Black Bird: A Murder Mystery Suspense Thriller, page 13
“Because I think there’s one thing Rook wants more than to threaten us into working for him,” said Remalla.
“What’s that?” asked Croft, curious.
“He wants to turn us,” said Remalla. “He wants us to become the very thing he is. Cold and ruthless.”
“Something tells me if you go back to him with our offer,” said Daniels, “he’ll be eager to bring us on board.”
“And see just how far we’re willing to go,” replied Remalla.
Croft wondered if that was true. “Or he could tell you to do what you’re told or prepare to go to prison.”
“And we’ll tell him no,” said Remalla. “He got what he wanted. Jerry Lee is dead. But no more freebies. He wants us, he has to bring us in.”
“And if we go to prison, so be it,” said Daniels. “We’re willing to take the risk.” He tilted his head. “But something tells me your boss is far more interested in us being killers instead of prisoners.”
“Prison is boring,” said Rem. “And I’m guessing Rook hates being bored.”
Croft wondered again how he’d misread these two so badly.
A server approached the table. He wore ripped jeans, had long stringy hair, gauges in his earlobes, and a food-stained apron wrapped around his waist. “Sorry. Didn’t see you guys. I was on a smoke break. Can I get you something to drink?”
Croft eyed the server and then the detectives. “I’ll bring it to Rook. Wait for my call.”
“With bells on.” Remalla smiled.
“Don’t keep us waiting long,” said Daniels. “We get crabby when we wait, especially him.” He shot a thumb at Rem. “So the sooner, the better.”
While the server stared at his dirty nails, Croft slid out of the booth, put his leather jacket on, and stopped before leaving. “Get these two jokers a couple of Piña Coladas …with umbrellas.”
“Pina what?” asked the server.
Croft turned and left.
Daniels watched Tex leave and blew out a relieved breath.
“Just a couple of waters,” said Rem to the server. He squinted his eyes at the server’s nametag. “Crusty?”
The server looked at his tag, which was smeared with what looked like jam or chocolate. “It’s Rusty. Two waters coming up.” He walked away.
“Although I could use a serious shot of alcohol,” added Rem.
Daniels slid out of the booth and slid into the seat across from Rem. “What do you think?”
Rem moved into the center of his booth. “I think he bought it.” He shook out his hands. “Although my heart was beating so hard, I thought I was going to break a rib.”
“I hear you. I was afraid he could hear mine thumping.”
“The bigger question is, will Rook buy it?” said Rem. “He’s the one we have to convince.”
Daniels replayed the conversation with Tex in his head. “You think Tex would even bring it to Rook if he didn’t think it was viable?”
“Hard to say.” Rem massaged his shoulders. “Tex is a yes man. He won’t risk making the wrong decision.”
His adrenaline surge abating, Daniels sat back. “So, now we wait. That’ll be fun.”
“A blast.” Rem rubbed his stomach. “You hungry?”
“You’re not serious. You want to eat here?”
“After that exchange, I could eat anywhere.”
Daniels rolled his eyes. “Why don’t we—”
Rusty returned with a tray, which he sat on the table beside them. Daniels saw two waters and two shot glasses with clear liquid in them. Rusty grabbed the water and set the cups in front of Daniels and Rem. “Two waters…” He turned and grabbed the two shot glasses. “And two grappas.”
Daniels frowned. “We didn’t order these.”
Rusty picked up the tray. “They’re compliments of the gentleman.” He pointed to the other side of the bar. “And it’s the good stuff. Kenny, the owner, keeps it in the back.”
Daniels leaned to look at their benefactor, and Rem turned in his seat. Back in the corner sat a distinguished older man wearing a silky, brown-collared shirt and a well-cut navy jacket. His slicked-back salt and pepper hair gave him the look of a luxury car salesman, and there were big rings on his fingers. A man and a woman dressed in suits sat on either side of him.
Recognizing the trio, Daniels’ adrenaline surge returned.
Rem sucked in a breath. “I don’t believe this.” He shot a wide-eyed look at Daniels. “It’s Sammy Caruso.”
Chapter Twelve
Shocked to see Caruso sitting in the bar, Rem stared as the man and woman from Caruso’s table stood and walked toward them. Rem recognized them as Tina and Tito, Caruso’s bodyguards, whom they’d met outside the office building where CIW was located the day he and Daniels had first met Caruso.
Daniels spoke quietly. “How much you think he saw?”
“Guess we’re about to find out.”
Tina and Tito approached their table. “Detectives,” said Tina. “Nice to see you again.”
“Can you spare a few minutes with Mr. Caruso?” asked Tito. “He’d like to speak with you.”
“Do we have a choice?” asked Daniels.
“You do,” said Tina. “But every choice has consequences.”
“Your boss is violating bail by being in this state,” said Rem. “Are there consequences for that?”
“Mr. Caruso is well aware of his legal requirements.” Tito didn’t offer more.
Daniels arched his brow at Rem. “Guess we should say ‘hello.’”
Rem slid out of his booth. “Can’t hurt to be neighborly.”
“Mr. Caruso appreciates your time,” said Tina.
Daniels stood too.
“And please,” Tito gestured at the table, “bring your drinks.”
Rem figured it wouldn’t look good if they left the grappa behind. He picked up his shot glass, and Daniels picked up his. They walked over to Caruso’s table.
Caruso, who’d been studying his phone, put it down when they approached. He had his own shot glass in front of him. “Join me, Detectives.”
Reluctantly, Rem took one seat beside Caruso, and Daniels took the other. Tito and Tina sat at an adjacent table and watched the door.
Rem settled into his seat. “What can we do for you, Mr. Caruso?”
His eyes as sharp as shards of glass, Caruso crossed his arms. “I think you’re confused, Detective. The better question is what are you doing for me?”
Daniels set his shot of grappa on the table. “You mean about Jerry Lee?”
Caruso set his jaw. “I’m not asking about Elvis.” He eyed Rem, and a vein in his neck bulged. “Where is my grandson?”
Rem debated what to say. He and Daniels hadn’t discussed what they’d tell Sammy Caruso if he showed. “He’s safe.”
Caruso raised his brow as if surprised by the answer. “You know where he is?”
Daniels squirmed in his seat. “All we can tell you, sir, is that he’s okay.”
“All you can tell me?” asked Caruso in the same threatening tone. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means that until we can be sure he’ll stay safe, we can’t tell you anything more,” replied Daniels.
Caruso squinted at both of them. “Does this have something to do with your friend that you met in this dump? Who just left?”
Rem gripped his shot glass. “We can’t tell you that either.”
Caruso’s expression hardened. “Who the hell do you two idiots think you’re talking to?” He leaned in and lowered his voice, although the menacing tone remained. “If you know where my grandson is, tell me, or I’ll get it out of you the hard way.”
Rem tried to relax his bunched shoulders but failed. “Threatening us won’t work. At this point, it’s becoming routine. We’re not doing this to piss you off. We’re doing this for Jerry.”
“He’s the priority,” said Daniels.
“What are you suggesting?” asked Caruso, raising his voice. “That I can’t protect my grandson?”
Daniels kept his voice even. “You taking him out of the state is not what Jerry or his mother wants, and it doesn’t solve the bigger problem.”
Caruso pointed. “You leave my daughter out of this.” The silver ring on his finger reflected the fluorescent overhead light.
“We can’t do that,” said Rem. “We have to protect both of them.”
Caruso slammed his palm on the table, and Rem jumped. “Listen, you two. I gave you forty-eight hours a long time ago to figure this out. You said you were close. Now you’re telling me you know Jerry’s safe, but can’t tell me anything?”
“We’re working on something even bigger than Jerry,” said Rem.
Caruso glared. “Nothing is bigger than Jerry Lee.”
“We’re aware of that,” added Daniels. “But if you want your grandson safe long-term, let us finish what we’ve started. This is about more than just finding the killer Jerry witnessed in the act. It goes way deeper.”
“There are big players involved,” said Rem. “And we have to be careful. Jerry’s life is not the only one at stake.”
Caruso paused, studied them, and leaned back with a sneer. “You’re suggesting you two are at risk?”
“If our plan fails, then yes,” said Rem. “Definitely.”
“And what happens to Jerry Lee if you fail?” asked Caruso. “If you two can’t save him, who can?”
Rem wasn’t sure how to answer. They hadn’t thought that far ahead.
Daniels studied his shot glass. “If something happens to us, then talk to your daughter. She’ll know what to do.”
The lines between Caruso’s brows deepened. “Then I’ll talk to her now.”
“I wouldn’t.” Rem prepared for another outburst. “She won’t talk to you.”
“And who told her to do that?” yelled Caruso.
“That’s her decision. Not ours,” said Daniels. “You think we could stop her if she wanted to bring you in?”
“We just need time,” said Rem.
“I gave you time,” Caruso squinted with one eye and pointed with a meaty finger. “I even gave you extra. And I told you what would happen if you didn’t deliver.”
“You getting involved in this is a bad idea,” said Daniels. “Let Rem and me play this out. We’re closer now, and may have found a way in. If our plan works, we might take down an entire organization, including Reginald Durning’s killer and the person who hired that killer. If we can do that, Jerry Lee may not even have to testify.”
“Testify?” yelled Caruso. “Who said anything about testifying? There’s no need to testify if this killer is dead.”
One trucker at the front table glanced back at them.
Fed up with Caruso’s attitude, Rem’s own anger flared, but he kept his voice down. “You get involved, and you could start a war with this organization, which puts me, Daniels, Jerry, and your daughter at risk. So stop bullying us. We’re not a couple of street cops. You want us to save your grandkid? Then let us do our jobs.”
“Go home, Mr. Caruso,” said Daniels. “When this is over, and Jerry’s safe, you’ll know it.”
“And if you’re dead?” asked Caruso.
“Then you’ll know that, too,” answered Rem.
His face furrowed. “I don’t take directions from two lousy detectives.”
“Then consider it friendly advice,” said Rem.
“How do I know I can trust you?” asked Caruso, his gaze piercing. He’d lowered his voice but didn’t sound any less threatening. “How do I know you two aren’t working for this organization, and that Jerry Lee isn’t already dead?”
Rem hesitated, and Daniels sighed. “I guess you’re going to have to go on faith,” replied Daniels.
Rem waited as a server approached the table, and Caruso waved her away with a sneer. “Something tells me you’ve already checked us out. If you’d found something suspicious, we’d probably already be out of the picture, right?”
Caruso eyed them both with the look you’d expect from a mob boss who didn’t like what he was hearing. “You two want more time?” He cursed. “Fine. I’ll give it to you.” He pointed with two meaty fingers, and his voice tightened. “But if I discover you’re lying to me, you’re going to meet some friends of mine who won’t be as nice as me.” His cold eyes glittered. “And if Jerry Lee dies, I’ll deal with you personally.”
Rem glared back. “We’ve got enough pressure right now. You adding to it doesn’t help your grandson, or us.”
Daniels leaned his forearms on the table. “We could make one phone call. And your bail would be revoked. You’re not the only one who can make threats.”
Caruso paused and gave an ominous chuckle. “You two clowns think you can scare me? Or that I can’t get to you from jail?”
“At least it would stop these unexpected visits,” added Rem. “They’re a little jarring.”
“And time-consuming,” added Daniels.
Caruso looked between them with a flat yet terrifying expression, and Rem half-wondered if he would tell Tina or Tito to shoot both him and Daniels while Crusty watched in horror from behind the bar. After a pause, Caruso’s face relaxed, but his eyes still flared. “I can respect men who stand up for themselves, especially to me. I rarely see it.”
Rem let go of a held breath.
“And you’re right,” said Caruso, his voice maintaining that intimidating tone. “I had you both checked out, and you came out clean, but that doesn’t mean you’re not good at keeping secrets.” He paused. “My trust with you two only goes so far without results, which I expect to see. And soon.”
“We’re doing our best,” said Daniels. “I can promise you that.”
Caruso twisted a ring around a big finger. “You bring Jerry Lee home safe and sound, and you and I got no beef. But if you fail…”
“Yeah. We know. A visit from your friends. But you won’t have to worry about that,” said Rem. “Because if we fail, we’ll probably already be dead.”
“And if you aren’t, you soon will be. Got it?” Caruso didn’t wait for a response and raised his shot glass. “To a healthy Jerry Lee. And two healthy detectives.”
“We’re on duty,” said Daniels.
Caruso’s gaze hardened. “Never refuse a toast of grappa with an Italian.”
Ready to end this conversation, Rem raised his shot glass. “I’ll drink to that.”
After a pause, Daniels raised his drink too. “Same.”
They all downed their drinks. Rem gasped when the strong alcohol blazed a path down his throat. It was his first shot of grappa, and likely his last.
Daniels sucked air between his teeth and lost the color in his cheeks.
Caruso laughed and returned his glass to the table with barely a grimace. “Grappa will put meat on your bones.”
“And nails in my lungs.” Rem clutched his chest as his whole body flared with heat.
Caruso offered a dismissive wave. “We’re done here, but don’t think I’m far away. I’ll be expecting to hear of Jerry Lee’s safe return soon or expect another visit.”
Rem put his shot glass down and, regaining his composure, stood along with Daniels. “Don’t take it personally,” said Daniels. “But I hope we never see you again.”
Caruso’s hard stare returned. “That, detectives, is entirely up to you.”
Eager to leave, Rem hastily followed Daniels out of the bar.
Chapter Thirteen
Sitting at his dining table, Daniels stifled a yawn and scrolled through the information on the page he was researching on his laptop. Once he arrived home, Marjorie had warmed up some dinner for him while he spent time with J.P. After playing with his son and eating dinner, Daniels had resumed his internet search while Marjorie took J.P. upstairs to put him to bed. Daniels flipped through the names on the list to determine which to give to Manetti and continued researching his current name—Archie Nesbitt. So far, he’d found several Archie Nesbitts but none that fit the expected job description of a member of a secret society.
Frustrated and tired, he flipped to a new page, realizing that any of the Archie Nesbitts he was checking could be a member, and a job description might have nothing to do with it. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and felt hands on his shoulders.
“Hey,” said Marjorie from behind him. She kneaded his shoulders. “How’s it going?”
He groaned as she dug her thumbs into his tight muscles. “Slow.”
“Why don’t you take a break? Rest your eyes.”
Daniels closed his laptop and groaned again when Marjorie found a knot in his neck. “J.P. asleep?”
“Went down like a brownie in front of Rem. He was tuckered.”
Daniels chuckled. Feeling better, he took his wife’s hand and pulled her over. She still wore the cast on her wrist, which was due to come off the following week. “And how are you?”
She sat in the chair beside him. “I’m okay.”
Getting a closer look at her, he noticed her red-rimmed eyes. “How was work?”
She shrugged and studied her fingers. “Work was work.”
Sensing something was up, he squeezed her hand and stood. “Come here.”
Looking up, she frowned. “Come where?”
He gently pulled her arm, and she stood. “Let’s take a few minutes and act like a normal couple.” He guided her into the living room and told her to sit. She did as he requested, and he went to the kitchen and poured them each a glass of white wine. He brought it back to the living room and handed one to her.
“What’s this for?” she asked.
He sat beside her. “We’re going to relax and talk.” He touched his glass to hers. “To my beautiful wife.”
She smiled softly. “And my handsome husband.”
They both took a sip, but seeing her stare off, he took her glass and set both his and hers on the coffee table. He shifted to face her. “Spill it.”
“Spill what?”
“I’m going to ask you again. How was your day? Only this time, tell me the truth.”
After a pause, tears filled her eyes.
