"I was so nervous, I got in my car and got the hell out of there!"
"Do you think she saw your face?"
Rogelio scratched his chin. "I don't know, she could have, I guess. It was dark, and she was in the house across the street."
Felix doubted she saw his face, and felt good that Rogelio was safe, but he needed to go to the crime scene, and find out what she knew. There could be other evidence, but she posed the biggest threat at the moment.
Rogelio kept quiet and did not move a muscle for a full minute before leaning back a little.
"Do you understand what that means?"
He nodded. "Yes, I do."
"Are you cool with me talking to some people who can take care of her?"
Rogelio hesitated, but answered. "Yeah, of course. We need to take care of her, right?"
Felix nodded. "Yes. I know a lot of psychos who could do the job, and I think the faster this job is done, the better for you when the cops come knocking on your door."
Rogelio's face pinched. "What do you mean? You think the cops will find me? How will they find me without the witness?"
The public's ignorance about how law enforcement did their jobs flabbergasted Felix. "Well, there's the fact that they have spoken to that witness already. Because by now, she's called the cops and they are on scene. The Inspectors, the people who actually investigate murders, might even be there now, talking to her."
He frowned. "Yeah, you're right."
"HPD has access to everything. They will most likely find your fingerprints on her body or her clothes. Additionally, they will fingerprint the victim and get an ID. Once they have her name, they will find an address. Next, they will search everything there: her bedroom, closet, kitchen, home computer, and social media. Everything. They will talk to her friends, boyfriend, ex-boyfriends, coworkers, neighbors. They could amass a great amount of information about Candy in a matter of a couple of days. But if they find her phone, expect them to find you within a few hours."
Rogelio did not follow. "What? How? I don't know where her phone is. I took her purse out of the car and placed it with her. I didn't keep anything of Candy's. It should be in her purse. I didn't even look inside it. I just wanted her out of my car!"
His lawyer would explain Rogelio's prints on her purse, should not be an issue. He touched the purse while they talked at the bar as they flirted with each other, his lawyer would claim.
Rogelio stared at him.
Felix took in a deep breath. "Let's assume they have her cell phone."
"Okay."
"They will be at Aldo's within six to twelve hours. And ..."
"Wait! How do you know that?"
It was obvious to Felix. "Well, it is all supposition at the moment because I'm unaware of what evidence the cops have in their possession, but you have to assume they will have your name very soon."
His friend had a blank stare.
"There were people at Aldo's last night right?"
An eyebrow went up. "Yes, there's always people there."
"Listen to me. A cell phone is a personal flight recorder. We use them for everything these days. Emails, text messages, calls, calendars, internet searches, and social media."
Rogelio sat pensive.
"The cops will track her movements for the last few hours of her life. And they will be at your restaurant soon to show a picture of her to your staff, asking if anyone has seen her."
Rogelio gave him a face that told him that he began to understand. "What if they don't have her phone?"
"If they have her purse, they have her driver's license and her address. They might be at her home as we speak, reading her journal or a desk calendar or a message on her fridge. Or she could have posted a picture of her at Aldo's last night on Facebook or Instagram. Rogelio, there are many avenues to obtain information."
They did not say anything for over a minute.
Felix stared out a window, calculating the next move. Offering her money could get a little messy. DAs pressured witnesses who've changed their story. Cops didn't take too well when witnesses recanted their statement either. The main problem with paying off witnesses was that they were still alive, which meant he or she could talk.
A legbreaker could rough her up, threaten her. She might have children. It was easy to scare women most of the time especially when they had kids, but there was no way of knowing how this woman would react to a threat.
Too many unknown variables presented in this problem. He needed time, but time was a luxury he just didn't have at the moment. "She needs to die, and die quickly. Today or tomorrow."
Rogelio placed his cup down on the coffee table, folding his arms, shrugging. "Why? So she won't testify?"
"Yes."
"Okay, so why can't we wait until we learn exactly what she knows, then kill her?"
Felix sighed. He guessed it wasn't that obvious to Rogelio. "Okay, let's say the cops arrest you and this goes to trial."
He nodded. "Alright."
"A trial will happen in a few months from now. Looking back at the timeline that the District Attorney will show the jury, do you think it would look better for you, an innocent businessman who doesn't even have a parking ticket, killed a woman and less than twenty-four hours had another woman killed?"
His eyes brows shot up. Rogelio smirked. "I think that only real bad men, like drug dealing killers or the mafia could do something as horrible as killing two innocent women like that."
"But if the timeline shows a week or two has gone by between the two deaths, you go from innocent business man who was wrongfully accused of murder, to a man who simply killed a witness to stay out of prison."
Felix knew if they killed her in a week or two from now, it would still be good, because the DA would still have to prove Rogelio the murderer. But in his opinion, the quicker the better for his lawyer, if he ever needed a lawyer. Felix also knew, how the witness died would be important as well. The law as well as perception could hurt or help anybody in court.
Rogelio grinned. "Because the quicker we kill her, the more it looks like a killer or random violence was the problem, not me. And the longer it takes to kill the witness, the more the jury thinks I just got desperate and killed or had her killed."
"Yes, exactly."
Felix and Tony acquired the drugs for Rogelio, and through his many business contacts in Philly, New York City, and Boston, he sold them at a discount. They weren't gangsters and weren't interested in making a name for themselves. They were in it strictly for the money. All business was to be done quietly. None of them wanted to draw any attention to their activities.
The police weren't privy to their side business, as far as Felix and Tony knew, and they would know better than anyone.
They'd had a few drunken conversations about having to kill someone, if the need arose, to stay out of prison. They agreed that they all preferred to stay out of prison and no one would hesitate in taking a life if it meant their freedom.
This was Rogelio's fuck up. Felix had a hard time believing that Rogelio actually killed someone. He did not seem capable of it. He was a good guy, but appeared soft in that regard. Whatever drugs Rogelio took must have really screwed him up.
He and Tony would have to sit down with him, and talk about it, but there was no time now.
Rogelio looked up. "I want to ask you something about this."
"What?"
Rogelio's head tilted. "How do we do it? I agree the timing is important, but isn't the way we do it as important?"
Felix nodded. "Yes. An idiot would send someone to rob her house and kill her in her bed without thinking it through. You left Candy in a rich neighborhood, right?"
"Yes."
"The witnesses's house could have a security system which means cameras inside and out. The husband might have guns."
Rogelio frowned. "Then how do we do this?"
Felix grinned. "You said it just a moment ago."
"What did I say?"
"Random
gun violence."
"How? Pay a junkie to take her purse and shoot her in the street?"
Felix thought taking her purse was a great idea, but he would never use a junkie for such a task. "No, junkies are too unreliable, and would be caught in no time. We need someone who can do this the right way."
Rogelio took a sip of coffee. "And it has to look random?"
"Yes, that is the key."
Robbing the house seemed too coincidental. Felix did not want there to be any doubt about the witness's death.
Rogelio took a sip. "Well, I don't know. The only thing that can kill her and assure the killer's escape is a drive-by. You know? I don't think you cops ever catch those guys, right?"
Felix's eyes widened. Yes! That was it. He held up a finger. "I'll have to bring Tony in on this." He had some ideas about how to deal with the witness, but needed to convey with Tony.
Nodding, his eyes lit up. "Tony's cool. I like him."
Thinking of the witness, sitting inside her warm house, an interesting question entered into his mind: Where?
Where should this witness die?
That depended on the witness's location at the time of the hit.
And who decided the location?
Felix grinned. The answer was easy. The witness herself would dictate the location. Today or tomorrow, she would leave her home.
He had to go to the crime scene. It would not be hard to find her home based off of what Rogelio said. Then he could follow her when she left her house.
There were many ways to kill someone on the street. He could kill her himself, in a parking lot or garage after shopping or having a coffee. She could die while being carjacked. But it all would be suspect by the cops, which would make them pry harder.
Felix's goal was for the police not to suspect anything other than random gun violence as the cause of the witness's death.
Rogelio asked, "Do you know anyone who could do this?"
Several names came to mind. "I might know a few."
His eyes went wide. "Good! Who?"
"You don't need to hear any names. The less you know, the better."
"Oh, right."
This route would cost. "We are going to need cash. Serious cash. You got any on hand?" If not, Felix would have to lend him the money. He had money, from their side business squirreled away, hidden in a storage unit in Katy, but would rather not touch it. It was his retirement fund. But if Rogelio was arrested and something unforeseeable happened, his lawyer would tell him to flip Felix and Tony in two-seconds. If he wanted to keep the retirement money coming in, he had to help. But after this, he would demand Rogelio pay, and pay him big for that help.
"How much we need?"
Felix shrugged. "I'm not sure what the current rate for a hit is on the street, but I'll talk to Tony, he'll know."
"Don't worry, I always have enough cash to buy the product you bring me, and I like to have a little extra for emergencies."
"I think twenty grand would be safe for now, but we'll need more afterwards, because standard payment is half up front then the second half after the job is done."
Rogelio shrugged and got up from the couch and went down the hallway. He came back a few minutes later and handed Felix bundles of money. "That's sixty grand. Pay extra if you have to, but we need this job done quickly like you said."
"Okay."
"And Felix, you get me out of this, you and Tony will be paid very well!"
Felix liked the sound of that though first things first; he needed to focus on helping Rogelio out of this jam then worry about getting paid. "Thanks," he said, pointing towards the driveway. "Is that the car, in the driveway, the one you drove last night?"
He frowned. "Yes, why?"
"You woke up this morning and your car was stolen, you understand?"
Rogelio smiled, handing over his keys.
Chapter Six
Dirt Poor
My brother and I grew up dirt poor in Baytown, Texas.
Never knew my biological father. My mother was American, her parents were Mexican, from the state of Vera Cruz. She had jet black hair and her skin was the color of caramel. Many times I remembered women and men giving us strange looks when they learned we were mother and daughter.
My grandmother named her Xochitl, after an aunt of hers, and mom hated the name. Nacas, or uneducated women, named their girls Xochitl. Growing up, mom told me that Americans always had a hard time pronouncing it so she started calling herself Sochi. My grandparents even started calling her that.
My mother died behind a beer joint in Baytown. A knife to the belly. Some said drugs had been involved while others say that my mother was killed by a trick. No one ever learned why my mother was murdered.
Henry, my brother, didn't remember our mother. I remembered that she was very intelligent, yet she always had a problem with men.
I have memories of her, some bad, mostly great ones though. Many men came and went. Mom liked to have fun and did not discipline us much. I remember her telling me that she did not like her parents ways, which were old fashioned, too religious, and forever unchanging.
To this day I still miss Sochi.
She told me once that we both favored our dad. I don't remember her ever telling me what happened to him, and I have never been curious enough to search for him. He could be in prison, living on a beach in Hawaii, or dead in a ditch.
Life only got worse after her death. Henry and I ended up in the foster system. After a month in the system we had foster parents, the Parnells. I felt lucky that a couple wanted both me and Henry. Usually, couples only want one child, not two or siblings. It turned out that we were unlucky. Kenneth and Miranda Parnell turned out to be monsters. They had teamed up with Uncle, a friend of theirs, and rented me out to pedophiles.
We lived with the Parnells until I learned that Uncle violated Henry. I was twelve years old the first time I killed a person.
Now, I am a contract killer.
I got in late last night after the job at Lawrence's house. I'll check later on Stacey's status.
I went for a five-mile jog when I got up. After returning home, I showered, shaved my monkey. Put my jammies on and went to the kitchen, fixing an awesome breakfast. I ate 1,200 calories of bacon, eggs, and gravy-smothered buttered biscuits.
I loved to eat.
With a full belly I plopped down on the couch in front of a seventy-inch screen TV. Time to kill something. I turned on my Playstation and began playing TitanFall 2.
Chapter Seven
Where's Our Witness
"Wake up, we're here," Henry said, and took the keys out of the ignition.
Sarah, a family friend, called him and told him that she had witnessed a man dump a body.
"Huh? I wasn't asleep, was I?" Mitch wiped drool from his mouth.
"Partner, you need to start going to bed earlier."
"Come on. Don't be undude! I was in bed by midnight."
Henry raised an eyebrow. "And what time did she let you actually sleep?"
"Not long after that, I made it last for almost three full minutes."
Henry grinned. At times he simmered in jealousy of Mitch's single life, not because of the multiple sex partners, just the freedom the lifestyle allowed. Being married with two young children and an HPD inspector meant ten minutes of alone time on the shitter. "Did you at least get her name?"
His partner scratched his chin. "Uh... I think it was Michelle or Melissa?" Mitch waved it off as unimportant.
The cold morning nipped at his cheeks when he opened his door. Henry, with coffee in hand, exited the unmarked car. Mitch got out and affixed his badge to his belt. Henry saw him and it reminded him to do the same. Henry affixed his badge to his belt and adjusted his jacket.
Mitch grabbed two coffees from the car's cup holders.
In the colder months they wore suits and ties, which was too much to ask for in a Houston summer.
Both men started walking to the crime scene.
Henry gri
pped his coffee with both hands. He had forgot his lambskin gloves Julie bought him a couple of weeks ago, the coffee helped against the frigid cold.
The men approached a uniformed cop who stood outside of the yellow crime scene tape. Henry was not acquainted with him. They showed badges, "Inspectors, the body's over there next to the dumpster."
Mitch took a sip. "Doc here yet?"
"Yes she arrived about twenty minutes ago. Here are some gloves."
Henry grabbed a pair of latex gloves: one for him and one for Mitch, in case they wanted to touch something.
"Good morning doc," Mitch said in a chipper voice, extending his left arm.
Her eyes were big and dark, her skin was tan and smooth. Her long dark hair was pinned up in a bun. Henry understood his partner's attraction to her. The ME, Dr. Cecilia Herrera, brought her eyes up. "Well, good morning Mitch."
He held out the second coffee.
"Please, just put it next to my bag there. Thanks. How are you?" The ME smiled, showing that she had spent some of her doctor money at the dentist.
Cops and ME's did weird things over dead bodies, like drink coffee, eat croissants, and flirt with each other. This happened a lot. Law enforcement were people too and had the same appetites and urges that everybody else had. So they flirted, even over dead bodies.
"Oh, I'm great Doc," Mitch said, trying not to show his hangover.
"Good morning Inspector Creed." Dr. Herrera said.
Henry glanced up from the body. "Good morning Dr. Herrera." The body lay on top of what appeared to be an expensive coat. The victim: female, Caucasian with blonde hair, physically fit. She seemed about five foot three or four. Expensive dress, earrings, and high heels. No marks on the exposed skin. The bottom halves of her eyes showed.
"What we got?" Mitch sipped his coffee.
"We have a dead Caucasian female approximately twenty years old. I can't give a definitive answer of the time of death, because this morning is a very cold one, and she is ice cold."
"COD?" Cause of death.
The doctor pointed at the purple marks tattooed on her neck. "She was definitely strangled. See the bruising there? Petechia hemorrhaging presented."
Not Forgiven: A Thriller and Suspense Novel: Ungoverned Series Page 3
