“The case is complicated, and I’m just beginning to get into it, but that’s not why I called. It’s about Zoey. She followed me out here, and other than the obvious, and I’m so confused to why.”
“Oh, Jake! Now it all makes sense.”
“What makes sense? Because I’m completely in the fucking dark.”
Tenley sighed on the line, and then began explaining, “Jake, on the day I packed up my office, Zoey said goodbye to her father and to me. She said she was going to take a leave of absence from the firm and head west. I was completely caught off guard by her announcement. I had so many questions, but she made it clear that she wasn’t ready to answer them. She promised me and her dad that she would be in touch when she could, and that was it. Her father was just as confused as I was, but he hugged her back and let her go. I haven’t heard from her since, but I guess I will soon.”
She continued, “Since I’ve known you, Paulson, you’ve been closed up and all about the job and nothing else. If Zoey, my very sparkly friend, has changed that, then all I ask of you is to not hurt her. She obviously has feelings for you. I have never known her to behave like this, not ever. Her work is just as important, and she won’t stand for one night stands. I can’t even remember the last time she told me about any guy, and now she’s left her job, home, and family to follow you across the country! You could be the game changer for her, Jake. But if she’s not the one for you, then please be honest with her before she gets in too deep. Okay?”
Fuck my life!
If Tenley only knew I was the one that was in over my head. I ended our call and made my way to the office to once again meet with Marino.
I reached out to my own sources in regards to Jack Vanelle. He’d been seen at his restaurant and all around town, not keeping a low profile by any means. He was making his presence known anywhere a camera was in sight. He wasn’t stupid and has played this game before. If he was responsible for the death of Michael St. Clair, he covered his tracks with a well-devised plan, leaving no room for mistakes.
I stepped off the elevator and made my way to the office Director Wade allowed me to use. He even gave me an assistant to fetch my coffee, but I didn’t need a puppy dog to follow me around, not when I had a pit bull like Marino breathing down my neck.
I did accept the coffee and the breakfast that was offered. Earlier, I had made sure that Zoey had everything she needed to eat, but I declined to take care of myself. It was so easy to take care of her, and I would do it again and again if she asked me to.
Where is this coming from? Focus, Paulson, and get your head in the game, for Christ’s sake!
My dutiful assistant, I think her name is Chloe, knocked on the door. She was so perky that she should be sitting on top of a cheerleader pyramid.
“Yes, what is it?”
“Um, Mr. Paulson, sir, you, um, have a call on line three.”
“And? You don’t know how to use the intercom?”
“Um, no. It’s, like, new, and I’m still learning the system.”
Oh. My. God! She was actually twirling her hair, and what the fuck was that? A giggle?
“That will be all, Chloe. I’ll be fine here on my own. You can just run off and do what you normally do around here, far away from me.”
She gave another toothy smile and nearly skipped out of the room. I shook it off and took my call.
“Paulson. Hello?” I repeated myself several times and then hung up. I guess whoever it was got tired of waiting for me, or she didn’t connect the call correctly.
I went through all of my notes and files again. I hoped my father was successful on finding info I could use against Marino. Director Wade would surely want a status report and expect me to have my flight set to Chicago.
“Paulson, what do you have for me?” Director Wade questioned as he entered my office.
“I wish I could give you better news, but there is not much to go on. But I’m guessing you already knew that.”
“Very perceptive of you, Paulson.”
He took a seat and crossed his leg over his ankle.
“Again, this is why you are here. No evidence? Find the evidence. Build a case. Nail his ass against the wall. It seems pretty easy to me, wouldn’t you agree?”
“You seem to have it all worked out, sir.”
“I do, Paulson. The question is: do you?”
“I know my job, sir.”
“Good. Go do it then. Report to me when you have something.”
He got up to leave my office and turned to tell me that Duffy had finally arrived in LA and that I could use all the help I could get.
Asshole
.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and sure enough, it was Duff. He asked me to meet him downstairs. I grabbed what I needed and quickly took the elevators down. We met off-site, away from the building. I knew what he had to tell me was big and didn’t want any ears listening in.
“It’s about fucking time you got here. I’ve been drowning out here since you put me on this fucked up assignment.”
“I’m glad to see you too, son,” he said and then brought me close for a hug, where he slipped several files into my hands. “Let’s walk and talk. We have much to discuss. Your father called me and brought me up to speed with everything. His contacts found nothing, so I did some searching on my own. Now, what I am about to tell you could probably end my career, but certain players have made this game very personal for you, Jake, and I love you like a son, so let’s roll the dice and play roulette with both our careers.”
He continued, “I was skeptical from the moment you were requested, first by Wade, and then Marino was also assigned. This is highly irregular. Why are two directors from two coasts suddenly interested in a rich kid’s murder? And then it hit me. This Wade guy is on deck for a big promotion. As in Washington, DC. As in presidential status. You see where I’m going with this? If his office solves this murder case, his shield looks shinier than ever, and it pretty much secures his spot working closely with the Director of the FBI.”
“Okay, so that’s Wade’s story. What about Marino?”
“Revenge. It all comes down to revenge. This guy doesn’t care who he has to go through to get it. Michael St. Clair’s murder was just what he needed to finally get what he has wanted for years, and that’s Jack Vanelle. This guy is running on purely personal reasons, and that’s the only thing driving him to push you to where he needs you to be. You said he’s acting like he knows something about Minela, and well, son, that’s probably true. Marino has worked the streets since the beginning of his career in Chicago and then moved on to Boston. He’s connected both with the force and behind the scenes. His pockets are lined with paper, not coins. He’s going to keep coming at you until you give him Jack, and he won’t just be using your dead fiancée to light a fire under you. He will pick off your family one by one.”
“Jake, he had a brother, his youngest, who he loved very much. They were extremely close, but when Dante left, that’s when his brother got into trouble. He did some stupid things and crossed the wrong people. Dante tried to reason with him, get him off the streets, but his brother was in too deep.”
“Duff, you said Chicago? Did Marino have ties to Jack years ago?”
“Not directly. But his brother, Michael, did. He was known around the streets as Mikey. He ran game for some mob guy named Johnny Carlucci. It seems Mikey was skimming from the till in not one bar, but several Johnny had owned. A message had to be delivered, and that’s where Jack came in. No one fucked with Jack Vanelle, and if you saw him coming, you better be sure to run the other way. Jack broke Mikey’s spine, and he never walked again. Mikey was a criminal and in too deep. There was no way he was getting out. He was later convicted and sent off to prison where he only served about six months before slicing his wrists. He bled out and was dead for many hours before he was found in his cell the next morning.”
Duff gave me a minute to process all he had told me. It all made sense now. Marino could give two shits about St. Clair’s death. He wanted Jack, and this was the way to finally get him, by using me.
“Duff, if Marino is connected like Jack, then why not take matters in his own hands and avenge his brother’s death?”
“I don’t have the answer to that, Jake. That’s a question only Marino can answer. His record is clean on paper, but old guys like myself just believe what we believe. He’s had a good career with many merits, but you can’t get what he has solely on a cop’s salary, and his salary in the FBI is not that much better. He has a house out in Westchester County. A summer house over in the Hamptons, of course in his wife’s name. Two kids in college, and not in a state school. Do you get what I’m saying, Jake?”
“Yeah, I get it. So what do I do, Duff? How do I do my job without hurting my family? Am I just supposed to walk into Jack’s bar and slap the cuffs on him? He’s too smart to fuck up.”
“Jake, I don’t even know how to advise you on this one. You’re caught between the job and your family. All I can say is to stay ahead of him—not just by one or two steps, but many steps. You’re a good cop, Jake, probably one of the best I ever had the honor to train, but only you can decide what happens next. Sometimes we have to look the other way to protect what’s most important.”
“You can’t be serious, Duff. Being a cop is all I know, all I have. I can’t just not pursue this, especially if Jack is guilty.”
“You can’t, Jake, or you won’t? Marino is going to keep coming at you, and once Jack finds out that he’s on the FBI’s radar, it won’t be pretty. Please consider all your options, son. You are surrounded by sharks out here and on your own. I’ve given you everything I have. I have to walk from here.”
“Please, Duff, I need your help. Please stay in LA. We can work the case together.”
“Jake, don’t you see what’s happening here? It’s all been carefully formulated from the beginning, the perfect plan. From the minute you were assigned to this case, we’ve all been played by the bigger player in the game. With knowing what you know now, you have to go back to Marino and deal. You need to use what you have to gain some leverage. If my suspicions are correct, and most of the time, they are dead-on balls accurate, then he will use what he knows about Minela to get what he needs from you. You just have to have the better hand. Be careful, son. Watch your back with this guy.”
“Okay, I will.”
I said goodbye to Duff as his car pulled away to take him back to the airport. How I wish I was getting on a plane too, leaving for parts unknown with Zoey by my side.
That’s just a fantasy I can’t entertain right now.
I needed a meeting with Marino.
We met a short time later down on the Santa Monica Pier. The sun was beginning to set, and the pier was filled with tourists. He was waiting for me at the entrance of the pier and led me down to the beach where less people were.
We walked in silence for a few moments until he turned and stopped. He had a serious look on his face, but as he was attempting to stare me down, I did the same. He spoke first.
“So, I gather you know, don’t you?”
“What do you think I know? I know many things. Please be more specific.”
“Play time is over, Paulson, so don’t fuck with me. I know Duffy hand-delivered confidential files to you today, and don’t you want to know why those files became available for him to easily access? Because I was the one that led him there. You are not stupid! So don’t fucking pretend to be. It’s all a shell game, Paulson, and I just made sure he picked the right one. Now that you know my past, go ahead and ask me. You know you want to. What’s going through your mind right about now?
What does he know? And how does he know it? Is he just trying to play me again? Or this time, can I actually believe him?
Hmm?”
He was so asking for it, but I held my own against his taunting me. This was the game, and I would play, but no more giving Marino the expected reaction.
I said, “Let’s get it all out then, shall we? Two brothers: One good and the other…bad. From where I’m standing, I’m not sure what side you were ever on, but you want me to believe good. You just have a hard-on for Jack Vanelle, because you hold him responsible for your kid brother’s death. But Jack wasn’t the one that took a blade to his wrist and ended his life—a life built around crime that he chose all on his own. Sorry, man, but the decision to live that life and to end that life was on your brother. You can’t blame Jack or even yourself. Your brother owns his death and the way he chose to live his life.”
“You don’t know shit!” Marino screamed at me. “It was Jack who drove him to take his own life. He would have never done that if not pushed against the wall with no way out. My family was never the same again after my brother died, and I swore on Mikey’s grave that I would get justice for him. Today is that day.”
“And then what? No matter what you do will never bring your brother back to you. You want to pin Jack Vanelle for a murder he probably didn’t commit, with no evidence by the way, solely to satisfy your personal vendetta. And then where will you be? Your career will be over. You will lose everything, and at the end of the day, your brother will still be gone. He was of age, and he knew what he was doing. You have to know that, Dante. You don’t go up against mob figures, fuck them over, and expect your crimes to be forgiven. Your brother fucked up by crossing someone he shouldn’t have, and that ultimately led him to Jack’s front door. They each knew what they were getting themselves into, and that has to be on them. You’ve been carrying this around with you for years when you should have been living your life. Let this go, Marino. If Jack Vanelle is found guilty of murdering Michael St. Clair, then justice will be served. But we need to find hard evidence first.”
“Wow, Paulson, I didn’t peg you for being so forgiving when it comes to matters like your family! You are one to talk.
Me
not living
my
life? That’s a fucking joke. What about
you
, big shot? You’re all preaching about how the past is the past, all is forgotten and forgiven, and what, are you such a happy guy? You don’t actually believe that bullshit you’re peddling, do you? You’re a fucking liar, that’s what you are. I don’t doubt for a second that if you knew who was responsible for your girl’s death, then you wouldn’t stop at making them pay. Come on, man! We’ve both worked the streets long enough to know what you would do: put a fucking bullet in his brain and not think twice about it. Or maybe through his heart, exactly the same way she died.”