Super Con

Thirty-Nine

No job ever went perfectly. Cues were missed and lines were flubbed. It was part of the thieving business, and Billy was not going to hold a grudge against Cory and Morris for not shutting the garage door in Broken Tooth’s rented house. Cory and Morris’s assignment had been to stuff Travis in the trunk of the rental and flee the scene, which they’d done. He hadn’t told them to shut the garage door, so the blame rested squarely on his shoulders.

“You sure you don’t know this guy?” Grimes asked suspiciously.

“No sir,” he said.

“Why does my gut tell me that you’re lying?”

“Maybe your lunch isn’t agreeing with you.”

“You’re not funny.”

Grimes pulled Travis’s wallet from the dead man’s back pocket and extracted his ID. Grimes then made a call on his cell phone and ran a background check. Travis had a clean record, and there was nothing that tied him to Billy or to cheating casinos. Grimes ended the call with a scowl on his face. “Stiff’s name is Travis Simpson. Worked as a blackjack dealer for the casinos, doesn’t have a criminal record. How do you know this guy?”

“I don’t know him,” Billy said.

“I think you’re lying. In fact, I’m sure of it. While we were inside the house, those two hookers blocked the front door while your crew put Simpson’s body in the rental. You want me to believe Broken Tooth murdered this guy, but I’m thinking that isn’t the case.”

“I don’t have a crew.”

“My mistake, so sorry. So who shot this poor bastard? Was it you?”

“I didn’t shoot anybody. I don’t even own a gun.”

“If I searched your place, I wouldn’t find a weapon?”

“No sir.”

“Then a member of your crew shot him. Is that the story?”

“I don’t have a crew. Maybe I should call my lawyer.”

“That’s totally up to you.”

“Let me rephrase that. Do you want me to call my lawyer? Because if I do, I won’t give you a statement, and your case will go right down the shitter.”

Grimes snarled like a junkyard dog. “What did you just say?”

“Get the potatoes out of your ears. If you’re going to pin a murder rap on me, I’ll stop helping you. If I do that, then all you have is a recording of Broken Tooth talking about fixing the Super Bowl and no witnesses to back it up. A smart lawyer will get your case tossed.”

Billy had the special agent over a barrel. Without Billy’s statement and later testimony, the case against Broken Tooth could not move forward and would eventually be thrown out. Only this was not the way Billy wanted things to go. If the case blew up, Grimes would resume harassing Mags and ruin her career, and Broken Tooth would be set free and more than likely come after Billy. He decided to shift tactics and play nice.

“Can I make a suggestion?” he asked.

“I’m listening.”

“Before you decide to accuse me of murder, why don’t you check the dead guy’s cell phone? Maybe he was working with Broken Tooth and they talked to each other.”

“Even if they were talking, it doesn’t explain the open garage door.”

“Who knows how the damn thing got open? It’s irrelevant.”

“You are one sneaky son of a bitch, you know that?”

“Check his phone. That’s all I’m asking you to do.”

He was giving Grimes an out. Connect Travis to Broken Tooth and forget the rest. Grimes decided to run with it. The special agent tugged Travis’s cell phone from the dead man’s pants pocket, powered it up, and searched the phone bank.

“Well, look at that,” Grimes said.

“You found something.”

“Sure did. There’s a number in the recent calls that he called nine times in the past three days. And text messages to that number talking about a fix.”

“A sports fix?”

“Yeah.”

“The Super Bowl?”

“It sure reads that way.”

“My driver was kidnapped Sunday night. Are there any text messages or calls before then?”

“There are. So what?”

“The guy in the trunk was talking to Broken Tooth before I got involved. He and Broken Tooth had a disagreement, and this poor guy got whacked.”

“Is that the story you want me to believe?”

“Come up with a better one.”

“I still don’t know who this number belongs to.”

“Call it and find out.”

“You’re just filled with good ideas, aren’t you?”

“Just trying to help.”

Grimes called the repeated number on Travis’s cell phone. As the call went through, Grimes entered the house through the kitchen with Billy on his heels. The unmistakable sound of a ringing cell phone pierced the air, and Grimes followed it into the living room, where Broken Tooth’s sleek black cell phone lay on the couch. It was invisible, save for its flashing screen. The special agent picked it up and stared at it.

“Is it a match?” Billy asked.

In police work, there were always loose ends and unanswered questions. Except when the situation was a setup. Grimes knew this and so did Billy. But that didn’t change things. Grimes had enough evidence to put Broken Tooth away for the rest of his life.

Broken Tooth sat miserably in a chair, looking defeated. Without his henchmen to do his bidding, Broken Tooth was a shell, lacking the power to threaten or coerce. His prized cricket sat on the floor in its carrying cage, beating its wings together the way crickets did.

“You’re under arrest for the murder of Travis Simpson,” Grimes told him.

Broken Tooth stared at the special agent for what seemed like an eternity.

“Lying bastard. I didn’t kill anyone,” Broken Tooth said.

“Watch your mouth. You killed Travis Simpson and put his body in the trunk of your rental. Or your men did. Really doesn’t matter, because you’re in charge.”

“Dirty fucking cop! This is setup,” Broken Tooth said.

Grimes had a short fuse. He moved to smack Broken Tooth in the kisser, then had a change of heart and kicked the carrying cage that lay on the floor. The door popped open, and the cricket hopped out and began scurrying across the floor, moving as fast as its six legs would carry it. Grimes put his size twelve directly over the helpless insect. The cricket froze, a goner.

“Don’t,” Broken Tooth begged.

Grimes ground the insect into the carpet, grinning perversely.