Liquid Steele (Daggers & Steele Book 9) Page 20

  “But I’m guessing they didn’t take off until after Martinsvale died.”

  Gentry’s brow furrowed. “Well…I don’t know. I never kept that close an eye on them. Why?”

  “Do the Abanos have a history with the Nicchis?”

  “You mean like a family feud?”

  “Exactly,” I said. “Do you know if they’ve clashed over hunting or fishing rights? Or gotten into any fights since Martinsvale’s death?”

  “Look, Detective,” said Gentry. “You’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m retired. Been retired for over three years. I don’t work cases any more, and I’m not plugged into the goings on at the station either. If you think there’s a blood feud or gang war going on in Aragosto, I think you might’ve lost your marbles, but talk to Sergeant Mines or whoever’s in charge these days. They’ll know far more than I would. I can’t help you.”

  I felt a surge of adrenaline like I always did when I felt close to the end of a case, urging me to push forth and kick down doors and pound heads and shake people until the clues I needed fell out, but I forced it down. I could tell Gentry was telling me what he knew, little as it may be.

  I swallowed back my frustration. “Thanks for your assistance, anyway. Hope you enjoy the rest of your morning.”

  The old guy grunted and closed the door, but at least he didn’t slam it. I turned and walked with Steele down his porch steps and back to the street, a quaint stretch of gravel lined with leafy trees and flowers. Apparently, every neighborhood in Aragosto tried to make you gag with its bucolic nature.

  “Well, that wasn’t as useful as I’d hoped it would be,” I said.

  “It wasn’t exactly a waste of time, either,” said Shay. “We confirmed your theory about Martinsvale, for one. You should pat yourself on the back over that alone. And we found out an innocent man might be in jail for murder.”

  “Yeah, we’ll have to bring that to the DA’s attention. Assuming we can find proof it wasn’t a frame job. All in good time. But discovering I was right about the murder of a local naturalist by itself doesn’t put us any closer to discovering the man’s killer.”

  “It doesn’t?” said Shay. “What about the Abano and Nicchi brothers?”

  “Let me rephrase that. If doesn’t put us any closer to proving any of the above did it.”

  “I suppose so,” said Shay. “But Joey’s attack on Carmine opens up his life to legal scrutiny. We may not have warrants to search the Abanos’ various properties yet, but the clues you’ve put together might be enough to sway a judge into granting the order. Beyond that, there are always witness statements. If Carmine survives, I’ll be interested to hear what he has to say. Likewise with Joey, assuming we can find him.”

  “Right. The manhunt.” I paused, blinking. Then I smacked my palm into my forehead. “Oh. Of course!”

  “What?” said Shay.

  I smiled. “I bet I know where Joey Nicchi is hiding. Come on!”

  37

  As we rounded the edge of town, I noticed a dust cloud approaching from the direction of the city. It could’ve been anything. A dust devil. A storm. A herd of stampeding mustangs, or even unicorns. But I suspected I knew what caused it. There was a reason Quinto had travelled behind Shay and me during our ride into town.

  The rickshaw pulled up beside us, the driver huffing and puffing. Quinto hopped down, a look of surprise on his face. “Hey. What are you two doing out here? I thought I’d find you at the hotel.”

  “Negative, bud,” I said. “We couldn’t wait. A lot’s changed since last night.”

  “Such as?”

  “Carmine Abano got stabbed,” said Shay. “By Joey Nicchi, unless something really weird is going on. There’s a manhunt ongoing for him.”

  Quinto whistled. “Sounds like things got good right as I left. As always…”

  “You spent the night with Cairny,” I said. “I’m assuming you made out fine.”

  The big guy smiled. “I did. Oh, and speaking of spending the night…” He reached into the rickshaw and extracted a backpack. “Got a change of clothes for both of you. You want to head back to the hotel?”

  “Maybe later. We’ve got more pressing matters to attend to.”

  “Suit yourself.” He thanked the rickshaw driver and threw the pack over his back. It looked comically small against his massive shoulders, almost as if he was wearing a pack designed for a kindergartener.

  Shay chortled.

  “What?” said Quinto.

  “Nothing,” said Shay. “We’re glad to have you back. Especially because we might need your help subduing an unhinged huntsman armed with a knife and a bow.”

  Quinto grunted. “Of course. Why is it you never ask for my help decoding a complex cipher or patching together a web of disparate clues into a cohesive narrative?”

  “I ask you to help with paperwork,” I said. “Doesn’t that count?”

  Quinto snorted. We started up the path toward the forest.

  “So,” I said. “You manage to make it to Taxation and Revenue last night before they closed?”

  “By the skin of my teeth,” said Quinto. “But yeah. Good thing, too. Your instincts were right. I wasn’t able to delve into the files as thoroughly as I wanted—I left them at the precinct for safekeeping—but an initial perusal showed what I would say are abnormally large gross revenues for both Doc Fowler’s flying horse show and the Abano brother’s fishing enterprise.”

  “Right. Fowler,” I said. “I’d almost forgotten about that guy.”

  “What about for Nicchi Fishing and Crabbing?” asked Steele.

  “Those records actually looked pretty normal,” said Quinto. “As a matter of fact, they showed severe financial trouble. Just what Bianca and Joey hinted at.”

  “Hmm.” I scratched my chin. “So we weren’t lied to about that. Unless Johnny was hiding some of his income. But that wouldn’t make sense. His company would be an ideal way to launder funds. Odd… What about Joey Nicchi?”

  “I didn’t look into him,” said Quinto. “You didn’t ask me to.”

  “That okay,” said Shay. “We didn’t consider him a suspect until last night, after you left. And he still isn’t, in his brother’s murder. We’re just trying to figure out how his family and the Abanos tie together.”

  Quinto shot his finger up the hilly forest path. “Speaking of Joey, are we heading to Sea Ridge Tours? If there’s a manhunt going on, I have to imagine that would be the first place you’d look.”

  “It was,” I said. “But we’re heading to that abandoned shack next door, instead.”

  “Hmm.” Quinto shrugged. “I guess it would put him in close proximity to his stuff.”

  “It’s more than that.” I explained the situation with Martinsvale as we walked.

  Quinto nodded. “That makes sense. But how in the world did you figure it out?”

  “I had a dream about mermaids fighting unicorns.”

  “Right.”

  The dilapidated farmhouse came into view, the field of yellow flowers in front of it still a hive of animal activity.

  I extracted Daisy from my jacket and gripped her tight. “Well. Here we are. Let’s treat this like we would any other breach and enter scenario. Assume Joey is in there, still armed and dangerous. I’ll take the lead. Steele, you’re in the middle. Quinto, you’ve got the rear. Anyone want to secure a weapon from the barn before we go in?”

  Quinto shook his head. “I’m better with my fists in close quarters. Besides, I can use your backpack as a shield if need be.”

  “And risk having all our clothes get slashed?” said Shay.

  “Better than my arm. Or something more vital to my health.”

  None of us could argue with that. With a plan settled upon, we headed up the hill. I approached the hovel’s front door, knowing from the growth of ivy over it that Joey hadn’t used it to gain entry. Nonetheless, the ‘breach’ part of our breach and entry turned out to be exceedingly easy. The door fell inward, crashing to t
he floor with the slightest of pushes. I think the ivy stuck to its face provided more resistance than the hinges had.

  “There goes the element of surprise,” I said.

  I moved in carefully, Daisy at the ready. A rich earthy scent worked into my nose, that of moss and damp wood and mold. A greenish light filtered through the house, tinted by lichens and the leaves of creepers that covered what remained of the home’s windows. I heard a crunch and spun, only to see a gray, squirrel-shaped blur dive into a rotten hole through the base of one of the outward-facing walls.

  It only took us a couple minutes to secure the house. I shook my head as we left the bedroom and its collection of mushrooms growing from the mattress, heading back into what must’ve been the living room once upon a time.

  “I don’t get it,” I said. “I was sure Joey would be here.”

  “It would be a good place to hide,” said Quinto. “Except for the fact that you’d actually have to spend an extended period of time here.”

  “It might be a good hiding place in general,” said Shay, eyeing a lumpy, moss-covered sofa with unease. “But I’m not sure I buy that it would’ve necessarily made sense for Joey to come here.”

  “How so?” I asked.

  “It’s your theory,” said Steele. “I think you’ve got it wrong.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Well, since the start of this case, you’ve focused on the fact that Johnny was stabbed with a trident, namely because you associated the weapon with merfolk and you always latch onto the supernatural elements of any case we’re assigned to. I’ve always thought this had far more to do with something mundane, Johnny’s finances or Bianca’s infidelities perhaps. I think the truth lies somewhere in the middle.

  “Since you made the connection about Martinsvale this morning, you’ve seemed convinced the Abanos and Nicchis were both involved in the same illegal enterprise, but the evidence suggests otherwise. Only the Abanos are wealthy, as evidenced by their mansion and the records Quinto found at Taxation and Revenue. If someone is running a poaching operation, it’s probably them and them alone.”

  “So how does Johnny get dragged into this, then?” I asked. “He needs a loan and goes to the Abanos?”

  “That’s a possibility,” said Shay, “but another is that it all happened organically. Let’s assume Johnny was tight on funds, that he fired his brother for the reasons he claimed. The money problems put stress on his already souring relationship with his wife, Bianca. Bianca saw the tide coming in, so she decided to get out in front of it. She needed someone to take care of her, so she went after Carmine. Her personality may leave something to be desired, but there’s no question she’s attractive. She could’ve easily seduced Carmine.”

  “Then Johnny somehow finds out she’s cheating on him, does a little digging, figures out who it is, and confronts him.”

  “Something like that,” said Shay. “Maybe there’s an argument. For whatever reason, Carmine, or perhaps he and his brother, kill Johnny and dump him at sea. They steal his boat and either sell it or scuttle it to defer suspicion. No one’s the wiser until we show up a week and a half later with proof of his murder. At that point, thanks to Bianca or Keonig at the dock, the word spreads, including to Joey.”

  “He implied he hadn’t heard when we first talked to him,” said Quinto.

  “And he was probably lying,” said Shay. “Because I suspect he’d also heard the rumor about Bianca’s infidelity, and he didn’t mention that either. If I’m right, he’s the one who broke into her home. Being Johnny’s brother, he almost certainly would’ve had a key. Remember, it was their parent’s home. That explains why Bianca reported the break in, because it really happened. Maybe at Johnny’s home, Joey found evidence not of financial distress but of who Bianca was seeing. That’s why he attacked Carmine.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I think I could be willing to believe all that. But where did the unicorn horn come from? We looked inside the barn and in the Sea Ridge ranch home. There didn’t appear to be more contraband.”

  “I get what you’re implying,” said Shay. “It threw me for a loop that the Abanos own Sea Ridge Tours. It made me think that for sure Joey was involved. But what if he was a patsy? Just someone to run the front of the house, someone with plausible deniability for any illegal activity. It’s entirely possible the Abanos were running poaching operations in the woods without Joey’s knowledge.”

  “Which would mean the unicorn horn didn’t come with him,” I said. “But that he found it elsewhere. Probably at one of the Abanos’ warehouses near where he confronted him. Maybe he was lying in wait for Carmine and happened upon the contraband unintentionally.”

  “That’s what I was thinking, too,” said Shay.

  “Which would mean there might be more to the crime scene than we originally thought,” I said. “More clues. Who knows if they’ll tell us anything about where Joey is now, but it might be worth checking out.”

  Shay nodded. “Perhaps.”

  “You think our efforts would be better served elsewhere?” said Quinto.

  Shay bobbed her head from side to side. “Well, the way I see it, Joey’s probably done one of two things. Either he’s fled the scene, knowing we’ll be coming after him for murder, or he’s gone into hiding. Unless he’s been framed, which I highly doubt, there’s only one reason he would do the latter.”

  “Because he wants to finish the job,” I said. “Or perhaps go after Orlando, too.”

  “Exactly,” said Shay. “We should get people to the hospital, his home, and his businesses at the docks.”

  “We’re going to need more people.”

  “Maybe Mines will be at the station by now.”

  I nodded. “Let’s go.”

  38

  Luckily, Mines was at the station, along with Officers Morris, Travers, and a new one I hadn’t yet seen, a guy with a fuzzy upper lip who looked like he hadn’t even graduated from the academy yet. Silverbrook was oddly absent, but Mines explained that she thought he’d spent the night at the medical clinic keeping an eye on Carmine and Orlando.

  That caused me to sigh in relief. Although my sympathy toward Carmine and his brother could be measured with a pipette, that didn’t mean I supported vigilante justice. After sharing our theories with Mines, she agreed with us wholeheartedly about the danger to the Abanos. She ordered Travers and the new guy to check on the Abanos’ hillside home, sent Morris packing to the clinic to join Silverbrook, and decided to accompany us to the docks to check on what remained of the crime scene and expand the search, if necessary.

  When we arrived, we found the scene largely unchanged from the night before. The crowd had dispersed, and no others had shown up to take their places, but no one had bothered to clean up the alley. The cracked crate still sat there, stinking of old fish, and the pool of blood upon the cobblestones had dried into a dark stain.

  “So let me get this straight,” said Mines. “You suspect Joey Nicchi found the unicorn horn he used to attack Carmine with while he was poking around one of the Abanos’ warehouses?”

  “That’s the theory,” I said. “You said one of these was owned by the brothers, right?”

  “This one.” Mines indicated the one on the left. “It’s one of three seaside warehouses they own, if memory serves me right.”

  “Seeing as the fight occurred right outside this one, I’m guessing we should start here,” said Shay.

  “Well, sure,” said Mines. “But unless the door’s unlocked, we can’t barge in. Last night we were in hot pursuit of a fugitive. We’re not anymore. We don’t have any clue where Nicchi might be. If we were to break into any of the Abanos’ properties without a warrant, any evidence we found to corroborate your theory about poaching or smuggling would be forfeit.”

  I rubbed the bristles protruding from my chin. In my rush, I hadn’t shaved. “Not if we find evidence of forced entry. Nicchi is still on the loose.”

  “But Nicchi would’ve entered the premise
s last night.”

  I smiled. “Who’s to say that? Criminals often return to the scene of the crime.”

  Mines shot me a wary look. “Does every cop in the city work by the same methodology you do?”

  “Some are a lot worse,” I said. “At least we’re bending the rules to make sure justice is done and not vice versa.”

  The sergeant sighed. “Fine. But it’s got to be legit. I’m not going to kick down the door to the warehouse unless we find verifiable evidence that someone forced their way in last night.”

  “Fair enough.”

  We skirted the edge of the building, looking for clues. I trained my eyes upward, about fifteen feet off the ground where windows had been intermittently set in the side of the warehouse to let in light. After exiting the alley, crossing behind it, and entering the alley on the other side, I stopped in my tracks.

  “There.”

  I pointed. I honestly wasn’t sure if we’d find anything—I was simply looking for an excuse to get into the warehouse—but there it was. The lower left hand corner of one of the windows had been punched out. Glass shards sparkled atop a stack of crates underneath it.

  “Well, I’ll be,” said Mines.

  I climbed atop the crates, reached up, and tested the bottom corner of the window. It swung open on hinges attached at the top—soundlessly, I might add, as if they’d been greased.

  “This is almost too good to be true,” I said.

  Quinto tested the crates to make sure they’d support him, then hopped up beside me. “Here. I’ll give you a boost.”

  He cupped his hands. I stepped on them, grasped the edge of the window, and pulled myself through.

  When I dropped down on the other side, it was onto another stack of crates, one covered with a tarp that muffled the sound of my fall. Though sun streamed through the high-set windows, it wasn’t enough to bring the warehouse to life. Shadows stretched across the interior, crosshatching patterns of light and dark created by the tall shelves inside and the trusses holding up the roof. The fishy smell that surrounded the building intensified by an order of magnitude.