Dead Red (4 page)

“On the RicTor scale, about a nine-point-eight, man.”

“That’s a pretty big fuckup, Ricky.”

“I know it. But, lemme show you something. Then tell me you wouldn’ta done the same thing.”

*   *   *

“You two comparing cell phone sizes, now?”

“Rachel,” I said. “Come here.” When she got to the side of my chair, I held the phones out for her. “Whatta you think? This the same person?”

She looked at the pictures. “Could be. It’s hard to tell ’cause this one’s blurry, but that is the same smile. Again, hard to be sure, but in this one,” she held up Ricky’s phone, “she looks a bit older. Maybe it’s the hair?” She took a closer look. “This girl is pretty.”

I studied the picture on Ricky’s phone. “Terminally.” I pressed the button to call back whoever had just called, and I was sent directly to an automated response telling me the caller was unavailable.

“What the fuck are you doing with Ricky’s phone, Ray?” Jack asked.

“He gave it to me.” I was remembering more now. “Said he needed to show me something.”

Jack shot up off the couch as Rachel was handing me back the phones. His face told me he suddenly wished he hadn’t. On wobbly legs and through gritted teeth, he said, “What did he tell you, Ray? That he’d found the girl we were looking for? Were you and Ricky gonna go for the reward without me? That it?”

There’s the old Jack
, I thought.
Paranoid as all shit
.

“I never got a chance to see the picture, Jack. Remember? All the bullets? The concussion? Ricky getting killed?”

“Maybe all that happened after you got a look at the picture. Maybe that’s why you kept the phone.”

“Right, Jack. It was all a plot against you.” I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Somebody at the scene probably found the phone, assumed it was mine, and put it in the bag.” I flashed back to last night before I left the apartment. I didn’t remember taking my phone.

“Tell me more about the missing girl,” I said to Jack.

He got quiet for a few seconds and took a deep breath as Rachel stepped into my kitchen. “The family,” he said, calming down a bit now. “The Goldens. They’re offering fifty G’s for info that leads to her safe return home. Like I said, they all do that, the rich ones. I was weeding out the nut jobs, but the thought occurred to me that if Ricky or me found the chick…”

“You and Ricky were going to split this?”

“We were practically partners. I’m not gonna cut Ricky out of something like that. Especially if he came up with something big.”

I gave him a look like I didn’t quite believe him, but I kept my mouth shut. Jack took the opportunity to sit back down on the futon.

“Coffee, boys?” Rachel placed two steaming mugs on the coffee table and removed yesterday’s newspaper to make room for our breakfast. “I’ll be right back with some plates and napkins. Try and play nice.”

Jack put the wet towel back up to his eyes and grinned. “She ain’t too bad when she’s not spraying people with pepper or using them as a kicking bag.”

“Birthday gifts from Uncle Ray. Got her the spray and a year at the gym with kickboxing lessons.”

“Tell him I said thanks a lot.”

“I’ll do that. We’re having dinner tonight.”

“I’ll be gone by then. Shucks.”

“He’ll be disappointed he missed you, too.”

Rachel returned with our sandwiches. She had placed two on each plate and after putting them down on the coffee table, she went back into the kitchen and came back with her own breakfast: a big plastic container of cut-up fruit.

“You still on that diet, Rache?” I asked.

“It’s not a
diet,
Ray. It’s a lifestyle change.”

“Oh.” I took a bite of my egg and kielbasa sandwich. If I was wrong and there was a Heaven, this was what they served for breakfast. “I thought it was a diet.”

“Diets don’t last, Ray. I’m the expert on that. I’m just eating a lot more fruits and veggies and cutting way back on the dairy and meat. You might wanna give it a go sometime.” She speared something that looked like a chunk of pineapple and put it in her mouth. As she chewed, she said, “So what’s with the picture of the girl?”

“It looks like it might be the—”

“It involves a case I’m working on,” Jack interrupted. “Can’t say more than that at the moment.”

“Because I might spill the beans?” Rachel said, pointing a pair of blueberries that were stuck on the end of her fork at Jack. “Ruin the whole case?”

“Because,” Jack said, “every client deserves confidentiality. That’s why we’re called
private
investigators.”

Rachel ate the blueberries and smiled. “That’s a good answer, Jack.”

“Glad you approve, little sister.”

We ate in silence for another minute or so. The food was doing wonders for my body and my head. After I finished my first sandwich, I looked at Jack, who was already halfway through his second.

“I remember Ricky saying something about making a mistake,” I said. “You know anything about that, Jack?”

“Do you?”

“No, Jack, I don’t. That’s why I’m asking you.” I felt some anger rising up, making my head hurt more, so I took a bite of pickle. Whatever else had gone down between Jack and me, we had both lost a friend a few hours ago. I didn’t have the strength for another argument. “Stop with the paranoid shit. Up until last night, I hadn’t seen Ricky since he got back.
He
called
me
. Said he had to talk. Why we had to talk over on the Southside and whatever it has to do with the picture on his phone, I don’t have a clue. All I remember is his saying last night that he’d made a mistake. I guess he figured I could help him with whatever it was.”

“That’s you.” Jack wiped his lips with a napkin. “Officer Friendly.”

“I was looking out for a friend.”

“You wanna go there, Ray?” He leaned forward to put the other half of his sandwich down. “You wanna have a conversation about looking out for friends in front of your little sister here? I think she’ll be real interested in hearing how far some people are willing to go to help out a friend. Or a friend of a friend?”

Jack was starting to sound like some of the kids I worked with. They’d get themselves into an argument of their own creation, start feeling the wall creeping up behind them, and then change the subject. I had to remind Jack—and myself—that we were on the same side here.

“Let’s stay focused here, okay, Jack? Do you think Ricky’s murder could have anything to do with the work he was doing for you?”

He took a breath, trying to get back on track. “The insurance inspections or the missing rich girl?”

“Either one.”

“He never said anything to me that made me think he was in any kinda trouble. Of course, people don’t open up to me like they do to you, Ray.”

“We have different … skill sets, Jack.”
Man, I could be diplomatic when I wanted.
“When were you two supposed to hook up again?”

“Not until Monday. He wasn’t gonna call me unless something broke on Angela, the Golden girl. I told Ricky he could work some weekend hours if he wanted—do an inspection, take some photos, ask around about the girl—and I’d pay him for it. But I don’t do Saturday and Sunday unless I absolutely have to.”

“And he told you he needed money, right?”

“Fuck, Ray. Who doesn’t need money?”

“But more now. You said he didn’t bring it up until recently.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s right.”

I took another sip of coffee and started in on my second kielbasa and egg. I think more clearly when I’m well fed. Rachel got up and came back with the coffeepot. She refilled all three of our cups and returned to the kitchen.

“Why so pensive, Ray?” Jack said, surprising me with the word choice.

“That’s a good place for the cops to start.”

“What is?”

“What was going on in Ricky’s life that made him need more money?”

Jack shrugged. “He probably just wanted to get the hell out of his mom’s crib, man. Guy’s in his thirties, spent the better part of the last three years overseas. Living with your mom’s only cool for so long, y’know?”

“You’re probably right.”

Jack studied my face as he took a sip of coffee. “But…”

“But,” I said, “I don’t like the timing. Ricky tells you he needs more cash, and within a couple of days, he’s killed. Guy does two tours in the sandbox and this is how he ends up? It doesn’t feel right.”

Jack shook his head and laughed.

“I say something funny?”

“That’s the rookie that used to crack us up in the locker room.”

I hated when Jack called me that, but did my best not to let it show.

“Your whole
feelings
thing. Sometimes shit just happens, Ray. It’s not a matter of fair or unfair. Lotta times it’s being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe Ricky’s dead ’cause someone hates cab drivers, or ex-cops, or Marines just back from fucking Mullah Mullah land. Maybe some wannabe gangbanger was busting his cherry. Who the fuck knows? All that matters is Ricky’s dead.”

“You telling me you don’t care why?”

“Not as much as I care about the
who
. I’ll tell ya something else, Ray,” he leaned forward to put his cup down, “I find out who did this before the cops…”

I held up my hand. “You sure you wanna say this out loud, Jack?”

“The fuck’s it matter I say it out loud? It’s just you and me, right?”

Rachel took that cue to return to the living room.

“There’s me, too,” she said.

“Don’t you have dishes to do or something?” Jack asked.

“Give it a rest, Jack,” said Rachel. “We know what you’re thinking. We’ve all seen
The Maltese Falcon
. Man’s partner gets killed, he oughta do something about it, right?”

“Jack,” I said, “my uncle’s going to be here later. He’s arranged it so he’s going to take my statement. I’m going to tell him everything I know, which is not all that much, but I’m gonna have to tell him Ricky was working with you. There’s gonna be a whole lot of police on this, Jack. And that’s not us, anymore.”

Jack considered that, picked what remained of his sandwich off the plate, and finished it in two bites. When he was done, he wiped his mouth, rolled up the napkin, and tossed it on the table. He slowly stood up and didn’t speak until he got his breathing under control. Just when he was about to say something, his phone rang. He looked at the screen, gave it a puzzled look, and said, “I gotta take this.” He motioned to my back deck. “You mind?”

“It’s all yours.” Jack went out to the deck, careful to close the sliding door behind him. Rachel gave me a look. “He’s a busy guy,” I said, watching Jack through the window.

“I can see why. He is one smooth operator.”

“He’s not all bad, Rache. Apparently, there’re a lot of people willing to pay money for his skills and type of approach.”

“A lot of them are overtaking foreign countries, I bet.”

I laughed. “I doubt it, but I wouldn’t be too surprised if he subscribed to
Soldier of Fortune
.”

We both turned at the sound of the deck door sliding open and closed. As Jack put his phone away and took out his car keys, he looked like someone had just told him he was adopted.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess. I am fucking tired.” He stood, frozen in place for about fifteen seconds before speaking again. “That was my friend over at the nine-oh. The one who called me last night?”

“Yeah?”

“He told me there was another taxi cab–related shooting last night. Over in Long Island City. Right over the bridge.”

I gave that some thought. “Cops think they’re connected?”

“They do now.”

“Why’s that?”

“Both cabs are licensed by the same company, part of a mini-fleet corporation. Six cabs. They drive some themselves, lease some of them out, and hire drivers—like Ricky T—to pick up shifts. Ricky’s cousin is a partner in the cab company.”

I let that sink in. “What happened to the driver?”

“He’s in ICU. Took one in the shoulder, but he’s expected to pull through.”

“How was it done?’

“Same as Ricky. Automatic weapon, shooter in motion, cab shot to shit.”

“Fuck,” I said.

Before I could add to that deep thought, Rachel asked, “So, what does that mean? Somebody’s shooting up cabs owned by Ricky’s cousin?”

“That’s what it looks like,” Jack said.

“So, Ricky,” I added, “may not have been the target after all. The cops’ job just got a whole lot harder.”

“Yeah,” Jack said just above a whisper. “That it did.” He spun his keys around like a cowboy playing with his gun. “I gotta go. Make some calls.”

“You okay to drive?” Rachel asked, unable to resist taking one more shot.

“Yeah. I think I can make it.” He looked down at me. “You think you can maybe keep the Golden family out of your statement, Ray? Ricky was kinda working that one under the table, and I don’t need that kind of attention right now.”

“What kind of attention is that?” I asked.

“The kind that makes it tough for a small businessman such as myself to keep conducting business.” Jack ran his hand over his crew cut. “I don’t wanna say you owe me one, but…”

“I’ll tell him only that Ricky was in touch with you.” I got out of the chair slowly and tried hard not to make any old-man noises. “Someone’s gonna get around to questioning you, Jack. Tell ’em what you think they need to know.”

Jack nodded. “I appreciate that, Ray.” He offered his hand and I took it. I think that might have been the first time we’d ever done that. “What’d you say before? You got two more weeks until school starts?”

“Yeah. I go back the day after Labor Day. Why?”

“Just thinking, is all. I got kinda used to having an extra body around. You know, doing those inspections for me, the interviews.”

It took me about fifteen seconds to catch on. I squinted at Jack. “And you’re thinking I might be a candidate for the job?”

“I know. I can’t believe I’m thinking about this, but you’re a hard-ass for detail and know your way around paperwork. You still got your piece?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”