All I Want for Christmas...

[Robbie C.]

It's not as good as an NCIS LA Christmas episode, but I think it's as close as Vice would get...

 

“So Lar…I gotta know…does this shirt make me look fat?”

Larry Zito didn’t look at his partner. “Come on, Stan. You know all shirts make you look fat.”

Stan Switek chuckled. “That wasn’t very nice, Lar. Maybe it was true, but still not nice.” He looked wistfully at the Hawaii-print shirt in fire engine red and a sickly green before hanging it back with the rest on the rotating rack. “One down, looks like twenty-five more to go.”

“Aw, come on. Do we gotta? I take back what I said. That last one looked good.”

“Too late, Lar. Besides, it’s not like we got some big, flashy case to work today.” Stan grinned to hide his disappointment. Once again they’d been shifted to the sidelines to let the Hardy Boys take a run at some Columbians they’d spotted first. “And with Christmas only a couple of days away…”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. You gotta keep the ‘Elvis Goes Hawaiian’ thing alive for another year.” Larry made a show of looking at his watch. “But the Greater South Florida Adult Film Awards start in two hours. I gotta be there.”

Stan nodded, biting back a crack. Larry’s fascination with porn awards was well-known within the Vice team, as was his track record of recruiting top-shelf CIs at the award presentations. How the guy does it when he can’t get a real-life date… Stan shook his head as he reached for the next garish shirt in the rack. “We’ll make it, buddy. Hey! Look at this number! I ain’t seen a blue that electric since 1976!”

Still, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Cocoanuts’ Grove was one of those time capsules from the ‘70s clinging to life in the age of neon and pastel hues slowly devouring greater Miami. Catering to tourists, eccentric locals, and Miami’s more retro-fashion-oriented scene, the place had been top on his list for traffic-stopping Hawaiian prints for the last few years. It didn’t hurt that the current owner liked to hire cute girls to work the counter, or that he’d picked up a CI or two in his time coming here. Not all the major players in Miami spoke Spanish and were from out of town, a fact more often than not lost on Crockett and Tubbs.

“Hey, Stan? You see what I see? Miami’s answer to the Odd Couple.” Larry jerked his head in the direction of the front door, where a clattering of mismatched wind chimes announced the entry of potential customers.

Stan looked up from the shirt and groaned. “Aw, man. Who let those two nuts out of their jar?”

Izzy Moreno’s sharp whine cut through the air of the shop. “Zito. Switek. Joo are just the mens we were hoping to see.”

Noogie Lamonte flashed a bright grin. “Yeah! An’ the Noog-man is here! The man with the plan, the cat with the dat…”

Stan raised his hand. “Cut the crap, you two. Come on over here and keep your damned voices down.”

Izzy’s narrow face twisted into his stock hurt expression. “Joo pain me to the core, Switek! Joo see before joo a man who is risking his bodily perfections an’ entrepreneurial futures helping joo.”

Noogie nodded, his head moving like the bobble-headed hula girl Stan kept on the dash of the Bug Van. “Like the man said, man. We got news for you, dig?” He started moving his hands in what might pass for Bruce Lee moves. If Bruce Lee happened to be drunk and having a seizure at the same time. “We been stylin’ an’ profilin’ for you two. The Noog-man knows the streets like he knows the back an’ front of this here hand, dig? An’ we got an early Christmas present for you two, if you can dig what the Noog-Man is sayin’.”

Larry shook his head. “I don’t follow.” Turning his head slightly, he winked at Stan.

Izzy puffed up like a rooster about to crow. “If joo two can’t understand the English language, that’s not my reprehension. My associated an’ I…we have been working the streets for joo. An’ in the minimal hours of the morning we can across information joo two could put to good use.”

Stan winked back at Larry. “So some stripper whispered ‘it’s closing time’ in your ear. Can’t help you, Izzy.”

Noogie smacked Izzy on the arm. “Tell them, fool! Tell them about the snow!”

“What snow? It doesn’t snow in Miami, you two goofballs.”

Izzy’s mouth twisted into a sly grin. “Oh, but it does, compadres. When the wind blows from the south. Through our expect investigatorial eccentrics we heard…”

Noogie cut him off. “What this fool’s tryin’ to lay on you is we got word of a shipment comin’ in tomorrow. Christmas Eve!” He shook his head. “What kinda fool move dope on Christmas Eve?”

“You two heard about a big shipment?” Larry looked at his watch. “Come on, Stan. We leave now we can still get there before the opener.”

Stan shook his head. Izzy and Noogie weren’t the most reliable CIs in the universe. In fact they didn’t make the top ten. But when they lied it was about small stuff. A shipment of stolen stereos. Bootleg tapes or counterfeit designer sunglasses. Thinking about the sunglasses made him smile. He’d switched out Crockett’s RayBans with a fake pair he’d caged from Noogie four months back and the hotshot hadn’t noticed yet. Lying about a major coke deal just wasn’t their style. “I don’t know, Lar. Maybe we should hear the two goofballs out.”

“Now that’s the man with the plan right there!” Noogie grinned, the smile wide enough on his narrow face Stan was always afraid something would break. “Let’s slip on outa hyar an’ find someplace more to the Noog-man's sensibilities.”

There was a bar just down the street, not much above a dive but close enough no one ever asked uncomfortable questions. They grabbed a table near the back, Izzy squirming in his chair as he sat down. “Joo know I don’t like these places.”

“Give it a rest, Iz.” Larry patted him on the shoulder as he settled into his own chair. “The faster you talk, the faster you get out of here.”

“You heard the man.” Stan took a pull from his bottle of Miller. “What you two got that’s so important?”

“Joo know, as an entrepreneurialst, nothing is for free. Iacoca.”

“I don’t think he ever said that, Izzy.” Larry narrowed his eyes. “But you’ll get your CI payments as soon as we figure out if the info’s any good or not.”

“This ain’t your first rodeo. You know how it works.”

Noogie nodded, his head bobbling again. “Cut the crap, Izzy. The Noog-man knows these fine gents ain’t got time to waste. An’ neither does the Noog-man. So spill the thrill.”

Izzy sighed. “Amaturationals. The things I do… I was closing a deal for some fine footwear last night. Noogie was helping with the manual fundamentals…”

“I was haulin’ boxes. Get to the good stuff.”

“Joo see…” Izzy sighed again. “We…”

“Zip the lip, flip. The Noog-man is takin’ over. We was down by the docks ‘cause Izzy’s lazy-ass cousin didn’t bring the shoes up like it was his job to do. So I’m movin’ boxes like the Incredible Hulk when this boat comes idlin’ up shore-side. Gots these three scary Columbians in it. They put that baby in park an’ the meanest one gets out an’ starts talkin’ to these two other scary Columbians on the dock.”

Izzy nodded. “Si. I recognize their accentations. The one from the boat says he’s Gonzalo Lourdes. It is dark, so I try to get where I can see the others.”

“Izzy. Man, you pissed your pants.” Noogie grinned. “Now the Noog-man ain’t gonna claim he was sneakin’ up in the darkness to watch those cats. They was strictly bad news. Not Desmond Maxwell bad news, but close enough for the Noog-man, if you can dig what I’m sayin’.” He paused. “But I did get these peepers on the one on the dock. Cat by the name of Franco Cruz.”

Stan made a show of sipping his beer, but his mind was racing. He wasn’t familiar with Lourdes, but Cruz was a significant mid-level dealer trying to up his game. So far they hadn’t been able to pin him with any product. “So you saw these two guys. Anything else?”

“Man, I been tryin’ to tell you. They got a shipment comin’ in like tomorrow night.”

“And you know this how?”

“Izzy could hear ‘em talkin’, jack! I don’t jabber no Spanish, but him…”

“I did hear them. At great risk to my own personals I heard them.”

“And what else did you hear? At great risk to your personals.” Larry leaned forward, and Stan could tell he was interested now.

It took almost half an hour to pull the details from Izzy, punctuated with observations from Noogie. By the end there was no way they’d make Larry’s adult film awards, but Stan didn’t mind. They had something they could take to the lieutenant now.

 

“And how much of this did you verify?” Castillo kept looking at the blotter pad on his desk, not making eye contact with either Stan or Larry.

Stan shifted from one foot to the other. “As much as we could, lieutenant. There’s some chatter about a new shipment coming in, and Lourdes has been trying to move up the food chain for almost a year now.”

“Why haven’t we heard about him?”

“He mostly works the…uh…gay clubs, lieutenant.” Larry took up the narrative now. “It’s a good market for him. Coke’s as popular as high-end eye shadow there, and they’re not a community that’s gonna roll over on their best dealer.”

“Larry’s right. It’s a pretty closed set. We got wind back you had us work that B&D extortion case.”

“And your CIs?”

“Moreno peddles designer knock-offs in some of those clubs. And Lamonte? He’s…” Stan groped for the right word. “He’s a freak. Knows all kinds and runs with ‘em all. But their info on this stuff’s usually solid. They might talk up a few stolen stereos, but when it comes to blow they’re almost always spot-on. Especially Moreno.”

Castillo didn’t move. Then he shifted a hair. “Work it. Crockett’s got the week off, and Tubbs is working a prostitution sting with Gina and Trudy. Gorman might be available.”

“If it’s ok with you, lieutenant, we’ll try working this one solo. If it turns out more than we can handle, we’ll take Gorman.”

“Good. When you’re ready to move I’ll coordinate with patrol and SWAT.” Castillo’s face flickered into what might have been a ghost of a smile. “Who would have expected snow on Christmas in Miami?”

Back in the squad room, Larry let out a long, slow breath. “I can’t believe he bought it. Or that he made a joke like that.”

Stan nodded. “You and me both. Man, the Hardy Boys are gonna be pissed when they come back and find out we took down a major deal.”

“We gotta take the deal down first, Stan.” Larry shook his head as they walked to their desks. “Those two goofballs really didn’t give us much to work with.”

“No, but we know where good ol’ Gonzalo usually works from, right? And you still have that CI there, right?” Stan slapped his partner on the shoulder. “And what is it they say…knowing’s half the battle?”

“Aw, man. You ain’t saying we have to go there, are you?”

“How else we gonna get in touch with the guy, Lar? Unless you got his home number in your wallet.”

Larry grimaced. “No way.”

“Then I don’t see we have any choice.”

“Just say we don’t have to take Noogie and Izzy with us.”

“Maybe not this time.” Stan started digging through a stack of papers on the corner of his desk. “But we’re gonna need those two goofballs to confirm who they saw. And hell, maybe as potential buyers. Noogie’s gotta know just about every small-time dealer in the gay scene. And Izzy probably sold ‘em shoes once or twice.”

“Yeah. But it better be worth it. I can’t believe I missed the Adult Film Awards. Those two broke a five year attendance streak for me.”

“Well cheer up. Maybe we can get you a prom date.”

“Stan! Come on…”

“You’re right. Those guys have taste…”

 

At one time Lefty’s might have been a steak house or cheap seafood joint, but sometime during the ‘70s it had gotten a total makeover. Complete with disco balls, rhinestones, and a clientele who dressed better than Tubbs most days, Lefty’s was home to some of the more flush elements of Miami’s gay scene. Stan parked the Bug Van a block away and shut off the engine. “You say you busted ol’ Rudy about a year ago?”

“More like two. It was when you went to Vegas for that Elvis convention. Gina and I grabbed him up by the Copa trying to score coke.” Larry chuckled. “Never did find out what he was doing so far from home, but the amount he had was just enough to send him upstate. And enough for me to get him as a CI in exchange for the charges talking a walk.”

“And Castillo signed off on that?”

“No. It was before Lou took that bullet.”

Stan nodded, opening his door. “Yeah. Castillo would never sign off on something like that. Not for us, anyhow.”

“Relax, Stan. We got this one in the bag.” Larry came around to the sidewalk. “Just let me do the talking, ok? Rudy isn’t into new faces.”

“Oh, sure. Hide me in back like the fat girl you don’t want your buddies to see you with.” Stan slapped his gut.

“Just play along.”

Inside, Lefty’s was a spray of color and sound. The doorman gave Larry and Stan a withering glare before sniffing and letting them past what looked to be an honest-to-God cloakroom staffed by a slender Hispanic man…or at least Stan assumed it was a man. Larry grinned and headed right for the bar, leaving Stan to trail along in his wake. Some of the patrons he recognized from a leather bar case they’d worked earlier that year, but given the crowd Lefty’s catered to those familiar faces were few and far between. And that wasn’t a bad thing…

He could see Larry talking to a tall, skinny guy behind the bar with what might have been blonde hair cut short and at least four ear rings in each ear. Larry had his head down in what Stan thought of as his ‘serious’ pose, and Randy kept leaning back and shaking his head. Then Larry waved his hand in Stan’s general direction. Taking his cue, Stan drew his shoulders back to look taller and shot one of his Elvis glares in the general direction of the bar. It seemed to get Randy’s attention, and he leaned toward Larry and started making quick gestures with his hands.

Moments later Larry turned away from the bar and grinned. “Nice move pickin’ up on that, Stan.”

“Come on! You think I was born yesterday?”

“No.” Larry paused. “Day before, maybe. But Randy’s gonna play ball. It was either that or I told him the big guy over there - that being you - would come over and rearrange his face bad enough he’d lose all his tips. Randy fancies himself a pretty boy, and all he had to do was imagine himself with a busted nose.”

Stan shook his head. “That goofball a pretty boy? Anyhow, what did he know?” They were outside again, the thick evening air wrapping around them after the cool kiss of air conditioning inside Lefty’s.

“More’n you’d think, that’s for sure. Says he does security for Gonzalo on most deals, but I think he’s lying about that. Odds are Gonzalo calls him in when he needs extra bodies.”

“Smart man, then.” Stan got into the Bug Van and reached over to unlock the passenger door. “I don’t know as I’d trust Randy to find his own ass with both hands, a map, and someone to hold the flashlight for him.”

“Either way he said Gonzalo’s got him on call for tomorrow night. He’s not sure he can make it ‘cause the regulars always tip well on Christmas Eve or something.”

Stan eased the van into the spotty traffic. “That doesn’t give us much time to work Izzy or Noogie in if we want to use either one of ‘em. Unless they’ve already got a connection they forgot to tell us about.”

“Them forget? Never.” Larry laughed. “Which one we gonna lean on?”

“Noogie. Izzy lies so much he wouldn’t know if he was telling the truth or not. Besides, I’d bet one of my Elvis eight-tracks Noogie or someone he knows has done business with Gonzalo at least once before.” Stan checked the rearview and put the van into a u-turn. “And I know just the place to find the little bozo. And it just might make up for you missing the Adult Film Awards.”

 

Rizzo’s was the kind of strip club you could hear before you could smell and smell before you could see. A smear of flickering neon marked its door, and Stan brushed past the bouncer with a look, Larry trailing along in his wake.

A leggy bottle blonde was doing a slow grind on the center stage to what might have been the Stones blasting through the club’s blown-out sound system. The side stages were empty, leaving the tips clear for the headliner. One look told Stan she likely needed all the tips to pay off her boob job. But he couldn’t really fault her. He’d worked Vice long enough to know she likely made more in a shift than he did in a week. Maybe two. Even in a dump like Rizzo’s.

Larry grinned through the haze of cigarette smoke. “How did you know, Stan?” He jerked his head toward the skinny black man in one of the corner booths. Noogie’s head was bobbing up and down to the beat and the bouncing of the blonde’s boobs. He was wearing a pair of oversized pink mirrored sunglasses, and even at this distance Stan could make out the trademark skin-tight pants that might have been leather and the disco-era shirt in dire need of a couple of hours in a washing machine.

“It’s a day that ends in Y, Lar. Besides, I heard Annie is visiting her aunt or something up in Venice Beach. And when the cat’s away…”

“The rat goes out to play.”

“You go in on the right and I’ll take the left. I don’t want the little worm slipping away when he sees one of us.”

“Gotcha.”

Stan watched as his partner vanished into the crowd on the far side of the main stage before making his own move. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the girl starting to ride the pole, and knew Noogie wouldn’t be watching anything else for at least five minutes. Not that Stan could really blame him…the bottle blonde had great legs and could work her hips like no one’s business… Shaking his head, he muttered, “Mind on the job, Stan. Mind on the job…” before heading for the booth.

Noogie’s head was bobbling like his neck was broken, following every gyration of the blonde’s hips and ass. His jaw was sightly slack, and Stan was sure his eyes were bugging out behind the pink aviators. As he got closer, he could hear words coming out of the slack mouth. “Man! That girl be workin’ every bit she got! You jus’ slide on over to the Noog-man, baby! Let him work that body…”

“You better be glad I ain’t recording that, Noogie.” Stan slid into the booth in a single movement, clamping onto Noogie’s right bicep with a big hand. “Annie would kick your skinny butt something fierce if she heard that.”

The skinny man shot at least three inches off the cracked vinyl seat, his body jerking like he’d touched a live electrical wire. Larry slid in on the other side, and Noogie looked from one man to the other. “Damn! You two know the Noog-man only window-shops but don’t order from the menu! And what are you two doin’ hyar? Aside from ruinin’ the Noog-man's rest an’ relaxation?”

“Got a favor to ask, but it looks like it’s more something you’ll do to keep Annie from hearin’ about miss bottle up there.” Stan grinned, trying to keep his eyes from fixing on the girl’s hips.

“You wouldn’t…oh, hell, I know you would.” Noogie sighed and pulled off his glasses. “What deed you need from the Noog-man?”

“It’s about that tip you and Izzy had. You ever do business with Gonzalo? And don’t lie to me, Noogie.”

Noogie’s eyes darted from the dancer to Larry, then Stan, then back to the blonde. “The Noog-man ain’t done no personal business with that cat, but I got a couple of friends who have, dig? He ain’t my kinda cat.” He jerked his head toward the stage. “That’s my kinda cat, dig?”

Stan tightened his grip on Noogie’s arm. “I’m usually a patient man…”

Larry nodded. “He is, Noogie. Really patient.” He patted the sweating man’s shoulder. “It’s kinda scary when he’s done being patient, though.”

“Ok! Ok! Ease up on the merchandise, jack! Now I ain’t worked with no Gonzalo, but the Noog-man might have been in the middle of a parlay with that Franco Cruz cat. ‘Cause I get the feeling you ain’t in the mood for me to find my friends.”

“Now he’s talking sense.” Stan relaxed his grip. “Why didn’t you just tell us you’d done business with Franco?”

“Cause it weren’t business that ended well, jack. The Noog-man ain’t one to go back to a man who ain’t got no plan.”

“What do you mean?”

“The deal was a rip, Skip. The lead was flyin’, and the Noog-man ain’t into dyin’, so I cut out quick.”

Larry snapped his fingers. “You talking about that buy that went south down at the Glory Hole? Patrol wrote it off as just a nickel and dime deal so we never caught it.”

“That’s the one, son! And there was Benjamins and Grants at that partay, not no nickels and dimes if you get what the Noog-man’s sayin’.”

Stan shook his head. “Not the first time Patrol got it wrong and we never got the word. But that doesn’t answer the pressing question. Can you get us close enough to Franco to bust this deal?”

Noogie looked from one to the other, his eyes wide. “We ain’t exactly close, dig? An’ since that all went down I ain’t been lookin’ to change that status. I gots a wife to worry about now…”

“And I’d bet she’d be doing some discount surgery on you right now if she knew where you were.” Stan winked over Noogie’s head at Larry. “Wouldn’t take more than a phone call.”

Larry nodded. “Yeah, Annie’s got a hell of a temper. Remember that time we had to stop her when she was chasing you around a pool table down at Bomber’s?”

“Guys! Look! I ain’t got no pull with Franco or Gonzalo! If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’, and if you call Annie that’s just what I’d be doin’.” Noogie sighed, trying to catch a glimpse of the stripper’s final twirl on the pole before the song ended. “But I do know a guy who might know a guy who knows where the deal’s really goin’ down. Best I can do.”

“You know, I believe the little twerp.” Stan let go of Noogie’s arm and patted him on the back. “You go make that call, Noogie. You don’t come back to the table, Annie gets a call.”

Once Noogie scrambled to his feet and headed for the pay phone back by the bathrooms, Larry shook his head. “You wouldn’t really call Annie, would you?”

“Depends on the day, Lar. Important thing is he thinks I would. And do you really believe he knows a guy who knows a guy?”

“Naw. I think he only knows one guy. Probably the guy who either set up the deal or is sitting on a location for it to go down. Plus, we got Randy to confirm any location he gives us.”

“You really think that guy will come through?”

“He doesn’t like the idea of prison, and that’s where he’s headed if he stands me up. So yeah, I figure he’ll come through.”

Noogie got back to the table just before another song blasted through the blown sound system and a slender redhead took the center stage. “An’ now we have Foxey Roxie shakin’ what the good Lord gave her! An’ the Noog-man spinnin’ the hits that shake the tits.”

“Not bad, Noogie. You ever think of gettin’ a job here?”

“Every other night.” Noogie grinned, showing white teeth, then settled back into his seat. “My guy called a guy. Says the deal’s goin’ down tomorrow night at some dive club called The Cove. Ain’t no place the Noog-man knows, but I hear it’s down by the water.”

“I’ve heard of it.” Larry scratched his ear. “Used to be a happening joint back in the Forties.”

“We cool? Cause if we are I want to admire the assets of miss Roxie there.”

“Sure, Noogie. But if this tip don’t pan out, Annie will get a call.” Stan took a last look at Roxie, who was in the process of losing a very lacy red bra. “Let’s hit the road, Lar.”

Back in the Bug Van, Larry chuckled. “You gotta admit Roxie did have some admirable assets.”

“Yeah. Think I busted her a couple of months back for possession, though.” Stan cranked the engine and eased the van into traffic. “That’s the trouble with this job. I’ve lost more good dates because I arrested ‘em the week before.”

“We gonna go try to sell the lieutenant now?”

“Yeah. I don’t think there’s any way we can insert ourselves into the deal. Means we’re gonna need pictures and maybe some tape to go with them.”

Larry nodded, looking out the window at the darkened storefronts. “Makes the case harder to build.”

“Unless we grab them with the dope and the money in the same place at the same time. This feel like that kinda deal to you?”

“Yeah. Gonzalo and Franco are mid-level at best. They’re not gonna have the time or resources to get all fancy with anything.”

“You wanna draw the gear while I write this mess up? The lieutenant’s gonna want a full plan before he even thinks about signing off.” Stan felt his grip tighten on the steering wheel. If we were Crockett and Tubbs he’d give us half the force just because we had a feeling. Ah, well. At least the bust will be ours.

It took Castillo under five minutes to read the plan. “You think Lamonte’s good on this one?”

“Combined with Lar…I mean Detective Zito’s CI, I do.” Stan shifted from one foot to the other, waiting for Castillo to look up from the typed sheets on his desk. “Noogie Lamonte ain’t much to look at, but his intel’s usually solid. And we have the CI to confirm it. If he doesn’t get a call, we know Noogie’s playing us. Not the way I’d like to do it, lieutenant, but there’s just no way to put me or Detective Zito in the deal.”

Stan flinched as Larry spoke up. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t be at the deal, lieutenant. Stan’s got a good plan to get us in the Cove and close enough the action without needing a warrant.”

Castillo flipped two pages. “I see.” He read again, then rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “I’ll arrange for a raid team. You’ll brief them in the morning.” There was a pause. “And you don’t know how much cocaine is involved?”

“Noogie doesn’t, and I don’t think Izzy knows anything. He was just piggybacking on what Noogie knew.” Stan looked at Larry. “But Larry’s CI said this Lourdes character doesn’t call for extra help unless it’s over ten keys. What we know about Cruz says he can’t handle too much weight, so we think it’s around a twenty key buy. Maybe more, but not likely less.”

“I’ll have Metro SWAT send one of their heavy teams, then. Get some rest, detectives. You’ve got a busy day ahead of you.”

Back in the squad room, Larry let out a long sigh. “Man! Twice in one day Castillo’s agreed with our plan.”

“That’s because the plan’s good, Lar. They don’t all have to involve buy money or the Hardy Boys.” Stan shot a quick glance across the room. “And don’t look now, but Rico’s catching up on some paperwork.”

“Nice for him to see how the other half lives.” Larry cracked a thin smile. “Look, Stan, I ain’t one for spreading bad vibes, but do you think our intel’s good? I mean really good?”

“Yeah, Lar. I do. Maybe not the crap Izzy was putting out, but Noogie’s usually pretty solid with that stuff. And your guy…how much do you trust Rudy?”

“Point taken. He’s good, especially when it’s his ass on the line. Literally in this case. It’s just…who moves product on Christmas Eve?”

“Dealers who think the cops will take a holiday. Guys desperate to move up in the world. Or jokers who don’t know what day it is.” Stan shook his head. “And personally I think these two morons fall into all three categories. We’ve been hearing about Franco for years…never quite able to reach that next rung. This Lourdes guy I don’t know as well, but getting an in with the gay club scene could up his status a bit.”

“You’re right. It just feels funny, you know? Not playing second fiddle to someone else.”

“Yeah. Means we gotta make sure we do this right.” Stan yawned, feeling the day’s adrenaline bleeding out of his body. “Let’s just take the lieutenant’s advice and get some sleep. Tomorrow’s gonna be a busy day.”

 

Christmas Eve. I haven’t worked a Christmas Eve since I got out of Patrol. Stan looked around the deserted squad room and shrugged, mostly for his own benefit. Not that it matters. Ain’t like I got anyplace to be today. It would just be me and Lar watching bad Christmas specials, and he’s here so half of it’s covered.

“Stan? You know we’re missing ‘Frosty the Snowman’ right about now?”

“Yeah, Lar. And I know we missed Rudolph half an hour ago I’m starting to think old Rudy wants to get back to the booty house.”

“Naw. Least I don’t think so.” Larry was about to go on when his phone rang. “Yeah? This better be good. Ok, I got it. Show up anyhow, Rudy. You know the drill. You don’t, he’ll know you’re a rat.”

“That better have been who I think it was.”

“Rudy came through. Says the deal’s goin’ down in two hours and confirmed the location as The Cove.”

Stan looked over at Castillo’s office door. Even though they hadn’t seen the man, he somehow knew he was in there. “I’ll let the lieutenant know.”

“Two hours?”

“Yeah, lieutenant. That’s what Larry…I mean Detective Zito’s CI said. I know it’s not much time, but our other CI didn’t know the time. Just the location.”

“I’ll let Metro SWAT know. They have a team on standby. And you don’t think there will be much security?”

“Six shooters at most. Three for each side.”

“Is that a guess?”

Stan felt his face warm. “An educated one. Cruz only calls in Zito’s CI when he needs more help, and he has two guys on payroll already. This Lourdes we don’t know as well, but a dealer with a twenty key deal is going to have at least two guns with him.”

“Good work, detective. The SWAT team leader should be here in half an hour. Go over the details with him. You and Detective Zito will have full tactical control. He’ll know that before he gets here.”

Stan recognized the SWAT sergeant from earlier raids, and they nodded with casual cop familiarity. “Sorry to drag your girls out of bed on Christmas Eve, Haskins.”

“If you two ladies are up and about, someone needs to keep you company.” Haskins grinned. “What’s the score, Stan?”

“Got a deal going down at The Cove. In about an hour.”

“Nothing like a rush job.”

“Yeah. Our CIs are on the edges, so you know how that goes. We expect about six shooters. Larry’s already in position keeping an eye on things. I had him roll as soon as we go the green light.”

“Good thinking. I know The Cove. Not that way, asshole. We hit it a couple years back for licensing violations. So we have a floorpan and everything ready to go. I’ll let my guys know and we’ll set up a staging area about two minutes out. Say the word and we’ll hit the place.”

“Sounds good. Look…Lar’s CI is part of the mix, so we’ll roll in with you and bust him and one or two others to preserve his cover.”

Comfortable with the plan, it took Stan ten minutes to get to The Cove and another two to find where Larry had parked the Bug Van. “SWAT should be in position in another ten minutes or so. They’ll stage two minutes away and wait for our go.”

Larry grinned around an egg salad sandwich. “Got you one, too, Stan. They’re from Auntie Rea’s.”

“Thanks.” Stan took a big bite of sandwich, not realizing how hungry he was until the food registered on his taste buds. “Any movement?”

Larry peered through the spotting scope set up on the van’s dashboard. “Not for the last few minutes. Franco and his crew showed up not long after I got in position. You should see Rudy all dolled up in his camo jacket! But they left a guy outside, so I don’t think Gonzalo is here yet.”

Nodding, Stan keyed the tactical radio. “One team’s in the ballpark. Still waiting on the away team.”

Haskins’ voice echoed back. “Copy that. Batboys are in position.”

“Is that Haskins?”

“Yeah. We got the good ones.” Stan chewed his sandwich, trying to keep his mind from veering down dark paths. “Means we’d better not screw this one up, right?”

“It’ll be golden, Stan. You’ll see.” Larry turned back to his spotting scope. “And a big Caddy just pulled up. Gonzalo’s getting out, along with two guys with bulges in their jackets. Gonzalo’s lugging a duffle bag that looks pretty darned full and heavy.”

“And you said the club’s closed?”

“Yeah. Had a big old ‘closed for the holidays’ sign in the front door. No outside lights, either.” He paused. “Ok. They’re inside. Driver’s still in the Caddy. Franco didn’t leave a driver in his Beemer.”

Stan nodded and keyed the radio again. “Both teams are in the ballpark. One is back in the Caddy. We’ll take him.”

“Copy that. Moving to position two. Will pick up bats on your go.”

“They’re moving to thirty seconds out.” Stan pulled his Browning Hi-Power from its hip holster, the familiar action of chambering a round settling his nerves. He always got a bit jumpy before a bust…even more when he was calling the shots. Flicking on the thumb safety, he turned to Larry. “Let’s go round up that driver. We should get there about the time those bozos instead start settling the deal.”

“Yep.” Larry checked his own snub nose Smith & Wesson. “I’ll collar Rudy.”

“SWAT knows.” Stan looked across the dark street at the long shape of the Caddy. “Let’s do this.”

The driver was easy. He grumbled when Larry rapped on the window, almost pissed himself when Stan stuck the Browning in his face, and seemed resigned to his fate when they cuffed him and stuffed him in the trunk of the Caddy. “I think he’s glad we’re not a rival crew,” Larry whispered after they closed the trunk and started for the door.

“Could be.” Stan raised the radio. “Go.”

Seconds later men in black with SWAT lettered in yellow on their backs emerged from what seemed like thin air and headed for the door. The lead man held a sledgehammer, and he looked back at Haskins, waiting for the nod. When the sergeant’s head moved, the hammer slammed down on the door handles, smashing them away and driving the doors open in the same motion. “Metro-Dade police! Drop your weapons!” As Haskins shouted the words, the rest of his team flowed through the doorway with a practiced ease, breaking right and left to cover the room.

Stan was about to wink at Larry when gunshots rattled from inside the club. Two pistol shots, followed by the higher crack of SWAT M-16s and the boom of the shotgun carried by the man with the hammer. As soon as the last team member was through the door, Stan bulled his way in, narrowing his eyes to adjust to the light and taking cover behind what might have once been a hat and coat check counter. Somewhere off to his right Haskins shouted “Drop your weapons!” again, only to be answered by two quick shots from a pistol. The M-16s cracked again, and through the ringing in his ears Stan heard someone scream.

“Don’t…don’t shoot! We give up!” It sounded like Rudy, but Stan couldn’t be sure. Knowing he had to do it, he risked a look over the top of the counter and saw three men huddled in the middle of the club’s dance floor. Five bodies sprawled awkwardly near them, the spreading dark stains of blood clear in the dim light from the bar.

One of the men stepped a bit away from the group, and Stan recognized him as Gonzalo Lourdes. “Lourdes! Don’t do it, man! It’s not worth it!”

“Says who? You, cop? You ain’t the one looking at prison!” Gonzalo had a round, smooth face, and Stan could see droplets of sweat glistening on his cheeks. He still clutched the duffle bag. “But you can’t prosecute with no evidence!”

His thumb found the safety and flicked it off. “Don’t do it!”

It was kind of blowtorch Stan had seen in fancy restaurants…the kind they used to make baked Alaskan. God knows where Gonzalo found it, but it roared to life, its light and power magnified by the shape of the dance floor. “No evidence, no charges!” The flame licked closer, touching the bag’s stout fabric.

Stan fired twice, the second from reflex rather than need. The first round destroyed Gonzalo’s head. The second hit the duffle bag, jerked up by the man’s dying reflexes, and scattered powdery cocaine over the dance floor. One of the SWAT men hurried to secure the torch, while the others cuffed the two survivors.

Larry looked at Stan and grinned. “Looks like you got your Christmas wish, Stan. It snowed…”

“Don’t say it, Lar. Just don’t say it.” Still, Stan had to smile. Both dealers were dead, and a major deal had been broken up. It wasn’t a bad Christmas present for them. “But I do owe Noogie some paid lap dances down at Rizzo’s. Some time when Annie’s out of town, at least. I don’t want the little worm dead just yet.”

[MrsCastillo]

I love this! Always wished MV had a Christmas episode. Especially love that Stan and Larry are the focus... wished they and Gina and Trudy had more attention. Great read! 

[Robbie C.]

Glad you enjoyed it! I was really up in the air about writing one, but I knew if I did it wouldn't be focused on Crockett and Tubbs.

[mjcmmv]

That was fun to see Larry and Stan together again! Good one, Robbie!

[Robbie C.]

Glad you enjoyed it!

[Robbie C.]

Just nudging this up for those who might feel a need for semi-holiday Vice.

[Matt5]

22 hours ago, Robbie C. said:

Just nudging this up for those who might feel a need for semi-holiday Vice.

Very good Thankyou.

[Robbie C.]

Glad you enjoyed it, Matt. Haven't been writing Vice stuff lately, but I thought people might like to be reminded of last year's "almost Christmas" story.