The Body Market: A Leine Basso Thriller

by Berkom, D. V.

  He cleared his throat. “About a week ago, I overheard some guy talking on his cell phone outside of the little market near my apartment. He mentioned that he was expecting a special delivery from LA in a couple of days and that he’d be able to complete the transaction soon. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but two days would have made it Saturday. It seems kind of strange in light of the missing kids, don’t you think?”

  “Or, it could have been that the guy was actually expecting a delivery. Did you notice an accent? Was he speaking English?”

  Willy shook his head. “Definitely Spanish. Why?”

  “No reason.” Leine narrowed her eyes. “How did you know the kids were from LA?”

  “Like I said, my friend at the police station. Anyway,” he continued. “I told him what I’d heard, but he said that I should keep quiet and not talk about the case or he’d be in deep shit for telling me.”

  “How would his superiors find out?”

  “They might have been watching him or something.” Willy shrugged. “My blog gets a lot of local traffic. It’s possible he was worried I’d write a post.” His chest seemed to expand a bit. “I’m known for writing a headline that gets noticed.”

  “Ah,” Leine said. “Well, thanks, but what you’ve told me isn’t worth anything.” She stepped back and pointed at the alley entrance. “And now you need to go.”

  His eyes widened. “You’re not going to pay me?”

  She shook her head. “Nope.”

  Willy looked at the ground. He puffed out his cheeks and sucked them back in.

  “What?” Leine asked, exasperated. Why won’t this guy leave? She glanced toward the entrance again in case he was stalling, waiting for someone else to show up.

  He looked up and down the alley before speaking in a low voice. “I know what happened to the car.”

  Leine looked at him sharply. “What car?”

  “The kid’s Porsche.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Willy crossed his arms. “Uh-uh. No more info without the dinero.”

  Shaking her head, she dug into her pocket and held up a fifty. Willy made a grab for it, but Leine put it back in her pocket. “Not until you give me something I can use.”

  Willy sighed and pulled out a wrinkled handkerchief from his back pocket to mop his face.

  “I could get into some serious shit for telling you this.” He glanced behind him. “My friend knows the guy who got rid of it,” he whispered.

  “Go on.”

  Willy closed the distance between them, a conspiratorial look on his face. Leine stepped away, trying to get upwind.

  “According to my friend, a guy who does side jobs for some, uh, businessmen here in town got a call to go up to Vista del Mar and get rid of a vehicle that was parked there. So this guy gets what he thinks is a brilliant idea and decides he’s going to take this fearsome Porsche and hide it in his garage, intending to sell it in a couple of weeks when things die down.”

  “And?”

  “When he went out to file off the VIN he noticed a bunch of flies buzzing around the trunk so he opened it. What do you think he found?”

  “I’m guessing a dead body.”

  Disappointed, Willy appeared to deflate from Leine’s non-reaction. “How did you know?”

  Leine ignored his question. “Male or female?”

  “My friend didn’t say, but he found this.” Willy dug in his front pocket and showed her a man’s wristwatch. Leine reached for it, but he pulled it away before she could see the make.

  “That could be anyone’s watch,” she said, annoyance creeping into her voice.

  “Yeah, anyone’s expensive watch, with To Josh from Mom and Dad engraved on the back.”

  “Show me.” Leine nodded at the timepiece. Willy held it up so she could read the back.

  “What did this guy end up doing with the car?”

  “He took it out of town and pushed it into a ravine with the body still inside.”

  “And your friend knows this, how?”

  “He helped him do it.”

  “Where?”

  Willy frowned. “I want a guarantee that you’ll pay. How do I know I can trust you?”

  “You don’t.”

  By the look on his face, he wasn’t going to budge.

  Leine shrugged. “Yeah. I figured you were bluffing.” She turned toward the alley entrance and made a sweeping gesture. “After you.”

  Willy’s expression morphed from belligerent to panicked. “Hold on a minute.”

  Leine crossed her arms and waited.

  “If I tell you where the car is and the wrong people find out, my friend could get into a lot of trouble. The circle is small, if you get my drift.”

  She watched him in silence, her arms still crossed.

  A fine sheen of sweat appeared above Willy’s upper lip. He puffed out his cheeks and sucked them back in again as his gaze darted from Leine to the alley entrance and back again.

  Leine took a step toward him. “If you’re waiting for someone, you’d better tell me now, or you’re going to be in a world of hurt. And so will they.”

  Willy shook his head. “No, no. There’s nobody else.”

  “Then why do you keep looking at the street?”

  “Like I said, if anyone sees me talking to you, my friend could get hurt. I could get hurt.”

  Leine rolled her eyes. “Listen, Willy. It’s dark. No one’s going to recognize you. Or me. Okay?”

  “Not until I get the money.”

  She ripped the fifty in half and handed him a piece. Willy gave her a look. She smiled. “You get the other half when I find the car.”

  “That plus at least another hundred,” he said, and pressed his lips together.

  “We’ll see.”

  “Okay.” He pulled a small, wire-bound notebook and pen out of his back pocket and flipped to a clean page. He glanced at the street lamp at the other end of the alley. “I need light.”

  Leine reached into the side pocket of her pants and produced a small flashlight, which she turned on, shining the beam on his notebook.

  “It’s off the Rosarito Highway, just past the goat farm,” he said, drawing a crude map. “Look for a white house on your left with a fenced yard. Go six kilometers past the house and the drop point will be on your right. My friend said it was a pretty steep ravine, so no guarantees you can see the car from the road.” He added a phone number, ripped the sheet out, and handed it to Leine.

  “I wrote my cell on there so you can call when you find it.” He pointed at the number as though she might miss it. “It’s worth a hell of a lot more than whatever that bartender told you.”

  “Who asked him to get rid of the car and why didn’t they just dispose of the body? That Porsche was worth over a hundred K.”

  “My friend didn’t say, exactly.” He shrugged. “My guess is it was cartel business.”

  Willy’s story sounded more and more like a load of bullshit. Leine hadn’t had many dealings with Mexican drug cartels, but she suspected they wouldn’t let a dead body in the trunk slow them down when it came to money. And Willy hadn’t offered to go with her to make sure he got paid if she found the car.

  “What color is the Porsche?” she asked.

  “Red.”

  She nodded. The fact that he got the color right was something, although red would have been a safe guess. Her enthusiasm had cooled when he mentioned that the car might not be visible from the road. Leine folded the paper and slid it into her pocket. She checked her watch again, giving Willy a pointed look.

  “Oh. Right,” he said. He shifted his weight from one foot to another but made no attempt to leave. Leine folded her arms and glared at him.

  Shift, pause. Shift, pause.

  “What?” Leine didn’t try to conceal the exasperation in her voice. I should have dropped his ass when I first saw him, she thought in irritation.

  “How much do you think the information is worth?” Willy’s faci
al expression would have put a newborn puppy to shame.

  Leine emitted a disgusted sigh as she brushed past him. “You’re pushing it, Willy. How about nothing? Nada. Got it?”

  “Whoa. Take it easy. I’m sorry.” He grabbed for her arm but pulled back when he saw the look on her face. “How about I just wait for your call?” He cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll just wait.”

  “Leave now, Willy,” Leine said, her voice weary. “I’ll call you when and if I find the Porsche.”

  He gave her a wan smile before he took off at a brisk pace toward the alley entrance. Halfway to the street Willy stopped and turned back. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

  “The ice is getting pretty thin, Willy.”

  “Okay. Got it. Don’t forget,” he stage whispered as he walked away, hand to his ear like a telephone. Leine exhaled with relief when he finally turned the corner and disappeared.

  Glad to have Willy Flint gone, Leine thought about what he’d said. Why would someone damage a car worth that much, essentially leaving money on the table? It couldn’t have been a carjacking gone wrong. It didn’t make sense. The possibility that Elise might have been the intended target was beginning to sound a lot more plausible. Even though she figured Willy was full of shit, she’d still check his story. He’d known too many details—the phone, the Porsche, Vista del Mar—for her to completely discount him. If his story checked out, she was pretty sure she knew who the guy doing the driving had been.

  At least now she had something to work with. Herrera’s input regarding the local police would help her to determine whether there might be a larger cover-up to consider.

  Leine retracted the blade and slipped the knife into her pocket. She made a mental note to call Lou and see if he’d found her a semiautomatic.

  She had the feeling she was going to need it.

  Chapter 11

  Leine waited a few moments before exiting the alley. Once she’d made sure no one else was following her, she returned to her rental. She paid the attendant, who had reappeared and was eating his dinner out of a tinfoil wrapper, and drove out of the parking lot, through town to the free road.

  The sign with the happy cow was lit from below and easy to see. Leine pulled into the outdoor restaurant’s dirt lot and parked. Besides the man behind the grill and an older woman making tortillas, there were three other customers. A young couple sat at one of the tables eating tacos and drinking beer. A man with a cowboy hat resting on the table in front of him occupied another. Leine walked over to the man with the hat.

  “Bob Herrera?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Herrera said, standing. “You must be Leine.”

  Leine shook his hand and had a seat. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

  “A pleasure. Thirsty?” he asked.

  “I’d take a beer.”

  Herrera signaled the woman behind the counter preparing tortillas. She nodded and a few minutes later came by their table with two ice-cold Dos Equis.

  Bob Herrera had the look of a man comfortable in his own skin, although his relaxed expression had a wariness that matched the sardonic tilt of his mouth. Dark hair shot with gray and cut short framed the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow. Along with the cowboy hat, he wore a faded yellow golf shirt, black jeans, and scuffed cowboy boots. A slight paunch had made itself at home around his midsection, but he otherwise appeared fit.

  “How is ol’ Santa, anyway?” He smiled, his teeth gleaming in the soft glow of the string lights hanging across the seating area. The smell of fresh lime and seared beef drifted over from the cooking area.

  “He’s doing well. Says to tell you it’s your turn to pay.”

  He chuckled. “Last time I saw him we closed down a little cantina just this side of the border. As I recall he ended up footing the bill.”

  “Good as it was of you to meet with me, Agent Herrera, I assume there’s another reason you wanted to talk. Am I right?”

  “Call me Bob, and yes, there is.” He shifted in his seat and took a drink of his beer. “Santa explained that you’re working for SHEN but that the missing girl’s parents believe she may have been targeted because they’re wealthy.”

  “That’s it in a nutshell.”

  “And they came to SHEN on the advice of their attorney?”

  Leine nodded. “There’s been no ransom demand, which leaves the possibility she may have been targeted by traffickers.”

  “We’ve been seeing an increase in criminal activity around TJ—carjackings, kidnappings, extortion. According to my sources, it doesn’t have anything to do with the local criminal element.”

  “Outside talent?”

  Bob nodded. “I’ve heard rumors the Eastern Europeans are in town.”

  “The bartender I talked to said he saw the missing owner of the Porsche with a guy who sounded Russian.”

  “That jibes with the rumors.” Herrera let out a long sigh. “That won’t sit well with the local boys.”

  “Earlier on the phone you said the owner of the Blue Manatee might have me followed. Why would he care about me being here? I’m no threat.”

  “Otero’s good friends with the mayor, who is particular about controlling information regarding his town. The disappearance of two wealthy kids, an expensive car, and a possible murder could derail his marketing efforts.” Agent Herrera’s gaze met hers. “I would tell you not to worry about it except Otero is known to be connected to organized crime. Even though he considers himself a religious man, he operates a whorehouse outside the city that caters to his ‘messengers of Christ,’ that’s what he calls his employees. Hell, a lot of people in town think he’s a great man, do side jobs for him for extra cash. Some of the local police are on his payroll, although that’s slowly changing. The police force has gone through a cleansing in the last few years. That being said, I’d recommend you tread lightly. That is one pot you don’t want to stir.”

  “Sounds like the mayor’s going to have a marketing nightmare on his hands whether he wants one or not.” Leine watched the cars passing by on the highway. “A lot of innocent people could get caught in the crossfire.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you know about a guy by the name of Willy Flint?” Leine asked.

  Herrera snorted. “Flint’s Stones? Jesus, talk about a royal pain in my ass. What did he want?”

  “Nothing, really. He was having a beer at the Blue Manatee.”

  “Willy’s been hanging around TJ for a long time. Your typical shyster, always on the lookout for easy money. He popped up on my radar a year after I was transferred, sure he had inside information I could use.” Herrera shook his head with a wry smile. “Ninety-eight percent of the time he makes shit up, hoping to get a payout before I check his stories.”

  “What about the other two percent?”

  “Problem with Willy is, every once in a while he’ll have something worthwhile. But the bogus information outweighs the truth, by far.”

  “Thanks for confirming my impression.” Leine rested her beer on the table. “If your mayor is so sensitive about his town, why did the police tell ICE about the phone? Seems to me if he’d wanted to keep things quiet, he would have tried to bury the evidence.”

  “The mayor didn’t know about the phone until it was too late. The Chief of Police was on vacation in Cabo and found out when he got back two days ago. At that point, the department had shared their findings and the guys from ICE had already taken samples of the blood.”

  “Where’s the phone now?”

  “I assume the police have it.”

  “We still don’t know for sure if Elise was in the car with Josh. If not, then we’ve got a couple of different possibilities. Tell me what your gut says.” Leine proceeded to give him the information she had on the disappearances, avoiding any mention of what Willy Flint told her about the car. If things shook out the way Willy had intimated, and that was a big if, she’d let him know.

  “Would you say it sounds like the work of
local organized crime or outsiders?”

  Herrera shrugged. “Hard to say. Both kids were a prime target. Could’ve been either.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “You say the girl told her friend they were headed for a party at some actor’s house on the beach. The housing project where they found the phone may have a water view, but it’s a far cry from an oceanfront mansion.”

  “So Josh was tricked into driving to the abandoned development where no one would see him.”

  “Sounds like it. I’ll lay five to one it’s the boy’s blood, not hers.”

  “Does that fit the MO of your locals?”

  “Possibly. One thing bugs me, though. The kidnappers could have found a way to force Josh out of the car without damaging the vehicle. That was one valuable Porsche. That they didn’t tells me whoever did this cared more about the occupant or occupants than the car.”

  “Replacing a windshield isn’t hard, especially with all the body shops in town.”

  “Yeah, but they found part of a side mirror and headlight glass. I know the local guys. They’re lazy as hell. Most of them are interested in easy pickings. No muss, no fuss.” Herrera glanced at his watch. “I assume you’re going up to the housing project tomorrow?”

  “I’m sure it’s been gone over with a fine-tooth comb, but I still want to get a feel for the place.”

  “I’m happy to drive you there, if you want.”

  Leine nodded. “I figured I’d get an early start. Meet me here around sunrise?”

  “See you then.”

  Chapter 12

  Early the next morning, Leine took a quick shower and then checked her phone. Lou had sent her a text with a name, telephone number, and the word baitbox. Baitbox referred to a job she’d done in Italy with Lou acting as logistical support. Whenever he’d set something up that she needed to physically retrieve, he would give both Leine and the supplier a specific pass phrase to act as an identifier. He knew she’d remember which one they’d used in Italy because their weapons contact worked a fish market in Naples as a front and, inexplicably, had offered Leine a box of free fish bait with the merchandise. She texted Lou to thank him and called the number.