The wayward path

Colorful characters are essential and the way they interact with each other can make or break a good story.  I always strive to create believable characters.  Here’s an interaction from “The Wayward Path” that worked out well.

Maximo Aurelio was a reputed lieutenant for one of the Detroit area’s largest organized crime families. There was a history of violence that many had tried to attribute to him over the years, without success. Ten years ago, Max had gone into retirement. The Mob had changed a lot in the twenty-first century. Max was supposedly living a quiet life, spending a great deal of his free time with Leo Agonasti, a childhood friend. If Max was a lieutenant, then Leo was a captain. Our paths had crossed occasionally since I became a cop.

Pappy turned his full attention on Max. Cantrell wagged a finger back and forth, his variation of “get on with it.” Max understood the unspoken message.

“The FBI has an arrest warrant out on Leo for murder,” Max said slowly, his gravelly voice reaching even lower on the register than normal.

“Why come to us?” I asked.

“Leo’s instructions. When he heard the charges, he told his lawyer two words. ‘Get Chene.’ Far as I know, he’s not saying anything else. The lawyer called me. Guess she didn’t know you.”

“Where’s Leo at?”

Max swiveled slightly to face Cantrell. “He disappeared. I think he’s still in the area but can’t even begin to guess where he’s at. Chances are he’s going to keep moving. I don’t think he’s running. Leo’s never been the type to run away from trouble. But he’s no murderer, Chene. You gotta believe that.”

Pappy squinted at Max. “We ain’t gotta believe nuthin’. We’re talkin’ ’bout criminal activity. Y’all ain’t exactly a couple a Girl Scouts sellin’ cookies.”

“Say whatever you want, but Leo was a background guy. He’s not violent. Never was. He couldn’t murder someone.”

“He had y’all for that?”

Max clenched his jaw before swinging to face me. “This isn’t about me. It’s about Leo. Can you at least check into the warrant?”

My gaze flicked to Cantrell. He gave me a minuscule nod in response. “The FBI does not normally handle homicide investigations. Are you sure the information you got is accurate?”

Max slid a business card across the table to me. It bore the FBI logo and contact information for the Detroit office. I turned it so Pappy could see it. Getting involved in an ongoing federal investigation was contrary to the way Cantrell operated. The feds were rarely inclined to play nice with other local agencies. But I didn’t think walking away was an option.

“I’m going down there.”

Pappy shook his head. “Un nuh. We goin’.”

Max raised his palms. “I’m not stepping foot in that building. Surprised they’re not looking for me right now.”

“Give ’em time,” Cantrell growled. “Day ain’t over yet.”