Don’t miss all the twists and turns that led us to this point, check out the rest of the story: Here “Where are we going now?” Lucky had to shout for me to hear him
Don’t miss all the twists and turns that led us to this point, check out the rest of the story: Here
“Where are we going now?” Lucky had to shout for me to hear him over the roar of the motorcycle’s engine.
“The Riverfront. Seems a guy named Manuel Aureo is the one holding your debt.”
“Great. Let’s go talk to him so I can stop running for my life.”
“Not quite.” I guided us down a series of side roads to the Riverfront branch of the public library. “You’re going to wait here until I call you.”
“Why can’t I come with you and get this over with?”
“Because last we heard Manuel wants you dead. I’m not letting you just stroll into his office unannounced. That’s a great way to get shot.”
“Fine. But be quick, will you? I’m getting real sick of all this excitement.”
You and me both.
I checked the signage as I watched Lucky walk into the library. They’d be open a couple more hours, but that was it. If this Manuel Aureo is a wild goose chase….
I drowned that thought with the roar of the motorcycle engine. Lucky’s case had already been more trouble than it was worth, why borrow any more?
It was a short drive to the line of warehouses that dominated the Riverfront. I slowed so I could look for numbers. The owner of the motorcycle had given me an address, all I had to do was find it.
At last I spotted it among the third row of big storage buildings. Gratefully, I pulled the bike to the side of the road and parked it. My thighs chafed from where my bare skin had pressed too tightly against the machine.
My skimpy little dress hadn’t been designed with motorcycles in mind. Or women for that matter.
There was a thug in an ill-fitting security uniform leaning against the wall next to the pedestrian door. As I approached, a leer spread across his face. “Sorry, honey, you can’t work here. But if you leave me your number, I’ll give you a good time when I get off.”
Pig.
“I’m here to see Manuel Aureo.” I gave him my FBI voice, even though it didn’t fit with my disguise.
The sharpness in my tone seemed to take him by surprise. “I…uh…well, you can’t.”
“Is he here, or not?” My hand strayed toward my purse, and the handgun inside.
“Sure, but he doesn’t mix business with pleasure, if you get my meaning.”
“Good thing this is all business then.” I stepped closer, too close if things went sideways, but confidence was worth a lot in these situations. “Now, if you don’t want to get in the way of your boss getting his money, I’d step aside. I’ve seen what happens to people who get in his way.”
The guard gulped. Apparently, he’d also seen the corpse of a rival or unfaithful employee turn up. “All right, but don’t go trying anything funny. And I’ll have to frisk you for weapons.”
I spread my arms. “Get on with it then.”
He took my purse, which was discouraging, but not unexpected, and gave me a quick pat down. I could have had a bazooka on my back and he’d have never known, but he’d have caught a tack in my bra.
I glared at him. “Are you done or should I charge you?”
His face flushed briefly. “You’re clean. You can have this back when you come out.” He set my purse down behind him.
“Thanks.” I muttered as he pulled the door open for me.
Inside, the warehouse was nearly empty. Whatever other criminal activities Manuel might have been up to, he didn’t keep them around his office. So he’s got a brain. Good.
Two men with sub-machine guns slung across their chests stood by a pedestrian door with light spilling out from under it. Neither of them looked like military—ex or otherwise—to me, just thugs with serious hardware.
One of them held up a hand as I approached. “Hold on, he’s not quite done with his current appointment.”
I folded my arms and tapped my foot. “Sure, I don’t have anything better to do today than stand around staring at the two of you.”
The silent man, who’d been ogling me like a cartoon dog with a bone, glanced away, his face reddening. But the other was more professional.
“If you’d made an appointment, instead of just showing up, you wouldn’t have to wait.”
“Fine.” I sighed.
We stood there awkwardly for the next several minutes. Occasionally, one of the men would put his hand to his ear, presumably hearing a report from someone else on the security team.
I wished I had a watch. Or my phone. Doing nothing always stretched time, but I was worried that Lucky’s hiding place would close before I got my chance to talk with the loan shark.
A muffled “pop,” like a car backfiring or a cork being pulled, echoed softly through the room. The guards didn’t flinch, though the silent one went back to his earpiece.
A moment later, the office door opened and a wide-eyed man stumbled out. He gave me a concerned look, but didn’t say anything as he rushed past.
“The boss will see you now.”
“Finally.”
Inside the office was well lit with soft, yellow lighting. A big desk dominated the space, with two small seats on my side and one over-sized executive chair opposite. The man sitting there looked like a Jersey Shore reject. But gripped in his well-manicured hands was a literal smoking gun.
“Nice soundproofing in here.” I said as I slipped into one of the chairs opposite him. “I barely heard that from just outside.”
His smile had too many teeth, and at least a third of them were gold. “I find it good to make the right impression on all my new acquaintances.” He set the gun down on the desk. “I’m Manuel Aureo, but then, you already knew that.”
I nodded and extended a hand. “Angola LaGrange, private investigator.”
He held my hand a little too long as he looked me up and down. “And just what is it that you…investigate?”
“At the moment, I have a client who owed Bob Silver a good deal of money.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with me.”
“Then you should talk to your thugs, because they were under the impression that you’d taken over Bob’s business interests after his unfortunate passing.”
He nodded slowly. “I may have acquired some of Silver’s clients since his untimely death.” His hand strayed toward the gun.
“Look, I’m no cop. And I’m not being paid to solve any murders. I was hired to prevent one. My client just wants to pay his debt so he can get back to living his crummy life. I don’t need to know how or why you have the debt, I just need to know if my client pays, will that settle things between you?”
He drummed his fingers on the desk. They were perilously close to the grip of his handgun.
Come on, just accept the money, don’t make this harder than it has to be.
“What’s the name of your client?”
“Lucky Haskins.” I released the breath I hadn’t meant to hold.
“Let me check my files.” Manuel dug through a drawer full of little folders for a moment before removing one to examine. “Ah, here it is.” He whistled. “Seems your client owes quite a bit. And Silver’s notes indicate that he’d missed a few payments.”
“It shouldn’t matter to you whether he paid Silver or not.”
“No, what matters is how my clients view me. Things have been a bit tense since Silver’s…retirement. I need to make sure that everyone knows just who they’re dealing with.”
“I get it. Your hostile takeover isn’t going as smoothly as you hoped and you feel the need to make an example out of someone. But hear me out, killing off debtors who can’t pay has never been a sound strategy. Not only can they never pay again after that, but when word gets out that you’re offing people, fewer will be desperate enough to take the chance on working with you. Not to mention the cops getting involved.”
He set Lucky’s file next to the pistol. “And I suppose you think it’s better if I just accept your client’s payment like nothing ever happened? But if there are no consequences for missing payments, then suddenly—” He slammed his palm on the desk with a bang. “—chaos.”
“Who said there were no consequences? You’ve had Lucky running for his life for days. He’s survived two attacks, but no guarantee he makes it through a third. And now he’s crawling back to you to rescue him. When word gets around that you’re willing to have debtors killed, but also willing to take them back, if they pay, everyone will know you’re the real deal.”
I felt dirty saying it, but it was the best way to get Lucky off the guy’s kill list.
He thought for a moment, his fingers stroking the edge of the gun. “All right. Give your client a call. Tell him I’m willing to negotiate the price of his return to my good graces.”
I smiled. “Of course.”
I had to leave the warehouse to get my phone back from the door guard. Fortunately, it wasn’t as late as I feared. “Lucky?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s Angola, I found the guy holding your debt now, and he’s willing to discuss terms.” I gave him the address to the warehouse. “Get over here as quick as you can.” I’ve had enough of wannabe mobsters for one day.
But the job wasn’t done yet. I waited until the cab dropped Lucky off, then went in with him to ensure that Manuel didn’t just shoot him. But apparently, my speech had made an impression.
Great, just what I wanted to do, make better criminals.
Once it was clear that the loan shark really meant to arrange a deal, and that Lucky was really willing to pay, I excused myself. I didn’t need to be part of their business. And I desperately wanted to get back into my own clothes.
I had to walk two blocks to find a street with a cab that I could wave down. My first stop was the Lorenz Luxury Suites to recover my suitcase. I was pleased to find it still laying at the bottom of the stairwell where Lucky had dropped it. My car was also still in the lot, but I left it there. I was too tired to deal with the disappointment of it not starting again.
Lucky called as I was trudging up the stairs to my apartment. “We got it all squared away, thanks to you.”
“Glad I could help, but—”
“You didn’t do it just out of the goodness of your heart. I know. Meet me at my dad’s bar and we’ll settle up.” He gave me the address, though I’d already found it for myself.
“Sure thing, give me an hour or so to get cleaned up and I’ll meet you there.”
He agreed and hung up.
I sighed as I dropped my phone and purse onto the cluttered coffee table. So the loan shark gets away with murder and gets paid for it too. Another win for the good guys.
It wasn’t my job to solve Bob Silver’s murder—let alone prove it in court. I’d saved Lucky’s life, that had to be worth something anyway.
Still, the FBI agent in me hated the way things had turned out. It felt unfinished. And dirty.
Or maybe that was just me. I needed a shower, or three, to clean the sweat and grime off, not to mention the plastered mask of makeup.
I slipped out of what little there was of my dress and let it fall to the bathroom floor. It landed with a clunk.
Suddenly I remembered the little recorder in the hidden pocket. I pulled it out and checked it.
Dead. But for how long?
I set it up to charge while I took my shower. Forty minutes later, I was myself again.
The recorder was far from fully charged, but it had enough juice to play back a few snippets of the tape. I’d started it when I entered Bob Silver’s apartment and never bothered to turn it off. I skipped ahead to the end.
“You getting off early or making house calls?” The cabby’s voice came through clearly.
“Cute.” My own responded.
“Well, it’s a far cry from the Lorenz, but—” The recording cut out abruptly.
But that had been on my way home. So all of my conversation with Manuel Aureo was on there.
I popped the tape out of the recorder and pocketed it. On my way out to get a cab, I sent Lucky a quick text:
Be a little delayed, got a quick errand to run.
#
“How can I help you, Ma’am?” The desk officer asked in a bored tone.
“I need to speak with Detective Jim Stallings. I have some information about a case he’s working on.”
“Sure, wait here a minute.” He waved toward a dirty bench while he got on the radio.
It was almost half an hour before Jim came out to see me. “Ange, what are you doing here?”
“It’s Angola.”
“Really? Because the chief is looking for an ‘Angola LaGrange’ who was in here the other day impersonating an FBI agent. But my friend Ange wouldn’t know anything about that, would she?”
I glared at him. “No, I suppose not.”
“Now then, Ange, what can I do for you today?”
“It’s more what I can do for you.” I passed him the tape. “The guy you’re looking for goes by Manuel Aureo. His office is in a warehouse down on the Riverfront.”
“And this is supposed to prove his guilt?”
“No, any lawyer worth his salt would get that thrown out of court long before a jury heard it. But it should be enough for you to get a warrant and some real evidence. Just leave my name out of it.”
He smiled. “You know, you’re all right, Ange. Let me buy you a drink as thanks.”
“Sorry, Jim, I’ve already got plans.”
The End