No Good Deed...Part XVI

[Robbie C.]

“We can talk if you want. But if not, that’s fine, too.”

She nodded and sniffed, her thick blonde hair tickling his nose as she leaned back against him. Her skin was cool against his, and he could feel her nipples hard under his forearms from the breeze. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“It’s ok. I woke up when you got up.” He pulled her closer. “Did you want to watch the sun come up instead?”

“No. This is what she wanted me to see.” Jenny sniffed again, and he could feel her shivering against him. But it wasn’t that cold. “I’ve never felt her like this before.”

He didn’t want to push her, but he’d also never seen Jenny like this before. It scared him. “Like what?”

“Scared. Usually when Caitlin visits she’s happy. She was nervous with the first warnings, but now she’s scared.”

“Maybe because you’re scared, darlin’. I know this whole thing has you worried, but we’re good. Rico’s got security raised, the renovation’s actually on schedule, and new girls are coming in this week.” He gave her a squeeze, and was surprised when she resisted. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

“No. It won’t. She’s telling me it won’t, but she doesn’t know why.”

“What does the…her message look like?” He didn’t want to call them dreams, even if that’s what they were. Jenny was upset enough already, more than he’d seen her since the whole thing with Monaele Jankow.

“Mainly just her face. Her hair’s down like in that one picture you have. The one I think is really pretty. Anyhow, she always says ‘look back.’” She raised her eyes to look at the red sky again. “Look back,” she whispered again. “And that’s all. And she looks afraid. Then she says ‘It’s my fault’ and the message ends.” She turned to look at him for the first time, her eyes red from crying. “How can it be her fault, Sonny?”

“I don’t know, darlin’. Cait never stepped wrong in her life. Any troubles we had were things I brought to the table. Not her.” He paused. “Is there any way you can…ask her?”

“I tried. She just shakes her head and says it again.”

He nodded and kissed her forehead, tasting salty sweat. “I don’t know what’s goin’ on, darlin’, but we’re doing everything we can to make things safe, Rico and me.” But I don’t know how the hell to reason with whatever it is she’s talking to. Or whatever it is she thinks she’s talking to. “Maybe it’s got something to do with Hackman. It’s gettin’ close to the day the bastard tricked me into getting his death sentence commuted.”

“Maybe. But she’s never done this before.”

“I honestly don’t know. But I do know I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. Or to us.” He forced himself to chuckle. “And I can be damned stubborn about things like that.”

She let a weak giggle escape her throat. “I know. I’m…sorry, Sonny. I love you so much, and I…”

“Don’t apologize, Jenny. There’s nothing to apologize for. Hell, maybe the news about Rico and Mindy has her unsettled, too.”

“That might be part of it.” She rested her head against his chest. “Can we go make coffee? That sounds really good now.”

“You bet we can.” He kissed her again, smiling when he saw light coming back into her blue eyes. “I might have some eggs in the icebox, too. Scrambled eggs with salsa sound good?”

“I’m from California. Salsa always sounds good.” She stretched up and kissed him this time, her lips soft against his. “Thank you.”

“I love you, Jenny. It’s what I do when I love someone.”

He opened the ports to let the cool morning air push through Tranquility’s galley and across to the navigation station. They’d refitted both during Jenny’s remodel of what had once been Jankow’s boat, bringing both up to date with modern equipment and a layout designed for two people with occasional guests. He’d checked the small radar set as soon as he came below, grinning when he saw it was clear. Jenny’s old smuggling instincts always led them to isolated anchorages out of the main shipping lanes.

Watching her settle into one of the side seats in the dining area just across from the galley, he still had a hard time seeing the art smuggler in the slender blonde who looked like she’d be more at home posing topless with a surf board. But that was part of what had made her so good at her old occupation. No one looked past the bright smile and high breasts to see the brain lurking there.

He knew he hadn’t the first time he saw her walking down the dock at the marina to his old boat. The St. Vitus Dance had been his residence for years, first as part of his Burnett cover and then his whole life once Caroline and Billy left. She’d walked up to the gangplank like she owned the place, a six pack of beer in one hand and wearing next to nothing. Saying something about having a beer and they hadn’t met yet. Back when they both still smoked and he was trying to figure out if she was just some lady who’d gotten her boat in a divorce.

“You’re thinking about us.” It wasn’t a question.

“More how we met.” He smiled and stirred salsa into the eggs before adding them to the pan. “It feels like yesterday.”

“Yesterday and a lifetime.” She smiled, a real smile this time. “I think about that every day.”

“So do I.” It wasn’t a lie. Parts of that day still floated in front of his mind at least once, usually when he was waking up or falling asleep.

“I thought we were done with this when you retired.”

“So did I, darlin’.” He watched the eggs cooking, stirring them from time to time to keep them from burning. “So did I. And it has, pretty much anyhow. This…I don’t know what this is about. Maybe it’s got something to do with the court case. But that will be over soon enough. Gary says it’s a slam dunk, and even I know he’s right. We ship those bozo lawyers off to some Federal fun town and get on with our lives.”

She nodded, her eyes distant for a moment and then pulling back into focus. “We should have Rico and Mindy out. Give them a nice trip before she gets too pregnant to travel.”

“Yeah. We should. I don’t think Tubbs quite appreciates how much his life is about to change. She doesn’t, either.” He allowed himself a thin smile as he dished up eggs and poured coffee. “God knows I didn’t when I was in their shoes.” Shutting off the cooker, he came around the galley island and handed her a plate of eggs and full cup.

“She can still sail, though, right?”

“Should be early enough along she’s not dealing with the heavy stuff yet. Just wait ‘till Rico’s holding a bucket for her at three in the morning and then running out for pickles and peanut butter at three thirty.” Sonny grinned. “Yeah, I had to do that for Caroline. More than once until I wised up and stocked the house with pickles and peanut butter.”

Jenny laughed, a musical sound in the cool morning air. “That sounds awful!”

“Oh, it was. Took me about a year to be able to stomach the smell of peanut butter again.” Sonny sat down next to her, not wanting to admit his marriage had started failing right around the time he could smell peanut butter without gagging. That was when he’d moved from patrol to Robbery Division.

“How many new girls are coming in?”

He thought for a moment, glad the conversation had changed. “Should be four. Maybe five if there’s another one who fits the profile. We can’t take on any more high risk yet, so that makes it kinda tough.”

“Why not?”

“Catalina’s worried about security in the dorm wings, and I think she’s right. Once the renovations are done we’ll be able to handle more, but for now it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

She smiled. “What have you done with Sonny?”

“Yeah. Me with no risk? It just don’t seem natural.” He took a sip of coffee. “But I won’t take risks with the treatment of these girls. And if Catalina says stop, that’s what we do.”

She nodded and forked up more eggs. “These are really good. You should cook more often.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Especially since this really hot lady redid the galley so well.”

“Now you’re just silly.”

“Naw. She really is a hot lady.” He winked at her over the rim of his coffee cup. It was good to see her smiling again. At least she’d shed some of the gloom from her dream. Or whatever it was. Still, he couldn’t shake some of what she’d said. How could anything be Cait’s fault? I gotta ask Rico about this. Hell, maybe Stan, too. He’s damned good at thinking outside the box.

“Good. Because we have a few hours until we need to start back. The water’s nice, and we can take a shower after.”

The sun was a red memory on the horizon as Sonny used the auxiliary motor to guide Tranquility into her berth at the marina. Jenny was belowdecks sleeping, and he saw no reason to disturb her. They’d furled the sails about ten miles out, and he’d used the motor the rest of the way in. Coming back that way let her sleep, and also gave him time to think.

It had been a long time since he’d seen her this worried, and it bothered him. There wasn’t really anyone he could talk to about it, even if he’d been inclined to. He guided the sailboat into her mooring spot, cutting the motor and letting the sixty foot twin-master settle into place before jumping over and making the lines fast. It was all second nature by now, but he found the work with his hands let his mind flow into places it might not otherwise go. Usually that was a good thing.

Aside from the court case there was nothing in motion to trigger Jenny’s dreams. And he couldn’t see what suing a dirty law firm could have to do with it, either. It was as close to an open and shut deal as you could get, the accounting evidence so solid it might as well have been engraved in stone and brought into court by an old guy with a beard and long flowing robes. And it was all in Gary Towers’s capable hands. Sonny didn’t even anticipate having to appear. But maybe Rico or Stan would see something he missed.

Once the last line was tied off, he stood for a moment on the foredeck, letting the sea breeze dry the sweat on his chest and turn his hair into a tousled mess. It felt good, just standing there with nothing in particular on his mind. He missed the job, the thrill of the chase. No question. But evenings like this he was learning to appreciate having nothing on his mind. Starting to understand why some of the old cops turned their backs on the entire business and never looked back. He wasn’t sure if he ever really could, but he was starting to get why they did what they did.

“Are we back already?”

He turned, seeing a shock of blonde hair in the gloom. “Yeah. I tied up about ten minutes ago. Figured I’d let you sleep on the way in.”

She came topside, the thin white t-shirt hiding nothing of her body. “I’m glad you did. I was tired.”

“Yeah. You looked it.” He looked out over the water, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I was just thinking how nice this is.”

She smiled as a stereo down the dock started blasting something that might have passed for rap. “At least until the frat boys woke up.”

“Yeah. But you know ol’ Mr. Levkowsky will be on 911 in about ten minutes demanding the SWAT team.” He chuckled, moving closer to her. “Boys best enjoy daddy’s boat while they can.”

She smiled, then yawned and stretched, the t-shirt climbing high above her hips. “I might just go below and turn in. The nap was nice, but I’m still tired.”

“I’ll be down in a bit. I want to make sure everything’s secure up here first.” He smiled as she ducked back below, and then his face changed. Walking up to the foredeck, he pulled out his phone and keyed in numbers. He waited. “Rico? Yeah, it’s me. Look, man, I think we need to talk. Yeah. Hold half an hour tomorrow morning first thing. And do you if Stan’s gonna be in? Naw, I’ll check when I get in. No, nothing’s wrong. Not really, I guess. It’s…” He paused. “It’s complicated. Yeah, you too, man. I’ll see you then.”

Hitting the button to kill the connection, he looked out over the moored boats without really seeing them. Right on cue one of the ugly-ass green and white patrol units from Miami-Dade turned into the marina lot and activated its rollers. “You’d think with the fancy name change they’d find better colors,” he muttered as he watched the shadowy cops getting out of the marked unit and orienting themselves on the dock. He thought about giving directions, then stopped himself. He wasn’t one of them anymore, and when he’d been in patrol he hated wise-ass retirees trying to tell him what to do.

Still, he stayed topside to watch the show. Or at least pretend to while he thought about tomorrow. He’d need to go in early, but the new intake gave him a good excuse. And that same intake was why he didn’t want to take up too much of Tubbs’s time. Poor guy’s gonna be stretched thin as it is. More so soon enough. I think it’ll surprise him just how fast nine months can go.

He could see shadowy arms waving on the deck of a frat boy’s father’s cabin cruiser, punctuated by stabbing flashes from a cop’s MagLite. It was going to get interesting down there in about ten seconds, and he didn’t miss that part of the Job one bit. Drunks and domestics had been his two least-favorite calls when he was on patrol, and at least one of the D&D pair was going on down there. Absently he wondered if Billy had experienced that part of life yet. He doubted he’d find out; he’d checked out of his son’s life years ago.

In some ways he envied Rico, but in others he didn’t. He was honest enough with himself to admit he wasn’t father material, even though a part of him kept insisting he was. But that part got smaller each year, and he’d noticed it more since he left the Job.

Funtime down the way was over. The breeze carried a few barked “Get on the ground!”s from the two cops, and the MagLites steadied into spears tracking from one prone frat boy to the next. He chuckled and turned toward the companionway leading below. “Someone’s night just got damned expensive,” he muttered as he pulled the shutters closed. Bed was sounding good right about now.

 

Gordon Wiggins looked from his single-malt scotch to the creased face of Jake Renfro. “You’re sure the girl won’t be enough?”

“Yep.” Renfro stirred his Manhattan with a stubby finger. “She’s the hook, no question. But we gotta bait it first. Don’t catch no fish without bait, you know.”

Wiggins nodded. He’d decided to meet with the editor without Haskell or that skinny punk Jimmy, and he was glad he had. “Oh, I understand, Jake. Really, I do. And I believe I might have something that will serve as bait for your hook.” He took a sip of scotch, feeling the ice cubes bump against his teeth. It was almost time for another, and he figured he needed it. Especially after watching the wretched editor stir his drink with his finger. Some people simply should not be allowed out in public.

“You’re tellin’ me you got dirt on that place Jimmy didn’t find? I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Jimmy seems a smart spark, no question. But his focus is too narrow. He only looks at the House as it is today, not what it was.” Wiggins caught the eye of the waitress and pointed at his glass. When she looked at Renfro he shook his head slightly. “He doesn’t think to look at the people involved. I do.”

“That Burnett character’s old news. And he likes to sue. A lot. No way I’m…”

“But this doesn’t concern Burnett, Jake. Don’t you see? There are others involved, people who were around Caitlin before he ever entered the picture.” He thought for a moment about telling Renfro what he’d learned about Burnett but decided against it. That was large-caliber ammunition, and he’d save it for a later time.

“I don’t get it.” When the waitress brought Wiggins another drink Renfro killed his with a sloppy swallow and ordered another. “The two docs are pure as driven snow. Damn the bitches anyhow. I know Jimmy had hopes…”

“Jake, you need to shut up and listen now.” The words had the desired effect, and Wiggins hid his smile. “How well do you know the staff at Caitlin’s House?”

“Well…pretty good. Not Jimmy good, but…”

“Then you will have heard of Angie, yes?”

“Big black lady who wears dresses one size two small an’ looks like she’d kick your ass? Yeah, I know who she is.”

“Very good, Jake. But do you know what she is? Or more to the point, what she was?”

“You tellin’ me she was on the stroll? No way. I get some dudes might be…”

Wiggins could feel the anger building. “Shut up, you moronic man. Do not speak until I’m through.” He sat up, letting Renfro sense his full size. “You understand me, yes? Good. Angie was not a hooker, but there was a time before she started working for Caitlin Davies and possibly during the early period of her employment when she was dealing drugs. Crack, to be precise. I have the evidence. She was never a big dealer, of course, but that’s not the point, is it? You can speak now.”

“How come Jimmy never found this?”

“He wasn’t looking back. Neither were you. Neither of you knew Caitlin Davies. I did. Angie had been with her for years, but there was always something more about her.”

Renfro slurped his drink. “I can see the headline now: Dealer Running Rehab. Crack Attack.” His eyes started to glaze over. “Oh, man…it’s beautiful.”

“I’ll get you the proof tomorrow, but don’t run the story until we know the girl is in place.”

“Why?”

“Once that story hits, they will be in damage control mode. Distracted from what’s going on inside. That will make it easier for her to do what needs to be done.”

Renfro looked across the table and grinned, showing his stained teeth. “You’re one sneaky son-of-a-bitch, Grodo. This’ll make the perfect opening shot and put them back on their heels so we can follow up with some good photo stuff. I won’t say a word to Jimmy until it’s about to run. Otherwise the kid might get excited an’ blow his load too soon, if you get my drift.”

Wiggins nodded, sipping the scotch and wishing he’d been able to find another way to do this. He hated being in close contract with Renfro for more than five minutes a week. He didn’t trust the man, and more to the point he was expecting the greasy hack to try to stab him in the back. But for now there was no other way. And once it was done he’d be back in LA. Arthur and his little piss-boy could sort out the damage. So long as Caitlin’s House was shattered and Sonny Crockett left blubbering in the remains he’d be a happy man.

 

Ricardo Tubbs looked across his desk at Sonny, not quite sure what to say. Sonny wasn’t looking at him now,. He was staring at the desk top, drained by the task of telling about Jenny’s dreams. “So Caitlin says it’s her fault?”

“Something like that. Look, I get it if you think I’m nuts with this. We got so much goin’ on now sometimes I ain’t sure that I’m not nuts.”

“No, Sonny. Jenny’s been right too many times before.” Rico rubbed his forehead above his eyes, the tightness of a headache starting to send little throbbing warnings. “I’d say it means whatever this is dates back to her. Before you two met, maybe.”

“So more damned ghosts.”

“Yeah. Somethin’ like that.” He scratched at a spot under his beard. “I was talkin’ with Mindy last night. Did you know that chump Haskell represented the Post a few years back?”

“No. I didn’t.”

“Yeah. Some crap about faking pictures. Like the Post would ever do something like that.” Rico snorted. “But now we know there’s some kinda link there. Or could be. Maybe that’s why Jimmy keeps sniffing around.”

“Could be. But that doesn’t explain Jenny’s dreams.”

“Did the Post ever cover Caitlin?”

Sonny shook his head. “No more than any other gossip rag did.”

“What about the chump you punched out?”

Sonny chuckled. “Man, you ain’t ever gonna let me live that down, are you? No, he wasn’t from the Post. Some California bird-cage liner, I think. Can’t say for sure. But I know he wasn’t local.”

“How much do you know about her past?”

“Mostly what she told me, and some I read later when…” Sonny lost his voice for a moment. “When I had to go through her things. That punk Lowe fleeced her old band pretty good, and there was the whole Will thing in there, too. But he’s dead. So’s Fremont, that record exec she was lined up to testify against.”

“Weren’t there two record guys?”

“Yeah…come to think of it there were. Frick and Frack I always called ‘em. One was a skinny little bastard with too much hair gel, and the other one was bigger. Had some accent, too.” He paused, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his eyes. Rico could almost hear the gears turning in his old partner’s head. “Wiggins. That was his name. Gordon Wiggins.”

“He caught Federal time, didn’t he?” Rico nodded in answer to his own question. “He’s still in, isn’t he?”

“No idea, Rico. I…I didn’t pay much attention to it, really. And after Hackman…”

“You’re allowed, Sonny.” Rico could feel his pain as a physical presence in the room. Even after all these years and Jenny on top of it. “Look. I’ll make some calls and see. Maybe he’s the ghost we’re looking for.”

“He only knew me as Burnett.”

“Yeah…just like most of Greater Miami’s underworld. How long did those two work with Caitlin?”

“Years, I think. Hell, they were pushing the comeback after Lowe got hit. By them, actually.”

Rico looked at his watch…his own watch now instead of an ornament ‘borrowed’ from a dead Panamanian dealer courtesy of the seized property room. “I hate to do it, but I got a security meeting in five. I’ll make those calls an’ let you know. And, partner? We got this. Tell Jenny Rico’s got this.”

“Thanks, man. I got meetings, too.” Sonny’s smile matched the sadness in his eyes. “Just can’t get away from the damned things.”

Once he was alone, Rico picked up the phone and hit a single button. “Hey, pretty lady. It’s me. Yeah, I miss you, too. Look, can you reach out an’ run a name for me? Solid. Gordon Wiggins. Would have been in Federal custody. Ain’t sure what he was convicted for, but that’s not a common name. Yeah, it’s for Sonny. Thanks.” Then he hung up and tried to focus himself for the meeting.

But it wasn’t happening. Not yet, anyhow. Jenny’s dream and a good chunk of what was going on was dragging them back to a really bad place in Sonny Crockett’s life; one Rico would prefer to avoid at all costs. Especially now, with Mindy and a kid to consider.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the ID wallet and dropped it on the desk. It fell open, showing the bad picture and official lettering framing it like one of those cheap cut-outs on the boardwalk back home at Coney Island. Reserve Officer my ass. That and a buck might get me a cup of good coffee. He understood they’d been spoiled with the Task Force, but only now was it sinking in just how few resources they had, and how little help they could expect from official circles.

Even with a former district attorney driving the bus, getting a restraining order against Jimmy Campbell had been harder than it should have been. Old resentments and grudges came to the surface, and he knew how deep they ran. Especially in Sonny’s case. And Castillo’s, even though he didn’t know a single person anywhere in the Miami-Dade command structure who was brave enough to admit it. They were on their own. Any mistake they made would be amplified by all those grudges, turing a parking ticket into grand theft auto.

The meeting started promptly at nine. Only Rico’s key personnel showed up: Tiny in his chair, Stan and Lester looking like they had back in the Task Force days, a tough former DEA tactical team member named Lita who ran day shift, and a handful of others. They sat along the sides of the small conference table, all talk ending as soon as Rico walked in.

He grinned and sat down. “This was gonna be about the new girls coming in this week, but we got some changes to the program. The girls are still comin’, and we gotta be ready for that. But you all know that drill.” He paused, not quite sure how to frame what was in his head. “But there’s somethin’ else goin’ on. I don’t have many details now, and you’ll get more when I do. But someone outside the House is gonna take a run at us. The Post is involved somehow, so have your people keep a good watch out for that Campbell chump. We’re gonna increase our screening of new employees until further notice, and if any of you still have CIs from your uniform days I’d really appreciate it if you woke ‘em up.”

Lita shook her head. She was a tall, angular woman with hot dark eyes and a focus on duty that reminded Rico of Randy or Dave. “Will do, boss. Any idea what the threat is?”

“I wish I knew.” He spread his hands on the table. “We keep pickin’ up whispers, but nothing I can put my finger on. It’s got Sonny worried, and that’s good enough for me.”

Stan nodded. “If that damn paper’s in it, I’ll increase monitoring both outside and in. Those maggots like to slip people into places they do stories on.” He looked around. “What? So I look at the thing when I’m waiting in line at the supermarket. So does Gina.”

“Good.” Rico ignored the surprised looks around the table. “If we know how they usually roll we can plan countermoves. And I’d remind your people about the confidentiality agreement they signed when they hired on.” He raised a hand. “I don’t suspect any of our people, but it don’t hurt to put it out there. We’ve got credible information the Post was bailed out by Columbian funds a couple of years back, and those people can have deep pockets.”

Tiny nodded. “Yeah. It’s about time for the ‘don’t be an idiot’ briefing again, so we can just move it up.”

“Solid. Just remind ‘em that violating the agreement is grounds for immediate termination and possible prosecution.” Rico paused again. “Like I said, I think our people are clean. We do good work here, an’ they’re all part of that. But we gotta cover all our bases, too.”

“I get it, boss. An’ so will they.” Tiny chuckled. “Hell, some of them got hit with lie detectors every six months at their old jobs.”

Rico spent the next ten minutes going over the normal routine for admitting new girls into the facility. “…but we’re gonna change it up a bit this time. No one comes in with them. We’ll pick ‘em up with the van at Victim Services and drive them ourselves. Check all IDs before you load, and then again at the main gate.”

Lita nodded. “You got it. Searches?”

“We’ll let medical do that as usual.”

“I get it. If you wanted pictures of the House from the inside, send in a driver or contract guard. Someone most people wouldn’t notice.” She smiled. “That’s how we used to scout locations before we hit them.”

“Joo got it, meng.” Rico grinned.

“You sound just like that dude who used to do the car commercials.”

“Yeah. Izzy was our CI back in the day.”

Stan laughed. “Yeah, and we got some stories about that bozo…”

“Anyone have any questions?” Rico looked around the table. “No? Solid. Let’s get to it.”

They all filed out except for Stan, who nodded to Lester as the other tech wizard left. Rico waited for the door to click shut. “What’s on your mind, big guy?”

“Sonny talk to you? About Jenny?”

“Yeah.” Rico waited. “I guess he talked to you, too.”

“Not for long, but yeah. He said you were lookin’ for info on this Wiggins character. I got a contact in the Federal Bureau of Prisons who can run the name for us. He owes me like fifteen favors, so it’s no big thing.”

“Do it. I wanna know if this cat’s still in Club Fed or if he’s on the street.”

“You got it.” Stan got to his feet and then laughed. His big, free laugh always made Rico smile, no matter what mood he’d been in. “That was a hell of an Izzy impersonation. I’d almost forgotten about the little worm.” He grinned. “Don’t watch as much late-night TV as I used to.”

“Marriage cutting into your TV time?”

“Yeah. Well…sort of.” Stan’s eyes got a glint in them Rico recognized. “You know they got these cameras and recorders now? Well…”

“I don’t wanna know, Stan.”

“Aw, but you can make your own late-night…”

“Out!” Rico pointed to the door, laughing with Stan as the big man headed out. “Let me know if you hear anything from your prison pen-pal.”

[mjcmmv]

Good segment. Old ghosts coming back to haunt all of them!