Private Eye - Part 4

Next Day.

10:03am.

Carlos was sitting at the desk in his small office in his apartment with a cold flannel to his head and his phone up to his ear. He was feeling the dreaded hangover effects now like a hammer to the head.

His apartment was a fairly simple two bedroom pad.
Not cheap, but not too expensive. Nicely furnished
in a modern decor, with walls painted in whites and blues.

The office consisted of his desk, swivel-chair, computer, telephone and a bin, all laid out on a thin grey carpet, boxed in by white, painted walls. Sparse, but tidy.

“Daniel, hey, it’s Carlos,” he said into the phone. “What’s Nathan’s address? I need to speak to him. . .yeah. . .okay, thanks. I’ll get back to you later.”

* * *

Carlos knocked on the door to Nathan’s house. The sun was out today and the heat and light was doing nothing to help his head. Nathan opened the door.

“Carlos? What’s up?” he said.

“Can I come in? I just need to talk to you about your brother. I want to know a few things.”

“Sure. Come in.”

Carlos entered the house and shut the door behind him.

Nathan entered the lounge followed by Carlos, who sat down on the sofa. Nathan sat on a chair opposite.

There were potted plants in one corner, a TV in the other, whilst an ornate fire-place was the center-piece of another wall.

“You okay?” asked Nathan. “You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge by your eyelids.”

“Thanks.”

“You got some bags under your eyes, there. . .” said Nathan, pointing.

“Yes, Nathan, I am aware of this,” came Carlos’ deadpan reply.

“You want anything -”

“Only for you to stop talking,” said Carlos, cutting him off.

“Sorry.”

“I spoke to Reno, the owner of the bar where your brother was killed,” said Carlos. “He said your brother got into an argument with Harry Draft and a few of his associates that night. It got a little heated. He walked away in the end, but whatever he said was obviously enough to make Harry want him dead. Fast.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“What exactly do you know about your brother, Nathan? What was your brother involved in?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you know if he was involved in any criminal activities? As in, secretly?”

“No,” replied Nathan. “I didn’t even know he was in contact with Harry Draft. I didn’t even know who Harry Draft was until you told me.”

“What did he do with his time?” persisted Carlos.

“I don’t know. He liked to play basketball. He ran a landscaping business. Stayed home of an evening or came out with me. Normal stuff.”

“And he never ever said anything to you about things he was doing that maybe he shouldn’t have? Never said anything that made you think, ‘Hold on, what did that mean?’ Never let anything slip?”

“No. If he did, I didn’t pick up on it. He was a nice guy, why would he want to get into crime?”

“That’s what I want to find out.”

“Especially with known dangerous people. He wasn’t stupid.”

“You don’t need to be stupid to get into crime. Desperate, maybe. Did he have financial problems?”

“None. I’ve seen his bank statements from the time of his death.”

“Did he have enemies?”

“No. Not that I know of, and I’m sure he would’ve told me. Look, he was a good guy. He didn’t have enemies. He got along with everyone. As far as I knew, everything was okay.”

“Well, an hour after arguing with Harry, he was killed. Everything was not okay. Something’s going on, Nathan.”

* * *

Reno was cleaning some glasses behind the bar. The place was not yet open so it was deserted, the chairs pushed neatly under the freshly wiped tables.

The side door opened and Carlos walked in. He walked towards the bar. Reno didn’t even look up.

“We’re not open yet.”

Carlos approached the bar and Reno finally glanced up. A look of worry and fear flashed across his face.

“What do you want?” asked Reno. “You can’t come in here anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Carlos, confused.

“I can’t talk to you anymore. I’m sorry.”

Carlos noticed the cuts and bruises on Reno’s face. “What the hell happened to you? You get beat up?”

“Look, I don’t mean any offence, but you really can’t be in here,” Reno persisted. “Harry Draft and his men came round and smacked me about. They wouldn’t let me go until they’d asked me a ton of questions.”

“Harry Draft did this to you?”

“They tied me to a chair and beat me, Carlos.”

Carlos felt sympathy and a stab of guilt in his guts about the treatment Reno had received. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

“Hey, I called you in yesterday, didn’t I? It’s not your fault. But do me this favour and please, just stay away from me. It’s gone too far. Next time I won’t be walking away.”

“What were they asking?”

“They wanted to know who you were. They saw you come up yesterday.”

“What did you tell them?”

“I had to tell them you were investigating the case, Carlos. If they didn’t believe I was telling the truth, they were gonna cut me to pieces. I told them you wouldn't tell me your name. They believed that.”

Carlos nodded. “All right. I understand. You did what you had to do.”

“Anyway, I told you all I know yesterday so you don’t need to come in here anymore. So, please. . .” said Reno, gesturing with his hand for Carlos to leave. He looked visibly shaken up.

“I just need to know one more thing, then I’m gone. I won’t bother you anymore,” pressed Carlos.

“Make it quick.”

“You said you didn’t see the guy get killed.”

Reno was already getting impatient. “Right, right.”

“But you heard a lot of noise and saw Harry standing over the body with a gun in his hand. . .”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“How many gunshots did you hear?” asked Carlos.

“What, when he was shooting up the alleyway? I dunno, why does that matter?”

“No, before that. Before you saw Harry
standing over the body with a gun in his hand.”

“I don’t know, like I said, there was a lot of noise going on.”

“If you’d heard a gunshot, you’d know it,” explained Carlos. “It would’ve been the loudest sound you’d heard and very distinguishable.”

“I. . .I don’t know,” said Reno. “I can’t actually recall hearing any shots before I looked. Nothing that loud.”

“You didn’t hear any shots before you saw the guy lying on the ground?”

“No. Nothing that stands out as being any louder than the scuffle and banging around I heard.”

“What about when he fired his gun up the alleyway. You saw that, right?”

“Yeah, I saw that. And I definitely heard those shots. What was that all about, anyw- forget it. Don’t tell me. I don’t wanna know.”

“After you saw Harry standing over the body, but before he started shooting up the alleyway, did he detach anything from the end of his gun? Like a silencer?” asked Carlos.

“A what? Look, I’m not up on guns that much,” said Reno, beginning to get frustrated.

“A silencer. It’s a long metal tube that screws on to the barrel of a gun and muffles the sound of the gun shots. Did he unscrew anything off of his gun before shooting up the alleyway?”

“No, he didn’t.”

Carlos nodded and thought for a few seconds.

“Please, Carlos. You gotta go,” pleaded Reno.

“All right, Reno. Thanks for your time. See you around.”

Carlos turned and walked back the way he came.

* * *

Carlos exited Reno’s Bar via the side entrance and stepped out into the alleyway. He took his phone out of his inside jacket pocket, punched in a number and put it to his ear.

“Daniel, it’s Carlos,” he said when the line had been picked up. “We need to talk. I’m slowly getting pieces of the puzzle but some bits just don’t fit together.”

“Okay,” said Daniel, on the other end of the line. “Where do you want to meet?”

“I know a place. It’s nice. Very...exotic.”

* * *

From the inside of the black Jaguar X-type which was parked up beside the kerb a little way down the street, Harry, Ray and Mitch watched Carlos exit the alleyway and cross over on to the other side of the street.

Ray was sitting in the driver’s seat, with Harry in the passenger seat and Mitch in the back.

“I don’t like that guy one bit,” stated Mitch.

“Me neither,” said Harry. “And it looks like our friend Reno has been going against our advice and misbehaving.”

* * *

Carlos and Daniel were sitting at a table in the Lotus Lounge with glasses of Jack Daniels in front of them. There was a dancer on-stage behind them. Surprisingly, for the time of day, there were a few men seated at various tables watching the dance.

Daniel thumbed behind his head at the scantily clad dancer. “How am I supposed to concentrate with that going on behind me?”

“Of course you can, it’s just a little background entertainment,” said Carlos. “I still got a tab running here anyway so don’t complain, your drinks are free.”

“So what did you want to see me about? You got some new information?”

“Kind of. It’s more like conflicting information. I’m trying to figure out how it all fits together.”

“So, tell me.”

At that moment, the manager, Ralph, passed by the table.

“Sir. Nice to see you again,” said Ralph to Carlos.

“Can’t stay away.”

“Pleased to have you, of course. Although I would make a request that you don’t offer to inspect any more of the staff’s genitalia.”

Daniel went wide-eyed at this remark. Ralph patted Carlos on the back and started to walk away. Carlos made a friendly gun gesture with his thumb and forefinger in the direction of Ralph.

“Haaaahhh. . .you kill me,” said Carlos.

“What the hell was that all about?” said a
confused and intrigued Daniel.

“Forget it. Banter.”

“So, you were saying?”

“Is it the common belief that Ben was shot? That’s how he was killed?” continued Carlos.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I spoke to Reno, who owns the bar where Ben was killed. He was upstairs in his apartment above the bar when it all went down. He heard the commotion and went and looked outside the window and saw Harry standing over Ben’s dead body with a gun in his hand.”

“Right. . .”

“But he didn’t hear any shots,” continued Carlos. “You’d hear a gunshot ten blocks away but he didn’t hear anything like that. Didn’t see a silencer attached to the gun either. But when he saw Harry firing up the alleyway at the witness, he said he definitely heard those shots.”

“Maybe he shot him inside the bar,” suggested Daniel.

“I don’t think he’d take that risk. Kill someone in front of a huge crowd? Get arrested and put his whole mob organization in jeopardy? He’s never been convicted of anything he’s done, he’s not stupid. Anyway there would have been cops there in minutes and at least one person would’ve come forward as a witness to it.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“Maybe he wasn’t killed by a gunshot.”

Daniel paused to think about this. The gun was in hand when Reno saw Harry. A gunshot wound was the official cause of death.

“Whatever he was killed with, the murder weapon has probably been disposed of by now anyway,” said Daniel, finally.

“Have you seen the coroner’s report yet?” asked Carlos.

“No. I’ve not really had a chance or a reason to look at it.”

“I want to see it. I’m gonna make an arrangement. I know some people at the Department. I’ll let you know how I get on.”

* * *

Later that afternoon.

The coroner was sitting at his desk in a long white lab coat, sifting through some files. The office was full of grey filing cabinets against horrible olive-green walls. There was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” called the coroner.

Carlos entered the office and shut the door behind him. He walked over to the desk and shook the hand of the coroner, who didn‘t bother to stand or greet him.

He was not happy about Carlos being here. Not happy at all. The last thing he needed was trouble stirred up by an investigator in a case like this.

“Carlos Vespa,” said Carlos. “Thanks for seeing me at short notice.”

“Please, take a seat,” said the coroner in a voice not even slightly welcoming.

Carlos sat down opposite the coroner at the desk.

The coroner continued his agitated and somewhat aloof attitude.

“It seems you know some people in high places, Mr. Vespa. Private Detective,” he spat.

“Well, you know. It’s nice to have friends, right?” replied Carlos.

“Indeed. You are luckier than you realize for obtaining this,” said the coroner picking a file up from the desk.

“My friends are in very high places. And, if I may say so, you don’t seem too happy to see me. . .”

The coroner gently threw the report on Ben’s autopsy down on the desk in front of Carlos, who picked it up.

“What makes me so lucky, anyway?” asked Carlos. He opened the report and looked at it for a few seconds, then frowned. “What’s this. . ?”

“We were told to bury that.”

“By who? Does the Commissioner or Head Of Department know about this?”

“No,” the coroner replied. “You wouldn’t even be in this room if I had my way. It seems your friends are better than mine.”

Carlos read from the report. “‘Cause Of Death: Heart Failure Due To Unknown Poison’?”

The coroner nodded.

“What happened?” asked Carlos, getting angry. “Why did you bury it? Everybody, including this guy’s own family, believes he was shot.”

“The Mob,” the coroner explained. “Some of the connected higher-ups in the Department were given strict instructions that the report was to be doctored and the original destroyed. I was threatened. My family was threatened. I couldn’t go any higher up in the chain of command to tell anyone, because once it’d gotten out that I’d opened my mouth, my family and I would be
killed in our beds.”

Carlos held up the report. “But you kept the original report.”

“It’s a copy,” said the coroner. “You never know when you might need something to get you out of a corner. Anyway, it’s a good thing I did copy it. What would I say to the Head Of Department when he told me to show you? All he did was put out an official statement of the cause of death being a gunshot wound because that's the one I gave him. He never saw a report. And I haven't produced a doctored version yet. Lucky for you, this original is the only one available. That's why against my better judgement I've had to show you the true report. Because a report is what you requested to see. That call from him was one I didn’t expect.”

Carlos looked down at the report and flicked a couple of pages. “So, what was the entry wound?”

“A small hole on the neck. The poison was administered via a needle.”

Carlos shook his head in confusion and sheer disappointment at how the authorities were handling this mess. He closed the file and put it down on the desk.

“I want a copy of that,” he said.

“I can’t,” replied the coroner, fear in his voice.

“You want me to tell my friends what a naughty little boy you‘ve been?”

“Just keep it close to your chest and lips zipped, all right? I don’t want to end up dead over this.”

“No problem.”

* * *

Reno’s bar was empty, as it was still before opening hours and Reno was sitting at a table in the seating area with a calculator and papers in front of him.

The side door suddenly banged open and Harry, Ray and Mitch walked in and made their way towards Reno. He looked up and a pang of terror rushed through his body like a heat-wave.

“I haven’t done anything, I swear!” cried Reno. “I never said a word to anybody, just like you
told me! Please. . !”

Harry, Ray and Mitch had reached the table now.

Harry put his forefinger to his lips. “Shh, shh, shh. Reno. Listen. . .”

He walked slowly around the back of Reno and put his hands on his shoulders as he stood over him. Ray and Mitch were standing in front of them, the other side of the table.

“I’m not going to hurt you. . ,” said Harry, quietly.

Reno’s shoulders relaxed under Harry’s grip for a few seconds.

Suddenly, Ray quickly reached round to the back of his trousers, whipped out a gun with a silencer attached and shot a small hole in Reno’s forehead. Reno’s eyes opened wide.

“He is,” finished Harry.

Harry let go of Reno’s shoulders and he fell forwards, hitting his head on the table, dead.

* * *

Carlos walked down the street towards the alleyway next to Reno’s Bar.

He knew he shouldn’t go back to Reno after what he told him. After he pleaded with him. But something very weird was going on and he had the feeling he must have missed something out.

Carlos turned into the alleyway and made his way towards the back to the dead-end wall. He'd remembered something that he saw there last time. Something that could turn out to be vital. The dirty syringe. He took out a small transparent plastic bag, like an ’Evidence’ bag, and with gloved hands picked up the syringe and placed it in the bag, sealing it. He put it in his left inside jacket pocket and headed towards the side door of Reno‘s Bar.

Before he could reach for the door handle, the door opened suddenly and Harry stepped out smiling at Carlos, as though he was expecting him. Ray and Mitch then stepped out into the alleyway.

He should’ve been scared. He should’ve ran. But he stayed calm, stood his ground. Once you show these people that you’re scared of them, they’ve got you. They’ll treat you like you’re nothing for as long as they please. Use you and abuse you to do what they want and bombard you with threats day in and day out. He was having none of it.

“What are you doin’ here?” asked Harry, annoyance in his voice. “You keep coming back to this same place. And to be honest, I don’t like you.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” replied Carlos. “But you don’t own this place. I have every right to be here.”

“No you don’t and yes I do. I do. From now on this stinkin’, putrid alleyway is my property and you’re on it. Now, what are you doing here?”

Carlos could sense hostility. Harry was getting angry.

“I just want to see Reno Santiago. He owes me a couple of drinks, all right? I was gonna sneak ’em in before he opens and it gets busy.”

“I’m sorry, but Mr. Santiago is indisposed.”

Harry motioned up the side of the building with his head and eyes. Carlos looked up and saw Reno, blood all down his face, hanging from his window, bed sheets tied around his neck.

Carlos felt the rush of blood go up to his head as panic set in. He did his best to play it cool and just looked down at the ground. “I’ll be on my way, then.”

“Come here,” commanded Harry.

Carlos stepped towards Harry, who put his hand inside Carlos’ inside coat pocket. . .his right pocket. The syringe still rested in his left.

Carlos' knees felt weak and the panic in his mind made his head feel like it was about to explode into a million pieces.

Harry pulled out Carlos' wallet, opened it up and looked at some form of ID.

“Mr. Carlos Vespa,” said Harry, reading from the ID.

Harry then took the ID out and threw the wallet back to Carlos who caught it.

“You know, Carlos. . .the knee-cap and stomach are two of the most painful places to get shot,” continued Harry. “Now, I’m going to give you the choice out of which one of those places you’d rather be shot. Or you can just walk away, stop snooping around and I never. . .ever want to see you again.”

Carlos nodded and stood there a few seconds looking at Harry, waiting for something bad to happen. Nothing did.

Carlos turned and walked briskly back up the alleyway and out on to the street. He didn't look back, not once. He had made it out of there alive, barely.

But he couldn't stop. Not now.