Complicity in Heels (18 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

T
wo more hours passed: still no Patrone. Nikki pointed to the clock on the dashboard. “It’s late. Do you want to call it, Chen?”

Tony frowned. “Might as well.”

“And Clayton?”

“I’ll flip you for it. Loser makes the long trek over to the Bourbon Street Grill to tell him he can go.”

Nikki flashed him a halfhearted smile. “Sure. Why not?”

Tony removed the double-tailed quarter from his pants pocket, tossed it into the air, and caught it. “Call it?”

“Tails,” Nikki replied.

Tony kept the coin covered. “You sure?”

“Yeah, tails.”

“Okay, it’s your funeral.” Tony’s cell phone rang. “I gotta take this,” he said, placing the coin back in his pocket.

Nikki’s face tightened.
How
convenient.

The phone rang again.

“You gonna answer that?”

Tony glanced at the screen and swiped his finger across it to accept the call. “Chen here.”

“Chen, it’s Bosky. I got a BOLO hit on Patrone’s Mercedes.”

“Great. Where?”

“Coral Point Harbor, near the marina’s long-term parking lot.”

“Got it.”

“And Chen?” Bosky cautioned.

“Yeah.”

“Better hurry if you want first dibs on the wheels. The lead investigator was just dispatched.”

“Roger.”

“Patrone has crossed the line,” Bosky reminded him. “He needs to be dealt with, and that’s outside of the criminal justice system.”

“Agreed.”

Nikki raised her eyebrows in silent question.

“Head to Coral Point Harbor,” Tony said. “And step on it.”

“What about Austern?”

Tony chuckled. “He’ll figure it out, eventually. Besides, Bosky told me Patrone’s car just popped up near the marina’s long-term parking lot. We gotta get there before the cops do.”

Nikki fired up the Buick and roared out of the parking lot. Traffic leading away from the shopping center was sparse. Nikki continued to speed down the thoroughfare before turning off Rivercrest Road onto Dalton Highway.

“Pull in over there for a minute,” Tony said, pointing to the right.

“Where?”

“That shopping plaza.”

“Why?” Nikki asked, surprised at his request.

“Simply follow the instructions I give you.”

Nikki cut across two lanes, hit the right blinker, and slowed down before turning into the square.

“Head over to that dollar store,” Tony directed.

“A dollar store?”

“Just do it,” he insisted. “Got it?”

Nikki pulled up next to the curb. The distinct roar of the Buick’s turbocharged engine transitioned into plethora of low, grumbling exhaust notes.

Tony removed his wallet from inside his charcoal jacket. “Keep it running.”

“Oh, no! You are
not
about to turn this into a Lifetime movie.”

Tony shot her an annoyed look.

She placed the vehicle in park. “Too many women are sitting in the pen right now because somebody said, ‘keep it running.’”

Tony unfastened his seat belt and got out of the car. “Suit yourself.”

Nikki jumped out right behind him. “I most certainly will.”

The two rushed inside the building. The store’s recent renovations featured a fresh interior paint job, a new halogen lighting system, and the addition of several new wall coolers up front, near the registers. Tony quickly moved up and down the aisles, working his way from the front of the store to the back. Nikki was right behind him when he stopped abruptly in household cleaning supplies and tossed her a pack of disposable latex gloves. She jumped back, fumbling to catch the item. Tony continued on, darting past health and beauty products then party supplies. Finally, he reached the far corner of the store, where he scanned through the products hanging from the shelves. Nothing. He then rummaged past several packs of action figures, die-cast model cars, and air pistols.

“Toys?” Nikki questioned.

“Yep.”

She rolled her eyes.
Unbelievable
.

Tony rummaged around some more then suddenly stopped. “Got it,” he announced, holding up a plastic package with a purple cardboard insert.

Nikki looked up at the item then smiled. “Oh, you’re good.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

T
ony fumbled around with the plastic package while Nikki drove. Inside, affixed to the purple cardboard insert, was a metallic police detective badge mounted on a faux-leather backing. Tony removed the item and held it in his hand. “This should do the trick.”

“But can you sell it?” Nikki asked.

“That depends…”

Nikki pulled up to the Coral Point Harbor entrance and stopped next to the large brown-and-white sign identifying the area. She glanced at Tony. “Depends on what?”

“How fast you get me there. If the lead investigator is already on the scene, then we’re SOL.”

Nikki hit the accelerator, throwing Tony back in his seat. He cursed over the quick burst of speed. “Sheesh, you could’ve warned me, Frank.”

“Yep, I could’ve,” Nikki said with a laugh, “but it wouldn’t have been as much fun. Your reaction was priceless.”

“Glad I could entertain you.”

She continued to race down the winding road toward the water, where numerous boats were restrained to piers spaced out across the horizon. A briny fish-and-sea-grass odor filtered through the Buick’s AC vents.

Tony sniffed the air and made a strange face. “Is your window cracked?”

“No.”

“Smells like you need a new air filter.”

“I just had this vehicle serviced,” Nikki lied, knowing full well she’d only had the car for a couple of weeks.

“Well, don’t take it back to the same place.”

The winding road opened into a sunlit clearing. Gentle waves rippled across the water like a finger over the keys of a piano.

“It’s really quite simple,” Tony commented. “Take a Torx number twenty-five screwdriver, remove the plastic covering, and disconnect the two intake hoses. Next, unbuckle the clamps on each side of the air-filter housing group and swap out the stock filter.”

“Noted,” Nikki said. “I’ll get right on it.”

Tony stared at her, annoyed.

Nikki shrugged. “Just sayin’.”

Tony reached down and pulled the pack of latex gloves from the shopping bag and opened it. Nikki glanced over to see what he was doing. Tony took the gloves out, paired them together in sets, then rolled each pair into a separate ball before shoving them all inside his jacket.

When they arrived at the clearing’s end, he pointed toward a building two hundred yards away, to the left. “Over there,” he said.

“I can see the harbor office just fine,” Nikki replied.

“Not the harbor office.
Behind
it
.”

Nikki refocused her attention on the area in question. Flashing blue lights emanated in a consistent, rhythmic pattern from a parking lot just beyond the structure. “Got it.”

Tony reached up and adjusted the rearview mirror a bit before playing around with his hair.

Nikki drove past the harbor office toward the parking lot. “Role prep?”

“Gotta feel the part,” Tony said, adjusting his jacket while shaking his shoulders.

“I suppose you’re gonna need some gum to add to the stereotype?”

Tony shrugged. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

“Cup holder,” Nikki directed.

Tony reached down, grabbed a stick of Orbit gum, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth. A slight smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he began to chew. “Let me do all the talking.”

Nikki eased the sedan to a complete stop and engaged the electric parking brake. “Sure thing.”

“Relax,” Tony said, fumbling with the phony badge in his hand. “I got this.”

Nikki forced a perfunctory smile.
This is a disaster waiting to
happen.

The two got out of the vehicle and approached the harbor patrol officer standing next to his cruiser. He was short and muscular, with russet-colored hair that was receding. In the distance was a silver Mercedes Roadster, erratically parked, with the silhouette of a body behind the wheel.

“What do we have here?” Tony asked.

The patrolman looked up from his electronic tablet and frowned. A strong chin protruded from his wide jawline. “And you two are?”

“Detectives Chen and Frank,” Tony replied, quickly flipping his phony badge. “Criminal Investigation Division.”

“You got here rather quickly.”

“A fast driver helps.”

The patrolman stared at the severely damaged sedan they’d just pulled up in as his siren lights continued to flash electric blue. “Didn’t know they issued beater cars to detectives in the CID.”

“They don’t,” Nikki chimed in. “We’re working a joint venture with narcotics and some of their undercovers.”

The patrolman pursed his lips but didn’t say anything.

Tony continued chewing his gum while he met the officer’s stare. His body tightened. “Incident report?” he asked again.

The patrolman pointed to the silver Roadster several yards away. “I came across that vehicle while patrolling my regular beat.”

Nikki noticed the Mercedes was parked in the center of the lot’s travel lane, facing against traffic.

“I ran the plates,” he continued. “Popped up on a recent BOLO, so I called it in.” The officer glanced back down at his tablet; the battery was almost dead. “The vehicle belongs to a Victor Patrone, whom I assume is the stiff behind the wheel.”

Tony looked surprised. “Thanks. We’ll take a closer look now.”

“Knock yourself out. I’m gonna go charge this thing back up,” the patrolman said, holding up his tablet, “then call for a bus and a coroner.”

Tony nodded. “Frank, you take the passenger side,” he ordered, motioning for her to move in that direction. “I’ll take the driver’s side.”

Cautiously they approached the Mercedes. Tony reached inside his jacket and tossed Nikki a set of the gloves he’d prepared earlier. “Use these,” he directed. She caught them and put them on. Upon closer inspection, the pair realized the silhouette was clearly that of a deceased male.

“It’s Patrone,” Tony announced, peering through the driver’s-side window. “Looks like two shots, close range.”

He put on a pair of gloves and pulled open the car door. The dome light came on. Blood was splattered all over the upholstery. “Damn, what a fucking mess.”

Nikki shook her head then popped open the passenger door. She leaned inside the cab and checked Patrone’s neck for a carotid pulse. “He’s definitely dead. Scratch marks around the face suggest a struggle.”

“Well, it was only a matter of time. Whether I got to him or someone else did, the outcome would’ve been the same.”

Nikki scanned the body then performed a quick pat down of Patrone’s jacket. “We’ve got a missing sidearm, Chen. Empty holster.”

“Anything else?”

She looked around. “Keys seem to be missing. Some travel pamphlets and a scarf are on the floorboard.”

“Grab ’em.”

Nikki scooped up the items and circled back around the Roadster to the driver’s side. “Looks like travel plans to Costa Rica,” she said, handing Tony the brochures.

“Interesting…and the scarf?”

She held it up. “I’ll be damned.”

Tony’s eyebrows rose. “What?”

“Roberto Cavalli.”

“Who?”

“It’s a one-of-a-kind floral print,” Nikki explained. “By a world-renowned Italian fashion designer.”

Tony looked unimpressed. “What’s that got to do with the business at hand?”

“Everything, because it tells me that Lacey was with Patrone.”

“Oh, really?” Now he looked interested.

“Yeah, she purchased this hideous neckwear earlier today.”

“That explains the ‘where to’ and the ‘who,’ but…” Tony paused and hit the trunk’s release switch. “Where’s the money?”

An audible click sounded as the top of the trunk lifted. The two of them moved to the back of the car. Tony raised the trunk open. “Bingo.”

Nikki looked inside. At the bottom of the trunk was an open duffel bag filled with money. It looked exactly like the one Spence was carrying when they were raided. Her eyes locked on to a few of the hundred-dollar bills: they looked strange to her. A large quill hovered over an inkwell on the front of each note, and a large gold “100” was emblazoned on the back. “We’re a bag short,” she announced.

Tony nodded setting the travel brochures and scarf down inside the trunk. “You caught that too?”

“Yeah.”
And the treasury must have redesigned the currency while I was locked up
, she thought.

“Whenever we collect our street money for the quarter,” Tony explained, “we always split the revenue and place it into two separate duffel bags.”

Nikki leaned forward and attempted to pick up the bag with both hands. “Damn,” she said. “That’s heavy.”

Tony grinned. “Seventy-five pounds.”

Nikki stood back up. “And I felt everyone last one of them.”

He shrugged. “Cash is heavy.”

Nikki knew this to be true through task force cross-training with the Secret Service. Used paper currency was 25 percent linen and 75 percent cotton. Through massive circulation, it got heavier due to the absorption of oil, dirt, and moisture, adding as much as another twenty-five percent to its base weight.

Nikki shook her shoulders to loosen them up. “My guess is Lacey killed Patrone, grabbed what she could carry, and hightailed it outta here.”

“Agreed,” Tony said, in between smacks of his gum. “Definitely working alone. If she had a partner, they’d have taken both bags.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“
D
etectives,” the patrolman called out as he approached Nikki and Tony.

Tony closed the trunk and spun around.

“Yes,” Nikki replied, stepping forward to cut the officer off.

The patrolman stopped a few feet in front of her. “The bus is on its way, but the coroner will be delayed. She’s working a double homicide on the east side of town.”

“Good to know. Thanks.”

“You two discover anything new?”

Nikki shook her head. “Just a few travel brochures on the floorboard. Other than that, nothing. Forensics will have to scour this vehicle from top to bottom to find any decent leads.”

“Brochures,” the officer repeated, crossing his arms. “Where to?”

Nikki removed her gloves. “Costa Rica.”

He stroked his chin and frowned. “Hmm.”

An audible click from inside the Mercedes sounded. Everyone’s attention shifted to the trunk as it popped open, exposing the duffel bag filled with money. Tony exchanged a nervous glance with Nikki.

“Whoa,” the patrolman said, releasing the holster-retention strap on his service weapon.

The hairs on the back of Nikki’s neck stood up. “Looks like drug money.”

“I think you might be right, Dee-tec-tive.”

A stranger wearing an orange neoprene life jacket and an Atlanta Braves baseball cap approached the group from behind.

Tony and the patrol officer drew their firearms instantly.

The man raised his hands, revealing the vehicle’s smart key in his possession. “That’s my money in there.”

The patrolman shifted his gaze between Tony and the stranger. “What the hell’s going on?”

“All right, everybody just calm down here,” Nikki said, attempting to defuse the situation. “Who are you and what are you doing with that smart key?”

“Just a simple boat pilot, ma’am, here to collect what’s rightfully mine.”

Tony spat out the gum in his mouth and curled his lips into a small grin. “And what makes you think the contents of that trunk belong to you?”

“Because I have this,” the man replied, holding out the smart key to the Mercedes. “Possession is nine-tenths of the law. Right, Officer?”

The patrolman rolled his eyes. “Not when it comes to drug money.”

“That’s your assertion, not a proven fact. The money in that trunk is mine. It belongs to me.”

“Arrest him,” Tony ordered, tucking his P239 back inside his waistband behind his back.

The patrolman approached the boat pilot with his weapon drawn. “Hands behind your back.”

“Whoa, for what?”

“Put your hands behind your back, sir,” the officer commanded again.

The boat pilot slowly lowered his hands and placed them behind his back. “What’s happening?”

“I’m restraining you for your safety and mine, at least until we get this situation sorted out.”

“My safety?” the pilot questioned. “But you’re the one with the gun.”

The patrolman holstered his weapon and placed one cuff around the pilot’s wrist. “Don’t resist.”

“I’m not resisting.”

“Good,” the officer said, placing the second cuff on. “Then neither of us will get hurt here.”

Nikki walked over to the man and stared him down. His face was riddled with rosacea. “Now, about this drug money—”

“Lady, I don’t know anything about no drug money. All I know is that a blonde with a killer rack just paid me five thousand dollars to take her to Slip Island.”

Everyone’s eyes widened.

“Go ahead,” the pilot urged. “Check my jacket pockets.”

The patrolman frisked the mariner. Inside the windbreaker he wore beneath his life jacket were two $2,500 stacks of cash.

“See? I told you,” the pilot said. “I’m the victim here.”

The patrolman rolled his eyes again. “Right, buddy. More like the opportunist.”

“How long has it been since you made that run to Slip Island?” Nikki asked.

“Forty-five minutes. Miss Silicone titties tossed me the cash. I dropped her off, and then she gave me the smart key and told me there was even more in the trunk of an abandoned Mercedes back at the marina.”

“Oh, this just keeps getting better and better,” the officer replied. “Wouldn’t you say, Dee-tec-tives?”

An eerie feeling swept over Nikki, a foreboding sense that the patrolman wasn’t buying their charade. A tingling sensation ran up and down her spine, like the poll numbers of a politician caught in a sex scandal days before an election.

The officer drew his service weapon and pointed it at them. “Now who did you say you dee-tec-tives report to at CID?”

Tony’s mouth fell open. “Lieutenant Bosky,” he said quickly.

The officer chuckled. “Since when does CID report to narcotics?”

“Joint venture,” Nikki cut in. “I thought we established that when we first arrived.”

“I don’t know what’s going on here, but my gut tells me something’s up. I’m calling it in.”

“Could I have a word with my partner in private?” Tony asked.

“You do what you gotta do, Dee-tec-tive. Headquarters will have this whole thing sorted out within the hour.”

Tony grabbed Nikki by the arm and pulled her to the side. “Look,” he said, whispering, “Lacey has a forty-five-minute to an hour head start. Find her and the rest of my boss’s cash.”

“What are you going to do?” Nikki asked.

“Whatever it takes to clear things up with Barney Fife here. I can’t take the risk of having half my boss’s money seized and placed in an evidence locker room somewhere.”

“Understood.”

“And Frank?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t get any ideas about disappearing with the rest of the cash. It would be a shame if I had to turn around and hunt you down as well.”

Nikki raised her hands up in a surrender gesture. “That won’t be necessary. I don’t want any trouble here.”

“Excellent. Then I suggest you get moving.”

Nikki slowly backed away from Tony with her hands still up.

The patrolman quickly trained his gun on her. “Where’re you going?”

Nikki didn’t say a word.

“She’s going after the suspect,” Tony answered. “You know, the one our handcuffed friend here said paid him off and gave him the smart key to the Mercedes.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Dee-tec-tive.”

Tony shook his head. “Oh, but obstructing justice and aiding and abetting a criminal is?”

The patrolman smirked at Tony’s suggestion.

“I promise you,” Tony continued, “if this investigation is a bust, when the department is finally done sorting this out, I’ll personally see to it that you can’t even get hired in this town as a rent-a-cop.”

The officer hesitated for a moment then motioned with his gun for Nikki to flee. “Go, before I change my mind.”

Nikki lowered her hands as she continued to walk backward. When she was out of the patrolman’s line of fire, she turned around and disappeared into the coastal landscape.