Dick (13 page)

TWENTY

Dick

I
scanned the supper club for familiar faces and saw none. We’d just finished our last dance, and it was about time for me to depart. “You’re meeting them in an hour, it’s about time for me to go to the car.”

We stood at the edge of the dancefloor. I was wearing a black tuxedo. Her hair was in a chignon with tendrils and she was dressed in a black dress, heels, and as much diamond jewelry as I could get her to wear. She defined elegance. Not the type of elegance than makes a man say
damn, she looks elegant
, but the type that sucks the breath from your lungs and causes you to stop dead in your tracks and take notice.

Together, we looked like we were on our honeymoon.

She locked eyes with me, gazed into my eyes for some time, and eventually sighed lightly. “I swear, if this deal works, this is the best day ever to replace my other best day ever.”

“What happened on your other best day ever?”

She fanned her face with her hand and took a moment to catch her breath. “I got fucked before breakfast, after breakfast, and then got in a car chase with the cops. After that, I won $600 in a slot machine, and then got asked out on another date with the best criminal ever.”

“Wow. And this will top that?”

She did her best to open her eyes wider than the slits she was looking at me through. “Yeah. I love dancing, and we just danced for two hours. I feel like I’m going to barf, though.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have had all that wine. And the margaritas.”

She shrugged and offered a grin. “I’ll be fine. Is this rain going to stop before this is over?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I can’t believe I left the umbrella in the car. It makes me sick to think about ruining your hair.”

“I wasn’t talking about my hair. A high speed getaway in the rain might be dangerous. Or impossible.”

“Either way, I’ll be faster than whoever’s behind me.”

She nodded. “True.”

“Slow down on the drinking, maybe eat something. But I’ve got to get out of here. I don’t want anyone to see me with you.”

“Okay, just go, I’ll be fine.”

“You sure you’re okay with everything?”

Her eyes thinned to slits. “I’m fine. We’re in this together, Asshole. When are you going to believe me?”

“I believe you. And you’ve got that Glock in your purse. Don’t forget that.”

She waved her hand toward me, lost her balance, and about fell on the floor. “I know. Just go, before one of those snitches comes in here.”

I reached for her face, steadied her jaw between my hands, and kissed her. The kiss was passionate, deep, and thought provoking. It made me want to stay, forget the diamond, and dance until we collapsed.

Our lips parted, and I released her. She stood, her mouth slightly agape, and stared blankly at me for a moment before it seemed that her eyes went into focus.

“Just go,” she said. “If you stay for another minute we’ll be arrested, and it won’t be for theft. I’m gonna rape your sexy ass.”

I glanced at my watch. I had fifty minutes. Reluctantly, I turned and walked away.

A quick scan of the dining area produced nothing out of the ordinary, and I recognized no one. I sauntered to the door, walked out into the rain, and inhaled a deep breath of the humid night air.

The supper club sat on a corner in a swanky district in Austin, with a main street that ran along the front of the building with valet parking, and a brick street at each side that was roughly two and a half lanes wide.

I planned on parking the Ferrari in along the brick street, hugging the side of the road, and waiting. I wouldn’t look any different than any other asshole who drove a $300,000 Ferrari and parked in three parking spaces to keep his car from getting door dings.

I got the Ferrari from the parking garage and parked a block away. With the car running, and the windshield wipers dancing back and forth, I watched the entrance like a hawk.

My buzzing phone startled me.

A number I didn’t recognize.

I answered. “This is Dick.”

“Mr. Wiltshire?”

“Yes.”

“This is Supervisory Officer Willis with TSA. We have a leopard you’re going to need to pick up.”

Oh shit
.

“It’s really a bad time for me. Can I get it tomorrow?”

“That is a negative,”
he said.
“The cat will be required to be picked up before 10:00 pm. Several messages have been left unanswered.”

Fuck.

“Can someone sign for it besides me?”

“As long as they have I.D.”

“I’ll have someone pick it up.”

“The animal will be at the United baggage check. You should be able to park in the unloading lane and come in through the turnstile.”

“I’ll get it taken care of.”

“Thank you, Sir, and have a nice night.”

I hung up. The last thing I needed was to have a fucking leopard in the car. 

I scrolled through my contacts, stopped at
Seton
, and pressed the call button.

“Hello? Everything a go?”

“I need you to stop really quick on your way.”

“Really quick? I’m on my way now.”

“It’ll be ten minutes out of your way. Stop at the airport, park at the terminal’s unloading lane for United, and go to baggage check. There’s a leopard in my name.

“A leopard?”

“Yeah, a cat.”

“You’re having me pick up a leopard? Now?”

“God damn it, Seton. I’m not going to fucking argue with you. Get the cat and hurry the fuck up. Don’t make me…” I pulled the phone from my ear and glared at it. “Just get the fucking cat.”

Frustrated about it all, I hung up.

Aggravated, I surveyed the street, the supper club, and the surrounding area. At 9:25, what I was sure was an unmarked police car parked half a block behind me. Two idiots sat in the car smoking cigarettes and talking.

Typical cops doing a half-assed surveillance job.

I checked my pistol, assured myself it was loaded and ready, and shifted my eyes from the rearview mirror to the door of the club.

It was eerie how natural it felt having Jess involved with the job. I trusted her wholly and completely, which was something had never done. My life of crime had been performed single-handedly, and I had every expectation of continuing my modus operandi for as long as I was in the business.

Now, however, I couldn’t imagine doing anything without Jess’ help. Her love of criminal suspense novels caused her to develop a keen eye and a criminal mind.

My only concern was being one hundred percent certain that she wasn’t harmed.

If anyone damaged as much as a hair on her head, I wouldn’t be in prison for counterfeit money, laundering cash, or stealing a diamond.

I’d be locked away for murder.

TWENTY-ONE

Jess

I
sat at the table with Seton, who, ironically, was the man Dick was threatening the day I met him in the alley. With the money between us on the floor and a briefcase on the table, we sat and talked about everything under the sun while we waited.

“You’re clear on if I go to the bathroom, you need to wait just a minute, secure the money, and then act concerned, right?”

“That’s exactly what I’ll do. He’ll have the fake stone. No one in their right mind would leave the cash and the stone at the table. I’ll pick up the money and say I’m checking on you.”

Out of my peripheral I saw someone who caught my attention. It was rather strange, because he was a hundred feet from me, but his manner of walking gave me pause.

I shifted my eyes from Seton toward the man, and realized it was the man with the mustache from the soup kitchen.

“Holy shit,” I whispered, “That man over there by the bathrooms is the mustache man.”

Seton didn’t turn his head, but he shifted his eyes toward the bathrooms. “Blue shirt, blue slacks?”

“Yeah.”

I tried to shake off my drunkenness, but it wasn’t possible. I squinted and tried to look like I was focused elsewhere while I watched him. “He’s the one who was talking to Drake and Duc at the soup kitchen.”

“He’s a cop.”

My eyes shot to Seton. “Is that an opinion or fact?”

“Fact.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve seen him in court. He’s a detective.”

“I fucking knew it,” I whispered. “Which means Duc and Drake are either snitches or they’re being investigated.”

He turned his head to the side, gazed off in the distance for a moment, and then agreed. “I’d say you’re right. They’re probably both.”

I didn’t like Drake from the minute that hotdog eating motherfucker tried to shake my hand. And Duc looked scary, and not the sexy kind of scary, the scary kind of scary.

Seton sighed lightly. “Let’s hope he’s not the guy who’s meeting us. He may recognize me. It’s been a few years, but I’m sure it’s him. Detective Ortiz.”

“What if you introduce yourself as my legal counsel?” I asked. “You could be my legal consultant and my diamond expert. It might make us look more valid. More, I don’t know, real.”

“Not a bad idea,” he said.

Mustache man started walking in our direction. When it was apparent he was going to be the one who met us, I stood up.

“Hi, I’m Mrs. Wheeler.”

“Thurston Tribideaux,” he said, “The third. I’m a broker with Southern Equity.”

“Seton Hallsworth,” Seton said. “I’ll be acting as Mrs. Wheeler’s legal counsel throughout the transaction.”

Tribideaux didn’t flinch. “Very well.” He glanced around, must have accepted the dining areas as safe, and reached into his jacket pocket.

He reached toward Seton and handed him a folded cloth. “The stone.”

Fuck yes. This might work.

While Seton unfolded the cloth, I leaned onto the top of the table and turned up my southern Texas accent. A whiff of an unidentifiable something caused my nostrils to flare. I shook it off and smiled at the mustache man. “I must apologize in advance, Mr. Tribideaux. I’ve been so darned excited for the last few hours, I’m as drunk as a skunk, as loose as a goose, and my pea sized bladder is as full as a tick on a bloodhound’s ear.”

“Apology accepted,” he said with a laugh. “And my condolences regarding the loss of your husband.”

“Preston was a fine man for sure. He’ll be so pleased about this.” I reached over and placed my hand on top of his. “As long as this diamond checks out.”

His caterpillar lip almost made me barf. He chuckled a deep but very brief laugh. “I’m sure you’ll find it to your satisfaction.”

Seton looked puzzled. He poked the diamond, stared down at his tester, poked it again, and sighed heavily. “The tester appears to be malfunctioning. I can’t get an accurate reading. It’s telling me the stone is a fake. Let’s proceed under the belief that everything checks out.”

What the fuck?

Diamond specialist my ass.

Proceed under the belief?

“How sad,” I said, trying to hide the fact I was about to barf.

Seton turned toward me. “Would you like to see it?”

I nodded. I felt sick at my stomach. I coughed a light laugh and extended my open palm. “Is a pig’s ass made of pork?”

Seton handed me the cloth with the diamond folded into it. As I accepted it, he winked at me with his eye that was out of Tribideaux’s view.

It was all I had to go on, but I assumed everything was a go.

I found out through the education I received from Dick that a 10 carat diamond is barely over one half of an inch in diameter. In comparison, a dime was 50% larger in diameter than a 10 carat stone.

Making it very, very easy to conceal.

I unfolded the cloth, looked at the stone, and squinted. “I can’t see a darned thing without my glasses,” I said. “Forgive me.”

I held the cloth above the table in my left hand so not to raise suspicion. With my right hand, I reached below the table and into my purse. After retrieving the fake stone and my glasses, I cupped the stone in my palm and lifted the glasses to my face.

I rested the glasses against the bridge of my nose. “Let me have a look.”

I unfolded the cloth and pinched the stone between the thumb and forefinger of my right hand. Now holding both stones in my right hand, one in my palm, and one in my fingers, I stared down at it and let out a laugh.

“It’s seems so small without being set into a ring. Seton, dear, do you have one of those little thingies?”

He chuckled. “A loop?”

“Whatever you call it.” I chuckled.

He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a loop. As I reached for it, I loosened my grip, dropped the fake stone into the cloth, and rolled the real stone into my palm.

So far, so good.

I lifted the loop to my glasses, chuckled, and set the loop on the edge of the table. “I guess I don’t need these glasses after all.”

While holding the cloth and diamond well above the table, I leaned over and dropped my glasses and the real stone in my purse.

“Let me have a look,” I said.

Seton studied the mustache man, and I studied the diamond. It seemed, for the time being, that everyone was happy. I looked at the stone for a few long seconds. It was pretty, but indiscernible from the fake. It was roughly the size of a Cheerio and worth almost $4,000,000, which I found to be ridiculous.

“Oh my, that is a pretty one, isn’t it?” I asked, although it wasn’t anything special.

My nostrils flared again. I handed Seton the loop and fanned my face with my free hand. “Reminds me of when Preston proposed to me.”

Seton lowered his head. “God rest his soul.”

Nice addition.

I gave Seton the open cloth with the diamond in full view. “Mr. Tribideaux, forgive me. I must retire to the powder room for a moment.”

The mustache stood up. Seton stood up. I stood, grabbed my purse, and did my best to keep from running. So far, everything had gone as planned and I was as happy as a little drunken thief could be.

In my walk to the bathroom, I realized I was slightly drunker than I remembered being when I sat down. It happened to me quite frequently. From the time I stopped drinking until the time I was the drunkest seemed to be roughly two hours apart.

Once in the bathroom, I was so excited that I almost couldn’t pee. After a long wait, I finally did, and only after I was finished did I text Dick.

I opened the bathroom door slightly, made sure the coast was clear, and nonchalantly began walking toward the front door. Seton faced me, and Tribideaux had his back to me. As long as Tribideaux didn’t turn around, I knew I could make it.

I heard the unmistakable rumble of the Ferrari’s exhaust. I glanced at Seton. He nodded. Kind of. Not a conventional nod, but an unmistakable lowering of the chin. An undercover clandestine nod.

It was my cue.

I ducked behind a couple who was walking in, pushed the front door open, and peered through it. The rain had stopped, but the streets were still wet. The many colors of the neon signs from the adjoining bars reflected off of the asphalt, making the scene seem slightly romantic. 

I glanced to the right. Sitting in the Ferrari fifteen feet from the door, he sat in wait.

Dick.

The beauty of our escape, the $3,500,000 diamond, the red Ferrari, outsmarting the mustache cop, it was just too much. My pussy was soaked. I was suffering from an alcohol induced sensory overload.

I glanced left. A car was on the same side of the street as Dick, thirty feet behind him. The headlights were off, but exhaust bellowed from the rear of the car.

The outline of two men was unmistakable.

And one had a mustache. Undoubtedly a cop.

I ran to the Ferrari, pulled open the door, and jumped inside. “I’ve got it!” I shouted.

“Atta girl!” Dick hollered.

I tossed my purse on the floor. “Seton’s gonna get the cash. Go!”

Dick hit the throttle, causing the car to spin out on the wet pavement. Flashing lights reflecting off of the wet street caught my attention. I spun around. The car behind us had an undercover cop light on the dash.

“There’s a cop behind us!” I shouted.

“Fucker’s been there all night,” he said.

Still peering through the back window, my eyes fell to the narrow flat space behind the seats of the car. A cage filled the space. Inside, a small leopard paced back and forth, growling.

I blinked a few times. I was drunk, but I wasn’t
that
drunk. “Dick there’s a spotted cat in the back.”

“Yeah, it was kind of gonna be a surprise.”

The cat stopped pacing and locked eyes with me. It was creepy. And beautiful. Reluctantly, I broke its stare.

Dick hit the gas again, and the car spun out.

“Motherfucking rain,” he snarled.

Each time the car spun out, the traction control kicked in. This would cause the car’s tires to stop spinning, and limit the engine’s power. Dick fumbled with the dash, found the button to disable it, and glanced toward me.

“Ready?”

Music to my ears.

“Fuck yes,” I said.

“It’s gonna get hairy.”

As far as I was concerned, 700 horsepower in the rain with no traction control wasn’t
hairy
, it was exciting. I grinned and nodded my drunken head. “Just go!”

I no more than spoke, and Dick’s door flew open. Startled, I screamed. Dick tried to drive away, but someone grabbed him by the jacket and yanked him halfway out of the car.

Scared, confused, and not ready for anything of the sort, my eyes frantically darted around the interior of the car for anything I could grab to help. The dull
thud
of fists hitting flesh was more prominent than anything else. I felt sick.

The umbrella.

I grabbed the umbrella and waved it across the interior of the car toward Dick’s right hand – the only portion of him still in the car.

“Dick, here!” I yelled.

The umbrella tapped against his hand a few times. Finally, he gripped it firm.

I glanced toward the cop car. The passenger door opened. The cop with the mustache got out. The sound of an agonizing groan caused me to shift my focus toward Dick. He threw one last punch, knocking the man into the street.

He jumped in the car, got situated, and tossed the umbrella in my lap.

My head spun to the rear. Mustache got back in the cop car. The leopard growled. Everything was happening so fast that it seemed my mind’s attempt to process it was making me sick. I grabbed the umbrella and tossed it aside.

The unmistakable smell of blood filled the car. I glanced down at my hand. “I’m bleeding!”

“It’s the umbrella,” Dick said. “I stabbed that guy with it.”

Without warning, Dick hit the gas. The car shot forward, spinning the tires the entire time. The engine revved, the sound of the exhaust screamed out the back, and in an instant we were on our way to an easy escape.

At the upcoming intersection, two horses began to slowly walk past in front of us. The district we were in had carriage rides through downtown, and, as fate would have it, one was directly in front of us.

“Horse!” I shouted.

Dick screamed and hit the brakes. I glanced to the rear. The cops were only a few feet behind us. Mustache got out.

The sound of gunfire rang out, and the back window of the car shattered.

“Those motherfuckers,” Dick shouted as he swerved the car to the left, almost into the oncoming lane.

“What are you doing?” I shouted.

“Open your door. Time for you to get out.”

I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay with him. I wanted to escape. The plan came together and we were one horse drawn carriage ride away from escaping the perfect crime.