Katsumi didn’t reply. She was basking in the warmth of being loved by one who loved so very few. “I don’t know what to say, Sir,” she said when she finally spoke again.
“You take care of the place for me until LJ gets back, and we’ll call it even.”
Katsumi laughed, “As you wish, Sir, and with pleasure!”
*****
Lazarus and the ladies arrived at the I-Hop in Portland about the time Enrique was arriving in Panama City. They ate well. After dinner, Lazarus took them to Academy Sporting Goods for some shopping. They didn’t hold back. Rebecca got two new pairs of Asics, and Angelique picked out sandals and a pair of Nikes’. From there, it was off to the clothing where they both scored two shirts, two pairs of shorts and a new swim suit each.
Lazarus was enjoying himself. He’d never done anything like this before. He was finding the uncharted waters far more satisfying than anticipated. Lazarus even got into the spirit of things, grabbing two Columbia PFG shirts and three pairs of shorts. He didn’t need them, but he decided to treat himself while treating them. On the way to the check-out, he grabbed three Yeti tumblers and an ice chest just for the hell of it. By the time they finished shopping, he was out well over a grand, and worth every penny.
They arrived back in Rockport a little after 7:00, stopping at McDonalds for burgers. It had been almost 4 hours since they left I-Hop. “Shopping is hard work,” said Rebecca, who had broached the idea. “You burn up a lot of calories spending someone else’s money, you know.” Her dead-pan look was priceless. It got her a Big-Mac, fries and a shake for her effort. Lazarus got two extra cheeseburgers for the dogs, much to Angelique’s satisfaction.
They packed up what few things they had at Cayman and headed back to Barbados in Rebecca’s Patriot. But not before Lazarus pulled Angelique into the shower for one more round. As she finished, he whispered in her ear, “One week my ass, little lady…” which earned him a smack on the butt and a very satisfied grin.
Lazarus watched them leave from the front yard, knowing they would be safe for the night. He had seen to that by his arrangement with Torano. In fact, he knew they would never be bothered by him or his cartel again after tomorrow. It put a smile on his face which wouldn’t make you all warm and fuzzy if you saw it.
He went back in and whistled for Langston. “Come on, buddy,” said Lazarus, “I need to walk off about 6 pancakes and a quarter-pounder.”
Langston didn’t care about his master’s motivation. The dog just wanted to get out of the house. He even fetched the leash. “Good boy, Herr Langston,” said Lazarus as he clipped it on. “Apparently you’re ready for that walk, too.” He grabbed a Park Avenue 44 Churchill and headed out the door to catch the sunset over Little Bay.
Chapter Forty-Five
Garza’s flight out of Panama City was delayed. There was a mechanical issue with the Boeing 747. The captain came out to assure the travelers it wasn’t a safety issue. He said, “One of the instrument panel lights has gone out and we need to replace it before take-off. The wait time should be no more than 30 minutes.”
Garza looked at his watch, thinking the longer he sat in Panama City, the greater the chance he might miss the driver in Buenos Aires. Then he almost slapped himself in the forehead, for what the younger kids at the bank called, a “DUH” moment. The driver wouldn’t be going anywhere without him. He was being paid by the Chameleon to get him to his new home. Garza couldn’t imagine anyone that worked for a man like that leaving because a flight was late. He calmed down and ordered a drink from Gloria, one of the flight attendants working first class: a very curvy black girl with a great smile and in his opinion, an ass to go with it. That was one thing that Angelique lacked, as far as he was concerned. She was beautiful, but trim and athletic. Garza liked his women a little rounder, like his long-time girlfriend in Corpus. She wasn’t nearly as good looking, but she had big tits and a nice round ass. He never considered how odd that was, given his perverse attraction to young men. Garza wanted his boys lean, the younger the better. He was going to miss that, at least until he found the right connections in Argentina to hook him up. Garza had no doubt that he would find them. There would always be that dark underbelly, ready to feed the sickest of mankind.
Garza was startled from his reverie when Gloria tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me, Mr. Hernandez, we’re preparing to pull away from the gate and I need to collect your drink until we are airborne.”
Enrique looked her in the eye and said, “That won’t be a problem.” He drained the drink in two gulps before handing her the empty glass with a wink. “I’d like another once we are in the air.”
“Of course, sir,” replied Gloria. “I’ll have one for you as soon as the Captain gives us the okay.” She smiled and went down the row, collecting drinks from other passengers. Fifteen minutes later they were over the Atlantic, banking south towards Argentina and his new life.
*****
The flight time was scheduled at nine hours and twenty minutes. The pilot caught a good tailwind coming over Brazil, and they made up all but ten minutes of the delay by the time they reached Buenos Aires.
It took Garza only five minutes to clear customs, once again to his amazement. He was walking towards the baggage claim when he spotted a young man holding a sign for “E. Hernandez.” He walked up to the driver and said in Spanish, “I am Eduardo Hernandez.”
“Good evening, Senor Hernandez,” LJ replied, in perfect Spanish. “My name is Juan Cordova. I will accompany you to retrieve your luggage and take them to the limo.”
Enrique guessed Juan wasn’t from Argentina. He appeared to be half-black, and his accent reminded him of Cuba more than anything. “I appreciate that, young man,” said Garza. LJ fell into step, just behind Garza and to his right.
Garza noticed the young man appeared to be in very good shape. He assumed, as one of the Chameleon’s men, Juan would be able to provide protection, if the need arose. He was impressed with the thoroughness of the Chameleon’s operation. Everything was exactly as he had been told to expect. Garza’s level of confidence that he was truly home-free, so to speak, grew with every step he took. Once they were in the limo and heading out of the city, he leaned back and dozed off, confident he was beyond the reach of his brother and Los Zapatos.
It was a 45-minute drive to the house. Enrique slept most of the way. When LJ spoke his name the second time, Garza realized he was talking to him. It startled him a bit that he didn’t react the first time to ‘Hernandez’. He was going to have to work on that. He couldn’t afford any suspicion it wasn’t his real name. Garza was fairly certain the driver knew his real name, but it made the point. “I’m sorry, Juan,” Garza said sleepily as he stretched. “You are such a good driver I fell asleep.”
“Thank you, Senor,” said LJ. “We are at your new home. I will get your luggage and bring it in.” He left the door open and went around, getting the bags from the trunk.
Garza began to sing softly, “Five-One-Five-OH, somebody call the po-po,” as he spotted the lockbox hanging off the door knob. He punched in the numbers and the box opened, revealing two keys. Garza unlocked the door, turning on a light with the switch he found on the right side as he entered. LJ was right behind him with the bags, setting them on the floor by the door.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Senor Hernandez?” LJ asked.
“No, Juan. That will be all,” Garza replied, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. He pulled out two hundred in American dollars and handed the bills to LJ. “I don’t have any Argentinean money. I hope the American money will be okay.”
“It will do quite well, Senor,” Said LJ. “American dollars are worth about two to one here in Argentina.” He tipped his hat politely to Garza, closing the door behind him.
Enrique went about exploring the house. It wasn’t particularly big, around 1200 square feet. What it lacked in size it made up for in appearance. Everything in the house seemed brand new. He got quite the surprise when h
e turned on a light in the kitchen. There on the counter was a set of car keys and a note, “Good luck, Eduardo,” and it was signed “Cooper”. Garza went into the garage and found a silver BMW 535i sitting there. “Damn, Cooper,” he said aloud with a huge grin. “That’s one hell of a present!”
He wandered back in to find the refrigerator well stocked, as was the liquor cabinet. There were two bottles of Patron nestled between bottles of Crown Royal and Chivas - Garza’s three favorites. On the lower shelf were bottles of Jack Daniels, Courvoisier, Amaretto, Baileys, and Grey Goose. He was thoroughly impressed with the Chameleon’s generosity, in light of the trouble he’d caused. “A true professional,” he thought to himself as he poured three fingers of Patron. “To the Chameleon,” Garza toasted loudly, draining the glass in two swallows. He poured another one immediately.
The trap closed and he never felt a thing.
Chapter Forty-Six
Angelique began calling Eduardo’s cell at 10:30 on Friday night. She called again just after midnight, giving it a third call at 8:30 Saturday morning. She made and one last attempt at 10:15. She felt she’d made enough calls and dialed the non-emergency number of the Corpus Christi police department. She had considered 911 but thought this would be better.
A female officer answered, “Corpus Christi police department, non-emergency contact. If this is an actual emergency, please hang up and dial 911. My name is Officer Sanchez, how may I help you?”
Angelique took a deep breath and began to speak. She was nervous which made the call more realistic. “My name is Angelique Garza, and I live in Rockport.”
“How may we assist you, Ms. Garza?”
“It’s about my husband, Enrique. I was going to call 911, but I’m not sure this really is an emergency.”
“Tell me what your concern is, and we can go from there,” said Officer Sanchez.
“Enrique didn’t come home last night, and I was expecting him. We own a condo in Corpus, and he stayed there Wednesday and Thursday. He works at Gulf Coast Bank and Trust; he’s the president, actually. Anyway, he said he’d be home last night for sure, because we had plans to go to Austin today.” Angelique took another deep breath as the story started to take shape. “When he wasn’t home by 10:00, I tried calling him a couple of times and didn’t get an answer. I called twice this morning and still nothing. That’s not like him. Enrique might have gotten hung up on business or something, but he always lets me know. If he’d decided to stay in Corpus last night, he would have called. I don’t want to sound like a worry-wart, but it really isn’t like him to do this.”
Officer Sanchez had been making notes. “Okay, what’s your husband’s full name?”
“Enrique Fernando Garza, he’s 62.”
“Okay, the address of the condo?” asked Officer Sanchez.
“It’s 1800 Ocean Drive, #1. He drives a black Mercedes SUV. Do you need the license plate number?” replied Angelique.
“That would be helpful if you have it,” said Officer Sanchez.
“Just a minute and I’ll get it,” said Angelique. She returned to the phone about a minute later. “It’s a Texas plate. The number is CLR-2032. Are you going to send someone to check on him? I know it might be nothing, but I’m getting pretty worried.”
“Yes, Mrs. Garza,” replied Officer Sanchez, “we’ll dispatch a unit to the condo to see if your husband is there. I’ll call you back within the hour at this number. One more thing, I need his cell phone number.”
Angelique gave her the number, Officer Sanchez reading it back to confirm.
“Thank you, Officer Sanchez,” Angelique said. “He’s probably just sleeping one off, but I would rather be mad than worried right now, if you know what I mean.”
Officer Sanchez laughed politely. “I have a husband, so yes I do get it. I’ll get back with you as soon as I have any information. Try not to worry, okay?”
“I’ll try,” said Angelique. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”
*****
Officer Sanchez located a unit that was within a mile of the address and asked Officer Cullen to swing by and check on the resident. She filled him in on the details: worried wife, missing husband probably sleeping one off, etc. Officer Cullen chuckled, “I assume if said Mr. Garza is in fact 10-7 at the condo, his ass will belong to Mrs. Garza?”
“Copy that,” said Officer Sanchez laughing. “His ass’ll be grass, and she’s got the mower.”
Officer Cullen was at the condo in five minutes. The first thing he did was look through the garage window. There was a black Mercedes SUV parked inside. The plates were a match. He went around to the front door shaking his head, thinking this Garza fellow was sleeping one off or scored a little something on the side.
He rang the doorbell three times with no response. Officer Cullen circled the free-standing condo looking through the windows, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. There were no signs of a struggle, any food or plates sitting on the table, etc. He dialed the cell phone number. To his surprise he could hear a ringtone coming from within the condo. That gave him cause for concern. He called Officer Sanchez and asked her to have the techs ping Mr. Garza’s phone.
She called back in ten minutes. “It appears to be at your location, Jim,” she said.
“I thought I heard it ringing. Sanchez, we might have a problem here. The vehicle is present and so is his cell phone. There are no signs of activity and I can’t get anyone to come to the door.”
“Copy that,” said Officer Sanchez. “I’ll have a sergeant on scene in five.”
“10-4,” Officer Cullen responded. “I’ll be in front of the building. Are you going to call the wife?”
“Not yet, no,” Said Sanchez, “I don’t want to spook her until we have more info. I’ll have to call her within the hour though, so let’s get the ball rolling ASAP.”
Sergeant Ramirez arrived in three minutes. He made the call to enter the house and sent Cullen around back. They entered at the same time, kicking in the doors. They did a room by room search and came up with nothing.
It was Officer Cullen who noticed a couple of dresser drawers slightly ajar. He opened one with a pen and saw it was empty. He pulled the other one, and only found a couple of pairs of socks. “Hey Sarge!” he called from the bedroom. “Check this out.”
Sergeant Ramirez came to the same assumption. “Look for luggage in the closets.” The search turned up no bags. A quick check of the bathroom yielded no personal effects: no razor, toothbrush, deodorant, etc. “Looks like Mr. Garza may have flown the coop,” remarked Sergeant Ramirez. “I’ll call it in.”
After Officer Sanchez was brought up to speed, she passed the information along to a detective. She was getting ready to place a call to Angelique when she changed her mind and called the Rockport PD. They would probably know the Garza’s, or at least be familiar with them. She decided it would be better coming from one of them.
*****
Rockport sent a female officer to the Garza residence. When Angelique answered the door, she looked shocked, because she was. She asked the officer, “Has something happened to Enrique?”
Officer Mayson asked if she could come in to speak with her. Angelique stepped aside, closing the door before leading her to the living room. “What happened to my husband?” she asked with genuine nervousness.
“Mrs. Garza, at this point, Corpus doesn’t know what happened. According to the officers on scene, it appears your husband packed up some of his personal belongings. They are operating under the premise he may have left the city.”
“Left the city? How?” asked Angelique.
“That isn’t clear,” said Officer Mayson. “His vehicle is at the residence, so we don’t know what he’s traveling in, if at all.” Mayson continued, “Try not to read too much into this, Mrs. Garza, he may have had an emergency and left without his cell phone, taking a taxi. That’s why you haven’t been able to reach him.”
Rebecca entered the room. She’d been standing in the do
orway. She sat down beside Angelique and put her arm around her. “Listen to the officer, Angel, and try not to worry. You know Enrique has been going to Miami a lot lately on business. Maybe something came up.” Rebecca performed her part perfectly, giving the officer a lead without raising suspicions.
“How often has he been going to Miami?” Officer Mayson inquired, pulling out her notepad.
Angelique thought it over for a moment. “Enrique’s gone there three or four times in the last three weeks. Three, I think. He said he’s been meeting with a developer to provide financing for an assisted living development. From what Enrique told me, it’s being built in Corpus Christi. I forget the name of the project, but it’s supposed to be somewhere on the Island - North Padre, not Mustang.”
Officer Mayson took down the information. “That’s very helpful, Mrs. Garza. I’ll contact Corpus and they can check flight manifests at the airport. We should be able to get you an answer fairly quickly if that proves to be the case.”
“I hope that’s all it is,” said Angelique with tears in her eyes. “I’ll be pissed that he didn’t call, but at least then I can stop worrying.”
“I understand,” Mayson replied. “I’ll get right on this and someone, probably me, will get back to you as soon as we have anything substantial.”
Angelique thanked her and Rebecca walked Officer Mayson to the door.
Rebecca came back grinning from ear to ear. “That was awesome! We totally pulled it off.” Rebecca was really enjoying herself.
Angelique had to smile. “Good lord, Rebecca, we aren’t out of the woods yet. Even though it does look like things are going the way Lazarus said they would.”
“I told you Laz was bad-ass!” exclaimed Rebecca. “That dude is fucking g-o-o-d good at what he does.”
“I have no doubt of that,” said Angelique. “But, Rebecca, for God’s sake don’t act so happy around other people. We’re supposed to be worried about Enrique, not celebrating Mardi gras.” They both laughed until they cried. In spite of a little guilt, Angelique felt good about Enrique being gone. She was starting to see she wasn’t going to miss him much, if at all.
Evolution of a Killer Page 27
