She hesitated, but Abe could tell she was thinking about it. “I could drop some information in the right places, maybe draw Corazón in.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. It could be dangerous—for you, Abe.” Emily linked her hands behind her head, leaned back in her chair, and chewed on her lower lip. “There are too many unknowns.” Then, turning her attention to Sally, she asked, “Where does Abe meet them, if they do swallow the bait? These aren’t guys to play around with. There’s more going on here than you understand—gang wars, revenge killings. On the other hand, I think you’re right. Somehow, that key unlocks the puzzle.” She looked back at Abe with a somber expression. “You know, they wouldn’t hesitate to murder you as soon as you show yourself.”
“Why come all the way out here to kill me before they get what they’re after? I don’t think they’d do that. Besides, I won’t be alone like Jackson was. I’ve got you covering my ass, Emily.” He finished his coffee, and Sally stood up to get the pot.
“Don’t forget, you’ve got me, too, and I’m mighty handy with a gun,” Sally said. She held onto the coffeepot while pacing the kitchen, her eyes sparkling. “Listen, Abe could stay here. Let them come out to the ranch. We could hide in the shed and wait for them.”
“What’s this ‘we’?” Emily said. “Don’t be naïve, Sally. You’re not involved—that is, even if I decide this has a chance of working.”
Abe started drumming his fingers on the table. “You always say ‘I,’ Emily. This isn’t only about you. You’ve been taken off the case, remember?” He stopped drumming and furrowed his brow while fixating his eyes on her. “I was minding my own business, passing through, and got arrested, thrown in jail, and accused of something I had nothing to do with. Then I waited around at your place for the law to figure it out, sat on my ass and did whatever you told me until your brother convinced me I needed to do more. This is my life, too, and you’re not a cop out here.”
Sally stood up, put her hands on her hips, and faced Abe and Emily. “Get off your high horse, you two. I’ve probably been handling a gun longer than both of you put together. I can shoot the short hairs off a pig’s balls blindfolded, and he won’t even squeal. Never been scared of nothing, and never will be. Now I say we start working out the details and quit whining.”
Sally’s sudden outburst silenced Emily and Abe until they looked at each other and started smiling.
“I didn’t know pig balls had short hairs,” Emily said, unable to stifle a fit of giggles.
Abe cracked up. “I’d like to see that kind of shooting.”
Sally grinned back at them and the tension broke. “Are you ready to figure this thing out?”
Back at the table, fresh coffee in their cups, the three discussed ways to draw Corazón and the occupants of the Buick to Bisbee.
Sally grabbed a notebook and pencil from the desk. “Tell me what you know.”
“Well, there’re the two gangs,” Abe said.
“Right,” Emily added. “Hate each other’s guts—the Mexican Mafia and those skinheads that have been hanging out around here, the Aryan Brotherhood. Since Jackson was a member of that gang, maybe they know something about the key or why he was murdered.”
Sally stopped scribbling and scratched her head. “So, where are you most likely to run into those characters, Emily?”
“Prison. I could call a guard I know, start a rumor going around the Aryans . . .”
“That there’s a man in Bisbee who wanted to see someone about a key given to him by the recently deceased Easy Jackson,” Abe finished her sentence. “But he arrived at the guy’s place just in time to witness a car driving away before the house exploded, killing the person inside.”
Sally paused in her note taking and looked at Abe. “That should get them riled up and curious.”
“And we might find out some more information in the process,” Emily said.
Abe, caught up in the growing exuberance, placed both hands on the table and completed his thought. “The man who met Jackson still has the key, and he’s laying low in Bisbee.”
“It might get their attention.” Emily sounded dubious. “But, a quicker link to Corazón would be through his girlfriend.”
“You mean the stripper from Las Cruces?” Whether caused by his early departure from the hospital or the intense concentration, Abe’s head began to throb. He put a hand to his forehead, shielding his eyes, trying to hide the pain. “What was her name?”
“Juanita de la Cruz,” said Emily. “What’s wrong, Abe?”
Ever the observant nurse, Sally jumped to her feet and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. “His head’s hurting, that’s what.” Passing the glass to Abe, she said, “Now swallow those pills and lie down on that sofa over there. Me and your girlfriend here can work this out.”
“We’re not . . .” Abe protested at the same time as Emily, but he took the pills and followed Sally’s advice. “We’re in this mess together, that’s all.” He read skepticism in her look. “Okay, after I check on Patch, I’ll be on the sofa.” Abe looked out the window and saw his dog sniffing the donkey while dodging a rear assault from the goat. For Patch, a onetime city dog, life appeared to be nothing short of a series of new adventures. Abe found the sofa, assured his dog could adjust to any situation.
“After I call the prison I’ll drive to Cruces and drop in at the Bar-None, see if I can catch Juanita’s act,” said Emily.
“That’s nuts,” said Abe from the sofa. “They’ll be suspicious of a woman coming into a strip joint. Besides they’ll smell cop all over you. I’ll do it.”
“She’ll recognize you. Remember, you gave her quite the once-over in Clayton.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Okay, it’s settled.” Sally waved her hands in the air, signaling the end of the conversation. “I’ll do the talking. Who’s going to be suspicious of an old broad like me? I already took a week’s vacation from the hospital, and I don’t plan on sitting around here on my caboose waiting for the action. My neighbor will take care of the critters and watch the place. We’ll all leave in the morning after this guy gets a night’s rest.”
Abe listened from the sofa—the two women making decisions. He sat up. “I don’t need any more rest than you two. Why don’t we leave today? Feed your animals, Sally. Emily, get in touch with your prison guard buddy.”
Sally cleared the table and rinsed the cups. “Your dog can stay here, Abe.”
“My dog goes where I go.”
18
I want to see Will first,” Emily said, and they agreed to the detour, though a run up to Phoenix took them well out of their way. After all, Abe reasoned, it was her car they were traveling in, and he wanted to talk to Will as well—although he was apprehensive, not knowing what to expect, a mummified version of his friend or someone scarred beyond recognition.
When they reached the hospital in Phoenix, Sally tried to assure them that Will was getting care from one of the best burn treatment centers out West, and since the emergency technicians had reached him quickly, his prognosis looked good. “There’ll be scarring for sure. You have to expect it with third-degree burns, but the docs have some new techniques that are nothing short of miraculous. Why don’t you two go on in and visit with the brother? We have plenty of time. Those bad guys aren’t going nowhere.”
They entered the main lobby of the hospital and asked the receptionist for the room number of Will Etcitty. He was on the second floor, room 223, just down from the cafeteria. “I’ll grab a snack and wait for you in there,” said Sally, leaving them outside Will’s room.
Abe tapped lightly on the door and heard a faint “Come in.” Will Etcitty peeked out from the dressings covering his face, milky eyes amid stark whiteness, both hands swathed in bandages, a tube running from his wrist to a bag of fluid hanging from a stand by his bed.
Abe swallowed his shock and lied. “You’re looking good, pal.”
“The doc said I’ll be even better-looking after they
take some skin off my butt and graft it onto my face.”
Emily blinked away tears. “Oh, Will. Always the kidder. Are you in a lot of pain? What are they giving you?”
“Whiskey with a chaser of morphine.” When he elicited a grin from Emily, he added, “They’re taking good care of me, Sis. Doc says I’ve got second- and third-degree burns on my face, hands, and chest. But thanks to Abe pulling me out of there and getting help, I’ll be all right—good as new.”
“You would have done the same for me,” Abe said. “Now we’re going after the assholes who did this.” He told Will about their plan to go to Las Cruces and set a trap for Corazón and whoever caused the explosion.
“Damn.” Will’s voice cracked. “I wish I could go with you.”
Abe gently brushed the swathing on Will’s hands with his fingertips. “Your job is to get well, buddy.”
“Your spirit’s going with us, big brother,” said Emily, smiling bravely.
After leaving Will with assurances they would keep him posted, Emily and Abe located Sally in the cafeteria, stocking up on sandwiches and extra coffee, using her wheedling skills and position to get them for free.
“This should hold us until we get to Las Cruces. We have a six-hour drive ahead.” She pulled a hamburger patty out of the sack. “I even brought something for Patch. Make sure he poops and pees before we hit the road.”
Slightly less than six hours later, Abe driving, the air conditioner turned off in the coolness of the desert night, they were cruising the valley between the Organ Mountains and the Rio Grande, entering the city limits of Las Cruces, New Mexico.
“Look for a pay phone, Emily,” Abe said. Sally, dozing peacefully in the backseat of the Bronco, hadn’t stirred for the last two hours. “We need the address of that place the girlfriend works. What’s its name—the Bar-None?”
Abe pulled into a gas station off Main Street and filled the tank while Emily checked the yellow pages of a phone book still chained to a broken pay phone.
“Bet I can tell you what kind of neighborhood this is,” she said when she returned to the Bronco. “Think you can find Corona Street?”
After further discussion, they agreed Abe would be the one to make contact with Juanita de la Cruz, girlfriend of Rico Corazón. The conditions were that he hide his face under the battered brim of Sally’s first husband’s cowboy hat, and wear her departed spouse’s old western shirt and fringed buckskin jacket in case Juanita remembered him from the Clayton diner. Abe argued that she had so many men gawking at her all the time she probably couldn’t recall any of them, but he went along with the disguise.
He felt a little like Jon Voight in the movie Midnight Cowboy as he drove past the hookers on Corona Street. Abe circled the block a couple of times and cruised the alley behind the strip bar. Once everyone felt familiar with the layout, he looked for a parking space near the flashing nude silhouette in front of the Bar-None.
“Guess the competition from Juarez is too much for the locals,” said Sally, commenting on the small red-light district and lack of visible clientele in Las Cruces. “Cheaper over there in Mexico, I bet.”
“The laws in Texas are more lenient, too,” added Emily. “No totally nude dancing allowed in New Mexico.”
Sally, tsk-tsking, shook her head. “Hard for a working girl to make a living in this state.”
Abe slipped into an empty spot and killed the lights. “Look, I sympathize with the ladies of the night as much as you two, but we didn’t drive all the way out here to worry about their working conditions.” He gave himself a quick glance in the mirror and pulled down the battered brim of the Stetson so that it shaded his eyes. “What do you think, Patch?” The dog answered with a yelp, which Abe took as approval.
“Let’s go over it one more time,” Emily said.
Abe stared at a poster in front of Bar-None that highlighted a full-color blowup of Juanita de la Cruz wearing nothing more than a couple of pasties and a G-string. Her leer clearly stated, “Come on in.” “The sign says her act starts at ten. It’s five till.”
“This will be quick. Will you concentrate, Abe? You don’t have to see the whole damn show, you know.”
Sally broke in. “Okay. I get in the driver’s seat, go around to the alley and park a little ways down from the back door, keep my eyes and ears open, and the motor running. Soon as you and Abe hightail it back to the car, I burn some rubber.” Sally seemed even more full of vinegar after her nap. “Got my pistol loaded and ready if we need it.”
Abe glanced over at Emily. “Don’t worry, I can handle it,” he said. “I’m doing the easy part—watch her act, slip a twenty to the lady, and tell her to meet me in the alley to discuss a missing key. Then I go out and wait by the back door. That’s where you come in.”
Emily furrowed her brow. “She’ll be curious, and most likely cautious. There’ll be one of Corazón’s thugs nearby acting as her bodyguard. You won’t see me when you come out, but I’ll be nearby, close enough, in case anyone tries to get cute.”
“When she arrives I tell her about the key and the meeting at Dick’s with Jesus Eyes,” Abe said. “And that her boyfriend, Corazón, better come alone and bring the cash. Kind of pushing it, don’t you think?”
“Nah,” said Emily. “That’s the way these guys play. If you didn’t want something out of it, they wouldn’t think you were serious.”
“Why don’t we cut out the ‘Jesus Eyes’ crap? I never heard any of that until I came to New Mexico.”
“What’s wrong? You have a Jesus complex or something?” Emily chuckled.
Abe cringed inwardly at the reference once again. “Jesus, King of the Jews. Why should a nice Jewish guy from Jersey have a Jesus complex? I just don’t get it.”
Sally watched the banter in silence, her eyes switching from Abe to Emily.
“Haven’t you ever been in any of those Catholic or Protestant churches and looked at that blue-eyed Jesus nailed to the cross? No, I guess not,” she said, answering her own question.
“Okay. I’m ready.” Abe wanted to get it over with. Had they even considered an alternative plan? He knew he’d have to think fast if Corazón showed up. Abe checked himself one more time in the rearview mirror, lowered his hat, slipped out of the car, and sauntered toward the front door. When he turned to look back, the Bronco was gone. He took a deep breath and approached the Bar-None. But, before he could step inside, he had to get past a giant in an orange suit.
The blimp glared down at Abe and stuck out a ham-size palm. “That’ll be twenty bucks.”
Abe hesitated, considered saying he only wanted to give a note to one of the dancers. He hadn’t counted on a cover charge, but decided he had better pay up and reached into his wallet, reluctantly pulling out a twenty. This little show was costing him some cash, and—who knew?—maybe a whole lot more.
19
Abe entered the crowded club and blinked. A revolving disco ball hung from the ceiling, reflecting garish colors off scantily clad females serving drinks. Before he reached the bar, an Amazonian of a woman with a platinum beehive hairdo sidled up close enough for Abe to feel the heat of her body and get a whiff of cheap perfume.
“What can I do for you, baby?” The Latin accent didn’t quite go with the blond wig. Her blouse gaped open to the navel, barely concealing bountiful breasts.
He backed up, looked around the smoky room, and saw an empty table off to the side. “I’ll have a Corona,” he said to the melon-size boobs at his eye level. When the waitress brought his beer, Abe stuck a five-dollar bill in the tight cleavage of her breasts. She winked, and he pulled his hat brim a little farther down.
Abe sipped his beer and scanned the room for any sign of Corazón, wondering if he would recognize him, hoping he wasn’t around. He didn’t see anyone with a Fu Manchu mustache and tattooed arms, so he turned his attention to the action on stage. A bunch of blurry-eyed college kids sitting near the front began whistling and shouting. Their drinks sloshed as they banged thei
r fists on tabletops and chanted in rowdy unison: “Juanita, Juanita, Juanita.” They were joined by a group of cowboys and businessmen in dark suits.
The chant turned to a roar that drowned out the voice of the emcee when Juanita de la Cruz came on stage with a slutty, slow walk. She wore a see-through black negligee that barely concealed the lacy low-cut bra. A black G-string and hip-high black boots completed the outfit. Juanita’s long, dark hair curled provocatively over her breasts. Glitter on the teardrop tattoo at the corner of her right eye sparkled in the strobe lights as she began gyrating with the first number. She teased the crowd with a pole spin, then a pole flip, and the college kids started yelling, “Take it off.” While Abe wondered if she had quit using the cross as a prop, a couple of guys carried a large metal one onstage and snapped it in place in front of the pole. Not your usual cross, it was bedecked with twinkly lights and feathers and utilized in a very provocative way, some would say sacrilegious. But Abe had to admit, Juanita de la Cruz was something to behold.
The third set ended and she had already discarded most of her flimsy clothes, leaving both of her pasties in discriminate places—as far as a strip act could go in New Mexico. Juanita stepped down from the stage and started mingling with the crowd, teasing customers for tips. She skipped the college kids, who were drunk and probably out of money. Abe beckoned her with a twenty.
“You want a lap dance, handsome?”
“No, just a few minutes of your time.” He held out the twenty but didn’t let go. “I liked the show, but I have something you’ll like even more.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard that a million times.” She tugged at the bill, but Abe held on.
“I think your boyfriend might be very interested in a key that belonged to my friend Joe Jackson, better known as ‘Easy.’”
Juanita narrowed her eyes and stared at him. “What do you know about this key?”
Key Witness Page 11
