The Knife Before Christmas

by Jamie Lee Scott

“You can, but it won’t do any good. I have an appointment to speak with Hector at the jail this afternoon. I was hoping you’d accompany me. Meet him. Hear his story. Better to come directly from him than from me.” Guillermo’s voice should have sounded like he was pleading at this point, but he sounded as if he had no doubt I’d eventually acquiesce.

  Now Mimi was pacing the floor and waving her arms. She’d left her coffee cup on the desk. She was shaking her head so hard I thought something might come loose.

  “What time?” I asked.

  Mimi stopped dead. “What?” She forgot to whisper.

  “Who is that?” Guillermo asked, his voice raised an octave.

  “Guillermo Ibara, meet my business partner, Mimi Capurro,” I said.

  “Capurro? Huh. That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. But it’s also the reason I chose your company. You’ve obviously worked with, uh, business people,” Guillermo said.

  By business people, he meant Italian mafia types. And even though Mimi’s dead husband, Dominic Capurro, was connected, Mimi wasn’t. She hadn’t even known her husband was part of “The Family.” To be honest, she knew a little something about the family, but being in love, she decided to play dumb. And nothing in Dominic’s history connected him to his family’s business. Not that we’d looked that close.

  “What time?” I asked again.

  I’d have to look him up and do a thorough background check. Not many people say the Capurro name the way he just did: with reverence, awe, and a bit of a chill.

  “My appointment is at three this afternoon. But I’ll have to call ahead to let them know I’ll have company and get it cleared. If you could meet me there at half past two, we could get the arrangements handled.”

  I looked at Mimi. “Half past two it is. And how will we recognize you?”

  “I’ll be the tall thin man in a well-fitting plum-colored suit. Depending on the weather, I may be wearing a black trench coat. But I’ll definitely be carrying a tan calf leather briefcase.”

  The man thought he was dapper. I’d show him dapper all right. Who was I kidding? I didn’t need to impress this gangland lawyer. I didn’t care what he thought of me. It only mattered what I thought of him.

  “I’ll be bringing my partner with me,” I added.

  “Charles Parks and Mimi Capurro, two-thirty at the county jail. I look forward to it.” Guillermo hung up the phone, but not before I heard him say, “I knew she was that Capurro.”

  I wasn’t sure why he thought he knew because neither of us confirmed it.

  I was pretty sure Mimi’s face was several shades paler than when I’d last looked at her.

  Three

  MIMI

  What the hell was Charles thinking? Taking a known gang member as a client? I took a sip of my coffee, but barely tasted it.

  We currently had a great relationship with the police and sheriff’s departments in the county. This wasn’t going to sit well with them.

  When Charles hung up, I said, “What are you thinking?”

  He leaned back in my chair, getting comfy, like it was his office. He picked up his coffee cup and took a long sip. “I’m thinking saying no may be worse than saying yes.”

  I plopped down on the chair in front of my desk, managing to spill coffee all down the front of me in the process. This was another reason I always wore black. I grabbed a handful of tissues from the container on my desk and blotted myself. “Damn it.”

  “How is saying no worse?” I didn’t get his reasoning.

  Charles leaned forward and placed his cup on my desk, wrapping both hands around it, and resting his forearms. “Have you ever said no to the Norteño before?”

  “I thought you said Sureno. Norteño?” I wasn’t even sure I’d heard of it.

  “I was corrected. Have you been living under a rock? Norteño is part of the Nuestra Familia,” Charles said. “The blue guys. Sureno are the red guys, so no wearing red to our meeting today.”

  “I don’t wear red,” I said.

  “But it’s Christmastime,” he said and raised his leg, pulling up his pants. He wore red socks with a snowman pattern. “I’ll change them before we leave for the meeting.”

  I rolled my eyes and slowly nodded my head. “I still don’t know why you agreed to meet this guy. We don’t exactly need the extra money.”

  I could see Charles grip his coffee cup tighter and his knuckles whiten. “Never, and I do mean never, turn money away.”

  “This is drug money,” I argued. “We don’t need that.”

  Charles removed his hands from his cup and placed them flat on my desk with his fingers splayed. Oh, no, this meant a lecture was coming.

  “Capurro ring a bell with you?” he said with his head cocked to the side.

  I sat silent, staring at him.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You were married to the mafia, girly, so don’t go getting all high and mighty.”

  “That’s different,” I said. And in my mind, it was. I had nothing to do with Dominic’s family business.

  “How is it different? Who do you think bought this Victorian house that you now use for your business?”

  He waited, but I didn’t answer.

  “That’s right sister, mafia money.”

  “Good grief, it seems we’ve been connected to organized crime a lot lately. I miss the good old days of cheating spouses and people ripping off their insurance companies and employers.” That came out wrong.

  “We still do that, too, a lot of it. Let’s just be open minded and consider it. After we talk to Hector Varga, we can make a more informed decision. Deal?”

  Reluctantly, I nodded. “I’ve never actually talked to a gang member up close and personal. It’s usually the sort of thing I avoid. I also avoid going to East Salinas if at all possible.”

  “Sounds kind of racist to me,” Charles stood to walk out of my office, then turned back to grab his coffee cup.

  I jumped up and followed him. “Hey, that’s not fair. I don’t specifically dislike Mexicans. I just try to avoid gang territory. Cortnie’s married to a Mexican, remember? And we love Gabe.”

  That sounded so weak. In reality, I never really thought about the nationalities of the people I lived around. Salinas had always been a melting pot. All through school, I never considered the color of a person’s skin. It wasn’t until I’d moved back to Salinas, and the gang violence had grown, that I noticed.

  I remembered, in college, the people from SoCal hated the Vietnamese population in their cities, and I didn’t understand that. I’d never hated anyone for their nationality. When they explained the difference in culture and how they’d open a container of cottage cheese, sample it with their fingers, then put it back, I sort of got it. Dislike for the cultural difference but not hatred of people. They downright hated them. To this day, I didn’t understand it. But I remembered that conversation with the guy in college like it was yesterday.

  I could say, without equivocation, that I hated gang violence and what it was doing to our city. But I didn’t know the people personally, so I couldn’t hate them. If I was being honest with myself, I was afraid of them.

  Charles opened the refrigerator and bent down to get a good look inside. “Speak for yourself on Gabe. I think he’s a pain in the ass.”

  “Liar,” I said.

  Charles laughed, then sobered up and said, “Avoiding gang territory is getting more and more difficult these days. But at least the bad guys stand out like a sore thumb. Literally, they are red.” Charles laughed at his dorky humor.

  “I thought you said Norteño are the guys in blue.” I stood next to Charles, peering over his shoulder. “What are you looking for?”

  “Nothing in particular. I’m just avoiding you.” He shrugged me off. “That’s right, they are the blue guys. I’ll have to make sure I don’t get mixed up and piss someone off.”

  I punched him in the shoulder, then walked over and warmed my coffee with more coffee. I think I was on my fif
th cup of the morning, if I counted my travel mug as two. “I have a lot to get done today, so I’ll be in my office.”

  Charles closed the fridge door. “I’ll be working with you.” He added more coffee to his cup and trailed behind me to my office.

  I looked back at him and scowled. “Ewwww, no. Go away. Don’t you have an office of your own?”

  “I’m having it painted today. They covered everything with plastic last night.” He pushed in front of me and sat in my chair again.

  “On a Sunday?” I asked.

  “They love me, what can I say?”

  “Why can’t they paint after hours?” I stood next to my chair, enjoying towering over him. I was never taller than anyone, except maybe Cortnie, who was five-four.

  Charles ran his fingers through his blond locks as he reached for the phone. “That’s fine. I’ll call them and cancel the appointment for today. I’ll have them come whenever they have an opening that fits your schedule. And I’ll just be working from here until then.”

  Ugh, he had me there. I leaned across and pulled his hand from the phone. “Don’t you dare.”

  He looked at me with a sparkle in his blue eyes, his face within inches of mine. He had an expression I couldn’t quite read. “You might want to pop a mint or some gum when you finish that coffee.”

  I jumped back, embarrassed at having bad breath. But I’d been drinking coffee, so I had an excuse. When Charles wasn’t looking, I’d check in my purse or desk for a mint. I hated chewing gum.

  “Thanks for the advice,” I said, not knowing exactly what to do with myself since he was in my chair. “I do need to get a lot done today. I have spreadsheets and reports that need to be finished.”

  He stood. “That’s fine. I’ll set up in the kitchen. Closer to the food and coffee that way. And I’m thinking of having lunch delivered, so I won’t have to leave my new office.”

  There was a knock at the door, and Uta opened it before I could respond. “The painters are here. Should I send them back?”

  Why didn’t she use the intercom we had? I looked at Charles.

  “Send them back. I’ll be there in a minute,” he said.

  I hit the enter button on my computer to bring it back to life. As it was rumbling, I looked outside to see the rain coming down again. This was good. California needed rain. But it always seemed like feast or famine with the weather in this state—drought, or mudslides and flooding. I’m pretty sure Mother Nature didn’t like liberal states. I laughed. Mother Nature didn’t seem to like anyone.

  Father Time wasn’t much better. No one got out alive.

  Speaking of getting out alive, I postponed my real workload to do some research on the gangs in Salinas.

  Why I hadn’t done this before was beyond me. I’d lived here forever. I knew more about the vegetables produced in this town than the people. But, as my momma always said, “Birds of a feather flock together.” And she was so right. We tended to associate with people in our area of work, our income level, and personal interests. Even though I had an interest in guns, as did the gangs, I had no interest in drive-by shootings.

  After thirty minutes of online research, I made the mistake of going on YouTube. That place was a bigger rabbit hole than Pinterest. I’d seen enough about Salinas and California gang violence, and I was about to shut down the video site when I saw something familiar. I shook the urge to open yet another video and closed my browser.

  That hour was enough for me to consider closing up shop and moving to the Midwest—some small town where the worst thing that happened was a drop in corn futures. Then again, I couldn’t take this house with me, so I was stuck here.

  And there was something else that kept me here. It was Lola’s home, and I couldn’t give up the house. Not my personal house; I’d already sold that and was living in sin with Nick. I couldn’t give up this house, the one that had belonged to Dominic and his produce brokerage. It was my only connection to him. Though with his family, scary as they were, you’d think I’d want to be rid of it and cut all ties. That’s the problem with no closure; I was always wondering; will he show up again someday?

  I was right back to thinking about Lola and Dominic. Was it fair to Nick that I still needed the connection to my past? It wasn’t something I had discussed with him. I was afraid if he knew how I felt, it would kill him, and he’d leave me. That was something I absolutely could not handle. Even though I loved my dog and my dead husband, I loved Nick to the end of the earth. Maybe we needed a night out to discuss my past, the one I couldn’t let go of. It was a subject we skirted. Maybe it was time to open up old wounds in order to let them heal. Heck, we never got a night in, much less a night out.

  Four

  MIMI

  The morning flew by with Lola snoring loudly in the corner of my office. At lunch, she stood next to my chair, forgetting how to swallow, staring at me like she was starved. Drool hung off her lips and dripped to the floor. When I was done eating, I gave her the last bite of my burrito and used my napkin to wipe up the drool on the floor. Then I got up, grabbed a spray bottle of sanitizer, and cleaned the spot again.

  Lola followed me as I moved around the kitchen. Apparently, the one bite and a full bowl of dry dog food wasn’t enough for her. She quickly lost interest when I poured a fresh cup of coffee and put my mug down near her face. She didn’t even bother to sniff; she knew what it was. Lola hated coffee. She walked down the hall as I headed back to my office to finish up my last report and enjoy my afternoon coffee.

  “You about ready?” Charles had his hand on the door frame as he leaned into my office.

  I looked at my watch. Yes, even though my cell phone was always with me, I still wore a watch. I tried to keep up with technology, but I was still living in the Stone Age.

  “Dang, this day is flying by,” I said and gathered up my jacket and purse.

  Charles drove one of the newer cars in our fleet, a 2000 Jeep Cherokee, while Lola stood in the back, and I sat shotgun. We made a point of keeping the back seat pulled down so Lola could easily stand and look out all the windows. She preferred to stand, not sit, in the car, even though her balance wasn’t as good in her old age. Her legs were splayed like a newborn foal.

  The hot weather had finally subsided, and she was allowed to ride in the car again. It was a balmy fifty degrees, and she could stay in the car with the windows cracked without fear of overheating. I just hoped it didn’t start pouring rain again, getting the interior of the Jeep wet. That musty smell was hard to get out.

  I felt better having her in the car when we finally parked at the Monterey County Jail in North Salinas. Something about her presence made me feel safer. Not like anything was going to happen in the county jail parking lot, but you never know. Criminals these days were not only stupid, they were brazen.

  As Charles drove into the nearly full parking lot, I noticed the dull tan color of the building matched the dry, dead grass of the landscaping. Several trees dotted the property near the entrance, and a large cement slab with the name of the jail engraved on it let us know we were in the right place. The American and California flags blew in the light wind, and I wrapped my sweater tighter around me. A handful of inmates, in orange and white striped coveralls, worked on the far side of the main building.

  “Can’t miss where they’re from,” I said.

  “What gave it away? The large black letters on their backs?” Charles said.

  “Yep,” I pretended not to hear the sarcasm. “The ones that read ‘Property of Monterey County Jail’.”

  I could see him roll his eyes.

  “Hey, isn’t this near the neighborhood with all the Christmas lights?” I asked.

  There was a neighborhood in North Salinas where blocks and blocks of homes had beautiful lights and decorations: colorful, fun, and overflowing with holiday gaudiness. It had been a long time since I’d been out that way to see the lights, and there were probably new homeowners there now who didn’t have the same Christmas spirit.<
br />
  Charles shrugged. “Wouldn’t know. Not my thing.”

  “I know that’s not true. When you and Anthony were together, you were all excited to drive through the neighborhood.”

  Charles opened his door and got out. “Like I said, not my thing.”

  Anthony was Charles’s ex, and it didn’t end well. Then the end became permanent, as Anthony was no longer with us. I guess bringing it up wasn’t such a good idea. Charles waited for me to get out, then locked the car from his key fob. He didn’t say another word until we were on the sidewalk in front of the jail.

  “Would you look at that? We have ourselves a dandy. Do you think the gangbangers he works for know he’s gay?” he said.

  Looking, I almost stopped walking. This was too good to be true. It’s not often Charles was the second best dressed person in the room. Or the area, since we weren’t in a room. The tall, thin Hispanic man stood by the concrete sign for the jail at the front entrance. He wore a plum-colored suit that was obviously tailored. The beige shirt and purple tie with ivory polka dots were easily visible, even from the distance of what I’d guessed to be twenty-five feet.

  “No, really? You think he’s gay? You don’t even know him,” I said.

  “Oh honey, my gaydar is rarely wrong. Bet he hides it well, though, or he wouldn’t have his cushy job.”

  “Not every man who dresses like a dandy is gay,” I said. “Look at Nick.”

  Charles and Nick had become shopping buddies, and Nick absorbed fashion tips from him like a sponge.

  “Nick isn’t in the dandy category just yet,” he said.

  As we approached, I saw he wore polished wingtips in a dark color that wasn’t black, but very close, maybe a dark plum color. His briefcase was a soft calf leather that made me want to reach out and rub my hand across it. He looked exactly as he said he’d look.

  What he didn’t mention were his rosy cheeks on coffee colored skin and huge doe eyes. I bet he turned a few heads. Too young for me, but still…