OUR STORY SO FAR: Oscar Rayne is on the run. The McCarthy Mob wants him dead and the SFPD aren’t far behind either. Meanwhile, Detective Dela Cruz is riding shotgun with one of McCarthy’s men and doesn’t know it. Go back to January of this year to read the last installment of Crime SuspenStory.
Based on true events.
The silence was present, Claudia could feel it, as if it were a person on the other side of the door listening for her, waiting for her to slip. The other women in the room had become quiet too. At first, a few had questioned each other about what was going on but then quickly lost interest and started lighting cigarettes and applying make up from their purses. Claudia didn’t have her purse. She hoped to God no one did, and that whatever had gone down, or was going on in the silence beyond the door, was being caught in the purse’s eye.
A few of the women were killing time on their phones and she was tempted to ask for one so she could contact Dan. Then she noticed there was no more noise coming from the outside.
“I don’t hear anything,” she muttered. A few of the other women looked over at her.
“They all leave and forget we were in here?” said the woman with the grape tattoo.
“I’ll break that fucking door if I have to,” said another.
If she was in danger Dan would have come in with back up, there was no need to worry. Claudia allowed herself a deep breath. Whatever had broken up the party wasn’t related to her, there was something going on with Oscar Rayne. She had seen him struggling with the other two men before Cabbagepatch had forced her into the supply room. If the purse had caught it all then they might have a case, especially if something had happened to Rayne.
Claudia heard the floor creak beyond the door and she backed away. The lock popped and the door swung open, revealing a fat man in a cheap suit and a bushy mustache under his bulbous nose. He stepped into the room holding a detective’s badge extended out in his hand.
“Which one of you is Detective Dela Cruz?” he said.
Claudia didn’t move a muscle. She watched the fat man’s cloudy brown eyes scan the seven women in the room, moving from face to face. His badge was the real thing as far as she could tell but she wasn’t going to chance it. His eyes met hers and he pursed his lips.
“Detective?” he asked her outright, holding the badge closer for her to see.
He seemed like a cop, maybe even familiar, she wasn’t sure. She watched him wait for an answer, breathing hard through his mouth.
“C’mon detective,” he said. “We don’t got all night. Wheaton and that tech have already shut down shop and chased ‘em.”
Claudia could feel the other women staring at her. She didn’t speak but stepped around the fat man and out into the bar. The room was deserted with the lights still on, empty glasses cluttering the tables and the bar, the shrimp and chicken wings forgotten by the jukebox. She stepped over to where she had left the purse but it was nowhere to be seen, only empty glasses sat on the wooden outcrop where she had placed it. She peered under the tables, scanning the floor. She could sense the fat cop walking up behind her.
“I wasn’t able to locate the purse,” he said.
Claudia turned around and took a good look at him, not liking the view. He was huge, the suit hanging over a the overgrown sagging belly, the collar of the shirt stretched by a neck of wet flesh that flapped over it.
“Who are you?” she said.
“Bob O”Neil, with robbery. I was around when Wheaton called for backup.”
“When did he call for backup?”
“You were out of the frame for a long time, thought we might have a situation. I can’t tell you what a relief it is to find you by the way. We didn’t have a freaking clue.”
Claudia looked over at the broken glass on the floor near the bar, where they had grabbed Rayne before she was put in the closet.
“Did we lose the signal?” she asked.
“They said we just lost the video. Wheaton and the tech got a tracker on it though. They had to scoot to try to keep it in range.”
“They’re following it?”
“That’s right. They asked me to bring you along so we can catch up with them.”
The fat cop’s face was pock marked and red, the eyes blood shot.
“How did you end up here?” she said.
“I was between calls when Wheaton called in backup, like I said. I know some of these guys from an old case.”
“You know who?”
“Some of these McCarthy guys. I know the big black guy from robbery. A few of the other one’s are familiar too. When I came in everybody was all cleared out though.”
“Where’s the bartender?”
“Gone too I guess. There’s nobody here but you and the others in that room. I jimmied the back door.”
“That could have been a risk to our case.”
O”Neil shrugged his shoulders.
“We had an officer out of communication, status unknown. That’s probable cause where I come from. I figured I’d find a party going on but everyone was cleared out. In a hurry too.”
“And left all of us locked in there. Why?”
O”Neil greased the bottom of his mustache with the tip of a stubby pink tongue. Claudia didn’t like him. Everything else was a mystery but she was sure of that at least.
The other women had started to come out of the closet and were looking around at the deserted room.
“Where is everybody?” one of them asked. O”Neil swung around and held his badge up in the air again.
“Ladies, I’m going to need you all to stay put.”
“Seriously, what’s going on here?” said one. There were murmurs coming from the others.
“We are going to need to get a statement. Some of our colleagues will be along shortly.”
“Statement? What for?”
Claudia came along side him and muttered: “You shouldn’t have just come in with your badge like that. You should have just walked me out.”
The rolls of neck twisted as O”Neil peered over at her.
“Time is of the essence here Detective. A black and white will be along eventually but we can’t be waiting around. We gotta get in the car and move.”
“Where?”
“We can talk about it in the car.”
O”Neil walked over to the women from the closet and told them to stay put again, then he nodded back towards Claudia before heading towards the door. She hesitated, looking back over the bar, the broken glass, the forgotten food. The purse was gone because they knew about it. No one would have robbed it at Leo McCarthy’s own party.
She walked passed the other women and could feel their eyes on her. Her cover was blown, it wouldn’t be long before McCarthy’s crew got word that there had been a cop monitoring their party. Not that it really mattered. After this night the case would be squashed and she would be forced to watch as the clubs were raided and Leo McCarthy’s operation continued after a slap on the wrist. Almost a year of work down the drain.
Claudia could feel the exhaustion coming on, triggered by the sense of impending defeat. For the moment she would keep going, she would ride it out until all leads and hope were completely exhausted. She had no other choice.
****
He watched a couple of Filipinos go in, regular dice players probably. It looked like any other night but it would regardless. He waited for the street to clear, then checked the clip and shoved Murph’s gun back under his jacket before crossing the street.
As he neared the door to Golden Duck Oscar took a breath and held it. He knew no one would expect him to show up there, it was the last place they would look. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t open the door in the next few seconds and see one of his friends waiting on the other side. He would have no choice but to shoot first.
There was a song playing when he stepped through the door, the Rolling Stones but he couldn’t remember the name. The crowd was sparse; one old drunk and a hooker in the corner, three Filipinos at the end of the bar with the dice. Tek was on the other side of the bar, his head moving from the dice game to the door. His eyes met Oscar’s and in that second Oscar looked for a flash, a blink, something to signify surprise or fear in the bartender’s face. Tek just nodded like he always did and Oscar let himself exhale.
He walked passed the bar and the bathrooms to the side door and down the stairs into the passage below. It was dark and murky cold like it always was. He could see light coming from under the door to Yellow Charlie’s office. He gave it three sharp knocks.
“Who there?”
“Oscar.”
The seconds ticked by. He slid his hand under his jacket and put his fingers on the grip of the gun. The lock released and he placed his finger lightly on the trigger.
Charlie let the door swing open then waddled back over to his desk without looking at his visitor. The room was filled with the smoke and there were two men speaking mandarin on the television. A bottle of gin sat with a glass on the card table.
Oscar said: “Did anybody find a phone upstairs?”
“What phone?”
“I think I might have left it upstairs.”
The television show went to commercial and Charlie twisted around in his chair.
“When?”
“Last week maybe. I need to go up there and take a look.”
“Ain't no phone. Someone would’a brought it down here. Nobody steal.”
Charlie took a long drag off the cigarette, then knocked the ash into a gold ashtray that lay on the card table next to the gin.
“You go to the party?” he said.
“For a little while.”
“Inky there?”
“Who?”
“Big Russian. Got big fucking tab. He said he drop it off last week. Fucker no show. I see his ass here a few days ago I say “Where da money now?” He say: “I bring it to the party.” I say: “You don’t go to no party. Leo don’t want no big fucking Russian walking around his party. Party is respectable. Not for no fucking Russian.” He want to laugh and act like he pay enough to come to the party. He ain’t respectable. He don’t go to no party.”
It was one of the few times Oscar had seen Yellow Charlie drunk. Oscar took in the room and shifted his gaze towards the computer monitors on the side table. All the security feeds were up and running; the parking lot, the bar, the street, three hallways, different rooms, all in full color. There were three or four new feeds too, all from the various rooms upstairs.
“What rooms are those?” he said, nodding at the monitor.
“Easy job and they want to take three weeks, stupid fuckers. I told Leo, we do it ourselves. We put in the cables and all that. No, he call that company that do the Nip. They finally finish putting in all the new cameras.”
“Is that the room at the end of the hall?”
Oscar pointed at the feed on the monitor.
”They all in the hall. That’s all those rooms up there.”
Oscar saw there was no way he was getting out clean. The camera in the room where he stashed the money was pointed right at the dresser that covered the hollow in the wall, anyone who happened to glance at the monitor would see him pulling the cash. He decided that time was the only factor that really mattered.
He pulled the gun from his waistband and pointed it directly at Yellow Charlie.
“Charlie, I’m I’m going to need you to open up the safe and start pulling all the cash out.”
The older man’s face didn’t change. He took another long drag off his cigarette and deposited the excess ash casually into the tray again.
“You stupid or something? Leo gonna cut your balls.”
“I’m only going to ask you twice Charlie. Open the safe and start pulling out the cash.”
Charlie thought about it for a moment, almost too long, then he snuffed the cigarette out and stepped over to safe in the corner, getting down on his knees in front of it. Oscar kept the gun pointed while stepping over to the side of the room that was filled with boxes and goods. He had spotted the duffle bag next to the Toshiba flat screen when he had come in. He picked it up and placed it on the floor near the safe. Charlie continued turning the knob, taking his time like he didn’t do the combination twenty times a day.
“You fuck up,” Charlie said. “Leo gonna cut your balls.”
“You already said that.”
“You know better than anybody know. You don’t do this. Nobody do this. You crazy man now Oscar. Crazy dead fucking man.”
The safe finally popped and Charlie heaved the door open. There was some loose cash and a couple of envelopes, a slow night right after a pick up.
Oscar flipped the gun around, holding it by the barrel, then he smashed the handle across the back of Yellow Charlie’s skull.
****
A couple of tourists came in. It was two men and a woman, all blonde and European looking. Tek did his best to ignore them. He thought after five or so minutes they would give up and go on to another bar but one of the men finally made his way along the bar and over to the dice game.
“Can we have a drink please?” the man said with one of those stupid sounding accents. Tek waited a few moments before glancing over.
“What you want?”
“A drink please. Two whiskeys and a martini please.”
“What kind of whisky?”
“Jameson. And a vodka martini please.”
“I don’t make no martini.”
“Okay. Then just three whiskey’s please.”
Tek pulled the Jameson from the shelf but there was nothing but a drip at the bottom of the bottle. Something like thirty bars in a four block radius in North Beach and these stupid fucking Eros had to come in to the Duck? Especially on an off night? There were no girls upstairs and no real action. Tek had figured he would be able to just relax and play dice.
He went around the cash register and checked a couple of crates that were lying on the floor but there was no Jameson. He was going to have to go all the way downstairs. He looked over at the Europeans, talking amongst themselves, laughing like something was funny.
He told Mike and old man Ping to keep an eye on things and stepped around the bar. As he descended the stairs at the end of the hall he remembered that one of McCarthy’s bagmen was down there. He had been a little surprised when the man had come in. The whole reason there was no action upstairs was that those guys were supposed to be having their party in the Mission. Maybe they needed to stash something. Maybe there was a pick up. Maybe- just as quickly as the thought had entered Tek’s head it left again.
He went into the storage room and started moving the crates and boxes around to look inside. It took him a few minutes and he started to sweat. Stupid fucking tourists, he was going to charge them double once he got them their drinks. He looked through all the boxes and on the shelves but there was no Jameson. He could have sworn they’d received an order just a few days before. Maybe a box had ended up in Charlie’s office.
Tek went down the hall and knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked again. Maybe Charlie and the other man had gone upstairs for some reason. He was going to charge those fucking European’s triple.
He went in his pocket for his key ring and slipped out the one for the office. The lights were on when he went in. He walked over to the stacks of goods that sat against the wall and started scanning for a box of liquor. Crock pots, rice cookers, microwaves, fine china set, knife sets, electric drills, various tools, Nintindeo Wi’s, humidifiers, laptops, flat screens, projectors- no fucking liquor. He turned around and scanned the rest of office wall to wall. It took a moment before he spotted the feet sticking out from behind the desk.
He crept up slowly, deliberately, watching the feet as he closed in. They had dark gray penny loafers on with well worn soles. He came around the desk and got a good look. It was Charlie.
The older man was laid out on his chest with a man’s necktie tied around his head as a gag and two more binding his hands behind him. Tek got down on one knee and touched Charlie’s shoulder, shaking him. Charlie’s eyes opened groggy, then fluttered a bit, then closed again. There was some blood on the floor and Tek could see it was from a wet wound on the back of Charlie’s head. The safe was wide open in front of them, cleared out.
Tek stood up in a panic and looked towards the door, expecting the attacker to be standing there. He was sure Charlie kept a gun in the office but he had no idea where. He ran over to the goods against the wall and grabbed the box containing one of the knife sets, pulling the plastic away and opened the packaging while keeping an eye on the door. There were eight different pieces of cutlery strapped into the box but he only needed half a second to grip the cleaver by it’s polymar handle and rip it free from the binding
He positioned himself with his back against the wall near the door, his hand cocked back with the cleaver. The attacker would most likely have escaped through the garage exit, although they would have needed someone inside to raise the gate for them, unless they had the code to open it from inside the garage. It was possible the bagman had the code, unlikely, but possible. If he had already escaped, two or three of the cameras would have caught his exit.
Tek looked towards the monitors on the side table, some movement from the screen catching his eye. He crept from the door to get a closer look. It took him a moment to make out the image but as he peered at the screen he realized he was looking at a man in one of the rooms upstairs. The man’s back was to the camera but he was very clearly pulling money from a hole in the wall, stacks of it rubber banded together.
Tek went into his pants pocket and pulled his cell phone, the cleaver still gripped tightly in his left hand.
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