Julio was overwhelmingly grateful when the police arrested him and hauled him off to jail for possession of drugs and weapons. Somehow his plastic gun had morphed into a real .45, and paperwork found on his person suggested he was the head of a drug cartel. He offered to give up a huge amount of cash for immunity, but when authorities tracked down the Belize account, the money had vanished. He's being held in a Mexico City prison and knowing the system down here, he'll probably walk eventually. He protested long and loud when they charged him with the death of his friend, Rosario Hidalgo Pardo, but this being Mexico, he's guilty until proven innocent. Unfortunately for him there are no plastic surgeons available to prisoners.
Fortunately for him there is no death penalty in Mexico, but it didn't matter anyway, because Rosario reappeared at the job site and told the acting project manager, me, that he had left suddenly to claim a big inheritance from a long lost grandmother, and he was surprised he was considered missing. Hadn't Ozzie gotten his email with his resignation and request to hold his personal belongings until he returned? And no, he knew nothing of someone taking the company boat out the night he fixed the radio.
By the time the cops and marines showed up at the marina, Rosario was long gone in Safety's pickup. He'd found the keys in Julio's briefcase when he lifted Vargas's passport. Certain now that his friends were imprisoned in that mine shaft, he planned to liberate them and beat feet to the airport where a perfectly good plane waited to take someone to Belize. I sincerely hoped there would be five passengers in total.
Two weeks later, Safety, Bert, Ozzie and John were rescued, in amazingly good condition, on an island a hundred miles south of where the burned out Lucifer was found abandoned. All of them claimed being traumatized by Mexico and resigned their positions.
I am still on the payroll at the mine, at least until they find a new project manager to replace Bert. As a dubious reward for all of my good work the Trob has stuck me with that job, and Ozzie's as well, until replacements can be found. I immediately implemented measures to beef up security to prevent the likes of me and Rosario from playing loose with the equipment and computers, and ordered ten brand new 777G's from a bona fide Caterpillar agency in Monterrey. Turns out the first five were shoddily refurbished models from some outfit in Nigeria, no less, and bought for less than twenty percent of new list price. The repairs and spares on these money pits accounted for most of the cost overruns on the job, which had cleverly been spread about into other departments by persons unknown, but Vargas took the rap.
Having Laura now in what was Rosario's job helps me put up with the scores of bean counters, investigators and the like who showed up the first week after the earthquake. It is a half-hearted attempt, at best, since whatever money was lost, it was well balanced out by the vast amount of gold and Boleite found in the old mine shaft the office building ended up in. Besides, letting anyone know that at least seven million bucks had walked off the job was not something the company wanted to share with the stock-buying public.
The Mexican Tourist Bureau issued a statement to the world press to the effect that while there had been a slight earthquake in the Baja resulting in the closing of one measly highway for a few hours, the rumors of volcanic activity and tsunamis were unfounded. They also said there was an investigation underway to find the source of the false tsunami report.
I gave myself a few days off for my birthday so Jan and I could take Raymond Johnson to Conception Bay for the much dreaded event.
As Jan, Po Thang and I lounged on the sundeck at anchor in front of Café Olé, we discussed the events of the past few weeks. We planned on going to shore for a hamburger later, but for now I was content to spend the worst day of my life with my best friend and a dog.
I had received all sorts of calls and emails before we left the dock, and I appreciated them, but this birthday was better spent in private mourning. However, one of those presents was really good news. Craig had hired a private detective to check out the scuzz who wanted to sue me for a hate crime and, due to his findings the suit never made it off the ground. Turns out bacon rind boy is still part owner in a carnitas stand in Hermosillo and when that information somehow leaked out, his Muslim jailhouse buddies dropped him like a hot porker.
We'd wasted away the uncommonly warm afternoon hanging out in the water in the shade of the boat's hull, beers in hand. Po Thang happily dog paddled around us, occasionally swimming off to chase a gull or a fish. Even with the water hovering at eighty, we ultimately were chilled and pruned up, so moved onto the boat and upgraded to champagne.
"Nacho and Topaz, who'd a thunk it? An odd combo if there ever was one," I commented. I had to admit I was slightly jealous of that relationship. "I mean, we suspect he's a hardened criminal of some sort. Maybe she's uncovered his soft side."
"More like she's discovered his really hard side."
"You are sooo bad!"
Po Thang's ears drooped. "Not you, Furface, your Auntie Jan."
"Hetta, I wasn't talking about that."
"Well then, neither was I."
We shared a giggle and took sips of champagne.
"Think we should call the guys?" I asked. "I have the WiFi password from the café. Cell doesn't work down here, but we might get through on Skype."
"Nah, maybe after dinner. Wanna dress up for your birthday?"
"What for? We look fine. Or rather as fine as two women can look after swimming around with a dog all day. I kinda like this look." I grabbed a handful of stiff salt-encrusted hair and pulled it straight up, where it stayed. "Very punk."
"Your birthday, your call."
"I'm gonna declare Happy Hour a little early."
"What have we been having for the past two hours?"
"Pre-Happy Hour?"
Jan opened another split of champagne. "We're breaking the rules, you know. We're at anchor and getting drunk."
"It's my boat, my birthday. I take full responsibility."
"That'll make me feel sooo much better if the wind comes up and puts us on the beach."
"Geary said if there is any wind, it'll be from the south. We can handle that. You gettin' hungry?"
"What time is it?"
"Does it matter?"
"Not any more."
I should have picked up on that comment.
We pulled the dinghy up onto the beach. Po Thang had already launched himself into the water and was now tearing up the sand, playing with the café's collection of adopted strays.
Jimmy Buffett's "Tequila Sunrise" wafted from the outdoor speakers, and I heard some chatter inside the bar. "Well, Jan, at least you won't have to spend my birthday with only mopey old me."
"That's a relief."
"Some friend you are."
"Hey, I'm here for you in your darkest hour, ain't I? Go on in, I gotta hit the head. Order me a Tequila sunrise."
The first person I saw inside was Geary.
The second was Rosario, who had an arm possessively draped over Doctor Diane Powell's lovely shoulders.
Chino and Granny Yee held signs declaring:
LORDY, LORDY, LOOK WHO'S FORTY!
CHAOS, PANIC & DISORDER
HETTA'S WORK HERE IS DONE
HETTA'S IMMORTAL.
WAIT, IS THAT MISSPELLED?
Craig and his cowboy, Roger, were there, as well as ChaCha, my newly appointed trainer for heavy equipment, and her husband, the new Mechanic Shop manager.
All wore tee shirts reading, WE SURVIVED HETTA'S TSUNAMI!
My hand flew to my hair and I rued not taking that shower. I smelled of Coppertone and salt, and the sarong wrapping my bathing suit had seen better days.
But none of that mattered when I spotted the next person: JENKS!
He was wearing a tee shirt that declared: HETTA NEVER GETS OLD TO ME.
It was the bestest birthday ever!
NOT THE END...YET!
Books by Jinx Schwartz
The Hetta Coffey series
Just Add Water, Book 1
/> Just Add Salt, Book 2
Just Add Trouble, Book 3
Just Deserts, Book 4
Just the Pits, Book 5
Troubled Sea
The Texicans
Land Of Mountains
All available at http://amzn.to/o0gXOy
Jinx on Facebook: http://on.fb.me/OegHma
Jinx's Twitter handle @jinxschwartz
Jinx's Twitter page: http://bit.ly/peOlj6
Jinx's website: http://jinxschwartz.com
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Award-winning author Jinx Schwartz has spent most of her life traveling the world for work and pleasure. She spends as much time as possible afloat in the Sea of Cortez and pulls many of Hetta's adventures from her boating experiences there. When not in Mexico, Jinx finds herself high and dry on the Arizona border.
You can reach her at: [email protected]
Just The Pits (Hetta Coffey Series) Page 26
