"Hetta, you're looking well."
"And you are looking…Western. It suits you."
"So, I guess you want to know what I emailed about."
"Yep."
He pulled a piece of paper from his desk drawer and held it up to the camera. I squinted and rummaged in my desk drawer for a pair of cheaters. "Hold still, Craig, I can't read it. What is it?"
"You have been served."
"What? Why? Who?"
"You forgot How."
Jan and Rosario had drifted over to see what I was screeching about.
"Looks legally to me," Jan said.
Craig lowered the paper and nodded. "Exactly."
"Legally? What kind of word is that? What is it?" I wanted to know.
"Right now, all they want is a deposition."
"They? Who, they? Deposition? Isn't that some kind of thing they do before they lock you up or something?"
"It's a questionnaire, of sorts, I guess. Anyhow, my partner, Roger, talked to his cousin the local district attorney and says you can do it over the phone since you are out of the country. For now. You answer the questions. Give your side of the story."
Okay, this was getting annoying and Craig seemed to be enjoying it way too much. "What story?" I practically screamed.
I guess he figured he'd monkeyed around with me enough. "It seems someone is considering filing a suit against you."
"What the hell for?"
Craig grinned way too wide and leaned into the camera. "A hate crime."
Jan guffawed behind me, and Craig finally gave in and laughed out loud. Jan said, "That makes sense, Hetta hates everybody."
"I do not. I don't hate you, but if you keep laughing I'll work on it."
Rosario asked, from over my shoulder, "What is a hate crime?"
Craig squinted. "Who is that behind you, Hetta? I kinda like his get up. Is that chenille?"
"You're taken, remember? Anyhow, don't pay him any attention. He's dead."
Craig shook his head. "If you say so."
I took a long, ragged breath. "Who filed this ridiculous thing?"
"One Muhammed Ali. Ring any bells?"
"The boxer? I never even met him!"
"Oh, not that Muhammed Ali. This one's had a name change. Used to be Gustavo Espinosa, a.k.a. 'Flaco'. Now is your bell ringing?"
Jan giggled. "Hetta, isn't that the gangbanger you shot in the nuts with a load of bacon rind?"
11
GO BY THE BOARD (Nautical term): Something lost overboard, or abandoned.
"Let me see if I have this right, Craig. That skanky rat's rump who broke into my house and threatened Jan and me with a knife is suing me? Yeah, well, you tell him this, will you? That the lock he broke to get into my house? It was on the door for his protection, not mine!"
"I'll see he gets the message."
"And what is this hate crime thing? Can he do that?"
"I guess he's trying."
"Well, I do hate him 'cuz he scared us, but what about that Castle Law? They have that in Arizona. You know, the right to defend your Castle?"
"Yep, but you haven't heard the best part."
"I can hardly wait."
"Why he's trying to sue you."
Jan and Rosario leaned into the screen. "Why?" they said in unison. I elbowed both of them, but they didn't move an inch.
Craig grinned from ear to ear. "Because, Hetta, you sent him to jail where he has embraced Allah, but since you defiled his body with embedded pig parts, he cannot achieve heaven."
Jan chewed on her tuna sandwich, desperately trying, without much success, to camouflage her glee behind the bread. A hiccup of laughter escaped, along with a shower of crumbs.
"You know, Miz Jan, if you choke on that sammich I shall not render the Heimlich maneuver upon your sorry ass."
Rosario, who was still wearing my bathrobe, bunched his fists near his rib cage where one would, if one were so inclined, eject a piece of sandwich. "No, not the bottom, but to clear the windpipe. I will do it. I took a safety course when I swam for my high school team."
My guess is he was just itching to get Miz Jan in a Heimlich hug. I gave him the evil eye. "You want to get tied up again?"
He slid down in his chair and clammed up.
"Oh, come on, Hetta," Jan said. "Ya gotta admit this lawsuit thing is a hoot."
"Yeah? So why am I not hooting all to hell?"
"You will. I'll get us some wine."
We settled in for a glass of red and my patience level smoothed somewhat. I listened as Rosario basically retold me the same story as Jan's flowery version. I wanted to hear it in his own words, sans Jan Austen's embellishments. While I was anxious to get to the details, I bided my time until he hit the water, so to speak.
"So you passed out on the company boat and the next thing you know you're floating in the Sea of Cortez?"
"Yes. It was very dark and I was so scared."
"Where was the boat?"
"Gone. I was all alone, the wind blew hard and cold waves knocked me around. I felt I would die. Then I saw a light and swam toward it, praying it was not a boat at sea. It was far away, I learned, but when I was on the swim team I practiced long distance swimming. I was never very fast, but I am stronger than I look."
"Yeah, and my bathrobe isn't helping your macho image."
He grinned. He was a handsome kid, and rather endearing. Oh hell, I just called a twenty-six-year-old guy a kid? Is this what happens at for…past thirty-five? Five years ago I'd probably have hit on him and now I want to feed him milk and cookies?
Jan gave Rosario a nod to continue. "I finally made land on a rocky shore, near San Bruno. I still have bruises from those rocks." He pulled up my robe and showed us his black and blue knees.
San Bruno is a village about fifteen miles south of Santa Rosalia. I'd seen houses there when driving by and knew many people who lived there worked at a phosphate mine on San Marcos island, a quick panga commute from shore.
Rosario covered his battered knees. "I was so cold I thought maybe my teeth would break from chattering. They taught my swim team about hypothermia, so I knew I was in danger. I had no shoes, pants—I took them off so they would not weigh me down—or money, but I was afraid to ask for help. While I swam, I realized someone had tried to kill me, probably because of what I told the men on the boat. Or man. I cannot remember now for certain, but it seems more men came to the boat while I was drinking."
"Back up a minute, Rosario. You were working on the radio when a man from the mine came to the boat, then offered you a beer, right?"
"Yes."
I filed that away. No one at the office had mentioned seeing Rosario on the boat the night he disappeared. Hmmm.
"Did he offer you the beer before, or after, you mentioned you might have information about a problem at the mine."
He closed his eyes and wrinkled his forehead. Jan and I waited while he sent himself back to the night he almost died. His eyes popped open. "After. He drank beer himself while I worked on the wiring, but it was only after I hinted I might know something that he offered a beer. Is that important?"
"It might be. Did you give him names?"
"Names?"
"Of people you think might be responsible for problems on the job? Money that someone stole?"
"No, because…money stolen? I was looking for money wasted."
"Stolen, wasted, doesn't matter. I am here to find out what is rotten in Denmark. Looks like you may have done some of the job for me."
Rosario looked confused. "Denmark?"
"Just a phrase."
"So, you really are a spy? There was talk at the office that when you arrived you would find the problem."
Oh, great. I was outed before I even showed up.
Rosario noticed my displeasure and added, "They said you are very good."
"Ha!" Jan scoffed. "Hetta's never been good."
"Good at my job, thank you. So what you're saying is that my reputation proceeded me?"
/> Jan looked like she wanted to say something about my reputation so I gave her a warning finger stab that stopped short of her cute little nose. "But let's get back to that night. Did you give them names, as far as you can remember?"
"No, I didn't."
"How do you know? You were so drunk you passed out."
"I know, because I do not know the names. I only found suspicious information."
"Dang, and here I thought my work was done for me."
Jan had been watching us talk, her head swiveling back and forth like one of those plastic owl's heads meant to ward off pesky birds. "It sorta is. Rosario, the first man you talked with, the one who gave you the beer. Do you think he called others after you blabbed?"
Rosario nodded slowly, "Perhaps."
"But you don't know who they were?"
"I only remember hearing other voices, but by then I was seeing two of everything. And my head was spinning. Also, it was dark."
We took a break while I rummaged around for a voice-activated recorder I had on board and Jan went to retrieve Rosario's clothes from the dryer. When she returned, she had news.
"There are some guys on that company fishing boat, Lucifer."
"Anyone we know?"
"Your new BFF is out there."
"Safety? I'm surprised he isn't over here panting after you."
Jan rolled her eyes. "Jealous?"
"Hardly. Rosario...Rosario, are you all right?"
He had turned a bad color, like some do right before they hurl.
Jan went to his side while I grabbed a plastic garbage can. Normally when someone needs to upchuck on my boat I send them outside to do so over the rail, but with the mine guys out there that was out of the question.
Rosario sat down on the galley floor and cradled the garbage pail. I threatened him with a slow painful death should he get throw-up on my favorite chenille robe, then I hightailed it to the sundeck. I rarely throw up, but if someone else starts it can happen. Luckily Rosario recovered and took a glass of water from Jan.
"Safe to come back, Hetta, he ain't gonna barf."
"Thank God for that. Get me a glass of water too, will you?"
"Sure. Anything else, bwana?"
"I could use a pedicure."
"I ain't touching your bony old toes."
"Good help is so hard to find."
She flipped me the bird and pushed Rosario into his cabin to change into his freshly laundered clothes. I went out on the bow and waved at Safety. He was fiddling with a fishing pole on Lucifer, but put it down and sauntered over.
"Going fishing?" I asked.
"Maybe this weekend if the weather holds."
"Supposed to. Carry on, I have work to do since I played hooky this afternoon." I went back into the boat, where Jan waited with crossed arms and a frown.
"What's up, picklepuss? Rosario drop my robe for ya?"
"I wish. Hetta, I asked him what upset him so and he pointed out through the cabin porthole at the men working on Lucifer. He told me at least one of them was on the boat that night. Not that I blame the poor dude for being frightened, cuz I would be, too. I mean, this could very well be the guy who tried to off him."
"And?"
"And, it's Safety."
My jaw came unhinged. Safety? An attempted murderer?
Okay, historically I've not always been the best judge of character, but this came out of left field.
I like Safety.
He's my new best work-friend.
How dare he be a criminal?
12
Between the devil and the deep blue sea
I was still reeling from the shock of learning that Safety might be a wolf in Robert Redford clothing when he banged on the hull of Raymond Johnson. "Permission to come aboard, Captain Coffey?"
I gave the cabin a once-over, searching for evidence that Rosario was about, but decided to take no chances. Climbing the stairs to the sundeck, I leaned over the rail. "Come on up, Safety. Jan and I were just going to sit outside and have a lemonade."
He boarded, made his way aft and up the outside ladder and joined me.
"Jan," I yelled back over my shoulder, "guess who's here? Safety!"
I heard the guest cabin door slam shut. Minutes later, Jan, looking a little rattled, joined us. "So, fishing poles all fixed?"
"Yep, I thought I'd stop by before I left and see if you two wanted to go fishing this weekend."
Yeah, sure that's why he stopped by.
I shook my head, "Sorry, got plans. Is the radio on Lucifer working okay?"
Jan gave me a warning eye squint.
"Far as I know," Safety said. "Why do you ask?"
"Oh, Ozzie the purchasing manager mentioned that guy, Rosario, was working on it the night he disappeared."
"Yeah, so I heard. Guess he fixed it...before."
"Obviously, since it works. Don't you wonder what happened to him?" I asked, ignoring Jan's now wide-eyed stare and slight head shake.
Safety shrugged. "Who knows? You know how Mexicans are."
My blood pressure spiked and my ears roared. I wanted to deck the bastard, right then and there, but knew I couldn't give away the game. Using every bit of self-control I own, which isn't much, I croaked, "I changed my mind about the lemonade, Jan. How's about you get our guest and us a beer?"
"Yes, bwana."
Safety thought that was sooo cute he didn't notice me eyeing the corkscrew hanging by the wet bar. If I plunged it into his heart, cranked it over hard a time or two and jerked, would that constitute open heart surgery? Or if I stuck it in his—
"Hetta! Your beer!" Jan yelled, shoving it into my clenching fist.
Dazed, I focused on the cold thing in my hand, sadly saw it wasn't a weapon and brought myself back to earth. "Thanks, I really, really needed that."
Safety, enthralled by the beautiful Jan, had no idea he'd had a close call with evisceration by corkscrew.
"I need Valium and I need it now!"
"Now Hetta, you know you are not allowed within ten feet of a Valium. Remember that O.D. tag on your toe? Stomach pump ring any bells? Anyhow, you can get through this without drugs. Safety doesn't suspect you know a thing."
Years ago, I took Valium after drinking a lot of gin, a combo now known to kill folks. Luckily I called Jan before I passed out, because I knew something was awfully wrong. That hospital visit convinced me to stay away from any kind of serious tranquilizers or pain pills, darn it. Jan, bless her little heart, never lets me forget it, either. This is why you should change friends often.
"You think he'll get a clue when I toss his sorry ass off Hell Hill?"
"Ya know, Hetta, you might work on that anger management thing. And yes," she grinned an evil grin, "he might get an inkling during free fall."
Jan, Rosario, and I shared a high five at the idea of Safety plummeting through space without a safety.
"Now, take a deep breath, because he's gonna pick you up any minute. Rosario, you'd better vamoose back to your cabin until they're gone."
"Did you know that word, vamoose, comes from the Spanish, Ir, meaning to go, but conjugated into the imperative tense becomes vayamos which is the same as go! in English. Some however, think it stems from vamos, which is simply he/she/it goes?"
"Rosario, did you know that the words, pompous little prick, comes from the Texan phrase, get the hell out of my sight before I shoot you?"
Rosario paled and turned to leave. Jan patted his back. "It's okay, hon, she gets this way sometimes. Well, a lot of times, but especially when she's worried about something. Just go to your room until she's gone."
"Hon? He's hon, and I'm being sent to work with the devil incarnate?"
Just The Pits (Hetta Coffey Series) Page 8
