The Rock 'N Roll Detective's Greatest Hits - a Spike Berenger Anthology (34 page)

“Thanks.” Berenger once again recognized the musical lilt of a Jamaican accent. He cleared his throat. “You have quite an impressive loft here.”

“Thank you. I worked hard for many years t’ get it.”

“I can see that.”

“Shall we get down t’ business?” the man asked smoothly. Berenger felt no threat from the man, but even Jimmy’s silhouette exuded a powerful, menacing charisma. He was not a man that one wanted to cross. “I understand you wanted t’ see me.”

Berenger leaned forward. “I understand that the Jimmys have a contract out on me. I want to know why.”

Jimmy took a moment to examine the fingernails on his right hand and then said, “I am de only one who can issue an order like dat. I have issued no such order on you.”

“You… you haven’t?”

“No. Why should I? I have nothing against you.”

“But I got the guitar strings. You know, the package of broken strings. It was delivered to my office. And I got a threatening phone call. But more importantly, twice now, a Jimmy has tried to shoot me.”

“If dat is true, de man who did dis is not a Jimmy. You are being deceived.”

“Yeah?”

“I give you my word, Mistah Berenger. And my word means a lot.”

Berenger wished he could see the man’s face. Even so, there was something about the man’s voice and manner that Berenger found sincere. Jimmy might be the leader of a peculiar organized crime outfit, but like the
mafiosos
of old he was a man of honor. Berenger believed him.

“All right.”

“I suggest you focus your investigation elsewhere,” Jimmy said.

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Is dere anything else?”

“I’m working for one of your… dealers. Adrian Duncan.”

“I know that. I hope you can help free him,” Jimmy said.

“His lawyer will have to do that but I’m beginning to feel more confident that I’ll be able to provide what he’ll need to get Adrian off. The thing is… Adrian might not be in a position to work for you anymore. I hope you won’t… hold that against him.”

“I understand. If he had been arrested for dealing den I could have used my people t’ obtain his release—and for dat he would have been in my debt. But seeing as how dis is a case dat doesn’t involve de Jimmys, I believe I can turn a blind eye to his… resignation. I have other people dat can take over his territory. Is dat all?”

“Just one more thing. I understand you do business with the Messengers.”

Jimmy paused a moment, as if he were thinking about what he should reveal. Finally he said, “Maybe.”

“I need to know what business you have with them.”

“Is dat really your concern?”

“It would help in my investigation.”

Jimmy exhaled loudly and then shrugged. He said, “We pay de Messengers a tidy sum for a space where we store some equipment. Musical equipment. I understand you already know of dat place. Dat’s why I’m telling you dis.”

“Yes, I’ve been there.”

“Dat’s it, Mistah Berenger. Dat’s our only connection wit’ de Messengers.” Jimmy chuckled, as if something amused him. “Dat Theo, he’s one crazy bastard, ain’t he?”

“Oh, you know the reverend?” Berenger asked.

“Know him? I shared a jail cell with him for four years!”

“In Jamaica?”

“Dat’s right. He was a two-bit yardie dat got into some trouble. I was serving time for… well, a number of things. I got out in 1984. Theo, he was in a little longer after dat. He wasn’t a preacher when I knew him back den.”

“That explains the Caribbean connection. Do you know much about his operation? Or about his assistant, Ron Black?”

Jimmy paused and said, “Mistah Black I know about but I never met him. He came to de prison after I was out.”

“So he was in the same prison that you and Theo were in?”

Jimmy nodded. “Not only that, but he occupied the same cell I once did. He was Theo’s cellmate for a short time.”

This jived with what Chucky Tools had told Berenger. “He’s not who he says he is. Do you know his real name?”

“Well, I don’t know if it is his
real
name, but when he was in Jamaica he was called Paul Daniel.”

“Paul Daniel?”

“Dat’s what I said.”

“Okay. Thanks. That might help.”

Jimmy stood in the darkness, indicating that the meeting was over. Berenger could see that the man was taller than Dave Bristol, and that was saying a lot. “Mistah Berenger, I do hope that in light of my cooperation wit’ you dat I will have no trouble from you in de future.”

“I’m not a police officer, Jimmy.”

“But you could tell de police things about me.”

Berenger said, “You have
my
word.”

On cue, the door opened and Mr. Scar gestured for Berenger to exit. Berenger did so and found Bristol sitting nervously on the sofa. The Chili Peppers were still blaring out of the speakers at deafening decibels.

“Let’s go! We’re done!” Berenger shouted.

The two bodyguards outfitted them with blindfolds again and led them down the stairs to the street. Chief met them there and ushered the two men to the Chevy. Once they were in the back seat and the car was driving north, the driver told them they could remove the blindfolds.

He dropped them off at Washington Square.

There wasn’t much that could be said. Berenger shook hands with Bristol. “Thanks, Dave. I appreciate this.”

“Yeah.”

“Listen, I know it’s none of my business, but you should probably stop buying shit from the Jimmys.”

“I know. I’m gonna try. I just don’t know if I can.”

Berenger nodded.

“I’ll see ya, Spike.”

“See ya, Dave.”

The two men went their separate ways uptown.

A
fter the trip to Jamaica and then the emotional rollercoasters of the previous day’s hospital visits, not to mention the dramatic meeting with Jimmy, Berenger was dead tired. But he slept hard for the remaining hours of the night and woke up surprisingly refreshed and ready to unravel the various mysteries surrounding the murders—for he was convinced they
were
murders—of Flame and his second wife Carol. Not to mention Suzanne’s shooting and the two attempts on his own life. They were all related. He was certain of it.

The first thing he did was pick up the phone and order Tommy Briggs to find out anything he could about “Paul Daniel.”

“How’d you find that out?” Briggs asked him.

“I’ll tell you later. Just get on it. Any word on Suzanne?”

“No word on her condition but we heard from Detective Sharpe—the guy who’s investigating the shooting—he says a witness came forward late last night to say that the shooter was driving a black limousine.”

Berenger’s heart skipped a beat. This prompted him to say goodbye to Briggs and then dial Detective McTiernan.

“McTiernan,” the gruff voice answered.

“It’s Spike Berenger.”

“Oh. What is it now?”

“You heard about my partner?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that. Is she gonna be all right?”

“It was touch and go, but it looks like she might make it.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Thanks. Listen, a witness has come forward and said that someone in a black limousine did the shooting. A black limousine, McTiernan. What does that tell you?”

“That the shooter is a rich son of a bitch?”

“Ron Black, McTiernan. He drives a black limo for the Messengers. And he was Flame’s driver for a few years.”

“There are a lot of black limos in the city, Berenger,” McTiernan said.

“Look, you gotta pull Black in. I just got back from Jamaica, doing some snooping. I talked to one of the Messengers’ main men down there and he says Ron Black isn’t the guy’s real name and that he was in prison with Reverend Theo. The guy’s got a criminal past. And I’ve learned, uhm, from another source that his name is Paul Daniel. That mean anything to you?”

“We had a couple of interviews with Ron Black, Berenger. The guy checked out okay. There was absolutely nothing that indicated he might be dirty. But I gotta admit, you’re throwing some new light on all this. All right, Berenger. We’ll see if we can find him.”

“Great. I tell ya, Billy, if Ron Black is doing all these killings, who knows who might be next? Joshua Duncan? He’s the heir apparent to Flame’s estate.”

“Yeah. I’ll see if I can find the kid today, too.”

“Thanks, Billy.”

“Sure.” The men were silent for a few seconds. It was the first time they had actually seen eye to eye on something.

“You still think Adrian Duncan is guilty?” Berenger asked.

“I don’t know. You’ve raised some doubts.”

“Good.”

They signed off and Berenger looked out the window onto 68
^th
Street and considered everything he knew about Ron Black. Why would the guy want to kill Suzanne? And if he was responsible for the other murders, what was the motive? Flame was his employer. Carol Merryman was no threat to him. It didn’t make a lot of sense but did it have to?

Another thing puzzled him. What was Ron Black’s connection to Al Patton? Tools had told him that Black and Patton were very “friendly” during Flame’s Jamaican retreat with the Messengers. Berenger remembered Patton speaking to Black after the reading of Flame’s will. Patton had leaned into the limo window and had a conversation with Black. Berenger didn’t tell McTiernan about the Patton angle because he wasn’t sure what to make of it. He wished to hell he could find Patton and have a face to face but the record mogul had a convenient knack for avoiding him.

Berenger looked at his watch. It was way too early for Patton to be at the recording studio with Blister Pack but maybe he was at his office. He picked up the phone and dialed the Liquid Metal office. When Patton’s personal assistant answered, Berenger said, “This is Spike Berenger. I need to talk to Al as soon as possible. Is he anywhere around?”

“No, sir,” she said. “He’s on vacation.”

“Vacation? I thought he was producing today.”

“No, sir, he’s away. Out of town.”

So who was lying? Patton, his assistant, or Bristol?

“Well, can I call him, wherever he is? This is really important.”

“I’m not allowed to give out his cell number. I can get a message to him, though, and ask him to call you.”

“
Please do
.” Berenger gave her his number and hung up.

Nothing was easy in this business. Berenger stood and paced his office a couple of times and then made a call to Derek Patterson. He needed a visitors pass to Rikers Island.

A
drian Duncan looked better than he had the last couple of times Berenger had seen him. The black eye had diminished in intensity somewhat and there were no other visible signs of prison abuse.

“I guess Patterson’s complaint did some good,” Berenger said.

Duncan shrugged. “I guess. The guard who hit me ignores me now. He gives me dirty looks but they assign other guys to me.”

“You’re looking better.”

“I’m getting used to this place, I’m sorry to say,” Duncan said. He actually managed to smile.

“Listen, things are moving along nicely,” Berenger said. “I need to ask you something.”

“Go ahead.”

“Would Al Patton have any reason to kill Flame?”

“Al Patton?” Duncan was genuinely surprised by the question. “I don’t think so. Geez, Patton was my dad’s friend and manager for, like, forever.”

“I know he was not happy about Flame’s conversion to fundamentalist religion and becoming a Messenger.”