Black Bird: A Murder Mystery Suspense Thriller, page 2
“You’ve seen too much.” Croft glanced at the box. “You know too much.” He glared. “And you talk too much.”
Marty spoke fast. “I don’t know shit. And who would believe me, anyway?”
Croft blinked, and Marty thought of his cat, whose eyes gleamed the same way when he was about to pounce. “And if there’s dissension in the ranks,” said Croft, “someone needs to be an example.”
Marty’s mind whirled. How was he going to get out of this? “An example? Of what?”
“Of what happens when you question your superior and spread lies.”
Marty gaped at Croft. “I won’t say another word. I swear it.”
“Put the box down, Marty.”
It hit Marty that the box was secondary. Croft was there to kill him. Another crack of thunder jolted him into action. Panicking, he swiveled, dropped the box, and ran. The first thing he saw was the metal door. Thinking at warp speed, he imagined getting behind it and locking it. It could be the only thing that might save him. He raced toward it when a cold, sharp sting sliced into his back. Crying out, his legs gave way, and he crumpled into a puddle on the ground. His hood slid down, and rain pelted his head and face, but he crawled toward the door. He reached for it, grabbed the handle, and felt a measure of hope when it opened. But before he could get inside, another shot rang out. He fell forward, his face hit the wet pavement, and his last thought was of Butters, who was waiting for him to come home.
Holding the gun, Croft walked past the taillights of Marty’s car. He approached and squatted in a puddle next to Marty’s body and checked his pulse. Feeling nothing, Croft stood and tucked his gun back into his pocket.
The driver’s side door of his car opened, and the driver got out. He easily towered over Croft and had arm muscles the size of basketballs. He wore a black knit cap, jeans, a sweatshirt, boots, and gloves, but no protection from the rain.
Croft slid his gun into his pocket. “Russell. Put the body in the trunk of his car.” Thunder rumbled, and there was another flash of lightning.
Russell closed his door and approached Marty’s body. Croft returned to the other side of their car to retrieve the box and stopped short when he saw the box had opened and its contents were strewn across the pavement. The tape must have loosened in the rain. Cursing, he raced to pick up what had spilled from the box, and hoped it wasn’t damaged and could still be used. Rook would not be happy to know it had been exposed to the elements.
Squatting and picking up the contents, he heard Russell yell from behind him.
“Croft.”
Hearing the big man’s tone, Croft swiveled. Rain blew into his face, but it didn’t prevent him from seeing swirling lights at the far end of the alley. He froze. It was a police car, and two cars parked in a dark alley on a night like this would likely draw the officers’ attention. “Get back in the car.” He turned and raced to grab whatever he could from the ground and throw it into the box.
Russell hesitated. “But the body.”
“Leave it.” He thought fast. “Leave the bag, too. In the front seat.” Croft stood with the box. “Let’s get out of here. Now.” He slid into the passenger seat, grabbed a bag from the back seat and handed it to Russell, who ran through the rain and tossed it into the front of Marty’s car. Russell raced back and jumped into the driver’s seat next to Croft. He slammed the vehicle into reverse, and looking behind him, shot backward out of the alley.
Chapter Two
Rem sat on his couch and yawned. His eyes watering and his legs propped up on his coffee table, he studied his laptop screen, which displayed another search result on the name he was studying. Chester, his and Mikey’s female cat, who had once belonged to Mikey’s sister Margaret, was curled up against his hip. His head throbbing and his eyes blurring, he blinked several times and reached for the thermos of coffee beside him.
“How long have you been up?”
Mikey’s voice startled him, and he almost dropped his thermos.
Dressed in her usual snug black jeans and T-shirt, with a diamond stud sparkling in her nostril, she came into the room. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay.” Rem took a swig of coffee and closed the thermos. “I’m just tired.”
She sat beside him and brushed back her long brown hair with highlighted purple tips. “Honey, you need to sleep. You’ve been up early every morning this week.”
Rem pinched the bridge of his nose. “The only time I can do this is before I go to work. It’s too risky to do it at my desk.”
Mikey glanced at the laptop screen. “Any luck?”
Rem groaned at his lack of progress. “Not much.” He sighed. “It’s harder than you’d think. All we have are names.” He thought of the current name on the black bird member list he was researching–Rita Vittorio. “Do you know how many Rita Vittorios there are in the San Diego area? And what’s worse is she might not be local. Do you know how many Rita Vittorios are in L.A.? And we can’t just limit it to L.A.. She could be anywhere in this state.”
Mikey tucked a strand of his hair that had fallen into his face behind his ear. “Rita Vittorio isn’t that common of a name. How many can there be?”
“Apparently, there are more Italians in California than I expected.” He rested his head back on the couch. “Daniels and I have narrowed it down, though. If you take out the obits and anyone over eighty and under twenty, and no criminal record, which are all assumptions we had to make, that leaves us with eight possibles.”
“That’s not too bad.”
“And that’s just one name.” He picked up the piece of paper beside him and glanced at it. “Want to take a guess how many possible Curtis Styles there are, or Natalia Ferndales?” He grunted and dropped his head back again. “At this rate, Daniels and I are going to be black bird members for months, if not years.”
“You think you two can pull off being assassins for that long?”
He smirked at her. “I’m good at a lot of things, babe, but that’s stretching it.”
She propped her elbow on the back of the couch. “Maybe you two should consider dropping your membership.”
He rolled his head back and forth. “Can’t do that. The only way to stop these people is to get them to trust us.”
“But that means killing Jerry Lee.”
Rem shrugged. “That requires finding him first, which appears to be impossible. Where the hell did this kid go? Russia?”
“Maybe that’s a good thing. It means you don’t have to kill him.”
“If we don’t, they’ll frame us for the murders of Cain and Bertrand. They’ve got my dad’s gun, remember?”
“You think they’d actually go that far?”
Rem recalled Damien Rook’s anger with him and Daniels. “In a heartbeat. Rook is itching to put us in our place. He hates us.”
“But why?”
Rem sighed and yawned again. “That’s one more mystery to solve.”
Mikey took his hand. “I’m worried about you.”
Rem squeezed her fingers. “I know. But try not to. Daniels and I will figure this out.”
“I’m not just talking about the black birds.”
He met her gaze. “What’s on your mind?”
She propped her chin on her palm. “Honey, you’ve been going nonstop since Cain died. His funeral was three days ago, and you showed more emotion when we went furniture shopping last month. I know Daniels noticed it, too. You’re not sleeping well, and now you’re diving into this list, so you can take down Damien Rook, a man who wants to destroy you and Daniels, and who expects you to kill for him.”
“Sounds like a typical month.”
“I’m not kidding.”
A memory flashed of Cain lying on the floor with an ugly wound in his chest, and his blood pooling beneath him. Rem looked away. “I’m fine.”
“I don’t think you are.”
Recalling Cain asking for forgiveness, Rem closed the laptop. “It’s just my way, Mikey. I need to distract myself, and working is the best way to do that. And it’s not like I have a choice. I’d prefer not to have to kill Jerry Lee. I suspect Daniels feels the same.”
Mikey ran her thumb over the back of Rem’s hand. “You’re blaming yourself, aren’t you? For Cain’s death? I heard what Mabel said to you after the funeral.”
Rem gripped Mikey’s hand. “She lost her brother, and she’s devastated. She has a right to be angry.”
“Not at you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“He died in my arms. Of course, she blames me. She needs a target for her grief.”
“And I admire your compassion, but it’s not fair. He was your cousin. You’re grieving too.”
“I can handle it.”
“You always say that, but I can sense you’re not yourself.” Mikey squeezed his fingers. “I don’t mean to bring up another tough subject, but you blamed yourself for Jennie, too.”
Rem almost corrected her choice of past tense. He still carried the weight of his first love’s loss. “Honey, I get why you’re worried. I know it’s taken years for me to come to terms with Jennie’s death, and now this.” He paused. “I can’t deny I wish I’d handled Cain and his situation differently. Maybe if I had…”
“You tried, Rem. He didn’t want your help. What else were you supposed to do? Throw handcuffs on him and toss him behind bars?”
Rem ran his free hand over his face. “Maybe I should have.”
Mikey slumped. “See. That’s what I’m talking about. You’re carrying a ton of guilt. I think more than you realize.”
“Hey.” He rolled his head to face her.
She scooted lower on the couch and laid her head on the cushions next to his. “What?”
“Don’t worry about me. I want you to worry about you. Rook is crazy enough to come after you to get to me. He did it with Marjorie. And if he somehow finds out you’re trying to retrieve your memories, and if this cigarette smoker we believe is Winnie is involved the way we think he is, that puts you in danger. Have you thought about what I said about staying with Mason?”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“I know, but I don’t want to talk about Cain. I want to talk about you.”
Her face softened. “Aaron—”
He smiled softly. “Michaela—” They rarely used their first names with each other unless the subject turned serious. “Trust me. I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not. But I understand if you need time. Just take it easy, all right? If you push yourself too hard, this wall you’re building will come crashing down, and I don’t want to be the one who takes the brunt when it does.”
He stared into her lovely warm eyes, and his heart thumped for a different reason. “That’s not going to happen because there is no wall. Maybe just a short chain-link fence. Easily scalable.” He let go of her hand and trailed a finger down her cheek. “Promise.”
“Says the man who’s good at lying.”
“I wouldn’t lie to you.”
“You’re going to lie to Rook when you tell him you’ve killed Jerry Lee.”
“That’s different.”
Mikey groaned. “What am I going to do with you?”
He grinned. “A few things come to mind.” He reached around her waist and pulled her closer. Chester, looking annoyed, jumped off the couch.
She moaned when he leaned in and kissed her neck. “You’re changing the subject.”
He ran his lips up to her cheek. “I know.” His skin warmed when she ran her hands up his arms, but he groaned when she pushed him back.
“Tempted as I am,” she said, her cheeks flushing, “we’re not done with this conversation, Romeo.” She held his gaze. “But hold that thought.”
He fought the need to pull her back into his arms. “Don’t make me wait long, or I’ll be forced to ravish you.”
“Promise?”
He chuckled and sat up. “Okay. Let’s get back to you then. Did you talk to Mason about staying with him?”
“Do you see Marjorie going anywhere?”
“If Daniels could pack her and J.P. up and send them to South America until this mess blows over, he would, but she’s not budging.”
“And neither am I.” She took his hand again. “We’re in this together, remember?”
Hating her being at risk, he sighed. As much as he loved her bravery and stubbornness, it also drove him nuts. “Just be super careful, okay? Watch your surroundings and keep this whole memory retrieval thing to yourself. Remind Lena too.”
“She knows. She won’t say anything.” Mikey studied their entwined fingers. “But I need to update you on something.”
Imagining the worst, he straightened. “What? Did something happen?”
She shook her head. “No. Nothing bad. But I’ve made some progress with my meditations with Lena.” Mikey hesitated. “Remember when I told you that instead of trying to figure out who Vera’s killer is, Lena suggested I try to contact Vera instead?”
Rem had a vague memory of Mikey telling him that, but with all that had recently happened, he hadn’t been keeping up with any new developments. “I do. Has it helped?”
Mikey held his gaze. “I saw her.”
Rem frowned. “You mean in your meditations?”
“No. I saw her spirit. In Daniels’ house. The day after Marjorie’s accident.”
Rem wasn’t sure he understood. “You mean, like Mason sees spirits?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re just now telling me?”
“There’s been a lot going on, Rem. And there’s not much to tell. She didn’t say anything. She just floated there and disappeared when you and Daniels came home.”
“Have you seen her since?”
Mikey resumed her stare at their hands. “Not in spirit form.” She looked up. “She showed up in a dream last night. And she spoke to me.”
That had Rem’s full attention. “What did she say?”
“She said she’s been watching me.”
“That’s comforting. I think.”
“I told her if she appears in the middle of the night, standing over the bed, I’m going to freak out.”
“I hope you conveyed I feel the same.”
Mikey smiled. “I think she knows.”
“Good. What else?”
“I asked her about Margaret’s friend. The man we think is Winnie. She just stood there in silence. I asked again, and she told me I already know him.”
That caught Rem by surprise. “Who the hell is he?”
Mikey huffed. “I have no idea. I know a lot of people. I asked for a hint, though.” She squeezed Rem’s fingers again. “She said Margaret knows him, too.”
Rem’s stomach clenched at the thought of Margaret, Mikey’s psychotic sister, currently residing in a psychiatric facility because she’d been deemed unfit to stand trial. “We know your sister knows him. That’s nothing new.”
“I think Vera was suggesting I ask her.”
Understanding the implications, Rem stiffened. “Oh, hell no. That’s not going to happen.”
“Rem, listen—”
Rem set his laptop on the coffee table and stood. “If you think for one second you’re going to go talk to your sister, then you need to change your mind. Right now.”
“I’ve been thinking about it. What can it hurt? I’ll take Mason with me. We’re her family, for God’s sake. We should visit her.”
“That’s not what you said before Vera came into the picture.”
“Vera said to talk to her. That must mean something. If Margaret tells us who Winnie is, that will change everything. You and Daniels might not have to go down this road with Rook. It could solve a lot of problems.”
“And create a lot more.” He ran his hand through his long hair. “You can’t trust your sister, Mikey.”
“This isn’t about Margaret. This is about Vera. I owe her.”
“Now who’s feeling guilty?”
“Then you know exactly how I feel. If this might help, I have to do it.”
“I completely disagree. And something tells me Mason might feel the same.”
“Mason will come around. It’s you I need to convince.”
Rem didn’t like where this was headed. “Have you already talked to him about this?”
“No. I just had the dream last night.”
“But you have talked to him? About Vera?”
“Of course. He gave me plenty of tips and pointers to help Vera come through and to prepare me in case she did. His advice has been instrumental.”
Rem put his hands on his hips. “I wish you’d felt comfortable coming to me.”
Mikey stood. “I do, but you lost Cain, and then this thing with Rook happened. I didn’t want to give you one more thing to deal with. But I’m telling you now.” She took his hand again. “And I want your support.”
“To go see Margaret?” He shook his head. “I can’t give you that. It’s too dangerous. Even with Mason there. Your sister knows how to manipulate a total stranger. She’ll make mincemeat of both of you and only make this situation worse.”
“As you like to say, I can handle it.”
Rem straightened. “If you can call me on my bullshit, I can call you on yours.”
Mikey paused. “I want to do this.”
“And I don’t want you to do this.”
They stared at each other until Mikey broke the silence. “I’m a big girl. I can make my own decisions.”
“I’m well aware. I’m used to it. I know I can’t stop you from seeing her, but I can’t give you my blessing. And I’ll argue with you every step of the way.”
Mikey’s brow furrowed. “Why are you so damn stubborn?”
“I could ask you the same.”
They stared again, and Rem softened his voice. “I’m only trying to protect you.”
“I want the same for you. Vera, too. That’s why it’s important for me to do this.”
Frustrated, Rem looked away.
“There’s another reason to talk to her. Don’t forget who else is on that list.” She pointed at the paper on the couch. “Victor D’Mato. If he talked to Margaret about the black birds—”
