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

Nelson’s game is, when he’s going to have all his takings from the rackets in the house. He arranges with each of them to turn up and eliminate Nelson, but he is going to go in first, do the job, and take the money.

“But Mick isn’t stupid. He arranges an alibi for himself with Jennifer, and instead, as we discussed before, sends in Kirk with a couple of hit men to do the job for him and take the money and Maria to his place later.”

“Why does Pro want Mick to do the hit first, before the Triads and the Mob turn up?”

She grinned and pointed at me. “Ha! That had me going, but when you think about it, it makes sense. Pro is a gangster, like Mick. And here is the sweet deal. The Mob and the Triads pay Mick into his bank, and Pro gets a cool half million in cash from Nelson. Everybody’s happy. Plus, as a result, war breaks out between the Triads, the Mexicans, and the Mob. How is that an advantage to Pro? Well, ask yourself, how’s that going to play out? Simple, the Triads are out of their territory, so they will withdraw licking their wounds, leaving the Mob and the Mexicans. The Mexicans are on their home turf, but they are disorganized and haven’t got the resources or the experience of the Mob. So they’ll end up running the show but paying tribute to Vincenzo through Pro. Everybody wins and Pro makes a cool half million for his personal retirement fund.”

“I’m impressed. So explain to me what we found today out in the canyon.”

“It comes together nicely. Pro and Mick have arranged beforehand that they will hand over the money at the Palo Duro Canyon, on his way to Mexico. Seen like that, Mick’s drive to the canyon is not a detour from his journey south, but an extension of his journey west.”

“Good.”

“Naturally Pro cannot be directly implicated in this, so he sends a guy to collect the money for him. Mick, being Mick, explains to the guy that he can’t give it to him, because he has banked it and sent it to Belize, and by the way he can kiss his sweet Irish ass. The guy shoots Mick and Maria. But before he dies, Mick shoots the guy, and ten years of rain and heat and coyotes and rats have done the rest.”

She paused and took a long pull on her beer. She was going to wipe the foam from her lip with the back of her hand but stopped and used a napkin. Then grinned. “Naturally, when Pro heard that you had driven out here of all places, he had to come and see what you’d found.”

I thought about it for a while. The steaks came and we ordered two more beers. “So how do we prove this?”

She shook her head. “We have to hand it over to the Feds. There are two states and two countries involved. We need a thorough search of the canyon, searching for bones, weapons, clothes—anything that will show that Mick, Maria, and a third party were there. Because you can guarantee that the car isn’t registered to Mick. The bones and dental records will have to be analyzed. The evidence is going to be all forensic, and we will be very lucky to be able to tie Pro into it. All we’ve got there is conjecture.”

I ate half my steak in silence, thinking. Then I said, “It works for you?”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “It doesn’t work for you?”

“I think it’s a superb piece of reasoning. I can’t fault it. It’s a hell of a piece of work. I’m just asking if your gut tells you you’re satisfied with it.”

She nodded.

“Good. Then tomorrow I’ll talk to the sheriff, and we’ll hand the case over to the bureau.” I raised my glass to her. “Slánta!”

When we’d finished eating, I called the waitress over and asked her for a bottle of tequila, some lemon, and some salt. We kept it quiet, we didn’t question anybody’s Irishness, but we laughed a lot and got pretty silly. We staggered back to the motel at about eleven, softly singing old Bing Crosby songs about not being fenced in, and said good night at her door. We had a moment of silence when I held out my fist, and she punched it gently and said, “Detective John Stone, you are cooler’n all git out, and that ain’t no lie!”

I said, “Good night, pardner.”

And went quickly to my room.

Next day we both had mild hangovers, so we didn’t talk much. I asked her if she would take care of the statement to the Armstrong County sheriff, and I took the SUV back up to Ted in Texola. I stood watching him while he inspected it, muttering to himself about insurance and lost vee-hickles. As I listened to him, I remembered the way he’d been talking last time I saw him. Something that had crossed my mind then began nagging at me again, so I said to him, suddenly, “So she never brought it back, huh?”

“Puts yer premium right up, when you gotta claim fer a whole SUV.”

“Did she pay you extra for driving her back?”

“Can’t complain on the score. She was generous enough with her money. But she was plumb crazy. Hundred bucks seem fair to you, mister?”

I realized he was talking about my rental, and I gave him a hundred and ten. He seemed happy. I asked him, “Was it just the once, or has it happened since?”

He scratched his head under his baseball cap and looked like he’d never really thought about it like that before. “No, just the once. But that’s enough, ain’it?”

“Once is enough. What was that, ten years ago?”

“Got to be all of ten year, now.”

“Pretty little