January… 2042

The Blue Orchid – Aurora, Colorado

The woman in the maroon dress moved with purpose, heels tapping against the polished floor as she stepped away from the bar. She carried herself with the ease of someone used to being in control, her movements smooth, calculated. She slid into the booth across from the brooding man, Benjamin “Bugsy” Luciano, who was already watching Ortega and Kimble approach.

Luciano sat with his arm stretched lazily along the back of the booth, a glass of bourbon in his free hand. His suit, dark, and expensive, fit him like a second skin. He exuded the kind of confidence that came from knowing he owned the room, or at least the people in it. The woman in maroon whispered something to him as the detectives neared, but he didn’t react. He just smirked.

Behind the bar, Mishe Sascheikov continued polishing glasses, his sharp eyes catching everything. His Lithuanian accent rolled over to Ortega and Kimble as they passed. “See? You are expected. This is good, no? You get what you came for.”

Kimble didn’t like it. He shot a look at Ortega, who ignored him and stepped up to the booth. The woman in maroon looked up at them, her expression unreadable.

Luciano spoke first, his voice smooth as silk.

“Detectives. I’d offer you a seat, but I don’t imagine you’re here to get comfortable.”

Ortega remained standing. “You were expecting us.”

Luciano chuckled. “Of course. You don’t walk into my club without me knowing.” He gestured to the woman in maroon. “This is Bianca, my wife. She was the last person to see your Mr. Antollini alive.”

That got Ortega and Kimble’s attention. The wheels spinning furiously in their minds. Who are these two? Did they do it? How are they involved? Officer Kimble tried his best to not let his reaction show… “That so?” …thinking good job champ, way to be calm.

Bianca leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “I was delivering the final paperwork.”

Ortega frowned. Things were moving too fast. They wanted answers but he felt ambushed instead. Did they enter the lions den? Are they safe? Like Kimble, Officer Ortega reeled it in, “Paperwork?”

Luciano’s smirk widened, reminding Ortega of the Cheshire Cat. “The paperwork that made us the new owners of the New Jersey Hitmen.”

Kimble let out a low whistle. “So Antollini just came into a whole lot of money.”

Bianca nodded. “And he was celebrating accordingly.”

Ortega’s eyes flicked between the two of them. “And now he’s dead.”

Luciano’s smile didn’t waver. “Yes. Which means the team belongs to us.” He took a sip of his Pappy Van Winkle, neat, his eyes gleaming over the rim of the glass. “So, tell me, detectives… do you think that’s a problem?” …letting the tension thicken in the air. Behind them, Mishe poured a drink for another gentleman, listening but saying nothing.

Ortega and Kimble had come looking for Steve Hott, hoping for a lead. Instead, they’d walked straight into the hands of the people who stood to gain the most from Antollini’s death.

And they were smiling…

Kimble folded his arms. “That depends. Were you planning on Antollini making it through the night?”

Bianca sighed, tilting her head as if Kimble had just asked her the most ridiculous question in the world. “Detective, if we wanted him dead, we wouldn’t have needed to wait until after the paperwork was signed.”

Luciano smirked again, swirling the bourbon in his glass. “We were quite happy with our arrangement. Antollini got his payday, and we got the team. A clean deal.” He took a slow sip. “Why would we complicate that?”

Ortega narrowed his eyes. “That’s what we’re here to figure out.” …absently fingering the bloody matchbook evidence bag in his jacket pocket.

Luciano spread his hands, all mock innocence. “And yet here we are, having this lovely conversation instead.”

Kimble exhaled sharply through his nose. They were playing coy and doing it well. No tells, no cracks in the facade. Either they were telling the truth, or they were better at this than most criminals they’d come across.

Ortega glanced toward the bar… Mishe hadn’t stopped watching them. His sharp eyes flickered between them and the Lucianos, as if he were taking careful mental notes of every word, every movement. His presence loomed over the conversation like a shadow, silent but menacing.

Kimble shifted uncomfortably. He was getting the feeling they weren’t in control of this conversation, if they ever had been to begin with.

Ortega read the room as well, pushing harder here wouldn’t get them anywhere. Not now at least. “Come on, Kimble,” he muttered, stepping back from the booth. “We’re done for now.”

Kimble hesitated, clearly not liking the idea of walking away empty-handed, but he knew Ortega was right. They had nothing to hold them on, nothing to press them with, and the matchbook they did have wasn’t enough. Too many eyes were on them.

Luciano lifted his glass in a lazy toast as they turned to leave. “Don’t be strangers, detectives.”

Bianca smiled, a slow, knowing expression. “We’ll be seeing you again.”

Ortega didn’t answer. He turned on his heel, heading for the door, Kimble close behind.

The air outside was a sharp contrast to the heavy atmosphere inside. Ortega exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “That was more than I expected.”

Kimble shook his head. “Now we know who’s sitting on top of the pile. And they know we’re watching.”

Ortega glanced back at the cool glow of the Blue Orchid. “Yeah. But that doesn’t mean they care.”

They got in the car, the engine revved low, a steady hum against the quiet night. Ortega gripped the wheel, his knuckles tight as he stared ahead, mind racing. Kimble exhaled, shifting in his seat.

“They’re playing us,” Kimble muttered. “They know more than they are letting on and they’re too damn comfortable with it.”

Ortega nodded, his jaw tense. “We need a new plan.”

He flicked on the headlights, easing the car forward. The Blue Orchid’s cool glow faded in the rearview mirror as they rolled toward the intersection. The street was quiet, only the occasional car passing by.

Then, without warning…

BAM!

A massive delivery truck barreled into them, taking them from the side. Metal crunched. Glass shattered. The world flipped… once, twice, the bloodied Blue Orchid matchbook spinning freely in the air as time seemed to sit still for the shocked officers.

Then everything went dark.

To be continued…

Winter Drama: The Death of Antollini pt. 1, 2, 3, & 4