A Delicate Matter. Don Easton
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“I understand why you’re pissed off at me and we can talk about that later, but now we need to ask you some questions.”
Larry acted like he hadn’t heard. The anger on his face changed to grief. “Aw fuck. Who am I kiddin’? It ain’t your fault. I should never’ve got him involved. It’s me who got ’im killed.”
“You were looking after your brother the best you could,” Jack said. “Sometimes the consequences of our actions are never what we expected or wanted. It wasn’t you who murdered Dwayne. You need to realize that.”
Larry stared glumly toward his feet without replying.
Connie cleared her throat. “I’m sorry we have to ask you questions at a time like this, but every second we waste helps the killer. Who else knew where the grow-op was?”
Larry ignored Connie and looked sharply at Jack. “Banjo! You think Banjo —”
“I don’t think Banjo did it,” Jack said, “but if he did, I’ll find out.”
“How? He’ll just lie to ya.”
Jack didn’t want Larry to know about the wiretap, let alone that he had an informant in Satans Wrath, so he decided to lie. “The same way I knew where your grow-op was.”
“How’d ya know?”
“You have to swear to me that you’ll never tell anyone,” Jack said.
“I swear,” Larry said solemnly.
“One of the Gypsy Devils is talking to me. I’ll soon know if they’re responsible.”
“They gotta be the ones,” Larry said decisively. “Only them knows where it is.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Could Dwayne have told someone where the grow-op is?” Connie asked.
“Nah. He don’t even know how to get to it on his own. Besides, I keeps a close eye on ’im. Ain’t no way he told anyone.” Larry looked at Jack. “Forget about trying to protect me. I’ll testify or do anything you want. I don’t care what happens to me now.”
“There is something you could help us with immediately,” Jack told him. “I want you to call Banjo. Tell him that it was you Dwayne called last night and say that you called the cops to try to save him because you’re in the hospital. Then say that Corporal Crane from Homicide came by to tell you that Dwayne couldn’t be found. Banjo will want to know what you told the police about the weed, so tell him that you said it was yours and that you planned to sell it yourself.”
“He might ask if I’m being charged,” Larry said, looking at Jack and Connie for an answer. “With having a grow-op I mean.”
Connie shook her head. “Your cooperation … and loss in this matter will ensure that you’re not charged.”
“And all my hydro equipment?” Larry asked. “Are ya takin’ dat?”
“Damn it, Larry,” Jack said. “The deal we made was for you to go straight after —”
“I intend to,” Larry protested, “but the equipment cost me a lotta money. If you don’t take it, I could sell it on eBay or somethin’.”
“Cooperate with us and I’ll let you keep it,” Connie said. “Make the call.”
Larry did as requested. When he was finished, he hung up and scowled.
“What did he say?” Jack asked.
“At first he was surprised. Then he pretended to be all sympathetic. I could tell it was an act. The fucker was more concerned about losing the weed than what happened to Dwayne. He was worried, too, about what I told the cops. Seemed okay, though, when I told ’im what you said to tell ’im.”
“Anything else?” Jack asked.
“Yeah, well I guess you heard me goin’ on ’bout how it was only his guys who knew about the grow-op an’ he better find out who did it.”
“What did he say?” asked Connie.
“Said he’d get back to me.”
“We’ll find out who did it,” Jack said. “You can’t be certain it was the Gypsy Devils. Personally I don’t think it was.”
“They’re the only ones who know about it. It has —”
“It could be that one of them told someone else,” Jack interrupted him. “It may take some time for us to find out.”
“Wish I could find out right now,” Larry said bitterly.
“We all do,” said Connie, “and believe me, we’ll do everything possible to catch the killer.”
Jack pointed his finger at Larry’s face and spoke harshly. “You leave this to us! You hear me?”
“Yeah … of course.”
Chapter Eight
At 8:30 a.m. Jack and Connie entered the monitoring room and listened to the call that Larry had made to Banjo, then to a call that Banjo made immediately afterwards to Carl Shepherd.
“Who’s Shepherd?” Connie asked as the call began.
“President of the Gypsy Devils,” Jack explained. “If it was Satans Wrath, there is no way a prospect would talk to the president direct. It shows how undisciplined this club really is.”
They listened as Banjo told Shepherd about the call he received from Larry.
“Fuck, another rip,” Shepherd responded. “Who the fuck’s doing it?”
“If it’s the same ones,” Banjo growled, “this is the first time that someone’s been murdered. It could cause some heat.”
“At least Larry was smart enough not to mention us,” Shepherd noted.
“Yeah … but now what?”
“Contact Neal and tell him to let his buddy know. There’s a possibility we may come up short.”
“Hopefully the other three will have enough to cover it, but yeah, I’ll let Neal know.”
“Also get a new phone. Did Larry call you on the one you’re using now?”
“Yeah.”
“Keep it in case he calls, but in the future don’t talk business on it. Meet him in person if you need to. Also check and make sure he isn’t wired if you do.”
“Figure Larry will rat?” Banjo asked.
“Fuck, his brother was whacked,” Shepherd replied. “What if he thinks we were involved? Who knows what he’ll do?”
“Yeah, guess it don’t hurt to be careful.”
“Let’s hope the cops solve it quick,” Shepherd added before disconnecting.
Jack looked at Connie. “So much for the GDs being involved.”
“Also this isn’t the first rip,” Connie said. “When Shepherd said Neal needed to contact his buddy, I presume he was talking about someone in Satans Wrath, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, likely one of their prospects or maybe a full-patch member,” Jack replied, not wanting to divulge any more than he needed to in order to protect his informant.
Connie nodded, then reached for her phone to take a call. When it was done she said, “That was one of my guys — Lyle Roster. He’s still at the scene. He said Forensics found a cellphone when the tide went out. Judging by the distance it was from shore and the height of the tide at the time, someone threw it.”
“Dwayne’s