Chapter 32

 

 

The silver-haired man caught my attention first, although the other one held a gun and was definitely the more dangerous looking. About a dozen thoughts went through my mind in a nano-second: he looked just as Victoria had described him, complete with the vivid blue eyes; my gun was locked in the glovebox; my Jeep was blocked in; I’m on the third floor, way above the ground; it’s the police department—surely someone will come along soon.

“All I want’s that evidence from your girlfriend’s house,” Proletti said.

Vic was right—he did have a faint New York accent.

“I saw those agents go to her house. You leave there right after and come to the police? You must have it with you.”

The statement made no sense. Why would one bunch of lawmen give evidence back to the victim, only to have her turn it back to another section of law enforcement? I only thought of this later. At the moment he said it, I was struggling to keep a clear head as the thuggish one came around the side of their car and held the gun on me. I knew with a sick certainty it was the same gun that had nearly taken Victoria’s life.

A white car slowly approached, the driver probably looking for a parking space in the crowded structure. Proletti tensed and the thug moved in closer to me. I was just trying to think of a way—any way at all—to alert the driver and get him to go for help. When the car stopped and Agent Gilbert Ahern stepped out I could have shouted for joy.

“Al,” he said.

“Gil. What are you doing here?” Puzzlement showed in Proletti’s eyes.

“The other guy has a gun!” I yelled at Ahern.

When he didn’t react the way I expected, all at once I knew.

“Put it away, Fausto,” he said to the thug, who complied. Turning to Proletti: “What did you tell your daughter?”

“Nothing, man. I asked for the evidence, searched the whole damn place. She had nothin’.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

I had no time to ponder the remark, not with Fausto giving me the evil eye, so I tried to deflect his attention.

“I thought you were on your way to the airport,” I said to Ahern.

“Later. I’m on a different flight from Applin.”

“So … Here are your suspects. Aren’t you going to arrest them?”

My bluff didn’t work. His stern mouth turned upward at the corners, his version of a smile. Ahern wasn’t here to catch Proletti and his cohort. He’d followed them as they tracked me. They were on the same side.

I remembered what Victoria said about the cassette tape, where Al Proletti talked to someone they assumed was in law enforcement. It wasn’t the Florida deputy, Elmer Reddick. It was the FBI man from Washington. Kickbacks, bribes, who knew what all—the agent had been in Proletti’s pocket for decades. I didn’t want to guess at the devil’s pact the two had made. I only wanted out of there.

Ahern might be a crooked lawman but he wasn’t stupid. He read my thoughts as surely as if they’d been written on my face in ink. He stepped behind me, effectively caging me among the three of them. Unless I could knock one of them down or kick ’em in the privates, I was stuck. I didn’t like the three-against-one odds. Injure one of them and I still had the other two to deal with.

“You know the nice thing about working with a rube in a dink police department like this one?” Ahern said to Proletti. “The nice thing is I’m the one who ended up with the evidence.”

I took offense on behalf of Kent Taylor. We didn’t always see things the same way but he was certainly not a rube.

Ahern reached into his jacket and pulled out a zipper bag full of neatly folded papers. I recognized them as the ones that had come from the green box, including Juliette’s steno pad and the cassette tape. In his other hand he had a plastic lighter. He held up the bag and flicked the lighter.

Proletti’s eyes grew wide, his jaw slack. Fausto looked toward his boss for guidance but none was forthcoming.

Ahern was staring at Proletti now. “You know how much I’ve covered up for you over the years, Al? You have any idea?” He’d let the lighter go out, thank goodness.

Al held perfectly still. I wanted to turn into a tiny field mouse and scurry away. Something here was taking a nasty turn.

“If all that shit I covered up was to come out now—you know how bad that would be for me? My pension—pfft!”

“So, burn it! We’re both in the clear then. Proletti tried to bluster his way through. “You got enough to retire five times over, without a government retirement fund.”

“Only if I wanted to live on some godforsaken island where you sweat all day and the mosquitos eat you alive, looking over my shoulder all the time. No contact with my family. Never see my kids, my grandkids? Nah. I want to live where it’s civilized, send away for a little of the money now and then, not enough to make anyone take a second look. I have to doctor this tape so the evidence sends you away but doesn’t reveal anything about me.”

So, why don’t we all walk away and you can do that? I really hoped he could read my face as easily now as he had earlier.

“Give me the evidence, then,” said Proletti. “I can go so far away you’ll never see my face again.”

“Huh-uh. No way. I’m not taking the chance. Ex-federal agents don’t do so well in prison.”

I saw where this was really going. Ahern wasn’t here to capture Proletti and take him in. There was too great a chance, once arrested, the mobster would tell it all. This meeting should have taken place between the two of them, all alone. My very, very bad luck to be caught in the middle.

“So, what’re you sayin’? You’re not turning the evidence over?” The mobster’s expression became hopeful.

My hopes sank. Without that documentation, all we had in court against Proletti were the pages I’d photocopied and Victoria’s testimony. It might be enough to convict him for breaking into her house and harassing her, but the real proof of the long ago murder the new FBI director was investigating—that was inside the bag. I scrambled for ideas. How could I get hold of the bag and get out of here? The three of them would hold a contest to see who could grab me and throw me off the side of the building first. Or they would simply shoot me down as I ran.

Ahern flicked the lighter again and a flame rose to life. He started to wave it toward the bottom corner of the bag of evidence.

I don’t know what happened next, what silent communication passed between Proletti and his thug, Fausto. I only heard a deafening blast that reverberated off the concrete walls. Gilbert Ahern went down and a red blotch spoiled the center of his pristine white shirt. I fell to the floor and rolled under my Jeep, holding my breath, squinching my eyes shut, waiting for the bullet that would either come at me directly or ricochet off a concrete surface somewhere. Shouts and pounding footsteps echoed from a hundred unknown places.

“Shots fired! Shots fired!” was what I thought I heard, but my ears rang so badly I couldn’t be sure of anything.

Pure pandemonium reigned for what felt like a long time. Blue-clad legs and black police uniform shoes appeared when I first opened my eyes. The Jeep rocked with thuds. Proletti’s face hit the floor, startlingly close to mine, his blue eyes pinning me. His arms were yanked backward, cuffs went around his wrists. Someone jerked him to his knees then to his feet.

Near the tire of the dark car I saw the same thing happening to Fausto. If I’d rolled over, behind me lay the body of Gilbert Ahern. I didn’t roll over—I didn’t want to see him. I massaged my ears, wishing they would stop ringing. Gradually, the scurrying feet went away and the ringing got better.

“Charlie? Charlie, where are you?” It sounded kind of like Kent Taylor’s voice, a little more high-pitched than usual.

I bumped my shoulder on an extremely hard metal object under the car as I struggled to get out. Rolled away from the protection of my Jeep and stayed there on hands and knees for a second, until I no longer felt like I would pass out. When I finally stood, pulling myself upright by gripping the door handle, Kent Taylor was standing beside the dark car scanning the surrounding area.

“I’m here,” I said, although I could barely hear my own voice.

“Charlie, my god!” He came over to me. “I got worried when you didn’t show up and came down here looking for you. By then the situation had already blown up. Are you all right?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I’m great. Just great.”

I started shaking so hard I could barely stand up. He caught me before my knees gave way. Then I really embarrassed myself by bursting into tears.