused to set his empty beer bottle in the kitchen sink. The answering machine kicked in, “I can't come to the phone, leave a message.” came Julia's digitized voice. Harry noted that the message already did not mention Harvey

  “Julia, I want to see you. Are you free for dinner Friday night? Call me.”

  Harry thought the voice seemed familiar. He wondered about this as he joined Julia on the pool deck. While she chattered he made the connection, the voice was the one he overheard in Marie's Restaurant, Vito Donatello.

  Julia asked Harry to stay for dinner but he demurred. As he drove back to Red Lake he tried to make sense of events. Jillian's murder might be related to the drug trade, but how did Harvey fit in. Perhaps Julia is naive about her husband's line of work? It made sense if he was mixed up with Vito, but then why was he concerned about Julia?