The Gold in Their Eyes: Marco Flynn Mysteries, #3

By Christopher Clouser

Marco Flynn has returned to his home town for a fresh start.  Now he's a full-time parent to a pre-teen son, Jacob, and has asked Tara to marry him.   He tries to start over by getting a normal nine-to-five gig.

Marco accepts a job working in the administration for the newly-elected mayor of Indianapolis.  Before the ink dries on the contract, a new drug fills the streets .   Along with that, a series of murders sweep through the city with the ringleader making a personal threat toward Marco's family.  Marco takes it as a personal challenge to solve the crime even if it compromises his new job, or his life 

Marco attempts to protect his family no matter the costs.  Even if that means harm will come to him, either physical or emotional.  He will do anything to prevent a repeat of the tragedies he has seen over the last few months repeat itself.  His sacrifice is worthwhile if it means his family, and the city, are safe.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Clouser
• Release date: Dec 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223008422

Book preview

1

January 17th

I sat in the kitchen, drinking coffee and thinking about the dead bodies from the last few months until one clear thought resonated.  I needed a new job.

Fortunately, the call at seven in the morning from Melissa Salazar warned me to prepare for the newly elected Mayor of Indianapolis, Iloux Sims.  I had two hours to get ready for a job interview in my apartment.  Evidently, an ever-changing schedule dictated we meet at my place instead of the mayor’s office. 

Originally, I thought I received a job offer from the new mayor.  Yeah, in my head I took it as an offer.  That wasn’t correct.  Instead, I received the courtesy of an interview for the position of Director of Public Safety for the city of Indianapolis without wading through the entire application process. 

The critical nature of the position forced a fast-tracked process, and Melissa maneuvered my resume around the gatekeepers in the human resources minefield.  I found the entire explanation a stretch, but I offered no complaints because it saved me a trip across town in the late January cold. 

To get started, the coffeemaker percolated a deep roast.  I assumed the offer of a hot beverage reinforced a welcoming atmosphere.  I acted as if the Queen of England might grace my apartment for tea instead of Mayor Sims swinging by to discuss a job opportunity.  Neither of which occurred every day.

Mayor Sims proposed conducting this interview prior to her making a final decision on the position.  Having the interview at my place avoided the scrutiny of having a well-known candidate in the City-County Building.  Her words, not mine.  Well, Melissa’s words. 

My frazzled nerves pushed me around my apartment like a mad hornet — banging against every surface, trying to release the frenetic energy.  I enlisted the help of Tara, my fiancée and next-door neighbor, and Jacob, my twelve-year-old son, to clean the place.  We shoved everything in either the dishwasher or the trash.  If the items stayed, they went in the appliance.  If not, a Hefty bag.  At least I hoped that’s what happened. 

Not watching where my feet landed, I almost tripped on a pair of shoes.  I sighed loud enough to be heard and then provided my son a subtle hint.  Jacob, I’ve asked you three times to not drop your sneakers at the door.  Put them in my bedroom.

There wasn’t a response.

Jacob!

On it.  Sorry.

Jacob had lived with us since we returned from Seattle.  Tara and I traveled to Seattle to see Jacob, along with my ex-wife Cassie, for the holidays.  While there, I uncovered that my ex-wife’s boyfriend was a psychotic human trafficker.  Then the scumbag kidnapped my son.  We captured the bastard, but my ex-wife died from a gunshot wound during the pursuit. 

I refocused on the task at hand, cleaning my apartment.  Jacob left to deliver a trash bag to the dumpster while I vacuumed, and Tara wiped off the counters. The clinking of beer cans, similar to jingle bells on a sleigh, rang through the plastic bag as Jacob carried it out of the apartment.  My confidence of the trash reaching the desired destination hovered in the low range. 

Thirty minutes later, we finished, and I inspected the living area and kitchen to ensure their spotlessness.  I shifted a plant to the center of the dining table and declared victory.  Tara and Jacob departed for her place next door as my son prepared for school.  My nerves got the best of me, and I walked out of my apartment to burn the nervous energy and distract my mind from the upcoming interview. 

My door stuck at the top corner and opened with a modicum of effort.  The damaged door needed replaced and served as a constant reminder of my fight with a low-life named Mal Connett a few months ago.  He killed my brother and was a big part of a fraud scheme involving the previous mayor.  My work on that case landed the big waste of DNA in the Marion County lockup.  

I left the door cracked as I marched down the hall toward a window overlooking the front of the building.  I wanted to observe my visitors pulling up. 

After a few minutes, the black limo arrived on time, and Mayor Iloux Sims emerged from the vehicle, along with Melissa Salazar and a security entourage.  Three of them walked through the front door of the Block Building, my cue to cruise across the harlequin-patterned carpet and wait at the elevator to greet them.  I breathed in through my nose and exhaled out my mouth to relax.  No luck.  I banned other thoughts from my head.

I stared at numbers above the doors and tracked the elevator’s progress until the bell chimed and the gold-colored panels slid open.  A large security guard blocked my view into the car.  I didn’t know double-breasted suit jackets existed for men the size of Hondas.

Are you Marco Flynn?  The deep voice matched the physique that could split me like a turkey’s wishbone.

I held out my driver’s license for identification, as instructed.  He inspected it and handed it back.  Mayor Sims and Melissa Salazar escaped the elevator before the doors closed.

Mayor Sims smiled and extended her hand.  Mr. Flynn, we finally get to meet in person.  Thank you for your flexibility on the venue.  I have a tight schedule.  You should escort us to your place, and we can begin.

Iloux Sims, being of Inuit descent, carried chiseled cheekbones as raven-black hair draped her round face.  The navy blazer matched the skirt and highlighted her indigo eyes.  Shoes sporting two-inch heels matched the outfit.  She shook my hand firmly with skin more abrasive than I expected and her smile gleamed with perfect white teeth, except for one askew on the left side of her mouth, just inside the point where her sienna-colored lips closed at the corner.  I caught the hint of jasmine from her subtle perfume. 

Melissa, my friend that set all this up, was in a black pantsuit with a red blouse underneath.  Her crinkled hair ran straight down to her shoulders.  The dark-brown eyes glistened as she smiled in my direction and nodded her head to provide affirmation.

Happy to, Mayor Sims. 

I turned to the guard, anticipating the security guard’s next request based on my experience.  Only one other entry point.  Past the bend, up ahead, and beyond my apartment.  The other apartment on this floor is where my fiancé, Tara Harvest, lives.

The guard nodded and walked ahead of us and checked the access points.  He ran around the corner to the end of the hall.  He came back and reported, It’s a keycard entry security system on that door.  You ever had issues with it?

Just once.  I pushed Mal Connett out of my mind, a distraction for another time. 

On cue, Tara opened her door while Jacob stood at her side and they both waved.  She had been protective of him since his mother died during our trip to Seattle.  Tara looked like a natural.  I felt kids were off the table, but maybe it was something to contemplate down the road.

We all paused in the hallway, waiting for something to happen.  Melissa circumvented the awkward moment by hugging Tara and putting a hand on Jacob’s shoulder.  Mayor Sims greeted each of them.  Tara blew me a kiss and closed the door.

Mayor Sims turned back to me.  Your fiancée, I assume?

I nodded as I pushed the sticking door open and smiled at everybody as they entered.  Yes, working on the wedding plans still.  Speaking of that, do you officiate weddings?

Mayor Sims stopped and gave me a glare that warned me not to ask that question again.  She continued into the room without a verbal response to my attempt at comedy.

Melissa followed the security guard and patted me on the shoulder.  She whispered, so only I heard her.  Relax Marco.  She won’t bite.

Mayor Sims sat at the table that seated four in the kitchen.  Melissa claimed the recliner just off the kitchen and flipped up the footrest.  The security guard placed himself at the door and stood at attention. 

Mayor Sims waved for me to take the place across from her, sending a signal she wanted me where she could make eye contact.  She moved the plant to the side where it originally sat and established she was in charge.

Anyone want a drink? I asked.

Melissa stood back up and volunteered.  I know where everything is and what everyone prefers, so I’ll handle the drinks.  You sit and talk.

I took my seat as Mayor Sims began talking.  I’m only looking at two people for this position, Mr. Flynn.  The other candidate aspires for more than the Director of Public Safety for Indianapolis.  I offered an interview because you have something a national candidate lacks, even one with experience.

That compliment caught me off guard, but I smiled, trying to hide my confusion.  Are you suggesting I have some intangible quality?

She slid a slight smile across her face and avoided answering the question.  Marco Flynn.  I’m guessing your father was Irish.

Yep.  Dad’s great grandfather migrated from Ireland.  My mother’s family moved over here right after the Big War from Italy.  The bulk of her family is still in Little Italy in New York.  And you?

Mayor Sims smiled in return.  I guessed not many asked for her story.  Parents moved here from Alaska when my dad couldn’t work on the pipeline anymore.  He got a nice worker’s comp payout and wanted to move some place warmer.  For some reason, he settled on Indianapolis. 

Melissa slid two cups of black coffee in front of us.  Mayor Sims grabbed her cup with her left hand, a southpaw.

I collected my thoughts and turned to Melissa.  Thanks for pouring the coffee, but that wasn’t your job.

She nodded to show her appreciation and returned to the recliner.

Mayor Sims continued the conversation.  Your qualities are very tangible, Mr. Flynn.  You have intimate experience with this city and worked with IMPD on multiple cases around town, including one of high scrutiny that affected my predecessors.  You care for this city.  Points in your favor.  Though you don’t have the experience of the other candidate with the mundane aspects of this job, I believe your tenacity and local knowledge will be even greater assets.  I’m still not convinced you are the right person for this job.  I hear you are a good detective that notices the insignificant details.  Give me an example.

I rattled off everything I remembered from her outfit and threw in the left-handed observation. 

She raised an eyebrow and watched the steam rise from her coffee.  Impressive Sherlock Holmes trick.

I’m observant and pick up on ticks and tells.  It’s what I do.  I almost slipped into a bit of prideful banter and pulled it together.  So, the job?

Yes, what is first on your agenda?

I took a sip of the coffee to create a pause.  Mayor Sims followed suit.  I avoided a nasty burn by not taking a large gulp of the hot beverage.  I hoped she did the same.

Where do you want me to start?

Her face beckoned me to talk. 

I shot from the hip and revealed my agenda.  If she rejected my ideas, I didn’t want the job.  Nothing to lose.

This city suffers from a reputation problem, and not unwarranted.  Violent crime is shooting through the roof, pun unintended.  Homelessness is rising.  Businesses are fleeing downtown.  Tourism and convention business is struggling.  We need to change that.  Whatever strategy we use, it must be multi-pronged to resolve these issues.  This agenda requires money, personnel, and the willingness to withstand negative press coverage.  My vision is to see Monument Circle with no homeless folks on it, the boarded-up windows replaced by displays, and the murder rate in the city dropping.  Getting those results will bring people back downtown and ease the fears of others.  Perhaps even drive a resurgence.

The mayor took a longer sip of her coffee.  I agree that is our biggest issue right now.  How does it become more than a campaign promise?  Give me suggestions on how to resolve it.

I balled up my fists under the table to relieve a bit of tension.  A sideways glance from security told me to put my hands in sight.  I obliged.

I think you start with the homeless population and getting them off the streets.  You need somewhere to put them.  There are empty office buildings around the city.  Surely, the city can take over something from Peerless Properties and create a makeshift homeless shelter and start a beneficial program.  This does many things.  I held up a finger to stress my point.  First, it shows the city is trying to help these disadvantaged people, not bury them under a rug.  Second, it promotes a better public view of the city.  Third, it takes away an easy trafficking opportunity for people and drugs.  We make a public statement but doing it in a kind-hearted way while also eliminating a few avenues for crime to eat away at our city. 

Mayor Sims didn’t jump in, so I kept riffing on my ideas.  After that, we address the street violence.  Use the new correctional facility on the Southeast part of town to house violent criminals and stop letting them off with plea bargains, home detention, and shorter sentences.  Getting these people off the streets will curtail the number of repeat criminals.  We use these repeat offenders to get closer to the people running those criminal organizations.

The mayor sat her cup on the table and held up her hand to stop me. 

Let’s say, for argument’s sake, I agree with you.  The prosecutor is liberal across the board.  We will need his support.  Also, don’t you think this strategy will send red flags up to the black community?

I returned my gaze to the mayor.  Well, we use public relations to show our compassion toward the community and put forward a pleasant face.  Behind the scenes, we show a visible effort to resolve and complete investigations into crime in the black community.  Hopefully, this will rebuild some bridges between us.  We need to gain that trust once again, otherwise they will rely on the streets for their justice.  The people don’t trust the city government or the police force, and we need their help.  They are afraid and we need to show them we care. 

I paused long enough for a breath.  And you are primed for that positioning in the public eye.  You don’t have the baggage of either political party.  You are an outsider and a minority, and people relate to your situation.  Your election should serve as a mandate for this city to change things.  This is a unique opportunity and requires a daring approach because band-aids won’t work.  As for the prosecutor, I know Archie Burns and if we lay out the political benefits for him in joining our cause, he will follow suit.  He is a political animal, after all.

That sounds wonderful.  What about the budget? 

She leaned back from the table to provide some physical space between us.  We had both leaned toward the middle of the table and closed the gap.  The jasmine scent filled my nostrils as I pulled away. 

We figure out priorities with the money and then get help.  Maybe from the FBI.  But budget won’t be the biggest problem, perseverance will be.  Committing creates trust and confidence, but there will be bumps at the start because no one likes change, and there are several people who benefit from the way the system is running now.  We need to celebrate victories when they occur so the people recognize we are making a difference in their community.  Unless we create a difference, people won’t believe or trust us.  We must turn these communities into cohesive neighborhoods instead of havens for criminals that the city can’t crack open.

The security guard laughed, and we turned in his direction.  He froze after realizing we stared at him.

Mayor Sims prompted him.  Go ahead, Andre. Say what’s on your mind. 

Thankfully, the mayor brought him into the conversation.  He would have laughed at me.

Andre let out a sigh, knowing the attention he created on himself.  These people fear the gangs. They will never cooperate with IMPD.

He provided the perfect segue for me.  I’d also welcome working with your new chief of police.  Samuel Plane and I have a history of working well together.  We show the people we are changing the way the city works.  Then we coordinate raids and grab these gang members and drug dealers and rip them out like the weeds they are. We will send a message to the gangs that Indianapolis is not where they can conduct their business.  We must show courage for the people to rally behind us.  If we give them hope, they may join us.

The mayor lost her smile.  You are recommending a street fight with the gangs.

Not directly, not at first.  But I could see it getting there.  We should expose the people running these criminal operations and put them away.  We stop worrying about the small fish and focus on the real sharks. Or do we let them continue on this path and demolish the city?  There won’t be a third option.  We must choose a path that leads to positive results.

What if I said the focus of my administration needed to be different?

I pushed away from the table.  I’d question why you ran for the job.  If you aren’t willing to take chances to turn this city around, then you are wasting everyone’s time, and perhaps the best opportunity for this city to change in decades, a rare chance.  The political parties and the criminals will win if you do nothing.  I’d also say that I am not a suitable Director of Public Safety for you.

You present an impressive vision.  But there is more to deal with.  Things like the 500 in May.  The race is one of the key events in the city every year.

I’m sure a protocol exists for how to deal with those regular occurring events.  We work with the Feds to address any issues from prior events as needed.  I’d wager your other candidate would excel at those aspects of the job.  If you choose me, I will use my abilities and skills to affect the city in a way that presents meaningful change. I won’t be a desk jockey, concerned with administrative procedures and budgetary restraints.  If you choose me, I will make this city safer, no matter the danger to myself.  I’ve done it before, and I’ll continue to do it.  I stood from the table for dramatic effect.  Even if you don’t hire me.

I caught a smile from Melissa out of the corner of my eye.  She chuckled at my veiled threat of continuing my practice as a professional man-for-hire.

Mayor Sims pushed her chair away from the table that now had two faint coffee rings.  I think we’re done.  Thank you for allowing me to come into your lovely home, Mr. Flynn.  I will let you know within the day if you are my choice.  I want to present the preferred candidate to the City-County Council within the next week.  Are you able to tie up your other commitments?

A wry smile slipped across my face.  My prior engagements are a little slim right now, Mayor Sims.  My docket