Into The Heat (Sandy Reid Mystery Series Book 6) (12 page)

“Yeah right, just go in any sports bar. You know, your smartass mouth sounds familiar. I know you from someplace.”

She was considering the mention of a sports bar. Another piece fit and made sense. She remembered Bardner had originally given Frankie’s Sports Bar as an alibi for the evening of the murder. Although he came off as naive, and not the criminal type, he might have somehow made a connection with Coleman in the bar and guessed that the stranger was carrying a large amount of money. Perhaps Lester had a sudden need for money—like breaking away from Julia. Now she had one possible reason for someone killing Coleman, and it had dollar signs all over it. It did sound as though Lester was involved, if so she could forget about getting him out of the murder charge; her strategy would become how to keep him away from a lethal injection.

“So why am I here?” she said. “What’s the deal?”

He took a little breath and rubbed the back of his thick neck. “I had one proposition ready for you, and now that I’ve got an eyeful of you, I got a second one.”

“Let’s hear the one that doesn’t involve a fantasy.” She figured smartass talk was the only kind this mug understood.

“Are you sure?” He winked. “What if I told you it’s my birthday?”

She didn’t like where this was headed. “Leo, just concentrate on the money before something unexpected happens.”

“Oh, I get you, like business before pleasure. Okay, the way I figure, if Bardner thought the cops were going to arrest him, he’d hide the money. Your boy wouldn’t have gone off to the slammer, leaving a quarter million under his mattress. Couldn’t put it in the bank because they’d check there. I’m thinking he might give it to his lawyer for safe keeping. Bottom line, either you got the bucks, or you can get it out of him.”

“This is the first I’ve heard of any money. My client didn’t kill Coleman, and there’s no reason to think there was any connection. You’re asking me to go find out what your buddy did with your money, and I’m not even involved. Go find your own damn money. I’ve got problems of my own.”

“Nice try, but I’m making this your problem. You’re in this right up to your pretty little neck. You being a former con girl makes it easier. I don’t have to explain shit like if you was just off the bus. On the other hand, like any good con girl, it’s hard to tell when you’re lying. Now don’t be fooled by my appearance, there’s a dark uncultured side to me. You know what I’m saying?” He picked up the burning cigarette which had scorched the desk edge, put it between his lips, took a long drag and purposely blew the smoke in her face. “You get it together, Babycakes, or you’ll regret ever meeting me.”

She waved away the stench of his breath. “I regretted that back when you opened the door.”

“Well, one way or the other, it’s you who’s got to come up with the money—,”

She waited for the inevitable, or else.

“—or else I start killing people. You ever notice there are so many worthless people in this world that get in the way of what you want?” In case she missed the point, he opened his jacket and flashed the gun he was carrying. “Everyone but you, of course—unless I have to.” His dull eyes didn’t blink.

“Thanks, that takes the pressure right off.”

“You get me the dough, I don’t kill no one. It’s like their lives are in your soft hands.”

“You know, murder creates a lot of fuss around town. Folks get all upset. Police start scurrying around waving guns. The heat comes down on you big-time. You’ll end up sneaking out of town and leaving your money behind. You want that?”

“Sometimes people do their best thinking with a gun pointed at their head. Amazing how the money suddenly appears.”

“Leo, your quarrel is with someone else because Bardner is innocent. I can prove it and get him out of jail.” In fact, Lester was already out on bond, but she didn’t want Leo to go looking for him. “I could get killed running around asking about your money—Coleman’s killer is still out there. Apparently, you don’t care who murdered him you just want the money. But the killer has it. You should spend your time looking for him.”

“Better leave your boy in jail because if he takes one step out before I get my money back, I’m taking him out. He’s same as dead. Might as well start getting himself buried.” He leaned forward and put on an unctuous smile. “So now you’re an ambulance chaser? How’d you swing that one? You’re a looker though. I’d like to see you again—after we settle our business.”

“Are you asking me for a date or an appointment?”

He stood, drew in a deep breath and swelled up to his full six feet. His face flamed and she noticed his jaw tighten. “I always ask nice first. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.” She’d gone too far. He hadn’t liked her smartass brush off.

She stiffened for an instant thinking he was coming after her. He dropped the lighted cigarette onto the carpet and crushed it to death with his heel. She bored in at him with narrowed eyes, made a slight smile and waited. Show no fear when faced with a wild animal.

Finally, he grinned. “Well, you little bitch, now I remember you! A lot of us had a thing for you back then. But you were Jimbo Brewster’s girl, hustling the tourists. How about that. Wait until I tell Jimbo. He thought you took off back north. Couldn’t place you at first. You have it all going on for you now, but it’s you. On second thought, maybe I won’t tell Jimbo. Here we are together and he’s not around. Don’t know how you’re pulling off this lawyer flimflam, but you’re making a mistake getting all uptown with me, when you’re same as me. Okay, so you’re not as easy these days, but I’ll bet you still use what you’ve got, to get what you want.”

Still mistaking her for someone else, she wasn’t going to deny it again. Safer to let him think they were two of a kind—someone he could deal with. Next to get out of there. She stood and said, “I need a few days to check all this out.”

“Don’t rush off, what’s your hurry?” He rested his heavy hand on her shoulder, but she stepped past him and reached for the doorknob.

“If my side has your money, you’ll get it back.”

“Your side’s got it all right, but your side don’t have a few days. I’ll call you in forty-eight hours. Have the money ready for me in a neat little package. In the meantime, I’ll be watching you. You know, like seeing where Babycakes likes to go in her cute little red convertible.” He grinned when he saw her cringe at the words.

She started to protest, but there was nothing to say. The important thing just then was to get out of that room safely. Later she could worry about how to never meet up with this creep again. She opened the door, stepped into the hallway and kept moving.

He stood in the doorway watching the natural movement of her hips as she hurried down the hallway.

She passed a busboy pushing a cart with a silver coffee service out of the elevator. She wasn’t stopping to tip him. She went on down to the lobby, crossed to the far side and sat behind a huge potted palm, where she wouldn’t be noticed, yet had a view of the front desk and entrance. She called Mel Shapiro. The call went to voice mail. She left a call back and tried Eddy. She got him, “How’s my favorite detective today?”

He recognized her voice. “Starting right in with the sweet talk, are you? What do you need?”

“You’re easy. I’m at the Ocean Palms and just left the hotel room of an interesting hood from Miami Beach.”

“You get his autograph?”

“No, but he was itching to leave his fingerprints on my blouse. Seriously, I’m in trouble. He knows my car and says he’s going to follow me. He made a death threat and he’s carrying. You need to know he’s in your territory, and I need to identify who he is. Miss Hatchetface, running the front desk in this place, isn’t likely to tell me anything.”

“He threatened to kill you? Sandy, what are you into this time?”

“I’m trying to stay out of everything, that’s why I’m calling. I’ll explain it all to Mel when I can get through to him, but I’m giving you a heads up. The guy knows your victim Coleman, and he threatened to kill your suspect Lester Bardner.”

“Where are you now? Are you safe?”

“In the lobby watching the elevator and the front entrance.”

“I’m already on the way over. I know the head of security there. I’m putting you on hold while I call him. At least I can tell you who’s registered in that room. Don’t hang up because I need his description and more info from you. Sit tight and stay out of sight.”

“Okay, his name is Leo, that’s all I know, room number 405, and I can give you the number he gave me to use to call him. The guy leaned his hand against the desktop—might have left prints. Also, he ground his cigarette butt into the carpet by the desk—you can go for DNA. He smokes cork-tipped cigarettes, if that means anything to you.”

It had occurred to her, she’d have an advantage over the prosecution, if she’d kept quiet about all this and not alerted Eddy; at least until she determined if the information might somehow help her case defending Bardner. However, the death threat changed everything. It’d be dangerous to withhold that information—especially since she was one of the targets.

After a full ten minutes, Eddy came back on the line. “Bad start, Sandy. They tell me Room 405 hasn’t been rented and is unoccupied right now.”

W
aiting in the outer office of state attorney Melvin Shapiro, Sandy contemplated her sudden dilemma and considered the challenge. Quite aside from putting together a winning defense of Lester Bardner, she was now charged with locating the money, probably stolen to start with, of some dangerous badass from Miami Beach. And finding it within forty-eight hours—or else.

Finally, the door to Shapiro’s office opened and three suits walked out, she guessed FBI by the way they handled themselves. Shapiro motioned her in. “First off, Sandy, we’d like to have your description of this Leo guy. The police are out searching for him.”

“His hair wasn’t greasy, but otherwise he was a walking, talking cliché. Like any other hood, only more so.” She filled him in as best she could ending with, “In other words, he’s one nasty mutha.”

Mel raised his eyebrows. “Remember all that stuff I said about you being a sharp young woman... well, forget it. Very reckless of you to be alone with that character. You’ve just said you sized him up instantly just by looking at him. What’s wrong with you? Why did you ignore all the danger signs and step into that hotel room? You could have been carried out of that room in bad shape.”

She shrugged. “I thought I could handle him and as it turned out, I did. He said he could give me the motive, and I wanted that info.” She waved away any further discussion and continued on setting the scene and repeating as much of the encounter with Leo as she could remember. “And the death threats are real. I knew the guy was capable of murder even before he flashed his gun at me.”

“What was it?”

“A Glock. Was in his shoulder holster, so I couldn’t see all of it, but it was a Glock, the smaller one. Definitely not a nickel plated sissy pistol.”

She left out the part about Coleman being a sports gambler as that was a possible connection with her client that might somehow help her side. Let the prosecution find out that one by themselves. She did mention the victim had brought $250,000 to Park Beach. That would be the first the prosecution had heard of money being involved. “So now you have money as the motive for whoever shot Coleman. With that kind of money, we could be dealing with drug rabble. If I can tie this mess into drugs, then Bardner is home free. He’s an upstanding citizen. No criminal connection whatsoever.”

“Not drugs.” he said. “The FBI just told me they found no drug connection whatever for Coleman. They suspect he’s a low-level grifter running some sort of scam in Miami Beach. He does have at least one prior—minor illegal gambling arrest years ago in Atlantic City. We’re still tracing everything down.” He gave her a sly smile. “Thanks for the money angle. We have your client under arrest and money is always a lovely motive.”

“So, now you’re thinking my client shot the victim to get the money? You have a video supposedly showing the shooting—where’s the money? No money is passing hands in the video. If Lester Bardner
doesn’t
have the money yet—why shoot Coleman? If Bardner already
does
have the money—why shoot Coleman? You’ll have to make up some story to explain that part.”

“That’s what lawyers do, make up stories to fit the facts.”

“Well, make up a different one. Get serious, Mel. A pair of thugs were in town. One carrying large money, and the other running around threatening people with a gun. Something else is going down, and it has nothing to do with a cream puff, philandering husband who already has too much money. Lester Bardner isn’t involved in criminality.” She stood to leave. “Hey, I came in here for a little comfort, and you’re beating up on me. Get on this, Mel! With all your state and federal resources, you should be able to put something together on these guys and their money. Get me out of the middle of this mess. And do it before another person gets killed—me, for instance.”

“I’m sorry, you looked so cool when you came in here, I didn’t mean to minimize the trauma of facing the bad guy. I’m still upset that you put yourself in danger like that.” Then he looked down at his notes. “Okay, we have this Leo, who wasn’t registered at the Ocean Palms, not Room 405 or otherwise. Jaworski went over there. They have no video in the halls, or we’d have him on tape. He’s checking the other hotel videos to see if they can spot this Leo anywhere on the premises or driving away. Too bad you couldn’t get a photo.”

“You should also check with hotel security to see how that low life was able to get unfettered access to 405. I could still be up there tied across the bed waiting for the room to be rented—if ever.”

“Again, I’m sorry if I made light of the death threat. And we certainly have to do something if he’s likely to follow you around town.”

“It’s worrisome, yet I don’t believe I need police protection just now. He gave us forty-eight hours and I’ll be on my guard. You might find him before then. Anyway, I don’t think he’ll do anything before times up.”

“Are you taking his threats seriously?”

“I am, and I definitely think this guy is going to turn out to be a big problem for me. If you and your police force and sheriff’s department would just find the badass, then I could stop worrying. Hey, I’m feeding you all this good info. You’ll keep me advised, right?”

“Advised yes, but no way are you getting into the prosecution’s loop. As usual, I’m telling you no more than suits the purposes of the state attorney’s office. Of course, we’ll cooperate with your office in any possible way to see that Leo doesn’t carry out his death threats. It’d be a good idea if you spent some time in front of our police computer looking through the mug shots of known Miami felons. Are you willing to do that?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

“I’ll call over there and an officer will take you through the mug shot viewing.”

“I want Eddy.”

“Okay, Eddy will be waiting for you at police headquarters.” He met her eyes and gave her a sympathetic nod. “Why aren’t I taking you out to dinner and having an evening where we can be alone.”

“I’m tempted to suggest tonight,” she said, “until I remembered I’m under a death threat.”

He walked with her to the elevators. “So can we have a date once we get Leo off your back?”

“You can have a date anytime, Mel. It’s just that I’ll be thinking of Leo while I’m gazing into your eyes. Neither one of us wants that.” She was glad to have an excuse. She had no urge to improve her so-called love life just then.

It was after six by the time she completed viewing the mug shots at the police station. No success. When she returned to the office, Martin and Nigel were waiting.

Of course, Martin was alarmed to hear of her encounter and the death threat. She repeated the entire scenario, casting Leo in a somewhat less menacing role to keep down Martin’s blood pressure. Nigel was excited that he was in the middle of such happenings—some gun-toting goon threatening the people he was working with. “How dangerous do you think he is, Sandy?”

“Compared to what?”

“Shouldn’t we have armed guards here in the office?”

“That’s not farfetched, but Leo did give me forty-eight hours,” she said. “I hope he’ll hold off until then.”

“What about Charlene, is she safe?”

“Nice of you to be concerned about her,” she said. “I suppose anyone who came in contact with Lester might be in danger, but I don’t see it right now. As far as we know, Leo isn’t aware Charlene exists.”

Martin said, “Obviously, the gathering of facts to aid in the defense of our client can wait. Leo is the immediate problem. We have to either find Leo’s money, or somehow put him out of commission.”

Nigel said, “I’m willing to work all night.” He loosened his tie. “If I order a pizza, do you mind if I eat it here at my desk?”

“Whatever it takes for you to do your magic and find something we can use to shut down Leo. But I don’t want you working all night,” she said.

Martin appeared to be deeply thinking. “As I see it, there are two ways to approach our problem. Nigel can start with Leo, researching who he might be and what’s going down. I’d like to start with Coleman being shot and go up from there. Let’s assume our client is guilty, and let’s assume the reason he shot a man that was unknown to him was for the money. There might be other motives, but let’s start with the money. Lester admits he was in the sports bar the night of the murder. Coleman was a gambler and sports bar habitué, according to Leo. We don’t know what happened in the bar, or if they spoke or made some kind of bet.”

Nigel, who had been silent up to that point, said, “Are we brainstorming here, or do you want me to keep quiet?”

She answered, “You’re part of the team now, Nigel. Feel free to jump in.”

“Nothing earthshaking, just an observation. A quarter-million sports bet would give Las Vegas pause. No one’s going to bet that sort of money in a local sports bar in this town. I don’t think the murder had anything to do with betting. Coleman started out with the money. If Lester somehow got it away from him as a result of a meeting in the bar, then why was he later threatening Coleman with the gun and ending up shooting him?”

She said, “You’re correct, we can’t assume Lester ended up with the money.”

Nigel continued, “Perhaps, Coleman hadn’t delivered the money as promised and Lester was chasing him down,”

Martin said, “Don’t ask me why Coleman would be giving Lester money. Yet, the shooting doesn’t make sense unless money was involved.”

She wasn’t convinced. “Something brought our client and the victim together. Perhaps it wasn’t money. Maybe there’s another connection.”

Nigel said, “Come on, it’s not some fantastic coincidence—the shooting and the money go together like tea and crumpets. Lester did the murder. He either has the money, or tried to get it. Isn’t he on our side? Can’t you convince him to explain it all? It’s either give up the money or spend his life in prison.”

“Assuming he knows something about the money, we have to convince him to tell us where it is, or somehow find it ourselves. Nigel, call him, get him in here right now. I’ll talk with him again, now that we know two hundred fifty grand was involved. He’s not wrapped too tight. If he’s sitting on the money, maybe he’ll give himself away.”

Nigel noted his watch. “It’s seven thirty, Sandy.”

“Call him anyway and get him in here in the morning. I can’t just sit around tonight. I’m going to cruise around town. Leo’s the type to be hitting the bars about now. I’ll check the hotel lounges as well.”

“You are not going cruising around town, too dangerous,” Martin said. “Leo knows what you look like. Plus all the drinkers will be hitting on you.”

“I’ve got my black stringy wig. With horn-rimmed glasses and my Goodwill-reject house dress, I’ll look like a strung out housewife searching for her misbehaving husband.”

“In that case, you’ll attract only half the drinkers. Nevertheless, I’m the one who should be out doing that. No one would think a thing of it.”

“But you don’t know who you’re looking for.”

“Okay, but I want to get out of the office and do something.”

“How'd you like to spend an evening in a sports bar?” she said.

“It’s what I live for.”

“Frankie’s Sports Bar might well figure in the connection between Lester and Coleman.”

Nigel came back and interrupted, “Mr. Bardner is on the phone. He regrets that it’s inconvenient for him to come see you in your office tomorrow. He suggests you come out to his house.”

She grabbed for the phone. “Lester? Be here at nine tomorrow morning or your ass is going back to jail.” She slammed the phone down and turned back to Martin, “Where were we? Can you somehow hang out at Frankie’s? Try to find out if Coleman or Lester were in there last Tuesday night.”

Nigel said, “I would suggest he be inconspicuous, wear some old clothes. Except he’s never had any.”

“I do have old clothes,” Martin replied as though it was an insult.

“Even with your old clothes, you’ll still be the best dressed man in that bar,” Nigel said. “I can help you with a disguise, I suppose. You’ll need a beat-up leather jacket and jeans. The jeans can be new, makes no difference. You have sneakers?”

“I have running shoes, but I’m not wearing them, and I’m not wearing a disguise.”

“Don’t forget the ever-present baseball cap.”

“I’m not wearing any baseball cap.” He looked over at Sandy who had busted out laughing.

Nigel kept it up, “I’ll go find a mustache for you.”

“Why not a sign on my back that says, ‘Hey, everybody, I’m just a regular guy. Don’t pay any attention to me.’” He starred Nigel down. “No mustache. Thanks, but I’ll be fine. Good grief, I know what to wear to a sports bar. I’ll go home and change, go over to the bar after dark.”

Nigel called out to Martin as he was leaving, “And don’t shave.”