Body for a Body

By Samuel T. Hinton

When a late museum curators wife comes up dead, an unpaid debt turns into the find of a lifetime for the unrelenting Linx Crime Family, but before they can celebrate and reap the benefits, their find falls into unknown hands making everybody a suspect even the moving company.
Algerian killers, love, murder, and betrayal will keep you turning the pages . . .
Some people learn from loss, while others cant afford to lose!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 18, 2014
• ISBN: 9781493146888

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The Drake Hotel’s Annual Halloween Bash always lived up to its traditional five-star image. Outside, limousines dispatched their passengers while expensive foreign cars and other fine automobiles pulled off from Chicago’s Magnificent Mile to be valet parked. Inside the Drake, the ballroom was filled with the who’s who of society.

Sharon Langston gracefully moved through the crowded ballroom casually going from table to table, making small talk, and posing for the occasional photo. Her queen’s costume gown clung to her impressive fifty-year old frame. Her naturally beautiful face and smile brought her costume to life.

Sharon noticed the gala had more new money youngsters than usual. Some hopped from chair to chair, while others in risqué costumes flocked to the dance floor. She sipped wine and took in the scene, her heart heavy from missing her late husband. They normally attended the event together; now it felt more like a duty to her.

She decided to retreat to her room for a while, at least until more of her friends arrived. She decided to take her wine with her to the room. Her security watched as she eased toward the door giving familiar guests hugs and smiles. What her security didn’t notice was a costumed stranger trailing him also.

It was a noisy freewheeling sort of dinner party. Foley roamed the stuffy room upset. He ordered a Frankenstein costume off the Internet that was delivered two sizes smaller than he had ordered. He couldn’t take the dumb mask off because that would blow his cover; moreover, complete strangers pestered him to take pictures with them. They were amazed by his size.

Foley was relieved when the lady moved toward the door. He abruptly walked away from a drunken couple in sailor costumes only to be pulled back. Hey, where you going, man? slurred the male sailor.

Foley gave him a sharp elbow to the gut. The sailor dropped to the floor clutching his stomach. His date laughed as Foley headed for the door.

Foley raced six flights up the backstairs just as Mrs. Langston stepped into the elevator. At the top of the stairs, he crouched down and placed his hands on his knees out of breath. He hadn’t run that fast in quite some time. He decided that he would start back training once this job was finished. He lifted his mask for a moment to take in some fresh air, then opened the hallway door.

Mrs. Langston and her bodyguard had cleared the elevator and were in the middle of the hall. The bodyguard surveyed the area while guiding her forward. Foley casually stepped back into the stairwell.

The bodyguard’s attention was distracted when a woman dressed as a pirate was going from door-to-door checking room numbers. A champagne bottle in her hand suggested she was drunk and had forgotten where her room was. The bodyguard watched her approach from the opposite end of the hall.

Mrs. Langston watched the stumbling lady pirate in disgust as she searched her purse for her key card.

The bodyguard made eye contact with the pirate as their distance shortened. In that instance he knew something wasn’t right but it was too late, the pirate’s eyes opened wide as she drove a small sword into his abdomen. He let out a small squeal then pitched forward. Again, the pirate drove the sword into her victim, but this time much deeper and with a twist of the blade. His body slumped into hers, with his hand paralyzed on the butt of his gun.

Sharon Langston screamed as her bodyguard fell to the floor. She threw her glass of wine in the pirate’s face and raced into her room. The pirate yelled, then bolted after the queen with her eyes on fire, barely able to see.

Foley barged past the pirate bumping her into the dark room. Sharon’s queen gown got snagged on the bottom of an antique desk causing her a hard fall to the floor. She jumped up with vigor moving deeper into the dark room. Foley followed the glow of her white dress.

Sharon recklessly scurried around the large room with her heart pounding and her senses heightened. Images of her son flashed into her mind. She had to survive for the sake of him and her family. She pulled the costume crown off her head. Its front edges arched into a sharp point and was embedded with sharp colorful glass stones.

She turned and swung at the large man. The tip of the arch penetrated his arm, but he kept coming. Only the hallway light could be seen through the room’s open door. She ran across the bed screaming for dear life, then threw the hotel’s antique lamp at Foley’s head. It missed and crashed into the wall. Why? Who? Were her only thoughts. Why was this animal after her? She wondered where her friends were, anybody. Panic began to set in; she lost her balance, stumbled, and fell to the floor. But her will to live put her back on her feet.

Hey! someone yelled. It was a man’s voice.

Foley’s attention was turned away from Sharon Langston. He glanced back. His partner, Star, dressed as the pirate, struggled with a bystander for her sword that was on the floor. The situation had gotten completely out of control. He snatched off his mask and swung the butt of his gun at the queen’s image in the dark—his fourth attempt connected. Her screams stopped on impact then there was another thud sound as her body slumped to the floor.

Foley ran over to help his partner. The man she was struggling with had her sword pointed at her stomach, inches away from making contact. The man was short and stocky and was pushing with all he had. Star’s managed to hold off contact until.

Foley’s silenced 45-mm coughed out two bullets. One shattered the side of the man’s face; the other tore a chunk of flesh from his neck, splattering blood in Star’s face.

Star wiped her eyes and squatted to the floor. She pulled the heavy body into the room. Foley stepped over her and did the same with Sharon Langston’s bodyguard.

Star, check both ends of the hallway for witnesses, Foley pointed.

Star picked up her sword and darted out the door. Foley peeked outside then closed the door. He found the light switch. The room was as expected—big, expensive, and full of stale air. He stooped down and grabbed both dead men by their collars and grunted as he dragged them further into the room. He walked around to the side of the bed for the queen. The thick carpet was covered with blood. His neck snapped around when the door opened. He made eye contact with Star, then back to the body. He kneeled down to check for a pulse but knew the answer before he touched her. She was gone. He surveyed the area. There was a blood smear on the sharp corner of a vintage night stand. The phone began to ring. It took his focus off the huge error that lies breathless in front of him.

Star, Find that case. he barked.

The phone rung non-stop as she searched the safe, luggage, and closet. Her hands were sweaty inside her tight leather gloves and her drenched pirate shirt clung to her body.

Look. She held up four hotel key cards. This is the card she threw on the floor when she burst through the door. Here is her bodyguard’s card for the room next door. This is the good Samaritan’s card. She kicked his dead body. But this card was behind her credit cards in her wallet. She smiled.

Another room.

Smart. Let’s move. ordered Foley putting his mask back on.

Voices with strange accents echoed from the hallway. Foley pointed his gun at the door. Someone knocked. Foley pulled Star close enough to smell her perfume. It’s the Arabs. Was there any blood out there?

Star shook her head and whispered. I took the first guy down on his back, and the other was halfway inside the door.

What about—.

The Arabs shook the door handle then began to speak urgently. Their English was hard to understand, but Foley understood when they said, security. He leapt toward the door. Star pulled him back. He snatched away from her with a look of evil.

Listen, she whispered. Their voices are fading away. They’re leaving.

Put your earpiece in. I’ll go for the case in the other room, you go for the car. She paused, and he shoved her forward. Three minutes and I’ll be there, he said, already in motion.

CHAPTER 2

It was one of those rare good mornings for Kramer Noble. The sun was shining and the channel 5 weatherman said it was going to be fifty-eight degrees which was great for November.

He had a little extra time to kill before going to work, so he decided to make a power breakfast. He cooked smoked sausage, scrambled eggs, toast, and poured an ice-cold glass of orange juice. He was proud of his meal because it wasn’t often he cooked.

The night before, he had a great time at the blackjack table. He won two thousand, two hundred dollars and didn’t owe anybody a penny of his earnings. As he began to walk out of the kitchen, words from the news reporter’s mouth made his knees buckle.

On the screen was a picture of Mrs. Langston, wife of the late William Langston, Curator of the Field Museum. She had been found murdered in her room after the Drake Hotel’s Annual Halloween Bash. Kramer vomited his breakfast.

*

Promptly at seven o’clock in the morning, James Linx was having a cup of black coffee and a sweet roll at a local run down diner on 13th and Broadway in Gary, Indiana. City Castle had been around for over forty-five years and it looked like it. The owner, Mr. Cannon, never remodeled, or gave the place a touch up. For the older crowd, it had become an escape from the younger generation and had a homey feel and good food. This morning was no different with its loud sports talk and nonchalant workers crowding the place.

Hey, Shirley, can I get two biscuit and gravy specials? I may as well order for Foley since he’s late, said Linx.

Would you like my gravy on top, or on the side? she asked in a flirtatious manner.

It doesn’t make a difference, sweetheart. They’re both for Foley. You know how he eats.

Speaking of the devil, here he comes now, Shirley said.

Foley gave Shirley a smirk as he walked toward the table looking like a giant in the small diner.

Boss, you know I hate squeezing into these tiny damn old-fashioned booths, Foley complained, They wrinkle my threads.

Sit. ordered Linx leaning over the table to speak in a hushed tone. Listen, the newspaper said it was a robbery gone badly. As of yet, no suspects, but they’re reviewing the cameras.

I talked with a detective friend of mine who works at Chicago Police Headquarters on 35th and Michigan. He said a hard-nosed homicide detective named King thinks something big went down and he plans on getting to the bottom of it. I know him. He’s going to be a problem, Foley added.

One thing’s for sure, those Arabs know what happened, Linx said. Foley nodded in agreement with his mouth stuffed with food and his fork scraping his plate.

They’ll make statements since they’re friends with the Langston woman, but they won’t mention the deal. If they do, everything will point in their direction and turn very ugly. When things cool down, they’ll be doing business with us whether they like it or not. Greed always rules. From what the kid says, they wouldn’t want us to shop around.

I knew that geek was on to something, but never anything like this, said Foley looking up from his plate.

Well, remember, I told him if everything went smoothly, I would forget what he owes, and possibly give him a nice piece of the move.

Yeah, I remember.

Since I’m a man of my word, and everything didn’t go as smoothly as planned, it seems like we’re going to have to give him a little something else instead, Linx said walking out of the diner toward the case Foley tossed on the floor of his car.

*

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

For months, Kramer owed money to the Linx Crime Family, and the Linx Family were the worst people on the planet to owe money. Normally, he paid all his debts on time, but his last situation was different.

His friend, Mark Davis, called him with inside information on an NCAA Final Four college basketball game. He told Kramer to bet exactly as he told him, and he would be a winner. Kramer knew Mark’s tips were golden. All Mark wanted was a cut of the winnings.

Since Mark had a guaranteed winner, Kramer wanted to make a big bet. He went to Frank’s Pawnshop and asked his man Red for ten grand. He dealt with Red on many other occasions, but Red looked at him sideways for asking for so much. Their usual amount was around two grand or less. He explained his inside tip to Red. Red made a call to the people above him and made the request happen. Kramer walked out of the pawnshop with a yellow envelope stuffed with bills and could care less about the 20 percent interest.

When Kramer lost all the money, everything began to go downhill from there. He missed payoff deadlines and never returned any of Red’s phone calls. Being late on payments made his tab increase on a weekly basis. Instead of paying what he could, every penny that touched his hands went to the blackjack table in hopes of winning a chunk of money to pay Red. Soon his debt reached nineteen grand.

Kramer entered his modest one-bedroom apartment with his mail between his lips, and his hands full with groceries. He kicked the door closed and took one step before a cold piece of metal touched his temple, making him drop his groceries. His reoccurring nightmare had finally come true.

Walk to the kitchen and have a seat.

To his surprise, the voice belonged to a woman. Don’t kill me.

Too late.

As they walked through the dark apartment, he noticed the TV was on in the kitchen. He lost all feeling in his legs when he saw the outline of a huge black man eating cereal at his breakfast table, his face glued to the TV.

Sit down, the huge man said without looking up. It wasn’t until a commercial came on that the big guy spoke up. Talk. He growled.

One week is all I need. I’ll go to my folks for it, Kramer said as he sat down.

One week? You don’t have one minute. How’s your girlfriend Taylor doing? Kramer couldn’t breathe.

Hmmm, let’s see. Your car got repossessed? Let me put you up on a little something else. I know your father’s a principal in my neck of the woods, and your mother’s a foot doctor.

Podiatrist! Kramer shot back sarcastically.

Foley slapped him out of his chair. Everything went black for Kramer.

Don’t correct me. Foley barked. Hit the lights, he said to his female partner, I want to see his eyes betray him faster than Judas betrayed Jesus.

The massive man stood up and leaned over the table. He was intimidating enough to make a politician come clean. I’m Foley, he said. His face turned peaceful.

Every gambler had heard stories about Foley. Kramer knew that was exactly why he introduced himself. Foley looked just as crazy as he’d envisioned him. He was jet black, bald headed, unattractive, and all in a six foot five inch, three hundred pound muscular frame. His perfect, white teeth looked out of place on his distorted face. He had cold sneaky eyes that seemed to never blink. Dead eyes; like those of a shark.

Rumor had it that Foley was an All-American football player in college. After college, the Chicago Bears drafted him as a defensive linebacker. His size, speed, and strength gained him an immediate starting position on the team. He racked up twelve sacks before the middle of his rookie season. Then on big game Sunday Foley got pissed at the coach for taking him out of a big play in the final minutes. Tempers flared. The coach called Foley a crybaby on national television. Foley