Beware The Fury

by C. I. Lopez

  Mendoza was satisfied that even without all the victims, this had been the scene of a triple shooting, and possibly triple murder. He had to notify the National Guard regarding Captain Sosa and his wife. This was a serious crime, and a search for Tomas Chacon would be organized the likes of which had never been seen before. Mendoza needed to see the missing person’s report to verify that it was Tomas Chacon who’d filed it. He knew there would be hell to pay when a member of the police team or National Guard was murdered.

  Violeta found her voice and an opportunity for vengeance. “She did it. I saw her grab the gun from her husband and shoot all of them.” She stepped from the dark shadow of the house, screaming, “She shot the policeman! Yes, I saw it.” She looked at the astonished faces of the officers nearby. “I saw her shoot her own sister.” She nodded and smiled briefly. “She must have gone crazy.”

  Surprised at this bizarre and contradictory statement, Mendoza said, “Are you saying that Yasmin Samudio shot three people? One being her childhood sweetheart, another her sister, and also her brother-in-law. She did all this while Tomas Chacon and his guards stood by?” He stepped closer. “You did say there were two armed guards with Chacon, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. I saw Yasmin do it, I am the only witness, the only one who saw the whole thing. I was just coming to visit them when I saw her running out of the house, holding a gun with her husband running after her. She was covered in blood, and she was the one who shot Federico. Yes, Yasmin came running out of the house like a wild woman. I saw her shoot her brother-in-law through the windshield of his car before he had a chance to stop, and then she turned and shot the pregnant woman who was crossing the field.

  “Why do you think she did this?” Mendoza said, squinting after hearing the strange account.

  “Yasmin is crazy and dangerous. She went mad with jealousy when she found out I was Federico’s girlfriend. I saw her leaving willingly in the car with Mr. Chacon.”

  “This doesn’t make any sense, Violeta,” Mendoza said. He considered that there was no evidence of the housekeeper, so she either left the scene, or it was Violeta who’d called the ambulance. “Please get in the car. You’re coming to the precinct with us. I’m afraid you will have to tell the detectives and the National Guard everything you know.”

  *

  The medical technicians who’d attended the incident had hooked Federico up to an IV and administered oxygen when they’d first loaded him aboard the ambulance. They’d attached him to a cardiac monitor, which displayed lessening activity. By the time they reached the hospital, Federico had no blood pressure, pulse, or respiration. Four doctors administered cardiac massage to try to revive him, following the efforts by the paramedics, but he continued to slip from their grasp.

  They injected him with adrenaline and atropine in the hope they could stimulate the heart into pumping again. They tried shocking the heart. No response. In the meantime, X-rays showed that a bullet had entered through a lung and ricocheted, tearing an artery. Another bullet was in his abdomen. The perpetrator had intended to injure him and leave him to die a slow and painful death. Federico Montenegro, Bank President, and a good human being lapsed into a coma. Machines were now his vital organs.

  Don Carlos Piti returned to the village expecting to attend the somber funerals of his only goddaughter and her husband. Even with the bodies still missing, there was no doubt that they were killed before their abduction.

  Approaching the familiar bank where he had worked for thirty-two years, he noticed a large flower wreath with ribbons with good wishes for Federico on the front door. Inside, the place was filled with flowers sent by friends and customers alike who had befriended Federico during his time as president. The local newspaper did not camouflage the truth, that the young bank president was now merely a body strapped to the best technology the hospital could afford.

  Never again would his smiling face be seen welcoming clients into the bank.

  The flowers that covered the wall outside the bank were for Eva and Captain Santos Sosa. Don Carlos felt the sadness shared by the people in town at the loss of young people who had so much to live for.

  Inside, the bank was chaos without Federico, the loss having come without any notice. Don Carlos walked into his old office, where the papers were piling up on Federico’s desk. Without hesitation, he sat at his former chair and assumed responsibility. With his expert direction, the employees returned to their routine jobs quickly, although tears rolled down their faces.

  After a busy day at the bank, Don Carlos went home determined to talk with the police and his attorney. He wanted to find Tilly, the housekeeper, to learn what she had seen of the shootings. He was familiar with Tomas’ threats to Yasmin. He didn’t understand why the runaway wife had been accused of the murders.

  That evening, he called a meeting with his attorney and the police officers who first arrived at the crime scene to discuss the situation. In his mind, it was all evident that Tomas was a possessive, cruel, and abusive husband. He was looking for his wife for the sole purpose of killing her upon finding her.

  Stepping out of the meeting onto the street where there were people gathered, Don Carlos heard Cici and Mabel talking about a trial. He told them and the people who had congregated on the street around them that there would not be a trial. There was plenty of evidence to avoid charges against Yasmin.

  Cici and Mabel were both happy to tell Don Carlos they would be willing to testify about the jealous rages they witnessed from Violeta toward Yasmin. She was the one person who was indirectly responsible for Federico’s fate in her search for revenge. They assured Don Carlos that if Violeta were questioned, she would admit to her lies.

  Violeta was scared and angry at Yasmin, and a little crazy with jealousy, but she was also ridden with guilt, and the truth could be pried out of her. There was no evidence that Yasmin shot Federico, and no reason why she would do that when they were happier than either of them had ever been. Anyone who’d seen them could testify to that. And no one would believe Yasmin shot her own pregnant sister and her brother in law, let alone, Federico.

  The charges would be piled on Tomas Chacon, who had shot three human beings, without an ounce of remorse. Chacon was in real trouble; he’d just offered the National Guard of the country the perfect scenario to hunt him down and capture him.

  PART FOUR

  Chapter 4

  Temporary Situations

  In their rush to leave the crime scene, Chilo had roughly laid Yasmin in the back seat of Tomas’ sedan, where she coiled into a fetal position. She was unresponsive, shivering uncontrollably, and covered with Federico’s blood. Her screaming stopped, but she wasn’t responding to any stimulus, her face was pale, her breathing shallow. The girl was advancing into deep shock due to the trauma caused by witnessing the unnecessary killing of all the people she loved deeply.

  Tomas sat in the back seat with Yasmin, making sure she could never run away again. Of course, the idea of her interest in him suddenly awakening seemed unlikely. Instead of covering his shivering wife with his own coat, for lack of a blanket, he left her uncovered. This fed his lust by gazing at the beauty of her suffering.

  Hearing the sound of the ambulance in the distance heading in their direction, Tomas had ordered Oliver, his new driver, to “Step on it.” Oliver had quickly turned in the direction that led them to dirt roads seldom used, where they could disappear in the opposite direction of where the ambulance was approaching. It was a trail Tomas had spotted earlier. By winding around the peripheral of pasture, they entered the main highway joining heavy traffic, far away from the Montenegro Ranch.

  They were heading directly south on the busy road to Tomas’ compound because his men knew he was anxious to get his wife home.

  All Chilo could think about were the two bodies stiffening in the trunk.

  The afternoon rain started, reminding Tomas of the first time he brought Yasmin to the house with him and how innocent and beautiful she had seemed to hi
m. Now she had left him and ran back to her first boyfriend. From now on, she would have to prove her loyalty. These thoughts incited his sensual feelings for the traumatized woman who lay unresponsive in the back seat.

  Upon arrival at the house, they passed through the gate with no greetings, and the entrance was quickly locked behind them. Guards were already in position in case the police arrived.

  At the door to his house, Chacon entered first and was greeted as usual by Miss Belky, welcoming him home. He was followed by Chilo and Oliver carrying what looked like Yasmin’s corpse, covered in blood.

  “Is the Boss Lady dead?” Miss Belky asked the guards with her heart breaking, trying to keep the calm appearance expected of her.

  “No, Miss Belky, she’s not dead. We found her in the highlands with her old boyfriend, Federico, and he’s dead.”

  Miss Belky turned toward Yasmin, realizing the blood must be Federico’s.

  “She’s in shock,” Chilo said. “Show us to her room, where we can leave her under your care. The Boss Man wants her cleaned up and smelling nice. She’s been gone for a long time if you know what I mean.”

  Miss Belky shot them an insolent look at what they were implying and led them to the room. She pulled off the bedcover and laid towels on the bed before the men placed Yasmin on it.

  “Where’s Prince?” David asked as Miss Belky stepped out of the room to go get her supplies to clean up her Boss Lady.

  “Why?”

  “I have two bodies in the trunk that have been there for over three hours. They are all tangled together in the trunk, and rigor mortis is beginning to set in.”

  “Two bodies?” Miss Belky said. “Who are they?”

  “We left her boyfriend’s body in the house,” Chilo said. “The two bodies are her sister and the sister’s husband, who was an officer of the National Guard. We’re in for a retaliation.”

  “But why were they killed?”

  “They got in the boss’s way. Stop with your questions and call Prince, will ya?”

  “I’ll call him,” Miss Belky answered curtly, “I’ll tell him to bring the saw.” It was well known among the guards that Miss Belky was the only one who could always reach Prince.

  Barely able to imagine what her Boss Lady had been through, Miss Belky quickly shooed the men out. She called Prince with the message to contact Chilo for instructions for the clean-up of two dead bodies, already in rigor mortis.

  With tears filling her eyes, the lovely housekeeper took her scissors and cut away the bloody dress and all other clothes that Yasmin wore. She covered her naked body with warm towels. With a pail of warm water and a soft cloth, she began the job of cleaning the blood off the girl. The tears were streaking down her cheeks freely. She assiduously wiped off blood that probably belonged to Federico, all the time imagining the scene, the girl must have witnessed.

  Absentmindedly, Miss Belky chanted her mantra as a prayer deep into the night, allowing her own Haitian words to flow for Yasmin. She was probing gently at dreams and hopes and sorrows Yasmin had to sort out, label, and put away. The young maid stroked the Boss Lady’s forehead with her special herbs to help bring back her circulation.

  She knew Yasmin belonged in a hospital, but her Boss Man would never allow it. It meant that Miss Belky had to take extreme actions to save the young girl’s life. Bringing her special bag from her room, the young maid stayed in Yasmin’s room with the door locked.

  The particular branches that were sacred to Miss Belky were shaken over Yasmin’s clean body. It was in the hope that the magic of her chant, together with the sting of the mint branches, would bring the girl’s blood to the surface of her pale skin.

  The faithful maid went back to her room to find the more potent cures to rub on her Boss Lady’s body, her hair already brushed and scented with lilacs. Yasmin’s colorless skin reminded Miss Belky of the statues of the Saints she’d seen in the Catholic Church in her home in Haiti.

  The room was redolent with the aromas of herbs and flowers: basil, sage, lavender, and rose, which had been mixed together to rub on the girl’s body for their curative effect. Yet, Yasmin still showed no sign of coming out of her shock.

  Afraid for the girl’s life, Belky felt for Yasmin’s pulse, which was barely discernible. She laid towels previously soaked in boiling water and wrung out over Yasmin’s body, hoping the heat would bring the flow of blood to her skin, but still, she saw no results. Collecting all her paraphernalia into her bag, Miss Belky finally covered the girl with a warm blanket and allowed her to sleep. She remained, calling on the ancestral spirits.

  In the evening, when Tomas returned from his nightclub outing, he knocked on the door, demanding to see his wife. Belky had watched over the girl, hoping for a sign of life, and made sure she drank water, having already unlocked the door in preparation for Tomas’ nightly arrival.

  Pulling back the blanket covering Yasmin, Tomas took a long, admiring look at the girl’s perfect body lying in repose. Sending Miss Belky away, Tomas couldn’t help himself from feeling his wife’s body, receiving no response from her smooth cold flesh. It was even more exciting for him to explore his wife’s body at rest.

  “You should be dead for what you did,” he whispered as he enjoyed her soft perfumed flesh, “but, baby, I missed you too much. Once you awaken, I promise I won’t leave you alone anymore to be with those stinking whores.” He continued to enjoy the feel of her comatose body.

  *

  Immediately upon arrival at the compound, Prince was briefed by Chilo regarding the disposal of the two bodies in the trunk of one of Tomas’ sedans. Prince lowered the windows of the car and drove to a place he’d been to before, dotted with creeks, rivers, and waterfalls that flowed fast from the distant mountains.

  Prince passed a wooded road that led to a roaring river. It had been more than six hours since the corpses were thrown hurriedly into the trunk of the car. The unpleasant aroma was permeating the interior of the sedan. Making a U-turn, Prince returned to drive down the road. A quarter of a mile later, he stopped at a secluded area in the woods situated on a hill directly along the riverbank.

  From what he could see, the area looked deserted—a small clearing surrounded by trees. Looking around, he noticed a ramp that at one time must have been used to lower lumber into the river. By the looks of it, it had been abandoned many years before.

  Prince parked the Mercedes and after another look around, judged that the clearing was a half a mile from any main road and obscured from view by trees. Upon closer examination, he saw the ramp was steep and had been worn into ruts by vehicles using it as a portal. No doubt, it was a landing that served as a launching place for the timber industry years before.

  He noticed a line of old pilings rotting at the water’s edge, and assumed, the site had served as convenient entry to the river. He wondered how many men had stood on that same spot before him, over the centuries. A dozen or more feet from the water’s edge, the gravel gave way to gray sand that became a reddish mud as it reached the roaring river. Venturing out, Prince tested the firmness. The sand held, but the moment he tread on the mud, his boots sank. Pulling back, he kicked off what loose dirt he could, then looked again toward the water. Directly in front of him, the river flowed lazily, lapping gently in tiny wavelets against the shore.

  All too conscious of his reason for being there, Prince observed the place for a while longer. He turned purposefully, crossing the landing to a stand of trees at the base of the hill leading up from the water. The sand was soft, but it would hold. Opening the trunk of the car for the first time, Prince stepped back as he was struck full force for the first time with the stench of decomposing flesh. He sucked in mouthfuls of fresh air.

  Just as Chilo warned him, the guys had done a poor job of stashing the two bodies, a man and a woman. The woman had been pregnant and had expelled her dead, unformed fetus still attached to the placenta. Three innocent human beings killed at one time, he presumed.

  Looking into the
face of the dead woman, Prince thought he detected a certain resemblance to Yasmin, which made him wonder at the circumstances of this unusual kill. It wasn’t like Tomas to kill women, not out of mercy because his kills were usually related to unsavory men. The usually impassive Prince was struck by sadness at this situation.

  “This is the work of amateurs, or of a desperate man,” Prince muttered. He remembered the many professional jobs in which he’d been involved with his boss. Never anyone in the military, like the man in the trunk of the car, still wearing a military uniform, nor pregnant women. Prince was deeply disturbed by this. He had been working for Tomas Chacon for most of his adult life as his ‘cleaner’ in some of the bloodiest gang fights, but this wasn’t something he felt comfortable about.

  Something’s gone wrong with the boss since his wife left him, Prince thought. This murder went against everything Prince considered a ‘normal kill’ for the cartel. The methodical and experienced Prince had always been proud of doing an efficient job. The many bodies he’d buried for Tomas had never been traced back to the Boss Man. These were all wrong. He feared the boss had trouble with the cartel—big trouble. Chacon had lost his edge.

  Turning the bodies carefully to decide on the best method of extricating them from the car, he could see that Chilo must have been in a big hurry. He’d carelessly dumped them in the trunk. Had the law been close behind? He wore a face mask, but still had to step away occasionally, and took his time disentangling the corpses. They appeared to be embracing, as two lovers might if they were alive.

  Who were they? Prince wondered. Why were they killed in this way? Darkly romantic in a way. Prince avoided using the saw to separate bodies and these in particular. He felt a peculiar need for more care; compassion. The man’s arm wrapped loosely around the woman. His wife? Probably.

  Looking at the man’s hand, he noticed the wedding ring. Curious, he cut off the finger to get at it. Inside was the inscription of the wedding date, with the word, Forever.