Chapter 3
The Case of Deep In Death
Part 3
Luther Whitehead's address turned out to be a run down tenement building near Haarlem. The building was bordering on being condemned and simply begging to be knocked down. Luther's apartment was on the second floor of the building.
Beckett, the boys and I assembled around the corner from Luther's building. Waiting for us there was a TAC team, heavily armed and mean looking. As we were approaching the rendezvous Beckett turned serious and practically implored me to stay in the car. She reminded me that this was a dangerous operation.
I made the appropriate noises that intimated that I would listen to her and stay in the car when they went in. I have to tell you that I had my fingers crossed when I was saying that. Miss out on the chance of a drug raid? You have to be kidding me, right?
Sure there was the novelty of attending a real live heavily armed police raid and it would lend authenticity to my writing but there was another reason I wanted to go in with the guys. I wanted to make sure that Beckett was alright during the raid. I trusted both Esposito and Ryan to have her back in such situations and sure they were better equipped to do the job, they had the guns after all, but after that episode with Baylor I felt a sense of obligation to have her back.
Beckett spent a few minutes with the TAC team leader coordinating the plan of action while I stood around with Ryan and Esposito. All of us were wearing our vests, I had donned my 'Writer' vest. Beckett returned from her quick meeting and jumped into her car. I jumped into the passenger seat.
She told me that half the team would go in through the fire escape and the other half would go through the front door. We started rolling.
Pulling up the front of the building Beckett killed the engine and turned to look at me. Once again
she asked me to stay in the car. Actually, she told me firmly to stay in the car. But this time she pulled out the all powerful friendship card. She was asking me as a friend to remain in the car because this was very dangerous and she did not want to worry about me getting hurt or caught in the crossfire.
Damn, she knew me too well. And damn she was sneaky using the friendship card. How could I refuse that? I told her that I would remain in the car. That earned me a small smile of thanks from her. Before she left, Beckett did leave on the tactical radio on so I could hear what went down during the raid.
After being left alone I could not help but smile at the thought that Operation Get Back Into Beckett's Good Books was showing signs of success. The smile did not last long as my concern for Beckett and the boys took over. I nervously waited and listened to the tactical radio. It seemed like forever before I heard the TAC team leader give the order to go in.
There was a loud bang that had me literally jumping in my seat. I later learned that it was a flash bang, a grenade designed to make a lot of noise and give off a very bright flash of light to disorientate the occupants of a room and give the guys storming the room those few valuable seconds to overpower the occupants. The flash bang had been thrown through the window by one of the TAC guys.
Then another bang not as loud as the first, which sounded like a door being broken down. There came a lot of shouting. In amongst it all I thought I heard her voice but I was not all that sure. I had my heart in my mouth as I waited for gunfire to go off. There was none. Quickly word came through that the apartment had been secured. I could breathe again.
Ten minutes later a few more police units rolled outside the front of the apartment building. Luther and two other companions handcuffed securely were frog marched out and into a paddy wagon. A few minutes later Beckett and the boys emerged looking pleased with themselves as they came over to the car.
I wont tell you how pleased I was to see Beckett and the boys. On the ride back to the precinct Beckett filled me in on what they had found in the apartment. They had found the bloodied packages sitting on a table. The packages that Luther and his two companions had to rip open John Allen's stomach to retrieve.
XXX
Several hours later I was standing in the observation room with Beckett and a legal aid lawyer. We were looking into the interrogation room where Luther and his two companions, one dressed in faded camouflage fatigues and the other wore a singlet and his body was covered in tattoos, sat side by side, hand-cuffed and not looking too pleased that they had been arrested by the cops and thus prevented from carrying out their activities.
"Counsellor, I have them dead to rights on weapons, possession, assault, desecration of a body, and about a dozen other things I haven't begun to think about yet." Beckett informed the lawyer confidently, after Lawyer Guy had the temerity to suggest doing a deal.
" What is my incentive to cut a deal?" She added.
"You don't have them on murder." Lawyer Guy replied.
"Give me time." Beckett shot back.
"You don't need time, because they didn't do it." lawyer Guy said. "Ten years concurrent on all charges, eligible in five, and they'll tell you everything they know."
Beckett glared at the legal aid lawyer before she turned on her heels and walked out of the observation room. I gave a curt nod to the guy and followed Beckett out. I had to scurry to catch up to her and when I did I saw that she was none too pleased at the prospect of having to make a deal with Lawyer Guy. She ended up at the murder board and stared at it.
I left her in peace for a few minutes but when she had not said anything in that time I decided to speak. I ventured the suggestion that Luther and his friends might have a clue to that might lead us to the killer.
I half expected Beckett to turn around and bite my head off for daring to make such a suggestion. She did not bite my head off. She let out a long frustrated sigh and when she turned to look at me there was resignation on her face. I could see that she was going to agree to the deal but she did not like having to do it.
She left me at the murder board while she went to see Captain Montgomery to give him an update on the case and the deal that was proposed. He signed off on it.
For the next part of the story I have to thank NYPD for kindly allowing me to view the videos of the interrogations that were conducted as it was impossible for me to sit on three interrogations that were conducted simultaneously.
Once Beckett agreed to the deal, Lawyer Guy had a word with his clients. Meanwhile Beckett said that she would take Luther, Esposito was to take Tattoo Dude and Ryan had Camo Guy.
The story that these three guys told us was this: John Allen was supposed to meet the trio at a flop house on 9th Street. He had around three quarter of a million dollars worth of cocaine rolling around in his stomach and he did not show up. So Luther and his companions went out looking for him. That's when the guys heard a lot of sirens and when they came around the corner they saw a bunch of cops staring up a tree. That was also when Luther and the guys came up with the plan to hijack the body and remove the packages in the way they had. It was not as if Allen was going to object, seeing that he was dead already.
As to the reason why John Allen became a drug mule, it was because he was desperate. Apparently he owed money, a lot of money and time was running out. Luther nor the other two guys were able to say who he owed the money to but he was scared, real scared.
At first none of the guys were willing to provide the name of the person who vouched for John Allen. Eventually all three guys provided the name of the guy who had vouched for the deceased.
A little later Beckett was leaning against her desk studying the murder board. I was standing beside her. She had just updated the murder board with the information that she and the boys had been able to extract from Luther and his companions.
Esposito and Ryan approached her. Esposito was holding a large photograph in his hand.
"Got the print out." He announced. "Ron Rigby, he's a floor trader at Goldman."
That was the name of the guy Luther and his companions had given up. Beckett held out her hand for the photo which Esposito passed over. She took a look at the photo before turning it over and attached to the photo was Rigby's rap sheet.
"Vic's wife never heard of the name." Ryan added.
"For a guy who assesses risk for a living, he sure does seem to take a lot of it." I mused aloud.
"Yeah well, look where it got him." Beckett replied.
Beckett handed the photograph back to Esposito.
"Find him and pick him up." She ordered and set off.
"You got it." Esposito replied.
Esposito and Ryan turned and started walking out of the bullpen in opposite direction. I was in two minds about going with them. Beckett called to me as she made her way for the break room. No contest really. I rushed to catch up with her.
XXX
A couple of hours later Ron Rigby was brought in by Esposito and Ryan. As the interview lounge was being used as were the interrogation rooms, we ended up speaking to him in the break room.
Ron Rigby was a guy of average height aged in his mid fifties. He was dressed in a shirt and tie and he had forgotten to get his jacket when the boys had gone to pick him up. He was pacing the floor of the break room, a little too hyper to my eye. Beckett had just informed him about John Allen's death.
"Dead?" Rigby said.
"Yeah." Beckett said. I nodded my head.
Rigby paused and turned to Beckett.
"Dead?"
"Mr Rigby, you can ask as often as you like. The answer is not going to change." Beckett told him.
"Oh, that is a damn shame." Rigby said as he resumed his pacing. "That is a damn, damn shame. I mean do you know who John Allen is?"
Apart his pacing of the floor Rigby was sniffing every so often which alluded to his cocaine habit.
"He's the new Willy Loman." Rigby said. "Everyman victim of an apathetic world. God, I swear someone should write a play."
Rigby paused in his pacing and looked across to me.
"Hey, do you write plays?" He asked.
"Unproduced." I replied swiftly.
I had written a play or two in my time when I thought I could turn my hand to theatre. One was a comedy that was not really funny and the other was a drama that was more a comedy. I had written them when Mother was going through a lean patch in her career and I thought I would play the dutiful son and create something that could be performed by her on stage. None of the people I showed them to were enthusiastic about what I had written. Mother's comments went something along the lines of 'don't give up your day job'. Needless to say those efforts now reside in my archives gathering dust.
"Mr Rigby, it's come to our attention that you recently obtained employment for Mr Allen as a drug mule." Beckett told him.
Rigby paused in his pacing and looked at Beckett.
"You know about that?" He said.
"Yeah. And bad news Ron, you're going to have to find a new dealer." I told him.
Rigby frowned a little at that piece of information. He moved over and sat down. He frowned a little more.
"What did they tell you?"
"That you got him an introduction and that you vouched for Mr Allen." Beckett said.
"Okay, look. He came to me desperate, alright?" Rigby said. "He remembered a story I told one night at the table."
"The table?" Beckett and I said at the same time. We glanced at each other.
"Yeah, poker table. We're in one of the floating games around town." Rigby said. "You, know small stakes, right, but a good way to blow off steam."
Beckett nodded her head, urging him to continue speaking.
"But then when he got laid off, it stopped being a game." Rigby said. "He started betting to make up his paycheck but the stakes were too low. So he went to Chinatown."
Beckett glanced at me and shot a questioning look.
"The mob run games." I explained.
"Yeah, Triads." Rigby agreed. "He did fine for a bit, you know, but luck's a fickle bitch. He lost more than he had to the wrong guy."
"He couldn't make enough to cover his losses." Beckett surmised.
Rigby nodded is head. "Yeah, that's when he remembered the night I told him the story about my own fiscal emergency, about how I went to Mexico and made fifty grand in one day. That's when I figured, 'Hey what the hell. Just pay it forward.'"
"Alright, this guy that he owed. Did he give you a description? A name?" Beckett asked.
Rigby shook his head. "No name. John thought he was Russian Mafia because of all his tattoos."
Beckett got Rigby to write out his statement before she turned him out and sent him on his way.
A little later Beckett, the boys and I were standing in front of the murder board. Beckett had filled in Esposito and Ryan on what Rigby had given us.
"Some tatted-up Russian mobster after me, I could see taking a job as a drug mule." Ryan remarked.
"A tattooed Russian in New York City? Well that narrows it down." Esposito sourly.
"We conduct an investigation based on information we have, not the evidence we need." Beckett reminded us.
"Well, Rigby says that the Russian hangs out at the club in Chinatown." I said. "Why don't we just go there?"
"The games are word of mouth, bro." Esposito said, glancing at me. "They don't just share with cops."
"Well, luckily, I'm not a cop." I beamed.
"Castle." Beckett warned, levelling a look at me.
"What? It's perfect." I replied. "I go in scope the place out until I ID the Russian."
Esposito turned to look at Beckett.
"Hey, you know, that's not a bad plan." He said.
Beckett regarded Esposito for a moment before she shifted her gaze towards me. Though she kept her face neutral I could tell from the look in her eyes she was not happy about this idea but having no alternative she was stuck with running with it.
"We still have to find the game." She said.
I smiled brightly at her. "Leave that to me." I said.
As you can well imagine such a statement like the one I made would pique the curiosity of Detective Beckett. Despite her best attempts I refused to divulge how I was going to obtain the location of the poker game. She even threatened me but I would not be swayed. I hastily bid my leave of the detectives and raced out of the precinct.
There was a reason I had to leave early. As luck would have it was my turn to host the semi regular poker game of my Writer Crew. One of these guys would get me the information I needed I was sure of that. Cannell and Connelly were able to make the game. Lehanne was a no show because of some family thing and Patterson could not make it because he was writing another best seller.
We'd been playing for several hours and I had been holding my own against Connelly and Cannell before I brought up the case I was working on and told them about it.
"It's a pretty good story, Ricky." Cannell said with some amusement. "Yeah, it's got a big opening, major twist."
"Though I got to say, I saw the whole 'drug mule' thing coming." Connelly said with a grin.
"Nice try, Connelly." I shot back. "You're not going to goad me into raising."
Connelly smirked even more at that remark. I turned to look at Cannell.
"Stephen, you once wrote about an underground poker game in, King Con.
"Yeah."
I then looked across to Connelly. "And you once had Harry Bosch investigate the murder of a poker player?"
"Yeah, One Dollar Jackpot. Why?"
"Well, Michael, the guy we're looking for he's a regular in the Triad run games in Chinatown. I thought maybe one of you knew someone who could get me in."
"What are you nuts?" Cannell said angrily. "Those are crooks and killers down there."
"Look, Ricky, Doing research is one thing but the Russian Mafia? The Triad? You tangle with those people and all the best sellers in the world are not going to protect you." Connelly advised.
"I know, I know." I replied. "I don't plan on tangling. I'm just going to be another rich, bored thrill-seeker looking to try my luck down there."
"You must really like her." Cannell said leaning towards me.
"Who?" I said, trying to play dumb.
"That police detective of yours." Cannell replied. "Look, Rick, there's only one reason that you'd be dumb enough to go down there, and that's to impress a girl. Why don't you cut yourself a little slack and buy her some flowers?"
I would be the first to admit that there may have been a time, a while back, when I would do something like going down to Chinatown to one of the poker games to impress a girl. I have done a lot of dumb things to impress girls in my time. I did not want to go down to Chinatown just to impress Beckett. I suspect she would see right through it, if I was only trying to impress her.
I was assisting the police in an important investigation, I was helping to find a killer. That was the way I was looking at this. I got the distinct impression that neither Connolly or Cannell would believed me if I told them that.
"Do you know the place or not?" I said looking from Cannell to Connelly. "Well?"
Cannell and Connelly exchanged a disapproving look. It was obvious they did not want to tell me. Then Connelly nodded his head slightly, as if to say 'go ahead'. After some moments of silence Cannell shook his head at me. I thought he was going to refuse my request but then he pulled out a note book and scribbled something down on a sheet of paper. He tore off the sheet, folded it and then passed it across to me.
I picked up the paper and took a look at what Cannell had written. It was a name and a telephone number. I looked across to Cannell with a questioning look.
"Give him a call, he should be able to tell you where the place is." Cannell said.
"Thanks."
For the remainder of the game, both Connelly and Cannell tried to dissuade me from going down to Chinatown and tangling with the Russian Mafia and the Triad but my mind was made up on that subject so they gave up trying. I on the other hand proceeded to relieve them of some of their hard earn money. It was a win-win night for me, let me tell you.
XXX
The following morning I called the number Cannell had given me. The gentleman on the other end of the line took a little convincing. I have to say that I think I was at my persuasive best but he would not believe me. In the end he asked for my number and said he would call me back. I suspect he was calling Cannell to check with him of my bone fides.
An hour later the guy called back and gave me the location of where the poker game was going to take place tonight.
The second the guy had rang off I was hitting the speed dial number on my phone for Detective Beckett. I will admit that I sounded rather pleased with myself when I informed her that I had managed to find the location of the poker game. I could not be sure but there was a moment when she sounded a little surprised at my announcement. I did get a 'good job' out of her before she told me to come into precinct for a briefing.
XXXXX
Your thoughts?
Con
