Don Parco found a quiet hotel and checked in, hoping to find out what happened and what her next moves should be. She turned on the TV and surfed the channels, watching the news for any information. None of her men had reported in and she was worried they may have been taken out by Menken's soldiers.
When she could find nothing, she concluded the worst had happened. Now she was trapped in a new country with no resources, no security and absolutely no way she was going to reach out to her father. The humiliation would be unbearable.
She called down to the desk and asked if they had any current newspapers available that she might borrow. A few moments later a young man appeared at the door with three local papers, and a hand out. Don Parco tipped him and sent him off with a slow bat of her eyes.
Sure enough there was a story in each paper about the police pursuit of three automobiles on the parkway the previous day, and one paper actually had a photograph taken from a witness's cell phone, capturing the licence of the lead car. Don Parco read down further and learned that the car had been traced to a company called Geterdun Solutions.
Police were not releasing any more information about their investigation, and the article finished with a few lines about the ketchup on the clothing of the arrested men. One wag stated, he didn't relish what the men were facing.
Don Parco Googled the company and found a phone number. Her call went to an answering machine, requesting her call back number. She left it and settled back to see if she got any bites. There was the remote possibility that the owner might just be helpful, if indeed he turned out to be the driver in that chase.
******
Hardy would've had a bird if he'd known that." Fletcher sat shaking his head over Owen's story. "DeTega's daughter was the client we extracted, and she's the boss of the cartel down there. The two hit men were a distraction then. She was actually coming here to take over Hardy's business."
"According to Jesús anyway," Owen concurred. "He blabbed like a washerless faucet after he got shot. I think he thought telling me would somehow remove him from any repercussions."
"So who's left?" Fletcher halted suddenly and looked around.
"Just you and me, this Jesús and Don Parco?"
"Do we know where she is now?"
"All he knew was she waited in the car when they came in. Listen, what about those two that came in with you?" Owen lowered his voice.
"We uh, we have an arrangement. If I was you, Owen, I'd split while you can. Cop's be all over this soon."
"What about Jesús?"
"Leave him to us."
******
Benjamin looked at the call back number, undecided. The car chase had come too close to getting nailed by the cops, and who's to say somebody didn't get a licence plate number? He was safe now, and he had the fifty Gs from Hardy so why push it? Still . . .
He pushed the button and waited.
"Mr. Geterdun?"
"Who?" The voice was female. "Who is this?"
"Someone who might be interested in doing business."
The voice was sultry, tempting, and Benjamin sucked in his breath. "What kind of business?" Nobody called this number unless they knew what he did.
"Similar to that which you took part in earlier today."
"I don't do business over the phone."
"I understand. Room 207, the Moonlight Arms. Say, an hour?"
Benjamin sat still in his rental car, studying the street. He wasn't keen on stepping into a trap, and the cops weren't above setting something like this up to catch him. He checked the time and saw the hour was up. Another sweep of the street and the adjacent buildings, and he exited the car and walked carefully to the hotel.
The clerk was busy and he slipped past to the stairs, climbing cautiously to the second floor. Room 207 was immediately to his left, and he paused, ear to the door, listening. Taking a breath, he stepped back from the door viewer and knocked.
"It's open."
The voice was different. He drew his gun and opened the door slowly, stepping inside.
"Nothing to worry about, come right in. Don't mind the lighting, I have sensitive eyes."
Benjamin looked at the old man sitting in the upholstered chair by the window.
"Yeah? Well I have sensitive skin, and right now it's telling me you ain't who I spoke to on the phone."
The soft chuckle was followed by a light cough. "No, she just made the call for me." He coughed again. "I don't do well on the phone either." Another cough.
"She. And where is she now?" Benjamin closed the door and moved into the room.
"I sent her off. This is really none of her business - and I wouldn't get to close," yet another cough, "this might be contagious." The dim light was reflecting off the man's glasses, making them opaque every time he turned his face.
Benjamin stayed by the bed, his gun hanging by his side. "You- she- mentioned business,"
"Yes. I have a proposal to make." (cough) "It has to do with Hardy Menken."
******
Audrey stared in shock at the three men hauling a fourth into the living room and dropping him on the sofa. Jesús looked up at her, eyes pleading.
"Help me, I have been shot."
"Wendell!"
"Take it easy, Aud, it's just a flesh wound."
Her look was molten. "Flesh wound? I don't care if it's flesh, blood, brain, and bone! Get him off my sofa and out of this house!"
"Calm down, calm down." Wendell pressed the air between them with his palms. "This is Jesús, we- rescued him. Right, guys?"
Murmurs from Jerome and Fletcher.
"There was an incident at the place we went to . . . a- uhm, kind of uh, shoot out."
The molten look cooled slightly, and Audrey went to the TV switching it on.
"Time for one of your serials, Aud" Jerome ventured, his grin strained.
"News, Jerome. Let's see about this shoot out." The delivery had Jerome putting on his sunglasses.
"It probably isn't news yet, Aud. We just-"
The serious face of Marilyn the news anchor filled the screen, her voice miming the gravity deemed necessary for the story she was speaking about, to on the scene reporter, Tod Stemmer.
"Tod, what can you tell us about this horrendous happening at The Metro Club, one of the city's clubs famous for being the home of crime boss Hardy Menken, who we have just learned was ruthlessly shot down with a number of his men, and several others, purportedly from Brazil, who just recently arrived in this country."
"Not a lot more," Replied a miffed Tod. "Police are being tight-lipped about things until they have investigated further."
"Thanks, Tod. Tod Stemmer from the scene of this massacre that occurred earlier today involving crime boss-"
Audrey snapped off the TV and glowered at the group.
"May we sit down and explain?" Fletcher tilted his head, smiling sheepishly.
"This better be good." She flopped into a chair, crossed her legs and arms, and waited.
The others found seats in a sort of semicircle in front of her.
"What about me? I've been wounded!" Jesús complained.
"Can it, unless you want another one." Jerome flashed the pink gun, then gave it back to Audrey. "Don't need it any more, Aud . . . thanks."
YOU ARE READING
GUMSHOES
ActionAfter the unfortunate demise of his police detective father, Wendell Dankworth and his friend Jerome Weeble take up the roles of private investigators and begin a search for the criminals responsible. Their inexperience and bumbling leads them into...
