Shay O'Hanlon Caper 04 - Chip Off the Ice Block Murder (16 page)

JT slowly straightened. “That’s more like it.” The cuffs dangled from her fingers, a not-so-subtle reminder that Howard better keep his gums flapping. “Why do you want to buy the Leprechaun from Pete O’Hanlon?” Howard did a shifty-eyed thing. JT crowded him again and said softly, “Don’t fuck with me.”

“Okay, okay. Jesus.” Despite the cool room, perspiration beaded on Howard’s forehead and formed a trail down the side of his face. “Uh, the block the Leprechaun is on represents a great investment in the gentrification of Northeast.” The words came out in a rush. “I’m in it for a fast buck.”

That sounded well rehearsed. I rolled my eyes and stepped forward, coming even with JT. “Why did you sic Chuck Schuler on my father?”

Norman Howard’s eyes flicked from me to JT and back.

JT said, “Come on, Normie. Spill it.”

Howard shrank back in the chair, deflated. “Fine.” He rolled his eyes. “Look. My ass is in enough hot water.”

“So,” JT said, “Keep your ass from drowning.”

That did it. Howard opened up like a moss rose in the afternoon sun. “My brother-in-law approached me to run one of his businesses.”

Coop said, “Subsidy Renovations is registered in your name.”

Howard didn’t seem to know where to pin his gaze. The way his eyes were rolling around, it was a regular game of eyeball Ping-Pong. “My brother-in-law set it up. He told me if I could get O’Hanlon to sell that dump of a bar, there’d be some good money in it for me.”

I bristled at his “dump of a bar” comment but gritted my teeth and managed to keep my mouth shut. I felt the first stirrings of the Protector inside.

“So,” JT said, “you sent goons to soften up O’Hanlon? When he wasn’t cooperating?”

“No, it wasn’t like that.”

JT leaned forward again and spoke very softly. “So tell me how it was.”

“See, I like to make money, who doesn’t? I’m a businessman. I run a busy office here.” Howard spread both hands palms up, indicated the empty space and obvious lack of visible work. “I hired a guy I knew and told him I’d give him a portion of the take if he could persuade O’Hanlon to take the buy-out.”

“Huh.” JT nodded. “Now we’re getting somewhere. You paid him to threaten O’Hanlon? To vandalize property?” Her voice rose and she said fiercely, “To jump people in the parking lot of the goddamn bar?”

Whoa. I knew she was thinking about the night Lisa and I had been attacked. I took a breath, proud of myself because for once I was doing pretty well controlling the Protector and not leaping over the table to introduce my fist to Normie’s nose. But JT was getting twitchy, so I reached out and gripped her arm before it took on a life of its own and she bopped him herself. She continued, somewhat calmer, “You pay him to beat people?”

“No, no! I never told him what to do. The agreement was that he get O’Hanlon to come to terms and I’d pay him for it. I never asked how he was going to do it.”

From behind me, Eddy grumbled, “There’s always an excuse. What’s the name of the loser you hired, Mr. Poopy Pants?”

I suppressed a semi-hysterical giggle. Eddy knew how to lighten a moment.

Norman Howard’s eyebrows drew together and he scowled at Eddy. “Who the fuck are you?”

Even I was sorry we’d made Eddy leave her Whacker behind. This piece of work deserved a thumping.

Eddy responded, remarkably coolly for her. “I have the potential to be one nasty old lady. You’re darn lucky I’m unarmed.”

I nodded. “She’s not kidding, mister. You’re lucky as hell. Who was he?”

Normie sounded exasperated. “His name was Schuler, and yeah, he somehow wound up iced. But I sure as hell didn’t do it.”

JT said sarcastically, “Really.” She paused a beat. “Since you’re so willing to name names, who’s your brother-in-law?”

“Christ, lady, I could get my fucking balls cut off here.”

“Not my problem.”

Howard huffed and stared at the remnants of his white powder binge. “Phil Hanssen, okay?” In a lower tone, Howard mumbled, “My sister is going to fuckin’ kill me.”

“Like you killed Schuler?” JT said.

“No! I told you. I did not do Schuler. Maybe Hanssen did. Maybe Schuler’s other business acquaintances got tired of him. I don’t fucking know.”

JT drew herself up to full height and looked down her nose at Howard. “Spell that name for me.” He did. “Don’t go too far. Never know when I might want to have another chat. I specialize in finding rats who hide.”

She tucked her cuffs away and headed for the door.

Eddy took a step toward the desk and stooped over. For a minute I thought she was sick. Then she stood again with one of her low-top Converse sneakers in hand. Like lightning, she clobbered Howard over the head with it before he had a chance to think about ducking.

Eddy said, “Language, young man. There are ladies in the room.” She popped him again. “That’s for Pete.” She slammed the shoe on the top of the desk, making the drug-covered picture frame hop. “You’re lucky I don’t boot you in the rump.” With that, she stomped out, slightly lopsidedly. “Don’t that beat all,” I heard her say. “I don’t need my Whacker after all.”

Howard sat hunched in his chair looking dazed. I told him, “Gotta watch out for that one. She’s dangerous.”

Coop and I exchanged a high five and vacated the premises.

Back in the car we dissected what had just gone down. While we were at it, Coop used his cell to set Bogey Too in search of Mr. Phil Hanssen.

My phone rang in the midst of Eddy delightedly rehashing her shoe-bashing moment. It was a call from the Lep. “Yo, Johnny, what’s up?”

There was a lot of background noise. I glanced at the time on the dashboard. 10:28. The bar didn’t open till noon. “Johnny? You there?”

“Shay, hey.” Johnny sounded strained, out of breath. “You might want to get over here. The Roto-Rooter guy showed up this morning. He found something awful, and we called the cops. And they brought in—hang on.” Johnny said something I couldn’t make out, and then the low rumble of a voice that sounded vaguely familiar filled my ear.

“Shay O’Hanlon?”

“Yeah,” I said warily.

“I need you need to come to the Leprechaun, since it seems you’re the one in charge these days.”

“Who is this?”

“Your favorite nightmare. Sergeant DeSilvero, on loan to Minneapolis PD. Remember me?” He gave me no time to answer, but hell, yes I remembered him. Wish I didn’t. And I really wish I hadn’t heard his next words. “Your father’s got a tarp full of bones dressed in what was once a pretty pink dress buried under the cement in his cellar.”

TEN

Police cars, a couple
unmarked squads, and a Hennepin County crime scene van were parked in the street in front of the Leprechaun when we pulled up. The entire drive to the bar I’d chanted, “Dad did not do this,” over and over again under my breath. My world felt well and truly fucked up.

I parked, rocketed out of the Escape, and charged with single-minded focus to the front door. JT hoofed it along behind me, Coop and Eddy bringing up the rear.

I wrapped my fingers around the handle and was about to yank the door open when a big brute of a cop stepped in front of me, forcing me backward. He had to be at least seven feet tall and half as wide. “Sorry,” he said, blocking us with his bulk. “This is a crime scene. Bar’s closed.”

I barely registered his words.

Over my shoulder JT said, “It’s okay, she’s—”

I dodged around the cop and again latched onto the handle. Before I could fling it open, the cop spun on his heel and grabbed hold of my belt.

Had to give him credit, he was quick for a big guy. He struggled backward. My belt acted like a second handle, and the door slowly swung open.

Big Boy dragged me back, my shoes skidding across the salt-covered sidewalk. The cop dug his heels in and heaved as if he were the anchor in a tug of war. I held on for dear life. Suddenly I was in mid-air, feet off the ground, suspended between the door and the cop. If he’d only been a couple feet shorter, my feet would still be on the salt-stained sidewalk.

Red tendrils of rage swirled at the edges of my vision. From afar I heard yelling. I churned my legs. Someone grabbed my waist. My feet hit the cement. I desperately hung onto the door handle. Trying to regain traction, I felt Big Boy’s knuckles dig into the flesh of my lower back. Then my shoulders were being shaken so hard my teeth clattered.

The bar popped back into view.

I peered back at JT, her eyes black and piercing as she held onto me for dear life. “Stop it! Shay, get a hold of—”

“Well, well. If it isn’t Little Miss Firepants.” Sergeant DeSilvero appeared at JT’s shoulder. “She always a pain in the ass?” he asked as he looked past me to focus on the four-hundred-pound gorilla at my back. “Jones—” The expression on DeSilvero’s face shifted from smug to astonished in an eighth of a second.

I twisted around to see what his eyes were popping out at. There aren’t many times I’ve been stunned speechless, but this was one of them.

Eddy had hopped onto the back of the huge cop and her arms were wrapped around his neck. Big Boy’s face was going purple, either from rage or from lack of air. Probably both. The sight took the rest of the fight out of me and I let go of the door.

The cop had been using his bulk to keep me from moving forward, and when I relaxed, momentum reversed. Both he and Eddy tipped backward, in slow motion, toward the sidewalk. The cop hadn’t yet released his grip on my belt, and he dragged me along for the ride.

I landed hard atop Big Boy.

Eddy howled, “Get him off! Get this piggy pork chop off me!”

A few minutes later—after JT somehow managed to convince Officer Jones not to arrest Eddy for assaulting a police officer—we huddled in front of the bar, facing the entrance. I’d told Johnny to take a hike, which he was trying to do. DeSilvero looked like he was making triple sure he had Johnny’s correct contact information before he allowed the kid to leave.

I owed the Johnny another one, big time. After all the IOUs I was racking up, there wasn’t going to be much left in my IOU arsenal.

Eddy was still grumbling and rubbing various bruises when DeSilvero sauntered our way.

He said, “So, Ms. O’Hanlon, why don’t you tell me what you know about the body in the basement.”

I mumbled, “Too bad it wasn’t you.”

JT nailed me with a well-placed elbow to the ribs.

I grunted.

DeSilvero moved uncomfortably closer. I leaned backward until I was arched against the edge of the bar, his face mere inches from mine. “What was that?” he asked softly, in dangerously measured tone. “I couldn’t hear you.”

He must have had something with garlic for breakfast. I tried not to scrunch up my face in disgust, but I’m not sure I succeeded. “I, uh,” I paused to lick my lips, “I said I don’t have an answer for you.”

DeSilvero gave me the evil eye and slowly straightened.

I took a deep breath.

He backed out of my space. “Where is your father?”

“I told you, I have no idea. That hasn’t changed.”

Coop and Eddy watched our exchange. JT kept a hand on my arm in case I lost my mind again.

DeSilvero stared at me thoughtfully. “So who’s in the basement, huh? It’d be easier on all of us if you told me now. They’ve been there awhile. You help your old man stow the evidence, maybe?”

My temper and I wobbled on the brink of a violent outburst, preferably directed squarely at DeSilvero. I ground out, “My father didn’t kill anyone, and I didn’t help dispose of anyone down there.” The son of a bitch. Wasn’t I supposed to be offered a lawyer or something if I was going to be harassed by the cops?

JT’s felt me tense and her grip tightened. “Shay.”

I lifted my chin.

DeSilvero said with barely concealed disbelief, “You haven’t heard from your father since New Year’s Eve?”

“The last time I talked to my dad was three days after Christmas.”

I only hoped he wouldn’t ask Eddy the same thing. That outcome would definitely not be good. Eddy didn’t lie well. Usually.

A man wearing a navy sweatshirt with BCA in white block letters walked up and said something to DeSilvero. DeSilvero nodded, and the man disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

“Ms. O’Hanlon. Exactly how violent is your father? Is he the love ’em and kill ’em kind?”

I sucked in a lungful of air and was about to launch into an energetic retort when Eddy said, “Peter O’Hanlon is a gentle soul. He’d never harm anyone. That there body in the cellar, why, that’s none of his doing.”

DeSilvero’s eyebrows hiked up. “How exactly do you know that, lady? You help him put the body there?”

Eddy drew herself to her full five-ish-foot height. “Sir, my name is Mrs. Edwina Quartermaine, and I’d appreciate it if you addressed me as such. No, I didn’t put any poor dead body anywhere. But,” she nailed him with her stop-being-a-jerk scowl, “maybe that could change.”

Go Eddy!

DeSilvero’s jowls popped out and in rhythmically. He blinked a couple of times. “Mrs. Quartermaine, how exactly do you know Mr. O’Hanlon?”

“Family friends, and I got no more to say to you without my attorney present and accounted for.”

DeSilvero blew a noisy breath and shifted to stand in front of Coop. “Who the hell are you?”

I glanced at Eddy, thankful she didn’t have her Whacker in hand. From the rather enraged expression on her face, she looked ready to take a swing at the sergeant, and that would be very, very bad. Or maybe she’d pop him one with her shoe. The thought almost made me smile.

Coop said, “Nick Cooper, and I don’t know who killed who. And I didn’t do it, either.”

JT spoke up. “Look, DeSilvero, if you’re going to interrogate them—”

“I’m not interrogating anyone, Bordeaux. I’m just asking a few fact-finding questions.” His voice rose and a vein popped out on his forehead. “There’s a dead body in the basement of this dump.” He slammed his fist on the bar top. “Someone lost their life and was buried beneath concrete for god only knows how long. I want to know who it is and who put them there.”

He was right. Jerk or not, the truth was that a deceased person had been found on my dad’s property. Some unlucky soul was buried in the basement, and their family had no idea what happened to them. They probably felt like I felt before my dad contacted Eddy so at least we knew he was still alive. The news this person’s family was going to receive would change their lives forever. There was nothing good about it, though we could hope that knowing would lend some kind of closure.

The sad fact at this point was that I didn’t know what to think. I wasn’t at all sure that my father wasn’t responsible for the corpse in the cellar, considering he had been covered with blood and had no recollection of how that came to be. But I surely wasn’t going to impart that tidbit to DeSilvero.

“Look, Sergeant,” I said, my voice resigned, no longer combative. “The honest-to-god truth is that none of us know who killed whoever is down there. None of us know where my dad is. Believe me, I wish I did. I’ve been looking everywhere for him. But I can’t—no,
I
won’t
believe this is something my father would do. I want to cooperate with you, but your attitude is making it next to impossible.”

DeSilvero actually shuffled his feet like a kid squirming during a scolding. “I’m passionate about my work, about bringing justice
to those who can no longer do it for themselves. I do what it takes to make that happen. If that offends you, nothing I can do about it.”

That was as close to an apology as we were going to get.

“This bar,” he said, “is now an official crime scene, and will be for the foreseeable future. I’ll let you know when it’s cleared and you can resume business. In the meantime, the entire building is off limits.” He handed each of us his card, and although I still had the first one he’d given to me, I took it without argument.

DeSilvero waved a hand at the front door. “Now, get the hell out of here, and call me if any of you hear from Peter O’Hanlon.”

We rolled into the Uptown Diner a little before noon, and, I hoped, before the lunch crowd. The Uptown was a neighborhood icon and had helped nurse me through more than one hangover. While some called it a greasy spoon, I called it comforting. And comfort was exactly what we needed right about now.

Once we were seated, a young woman with bright purple hair and colorful tattoos on her forearms handed over the menus. In a flash she returned with our drinks and proceeded to take our order. I was stressed out. The chocolate chip cookie dough pancakes should help that.

Our server, who informed us her name was Aquarius, but that we should call her Aqua, hustled away to dispatch our order.

Eddy said, “That girl’s hair should be blue if her name’s Aqua. We should get Kate to help her with that.” Kate, Rabbit Hole businesswoman extraordinaire that she was, wore her hair in whatever whimsical color that came to her on a given day. One time it even changed color halfway through the day. I had no idea how she had any hair left after that much abuse.

I twisted my napkin and shredded it when it wouldn’t twist any more. I didn’t want to verbalize what was on my mind, but it felt like my insides might implode if I didn’t. Keeping my eyes on the pieces of torn napkin that littered the table, I mumbled, “Do you think the reason Dad kept putting off repairing the sewer was because he knew there was a body there?”

For a moment no one moved. Then Eddy slapped her non-shredded, napkin-wrapped silverware on the tabletop. “No, ma’am! I do not think the reason your father didn’t get the stink fixed was because he was stashing a cadaver in the cellar. Peter can be a handful and he has a short fuse, but he’s not murderous. Why, he told me that profit was down throughout the summer. He wondered if it was because the Leprechaun wasn’t trendy like the Gay 90’s or Psycho Suzie’s. He even talked about turning the parking lot into a volleyball court. I told him to stow that idea and hang in there. Years past have had similar slumps. It’s always come back.”

Still more people had known about my own father’s issues, and I’d had no clue. How the hell had I managed to lose sight of what had been going on? Feeling disgusted with myself, I dropped the mangled remnants of the napkin and felt JT’s hand squeeze my knee. I slid my fingers beneath her palm and held on.

After a long, uncomfortable silence, Coop said, “God, I need a smoke.”

“Eat first, child.” Eddy patted him on the back. “So what happens now?”

JT said, “We need to have a chit-chat with this Phil Hanssen. He’s the next link in the puzzle.”

Personally, I was tired of talking. I was tired of hunting. I wanted my father back, and I’d even take a big old fight between the two of us. At least that would be in the realm of normalcy. “Speaking of Hanssen,” I glanced at Coop, “did Bogey Too come back yet?”

Coop pulled his cell out. “Actually, yeah.” He fiddled with the gadget. “Says here Phil Hanssen lives in Eden Prairie. Looks like the guy has some dough. Let’s see. Coachman’s Lane.”

More fiddling.

“He has a work address listed in Vadnais Heights. Apex Pharmaceutical For Action. It’s a political action committee. For drug makers, apparently.” Coop continued to read, then looked up. “That’s about all I got.”

“Wow.” Surprise colored JT’s tone. “I had no idea you had the ability to get that information through your phone. Nice job, Coop. How’d you do that?” Coop opened his mouth, but JT held her hand up before he could speak. “Never mind. Didn’t mean to ask. I do not want to have any knowledge of your capability of finding out what you shouldn’t know.”

Discussions of PACs and ill-gained knowledge were put on hold when Aqua showed up with a huge serving tray.

Oh god, it smelled good.

In a shake and a half, Aqua dispatched her load and whisked herself away to get more butter for Eddy’s toast. We were a quiet bunch as we stuffed our faces.

Fifteen minutes later, it was all over.

Eddy belched quietly. She sat back against the red-padded booth and patted her stomach as she surveyed the wreckage on the table. “We sure know how to pack it away.”

“No kidding.” Coop made a face and groaned. “But well worth the pain. I think.”

Coop’s phone rang before I could add my gastronomic woes to the mix. He snapped it up and answered, listening without a word. He eventually said, “Hang on. I’m going to put you on speaker. Shay, Eddy, and JT are with me.”

Coop set the phone on the table and pushed a couple of buttons. “You’re on.”

“Hello, everybody!” It was Rocky, and his voice quivered with excitement. “Guess what! We are at the most awesome retail establishment ever! My lovely bride Tulip and I are here in the beautiful city of Bloomington. At the most wonderful Mall of America. We wish to request a ride home.”