Jack Taggart Mysteries 7-Book Bundle. Don Easton
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“I know, I thought about it, but…”
“But what?”
“It wasn’t that it would really bother me to kill you two. It’s just that I’m more upset with guys in the club like Wizard and Rolly.”
“What do you mean?”
“Things have changed. When I was a young fucker, without brains, I used to think it was exciting. Sometimes it was. But not now. Lookin’ back on it, I wish I’d quit years ago.”
“Why?”
“The club’s not what it used to be when I first joined. We used to have good times … go on rides … things were different. Sure, we were a bunch of badasses sometimes, but not like it is today. When I first joined, you’d have never gotten a tattoo for knockin’ off some kid! Fuck, we’d have knocked you off! Now, we hardly ever ride. It’s all about makin’ money. We’ve become a bunch of fuckin’ businessmen. The guys in power just use the club as an image, for protection to make more money.”
“A lot of people like making money.”
“Yeah, but they’re not real bikers, at least, not what we used to be. It just ain’t worth it now. It’ll only be a matter of time before the Vietnamese, the Russians, the Indos, or some other group takes over the business. Being a biker used to represent freedom to do whatever the hell you wanted. Where’s the fuckin’ freedom when you’re always lookin’ over your shoulder wonderin’ when the competition is going to put a slug into ya!”
Jack nodded that he understood.
Lance looked at Jack and said, “Then there’s the heat, but you guys are the least of our worries.” He smiled briefly and added, “Well, I used to think that until I met you.”
“I guess I have put a burr up your ass.”
“You’ve done that, all right.”
“You did good work today. I heard you on the tape, pumping Wizard for information about The Suit. Remember when I said you would be working for us for ten years?”
“How could I forget? Now it’s nine years, fifty-one weeks and two days.”
“Make it five years now.”
“No kiddin’?”
“No kiddin’. If you find out who The Suit is, I’ll say we’re even. If I find out first, then you’re still looking at serving your country for another five years.”
“Deal!” said Lance, sticking out his hand.
Jack felt his firm grasp.
As they shook hands, Lance said, “One more thing,” and buried his left fist deep into Jack’s midriff. Jack buckled over. His already battered ribs were racked with pain as his lungs gulped for air.
Lance said, “Guess I did have a bit of a hard-on for you over this morning. Now we’re square on that!” He released his handshake.
Jack managed to give a thumbs-up sign, and Lance smiled and walked away.
It was 2:10 a.m. when the telephone shattered the silence in Wigmore’s small apartment. It took four rings before his sleepy voice answered hello.
The voice on the other end was that of a man. Feminine, but definitely a man. A man with a slight lisp.
“Hi! I’m the one who’s been admiring you down at the Oceanside Lounge. You know who. I’m the one you winked at the other night, you cheeky devil.”
“I never winked at anyone! Who is this? How did you get my number?”
“You’re a policeman, aren’t you? I’d just love it if you would show me your gun. I’m home now, all alone, or would you like me to come —”
“Listen! Whoever you are, never phone me again!” Wigmore slammed the receiver down.
Seconds later the man called back.
“Hi, big boy! As you can see, I don’t take no for an answer. I live in the pink house across from the Oceanside. I think it would be just divine if —”
Wigmore roared into the phone, “You fucking fag! You don’t know who you’re messin’ with! Now I know where you live! You bother me anymore, and so help me, I’ll take my gun and ram it up your ass and pull the trigger! That’s after I rip your face off and shove it up your ass too!”
Louie Grazia sat at his desk and slurped his morning coffee as he listened to Wizard and Rolly talk on the tape. When it ended he sat with pursed lips, staring across his desk at Jack and Danny.
“What do you think?” asked Danny, feeling uneasy.
Louie stared hard at Jack. “I take it they tried to kill you behind the Black Water when Danny told me you had gone fishing?”
“It wasn’t all that serious. Danny was right there to cover my ass.”
“Yeah, right,” replied Louie sarcastically. “It wasn’t too serious. That’s when you didn’t come to the office for a few days. Which means you got hurt!”
Jack nodded.
“I knew it! Goddamn it, I knew it! You could have told me, instead of keeping me worried about what the hell you were both up to!”
“It was my idea not to tell,” said Jack. “If you know about it and I screw up, then you’re in trouble too.”
“You still should have told me,” he said, harshly. “So tell me,” he continued, his voice softening a little, “how close did they come?”
“It was close,” admitted Jack. “Got my arm drilled and needed a few stitches from a cut on my back, but —”
“Jesus Christ! You were shot?”
“As they say in the movies, it was just a flesh wound. Nothing serious. Finding out who pulled the trigger on Maggie and Ben Junior … it was worth it.” Jack paused and his face became angry and red. “Now we need to find out who ordered them to do it.”
“Have you told your sister and her husband?”
Jack shook his head. “I won’t until it’s over. When I find The Suit. Then it will be over.”
“You’ve done more than enough already. No evidence to arrest, but at least we can point Homicide in the right direction.”
“Homicide? Who’s talking Homicide? It’ll be over when Wizard, Rolly, and The Suit are buried! Not left to some —”
“Damn it, Jack! Cool it! I don’t want to hear that kind of talk. You’re on an Intelligence Unit. Try using some! You’ve gone way beyond what you were allowed. Back off. Give Homicide a chance!”
Jack locked eyes with Louie for a moment, then quietly said, “I apologize. You’re right. I was just letting off steam.”
Jack sounded calm. Too calm, thought Louie. It was the demeanour that a professional would use. A professional killer.
“The problem is,” Jack continued, “we don’t know who the leak is. It could be someone in Homicide. Letting others know means jeopardizing our source, and it could also tip off the leak so that we never find him.”
“Any ideas who that is?” Louie asked.
“I was inclined to think it came from one of the City narcs, but that was just my own bias. I didn’t want to think it was one of ours. The narcs talked to our Homicide Unit about Lenny and me, or Eddy Trimble, each time before things got hot.”
“You think the leak is from Homicide?” asked Louie.
“It’s the secret identity that makes me wonder. City narcs don’t usually wear suits. Homicide do.”
“It could be someone higher up in City. Their