The Cain Casey Series

Chapter Six

Cozumel, Mexico

“We lost another five kilos this week,” Santos Esvillar said. He was in charge of the Luis family’s Louisiana distribution chain, and so far it had been three months since he’d had good news. “Someone gunned down another six street vendors, so now no one wants to touch our business.”

“What happened to the product?” Rodolfo Luis asked. He and his nephew Juan had returned to his estate in the hills right outside of Cozumel after Cain had declared war on Giovanni Bracato. It was a battle he’d wanted no part of, since he had no loyalties to Giovanni.

“The police arrived at the scene before we had a chance to retrieve anything, señor. After the last couple of hits, I had some backup at each location, but it was like somebody called the cops before it all went down.”

“It’s that fucking bitch,” Juan said, almost spitting the words out. He stroked his chest, his fingers gliding with the help of the tanning oil one of the house girls had slathered on him when he’d come down to the pool. He had yet to grow one hair on his chest, but he figured that wasn’t what made a man. However, he seldom let anyone outside his family see him with his shirt off. “It’s always that fucking bitch trying to be a man.”

“We tried to make the connection to Cain Casey, but we haven’t had any luck,” Santos said.

“It’s her, and this has to fucking stop.”

Rodolfo stood and moved his chair farther under the shade of the large umbrella close to the water. “Is this business or something else?” he asked Juan.

Juan’s back came off the chaise lounge, but that’s as much as he was willing to physically challenge his uncle. “Business before anything else, Papa. You know Cain’s behind this. Let it go unpunished and it’ll get worse.”

“Word on the street is that Nunzio Luca has the Capri up for sale,” Santos said, sounding like a man covering his ass.

Juan came fully erect at the news, leaving the sun for a seat in the shade next to Rodolfo. Most of their southeastern product arrived and was shipped out for distribution at the Biloxi casino. With the help of the New York-based Luca family, they were building a network that would stretch through the gaming industry from Mississippi to Nevada.

The plan was perfect, since the drop-off points were so close to major distribution areas in Florida and California. While the DEA was busy trying to bust mules coming over the border full of balloons of cocaine, no one bothered to check the fresh fish and beef being flown into the casinos for their cheap buffets. All it had taken was chump change to the customs’ agent in both locations. If the new owner of the Capri was uncooperative, its sale would seriously hurt the operation Juan had worked hard to put into place.

“What do you know?” Juan asked.

“I don’t know the particulars yet, but that’s the rumor running through the casino.”

“Then find out, moron. What in the hell are we paying you for?” Juan lifted his drink, ready to throw it at Santos, but just as quickly put it down. Giving in to the satisfaction wouldn’t be a good way to prove to Rodolfo that he was fit to handle the situation. “The son of a bitch Nunzio hasn’t told us anything about it.”

“We’re working on it, since if it’s true, we’ll need some cooperation to continue our business.”

“Fly back to Biloxi and do some more digging, and we’ll be there in a week,” Rodolfo said. He took a sip of his lemonade and wiped the edges of his mustache. “If you find something before then, let me know.” He lifted his glass again but waited for Santos to leave. “That’s all,” he said when Santos didn’t get the message.

“If you want—” Juan said as soon as Santos was out of earshot.

“Don’t ask for something I’m not going to give you.”

“Why? I’m ready and you know it.” This time Juan picked up his glass and threw it into the pool. “I put that fucking operation together, and I should get the chance to protect it.”

“Remember two things.” Rodolfo stood and buttoned his jacket. “When you use language like that, no one will respect you. Act like a common thug and that’s all you’ll ever be.”

He started toward the house, but before he walked ten paces he heard a splash. When he turned around, the pitcher of lemonade had joined the glass in the pool.

“That was one thing. You said to remember two,” Juan said, his chest heaving from what Rodolfo assumed was rage.

“Keep acting like a child and I’ll send you back to your mother. I don’t have time for theatrics and the mistakes that spring from men who act without thinking.”

“I am a man, Papa, and I want you to let me prove it. If you do, I swear you won’t be disappointed in me.”

The sun was beating down, and not even the breeze was helping Rodolfo stay dry. All his life the sun had motivated him to grow his business. No way in hell was he going to spend his time sweating and working in someone else’s yard like his father.

“A week, Juan, we leave in a week. That’ll give you time to think, and once we get there we’ll see.”

As he strolled back to the house he heard another splash. He wasn’t interested enough to turn around, but he figured one of the house servants would have to fish out the glass he’d been using, along with the rest of the service. Juan hadn’t been the same since they’d returned from the States, but no matter how many times he’d asked, the boy had refused to tell him.

“Whatever it is, hijo, it’s time to let it go,” he said as he climbed the stairs to the house. His eyes landed on Juan, who’d gone back to his lounge chair and his sun worshipping. “Now’s the time for cool heads who can strike back at anyone who dares mess with our livelihood. If I can’t count on you for that, then I can’t count on you for anything.”

*

Annabel Hicks, lead FBI agent in the New Orleans office, entered the conference room and threw a thick file onto the table before she sat at its head. Shelby Philips didn’t need a rundown on what was in it, since her team had compiled most of the information. It contained a mixture of good and bad, but mostly it consisted of page after page of Cain’s brilliance at avoiding being caught doing anything wrong. There was a lot of speculation about what she’d done, but prosecutors couldn’t get convictions from theory.

“In case you missed it.” Annabel opened the folder, pulled out the pictures on top, and handed them to her assistant to pin to the board behind her. “The New Orleans police added these to the unsolved pile today.” Six photos were tacked up in the section marked “Bracato.” “These men were found dead, along with the biggest cache of drugs since this housecleaning began.”

“No leads?” Joe Simmons asked.

“Of course there’s a ton of leads,” Anthony Curtis whispered. “That’s why we’re in here wasting time.”

“Do you have something you’d like to share with the rest of us, Agent Curtis?” Annabel asked.

“Not officially, ma’am.”

“Then, unofficially, let’s hear it.”

“We have these meetings, ma’am, and while they’re insightful we don’t really get anywhere. We all know that the left side of the board,” he pointed to the Bracato side, “is a dead subject. And we all know who brought that about.” He pointed to the right where the top picture showed a smiling Cain Casey. “Sitting here is a waste of time.”

“Gosh, Tony, if you’ve solved the case I’ll be happy to buy you a drink,” Shelby said, aggravated with the surly Anthony. “What’s a waste of my time is your more-than-hashed-out grudges, but not one shred of anything that’ll help us. Are you sitting on a mountain of evidence I don’t know about?”

“If anyone’s holding out, it’s you. Aren’t you screwing her—”

Annabel slammed her hand on the table. “Curtis, in my office now. Shelby, finish this up, then I’d like to talk to you,” she said, and promptly left the room.

“Take a seat, Agent Curtis.”

“You know I’m right about Casey, and I know you’re aware of who Shelby is seeing socially.”

“Shut up and sit down. If I have to repeat myself, I’ll have you escorted from the building and have to send out one of those irritating official letters in lieu of this meeting.” In no way did she mean for her tone to convey humor. “No one in that conference room is an idiot. They’re professionals who are more than aware of what and who is responsible for our recent crime wave.”

“Thank you for that, at least.”

“I meant what I said about shutting up.” She pulled a file from a desk drawer and opened it. “We still live in the United States, Agent, and we have to abide by those pesky little things called laws. We cannot hound and hang a person on speculation.”

“What we’re doing isn’t working. You have to admit that too.”

“You’ve got a real problem with authority, don’t you?” She looked at him directly, daring him to open his mouth. “When you asked for a spot on Barney Kyle’s team you showed tremendous promise, but somewhere along the line you’ve let your personal feelings about Casey cloud your judgment. You have a month to realign your priorities, starting now. I suggest you use this paid leave to delve deep and find that idealistic young agent who was an asset to his team. The agent who helped bring down his mentor Kyle, who wasn’t afforded this opportunity, so use it wisely.”

“You think I’m going to turn out like Kyle?” He came close to springing out of his chair but stopped as soon as his butt came off the seat.

“Only you can answer that, Anthony, but as your supervisor I can’t take the chance. For now, I’m stating in your file that you’re taking voluntary leave.” She slid the papers across the desk for him to see.

“What if I wouldn’t like to take voluntary leave?” He closed it and pushed it back at her.

“Then I’ll replace that page with this one.” She held up a page but didn’t offer to show it to him. “Take the gamble if you want, but others have lost careers for less.”

“Even if they can counter with the fact that their supervisor hasn’t handled the situation in a professional manner?”

“Then I guess I have my answer.” She ripped the top sheet out of the file and was about to tear it when Anthony did come out of his seat.

“All right, I’ll take leave.”

“During your time off you can pick where you’d like to be transferred. That would be your smartest next career move.”

“If that’s it,” he spat at her.

When Anthony walked out, Shelby was talking to Annabel’s secretary. He opened his mouth but closed it so violently Shelby heard his teeth click together. Then she noticed Annabel standing in the doorway of her office.

“Shelby.” She waved her in. “Pick someone to take Curtis’s place on your team.”

“Yes, ma’am, but can I ask why?”

“He’ll be on leave so you need to fill the slot. Do you have anything new on all this?”

Shelby referred to her notes. “We talked to the two lead detectives the police commissioner put on this case. Twenty gang-style slayings in such a short time makes this situation eligible for federal help, but this is the NOPD we’re dealing with. They’re not inviting us in without a court order, and even if we had one, they still wouldn’t be highly motivated to work with us.”

“What was their take?”

“Detective Oscar and his partner are busy slapping each other on the back for all the drugs they’ve gotten off the streets, along with a laundry list of bad guys whose combined rap sheets could circle the globe a couple of times over.” She shook her head and sighed. “These guys being taken out aren’t exactly high priority.”

“Nothing that ties them to Casey?”

“You’ve been chasing her longer than I have. What do you think?” Shelby said and laughed, making Annabel join her. “Nothing on that, nothing on the Bracatos—nothing on top of nothing doesn’t add up to much.”

Annabel nodded and rested her elbows on her desk. “We have to talk about Muriel Casey.”

“We’re friends, ma’am, nothing more, and this isn’t the armed services.”

“I don’t care that it’s a woman, Shelby,” Annabel said, sounding like she found the conversation distasteful. “But I have to care that she’s the closest advisor and family member of your main investigation’s target.”

“Trust me. I’m fully aware of who Muriel is, and who’ll fall out if I shake her family tree. But sometimes fate chooses for us, doesn’t it?”

“Just be careful I don’t want to have to make your personal business my official business. We understand each other?”

Shelby stood up and gathered her things. “Yes, ma’am, we do, and thanks for your latitude on this.”

“Your team members are aware of this situation, and while I don’t think they concur with Curtis, they are aware. I’m not the only one who can make this difficult for you.”

“I’ll keep you updated on the investigation,” Shelby said, hoping Annabel accepted that the rest was off-limits. “And please feel free to join our regular meetings. We can use all the insight we can get.”

“Have fun tonight then.”

Shelby whipped around as she started to leave. “Thanks,” she said hesitantly, not knowing how Annabel had found out about her plans for the evening.

“Remember that while I shuffle a lot of papers all day, I’m still an FBI agent.”