Grave Consequences (11 page)

“Don't say it quite like that.”

Al smiled. “Okay. Yeah, once Steve left, Clarence told two of the others, Ronnie and some other guy whose name I never heard, to go with Steve and make sure he didn't screw this up too.”

“When did you find out what went down later?”

“I returned to the steakhouse after you left, then, just before the place closed, the two guys came back alone. Ronnie whispered something to Clarence I couldn't hear, then Clarence whispered something back,” Al said. “I didn't know if you were alive or what until I was able to leave Ronnie's place this morning. Said I needed some sack time and a change of clothes. Once I was clear, I sent the text. When you answered I knew you were okay. Later I heard on the news about a body turning up in your neighborhood. Was that Steve?”

Charlie nodded. “Shot twice, dumped on my front porch. Some kind of warning, I guess.”

“Well, at least you and Gordon are okay.”

“How much of what happened does your team know?” Charlie asked.

“Everything Detective DuPree told them after talking to you this morning,” Al replied, sipping on the last of his soft drink.

“So, you think the Night Crew is going to find out we're related?” Charlie asked.

“Hope not. I thought of that, but it's worth the risk if I can track down whoever killed the silversmith. I don't know any of these people. I don't know who I can trust, not yet. Which brings up the obvious. You and Gordon are taking these attempts on your lives personally, aren't you?” Al asked. “Obviously he's backing you up right now.”

“We don't want to do anything that'll threaten your safety, Al,” Charlie said, glancing around. Everyone was busy eating and talking, and nobody had even looked their way.

“That sounds more like a yes than a no, so let's try not to get into each other's way. What do you have in mind?”

“Okay, Al, but keep as much of this to yourself as you can without getting into trouble.” Charlie had kept his voice low, but now it was even lower. “We're going to do our best to disrupt these people's operations and basically screw with their lives in every way we can. Once we thin out the Night Crew they'll need someone like you to fill in. Hopefully, you'll be able to get in a position to hear or see something that'll lead you to identifying whoever killed Buck.”

“What if you hassle someone who's not part of the crew?”

“We'll be careful. Just count on us pissing them off,” Charlie added. “If all you can do is discover who's trying to find Lola Tso, and where she got the squash blossom necklace, that might be enough to make the case.”

“Sounds interesting, but I have to follow the law and procedures,” Al said. “Don't do anything that'll hurt our case, suppress evidence, or get you arrested, bro.”

“Do your best to have your team look the other way.”

Al sighed. “And here I am, working with crazies, trying to salvage my career.”

Charlie suspected it was more than that, but what could he say about Al's loss of pride, of his reputation, that would help right now? “You'll do just fine, brother. We're both on the same team, we're just running different plays.”

“I'm leaving now,” Al said, putting his wrappers inside his empty drink cup. “Contact me through DuPree if the need arises.”

Charlie nodded. “Have a good one,” he said in a normal voice as Al stood.

“You too,” Al said, then walked away, throwing his wrapper in a trash can as he left the table area.

Charlie finished his sandwich, then left the Walmart and walked over to a building materials warehouse on the same block. He went into the store, waited a few minutes looking at some paint chips, then exited out into the parking lot. Gordon pulled up and Charlie jumped inside the pickup.

“Didn't pick up on any surveillance, Charlie. How'd it go with Al?”

“He didn't know for sure who'd died until this morning, though he knew Steve was in a tight spot. Clarence Fasthorse had told Steve to take care of us. Al also saw Steve's companions after the attack on us—without Steve. They traded secrets with Clarence, so it confirms that Mr. Fasthorse
is
connected with the Night Crew,” Charlie concluded as he drove them east across the Corrales Bridge.

“You tell him what we plan to do?”

“Yeah, he doesn't like the idea, but didn't offer any alternatives. He's worried we'll hurt the undercover operation.”

Gordon shrugged. “Your brother's a cop, so I wouldn't expect DuPree or even Nancy to look at it any other way either. Closing these people down and catching a killer puts us on the same path as the cops, but we have to make sure we don't do anything that'll endanger any of the undercover people. We want it to look like a blend of personal and business rivalries. The one thing we don't want to do is show any knowledge or interest in the Buck murder.”

“Exactly. Let's get back to work now and think about our first move.”

*   *   *

It was easy finding Clarence Fasthorse's address through an Internet search. Next, they had to find out if he really lived there. The structure was a large, modern, flat-roofed two-story stucco and brick building that appeared to be the newest house on the block. It blended in well with the high-end homes in this old, affluent, near-downtown neighborhood.

A dark blue SUV was parked along the curb and a red Mustang in the narrow driveway, visible just inside a metal remote-operated power gate. All this Charlie noted and photographed with a small digital camera as they passed by in Gordon's pickup.

“Okay, we've already got photos and vehicle tags for all the vehicles in the restaurant parking lot—which should include the employees currently at work. And we have these vehicles as well, now,” Charlie added. “Once we find out which vehicle Clarence drives and he leaves for the restaurant, we can check out his home more closely.”

Gordon stopped at a red light and looked over. “That sexy little Mustang looked more like a chick car to me.”

“Could be a girlfriend. If she's living with him it might present a problem,” Charlie said. “We'll have to find a time when nobody's home. What if he has a housekeeper?”

“All part of a good recon, Charlie. We may have to take a few days before the time is right—except for the GPS on his car. I'm betting he doesn't travel alone, either, not with a crew at his disposal. He'll have a bodyguard, maybe?”

“Someone to help keep his people in line,” Charlie suggested. “Once we see him leave, we'll look for the best time to place the tracker.”

“Now we stake out the place and watch for activity. Where to park?” Gordon asked.

“How about the home with the For Sale sign on the lawn? If anyone comes out, we'll be interested, if not, we'll stick around like we're waiting for a Realtor.”

“Yeah, and we can look up the place on a cell phone to get the right names and details.”

They'd been there less than ten minutes when a man and a leggy, buxom, black-haired woman came out the front entrance, stopping by the gate for a quick kiss. The woman walked over to the Mustang, climbed in, and backed out as soon as the automatic gate opened. The man, dressed in slacks and a dress shirt, went back inside.

“That was Clarence?” Gordon asked.

“Yeah,” Charlie replied, lowering the small telescope, then collapsing it to the size of a pen before placing it into his pocket. “The woman looked to be a few years older than Fasthorse, but is good-looking and probably not the housekeeper.”

“Maybe she's a married girlfriend? It would explain the afternoon weekday visit,” Gordon suggested.

“We'll have a friend of ours look up the license plate and get us a name. If Mustang Sally doesn't live here, we'll have more opportunities to get inside.”

“Once we get past his surveillance cameras,” Gordon pointed out.

“One step at a time, Gordo. Here comes Clarence and his backup, bodyguard, or whatever,” Charlie said, glancing up into the passenger-side mirror of the pickup. He brought out his pocket telescope again and turned around for a look.

“Tall, athletic black guy about thirty, short hair, shades, with the build of a basketball player, or end,” Charlie described. “Light sports jacket, probably to conceal a sidearm. Yeah, caught a glimpse of a holster.”

“What's Clarence carrying? A laptop?”

“More like a tablet. Probably uses it at work, assuming he actually does run the restaurant,” Charlie added.

“Let's leave before he does. Based on the time of day and the suit jacket, he's probably going to work the evening shift,” Gordon suggested, starting the engine. He had to wait a second for a passing vehicle before pulling out into the street.

Five minutes later they were parked across the street from the Pi
ñ
on Mesa Steakhouse, watching as the blue SUV pulled into the restaurant lot and parked in a space marked “staff.”

The driver climbed out the same time as Clarence and the two met in front of the vehicle. Then they walked around the corner of the building to the rear, disappearing from sight.

“There are cameras covering most of the lot, including that SUV. We're going to have to do some sneaky crawly work to place that bug,” Gordon observed, “and approach from the blind side, using the SUV itself as a screen from the cameras.”

“Flip you for it?” Charlie said, grinning.

“Yeah, like a guy your size can fit underneath that SUV,” Gordon said, then sighed. “You're gonna owe me a prime rib dinner, you know that?”

Charlie laughed. “You're on. Now let's round up what we need. We'll want to get this done after dark, during their busy dinnertime when there's going to be a lot more noise and activity.”

“It'll be a lot more fun if you let me place a bomb as well,” Gordon said, watching in the mirror for an opening in traffic so he could pull out into the street.

“Maybe next time.”

*   *   *

It was seven thirty at night, and Gordon had been gone for ten minutes. Another five, maybe less, and he should be done, barring any unforeseen problems. Charlie had parked in the restaurant's lot as close as he could this time, using a rental car they'd picked up across the city. They couldn't risk bringing the pickup again, or his Charger, which was back in service again but recognizable by the two guys who'd accompanied Steve Martinez—and maybe killed him later.

Charlie had been making his pretend cell phone call, watching the restaurant's corners in case Clarence or his bodyguard came out. So far he'd seen nothing but customers entering and leaving.

“Three more minutes,” came Gordon's voice over Charlie's Bluetooth earpiece. “I'm waiting for the superglue to set up on the body pan.”

“Still clear,” Charlie replied. They'd learned to place bugs, bombs, GPS trackers, and other devices years ago, creating ways to disguise their work with fake, weathered covers that appeared to be part of the normal vehicle undercarriage when examined by anyone manning a roadblock.

If done right, their work would pass a casual visual inspection by mirror. Hidden by this particular cover was a tiny microphone placed beneath the front seat of the SUV, via a hole drilled from below. They'd learned where to drill these holes so they'd be difficult to spot from the rear seat. The microphone was purchased locally from a friend of a friend who owned an electronics store. There was also a GPS tracker similar to those used on fancy dog collars.

Charlie, watching the corner of the restaurant, suddenly saw two figures coming around the corner. The lot was well lit and he recognized Fasthorse and his black companion instantly.

“They're coming your way. Time to get out of there!” Charlie ordered, then climbed out of the car. He was wearing a western hat, glasses, and an enhanced belly disguise that added fifty pounds to his frame. He thumbed the panic button on his key fob and suddenly the rental car's horn started beeping and the lights flashing.

He started cussing, then played the fool for about ten seconds fiddling with his key before turning it off. “Dammit to hell,” he cussed, then walked toward the restaurant entrance, glancing at Clarence and the other man out of the corner of his eye.

They'd stopped in their tracks and were laughing aloud.

 

Chapter Ten

Unable to stop now, he continued to the entrance, hoping he'd given Gordon enough time. Just outside the door he paused to tie his shoe. He heard the SUV back up, turn, then drive away toward the street.

Turning, he watched out of the corner of his eye until it disappeared.

A shape rose up from the asphalt behind the concrete parking barrier, picked up a backpack, then walked away from the restaurant toward the sidewalk that paralleled the street.

Charlie walked back to the rental car, and a few minutes later, pulled up beside the curb. Gordon, looking like a street person in a dark hoodie, sneakers, and jeans, climbed in. He was covered with metal shavings and oily dust.

“It's been a long time since I've worked this hard to become invisible. If they hadn't had to back up out of that parking slot I'd have been spotted for sure,” Gordon added. “That eight-inch-high barrier was the only cover I had.”

“But you got the job done,” Charlie replied. “Way to go.”

“Let's see for ourselves, fat boy.” Gordon reached into the backpack, pulled out a small receiver, and turned up the volume. A voice came out loud and clear. “Yes. I know. I know. At least he can't screw up again. I'm working on it, give me some time. Wait until I get there, okay? We'll talk then. Yes, I had dinner—the Rancher's Special. I've got to go now. Bye.”

There was silence for a moment before the person spoke again. “This could take awhile, Leroy. After you drop me off go back to the restaurant and keep an eye on things. If either of those assholes show up again, give me a call.”