by Gale Borger
J.J. held out his hand and said quietly, "Ted, hand over those warrants. Edie ttyed Texas, but has not received confirmation of the hits yet. Those warrants are no good until we do.
"Didn't it occur to you to verify the hit before running out here? And what would the Mexican Police be doing picking him up, and not a Texas Ranger? For God's sake, Ted, use your head."
Ted tried to peek around J.J. into the pit. "Come on, J.J. These warrants are signed and I am here to deliver them. Get out of my way now, you cannot ignore international law. We have to hold Montoya on these warrants until he is extradited to Texas, and then deported to Mexico."
"Out of your way? Out of your mind, you mean! Just slow down a minute. I am willing to have Montoya come back in for questioning, but I am not sending him back to Mexico when I think his boss might be the one who wants him dead. It may even be his boss who showed up to get him. Give me those papers and let me read them before we go off half-cocked."
J.J. reached for the papers. Ted snatched them out of his hand. "What do you actually know about this Montoya anyway, J.J.? I have personally spoken to Eduardo Martinez and assured him there will be no miscarriage of justice in White Bass Lake, Wisconsin. Are you willing to risk your job and your freedom for some little foreigner you don't even know? Well I'm not–"
J.J. grabbed Ted by the collar when he attempted to sneak past. "You sniveling, sawed-off cockroach! Who gave you the authority to assure anyone of anything? You might have just assured the death of Alejandro Montoya with your big man in charge impersonation!"
Oh, boy, I thought, J.J.'s really pissed now. He walked Ted backward, clenched his hands at his sides and glared at him.
J.J. said through clenched teeth, "Ted, for once get your head out of your ass and listen to me–this might be the most important decision of your career. I am the sheriff of this county and you," he poked Ted in the chest, "are a piss ant."
He kept walking Ted backward, poking him every step of the way. "You either hand me those papers right now or I will charge you with obstruction, disorderly, and anything else I can think of. By the time I get finished with you, you won't have enough backers to get elected Dog Shit Inspector!"
Ted's eyes bored into J.J.'s. His face turned dark red and his chins quivered in rage. He glanced around to see if anyone was taking up his side.
He suddenly seemed to become aware that the rest of us were all there, waiting for his answer–except, of course Mike and Bernie, who were in the process of winching the dead horse out of the pit.
Ted opened up his mouth to speak. I figured he couldn't get any more of his foot in it, so I shifted left so I could play 'Good Cop' to J.J.'s 'Mad Cop'.
A shred of color in the pit caught my eye. I blinked to make sure I was seeing correctly. As the horse cleared the pit, I could see she was not the only occupant down there. I sidled up to J.J. and elbowed him in the ribs. I used my pinkie to point into the pit. J.J. stiffened and grabbed my arm.
I cleared my throat loudly and made sure attention centered on me. "Gentlemen, I believe this entire argument may be moot, because if I am not mistaken, Alejandro Montoya is currently lying dead, there in the pit."
The crowd gasped as one. They all leaned forward to get a better look. I took a step back, hoping to slide out and get to the house before anyone recovered.
"Oh, no! He can't be dead!" All eyes turned when Ted yelled. He seemed to deflate in front of the crowd like a whoopee cushion under a fat lady's ass.
Bernie jumped out of the tow truck and walked back to check the winch. He stood scratching his head, looking into the pit. "Hey, ain't that the little Mexican fella what came into town the other day?"
J.J. stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. He steered him back toward the front of the truck. "Looks like it, Bernie. How about we get this horse out of here and I'll call the Coroner." Bernie nodded and finished the job.
I was almost to the barn door when J.J. came up beside me. He put an arm around my shoulders. I about jumped out of my skin. My first reaction was to shove him away before anyone noticed. I looked around and saw everyone was watching with avid interest. I tried to wiggle out from under his arm and thought what a stupid time it was for J.J. to be messing around.
His fingers dug into my bicep and he dragged me close. He put his lips on my ear and whispered urgently, "Hold still a minute and let them imagine. Smile like you like me." I showed my teeth. "Get to the house and hide Montoya. Somehow explain to your mother the importance of secrecy. We might have to ship her to Madagascar to keep her quiet. If so, I'll explain it to Bill. He'll understand, I'm sure. Now, I am going to pat your butt, so don't shoot me."
I opened my mouth to tell him I was already heading for the house before his macho playacting made us the center of attention. I scowled at him and J.J. smiled condescendingly. He turned me toward the open door, and I stage-whispered, "You'd better not slap my ass, cowboy!"
He whispered back, "Just go with me here." He gave my butt a pat, so I 'went with him' and gave the requisite, "Oooo!"
The crowd loved it. The air was so rife with gossip one could watch the town grapevine grow. The crowd clicked and snicked as cell phones were flipped open and speed dials were initiated.
I didn't have to hold my breath to turn pink. I was humiliated enough by the knowing ooos and ahhhs over J.J.'s behavior. I was going to have to kill him.
Someone was probably calling Jane at the damn bakery right now and ordering a wedding cake! Now every word and action between the two of us would be headline news. How the hell was I supposed to sneak peeks at his gorgeous Wrangler butt with half the town looking on?
I loudly announced I would contact Malcolm at the house and left through the barn. I passed Ted on my way through and felt him eyeball me all the way to the house.
I threw open the back door yelling "Mom," my mother called cheerfully from the family room, "¡Hola Senora Buzz!" I sighed and locked the door behind me. Mom must be badgering the heck out of Alejandro about Mexican traditions.
I closed my eyes for a moment and had visions of Mom stuffing Dad with burritos while she did the Hat Dance in the dining room. At least she wasn't harping on that damn cowboy snake lamp any more.
I found her and Alejandro ensconced on the sofa in the family room watching Geraldo Rivera. I said, "Mom, why on earth are you watching Geraldo? You never watch him."
Mom slid her glance toward Alejandro and back to me. "I just thought I would make Alejandro feel more at home."
"Mom, Geraldo is not going to make anyone feel more at home. Besides, Alejandro is an American. For that matter, so is Geraldo."
"What about his accent?" She turned to Alejandro. "Mexico, right?"
"No, ma'am. Phoenix."
"Oh." She clicked the remote and turned off the television.
I was glad the drapes were already drawn in case Constable Shit Head was doing recon on the house. I pulled a chair up to the sofa and took my mother's hands in mine.
"Mom, I know you share all the antics of our town with your friends, but I need your utmost discretion on a matter of great urgency. Are you with me?"
"Oh, Buzz, of course I'm with you. You act like this is a matter of life and death."
I squeezed her hands to make sure she understood the gravity of the situation. "Mother! It is life and death. Alejandro's life may be in danger. Now, do you get it that I am dead serious?"
Mom pulled her hands back, crossed her arms, and stuck her nose in the air. "Alice Christine Miller, don't you raise your voice to me. And how dare you speak to me as if I were a child! Of course I understand, and I will do anything I need to do to ensure nothing passes out of this room. Now talk."
I blinked, momentarily stunned. She hadn't called me Alice Christine since I was about eight. "I, uh, okay–sorry, Mom. To make a long story short, Alejandro's boss had someone issue official looking paperwork to make it appear that Alejandro is wanted for murder. Ted Puetz got his hands on the papers and came out here looking
for Alejandro to throw him in jail." Alejandro surged to his feet. Mom grabbed his shirt and sat him back down.
"Don't worry, kiddo–Buzz won't let them arrest you."
At my startled look Mom said, "That is why you're here, is it not? To hide this young man so the bad guys can't find him until this is straightened out?"
At my stunned and silent nod, Mom began bustling around the family room. She picked up the empty popcorn bowl and one of the soda cans, talking as she headed for the kitchen. "Of course you'll stay here, Alejandro. We have three empty bedrooms upstairs, so take your pick. There's a bathroom up there, and a television.
"All four girls were avid readers, so you won't be shy on entertainment. Just remember, we need to make it look like there are only two people living here: me and Bill."
I jumped to grab the teetering popcorn bowl. "Whoa Mom, I don't expect you to house him indefinitely; only until tonight, or maybe tomorrow. J.J. and I haven't thought this through yet, so we're all just flying by the seats of our pants at this point. Ted is suspicious, so be very careful around him. He might even sic his mother on you for information, so also be aware of that."
I turned to Alejandro. "And just for your information, I think the bad guys murdered Huerta and threw him in the pit with the dead horse–we told everyone it was you."
"Then Mr. Martinez will think I am dead and not send any more bad men after me."
"I hope he will want to come himself to make sure you are dead. By that time, perhaps we will have enough on him to make an arrest." Hah! I thought, wishful thinking. "I have to make some calls now, so settle in for a while."
I called Malcolm and told him we needed him out at Mom's. I called Mag and left a message to call me. I did the same with Ian. I told him that should they be back tonight, we would all rendezvous at my house.
I went back into the kitchen to brief Mom. "I have to get back out to the barn before Butts wonders why I was in here for so long. I'm putting Alejandro's life in your hands now, Mom. I'll call you later after we clean up the mess out at the barn."
I bent to kiss her and headed back out to the barn. In the pit, shovels and brooms had been used to brush away most of the dirt that covered the face-down broken and crushed body.
"No horse did that kind of damage," I said under my breath.
J.J. looked up from inside the pit. "No shit. Look at this."
He pointed to a hand. I saw all the fingers were bent back and pointed up the arm instead of down.
"Wow. I'll bet that hurt. Hey, is Ted still here?"
J.J. replied in a low voice, "Butts is gone, but I'd bet not for long. Is Malcolm on his way?" I nodded. "Good," he said. "I already took the pictures. I'm just finishing the initial audio." He held up the new mini recorder. He grinned and I winced. I never gave him back his old one. "Don't worry about it, Buzz. The fact that you still have mine gave me an excuse to buy a new one. Anyway, it's not like I don't know where you live."
He waggled his eyebrows at me. I hazarded a glance around me. I was astounded at how large the crowd had grown. I wondered if they were here to see the body, or to watch the J.J. and Buzzi show. I should have been embarrassed, but I could only thank God there wasn't a Jell-O mold in sight.
Malcolm took that moment to arrive and the interest of the crowd shifted toward him. Rosie the News Whore was barreling through the barn toward me, followed closely by Al. I could see Al was livid, and that gave me a tingle of satisfaction. So no one told poor Alexandra there was another chance to grab the limelight. Boo-hoo, Al. I pasted a giant smile on my face and went to face the dragons.
"Rosie! How good of you to come all the way out here." Rosie stopped dead. Al bumped into her from behind. She stood staring at me like I'd grown two more sets of eyes. I inwardly smiled. This was going to be sooo easy!
I met her at the barn door and grabbed her limp hand. Shaking it hard, I said amiably, "I cannot believe there is another incident out here. I can take you through it and give a statement for the press. J.J. is pretty busy with Malcolm Evans down there in the pit, but if you want to step over here, I'll be able to answer your questions. Go ahead and get your visual set up."
Both Rosie and Al were still staring at me with their mouths hanging open. I signaled the camera man to go about what he did best, and the flurry of activity seemed to snap Rosie and Al out of their stupors.
Al narrowed her eyes at me and said, "All right. Who are you and where is my obnoxious sister?"
I laughed out loud. "I am here to serve, my dear." I made an elaborate bow and I heard chuckles from the crowd.
Al tried for snide. "Don't give me that crap, Buzz. Even when you were still 'serving' you didn't serve. You hate talking to the press. What gives? Why now?"
Rosie stuck out an arm and shoved past Al, knocking her sideways and almost into the pit. "Oh, shut up, Alexandra. Who cares?" Rosie tucked my arm in her hands and led me off to the side.
My skin crawled as her two-inch lacquered nails bit into my arm. "Okay, Buzz, let's move away from the crowd noise where just us girls can talk."
I swallowed bile and said sweetly, "Good idea Rosie." I watched her flip on her recorder and I began to weave my tale…
26
The limo slid to a stop on Rush Street in Chicago. Eduardo Martinez stepped out of the car and walked through the front doors of the hotel, arrogance dripping from his expression. No one would know he arrived early, he thought. The incident with the horse made him angry all over again. The approximately 30 million dollars it had cost him in the last three days, between the two horses and what Huerta stole, did not concern him any longer. Huerta was one liability taken care of.
Martinez looked around the reception area of the Conrad Hilton Hotel. The opulence of the grand old lady suited his tastes perfectly, as did the little bunny Gutierrez picked up in the airport bar. She certainly was ready enough to jump into the limousine, he sneered silently. Probably expected a fat tip. He calmly brushed a piece of lint from his sleeve, pulled at his cuffs, and allowed himself a small smile. He gave her a tip all right–he told her she should not get into cars with strangers, right before he broke her neck. My God! The ultimate high was the absolute power over life and death.
He thought about the look in her eyes at the moment she knew she was about to die and he could feel himself get hard all over again. He fought for control as he envisioned her crumpled body dumped on Lower Wacker Drive.
He glanced at Gutierrez, the bodyguard he took with him on most business trips. He had sent Gutierrez ahead three days before. He had picked up Martinez at O'Hare before they drove to White Bass Lake. It was unfortunate about the horse. It was more unfortunate about Carole Graff. She would need to be replaced. Damn the woman's nosiness!
Martinez rolled his shoulders to shake off the inconveniences he had suffered of late. He looked around for his bodyguard and saw Gutierrez was, at the moment, playing valet and lugging the suitcase and garment bag through the door. He stopped and gave Martinez a barely noticeable sneer. Martinez stiffened. Very well, if that is how it was going to be…Lake Michigan is a very large body of water, and three bodies can disappear as easily as two.
He ignored the big man and continued toward the reception desk, already planning the task of finding a replacement bodyguard.
Planning was everything, and he had this trip planned down to the wire. The reception in his honor was in the morning, with brunch beginning at 9:30. The presentation was to be at 10:00, and he could slip out by 11:00 or so. A short drive out to Midway Airport and a quick flight over the state border would take less than an hour. He would be in White Bass Lake by two o'clock. He could have driven, but he wanted the plane for transport, not transportation.
He checked in at the desk, automatically answering the tiresome clerk. Yes, Mr. Martinez would take his regular suite. No, Mr. Martinez would not be attending the cocktail party of the National Latino Businessman's Association this evening. Yes, he was attending their brunch tomorrow morning. No, he did
not require a courtesy wake-up, and yes, Mr. Martinez would be dining in his suite this evening; could he have a rare steak and a Caesar salad sent up please? Thank you.
Up in his suite, he stashed his near-empty suitcase and looked on as his clothes were hung by the valet. When he was alone, he pulled the refrigerator away from the wall. He opened the back panel and removed the 9mm gun, taped to the inside. He opened the freezer and removed the three clips, which were stashed in the icemaker.
The stage was set; the players were ready to take their places. Come this time tomorrow, he would be heading back to Mexico–alone. He would pick up Montoya, take care of him, and then after take-off, take care of Gutierrez. They could 'sleep with the fishes' at the bottom of Lake Michigan, as they said in American movies.
Room Service brought his meal. He dined, with exquisite pleasure, on American beef. He always ordered steak when he was in Chicago. What did they do to their steers up here? Midwestern beef was like no other in the world, and though he had imported an American Angus bull to breed to his cows, the beef was still not quite the same.
His evening passed quietly. He prepared himself mentally for the coming day. Like a matador preparing for a fight, he focused on the entrance, the attack, and the kill as they floated through his mind in slow motion. Meditation brought clarity to the plan. He could look upon each individual event and plan his actions for any eventuality. He slept soundly and woke early.
The day was breaking to a misty dawn as Martinez donned a robe and ordered breakfast. He dined on steak and eggs while he read the local newspaper. He eventually got dressed, calmly packed his belongings, called Gutierrez to retrieve the bags, and gave himself one final going-over in the mirror.
Unless one looked very closely, one could not see the bulge of the shoulder holster under his suit coat.
The reception went as planned, other than the President of the National Latino Businessmen's Association being a little long-winded. At 11:10 he tossed his 'Man of the Year' plaque into the back seat of the limo and climbed in next to Gutierrez. He rehearsed Gutierrez's role with him on the way to the airport. They found the terminal with no problem. They were in the air within twenty minutes.
