Riverboat Justice

By Dorian Scott Cole

A skilled New York mobster, Caliano, who was thrown out, set his sights on taking over St. Louis riverboat gambling and other criminal activity. And while at it set his sights on famous attorney Dion Vine to represent him. That was a big no. Dion and his wife Aida and team of investigators will take him down.

Caliano, having defied New York law, thinks he's untouchable by the law anywhere, and can do anything. He hasn't met Dion's team.

Together with a daring expert in war camouflage and illusion, and a recent law graduate who has demonstrated superior investigative talent (from the same series novel "The Devil Did It") the team drives Caliano out.

Dion is an attorney who likes to make a difference, but his clients are impossibly complicated and hiding everything to protect each other. And the law presents its own complications. He uses investigators to find out what his clients are hiding, and legal skill to finesse the law. A mobster is no exception, just another challenge. A big challenge.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorian Scott Cole
• Release date: Mar 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005595326

Dorian Scott Cole

Dorian Scott Cole is a professional communicator, with education and experience in writing, engineering technology, psychology, religion, radio announcing, acting, and movie and TV production, having had full careers in several fields. He worked as a senior development analyst for Writers Workshop, L.A. He teaches writing and acting in independent settings, and has written VisualWriter.com since 1996.He is the author of several Web sites, and produces entertainment videos through his company, Movie Stream Productions. His production series, STL Comedy, included 22 professional actors, and 10 writers.Dorian lives near St. Louis.

Book preview

Riverboat Justice

Dion's Enigmas™ series book #3

Portions from earlier screenplays

by

Dorian Scott Cole

ISBN: 9781005595326

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to your point of purchase or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy.  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Acknowledgements

Grateful appreciation to my wife, Sheila, who sacrifices so that I can write, and who is my beta reader and strictest critic.

Disclaimer

This is an original work of fiction. Any similarities to any person, living or dead, or any organization or situation, or any other literary work, are strictly coincidental. 

Some real locations are used in this story for realism, not for commercial interests or compensation, and are never used detrimentally. Locations are adapted, and not precisely described.

Image Credits

Cover art and composition: Copyright © Dorian Scott Cole, all rights reserved.

Cover images:

Cover Lady Justice image: This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license, by Deval Kulshrestha. 

Image: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Law#/media/File:Statua_Iustitiae.jpg

The backside of the Colorado Belle Hotel & Casino. On Wikipedia. Author Rennett Stowe https://www.flickr.com/people/10393601@N08 on Flickr. Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic. You are free: to share – to copy, distribute and transmit the work, to remix – to adapt the work, Under the following conditions:

attribution – You must give appropriate credit, provide a link to the license, and indicate if changes were made. You may do so in any reasonable manner, but not in any way that suggests the licensor endorses you or your use. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Backside_of_the_Colorado_Belle_Hotel_%26_Casino.jpg

Inside art: The Endless Knot is used as decoration on Christian, Buddhist, and Celtic documents. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:EndlessKnot03d.png

Contents

Front Matter

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31: The author, his books, connections

Prologue

The Endless Knot

Everything is the result of everything, but we are responsible for who we become.

- Dorian Scott Cole

At the nexus of the law and the individual are the larger questions of justice, such as individual versus public rights, extenuating circumstances, justice, rehabilitation, public acceptance versus enforceability, and prevention. These stories make a probing but entertaining look at these questions within the context of justice, often mixing humor with relationships in the characters’ attempts to fix the conundrum of interrelated problems.

CHAPTER 1

Anthony Caliano sat in his limo on the riverbank parking lot, viewing the wide Mississippi River at St. Louis. He would expand his business here. His kind of business. The business Mayors and Governors work very hard to keep out. The Garbage Business, as it was known on the inside. The Feds called it organized crime.

On the bank a mile across from him were East St. Louis and the industrial ports in Illinois. Boring kinds of business he wanted no part of. Barges brought in steel ore and exported grain. Mostly grain anymore. The steel business would likely never recover from foreign competition.

East St. Louis was where all the mobsters had come to play in the 1930s. It was mostly cleaned up now. Too bad. He and Capone would have had fun, in a backwoods town sort of way. He was a Made Man; he would have gotten respect. New York trumped Chicago's Tommy Guns, the Chicago Typewriter. New York had finesse, a quality Caliano found lacking in the Midwest.

Finesse. Caliano was a Man of Honor, as it was known in the business, a Made Man. In New York there had been a little creep taking a cut of protection money. He had big plans until Caliano confronted him. The creep made threats. Caliano laughed, shot him, and threw him in the river. Finesse, Caliano style.

The Man of Honor ceremony was the first of two honoring Caliano. The Family boss, Neopolitano, did the first ceremony just before a celebratory dinner. He pricked Caliano's trigger finger, smeared blood on the card of a saint, crumpled the card, put it in Caliano's hand and set it on fire while Caliano made his loyalty oath that he would burn before squealing on the Family.

More important than East St. Louis history, once a crime area, the garbage really never left. The towns on the Illinois side were still a great place to make money, and some laundering could be done there. But a growing business needed places where money flowed like water. Places where it was hard to account for. That was in St. Louis for the skilled.

Caliano looked over his kingdom like a warrior looking over his conquest land, appreciating what was his. Bridges spanned the-mile-wide river like rungs on a ladder. Great for being unpredictable if followed. Never take the same route two days in a row.

The Arch was to his back. He had been to the top and looked out the observation window. City blocks and fields. Yech. As a New Yorker, the height was nothing. His old office space was higher than the 630' Arch. And his office wasn't even in a 1500' skyscraper.

In fact, he wasn't sure St. Louis had anything he actually wanted, except to be away from his former business partners and to make a lot of money.

There had been a second ceremony for Caliano. Not so formal this time. His partners had a bullet with his name on it, should he return to New York. He had watched Neopolitano write his name on the bullet and hand it to his Button Man, AKA hit man.

Looking back he wished he hadn't tried to extort money from someone in the families. But he had a debt, and yeah he made a mistake. Some of the people in the other family were really stupid, and he had squeezed them. It got back. C'est la vie.

The Button Man received the instructions at the meeting and would need no further permission to give him a one-way trip should he fudge on his bargain. His commitment was as valid as his loyalty oath to the Mafia. He was to start a business elsewhere, or else. He was too smart to go back.

He had business associates in Detroit, Chicago, Las Vegas, New Orleans, all the places where money flowed like water. But St. Louis was untapped and he could be his own boss. Well, as long as he kept his head down and paid tribute to New York they would leave him alone. Nobody got a free ride. Nobody. The mobs name was on all participants' money forever, everywhere.

Now he could do things his way, and his ambition was unbounded. The mob had a business friend, Caesar, the head of a Colombian drug cartel. He had shaken his hand several times. Caesar always needed money laundered, and he could do it. Gambling was one avenue. The real estate market was eternally hot, and he knew just how to manipulate it. Cash transactions for real estate through shell companies worked really well. The Feds couldn't trace it … he stayed one step ahead of them.

But for this immediate moment, sitting near the bank was his point of interest, his first conquest. The Riverboat Granada was a paddlewheel river cruise boat with passenger cabins, entertainment, restaurant, observation decks, and most importantly a gambling casino. So far the state had managed to keep corruption out of the casino business. No longer.

For Caliano this was a minor challenge. In New York he had learned every way possible to skirt the law, outfox the lawmen, and get his hooks into flows of money. And he had found a way here, and it was going to get very big very fast. That is, if he had the right people.

The organization was as weak as its weakest link. He had a big one. His mission today was to shore up that link.

____________________________________

On the observation deck of the Granada, Trustin Carr, a plain clothes security man stood in the shadows looking toward Zigler Concessions. He moved his binoculars to look at a limo waiting in the parking lot. Nothing unusual except that the car had had passengers in it for an hour. Why? A tryst perhaps? Happened a lot. Someone waiting for the casino to open, or waiting for a companion to arrive and enjoy the riverboat? A business group?

Suspicious by nature, always keeping himself in check lest he overplay his hand and stir up trouble with some wealthy person, Carr decided he should back off, but not just let it go. A second glance told him the plates were not a rental or commercial. Illinois. Whoever it was probably owned the vehicle. Noted.

Moments later Carr noticed Zig Zigler, late forties, dressed in a business suit and carrying a briefcase, exited the Zigler Concessions building and walked toward the riverboats. The limo cut him off.

The rear door swung open revealing a man in his forties, who was well dressed in a stylish suit, cold, steely, all business. His smile was conspicuously absent. Zig winced. Carr made another mental note. Zig supplied catering to the riverboat. This piqued Carr's interest. This raised questions that needed to be answered. But without raising suspicion.

_____________________________________

Get in, Zigler, Caliano said gruffly.

Is anything wrong, Mr. Caliano?

We're going to do lunch, Zigler. Is that OK or do I need an appointment?

Any time, Mr. Caliano. You always have an appointment.

Zig's voice was friendly but strained. Caliano liked it that way. People should squirm around him, not feel comfortable. It was a sign of respect. Not just respect, but intimidation. They knew he was dangerous, not someone to lie to or skim money from.

Zigler got in the limo and it moved away.

_____________________________________

Carr made another mental note and frowned. The car had waited for two hours. Zigler never used a limo or got into one. Zigler was headed for his car when the limo cut him off. He looked uncomfortable. Private plates, not a company limo. This didn't add up.

_____________________________________

The driver drove at a leisurely pace, but he seemed to know where they were going. Caliano seemed to be in no hurry to talk. The car headed for the I-70 bridge. A restaurant in Illinois? Maybe Caliano's favorite? Or something sinister? He had screwed up. But so far Caliano hadn't confronted him. Was now the time?

Look, I want to apologize for that fiasco with the police. If that's what this is about-

Caliano cut him off. I want to do something for you - call it a gift that will save you a lot of pain. Caliano reached into his coat.

God! No, look. There's no need. Zigler turned in his seat toward Caliano, kowtowing to him, pleading for his life. I'll lie on the witness stand. I'll disappear for a while. Forever. Anything you want! Zigler was trembling and sweating profusely.

Caliano watched him like a bug in a jar for a few moments. Zig, your mouth is the least professional thing about you. Hold your peace until you find out what the other man wants. He pulled out cigars from his pocket, passed one to Zigler, then lit them.

Tense as a guitar string, the cigar shook as Caliano lit it. Zigler coughed and blew smoke without inhaling. He was not a smoker. He was an appeaser.

It's come to my attention you're not exceptionally bright, Zig.

Zigler had no idea what that implied for his welfare. I launder money. I'm just an accountant, he apologized with a whiny voice. I don't have any other . . . special skills.

You're going to get smarter, I guarantee it. Caliano smiled like a spider about to trap a fly in its web. Now, Zig, anyone else but you, I would have to cut out of my will. Understand?

Zigler hurriedly shook his head. He didn't understand, but he understood perfectly.

But you did just what I wanted you to.

What? What did I do?

Drink? How about a bourbon? Caliano opened a drink compartment and pulled out a bottle, then poured it and handed it to Zigler.

Caliano sipped his drink in silence, enjoying the pressure on Zigler. Zigler fumbled with his, trembling too much to sip, but occasionally taking a gulp, then tried not to show the burn.

In a few minutes they were across the bridge into Illinois, and driving on a back road. Zigler became more uncomfortable with his surroundings, desperately wondering where they were going and what was going to happen. Caliano had something in mind. He felt like a condemned prisoner having a last meal.

Caliano poured himself another drink and offered Zigler more. Zigler gulped down the rest of his, tried not to cough, then let Caliano refill his glass. He smiled at Zigler.

You notice anyone missing in your organization since the police dropped in?

Zigler said hurriedly, Of course. I run a very tight business. There's a young man missing. He was doing accounting work. He never came back after the police visit.

You thought he was scared off, huh?

 Yes, yes, of course.

He was an undercover cop. Caliano smiled at him as if he were a complete idiot, then took a large drink from his glass as if preparing for something. I knew he was there.

Why didn't you tell me?

I played him for a fool.

Oh?

I had a specialist fake your books.

That's remarkable. I didn't know.

Caliano shook his head in disgust. Zigler squirmed in his seat.

That leaves only one problem: The cop’s an eye witness to the operation. It's not my problem, it's yours.

Caliano motioned for his limo driver, Joey, sixties, to pull onto a small gravel road. He then pulled into a dirt lane leading to an abandoned barn, then stopped a hundred feet from the barn. Caliano motioned for Zigler to get out, and