Mook and Merrick listened to the group’s grievances, letting them vent before Emma came down. One man named Hank who had been with Cain for a little over a year sounded adamantly opposed to taking any direction from Emma.
“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I ain’t going along with no snatch ordering me around.” Hank crossed his arms and leaned back into the thick cushion of the sofa.
“And your name is what?” Emma strode in and took a seat in the chair Merrick was standing behind. The fact that the guard didn’t move sent a clear message to the rest of the people in the room.
“Hank.”
“Hank, you are free to leave.” Emma pointed in the general direction behind her. “Don’t let the knob hit you in the ass on the way out. Merrick, please settle up with him if Cain owes him anything for services rendered.”
Merrick tried hard not to laugh at the shock on the man’s face. Emma had effectively pinned him to his seat since he looked so paralyzed.
“We have plenty to cover, Hank, so get moving.”
“You heard the lady,” said Mook. He stood and walked over next to Merrick. It wasn’t totally clear why Merrick was going along with this, but his job was Hayden’s welfare, so to get the boy back, Mook would deal with the devil.
The guard walked out without any other response except to slam the door.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” said Emma. When she was done, everybody in the room knew the woman had spent years at Cain’s side. She was more polite, but what she was asking bore Cain’s distinct cunning and resolve.
“You heard Mrs. Casey. Break into four groups and meet me back in the office at the club tonight. Don’t even think about screwing this up.” Merrick paused and looked at Emma before finishing. “It’s a good plan.”
“Thank you.” Emma smiled and turned her attention back to the rest of the group. “Good luck and remember, Merrick’s right. There’s no room for error on this one. My son’s life is on the line, and if one of you gambles with that I’ll kill you myself. ” She stood and paused to see if she would hear any other dissent. “Merrick, Mook, let’s head over to the hospital and check on the boss.”
Chapter Thirty
Another padlock slipped into place on one of the trucks the federal agents were using to cart away the mounting evidence against Cain. It wasn’t yet ten in the morning, and the combination of too little sleep and the sick feeling over what they were doing was giving Shelby a massive headache. Why Cain had just given up and let them catch her so easily had been the question on her mind.
Lionel took a seat next to her. “We’re going to have to call Agent Hicks to see where she wants us to store all this stuff. Eventually I’m sure it will all be destroyed. Since I like a drink every so often, I think that’s a shame.” He stared out at the warehouse, which was far more luxurious than he would have guessed from the outside. Cain obviously didn’t use it too often the way the space was intended because of all the exercise equipment and the collection of cars.
Shelby had meant to call Agent Annabel Hicks all morning, but she had put it off until the inventory was done. Hicks supervised the New Orleans office and was no friend to their supervisor, Barney Kyle, so she had spent her morning in the federal lockup dealing with the ramifications of having a dirty agent in her employ. As Shelby went to call her, a forklift unloading boxes dropped one of the crates. It sounded as if every bottle had broken, and the stains on the wood confirmed at least a majority of them had bitten the dust.
All of a sudden, a car door slammed near the entrance to Cain’s property. A tall, dark-haired woman emerged from the driver’s side, accompanied by a group of young, well-dressed men and women. One of them pulled out a leather-bound notepad and wrote down the number on the crate that had just been destroyed. Anthony stopped them from entering the premises and just as quickly pointed toward the table where Lionel and Shelby were sitting.
“Agent Daniels?” The woman in the lead held her hand out in greeting, not bothering to introduce the people she was with.
Shelby just stared at her, not lifting her hand. She knew clothes, and the outfit the woman had on cost more than the federal government paid her in two months, six if you threw in the expensive jewelry that adorned the hand at the end of her visual tour. “And you are?”
“Muriel Casey, and I believe you are trespassing on private property.” Tired of waiting for the woman to break out of her stupor and shake her hand, Muriel dropped her hand and lifted an eyebrow instead.
“If anyone is in the way, it would be you and your little entourage of eager beavers.”
“As Derby Cain Casey’s attorney I would like an explanation as to why you’re destroying her property.”
“Ms. Casey, we are investigating the illegal importation and sale of liquor and cigarettes, which your boss didn’t bother to pay federal taxes on. In case you missed that class in law school, that’s a crime. I know she hid them in the cleverly disguised sardine boxes, but we are a bit more sophisticated than she gave us credit for.” Shelby leaned back in her chair and took a deep breath. She was tired, and the fact that this woman looked a lot like Cain was throwing her. Her own investigative skills and gaydar were pinging family in more ways than one.
“If you and the mental giants you’re working for had bothered to open one of the crates, you would’ve found the little tax stamp you’re talking about.” Muriel snapped her fingers, and one of the lapdogs pulled a stack of papers from his leather-bound notebook and handed them to Lionel. “As for the sardine crates, I’ll have to mention to Cain’s Canadian distributor, Sardine’s Liquor and Spirits, that you have a problem with their name. I doubt they’ll change it since it’s their family name. Who knows, maybe way back they were little fishers of little fish? You can take up the great question with Norris Sardine.” The other younger attorneys behind her laughed, and Muriel joined in. “I know. I offered to change it to Morris Salmon, but he refused.”
After Lionel read over the shipping invoices, which contained all the proper customs stamps, he ran to get a crowbar.
“This will only take a minute to clear up,” said Shelby, reading the same papers. If they were legitimate, Cain had played them like blind sheep.
“Good, since you have about a minute to vacate my client’s property. If not, I’ll have the police come and remove you, along with every news crew we can get down here to film the government’s harassment of a legitimate businesswoman. Would this be a good time to interject that said businesswoman was shot while she was receiving legal goods?”
“I don’t know they’re legal goods.”
“Do you know Cain, Agent Daniels?”
“I’ve had the pleasure of making her acquaintance.”
“Then you know every one of those crates holds bottle after bottle of federally and state-approved commodities. Leave before I have to put your name on the suit we’re filing.”
“But we’ve been watching Cain for months.” The seriousness of the situation was dawning on Shelby. An FBI agent had shot and seriously wounded a citizen going about her business. The fact that he did it on orders from one of the city’s crime bosses wouldn’t help their case in the eyes of the public. As a group, they had been so busy watching Cain that it never occurred to them to watch their own.
“I’m sorry. Is this where I’m supposed to tell you that everything’s going to be all right?”
Shelby looked up from the papers in her hand and winced when Lionel pried the first crate open. The nails giving from the wood sounded like fingernails running down a chalkboard. “Ma’am, I know you would like us to vacate the premises as soon as possible, but could you give me a few minutes?”
“Take all the time you need, Agent Daniels, as long as it doesn’t take all morning. Could you also refrain from breaking anything else? Nothing upsets Cain as much as spilled booze.” Muriel walked to her cousin’s office and ordered the agents who had taken up residence to get out.