Rick Cantelli, P.I. (Rick Cantelli, P.I. Detectives Book 1) Read online

Lois and Shelly stomped over to the table and sat down.

  Lois pointed the finger of fate at me. “You gave me your word.”

  “I have not slept with your sister since the night of the Grammys, just as I promised.”

  I smiled at Lois as my literal word ploy stabbed her right between the eyes, causing a familiar knitted brow of hell to appear. “Damn you, Cantelli!”

  Shelly is staring death rays at me too as if I were cheating on her. “I’m on vacation. What the hell is this all about, Lo?”

  “Steve’s missing. The three of us were holding down the fort. I can’t reach anyone else, not that I’d trust them in a situation like this anyway. I took a simple watch and follow on a couple’s seventeen year old daughter, Rayna. They suspected she was banging a thug living over on West Yanonali. I have an OnStar track on Steve’s vehicle. It’s there, but he ain’t answering. I had the PD do a drive by. They spotted his car too, but no one around. If I had anyone else but your fornicating ass, I wouldn’t be here. Are you coherent enough to do me any good?”

  Like I said, we’re family. Steve Ramirez is family. I headed inside. “Five minutes.”

  I took a shower, shoved into jeans, boots, black t-shirt, and my black, light leather jacket. The inside of it keeps my extra gear for a hoedown within an instant’s reach. I slipped my clip on, quick access holster with Ruger 9 mil. I met Lois out by her Chrysler 300 in the four minute, fifty second range. I pointed at Shelly.

  “If we’re going to the dance, why’d you bring the snowflake along?”

  Shelly gasped, but Lois gave me a hand wave, and answered immediately. “She was worried about Steve, and I didn’t have time to explain.”

  Lois patted her shoulder. “Call a cab, Shell. We’ll see you on the other side.”

  “What! Listen, Lo… I can-”

  Lois made her Jeopardy wrong answer buzzer noise I’m so fond of while getting in the driver’s seat. “Sorry, kid, but Rick’s right. I’ll phone the moment I have news.”

  I’d already jumped into the passenger side seat. Lois sped away leaving Shelly gawking after us like a fish in an aquarium. That’ll cost us later, but we don’t go blind into an unknown scene with amateurs. They make great witnesses for the prosecution.

  Lois glanced over at me. “Don’t think I’m forgetting that stunt you pulled with Sister Skank.”

  I shrug. “We get Steve back in one piece, play catch-up on the missing girl, and go get some depending on Steve’s condition – then we can deal with all your alternate reality Daddy issues.”

  Lois cackled. “If you help me get all that done without us spending time in the gray bar hotel, I’ll give you the skank.”

  Oh, I’m so getting some right now on the way to geezer adventure land. “Naaaa… that’s run its course. She’s too clingy.”

  Lois nearly had to pull off the road, trying not to snort, cackle, and pop our way into oncoming traffic. She makes the mistake of continuing along our light hearted death talk aversion therapy path. “I’ll trade you Shell for the skank, but it’ll cost you.”

  Bingo. “No thanks, Lo. Too naïve. I’ll call Stacy. She’s a seasoned pro.”

  I meet the famous Gorgon stare at the next stop light with innocent candor. I can tell mentioning my old flame was the right knife out of my cutlery drawer. The light turns green, and Lois shakes her head before speeding off.

  “Good one, Cantelli… you prick.”

  Back to business. “Did you bring something good for the party?”

  “Concussion grenade.”

  Oh yeah. “You sure know how to show a guy a good time, Lo.”

  We arrive near Steve’s GMC Terrain five minutes later. Lois drives around the block and back down as we scope out movement and pedestrian traffic. There isn’t any so she parks behind the GMC. It’s a company vehicle and Lo uses the spare remote to unlock it. She takes the driver’s side and I go in passenger side rear. I hear the groan immediately coming from the small SUV’s rear luggage compartment. A moment later we’re both standing in front of the open hatch, relieved as hell.

  Steve’s a bloody mess, but I can tell right away he’s not near death. They beat the crap out of him. I have my knife out, cutting away the duct tape they bound him hand and foot in. Lois works the face, trying to ease the duct tape off his mouth carefully until she can tell if his jaw’s broken. It’s not, but he’ll need a dentist. Our guy’s safe, so we take our time working him over after we get him sitting upright on the tailgate. We minister to the obvious wounds with wipes and our first aid kit, while Lois shushes him whenever he tries to speak. I finish the inspection and cleanup, making sure he’s not in danger from a rib puncturing a lung. When Lois gets my nod to go on, she folds her arms over her chest.

  “You know of course, cupcake, this episode puts you on alarm install until Rick and I are dead, right?”

  Steve ain’t havin’ any. He’s a tough kid. “Tell somebody that gives a shit… you old doorstop. You wouldn’t have some Vicodin in the kit, would you, Rick?”

  I already had two in my hand. I turn his battered hand palm side up and put them on it, while Lois cackles over Steve’s retort. I lift an already open bottled water. “I wish I knew how you could wash them down without this water hitting some of those nerve endings in your mouth.”

  Steve grimaces while taking the water. “Me too.”

  He chokes down the medicinal pain killers, his face contorting as cool water rushes around into all those bad places inside his injured mouth. We help him into the front seat of the 300, and lock up the Terrain. Fifteen minutes pass as we wait for the first soothing Vicodin relief to kick in before we start questioning him. No, we didn’t call ambulances, cops, or rush him ourselves to the nearest hospital. Yes, he could have a concussion, fractures, or hidden problems, but we had a client’s seventeen year old daughter in with bad people.

  “Just the Reader’s Digest version, kid,” Lois states, turning Steve’s head toward her, where she could look in his eyes. “That clown didn’t live at the address our client gave us, huh?”

  Steve shook his head no. “I followed Rayna from school. That Rolando Carlos guy picked her up and took her to a place on Castillo for a few moments. He then took her to another house on Bath Street. There were about half a dozen goons outside a one story partying under a palm tree with some girl hangers on. The punk parked, took Rayna over, and started partying. I took pictures and video. One of the regular girls got into it with Rayna. She started slapping her around while Carlos and his friends laughed. I went to intervene without using my head, except for a punching bag. I was in and out while one of them drove me to where you found me. I heard them say something about checking back later tonight. They know the GMC can get tracked.”

  Steve wiped a shaky hand over his face. “Damn… they got everything I had on me: ID’s, camera, gun, Mace, iPhone, and about fifty bucks. I remembered we don’t carry credit cards on jobs, Lo. That counts for something… right?”

  Lois patted his cheek. “You’re just the cutest thing. You want a piece?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  “Okay, we’re going over to the first place. Rick and I will knock on the door and find out if Rolando came home. We’ll wing it from there. You stay put no matter what. If there’s one scratch on my 300, I’ll make you wish you’d died over at thug-o-rama.”

  Steve nodded sheepishly. “I’ll direct you.”

  We get over there, ID the right place, and drive around the block, stopping six houses down. Lois turns to Steve. “Can you drive, Steve?”

  “You bet.”

  “Drive us to the front, circle around, and wait right here until I call you.”

  I hand Steve my phone. He switches places with Lois, looking better than he did, but still gimping. Can’t be helped or we’ll have to alter the plan with only one of us going in. That gets touchy. Lois hands me a black nylon mask and black Nitrile gloves from one of the bags she retrieved from the trunk before getting into the passenger side. Steve st
ops in front of Carlos’s first stop from earlier in the day. Lois and I stride to the door like a couple of smiling Watchtower people. I test the door with my already gloved hand. It’s locked. Lois hands me my tools, we put on the masks, and I open the door. A middle aged woman’s watching TV in the living room. Lois is at her throat with a nine inch blade before she can even focus on us. Lois makes a shushing gesture at her lips which the woman reacts to with a violently affirmative head shake.

  I go rapidly from room to room, Taser gun in one hand, and Lois’s phone with small bag in my other hand. Rolando’s picture is on the phone screen. The house is empty except for sleeping beauty passed out in a cluttered room smelling of stank and despair. He ain’t seen anything yet. I go to work on him. I stay away from his face, but his wild eyes, and grunts of pain, indicate I’m communicating. After a few last satisfying crunches indicate rib fractures, and a final right hand smash to the part that ain’t ever touching Rayna again, I’m ready for info gathering. A bitch slap that nearly dislocates his jaw gets him focused.

  “Can you hear me now?”

  Rolando’s head bobs up and down from his fetal position.

  “I’m going to ask you a few questions, RC. Answer them correctly, and I’ll just duct tape your ass. Play me, and I won’t have to tie you up, because you won’t ever answer anyone’s questions again. You feel me?”

  Agreeable head nod with attitude.

  “The guy you and your friends worked over earlier – do you have his gear?”

  Another nod. “Top… drawer… dresser.”

  I back over to the dresser with the Taser pointed at him. Steve’s stuff is jammed in there on top of RC’s trash. I take inventory. Money’s missing. Steve’s ID’s, GMC keys, camera, stun-gun, Mace, and Glock are there along with his iPhone. I jam it all in my own small bag. “Excellent so far, RC. At your friends’ house, did you leave Rayna there?”

  Another nod.

  “Couple more questions and you live to be a worthless piece of shit for another day. What kind of house is that you guys party at? Any family there or just you homeboys?”

  “Just us… we use it as a crash pad.”

  “Were your friends wasted when you left?”

  RC hesitates.

  “Oh yeah, RC. Please don’t answer… please. What fun we’ll have then.”

  “They’re wasted man! Half of them were passed out already when I left.”

  “Roll over on your belly, hands behind your back.”

  RC did as told. I used the duct tape out of my bag to cinch him into a position I wanted, hands together, feet together, and a few loops joining both. I put a big piece over his mouth before getting down eyeball to eyeball with him. “You understand of course if you ever get seen anywhere around the people you’ve beaten up, dated, or any other person they know, I will make a return visit, and you and I will go to the desert. I’m a pro, and you and your buddies are on my radar. I’ll make sure you last three days trying to die. We clear?”

  Frantic head nod. I took out my sap. You have to be careful with a good professional sap like I had. Otherwise, about the only thing the one you sap will be able to do is maybe chew food. I’m real careful, and RC will eventually awaken in great discomfort. I go out to Lois. She’s done a kinder wrapping of RC’s Mom or whatever to a kitchen chair. I gesture with my bag, and she texts Steve. We pull off our masks out of sight before going out to meet with Steve. He drives in front, gets out stiffly for Lois to take over driving, and gets in the passenger seat. I go into the back with our plunder.

  I hand Steve his things back. “Lover boy left the girl with his friends. They’re wasted. I say we go in hard, Lo. Spray ‘em down, light ‘em up, and find Rayna.”

  Lois nods with a smile. “Simple and yet elegant. Once we get the girl out the door though, I get to toss in the party favor, right?”

  “Of course. We just need to make sure you have a spot to toss it where it won’t land on one of them.”

  “Damn, Rick… you never used to be this much of a pussy.”

  Lois and I crack up together at her line while Steve is eyeballing each of us with quiet speculation. Like I said, Steve’s a tough kid. We get near the place, and Steve takes over the driving chores once again. The Watchtower duo again make a gloved handed approach, only when I check the door, it’s unlocked. We put on masks and goggles this time. We enter and spray everyone we find. A couple are playing video games. One comes out of the back bedroom, reaching groggily for a weapon under his shirt. Lois uses the nightstick stunner on him while I shoot past into the other rooms. I find Rayna huddled against a dresser after I dose two couples on the way, much to their dismay. I pick Rayna up off the floor and hustle her out.

  “Stay quiet!” She obeys me, her eyes tearing. Rayna gags from the residual fumes all over the place.

  Lois is already lighting up the ones in the front rooms, and I can tell she’s remembering how we found Steve. I leave Rayna with her, and return to the back rooms in order to do a couple oil changes on Steve’s other beaters before we leave. We then head out the door with Rayna. Lo hangs back for a moment and tosses in the entertainment before shutting the door. The concussion grenade goes off accompanied by screams. I blindfold Rayna. We slip off our masks, and Steve joins us a moment later. Lois drives again with Steve in the front, and me with Rayna in the back. I soak a towel from my bag down with water and press it to her face.

  “Take this and keep it pressed to your face.” She does as she’s told. We’re a block from her house fifteen minutes of silent driving later. I help her out. “You’re a block away from home. Count to fifty before you take the blindfold off. I better not see you move that towel before we’re out of sight.”

  “You… you won’t!”

  I watch Rayna. She doesn’t move until I can’t see her anymore. Lois headed for our local Doc’s house on retainer for just this kind of thing. Then it was just a matter of staying with Steve until we could get him home. Our Doc could only do some stop gap measures until we could get Steve in to see his dentist, but he patched the rest of him as best he could after a few x-rays. We bought his pain meds and headed for his house at nearly ten at night. His wife wasn’t too happy with us, but by then Steve was feeling pretty good. Lois leaves me off back at the GMC, so I can take it home with me.

  “We’re too damn old for this, partner,” Lois informs me through the open passenger side window.

  I pointed an accusing finger at her. “Says you. I saw the way you were changing spark plugs in the living room at thug central. You were smiling… and then the grenade… oh my… you are a monster.”

  Lois cackled. “Take a lesson. Stay away from my sister, and that knee pad expert from your past, or I may have to do a 60,000 mile maintenance on your ass in the middle of the night.”

  “Sure, partner, anything you say.” Oh boy, Lo. Wait until you find out where I’m headed right now.

  The brakes screech to a halt again. Lois yells out her window. “I’m tracking the GMC, bright boy.”

  She cackles and waves. Damn it!

  Chapter 5: Workouts

  I knew they’d be pissed. I wanted to pretend I was winded and dragging ass, but what the hell, let’s screw with the instigators. I nailed the workout sets they were doing with easy expertise. I’d been working out with my Jillian Michaels’ disc for a very long time. I don’t share my personal triumphs, so Lois and Shelly are eyeballing me with blatant hatred.

  The leader of our physical torture session known as aerobics was a five foot seven inch auburn haired beauty. She smiled at me, sized me up, thought what she thought and ambled into the midst of us. With her surrogates in front of the class leading, our exercise leader meandered through the ranks, issuing scathing diminishment according to performance. Her name is Jadie Wentworth.

  I’m too big and old to ask for dispensation for my faux pas of not pretending to be an old derelict, ambulatory nothing. I kept pace easily through the escalating, torturous warm-ups. My companions eyebal
led me with a ‘Johnny Come Lately’ attitude even though they demanded I accompany them to this life saving, heaven sent bouquet of bliss. I grinned through their panting, sweating journey to enlightenment. Lois was beginning to get that sneer of defeat she gets when contemplating revenge for a later time. Shelly, on the other hand, grunted her way through each physical parley into exhaustion with beady eyed contemplation of doom.

  I was in heaven. I smiled. I chuckled. I flirted with the magnificent Jadie. All the while I fed off of my companions’ despair, loathing, and despondency. And all too soon the forty-five minute workout was over, leaving me with the dregs of what had been a glorious moment in Rick Cantelli land.

  Lois broke the heaving aftermath of exertion first. “You’re toast, Cantelli. I will burn your black soul in the fires of hell!”

  “Hey! May I remind you two figs I stated I never wanted to attend in the first place? You two blatantly used my good nature to make me join you in this endeavor for the express purpose of laughing at me. Well, the bill’s come due. The wrong meat got barbequed. Boo hoo.”

  Lois chuckled. She’s a good sport when the tables get turned. Her doctor recommended this goofy class for her back rehab, and to keep her stretched out. Her husband Frank wanted nothing to do with it. Our secretary Shelly immediately volunteered when Lois mentioned the class, professing a need to get back in shape. Then Lois went to work on me. I knew it was a setup, but I also knew something they didn’t – I’m in shape. I may be nearing sixty, but in my line of work, if I want to keep doing it, it’s a bad idea to turn into a couch potato. Shelly is a wet dishrag, her workout clothes soaked in sweat. Lois is only marginally better.

  Shelly’s not in the mood for forgive and forget. I’ve noticed that about her lately. “I hate you, Rick!”

  “It’s my fault, Shell,” Lois admitted, giving me a slap to the back of my grinning head. “Cantelli’s the one supposed to be dyin’ here, drenched in sweat. He’s never worked out since he left the Navy Seals as far as I know. The prick’s been holding out on me.”