“Let’s go have lunch by the pool, Judge. I’m in need of a stiff drink and some protein.”
They wandered down by the pool, she outfitted in her new bikini, lavender, with spangles, too skimpy for the Judge’s taste. But she was proud of the way her figure was bouncing back from delivery of their son, and he would not complain. Double margaritas were ordered with tacos, fajitas and nachos. Her appetite had returned. And there was new sparkle in her eyes.
“So, what’s it all mean, Judge? First someone tries to kill us on the beach, then they turn around and give you a soft warning by kidnapping me?”
“It wasn’t a soft warning to me, Katy. But yes, a puzzle, isn’t it? Someone killed María and then Ana on that rooftop. They are culpable and vulnerable, and they know it. If we’d simply been swept out to sea by a rogue wave off that beach, it would have been an unfortunate accident, taking the heat off. It was easy play for them with their modified drone. It would have been billed as a tragic accident. And it almost worked.”
“Did you hear back from your newspaper guy, Santiago Lopez?”
“Not from him, but about him. Unfortunately, Katy, he’s dead. They gunned him down the very next morning after I talked to him, in front of his wife and two small children.”
“Oh my God, Judge. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Whoever this is, they play for keeps, Katy. We’re damn lucky to get you back yesterday. I don’t want you leaving my side again until we walk off the plane at LAX.”
“Well let’s make a deal, Judge. You focus on the murders. Figure out who killed those two poor women; hand the culprits over to Inspector Garcia so they fry. I’m going to create such an outpouring of attention on forced labor and human sex trafficking in Mexico they’re going to think they’ve had a blow torch shoved up their collective asses.”
“You’re sure you want to play it this way?”
“I am.”
“Okay. But whatever you do, you need to do it quickly, concentrated, so they have no opportunity to strike back. It’s got to be a blitzkrieg.”
“I’m working on it Judge. You go solve your murders.”
They ceremonially clinked their margarita glasses, now empty and in need of replenishment.
The Judge wondered then if they were being foolishly optimistic and naive about what they could accomplish. He felt a tinge of queasiness when he considered the personal risks and the stark ruthlessness of their opponents. But Katy was on a tear; he knew she wouldn’t be stopped. It was up close and personal now.
CHAPTER 34
They trooped back toward the room through the intense heat, both from above and blasting up under their feet from the reflective concrete surface of the pathways. The Judge had a fleeting fantasy of wading into the pool, shorts and all, and up to the shaded swim-up bar for a piña colada, but pushed it aside. Katy was all business now, no longer on vacation. There was no time for swim-up bars.
When they reached the room, Katy went back to her cell, contacting the United Nations, the State Department, and talking more with the Special Prosecutor Office for Human Trafficking in Mexico City. She also spoke to the editorial staffs of El Universal and Milenio, the two largest newspapers in Mexico City. The Judge could see she’d be at it all afternoon.
About three p.m. the room phone rang. The Judge picked it up to hear the voice of Chief Inspector Garcia, who was downstairs and wanted to talk. The Judge left Katy in the room on her cell and headed down.
He could see as he approached Garcia across the lobby that the man was not happy. His face was practically pink. He was restraining himself, with difficulty, from yelling at the Judge as he approached. They settled in a small nook off the lobby, and the Judge took the high ground.
“Where the hell were you yesterday, Garcia? Christ, Katy was kidnapped. I called you out of desperation. You never showed up, never returned my call, stonewalled me as though I didn’t exist. Are you part of this network of bribes and favors which makes human trafficking big business in Mexico? Were you told not to come?”
Garcia looked like he would be apoplectic. Turning redder, almost gasping for breath, finally getting out, “I was here, you idiot, but you had gone. No note, no message, no return call. You just wasted my time, señor.”
“You could have called me back Garcia.”
Garcia glowered at him.
“Anyway, Judge, I understand your precious Katy is back, so that all worked out.”
“What do you mean it worked out? They kidnapped her right out of our room, subjected her to emotional and psychological abuse, forced her to disrobe in front of three jeering thugs, kept her in a dirty room in a brothel for eight hours without food, insinuated they were going to press her into sexual service. She was a wreck when I finally got to her.”
“But unharmed physically.”
“Barely. How do you know I got her back?”
Garcia’s coloring shot up again.
“Jesus, Judge. My Chief’s switchboard started lighting up like a Christmas tree about ten-thirty this morning. Calls from the Special Prosecutor in Mexico City, calls from the Governor, from the Lieutenant Governor, from the mayor, from the major Mexican newspapers, from your Department of State, from the U.N., from various do-gooder groups around the world and inside Mexico.
Your wife has created a fuckin’ shit-storm of controversy. She’s even alleged our Army was involved, that it colluded with the traffickers. The Chief got a call from the Deputy Commander for armed forces in Baha California. And he wasn’t happy. He’s a man you don’t cross.”
The Chief Inspector was clenching and unclenching his fists now, his mouth just a grim line.
“And?”
“Tell her to stop. She’s got to stop. She’s shaking a tree that’s best not shook.”
“We both know it’s too late for that Garcia. She’s shined a spotlight on your cozy network that traffics in people. There’s going to be a mother of an investigation, and I hope many heads roll.”
Garcia sighed, took a deep breath, visibly trying to calm himself.
“You two are a playing a dangerous game, Judge. You’re gambling this investigation she’s ginned up will stop further retaliation against you two personally. But you may have miscalculated. Have you considered the risks if you’re wrong?”
It was the Judge’s turn to clench his fists. Garcia was right, of course. Their safest course would be to let it go, grab the first plane back to Los Angeles. Had it been his decision, that’s what he might have done.
But it was Katy’s decision. She was the one who had suffered, been humiliated. Their twenty-year age difference mattered in such things. She still had the principles of youth, unbent by the cynicism of too much experience and the caution of old age. He admired her for it. He couldn’t just trash her decision, shut her down. And in the end, he knew she was right. One had to fight for what was right, sometimes at great personal sacrifice. It was the way of humanity as it tried to totter forward, in hit or miss fashion, toward something better than the present.
“I want a guard for her, Garcia.”
“What?”
“I want a guard for Katy, while we’re here in Mexico, until this all blows over. Someone I can count on. Someone that’s clean.”
Garcia sighed again. Nodded reluctantly. “Okay, let me see who I can find.”
“So, what’s happening on the murder case?”
“Who’s had time?” said Garcia, spreading his hands.
“We need to get to the bottom of it, Garcia. And I’d like to help.”
“Help however you like, Judge. I encourage you to do so. I’d much rather have a murder case to present to the Chief, than spend my time fighting this back-fire your bride has set.”
“Are the upper floors of the timeshare building and its roof still cordoned off?”
“Yes. Tightly sealed.”
“And you searched the roof carefully?”
“Yes. Nothing.”
“Your men immediately
sealed off the timeshare tower and the grounds after María fell?”
“Yes.”
“No one in or out through the point of your complete search of everyone at the scene?”
“Yes.”
“And the grounds were immediately searched?”
“Yes.”
“No one out of place outside? No one who didn’t belong?”
“No.”
“And this was all done instantly as Ana went up on that roof?”
“Yes.”
“So essentially the time share building was sealed off from the time Ana went up onto the roof, playing her part as María?”
“Yes.”
“And after Ana fell, there was no one on another roof?”
“No. Not that we could find.”
“Anyone else in the other buildings connected with the timeshare project?”
“No.”
“You found no one who seemed strange or out of place?”
“No. Just timeshare owners and vacationing tourists. All accounted for, all seemingly innocent.”
“So, either the killer of María slipped away before you sealed the site, which means there was a second killer who killed Ana, which seems highly unlikely, or there was just one killer who was still there, still on site, saw his opportunity to pick another board member off, and took it.”
“That makes sense, Judge.”
“Yet the only non-unit owner people on site were in the boardroom and in the sales office a floor below?”
“Yes.”
“And was there anyone down a floor in the sales office who was connected to either María or Ana?”
“No. There were you and your wife, a young couple recently married, and four sales staff, all vetted, all with no apparent motive to attack either of the deceased.”
“What about the boardroom? It was searched?”
“There’s nothing to search, Judge. Just underneath the conference table and in the wine cabinets.”
“Suppose we assume that someone at the board meeting was responsible for the two deaths.”
“Yes, Judge, and if we do?”
“Then there’s only one person who’d have had the opportunity to manipulate a drone from that meeting.”
“Who?”
“I’d have to show you. Why don’t we call another meeting there, back in the boardroom, put everybody back in the same positions, and see what happens?”
CHAPTER 35
It was five p.m. in the timeshare tower on the 20th floor. They all trooped into the boardroom like delinquent children: Miguel Cervantes, the surviving child of José Cervantes, the oldest brother; the clique of Luis, Rosa and Roberto Cervantes, the grandchildren of Antonio Cervantes, the second brother; and old Pablo, the surviving third brother. Behind them followed Alan Clark, Officer Gonzales, and Juan Moreno, the ASAM attorney.
The attorney still looked shifty, Alan was all smiles, his usual charming self, and Gonzales just looked dense. Garcia, the Judge, and a second police officer to keep order, were waiting for them. The Judge had placed placards with names at the seat where María had sat and Ana had sat. A stack of placards with everyone else’s name was handed out and they settled into their accustomed seats, putting their placard in front of them on the table.
“So,” said Garcia. “We’re going to replay what happened at the board meeting one more time. Mr. Clark, will you play María? And Officer Gonzales will play Ana.”
Alan Clark turned pale. He definitely didn’t want to play María. The rest of the board looked sullen. No one wanted to be here.
“So, Mr. Clark, you’re María. You’re here at the head of the table with your back to the view. Correct, everyone?”
They nodded.
“Gonzales is Ana, here to the left.”
They nodded again.
“Luis, you’re at the other end of the table, back to the elevator. Stand up and point your finger at Clark.”
Luis stood and stuck out a hand, pointing.
“Now, Alan, as María you’ve had it with Luis’s crap. You need a smoke. You’re going to turn and stomp out of the boardroom, passing the Judge in the hall, going to the stairs leading to the roof.”
“María generally lasted an hour and then would have to call a break and leave for the roof to have her smoke,” volunteered Pablo.
They nodded in agreement.
“I suppose it proves that nicotine kills,” said Luis. They ignored his black humor.
“Go on, Alan,” said Garcia. “Walk into the hall, go into the stairwell, and up to the roof. Gonzales is Ana and stays here. My other officer will escort you.”
Alan looked sick. “I don’t want to go to the roof.” It was almost a whine.
Garcia folded his arms across his chest, signifying there would be no discussion. “This is not a dance, Señor Clark, do as you’re told. Do it now.”
Alan looked at the Judge for support but saw none. He reluctantly turned and followed the officer out into the hallway and then disappeared into the stairwell.
“Then what?” asked the Judge. “What did each of you do? You first, Rosa?”
“I got up, got my cell phone out of my bag behind me, and checked my messages,” said Rosa.
“Do it,” said Garcia. “Go through the motions.”
Rosa stood up, produced a cell from her back pocket, pretended to take it out of an invisible bag behind her against the wall, plopped back down in her chair, stretching high heels and long legs sheathed in leather onto the granite table top, and thumbed her cell.
“Luis next,” said Garcia.
“I was standing like this. I turned and started pacing back and forth across this glass wall that looks out to the elevators. Trying to work off some of the tension. María had gotten me stirred up.”
“Angry?”
“Yes. Okay, yes, I was very angry.”
“Do it,” said Garcia.
Luis turned and paced.
“And what did you do, Pablo?” asked the Judge.
Rosa smiled. “Pablo’s an old man. He mostly just sits. He just sat here.”
“When you’re old as I am,” said Pablo, “each minute is to be experienced, enjoyed, savored… like a gift. I don’t stress over small matters. I’m happy just to sit and breath.”
“Is that correct?” Garcia asked. “Did Pablo just sit?”
They all nodded.
“And you Miguel?” asked the Judge.
“I made a call, then stood up and stretched, like this.” Miguel put one arm above his head, palm stretched backward, parallel to the ground, and the other arm down at his side, palm stretched backward, parallel to the ground, and gave a good stretch. “Then I walked over here and got a water.” He walked around the table, picked up a water from the marble counter that ran along the wall, and walked back to his chair, slumping into it. “These meetings are all so tedious, including this one.”
“Is that what happened?” asked Garcia.
The others nodded. They were getting bored with the game. The Judge could tell.
“Who was the call to, Miguel?” asked Garcia
“Just a call to the company, responding to a text.”
“We’ll need to see your telephone records for that day, and verify the call.”
“Sure.”
“Who, exactly, was the call to?” asked the Judge.
“Oh, just a company technician. You know, a technical call.”
“No, I don’t know, which is why I’m asking. You called his cell, or the ASAM line at his office?”
“His cell.”
“And his name, Miguel, specifically?”
Miguel sighed. “Pedro Mendoza.”
“The technician at your Todos Santos plant.”
Miguel, startled the Judge knew Mendoza’s function at the plant, responded, “Yes,” in a suddenly muffled voice.
“How about you, Roberto?” asked the Judge.
“I stayed put, right here. Got my cell phone out. Made a call as well.
”
“Who’d you call?” asked Garcia.
“My girlfriend, if that’s any business of yours.”
“What’s her name?”
“Carmen.”
“You normally talk to your girlfriend with business partners standing around, eavesdropping?” asked the Judge.
“If she’d answered, I’d have stepped out. But she didn’t. I left a message.”
“I want to get your telephone records for that day and verify the call,” said Garcia.
“Sure. Whatever.”
“Is that what happened?” Garcia asked the assembled group.
They nodded, half-heartedly now.
“That leaves you, Mr. Moreno,” said the Judge.
All eyes turned toward Moreno now, making him feel uncomfortable. His eyes darted around the group.
“I think I just sat here,” he said. Uncertain. “I think I was on my laptop working on a contract for ASAM.”
“Is that the way it went down?” asked Garcia.
There seemed general agreement in the group.
They all sat back in their chairs, except for Luis, still standing, relieved that the game was over. The elevator doors opened, and Gonzales stepped out, without Alan Clark, apparently still on the roof. Garcia made hand signals through the glass, conveying to Gonzales he should immediately retrieve Clark and return with him to the boardroom. Alan was probably having a heart attack up there, mused the Judge.
The Judge stood up, leaving his seat next to Garcia, and moved to the center of the table. All eyes turned in surprise.
“It’s funny how our memories work,” the Judge said. “What gets moved from our short-term memory to storage in our minds is often incomplete, or even inaccurate. Consider here and our replay of the events leading up to María’s death. All but one of you has entirely forgotten something. There is something hiding in the shadows of your memory. What have you forgotten?”
They looked at each other, confused.
“When we did the replay of María’s death last time under the Chief Inspector’s direction, one of you got up and stepped away from the table. In fact, at one point they were out of sight for perhaps four or five minutes. Where did they go? Do you recall?” asked the Judge.
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