Wolf's Deal: A Nick Lupo Novella (The Nick Lupo Series)

WOLF’S DEAL

A Novella Featuring Homicide Detective
Nick Lupo

By W.D. Gagliani

The action in this novella takes place between

 
the novels
Wolf's
Gambit
and
Wolf's Bluff
.

*

Wolf’s Deal
Ó
2014, 2015 by W.D. Gagliani

First Ebook Edition: June 2015

Cover by Steven W. Booth, Genius Book
Services

All Images, iStockPhoto

License Notes

This Ebook is
licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this book may be
reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any mean, graphic, electronic, or
mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information
storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

This book is a
work of fiction. Any names, characters, places and incidents are products of
the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Contact:

Tarkus Press LLC

PO Box 214

Oak Creek, WI
53154

http://www.wdgagliani.com
(includes blog
& newsletter subscription)

http://www.williamdgagliani.com

http://www.facebook.com/wdgagliani

Twitter:
@WDGagliani

Other books by W.D.
Gagliani

Wolf’s Trap
(Samhain Publishing)

Wolf’s Gambit
(47North)

Wolf’s Bluff
(47North)

Wolf’s Edge
(Samhain Publishing)

Wolf’s Cut
(Samhain Publishing)

Wolf’s Blind
(Samhain Publishing)

Savage Nights
(Tarkus Press)

Shadowplays
(Collection; Tarkus Press)

The Great Belzoni and the
Gait of Anubis
(Novella)

Mysteries & Mayhem
(Collection, with David Benton; Tarkus
Press)

See website for more…

Want news? Subscribe to

GAG ORDER! The W.D.
Gagliani Email Newsletter

Visit
www.wdgagliani.com

*

“
Gagliani
has cemented his place in werewolf legend with a muscular and

smart series that deserves a much
bigger audience...” (
HorrorWorld)

*

WOLF’S DEAL:

A Nick Lupo Novella

Dedication

For my uncle, Gianni Iacono, who left us
suddenly in mid-2014… He was a calm and logical voice on the phone when we
needed it most, and one fine, short week in the late 70s he shared with me
magical alabaster caverns. I will always remember his kindness and generosity,
and I share his loving family’s pain more than I can say.

Acknowledgments

With great
thanks to David Benton – friend, collaborator, co-conspirator who also
often goes far beyond the call of duty. For instance, giving me the title of
the next Lupo novel,
Wolf’s Blind
,
which couldn’t have been more appropriate. David is the Alpha of Beta readers.

Thanks to Tony
D’Amato of
The Gun Store
(Las Vegas)
for all knowledge and things firearm-related, especially giving me the
opportunity to fire the MP40, H&K MP5, Thompson, Sten, M3 Grease Gun,
Skorpion, Mauser Broomhandle, a fine selection of excellent Beretta submachine
guns, and more… as well as for being a fan of the series.

Also thanks to the
friendly and hard-working crew of the Oak Creek Starbucks at 8880 South Howell,
my office away from home since late 2008.

In addition, I
would like to acknowledge the late, great composer Jerry Goldsmith and the
eternal Tangerine Dream for continued musical inspiration.
(2015 additional note: I am greatly saddened to have to add this… Rest
in peace, Edgar Froese. I’m sure you are sending out your tangerine dreams to
the universe now.)

Author’s Note

The action in
this novella takes place between the novels
Wolf’s
Gambit
and
Wolf’s Bluff
,
involving a case for Nick Lupo that also introduces Charlie Black Bear, who
reappears in
Wolf’s Cut
, as well as
someone who first appears in
Wolf’s Bluff
.
Most of the events in
Deal
stand
apart from all three novels, but are also related in some subtle ways.

Geographical Disclaimer

Although most
Milwaukee locations mentioned in this novella actually exist, I have intentionally
distorted some of them for my own purposes. As always, you might consider that
this Milwaukee, like Eagle River in most of the Lupo novels, is somewhat of an
alternate version of the real place. Any resemblance to actual people or places
is therefore accidental and not intended to reflect reality in any way. This is
why we call it Fiction!

WOLF’S DEAL:

A Nick Lupo Novella

PRELUDE:
THE ARCHER

The killer
was driving a nondescript van, dirty sky blue in color, a middle period Ford
Econoline model. Its two sides had once borne a company logo, but now
mismatched blue paint covered the areas. The plates were Minnesota, stolen just
that morning, and the whole thing would be abandoned soon.
Clean
.

At the
wheel, the killer wore a black hoodie which might make him an immediate suspect
in some northeastern suburbs, but here on Canal Street in the Valley, near the hulking
block of the casino, it was about as average as a Packers windbreaker anywhere
else. He also wore latex gloves to help keep his DNA off anything he touched.

The air had
been pleasantly crisp all day, but now it was turning cold for the middle of
fall, and the killer shivered in that good way – the way that told him he
was starting to feel the excitement of imminent action, combined with feeling
the cold air that blew in through the van's lowered front windows. It fanned
across his face and he huddled deeper into the hoodie.

He drove the
van with the windows down, heading away from the casino. The sidewalk was
irregular, snaking past the scattered remnants of the area’s deeply industrial
past. The casino itself was a more recent addition from the early days of
gaming’s invasion of the lands Federal treaties had granted Native American
tribes. It was a huge square wart on the landscape, tricked out in faux Indian
trappings. Like the teepee-tower with the fake flames lighting up its atrium, a
beacon drawing in gamblers from all over. Technically an eyesore, it was
impressive all the same. The killer pondered how it could be ugly and
impressive at the same time. He prided himself on pondering complex subjects,
rather than just accepting things as they were.

Okay, there
she was.

Tanya was
the name by which he knew her, from her blackjack dealing. She was tall and
tough-looking, but exotic in the high cheekbones that suggested Slavic
heritage. Her skin had suffered from some acne in her youth, but she’d managed
to erase most of its effects so that you had to look closely to really notice.
The killer had looked closely over numerous sessions but often he'd been in
disguise so she wouldn’t have recognized him.

She was
walking from one of the open-air parking lots, where she'd left her aging silver
Accord. She wore a three-quarter length black wool coat, open so her white
blouse was visible. The killer couldn't see her face, but he knew her schedule.
He imagined he could see her ice-blue eyes and her slightly crooked nose and
the wide mouth. She had a nice laugh.

Somehow, the
thought made him angrier.

He reached
across the passenger seat and picked up the crossbow.

He was still
too far away, and she wasn’t paying attention to the traffic. There wasn’t any,
since her shift was evening and there was a lull in the gambling. Traffic, like
the gaming, would pick up after dinner. His van was just a vehicle on the road.
She might have been thinking of her job, of her apartment, of her youth in
fucking
Moscow.

Whatever.

She wasn't
thinking about him, or his van. She didn't know him from Adam, even though he
had won and lost fair amounts at her table.

The crossbow
was already cocked and now he seated a hunting bolt into the breech at the rear
of the track, engaging the nocking device so the lethal projectile would be
propelled along the groove and to its target.

Tanya
.

He could see
her name tag pinned to the chest of her white work blouse. He imagined that
white blouse pinched in his fingers, pure white, bleached white. Her uniform
bowtie was a black blob in front of her neck.

He leaned
the crossbow on his window frame and sighted through the special hunting scope.
He barely needed the scope. He was an expert.

He slowed the
van, ground to a halt across the street from her. His mirrors were clear. The
street in front of him was clear.

She started
to look up now, maybe an instinctive alarm raised from within. A survival
instinct. Started to turn toward the van, her eyes focusing on him. Not quite
seeing him, a shadow behind the wheel.

He squeezed
the trigger.

He saw her
eyes widen, the whites very bright in the darkness, and then she staggered and
he heard her grunt.

The bolt’s
bright fletching was like a flower suddenly growing out of her chest. She stood
unsteadily for a few seconds, whimpering.

He could
hear her whimper from the van.

The killer
saw that her white blouse was now blackening. He stepped on the accelerator and
slowly headed away from the scene. In the mirror, he watched her stagger again,
take a wobbly step and topple over onto her back. Almost in slow motion, like
in a movie.

Tanya
, he thought.

He felt the
stiffness in his groin and enjoyed the pressure inside his clothes.

He was more
than a mile away before he heard a siren and wondered if it was for Tanya.

Sweet Tanya
.

LUPO

They were
attacking a medium thin crust in the narrow Third Ward pizzeria when Lupo’s
iPhone trilled with the Bairnson
Eye in
the Sky
guitar solo. He wiped grease from his finger and tapped the screen.

“Yeah?” He
chewed and listened. “Huh. What?” Now he raised an eyebrow.

DiSanto
stuffed the majority of his current slice into his mouth and chewed, his hand
also scooping up one of the last three wedges.
Dinner interruptus
. They were in agreement that it was one of the
worst things cops have to face regularly. Right up there with autopsies and
broken marriages.

Lupo listened
for another minute, then grunted a final acknowledgment. He tapped out, then
grabbed a wedge and tore into it. He chewed thoughtfully.

“What?”
DiSanto said, impatient, speaking from the side of his full mouth.

Lupo took
his time and swallowed. “We got work down at the casino. They’ve got a corpse.
What else is new?” He waved at the waitress, who was behind the bar pouring a
series of shots for a loud table at the rear of the long, narrow place. She
glanced over and nodded as he mimed signing off on the check.

DiSanto
finished chewing, swallowed, and bit a piece off his reserve slice. With his
other hand he reached for the next slice. But then he burped, patted his chest,
and backed off. “I hate when they barely cook the sauce. Indigestion city.”

“You Italians,”
said Lupo. “Such snobs.”

“Damn
right.” DiSanto nodded, took a long melodramatic drink of his iced tea. “Why
aren’t we moving on out?”

“Seems the
casino security cops are saying the vic’s an employee. The hit took place on
casino land, but it’s also a city street. Messy. We’re getting it ironed out.
Loot’s getting square on an official invite for us to get involved.”