by Dave Daren
Ari let a low whistle.
“I know the boat,” Shorty replied. “Everyone’s been watching it for years.”
“And no one’s shut it down?” Sofia asked in amazement.
“Those guys are just the middlemen,” Shorty said with a shrug. “And as long as they’re operating, you can watch them and track where the stuff is going. If you shut them down, you have to figure out who the new guys are and then figure out how to track them.”
“Still,” Sofia protested. “You’d shut down all those illegal drugs for a while at least.”
“Not as long as you’d think,” Shorty replied. “Someone else would step in before they’d even made it to the local jail.”
“So you think Agent Smart’s source is good,” I cut in. “That they really did see Matthew Burke leaving the boat?”
“You can bet on it,” he replied. “An American stepping off that boat would have caught their attention. They would have taken plenty of pictures that they could use for identification purposes.”
“Why didn’t they track him from there?” Sofia asked.
“Who’s to say?” Shorty shrugged. “They might have tried and just lost him. Or, more likely, they didn’t recognize him right away. Once they got word that he was a person of interest, he’d already disappeared.”
“See,” Ari declared, “You’re already a step closer to finding this guy and you haven’t even left the restaurant yet.”
“We still have to prove that he’s either alive or dead,” I pointed out.
“And don’t forget about the money,” Sofia reminded us.
“What do we do with it if we find it?” Shorty asked.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” I replied. “For now, let’s get Matthew Burke.”
Chapter 8
Dinner at Kopan reminded me of why it had always been a favorite of my parents. The noodles were thick and delicious without feeling heavy. I had mine in the vegetable broth with the fatty pork, green onions and egg, and edamame and gyoza on the side. I have no idea how many calories I ate, but the beauty of well-made ramen is that you never feel it.
We finished our meal while we discussed a few more details of the case, and then Ari and Shorty returned to downtown L.A. while I drove Sofia back to her car. Shorty mentioned that he planned to head for Mexico the next day and promised to send an update as soon as he talked to some of his old pals in the trawler’s port. I offered to let Sofia sleep at my place, but she reminded me that she’d already promised to look after her abuela that night. She gave me a wink in the parking lot, then drove off towards home.
My own evening was uneventful, and I ended up watching a Final Space marathon on Adult Swim. The nice thing about cartoons is that my brain can relax and forget about the problems of the day. My father used to insist that the solutions you need often come to you when you refuse to think about them, and I’ve had more than my share of sudden inspiration while watching T.V. Unfortunately, I never quite managed to forget about the Burkes, and no sudden insights filtered into my dreams.
I did manage to leave for work on time the next morning, with a cup of coffee and an apple turnover in my grasp. The sky was finally blue again and the air smelled of brewing coffee, diesel, and jasmine, rather than the overwhelming scent of burning wood and plastic. I took a moment as I unlocked my car to soak in the relatively clean air and enjoy the feel of the sun.
That’s when I noticed the car was still there. It was hard to miss in this working class neighborhood. A lowrider painted a deep purple color and sporting some serious chrome on the wheels and grille. Two men were inside, eating what looked like breakfast burritos. They’d been there when I went to the gym and were still there now. I wondered if the punk at the burrito joint had passed along my message, but neither man stepped out of the car as I approached the Honda.
I kept one eye on them while I unlocked the car and slipped inside, but still they made no moves toward me. Maybe I was just being paranoid, I told myself. There could be any number of reasons why two guys in a lowrider would be sitting across the street from my building. I pulled out into traffic and checked the rearview mirror. Sure enough, the lowrider was right behind me. Not tailgating exactly, but definitely following me.
I thought about trying to lose them, but there didn’t seem to be much point. They would know I was going to the office, and its location wasn’t a secret. Besides, the morning rush was in full swing and it would be hard to maneuver between the other cars without hitting someone else.
We pulled into the parking lot together, and I decided it was time to find out what they wanted. I claimed my usual spot, then hopped from the car, ready to take on the guys in the lowrider. That was when I noticed two more gangbangers standing near a couple of bikes. They had started towards me when I pulled into the lot, but had stopped when the lowrider pulled in behind me.
The guys from the lowrider slowly exited their car and stared at the two bikers. There was a rapid conversation between the two groups in Spanish, and then another man peeled away from the doorway to the burrito joint. I thought he was a homeless man at first, but he soon joined in the conflict, which had now escalated to a great deal of yelling and cursing and waving of hands. I thought I might be able to slip up the stairs unnoticed, but then the homeless man pulled a knife and one of the bikers was yelling something about the gringo lawyer while he pointed at me.
It was a literal Mexican standoff, and I was stuck in the middle of it. I was trying to figure out which group to take out first when I saw a tow truck barrel across the median and pull into the lot, nearly ramming the lowrider as it screamed to a halt behind me. The passenger door opened, and Sofia stepped onto the running board.
“Hey, pendejos,” Sofia yelled. “Why don’t you go back to the holes you crawled out of? We found one of your dogs this morning, and we’ll be happy to give you the same beat down if you don’t leave right now.”
It was very hard, but I managed not to follow that up with “Badges? We don’t need no stinkin’ badges!”
Not that anyone would have heard me. Theo was pounding the horn in the truck pretty hard and Sofia was yelling out a rather impressive stream of curse words. I wasn’t quite sure what the tactic was until I noticed all of the people who had stopped to watch. Pedestrians, for sure, but I saw more than a few cars slow down for a look, and a few even pulled over. I spotted quite a few cell phones as well.
The gangbangers realized how much attention we were garnering as well. On any other day, they would have launched at attack, regardless of how many people were watching, but today was not an average day. The bikers were the first to leave, jumping the sidewalk instead of driving past the tow truck. The lowrider crawled from the lot after exchanging another round of choice words with Sofia. The straggler watched the others depart, then slunk down the street with at least six cameras trained on him. It was clear that as much as the gangs wanted to find Burke, they also didn’t want to draw any extra attention to their search.
When the audience realized that no major battle was about to erupt, they moved on with an air of disappointment. Theo moved the truck to the end of the parking lot where he could safely take two spots. He and Sofia walked back towards me, engaged in a fierce but quiet conversation.
“That was good timing,” I said as they stopped next to the Honda.
“Hector and I went by to check on our abuela last night because she’d been having a rough day,” Theo replied. “We found one of them sniffing around the house. We sent him on his way but Sofia said it might be tied to this case of yours so I decided to bring her to work today.”
“I’m glad you did,” I replied gratefully. “I had no idea how I was going to get out of that one.”
“These are some bad people you’re taking on, Vince,” Theo noted.
“I know,” I assured him. “But we’ve got some help now, someone who can dig around in Mexico and find Burke.”
“Will that be enough?” Theo asked. “
I mean, if he stole money, they’ll want a pound of flesh as well, and they won’t care who they take it from.”
“You know I won’t endanger Sofia,” I replied.
“You know I can take down any of those idiots,” Sofia added. “I dealt with much tougher characters in Iraq.”
“Yeah, but you left Iraq,” Theo pointed out. “These guys aren’t going anywhere, and unless you haven’t told me about your plan for moving to Florida, you’re stuck here with them. Some of these gangs, they got long memories when it comes to who did them wrong.”
“You’re right,” I admitted. “So maybe it’s time we had a talk.”
“With who?” Sofia asked.
“With Jabba, Aranda, and Perez,” I replied.
“That is such a bad idea,” Sofia declared even as Theo was nodding thoughtfully.
“You got to have something to offer them,” Theo warned.
“Again, this is a bad idea,” Sofia insisted. “If you make a deal with these guys, they’ll keep coming back looking for more. Just one more favor, one more bit of information. They’ll suck you in and you’ll never get out.”
“They aren’t going away no matter what we do,” I replied. “And if we’re going to have to deal with them, we’re going to do it on our terms.”
“He’s right,” Theo added. “It’s your best shot.”
“This is so bad,” Sofia reiterated.
“How do we set up a meeting?” I asked.
“Seriously?” Sofia protested.
“I can spread the word,” Theo replied with a shrug. “And it’ll keep Sofia out of this.”
“Please,” Sofia declared as she rolled her eyes. “The number of people you know would fit in a thimble.”
“Well, he does drive a tow truck,” I mused. “Seems to me he would know some of the people we need to talk to.”
Sofia let out a string of Spanish curse words.
“You two are going to owe me big for this,” she finally muttered.
“Just make sure that they don’t know it’s you asking,” Theo ordered.
“I work for him, Theo,” Sofia pointed out. “I think they’ll figure it out.”
Theo shuffled his feet, suddenly uncertain about our plan.
“We have to do this,” I insisted. “And Sofia is already a part of this.”
“Damn straight,” Sofia declared. “Well, about me being a part of this. I’m still not crazy about meeting with them.”
“Okay,” Theo huffed. “You work your contacts, I’ll work mine. Maybe we can set things up quick like.”
“That would be good,” I agreed.
“I’ll pick you up at five thirty,” he added as he pulled Sofia into a hug. “Benita’s expecting you at her school recital and then I can take you straight over to mom and dad’s.”
“I hope abuela has a better time tonight,” Sofia replied. “She barely slept at all last night.”
“Do you want to take the day off?” I suggested. Theo perked up and looked hopefully at his sister.
“No,” Sofia said quickly. “Marisol will be there today, and I’d rather not be there when she is.”
“She said she was sorry,” Theo asserted.
“Not to me she hasn’t,” Sofia insisted.
“Who’s Marisol and why does she have to apologize?” I asked.
“Our cousin,” Theo replied.
“Who stole my boyfriend,” Sofia added.
“In college,” Theo added when he saw my confusion.
“Oh, so not recently,” I noted.
“I’m not that old,” Sofia remarked. “College wasn’t that long ago.”
“Right,” I agreed. “Well, maybe we should get started if Theo’s collecting you soon.”
Theo embraced his sister one more time, and then Sofia and I started up the stairs. I watched Theo maneuver the tow truck out of the parking lot with practiced ease as we made our way along the walkway to the office. Sofia handed me her purse and her coffee and then unlocked the door. We both peered around the door, but everything appeared to be exactly as we left it. We both sighed in relief and stepped inside.
“I did pick up some information last night,” Sofia said as she reclaimed her coffee and purse.
“Not from the gangbanger?” I asked in surprise.
“Ha!” Sofia exclaimed. “He probably wished he had offered us information after the boys got done with him, but no. One of my friends who works in a real estate office specializing in international properties.”
“Ah,” I said as we both drifted into my office and took our accustomed seats. “So this is about the Burke’s property in Mexico.”
“It is,” she agreed. “My friend was able to track down both the condo and the house pretty easily. The house was in both their names. The condo was a different story.”
“Gloria said that Matthew insisted it be in her name,” I replied.
“That may be true,” Sofia said, “but he didn’t insist until a few months before he disappeared.”
“Wait, what?” I asked. “Gloria led me to believe that it was always in her name.”
“The original sale was to both,” Sofia replied. “The transfer to Gloria’s name only was made later.”
“Did she forget that?” I wondered. “Or did she assume it was always in her name?”
“They would have both signed,” Sofia pointed out. “It’s not like she wouldn’t realize what he was signing his name to.”
“So another strike against Gloria,” I mused.
“Maybe,” Sofia sighed, “although the condo’s original purchase wasn’t all that long before he disappeared anyway. Maybe in her mind it was always that way.”
“Maybe,” I agreed. “Still, the timing’s odd.”
“Everything in this case is odd,” Sofia noted. “Including the other interesting tidbit my friend dug up.”
“Do tell,” I insisted.
“My friend tracked down a lease for an apartment in one of those ex-pat gated communities,” Sofia replied with a smirk. “Guess who’s been paying the rent on this place for years?”
“Don’t tell me Matthew Burke?” I declared as I saw our case suddenly coming to an abrupt end with Matthew Burke alive and well and living in a community of Americans in some little town in Mexico.
“Almost as good,” Sofia said. “One of the investment portfolios Burke set up.”
“One of his investment portfolios,” I repeated as I considered the possibilities.
“It started about a year before he disappeared and payments were made up until a few months ago,” she added.
“It couldn’t be that easy,” I mused.
“Well, no,” Sofia replied. “I checked through the records I could find. The portfolio is based here in the U.S. and it’s still managed by Durango Investments.”
“So maybe Pickering has been helping Burke,” I suggested.
“Burke certainly found an out of the way spot to take up residence, if it is him,” Sofia agreed. “Just outside of Guaymas.”
“I’ll admit, I don’t recognize that name,” I said.
“Most people wouldn’t,” she responded. “It’s the major port in Sonora, mostly industrial shipping. San Carlos is nearby, which is where the tourists usually go.”
“But not Burke or whoever was using the apartment.”
“Right,” Sofia agreed.
“I think I need to call Pickering,” I said as Sofia stood up and flashed me a smile.
Pickering’s receptionist picked up before Sofia had made it all the way out of the office. I could hear her fingers tapping across the keyboard even as she was alerting me to the fact that I had reached the offices of Durango Investments.
“It’s Vincent Creed,” I said when she finally asked the reason for my call. “I’d like to ask Mr. Pickering a few questions. It shouldn’t take much time at all.”
“One moment, Mr. Creed,” the receptionist replied.
I listened to more classical music, something that might h
ave been Bach but I couldn’t swear to it.
“Mr. Creed,” Pickering declared when he finally picked up. “This is turning into a daily ritual.”
“My apologies, Mr. Pickering,” I said, “but questions just keep popping up.”
“Well, I hope you were able to find something useful in that information I sent,” Pickering replied.
“Yes, thank you,” I said. “Actually, the reason I’m calling has to do with some property in Mexico.”
“Oh?” Pickering harrumphed.
“There’s an apartment near Guaymas in Sonora,” I continued. “One of Matthew Burke’s portfolios has been paying rent on the place for quite some time.”
“Ah, yes,” Pickering harrumphed again. “The apartment. Well, I put an end to that once I found it.”
“Put an end to what?” I asked.
“Matthew set that one up,” Pickering replied. “An annual lease that renews automatically as long as the rent is paid. Matthew arranged for the bank to make the payment to the leasing office every month unless instructed otherwise. Even raises in the rental price were taken care of automatically.”
“So you didn’t know about the apartment,” I clarified.
“Good heavens, no,” Pickering asserted. “The rent payments were listed as a management expense. I wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but after the FBI asked to see some of the files, I had our accountant go through the books with a fine-tooth comb. He found this expense but he couldn’t determine its purpose. It took some digging, let me tell you.”
“So this portfolio has just been paying this management fee for all these years?” I asked skeptically.
“Most of those are just calculated automatically,” Pickering insisted. “And they rarely change. The accountants certainly never found anything odd about it.”
“So the portfolio still exists,” I pressed.
“Oh, yes,” Pickering replied. “One of our most successful.”
“Did you find any other strange fees?” I asked.
“No,” Pickering harrumphed. “That was the only one.”
“Did you ever get in contact with the rental agency to find out if anyone was staying there?” I demanded.
