A Stolen Season (19 page)

Read A Stolen Season Online

Authors: Steve Hamilton

Tags: #Drug Traffic, #Private Investigators - Michigan - Upper Peninsula, #Upper Peninsula (Mich.), #Mystery & Detective, #Smuggling, #Hard-Boiled, #General, #Mystery Fiction, #Suspense, #McKnight; Alex (Fictitious Character), #Fiction

BOOK: A Stolen Season
10.54Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Buck had built a sweat lodge in his back yard, a half circle about ten feet in diameter. He had lashed some saplings together and then covered them with canvas and every old rug he could get his hands on. From the outside, it looked like something in the middle of a garbage dump. But on the inside, it was something pretty amazing.

Buck was there with three other men from the Bay Mills tribe. They all nodded to me solemnly, without a word spoken. Wide faces with dark, careful eyes. Long hair down every back. They had a fire going, and they were heating rocks in the middle of it. As soon as he saw me, one man started to lift the rocks with a long shovel and take them into the sweat lodge.

The other men started to undress. I knew the drill, so I did the same. Soon we were all standing there in our underwear. It was cold enough to start me shivering in three seconds, even though the calendar still claimed it was July.

The men went into the sweat lodge. I followed them. The steam was already overpowering. Buck dipped a great iron ladle into a bucket of water and poured it on the hot rocks. Then he put a few sprigs of sage on the rocks. One of the four medicines. The last time I had been here, the medicine had been for Vinnie. His brother had been murdered. Today the medicine was for me.

I sat there in the dark, and as I did I felt my muscles begin to relax. All the tension in my body, since that one horrible moment, me sitting on the floor, holding on to Natalie. It was slowly leaving me. Buck put more water on the rocks. I was sweating. The steam filled my lungs. It was inside me and all around me and now it felt like I was floating in it.

It was dark. There was a faint glow from the rocks and nothing else. Vinnie had told me once that he saw things in the steam, that that was part of the experience, part of why the Ojibwa treasured this. I had believed him only as far as you can believe something you’ll never see with your own eyes. But on this night, as the steam grew so thick it seemed to be something you could hold in your hand, I looked into it and I saw Natalie. God help me, I saw her standing there right in front of me. She was in her uniform. Her hair was pinned up. She wasn’t wearing her hat. She smiled at me and reached out her hand like she would touch my chest. Then she was gone.

If I was imagining it…If my mind was using the blank slate of the steam to create this picture…I don’t know. I don’t really care. I saw her and she was as real to me as anything else. When I came back out of the sweat lodge into the sudden shock of the cold air, I felt like I had been plugged into something powerful and been recharged. My heart didn’t hurt any less, but at least I had some life in me now. I felt like I was ready to face anything. Or anybody.

“You look good,” Vinnie said to me. “You look much better.”

“Thank you. How did you know I needed that?”

“You’re my blood brother, remember?”

“I might need your help,” I said. “I have some things to do now.”

He looked at me. In the dim light from the house I could see the bruises on his face, the raccoon-like shiners around his eyes. “I won’t help you destroy yourself. This thing will devour you if you let it. You know that.”

“Vinnie, do you remember when we went up to find your brother? Everything that happened by that lake?”

“Yes, of course.”

I grabbed his right hand. “You took these two fingers right here,” I said. “You took these two fingers and you dipped them in your own blood, and you painted two stripes on each side of my face. Do you remember that?”

“Yes, Alex.”

“You painted my face and you said it was time to go to war.”

“Yes. I did that.”

“Natalie was my family,” I said, letting go of his hand. “You know what she meant to me.”

“Yes.”

“So it’s my blood now,” I said. “And it’s my war.”

Chapter Seventeen
 

I woke up in a strange bed again, everything coming back to me at once like it probably would every morning for the rest of my life. I couldn’t imagine how it could ever feel normal. I didn’t
want
it to feel normal, because that would mean I had accepted things the way they were, had even gotten over it as well as I was going to and had moved on with the rest of my life.

The thought was an obscenity to me. I promised myself that morning that I’d never let it slip away from me. As much as it hurt, I never wanted to stop feeling like her death had just happened.

Vinnie was in the kitchen, making coffee. He had insisted on staying with me again. He said he’d keep doing it until he felt I was ready to be alone. He said it wasn’t up to me to decide that. I didn’t fight him too hard. Truth was, it was good to have him around.

I got out of bed and sat at the table. Vinnie brought over a cup of coffee and put it down in front of me. He didn’t try to say good morning, or ask me how I slept or, God forbid, ask me how I was doing. He put his own cup down and sat across from me. His face was about halfway back to normal now, both eyes open, the swelling down, the darker bruises beginning to fade. But he still looked like a man who should give up fighting two men by himself.

“Let’s just say,” I began, “that I needed a boat…”

He took a sip of his coffee, didn’t say anything.

“A good boat, say. Fast, with a long range.”

Another sip.

“A depth finder. And GPS, of course.”

He didn’t look at me.

“I’m just thinking out loud here,” I said. “If I were to ask you, do you think you could find one?”

“That would depend.”

“On what?”

“On whether you’d be using it to get yourself killed.”

“That can’t happen.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I’m already dead.”

He put his cup down. “You’ve been to an Ojibwa funeral,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“How long did it last?”

“What are you talking about?”

“When we buried my brother, how long did the funeral last?”

“I don’t remember exactly. A few days.”

“Four days. And that was short. I’ve seen them go seven or eight.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“This happened, what, three days ago? You’ve barely begun to deal with it.”

“Vinnie…”

“I’ll do anything you ask,” he said. “You know that. But you have to give yourself some time first. You don’t even know for sure that this man was responsible.”

“Two cops were setting up a sting on this guy. They both end up dead, on the same day.”

“If it’s that obvious to you, then it’ll be that obvious to everyone else. This guy will go down for it eventually.”

“I don’t think I ever told you this story,” I said. “In fact, I’m sure I didn’t. I haven’t thought about it in years. There was this cop in Detroit named Jim Romano. He was a detective. An old-timer. He was just about ready to retire when I was a rookie. I think I only met the man one time. Anyway, he got it in his head that he was going to take down this big shot, Paulie Masalsky, who was the biggest bookmaker on the whole west side. He owned a bar on Michigan Avenue. He used to have runners going all over the place, bringing slips to a room he had upstairs. He had a buzzer behind the bar in case a cop ever came in. Just press the button and they’d burn the slips real quick. If they were on flash paper, it would only take one second and they’d be gone. Or else they’d flush them, whatever. Standard operating procedure for a bookie.”

Vinnie picked up his cup again. He stared into it while I kept telling the story.

“There was a rumor that Romano’s brother had gotten into some trouble with Masalsky,” I said. “You know, he ran up a big debt, and Romano was gonna see if he could get Masalsky to back off. Either that, or he really just wanted to run the guy out of business. Either way, he got it in his head that he was going to spend his last year on the force making Masalsky’s life miserable. He’d go in the bar all the time, and of course whoever was behind the bar, they’d have to hit that button and the guys upstairs would scramble around, burning up the slips or flushing them. Romano would come to the bar and have one drink, ask where Paulie was, tell the guy to give him his best regards, something like that. Three, four times a week. If he thought the bartender was getting lax on the buzzer, he’d actually tell him he was going to go up the stairs to see if Paulie was up there. Whatever it took to make sure those guys were dumping the slips. This goes on about three months. Everybody on the force knows about it. It’s almost a running joke. Then one morning Jimmy Romano’s found dead in the trunk of his car.”

“Let me guess.”

“You don’t have to. Everybody knew who did it. Like I said, I was just a rookie, but I’d hear guys talking about it in the precinct. They had a police funeral for the guy and Masalsky actually sent over some flowers. It was this big arrangement, one of those horseshoe things. It said something like ‘Sincere Condolences’ on it, but it might as well have said ‘Sincerely Fuck Every Last One of You.’ I was out drinking with some of the cops after the funeral, and they were all talking about what they were going to do with the flowers. You know, like take them over to Masalsky’s bar and shove them down his throat one by one.”

“I probably know the answer to this,” Vinnie said, “but did they ever arrest him?”

“Of course not. He was in his bar all night, had about sixteen alibis lined up. The man who actually pulled the trigger, hell, he was found in the Detroit River a couple of months later. They recovered the gun and everything. But there was no way to pin it on Masalsky. Absolutely no way. For years after that, whenever I was out with some other cops after work, inevitably the story about Romano and Masalsky would come up. It would always be like, ‘Who’s going to take a run at this guy? Who’s going to take him out? The rest of us, we’ve got you covered. It’ll never come back to you.’ Stuff like that. But it was just talk. It never really happened. You know why?”

“Why?”

“Because all those guys had something to lose. They had families. They had careers. When it comes right down to it, it’s one thing to talk about going over the line. It’s another thing to put your whole life at risk and to really do it.”

He shook his head slowly. “That was a long time ago. A totally different situation.”

“It’s the same idea. Some people are untouchable. It’s just the way it is. Only now, I’ve got nothing to lose by going after him. Nothing at all.”

“Alex, I understand why you’re saying that. Believe me. But you had a life before Natalie came along. You had other people who needed you. They still do.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t mean that to sound like a reflection on you. Or anybody else.”

“You can’t go around thinking your time on earth is over because you lost somebody. You think Natalie would want that?”

I finished my coffee. Then I stood up and headed to the shower. “If I need your help…,” I said. “I won’t ask you for anything else. Ever. Now I’m going to go get dressed. I’ve got some things to do today.”

 

 

It was a
sunny day. Actual, bright sunlight, with a temperature that bordered on warm. It was the first almost-summer day of that July. It would also be the last.

Not that it mattered to me.

I got in the truck and drove out to Leon’s house. I figured he wasn’t back to work at the motor shop yet. I knew I was right when I saw his car in the driveway. I parked, went up to his door, and rang the bell. Eleanor answered. Of all the times I had come to this door, she had never looked so horrified to see me.

“I just want to talk to Leon,” I said. “I’m not dragging him into anything, I promise.”

“Alex,” she said, opening the door. “Oh my God, you look so…”

I braced for the impact. She wrapped both arms around me and squeezed.

“I am so sorry about what happened, Alex. I am so, so sorry.”

“Thank you,” I said, trying to breathe. “I’ll be all right. Really. Is Leon here?”

She didn’t let go. As much as it hurt, I had to admit, there were worse things for me on that particular day than a huge bear hug. I relaxed for a moment, put my right arm around her. I closed my eyes and felt her start to cry on my shoulder. When Leon showed up, she finally broke away from me.

“I’m sorry,” she said, brushing my shoulder. “I’m getting you all wet here.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Let us know if we can do anything. Okay? Will you do that?”

“Yes, of course. Thank you.”

She put her hand on my cheek. Then she went back inside.

“Alex,” Leon said. “What can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Sure, come on. Let’s walk a little bit. Can you believe the sun’s out today?”

That’s how we ended up walking through his neighborhood. There were more houses, about the same size as his. Not much else. You had to drive up to the Soo to buy food, or gas, or just about anything.

“The man’s name is Antoine Laraque,” I told him. “I was hoping you could check him out on your computer.”

“What do you know about him?”

“Not much. He lives in Toronto. He apparently buys guns from America and sells them to gang members. Or probably anyone else who has enough money. He spends time with a career criminal named Rhapsody something. I’ll have to try to remember her last name. Anyway, Natalie finally got to meet Laraque in person a few days ago. She said she’s never been around a more frightening person in her life.”

“Frightening in what way?”

“Not in the sense of being big and imposing. She said he just had this…power. It was hard for her to describe.”

“Aside from dealing in guns, no other idea about what he does? Some business front he might have?”

“No idea.”

“You don’t know where he lives in Toronto?”

“No. Probably in a big house somewhere. I’m just guessing.”

We kept walking. I could tell Leon was thinking about it. He was thinking hard.

“There’s not much to go on,” he finally said.

“I realize that.”

“There’s a good chance we won’t be able to dig up much information at all. A guy like that, he probably makes a point of staying mostly invisible. For all you know, Laraque isn’t even his real name.”

“I suppose that’s possible,” I said. “But that name comes right from the police. They’ve been watching him for quite a while.”

“Are they still watching him now?”

“I’m sure they are, yes.”

“You don’t want to leave this to them?”

“They have it right now. If they can put together a case, then great.”

“I take it you don’t think they can.”

I didn’t feel like going through the whole thing again. “Let’s just say that as a former cop,” I said, “I know how hard it can be.”

“As a general rule, yes, but—”

“I just want to know more about him. That’s all I want right now.”

We kept walking. The sun had gone behind a cloud for a minute. Now it came back out and made everything bright. It felt warm on my face.

“I’m worried about you,” Leon finally said. “I think you’re still in shock over what happened. Rightly so.”

“You sound like Vinnie now.”

“Are you going to listen to either of us?”

“Whenever I have a problem,” I said, “I come to you and you think of at least five different ideas. One of them is going to be completely insane, but that’s the one that usually works. I can’t tell you how much I’ve appreciated all the help over the years, Leon. I mean that.”

“I’d do it all again, Alex. We’re a good team.”

“I just need your help one more time. That’s all I’m asking. Just one more time.”

“I understand. But so far, all I can see is you walking up and down the street in Toronto, calling out his name.”

“You’ll look him up on your computer, right? You’ll see what you can find.”

“Yes, I’ll do that much. In the meantime, any chance of you giving me my gun back?”

“Why, do you need it?”

“I think I’d just feel better if I held on to it for a few days.”

“You’re the one who’s always telling me a gun should be my best friend.”

“Maybe right now you need a different kind of friend. I’m just saying—”

“I’d like to keep it for a while,” I said. “If that’s all right.”

He didn’t answer me. We kept walking. We went back to his house. He promised me he’d find out everything he could about Laraque. I promised him I’d tell him before I did anything stupid.

I’m not sure either of us was telling the truth.

Other books

Bullet by Jamison, Jade C.
Lord Apache by Robert J. Steelman
That Magic Mischief by Susan Conley
Harvest Moons by Melisse Aires
Isabella by Loretta Chase
Wolfsgate by Porter, Cat
Salvage Her Heart by Shelly Pratt
Never Kiss a Laird by Byrnes, Tess
Legion by William Peter Blatty