Luis’s leg was wrapped; then the Judge and Andrés walked him up the steps, back across the patio and around the infinity pool, and into the dining room where he settled on a dining chair. Four-fingers of a pale gold tequila were produced in a cut-crystal tumbler and downed by Luis in one gulp. It seemed to help.
“That’s better, gentlemen,” Luis said. “I’m sorry to get you all wet Judge, but I really appreciate your help. I don’t know what happened out there. I was watching our local fish. Then suddenly I was jumped by these vicious small fish with lots of teeth. It was awful. Like piranha. Very aggressive. They weren’t afraid of me. They only backed away when I could stand up and kick at them. If I’d been a little farther out into the lagoon when they attacked, who knows what would have happened. Ugh. It gives me the shudders just thinking about it.”
Luis held out his empty tumbler, Andrés refilled it, and Luis emptied it again.
“Okay. It’s okay Andrés. I’m better now. Let me quickly change, gents, and we can meet in the living room. We can talk there. It’s air-conditioned.”
Yes, thought the Judge. Oh, thank God, Yes!
CHAPTER 20
Garcia and the Judge settled in the living room, the Judge grabbing the seat closest to the air. Five minutes later Luis joined them. He’d changed into an expensive looking white linen shirt, embroidered on the pocket and cuffs, over dark blue designer jeans with a heavy tan belt, and soft leather slippers with a stitched design. The Judge noted how his narrow face emphasized his large dark eyes under narrow eyebrows; ranging eyes, they seemed to miss little. Luis seemed older somehow, older than his thirty odd years.
Garcia said, “So, Judge, Luis is one of our community leaders in Cabo. He’s on the board of the Chamber of Commerce, on the Hospital Board, contributes his spare time to the Governor’s Field Office here, and is the first one to provide a contribution or volunteer this estate for charity events. I only wish we had more young managers like Luis volunteering in our community.
Luis smiled. “I also play poker Thursday nights in the group with the Chief Inspector here and his Chief. They love to have me come because I play so poorly. It’s always an expensive night.”
“We are merely giving you lessons,” said Garcia, smiling. “Expensive lessons they may be, but you improve with every hand.”
“My playing may improve, but my wallet loses weight.”
Luis smiled now too.
Garcia moved on to business. “Luis, as you know we are looking into the death of your two aunts. We suspect neither was a suicide. The Judge has some experience in homicides, so I’ve asked him to sit in on my investigation.”
“Do I need my lawyer present, Inspector?”
“No. No. It’s nothing like that. We just want to get your impression of how it all went down. We are talking to everyone who was there.”
“Let’s talk then. And Judge, I’m glad you’re here. I want to help in any way I can.”
“Where were you when María fell off the roof?” asked Garcia.
“In the boardroom with the others.”
“Who was there when she fell, Luis?”
“Let’s see. There was Rosa, Roberto, Pablo, Ana, Miguel, Moreno, the company attorney, me… and oh yes, Alan Clark.”
“You’re sure they all stayed in the room? No one left to follow María up to the roof?”
“No. No one left.”
“And when Ana fell?”
“The same. And you and the Judge were there too, looking on. Such a sad mess.”
“Did you have a good relationship with María, Luis?”
“We had our differences. No secret about that. But she was my Aunt. She was family.”
“What were the differences about?” asked the Judge.
Luis turned to the Judge. A flash of irritation at being questioned flickered, then was quickly buried in a bland smile.
“She was the CEO, and thereby the ring leader in paying everyone their salaries and bonuses. The trouble was she was paying the older members lavish compensation, while forcing the younger members, Rosa, Roberto and me, to work for chicken feed. They voted themselves each a quarter-million-dollar bonus last year, while we got just eighty thousand a piece. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.”
“Were you upset she refused to consider your proposal for becoming a marijuana producing company?”
“Not particularly. I’d brought Alan Clark down to present the opportunity to the board. Thought it could be a significant play for us. But the senior bloc didn’t want to move forward. I knew it was a little too forward an idea for old Pablo and my two aunts. But I thought Miguel might see the wisdom in it.”
“So, when you were yelling at María in the board meeting, it wasn’t about marijuana?”
“Oh, I may have rattled her cage a little with the medical marijuana proposal. María was something of a throwback to an earlier time. She had no vision for fresh marketing opportunities, new methods, new products. She wanted to do things the way they’ve always been done. No automation, no expansion of plants, of products, of markets. I tried to talk to her about the lower cost per unit I was getting in the plants in my division. How it was building our cash flow and increasing our profits and market share. She wouldn’t listen. But when we were yelling, it was over the way Rosa, Roberto and I are compensated by ASAM.”
“Which division of ASAM do you run?”
“The high tech one. It’s small, but it’s important. The division builds products of the future. Airplane wing components for Boeing. Radar and electronic systems parts for Northrup. Missile parts, drones, smart car parts for the self-driving car prototypes. María’s division was selling boxed cereal for Christ sakes.”
“And you’re successful? You said you keep the costs down?”
“I’ve got very low costs per unit from my people, and high quality.”
“How do you do that?”
“I’ve inserted a lower wage base in my division, taking on a significant number of less skilled workers, along with a regiment of training to bring them up to speed. And I use a buddy system, matching each unskilled worker as an apprentice with a journeyman worker. I’ve set up my three division plants in rural settings with free housing on site for the employees. That way they have the chance to opt for an extended work schedule, earn more money, and keep the plant wheels turning twenty-four seven. It’s dropped labor costs dramatically. And we’re getting fewer part rejects and returns. My throughput is better as well.”
“And María wasn’t happy that your division was so successful?”
“I think she was jealous. She didn’t believe my labor rates, calling them fictitious. She was a stubborn old lady with a fiery tongue and no management sense. It’s better for the company she’s gone.”
“As in dead?” asked the Judge.
“No. As in no longer CEO.”
“So, you were stymied in building the company business, and paid peanuts while Señora Cervantes and the senior board members sucked out the cash?”
“That’s pretty much right, Judge.”
“Doesn’t that sound like a good motive for murder?”
Luis bit his lip. “No one on the board had any hand in this, Judge. We were all jammed in that damn boardroom.”
“If your division is so profitable, Luis, why go into marijuana?” asked the Judge.
“My division has small sales. But if we move into marijuana, it could be entirely different. Marijuana is going to be a twenty-three-billion-dollar business in the United States alone. Our farms are stretched out around small towns up and down the Mexican side of the U.S. border. It’s the perfect crop for us. If we snap up only ten percent of the market, that’s over two billion dollars. That sort of revenue is a hundred times what ASAM is doing now.”
“But marijuana’s still illegal under our Federal Law.”
“That will change and we both know it, Judge. Your populace wants their weed. It’s going to happen. The politics of marijuana are already underway.
You gringos don’t have enough jobs to keep your people employed. So, you need to keep them occupied. You’re going to dope them up and leave them in the sun.”
Garcia said, “Señor, I see a problem with your plan. Our own laws only allow for businesses to grow marijuana with a THC content of one percent or less. Most U.S. grown marijuana has THC concentrations ten to twenty-five times higher. How do you plan to compete?”
Luis smiled. “Laws will continue to change here as well as in the U.S., Señor Garcia. It just takes someone with vision to see into the near future. And our company can be the future, if only the board members will listen. I have the younger board members with me. I just need either Pablo or Miguel to push this through.”
“Or you need Pablo to die, his voting shares sterilized with no vote,” said the Judge.”
“I never said that.”
“You implied as much at the board meeting.”
“I was angry. I said lots of things I didn’t mean.”
Garcia asked, “How was María’s relationship with the other board members?”
“Old Pablo and Ana thought María walked on water. Miguel got on with her I suppose. I don’t think they were close. Rosa, Roberto and I were unhappy with the compensation arrangements, which were totally unfair.”
“And how about Ana? How was Ana’s relationship with the board?”
“The same. She supported the unfair compensation.”
“Do you smoke weed, Luis?” asked the Judge.
“Occasionally. But I prefer Jack Daniels.”
“Do you think marijuana is harmful?”
“Perhaps, Judge, I’ve done my homework. Did you know that long-term marijuana use is linked to lowered motivation, impaired daily ability to function, and sometimes anxiety, panic attacks, respiratory illnesses and even increased heart rate and risk of heart attack,” said the Judge. “Marijuana smokers often have the same respiratory problems as tobacco smokers. Marijuana has four times the tar, three to five times more carbon monoxide and over fifty percent more carcinogenic hydrocarbons than cigarettes. Three or four joints is equivalent to twenty cigarettes.”
“So why would you grow such a crop?”
“I’m a business man, Judge. If marijuana’s what the U.S. market wants, and it’s legal, I think ASAM should be in the business of providing it to our North American cousins. Let the Yankees smoke themselves into oblivion. ASAM could be the next Phillip Morris, trade on your New York Stock Exchange, it could coin money and create economic growth for Mexico. It would be good for everyone on this side of the border.”
“But what about the damage to Mexican smokers from using Marijuana?”
“I didn’t say I was going to sell it in Mexico.”
“Oh,… I see.” The silence hung for a moment.
“Doesn’t Luis have a beautiful home here, Judge?” Interceded Garcia.
“Yes. It looks like you’ve already made lots of money, Luis.”
“Some, Judge. I’ve been fortunate. Our father left Rosa, Roberto and me small trust funds. I’ve taken mine and played your American stock market. I’m up at the crack of dawn every morning during the week trading stocks, options and futures. It’s addicting. It gets into your blood. And as you know, your New York Stock Exchange has had a very good run. It’s provided the down payment for my home here on the beach, and it helps me pay expenses and contribute back to the Cabo community.”
“You’ve been very fortunate,” said the Judge.
Luis smiled. “Fortune favors the fearless.”
CHAPTER 21
That evening the room phone rang exactly at nine p.m., the desk announcing Alan Clark was in the lobby, as prompt as his word. Katy and the Judge marched with Alan out of the lobby and across the turnaround toward a waiting SUV, the heat settling about them like a cloud. Katy swished beside the Judge in a long green silk dress with a Miss Saigon cut, slender with curves, thanks in no little part to some elastic undergarments the Judge saw her wiggle into, flattening her still pouchy stomach. Females were tricky creatures.
The Judge had hoped to wear his puke green shorts and a white dress shirt, but Katy would have none of it, forcing him into beige slacks and a blue blazer which he said he’d carry, but be damned if he’d wear.
“Tonight, I have a date,” Alan said proudly as he opened the passenger door. “An old friend who happens to be down here on vacation for a couple of days, just like you two. Can I impose on you two to take the very rear seat?”
Alan held the door while Katy and then the Judge bent and climbed their way to the back of the SUV and its third set of passenger seats. Then Alan settled in the second row of seats and waived the drive to start.
As the driver took them to pick up Alan’s date, the Judge wondered if it was the cute little Mexican girl Alan had been flirting with in Cabo Wabo the night before. A pretty thing, bright and new, attracted to Alan’s apparent wealth, if not his age. Some part of the Judge had been a little envious at Alan’s freedom to flirt and partner up on the dance floor with multiple females, not married and under tow like the Judge. Then again, the Judge wasn’t much of a dancer.
They pulled up the main thoroughfare through town, all lights and scrambling traffic, Mexican style, dodging jaywalkers here and there, then turned right, toward the beach and the line of fancy resorts ringing the surf. They bounced across a river bed, paved and pretending to be a road, the Judge holding the ceiling with one flat hand so as not to hit his head. Then up through fancy wrought iron gates, checking in first with a guard in a crumpled uniform and long moustache. Finally, they pulled into the roundabout of a frothy-looking resort, pink and orange stucco with large porticos.
Alan dashed into the lobby, and reappeared with a tall brunette on his arm, difficult to see in the soft light. Too tall to be the Cabo Wabo girl, and she walked like an American.
Difficult to see, that was, until the sharp point of Katy’s elbow went slashing into his ribs with venom. It startled him out of his enjoyment of the SUV’s frosty air-conditioning stream, making him yelp.
He looked closely at the woman on Alan’s arm.
Oh Shit! It was Barbara!...
Barbara and the Judge had been an item of sorts some years before he'd met Katy. Item, hell, they'd had a passionate affair behind her then husband’s back. Images of wild nights on a fur rug fireside in Vail, and a tangle of legs and twisted clothes in the back seat at the Seattle Airport parking lot, flashed though his mind. Like daguerreotypes lifted to light from an old box in a dusty attic.
The affair had ended when the Judge insisted Barbara either run away with him, or mend fences with her husband. Barbara decided economic issues took precedence over love, at least until her then hubby made partner in his fancy accounting firm, which was supposedly imminent. Since she wouldn’t end her marriage, the Judge ended the relationship.
Unfortunately, the Judge seemed destined to run into Barbara periodically, the last time in Silicon Beach the year before. Worse, Katy invariably seemed to be there when Barbara turned up.
Katy took a dim view of Barbara. Was it because Barbara was beautiful? Or perhaps oversexed? Barbara exuded a feminine sensuality that hung like musk in the air when she entered a room. Perhaps it was because Barbara was still infatuated with the Judge. Or because Barbara was now single and on the prowl for her next husband. ‘Marrying up’, as they called it in Beverly Hills, a blood sport with Barbara. But the Judge suspected it was mostly a territorial thing between females. Unfortunately, he was the territory.
Barbara wore a sequined dress of gold that shimmered as she walked, tight across her hips and butt, swooping low in front to display a little more of her enhanced breasts than the Judge thought the law should allow. She bent to get into the front seat, damn near falling out of her dress, to Alan’s clear satisfaction and Katy’s sharp intake of breath in the backseat. Barbara waved her small gold clutch purse about in front of her, perhaps as a shield to fend off Katy’s cold stare.
“Hi, Judge. Hea
rd you were coming tonight.” She winked at him, implying a double entendre. “And Katy. So good to see you.” This said with a studied lack of conviction.
Oh boy, thought the Judge. This was going to be a rocky evening.
Alan tried to maintain chatty conversation as the SUV took them along the great coast highway that connected Cabo to San José del Cabo, known as the Los Cabos Resort Corridor, punctuated periodically by grand resorts facing the sea. He appeared oblivious to the drop in temperature with the arrival of Barbara. Katy was tight-lipped but smoldering, eyes narrowed, drilling a hole in the back of Barbara’s brunette head.
The party was at a private villa in Palmilla, ranked the best resort in Baha California. Flanked by secluded sands, aquamarine waters and pristine fairways, Palmilla was a specular enclave of the rich and the powerful according to Alan. They drove through a large private gate after inspection by two guards, squared up in uniform and tight on reviewing identification, then wound their way up a narrow road through the Palmilla Villas. The car took them to the top of the tallest hill in the resort, lying under a carpet of stars and a slender moon casting a small silhouette on San José Bay at their feet. Roofs of lesser villas stretched out down the hill to both sides. The dark sea held an indistinct horizon in a 180-degree arc, split only by the spike of pale yellow across the water.
The Villa itself had a grand gate with a doorway cut in it, manned by a cluster of five Mexican marines in formal dress, carrying automatic weapons. A tall Mexican in a pale green chauffeur’s uniform stepped out of the shadows to open the passenger doors, directing them toward the gate, from behind which the sounds of a small mariachi band rippled above the noises of a large cocktail party.
But more security clearance was required at the gate before they could step through onto a large stone terrace, anchored at one end by an infinity pool extending out beyond the cliff edge and overlooking the sea below. The residence, landward from the pool, was large and magnificent, stone and stucco, with long sliding panels of glass opening to the view from living room, den, dining room and four massive bedrooms.
Cabo Page 10
