“Yeah, Walter, you got something?”
“It ain’t good. You still out?”
“No, I’m back at the station. What’s going on?”
“Does Handley live over in Walnut Hills…on Hackberry?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Well, I got him, but he’s been dead a while. House just blew up.”
“Come again?”
“He was lying in his bed, dead and already getting stiff, and the house blew up right after I left with his body. I’m headed there. I’ll see you in a minute.”
Less than a minute later, Walter walked in the police station and turned Handley’s body over, before following Wilkins to a private room to talk.
“Is that your guy?” Walter asked when Wilkins sat down across from him.
“Yeah, any idea how he died?”
“Not in his house. He’s already cold, and had some weird looking wounds, skin looked burned in places.”
“Seems like we’ll wait for the medical examiner.”
“However it was done, it’s pretty obvious. If I didn’t get there when I did, he would have burned up pretty good in the explosion. If I hadn’t smelled the gas…”
“So, it seems like he was onto something.”
“Do you have any idea what group he was infiltrating?”
“There have been rumors, but nothing concrete. Seems like there’s a mob type outfit operating in town, but they’ve covered their tracks too well and we don’t have much to go on.”
“Not like the TV shows, where everyone knows who the mob boss is and half the cops are on the take.”
“Not quite. I’ve watched Gotham, too. It’s nothing like that here. You see a string of crimes that seem connected, but we can’t put it together. Not enough forensic evidence to nail more than some small operators, and they don’t talk…at least not much. We have a good idea that things are organized, but it must be compartmentalized and one guy doesn’t know much about what the others are up to. Rumor going around it’s a woman, though.”
“A woman?”
“A couple crooks have mentioned a woman who might be calling the shots. We don’t have any idea who. One thug says she’s in her 40s and good looking, but that doesn’t really narrow things down much.”
“You think there’s any way I can help?”
“Just do what you’re already doing and call me if you see anything.”
“That doesn’t seem like much.”
“No offense, but what is your background…before you became…you know…before you got like you are now?”
“I was a factory worker, retired a few months ago.”
“Exactly. You can catch crooks, but any more than that is probably better handled by the police.”
“Hey, I see where you’re going. Just seems I could maybe get some information out of someone.”
“And how do you propose doing that? You don’t have interrogation experience, and with your capabilities…”
“Things could get out of hand?”
“Yeah, that is a possibility.”
“Well, you give me a call when you find out what killed your guy, okay?”
“Sure thing. I owe you one for finding him. Wish it could have turned out better, but thank you.”
“It was the least I could do. You need any more help, you know where to reach me. I’m not doing anything else.”
9
Frank Lawrence took the stairs to the basement below the warehouse and knocked on the closed door. Rumor had it that the boss was in a foul mood, so he was prepared for anything.
“Come in,” Catherine Mixon said.
Frank walked into the small room, thankful that there was no one else being interrogated in there this time. He once again marveled at how attractive the boss was, but nobody who worked for her would dare approach her. Behind her movie star looks she was as cold as ice. A fastidious workout routine gave her the body of a woman ten years her junior, and she had used that to her advantage on more than one occasion, disarming men who weren’t quick enough to see past the pretty exterior to the cold darkness inside.
Frank was no fool. He had worked for her long enough to know what she was about, and it scared him. He stood inside the doorway, hands clasped in front of him.
“Well, Frank, any more word on Walter?”
“He was spotted going in and out of District 1 a couple times, and he stopped a robbery in Westwood about an hour ago…and…”
“What are you hesitant to tell me?”
“Enrique got this video on his phone, earlier today in Walnut Hills.”
He handed his phone to Mixon and waited while she pressed play, watching Walter enter the house on Hackberry and fly out with a body, shortly before the explosion.
“What part of town was this?”
“Walnut Hills…Hackberry St. The informant’s house.”
“Who was he carrying out of there?”
“Look at the video. It’s obvious it’s a body, the way he’s carrying him.”
“Are you telling me Larry staged the explosion to try to get rid of the body?”
“Yeah, and it would have worked if Walter hadn’t shown up. Would have looked like a house fire and the body would have been too burned up for the cops to know anything.”
“But that didn’t happen, did it? Larry was too clever for his own good. Is he still around?”
“He’s upstairs checking the latest shipment.”
“Bring him down here, will you, love?”
Frank and Larry entered the room five minutes later, both looking nervous.
“So, Larry, how did things go with Mr. Handley?”
“I put him in his bed and blew the house. Cops won’t suspect a thing.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“The house went up in flames. It’s all over the news.”
She handed him the phone and played the video. “Then how do you explain this?”
“What’s wrong, Larry, cat got your tongue?”
“Uh…I…I don’t know.”
“You were way too clever. I told you to get rid of a body, and now the police most likely have him. I gave you a simple task, and you failed.”
“I…I…I’m sorry…I’ll do…”
He was cut off by the sudden appearance of a hole in the middle of his forehead and he pitched to the floor. Mixon laid the pistol
