Blood Brothers: A Jarvis Mann Detective Novel Page 4

  His expression changed immediately. He was stunned to hear this. Flynn was three years older than me. He was the eldest, and the good one in his mind, having done a good job of mostly hiding his indiscretions. I knew better and tried to tear him down, breaking my father’s illusion. This got him to storm out of the room searching for him. I was free from his wrath, I hoped, but of course this was wrong. It only delayed the inevitable. We now both would be punished, and my brother’s trust in me was further tarnished. This was the last straw and would forever change our relationship.

  I stalled some, driving around contemplating the best way to approach Flynn. No amount of thinking could come up with solid logic to use to explain my presence.

  “Hi Flynn, I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d see how you’re doing!”

  Of course, living in Denver, this wouldn’t work.

  “Helen called and gave me the news. So, I got on a plane to see if I could help.”

  Yea right, he’d really believe that load of crap.

  “Flynn, I wanted to let you know I spied on you for two days and then ran to your wife and gleefully told her of your affair.”

  This at least would be closer to the truth, but likely would get him to take a swing at me, like he had many times before. There was really no good way to put things. But I felt I had to at least fess up and hear what he had to say. I’m sure there was a good reason to be screwing another woman while he was married. He’d used a couple of excuses in past relationships I was aware of; pretty good ones I’d even used myself on occasion. I’m certain he could piece something together which would be worth hearing.

  It was raining lightly today, and when I pulled into his parking lot I saw his bike sitting there, covered to protect it. I took two deep breaths and got out and walked in. His office had a reception desk, but no one sitting at it. There had been a ding, announcing the door had opened. I heard his voice from the back say he’d be right there. I stood tall and waited for his arrival, expecting a stormy reaction. I still had my beard, so he might at first not recognize me, my Cardinal hat still in place, my sunglasses not needed on this cloudy day.

  From behind me I heard two doors slam. I turned and saw a black SUV with dark, tinted windows. Two men came through the entrance in dark suits, looking ominous. I stepped over to the side, as each appeared mildly agitated. One stayed with me while the other went into Flynn’s office. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but I was prepared for the worst.

  “Beat it,” said the one still waiting with me. “We have business with the owner.”

  He was a large man, maybe three inches taller than I was, a lean, taunt build displaying under his tailored jacket. No doubt his mean expression scared most he’d encountered. I, though, was unfazed.

  “Are you a Michael Jackson fan?” I asked, with a tone of sarcasm. “Wow, isn’t Eddie Van Halen some guitarist. Man that solo was smoking hot.”

  He appeared confused by my question.

  “Oh, you know the tune Beat It by Michael Jackson” I continued. “I’m assuming you were referring to his hit song.”

  “Are you a smart ass?”

  “Now, I don’t know that one. Can you hum a few bars?”

  He opened his coat to show his gun. It was meant to frighten, but I didn’t cower. I’d have done the same, but wasn’t wearing it since I didn’t foresee gun play in my future.

  “Nice piece,” I said. “Is it a Glock? You must be overcompensating. It seems like some heavy hardware to bring to talk with a CPA.”

  Out of the back office walked my brother and the other suit, looking a little pale, his clothes wrinkled and his brown short hair a mess. I could see by Flynn’s expression after a few seconds he recognized me. I winked at him, hoping he’d get the hint and keep his mouth shut.

  “Where are you taking him?” I asked.

  “I told you to get rid of him,” said suit number two.

  “He is a smart ass and won’t skedaddle,” replied suit one.

  “Wow, I haven’t heard that expression in years! Is it like narrow ties and making a comeback?”

  I saw Flynn briefly smile. He was used to my wit, but was holding back a belly laugh.

  “This is none of your business,” stated suit two. “Mr. Mann here has a meeting he needs to attend. If you continue to meddle, I’ll have you arrested.”

  He pulled out his ID and showed me who he worked for. The fancy FBI logo announced all I needed to know. I had figured he was working for some government agency by their dress and the monster SUV they drove. Now I knew which one.

  “He’s not going anywhere without me,” I replied. “I’m his lawyer and he needs representation to protect his rights.”

  Both of the suits looked at each other, uncertain how to react.

  “You don’t look like a lawyer,” said suit one, referring to my jeans, t-shirt, ball cap and filling in facial hair.

  “I wasn’t here for a lawyer meeting. I was here to go to lunch with my friend. Do I need to go back home and change my clothes? Now, you either let me go with you or I start calling your bosses at the Bureau and tell them how you were violating this man’s civil rights.”

  “Show us some ID?” demanded suit one.

  “Darn boys, I believe I left it in my work clothes,” I stated while patting myself down. “Now, either I tag along or Flynn stays with me and we go get our lunch.”

  The civil rights statement, my forcefulness, and the fact these two weren’t all that bright, got them to agree that I could tag along. While in the back of the black beast, a couple of times I could tell Flynn wanted to say something, but I reminded him to remain silent. The FBI office was west of the Valley West Mall, situated in an ugly brown building with no architectural imagination, looking more like a parking garage than an office building. They breezed us through security with their official IDs and soon we were on the second floor in the office of another agent, the sign on his door saying Bart Wilson, Organized Crime Division. The room was as plain as the building, with old beige carpeting, white orange peel textured walls badly in need of new paint, a plain particle board desk and high back black leather chair, both straight from OfficeMax. It was nice to know the Feds weren’t wasting money on office space and furniture.

  Behind the desk sat Agent Wilson, his name plate on his desk my first clue. His black jacket; or was it dark blue, it was always hard for me to tell, hung on the back of his chair. His yellow tie was loose around his neck, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up on this wet, humid day, the material straining at his large biceps. He had a buzz haircut, strong cheeks and large ears which curled out from the sides of his head. If he wasn’t ex-military I would be surprised. He shot us both a hard stare when we sat down. The first words out of his mouth were eloquently put.

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  “All those years of education and this is the best you can come up with?” I replied. “I’m his council, here to protect his rights.”

  “I doubt that. I know everything here about Flynn, and his lawyer is some over-the-hill ambulance chaser who’d piss his pants if I breathed hard on him.”

  “I said council. I never said lawyer. Your boys must have misheard me. Knew he needed someone to advise him when dealing with your bureau breath.”

  I was lying about saying lawyer, because I knew I couldn’t get away with it at the Bureau. The two geniuses that picked us up weren’t smart enough to push me to confess the truth. But I knew I could get in hot water if I kept it up.

  “So, mister council, what is your name?”

  “You can call me Mr. Smith.”

  When in doubt always go with a classic surname.

  He smiled, though it wasn’t a pleasant one.

  “Are you sure it’s not Jones or maybe Johnson, something else common?”

  “Could have chosen Wilson, but it was already taken,” I said with a grin.

  “We got your picture in security. Facial recognition should have a name for me shortly.”

/>   With my newly formed beard, I wasn’t sure if he’d get an ID or not. But I wasn’t worried. I was here to find out what Flynn had gotten into.

  “Well, we can exchange pleasantries waiting, or we can get down to why the hell you dragged Mr. Mann down here today.”

  “We didn’t drag. He came of his own choice.”

  “Didn’t seem that way to me. The two goons in black didn’t give him any option. So then, we are free to leave anytime we want?”

  “Sure. Once he explains why he is reneging on our deal.”

  “And what deal would this be?” I asked.

  “Being his council, shouldn’t you know?”

  “As I said, he asked for my guidance only a couple of days ago. I haven’t gotten all the facts.”

  “Well, he is doing us a favor in exchange for bailing his financial ass out of a mess with the IRS.”

  “What favor would this be?”

  “He can explain it to you later. But he called this morning and said he wanted out.”

  “I told you, my wife is threatening to divorce me,” said Flynn. “I have no choice in the matter.”

  “You do have a choice,” said Agent Wilson. “Either you continue the job at hand or the IRS will put a lien on everything you own, including your house, your business and all your personal property. This will affect the little lady whether she is divorcing you or not. This is your mess and I gave you an out. End it now and you’ll be ruined. Your whole family will be out on the street carrying a little sign begging for handouts.”

  This didn’t sound good and I needed to stall for time and learn more from Flynn.

  “Flynn and I need to converse and get back to you,” I said. “Can we have twenty-four to forty-eight hours to make a final decision?”

  Wilson thought it over for a minute. His phone rang, and he listened intently, before hanging up. I assumed he was getting the answer on what recognition software discovered. Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed at his temples as if his head hurt. It was an effect both Flynn and I had on people. He didn’t allude to what he’d found, though, when speaking.

  “I can give you forty-eight hours. But if the answer is anything other than what we agreed to before, we foreclose and shut you down with a snap of my fingers. Is this clear?”

  “Sure,” I answered. “Can we get a ride back in your black tank? That baby is so comfortable, and probably gets five miles to the gallon. I love burning taxpayer’s money.”

  “Take a cab and expense it. I’ll await Flynn giving the answer I’m looking for. Now, leave before I decide to revoke your building privileges.”

  Once outside, I turned and looked at Flynn.

  “Well, this is another fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into, Ollie!” I said in my best Laurel and Hardy impersonation.

  Flynn shrugged his shoulders and punched me in the stomach, doubling me over. I guess he didn’t think I was funny.

  Chapter 9

  After the punishment had been handed out, it was a day or two later when Flynn came into my room and closed the door. Fire burned in his eyes. It appeared to be contained, though not for long.

  “What’s the idea, asswipe?” he said bitterly. It was the name he often called me when he was mad. “You get in trouble at school and to take the heat off yourself, you go and rat me out to dad.”

  I looked him in the eye and shrugged. There was little I could say.

  “What I do is none of your business. So keep your nose out of it.”

  Being as I couldn’t help myself, and smartass was part of my nature, I saluted him.

  “Aye aye, captain!”

  “Watch your back,” Flynn said. “When I get you outside and away from the house, I’m going to beat you senseless. So then next time you’ll think twice.”

  I shrugged once more, since it worked so well the first time. I didn’t fear Flynn any, even though he was older and larger than I was, and would likely carry out his threat. Probably too dumb to be scared. I refused to be intimidated by him, which only got him madder, so he stormed out of the room. Since we were both grounded, it was a month or so later before he got his wish and got a couple of punches into my abdomen before leaving me on the ground gasping for air. It wasn’t the senseless beating he’d promised, but seemed to satisfy his anger. Getting up, I walked the rest of the way to school, thankful the light breakfast I had eaten stayed in my stomach, contemplating who I’d punch in return. I liked to spread the pain around, and got into a fight outside during recess, which required another trip to school for dad, further putting me in the doghouse with him and the Dean of Students. The end of the school year did not end well for me.

  The ride in the cab back to Flynn’s office was quiet. His punch had been a good one, though not debilitating. I’d recovered pretty quickly. CPAs don’t punch people often, and I saw him flexing his hand. He had felt it as much as I had. He was no longer larger than I was. My growth spurt years earlier had put me an inch taller. These days, he was leaner than I was, but didn’t look in shape, appearing gangly and in disarray. When we arrived, he paid the driver with his credit card and walked into his office, not waiting for me. I stepped in and went past the front desk and into his back office. It was a mess, with papers all over his desktop, filing cabinets partway open, empty food containers and used drink cans everywhere. There was a sofa in the room with a sheet, blanket and pillow draped on it. He had apparently slept here last night.

  “No place like home?” I said.

  Flynn gave me a look, as if to say “why are you here?”

  “You always have to have a smart ass comment, don’t you,” he said.

  I tried not to shrug but couldn’t help myself.

  “Yeah, that was your normal response when we were kids. Why the hell don’t you leave me alone?”

  “Because you are obviously in trouble and I can help.”

  “You’ve already helped enough by going to Helen and telling her what I was doing. Nosing into my business again where it doesn’t belong.”

  “Flynn, she called me concerned about what you were doing, asking me to check up on you. I followed at her request and, as usual, you had to have a little tail on the side, instead of being happy with what you have at home. I reported back to her what I discovered. You can hardly blame me for doing what your wife asked me to do.”

  “I’m sure you got a great big thrill out of taking me down. Well, you can kiss off, or I’ll slug you again.”

  I glared at him intently with the hardest expression I could muster.

  “Flynn, we aren’t kids anymore. You were older and bigger than me then, but no more. I do this for a living and you plug numbers into a spreadsheet. If you want to duke it out with me, you will lose and lose badly. So tuck away your anger and tell me what the fuck is going on. You are into something more than just screwing some sweet filly on the side. The FBI has you doing their dirty work, and I doubt it’s about doing the taxes for the Governor.”

  Flynn backed down and sat in his chair. He put his head into his hands, as if he needed to escape. I stood there for ten minutes and he said nothing. After twenty, I decided to leave but made one last statement.

  “You want to talk, call me,” I said while tossing my business card on his desk. “No one can do it all on their own. I’m offering to help because I have the skill set to get you out of whatever it is you’re into. I’ll hang around for a couple more days. If you need a place to stay I have an extra bed in my hotel room. I’m at the Drury Inn over on Mills Civic Parkway. Believe it or not, I’m your brother, and I do care about you.”

  With that, I left him to his misery and went to get some lunch.

  Chapter 10

  The Drury Inn had an exercise room and a pool, which I took full advantage of. Dressed in my workout clothes, I was running on the treadmill. I needed it badly after sitting in the car for several days. They also had a few small free weights, which I lifted to burn off some aggravation. I then changed into my swimming trunks and did several l
aps back and forth, going from the inside half to the outside half and back again. Sufficiently exhausted, I sat in the hot tub with an older couple and made small talk while my muscles soaked up the warm jets of water. I made it back to my room, collapsed on my bed, and slept until the 5:30 kickback meal began in the dining area.

  Meal options tonight were chicken tenders, hot dogs, baked potatoes and macaroni and cheese. I chose the chicken and potato, had my free complimentary beer, sat down and read the USA Today paper provided. Glancing over the paper, my mind went over the day’s events. There was little doubt Flynn was into something bad. The FBI was squeezing him for some reason, threatening to repo all he owned. But why? Was he in major financial trouble, which they were using against him? It was the type of trouble my brother would get into. And one of the reasons Mom and Dad wanted to give me money to start my business, because he would use it for some get-rich-quick scheme and blow it all. And what of the affair? Agent Wilson didn’t mention it, but was it connected to what he was working on? Again, I wanted to run away and let him fend for himself. But it was Helen and Jolene who would pay, and I couldn’t abandon them. So I had to stick around. The question was what more could I do? Unless I convinced Flynn he needed my help, which was unlikely, my hands were pretty well tied. Following him now would be harder because he would be watching for me.

  When I finished my meal I wanted to go take a walk around, but the rain had started again. I was certain there was a ball game on I could watch, but what good would that do me? I got in my car and headed to Helen’s house. I called her cell to tell her I was coming by, but got no answer. Tried the house phone number; still nothing. Oh well, it wouldn’t hurt any to drop in unannounced. I needed to pick her brain to learn more. And I’d like to say hi to Jolene if she was home.

  They lived in one of the older West Des Moines neighborhoods off of 8th and Grand Avenue. A good size white house with fenced in yard, two stories and a basement. The garage was separate and on the back side of the oversized lot. When I drove up, I saw a large black SUV in the driveway which looked eerily familiar. I pulled up and around it towards the back. Lights were on in the house and I saw Helen’s car parked outside the garage. Their dog roamed the back, apparently agitated by something, the yellow lab not happy to be left out in the rain. Recalling her name, I strolled over to the fence and let Molly sniff me, as she lapped at my hand happily. It had been a while, but she seemed to remember my scent. Like most labs, she loved the attention.