CHAPTER 7

"Houston." Matt hadn't checked the caller ID before answering and it took him a minute to come out of the stupor of sleep to realize that he was talking to Detective Richard Valdez.

"Hey, we're outside of Plessy's place. A wrecker just picked up a car and hauled it out of here covered with a tarp. The LT wanted me to let you know."

"A tarp?" He sat up on the side of the bed and looked at the clock: 3:18AM. "Mmmm. Okay..." Rubbing his eyes he thought for a moment. "Has anything else happened?"

"Nope. It's been quiet up until now."

"Where was the wrecker from?"

"Rush Wreckers out of El Monte."

"I bet that's De Fiore's company." Matt began putting on his clothes. "Do we know what kind of car she has?"

"The LT was going to check on it." Valdez stifled a yawn.

"Okay, thanks for the call." Houston hung up and continued dressing as CJ sat up on one elbow.

"What's up with the wrecker?"

"I'm not sure." He passed on what Valdez had told him. "Most folks don't have cars picked up at three in the morning from their home. I wonder if maybe it has some damage to it – caused by running Dale Bishop off of the road."

"Good point. You want me to come with you?"

"No, no point. I'll call you later." Leaning back over he gave her a kiss. "Love you."

"Love you..." She watched as he put a cap on his head, tucked his Glock into the waistband of his jeans, and started down the hallway. "And don't forget your therapy apointment."

"Uh huh." The reply was accompanied by a yawn and in a minute she heard the kitchen door close and the sound of the truck's engine.

Stopping at a Burger Nerd just off of the Pacific Coast Highway, Matt picked up a cup of coffee and a couple of biscuits. Just as he pulled back out onto the highway his phone rang. With a biscuit-muffled voice he spoke. "Mornin', Gramps."

"Don't even start with me on that – it's too damn early, PI."

Houston took a gulp of coffee and then cursed himself for burning his tongue. "Did you find out about Plessy's car?"

"Yeah, it's a 2014 BMW 325i Coupe - silver. Bet that the paint matches the transfer we found on Dale Bishop's Volvo."

"I bet you're right."

"I've already called Alex and he's supposed to contact the agents that he has watching the place and let them know what's going on."

"Alright. Want to meet up at fire station 90? It's about a block west of there."

"Fine."

The early hour working in his favor, Matt made the trip much quicker than he had anticipated and was finishing his second biscuit as Michael pulled into the parking lot next to him and got into the truck. "Where's mine?"

"You didn't place an order." Houston drank down more of the coffee.

In a minute they were joined by Bateaux who smiled as he shook a piece of paper in the air. "We've got a warrant, boys."

"Which judge did you roust out of bed?" Hoyt yawned.

"Pattons. He owed me a favor."

"I sure ain't gonna ask why." The PI grinned. "How do you want to work it?" He pulled up a satellite image of the business and looked at the layout.

"According to our surveillance unit the gate was left open when the wrecker came in with Plessy's car. I'll hit the front with the unit we already have on scene and you two can cover the back."

"Okay. It would probably be a little quicker if you and I rode together, Michael. And judging from what I see here..." He turned the laptop so that the lieutenant could see the image. "...we would be better off in the truck. It's kind of rough back there. Wouldn't want you to tear up your ride."

"Fine." Hoyt slid out of the truck and all three men began putting on their vests and checking their weapons. As he got back into the truck the cop looked over at his friend. "Are you going to be okay with that hand?"

"Yep. No problem." Houston cranked up the engine, following Alex out of the parking lot and east on Rush for a little over a block before cutting the lights and turning right into the entrance of the body shop and salvage yard. The surveillance vehicle fell in behind them. As he eased the truck around to the back of the shop, the PI spoke. "You ready?"

"Uh huh." Both men slid out of the truck, leaving the doors partially open in an effort to keep from making noise. Matt tried to open the steel door that was on the back of the building but found that it was locked. As the PI knelt down to remove the set of lockpicks that he always carried in his left boot, they heard Bateaux and his team of agents as they went through the front door of the business. In a matter of seconds the back door was opened knocking Matt flat on his back as two men rushed out. Hoyt grabbed one of them and flung him to the ground, wrestling to get the cuffs on him.

Recovering from the blow, Houston got to his feet and began chasing the other man out into the salvage yard. Darting behind a row of vehicles, the man disappeared from view as the PI approached with his weapon drawn, carefully peering around the back of a car into the near-darkness. His eyes caught a glimpse of movement at the end of the row as his suspect worked his way around to the next row of cars and trucks. Matt went on down to the same row, once again ducking his head around for a quick look. The lack of light was even worse and he could barely make out the vehicles. The sounds of arguing were coming from the building and the PI did his best to listen for any movement around him. In a matter of seconds he heard a thump and then a sliding sound that seemed to be coming from the next row. He cautiously advanced and as he approached the rear of a pickup that was parked on the end a man came creeping out, not seeing the PI as he was flattened against the left rear wheel of the Chevy. In a swift movement, Matt jumped forward and tackled the man at his knees, the pair hitting the ground. A wrestling match ensued that was ended quickly as the PI grabbed the man's left arm and twisted it around behind him, a screech coming from the suspect. "Get the other hand back here now... do it!" With a curse, the man did as he was told and found himself cuffed. A beam of light from a bobbing flashlight drew near the two and Matt swung around, his pistol aimed at the source of the light until he heard a familiar voice.

"Houston! Where are you?" Hoyt stopped short as the light hit the PI squarely in the eyes.

"Sitting here going blind – would you lower the light, please?" As he got to his feet he instructed the suspect to bend his knees and helped him to his feet. None too gently he pushed the man against the side of the truck and began checking him for weapons. "Alright, smartass – you've got a shoulder holster – where's the pistol?" His answer was silence. Pulling the man's wallet out of his back pocket he flipped it open as Hoyt shined the flashlight on it. "No ID." He handed it to Hoyt and started back toward the building. Once inside, both detectives got a good look at him. "Well, Michael – I do believe we've found a ghost. If I'm not mistaken this is Blaine Richey – the mole from Miami." His statement was met with a glare from the prisoner. "How ya doin', Blaine?" There was no response as the man looked up at the ceiling. "Tell ya what, Michael - I'm going to leave him here with you and borrow your flashlight..." The cop handed it over. "I'm going to go find the pistol that belongs with that holster."

Back outside, the PI went back over the path he had traveled while following the man and as he reached the far end of the third row of cars he found the pistol on the ground underneath the back end of a Prius. After pulling a glove out of his back pocket, he picked picked up the weapon and went back to the shop.

Hoyt had a large smile on his face. "It's Plessy's car alright and there's damage on the left front. And in case you didn't notice – we got Nunzio, too."

"Guess it's time to bring them back in and ask some more questions." He dropped the pistol into an evidence bag that the lieutenant handed him.

Back at the station, Houston settled down into a chair in one of the interrogation rooms as Alex read Blaine Richey his rights. "So..." The agent had a seat and looked over at the man. "Which do you prefer – LA or Miami?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I want a lawyer."

"Who shall I say is calling?" Bateaux gave a crooked smile. "You don't have any ID on you, you won't tell us who you are...do you really think a lawyer will represent you if he doesn't know who you are?" There was nothing but silence from the man. "Okay, I'll see what I can do – but if you want to attempt to bail out you'll have to give us a name." The two investigators left the room and went back to Hoyt's office where the cop was on the phone. Both men had a seat on the couch, Matt propping his feet up on the coffee table and lowering the cap over his eyes. In a minute Michael ended the call.

"Comfy?"

"I suppose."

"I just sent a unit to pick up Sharon Plessy."

"Bet she won't be any happier to see us this time than she was the last."

"I also got a fingerprint match; that's definitely Blaine Richey that we have in interrogation."

"Oh, yeah. He wants a lawyer." The PI yawned.

"Naturally."

"So how do you think it went?" Bateaux looked between the two men and stifled a yawn.

"It would seem that he and Plessy were in cahoots somehow." Michael leaned back in the chair yawning as well. "What do you think, PI?"

"Well..." Matt took the cap off and ran a hand through his hair. "I've been thinking about that. Blaine was in Miami, but how did he get close enough to Bassinelli in such a short amount of time? I mean the mob guys don't let just anybody walk through the big man's door. Seems to me that there's at least one more person involved in this whole thing – somebody from the Miami family that vouched for him and let him in."

Hoyt considered that for a moment. "But if they thought he was a mole...wouldn't they have taken out who ever vouched for him?"

"You would think so." All three sat in silence for a minute. "Fibby, did you ever find out who our dead shooter from Lone Pine was?"

"Uh huh. A guy by the name of David De Palma. He did "odd jobs" for the Miami family."

"Do your people have any idea whose job it was to get rid of the mole?"

"No...but I think I see where you're going with this. Whoever was supposed to take Blaine for a nice long ride in the swamp didn't kill him – they let him go."

"And they might just be part of the reason that he was in Miami to begin with."

"So maybe Bassinelli didn't kill who ever spoke for Richey; maybe he gave them the job of disposing of him and they let him walk instead."

"Makes sense in a round about way." Michael stood up and stretched, looking out into the lobby. "Looks like Plessy is here and she isn't happy at all." The other two followed him out of the office and down the hallway. The cop stopped and turned back to them. "Houston, you have a way with the ladies; why don't you try your luck with Plessy?"

"Alright."

"I'll go with him." The FBI agent stifled yet another yawn and led the way into the interrogation room where she was now handcuffed to the table. "Miss Plessy..." He had a seat at the table. "I'd like to remind you of your rights once again." The Miranda Warning was recited. "We would like to ask you some questions about your relationship with Johnny De Fiore."

"My relationship...? What business is it of your's who I have a relationship with?"

"Alex, let me rephrase that for you." Matt stared across the table at the woman. Sitting in the harsh light of the room without any makeup on, she was far from beautiful. "We know that you had a relationship with Mr. De Fiore. We also know that he is now deceased, as well as four other known Mafia leaders from across the country and several of their associates."

"That doesn't have anything to do with me at all."

"We also know that you worked with Carmine Nunzio." He watched as her eyes narrowed, the glare she shot him across the table making her look even older in the bright lights of the room.

"I want my lawyer."

"Okay." He stayed seated as Bateaux started to rise from his chair. "You know, I've dealt with mob folks before. They have a funny way of taking care of problems on their own." Plessy shifted uneasily in the chair. "In some ways I gotta say it's more efficient than our justice system." Pausing, he continued to stare at her. "Five bosses dead, several of their buddies, and three of your former employees." He saw a flicker of worry. "Yeah, we know Blaine isn't dead. Matter of fact he's down the hallway right now making a statement." A sly grin crossed his features. "According to what I overheard a canary ain't got nothin' on him when it comes to singing." He chuckled as did Bateaux who was now leaning back in his chair looking amused. "Plus we're testing the paint on your car. Bet it matches up with the transfer on Dale Bishop's car from where you ran him off the road. Funny, your sister died the same way. Did you take her out, too? Was she getting to be an embarrassment with her drugs – or did you just get tired of Johnny going back and forth between you two?"

"I'm not saying anything."

"Fine." Houston got up and went over to the small window and looked out. "I kind of like story telling. Let me see if I've got this one right." He began walking around the room. "You and Nunzio were seeing each other behind Johnny's back. He has high ambitions – wants to be the man in charge. And you had Johnny wrapped around your finger. Carmine knew that the five families were talking about a big meet and he also knew about the storage facility – specifically the wine storage area in the basement." She stared at her hands, staying quiet. "So you and he got together and brainstormed and came up with the plan for Johnny to host the meeting. Guess y'all figured that if all five of the dons were taken out at once that the families would blame each other. Only who would blame the LA family? Johnny got killed, too. How am I doing so far?" He was behind her now, leaning over with his left hand on the table. She remained quiet.

"I think it sounds pretty good." Alex watched the woman's expression.

"Blaine was sent down to Miami to make Bassinelli worry that he had a mole. And your contact there was supposed to take him out and whack him. But instead..." He circled the room again. "Blaine is alive and well." He paused again. "And your contact in Miami is now head of the family."

Plessy was now looking at her nails, her hands noticiably shaking.

"And he sent David De Palma up here to take out Gonzales and Pilkins." Leaning on the table facing her he gave her an almost evil grin. "So how is Luca Bernardi doing anyway?"

"I don't know who you're talking about." Plessy tried for a confident look.

"Oh, I think you do. And I also think if you want any chance at surviving for any length of time, you better come clean and tell us everything. Or has it occurred to you that since Luca is now head of the Miami family and Nunzio has the LA family – neither one of them really has a use for you anymore?"

"I want my lawyer."

"Fine." Matt turned to the door. "But remember what I said – your services are no longer needed. They've both got what they wanted. And you're just extra baggage."

The two men stepped out of the room and met Michael as he came out of the observation room where he had been monitoring the interrogation. "You did a good job in there. She looks scared."

"She oughta be. These folks don't play around. So what about Nunzio?"

"His lawyer is on the way." Hoyt looked past the PI and nodded. "If I was a betting man I would bet that's him right there." The other two turned to see a man of about fifty with silver gray hair as he spoke with one of the detectives in the squad room and was directed to the hallway where they were gathered.

"I'm looking for Carmine Nunzio." His eyes landed on Hoyt.

"He's right down here. Are you his lawyer?"

"I am. What exactly is the reason why he was brought in?"

"He's a possible accomplice in the murders of five people – for starters."

"Hmph. We'll see about that." He followed the cop down the hallway and both disappeared inside the interrogation room.

Houston yawned and looked at his watch. "Think I'm going to go catch a nap." Turning, he went back to Michael's office and flopped down on the couch once again.

Bateaux walked over to the windows and looked out on the street where traffic was now going by during the early rush hour. "So what do you think? Will Sharon Plessy confess?"

Matt pulled the cap down over his eyes and propped his boots up on the coffee table. "Don't know. She's pretty tough – but I do believe we might've put the fear into her."

"We? Huh...more like you. I was just there as an audience." The agent chuckled. "I think that last part you told her about her services no longer being needed got to her."

"It's true. Unless Nunzio really has the hots for her I suspect she's become a liability."