V is for Vengeance

32

There’s always a story that comes after the end of a story. How could there not be? Life doesn’t come in tidy packages, all neatly wrapped up with a pretty bow on top. The raid resulted in seventeen arrests, with criminal charges filed against twelve. To all intents and purposes, the theft ring was shut down and the organization at large suffered crippling effects-at least until they gear up again. If it hadn’t been for Len, Pinky Ford would be dead, which Pinky claims he’d have preferred. With Dodie gone, he doesn’t feel he has anything to look forward to, but that may change in time. Len was put on administrative leave and then decided to take early retirement before Internal Affairs could conduct a review. With thirty officers and an additional two dozen witnesses on hand, the facts about Cappi’s shooting death were never in dispute. After consideration, the district attorney’s office decided not to pursue the issue. Publicly, Len was hailed as a hero, which annoyed me no end. I remembered all too well the shooting years before, when he’d been called to an accounting for inadvertently killing a fellow officer during a drug bust gone bad. At the time, he was cleared, but I was never convinced he was without blame. Word on the street had it that the other officer had threatened to report Len for certain questionable transactions that he’d observed in the course of their partnership. In the matter of Cappi’s death, the consensus was that Len had done law enforcement a favor, so nobody cared if I begrudged him the praise.

As for Dante, he disappeared while I was still bleeding on his scuffed linoleum floor. After he decked me, I remembered seeing him slip into his office, where he grabbed the suitcase from his desk and moved out of my line of sight. When the FBI agents burst in, I expected him to be escorted out in handcuffs. By then, he was gone. There were numerous explanations for his escape. Some said there was a secret room where he concealed himself until the police wrapped up the raid and departed. Others speculated he’d gone out the window and hung on to the frame while he hauled himself and his suitcase up onto the roof and made his way to the fire escape on the far end of the building. Even when the hidden staircase came to light, the man himself had vanished so completely, he might as well have been B. D. Cooper jumping out of that plane.

Len Priddy, on the other hand, was much in the public eye-smug, self-satisfied, and apparently bulletproof. He was a bad man, but a clever one, and he’d managed to dance out of the reach of the law. With Dante gone and Cappi dead, there were no corroborating witnesses to substantiate Priddy’s relationship with the crime family. For those who’d hoped to see him behind bars, disappointment was keen that there was no justice in sight.

Three weeks later I had a visitor. I was sitting at my desk when a woman appeared in the doorway, saying, “Hi, I’m Lou Elle. Are you Kinsey?”

“I am.” By then, most of my facial bruises were gone and my nose was only mildly swollen, so I didn’t feel I needed to explain my appearance. She probably didn’t know the difference since I’d never met her before. I said, “What can I do for you?”

“I work for Lorenzo Dante. Or maybe I should say I worked for him, past tense. Mind if I have a seat?”

“Be my guest. I hope you’re here to tell me what happened to him.”

“Yes and no. He got in touch with me once, but says I won’t be hearing from him again. It’s probably just as well. The less I know about him the better for both of us. Dante Enterprises is out of business.”

“But you came out of it okay?”

“I’m fine. He made sure I wouldn’t be caught in the mess. I’m not sure you’ll appreciate this, but he had Abbie buy plane tickets for himself and a companion, leaving for Manila on Thursday night. He had me buy a second pair of tickets so when the CHP intercepted the limousine on its way to LAX, they found my husband and me in the backseat instead of him. You should have seen the looks on their faces. Talk about disappointed! They were all set to make the arrest. Instead, they had to wave us on our merry way.”

“How did he manage to get away?”

“Sleight of hand. In a year or two, I’ll fill you in, but at the moment, all you need to know is he’s landed safely and he’s set for life.”

“I hope so. I only met him once, but I liked him.”

“He must have liked you too. Despite the punch in the nose,” she added.

“I was never so surprised in my life.”

“He felt bad about it. I’m sure he would have apologized in person if he’d had time.” She opened her bag and took out a thick envelope and passed it across the desk. “For you.”

I picked up the envelope and opened the flap widely enough to catch sight of a fat packet of currency, bound by a rubber band. Topmost was a one-hundred-dollar bill and I was guessing the rest were duplicates.

“That’s not a gift,” she pointed out. “It’s reimbursement for pain and suffering.”

“No need,” I said. “That’s what medical insurance is for.”

“It’s also payment for a job he wants done if you’re agreeable.”

“A job?”

“Short-term. Nothing egregious. Let’s call it a task.”

“And what might that be?”

“Check the envelope again. You missed something.”

When I opened the envelope the second time, I found a tape cassette wrapped in plain white paper.

“He thinks that should have an airing.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. He says you’ll get the idea. He’s trusting you to do anything you like with the information as long as it’s made public.”

“Have you heard it?”

“Nope, but if I know him, it’s worth whatever he’s paying you.”

At that, she got up and headed for the door.

“What if I decide against doing it?”

“The money’s yours anyway.”

I said, “Why?”

She smiled. “He says you play straight and he thinks you’re a woman of your word.”

When I heard the outer door close behind her, I opened the middle drawer of my desk and took out my tape player. I hadn’t used it for so long, I had to replace the batteries before I could get it to work. Once I was set, I popped the tape into place and pressed play.

The sound quality was excellent. I heard Dante say,

“Sergeant Detective Priddy, it’s nice to see you again. It’s been a while.”

“You seem to be holding your own.”

“I was until recently.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, ‘Oh.’ Let’s cut to the chase here. My brother’s been seen in conversation with you. I’ve heard it from more than one source and it doesn’t sit well.”

The conversation took six minutes and ended with Len saying,

“Is that what this meeting’s about? Unsolicited advice from a fucking gangster?”

“I don’t think of myself as a gangster. The term offends me. I’ve never been convicted of a crime.”

“You will be.”

“You’re entitled to feel smug because you win either way. I’m out, he’s in, it’s all the same to you. You think you’ve got your hands full with me, wait until Cappi’s in the driver’s seat. He’ll turn this town on its ear.”

“So why don’t you do us all a favor and get rid of him?”

“Why don’t you? I’ve got enough problems as it is without adding murder to the list.”

“You only have one problem, buddy. We are taking you down.”

“Oh, please. How long has this investigation been going on? Two years, three? You’re playing patty-cake with the FBI and who else? DEA? ATF? All government grunts, a bunch of jack-offs. I already told you I’m out of here. Cappi’s the one you should worry about. Take him out and the business is all yours.”

“Meeting’s over. Good-bye and good luck.”

“Think about it. That’s all I’m saying. Retire from the PD and live in style for a change. You could do a lot worse.”

“I’ll take it under advisement. What’s the time frame for this departure of yours?”

“That’s no concern of yours. I’m telling you this much because I want to be fair since you’ve been such a help to me.”

And that’s where the tape ended.

I sat and pondered the possibilities, rubbing my nose thoughtfully. Cheney would be ecstatic and so would the district attorney. The problem was I couldn’t count on either one to push the revelations to maximum effect. They were more likely to delay exposure of the tape until they were ready to take action. In legal circles, this can take years. There had to be somebody out there who was fearless and aggressive, someone who could manipulate the facts and drive the message home while managing to sidestep the repercussions.

I left my desk, pulled the carpet back, and put the packet of cash in my office safe without counting it. I returned to my swivel chair, lifted the handset, and called Diana Alvarez.

When she picked up, I said, “Hey, Diana. Kinsey Millhone.”

There was a momentary pause. She must have been assessing my tone, which I confess was friendlier than it had been in times past. Cautiously, she said, “What can I do for you?”

“It’s the other way around. Buy me a decent glass of Chardonnay and I’ll do something for you.”

Respectfully submitted,

Kinsey Milhone