Final Table

by Carolina Mac

  Triple-D Auction House. Downtown Austin.

  FARRELL held the smoked glass door open and Blaine walked in first. He strode across the elegant marble lobby and stood in front of the reception desk facing a beautiful blonde in a black silk suit.

  “I’d like to speak to Mrs. Diaz, please,” said Blaine.

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No, I don’t, but I won’t take much of her time. I only want to ask a few questions.”

  “What kind of questions?” She smiled sweetly, her dangling crystal earrings sparkling in the light of the chandelier overhead. “Maybe I could answer them for you.”

  “Maybe you could. Do either one of her grandsons work for her?”

  “Yes, they both do.”

  “Great,” said Blaine. “Are either one of them here now?”

  “Yes, they both are. They’re helping Mrs. Diaz prepare for tonight’s auction.”

  “Would you show me where they are please?”

  She picked up her pen and pointed. “Just go through those double doors and you should be able to find them.”

  “Thanks so much.” Blaine glanced at Farrell and he was already calling for back up.

  “Slow and easy,” said Blaine as they walked smiling through the double doors.

  The auction auditorium wasn’t huge but appeared to be professionally decorated. The walls were paneled in a dark wood in framed sections, a crystal wall sconce centering each section. Tan leather chairs formed rows of seating, each row numbered. The back of the room featured a permanent bar next to the cashier’s booth.

  A long table holding several items fronted the stage, and next to the table an older Hispanic woman with salon-styled silver hair stood behind a lectern, sorting through a stack of papers. She must have been in her seventies but could have passed for sixty.

  Blaine turned and headed her way. “Mrs. Diaz, I’m Blaine Blackmore from Violent Crime and I’d like to ask you a few questions. It won’t take long.”

  She stared at him for a moment, then without hesitation she stepped out from behind the podium and pointed a Glock at his chest. “Get out of my auction house.”

  “Put the gun down, lady,” hollered Farrell as he jogged through a row of seats. “You don’t want to take that route.”

  “You’re messing up my operation, Blackmore, and you’ve got to go.” She laughed, cocked the gun and pointed it right at Blaine. “You’re a dead man.”

  Bang.

  Farrell had squeezed off the shot and Mrs. Diaz dropped to the floor.

  “Abuela,” hollered Navaro as he ran from the back room. “No, no.”

  His brother, Danny, was right behind him with a gun in his hand. “You shot my Maria,” he hollered and fired a shot in Farrell’s direction.

  Blaine turned and fired at Danny’s leg and took his knee out. Danny Diaz crashed to the floor and the gun flew out of his hand. Blaine kicked it away and it skittered under the rows of seats. Danny hollered in pain, rolling and writhing on the floor, clutching his bleeding leg.

  Blaine spun around and concentrated on Navaro. “Navaro Diaz, you’re under arrest on suspicion of murder and armed robbery. Get down on your knees and put your hands on your head.”

  Sirens sounded outside the building and four Rangers ran in with weapons drawn.

  “You’ll never take me alive, super cop.” He scooped up the gun next to his grandmother’s body and aimed at Blaine, but before he had time to pull the trigger Farrell fired and dropped him. He fell dead on top of his grandmother’s corpse.

  “These the robbers?” asked Rocky.

  Blaine nodded, his ears ringing from the gunshots. “They didn’t want to answer any questions.”

  “Guess they’d rather be dead,” said Farrell.

  Danny Diaz had passed out in a pool of his own blood by the time the paramedics arrived and strapped him onto a gurney.

  “I’ll go with the prisoner, Mr. B.” said Rocky. “You’ve got a big enough mess here.” The big Ranger hooked a thumb over his shoulder, “and all your buddies are lining up at the curb waiting for you to talk to them.”

  Blaine shook his long black hair. “Shit, those fuckers are fast.”

  Farrell grinned. “They don’t want to miss any of your action, bro.”

  As Blaine passed through the reception area he noticed the girl behind the desk talking to one of the backup officers. “Get that young lady’s details, Syd, and take her statement, would you? I need to ask her a few more questions.”

  “Sure thing, Mr. B.”

  The minute Blaine stepped outside the media swarmed him and shouted out dozens of questions. “Hey, people, nice of you to get here so fast, but I’m not ready. There’s a lot to sort through and I want to talk to Chief Calhoun before I give you my version of what went down. How about DPS at ten in the morning?”

  “How many are dead inside?” hollered one reporter.

  “None of that information will be released until next of kin are notified,” said Blaine. “Y’all know that. I can’t give you that information.”

  “Shots were fired,” shouted another. “Was Deputy Donovan involved?”

  “Deputy Donovan had my back, just like he always does.” He gave the crowd a little wave. “That’s it for now.”

  Chief Calhoun’s Office. Ranger Headquarters.

  CALHOUN met them at the door of the building and pointed up to the flat screen in the waiting area. “It’s already all over the news. What the hell happened?”

  “We found out the grandmother had an auction house,” said Blaine. “We walked in, asked the receptionist if the Diaz boys were with their grandmother and she said, yes, go on back. I introduced myself to Mrs. Diaz and she pulled a Glock, cocked it and aimed it at my head. Farrell shot her.”

  “Lord, Jesus. Just like that?”

  “Yep. She said I was messing her up and I had to go.”

  “A fucking loose cannon,” said the Chief.

  They strode down the hall to the Chief’s office and he closed the door and sat down in his leather chair. He pointed at the two chairs in front of his desk. “Then what?”

  “Navaro and Danny heard the shot and came running out of the room where they store the stuff for the auction,” said Farrell. “Danny had a Sig in his hand and he fired at me on the run. That’s when Blacky shot him in the knee.”

  “I told Navaro he was under arrest,” said Blaine. “He picked up his grandmother’s gun and aimed at me. That’s when Farrell shot him.”

  The Chief smiled. “Wish I’d been there.”

  Blackmore Agency. Austin.

  WHEN they got home, Blaine headed straight for the Sub-Zero and grabbed a Corona for himself and a Lone Star for Farrell. He hollered for Travis to come to the kitchen and join them for a brew to celebrate.

  “You get them, boss?”

  Blaine nodded. “Yep, finally. Not as smooth as I would have liked, but it’s a done deal.” He grinned and pointed to Farrell, “Of course I wouldn’t be standing here babbling on if it weren’t for my sharp-shooting brother. Those fuckers tried to kill us.”

  He was about to tell Misty how vital her information had been when his cell rang. Black Cat. He stepped into the foyer to answer. “Hey, Cat. We got them.”

  “I heard that, sweetie, and I’m so happy for you. I just called to congratulate you.”

  “Some was me, but most was Farrell. But you knew that already. I’ve forgiven you for wanting the best of the best.”

  “Thank God. I hated being on your bad side.” She gave a little laugh. “The fuse is too short.” Another chuckle. “Too bad there wasn’t two of him.”

  Blaine laughed with her.

  “Are you giving a TV interview?”

  “Ten in the morning at DPS.”

  “I’ll be watching.”

  Blaine returned to the kitchen and Farrell was in the middle of telling Misty how on the money she’d been. “The old bag lived around the corner from the dog pound,” he said. “You called
it all the way, girl.”

  Misty smiled. “I’m glad I helped y’all. Sometimes I don’t even know what I’m saying. It just comes out of nowhere.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Wednesday, November 14th.

  Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.

  SANTANA slipped out of bed in the pitch dark, picked up his

  clothes from the floor beside the bed where he’d dropped them the night before and tiptoed across the cold Mexican tiles into the ensuite to dress.

  He hated leaving Annie without a goodbye, and a thank-you for all she’d done for his mother, but he had things to take care of. She’d treated him so well and guilt overwhelmed him as he pushed his bike through the side gate and down the long lane towards the highway.

  I’m not the man she thinks I am. I’d never be good enough for a woman like her.

  At the end of the Coulter-Ross laneway, he started his bike, mounted up and headed west.

  ANNIE didn’t hear Santana get up in the night, but when she rose at six to start the coffee, his bike was gone and so was he. She called Jack Prima, one of the junkers who protected Blaine. Jack also doubled as her bodyguard when she was on assignment.

  “He took off in the night, Jack, like we thought he would. Think we can catch up?”

  “Sure, I’ll be ready when you get here.”

  Jack was packed and ready to travel when Annie picked him up at Blaine’s place in the city. They wasted no time hitting the interstate in an effort not to fall too far behind.

  Ranger Headquarters. Austin.

  BLAINE and Farrell sat in the Chief’s office with Starbuck’s containers in front of them mulling over the statement Blaine was about to release to the media.

  “You sure you don’t want to talk to them and take credit for wrapping up this ring of thieves and killers, Chief?” asked Blaine. “I sure as hell could do without it.”

  Calhoun smiled. “They came to hear you talk to them, son. No getting away from it—you have a following. You do it.”

  There was a gentle tap on the door and Farrell stood up to open it. “Morning, Mary.” Farrell pointed to the chair he’d just vacated. “Sit there. I can stand. Blacky’s almost ready to do the deed.”

  Mary smiled at Farrell, a sad look in her eye. “Thanks. Do we have a hand-out?”

  Blaine nodded. “Yeah, how many are out there?”

  “Dozens,” said Mary. “One of the biggest groups in a while.”

  “Shit,” said Blaine and then he laughed and looked down at his Lukas Nelson concert shirt. “I don’t think I’m dressed for it.”

  Mary picked up the stack of press releases and Farrell opened the door for her. Blaine followed her to the front of the building and they stepped outside together.

  Blinding lights flashed on and cameras began rolling. Dozens of questions were flung at Blaine and there was so much hollering he couldn’t hear most of them. He held up a hand. “Hang on, y’all. Mary will hand out a press release and then I’ll have a couple of things to add. After that, I’ll take a few questions.”

  Mary made her way through the throng of reporters handing out the release. Blaine sometimes had time to send them out by e-mail to those on his list, but not today.

  “As y’all can see, there were multiple players in this gang of thieves turned murderers, but the principals were Mrs. Maria Diaz and her grandsons, Navaro and Daniel. They burglarized houses, then cleared the loot through Triple-D Auctions downtown.”

  “Violent Crime was given the case when one of the homeowners, Mrs. Melanchuck, was killed during the robbery of her home. Danny Diaz has been charged with that murder. He’s presently under guard at Saint Michael’s hospital, but he will go to trial.”

  Questions were hurled at him when he paused for a breath. He held up his hand again and smiled. “I’m long winded today and I’m not finished.” A few chuckles and then they quieted down and waited for the rest of it.

  “We had a lot of help with this case and I want to thank a couple of people in particular. Mr. Fogarty, of Fogarty’s New and Used, gave me insight and a helpful push in the right direction and I thank him for taking the time.”

  “Also Judge Campbell, our Governor elect, helped me with a lot of the warrants and she also supplied insight that led ultimately to the Diaz family. Judge Campbell will be coming down hard on crime in Texas when she assumes office: one of her campaign promises that she fully intends to keep.”

  “Violent Crime will help her keep that promise.”

  “Will the DA’s office seek the death penalty against Danny Diaz?” someone shouted.

  Blaine nodded. “I’m sure they will, but that’s a question you could direct to Mr. Leighton’s office.”

  “How many people has Donovan capped in the line of duty?” a reporter shouted from the back of the mob.

  “None that wasn’t trying to kill us first,” said Blaine.

  Judge Campbell’s Residence. West Austin.

  CAT turned the flat screen on in her sitting room at five minutes to ten to watch Blaine’s speech to the media. She hated to admit it to herself, but she’d become attached to him.

  She watched Mary Polito give out the releases, then she sipped her coffee as she listened to the recap. Blaine was leaving a lot out. Details she could get from Chief Calhoun. There was a helluva fire fight and two people ended up dead. That would be Donovan. He was one tough kid.

  Then Blaine thanked old Herman Fogarty.

  When Blaine began talking about her, and how she’d helped the investigation, she couldn’t hold back the tears.

  She reached for a tissue and blew her nose.

  Oh, my God. He is going to help me after all.

  Stockton. West Texas.

  DARKNESS had fallen when Santana pulled off the interstate into the Super Six in Stockton. He’d been freezing most of the day, with the temperature below zero and the wind chill killing him as he rode his Harley. Not the same as riding in a vehicle with a heater. He needed a hot coffee and a warm bed to make it the rest of the way.

  The whole day riding west, all he could think about was leaving Annie. An opportunity for a regular life with a wonderful and beautiful woman, but there was no going back now. He’d made his choice.

  JACK monitored the new tracker Annie had put on Santana’s ride at the shop, and they had almost caught up to him by nightfall when they reached Stockton.

  “He’s parked about a mile ahead of us,” said Jack. “Must be a hotel or motel there.”

  “Okay,” said Annie, “let’s stay here so we don’t spook him.” She flicked on her blinker and pulled into a Comfort Inn.

  After checking in they walked down the road to a Mexican restaurant and ordered beer and enchiladas.

  “You’re quiet, Annie. You okay?”

  “I’m fine, Jack. A bit tired from the drive.” She didn’t have time to say anymore when her cell rang. Santana. She mouthed his name to Jack and said hello.

  “I want to apologize for leaving without a proper goodbye,” he said. “I’ll never forget how good you were to me, or to my mother.”

  “Your goodbye sounds permanent,” said Annie. “Where are you?”

  “On my way back to the camp. There are things I have to take care of that won’t wait.”

  “Will we see each other again?”

  “I… I’m not sure.”

  Annie ended the call and Jack raised an eyebrow wondering if she would share.

  “I don’t think he’s the sharpest knife in the drawer.”

  Jack grinned.

  “Why would he go back to the camp when he knows the Varmints voted to kill him?” asked Annie. “One against forty? Horrible odds. What sense does that make?”

  “None.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Thursday, November 15th.

  Super Six Motel. Stockton.

  SANTANA didn’t sleep well. Restless and unsure of how he’d handle the club and the faction against him. He had a few solid supporters. Men he’d trained
and helped in their personal lives that would always be loyal to him, but it was only a handful. After Hondo came to the club and began moving up in the ranks, he’d done a lot of recruiting and had most of the prospects eating out of his hand. He mulled over the numbers, tossed and turned and finally gave it up. He sat in the chair by the window in his room and smoked.

  Thoughts of Annie crept into his head and he tried to shut them out. There was no room in his life for a woman. She would only weaken him and ultimately be his downfall. He’d always been careful to avoid attachments. The danger was always there.

  After a coffee at the free breakfast bar, he gassed up his bike and braced himself against the wind for the last leg of his journey. He should be in Apache Springs in about four hours if he didn’t have problems with his ride.

  Comfort Inn. Stockton.

  ANNIE was showered, dressed and back from the free breakfast downstairs before Jack came out of the bathroom. “I brought you a coffee and a toasted bagel.” She put her wares on the round table in the corner of the room.

  “Hey, thanks. I didn’t hear you get up.” He grinned. “I’m not used to sleeping in the same room as a woman. I think men are noisier. They don’t give a shit if they wake you up with their snoring or not.”

  “I’m sensitive to those around me.” Annie winked at him.

  “Believe that, if you will.” Jack chuckled and took the lid off his coffee.

  Annie glanced at her tablet. “He’s on the move. We better shake it.”

  Apache Springs. West Texas.

  SANTANA slowed down to the speed limit as he cruised north on the main street. He noticed the Crime Scene van parked at the curb and the yellow tape strung across the front of Angie’s diner.

  There were no people crowded around, just one old guy looking in the window, so it must be old news. Had something happened in the restaurant? Weird. Nothing ever happened in Apache Springs.

  He didn’t have time to stop, and it didn’t concern him. He squeezed the gas and kept heading north out of town.

  Junction of I-10 and Route Fifty-four.