The Life of Lol (16 page)

“No”, he said, “It was Carl’s idea.  I know better than to go against Carl Maranzano.  I figured you being a hellcat, you’d fight your way free.  Dougie and Pete weren’t exactly the brains of the fucking country, you know.”

“”You are so full of shit”, she shot back, “you thought I’d die and then you’d be fucking rid”

She raised the gun,

“Wait”, he said holding up his hands, “no one needs to die here.”

“Except you”, she muttered.

“I got a better solution.  Back at the house”, he sighed, “It’s my hostage money.  Money I saved in case I ever ended up locked in the trunk of someone’s car and needed fifty grand to get out in a hurry”

“You think I’ll buy that?” she said holding the gun steady.

“What’s the alternative”, he asked, “shoot a guy in broad daylight, on a roof above the city.  You won’t even make it a mile out of here.”

She thought.  He was tricky, she knew that, but he was right.  This whole thing had been fuelled by adrenaline, it was time to back off while she still could.  The analytical part of her brain suddenly kicked in.  With the money in her buried stash, plus Masons bank account that she’d emptied, she was quite a wealthy woman.  Tay began to make plans in her head.  Shrugging, she put the weapon in her pocket.

Not that she let go of it.  She let him know that she had it in her pocket at all times.  The desert eagle in her left hand pocked, and the luger in the other. 

It didn’t take long to get off the roof and back to Jack’s house.  She watched him like a hawk.  Jack had the money hidden in the back of his house, inside the dog kennel that she hadn’t even noticed.  Fifty thousand. 

“It’s yours”, he said, “might want to leave the city.  The Maranzanos are gonna be pretty pissedd at you over that drug business, and if they ever found out about Carl, it wouldn’t be so good for you.”

Tay nodded.  Her way was clear now.  There was no future in the city any more for her.  Her future lay in LA.  At one time, she’d imagined living here in this house with Jack, but she realised she’d never see him again.  She guessed that the Maranzano family might make an example of him.  In some ways that was a shame, but she didn’t give that much of a fuck.  Fifty thousand dollars in a case beside her on the car seat, five hundred grand in the bank and another fifty buried in the bus depot on the other side of town.   Pleased with how the day was turning out, and sparing a thought for poor Horace, she turned the car on the road to the airport.

Chapter 20. Underpass

At first she thought he’d loaned her a hot car.  But then she panicked.  These cop bastards meant business.  Even before talking to her, they had her out the car and the handcuffs snapped on.  It all happened in a hazy blur after that, and once again Taylors life came crashing down around her in dramatic style.  They arrested her for wounding a police officer and drug dealing, right there at the turnpike for the airport.  So close.  So agonisingly close.

It was an open and shut case.  Cops said the money had been marked to root out drug dealers, and they’d been tipped off that morning that the money had been on the move.  She’d argued that she’d just been given it by Mason, but when the jury were told her prints were all over it, she was done.  Taylor couldn’t understand how her prints came to be on the money.  She hadn’t touched it before.  Then there was the gun.  A cop had been found severely wounded in the alley at the back of the ruined bar, shot through the spine.  Her prints were all over the weapon, and when she was tested for gunshot residue, her firing hand, the right, was covered in it.  She was found guilty on both charges.

Tay paced up and down in her holding cell, as she awaited sentence.  Fucked.  All fucked up.  She wondered just how Jack Mason had set her up so completely.  Liike a fucking first day beginner idiot, she’d walked into the trap.  Should’ve wasted the bastard on that rooftop.  Shoulda woulda coulda.  Too fucking late now.  She wondered about the money, and how he’d got her prints on it.  She was soon to find out.

Shortly before sentencing, it was announced that she had a visitor.  Part of her hoped it would be Justine, who she had only seen fleetingly since her OD, but she couldn’t face that.  The accusing face, the face of let down at seeing Taylor once again wearing a prison jumpsuit and shackles.  But it wasn’t her.

“Nice outfit”, Jack Mason smiled, under the watchful eye of the court guard, “the orange jumpsuit really suits you.  Plus, I’m sure the world feels safer with you clanking around in those shackles”

“I should have murdered you when I had the chance, baby”, she hissed.

“Yeah”, he smiled, “you should’ve.  You see, on the way back from finding the van in the desert, I stopped off at the old bus depot, to pick something up.”

Taylor put it together suddenly.  Some of the marked money had been from her stash in the bus depot.

She shook her head,

“I will kill you”, she said simply,

“Hmm”, he laughed, “Maybe when they let you out in twenty five to thirty years, you’re welcome to try.  How old will you be then, fifty five?  Sixty?  Good luck with that, Taylor.”

“I’ll find a way” she promised.

“Whatever sweetheart” he laughed again.

“You shot the cop too?” she asked.

He smiled,

“I don’t know what you mean”, he said loudly.

“You shot the cop and then dropped the gun when I hit you” she thought aloud

“Either way, whether I lived or died on that roof, you were going away for a long time once your prints were on that weapon.”

He smiled again, and she shuffled around in the cell, her chains clanking as she fought to put together in her mind how she’d been set up so completely.

“Have a nice life Taylor”, he said getting ready to leave, “See ya in thirty years.  Oh, and in case you were wondering…your friend Larry.”

What?  What the fuck had he done with the LA guy?

“Intersection seventeen underpass.  They were replacing the concrete sections there.  He’s inside one of them.  Cried like a motherfucking baby when we walled him up inside.  I guess he could’ve lived for another three or four days after”

Jack Mason walked slowly away.

Chapter 21.  Evidence

Four years.  She marked her fourth year of her twenty seven year prison sentence in the same was as she’d marked the last three, by sitting in her cell alone.  Everybody knew Taylor was not one to be fucked with, even the top dog knew to leave her the hell alone.  This ornery bitch had served time before, could’ve been the top one if she’d have wanted.  But Taylor didn’t want that any more.  She just wanted to be left alone. 

Lt Solomon looked at the list of names again.  The Vincent Maranzano trial had rumbled on for years.  In truth, they couldn’t tie him to anything, not even with the newly renovated city crime lab at his disposal.  Witnesses had been interfered with, evidence disappeared.  It had been a troubling case.  Not that Solomon had anything to be ashamed of in his ten years working for the crime lab.  Ever since his own run in with the Maranzano family when he was a beat cop, he’d worked hard to get where he was, the head of his own crime lab.  And with him in charge this last three years, a million dollars’ worth of upgrades.  And they’d put in jail many prisoners that without his lab, would have walked, mainly with the help of notorious defence lawyer Maddisen Payne to help them.  But despite his awards and the quiet respect of his peers, he was dissatisfied.  Maranzano’s scalp would have helped.  He picked up the photograph of his wife Abbie from the desk.

“What should I do”, he said sadly”

Abbie Solomon had been a fire-fighter.  She died during a terrorist attack.  He’d gotten over the painful loss of her now, but she could still sometimes help him.  And now she did just that.  Out of a list of possible known contacts of Vincent Maranzano, he found in a footnote, a name that seemed to stir him

Laurence Taylor.  Convicted and served time for fraud and 1
st
degree wounding.  Currently serving 27 years for drug dealing and the attempted murder of a police officer.  Known associate of Jack Mason.

Jack Mason, he knew, was untouchable.  According to police sources, he was retired now, and married to the same hotshot defence lawyer that had caused so many problems for the PD, Maddisen Payne.  As he looked at the name, something else stirred in him, some memory of this Laurence Taylor character, something from long ago.  It said in the notes that she’d clammed up and refused to talk when questioned.  He decided to question her himself, and felt pretty sure that would make a difference.

He wondered what she would look like so many years later.  As she shuffled in, clanking with the shackles on her wrists and ankles, clad in her orange jumpsuit, she didn’t look that much different.  Sure, she’d filled out and become a woman, but still a beautiful woman, although that beauty had a look of danger about it, and a malevolent smile that made her green eyes sparkle.  With some difficulty due to her restraints, she sat.

“Detective” she nodded.

“Laurence”, he agreed, “it’s good to see you again.”

That took her by surprise.  She hadn’t recognised the name of this Lieutenant, and she’d planned on telling him the very same things she’d told the other cops.  Fuck all.  Wasn’t her problem.  She didn’t want to have to be fighting off reprisals.  Life was nice and quiet now.  Easy.

“I know you?” she asked quizzically.”

“It’s been a long time”, he said mysteriously, “You risked your life for me once”

“Baby”, she said looking down at her cuffed hands in her lap, “you got me confused with someone else”

“Allen wanted to kill that young police officer in the trunk of that car, didn’t he?” said Solomon to her surprise, “and his young girlfriend risked her own neck to save him.  I didn’t recognise the name at first.”

She was startled. That face, with all the blood, and the rags.  It was so long ago, he seemed older now, more wise.  Course, a beating like that would do that for you.  Suddenly she felt better.  Something she had done had turned out good.

“How you been”, she said quietly, more than just a little overcome,

“Fine”, he replied, “thanks to you.  But now I need your help again.”

“Way I figure it”, she said still looking at her hands, “you owe me.  Not the other way around.”

“The way I figure it”, he said coming close to her face, “that night in the trunk of that car, I met someone with something good inside her that nobody had seen in her before, and that goodness saved my life.  Now, in all that long list of witnesses, I need the one with a shred of goodness to help me put somebody away for a long time, and I know you have it in you.”

“What do I get?” she said, “I got no appeals left, no privileges, and I guess you’re not nearly important enough to just pluck me outta jail”

“I’m afraid not”, he said, “but when you were convicted, you mentioned being set up”

“I was”, she replied, shuffling her restrained hands in her lap, “really well.  Cos the crime lab found no evidence of it.”

“Crime lab is different now”, he said grimly, “I’m in charge.  Things have been upgraded.  I can’t promise you anything, but I will look thoroughly into your case.”

She nodded,

“Fine”, she said coldly, “I’ll tell you anything you wanna know.  Somebody’s gotta pay for putting me in here”

That surprised her, seeing the guy in the trunk again.  She was as good as her word, she gave them everything she knew about Maranzano which, admittedly wasn’t that much, but it was enough to send him to jail for forty five years.  She gave as much of a fuck about that, as any Maranzano had ever given for her.  She still remembered that filthy look that dick brained Carl had given her the night in the bar.  Good fucking riddance.  She doubted somehow that Solomon would find anything new in her case, but it felt good knowing that some other motherfucker was in here too and not just her.

“The case”, Solomon explained to his staff, “consists of two pieces of evidence.  Firstly the money.  The money was marked by the police to locate a known dealer.”

“And it found her”, said the young crime analyst David

“Indeed it did”, replied Solomon grimly, “her prints were all over it.  And it was in her possession.”

“Then she’s guilty”, said Sasha, Solomon’s other analyst.

“It would appear so”, admitted Solomon, “then there is the gun.  Officer David Marks was found shot in the spine close to the scene, the gun had been fired recently, she had GSR on her left hand and he identified her as the shooter.  Said he found her in the alley with the money, having just concluded the deal.”

“What are we doing with this”, asked Sasha?  Sasha was nearly fifty, a firearms expert who respected Solomon a great deal.

“Investigate the case”, he said softly, “be thorough.  David, take a look at the money.  Sasha, the gun.  Make sure you consider everything.”

“Why are we looking into this…what is it…a four year old case? Sasha asked.”

“Because I made a promise”, said Solomon.

1. The Money
   

David hadn’t been working at the lab a great deal of time.  He’d been a realtor two years ago, but had impressed Solomon with his intelligence.  This Taylor woman been convicted of carrying out a drug deal by this case full of marked money, as well as the testimony of that cop that got shot, the one that had made a career since from public speaking, the local hero.  Stuck in a wheelchair now, he was kind of like the icon of the department.  They had this Taylor woman banged to rights with this case, privately David didn’t think she’d got a long enough sentence, but if Solomon thought it worth investigating again, then so be it.  Good enough for him.  So he checked the money out of evidence.  Nothing new.  Her prints were all over it.  A third of the bills were marked by the US treasury, her prints were on plenty of the bills.  But David was renowned for his thoroughness.  And so, blowing off a date with that hot chick from reception with some reluctance, he began to cross check and reference each bill individually, staring at the oncoming night from out of the window wistfully, watching his colleagues and comrades go home.

1. The gun
   

Sasha was in love.  The Desert Eagle .50 cal with the custom chrome finish was beautiful.  Whatever else the pyscho cop shooter girl was, she had good taste in guns.  Here was the evidence.  The weapon was the one that had been used to shoot officer David Marks in the spine.  Marks, the hero of the department had taken to public speaking after his accident and was running for city mayor.  The bullet matched the ones in the rest of the clip, there was no doubt it had come from this weapon.  Taylor Laurence had been tested for gunshot residue on her hands.  As she was left handed, it had been expected, and found, that she had GSR all over her left hand.  She had indeed fired the weapon.  Plus her prints were all over it.  Marks had identified her both as the shooter and the one carrying out the drug deal.  And yet, something nagged Sasha.