Joe Detective: The Star Rouge (Book Four)

By JH Gordon

Joe learns that one local act can have profound international implications. Containers full of undesirable dissidents have to go somewhere, after all. And turning them from single unit agitating annoyances into smaller dressed packages of high profit has a macabre sort of merit. Cutting off this income stream is resented to the bone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JH Gordon
• Release date: Mar 29, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476475486

JH Gordon

Who and what am I? I'm an American expat living in South America working on my next book. In addition to Fireclosure, "Joe Detective" is a seven book noir detective series with number eight coming soon. I ventured south for a number of good reasons not the least of which is a type of isolation that frees me from California distractions. South America renews me. Ancient culture struggling with the new is interesting since all the "new" is something out of 1950's America. My background ranges from the detective business to the business of business having been an entrepreneur most of my life in diverse businesses and lifestyles. Rock m'Roll to commerce to consulting to seminars. From real estate investment to a construction outfit. I've done too many things to list and it's hard to remember some. As such, I've seen the duality of morality in the way society wrestles with being civilized and comes up wanting. It may be that somehow, by writing things about criminality and simmering violence, I prevent myself from becoming one of my characters. (Leaving the evidence in writing as it were.) My love of the underdog and the realist comes out in my stories. I'm finally doing what I love best. I'm having new adventures every day and I get to be a story teller. I write for people who know a camp fire and their imaginations are better than 70 millimeter film even with Sound Around. I can only hope they forgive my errors in spelling and my sometimes stumbling expression. I think they do. In person I display the usual human frailties. I'm neither good nor completely bad. I value my liberty more than anything else, and a small eclectic group of friends. I love life and stress on it as little as possible. I'm of an age where I'm conscious of time running out. But I look forward to what comes next. As Joe Detective said, "Death is like a traffic accident, you'd love to stay and watch, but you're out of popcorn." I always make too much popcorn and I think that's what life is about. Stories I do fairly well, I'm told. But when it comes to writing a personal description I can only say my life is a decades old run-on sentence and you'd have to have been there to understand. Lucky for me, I've outlived the statute of limitations many times and more than a few of mine enemies. Thanks to my valuable friends... JH Gordon

Book preview

Joe Detective:

The Star Rouge

(Book Four)

by

Joel H. Gordon

Copyright 2010 by Joel H. Gordon

Smashwords Edition

As of this printing, there are seven Joe Detective books in the series.

Read more about them at the end of this book.

Contact Joel H. Gordon at mailto:[e-mail]

Visit our website at http://www.joedetective.net

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****.

Joe Detective:

The Star Rouge

(Book Four)

by

Joel H. Gordon

CHAPTER ONE

Joe had to tilt his head and lean to peer around Charley’s rotund frame. Across the thriftily lit old bar, three men sat in a booth and peered back at him.

Charley mechanically buffed the bar in front of Joe and rumbled, Well, what do ya say?

Joe wiped some moisture from the outside of his glass and drew a tic-tac-toe box on the freshly buffed bar.

Did you hear the one about the Priest, the Monk, and the Red Chinese military attaché who went into a bar?

Come on Joe… Ok, I’ll bite. No, I haven’t heard the one about the missionary, the monk, and the military attaché, but I’m sure you’re going to stall until I do.

Well, they spelled nothin’ but trouble for a retired, un-religious, un-political, former private detective who only wants to ken the Zen at an externalized distance. So the highly intelligent bartender sent them away.

Joe managed that statement in one breath, off the cuff, and through a tight smile that barely concealed clenched teeth.

What’s your problem, Joe? What’ve ya got to lose? Look, these guys came half way around the world to see ya. At least be courteous and to talk to ‘em

Charley, I got a wife and a kid and you to lose, that’s what… So I’ve gotta lot to lose and no reason I can think of to get involved in any leaps of fate without a fight; And especially not because of any altruistic whim of yours.

It ain’t my whim, Bonzo. Charley leaned down on one elbow with his face was inches from Joe’s. It’s your wife’s whim. And I think she’s right. Laurie wants you to stand up, be a good Joe, and talk to these guys. It’s personal with her, buddy. Charley wiped off the tic-tac-toe box and continued.

Besides, you’ve been sittin’ on your ass for months sucking up our scotch and annoying me with your esoteric humor. Charley put both hands on the bar and loomed over him with menace of forethought.

You’re gettin’ sloppy, Joe. Now get off your ass n’ at least be polite. Charley had an unmistakable growl that would be a mistake to ignore. Joe knew he was trapped.

You worry me… Joe grumbled. But got grudgingly to his feet and headed for the booth.

The three strangers got to their feet as he approached and Charley did the introductions from behind the bar.

Father Gallagher shook his hand vigorously and the two Chinese bowed.

Sin Jou, the little monk wore a brown robe and sandals which wasn’t much for a cold night in San Francisco. The military attaché was an unreadable faced character named Major Wang. He wore a crisp suit cut as similar to a military uniform as you can get without hero medals and gold braid. Joe hoped the Major’s unfortunate surname was coincidental and that he wasn’t actually kin to his wife Laurie.

Laurie, Joe’s wife, wasn’t always called Laurie. Joe had helped her change her name from the lamentable sounding Lovely Wang when she turned eighteen. Lovely Wang became Laurie Wang and a few years later became Mrs. Joe Tiddles which essentially unwound the earlier legal remedy for unfortunate sounding names.

Father Gallagher grinned grandiloquent above his white collar and effused; Mr. Tiddles, we’ve come to extend our heartfelt gratitude for your fearless work in stopping that horrible mass murderin’ Senator and his gang. And we’re here on behalf of the many families who wish to thank you as well. The Father pumped Joe’s hand vigorously once again.

The priest’s words disturbed Joe instantly. What he’d done to the Senator was supposed to be a secret. Only a very few people knew the actual story and now it appeared word had spread to Catholic missionaries, the Chinese military, and into the far reaches of Tibet; Some secret, Joe observed... and decided to affect the defense of the obtuse.

I’m not sure what you’re referring to, Padre. I’m surprised by your visit to say the least. It really was the least he could say.

Major Wang of the unreadable face spoke in an odd monotone. There is no need for you to be humble Mr. Tiddles. We are well aware that you broke up the Senator’s criminal enterprise. We now know they were trafficking in illegally harvested human organ and committing mass murder. Your part in this is known by my government. The Major’s face didn’t change expression as he stared over Joe’s shoulder and recited his speech.

We have many of the details, Mr. Tiddles. We know you destroyed their organization and the bodies of those criminals are at the bottom of the sea. We can only hope their spirits now reside in Father Gallagher’s Hell. The Major nodded differentially at the priest.

The Major ignored the little Buddhist monk or speculation the Senator might have reincarnated as a syphilitic cockroach. Joe kept the amusing thought to himself. He wanted to terminate the conversation as quickly as possible.

Joe had indeed stumbled across a local crime lord aptly called The Boss. He was the shipping agent working under the powerful and utterly warped US Senator and former surgeon. They were engaged in trafficking illegal aliens. But the Senator made the trade stunningly more profitable by to selling them in parts instead of condemning them to a life of slavery or prostitution.

The need for organ donors was the demand side for their unlimited supply of unwitting, documented donors. As it turned out, it was also a good way to dispose of political dissidents as well, but Joe only learned about that later.

The Senator had a beautiful yacht stationed in San Francisco that was really a high tech floating chop shop for unsuspecting Chinese donors. Joe blew it up. The Senator and his friends were on it at the time.

The Major hadn’t minced his meanings but Joe still wasn’t interested. He wanted to be someplace else. A voice in Joe’s head was saying remember, my son, never speak to strangers. Thanks Mom… but Charley say’s I have to be polite… Well if Charley said to jump off a cliff…

Thank you, gentlemen; what small part I may have played was what any human being would have done. Please express my condolences to the victim’s relatives. I’m exceedingly sorry for their loss. As for myself, I’d prefer to consider the matter closed. I appreciate your coming, and on behalf of my wife and me, we thank you.

Father Gallagher seemed non-plussed by the dismissal.

Mr. Tiddles, I, that is all of us have come a very long way to see you. And I’m afraid the matter isn’t closed. Many of the Senator’s victims were sold into slavery and may still be alive. And those that didn’t survive have families who need to know. We’re seeking closure on their behalf. This is a humanitarian mission and you’re key to that mission. We can’t just leave those families to wonder.

Major Wang interjected with a more aggressive tack, we have the full cooperation of your government to conduct our inquiries, Mr. Tiddles. We will appreciate your willing cooperation as well. Joe noted it wasn’t a request. Not the best way to approach Joe.

Well, gentlemen, what is it you specifically want with me?

The Major’s became more commanding, We require all records you are obviously withholding. The financial records, the contact names of co-conspirators, the political connections, organ recipients, their doctors and medical facilities, and we require a complete explanation of your own actions in the matter.

The Major wasn’t being circumspect about it. Joe decided he didn’t like the Major. And he trusted the Major his government even less than he trusted his own, if such a thing were possible.

Well then, I’m sorry to disappoint you gentlemen. I currently possess no records that will be of use to you. I have produced information for my own government and if they’re indeed cooperating with your mission I’m sure they’ll provide you what information there is.

The Major’s indecipherable expression didn’t change but his words were warning, You understand, Mr. Tiddles, we can ask your government to intercede. If necessary we can proceed on the formal path to compel your cooperation. I believe you call it a material witness. The man was used to being obeyed. He was also barking up the detective.

Joe knew a Mutt and Jeff routine when he saw one. Good cop, bad cop, and the monk a silent anomaly in between. The whole thing was a set-up and didn’t ring completely true. The situation was rapidly degrading along with Joe’s patience.

I see…, well then, I’ll wait to hear from them. In the mean time; Father Gallagher, it was a pleasure meeting you; I wish you the best of luck. Sin Jou, I enjoyed our conversation immensely. And Major, I’m certain you’ll get all the cooperation you deserve. Good night gentlemen.

Joe left the men standing there as he tipped a casual cub-scout salute to Charley on his way out the door.

CHAPTER TWO

Joe had tossed his clothes on the floor and gone to bed without dinner. With Laurie out of town the place had a more bachelorized look and any semblance of a order dissembled along with his nutritional considerations.

Laurie had taken their daughter Amy along with Annie Lee and her two kids to Disney Land. She’d wanted Joe to go but such activities were off the scale of his doting-father-meter. Joe certainly doted on his adopted daughter but he wouldn’t spend two seconds in an amusement park unless it was a matter of life and death, or substantial monetary gain. Joe was not easily amused, and easily annoyed.

Crotchety, Charley had called him. But he was enjoying his bit of guilt-free solitude, so crotchety was just the better part of Joe’s valor.

His life had changed many times since his clash with the mass murdering Senator and his organ pirates. Most of the changes had been good ones. He now had a wife and a child, more friends than he’d ever had, and more money than he could count. Joe had a lot of things because of the Senator; which is precisely why he killed him.

Joe awoke to the sound of Bruno mumbling self-instructions as he prepared coffee in Joe’s kitchen. Light from around the bedroom curtains showed a drizzly gray dawn. The only sound outside was a garbage truck in the alley 6 floors below. It was zero dark thirty in San Francisco as Joe groaned and rolled out of bed to his feet.

Bruno talked to the coffee pot just as he did the plants on the penthouse deck; and to the trowel; and the water hose; and the bags of plant food and fertilizer. Bruno