Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries Boxed Set: Books 1-3 (The Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries)

by Heather Haven

  She looked at me and gestured with her bound hands. “That would be difficult, Liana.”

  “Here then,” I said, putting Lady Blue in her bound hands. “If he makes one move, Mom, shoot him right between the eyes.”

  “Let’s not sink to clichés, Liana,” she said. “I can handle him.” Her voice was calm, but blanched fingers stood out again the dark steel of the weapon.

  Tex crossed to the desk, grabbed a pair of scissors, and brought them over to me, waiting until I found the cellphone. “Cut this damned tape off me, will you?” she begged after I punched in three numbers. “Then I’ll get your mother.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Lila said over her shoulder, “I can get the tape off later. For now, I don’t want to distract myself.”

  The tape came off of Tex’s wrist in one snip. She did the rest. I threw the scissors on the desk, as 911 answered. While giving the police a quick rundown, I hurried to Douglas’s side, watching his contorted face. I will never forget the expression, a combination of loss, sorrow, surprise, and helplessness. I had nothing to offer him, but help was on the way, if it wasn’t too late.

  I touched his arm. Douglas looked up, saying to no one in particular, “None of this was his fault. He told me about his family on the way here. He couldn’t break free. He tried and now he’s been shot. He may die. I thought he was a good guy. How could I have been so wrong?” Douglas began to sob.

  “He may still be a good guy, Douglas. We don’t know everything yet,” I said, crouching down and putting my arm around him.

  “He’s a traitor. That’s why I shot him,” shrieked Julio. “He never cared about any of us. Always pretending he was too good for the family, running away to Spain. I hope he’s dead!”

  “Señor! I would advise you to be quiet,” Mom thundered, louder than I’ve ever heard her speak. Julio turned his attention to her and the revolver she was holding. “My hands are getting tired from holding this gun in such an awkward way.”

  A tearing sound made both Douglas and me look up. Tex ripped at her slip. “Here,” she said, folding the material. “Try to stanch your friend’s bleeding with this.” Douglas took the fabric, unsure of what to do with it. “Press it down on the wound as hard as you can. Like this, see?” She took it back and demonstrated. “The ambulance should be here soon.”

  Meanwhile, Gurn crossed over to Mom. “I’ve got this now, Mrs. Alvarez,” he said, reaching for the revolver.

  “Who are you again?” Mom asked, before releasing her hold on the weapon.

  “Gurn Hanson, Richard’s friend.”

  “Oh,” she said, handing the revolver over. “Well, Mr. Hanson, are you sure you have dealt with the other two?”

  “Yes, ma’am. They’re going to need a little attention from the medics, but they’re down for the moment,” he answered. “Your daughter carries mace.”

  We heard sirens in the distance. I got up and went to my mother. She was standing rigid, staring at nothing. I called her name, and she looked at me. I led her over to the desk, reached for the scissors and cut the tape off her wrists as gently as I could. Free, she wrapped her arms around me and squeezed hard. I squeezed back.

  “I don’t know where you came from or how you got here, but I didn’t think I would ever see you again,” she murmured with a catch in her throat. I bit my lower lip until it bled.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Le denouement

  Two minutes later, the police arrived along with the paramedics. The medics took Estaban and Julio away in separate ambulances, once they learned Julio was the one who shot Estaban. Then all hell broke loose. Everyone who could talk started running off at the mouth at the same time.

  The two nameless men were pointing to us and jabbering away in Spanish. Douglas was going from cop to cop, begging to be allowed to go to Estaban. Tex, looking peculiar in her ten-gallon hat and fancy snakeskin boots, insisted on speaking in a foreign language, “Texan.” Gurn kept trying to take charge, as if we were part of a squadron. Mom attempted to run the proceedings like one of her board meetings. I was trying to persuade somebody, anybody, to get a hold of Frank Thompson. Bedlam.

  Finally, the police had had it. They lined us up against a wall and told us to shut up or we would be charged with resisting arrest on top of everything else. With two people shot, two found weapons, and breaking and entering charges, the cops were on the other side of cooperative. With more order, they called each of us over to the desk one at a time and started taking our statements.

  It was in the middle of this that Frank barreled in wearing his uniform sans tie and socks. Richard had called Frank at home, getting him out of bed. Frank, in turn, phoned

  his men and told them to hold us there until he arrived. He didn’t look happy.

  He strutted up and down. “I see one or two of the usual suspects,” he said, stopping in front of me, “plus some new additions. Who wants to go first?” We all started talking at once, drowned out by Douglas’s wails. Frank held up his hands and turned to me.

  “Okay, Miss Alvarez, let’s hear it. When the phone started ringing in the middle of the night, I knew right inside here,” he said, banging on his chest like it was a drum, “right here, the call would involve you.”

  “You told me to get involved,” I said, “so here I am, involved.”

  “That did not include breaking and entering or shooting somebody,” he shouted and, lowering his voice, turned to Mom. “I am shocked, Lila, to see you in on a B and E. You and Tex should know better than to--”

  “Hold your horses, Frankie,” Tex interrupted, stepping forward. “We were rustled right off the plane and dragged here, roped and hog tied, sure as shooting. Tell him Lila,” she ordered. Gene Autry couldn’t have said it better.

  Before Mom could respond, I saw the look on Douglas’ face. “Frank, I know you have a lot of questions for us, but do you think we can continue this at the hospital? Douglas wants to be there to see what’s going on with Estaban. Besides, we’ve already given statements. Can’t you read them or something while we’re at the hospital?”

  Douglas jumped in, pleading, “Please, Captain Thompson, please. We won’t give you any trouble. I just need to be near my friend.”

  Frank hesitated for a moment. “Very well. But everyone will have to go there in police cars and with my men, understood?” He turned to me. “You! Don’t do or say anything without checking with me first.”

  “Right. I won’t,” I said. “Just one thing, Frank.”

  “What is the matter with you?” he bellowed. “Do you know how many charges may be leveled against you? I don’t think you can count that high.”

  “Right, but hear me out. Within the next few hours, a truck is going to arrive here carrying millions of dollars worth of stolen Mexican artifacts. This all ties in with that murdered thief, I swear,” I added. Frank’s eyebrows waggled, but he was silent. “Listen, it would be a good idea for you to turn off these lights, make everything look normal but have your men staked out here, waiting.”

  “Oh, it would, would it?” he said in a sarcastic tone.

  “Yes,” Mom answered before I could. “The truck should be here quite soon. It’s about a thirty-six hour drive straight through.”

  “I see,” Frank said. I could tell Lila’s words gave my story more validation. He turned back to me, “Well, you’ve been busy,” he said.

  “Only doing what you told…”

  “Shut up.”

  “Right.”

  We were herded by gender into two separate police cars, Mom, Tex and I in the back seat of one and Douglas and Gurn in the other. Frank trailed us in his own car, and we were at the Stanford Hospital within minutes.

  During the ride, Mom tried to say something to me but was shushed by the younger officer in the front seat, a brown-eyed cop with bad acne. I looked at her, and she looked back at me, with exasperation in her eyes. I knew we both wanted to know from the other how each of us got to the gallery.

  When
we arrived at the hospital, Mom turned to him and said, “I would like to call my son and let him know we’re all right. He must be frantic with worry about us.”

  Officer Bad Acne opened his mouth to reply when the automatic doors of the Emergency Room opened, and we heard, “Mom! Liana!”

  Richard came running out, followed by Victoria, his wife. They embraced both of us at the same time, talking a mile a minute. “Thank God! Frank phoned us and said you were on your way here. He promised you were all right.” Richard turned from one to the other, with anxious eyes.

  “We’re all right,” Mom said, shivering. “It’s a little chilly, that’s all.” Victoria removed her cape and threw it around Lila’s shoulders.

  “Thank you, my dear,” Mom said, wrapping the cape closer to her.

  “Are you sure?” asked Victoria, looking both of us up and down. We nodded. “Thank God! When Richard finally told me what was going on, I broke up the party and sent everyone home.”

  “I didn’t want to burden you with this, Vic,” he replied. “I knew this was a big shindig you were throwing and I didn’t--”

  “Oh, piffle,” Victoria interrupted. She uses words like that all the time; it adds to her Alice in Wonderland charm. “As if anything was more important than the family’s welfare!” Victoria scolded with a smile. “I’m just grateful you’re both all right.”

  I smiled back at one of the sweetest women on earth, knowing our family was lucky to have her as a recent addition. “Neither of you have told Tio any of this, have you?” I said, looking from one to the other. “He doesn’t need to be upset in the middle of the night.”

  “No, no! Vic and I are the only ones who know,” Richard said and then spied Tex on the other side of the police car. “Tex! You, too? Is everybody here? Are you okay?”

  She came around the car and nodded. “I’m fine, hon, but this has been one helluva trip back to the States. I’d rather be pulling up the rear of a roundup.”

  “Okay,” Officer B.A. said. “That’s enough talking. We’d better get inside like the Captain said.”

  Obediently, we shut up and followed the officers into the Emergency Waiting Room, where a brief chat with Admitting told us the two injured men had been moved upstairs to the third floor operating rooms. We were hustled into an elevator and found ourselves exiting in a waiting area set up like a large living room. Douglas and Gurn were already seated in two faded wingback chairs. They stood up when they saw us.

  “We wondered what happened to you three,” Gurn said and then spotted Richard. “Rich, good to see you.” The two men shook hands.

  Richard was about to introduce Gurn to Victoria when this obnoxious officer took over again. Obviously, he felt personally responsible for keeping us quiet.

  “That’s enough talking. The Captain says you are to remain silent. You five,” he gestured to us, “sit over there.” He pointed to a section of the room complete with a faded floral sofa, matching easy chair, and several end tables strewn with magazines several years old.

  Tex, Mom, and I sat on the uncomfortable but large sofa, and Richard took the chair, Victoria on his lap. None of us was allowed to speak to each other for upwards of an hour. Just as we had leafed through every magazine covering the Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston divorce way back when, Frank came out of one of the inner doors. He squatted down in front of Douglas and whispered in his ear. Patting him reassuringly on the shoulder, Frank stood up, coming over to our small group.

  “Glad to see you made it here, Richard, Victoria.” He looked at all of us, “I was just telling Douglas the doctors are still operating on his friend, but so far, the good news is the bullet missed the lungs and a main artery. He’s lost a lot of blood, though, so we still don’t know if he’s going to make it.”

  “What about Julio?” I asked. “He’s going to be all right, isn’t he?”

  “He doesn’t have life threatening injuries, but his leg looks none too good.”

  I started to ask him for more details, when he was signaled by one of his officers coming down the hall.

  “Excuse me,” Frank said, leaving us and crossing over to him. We watched him talk with the man, nodding repeatedly. Then he returned.

  “A dark blue, nineteen ninety-four box truck with Mexican license plates drove into the back alley about twenty minutes ago. When my men approached the driver and his companion, they bolted. They caught one of them about a block away.” He turned to Richard. “That youngster you sent me the picture of inside the cave. The other one got away for the moment,” he said. “When my men took the keys and unlocked the back doors of the chassis, they found dozens of what look like pre-Columbian figurines, all different sizes and types.”

  “I knew they were on their way here, and by the way, Frank, they’re Toltec figurines, not pre-Columbian. You knew they were coming, too, Mom, didn’t you?” I said, turning to her.

  “Not really,” Mom smiled at me. “But you believed it, and that was good enough for me.”

  “Well, you were right,” Frank said. “I’m told the truck careened into the alleyway at about sixty miles an hour. Had a hell of a time stopping, and ran into the trashcans at the end. After they fled, my men found a hand-written manifest list of everything that was in the back of the truck. Every piece was declared a replica by a customs agent.”

  “But they’re the real thing,” I insisted.

  “Frank,” said Lila. “By Julio’s own admission, his family has a network of people in very high places, including the Customs Department at the Mexican border. Dr. Lopez, the head curator at the Museo de Antropologio, has suspected it for months but had no proof.”

  “I don’t think that will be a problem now. We’ve got the cache and a man’s name on all the documents of entry. We’ll soon know whether or not they’re genuine.”

  Richard chimed in. “Mira McFadden has given me a list of expert appraisers in the Bay Area, if that helps.”

  “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. My men say everything was packed in such a hurry that some of the pieces are wrapped in towels and clothing. Nothing broken, so far.”

  “Well, hurray for the Mexican government,” Tex said, stepping forward. “But what about my boy, Frank? Is there enough evidence to free him?”

  “Not yet,” Frank said, shaking his head. “So far, we don’t have anything linking the suspected illegal contraband from Mexico to the murder of the burglar here in Palo Alto.” He looked over in Douglas’ direction. “That’s another reason I’m hoping this Estaban makes it. Maybe he’ll talk and clear Carlos.”

  “What about Julio?” I asked. “Has he said anything?”

  Frank shook his head. “Nothing. He won’t say a word. Of course, we’ve got those two thugs from the gallery and the boy from the truck. Maybe they’ll open up.” He turned back to Tex. “It’s now a waiting game.”

  She nodded and put a shaking hand to her cheek. “Thanks, Frankie. I know you’re doing your best,” she added and with a wan smile, sat down in one of the chairs. Mom followed her, taking Tex’s hand from her face and holding it.

  “Regarding you, young lady,” Frank said to me. “We’ve got enough statements saying you shot that man in self-defense. We’re going to let the B and E charge slide under the circumstances. We’ll be keeping your weapon for a few days, plus your PI license, but other than that, I don’t see any lasting problems for you. Actually, for any of you,” he said louder, drawing Douglas and Gurn into his frame of reference. The two men got up and walked over to us. “I’ve vouched for Liana, Tex, Lila, and you, Douglas. All of you are released into your own recognizance under the proviso you appear at the police station by ten o’clock tomorrow morning for further questioning.

  “As for you, Gurn,” he said turning to the sandy-haired man. “Not only does Richard vouch for you, but I’ve heard some good things about you from Colonel Packard in D.C., when I spoke with him a few minutes ago. I understand that at one time you were of some use to him on a project.”

 
; “You’ve been a busy man, Captain,” Gurn said, extending his hand. “But I do appreciate being vindicated.”

  Frank shook hands with Gurn then came over to me, saying in my ear, “You could do worse than this one, Lee. I think he’s a keeper.”

  I was so stunned by his words, I couldn’t think of a thing to say. I wandered over to a chair on the other side of the room. Mom came to my side, saying, “Liana, we’re free to go. Aren’t you coming? It’s nearly four in the morning.”

  “Thanks, Mom, but I’ll stay a little while with Douglas. I don’t want him to be alone. My car’s over on University, anyway. I’ve got to get it before seven. That’s when they start ticketing. I’m sure one of the officers will give me a ride back there.”

  She smiled, touched me on the cheek and went back to Tex, Richard, and Victoria. They gathered their things, and somewhere in the distance, I heard Richard say he would drive everyone home. Waving to me, my family and Tex left.

  My intent was to go to Douglas’ side, but I was beyond exhausted. I found myself leaning my head back on the wall and closing my eyes. I heard someone sit down beside me, and I looked toward the sound. Gurn leaned in to me. He wasn’t smiling. I knew he had something serious on his mind.

  I sat erect, evaluating what I knew of this man. Not many would risk their lives for comparative strangers and yet that’s exactly what he’d done. He’d followed me from one country to another, trying to protect me. In the gallery, he’d been right there. I had trusted him completely with my life and the lives of people I loved.

  “So what happened back there?” Gurn asked. “Why didn’t you shoot to kill? That’s what anybody else would have done.”

  I looked down at the hands in my lap, shaking my head. “I don’t know. I couldn’t do it. Besides, it was just as easy to shoot him in the leg. Easier.” Why was I defending myself to this guy? And yet I felt I had to. I became silent.

  He grunted and was also silent. After a minute or two he asked, “You ever shoot anybody, Lee?”

  I shook myself and rubbed my forehead, suddenly aggravated, suddenly scared. “That’s not what I do, fer cryin’ out loud. I’m an intellectual property operative. I wear designer clothes and high heels. I don’t deal with life and death situations. If the first bullet hadn’t brought him down, the next one would have been to the heart or head. I do know that.” I faltered, feeling naked and somehow lacking.