Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #1: Books 1-4 (A Dead Cold Box Set) by Blake Banner (top 5 ebook reader .txt) 📗

Dehan was looking at me. Her cheeks were colored, and her eyes were bright. She pointed at Kirk and said, “This motherfucker was a cop?”

I gave my head a very small shake. “You want to wait outside?”

“No.”

She caught my unspoken answer, then shut up and sighed. I turned back to Kirk. “Yeah, Vincenzo is a real Thomas Jefferson. So what happened?”

“Nelson was out of his fucking mind. I think he was a goddamn psychopath or a sociopath, or both. Plus he was doing blow like there was no tomorrow, and that was making him more paranoid and crazy. He thought he was God or something. So he tells Pro to go fuck himself. And then he tells Mick the same thing. Mick comes around for his…” He hesitated over the word, then said, “dues… you know? His dues, and Nelson tells him to go fuck himself. He don’t need Mick no more and he ain’t paying him.”

“How’d he figure that?”

“He said he’d been talking to the Sureños. They also call themselves the Ángeles de Satanás, like the Hells Angels, only Mexican.”

“Yeah, we know.”

“Sure you do. The whole Latino population of the Bronx is either in the gang or has family in the gang. So if they got behind Nelson, he was untouchable, know what I’m saying? So he says to Mick that he’s talking to the Ángeles, and now Mick and Vincenzo got a problem.”

Dehan asked, “So he stopped paying Mick.”

“Yeah.”

“So, he made enemies of just about everybody he could make enemies of.”

Kirk looked at her and nodded. “You could say that.”

“I don’t understand something, Kirk,” I said. “Mick had every reason to want Nelson dead. But when Vincenzo asks him to set Nelson up, instead of doing that, he sets Vincenzo up. Twice. Why would he do that?”

Kirk shrugged. “You’re asking me, pal. He used me. I ran errands for him. But he never confided in me. He played his cards close to his chest. Maybe he was looking to start a war between rival gangs…”

“Or he wanted to make the hit himself so he could take Nelson’s stash,” said Dehan.

Kirk nodded. “That’s very possible.”

I asked, “Where were you the Night Nelson got killed?”

“I was off duty. I was sick. And before you ask, I have no idea where Mick was that night. We didn’t socialize.”

I drained my beer and stood. I thought for a moment. “What about the Chinese? Did Mick have any contact with the Triads?”

To my surprise, Kirk nodded. “Yeah, sure. They were looking to move in to the Bronx. They wanted Mick to smooth the way. He told them no, it wasn’t just the Mob they’d be dealing with—Nelson was getting pretty powerful, and so were the Mexicans.”

“There was talk that a Triad hit squad was seen that night. You know anything about that?”

“Like I said, it could be that Mick was trying to start a gang war on Mexican turf.”

“Why would he want to do that?” Dehan said.

“So while everyone is pinning Nelson’s death on everybody else,” I said, “Mick quietly retires with Nelson’s money.”

Kirk nodded. “It’s possible.”

“Okay. Make yourself available, Kirk. This is an official investigation. It is in your interest to collaborate. You understand what I’m saying to you?”

He went pale and nodded, then said, “There is one other thing. I can’t prove this, but I got the impression Nelson wasn’t only pissing off the Mob and the Chinks. I think he pissed off the Sureños too.”

“How so?” It was Dehan.

“He was talking out of turn, man. He was making claims about how they was gonna back him up, like his personal army. But I don’t think that was true. And I think they was getting pissed at him.”

Dehan snorted. “What a dick.” She drained her beer, and we left.

Five

We approached the Jaguar as a small UPS Transit pulled up. While we’d been inside, heavy clouds had moved in from the Atlantic. Dehan was saying, “All roads lead to Mick Harragan.”

I nodded and watched the driver climb out of the van with a parcel. He had a barcode reader around his neck, and he made his way across the lawn to Kirk’s house. I noticed absently that he looked Chinese. He skipped up the porch steps and rang the bell. “What’s this?” I said.

Dehan watched. It was hard to see in the failing light under the shadow of the porch. The door opened and they seemed to talk for a moment. I thought I heard a cough or Kirk clear his throat. Then the UPS guy came down the steps without the packet, looking at his barcode scanner.

I squinted at the house. I wasn’t sure. “The damn door is still open…”

There was a bleep. The courier was walking quickly around the hood of his van. Suddenly, Dehan moved like somebody had put a Carolina reaper up her ass. She was as fast and silent as a viper. I scrambled after her and came around the back of the Transit just as he was reaching for the door. Dehan had her weapon in her hands and shouted, “Freeze!”

He didn’t. He was fast. He jumped and lashed out and knocked the .38 from her hand with a kick. As he landed, he reached for the door again, but she kicked it shut and he turned and made off down the road. She sprinted after him, and I went after her. They were both getting away from me, so I went back and got the Jag, which was faster than both of them.

I hit the gas hard. As I approached, I saw him turn and pull a gun. It had a silencer attached. I felt my heart pound once. I screamed, “Duck!” even though nobody could hear me and floored the pedal. He