Roy Glenn - In A Cold Sweat

“Wait just a minute! You can’t just walk in here like you own the place!” the maid screamed at us.

“But that is what we’re doin’,” Bobby said and I followed behind him. I had been there a few times for parties and tried to remember where his office was. When Martin came out to see what all the noise was about, we walked quickly toward him. When he saw us coming, Martin went back in his office and Bobby and I both took out our guns.

“Oh shit!” the maid yelled and ran behind us.

When the three of us got to Martin’s office, we found him standing in front of his bar. “Remy, isn’t it, Black?” he asked and calmly poured Remy Martin VSOP into three shot glasses.

“Should I get the police, Mr. Marshall?” the maid asked.

“That won’t be necessary, Helena. Mr. Black and I are old friends,” Martin said and handed me a glass. “Right, Black?”

“That depends on you, Martin,” I said and took my drink.

The maid looked at Martin and then at me and Bobby. “Okay, if you say so. Call if you need anything.” She backed out of the room, closing the doors behind her.

“Have a seat, gentlemen,” Martin said and handed a drink to Bobby. “There’s no need for guns. I’m sure if you planned on killing me, I‘d be dead already.”

“The day isn’t over yet,” Bobby said. “Say or do the wrong fuckin’ thing and Helena will have a mess to clean up.”

Bobby and I sat down and Martin went and sat behind his desk, but neither of us put away our guns.

“Who killed my wife, Martin?” I asked. I started to point my gun at him when I asked, but I figured just him knowing I would kill him was threat enough. Bobby thought otherwise. He pointed his gun at Martin.

“First off, I want to say that I was sorry to hear about her death, Black. I mean that from the heart.”

“Thank you. Now, who killed my wife?”

“I don’t know for sure, Black, I swear it.”

“What do you know?”

“You ever hear of a DEA agent,” Martin paused. “Well Ex-DEA agent now. Fellow named Kenneth DeFrancisco?”

“No.”

“I was in business with him and Diego Estabon.”

“I knew about you and Diego. What was the set up?”

“Same old same. Diego brings it in, DeFrancisco was responsible for security, and I provided whatever political cover they needed.”

“What does this have to do with my wife, Martin?”

“Diego got careless; let some DEA operative compile some major document on his operation. It was only by chance that DeFrancisco got wind of an ongoing South American operation and mentioned the details that he’d heard, that Diego knew he had a snitch.”

“Interesting story, Martin, but the man asked you about his wife,” Bobby said.

“That’s what I’m doing,” Martin said nervously as he looked at Bobby’s gun. “That’s why Diego tried to set up you and his father.”

“I know all this, Martin. Tell me about my wife.”

“That’s what I’m doing. When it all fell apart, DeFrancisco went to jail. He’s doin’ time at the federal pen in Atlanta. Since he’s been there, he’s been reaching out to me to use my influence to get him moved to a minimum security facility, but I can’t help him. Too much bad will out there for him. He stepped on a lot of people.”

“I’m gettin’ bored, Martin,” Bobby advised him. “And when that happens my finger might slip,” he warned, and I wanted to laugh at how corny that was, but I kept my game face on.

“Okay, okay. Last week his lap dog Vinnelli comes to see me,” Martin continued.

“Who’s he?” I asked.

“DEA. He tells me that DeFrancisco wants to talk to me and if I don’t, DeFrancisco will start remembering things. So I called him.”

“What did he want?”

“Same thing. Get him transferred to a minimum security facility. Said if I didn’t get it done soon, the same thing that happened to your wife would happen to mine.”

“You think he really meant he had her killed, or was he just tryin’ to scare you?” Bobby asked, and I started thinking about how I was gonna kill that mutha fucka.

“I asked him if he was responsible for that and he didn’t answer.” Martin looked at me. “You gonna kill me, Black?”

“Not yet,” I told him. “There’s something that I want you to do for me first.”

Kirk and Richards returned to Cash Money’s murder scene to have a second look, as they usually did, especially when they didn’t have much to go on. Revisiting the scene gave Kirk a fresh opportunity to think through the murder and see what they might have missed the first time. “There’s always something,” Kirk was famous for saying at these occasions. This time was no different.

Since they had come to the conclusion that the murder of Cash Money and K Murder were related, Kirk and Richards had been to the Police impound and looked over K Murder’s Escalade, as well as the spot where the shooting took place. Finding no new inspiration, the detectives found themselves at Cash Money’s apartment. The results seemed to be the same.

“What now?” Richards asked as they left the apartment.

“I was thinking about grabbing some lunch and then I thought we’d take another run at this Stark character,” Kirk answered.

He had confirmed from his sources that Cash Money, Blake, K Murder Murdock, Billy BB Banner and Bruce Stark, all four of Birdie’s lieutenants, were members of The Commission. However, his sources told him that the sole purpose of the group was to protect themselves against Mike Black. The ability to buy at a cheaper price was nothing more than a byproduct.

Even with that information, Kirk was still reluctant to believe that Black was involved with these murders.

When the detectives stopped at a diner for lunch, Richards asked the question he’d been wanting to ask all day. “Why haven’t you even suggested, with everything people have been telling us about this Commission, why haven’t you even suggested we talk to Black, Freeze or any of his people?” he asked as the waitress placed their meals in front of them.

“Can you bring me another cup of coffee, honey?” Kirk said to the waitress.

“Sure,” she replied.

“We can ride out to the country and talk to Black if you want. That’s not a problem. But you asked me why I hadn’t suggested it, right?”

“Okay, why?”

“Because of what all the people we’ve talked to haven’t told us.”

“I’m not following you,” Richards said as the waitress returned to refresh Kirk’s coffee.

“Thank you, honey.”

“Can I get you anything else?” the waitress asked.

“We’re fine, thank you,” Richards told her and she disappeared.

“What have they been telling us?”

“That after Black had Birdie and Albert killed, these four assholes were so afraid he’d come after them next, that they formed this commission to protect themselves against him.”

“How’s that goin’ so far?” Kirk asked as he ate.

“Not good. Two of them are dead and the other two are keeping a very low profile.”

“Anything else?”

“No, that’s pretty much been the story.”

“They found Birdie’s body near Atlantic City, right? New Jersey State Police making any headway with that case?”

“Not that I know of,” Richards said.

“But it’s assumed that Black killed him and since nobody’s seen his partner, Albert Web, that he’s dead too and that Black killed him, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay, let’s say that Black killed Birdie and Albert. Can you tell me why?”

“Because Black first thought that they killed his wife.”

“And you’re sure about that? Not sure enough to make an arrest, but sure that’s why Black killed or had them killed?”