CHAPTER 9

"Give it a good cleaning, Manny. Can't have the Chief of Police driving around in a dirty squad car, can we?"

"Not to worry, Chief. Manny will take good care of you."

Three blocks from Lenny's Cafe, where Richard was headed, there was a car wash and detail business, a good place to hide his car. He decided it was better not to have his car sit in the parking lot while meeting Marcos.

After a brisk walk through the alleys, he entered through the back door into a private room off the kitchen area. Marcos entered a few minutes later, wearing a hoodie over his head. He closed the door behind him and slid into the booth.

"Thanks for coming on such a short notice."

"No problem. I don't forget that I owe you my life."

"One hand washes the other, right?" Richard smiled.

"True, but when a guy is staring down the barrel of a gun, saying his prayers, and the crack of a gun firing doesn't send a bullet through his head. That's something. I couldn't believe he was dead instead of me."

A tap at the door stops their conversation. A young girl cracks the door. "Are you ready for lunch, sir?"

Richard nodded, and she entered. She sat two cheeseburger baskets with fries and two mugs of beer on the table. She smiled and left, closing the door behind her.

"Hope you don't mind. I took the liberty and ordered before you got here."

"Always one step ahead. So, I don't figure you asked to meet me because you wanted to reminisce. What's up?"

"I've got a job for you."

Marcos didn't hesitate. "Just tell me what you need."

"Did you hear that Troy Sinclair got released from prison?"

"Yes, I've heard rumblings. Some thought he deserved to rot there."

"Well, he's out and damned determined to prove his innocence." Richard raised his beer mug to his lips and drank a long, cold swallow. He looked at Marcos. "That can't happen."

"Understood. No need to explain. So, do you want me to cap him in some back alley?"

"No, here's where it gets complicated. I haven't seen him around, which makes me nervous. I've also got a missing person case that he's tied to, and I need to pin her death on him."

"Who's the missing person?"

"A newbie. A friend of Sandra's who wants to avenge her friend's murder. The case is closed, and I want it to stay that way."

"I'm listening. You got a plan on how you'd like this to go down?"

"I've got a dress belonging to the missing person and a bracelet. I need her body burnt beyond recognition with just enough DNA lying around. Perhaps a struggle occurred, resulting in the dress getting caught on a bush and the bracelet as well. I'll give you an engraved watch that belonged to Sinclair's father. She could have ripped it off, or he dropped it in the struggle. The where and when is up to you, but soon."

"What if Sinclair surfaces? That going to cause a problem?"

"Don't worry about him. He's an ex-con, and I've got the perfect judge who would be happy to send him back to prison."

"And the clothing and jewelry?"

"I'll leave the items in box 212 at the post office on Marchesano. Here's the key. If you get this done, Marcos, I guarantee you a cushy job in the organization."

"That's right. I heard you might run for mayor sometime."

"Soon, my friend. Stick with me, and we're going places."

*****

Chief Harrison's impromptu visit had set Layla on edge. She needed a starting point, a plan.

She started with her place of employment, the local newspaper. Sitting at Alyssa's desk, she placed the call and asked for Human Resources. After arguing with one clerk, she asked to be transferred to another., hoping for better answers.

"You must be mistaken. Your paper hired my sister, Alyssa Saladino. She was a reporter doing an undercover story."

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I wish I could help you. Like I told the police, we do not have any records of Alyssa Saladino ever working for us, undercover or not."

Frustrated, Layla hung up and angrily threw a pillow across the room, knocking a picture off the wall. There was an envelope taped to the back. The words "Murder Suspect" were printed in large bold letters by someone.

Layla stood over the envelope, staring as if it were a snake ready to strike. Finally, she forced herself to kneel and pick it up. Trembling, she opened the envelope and dumped its contents on the table.

Newspaper clippings of murdered prostitutes

A photo with several prostitutes — a circle around the woman in red

Several pictures of a knife

A cloudy picture of a man in a dark bar — ball cap on his head and drink in hand and a bar sign on the wall

A closeup of the man's right hand — he has a tattoo (a cross and a serpent)

Layla gasped and dropped the photo. "Oh, God, that's the tattoo. That's the man I know it is. Allie, what were you involved in? Where are you? And why do you have this instead of the police?"

*****

Tommy stood in the shadows of the church, smoking a cigarette. The parking lot was empty. A young couple walked by with their dog. A black and white rolled down the street. He stepped deeper into the shadows, grinding his cigarette into the dirt, and waited.

He needed to find the girl. Antonio had screwed up, but the responsibility would fall on him. He knew what the consequences would be, and he didn't like the thought of it. His life was on the line.

He scanned the area again. It was quiet. Maybe no one knew what had happened yet. He shouldn't have trusted Antonio to do the job, but he'd worked side by side with Alyssa. She hadn't made the connection yet, but he'd had no doubt she would in time, especially after finding the pictures. He needed to finish it, and Antonio said she was in the church.

He tightened the belt on his black trench coat and tipped the matching fedora down over his eyes. Satisfied that the coast was clear, he walked to the rectory door and stepped inside. Father Terry Williams hung up the telephone and turned around to see Tommy walking toward him.

The priest wasn't happy to see him. "What are you doing here, Tommy? I told you not to come back."

Tommy tipped his hat back to look into the priest's eyes. He grinned. "Can't a parishioner stop by for a friendly visit, Father?"

"Your visits are never friendly. You always want something."

"I'm crushed. Growing up, we were inseparable. Then you went holier than thou on me. Are you too good for me, Father?"

"You chose your path, and I chose mine." Terry turned to walk away. "I'm busy, and you need to leave. Real parishioners will be coming for evening prayer. I doubt you want to be seen."

"You act so high and mighty in your robes, Terry, but we're blood. We had the same slut for a mother."

"She had a tough life. Who are we to judge? Remember, the Lord tells us to honor our mother and our father."

"You expect me to honor a man I never knew and a woman who slept with every man she could? Women like her don't deserve to walk the face of this earth."

"Father, please forgive him." Terry made the sign of the cross on his chest.

Tommy laughed. "Maybe I should stay for your prayer session. Might find a few dollars in the donation basket."

"Get out!"

"Not just yet. Give me what I want, and I'll go."

"I've got nothing you want."

"Are you sure? I'm looking for a girl. I was told you might be hiding her here in the church."

"You're mistaken, Tommy. There's no one here but you and me. Now leave."

"I'll leave, but remember, I know about your past. I know the real person under those robes."

"And you are a dirty cop, trading women for cash."

"Whores, not decent women."

"Tommy, hate fills your soul. Put an end to this craziness before you find yourself lying on a cold slab in the morgue."

Tommy sighed. "You don't understand. Antonio botched a job. If I don't fix it, I'm dead. You're my brother and a priest. I need your help."

"I can't help you, Tommy. She's not here. You can check for yourself if you want to."

"You've lost your soft side when it comes to me." He growled. "I tried to ask nicely. Now, give me the girl, or another broad is going to get killed. Her blood will be on your hands." Tommy stepped closer to Terry, poking his finger against his chest. "You can stop it. Just give me the girl."

'I don't have her, Tommy. I'm sorry."

"When you read the papers tomorrow, remember you could have prevented it." Tommy moved toward the door, then stopped and tossed a few dollars on the floor. "Light a candle for Mama."

Laughing, he left through the rectory door.

*****

Father Williams slid the bolt across as the rectory door closed and turned the lock. "You can come out now, Jake. He's gone."

The door of the confessional swung open, and Jake stepped out. "You okay, Terry?"

The Priest nodded and sat in one of the pews. "Did you get what you needed?"

Jake waved his phone. "This little device has enough to put Tommy away, but I need more." He sat in the row behind Terry. "Any idea why he thinks the girl is here? Her sister flew in from New York and has Richard hopping mad. He's trying to play it cool with the missing person thing, but I don't think he knows where she is either."

"Tommy said Antonio botched a job. Did he take the girl?"

"He might have, but then what happened? Somehow, the girl is missing, and I don't know who has her or if she's dead."

Jake's phone rang.

"Sorry, Father, I need to get this." He stepped away and answered, "Hello." He could hear honky tonk music playing.

"Jake, this is Hank, the bartender at Tipsy's. I've got a woman sitting at the bar, nursing a martini. She matches the picture you left here."

Jake scowled. "I owe you one, Hank. Keep an eye on her till I get there, okay?"

"Not a problem. Glad I could help."

Jake ended the call and called out to Father Williams who was at the alter. "I got to go. Duty calls. Be careful, Terry. Call me if Tommy comes back around, okay?"

*****

After a quick change of clothes, Jake entered the Tipsy Tavern. The jukebox was blasting out a country song. He scanned the bar and saw her sitting near the end. He'd expected jeans and a shirt or maybe a peasant dress. He couldn't have been more wrong.

As he approached her, he couldn't help but admire her beauty. Layla had chosen one of Allie's outfits. It was a red floor-length dress with a plunging neckline. It fit all the right curves of her slim body. It was obvious to Jake that she'd come to play, but he knew she wasn't aware of the high stakes. She was desperate and would react without thinking. A dangerous combination.

She stirred her martini, ignoring the men surrounding her. She had no idea she was a beauty, asking for trouble. Her thoughts were centered on understanding Alyssa's last few days.

"Okay, sis, I don't know if you were an undercover reporter or not, but you were into something deep. You put on one of your dresses and came to the bar. What then? If this was your idea of a good time, I understand why you left New York. But dressing sexy and exposing yourself to an unknown male who is murdering women, I'm not getting a clear picture. What did you hope to discover? Didn't you worry about your safety? Or did you have someone working with you? Allie, I am so out of my league."

A thick drawl distracted her, "Hey, pretty lady, can I buy you a drink?"

Layla turned sideways and found herself face to face with a cowboy in a ten-gallon hat and a bushy mustache. Her stomach did a flip-flop. She forced a smile and answered, "No, thank you. I'm waiting for someone."

Refusing to take no for an answer, the cowboy slipped his arm around Layla, attempting to pull her against him. His breath was atrocious, and Layla turned away. The aborted kiss landed on her hair.  She pushed him away. "Please, I said I was waiting for someone."

Jake slid onto the bar stool beside her, staring directly into the cowboy's eyes. "Move along, Cowboy. The lady's taken."

"Oh, didn't mean anything by it. Just having a little fun." He tipped his hat and quickly retreated.

Layla closed her eyes, calming herself, before turning to Jake. Her voice was soft and appreciative. "Thank you for rescuing me."

"No problem." Jake smiled and let his eyes roam over her. "It's easy to see how he got the wrong idea. You shouldn't be her alone."

Layla glanced at her dress. A pink blush crept up her neck and over her cheeks. Flustered, she asked, "Would you excuse me? I need to find the powder room."

Jake pointed, "Straight back there on the left." He chuckled as he watched her wind her way through the crowded room. She was a fish out of water, hanging out in a country bar dressed in New York's finest. He needed to keep his eye on her.

*****

At the bathroom door, the red exit sign caught her eye. She made a split decision. She needed to leave and regroup. She, too, knew she didn't belong in this place alone.

As she pushed open the door and stepped out, she heard a loud voice, then a woman screaming. Only steps away, in the grass, a man was beating his fist into a woman. Her screams sent chills through Layla's body. She wanted to run for help, but instead, she raced toward them, pounding her fists against his back.

"Stop! Stop! You're hurting her."

"What the hell, bitch." The man balled up his fist and slugged Layla, knocking her to the ground. Her head was spinning and nothing was in focus. Blood dripped from her nose and mouth. She could hear sirens in the distance. And then the man was gone.

She lifted her head, searching for the woman. Her eyes widened and she choked on the bile rising in her throat.  The woman lay only a few feet away, covered in blood. A knife protruded from her chest. Layla heard a sickening scream, not knowing it was her, as everything went blank.

Jake charged through the door, scooped up Layla, and disappeared into the night as the police arrived.