Wicked Is the Whiskey: A Sean McClanahan Mystery (Sean McClanahan Mysteries Book 1) (17 page)

I tossed and turned all day, sometimes sleeping, most of the time not. I couldn’t get warm.

I persuaded Maureen to lock up the pub early that night, so I could sit by the hearth. It was slow and she was always happy to enjoy a night off.

I got a roaring fire going in the hearth and sat across from it in my booth. I made a cup of hot tea and put in a splash of Jameson. With a quilt blanketing me and the fire chasing off the cold, I began to feel like my old self again for the first time since Terry started pumping me with heroin a few days before.

As I sipped my tea, I thought again about Rosie and Eduardo and that started getting my Irish up. I thought about Big Tony and Little Terry and laughed about my last meeting with them — laughed at the chewing out they were surely getting from their boss. And I dreamed about what I was going to do to them the next time we met.

I was thinking about all kinds of things, then, and nothing at all. And I must have nodded off…

***

I woke with a jerk.

For a moment, I didn’t know where I was.

I heard the embers burning and popping in the hearth, and I began to place myself — then heard someone coming.

I held my breath so that I could hear better. I fished around for my gun. My Glock was taken from me by Big Tony and Little Terry. Mick lent me his. It was lying on the table. I grabbed it.

I got a good grip on the gun and moved slowly toward the back of the pub.

My heart was beating wildly now. I was awake.

The door that opens into the back of Mick’s office opened — and Erin walked into the pub.

I exhaled, laughing. 

“You startled me,” I said.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I thought you might be hungry. I wanted to make something for you to eat.”

I hadn’t thought about it, but I hadn’t eaten anything for two or three days — I’d barely eaten anything since Erin Miller walked into the pub.

“You’re feeling OK?” I said.

“Much better thanks to you,” said Erin. “I will never be able to repay you but I can make your favorite meal. What will it be?”

“A bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich, with provolone cheese, two fried eggs and mayo,” I said, smiling.

“Coming right up,” she said. “After I make you a fresh cup of tea.”

A few minutes later she came out with a tray with a small pot of tea, sliced lemon, fresh cream and sugar.

“Thank you,” I said.

A fellow could get used to this. I tossed some logs on the embers and they fired right away.

“How about some music?” she said. “How does the sound system work here?”

I pointed her to the juke box and told her how to flip it on. She fed some quarters into the machine and played some Frank Sinatra songs — as though she knew how the old crooner’s music reminded me of my mother whistling along as a boy and calmed me.

A few minutes later, Erin returned with a platter with two BLTs on fresh Italian bread. They smelled so good, they stirred my appetite.

I took a man-sized bite and it was delicious. I could feel the nutrients restore my neglected body. But after two big bites I was already full.

Erin cut her sandwich in half and, after a few bites, also found herself full.

“I suppose you lose your appetite after being strung out on heroin for several days,” she said, laughing.

“To my fellow junky,” I said, raising my tea mug to hers, both of us laughing.

“This is the first time I’ve felt myself since this surreal ordeal began,” she said. “It is hitting me though. I can’t believe John is gone.”

I nodded.

“This is going to take a bit of time to sort out,” I said. “We still have our work cut out for us.”

“I appreciate all you have done for me,” said Erin. “But I feel so bad for all the trouble I put you through.”

“You’ve put us in a position to stop a very evil woman from running a massive heroin operation,” I said. “I hate to admit it but I haven’t had this much action since I retired from the force. But I need you to really think now.”

“Think about what?” I said.

“Where John might have put the copy of Hall’s ledger? If it wasn’t in your house or a bank-deposit box and I couldn’t find it at John’s mother’s, where might it be?”

“Maybe I’d have better luck searching Gertrude’s house,” said Erin

“It’s worth a shot,” I said.

The phone rang.

“McClanahan’s,” I said.

“Sean, it’s Maureen. Turn on the news.”

I turned on both TVs above the bar.

A reporter spoke:

“Earlier today at the Washington County Coroner’s office, Washington County Coroner J.W. Green released the results of John Preston’s autopsy report. It rules that the cause of Preston’s death was drowning and the manner was suicide.

“The surprising piece of news is that toxicology reports found high levels of heroin in Preston’s system. The report states that the heroin likely impaired Preston’s judgment — that he’d been depressed, according to co-workers. The high dose of heroin likely had the effect of emboldening him to do what he may not have had the courage to do sober: end his own life.

“The coroner’s report cites an unnamed witness who saw Preston park his car on the Maryanne Bridge, then climb over the railing and jump to his death.

“We also have an update on a related tragedy that involves a long-time employee of Preston’s firm, Rosie Ramirez, whose body was found in the river by the Maryanne Chief of Police last week. Preliminary reports indicate that she, too, jumped to her death from the Maryanne Bridge, distraught over the loss of Preston, her long-time employer and friend. This is Lynn Joseph reporting live from Washington, PA.”

“Lies!” said Erin, her cheeks flushed.

I was so mad, I wanted to jump in the truck and pay a nasty little visit to Chief Sarafino.

But I wouldn’t have to.

Chief Sarafino was pounding on the back door of the pub. I let her in.

“I want to apologize,” she said, sitting across the booth from Erin and me. “I want to apologize to both of you.”

“For lying to me and everyone about John and Rosie?” said Erin.

The chief nodded.

“You need to tell me about Victoria Hall and your father,” I said.

She looked down at the seat.

“Your assessment is correct,” said the chief. “My father was a good man with a sterling reputation. He made one mistake in his career. He agreed to take payments from Hall. He thought it was for protection and nothing more. He was unaware of her intent to run a major heroin operation in his town. He never knew it was drugs she was into. He was told she would use the old industrial campus to run a chop shop of stolen auto parts. Bad enough, for sure, but not on the level of heroin.”

“Peter Hartley told you about this?”

She nodded.

“I wasn’t here when my father was going through this,” she said. “He died before he could tell me himself.”

“I see.”

“But once Hall got her hooks in, he couldn’t stop her,” said the chief. “She had the means to ruin him. She had video recordings of him taking payoffs from a third party, a well-known criminal. But my father quickly began to put the pieces together and knew he was enabling a heroin operation in the town he loved. The stress of the situation literally killed him. I knew nothing of mess he’d got himself into until I agreed to take over as chief. The first day I began work, I was visited by Hall. She said either I continue where my father left off or she would destroy my father’s reputation.”

“So you continued?” I said.

She nodded.

“I have put all of the cash they keep funneling to me in a safe place,” she said. “I have not spent a penny of it. I don’t want it. For the past year, I’ve been trying to figure out how to stop Hall. I noticed that the activity was escalating with cars coming and going at all times. Then Preston ends up dead.”

“Hall’s men made it look like suicide, but you knew better? Is that what you argued with Hall about? I followed you to her house the morning after you drank me under the table.”

“Yes,” said the chief. “Hall denied having anything to do with Preston’s death, but I knew that was not the case. I was worried who she might harm next. As you know, Peter Hartley, my godfather, was fishing on the sunken river barge that night. He saw two men throw a lifeless Preston over the Maryanne Bridge. I feared for Peter’s life — I had to buy time — and that is why I had to lie about what he saw.”

“Then Hall had Rosie killed,” I said.

Chief Sarafino nodded.

“Yes, but I have no hard proof that can tie her or her hired hands to Rosie’s death,” said the chief. “Not yet, anyhow. I knew that the only way to bring Hall down was to get the goods on what she is doing — and establish fool-proof evidence that Hall had Preston and Rosie murdered. I’ve been working feverishly to do just that.”

“You’re telling me that is why you conducted the investigation yourself?” I said. “That is why you kept out the state police, and why you kept tight control over the autopsy, thus keeping out Doc Milaskovich? You were in too deep and you had to keep going?”

“Regrettably, that is correct,” said the chief. “As I see it, I have to string Hall along — have to make her think I’m in her pocket until I can gather enough information to put her away. I had to file the police report on Preston that made it appear to be a suicide — though I planned to retract it at the right time. I was making headway until Preston died and Erin came out of the woodwork. Hall has my office bugged, but I can’t let on that I know.”

“The bugs are how they knew Erin had visited you?” I said.

“Yes. Our 911 dispatch service was outsourced to a company that is conveniently owned by Hall. Anything that dispatch learns, Hall learns. Hall is a control freak and she’s good at it.”

“So you think when Erin visited you, Hall had someone listening in and sent her two men to check her out?” I said.

She nodded.

“I did everything I could to usher her out of my office,” said the chief. “I didn’t want her to give me any information there. My plan was to tail her and pull her over outside of town, so we could talk. But when Hall’s men approached her she ran to her car and drove off before I could get to my car. I’m so happy you found her. Erin, are you OK?”

“I’m fine,” said Erin.

“You have to understand,” said the chief. “I have to be careful not to do anything to alert Hall that I’m building a case against her.”

“And you figured the worst was over until Rosie was murdered?”

She nodded.

“That is exactly the case,” said the chief. “I haven’t filed my report on Rosie yet. The coroner hasn’t had Rosie’s autopsy conducted yet. But I did allow Hall to leak some information to the news that makes it look like Rosie claimed her own life, too. We need to let Hall think she is winning. We need her to keep running drugs so we can catch her in the act and prove beyond a reasonable doubt that she is behind Preston and Rosie’s murder, the drug running and the money laundering.”

“You know of the money laundering?” I said.

“Not enough,” said the chief. “I see how they get the cash out to the airport and I did a little investigating to determine that they are flying it to the Caymans. I figure Hall has someone transferring the money in an apparently legal way back into Preston’s firm to launder it.”

“Not bad work,” I said. “That’s exactly what they’re doing. This was confirmed by a white hat hacker friend of mine. Hall has an elaborate scheme that’s using Preston’s company to wash millions. You’re documenting how she’s using river barges to transport the heroin into her processing center?”

“Yes, I’ve been gathering intelligence and taking pictures,” said the chief. “But none of this is enough to snag Hall. We can snag her accomplices as they handle drugs and money, but Hall is a big fish and we need more to bring her down. But I’m getting worried that time is running out.”

“Why so?” I said.

“The activity in Maryanne appears to be slowing down,” she said. “There are fewer cars coming and going.”  

“That means Hall may be looking to seal things up,” I said. “She's likely sitting on a pile of money at the moment. It's been successfully washed clean. But the only way she can protect it is to eliminate anyone who can expose her. That would include Erin, me and you if she knew what you were up to. It may also include any of her accomplices, too — anyone who can part her from that pile of green.”

“You’re right about that,” said the chief. “I’m getting wind that she and her team of mercenaries are planning to pay you a visit. They think you rescued Erin and they think you may be keeping her in your apartment above the pub.”

“Did you tell them I was the one who rescued her?” I said.

“No, I didn’t. But as things heat up, they’re getting more aggressive. I’m just telling you to be on your guard.”

“Chief, I talked to Lou Geraldi with the DEA and he said it could take several days before his fed contacts will be able to get on board,” I said. “If we want to catch Hall with the goods, we’re going to have to do it ourselves.”

Chief Sarafino nodded.

“We need to hatch a plan,” she said.

“Chief, are you suggesting we team up?”

She smiled.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

And so we put our noggins together and hatched a plan.