Murder in the Magic City: A Micah Brantley Story by G.P. Sorrells (ebook reader computer TXT) 📗

murder, knew why it may have happened even though you set it up to look like a murder-suicide. We even had the Medical Examiner try to push him off the trail. It didn’t work. The guy found out about an unsanctioned cremation a couple weeks back where the only person in the building had been assaulted by an unknown assailant. Not only that, but they found part of a titanium knee in some receptacle near that bastard’s ashes. This guy digs deep.”

“Motherfucker.”

“My thoughts exactly. This detective gets notified of the cremation incident, thinks it’s odd, and investigates how it might connect to the other recent murders in the area.

“And missing persons. It may not have even mattered if I killed the other guy, they still might’ve found this.”

“You’re right. We’d probably be talking about this a few days from now instead of today. The ironic thing about it all is that we could have avoided it if that gimp had just gotten arthritis meds instead of a knee replacement.”

“Or if I didn’t toss him in the furnace,” Micah said, disappointed. He had long prided himself on his attention to detail. On never making the silly mistakes that had the chance to ruin lives. The blunders which risked tearing the veil off the otherwise carefully crafted façade he had spent years perfecting. He wanted to punch something, to release some frustration, but he kept his anger bottled.

Castillo laughed. “Nah, amigo. I consider that a bit of poetic justice. Besides, though things may look grim, we aren’t without options.

Micah’s head perked up like a puppy who just heard their cookie jar open.

“All you need to do is take care of him. Make sure that he’s out of the picture, clean up your act going forward, and you’re free to work without constantly looking over your shoulder.”

“He’s got to be expecting that. If I were that guy, I’d be on edge. Trusting no one.”

“Perhaps, but I’ve got a way to get him to come right to us,” Castillo said. He pulled out his phone and fiddled with an application Micah didn’t recognize. A moment later he had the device to his ear and appeared to be waiting for it to ring. “Yes, Detective Osteen, is it? My name is Jimmy Castillo, I imagine you’ve heard of me. Good. I have some information that should prove useful to your investigation. Which one? Let’s just say I can help you tie up some loose ends on a few cases. See how the puzzle pieces fit together. Meet me at the junkyard on 49th street in Hialeah. Yes, that’s the one. I trust it’s unnecessary to tell you how imperative it is that you come alone. Excellent. I’ll see you soon, Detective.” He hung up the phone with a thin smile and placed it on the table.

“That was unnerving.”

“Your life is now in your hands,” Castillo said, studying the man before him. “A thank you would be nice.”

Chapter 34

Every single part about the current situation felt wrong to Osteen. He had just spoken on the phone with one of the most wanted men in the country, Jimmy Castillo, as though the two went way back. How Castillo had gotten his personal number was a concern for another day. Osteen now found himself on his way to a random junkyard to, allegedly, find out previously unknown information about the murders he had been looking into. The chance for vindication superseded the sense of apprehension that permeated throughout him.

He sat at his desk, his body rigid, staring forward. The conversation replayed in his mind, but it lost clarity as the seconds ticked by. Eventually, the words existed as nothing more than an amalgamation of something vaguely resembling coherent thought. Logic told him it was a trap. That he needed to have some backup with him, even if from a distance. Curiosity pushed him closer toward action.

Vivian approached Osteen’s desk and stared at him quizzically. He appeared lost in a near trance-like state. “You all right, Dan?” When he continued to stare straight ahead, oblivious to her question, as though the only thing in the world that mattered was getting a precise count of the little squares on the window into their shared office, she snapped her fingers. “Dan!”

Osteen shook his head, looking up at Vivian, dumbfounded. “Sorry, Viv. Didn’t see you there.”

“Yea, I, uh, kinda got the hint.”

“Look, I’ve got to, uh, head out for a bit.”

“Need some company? I’ve got nothing going now. Just tidying up some files later, but that won’t take long.”

Osteen wanted to say yes, but there wasn’t much he could say without arousing suspicion. That and Vivian would lambast him for walking into a trap. “Thanks, but no. This is something I’ve got to take care of myself.”

“Suit yourself,” Vivian said, shrugging. “Pick me up a coffee on your way back.”

“Will do,” Osteen replied. He felt hollow in agreeing with such a simple request. A feint sense of dread welled up in the pit of his stomach. Part of him assumed he wouldn’t be coming back. Made him want to tell her to get her own coffee. It would be quicker. But a larger part chided him for being silly, worrying about something that likely wouldn’t come to pass.

Osteen stood up awkwardly, using the edge of the desk for support as though his bones had suddenly become too weak to hold his weight. He took a deep breath in, exhaled, and walked out of the office.

“See you soon, Dan,” Vivian said to his shadow.

Chapter 35

Castillo sat on a faux leather chair at Henderson’s Storage Facility, biding his time as he waited for Osteen to arrive. The hind legs of the chair supported the bulk of his weight as he propped it against the small shack that served as an office building. Above him was a sign with a poorly drawn cartoon mechanic informing prospective customers that ‘if they could pull it, they could buy it.’ Castillo wondered how