You owe me, p.10
You Owe Me, page 10
‘I got hold of Deanne, and she says she’ll come and meet you in about thirty minutes. She only lives a couple of blocks back. Says she’s been a bit worried about Billy Ray herself. Enjoy the rest of your steak Frankie.’ She winked. Frankie carried on eating. It was delicious. He fed Charlie some more scraps. When he’d finished he ordered coffee. A new waitress brought it to his table
‘Hi, I’m Deanne. You’re Frankie right? You want to talk to me about Billy Ray?’
‘Yes and thanks for coming to meet me on your day off. Can I get you a drink, or some food?’
‘That’s very kind, I’ll just have a soda, but no food thanks.’
‘Please take a seat.’ She sat, and Frankie ordered her a soda.
‘Hey, is that Billy Ray’s dog?’
‘Yes, we kind of adopted each other.’ Frankie could predict her next three words.’.
‘He’s so cute.’
Frankie smiled.
‘He certainly is,’ he replied
‘So, ask away,’ said Deanne. Frankie explained the situation, how he was a friend of Billy Ray’s Uncle Joe who he met in the Gulf war and was helping him out, trying to find out what had happened to Billy Ray. Then he told her about going to see Max, which was how he found her name. He also told her about his visit to Jerry’s home at the trailer park and finding Jerry’s trailer burnt out. At this point she put her hand to her mouth in shock.
‘Jerry’s trailer burnt down, why would anyone do that?’ she asked.
‘That I can’t tell you yet,’ Frankie replied, maybe an accident, who knows?’
‘This is looking bad for Billy Ray isn’t it?’ said Deanne shaking her head slowly.
‘Not looking great, which is why we have to find him, and soon. So your relationship with Billy Ray?’
‘Yes, sorry. Billy Ray and I, well we were an item once, but somehow that changed. But we were still good friends, still are. More like brother and sister now. Sounds like you’ve already got a good idea of what Billy Ray was like. Nice guy. Bit of a gipsy, bit of a womaniser and a bit of a dreamer, but good fun. He stays at my place quite a lot, sometimes goes back home to stay with his Mom. And sometimes he stays on his boat. Comes and goes as he pleases, and that’s okay with me. But he hasn’t been around for a couple of weeks, maybe more.’
‘So he doesn’t normally stay away for that long?’
‘No, but he has been a bit, well, preoccupied lately. He told me about this woman he’d met. Sounded like the real thing, or as real as it gets with Billy Ray. I got the impression it was complicated. Maybe gone and got involved with some married woman?’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘He didn’t tell me directly. Let’s just call it women’s intuition. And you’re now telling me Jerry’s trailer burnt down, so I really don’t know what to say. What happened to his little dog, Banjo?’ Frankie grimaced. ‘Oh no, not Banjo, what the fuck’s going on, forgive the French. But it sounds like they’re in a heap of trouble.’
‘It does, which is why I’m here Deanne.’ He took a sip of his coffee, then said. ‘Course, it could it be that Billy Ray has simply run off with this woman and is hiding from her husband and the trailer fire has nothing to do with Billy Ray?’
‘Is that what you think? She asked
No, not really, not a great believer in coincidence,’ he said
‘Neither am I. Did the other guy find out anything?’
‘What other guy?’ asked Frankie.
‘The PI, came to see me a week ago, no maybe a bit more than a week ago. Said he was trying to find Billy Ray, same as you.’ Frankie’s expression clearly signalled this was news to him. ‘You didn’t know about him?’
Frankie felt wrong-footed and foolish. ‘No I didn’t. Does he have a name this PI?’
‘Yeah, gave me a card. Still got it I think. Why would Billy Ray’s uncle not tell you about the PI?’ She said as she rummaged in her handbag. Frankie was thinking the same thing. She found her wallet and took out a small light blue coloured business card and handed it to Frankie. Complete Investigations it said, Chuck Mainous licenced PI, address phone numbers.
‘Can I keep this?’
‘Sure thing, she replied.
‘And he definitely said he was working for Joe, Billy Ray’s uncle?’
‘Said he was working for Billy Ray’s family, not sure he said uncle specifically.’
CHAPTER18
BEFORE
ZSOLT MESZAROS
In the years since 9/11 and the increase in terrorism in general, the focus of the US authorities had largely shifted away from tackling organised crime. But it was still there, flourishing under the surface in towns and cities throughout the country as it’s always done. Florida was no exception, and nowhere more so than Miami.
“Organized crime families have always had their tentacles in South Florida. It's kind of a playground for them. It's still lucrative territory. The great weather, the tourism, every kind of scam goes on here — there's a lot of money to be made," said Cicini, the former supervisor in charge of South Florida's organized crime task force. Sun Sentinel August 2016
Zaros, or Zsolt Meszaros to give him his full name, was a vicious, ruthless psychopathic mobster. He’d grown up in Rosario, Argentina’s most violent city. It was a good place to learn the business, a hard school as they say. But he’d been a bright child of relatively wealthy parents.
Ambitious for their clever son and eager to get him away from Rosario and his dubious friends, they packed him off to medical school to the Herbert Waldheim School of Medicine in Miami where he excelled in surgical studies, but soon became bored. He failed to complete his course, returning to Rosario without any qualifications. He soon picked up on lost time and re-joined his old friends, who by now were even more skilled in ways to make quick black money.
‘So you’re back Zaros?’ asked the leader of the Sangre Roja gang when they met in the back room of the Bueno, Bonito y Barato bar, which the gang used as its unofficial HQ.
‘I look like a hologram Sebastion? Yes I’m back,’ he said, turning to include the other four members of the leadership in his reply, ‘and I’m taking over.’
‘Taking over what amigo?’ said Sebastion, laughing and turning to his compatriots, his eyebrows raised, hand inside his jacket.
‘The gang Sebastion, the Sangre Roja,’ said Zaros to his back. Sebastion swivelled back to face Zaros, gun in hand, pointing at Zaros’s heart.
‘I thought you might try something like this Zaros, so as you can see, I prepared a response,’ replied Sebastion, nodding down at the gun pointing at Zaros.
‘As did I Sebastion, I suggest you turn round.’ Sebastion looked round quickly to see four revolvers pointed at him. He turned back to Zaros, who in one fluid movement knocked the gun out of Sebastion’s hand with his left hand, while simultaneously stabbing him through the heart with a stiletto knife, which had miraculously appeared in his right hand. With the merest cough, Sebastion dropped to the floor where he twitched once then lay still.
‘Get him out of here,’ said Zaros to the remaining gang members.
His uncompromising ruthless streak served him well, and under his leadership, the gang prospered and expanded their territory. But eventually and inevitably, Zaros’s Sangre Roja gang clashed over territorial rights with the Demonios Negros gang, whose leader, Santiago Garcia, swore to eliminate Zaros’s entire gang. Garcia’s men planned and executed a devastating raid on the Sangre Roja gang headquarters, slaying most of Zaros’s top gang members.
Zaros knew he was finished in Rosario. That it would take too long for him to build up his gang infrastructure to mount any serious challenge to the Demonios Negros, so decided in the circumstances, a tactical withdrawal the only option. For a while now he’d considered there were ultimately richer pickings to be had elsewhere, combined with a more luxurious lifestyle to boot.
He disappeared, and after a while, Garcia assumed his enemy had fled the country. A serious miscalculation. One month later, when Zaros guessed Garcia would have relaxed and dropped his guard, he put his revenge plan into place. Capturing Garcia’s much loved younger brother, and using his expertise with a scalpel, Zaros made sure there would never be any trace of his victim found. Garcia would be left to grieve, wondering, and never knowing the fate of his brother. That was until Zaros decided to enlighten him by sending him a verifiable body part, but that cold dish could wait a while.
Hooking up with one of his old medical college friends, Zaros began his task of establishing himself in Miami. He clawed his way up, first by taking menial jobs in restaurants and clubs to earn a modest living and to get his own apartment. He worked hard eventually becoming manager of The Seagulls nightclub in downtown Miami, which provided him with the ideal opportunity to become involved in drugs, prostitution and blackmail. As he moved into the gangland underworld, he knew he needed to make his mark and looked for the opportunity for a shortcut to the top.
That opportunity happened one night in a conversation with one of the nightclub’s more nefarious clients. Rodrigues Lopez.
‘You run a nice little operation here,’ said Rodrigues, leaning on the bar next to Zaros, surveying the dancers as they cavorted to the salsa band.
‘Yes, it’s a great club Mr Lopez, we are very fortunate to remain so popular. Nightclub people can be so fickle.’
‘I was referring to your own private operation as you well know.’
Zaros smiled.
‘That too goes well.’
‘You know I work for Mr Alfonso Lombardi, yes?’
‘I am aware of that, and?’
‘You must also be aware that club forms part of our territory, and you Zaros are effectively stealing our clients, so Mr Lombardi wishes to pass on a message.’
‘I’m listening,’ said Zaros.
‘Okay, well you have two choices. Stop what you’re doing or work for us.’ Zaros was silent for a minute as if weighing up his choices. But in fact, it had presented him with the opportunity he’d been waiting for.
‘Naturally, I’d like to know the terms of my deal, but in principle, the answer is yes, I’d love to work for Mr Lombardi.’ Within months, Zaros had worked his way to the top of the Lombardi operation. He earned respect and the trust of Garcia Lombardi. So much so, that he invited Zaros into his inner circle, even inviting him to his family home on occasion.
It was one such invitation that presented Zaros with the opportunity he’d been waiting for. Garcia asked him to dine with the Lombardi family to celebrate his wedding anniversary. Zaros planned his anniversary gift with some relish. The event shocked even the Miami Crime Scene unit, who thought they’d seen just about every kind of perverted atrocity.
Lombardi woke up one morning to find his personal bodyguard and four members of his close family, his wife, his daughter and two sons, slaughtered, with their tongues cut out and their throats slit. The scene had been arranged in the bedroom, facing the bottom of Alfonso’s bed. The three children were on a sofa with their arms around each other’s shoulders. And his wife and bodyguard sitting on individual chairs, all in pools of their own blood to demonstrate the slaughter had happened in the bedroom, while Alfonso had snored the night away.
It wasn’t just the violence, but the careful planning that impressed the criminal fraternity. Zaros had slipped some sleeping pills into Alfonso’s dinner the previous night to ensure he didn’t wake during the execution and setting of the macabre scene. Obtaining Alfonso’s trust to get past the gang leader’s elaborate defences was also considered an amazing feat in itself. Alfonso and the people slaughtered were previously thought to be untouchable.
It was generally accepted that retribution by his extended family to anyone harming any member of the Lombardi family would be brutal in the extreme, but this didn’t stop Zaros. And as if this elaborate crime wasn’t enough to impress, Zaros made no secret of the fact it had been him, but made it in such a way that the authorities couldn’t gather enough evidence to arrest him, let alone prosecute him. As for the extended family, they also proved to be intimidated and failed to respond. His unassailable reputation was made.
Zsolt Meszaros’s formal education, natural charm and the huge amount of cash he’d accumulated from his illicit activities, meant he was also able to fit in with the more sophisticated end of Miami society. He became well established in the two most important and powerful Miami communities, and respected in both but for vastly different reasons.
To meet him in social circumstances, he was charm personified. He was feted in Miami’s social circles. Considered a very successful businessman, a generous donor to charities, and a pillar of respect in the Miami community. His business interests were many and varied - restaurants, dry cleaners and casinos figured among his more respectable commercial activities, but other interests involved prostitution, blackmail, drugs and death.
Oh, and he also owned an Undertaker business. Not only a facilitating convenience to his darker business interests, but much to his surprise, also turned in a healthy profit every year from the legitimate disposal of the deceased. If healthy is the right term in the circumstances? He often joked with his friends. ‘Who said that undertaking was a dying business?’ then would laugh fit to burst, as if it was the first time he’d heard the joke himself.
PRESENT DAY
He was now on his third wife, a beautiful Argentinian woman named Valentina, some years younger than himself. She was tall, slim, raven-haired and elegant. He was particularly fond of this one, being also of Argentinian descent. That she had run away was hurtful and insulting.
When she was brought back, which he was confident she would be, he would ensure her life was unbearable, for a while anyway - and prior to a tragic accident? In his idle moments, Zaros would fantasise about her punishment. As for the man, or boy she’d run off with, he almost felt sorry for him, almost.
He thought about the body that had been pulled out of the sea. The police thought it could be the man’s business partner. So maybe Lenny found the three of them, killed this Jerry guy, and kept the other two intact as ordered? So why hasn’t Lenny reported back?
He shrugged, but couldn’t stop wondering, maybe Lenny found them, and they somehow got the better of him, killed him maybe? The only reasonable explanation why Lenny hasn’t called in. Shit, if that’s the case, then it would drive them to hide somewhere even harder to find. Out of state maybe, or even out of the country?
But then he knew running away wasn’t as easy as most people think. He remembered the advice of an old cop he used to know. ‘People never run away, they always run to something or somewhere. Once you look at it that way, you’ve got a better chance of finding them. In any event, he had an ace up his sleeve. Her phone must be switched off or run out of battery. But he knew Valentina couldn’t live without her phone or talking to her sister. As soon as she switches on her cell......
CHAPTER19
PRESENT
FLORIDA 29 MARCH 2017
The basement beneath Nelson’s Boatyard measured 60 feet by 90 feet. It had sturdy wooden shelves along the right hand wall. The only way in or out was via some steep concrete steps then through a trapdoor, which was normally covered by some heavy boat lifting equipment. As far as Joe knew, apart from the people who installed the safe, only he and the old guy who sold him the yard back in 1999, knew the basement existed. Even Rudy, his manager, didn’t know about it.
In one corner of the basement sat a huge high grade security safe. It had cost the best part of twenty five thousand dollars, including installation into a concrete base. He’d been assured it was thief proof, fire proof, everything proof.
‘Hell, this safe could survive a nuke strike,’ the salesman had claimed. Joe wasn’t sure if this last claim had any relevance in a post nuclear war scenario. Stored in the safe was some six million eight hundred thousand dollars. It had been a considerable logistical feat to get the money back to the USA. The original amount was nearer $40 million, but this had been seriously depleted by very inflated temporary storage costs, transportation and necessary expenses aka bribes. He looked at the safe and wondered. Had it been worth the risks they’d taken, the effort, the planning, the stress. Only to end up with a load of cash he was unable to spend comfortably, or leave to his nearest and dearest without fear of it all being confiscated? He had finally hatched a plan to make it all work, but now...?
‘Where the fuck are you Billy Ray?’ he shouted out loud, then went to the stairway, turned off the light and walked up the concrete steps and through the big wooden trapdoor. His cell phone rang, he looked at the screen.
‘Hey Frankie, how’s it going?’
‘Making progress of sorts Joe. Thought I’d call and give you an update. I met with Max, and he had some vaguely interesting things to say, tell you in more detail when I get back. I went to see the police Detective Sharkey, the detective handling Billy Ray’s disappearance,, then I met with Deanne, Billy Ray’s old girlfriend. He shacks up at her place sometimes, when he isn’t at his mother’s place or staying on his boat that is.’
‘Okay. So are we any nearer to finding him, where he might be?’
‘No, but, well looks like there’s a woman involved.’
‘With Billy Ray, there’s always a woman involved, so what?’
‘This might be different. Seems like he might have fallen for her big time, and there’s a complication. She’s married.’
‘Don’t tell me this is all about Billy Ray’s joystick?’
‘One way of putting it, but on the face of it, probably.’
‘Unbelievable.’
‘There’s something Detective Sharkey told me in strict confidence, but I’m going to tell you as I think you need to know. A body’s turned up, snagged by a couple of guys out fishing in the ocean.’
