by Carmen Amato
“You’re a smart girl, Detective Cruz,” Chief Salazar said.
“Vega was your big problem, wasn’t he?” Emilia challenged. “He killed Salinas, ordered Loyola not to investigate, and left a stinky trail you knew somebody was going to follow. The viper in your nest, the right hand man in your own office. The big question I have is who did Vega trust so much that he shared his theory about the ledgers from the El Pharaoh? His boss?”
Chief Salazar bared his teeth in an angry smile. “The department is going to miss you.”
“She’s got your fucking ledgers,” Silvio said with a harsh laugh. “And Hernandez’s ballistics reports.”
Chief Salazar slowly lowered his gun. “So it would seem negotiations are in order,” he said.
“I’ve got the ledgers and the reports,” Emilia confirmed. “Digitized, with a copy going to every member of the Acapulco Hotel Association board, including Carlota and the press secretary, with an explanation of what it all means, if anything happens to me or Silvio.”
“I presume you want something to keep from having to share those digital copies.” Chief Salazar’s voice was ice cold with fury.
“Silvio and I walk out of here,” Emilia said. “He takes his badge back.”
“And, I assume, gets promoted to lieutenant? Or captain?”
“No,” Silvio cut in. “But Loyola’s out. He’s been your stooge long enough.”
“His jaw is broken,” Chief Salazar said. “Isn’t that enough?”
Silvio pushed his gun under Obregon’s jaw so hard the union chief was forced to raise up on his toes. “We’ll bring in an outsider,” Silvio said. “Through the union’s law enforcement exchange program.”
“Someone you approve?”
“Yes.”
“Is that all?”
“Cruz is done with her special assignment,” Silvio said. “Back in the squadroom on Monday.”
“Done.”
“And this pendejo.” Silvio prodded Obregon’s throat with the gun, making the union chief cough. “He takes care of his child.”
“What’s he talking about?” Chief Salazar asked Obregon.
“I hear Claudia Sanchez is pregnant. Supposedly I’m the father.”
“Of course you’re the father,” Emilia said furiously. “You banged her on her desktop. Probably everywhere else, too.”
Chief Salazar laughed.
“While you’re thinking of baby names,” Emilia went on. “The real estate investment club is over. Everybody gets their original investment back and it’s done. Considering that the president of the club is dead, that shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Any delay and everybody gets a very interesting email.”
“Well, then,” Chief Salazar said. He replaced his gun in the holster hidden under his jacket. “If Detective Silvio would like to drop his gun, we have a deal.”
Chapter 30
Emilia woke to the sensation that her head was a block of stone. Her eyelids felt like cement. She managed a squint.
The bedroom in the penthouse slowly came into focus. The long draperies were closed over the sliding glass doors to the balcony. With an effort that sent an electric shock through her skull, she rolled onto her side and found her phone plugged into the charger on the bedside table. The time was 6:00 pm.
Next to the phone, some angel had left two aspirins and a bottle of expensive electrolyte-infused water. Emilia inched her way to a sitting position, breathing in little grunts.
The aspirins and water didn’t come back up, which was a good sign. After a minute or two, she took inventory.
She had on panties and one of Kurt’s white tee shirts.
She had a monumental hangover.
She had no recollection of anything after she and Silvio left the El Pharaoh.
No, that wasn’t true. Silvio had driven them to a tiki bar on some nameless beach. The place had cheap El Patrón shooters and a canvas roof stretched over bamboo joists. Plastic chairs plugged into the sand. No TV, no Copa America crowd.
The rest of the night was a blank.
She struggled out of the bed, trying not to tilt her too-heavy head, and found the flannel shirt she used as a robe. Cool water on her face helped a bit, enough to send her down the hallway in search of answers, the bottle of water in her hand.
Kurt was in the living room, wearing an old Marine Corps tee and board shorts. His bare feet were propped on an ottoman as he watched the television. It was a replay of Argentina’s Copa America victory.
The glass doors to the balcony were open. Pulled to the side, the white draperies rippled in the salty breeze. Far below, the ocean kept up a rhythmic sigh.
The apartment had never felt so safe, so much like home.
“Hi,” Emilia croaked.
Kurt muted the television. “How are you feeling?”
“Awful.” Emilia lowered herself to the sofa, one hand cradling the side of her head.
“Did you find the aspirin I left for you?”
“Yes, you’re a saint.”
Kurt chuckled. “I figured you’d need it.”
Emilia winced. She never realized that his laugh sounded like a meat grinder. “What happened last night?” she asked.
“You and Silvio rolled up in a taxi about 4:00 am,” Kurt said. “The valet on duty called me. You were both impressively drunk and didn’t have enough money to pay the driver.”
“Madre de Dios.” Once again she’d made a scene at the hotel. The staff was probably buzzing about her again. “I’m sorry. I’ll pay you back.”
“You were still coherent, however.” Kurt grinned. “You came in and announced you were going to bed. Threw up twice and passed out on the bathroom floor.”
Emilia covered her face with her hands. “I am really, really sorry.”
“Silvio told me what happened at the El Pharaoh,” Kurt said, serious now. “Finding out that his late partner’s brother killed his wife.”
Emilia dropped her hands. “Did he tell you Chief Salazar showed up?”
“Yes. I’m amazed the two of you walked out of there.” Kurt paused. “Silvio said you kept him from shooting Victor Obregon. He owes you.”
“Where is he now?”
“He spent a couple of hours on the sofa in the office. I had one of the drivers take him back to his car.”
“Did he seem okay when he left?”
“As well as could be expected.” Kurt pulled his feet off the coffee table and leaned forward with elbows on thighs. “Is it over?”
Emilia drank some water. “I guess so.”
“Good,” Kurt said. He clicked the remote to turn off the television. “I’d like to talk. About us.”
“I know.” Emilia didn’t really feel strong enough to do this, but after what she’d been through last night, she could handle whatever happened with Kurt. “It’s about time you told me the truth.”
“Well, okay.” Kurt looked startled. “The truth is, the night we had the Copa America party, the night Silvio’s wife was killed, I didn’t like our interaction.”
Emilia gingerly repositioned herself on the sofa, drawing in her legs and crossing her arms. If he wanted to get to the Suzanne story in a roundabout way, she would play along. “Our interaction?”
“Not you and me,” Kurt clarified. “I didn’t like the way our relationship got talked about. Like I was fooling around with some Mexican chica. Playing casita.” Anger traced through his words. “You heard Tony Wilcox say garbage again when we were at the Santa Rosa.”
“I don’t know what that has to do with anything,” Emilia said.
“It’s exactly what we need to talk about,” Kurt admonished her. “Our relationship. Do we have a real commitment here or not?”
Emilia held up a hand. “We can’t talk about commitment until you come clean about your child.”
“My child?” Kurt’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’re pregnant?”
“No, I’m not pregnant,” Emilia flashed back. “I’m talking about the c
hild you abandoned.”
“What?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know!”
“What else besides tequila did you and Silvio drink last night?”
Emilia pulled herself off the sofa and ran down the hall. In the office, she hauled boxes out of the closet. Kurt folded his arms and leaned against the doorway as Emilia scrabbled through papers until she found the court document.
“There,” Emilia said in triumph and flung it down on the desk. The seal of the County of San Miquel mocked her. “Your child with Suzanne Kellogg. The child you abandoned and the judge ordered you to support.”
Kurt sauntered over to the desk. “You haven’t been practicing your English, Em.”
“My English is fine.”
“Not as fine as you think,” Kurt said. “This is a summons to appear in court for a paternity hearing. If you look through the rest of the box, you’ll find a DNA test proving I wasn’t the father, plus the final decree throwing out the case.”
Emilia blinked.
“You were right that this is about Suzanne, but that’s all,” Kurt said. “Suzanne and I were pretty serious but it ended when I found out she was sleeping around. A year later, as I got ready to move down here, she showed up with a baby and tried to get child support out of me.”
Emilia found her voice. “You mean you weren’t the father?”
“No.”
“Who was?”
“I don’t know.” Kurt walked to the sliding glass doors and stared out. The sun was low in the sky and pink streamers decorated the horizon. “Suzanne simply wanted money. I knew that, yet the whole thing turned my life upside down. It was a long time before I was ready for another relationship.”
“I thought, I mean,” Emilia stammered. Everything Jacques said now held a different meaning. “But you were looking for something in the apartment. At night. Something you hid from me. When you went to Las Vegas, where you’d been with Suzanne, I thought, I thought. Umm, well, you know. And then I found the papers . . .” She trailed off.
Kurt walked out of the room.
Emilia covered her face with her hands. Her head pounded. She had misjudged him very badly. It had never occurred to her that the commitment Kurt gave so freely came at a personal price. The way he was—open, direct, caring—was always easy for him and hard for her. How wrong she’d been; so immersed in her own insecurities, so ready to assign to him the same callow attitudes she saw in men like Obregon.
The only thing left to do was apologize, pack, and go to her mother’s house.
She found him in the kitchen, uncorking a bottle of red wine.
He looked up as she hesitated by the doorway. “Want some or are you sticking with water?” he asked.
“I’ll have what you’re having,” Emilia said uncertainly and sat down.
Kurt set out two glasses and poured. He sat across from her.
“Look, I’m sorry,” Emilia started. She stopped when he tossed a small green envelope across the table.
“This is the key to my safe deposit box in Las Vegas,” Kurt said. “I thought I lost it, and yes, I searched the apartment like a mad man. I finally found it in my duffel the day of the half marathon in Zihuatanejo.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Emilia asked. “I would have helped you look.”
“You would have wondered why I wanted it now.” Kurt plucked a small object off the counter and handed it to her.
It was a square box no bigger than a plum. It was covered in brown leather worn thin and scratched with age.
“I didn’t want to lie just so I could surprise you later,” Kurt said and jerked his chin at the box. “I guess we’re past that now. Go ahead and open it.”
Emilia pried open the lid to reveal an oval ruby ring nestled against pale blue satin. The deep red stone sparkled inside a gold rim. “Oh, Kurt,” she breathed.
“It was my grandmother’s engagement ring,” Kurt said. “I knew when I met the woman I was meant to be with, I’d ask her to wear it.”
Emilia touched the ring. It was simple and perfect.
“Are you asking?” she said, not meeting his eye.
“Should I?”
Emilia shook her head. “I’m not ready for this,” she whispered.
“I know,” Kurt said. “But when you are, it’ll be waiting for you.”
Emilia closed the box. “What if I get pregnant?”
“The child’s name is Rucker, whether or not we’re married,” Kurt said matter-of-factly. “We’ll get a house with a yard. My children aren’t growing up in a hotel. They’ll go to a bilingual school. Your mother can visit any time, but she’s not reliable enough to take care of our children.”
“Oh.” Emilia nearly cried out of sheer happiness. He’d been thinking of their future while she groped toward the here and now. She hardly deserved what he was offering.
Te amo. I love you.
Such little words. Such a big commitment.
“I’d like to take a picture together,” she heard herself say.
“Now?” Kurt said. He looked down at his tee and shorts.
Emilia smiled and reached for his hand. “Sometime when we’re all dressed up, let’s have a nice picture taken. And put it in a silver frame.”
Chapter 31
The reunion in the squadroom was less than overwhelming. Loyola was gone, retired on disability. Ibarra was acting lieutenant but had already filed his papers for a transfer to Vice. Macias and Sandor weren’t there but at a conference on criminal network analysis. Castro and Gomez were subdued, unsure of what all the changes meant for them.
Emilia went to her old desk. The Las Perdidas binder went back into the big file drawer. She’d already gone over to the building on Avenida Almendros, collected her things, and said goodbye to everyone.
Natividad would step into her shoes, ready to make Las Palomas part of the hunt for missing women. The younger woman would be a better advocate for the unit; already she was more politically adroit than was Emilia. They would stay in touch.
Ibarra avoided her eye as he handed out a robbery report from Dispatch. Silvio looked in Loyola’s office and found the keys to his official vehicle. Clad in leather jacket, white tee, and jeans, Silvio led the way to the parking lot as if he’d never been gone. Like him, Emilia pretended it was simply another day.
She settled into the passenger seat. Silvio put the key into the ignition and started the car.
Emilia tapped the address from Dispatch into the GPS app on her phone. “Got it,” she announced. “Should take us about 15 minutes.”
Silvio turned on the air conditioning, found the control for the side view mirrors, and played with the settings. Emilia looked out the window and waited. The lot was full with standard Acapulco police cars, emblazoned with lights and lettering, as well as unmarked official vehicles. The morning sun glinted off chrome and paint. Three rows over, a couple of uniforms milled around the guard shack, trading weekend war stories and waiting to check the identification of incoming drivers.
“You ready?” Emilia finally asked.
“Yeah.” Silvio fiddled with his seat, adjusting it back and forth.
“What are we going to do about Castro?” Emilia asked. “He stole evidence to use as a bribe.”
“I’ll think of something.”
“Regretting not having taken the promotion?” Emilia asked. “Chief Salazar would have made you lieutenant. Even a captain, you know.”
“Stuck in an office with a mountain of paperwork.” Silvio gave her a sideways look. “No, thanks. I’m better off on the street.”
“Yeah,” Emilia said. “That’s what I figured.”
Silvio played with the side mirrors again. The electronic whine of the adjustment mechanism got on Emilia’s nerves. She checked her phone for text messages.
“I shouldn’t have said that you were a shit partner,” Silvio mumbled.
Emilia lowered her phone, surprised that Silvio would offer anything even remotely resemblin
g an apology.
“I didn’t want you involved,” he went on. “I knew this thing was fucked up and if you poked around, something bad would happen.”
“But you were right,” Emilia said softly. “I was a shit partner. You called when you needed me and I didn’t answer. Or call back.”
Silvio looked away.
“I thought you were drunk,” Emilia continued. “Calling to tell me I’d lost my bet. A better partner would have known you were in trouble. I should have trusted you.”
A hoarse gasp cut the air. Silvio’s shoulders heaved and he began to weep, making no effort to hide his tears. The car filled with the raw and rusty sound of the big man’s breakdown.
His pain, hidden for so long, was gut wrenching. Emilia reached across the console and pried his right hand off the steering wheel. Silvio hung on to her as if he’d never let go.
Emilia didn’t say anything. She kept her hand in his as Silvio wept, letting the pressure of her fingers be a message, telling him that tomorrow he’d be able to pick up the pieces and go on.
Telling him that he wasn’t alone.
el fin
From the author
Thank you for reading KING PESO, the 4th Detective Emilia Cruz novel. If you’d like to know more about Emilia, you are invited to get a free copy of the Detective Emilia Cruz Starter Library at http://carmenamato.net/starter-library/.
The Starter Library includes
· “The Beast,” the prequel to the series which reveals how Emilia came to be the first female detective in Acapulco and introduces Rico Portillo, the cop who gave Emilia that once-in-a-lifetime shot. It first appeared in The Huffington Post’s Fiction50 showcase and is also in MADE IN ACAPULCO.
· “The Angler,” based on the true life murder of my parish priest in Mexico City
· The first chapters of the first three books in the series.
You’ll also receive my Mystery Ahead newsletter. The Detective Emilia Cruz series has been optioned for television and film. Mystery Ahead readers are the first to get production news. I’d love for you to join in all the excitement.
