Read Online Two Jakes by Lawrence de Maria - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lawrence de Maria
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much.”
He
quickly and expertly drove the ice pick through the fabric of her sweat suit
under her left breast and into her heart, up to its hilt. He caught her as she
sagged and lifted her into the back of the vehicle, grunting at the pain in his
shoulder. As she fell back she said, “My babies.”
Garza
grimaced as he took her car keys, still clenched in her hand. He gently folded
the body into the back around a small child’s car seat.
“You
had to say that. As if I didn’t feel bad enough about this already.”
He
left the ice pick in her. It was a common tool in the area where she would be
found. As the hatch closed Maria Brutti’s last conscious thought was not of her
children or husband, but of Carlo, who had protected her from their schoolyard
days.
***
Garza
drove the dead woman’s S.U.V. from the parking lot. Like most suburban mom
vehicles it was filled with the detritus of childrearing: hand wipes, empty
juice boxes, animal crackers, Star Wars figures, plush toys, games and enough
electronic gadgets to manage a nuclear war.
“I
don’t know how you do it,” he said to the dead body in the rear.
Since
it was Seattle, of course it had started to rain. The roads were slick and he
drove cautiously. An accident wouldn’t do. He’d be hard pressed to convince a
cop that Maria Brutti had died in a fender bender. The rain got heavier, which
actually worked to his advantage. He doubted there would be anyone out and
about in the dock area.
When
he pulled up to the warehouse next to the pier 20 minutes later the area was
deserted. The only sounds, other than the steady patter of rain, were from
straining hawsers and lapping waves. The building itself was dark. He would
have been surprised by the apparent lack of security but for the fact he knew
who owned the warehouse. Nobody in their right mind would trespass.
There
were several large containers lined up along the dock. He hoisted Maria Brutti
up over the side of one of them. It smelled of fish. She landed inside with a
sickening thud. Then he drove back to the gym parking lot and parked next to
his rental.
Garza
checked the back of the S.U.V. Not a drop of blood. He wasn’t worried about any
other fibers or D.N.A. There wasn’t a forensic scientist on the planet who
could find anything incriminating among the stains and crumbs in that S.U.V.
The police – and her brother – would assume Maria had been snatched after her
class.
Garza
was starving. He got into his own car and let the on-board G.P.S. system guide
him to Eliot’s Oyster House. He had programmed the unit before heading to the
gym. He was sore and wet. Nothing a dry martini couldn’t fix.
***
Garza
assumed Maria Brutti’s body would be discovered almost immediately and given
its location her brother would draw the obvious conclusion. The assumption was
wrong. Busy dockworkers didn’t notice the corpse and the container in which she
lay was filled with a load of iced fish. It was almost a full day later when a
worker culling the catch inside the warehouse stuck his hook into one of her
legs. The delay, which normally would be of no import, would prove catastrophic
to the Ballantrae organization, validating Garza’s misgivings about hastily
planned operations.
CHAPTER
7 – THE WILD EAST
“Behind
every great fortune, there is a great crime,” Dudley Mack said after Scarne
told him about the Ballantrae case. “Balzac.”
It
was cool on the deck but it felt like spring was finally gaining a toehold.
“Stop
showing off,” Scarne said, warily watching his friend fiddle with the pilot
lights on a gas grill the size of the USS Nimitz. “I know who said it.
Behind a lot of small fortunes too.”
“Well,”
the big Irishman said with a wolfish grin. “I try.” He kicked the gas canister
beneath the grill. “Come on, you son of a bitch. I just replaced you.”
Scarne
leaned down and turned the tank’s handle and was rewarded with a
He
quickly and expertly drove the ice pick through the fabric of her sweat suit
under her left breast and into her heart, up to its hilt. He caught her as she
sagged and lifted her into the back of the vehicle, grunting at the pain in his
shoulder. As she fell back she said, “My babies.”
Garza
grimaced as he took her car keys, still clenched in her hand. He gently folded
the body into the back around a small child’s car seat.
“You
had to say that. As if I didn’t feel bad enough about this already.”
He
left the ice pick in her. It was a common tool in the area where she would be
found. As the hatch closed Maria Brutti’s last conscious thought was not of her
children or husband, but of Carlo, who had protected her from their schoolyard
days.
***
Garza
drove the dead woman’s S.U.V. from the parking lot. Like most suburban mom
vehicles it was filled with the detritus of childrearing: hand wipes, empty
juice boxes, animal crackers, Star Wars figures, plush toys, games and enough
electronic gadgets to manage a nuclear war.
“I
don’t know how you do it,” he said to the dead body in the rear.
Since
it was Seattle, of course it had started to rain. The roads were slick and he
drove cautiously. An accident wouldn’t do. He’d be hard pressed to convince a
cop that Maria Brutti had died in a fender bender. The rain got heavier, which
actually worked to his advantage. He doubted there would be anyone out and
about in the dock area.
When
he pulled up to the warehouse next to the pier 20 minutes later the area was
deserted. The only sounds, other than the steady patter of rain, were from
straining hawsers and lapping waves. The building itself was dark. He would
have been surprised by the apparent lack of security but for the fact he knew
who owned the warehouse. Nobody in their right mind would trespass.
There
were several large containers lined up along the dock. He hoisted Maria Brutti
up over the side of one of them. It smelled of fish. She landed inside with a
sickening thud. Then he drove back to the gym parking lot and parked next to
his rental.
Garza
checked the back of the S.U.V. Not a drop of blood. He wasn’t worried about any
other fibers or D.N.A. There wasn’t a forensic scientist on the planet who
could find anything incriminating among the stains and crumbs in that S.U.V.
The police – and her brother – would assume Maria had been snatched after her
class.
Garza
was starving. He got into his own car and let the on-board G.P.S. system guide
him to Eliot’s Oyster House. He had programmed the unit before heading to the
gym. He was sore and wet. Nothing a dry martini couldn’t fix.
***
Garza
assumed Maria Brutti’s body would be discovered almost immediately and given
its location her brother would draw the obvious conclusion. The assumption was
wrong. Busy dockworkers didn’t notice the corpse and the container in which she
lay was filled with a load of iced fish. It was almost a full day later when a
worker culling the catch inside the warehouse stuck his hook into one of her
legs. The delay, which normally would be of no import, would prove catastrophic
to the Ballantrae organization, validating Garza’s misgivings about hastily
planned operations.
CHAPTER
7 – THE WILD EAST
“Behind
every great fortune, there is a great crime,” Dudley Mack said after Scarne
told him about the Ballantrae case. “Balzac.”
It
was cool on the deck but it felt like spring was finally gaining a toehold.
“Stop
showing off,” Scarne said, warily watching his friend fiddle with the pilot
lights on a gas grill the size of the USS Nimitz. “I know who said it.
Behind a lot of small fortunes too.”
“Well,”
the big Irishman said with a wolfish grin. “I try.” He kicked the gas canister
beneath the grill. “Come on, you son of a bitch. I just replaced you.”
Scarne
leaned down and turned the tank’s handle and was rewarded with a
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