“How so?”
“We know that Corazon just moved into that Sunset Hills mansion fairly recently. It was most likely a listed property. Maggie could do a multiple listing search. It might tell us something.”
“It’s worth a try.”
When we walked in the door, Joan’s face broke into a big smile. Joan had been the receptionist/secretary of the company for most of the thirty years I was a salesman there.
“Well, well,” she said. “The prodigal son returns. How are you doing, Walt?”
“I haven’t been shot at yet today, so I can’t complain.”
“Bet you’re here to see that sweet wife of yours --- that lucky girl.”
“You’re not flirting with me, are you Joan?”
“Can’t help it. I’m a sucker for a guy in uniform. Maggie’s in her office.”
Maggie was surprised to see us, but recovered quickly.
“I swear I didn’t do it, officers. I’m innocent!”
“It’s not what you didn’t do --- it’s what you’re about to do.” I said, giving her a peck on the cheek. “We need a favor.”
“Anything for the men in blue. How can I help?”
“I need you to check on a recent sale --- 685 Sunset Drive.”
“Beautiful property!” Maggie said. “I heard it sold. Let’s see what I can find.”
She booted up her computer and began tapping keys.
“Yes, here it is. It closed two months ago --- a million and a half --- cash sale.”
“Does it say who bought it?” Ox asked.
“No, the buyer’s name is not part of the MLS, but I know where we can get it, the Jackson County Tax Database.”
She tapped a few more keys.
“Here it is.”
“Hector Corazon?” I asked hopefully.
“Nope, a corporation, M.M. Ltd.”
“See if they have any other Jackson County holdings.”
“Okay, hold on ---- Yes! M.M. Ltd bought a property on 2nd Street in the River Market area about the same time as the Sunset Drive house.”
“Yes! Fantastic!” I said, giving Maggie a hug. “That’s exactly what we needed. See you tonight.”
“Hold on a minute, Buster!” she said, menacingly. “I supply valuable information in an ongoing case and all I get is a ‘see you tonight’?”
I had learned that in the male/female relationship, one has to respond quickly and decisively in such situations.
“You are exactly right! (I learned early on to establish that upfront). How does a dinner out at a nice restaurant sound?”
She thought for a moment. “I could live with that.”
“Good! Then it’s a done deal.”
As we headed out the door, Ox said. “You handled that pretty well. You think fast for an old guy.”
“Marital Bliss 101. It’s a class where you learn from experience.”
We were about to leave, when a gal I remembered from one of the title companies walked in the door carrying a big box.
“Hi Joan. I was in the neighborhood so I thought I’d drop off a box of donuts for your break room.”
This was one of the perks of pulling floor duty at the real estate office. Some company was always coming in schmoozing us with goodies hoping we would give them our next deal.
Joan took the box and thanked the girl.
“Walt, you and your partner might as well have one for the road.
“Joan, you sure know the way into a man’s heart,” I said, as we each grabbed a chocolate covered, creme filled long john.
Frank, Ernie and Paddy were sitting in Frank’s car outside the precinct garage.
“Paddy, are you sure the car number was 54?”
“Relax, Frank. I may be incontinent but I’m not blind.”
“Here comes another one,” Ernie said, as a cruiser pulled out onto the street.
“See!” Paddy said proudly. “Car #54 --- and there’s the old guy and his portly partner. Don’t lose them, Frank!”
Frank started the engine and pulled into traffic a few cars behind the cruiser.
“Bet they stop at a donut shop,” Frank said, grinning.
“Don’t think I’ll take that bet,” Ernie said. “I’ll bet the big one is on a first name basis with most of the shops in town.”
The cruiser passed a Dunkin’ Donuts and a Krispy Kreme without even slowing down.
“Shame on you guys,” Paddy said. “See what happens when you prejudge people.”
They followed until the cruiser turned into parking lot of City Wide Realty. The two cops parked and went inside.
“Okay, this is our chance,” Frank said. “I’ll pull into that spot away from the front window. Ernie, do your thing and get out of there quick.”
Frank parked and Ernie hurried to the cruiser and slipped the envelope under the windshield wiper.
Frank pulled to the far end of the lot and waited for the cops to return.
After about fifteen minutes, they emerged munching on huge long johns.
“Ha!” Frank said gleefully, punching the old padre in the arm. “Tell me about that prejudging thing again.”
Paddy just shook his head. “Human nature is a wondrous thing.”
They watched as the big one bit into his pastry and a blob of yellow creme squirted out the end and down his uniform shirt.
“Are you sure we picked the right guys?” Ernie asked, skeptically.
“Well, we’re stuck with them now. Let’s hope for the best.”
After pausing to wipe off the goo, the two arrived at the cruiser and spotted the envelope.
The old one looked around then tore it open and began to read.
The three ducked down in their seats.
“That’s it,” Paddy said. “We’ve done what we came to do. We’d better skeedaddle before they spot us.”
The Three Amigos waited until the two cops went back into the real estate office and quietly drove away.
We were about three steps out the door when Ox bit into his long john and a big glob of vanilla creme squirted out.
This wasn’t the first time this had happened. For some reason, Ox has never grasped one of the laws of physics as it relates to pastries: for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. When you bite down on one end and apply pressure, something usually squirts out the other end.
“Oh, crap!” he said, scooping the errant creme off his shirt with his finger and stuffing it into his mouth.
No point in wasting good creme filling.
I was about to expound on the physics thing when I spotted an envelope tucked under our windshield wiper.
I laid my pastry on the hood and retrieved the envelope. I looked around the parking lot but saw nothing but empty cars.
I tore open the envelope and read aloud to Ox.
To the Kansas City Police Department
Upon further investigation, we have learned that the Mexican drug cartel, led by Hector Corazon, owns a warehouse at 405 E’ 2nd Street in the City Market District.
As we mentioned in our previous letter, Corazon has ties to Matamoros, Mexico. One of the chief exports of Matamoros is vegetables. The warehouse owned by the cartel has the sign ‘Aztec Produce’ over the door.
It is our belief that the produce business in the City Market is a front to launder the cartel’s drug money and is possibly the location where the drugs from Mexico are being surgically removed from the poor souls.
We hope this information, along with our previous letter, will assist in your investigation.
Sincerely,
Concerned Citizens.
“Looks like it’s from the same people,” I said. “Same envelope --- same stationery --- signed the same way. Hang on a minute. I’ll be right back.”
I returned to the reception desk.
“Joan, did you see anyone around our squad car?”
“Hmm --- the phone has been ringing off the hook, so I’ve been pretty tied up. Oh, wait. I do remember seeing a
glimpse of an old guy walking across the parking lot.”
“Define old. Like me old or older?”
“Definitely older than you, but he was so far away that’s about all I could tell you.”
When I returned, Ox had been studying the letter.
“What are the chances that the very moment we get a lead from Maggie, we also get a letter confirming it. The letter talks about Matamoros, Mexico. What do you bet that M.M. Ltd. stands for Matamoros, Mexico?”
“I’ll bet you’re right. Let’s check it out before we take this to the Captain.”
We drove to the City Market District and found the address on 2nd Street. Just as the letter had said, there was a sign above the door, ‘Aztec Produce’. The warehouse was huge. It almost covered a full city block.
“There’s certainly enough room in there for most anything,” Ox said. “Whoever wrote the letter might be onto something.”
“Let’s have a look around the market before we go back to the precinct. If this is really a front to launder drug money, they have to have a retail outlet.”
We parked and started walking the big horseshoe-shaped pavilion that contained the City Market.
There was row after row of vendors selling every vegetable and fruit imaginable. Interspersed between the vegetable vendors were small restaurants offering ethnic food of every description; Italian, Thai, Chinese and, of course, Mexican.
We wandered around until we found the storefront with the ‘Aztec Produce’ sign. It looked like all of the other vegetable stores except that the workers all appeared to be Hispanic.
Next to the Aztec store was a Mexican restaurant named The Burrito Bandito.
“Colorful name,” I said. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“If you’re thinking that maybe we should spend some time sampling their wares while we watch who’s coming and going at Aztec, then I’m with you.”
“I promised Maggie a dinner out. Do you think Judy would be interested in a double?”
“Hold on, partner. I distinctly remember you offering Maggie a dinner at a ‘nice’ restaurant. I’m not sure the Burrito Bandito would qualify.”
“Details, details. It’s really just the thought that counts.”
“We’ll see about that!” Ox said.
On the way back to the precinct, I called Captain Short and told him about the second letter. He said Sergeant Winkler would be waiting for us when we returned.
As promised, the Captain and Winkler were waiting in his office.
Sergeant Winkler studied the letter as we shared the details of our morning’s adventure.
When we had finished, Winkler said, “Good job, officers. It looks like you have forged a bond with these anonymous citizens. I just have one more question. What do you suppose this dark substance is on the outside of the envelope?”
I had hoped he wouldn’t notice.
“Uhhh --- that might be chocolate icing. Sorry.”
“So how about that dinner I promised you?” I said as Maggie walked in the door.
“Perfect! After a whole day of floor duty I wasn’t real excited about coming home and cooking. Wait! This isn’t just an excuse to get me to Mel’s Diner is it?”
I tried to look shocked. “How can you even suggest such a thing?”
Actually, I understood perfectly. At home, our diet consisted primarily of healthy organic stuff, and it was only on those rare occasions that I tricked her into going to Mel’s that I got my allowance of grease, gravy and sugar.
“No, Ox and I found a cozy little place today that we thought you girls might enjoy. We’re doubling with Ox and Judy if that’s okay with you.”
“Absolutely! I always enjoy having Judy along. You’re not exactly Mr. Conversation. No offense.”
“None taken.”
Judy, another officer in the KCPD, and Ox had been married less than a year. Maggie and I had been invited to accompany them on their Alaskan honeymoon cruise. During that time Maggie and Judy became close friends.
“So what should I wear? Is this a dressy place?”
It took a moment to find just the right response.
“Walt?”
“Well, actually this place has a more casual atmosphere. I think slacks would be just fine.”
Subterfuge is an art.
Ox picked us up in his SUV and we headed downtown.
“So, Judy,” Maggie said, “has Ox told you about this special place they’re taking us tonight?”
“No, he’s been pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing. Said it was a surprise.”
Ox and I exchanged a worried glance.”
“Well, it must be pretty special if it’s downtown.”
The car was silent as we drove past the fancy joints in the new Power & Light District. When we passed The Majestic Steak House in the north part of downtown and Ox kept on driving, Judy said, “Are you sure you know where you’re going?”
Ox looked at me pleadingly. “I think we should ‘fess up’ before we get there. Don’t you?”
“Fess up?” Maggie exclaimed. “What have you two cooked up now?”
Reluctantly, I told them the story from the beginning and that our evening out was actually a stakeout to watch a storefront owned by a Mexican drug cartel.
When I finished, the car was deathly silent.
Maggie was the first to speak. “I certainly appreciate your dedication and I’m willing to play along, but if you think for a minute that this fiasco is going to satisfy the dinner out you promised me, you’ve got another think coming!”
Ox leaned over and whispered, “Told you! Marital Bliss 102. You must have skipped that class.”
We parked and entered the pavilion.
The combination of aromas emanating from the various ethnic restaurants, combined with the smell of over ripe fruits and vegetables hit us in the face.
“Sheesh! Smells like ass-crack in here!” Ox muttered.
The Burrito Bandito was about the size of our living room. The outer wall was a huge garage door that could be lowered when the place was closed. There were about a dozen small tables scattered about across from the serving line.
Judy punched Ox in the arm. “Not even a waiter! We have to go through a serving line!”
“Actually, that’s not altogether a bad thing,” Ox said defensively. “You get to choose what you want on your burrito.”
Judy turned to Maggie. “I’d say this place is worth at least two nice dinners out. What do you think, girlfriend?” Maggie gave her a high-five.
Ox leaned over and whispered, “Marital Bliss 103. We should have signed up!”
When it was our turn, a Mexican guy was holding a flour tortilla that must have been eighteen inches in diameter. “Whatcha want?” he inquired.
Ox was first in line and he had the guy load the tortilla with cheese, rice, black beans, Mexican sausage and salsa. When the thing was folded it was the size of a small football.
When we all had our food and drinks, we found a table where we could see the Aztec Produce store.
Every thing looked normal --- just another produce stand. Customers came by, squeezed oranges, sniffed broccoli and paid for their purchases.
I was about halfway through my burrito by the time Ox had wiped the remnants of his off of his mouth. Stuffed, I pushed the rest of mine aside.
“You gonna finish that?” he said, eyeing my burrito.
“Help yourself,” I replied.
I watched in amazement as he gobbled the remains of my dinner.
There had been a momentary lull in the restaurant. The employees were just shooting the breeze waiting for the next customer.
I approached and motioned for the Mexican guy that had loaded our burritos.
“You want something else?”
“No, just information. We’ve been watching the produce store next door. Just wondered if you knew anything about the owners.”
The man looked back at his friends with a concerned expression.
“No!” he said emphatically. “We know nothing. They are new. We have nothing to do with them. No more questions.”
He turned and joined his friends.
I returned to the table. “That certainly went well.”
“They’re scared to death,” Judy said. “You could see it in their faces.”
About that time, a young man brought a skid of fruit from the back of the Aztec store and placed it in front of the bins. A young woman that appeared to be early twenties stepped up to the skid. She tried to lift the first box and we saw her wince in pain. She managed to carry it to the appropriate bin and empty the contents.
When she tried to lift the second box, she winced again and cried out softly.
“That girl is hurting,” Maggie said. “Somebody should do something.”
“I got this,” Judy said.
She walked over to the cash register where an older woman had just rung up a customer.
“Pardon me, ma’am, but it looks like that woman is in pain. You should take a look.”
The cashier gestured to the woman, “Maria! Vaya!”
The girl dropped her head and disappeared into the back of the store.
“This is none of your concern,” the cashier said. “She will be fine.”
Judy isn’t intimidated easily. “She sure doesn’t look fine.”
About that time, a burly Mexican emerged from the back of the store. “We got a problem here?”
“No, no problem,” Judy said backing away. “Just trying to help.”
We quickly packed up and headed back to the SUV.
“When that poor woman walked by me, she was clutching her breasts,” Judy said. “I’d bet anything that she’s one of their mules.”
“Sure looks like it,” I replied. “They send them off to Mexico where they implant them with cocaine, they return and have the stuff cut out and then they make them do manual labor until they heal. It’s horrible!”
“We have to get these guys!” Ox said with conviction.
The ride home was quiet as we each thought about man’s inhumanity to his fellow man.
CHAPTER 6
The next evening, when I walked in the door, Maggie was waiting in ambush.
[Lady Justice 12] - Lady Justice and the Class Reunion Page 6
