So glad to be back. It's been too long. I hope you'll enjoy this story.
Tags to "A Trout in the Milk" and "Rampage"….and maybe a teeny tiny bit of "One chance to live"
The rain was coming down hard early that morning, each drop hammering against the windshield of the LTD like machine gun fire. An incoming storm had pounded the City by the Bay relentlessly for the past few hours, the overflowing culverts causing streams of water to run down the hills, an assortment of broken branches and downed power lines keeping the public works employees punching in overtime hours.
Some of the strong gusts had shaken the unmarked police car left to right, tossing over a nearby garbage can, its contents being washed away in a matter of seconds.
The two occupants had been sitting there for hours, holding silent vigil along the deserted road, seeing neither hide nor hair of their missing murder suspect. As a matter of fact, nobody had dared to set foot outside, the streets so eerily quiet that the traffic light at the next corner cycled twice before a car crossed.
Their conversation had ceased some time ago, the strong torrents outside too loud for even their lighthearted banter. Instead, they'd sat shoulder to shoulder, quietly relishing each other's company, letting the unspoken bonds that had tied them together for the past few years do the talking.
Every once in a while, Mike had let out a quiet sigh, undoubtedly wishing he was at home, in the comfort of his bed, sleeping through the temperamental weather pattern.
Steve couldn't fault him one bit, having gone on week two of futile stakeouts to hunt down Joey DiBarolo, unsuccessful low-life son of Vincente DiBarolo, dreaded and feared mafia boss from the west side of town.
Like so many times when it came to this particular tribe, the case had started out in Vice, eventually being handed over to Homicide when more than just white party powder had covered the hands of the DiBarolo family.
The victim had been a thirty-two year old man, down on his luck, allegedly having borrowed money from the wrong people and then, due to the inability to pay it back with interest, having been forced to conduct some questionable part-time assignment to work off the loan.
Lack of criminal experience aside; Dick Henderson had been a miserable mule, quickly being downgraded to errand boy by the family whose drug business had grown so fast that they had become desperate enough to rely on outside work.
Dangerous for them, but a feast for any Vice cop on the beat.
For over a decade, the family had successfully eluded most attempts of prosecution but finally, with an inexperienced outsider running errands and leaving a trail of breadcrumbs a mile wide, it seemed that their luck had turned at last.
Unfortunately for Dick, Vincente was neither as forgiving nor as careless as his son, sensing the danger he posed to the family's business. It was only left to assume at the moment that Joey had been assigned to kill Dick, the young man having been found floating in the harbor after the rope tying him to a concrete anchor failed.
Interestingly enough, Joey's startling disappearance had coincided with Dick's demise, leaving them to wonder if the young mafioso had gone underground, or if Vincente himself had decided to prune the branches of the family tree back a bit more, leaving the business to his other two, far more successful and intelligent sons.
Contrary to his brothers, Joey wasn't known to be a killer, going as far as using bodyguards to do his brass knuckle work. It was easy to assume that any refusal of the assignment would have been less than favorable for his immediate future…because Vincente most certainly had a history and inclining to murder when things heated up on the business end.
"I supposed we could try to scrape the harbor as well…", Steve finally said and reached into the breast pocket of his gray pinstripe suit, digging for a piece of gum to take the aftertaste of stale coffee off his tongue.
"The harbor, the sandpits, the basement of the new Holiday Inn along the Embarcadero…for all we know Vincente could have fed him to the pigs…alive.", Mike replied dryly and handed him a piece of gum out of his own pocket.
"You really think he'd dead, hm?"
Accepting the gum gratefully, he unwrapped it and enjoyed the first couple of bites, before crumpling up the wrapper and shoving it into the pocket of his beige overcoat.
"I really do think so…", Mike replied deep in thought and pursed his lips, "This situation could have very well highlighted a few more of Joey's character flaws. With Marco and Adrian taking the family business to a whole new level, I wouldn't put it past Vincente to get rid of the black sheep, the…the weak link in the chain. If Joey became a liability, so would the family business and nobody messes with the DiBarolo business…not even a son."
Nodding in agreement, Steve glanced back down the road where two power lines were touching, throwing the occasional sparks into the barren intersection.
"So, what you're saying is that we could be sitting here for months watching their mansion, waiting for somebody to show up and give us a clue as to whether or not Joey is still alive?"
Mike stayed silent for a moment, contemplating his answer.
"What I am saying is that I would much prefer to have Tanner take this case over from here. There's nothing to do besides sitting and staring. I think our time should be spent digging into the Gonzales case again. It's been a few months, maybe whoever killed her has popped back out of the underground, getting sloppy. We might get an arrest out of that one yet."
"Boy oh boy Michael, you really miss your bed and a good night's sleep tonight, don't you?"
"I'd ask you the same thing, but I know well enough that half the time you're in bed, you are doing anything but sleeping.
"Lieutenant, Lieutenant. That's a lot of speculation for somebody who usually appreciates cold, hard facts."
Their genial banter was interrupted when the police radio sprung to life, the voice on the other end sounding as tired as they were.
"Headquarters to Inspectors 8-1, please respond."
Meeting his partner's gaze in mutual surprise, Mike reached for the receiver.
"This is 8-1, go ahead."
"Lieutenant, we just received a call from a Joseph Joplin, requesting an immediate callback from Inspector Keller. He didn't give any details, only that the matter was urgent."
Steve's eyes shot open instantly, hearing the familiar name associated with an emergency call late at night causing all his warning bells to go off at once.
"10-4 Headquarters, we'll get in touch with him immediately. Please send an unmarked unit to 1800 Block of 31st Avenue, Sunset District for surveillance on the DiBarolo Mansion.", the lieutenant explained, his eyes never leaving the young inspector as another heavy wind gust shook the car, "Sounds like there's trouble in the neighborhood again, buddy boy. I saw a payphone a couple blocks down from here. Let's see what's going on in Joe's world now."
