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    Windy City
    Windy City
    Windy City
    Ebook157 pages2 hours

    Windy City

    By Ron Mueller

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    About this ebook

    The cool autumn wind from the lake channeled back along the streets and the alleys as it made its way farther into the city. The grey unseen clouds in night sky held the warmth of the city close to the surface.

    The keg had run dry so Jack volunteered to go out and get a couple of cases so that the party could continue. The light

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAround the World Publishing LLC
    Release dateJan 22, 2022
    ISBN9781682232637
    Windy City
    Author

    Ron Mueller

    About the Author Ronald E. Mueller remwriter95@gmail.com Ron grew up in what is now Flint River State Park in Southeast Iowa. The 170-year-old house Ron lived in is built into a hillside. It faces a 125-foot-high cliff towering over the little Flint River. The house and the land talked to him about; the passing of time, the struggle to conquer the land, the struggles people faced and the wonder of nature. He climbed the cliffs, crawled into the caves, dove from the swimming rock, collected clams from the bottom of the pond, gigged and skinned frogs for their legs. He trapped muskrats for fur, hunted raccoon in the dead of night, and with only a stick hunted rabbits in the dead of winter. His young life was outdoors, and nature tested him. He walked to a one room stone schoolhouse uphill both ways. A stern but warm-hearted teacher, Mrs. Henry was instrumental in shaping his character as she shepherded him from the fourth to the eighth grade. A Montessori before its time. It was a great way to grow up. His experiences inter-twined with snippets of fantasy lend themselves to the adventures he leads the reader through.

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      Book preview

      Windy City - Ron Mueller

      1

      Inside Man

      The sun was threatening to come over the horizon. The misty fog hanging over the scene of the shooting that gave it the feeling of evil. This feeling of evil, lurking in wait, was not unique to only the Windy City but universal in both large and small cities. The history of this evil was rooted in the history of mankind. It was the evil of projecting hate for those that were different.

      Power was always a key differentiator. With power came wealth. Those in power looked down upon those below them. The discrimination that resulted was usually limited to making those below suffer.

      The current evil that was in action was that of white against brown of any shade. It had been perpetrated by two men in blue for no other reason then they felt it was their right.

      Jesse Franklin, deputy chief of police, ducked under the yellow security tape as he held out his badge for the young policewoman. He had recently hired her and assigned her to this duty. He was sure this was her first murder crime scene.

      The yellow taped area blocked off most of the corner of the intersection in a way that allowed traffic to be guided around the scene. An older model black Ford was at the center of the scene.

      He walked over to the car and took in the young black man sitting in a pool of blood looking as if he were sleeping. He saw that a gun was still in the driver’s right hand.

      For a moment he watched the coroner examine the body of the driver. He noted that the blood pooled in the driver’s seat had run down the drivers left leg. Jesse was sure that the driver had bled to death.

      The driver was dressed as if he were going out for a run. He was not dressed as the typical drug dealer that Jesse normally saw.

      The dispatcher had received a call about a drug dealer that had resisted arrest.

      Jesse did not see a drug dealer.

      He asked the coroner about the shooting.

      The coroner told him that the man had been shot three times, once in the head and twice in the chest. He used his hand to show that the shots were from the driver’s left side at what looked like a downward angle. He went on and said that the wounds seemed to indicate the man had been shot while sitting in the driver’s seat.

      He leaned the driver up against the wheel and used a pointer and pushed it into what appeared to be a bullet hole.

      The coroner said that they would likely find a bullet somewhere in the seat back.

      What was clear to Jesse was that a young dead black man was about to be zipped into a body bag that the coroner’s assistant had just wheeled up to the car.

      He had seen too many similar cases. Usually, they were easier to accept as drug deals gone wrong. This scene and the coroner’s showing him what appeared to be a bullet hole in the seat back pointed him to two rogue cops.

      He looked around and saw the two policemen that had been involved. They were part of the group of cops that did a variety of shady errands that Jesse arranged for the Chicago Mafia. He wondered about this situation and what had really gone down.

      He walked over and asked what had happened.

      The story from the two police officers was that they had approached the car because of a broken taillight. They claimed the driver had opened the door of the vehicle and raised his gun to shoot at them. They shouted for him to drop his gun and when he didn’t, they shot him, and he fell back into the driver’s seat.

      They went on to say that they had found a stash of drugs on the passenger side floor.

      Jesse saw through the lie. He was sure the two had set up the scene to make it look like they had shot a drug dealer. He decided not to challenge the two but to wait for the coroner’s report before taking any action.

      He knew that at a minimum he would assign these two to some district where they would not be involved in any more killing of young black men. The two would get the standard two weeks desk duty and then he would return them to street duty. At the moment that was all that he planned to do with the case.

      He was glad that it was Friday, and he would not have to deal with the details of the incident until Monday.

      He looked around the scene before leaving. The sun had broken over the horizon and had made the fluffy white clouds appear. He loved the day night cycle and the atmosphere of living by the lake.

      When he arrived back to his office, the flashing light on his phone seemed to emulate the flashing light of a police car. He really disliked that light. He pressed the button to hear the message. He let out an internal groan when he recognized it as a coded message from the office of the Chicago Mafia Boss, Gennaro Visentino.

      Jesse thought of Gennaro as a true mafia god father figure.

      He really did not need any complications on an already screwed up Friday morning. He knew that he would have to contact him to see what Gennaro had in mind.

      He turned off the voice mail. He opened his desk drawer and extracted one of his many burner phones from the back. He then let his support know that he was going for a quick walk to unwind.

      He was following a standard routine that he had practiced for many years. He never made calls to Gennaro from his office, and he never used the same phone more than once.

      He walked toward the Lake and made his call.

      Gennaro graciously thanked him for a quick response. It always impressed Jesse that Gennaro was always polite. Jesse also knew that Gennaro was just as deadly as he was polite.

      What Gennaro had to say had his hair standing on end. It seemed that the office of the Illinois Lieutenant Governor was seeking to hire a Cincinnati police detective, Alex Evercrest, to investigate corruption in the Chicago police department.

      This detective had earned national recognition for her ability to resolve every case she had been assigned to. She had experienced multiple attempts on her life and was recognized as a dead shot when she pulled her weapon.

      Alarm bells went off in Jesse’s head.

      Jesse knew about one of her cases, just a couple of years ago, that had involved a coal barge that had lit up the Chicago skyline. Single handedly she had taken out an attack helicopter and destroyed a tug and coal barge. The report was that she had been unarmed and fishing when the attack began, and she had been unarmed when the DEA greeted her on her return to the fishing dock. She claimed that she had been fishing and knew nothing about the burning barge.

      The body count was said to be at least six, but no bodies had ever been recovered.

      He brought his attention into focus as the mafia boss asked him to call her and warn her not to accept the assignment. Gennaro wanted Jesse to make it clear in no uncertain terms that accepting the offer would mean certain retribution by the Chicago Mafia. She was to understand that there would be no second chance to change her mind.

      Jesse reacted negatively to making a call threatening the detectives life.

      He did not want to be the one to make the call, but this was not a situation that he could say no to.

      He preferred a controlled beating that allowed the person to feel the pain personally and decide to obey Gennaro.

      He had alarm bells going off in his head.

      He would proceed with ultimate caution.

      He agreed to make the call.

      The weekend was not going to be as relaxing as he had planned. He had a nagging feeling about the situation. He had called an acquaintance on the Cincinnati police force and asked about the black detective. He learned that she always got the people involved in the case she was assigned to solve. He learned that she was very likable and friendly and that her opponents seemed to underestimate her.

      That evening he took a sleeping pill and went to sleep. Even then he woke up several times.

      The rest of the weekend seemed to drag. He went online and reviewed the stories about the black detective that he found in the national news snippets. It gave him indigestion. He took the pills for indigestion and heart burn, but they did him no good.

      After reviewing her past accomplishments, he knew that she would not scare. He was certain that his call would be a waste of time.

      He kept going over what he would say in warning. He intuitively knew that it did not matter what or how he would say it and that she had a track record that said she did not scare.

      Why make the call? He remembered throwing a rock at a huge hornet’s paper nest and watching the immediate surge of a black stream of small hornets heading straight for him. They somehow were able to follow the trajectory of the rock.

      He had the feeling that the phone call would be like throwing a stone at just as dangerous black detective.

      He expected that this detective would follow the money trail. He felt that his lifestyle would put him under the magnifying glass. He was living in a luxury condominium and had a forty-five-foot yacht anchored in Burnham harbor.

      He had let his boss know about his family inheritance so that he could move into the luxury condo. He later had purchased the yacht. He knew that the folks in the department thought him a lucky bastard to have parents that left him a small fortune.

      He had let his associates at the station know that his parents had left him a small fortune. He had been told that he was a lucky person to have parents that had been frugal and set him up for the good life.

      There had been no inheritance, but it provided the cover he needed. The truth was he had to use his own money to pay for their funerals.

      He had told his wife the same story about an inheritance. She had been surprised because she did not think his parents had much money to leave him, but she did not question it.

      She loved the three thousand square foot condo and partying on the yacht.

      She did not care much about going out of the harbor to go fishing so he usually did that with some of his work associates. He had few personal friends and he kept it that way so that he did not have to explain his lifestyle.

      All of his property, including a luxury condo in Miami, was registered under his wife’s maiden name.

      He felt confident in having covered his trail. He had made much of it public and the real money was offshore.

      He had made sure that his personal bank account balanced with the income he made. He and his wife had modest investments in an IRA.

      The money he earned with the mafia connection went to an offshore account in the Caymans and he seldom tapped into it. He was waiting until he left the department before touching it.

      Jesse felt that he was secure in his personal position but what he had learned about Alex Evercrest’s ability worried him. He hoped that he would not have to throw too many of the cops that did his bidding

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