by Susan Slater
Dan followed instructions, fluffing the bed pillows before he stacked them against the headboard and leaned back. God, he was tired. And he wasn’t in the mood for this. He hoped the meeting wasn’t going to take too long.
“Before we get started, I have a request.”
Dan didn’t like the hardness of his voice.
“Okay. What’s that?”
“Quit fucking my wife.”
The man flipped on the table lamp beside him and Dan looked into the face that he’d seen in the picture at Elaine’s, seen at the edge of the pool at Carolyn’s. And he couldn’t seem to stop the feeling of something crushing his chest and realized that the strange noises were his own short gasps for breath. Eric Linden.
In the flesh, his handsomeness barely altered by a fresh scar half hidden in his hairline, the nose curving slightly from a recent break, the corner of his mouth drawn down in some kind of permanent smirk.
“If this is going to work, pal, you’ll do as I say. I’ll give you everything the feds want and maybe some things you haven’t bargained on. But I call the shots. Is that understood?”
Dan nodded numbly.
Chapter Five
Eric lit a cigarette and offered one to Dan. If ever there was a time…but he refused. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking of the consequences with Elaine, stop the inward cursing at his bad luck. Bad luck? Wasn’t this more like disaster? He tried to stem the increasing feeling of bone-weary numbness that was spreading, paralyzing him, making him sick to his stomach with a cold dread that Elaine was lost to him.
“Are we clear about Elaine?”
“How does she figure in all this?” Dan avoided the obvious, simple answers, like yes or no, he needed to make Eric spell out Elaine’s involvement.
“You’d really like to know wouldn’t you?”
“She thinks you’re dead.”
“And now I’m not.”
“But you’ll tell her?”
“Eventually. When I need to.”
Dan studied the man. It was more than curiosity about Eric’s part in all this; he wanted to know how dangerous he was. Could he kill someone? Put Elaine in danger? It didn’t help that his Robert Redford handsomeness made him look fifteen years younger than Dan, an easy fifteen, maybe more. This was a man women wouldn’t be able to resist.
“You could turn state’s evidence,” Dan finally said.
“And not live to tell about it, or look over my shoulder the rest of my life while I enjoyed some penny-ante job provided by the government.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Maybe it’s more like what you’re going to do.” That smirk again. Dan watched as Eric leaned back and brought his hands together to steeple his fingers, smug, cocky, in control. “I figure my information is worth two million. And you’re going to make sure I get it, this time. You’ll provide me with the bargaining chip.”
Eric’s game plan was simple. Fuck the bastards who had fucked him, shot at him, tried to keep him from getting the two million. He thought there was lots to be had on Billy Roland and friends, but most of it seemed to be conjecture, hearsay. Nailing Billy Roland or anyone else would involve Dan’s getting the evidence by following Eric’s directions. Eric was going to stay dead. Work from undercover. Play both ends against the middle. Blackmail Billy Roland to reclaim the promised two million plus interest.
“You know there probably wasn’t any two million deposited in the first place to gather interest.” Silence. Dan could feel Eric studying him.
“How do you know?” Steely calm, the voice of someone who knew it was the truth but didn’t want to believe.
“I found your bank book after the flood. I did a little checking.”
“There were statements every month. Descriptions of stocks in the portfolio.”
“Easy to duplicate would be my guess.”
“And the whole thing was a sham.”
That was all he said, and it wasn’t a question. Dan watched as Eric leaned back in the chair and contemplated something on the aging acoustical tile above his head.
Dan broke the silence. “What’s in it for me? If I’m supposed to gather this evidence.”
“Stupid question. I think you’ve been ‘in it’ just fine.”
“Is that supposed to be some reference to Elaine?”
“You might say that.”
“Leave her out of it.” Dan half rose off the bed.
“My, my aren’t we the chivalrous one. She’s not a bad piece, wouldn’t you agree?”
Dan fought the temptation to deck him, probably because he knew he wouldn’t reach him before Eric would have picked up the semi-automatic on the table beside him.
“Don’t push me on the Elaine thing. The feds expect me to continue to see her, expense account and all that. I’m not going to disappoint them.”
“They don’t expect you to get in the sack.”
“I don’t like being told what to do.”
“It’d be easy to kill you. Now, not mess around. They’d play hell proving who did it.” Laughter, then Eric pushed the gun away. “Listen, maybe we can’t be good buds but nothing says we can’t work together and both get what we want. Truce?” Eric’s smile was genuine. “C’mon. So I was a little shocked to see my old lady in bed. That pillow thing with all the candles? Class act. Maybe I’ll use it sometime.” That smirking smile, then, “’sides your dog loves me. Let me make myself at home looking in the window.”
“Actually, you need me.” Dan wanted to keep him talking about business. He was sick and tired of wondering who was peeking in the windows at all the wrong times. “If this little plan is going to work, I’m your insurance person, no pun intended.”
“You’re right. After I get my two million, I don’t care who you tell what to.”
“Did you see who killed the Cisco Kid?” Now was as good a time as any to test his information.
“I was there.”
“Meaning what?”
“I killed him. They’re still trying to figure that one out.”
“Why’d you do it?” Dan felt shock and anger. He couldn’t understand people who could harm animals. It had even kept him a vegetarian until a few years ago.
“Could call it revenge. Cost the old bastard a few hundred thousand. Have him see what it feels like to lose something he cares about for a change.”
Dan hated the bitterness, didn’t trust the man who felt he had been double-crossed. But there was one last thing that he needed to know, had to know.
“How do Carolyn and Phillip fit into all this?”
“You don’t really know anything, do you?”
“I suppose I don’t. You going to enlighten me?”
“Sometime. Soon, maybe. But not tonight. Forget about Sis for now. Let’s say it’s more of a private matter.”
“When do we meet again?”
“Tomorrow, maybe. Here or I’ll leave a message. Now, I need to get going. Work to do.” Eric paused at the door. “Think about what I’ve said. You’ve got a lot to lose if this gets fucked up. Elaine, your sister…. Play it cool and it’s just another job. You can live happily ever after.” More laughter as Eric closed the door.
Dan didn’t even get up to lock it but just sat staring into space, trying to formulate a plan of his own. The odds weren’t real good that he could come up with one. He was a plant by the feds and coerced by a dead man, not to mention being responsible to United L & C who paid his salary. His sister and brother-in-law seemed to be involved, and worse—Dan was in love with the dead man’s wife.
He fought the urge to drive back to Roswell, confront Elaine, tell her that her husband was still alive. But then what? Could he trust Eric not to harm her? No. Of that much he was sure. The man he was working with was bitter, enraged, and wouldn’t necessarily stop at anything to get what he wanted—his way.
***
He hadn’t needed to set the alarm. He was up by five thirty Tuesday morning. And he couldn’t shut out th
e night before. He felt an urgency to do something and knew there wasn’t anything he could do. Wait to see what Eric’s next move was, not call Elaine—that was the worst, trying to keep her safe by staying away.
When he pulled into the long drive that led to Billy Roland’s house, no one had to tell him something was up. A group of eight men on horseback was gathered around the front steps. Dan had met them all before, only this time they were packin’—every rider had a pistol on his belt and a rifle tucked into a case on his saddle. Billy Roland came out of the house with Sheriff Ray close behind.
“Got a little problem just south of here. I’d welcome your input. Wouldn’t take a minute to get ol’ Belle ready to go. What do you say? You with us?” Billy Roland leaned in the passenger side window and the scent of bourbon and aftershave drifted over Dan.
Dan nodded, cursed a body already reeling from a lack of sleep, and pulled the Jeep around to the back to park next to the barn. Belle nickered when she saw him. That was positive. She even seemed eager to go for a ride. He saddled up but left his gun concealed. The snub-nose Ruger wasn’t in the same league as the firepower out front. As he trotted Belle around the house, Billy Roland gave the signal and the group moved out cantering past the irrigated fields then turned south at a large windmill.
Air rushed past as Belle settled into the ground-covering gait. They seemed to be heading west but angling to the south.
Then Dan saw the airstrip. Not elaborate, just one enormous hangar, quonset-hut style, a couple windsocks and a strip of asphalt that stretched farther than he could see. There was room to land something of pretty good size. There were no planes to be seen. But he was struck by how well kept it was, and well lighted. This was a strip that was used—and not just once in a while, and not just in the daylight.
They had gone over some kind of rolling stretch of low hills so he couldn’t see the house from where they were, but he estimated they were no more than a mile, maybe a mile and a half, from where they started. Billy Roland waved for everyone to follow him across the strip and Belle only shied once about putting her feet down on something black with strange white stripes before dutifully trotting across with the others.
They seemed to be headed toward a thicket. If that’s what you would call a strip of wooded land that followed a stream bed, dry now with only a trickle, a foot-wide ribbon of water that snaked through the center of its sandy bottom. By the looks of the twigs and debris, some caught six feet up in the trees lining the banks, this artery had raged out of control during the flood.
Billy Roland was slowing now. The mad dash from the house was either some kind of male posturing or a way to settle the horses, wear them down a little. Belle had broken a lather on her chest and seemed to welcome the opportunity to walk in the coolness of the trees.
No one spoke. Whatever it was they were going to see, he was probably the only one not in on it. The horses were walking single file now, Sheriff Ray in the lead, and the thicket had turned into woods with a dense brush floor. They had turned away from the stream and the scrub oak and cottonwoods had closed ranks to make progress difficult. There were no animal sounds, no birds singing, just this oppressive silence broken by the horses stepping on twigs and rotting vegetation.
The clearing couldn’t be seen from a distance; it simply popped up suddenly, a circle some twenty-five feet in diameter with a pile of stones, altar, Dan supposed, in the center. The trees at the edge leaned over the area, branches almost touching overhead, a natural canopy of green. But no one was enjoying the beauty of a hidden woodland retreat. All eyes were on the altar.
***
“Shit.” Sheriff Ray leaned over his saddle horn for a better look.
“Hank. Get over there and give us the particulars.” Billy Roland then turned his horse and moved closer to Dan. The humidity and lack of a breeze made the fetid odor hang over them. Hank dismounted and walked around the altar.
“Dead maybe two days. Female caucasian, probably Hispanic. Somewhere between fifteen and twenty. Predators, coyotes and the like, have done a pretty good job of helping themselves. Cause of death…” He leaned closer and pulled a piece of filmy white material away from the face. “I’d swear the neck’s been slashed. And….” Hank paused to remove more of the drape. “Follows the same pattern, certain organs have definitely been removed.”
“Same pattern as…?” Dan asked.
“This isn’t the first time. This here’s a ritualistic slaying. They come along every once in awhile, a little human sacrifice important to some wannabe Aztec war God or whoever else wanders up from across the border bringing their heathen ways with them.” Billy Roland shook his head. “Usually, these fanatics work farther south. Remember Matamoros a few years back? Got that college kid on spring break?” Dan nodded. “We’re going to have to be extra careful. Maybe I should assign some patrol duty. Jorge?” Billy Roland looked around then gestured to someone behind them.
Dan watched a young Hispanic man back his horse away from a knot of riders and move alongside.
“Dan, this here’s Jorge. Helps Hank with the stock. Comes as close to a ranch foreman as I got. He’s the one who found this mess. Chasing down a calf and stumbling onto this. How’s that for shit detail?”
“Me gusto mucho, Señor.” Dan shook his extended hand.
“You get some of the boys and check these woods a couple times a night. And keep an extra close look-see on the barns.”
Billy Roland dismissed his foreman with a wave of his hand. “Good man. No bullshit. Speaks English, by the way, just lets on he can’t till he gets to know you. He’ll be helping you with the inventory.”
“So, what happens now?”
“You mean with the corpse?” Billy Roland acted vaguely surprised that he would even inquire. “Handled by the book. The sheriff makes his report. The newspaper will get ahold of it, send a couple reporters out. It’ll be headlines for a few days. The body will be sent on to Roswell for a once-over by the coroner. Won’t nothing be found. Fingerprints won’t be in the books. Some effort will be made to send a description to authorities in Mexico, but it won’t come to anything. Body will be held a decent length of time, then an unmarked grave. Guess some family will always wonder what happened to their daughter. Sad, when you think about it.” Billy Roland abruptly spurred his horse and trotted toward the edge of the clearing, giving orders before starting back to the house.
Dan joined the group of men as they trooped across the front porch of the Double Horseshoe after turning their horses over to ranch hands to be cooled after the ride back. He accepted the tumbler of scotch and walked out on the porch to sit in the swing. He still couldn’t quite accept what he had seen.
“I heard about what they found in the woods.”
Iris had opened the study window from the inside and pushing the curtains back, swung a leg over the sill and sat there beside him, straddling the casement. She was barefoot, in scanty shorts and top. He turned back to look out across the fields.
“You know why they kill someone? Someone young like that?”
“No, why?” He didn’t want to admit it, but his curiosity was piqued.
“They needed someone innocent to go to the other world and keep the spirit of a dead man from coming back.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“If someone sees a ghost, and if this ghost could cause some harm, a go-between is used to beg the spirit to go away, continue his travel to the other world and leave the living alone. If the ghost is a man, they use a pretty young girl.”
“Who told you this?”
“Maria, in the kitchen. Most of the people believe in the Santeria.”
Dan sat bolt upright. What had Carolyn said? Dona Mari was a Santera. Dona Mari had seen Eric. Did she think she was seeing the dead? Was she behind the killing of this girl? A sacrifice to keep a very much alive ‘ghost’ from coming back? To keep Eric from hurting Carolyn or Phillip? She was that devoted. He thought of the dead chicken. She was al
ready using magic to keep evil from the house. Her involvement in all this wasn’t as far-fetched as it seemed.
“I’m supposed to tell you to move on out here soon as you can.”
Dan was jolted back to the present. Here was the invitation he’d been waiting for. Nothing against the Silver Spur but the drive was time consuming, not to mention the motel’s faulty air-conditioning and easy access for unexpected visitors. He wasn’t looking forward to seeing Eric again soon.
“Thanks. I’d like that.”
“Billy Roland thinks it’d be easier for you to do the inventory. Work out here. Not have to drive back and forth. Get three squares, and not in some coffee shop.”
Iris could sound seductive without trying, he decided. She just oozed come-on and probably didn’t know it. He turned to look at her full pouty lips, trying not to stare at the two perfectly rounded breasts that pushed up over the halter top. The barest sprinkling of freckles over each.
“Thank him for me. But I don’t want to put anyone out.”
“You won’t be.” Iris was running her tongue over her upper lip, mouth open forming a rosy “O.” Maybe the seduction was calculated after all. He turned away. He couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow Dona Mari had had something to do with what he’d seen earlier. Did Carolyn or Phillip know the extent of her involvement?
“So, we’re all set then?” He hadn’t heard Iris step over the casement to stand behind him.
“Yeah.” He stood quickly. Better to have her in view than not. “I’ll go into town this afternoon and check out.”
***
It hadn’t taken him long to pack, a couple suitcases, a box of work-related folders, computer print-outs, notes on the case, his laptop. He’d left a twenty-dollar bill for the maid and returned the key before he put into words what was bothering him. He wanted to talk with someone about what he’d seen that morning. And who better than Judge Franklin Cyrus? Someone, besides Billy Roland, who had lived in Tatum all his life.
The judge was busy, but Dan didn’t mind waiting. He took the old leather overstuffed chair offered by Junior, who had slid it closer to the window.
