Bullet Work (30 page)

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Authors: Steve O'Brien

Tags: #horses, #horse racing, #suspense mystery, #horse racing mystery, #dick francis, #horse racing suspense, #racetrack, #racetrack mystery

BOOK: Bullet Work
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Ginny backed out of the warehouse and into
the street. He shifted into drive and pulled away without looking
back.

Dan walked over to where Belker laid on the
floor. He was moaning and wheezing, his cheek bone damaged and nose
busted. Dan kicked the gun, and it skittered across the floor,
hitting the far wall. Dan walked outside and dialed his cell
phone.

“Detective Manning, this is Dan Morgan. I’ve
got Belker. Come by and pick him up.”

“Where are you?”

Dan looked up at the street signs at the
intersection. “Warehouse at Collins and Simmons.”

“Where’s that?”

“Bring along medical assistance.” Then he
hung up.

Manning arrived by squad car twenty minutes
later. The ambulance arrived a few minutes earlier. The EMTs stood
outside despite the fact that Belker was again conscious. They
didn’t want to contaminate a crime scene.

“What do we got here?” said Manning as he
approached.

“He grabbed me at my place, tied me up, and
brought me here.” Dan waved toward the chair where the cut handcuff
and duct tape were. Manning motioned to the techs to assist Belker,
who was rolling side to side on the floor. Dan continued, “He cut
the cuffs off me, which was a mistake. He was going to shoot me,
but I created a diversion. The weapon was fired. Nobody hit.”

Manning looked down at Belker’s battered and
bloodied face, then back at Dan. “You did this?”

Dan locked eyes with Belker. They’d had a
little conversation about that before the EMTs arrived. Belker
didn’t do much talking. Dan wasn’t sure Belker understood anything,
the way his brain was rattled. With all he faced right now, round
two with Ginny Perino wasn’t something Belker would want any part
of.

Dan glanced down to his bleeding hands and
back to Belker. “Yep.” Belker nodded slightly, or maybe it was just
a twitch that Dan saw. “Guess I had a little surge of
adrenaline.”

“No shit, you think?” Manning waved to the
other officer and motioned him to bag up the gun, cuff, and tape.
“What’s the package?”

“Cash. From the extortion scam.”

“What? He brought it in from his jeep just
to—what? Brag about it?”

“Something like that,” Dan said.

“You carry around spare sets of
plasti-cuffs?” Manning asked, looking around the warehouse,
studying everything but Dan.

“He had them in his pocket. I guess his
failsafe.”

“Damn convenient.”

“Self-defense, detective,” Dan said.

Manning stared straight at Dan. “Let’s see.
Guy nabs you off the street, has you bound and gagged, drags you
all the way to Back Ass, Virginia, to kill you, then decides to cut
you free—you know, so it’s a fair fight, I guess. Let’s you get
close enough to jump him, misses you with a pistol shot; you
overpower him, beat the living crap out of him, and tie his hands
with the man’s fail safe, spare set of plasti-cuffs. Am I tracking
you so far?”

Dan just stared back.

“It’s either a crock of bull, or you’re the
luckiest son of a bitch to walk the earth.”

Dan didn’t laugh or change expression. “It
was self-defense.”

Manning pinched the bridge of his nose and
squeezed his eyes shut. “Unbelievable. This from the guy who rode a
freaking horse through the wall of a burning barn. Jesus.” He
opened his eyes and watched as the techs rolled Belker toward the
ambulance. “I suppose Belker will confirm all that. That is, after
they pull the feeding tube out of the guy.”

“He will, unless he decides to lie about it.
He’s done a little of that already.”

Manning squinted at Dan, shook his head, and
scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, what the hell, looks like
self-defense to me.”

Chapter 56

 

the phone rang early. It was John
O’Kelly, the backside pastor. They were holding a memorial ceremony
for AJ at Crok’s following Monday’s morning works. He wanted to
know whether Dan would say a few words. Latimer mentioned to
O’Kelly that he’d known the kid. Dan didn’t know what he could say
but agreed anyway.

Crok’s was jammed with folks holding their
hats in their hands. A makeshift podium was at the far end of the
kitchen. All the seats were filled, and people were lined up
against every wall. This wasn’t a typical religious crowd. These
were just people looking for some kind of answer and a way to
reconcile what they had witnessed with what they knew. Dan had no
idea what he would say to the group.

O’Kelly opened with a group prayer. Dan
couldn’t focus on anything he was saying. He only heard words being
spoken. Several of the women were crying quietly. A few of the hard
boots scratched the floor with their heels and looked down. When
he’d finished, he asked Kyle to come forward.

Kyle stood behind the podium and couldn’t
look at the group. “I, uh, I went to the hospital this morning and
got to see Jim.” He coughed and cleared his throat. “He’s a tough
guy.” People nodded in agreement. “Anyway, he’s got a busted collar
bone, punctured lung, and three broken ribs. Oh, and a
concussion.”

He paused as if reflecting upon the fortune,
the fragments of bones and matter, and the pressure that would
place him in that hospital bed rather than Dagens. “He wanted me to
send a message to the jockey colony. He said he’s going to keep
track of everyone who takes any of his mounts, and he’s going to
kick their ass when he comes back.”

The crowd laughed nervously. As if catching
himself, Kyle looked at O’Kelly and said, “Sorry, Father, but
that’s what he said.” O’Kelly nodded. Being around the racetrack,
he’d heard every form of profanity, but this one had the potential
to actually heal some people.

Kyle continued, “He wanted me to thank
everyone for their prayers and good wishes. And he’s coming back
just as soon as they let him out. Thank you.”

He nodded to the crowd and stepped away from
the podium. O’Kelly moved to the podium and pointed at Dick
Latimer. “Dick’s going to say a few words.”

Latimer stood behind the podium like he was
paralyzed. There was no more sympathetic audience, but he struggled
to come up with anything to say. He rubbed his hand over his face
and scratched the stubble on his cheek. “He was a good kid,” he
said; then, he stopped.

Latimer looked like he knew he was going to
cry if he kept going. He looked down and rolled his head slightly,
searching for any kind of composure.

“He was a good kid. He was a quick learner.”
Latimer paused and cleared his throat. “He was never a problem.” He
looked out at the audience, and the fear was evident in his
water-filled eyes. Then he froze. The audience’s heart tried to
will him to go on, but he could not. Caught between the courage to
display emotion publicly and the pride of a hard boot, he opted for
the pride. He couldn’t go on. “I’m gonna miss that kid.” Then he
walked away.

O’Kelly stepped back up. “Thank you, Dick.
Tough time for all of us. I know he meant a lot to you. Next, I’d
like to have Dan Morgan come up and say a few words. Dan?” He
pointed to him near the back of the room.

Dan walked forward and scooted between two
tables to get to the front. Beth jumped up, pulling him forward and
tightly wrapped her arms around his neck. She was as tough as they
came, but tears streamed down his neck and into the fabric of his
shirt.

She mumbled something that sounded like a
mixture of “I’m sorry” and “don’t get it.” She pushed back and held
a tissue up to her nose, sucking in and holding her breath. He
stroked her hair, looking down at her, then inhaled deeply and
moved toward the front of the room.

He rested his hands on the podium and leaned
into it. He had given closing arguments; he had given speeches in
grand conference rooms. He had even given eulogies at massive
funerals. This was the only time in his life that he was preparing
to speak and had no idea what he was going to say.

“I’m Dan Morgan. I own a few horses. Jake
trains for me.” He gestured over to where Gilmore was standing. “I
didn’t know AJ very well. Would like to have known him a whole lot
better, but—”

Dan looked to the back of the room and
noticed Romeo standing against the wall. Scenes flashed through his
mind, from that first day in Crok’s kitchen with the men hassling
AJ to that satisfying gut punch to the haymaker that caught AJ
unaware. Too much violence, he thought—too much hatred borne of
fear.

Romeo was pale, disheveled, and confused.
Rings under his eyes evidenced a combination of lack of sleep and
hard-scrubbed tears. In a few tragic seconds he had lost a
promising filly, and in his grief risked losing his liberty, but he
was here.

Dan turned toward Latimer. “He was a good
kid, Dick. He cared so much for those horses. Anyone’s horses. We
work in an industry that exists only for competition. We live to
beat the other guy, to get the purse, to win the stake, to—” He
shrugged. “To get there first.”

He took a deep breath and leaned into the
podium. “AJ came at life from a totally different angle. He cared
singularly about the horse. Now, we all do, but he cared about them
in a way we’ll never comprehend. He had a gift. I don’t understand
it. I can’t explain it. I saw it with my own eyes, and I still
don’t get it. But he could connect with horses.”

“When he put his hands on a horse, they
communicated. He gave them a voice. And in doing that, he gave them
peace. He could calm a frightened animal, he could sense pain and
discomfort, and—”

Dan shook his head. “And he could feel what
they felt. I believe he could actually experience the emotion of
the animal. No one will believe you when you say that. You had to
see it, and even then—” He looked out and only saw faces of people
trying to comprehend what they’d witnessed. Tears were flowing, and
few looked at anything besides the floor.

“AJ and I had many things in common. First
and foremost, we love these animals. We love the backside. We all
have our personal problems and challenges, but we’d rather be right
here than on any stretch of earth on this planet. Here, the horses
are kings, and we’re their servants. Sure, we have plans and dreams
for them, but unless we treat them like royalty, they’ll never
achieve their potential. It occurred to me that we’re all like
that.”

Dan took a deep breath and re-gripped the
podium. “This would be a better place if everyone thought like
that. When you meet strangers, you never know what to expect of
them, nor what they expect from you. If we try to understand them
and treat them with respect, maybe we both win. AJ was a—a boy of
few words. He didn’t have to say a lot. He spoke through his
actions.

“I’m convinced that he knew what was going to
happen when Arestie was put down. I think he knew the significance
of having his hands on her when the needle hit the heart. He just
couldn’t let go. He couldn’t let that horse down, not for one
second. He’d committed to help a distressed animal. His commitment,
though fatal, was one he couldn’t bring himself to relinquish.

“He was a boy—he was a man of his word. We’ve
all heard it, and we know it’s true. These majestic animals give
their lives for our pleasure. AJ gave his so that one of those
creatures wouldn’t endure one more second of pain.”

He paused and gathered his breath. O’Kelly
motioned to him like he was going to move to the podium. Dan waved
him off.

“What we don’t understand frightens us. That
won’t change after today. But I know that, whether I understand or
not, I can always help. It’s that simple, and it’s all we need to
take away from this.”

He stepped back from the podium. A groom in
the back of the cafeteria slowly pounded his hands together. A few
more joined in, and soon the room exploded with applause. It wasn’t
for Dan, though. These people, these witnesses needed to express
themselves somehow, and clapping was the most primal release.

Dan joined them in the applause. He needed
it, too.

 

Chapter 57

 

dan made his way through the crowd
of people, who were milling about following the service. It was
what people did: milling around. The trauma of the past several
days, mixed with the emotion of the moment, caused people to freeze
up. They would stay this way until something jarred their system,
and then they would go back to their lives. But for now, they
milled about.

He wanted to get over to Jake’s barn so he
could be alone.

His path intersected with Romeo. “Heard
they’re looking at you for AJ?”

Romeo nodded, trying to regain some of the
toughness lost through the tears.

“Call me,” Dan said, handing him a business
card.

Romeo studied the lawyer’s card. “Why? Why’d
you help me?”

“Let me be straight about this. I don’t like
you. As a matter of fact, I’d like to repay the shot you gave AJ
right here. But you didn’t kill that boy. I’m likely the only guy
with a legal degree within a hundred miles of this racetrack who
can believe that.”

“But you was friends with that kid. Wha—”

“Didn’t you listen to a damn thing I just
said up there?” Dan said, pointing over his shoulder to the
podium.

“I’ll—I’ll think about it.”

“You’ll go down for assault. Hell, there were
only about twenty thousand witnesses to that. You’ll take that plea
and whatever comes with it. But you got to worry about
manslaughter. I’ll help if you want. If you don’t, that’s fine,
too.” Dan turned and walked away.

An older woman in a bright red St. John’s
knit outfit reached out an arm toward him. “Dan? Do you have just a
moment?”

Her hair was perfectly cropped as a blonde
helmet, not a hair out of place. Streaks of mascara were the only
things to disrupt an otherwise perfect picture of grace and
composure. She held a wadded-up tissue under one eye to soak up a
tear. A lanky, gray-haired man in a pin-striped blue suit
accompanied her.

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