Lady Justice and the Evil Twin Page 5

  Viktor parked across from the lounge and watched until the last customer staggered into the street. He timed his approach just as Valenti was turning the open sign to closed.

  “Hey, Nick!” he called. “Hold up a minute.”

  “Walt Williams! What the hell are you doin’ out this time of night?”

  “I was doin’ some surveillance work. I finished up and thought I’d grab a quick one before I headed home. Am I too late?”

  “Never too late for a friend of Carmine’s. Come on in. What can I get you?”

  Viktor pulled his gun. “Just the cash, Nick.”

  “Come on, Walt. Is this some kind of joke? If so, it’s not funny.”

  “Believe me. It’s no joke. Now get me that cash.”

  “Okay, but when Carmine hears about this, he’s gonna be really pissed. He’ll hunt you down like a dog.”

  “He’s gonna be even more pissed when he finds out his old friend is dead.”

  “What? No!”

  Two shots rang out and Nick fell to the floor.

  Viktor picked up the bag of cash, took a bottle of Vodka from behind the bar, and slipped into the night.

  The morning after my surgery, I crawled out of bed, removed the eye patch I’d been instructed to wear, and looked around the room.

  “Holy crap!”

  My cry startled Maggie who was still snoozing. “Walt! Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Then what’s with the outburst?”

  “Our curtains! They’re white! I always thought they were tan.”

  “That’s good to hear. Now go into the bathroom and see if your aim has improved.”

  Actually, it didn’t, but I destroyed the evidence.

  We were having breakfast when the phone rang. It was Carmine Marchetti.

  “Walt, can you come to my office? We need to talk.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “The Russian guy, Viktor Kozlov, hit the Rat Pack last night. Nick is dead.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  Maggie overheard our conversation. “Walt, you’re not supposed to drive yet.”

  I blinked my eyes a few times “I’m fine. I’ll be okay.”

  On the way to Carmine’s office, I thought about the Rat Pack Lounge. In keeping with its name, the walls were filled with photos of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr., Joey Bishop, and Peter Lawford. New York, New York, That’s Amore, and the other iconic classics were constantly being played in the background.

  I met Nick Valenti when Carmine was on trial for murdering Jack Carson, the reporter who was researching a story on the chemtrail conspiracy. The prosecuting attorney had subpoenaed Nick, and on the witness stand, forced him to admit that illegal gambling was taking place in the V.I.P. room. I knew Nick and Carmine were pals. This wasn’t going to be a pleasant meeting.

  Even though I had been in Carmine’s office multiple times, I was still frisked by Vito before I could go in. The man takes his job very seriously.

  Carmine’s eyes were red, and grief was written all over his face.

  “Carmine, I’m so sorry about Nick. I know you were close.”

  “Thanks, Walt. We were like brothers. He’s been with me from the very beginning.”

  “What happened?”

  “I’ll show you,” he said, turning his computer so I could see the screen. “This is the video from the surveillance camera.”

  I watched stunned, as the horrible scene played on the screen. The man who was my double had taken the life of the don’s good friend.

  Carmine dabbed a tear. “Nick thought it was you. He let the guy in as a favor to me. How can I live with that?”

  “Carmine, this isn’t your fault. I almost lost someone dear to me because of this guy.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  I told him about Mary’s narrow escape.

  “I guess that explains the bandage on the guy’s hand. Good for her. I wish she’d have landed the one on his head. Then Nick wouldn’t be dead. What tipped her off that it wasn’t you?”

  “All my friends and family have a code word, snickerdoodles. The Russian didn’t know the code word, so Mary whacked him. I think that might be a good idea for you. Pass the word throughout your organization that any time they see someone who looks like me, to ask for the code word.”

  “Snickerdoodles, huh? Who came up with that?”

  “Bernice. She bakes them all the time.”

  “Is that the old broad who’s humping your dad?”

  “One and the same.”

  “Okay, I’ll pass the word. Somehow we gotta nail this bastard. Any ideas?”

  “I’ve been racking my brain, believe me, but I haven’t come up with anything yet. If you think of something --- anything --- I’m in. Also, if you’re going to have a service for Nick, let me know. Maggie and I would want to attend to pay our respects.”

  “Of course. I like you, Walt. You’re a stand-up guy.”

  CHAPTER 10

  “Good job!” Ivan said, smiling, as he counted the cash from the Rat Pack Lounge. “What about Valenti?”

  “Dead as a doornail. He thought I was Williams and invited me right inside.”

  “Excellent, that sets up your next assignment. Since Marchetti and Valenti were pals, I have no doubt that Carmine will have a service for his old friend. Undoubtedly, his whole organization will turn out to pay their respects. It’s the perfect time to end this once and for all.”

  “But boss,” Viktor said, skeptically, “everyone of those guys will be armed to the teeth. Do we have enough manpower for an operation like that?”

  “All we need is one guy --- you.”

  “I’m good, but I don’t know that I’m good enough to take on the whole Italian mob.”

  “You won’t have to. All it will take is one well-placed bomb. After the funeral, there will probably be a graveside service. They always dig the hole the day before and cover it with artificial grass carpet. You’ll go in the night before and plant the bomb in the grave. The next day, when all Carmine’s boys are gathered around the casket weeping, you dial a number and ‘BOOM’, it’s all over.”

  “You’re brilliant, boss.”

  “That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”

  Two days later, I received a call from Carmine. Nick’s funeral was scheduled for the next day at St. Catherine’s Catholic Church. Burial would be at the Elmwood Cemetery on Truman Road.

  I thanked Carmine, but after hanging up, I got to thinking about the last funeral I attended.

  A prominent member of a group who were proponents of a theory that suggested the U.S. had been lying to the American people about our space program, was brutally murdered.

  An assassin, bent on silencing the troublesome group, planted a bomb in the grave of the deceased member, hoping to eradicate the group with one big bang. The bomb went off all right, but the only casualty was the assassin himself.

  It occurred to me that the current scenario was identical to the last one. If the Russians goal was to eliminate the Italian mob and take over their territory, what better place than Nick’s graveside service? Carmine and his entire entourage would be gathered around the grave.

  I called Carmine and shared what I’d been thinking.

  When I finished, there was a long silence. Then, “You know what, gumshoe? You just might be right. I’ll send a man to Elmwood early tomorrow morning, before the service, to check out the grave. Thanks for the tip.”

  St. Catherine’s church was packed. Either through fear or respect, every Italian in Kansas City had turned out to mourn the passing of Nick Valenti.

  After the service, as Maggie and I were going through the reception line, Carmine pulled me aside.

  “You were right on, gumshoe. My guy found a bomb in the grave. It had a cell phone trigger. He got rid of it, but the Russians don’t know that. One of ‘em is gonna be close by to call the number when we’re all gathered around the cask
et. My guys will have every exit covered. When the bomb doesn’t go off, he’ll high-tail it out of there. When he does, we’ll get him. He’ll rue the day he messed with Carmine Marchetti.”

  Viktor had parked far enough away from the grave site not to be noticed, but close enough to see when everyone had gathered.

  He watched the long procession of cars file into the cemetery and disgorge the black-clad mourners.

  It wasn’t difficult to tell which one was Carmine Marchetti. Everyone stepped aside in deference to the don.

  After the crowd had settled in, he saw the priest step forward. This was the moment. With trembling hands, he dialed the number Ivan had given him. He held his breath in anticipation of the thunderous explosion, but it didn’t come.

  “I’m sure I dialed it right,” he muttered. “I’ll do it again.”

  He dialed a second time with the same result.

  “Damn!” he said, tossing the phone on the passenger seat.

  Either the bomb had malfunctioned or someone had found it. Either way, he had to get out of there before he was spotted.

  He started the car and headed to the nearest exit. Bile rose in his throat when he saw the gate blocked by an SUV and two armed men. He slammed on his brakes, made a hasty u-turn, and headed for the far exit, only to find the same situation.

  “They know!” he muttered through clenched teeth.

  He looked around, and in desperation, made a decision. He took off across the cemetery grounds, dodging headstones, and headed for the chain link fence that enclosed the cemetery.

  He closed his eyes and pushed the accelerator to the floor. He hit the fence at sixty miles an hour. The impact threw him forward, but the fence buckled, and minutes later he was speeding down Truman Road to safety.

  The priest had just begun to speak when we heard a commotion on the road. A car was heading to the exit, but stopped, made a u-turn and headed the other way.

  Carmine pumped his fist. “We got the Russian s.o.b.!”

  Moments later, we watched in astonishment as the car careened through the cemetery, barely missing the gravestones.

  Mouths dropped open as the car accelerated and smashed into the chain link fence.

  Carmine’s shoulders slumped as we watched our quarry speed away.

  CHAPTER 11

  The next day, I received a call from Detective Blaylock.

  “Walt, I’m hearing rumors about the deaths of two of Carmine Marchetti’s men, Nick Valenti and Vinnie Pastori. I know you’re tight with the old man. What can you tell me?”

  I was between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand, I wanted to be straight with Blaylock, but on the other, I didn’t want to betray Carmine’s trust.

  “What rumors have you heard?”

  “That Carmine’s men were taken out by the same guy who shot the Shop-N-Go clerk. Any truth to that?”

  “What if there was? What would you do?”

  “Look, I’m not going to get into Carmine’s business. I know he would never go to the cops for help with something like this. I just need to keep up to date on what’s happening in my city. The last thing I want is a gang war between the Italians and the Russians. Innocent people always wind up dead.”

  “Okay then. Yes, it was Viktor Kozlov. He shot both Nick and Vinnie, but Carmine isn’t stupid. He’s a businessman, and he knows an all-out war is bad for business. Bottom line, he wants Kozlov as much as you do. The Russian actually planted a bomb in Nick Valenti’s grave. Thankfully, one of Carmine’s men found it. We almost had him, but Viktor crashed through the fence around Elmwood Cemetery. Check it out. I’m sure the cemetery filed a damage report.”

  “Jesus! You were there?”

  “Maggie and I were both there. If you’ll recall, Carmine saved both of our lives.”

  “I get it, Walt. Just don’t get too cozy with the don. Remember, if you lay down with dogs, you’ll get up with fleas.”

  That was the second time I’d heard that line in recent weeks. Maybe there was something to it.

  “I’ll be careful. If I hear anything about Kozlov I’ll let you know. I’d much rather you find him than Carmine.”

  Ivan Sokolov was trying desperately to control his anger.

  “Why am I not reading a headline in the newspaper about an explosion in the Elmwood Cemetery? It was a simple job!”

  “I honestly don’t know,” Viktor replied, shaking his head. “I did everything according to your instructions. The bomb was in place at midnight. When Carmine was just a few feet from the casket, I dialed the number. Nothing happened, so I dialed again. Either the bomb was defective or they found it somehow. I think they found it. Carmine’s men were blocking all the exits. I was lucky to get out of there alive.”

  “I hope you ditched the car. Marchetti will be looking for it.”

  “Of course I did. I left it in a parking garage downtown. What now?”

  “Now you will lay low and stay out of trouble. I will contact you in a few days. I’m beginning to regret I sent for you. You do good work and then you don’t. I have to think.”

  After Ivan left, Viktor thought about his precarious situation. He had to do something to win back Ivan’s confidence, but he wasn’t sure what that would be.

  After a grueling week that included eye surgery, the funeral of Nick Valenti, and a bomb scare, I was ready for a positive experience. I asked Maggie to contact Judy and set up an evening out with my old partner, Ox, and his wife.

  During my five years on the force, Ox and I had grown close, but with my retirement, things just weren’t the same. Instead of being together all day every working day and often on the weekends, we were lucky to have quality time together every couple of weeks. I missed my old friend, but things change. Nevertheless, I knew that he would always be there for me and vice versa.

  We let the girls decide where to dine. That’s usually a mistake. Ox is a Denny’s fan, and I, of course, would always choose Mel’s Diner. Neither of those establishments go over well with our sweeties.

  When it’s left up to them, they usually choose one of those foo-foo places where they pile everything in a stack on your plate, then put a sprig of green stuff in the top.

  Thankfully, on this occasion, they chose a restaurant that made us all happy, The Golden Ox in the old Livestock Exchange Building in the West Bottoms. From 1949 until 2014, the Golden Ox was one of the go-to spots for a juicy steak. The doors closed in 2014, but were re-opened by new owners in 2018.

  My mouth watered in anticipation.

  Ox picked us up in his SUV. I sat in the front with him and the girls sat in the back. While our ladies were chatting about girl stuff, he and I discussed my recent cases. I asked him how things were going with his partner, Amanda Parish. After my retirement, much to his dismay, he learned his new partner was a green recruit, right out of the academy. To make matters worse, she was the daughter of the Police Commissioner. Thankfully, everything worked out. I had seen Amanda in action and she could definitely handle herself much better than I ever could. Strange what a twenty-five-year-old body can do that a seventy-year-old one can’t.

  There is nothing like the aroma of tender steak sizzling on an open fire. The moment we walked in the door, I knew this evening was exactly the tonic I needed to push all the negative stuff out of my mind.

  After being seated, our server brought water, a basket of warm rolls, and our menus. I ordered the 16-ounce Kansas City strip, and Ox ordered the 34-ounce rib eye. The menu said it was enough for two, but I had no doubt that my friend would put away the whole thing. My only disappointment was that they didn’t have Arbor Mist on their wine list.

  After the server left with our orders, Ox turned to me.

  “I hear you had cataract surgery. Tell me about it.”

  I could see that he had more than a passing interest, so I decided to have some fun.

  “Oh my God! It was horrible! I couldn’t eat a thing for two days before the surgery, and they made me do a colon cleanse the day
before. When they sliced my eyeball open, it hurt like hell. You can’t imagine the pain.”

  I saw the color drain from his face. “Jesus! It was really that bad? I had no idea.”

  Maggie punched me in the arm. “Walt! You should be ashamed of yourself. Now tell him the truth.”

  “Oh, okay. It was a piece of cake. Nothing to worry about. Any particular reason why you wanted to know?”

  He let out a sigh of relief. “Walt, that was just cruel. And yes, I had a reason to ask. I may be looking at something like that sooner than later. How did you know it was time?”

  “I almost blew a hole in Mr. Feeney.”

  I told him about the gunfight at the Three Trails. “Thankfully, he just wet his pants. When Kevin saw how bad I’d missed, he made me realize it was time.”

  I had noticed that since we were seated, a woman two tables over from us had been watching us closely. Once, she leaned over and whispered something to her companion which drew his attention to our table as well. She kept staring and then I saw her reach into her purse for her cell phone.

  I lost interest when our server sat platters of sizzling steak in front of us.

  I was about to cut my first bite when I noticed two cops enter the dining room. I had a bad feeling when the woman two tables over stood and pointed at me.

  “That’s him!” she cried out. “That’s the man they showed on the news!”

  The officers drew their weapons and headed our way.

  “You!” one said, waving his weapon in my face, “stand up and put your hands behind your head.”

  I did as I was told, and moments later, I was in cuffs.

  It all happened so quickly, my tablemates just sat there in shock.

  Finally, Ox jumped up. “Whoa! What’s going on here?”

  The officer pointed his gun at my friend. “Sit down or we’ll cuff you too.”

  Ox put up his hands. “Just take it easy. I’m going to reach into my pocket and my wife is going to reach into her purse.”