Reading sample

Payback/the Bushido Way 2

A Sam Phillips Mystery

By

M. Anthony Phillips

This book is dedicated to the victims of Alzheimer’s. Find a cure.

Special acknowledgement to my real supporters who stuck by me when times were hard.

Table of Contents

Part One: The Prodical Son Returns

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

PART ONE
THE PRODICAL SON RETURNS

Chapter 1

It’s been a year since the murder of Connie, and it still seems like yesterday. We were starting a family together along with my son Saivon whose now six years old. The wounds are still fresh also in his mind too, especially since he was a victim in Hiroshi’s ultimate goal of revenge. Hell, I don’t totally blame all this on Hiroshi. He was the criminally insane middle man in all this. My blame has to go to my so-called old friend Michelle Yamada.

It was Michelle who bamboozled me into taking the case of protecting her little brother Ken from a contract hit. Except this Ken was not her real brother. And he paid the price in all this shit too—with his life. He was a scapegoat in Michelle’s treachery. Michelle and Hiroshi are dead now, so life in Little Tokyo should be smooth now; or so I thought. I received a call from Maria Ozawa stating there’s a murder in the heart of Little Tokyo, and she’d like me to take a look at, so I’m headed there now.

The streets are sectioned off with plenty of onlookers but no witnesses. This small little community has a solid reputation for secrecy and things haven’t changed much in a year. Ozawa and I make eye contact as I approach and we give each other the international head nod. “What’s up Ozawa?” I asked. Ozawa bends down and peels off the sheet of a beautiful Asian female. Her detached head is resting next to her body.

“Okay, I’ll bite. She’s Japanese,” I said calmly, not to alarm anyone.

“She’s reporter Nancy Sayama Sam. She reported on your case last year,” Ozawa pointed out. I take a closer look and realize it was her. She was brave in the face of constant death threats against her life in Little Tokyo, especially from Hiroshi Ito. I place the cover back over Sayama’s head and look around the crowd. “Any witnesses Ozama?”

“Nobody’s coming forward here, Sam. This is Little Tokyo still. You get rid of one maniac killer, another is ready to take his place,” Ozawa said.

“Who’s got the case?” I asked.

“The fuck if I know Sam. They sure wouldn’t give the job to me.” Ozawa’s right. Having an Asian woman in charge of a murder case and being a lead detective just ain’t happening right now. “Well, Maria. My offer still stands for you to join me in the private sector.” Ozawa laughs at me like I just told a serious joke. “Sam, you don’t make enough money, especially for three minorities working in this town.” We both laugh about it until the man himself shows up. Captain Harvey Pierpont walks up with the usual cranky look on his face. “Phillips, what the hell are you here for?” Pierpont asked. For the last year, the captain and I have managed to tolerate one another for the most part. He showed a tender side by paying the cost for Connie’s funeral last year but in the aftermath, he went back to his customary self. I wouldn’t want it any other way. Pierpont is a new man on the team.

“Everyone, this is the new lead detective Rick Miller. He’s now in charge of the Detective Squad. Make him feel at home.” While Detective Miller gets acquainted with his new squad, Pierpont lifts up the cover on Sayama. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” he said. “Where’s that fucking M.E.?” It was the eyes that startled the captain. Hell, they shook me up too. She was a beautiful lady no doubt. And now she’s gone. There’s a new player in town, and something tells me he’s not done making his presence known.

“What you know about this Sam?” Pierpont asked.

“Now Captain, I’m private heat man. Your new man is over there shaking hands.” The captain gives me one of his classic “Archie Bunker” looks. “Don’t be such a wise-ass alright. Miller is green around the gills. I’m going to need you and your team at his disposal okay?”

“A man’s got to make a living Captain. Me helping your boy would take away from my own work. What’s in it for me?”

“What work? You’re still a pup in this town Sam. I’m your lifeline. When I say jump you say how high…”

“I’m building something Captain. And you need me as much as I need you. What’s the hold up on Armstrong’s license?” Pierpont chuckles like he just passed gas in a men’s locker room.

“He’s a thug Sam. Your father is turning over in his grave, you having a man like that working with you.” I look around at some of L.A.’s finest still on the force working the crime scene. “You’ve worked with a few “thugs” in your department over the years too Captain. I need him because he has a unique way of getting things done. And I’ll take Ozawa too.” Pierpont cracks open a new stogie as he looks over at Ozawa.

“I thought your taste was only for the sista’s Sam,” Pierpont said sarcastically.

“Times are changing Captain. She may run your department someday.”

“And that’s the day I put a gun in my mouth,” he said. Pierpont introduces me to Miller, smoothing things over. Detective’s Thompson and Washington work the crowd looking for witnesses as shopkeepers close their shades. “So you’re Sam Phillips,” Miller said. “The captain has said you’re a man that I can go to in the clutch.”

“Excuse me are we talkin’ about Captain Pierpont?” I asked. Pierpont interrupts the conversation. “Detective Miller we have a crime to solve here. Any other bullshit can wait.” Pierpont grabs Miller by the arm and pulls him away. The new lead detective has just had his cherry popped by “bulldog” Pierpont.

Chapter 2

As I sit down at my favorite watering hole at Bernice’s place, I think to myself who has the most to gain in the killing of the reporter? As many faces come to mind that theory is tossed. The obvious choices are either dead or doing time. It’s just about noon in Los Angeles and a happy Miss Bernice bounces around to R and B music while she welcomes patrons. A new man in her life has changed things for the better as she no longer walks around with a black cloud over her head. The mailman walks in with a smile and hands Bernice the mail.

“Somebody’s having a good day,” he said.

“I sure am baby!” she responds snapping her fingers to the music. I smile at Bernice’s awkward dance moves and finish off my cognac to head upstairs. “Sam, you have mail here,” Bernice said.

“Is it mail or bill collectors?”

“Boy, you don’t pay me to be your secretary. And don’t forget your rent is due.” Bernice hands me the mail not before giving me her “two cents”. “Don’t take my kindness for weakness, hear? You don’t pay your rent and I’ll throw you out on your cute ass.” I kiss Bernice on the cheek as I begin to head up—again. “I appreciate you being there for me Miss Bernice—especially for Saivon.”

In the office, I go over today’s mail. I stop for a moment to check out the new fern given to me by Manny. It reminded me of Connie because she kept the plant watered when I was gone. A small piece of mail grabs my attention. It’s from the U.S. Army. As I open and read the letter, memories start racing again to another time and place. Mai Ling is declared dead after a long search for her body. A monsoon wiped out her village two months ago with few survivors. I had always planned to take Saivon back for a visit home after the political storm calmed down in Vietnam. How in the hell you tell a six-year old his mother is dead one year removed from his surrogate mom was murdered. Just then, a shadowy figure shows up at my door, prompting me to pull out my gun. The person taps on the door—firmly. “Come in,” I said, slowly putting my gun away. A beautiful Latin girl walks into my life with a distinctive bounce to her. “Are you Sam Phillips?” she asked.

“That’s what it says on the door. And whom might you be?”

“Rosie Alvarez. I’m answering the ad you have out for a secretary.”

“Can you type Rosie?” I asked. Rosie smiled at me and did a three-sixty turn in front of me like she was auditioning for something. In this town, everybody’s auditioning for something. They don’t call it the City of Angels for nothing. “I type one finger at a time but I have a certain “way” with people,” she assured me. “Rosie I’m about to be the dumbest man in the world and turn you down—probably for the first time in your life. I need a real secretary because this business is a life and death kind of business you dig?” What Rosie lacked in secretarial skills she majored in perseverance as she gave me reason after reason why I should hire her. “Why do you really want this job, Rosie?” I asked. “It doesn’t pay that well while working in Hollywood would get you a lot more attention.”

“I want to work in the veterinarian business. I need this job while I go to school,” she said. “Give me one week, you won’t regret it.” What the hell, the girl gave me an offer I couldn’t refuse. She sure would be better to look at than Armstrong’s ugly mug. “Okay Rosie. You gotta’ deal.”

Chapter 3

In a large warehouse in Oxnard, a Hispanic and Black gang, stand across from each other staring each other down. The warehouse is owned by the Yakuza who are quickly buying up property around Los Angeles city and county. The meeting is under Yakuza rules; no guns allowed. An arms shipment has arrived and the interested parties await the big boss. A dark limo approaches the building with security as tight as the presidents. Making his way into the building is the new Yakuza boss Ken Yamada.

The Yakuza are back to running things after the demise of the Yokohama Black Rebels last year. Ken was the primary target for assassination after the murder of his father but now he’s here to claim his thrown. A deal quietly goes down among the three gangs securing Ken’s goal as a man to be respected to get deals made.

Armstrong Jones is having torrid sex with an attractive woman in bed. On top of the woman, he takes a peek of a man in a framed photo by the bed. The lady screams in ecstasy. “Are you trying to wake up the neighbors, baby?” Armstrong asked. Armstrong sweats like a pig—afraid of getting caught. “I’m sorry,” the woman said out of breath. “You don’t know how long it’s been since I had it this good baby.”

“I think…I’ve got an idea sweet thang,” Armstrong replied. He reaches over the woman and turns the photo over. Twenty minutes later Armstrong and the lucky lady are having a cigarette together sitting at the kitchen table. She hands him an envelope full of cash as he takes a quick count. “So is my husband cheating on me?” Armstrong pockets the envelope. He puts on his fedora and stands up. “I’m close, real close baby. I should have an answer for you next week,” he said. The woman, dressed in a form-fitting nightgown, pulls Armstrong’s head down and kisses him. “I don’t care just as long as you keep putting it down like that Daddy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

I meet up with Ozawa to talk about working cases together at a local diner. The smell from the place of fresh coffee and homemade food makes you forget about work. The walls are filled with celebrity photos of stars going back decades. “How’s Saivon doing Sam?” Ozawa asked. Ozawa takes the lid off her steaming hot coffee and pours cream in it. “He’s good. He’s staying with my mother a few weeks while I consider how to tell him his mother’s dead.” Ozawa stops stirring her coffee for a moment. “I didn’t know Sam. I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “Life’s a bitch man. That kid was dealt a bad hand but I’m glad he has you.”

“Thanks, Maria. I needed that.” We go on shootin’ the shit a few more minutes before Maria lays a bomb on me. “I got from a reliable source Sam that Ken Yamada is the top Yakuza boss now. And he’s in town,” she said. As I try to maintain some sort of calm in hearing her news, I can’t help but want to slam my fist into a brick wall. I was “played” by this kid and his sister, costing the life of the woman I loved. “KenYamada huh?” I asked. “I guess this was their plan after all. He and Michelle set this whole thing in play. Michelle was indeed a Yakuza daughter and sister.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about this Sam. Everything in Japan is not what it seems. She was born into the family. She probably had no choice…”

“She had a choice with me and my family dammit! My father took care of her mother like she was a part of our family!” Maria gestures for me to keep my voice down and people begin to stare. “I understand Sam. I’m just telling you about life in Japan. It was second nature to Michelle to do what she did. She probably was her father’s daughter more than her mother’s. Maybe she resented her mother for breaking up the family. We’ll never know.” Maria was probably right about Michelle. Cultures are different. She did what she had to do. And so do I. I’m going to take down Ken—hard.

Later that night I find Armstrong at his favorite watering hole, Nipsy’s, off LaBrea and Pico sitting at the bar downing a few. A couple of female fixtures of the bar make their way towards me like a laser beam, of course wanting a brother like me to buy them a drink. “Hey, baby. You wanna’ party?” one of them asked. Just like ‘Nam,

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 30.06.2020
ISBN: 978-3-7487-4806-9

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