The Starlight Club: The Starlight Club (Mystery Mob Series Book 1) (9 page)

Chapter Eleven

The following morning, as Iris was getting dressed, she heard a soft rap on the hotel room door. She opened it and Tiffany slipped quietly into the room, not wanting to disturb anyone. Room service had delivered coffee and assorted doughnuts and rolls earlier in the morning, along with a large pot of coffee. Iris poured each of them a cup. The two women chatted while artfully applying their makeup and styling their hair, wanting look their best for the boys before they left. They said their goodbyes and as they were about to leave, Red thanked them again for helping these two strangers with their little problem last night and handed them an additional hundred dollars each. Red liked Iris and explained to her that he hoped to call her soon after he tended to some business. Jimmy, who was listening, seconded it. The men wanted to spend some quality time with these gals - dinner, dancing, theater, a little gambling at a place that Meyer Lansky owned on Griffin and 441, the Track, but as much as they wanted to enjoy themselves, everything was on hold until they discovered the reason they were being followed. Today, Red was determined to get some answers.

Iris viewed the hundred dollars Red handed her and frowned.

“You know, Red, we’re not prostitutes. You don’t have to pay us for our company.”

Red, true to his name became a little “red” faced and realized that he may have unintentionally insulted the ladies
.

“Look Iris
. I didn’t mean it that way. I really didn’t mean to imply anything other than that. I apologize if it came off that way.” He smiled and begrudgingly, she smiled back. She knew what he meant.

“I’m not mad
. I just want to make sure that we understood each other. I hope I see you again.”

“I wanna to see you again too.”

The girls left and the men walked into the hotel’s restaurant. Red ordered bacon and three eggs over easy, with instructions to the waitress that if an egg was broken he wanted it replaced, emphasizing that he didn’t like it when any of his eggs were broken. Jimmy ordered French toast, almost mushy, with butter and powdered sugar, and bacon on the side. As Red dipped his toast into an egg, he asked Jimmy.

“Do you see him?”

“No. Maybe he’s waitin’ for us outside.”

“Maybe
. We’ll know in a few minutes. I hope he is. I don’t like the cat and mouse game. If he dogs us again, we’re gonna put a stop to this bullshit today.”

Red generously overtipped his waitress like he always did when he liked the service
. The men exited the restaurant but sidestepped into the adjoining lounge area. There they found the perfect table by the window - one that had a view of anyone coming in or going out. Their waitress from the restaurant had apparently followed them. She spotted the men through the glass partition that separated the restaurant from the lounge.

             
“This one’s on me fellas for the generous tip you left me,” she said as she carefully balanced a tray of sweet Cuban coffee. What a nice surprise. Café con leche was a favorite of both men.

             
“Fegget about it. You’ve been real nice to us. We appreciate it. What’s your name hon? ” Jimmy asked.

“Suzy.”

“Thanks for the coffee, Suzy. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow then
. Have a great day guys.”

“That broad’s okay
. I like her.” Jimmy was about to say something else but he stopped mid sentence.

“Red, he’s back.”

“Where?”

“He just walked in - took a table on the other end of the room in the back with a clear shot of us.”

“It’s time to pay him a visit. Watch his hands,” Red warned Jimmy. “Put your silencer on your gun and if you see him reachin’, shoot him, and if he already has a weapon in his hands, duck. I don’t want you gettin’ shot. Capiche?”

“Yeah, yeah, I understand
. Ya know, you’re gettin’ to be like a Mama, always worrying about me. You’d think I never went through anything like this before.” Red chuckled. The boys approached the stranger’s table, helped themselves to two chairs, and sat down.

“What’s your name?” Red asked.

The stalker showed no emotion. He was silent and dead faced. After a few uncomfortable moments, he said, “Why are you sitting at my table,
bothering
me?”

“Look, just cut the shit
. You’ve been followin’ us ever since we got here. I wanna know
why
and I wanna know
who
you’re working for.” Red reached into the waist of his swimsuit and raised the gun underneath the table, tapping it to let the guy know there was deadly iron close by. The stranger recognized that sound - metal against wood. Unconvincingly, he replied, “I’m calling security.”

“That’ll be the worst mistake you ever made in your life. You’ll be dead before they get here. Now, let’s start again. Who are you?”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Get up. Now!”

“What?”

“Jimmy, help him up. It seems he’s a little hard of hearing.”

The
lounge area wasn’t crowded but that didn’t matter to Red. Jimmy nonchalantly rose from the table and stood behind the man. He grabbed him under his armpit and lifted him off the chair quite easily. Jimmy nudged the guy in his back with the barrel of his gun. “Move. We’re takin’ the elevator.”

Once alone in the elevator, Jimmy searched the stalker for a weapon
. Sure enough, he found a snub nose 38 in a side holster. There was a silencer in his left pocket. Jimmy removed both the gun and suppressor and placed both into his jacket pocket.

Jimmy and Red led the man to their
room. There was a plastic tarp in the closet. It appeared to be something a maintenance man must have left. They placed it into the middle of the room with a chair in the center of the tarp, sorta’ interrogation style, more for effect than anything. Red ordered the stranger to sit. Jimmy searched him once again, this time for any identification. He found nothing - no I.D., no license, nothing. All he had was nine hundred ninety-five dollars in cash, which Jimmy returned to the stranger’s back pocket. “Bolt the door, Jimmy, and turn the television on real loud. I don’t think the next hour is gonna’ be very pleasant for our guest here.” Jimmy did as instructed. He took out his gun and placed it on the desk.

“Now, big guy, who are you
? Look … you work for somebody . . . just like we do. We’re both pros, so don’t make me hurt you,” he said as his voice rose to the next key. “This can be settled easily. No one has to get hurt.
Now,
who the fuck are you?”

There was no response.

“Jimmy, silencer, and let’s have mister twenty two say hello to his knee cap,” he said in a Mister Rogers sort of way.

“This is the last time I’m gonna ask
. What’s your name?”

Silence.

Jimmy cocked the gun, aimed it and . . .

“No
! Wait! I’ll tell you! Carlos.”

“Carlos what?”

“Carlos Garcia.”

“Good Carlos
. Where are you from Carlos Garcia?”

“The Bronx.”

“The Bronx? Good, now who’s payin’ you?”

There was a strong hesitation
. “Rodrigo Cordero.”

“Rodrigo Cordero
? I heard of him. He works out of the Bronx.”

Carlos nodded nervously.

“What were you supposed to do with us?”

“We were expecting you to fly into Fort Lauderdale, not to drive, and we weren’t expecting anyone to be with you
. That threw me a little.”

“What is this, the amateur hour? Man, I’m glad you don’t work for me. Who in our business ever travels alone
? Now, you still haven’t answered my question,
Carlos Garcia
. What were you supposed to do with us?”

“Look, it’s nothin’ personal
. I was supposed to take you out when the time was right - only I pegged you at the beach and there were people around you so I couldn’t get close enough to do anything. Then last night, you had two girls with choo so I figured I would tap you when you went to the men’s room, but that didn’t work so I figured I’d wait ‘til morning and get you outside on a side street. I had to time it just right to get both of you at the same time. Like I said, it’s nothing personal, just business.”

“Yeah I know. I’ve done business like that myself
. That’s the reason we’re down here. Does Rodrigo contact you by phone?”

“Yeah
. Or I call him. Either way, we stay in touch by phone.”

“Where does he hang out
? How can I find him? Gimme’ some good info and you live.”

“Bullshit. You gonna’ kill me.”

“How do you know I’ll kill you?” Red asked.

“Because if it were me, I’d sure as hell kill
you
.”

“Look
. I’m givin’ you a way out, so tell me what I want to know and you live. How do I find this bum?”

“He lives in the Bronx but he hangs out in Harlem, above the cleaners on Broadway and Tiemann Plaza
. He keeps an apartment there where he conducts business - apartment two oh one. Hardly anyone knows about it, just a few guys. I think he’s got a deal with the blacks in Harlem to join forces and split the Queens territory.”

“Guys like you go to his place?”

“Yeah, I was there once, to get half my money and instructions. I was gonna’ get paid the other half when the job was done. Guess I won’t be gettin’ the rest of my money.”

“I’m curious
. How much was he payin’ you for this job?”

“Twenty grand.”

“That’s all. Twenty thousand?”

“Yeah
. I needed the dough so I agreed to do it for the twenty plus expenses.”

“Does he really think that we’d stand by and let him take our territory
? Does he know the army we have?”

“He figures that a war between the Gallo’s and the Profaci’s is happenin’, and when it moves into Queens
and you guys are busy fighting each other, he’ll move in and take over.”

“How big is his organization?”

“Pretty big, not as big as yours, but big enough to make demands or fight a limited war.”

“One more thing Carlos. I want you to call Rodrigo right now and tell him that you completed the contract, you took care of us
. Do it. It’s a command, not a request.” Red seated him at the desk and handed him the phone.

Carlos made the call with Red’s ear close to the receiver
. Red could hear both sides of the conversation. A voice on the other end said, “Great. Good job Carlos. Head on back. The balance of your money is waitin’ for ya.”

“Carlos, we’re finished here
. Let’s go.”

“Whoa! Wait a minute. You said you wouldn’t kill me! You gave me your word!”

“I’m gonna let you live. We’re just takin’ a little ride, that’s all.”

The elevator opened at the garage level and the three men walked through the garage to their car
. Carlos was sobbing.

“Relax man, you’re gonna’ be alright,” Red told him, reassuringly.

The three men drove for a while past a tollbooth on State Road 84 and onto State Road 75 Alligator Alley, which was a direct route across the state leading to Naples, Florida. Jimmy slowed down when they reached the rest area near mile marker seventy - one and pulled into it.

“Get out,” Red barked
.

Carlos knew about the walks like the one he was about to take
. He had taken
others
for walks like this, only then he was the one holding the gun. A few short steps later and the two men were no longer visible from the road. Red led Carlos a short distance into the thick underbrush and deeper into the green foliage of the everglades until they came to a fence by the water’s edge. That fence ran along the entire length of alligator alley and was put there to prevent a child or a drunk from wandering into the alligator and snake infested waters. Conversely, another purpose for the fence was to keep the alligators from walking out of the water and onto the highway. Red discovered that a large portion of the fence, at this particular rest stop, was cut away. He attributed it to Everglades’ boaters who made themselves a convenient access to the waterway, away from the prying eyes of the law.

“That’s far enough.
” Before Carlos had a chance to even turn or speak, Red squeezed the trigger on Jimmy’s LR 22. The little gun coughed twice as he fired two shots into Carlos’s knees. He then fired two more quick shots, shots that might have been mistaken for a cricket signaling for a mate. These rounds shattered his elbows. The damage was done. Carlos collapsed helplessly in the soft mud, whimpering in pain. He had total loss of the use of his arms, hands, and legs. Red helped himself to Carlos’ money, bent over him and whispered, “I told you I wouldn’t kill you Carlos, but I can’t leave you unpunished now, can I? We’re leavin’ you here alive so you still have a chance. Somebody may find you but I’m warnin’ you, if they do and you talk, we’ll find you and we’ll gut you like a pig and feed you to the gators. Do you understand me?”