Ch.283The Eighth Entanglement – Law, Order, and Capriccio (12)

One thing neither the mafia nor the police do is re-suspect someone they’ve already cleared of suspicion.

The police are too proud for such behavior, while the mob lacks the patience. For a detective to escape, he must be the first to fall under suspicion.

They were men with many enemies anyway. Committing crimes in the heart of New York creates enemies. The more powerful you become, the harder it is to sleep. They were just worthless thugs.

The detective wielded a blade that didn’t lose its edge even as it cut through the mob’s skin. Soon that mob boss fit perfectly inside the box. For someone who lived such a life, this coffin was quite luxurious.

After placing the mob boss in the waterproof-lined box, he carefully picked up the blood-soaked tarp and placed it inside as well. He had removed his coat. To avoid suspicion while under scrutiny, this was necessary.

The clothes he wore needed to be burned, so he put them in another bag. This was why he always bought two of the same leather jackets. Anyone smart enough would find it suspicious that the clothes he’d been wearing had disappeared.

Quite a lot of blood had spilled on the floor from drawing the knife to stab twice. Rather than complaining, the detective was thankful the floor wasn’t wood planks or carpet that would easily absorb blood, and he grabbed a mop to clean it.

The apartment floor, briefly colored in the middle of the night, returned to monochrome with each wipe. He lit a cigarette to kill the smell of blood. Smoke dulls the nose.

While the mob might still detect the scent of fur, the liquor the branch manager had sent had quite a strong aroma. By tomorrow morning, he could mix in cigarette smoke, ventilate, and entertain with alcohol.

Living this way, the detective sometimes thought of certain people. Two workers whose greatest misfortune in life was getting caught up in the strike at the Gremory Chocolate Company.

The detective pulled off the mop head and tossed it onto the mob boss’s head inside the tarred box. He attached a new mop head. People who spoke about Johnny’s daughter, Cathy White.

He gripped the mop handle and pushed away the remaining bloodstains with one broad stroke. The cleared area turned black and white like a photograph. He envied people who could live insignificant lives, whatever their reasons.

A life no different from greenhouse plants that would die without Gremory’s favor. Would he then criticize plants growing outside the greenhouse as fragile things that couldn’t survive without the sun? The detective pushed away another bloodstain.

It’s too late for atonement and too early to give up. He loathes his hellish existence yet knows no other life. He tries not to show it because talking about it changes nothing.

He checks again to make sure the mob boss didn’t leave bloodstains on the curtains in his final struggle. He takes a handkerchief made of absorbent cloth and dampens each bloodstain on the floor.

It took less than 30 minutes for the house to return to looking as if no one had visited. This was thanks to preparation. The detective again pulled off the mop head and threw it into the box.

Though this mob boss was quite heavy, he had added three weights. Based on the impression he’d given, he would have had drinks with the mob boss, so he took the Armagnac bottle to the sink and poured out half of what remained.

The expensive liquor was now less than half full. He would need to use this later to entertain the mob, so his own share of Armagnac would be just a sip.

The detective hammered nails into the tarred box with his fist. He struck with double strength and vigor to drive in the nails. The box was sealed. The detective went to the phone and called Bar Two Face.

After a few rings following the automatic connection sound, the call connected. It seemed one of the bouncers she employed answered, not the bartender.

“This is Bar Two Face. Tonight is our main branch’s night operation. We are not taking calls regarding party venue rentals or other business. Who is this?”

Bar Two Face wasn’t strictly a bar. It was closer to a dance hall that served drinks, guarded by many security personnel who served beverages slightly more stimulating than tea.

Therefore, rather than being suspicious of the caller, they maintained a businesslike attitude. It was quite an ordinary conversation to hear while standing next to a box stuffed with a mob boss.

“The guy the bartender calls Casalo Blanche or whatever. Can I speak to the bartender?”

“Ah, Mr. Michael. Please wait a moment. I’ll tell Madam. Tell her the detective called.”

The line went silent for a moment as if a hand was covering the receiver, then there was a sound of the hand being removed, followed by an uncharacteristic sound. He could imagine the Bar Two Face bartender with tears in her eyes.

“Casalo Blanche! Did it go well? No, I was worried when that big mob boss took you away. What, did he try to jump you?”

“Seems like he pocketed those hundred-dollar bills sweetly. Nothing happened. We’d worked together before, and he’d bought expensive liquor, so I had a glass of something expensive and rich, talked a bit, and sent him on his way. The car?”

The bartender would have returned with a smiling expression. She worried easily but was also easily reassured. A woman who could be called a milder Carmen. She was more grounded in reality than Carmen.

“It wasn’t that sweet! And the car… we have a lot of customers today, so it looks like we’ll send it after 2 o’clock. Will you be awake?”

“I’ll be sleeping. I live in 708, so if you want to come to my place to let me know, that’s fine, but tell them to leave it in the parking lot. If you want to give me an apology gift, put a decent bottle of whiskey under the seat.”

The sound of her stomping on the high-quality wooden floor rang out a couple of times.

“When you say you’ll be sleeping, it makes me angry again, Casalo Blanche! When you said you came looking for a woman, didn’t that mean you’d have a few drinks and go to the back room? Because of that mob boss, such an opportunity…”

“It seems it wasn’t that hyena head who was trying to jump me, but you. Anyway, I’ll come by next time… sleep well.”

Her concern was as genuine as her desire was intense. She made a couple of kissing sounds with her good night and hung up. The briefly colorful scenery returned to monochrome when he looked at the black-painted box.

He had bought himself just over an hour. It was 12:41. Getting to the dock and back within that time… wouldn’t be difficult. He placed the waterproof bag for the incinerator on top of the box and held it in his arms.

He got into the elevator and went down to the parking lot. Taking the car keys from the dismembered mob boss’s pocket, he got into her car. The vehicle designed for ogres was somewhat large for humans.

He inserted the key and turned it. Pressing the pedal, he slowly revved the engine, started it, pulled the lever, and backed up briefly. He turned and headed out onto the road.

The night wasn’t as black as one might think. The night sky was a mix of deep gray, navy, brown, and perhaps a touch of green and red. If he turned his head toward downtown, it sparkled brilliantly as if intoxicated.

But the inside of the car was rather monochrome. When desire dies and only duty remains, that’s how the scenery appears. Not black and white enough to distinguish good from evil, but a grayscale monochrome.

The detective headed straight for the dock. He threw the blood-covered clothes into the garbage heap at the incinerator, then headed to the dock connected to deep water with the box in his arms. There was no unloading work going on.

After checking the box’s seal again, he threw it in with double strength and vigor to ensure it would sink well. The body disposal was complete. Now it was time to dispose of the car.

The place that disappeared couldn’t be his home. Without even taking time to catch his breath, the detective drove the car to the mob boss’s house, which he had observed several times. The mob boss didn’t employ bodyguards, and there was no security at the house.

He parked the car among others on the street and quietly got out. After checking his appearance, he slipped away into the night streets. It was a cold dawn, so he turned up his collar appropriately and hailed a taxi.

The taxi driver wasn’t a mob boss. He wasn’t an old vampire either, but rather an orc, a species somewhat unrelated to the mob. True to his thick-skinned species, the orc exhaled and greeted him.

He deliberately chose a place quite far from home. He got out and walked home. The time when he returned was 1:37. Less than two hours for a human life to vanish. The detective turned off the lights.

The driver from Bar Two Face drove the detective’s car to his apartment and parked it in the parking lot. He saw that the lights were off. Just in case, he went to the apartment, pressed the button for the 7th floor, went up, and knocked on the door of room 708.

The sound of something trudging toward the door could be heard from inside. Soon the door opened, and the detective, looking as if he had just woken up, faced him. The detective vaguely remembered his face. Or pretended to.

Though he hadn’t slept at all, he was genuinely exhausted, so his expression came naturally. The detective showed him that he had been sleeping at 1:45.

“Are you the Bar Two Face driver? I think I’ve seen your face before… I hope you’re saying you brought the car.”

He swallowed once as he looked at the detective, who exuded a strangely chilling atmosphere. He had envied the volatile and empty affectionate words exchanged with the bartender, but not now.

“Ah, yes! I parked it in the parking lot! And she said she put in an apology gift too. Oh, I’m sorry for disturbing your sleep…”

The detective waved his hand as if it were nothing. He had subtly suggested the driver come. He had said so to show his face at least once more.

“I told her you could come and check because she might worry, so don’t worry. Did you come for free?”

The detective opened his wallet and handed him a $10 bill. He knew they were paid per job, but there was no harm in buying goodwill from people.

“Ah, no, no. I do get paid per job… Anyway, thank you! Have a good night!”

It was a lucky day as far as driving for Bar Two Face went. What could be creepy about a man who readily handed out $10 bills? The driver happily got into the elevator.

Back in bed, the detective checked the magazine connected to his .30 caliber rifle once more. He would need to use it if anything happened with the mob. He might have to run straight to the mob boss on the opposite side of Madam Masseria.

No matter how good your hand is, your opponent might call a flush. He always had to prepare for the worst of the worst. The detective tucked the gun under his desk before trying to get some sleep.

The next morning always came too early. The double cursed vigor made it impossible for the detective to sleep well. His physical fatigue had subsided, but his mental fatigue was only half gone when he woke up at 6:30 AM.

After washing with freezing cold water, he found the phone already ringing in the house. The detective picked up the receiver while holding the waterproof bag containing the mob boss’s blood-stained coat.

A familiar voice was heard. It was a chilling kind of familiar. Both the casual way of speaking without caring about the other person’s reaction and the voice itself belonged to the Madam.

“You seem to be a heavy sleeper, detective. It’s me. Were you working all night?”

“I keep the phone in my office and sleep in the room beyond the curtain, that’s why. The time now is… Since it’s not a time to be called a heavy sleeper, is something wrong?”

She must have been suspicious when he didn’t come for breakfast. The mob Madam made a leisurely chuckling sound as if it were nothing serious and said:

“Ah, so clever. This is why I like human males… and so do my daughters.”

It was an almost empty compliment. What her voice contained most was concern. No, shallower than concern. Curiosity would be more fitting.

“Remember the child I brought from the homeland? You’re not in bed, are you? The one who used to come in every morning like a puppy with the newspaper, but today there’s no news of him. I asked at Bar Two Face.”

Yes, she knew his schedule as if it were perfectly natural. The detective let out a small laugh in response. Since it was nothing, he answered as if it were nothing.

“You know I fell for the bartender at Two Face because of the human face, not the wolf head.”

He spoke almost without hesitation, as if there was no need to recall the memory. He showed that he remembered the time clearly, and there were plenty of people who could prove it.

“He came yesterday, we had a few drinks, and he left early. Around one o’clock. I called Bar Two Face, so they should remember better when it was… It was a little before one, I think.”

The Madam tapped the table with her claw tips a few times. She clicked her tongue once but growled and let it pass as if it were nothing.

“Am I being too intense with my daughters? Mothers with daughters from the homeland all act like this. Have a peaceful morning. Ah, let’s have a meal sometime.”

“If you invite me, it would be my honor. The meat I was served at the restaurant was quite good. The mob’s taste is something that transcends species, isn’t it?”

He needed to stay close to the Madam. Until they put a hood over his head and kidnapped him or whatever else, after a few more days of investigation, he had to act as if nothing had happened, not avoiding conversation or interrogation.

In just one day, an anxious voice would leak out. Questions would arise about whether the mob boss had gone to another Madam, or if he had been arrested by angels in front of his house.

By then, he could buy a fish, wrap it in the woman’s coat, and throw it in front of Giuseppina Proci’s restaurant, which had less security. Suspicion was gunpowder. You just had to aim it in the right direction and let it explode.

But until he could fool everyone, he had to be careful. Yet he couldn’t appear to be careful. While worrying about getting a bullet in the back of his head, he could at least hole up in his house, but not now.

The detective had barely patched up the issue of revenge. The client might not like it, but he hadn’t done it for the client.

It was closer to self-satisfaction. From the moment he proudly claimed to live as a mafioso and came to America as the Madam’s assassin, he must have known he would end his life by assassination.

The Madam smiled at the detective who seemed to be getting a little more comfortable with them. If there was something to be gained from a child’s one-night absence, she might not scold the child when they returned.

“I really like how flexible your thinking is. I’ll prepare something well-aged and call you sometime. Well then.”