Chapter 6
I went back to the boat. I checked carefully, but nothing had been touched. A shower and a cup of strong black Columbian were high on my list of priorities. After I slipped into a pair of stained cargo shorts and a threadbare T-shirt, I sat at the table with my notebook and tried to make some sense of the dung hole we’d been dropped into. There were a few things I knew, or at least thought I knew.
Panko and The Boss Lady were behind Sarah’s murder. I’d been warned. Maybe my false bravado had ushered in the bombing.
Bill was immersed in rage and revenge. He wouldn’t rest until someone was in court . . . or in the morgue.
Elmer and Mama Mayhem were in this shit up to their elbows. He was probably the thug who planted the bomb, his beefy accomplice not far behind, beaming with pride at her baby boy.
Last, but not least . . . Sunny and I could turn up dead at any time.
I decided there were two calls I had to make. The first was Bill. I wasn’t sure he would be at the station, but he was a pro and I knew he was driven. Death was his constant companion . . . even the death of his wife. He was working. He sounded surprisingly detached and efficient. Just another day in the life of a cop – collecting info, doing his job, maybe risking his life – all business as usual. But I knew the top of the current agenda was the Sara’s murder.
“I got a few things. Plastic explosive, probably set off by a cell phone signal. That means the perps had to be nearby at the time. No video cameras or security personnel anywhere close by, so no real potential witnesses. We haven’t received any anonymous tips or reports of anything unusual at the scene. It’s all very neat and if they left any tracks, they damned sure covered them thoroughly. We got an APB on Elmer and Ma. No payoff as yet. It looks like they’ve gone underground.”
“So how about you?”
“I’m functioning. And off the record, I’m hoping those sonovabitches never see the inside of a courtroom. If I can help it, they won’t. ‘My Boys’ are with me.”
There was something ominous in the reference to “His Boys”, but I knew what he meant. Cops didn’t like it when other cops’ wives were blown into bloody little pieces. I didn’t think the state would have to cover the expenses of this trial.
I didn’t talk Bill again until the funeral. The day was the perfect cliché. The clouds had come up in iron legions and the rain was cold and unrelenting. I had slipped my foul weather jacket over my blue blazer. It was bright orange, probably not the best color under the circumstances, but it was all I had for protection. Dr. Bowers, a minister in the church I was raised in, had once said, “Rain drops are God’s tears, a symbol of his sadness, but a sign of redemption . . . a baptismal that washes us clean and makes promises God will keep.” I wanted to believe it, but I just wasn’t sure.
Sunny stood at a distance, barely clinging to the edge of control. Bill’s “Boys” were out in force, a wave of blue and gray, stone faced and earnest in their desire to avenge their brother. Several of the dignitaries from the college were present to pay their respects. The rain pelted us like tiny needles. The wind picked up, began to howl, and chilled the cast of an already chilling scene. Bill shivered and picked up a fistful of wet dirt. He spread it over her casket and whispered something I couldn’t hear. The big man began to shake like a child being swallowed by the dark.
The crowd began to thin. He stood at the grave, his lips quivering as he fought the emptiness. I walked over quietly and took his arm. His bicep flexed like a coiled spring and he looked at me with eyes that were half dead. We walked a few feet. There was no good time to speak and nothing to say, but I said it anyway.
“Bill, I’m going to take a run at The Boss Lady. I got the Sirelli thing. Our trusted mayor is the best guess we’ve got.”
“Don’t be a fool, T.K.,” he croaked, “I’m not even sure it’s her, but if it is, you put yourself smack in the center of the bull’s eye if you fuck with the woman. They already told you they will kill you. Just take Sunny and get the hell out of town. I can handle this – and I will. They’ll pay in full. I’ve made my own promise to Sarah. You can take that one to the bank.”
“Bill, I appreciate your concern and your advice, but we’re in too damned deep.”
“Trust me, you’re not – at least not yet. Like I told you, just get the hell out of town . . . and do it yesterday.”
That was the end of that -- at least for now.
. . . . . .
Alison Bondura was the daughter of Anthony Sirelli, the former mayor. He was the messiah of Norfolk until he got way too greedy. Kickbacks, mob ties, and downright bribery had done him in. An army of shady lawyers and the bad guys’ knowledge that he knew “where the bodies were buried” had saved him a nice long stretch in the state pen. Now several years later, his blond haired, blue-eyed daughter had been elected. There were rumors -- and of course there always are – that his progeny had taken up Daddy’s nefarious habits. A chip off the old block, you might say, but I still didn’t know if she was the fabled Boss Lady. I had met her once at a reception at the college before the election. She was attractive, sexy in a professional way, and very slick. Glen was dead. Sarah was dead. I knew I might be like the old hound dog chasing his own tail, but I needed to see Her Honor in person one more time just to judge my own vibes.
What the hell? I’d make the call.
A very proper voice answered the phone. “Office of the Mayor,” was the response.
I identified myself and requested an audience with the sitting regent. I was told Mayor Bondura was in a meeting and put on hold. Then I got a real surprise. Her Honor would make time to squeeze me in at 2:45 that afternoon. I told the voice I would be there . . .and I would be prompt.
I was. I had showered and shaved and put on my khakis and best polo . . . a little faded, but it was all I could do. I went to city hall, expecting to wait, but the voice ushered me into the mayor’s office almost immediately. She got out of a plush black leather chair and stepped around a massive mahogany desk. The smile was radiant . . . lots of practice, I theorized.
The Lady looked brilliant. Her blond locks were vibrant and shouted life. The suit shouted professional chic . . . finely tailored, a deep blue silk, with the obligatory red and white scarf casually draped about her neck. There was an American flag in her lapel. Very patriotic and all of that good shit. She wore angel heels in matching alligator leather. A gold wedding band with a large diamond engagement ring, but no other jewelry.
“Please sit down, Dr. Fleming.” She pointed to a cushy brown leather wing chair in front of the dark glossy wood.
“I appreciate you seeing me, Mayor, especially on such short notice.”
“Please call me Alison,” she said. “After all, we do have common interests.” I thought there was a transparent motive in her tone and her smile, but with politicians, isn’t that a given?
“Pardon me for being abrupt, Doctor, but my time is precious. My constituents are quite demanding and, of course, they do go to the polls. I must be frank. I only agreed to see you because I am an admirer. Your books, although replete with fantasy (accent on that word), are most entertaining. I love a good mystery, the references to contemporary culture, and, to be truthful, I often learn from them.”
“Thank you, Alison. That’s very generous of you.” She smiled demurely and spoke, an edge in her voice that wasn’t very well disguised.
“Now to get to the business at hand. I follow the events in my city with great interest and serious intent. I know about the unfortunate circumstances of Mr. Macklin’s death and that of the wife of a valued member of the Norfolk P.D. Despite what others may think, we, here in the Mayor’s office, mourn for the losses of any of our dedicated public servants. Due to your previous involvements, I believe that you and Ms. Elgar are potentially in great danger. There is only so much that we can do to protect you.”
Yes, only so much . . . especially when there were a string of murders, probably per orders from
the mysterious Boss Lady. Was I sitting at her desk?
“From whom?” I asked point blank.
She hesitated. The politician-speak had left her, at least for the moment. He face went crimson and she fiddled with a pen on her desk. She looked away. Then she turned and focused her ice blue eyes on mine.
“That is a question for which I have no answer, but then you may not want to know. What you must understand is that for obvious reasons, you are no longer welcome in our city.”
She turned to her computer. I knew I was being dismissed.
But obvious to whom, I thought? I still wasn’t sure, but perhaps I had my answer to my quandary. I left. I came to find out something. I wasn’t totally confident I had, but the vibes were now stronger than ever. One thing was clear.
I had been threatened.