Some Like It Hot (17 page)

“No blazing guns, girlfriend.”

“Yeah, right. Hold your breath on that one.” She glanced at her watch. “You know, we’re missing lunch. You’re gonna wish you would have had some of that chicken casserole.”

“I think I will be okay with missing out on that.”

At 12:15 Jay Pruitt exited his house and drove off in a cream-colored Audi. He cut across Bridgeport and pulled to the curb smack in front of The Bridgeport Café.

“Holy crap,” I squeaked.

Cleo parked across the street. I hunched low in my seat, peering over the dash. If my ex saw me, he’d be convinced I was stalking him. Again. He couldn’t comprehend I could possibly get over his lying, cheating ass before the ink dried on the divorce papers.

Pruitt took a call on his cell before climbing out of the Audi and walking south on Morgan. He ducked into a building down the block.

“He’s in,” Cleo said smugly. “Drug deal going down.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s the dry cleaners. He’s picking up Linda’s clothes.”

“Uhm….you’d better sit up, Cat.”

“I’m hiding from Johnnie Rizzo.”

“Tall, dark, and oozing hotness?”

“That’s Johnnie, dammit.”

“Could he be wearing a shirt that says,
Here’s Johnnie!
”

“What do you think?”

“I think he’s coming this way.”

I groaned and sank deeper. I cudda kissed the floor board.

Knuckles rapped on my window.

“He’s here, isn’t he?”

“Uh huh.”

I jerked my head up, clonking my head on the dash.

Johnnie made a twirly motion with his hand. I unrolled the window.

“Ouch,” I said holding my head.

Cleo flashed a tin badge. I’d swear she got it from cereal box.

“I’m Cleo Jones with Pants On Fire, narcotics division. Step back from the car, Mr. Rizzo. You’re blowing our cover.”

He made a little derisive scoff. “Right.”

I jabbed an eye. “Another contact bites the dust.”

“You have twenty-twenty vision. You don’t wear contacts,” he said.

“You don’t know what I wear.”

He searched my eyes and grunted, satisfied there wasn’t a lone contact in there.

“You got to get over me, babe. Counseling, medication, something. You’re pathetic.”

Johnnie stomped off back to the café as I dropped my forehead on the dash.

“Argggh!”

“Damn girl, he’s way hotter before he talks,” Cleo said patting my back. “But then, men usually are.”

Chapter Thirty-one

Jay Pruitt strolled toward us with a hefty armload of dry cleaning. We buried our faces in a map of Disney World. When he started up the Audi and merged into traffic, we did the same.

He drove north on Halsted and turned on Archer toward China Town. Traffic was moderate and we hung back, allowing a couple cars to bumper between us.

This stretch of Bridgeport has a long row of businesses and industrial buildings. The Audi slowed and swung left into a parking lot where two one-story gray buildings had been converted to storage units. The outside units were fitted with large garage-type doors. Pruitt drove to the gate and punched in a code. The gate opened, and the Audi drove inside.

Cleo drove past the entrance and pulled into the lot next door. The building appeared to be between tenants and showed signs of spotty, short term use. Cleo backed the car out of sight against the building.

We slipped out of the car and ran to the chain-link fence that surrounded the storage building.

“Wait here while I check it out,” I whispered.

“Wow. Really? You know that’s never gonna happen,” Cleo said.

“Alright, fine. Just keep up and keep quiet,” I snapped.

We walked along the chain fence, and found a spot under the security cameras that we could climb over without that whole pesky breaking and entering evidence caught on tape. I took off my jacket, threw it over the barbed wire. I hoisted a leg and climbed the chain fence, careful to not rattle the metal. I jumped down the other side and turned around. Cleo was gone. A moment later she trotted back with a pair of bolt cutters.

She waited for a noisy semi to come by. She clipped half a dozen links in the fence, stooped low, and scooted through.

“You know, you could have told me you had those before I ruined my jacket.” I whispered over my shoulder as we zigzagged our way through the storage area.

“It’s okay.” Cleo whispered back. “I never liked that jacket anyway.”

Pruitt was parked at a storage unit on the farthest side of the first gray building. The location offered maximum privacy. I wondered if that unit came by request or assigned by chance.

We moved swiftly and quietly across the lot, hugging the shadows when we could. When we reached the first building, we kept close to the front of the building. A dozen steps from the far corner we picked up muddled voices. A stench of cigarettes wafted through the air.

Pruitt’s voice was easy to distinguish. Loud, heavily laced with testosterone. His companion was quieter, more thoughtful. It was the voice on the phone I couldn’t place. I still couldn’t.

I motioned for Cleo to stand back. Her ever-evolving hair was platinum blond that day with bold rainbow streaks that made a child in Jewel cry. Slowly, carefully, I craned my neck and poked an eye around the corner.

Pruitt leaned his back against his car, pinching a cigarette in one hand. He held a small object in the other hand. I couldn’t make it out. But when he turned it a certain way, the sun flashed a glint of silver and blue. And when he smiled, a gold streak shot from his tooth.

His companion’s back was turned to me. Head lowered. Jacket hood pulled over his head. No view of his face from that angle.

“When you comin’ back?” the guy asked Pruitt.

“Four weeks, maybe five. Gonna let things cool.”

The guy in the hat grunted. “My ear on the force tells me they got nothin’.”

“That’s good news.”

“Gonna see your folks?”

“For a few days. Dad’s birthday, ya know.”

“Get him something from me. And you better check in on my mom.”

“Dude, I always do. Besides, she’d kick my ass if I didn’t.”

Cleo whispered shrilly in my ear. “They’re brothers.”

I shook my head. “Cousins.”

The ogre-guy dropped the shiny object into the other guy’s hand. “See what you can do with this.”

He nodded. “I’ll get in touch with you when the coach thing blows over. Go on a trip to Hawaii or somethin’.”

Coach
thing? I couldn’t breathe.

Pruitt said, “Why don’t you head out too? The guys can look after things here.”

He dropped his smoke and smothered it with his shoe. “Like grandpa used to say. ‘
Ain’t no rest for the wicked.’”

They snuffed their smokes and stepped inside the storage unit. I had no view from my angle. I motioned to Cleo and we zipped back to the Camry, too stunned to speak.

“They killed Billy,” Cleo said finally.

“We don’t know that. The “coach” reference could be anything.”

“I’m going with the big fat
“Coach”
sign on Rocco’s uniform. Only Billy’s killer would call him that.”

I didn’t argue. “We should talk to Captain Bob. He might have enough for a warrant.”

“I’m hangin’ with the car. The last time I walked in that precinct, Bob arrested me.”

“Hate to break it to you, but he’s not exactly crazy about me either.”

“Of course he is. You’re a DeLuca. He named his son after your dad. The ninth would shut down if the DeLucas went on strike. He was at your baptism for Godsake.”

“People change, Cleo. Today he’d happily drown me with that holy water.”

We moved the car to the other side of the gray storage building where I had a view of the keypad that opened the gate. When the cream colored Audi appeared, I lifted my binoculars and caught the code that opened the gate.

Cleo shot over to the ninth precinct and parked on the street. I strolled inside and poked a head into Captain Bob’s office.

He groaned.

I said, “I thought you should know there’s a second suspect in Billy Bonham’s murder.”

“Was there a first?”

“Kyle Tierney,” I said. “The Irish Pub guy.”

“Oh yes. My men are beating a confession out of him down the hall in interview room one.”

I ignored the jab. “The man’s name is Jay Pruitt. He’s built like an ogre. And he has a gold tooth in the front.”

“Why?”

“Many people underestimate the importance of flossing, Bob.”

His face twitched. “
Why
do you think this guy is connected to Bonham’s homicide? And who the hell is he?”

“Pruitt lives with the strip poker women. Billy’s Christopher necklace was in their house.”

“What was Pruitt’s explanation when he gave you the necklace.”

“Uh, he didn’t.”

“You
broke
into his house? You
stole
the necklace?” Captain Bob’s voice rose with every word.

“
Seriously,
Bob. Can you really steal something that doesn’t belong to that person?”

He searched my face, counting felonies like freckles.

I said, “I think Pruitt saw Billy in Rocco’s coaching uniform. It had to be
after
I dropped Billy off at his mother’s. Mrs. Bonham says he only went out once to walk the dog.”

Captain Bob’s brow shot up in surprise. “And Jay Pruitt told you this?”

“I uh, kind of overheard the conversation.”

His brow lost some height. “You were stalking him.”

“I’m a professional, dammit.”

Bob took a bottle from his desk tossed back a swig.

“There’s something else,” I said. “Jay Pruitt owns a .32 magnum. The same type of gun that killed Billy. It wouldn’t hurt to check it out.”

“Who was this Pruitt talking to when he made the ‘
coach’
comment?”

I shrugged. “I only saw the back of a head. There wasn’t a lot of hair. But the comment should be enough to get a search warrant. Coming from a trusted source, that is.”

“And you’re saying someone was with you?”

“Ha ha.”

“Caterina. I’m retiring next year. The missus wants to go on a cruise.”

“Fab idea.You should go.”

“The last time I listened to you, I almost lost my pension.”

“C’mon Bob. That wasn’t my fault.” I stomped my foot for extra emphasis.

“No pension, no cruise.” He shrugged. “Caterina, last spring you were hit by an exploding building.”

“It was a vacancy sign.”

“Well it took.” He tapped his temple with an index finger. “Scrambled eggs.”

“C’mon, Bob. I’m bringing you something good here. Run with it and you’ll wow the big boys upstairs.”

“You know what’s funny about retiring?”

“Impending senility?”

“I don’t give a shit about the guys upstairs anymore. My paygrade has peaked. My rank has peaked. I’m playing out my time. I don’t want trouble.”

He took a swill and pushed the bottle my way. I knocked it back and slammed it down on the table.

“Then be a hero to Mrs. Bonham. I’m a professional. I’m bringing you good intel.”

“The last time you said that, I was almost reassigned to traffic duty.”

“This is different. This is something you can sink your teeth into.”

“People who lose their retirement don’t need teeth. They live on baked beans and Spam.”

He looked me over sharply until I felt the need to confess something. Sadly nothing juicy came to mind. When you’re thirty and single, that in itself is a crime.

“Go away, Caterina. You have given me a headache.”

I blew an exasperated sigh. “Last chance, Bob. Are you gonna check out this gold-toothed ogre or not?”

He pushed up from his desk and nudged me to the door. “I’ll send you a postcard from Belize.”

***

Cleo was sitting on the Camry’s hood when I walked back to the car. She saw the expression on my face and winced.

“Did Captain Bob drown you with holy water?”

“He wanted to waterboard me. Luckily there were other DeLucas in the building.”

“Did you ask him to get a warrant?”

“Of course. He’s picking himself laughing off the floor about now.” I blew a sigh. “We need to get inside that storage locker.”

“C’mon, I have to show you something.” She jumped off the hood, scooted around and opened the trunk. I stared at a black duffle bag.

“You should make me a partner. I got something Inga doesn’t.”

“An insane number of weapons for one human being?”

“Tools of the trade, girlfriend.”

She unzipped the bag and removed the items one by one.

Hook and pick set. Handcuffs. An ankle knife and sheath. Rope, tape, latex gloves. Flashlights. Eighteen inch wrecking bar. Ninja grappling hook. Tazor. Mace. Blow gun, a skull crashing baton.

“Geesh,” I said. “A blow torch?”

“Too much?” She shrugged. “Someday we might need a confession.”

“Take this.” She gave me the knife and ankle sheath. “You never know when you’re gonna run out of bullets.”

“I’ll use it to cut an apple.”

Cleo tossed me the key. “You drive. You know where you’re going.”

I slid behind the wheel with a bad feeling about the storage unit. The kind of feeling you get when you know you’re doing something stupid. I wracked my brain, but I was fresh out of smart.

“Where to, girlfriend?”

“Straight to hell,” I said. “But I refuse to go there hungry.”

Cleo nodded. “When taking down dealers, you can work up an appetite.”

Twenty minutes later, we were in the heart of China Town at the Triple Crown. We ordered the dim sum and then I rang Mama.

For once, Mama believed the caller ID. “My precious Caterina!” she said.

“Gee, Mama. The last time you called me that, was when I told you I was getting married.”

“It’s good you remember how to make me happy.”

“That happiness didn’t end so well for me.”

“Next time will be different.” She laughed giddily. “I just got off the phone with Father Timothy.”

Mama was up to something. Something she wasn’t telling me. I almost asked her, but then I decided to be pissed off later.

“I’m wondering if you can keep Inga again tonight? I may be working late.”

“What’s to ask? She has her own little pillow and she sleeps between Papa and my legs.”

“And that’s okay with Papa?”

“Who do you think bought the pillow?”

“It’s not natural to laugh when you talk about your priest,” I told Cleo after I hung up. “Father Timothy isn’t that much fun.”

“Your mother seems to think so.”

“That’s cuz she keeps him entertained by confessing all my indiscretions.”

“My mother hasn’t been to church in twenty years. Trust me. If she thought she could confess my sins, she’d never miss a service.”

It was mid-afternoon when we left the Triple Crown. We motored back to the self-storage building, changed our license plates a block away, pulled up to the gate, and entered the code. The gate opened and we cruised inside.

“Betcha we got a drug lab here,” Cleo said.

We drove around to the far side where we eavesdropped on Pruitt and Co. earlier.

“This is it,” I said braking at the second door down. “This is the storage locker. Okay, where is my floppy hat?”

“Here it is! I am putting together my own little box of tricks.” Cleo pulled two identical hats from a box in the backseat.

“Zebra striped? This so doesn’t match my outfit.”

The large garage-type door was secured with a padlock that opened easily with a key. Or a lock and pick with an extra twist or two. We stepped outside, pulled out the latex gloves, and Voila! The lock was off.

Cleo’s a bit of a drama queen. “Drumroll please.” She swept a hand over her head and down to the ground. Her fingers gripped the handle.

“Jay Pruitt’s drug business exposed,” she announced.

The door lifted and Cleo gave a disapproving snort. There was, in a word, furniture.

“Crap,” she said. “This is the wrong door. We should open a couple more.”

I shook my head. “It’s the one.”

“But—this is, you know, just stuff.”

I walked around, Actually, it was just
nice
stuff. This antique Tuscan coffee table. The Howard Miller grandfather clock.

I said, “There’s a lot of money in here.”

“So he’s the ebay king.”

“Maybe he does auctions. It could explain how he’s in and out every time I break in his house.”

“Annoying, isn’t it.”

Cleo snooped through drawers and a steamer trunk for a hidden meth lab or a couple Columbian drug lords setting up shop.

She stomped a foot. “Dammit. He was supposed to be a drug dealer.”