No Good Deed...Part XV

[Robbie C.]

Castillo waited until he heard the rental car start and make the turn back toward the main road before slipping off his sunglasses and looking at the deck with clear eyes. He was annoyed with himself for not thinking of the lawyers. But the hard part was over: Randy was on board. If things were going to be as bad as Ti Ti’s dream implied, he’d need someone else who was willing to go all the way.

He let that phrase make its way through his head. Go all the way. For most of his life, Martin Castillo had been about law. Or he’d been able to wrap what he did in the cloak of authority and get on with things. That had been his time in Laos. But this was different. His friends were in danger…men who’d risked their lives for him more times than he cared to count. Ignoring the dream, and the threat, wasn’t an option. Maybe bringing Randy in was a mistake, but Ti Ti had been clear in the dream. He couldn’t do this alone.

He was glad Randy had helped refine his thoughts about the lawyers. He hadn’t considered just how far back they went with Caitlin’s money, or how much it might have hurt them when Sonny fired the firm. But he also couldn’t see them as violent men. Sneaky and dishonest to the core, yes. But not capable of violence. But that didn’t mean they didn’t know people who were capable of such violence. If he remembered correctly the senior partner had been locked up for working with the Mob, and there was no reason to think the others didn’t have connections to that world as well. It was almost impossible to be a successful defense attorney in Miami and not come into contact with at least some part of the drug trade.

Turning, he headed inside to make more tea. This wasn’t something that was easy to follow, and he had leaned in those jungles he did his best thinking with tea. He filled the strainer and waited for water to boil, letting it all settle in his head like tea would as it brewed.

Three phone calls later he had more information. Galkowski hadn’t been glad to hear from him, but most of what they now called Miami-Dade was like that. The gaps he’d left had been filled by Pete’s replacement at the marshal’s service office, and what he didn’t know Fellows at DEA had been glad to answer. Castillo sipped his lukewarm tea and looked out the patio door. He took no notes, retaining what each man had said in his head.

As he’d guessed, the law firm had ties to a number of industries, legitimate and otherwise. The senior partner, Francis, was doing Federal time for getting in bed with the wrong wise guys, but he wasn’t the only one who’d graduated from entertainers to the underworld. The other senior partner, Haskell, was more careful than his flamboyant partner, but DEA liked him for ties to a number of smugglers and mid-level movers and shakers in the cocaine scene. He’d even worked for a time for the Mendoza brothers, but had been smart enough to get out before that family business came crashing to the ground.

He looked down at the scattering of tea leaves at the bottom of his cup. But those connections meant Haskell could get shooters if he felt the need. So the lawyers had both motive and now the means to cause problems. But something still didn’t click. If Haskell was after revenge, why had he waited so long? The time to move would have been when Francis was still free, and when Sonny was still on the Task Force. Not now, years after the fact.

The tea was cold when he took the last sip. The more he thought, the more he was convinced there was someone else in play. Everything he’d learned said Haskell was passive; a facilitator rather than a doer. He might be able to find the shooters, but he wouldn’t be the one giving them targets or even deciding they were needed in the first place. His read on Francis was the same. So who?

The Post remained a wild card, along with their reporter, Campbell. If there was anything on him, he knew Trudy would find it. But even if the kid had some kind of vendetta, it didn’t explain the paper’s interest. No, there were still too many pieces missing, and he’d been doing this long enough to know not to start making his own to fill the blanks.

He was back on the deck, feeling sweat trickling down the curve of his spine, when he heard Trudy’s Challenger growling its way down the dirt road to the house. He let his thoughts roll, knowing she’d find her way to him. She was smiling when she came through the patio door, and he smiled in return, feeling his mood lift as soon as he saw her.

“How long have you been…never mind. I don’t want to know.” She kissed him lightly on the forehead, her dark eyes sparkling, before sitting down in the wooden slat chair next to him. He listened as she told him what she’d learned about Campbell from her CI. “I guessed you were thinking about all this anyhow,” she finished, “so…”

“I was. But not now, my love.” He smiled and covered her hand with his. “This Marco gives good information. But I let my thoughts soak up too much of the afternoon. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

“I’ll help.” She got up and walked inside with him. “Rico asked if I’d like to make some extra money helping with security. At least until they get the renovation sorted out.”

“Of course. He must be having trouble keeping everything covered.” Castillo moved behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, feeling her move back against him. “I hope you said yes.”

“Yeah. I can’t leave Rico in the lurch. Sonny’s pulled in too many directions to do much, and Gina’s got her hands full with the promotional stuff and trying to get the expansion off the ground.”

“You’re working on it, aren’t you? The dream, or the case, or whatever it is?”

He nodded. “Yes. There’s no way I couldn’t.”

“By yourself?”

“No. Randy is helping. I talked to him today.” He left her for a moment, getting chicken from the refrigerator and staring to cut it on the counter.

She watched him for a moment, and he knew she was waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, she smiled. “I’ll start the rice.”

“Thank you.” He cut the meat with sure, quick motions, the chef’s knife catching occasional flashes of sunlight slanting through the door. “He agreed to help.”

“No surprise there. He’s loyal to you and Sonny.” She measured water into a pot and set on the stove to boil. “You still think it’s those lawyers?”

“I can’t see who else it could be, although there’s always a chance I’m wrong.” Piling the chicken on a plate, he rinsed the knife and counter before turning his attention to garlic and green onions. “Haskell and Francis represented Caitlin Davies early in her music career, I think. Being cut off from the income from her estate must have hurt them. Especially once Francis got convicted in Federal court. Randy got me thinking about that angle.”

She nodded. “And we know who else they represented. Wouldn’t be a reach for this Haskell to find a shooter or two.”

“Yes, but he’s not a man who’d make that decision. He’d be quick to arrange something, but he wouldn’t think of it himself.” Castillo let his mind wander the same path he’d taken after Randy left. “There must be someone behind them.”

“Maybe someone Campbell sold things to? Or tried to extort?”

“Possibly. Although he seems like another tool and not an idea man. But the girl does explain his personal interest in the House.”

“Maybe the lawyers are him and are looking to bring in shooters if that doesn’t work.”

He nodded, his mind working. “I think I might do a little surveillance work tomorrow. Just to see if Haskell takes me anyplace interesting.”

She added rice to the water, covered the pot, and turned down the heat. “Just be careful, my love. We can’t call for backup any more.”

“I know.” But that’s not a new experience for me. The CIA trained me well. “I’ll finish the meat and vegetables once the rice is almost done. Would you like tea or something stronger?”

“Stronger.” She smiled and kissed him lightly. “The drink at first.”

 

“I’m tellin’ ya, man. This is girl is the one!” Jangles slapped the bar for emphasis, sloshing some of his beer on the stained wood surface.

“I ain’t sayin’ she’s not, man.” Hector raised his free hand, glad he’d picked up his beer glass seconds before. He took a sip, letting the brew cool his tongue. “What’d you say her name was?”

“Ramona.”

“Don’t tell me it’s that punk Ramon with his junk tucked up…”

“No, man! Nothin’ sick like that. Naw, this girl’s a sweet little piece of tail I’ve known for a couple years now. Keep an eye on her, you know what I mean?”

“Didn’t figure you for a pimp.”

“Naw. But I keep the dogs off her in exchange for a taste now an’ again. She’s got a little bit of a coke habit, but it’s nothin’ she can’t control.”

“And you trust her because she puts out?”

“No, man. I trust her because I’ve used her for deals before. Moving product, delivering money, small shit like that. And she always comes through. Even tested her a time or two with loose product an’ shit like that. Never touched it.”

Hector nodded slowly. “Almost sounds too good to be true. She in the system?”

“Got picked up a week ago in one of those hooker sweeps. She’s seventeen, an’ with the coke thing they’re almost sure to swing her into that program.”

Hector shook his head. If she’s seventeen now, that means Jangles was hitting it when she was fifteen or sixteen. I gotta remember to shoot this fool once this is done. “Good work, man. You got a picture of her or somethin’? The lawyers want to see what they’re payin’ for. Actually the old one wanted to meet her, but if she’s in the system already that ain’t gonna work.”

“Yeah, I got pics. Clean an’ not so clean if you get my drift.”

“Good. Hang tight and I’ll go give ‘em a call.”

They met two hours later in one of the nondescript sports bars covering the area within three miles of where the Dolphins played. Hector and Jangles got there first, half an hour early so Hector could look the place over and find the most isolated table he could. And make sure his recorder would pick up what he needed. Then they ordered food and were halfway through something the place called the ShulaBurger when the two lawyers and some skinny punk came in.

“Who’s the bitch?” Jangles asked around a mouthful of hand-cut fries.

“The reporter maybe. They did say they had a paper ready to run whatever shit we make up.” Hector looked down at the bloody mess of his burger, regretting he’d ordered rare. “You got the pictures an’ a good story for Ramona?”

“You bet, man. I can even pretend to be her big brother if we need it.” He grinned. “It’s kinda her thing.”

“I don’t need to know that shit. An’ don’t tell them unless they ask.” Hector kept track of the men, waving when they were in a spot where they could see the table. Reaching down, he activated the recorder.

The big one, Wiggins, sat down across from Hector and smiled his strange little smile. “So Arthur says you have something for us, yes?”

“Who’s the punk?” Hector let his gaze slide over the reporter, hiding a smile as he saw the kid bunch up.

“Ah. Where are my manners? Jimmy, this is Hank. Hank, Jimmy. Jimmy’s a reporter. He’s going to help us with our objective.”

“He ain’t cutting in our deal, is he?” Jangles’ voice had a whine to it that made Hector want to backhand him.

“Of course not. We have our own arrangement with him and his paper.”

The older one cleared his throat. “You said you had a girl…”

Hector flipped the picture on the table. “Her name’s Ramona. She’s seventeen and already in the system. She’s screened through, and they’re givin’ her the choice to go into the House.”

He watched as Jimmy the punk reached out and snatched up the picture. Something about him…I don’t trust the little bitch. “Yeah…she’s got that ‘daddy’s little angel’ look about her.” He set the picture down again with what looked like reluctance to Hector. “I can use that for sure.”

Haskell was next to look. Hector noticed the big one, Wiggins, didn’t even glance at the picture. The older man cleared his throat again. “Yes, she’ll certainly look good on the front page. And you’re sure there’s no way we can meet her?”

“Unless you want to be in the Miami-Dade lockup and hope you meet her before you meet your cellmate.” Hector suppressed a snicker at the look of horror on Haskell’s face. “I told you, she’s already in the system. Got picked up as part of one of those hooker sweeps last week.”

Jangles spoke up. “She’s a bright one, too. Told some big story about a nasty pimp, and she’s got a small problem with nose candy. Those victims services broads got all teary-eyed over her. First time she’s been picked up, too. Looks better on their stuff, I guess.”

Hector ignored the other men, fixing his eyes on Wiggins. He’d long ago decided the big man was the one who made the decisions, no matter what anyone else said. “So do we go with it? If not it’s gonna take weeks to set something else up. I got a line on someone who might be hired on there, but they watch the staff more than they do the girls from what I hear.”

“I hear the same thing.” Wiggins held his gaze. “As you say, we go with it. If the girl’s to be paid, it’s your responsibility.”

“Sure. Ain’t no big thing. Jangles visits her posin’ as her big brother, so he can set it up before she goes in.”

Jimmy the punk kept looking at the picture after Haskell set it down. “I don’t suppose there’s any way…”

Before Hector could speak, Wiggins raised his hand. “They know you there, don’t they, Jimmy? Don’t you think it would be a moronic move to show up at their front door?” He turned to Haskell. “Perhaps we should speak with friend Jake and see if there’s another reporter who can do the job.”

“No. You’re right. Of course. But if there’s any way to get pictures of the inside, I can work with those. Make something nice for the front page, you know?”

Jangles shook his head. “I hear they don’t go for pictures, but I’ll know more once she’s in there.”

Hector nodded. He’d read about the visitation policy on the place’s web page. “Ok, mano. We get the girl in there. Then what?”

Wiggins’ eyes changed. Hector figured he was the only one who noticed. “Then we manufacture a story. More than one, in point of fact. We put them out so fast the state will have to investigate. A public outcry is hard to ignore. Don’t you agree?”

“What happens when they find nothin’?” Hector didn’t care either way. He had his own objectives with the place, and he suspected Jimmy the punk did, too. But better to play dumb.

“It doesn’t matter, Hector. Once the accusations are made, the place is ruined. Donations dry up, you see. Funds are depleted in costly legal battles. Once it breaks, they lose. And you get the rest of your money.”

Hector nodded. It was a slick plan, as far as it went anyhow. He’d need more to get at the cop who called himself Cooper, but it was a damned good start. Still, something ate at the back of his mind. “What about Sonny Burnett?”

Wiggins raised his eyebrows. “What about him?”

“Well, he ain’t the kind who just takes this shit with a smile.”

“Oh, we have a trick or two waiting for Mr. Burnett, Hector. Never you fear.” He pushed the picture back across the table. “See to your girl. Let friend Arthur know when she’s inside. Then we can move to phase two of this project.”

Jangles waited until they were gone. “What the hell are they goin’ on about, Hector?”

“I don’t know, an’ I don’t care much. I just want Cooper or whatever his damned name is. But that big dude is one tough customer. Keep an eye on him, Jangles.”

“You got it. And the little bitch?”

“I don’t trust him one damned bit. He’s got somethin’ of his own goin’ on. You could see it when he looked at the picture. An’ his eyes lit up like a damned neon sign when I said Burnett’s name. No, mano, we watch that one closer. Somethin’ ain’t right with him.”

“What about that cat Ramon put us on to?”

“We keep him in reserve. A hole card. Just in case Ramona don’t work out or somethin’ goes wrong once she’s in.”

Jangles nodded, but Hector could see confusion in his eyes. “I ain’t no brain like you, Hector. So I gotta ask. How’s this gonna get you to that cop you want to square things with?”

“You know, mano, I ain’t sure yet.” He waited as the waitress cleared the remains of their food away and brought more drinks. A fresh beer in hand, he watched the bubbles trace their way from the bottom of the glass to the foamy top. “This lets me get his habits, wreck his shit like he wrecked mine, an’ maybe make him careless enough he comes into the open. Besides, the money’s right.”

“We gonna tell Ramon about the girl?”

“No. Let him think his friend’s still our way in.” Hector looked up from his beer, letting Jangles see his mean eyes. “An’ if he says anything about a girl I’ll know where he heard it.”

“Easy, Hector! Man, I ain’t gonna let nothin’ slip to him.” Jangles raised both his hands. “We go back a long way, man. Me an’ him? Not so much. Dude won’t hear shit from me.”

“Yeah. Just gotta make sure. This is our play, Jangles. We might need Ramon for stuff about Burnett, but between you an’ me I don’t think he’s got the cajones for the real work.”

Jangles nodded and took a deep drink from his beer. “Hey, you sure you don’t know nothin’ about that Jimmy punk?”

“Not yet. But I’m gonna.” Hector looked around, letting his eyes taste the handful of pretty girls in the place. “Only one paper in Miami gonna run a story like this. The Post. An’ if this kid works for ‘em he’s gonna have stories, pictures, an’ a damned name. Talk to your people. See if they know some reporter named Jimmy. Likes strip clubs, hookers, that kinda beat.”

“How do you know?”

“Saw it in his eyes, mano. This one’s about a girl for him. Not sure who or why, but there’s some kinda trim pushing his buttons. And we gotta figure out what, so we know how far we can trust him. Dudes like that have a streak of crazy in ‘em, and when it pops up the only way to shut it down again is with a bullet.”

“I’ll ask around, man.”

“Good. I’ll check back through the papers an’ see what I can find there.” He drained his beer and raised a finger when the waitress glanced their way. “One more an’ then let’s go find a place with titties on display. I figure we can cut loose one last time before gettin’ down to work.”

 

Jimmy Campbell parted company with the lawyers as soon as they left the sports bar. Fading into the shadows, he watched them go their separate ways; two fancy Mercedes vanishing into the gathering darkness. He’d done his homework, so he knew why they hadn’t brought Watkins. He didn’t understand why Gordon Wiggins, former record company executive and Los Angeles player, was so interested, but he figured it had something to do with Caitlin Davies. And if he was honest with himself he knew he didn’t care. They were means to an end. Just like that ass Renfro.

Once they were gone, he headed for his car. It wasn’t fancy…just another Mustang 5.0 about five years old. There were possibly hundreds of them in the greater Miami area, which was one of the reasons he’d bought it. Common enough to fade into the background but with enough engine and handling to keep up with someone he was trying to tail if the need arose. Setting in to the driver’s seat he thought for a moment about just heading back to his apartment. Instead he slid down in the seat so he wasn’t immediately obvious to anyone walking by.

Jangles, or Juan, he knew. Or knew of. A small-time hustler with connections just about everywhere and loyalty to almost no one. He would have been the one who arranged for the girl. It was the other one, the bigger guy Wiggins and Haskell called Hank, who had him curious. Jimmy prided himself on knowing most of the mid-level players in Miami at least on sight, and Hank was someone he’d never seen before.

Maybe it wasn’t the smartest move, but he liked to know as much as he could about people he was working with. Especially when the choice to work with them wasn’t his. He might not have seen Hank before, but he recognized a player when he saw one. And the bigger man looked to be at least a step or two above Jangles in the scheme of things. Was he just hired help, or was there something else in play? Jimmy had his own reasons, and he figured he wasn’t the only one.

He was still slumped low in the driver’s seat when the two men came out of the sports bar. The one called Hank looked around, his eyes probing the darkness, before heading for a rented Camero Z/28 near one of the light poles in the bar parking lot. Jimmy smiled in spite of himself. The car was a professional’s choice: solid, unlikely to attract much attention, and capable enough if speed or handling were needed. The irony wasn’t lost on Jimmy. He’d picked his Mustang for the same reasons.

He followed them back into the city, just managing to keep the blue car in sight without pushing too hard. Traffic wasn’t bad, at least until they left the highway and got into the guts of Miami proper. But by then he had a good idea where they were going. Strip clubs and bars dominated certain parts of town, and the exit Hank had taken fed right into one of those areas. Shaking his head, Jimmy let them go. He was known in some of the clubs, banned from one or two, and would stick out like a sore thumb in the others. He’d cut his losses now and head for the office.

The paper had just upgraded to a swipe card system, and he ran his through the slot and waited for the door to buzz open. Back in the bullpen it was quiet, with only one desk lamp burning way toward the back of the big room. Morty’s still working. Figures. I heard his wife kicked his ass out after he walked in on her banging her boyfriend. Only Morty could get kicked out of his house for catching his wife cheating. Jimmy smiled at the thought as he settled in behind his computer and booted it up.

He’d already run Haskell and Watkins through the search engines, and now he started on Wiggins. It was all there: stories about the Federal payola case, Tommy Lowe going up in a ball of fire, and the death of Fremont and arrest of Gordon Wiggins. The main witness in the entire mess had been one Caitlin Davies, down and out pop star in the middle of a comeback.

That explains Wiggins and his interest. And Haskell’s, too. His damned firm represented the Davies estate until a couple of years back. Jimmy scrolled down a bit more and found his own connection. Caitlin Davies had been married to Sonny Burnett. So at least we have the same goal. More or less, anyhow. But that doesn’t explain Hank.

Jimmy knew Burnett had enemies. The trouble was most of them were dead, either killed by Burnett at one time or another or ground down by the attrition that was Miami’s drug scene. As far as he knew the few who were still alive were people like him or the lawyers; outside the trade looking in and with their own reasons for wanting to break Burnett or things he controlled. Shutting down the computer, Jimmy leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms and spine to work out the kinks. He had a contact or two in Miami-Dade, and maybe running Jangles would turn up something on Hank. Known associates and all that.

Thinking of Burnett always led him back to his sister. Celeste. Where she was now. If she was safe. Hell, if she was still even alive. He didn’t think Burnett would have had her killed, but he knew some of the people who’d been after Burnett might take out their anger on her. And that was the same thing as him pulling the trigger himself. Sighing, he shut off the small desk lamp and headed for the door. He’d call his M-D source Monday morning before stopping by to check in with Renfro. Maybe the old bastard had come up with something useful since the last time they’d talked.

 

Sonny Crockett lay under a single sheet in the master berth of Tranquility, feeling the twin-masted ship rolling gently with the ocean waves. From the light trickling through the ports he knew he wasn’t quite dawn. He’d felt Jenny slip out of bed about an hour earlier, but wanted to give her time before he went looking for her.

She’d been fine the day before, as they’d sailed out from Miami for their normal weekend on the water. They’d made love with their usual enthusiasm, both before and after eating and finding a place to lower the sails and pause for the night. It was later, maybe after midnight, he’d noticed a change.

He lay there as long as he could, listening to her light footsteps on the deck overhead as she walked back and forth. When she stopped close to the port rail and didn’t move he swung out of bed and pulled on a light pair of linen trousers.

It was cool on deck, a light breeze pushing across the water toward land somewhere behind them. Jenny stood next to the rail, naked except for one of his old, thin white t-shirts. She was looking away from the sunrise, toward a sky dyed red from the climbing sun yet still black from night. He came up behind her, sliding his arms over her shoulders to ease her to him. He could smell sweat in her hair, and her cheeks felt damp against his biceps. “Bad dream?”

There was a long silence. “I…I don’t know.”

[MrsCastillo]

It’s starting to all come together... I can’t wait to find out what happened in Jenny’s mind! 

[Robbie C.]

Glad you're still following along! This one's a little complicated, and bringing it all together is proving interesting.