Hit and Run

by Rayna Morgan

  Lea smiled gently. “I understand.”

  “But I must know,” Sofia continued. “Mario and Cate were going to marry, weren’t they?”

  “Yes. From what I’ve learned, they planned to elope as soon as they got things in order.”

  “I was certain of it. That kind of happiness on a woman’s face comes only from love.”

  “Why do you suppose they didn’t tell you and your husband when they were here?”

  “I imagine Mario worried about disappointing his father again if things didn’t work out.” She shaded her eyes from the sun. “It wasn’t the only thing he didn’t tell.”

  “What else do you think he was hiding?” Lea asked.

  “As I said earlier, I know when my son speaks the truth. A mother also knows when a child hides something. I asked what bothered him, but he wouldn’t say.”

  “Perhaps it was something about his job. Did he mention the cruise ship?”

  She hesitated. “Now that you ask, I realize something he told me makes little sense.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That he would miss the smiling faces of the young cruisers.”

  “Did he intend to quit his job?”

  “If he and Cate were planning to marry, perhaps he felt he needed work where he wouldn’t be away so often. Other than that, I know of no reason he would.”

  “Did he have problems at work? Was there anyone on board who bothered him or whom he disliked?”

  “Everyone liked Mario. I don’t believe it was that kind of problem.”

  “What then?”

  “More like something he wanted to tell us but couldn’t.”

  “Because it would make his father angry?”

  “Because it might be dangerous for him or anyone who knows him.”

  • • •

  Lea got into the taxi, disturbed by the father’s reaction and discouraged with the lack of information she received about Mario’s whereabouts.

  “How did it go?” Ricardo asked.

  “Your uncle is an interesting man, but he makes me happy I’m a daughter and not a son.”

  Ricardo laughed. “I have news to cheer you up.”

  “I could use some good news. What is it?”

  “Tito found the man who followed you on the malecon. It’s the gringo who approached him at the airport. Fasten your seat belt. I’ll take you to him now.”

  Chapter 28

  Lea bounced on the seat of the taxi as it rolled over cobblestone streets. Her mind raced, wondering about the identity of the person she was about to meet.

  Is it someone from Mario’s family, anxious to get rid of me?

  Did the stranger on the boat follow me, fearful I suspect the nature of his business?

  Will it turn out to be a member of the drug ring who wants to stop my investigation or believes I have knowledge of the stolen money?

  Mama’s Bar was a hole-in-the-wall a block off the main thoroughfare. The outdoor decor consisted of shiny glass balls over the entrance.

  Inside the restaurant, ceiling fans turned above tables with colored cloths. At the back of the room, men holding cue sticks and bottles of beer circled a pool table. Wine glasses hung from a rack over the bar. The TV behind the bartender was tuned to a soccer game.

  One of the men playing pool was Tito. Instead of coming to greet them, he nodded toward a man hunched at the end of the bar nursing a shot glass. There was a bottle, a plate of limes, and a salt shaker on the counter in front of him.

  “Call when you’re ready for a ride,” Ricardo said. “Tito will stay to have a beer, just in case.”

  “Thanks, Ricardo.”

  She walked toward the only person she hadn’t suspected of following her.

  • • •

  “Well, well. If it ain’t the chief’s daughter.”

  She pulled out a stool next to him.

  “Why do you keep referring to my father as the chief?”

  “Old habits die hard. What are you doing in these parts? Vacationing”-his tone turned menacing-“or helping your old man snoop into my case?”

  “I might ask you the same question, Mike.”

  The bartender asked what she was drinking.

  “A margarita, please.”

  Mike held up his shot glass. “You should drink tequila like the locals.”

  “The hangover isn’t worth it. Besides, I don’t like the taste.”

  “If you haven’t acquired a taste, you’re drinking the wrong stuff or you don’t know how to drink it.”

  “Save your mixology lesson for another day,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

  “We got identification of the second car—”

  “There was no witness to identify a second car.”

  He smirked. “So you read the report.”

  Lea mentally kicked herself. He tricked her to learn how much she knew.

  “Let’s quit playing games, Mike. You and I are here for the same reason and looking for the same person.”

  “All right, I’ll level with you. Mario Torres is a person of interest. We have evidence linking him to Cate’s accident.”

  “What evidence?”

  “That information is classified as far as you’re concerned.”

  “What made you look at him? You were ready to write the case off as an accident.”

  “I admit I initially jumped to conclusions. How can you blame me? Anyone driving after drinking that much tequila is an accident waiting to happen.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “Once I saw Mario’s record of drug use and learned about his gig on a cruise ship, it wasn’t hard to connect the dots. I reckon he’s doing more than spinning tunes for extra dough.”

  “It’s quite a stretch from transporting drugs to being involved in Cate’s death.”

  “One thing I learned from years in Vice. People associated with drugs are short on brains and long on greed. I figure Mario crossed the cartel. Either stole a shipment or didn’t deliver the money from a payoff.”

  Lea considered telling Mike what she and her father learned from Lyle but her instinct told her to keep quiet.

  “Go on.”

  “His drug buddies probably went to Cate to find her boyfriend or search for the loot. When she couldn’t or wouldn’t cooperate, they killed her.”

  “If you think they killed her, why are you after Mario instead of the drug ring?”

  “That question brings us to theory number two.”

  “Which is?”

  “He may have killed her himself.”

  “That’s an even bigger stretch.”

  “Not necessarily. Hear me out.” He poured another drink from the bottle. “I work security for parties at the Townsend place. At the last shindig, the host was serving drugs provided by Mario while Cate was serving cocktails. I saw her confront him in the parking lot. She obviously found out about his drug dealing and didn’t like it. Or he admitted to double crossing the cartel and she wanted no part of it. Either way, he decided to get rid of her.”

  “What will you do if you find him? You have no jurisdiction here.”

  “That’s not completely true. I have the right to investigate if there’s reason to believe a crime has been committed. Our governments cooperate with the extradition of fugitives.” He glanced at her sideways as he raised his glass. “As I say, I have rights here unlike your situation. You could get in trouble snooping around. Take my advice and go home. Give your old man my regards.”

  She fished for a retort to wipe the smug smile from his face. Before one came to mind, he ended the conversation by walking over to join the men playing pool.

  She walked outside and called Ricardo.

  As she waited on the sidewalk, she pondered alcohol in the victim’s system at time of death.

  Mike’s still lying about the toxicology report to steer us off the case. What is he trying to hide?

  • • •

  Back at the B & B, Lea received a call f
rom her father. She quickly made excuses for not informing him of her activities.

  “Never mind,” he said. “I called with something more important than reprimanding you, although we’ll get back to that at a future time.”

  “What have you found?”

  “The night I had dinner in Ensenada—”

  “With Oscar?”

  “Yes, that’s right. I mentioned the reason for my being in town.”

  “You told him about Mario?”

  “Briefly. The story resonated in a way he couldn’t determine. Today, he figured out why.”

  “Did he look up Mario’s police record?”

  “He checked Mario’s record all right, but not the one I got from Meg. He sent me a picture of the last class he supervised before he retired. One cadet in that class stood out as the most promising recruit he ever trained. I’ll forward you a picture. Call me back when you receive it.”

  Lea waited impatiently for the sound of an incoming message. As soon as she heard the beep, she opened the snapshot of a group of smiling cadets.

  One name was circled in red.

  Macario Torres Gomez.

  Above it was an image of the man she knew as Mario Torres.

  She called her father immediately.

  “Why didn’t Meg’s report show that Mario is a police officer?”

  “There can only be one reason for that information being expunged from his file. He’s under cover.”

  Chapter 29

  Based on the information from Oscar, Warren had no alternative. Bright and early the next morning, he went to police headquarters to speak with the chief.

  “I know about your undercover agent, Macario Gomez, otherwise known as Mario Torres. I need to know who’s running him.”

  “You know I can’t divulge that information.”

  “I won’t do anything to compromise your operation.”

  “I know that, but—”

  “I’m asking because you may have a rogue cop on your hands. From what my daughter and I found out, Mario planned to use the payment from his last drop to run away with Cate Palmer. She may have been killed in the dealer’s effort to retrieve the stolen payoff.”

  “You’re telling me something I already know. On his own advice, I sent Mario’s handler to Chapala to bring his agent in before the dealer finds him.”

  Warren considered the chief’s explanation.

  “That may not be the handler’s only motive in recommending that action. Is he trying to protect his agent, or has he used Mario’s foolish action to his own advantage?”

  “What are you suggesting?” the chief asked angrily.

  “How does this scenario play for you? When the handler realizes what Mario had done, he sees an opportunity to turn Mario’s folly into his personal payday. He pressures Cate to reveal the location of the money. Along the way, things get out of hand and he kills her.

  “He reports the stolen money can’t be found and keeps it for himself. He then travels to Chapala to eliminate Mario and blame his death on the drug ring. Finally, he carries out a major drug bust and paints himself as a hero in the process.”

  “You’re crazy if you think Morris…”

  He stopped too late.

  “Thanks, Chief. You confirmed my suspicion of the handler’s identity, but don’t worry you gave it away. I figured it out when I saw the arrest report. Mario wasn’t fingerprinted or questioned which means he probably came for a meeting with his handler. That report was filed by Mike Morris.”

  “You and Morris never hit it off. You were always gunning for each other. It’s plain to see you still are, but I think you’re wrong about Mike.”

  “Then look at things this way. The chief of police can’t be seen exercising bias. Defending officers is admirable, but unwillingness to initiate action in light of justifiable cause will raise eyebrows. Especially with recent publicity on police failure to hold their own accountable.”

  “Then stop wasting my time and get busy. The faster you bring proof of either officer’s wrongdoing, the sooner I can issue a statement assuring the public an internal investigation is underway.”

  Warren was tempted to bring out the tape and let the chief hear the exchange between Morris and Kirk but the chief would never side against an officer without proof.

  “It appears it doesn’t matter to you which of your officers might be guilty.”

  “My concern is for the reputation of the department.”

  “Is it the department’s reputation you worry about or your own?”

  The chief turned his chair toward his computer.

  “I have work to do. I assume I’ll hear from you if you have something to report other than baseless accusations.”

  Chapter 30

  Although the news about Mike Morris was unsettling, Warren focused on the need to pressure other suspects. He left the police station and drove to Allen Kirk’s office, relishing the task of leveling another accusation of impropriety at the assemblyman.

  Glad for a few minutes alone with Kirk’s assistant, he readily accepted her apology for her employer’s delayed arrival.

  “Nice office,” he said, as he walked around the reception area.

  “Mr. Kirk’s family business is import-export which gives us access to beautiful furnishings.”

  Another person involved in the import business, Warren thought.

  He stepped to the assistant’s desk. “Since we have a moment, you might do me a favor.”

  “Certainly, how can I help?”

  “At our last meeting, your boss and I discussed a social engagement you might verify.”

  He asked about the assemblyman’s dinner party the night of Cate’s accident.

  Seconds later, Kirk rushed through the door.

  “Sorry to be late. Please come in, Warren,” he said as he led the way to an inner office. “Hold my calls, Natalie.”

  It was impossible to know what caused the man’s fluster. Being late, seeing Warren huddled with his assistant, or worrying about the purpose of the meeting. Whatever the reason, Warren felt it gave him an edge.

  “What’s this about?” Allen asked, as he settled behind his desk. “I gave you all the information I have concerning your inquiry.”

  “Let’s call this an update based on insight into your relationship with Ron Townsend.” He sat down, moved the chair closer, and placed his elbows on the desk. “You know, Allen, it’s guys like you who abuse your power who give politicians a bad name. By exploiting political office for personal gain, you deprive citizens of honest representation. The voters trust you, and you betray that trust.”

  He waited for his words to register before proceeding.

  “A committee chairman such as you is able to wield unchecked power behind the scenes. You aren’t the first official to be bribed or to influence fellow lawmakers to vote against reform. The worst part is that by lining your own pockets, you endanger public safety.”

  Allen’s face turned a deep shade of red. “Your statements are libelous. I’ve done the best job I can as a legislator and I stand behind my record.”

  Warren ignored Kirk’s protests. “Politicians sometimes fail to accept that no elected official is above the law. When a legislator acts in return for payment, that’s not just a breach of duty, that’s a federal crime.”

  “You can’t prove a word you’re saying.”

  “Don’t be so sure, Assemblyman.”

  Warren pulled a listening device from his pocket and played Cate’s recording of the exchange between Townsend and Kirk the night of Townsend’s party.

  He stopped the tape to observe the man’s reaction. Perspiration dotted Kirk’s forehead and upper lip.

  Warren continued. “Would you like to hear the part where you come on to Cate and she turns you down?”

  Kirk shook his head and poured himself a glass of water.

  “What do you intend to do with that?”

  “Lucky for you, I’m not interested in proving allegatio
ns of misconduct. My only concern is Cate Palmer’s murder. However, your alibi of attending a dinner party the night of the accident doesn’t hold up. I checked with your assistant. She syncs your social events with her calendar. She has no record of that engagement.”

  Warren’s tone was sarcastic as he continued. “Any particular reason you didn’t calendar your activities that night? Perhaps you were indulging another mid-life crisis.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I learned my lesson after that disastrous affair with Cate. I must have confused the dates.”

  “Would you like to revise your story or should I assume you have no alibi?”

  The assemblyman shifted uncomfortably. “I’d rather not disclose my whereabouts that evening.”

  Warren leaned forward, his patience strained to the breaking point.

  “You lied about not speaking to Cate at Ron Townsend’s party the Friday before her death. I think you also lied about the way your relationship ended. And you denied business ties to Ron Townsend. That’s three strikes against you in my book.

  “Now, tell me the truth or my next stop will be police headquarters where I’ll turn over this recording. They won’t give you options about disclosing your whereabouts.”

  “All right, have it your way. I was playing poker with Ron Townsend and two other guys at his house.”

  “What was so difficult about telling me the truth?”

  Allen walked to the window and stared out, clutching his hands behind his back. “I don’t want my wife to find out.”

  “Doesn’t your wife approve of a night out with the boys?”

  “Several years back, I had a gambling problem which she believes I’ve overcome. That’s how I got connected with Townsend.”

  He stopped talking, lost in memory.

  “Go on,” Warren said.

  “We met in Vegas. He was at a convention. I was attending a political event. One night, we sat at the same blackjack table. We played until the sun came up, him winning and me losing.

  “During the course of the evening, we discovered we live close to each other. He asked if I’d like a spot at his weekly game. He and some neighbors in a friendly round of poker.” His next words were barely audible. “I suspect even then he planned to take advantage of my gambling weakness.”