Trouble Down Mexico Way

by Nancy Nau Sullivan

  The customer stepped away from the shelves suddenly and turned toward the desk. Oleantha could not see the features under the hat, but she did see the gun. She hadn’t planned on that eventuality. The person was small, and agile. Oleantha didn’t think long before instinct kicked in.

  The desk was one step up from the main floor. She hated to do this—to her beloved desk. She hated to make a mess of it, but she had no other choice. She needed a major weapon, and this was all she had. She needed to be ready to use it.

  “What’s this? A gun. So, you’re going to shoot me here, in my shop.”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you want? Money? Here, I’ll give you money, and then you can go.” She sounded almost petulant. She started to reach for her bag.

  “Don’t”

  “Are you sure? I have quite a lot. If you’ll just take it and go.” Her voice was cool but she started to shake so badly she had to grit her teeth and make her legs be still.

  “No.” The voice was quiet, low and menacing.

  She’d have to do it. Oleantha put her hands on the underside of the desktop. She was small, but strong, and the mix of fear and adrenaline did the trick. She gave it a heartbeat for this person to come closer. Then she gave the heavy, marble-topped, wooden desk a savage push off the raised floor and it came crashing down at the black-clad figure. The gun went off. Oleantha fell back on the floor, and she lay still.

  The shooter was quick, leaping away as the desk shot forward. Another round from the gun blasted the silence. The attacker quickly looked out the window for witnesses or passersby.

  Doctor Oleantha didn’t move. The white marble floor pooled red, the antique white-and-gold desk was a wreck, and the figure in black sauntered out the door of the clinic without looking back.

  u

  It wasn’t hard to find a place to park near Doctor Oleantha’s clinic, tucked among the boutiques and residences of the fashionable La Condesa. Blanche slid the rental into a spot on a tree-lined street. It was quiet.

  Blanche turned to Emilio. “I am so glad to see you.”

  “Me, too.”

  They didn’t talk. They just looked at each other. Blanche exhaled, finally, and was thankful they’d slipped El Patrón and were safe for now. Emilio took her hands and drew her toward him. They stayed locked together until Blanche broke away, completely out of breath. They sat forehead to forehead, Emilio tangling his fingers in her hair. “You have to go be Blondie again.”

  Blanche looked around for the wig and found it in the back seat. She pulled it over her head. “How do I look?”

  “When will it be normal again?”

  “What, you? Me? How?” She kissed him, hard and full.

  “This feels very normal to me.”

  “I love the way you smell.”

  “What? Like fear and sweat? I delivered a baby yesterday. I must smell like the old hog shed.”

  “I’d say you’re one sweet cerdito.” It was hard to imagine they were in the middle of one of the largest cities in the world—and in the middle of such a mess. There wasn’t a soul around. “I wish we could just stay like this. Not go in there. Just sit.” She put her head on his shoulder.

  “I know, I hear you. But let’s do this and be done with them.” He perched the cat-eye glassed on her nose and kissed it. “We will be one step closer to a resolution.”

  “Don’t I wish. We can warn her. Tell her to go to El Patrón and talk her way back in so they’ll leave you alone. It’s worth a try. She’s not stupid. She’s got to figure this out, or she’ll be dead. Seems like incentive enough.”

  u

  Emilio and Blanche entered the clinic. Blanche gasped. The desk lay in smithereens on its side in the middle of floor, the marble top cracked in half and splinters of white- and gold-painted wood scattered about. The place was empty. “Doctor Flórez?” Then she saw her.

  They crossed the slick floor to the back of the storefront. Oleantha lay in a heap, blood pooling under her head. She was barefoot, clasping a small dagger in her fist. Emilio bent over her, felt for a pulse. “She’s been shot, looks like twice in the upper torso. But she’s alive. We need an ambulance.”

  Blanche crouched next to Emilio, trying to hold the phone steady. She had Cardenal’s number in her phone. She pressed it automatically and told the police operator to send an ambulance.

  “Tell them to hurry, Blanche.” He was loosening her top buttons, compressing the wounds to stop the bleeding. “She’s lost much blood.”

  Oleantha’s eyes popped open, but she didn’t seem to be in there. She looked frantically from Emilio to Blanche. “Little puta,” she said, and dropped off.

  “Well, she’ll probably be just fine,” mumbled Blanche. “Her sense of recognition is just the same.” She clutched the phone and ran to the window just as the wailing ambulance careened toward them.

  Her eyes surveyed the broken desk, the legs and marble top cracked. Then she saw it. Next to a drawer that had shot out when the desk toppled. A large, old antique key. Shining in a sunbeam, like a pot at the end of the rainbow.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  MUMMY HAS A TICKET

  “Do you know what day it is?” Blanche looked fairly ecstatic. She carried two paper cups of coffee and a bag of sugary buns, which Haasi sniffed out immediately. Blanche had been up since seven, out and about, and now she seemed raring to go.

  “It’s Thursday, Blanche. I mean, jueves.” Haasi sat cross-legged on her bed with notes and printouts spread out all around her.

  “It’s Museum Day!”

  “Oh, jeez.” Haasi bit into the bun, sugar flecking down the front of her light blue top. “Not that. I thought Cardenal was going to handle it.”

  “I’m sure. But he said he’d give us a heads-up. Don’t you want to go over there? They’re going to put a major dent in that museum theft ring today. I hope. Come on. Emilio is going to meet us.”

  “Blanche. Every day is museum day! For one, we’ve been over to the Palacio half a dozen times.” Haasi waved a notebook. She was becoming something of a scholar on the fabulous pyramids and people of Teotihuacan, the ancient ruins thirty miles outside Mexico City. While Blanche was off visiting El Patrón and rescuing Emilio and finding the near-dead Oleantha Flórez, Haasi was climbing the ruins, absorbed in the mysterious history of the indigenous Nahua, Otomi, and Totonac, who came well before the Aztecs. She’d interviewed locals, brushed up on her Spanish, and read tracts and codices about central Mexico—even before it was called Mexico.

  “Wow, Haas. What is all this stuff? Heck with the travel article. You ought to write a book.”

  “Now, I just might do that.”

  “You look like a regular Quetzalcoatl rising from the… papers?”

  “Speaking of plumed serpents, I was thinking of visiting María again. Remember? The woman of the snake vibe?”

  Blanche shivered. She flopped down on her bed. “Creepy. I picked up some anti-snake herbs from Oleantha the first time I went to see her. I like to carry it around.”

  “To keep the snakes away?”

  “Apparently it’s not working. We’ve run into a number of snakes.”

  A collective sigh.

  “That woman, Oleantha, is a real snake,” said Haasi. “They say she’s going to pull through just fine. But we won’t be here to see it.”

  Blanche put her hands between her knees, the corners of her mouth drooping. “I know. I think Cardenal is going to cut us loose, and we have to go. Eventually. I’m going to have to say goodbye to Emilio.”

  Haasi tossed her notebook aside, moved over next to Blanche, and put her arm around her cousin. “You know what they say here. Adiós. Hasta la vista. Not goodbye, not in Mexico.”

  “We’ll see each other; I just know it. He’s going for a fellowship at the University of Florida, but it’ll be a while.” She was smiling again. “For now, museum day, he’s going to meet us over near the Palacio. You will come, won’t you, Haas? Blussberg is supposed to tak
e that flight later. Cardenal tells me they’ve been staking out the lab and the Palacio. They’re figuring he’s going to make a move to get that mummy out of there sometime today, and they want to catch them in the act.”

  “With La Escandolera out of the picture, and El Jefe, I’d say El Patrón is down a couple helpers.” Haasi finished braiding her long hair. She was dressed in a short plaid skirt. She brushed the sugar off her light blue top. “How do you know all this—besides what you found out during your little escapade to Blussberg’s office?”

  “I’ve been bugging Cardenal, and he finally came around. He’s been very vague but I got the basic scoop.” Blanche already had her bag on her shoulder. “He kept saying he wouldn’t be pressured, but I wouldn’t give up.”

  “Oh, no kidding.” Haasi was smiling. She reached for that last bite of pastry.

  “Must have called him half a dozen times. I reminded him of the shooting and the mummy and I pulled at a couple of other threads that have been helpful to him and his investigation. I kept pulling until I got some action. He’s a tough nut. But I think he likes us.”

  “Well, good for us. Ready?”

  u

  El Patrón had no desire to get his hands dirty on the transfer of the art-filled mummy from the lab to the airport. It was the job of his crew, but his crew was seriously depleted with El Jefe and Doctor Flórez out on “medical leave.” Nando was on a mission. El Patrón didn’t like to bring more than a couple of “assistants” into a project, and he already had enough people in the know. He liked to guard his secrets, and this project required the utmost secrecy. It had to be streamlined. Millions were riding on its success. The single-piece deliveries had gone well, but this was the big one. It was nerve-racking that he had to trust that bozo Blussberg and his ridiculous assistant López. He’d expected too much of them. Was his judgment slipping? They’d both turned out to be nearly brainless; when this was over, he was going to have to get rid of them and make some inroads with other contacts in the arts field. Blussberg and López had been in on the ground floor, and they’d have to finish it. The plan was crowded enough.

  López was going to drive the SUV to the airport. They would have to move the box with the mummy in it out the back door of the lab and into the SUV. How hard could this be? The mummy itself couldn’t weigh that many kilos, but with its burden of jewels, sculpture, and ancient weapons, the ancient one had taken on some heft. No matter. They could do this. Time to move the goods. He’d taken extra pain meds so he could ignore the piercing pain in his knees and hips. The thought of all that money helped.

  El Patrón had gone into the lab through the courtyard. The lab was dim for midday, but they knew their business and they had to be quick about it. Blussberg fussed with the lock on a hidden closet, camouflaged in the paneling. He rolled out the gurney and on top sat the mummy in a box. El Patrón said, “Did you go over all this with Oleantha? You have the inventory? What if they check at the airport?”

  “Hold on, Rodrigo. Oleantha gave me the inventory, and the papers. They are not going to bother me at the airport. I have credentials for the transfer of material from the Palacio, and that includes the Mayan exhibit to Paris. This is an extension of that little caper. If they open the box and see this mummy, I have proof I’m moving items for the exhibition.”

  “I hope they don’t x-ray it,” El Patrón mumbled.

  “They won’t. I have papers that say no x-rays or search are allowed because of the delicate nature of the contents. They are not to tamper with it. Thanks to Oleantha. I don’t know how she did it, but it got done.”

  El Patrón pulled at his pointy beard. “Yes, she was good for some things. Now I’ll have to cultivate others…”

  “Why? I hear she’s going to recover. You need someone, Rodrigo. She’s served a purpose, an important one. Don’t be a fool. We couldn’t have done this if she hadn’t cooked that mummy from the dead girl and switched out the exhibit. And helped with all this paperwork.”

  “She served. Operative word.” He was becoming impatient. “She bungled the switch of the mummies. She left that pink clip, those hairs in the lab, the ledger open. Worst of all, she acts like the Duchess of Alba. She’s too demanding, too expensive.”

  Blussberg sighed. He mumbled, “What’s done is done.”

  El Patrón was busy looking over the contents of the box. Satisfied, he drew the lid closed and López nailed it shut.

  “Let’s get on with it,” said Blussberg. “I have the permits to load it at the airport, and I’ve got the receiver lined up in Frankfurt. Once I meet Franz and deliver the box, funds will be transferred to the Swiss bank account. Per our deal. You can wire me my cut once you get confirmation.”

  “Tell Franz I’m working on a plan to move some items from the Bellas Artes and the Templo museum and maybe another. The paintings are newer, will bring less, but the volcanic sculpture and greenstone from the museums are priceless, thousands of years old. Should get millions for what I have lined up.”

  Blussberg was all smiles. He knew El Patrón was careful. He involved few people in the schemes, and those who were involved were paid off handsomely. “Spreading the joy of Mexico, one piece at a time.” He wrung his hands, his lips wet at the thought of all that loot. And his impossible prospects with Oleantha. Now that he had money…

  “I need to bring the SUV around to the door. I’ll meet you out back,” said López.

  El Patrón turned to López, smirking at the scrawny look of him. López withered at the stare.

  “Bueno. Go out through the courtyard. Drive up in the alley and come back up here. The three of us will lift it and get it out of here. ¡Vámonos!”

  Chapter Forty

  THE BUG BITES

  Blanche, Emilio, and Haasi waited near the alleyway to the lab. They carried paper cups and appeared to be chatting. It was a bright spring afternoon, temperature in the low 70s, and flocks of Mexicans crossed the Zocalo headed back from the comida and toward late-day activities. Three sets of eyes scanned the building nearby, but they were nicely hidden in the crowd.

  “We are not going to get in the way, believe me,” said Blanche. “But we are here, and we earned the right to be here.” She held the phone away from her ear so Emilio and Haasi could listen to the detective.

  Cardenal chuckled. “You are—what is it you Americans say—a dog with a bone.”

  Haasi and Emilio nodded.

  “Very funny,” said Blanche. “You know we are going to stand here until this is done.”

  “Mira. This is tedious. We’ve been here for hours, and nothing is going on. This doesn’t concern you, for now. I can’t order you off the Zocalo, but you need to stay clear. I don’t want you in the way, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “When will you know they’re loading stuff? And how?”

  “We know. We can hear.”

  Blanche was exhilarated to the tips of her toes. “Yes! You have a bug!”

  “I didn’t say that, Blanche. Now just stay clear. I have to go.”

  She slipped the phone into her pocket. Haasi and Emilio looked at her curiously. “It’s going to work, I’m just sure. They’re bugging the lab.”

  “He didn’t really say that.”

  “Well, not exactly, but close enough.”

  They waited a half hour, then an hour. The flow of activity around the Zocalo was a regular parade, and they were hardly bored, especially hanging out together.

  A black Escalade rounded the corner and headed toward the alleyway. It pulled up to the seemingly deserted building. The three lookie-loos crept closer to the building, sipping coffee nonchalantly. They snuck into a deep doorway recess not twenty feet from the entrance to the lab and waited.

  “Kind of cozy here, just the three of us,” Blanche said. But she was shaking, anticipating the heist, and another chapter in solving the case of the needless death of Lalia Solis. She wanted to get hold of Amparo and tell her they had done all they could to find the killer.
<
br />   Emilio craned his neck to watch the car. Haasi linked arms with Blanche. “If this is our version of the three Musketeers, we could use a sword or two, or three.”

  “Who needs swords? We’ve brains, and brawn, and just plain stubbornness.” He put his arm around Blanche. “I hope when this is over, we can calm down and enjoy the rest of this trip…”

  López flipped open the back hatch of the SUV and ran back inside the building. In minutes he, Blussberg, and El Patrón emerged lugging a long box. They huffed and grunted and got the thing into the back. A door slammed. López started the car.

  “Hey! They can’t get away with that!” It was Blanche, and despite the noise of traffic and crowds in the busiest corner of the country, her voice carried down the alley like she was standing in an empty cave. She clapped a hand over her mouth.

  “That’s why we call her Bang,” said Haasi.

  Emilio was silent, standing in front of the two women, his arms out to the sides. “Get back,” he whispered hoarsely. El Patrón stood next to the SUV and turned at once toward the sound of Blanche’s voice. He pulled out a small silver pistol and shot. First high above the doorway, and then when he saw the three huddled under the stone arch, he aimed directly at Emilio. Blanche pulled him into a crouch, but it was too late. The gun went off again. Emilio went down.

  Another door slammed, and the SUV took off.

  u

  Detective Cardenal got it all. Bugs had been set up in the lab with clearance from the medical facility, and in the Palacio for good measure, and the police were ready to move at his direction. Now this. A detail with screaming sirens shot off after the SUV as it sped down the alley.

  The detective needed to attend to the shooting. He’d seen the commotion through binoculars, and even with the noise on the Zocalo, he couldn’t mistake the sound of the shots. He prayed it wasn’t bad, but there was nothing good about gunshots in a crowd.