Cold Deck MobiPocket
Private investigator Jake Coleman continues his struggle against the quagmire of Louisiana politics and mob ties to the gambling industry. As he works with childhood friend Trey McNeely in his quest to become governor on a platform of reforming gambling, Jake loses a close connection to his past. Even with the loss, the fight must go on with his friend Gator, and fiancée, Monique.
Sensuality rating: 0
Cover Art by Simon Nightingale
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Anthony Marinello lived in an upscale neighborhood near Lake Pontchartrain between Kenner and Metairie. It was a gated community with limited access. His home was a rambling ranch style structure with a swimming pool overlooking a lake. The pool actually intruded into the master bedroom. Anthony often stripped naked, stepped into the indoor pool, swam under the back wall, and emerged in the outside one. His wife and children lived in a community across the lake, like a family apart.
The house had the latest security devices and his driver/bodyguard was ever on alert.
The attached garage held two latest model Mercedes-Benz: an SL55 convertible and a C class luxury. The sports model was for weekend excursions while the luxury was for business.
Gator skirted the hedges of nearby houses until he was standing outside the garage. The night covered his actions as he used a pry bar to remove the molding holding the small window in the side wall of the garage. Thinking a window firmly in place was no threat, the security company hadn’t hooked it into the main anti-theft system. Using two small suction cups, Gator removed the window and placed it on the ground. His biceps strained as he lifted himself through the opening and gently settled onto the concrete floor.
Pulling up two muslin sacks from outside, he set them beside the Mercedes-Benz luxury vehicle.
It took him ten minutes to complete his mission.
Gator went back through the opening, taking the now empty sacks, replacing the window and securing the molding with fast-drying glue. He paused to place the sacks in front of the garage door. He then melted into the darkness.
~ * ~
On the morning of the day Mo and I were in Alexandria planning our activities, Anthony Marinello awoke and had a breakfast of toast and jam, orange juice, cereal and coffee. He ate wearing only his shorts and was sweating lightly from a workout on his exercise bike. Anthony was proud of his body and worked to keep it in shape. Women like Miss Jamison appreciated a man who took care of himself.
Marinello showered, dressed, and called to his driver.
“Time to go, Lou. I’ve a meeting with the boys about this asshole who rescued that woman and killed eight of my men. His ass is mine.”
“Sure, Boss. Everything is ready.”
The two men crossed the living room area to a side door leading to the garage. Lou pressed a button and the garage door crawled upward. He saw the sacks.
“Go ahead, Boss, and get in. The wind must’ve blown something in front of the door. I’ll move it.”
“Make it snappy.” Marinello opened the rear door and climbed in. It was the last order he’d give.
Later Lou described hearing screams and seeing Marinello in the back seat, wildly flapping his arms. He’d shake when he told the story of blood-curdling yells as Marinello shouted for help.