Old Wounds, a Gino Cataldi Mystery Read online

  “We need to figure that out sooner rather than later,” Tip said. “She’s got something to do with this. And don’t forget we’ll have that video from Santos tomorrow to analyze, the one with the Dallas victim and the president.”

  I downed the rest of my beer and said, “I’ll tell you what I’d like to see.”

  “I know what you’d like to see—Mrs. RB Ingle’s naked body.”

  I started laughing and couldn’t stop. “She was damn near naked already.”

  “Damn near doesn’t cut it,” Tip said. “That last little bit covers crucial territory.”

  “Crucial territory? Tip, I haven’t laughed this much in a long time.”

  “Speaking of which, don’t count on me for anything tomorrow. Elena’s coming over, and I told her to bring her sexiest outfit.”

  The phone rang, and I said, “Hang on, Tip. Let me get this.”

  I reached for my cell, lying on the table. “Cataldi.”

  “Mr. Cataldi, this is Earl Vasquez at the rehab center.”

  At the rehab center?

  My heart nearly stopped, or at least it felt as if it did. I held up my hand for Tip to be quiet. “What’s wrong, Mr. Vasquez? Is everything okay?”

  A silence followed, then, “I’m afraid it’s not. We’ve asked Ron to leave.”

  “What? Why? What happened?”

  “Sir, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but we found drugs in his room. In his possession.”

  “What! Son of a bitch. That son of a bitch.” My fists were clenched and I could feel my body tightening up. “Goddamn, I’m gonna kill him.”

  Tip was up and pacing now, close to me.

  “What’s going on?” he whispered.

  I shook my head. “All right. I’ll be right down to get him. Keep him there.”

  “Yes, sir. You can count on it.”

  I squeezed the phone in my hand. I even considered tossing it, but fortunately found the control not to.

  “What’s going on?” Tip said again.

  “That was the rehab. They found drugs on Ron at the center where he’s house manager. He’s out.” I punched the wall, hard. Then I punched it again. “Mother fucker! I can’t believe he did this.”

  My phone rang again. I punched the button. “What?”

  “Dad, it’s me.”

  I felt my skin tighten, as if veins would burst. “What the fuck did you do? How the fuck could you do this? I should—”

  Tip grabbed the phone from me and pushed me aside. “Ron, this is Detective Denton, your father’s partner. Are you at the center?”

  “Yeah, but listen—”

  “No time for that. Stay where you are. We’re coming to get you.”

  I was reaching for the phone but Tip shoved me away again. He hung up and said,

  “Let’s go. We need to get there fast.”

  CHAPTER 46

  A LOST CAUSE

  “I’ll drive,” I said as I slammed the back door.

  “Like hell,” Tip said. “Get in the car and shut-up.”

  I cursed Ron a hundred times before we got out of the subdivision, and I hadn’t even gotten started.

  “Don’t rush to judgment,” Tip said. “We don’t know what happened yet.”

  “Bullshit,” I said. “You don’t know what it’s like. He’s lied to me about a million times. He’s a goddamn drug addict. They always lie.”

  “Can’t argue much about the lying. But he’s been doing good, or at least you said so. Let’s find out what happened first.”

  A feeling rushed through me, calming me. It was a feeling I’d had too many times before. A feeling of trust. Wanting me to believe in my drug-addict son just one more time.

  I fought it. I tried shaking it off. But I couldn’t. I’d do what Tip said. I’d wait until I heard what Ron had to say.

  Tip turned into the parking lot and pulled up to the front entrance. Ron stood outside the building, duffel bag in his hand. He had his scared look; I could tell from inside the car.

  “Remember,” Tip said. “Hear him out.”

  I did my best, grinding my teeth as I walked slowly up to see him. He set the duffel bag on the ground. For a minute I thought he wanted to hug me, but if he did he held back.

  “Dad, I didn’t do it. I swear.”

  I leveled my gaze at him, but didn’t say anything for a moment while I tried to calm myself, then I said, “Tell me what happened.”

  He started to reach for me again, but put his hands in his pocket instead. “I swear to God, Dad. I didn’t have any drugs. I’m clean. Test me.”

  I almost said, You bet your ass I will, but Tip stepped between us. He was calm. Friendly. Unlike the Tip I knew.

  He held his hand out. “Tip Denton,” he said. “I’m guessing you’re Ron.”

  Ron shook his hand. “Thanks for coming, Detective.”

  “Just call me Tip,” he said, then, “How about telling us what happened.”

  Ron shook his head slowly. “I’m one of the house managers. I was taking a shower about an hour ago. When I came back to the room, another house manager—a senior one—was standing there with his assistant. They said they were going to search the room, and I said, ‘Go ahead.’”

  Ron looked at Tip and then said, “The next thing I knew, they were holding up a couple bags of pills. I told him they weren’t mine, but he wouldn’t believe me.”

  “And nobody backed you up?” Tip asked.

  “Not a soul.”

  “Goddamn,” I said.

  Tip nodded. “Gino, how about you stay with Ron. I’m gonna have a talk with the senior house manager.” He turned to Ron. “What’s his name?”

  “Earl Vasquez.”

  Tip started inside, and I followed. “Whoa,” he said. “Let me do this one alone.”

  “Can’t do it, Tip. I need to see this guy’s face when he accuses Ron.”

  “Okay, but let me handle it. You watch.”

  I nodded, and Tip led the way inside.

  Vasquez was standing near the front desk, as if he’d been waiting for us. Tip flashed his badge.

  “Detective Denton,” he said. “You want to tell me what happened here?”

  Vasquez puffed himself up a little and moved toward Tip. “We aren’t pressing charges. We simply asked Ron to leave. And you’re lucky for that—him being an employee and all.”

  He reached behind him and took a file from the nearby desk, handing it to Tip. “Incident reports are in there, as well as the signed consent to search form. All of it by the book, and as I said, we aren’t pressing charges.”

  Tip tossed the file back on the desk. “I didn’t ask if you were pressing charges, I asked what happened?”

  Vasquez smiled, but it was fake. “As I said, Detective, nothing to worry about.”

  Tip looked around the lobby, grabbed hold of Vasquez’ shirt and yanked him close. The scar on Tip’s face twitched—the way it did when he got pissed. “I’m only asking one more time,” he said.

  Vasquez quickly broke. He led us to a small office off the left side of the lobby and closed the door after we followed him in. “We got info on where to find drugs,” he said.

  “What kind of information? Tip asked.

  “A note left on the kitchen counter.”

  “Who left the note?” Tip asked.

  “I don’t know,” Vasquez said.

  “So you got an anonymous lead?” Tip asked Vasquez.

  “Even if it wasn’t anonymous I couldn’t reveal the source.”

  I moved toward him, but Tip’s outstretched hand stopped me. Made me think.

  “You told Detective Cataldi that you found the drugs under Ron’s mattress?” Tip said.

  “Taped underneath it, yes.”

  “And you didn’t suspect that someone might have planted them?”

  “Why would anyone do that?” Vasquez asked. “I can think of a lot of reasons. Not the least of which is it was another drug addict who wanted to hide drugs, but not use his own
mattress. Ever think of that?”

  “I guess not.” Earl said.

  “Did you test Ron?”

  “Testing wouldn’t mean anything. He could have brought it in to sell.”

  “How much did you find?”

  Vasquez looked at Tip, then over to me. “I shouldn’t be telling you any of this. It’s—”

  “Bullshit is what it is,” Tip said. “My partner is Ron’s father. If you don’t tell me, you have to tell him. Ron’s still a minor.” Tip grabbed his collar. “Or better yet, I could leave you here alone with Gino and let him ask the questions.”

  Vasquez opened his desk drawer and pulled out a single piece of paper tucked into a manila folder. He handed it to Gino. “As far as what I have to do, this should cover it. I’ll file my reports in the morning. In the meantime, here is a list of three alternate facilities that Ron might consider for treatment.”

  “You haven’t answered my questions yet,” Tip said.

  “And I don’t intend to,” Vasquez said.

  “I guess that’s it, then,” Tip said, and he turned toward the door. Gino started through first, followed by Ron.

  Tip said, “I’ll meet you outside, Gino,” and then he closed the door.

  ##

  Vasquez backed up a step. “What do you want?”

  Tip held out his hand, palm up. “I want your license.”

  “My license? What for?”

  The side of Tip’s face curled up into a mean look. “Give me your fucking license.”

  Vasquez gulped. He seemed to be having trouble swallowing. He pulled out his wallet and handed Tip the license.

  Tip took a picture of it with his cell phone. “I hope RB Ingle paid you plenty of money because you’re not going to be safe in this city.”

  “What are you talking about?” Vasquez said. “I don’t know anybody named Ingle.”

  “That’s a shame,” Tip said. “Because you’re not going to be able to drive to the corner store without me crawling up your ass. And one night, when it’s real dark and you’re on your way home…” Tip laughed. “Well shit, you never can tell what’s gonna happen on nights like that.”

  “You’re fuckin’ nuts,” Vasquez said.

  Tip lost his smile. Then he said, “You might be right, but that won’t help you.” He opened the door and left.

  Gino and Ron were waiting in the car. Tip got in and started it up. “Where to?”

  “I don’t know,” Gino said. “I was thinking of checking out these other rehab centers.”

  “Let me see the list,” Tip said.

  Gino handed him the list. Tip glanced at the names. “I know two of them and they’re not that good. Not sure about the third.”

  “Shit,” Ron said.

  Tip pulled out his phone. “I know a great place, but it’s on the other side of town. You want me to check and see if they have any beds open?”

  “I don’t know,” Gino said. “This ruins everything. Insurance won’t cover any more time in a new facility. Not after failing that one.”

  Tip smacked Gino on the arm. “For a moment let’s run with the possibility that maybe they weren’t Ron’s drugs.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  The tires screeched as Tip rounded a corner to get on the freeway. “Suppose this is RB’s work. And don’t think I’m off base here. That’s the way that son of a bitch plays ball. He’s nasty.”

  Gino’s fists clenched, and then his whole body tensed. If this was Ingle…

  The car swerved and Gino grabbed hold of the door grip, squeezing it for all he was worth. Tip took another turn onto the ramp leading to the freeway.

  Pretty soon the speedometer inched past 90, but for the first time since Gino had been riding with Tip, he wasn’t worried about it.

  “Where are we going?” Ron asked.

  It was the first time he’d spoken since he had gotten in the car. “I can’t be out, Dad. I’m not ready. The house manager gig was fine, but that was because I was still there every day. I’m not ready to be out in the real world.”

  “I know,” I said. I know.

  “For now, we’ll go to my place,” Tip said.

  “Ron will be safe for tonight. Nothing to tempt him there; I don’t even have beer.”

  “That sounds like a good plan, but what the fuck am I supposed to do with him in the morning? I doubt that the insurance company is going to help with anything.”

  “In the morning, I’ll call this other rehab and see if they’ll take him in. And don’t worry about money,” Tip said. “They owe me a few favors.”

  Gino heard what Tip said, but couldn’t believe it. This was more than he could ask for.

  “What’s the name of the place?” Ron asked.

  “Into Action Recovery,” Tip said. “They’re down in Clear Lake.”

  Gino knew Tip had a lot of connections, but he wondered how good they could be if he could get Ron in on such short notice.

  “They’re good?”

  “They’re damn good,” Tip said. “Run by a bunch of ex drug addicts and alcoholics. These guys know their shit. Tough, but good. Most importantly, what they do works.”

  Gino reached over and put his hand on Ron’s shoulder. “We’ll get you fixed up,” he said. “That’s a promise.”

  Tip’s driving had improved. He had slowed the speed down to around seventy, which made me feel safe enough to speak. “Tip, why do you think Ingle had anything to do with this?”

  “Because I don’t believe in coincidences and this is just the kind of stunt he’d pull. He’s got the stroke to do it too. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not so sure that I’d go shoot him, but I’m not too far from that either.”

  Gino felt bad for Ron, and he swore to get him fixed, one way or another. And if Ingle had anything to do with this, I’ll get him fixed up, too.

  CHAPTER 47

  THE PLOT THICKENS

  I sat at Tip’s kitchen table with Ron, drinking coffee and praying to God that Tip’s instinct had been right—that this was some kind of sick setup by Ingle and not a case of Ron relapsing. I tried convincing myself of that, but experience told me not to get too optimistic.

  Drug addicts always lie.

  Despite what I wanted to believe, I couldn’t afford to let that one truth taint my judgment.

  The back door opened and Tip walked in. “They’ll take him,” he said. “He’s got 60 days free.”

  The news hit me hard, in a good way. I wanted to jump up and hug Tip, but Ron was already doing that.

  “Thanks, Mr. Denton,” he said. “You don’t know how much it means to me.”

  Tip smiled. “I think I do.”

  “How do we work this?” I asked.

  “We’ll pick up your car and anything Ron needs. You take him to the rehab and I’ll head downtown. If Ingle did this—and I’m still betting he did—we need to put some pressure right back on him.”

  “How sure are you that he did this? Last night you seemed pretty sure.”

  “I wouldn’t bet my last dick on it, but I’m confident we’re following the right set of tracks.”

  I grinned while I rinsed out my coffee cup and then I grabbed my phone. “Who do I see at the center?”

  “Ask for Tony. He’s already got Ron’s name.”

  “Sounds good,” I said, and then Tip drove me to pick up my car. “I’ll see you back at the station.”

  ***

  Tip was on his way in to the office when his phone rang. “Denton.”

  “Hello, sexy,” a sultry female voice said.

  “Is this Elena or one of my other admirers?”

  The voice lost all resemblance of sensuality. “You’ll wish it was one of them when I tell you.”

  “Tell me what?” Tip said.

  “I have to cancel tonight.”

  “Cancel? What’s going on?”

  “Everything at once. We’ve got a councilman giving us trouble about the new building, one of my suppliers is playing
hardball on terms regarding a shipment of scarves from Milan—after I thought we had it worked out—and to top it all off, I’m having problems with the state on sales tax issues. They’re swearing that I owe thousands more, and want to inspect the books. I’m about ready to jump off a bridge.”

  The more Elena talked, the more suspicious Tip became. It was too much of a coincidence that she was suddenly having trouble the day after the episode with Ron. He and Gino were closing in on the killer, and now both their lives—or loved ones lives—were being torn apart. “Get me the names of everybody involved.”

  “I can handle this myself. I don’t need the Gestapo.”

  “Trust me on this. Text me the councilman’s name, and the supplier and whoever contacted you from the state. I’ll look into it.”

  Concern seeped into Elena’s tone, doused with a healthy dose of suspicion. “Is there something going on I should know about?”

  Tip slowed down and moved into the center lane. “There might be. I’ll fill you in later.”

  “All right. I’ll text you. Call me when you can say something.”

  “I will. And keep that sexy outfit handy. This won’t take me long to resolve.”

  Elena laughed. “You’ve got a one-track mind, Detective.”

  “It’s your fault, darlin’. You look too damn good.”

  “Hurry up and solve your case,” Elena said.

  “I’ll do it just for you,” Tip said, and as he disconnected, he thanked the Gods for Elena. Not only was she a beautiful woman, but more importantly, she understood things. If he said he couldn’t tell her something, she left it at that and never asked again. There was a short time, when he partnered with Gianelli, that he thought there might have been some jealousy, but it disappeared quickly. In fact, Elena and Connie were friends now.

  Tip dialed Coop to see what was going on. She answered in her pleasant voice.

  “Where are you?”

  “Almost there. Why?”

  “Shit is hitting the fan down here. Come straight to my office when you get here. Don’t even stop for coffee.”

  Tip checked the rearview mirror and punched the gas to switch into the left lane.

  What the fuck is going on?

  Charlie passed Tip, who was on his way to Coop’s office.