The Big Enchilada (A Sam Hunter Mystery Book 1)

by L. A. Morse

  I had thought out the plan while I was waiting to see Burroughs and Green, and I got surprisingly little resistance from them when I explained it.

  “That only leaves Ratchitt,” Burroughs growled into his watery beer.

  “Yeah,” I said, “that’s something of a messy problem, but I’ve got an idea of how to deal with it.”

  “Which is?” Green sounded stiff and cautious.

  “You don’t want to know,” I said. “Let’s just say it will take care of Ratchitt without embarrassing the department.”

  “That’s not good enough, Hunter. I insist upon knowing what you have in mind.”

  “Don’t insist, Green. You’ll lose—what do you call it?—deniability.”

  “I can’t have you going around doing God knows what. If you don’t tell me, I’ll pull the string on you.”

  “That wouldn’t be a good idea. Do you know how bad the department would look if the story about Ratchitt got out? The smell would stick for years to come.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “I don’t want to,” I shrugged.

  Burroughs cut in. “Give Hunter some rope. If he fucks up, we can always yank him back.” He smiled at me. I couldn’t tell if the idea appealed to him.

  Green sighed and reluctantly agreed to let me have my way.

  “Don’t look so bothered,” I said to Green. “I’ve given you the best present you’ll ever get. If you pull this off, you’ll be a shoo-in for governor—or at least mayor.”

  “And what will you get out of this?”

  “I’ll look after myself.”

  “I think that’s what worries me.”

  I grinned at him. It didn’t seem to make him less worried.

  I asked him if he wanted to discuss this all afternoon, or did he want to start getting things moving.

  I parted from Burroughs and Green. We made arrangements to coordinate activities when the fireworks started.

  TWENTY-SIX

  I drove around a while just to make sure I wasn’t being followed, but Burroughs and Green seemed to be playing straight. I went back to the motel, called somebody I knew at the phone company, and got a, number that was otherwise unlisted. I then made a call I had been looking forward to for some time.

  The voice that answered the phone was the same one that had called me about Stubby Argyll.

  “Harve?” I said. “Is this Harvey Millicent?”

  “Who is this?” The voice sounded annoyed.

  “This is Sam Hunter, Domingo.”

  “Yeah? So?”

  “So I want to talk.”

  “You got nothing to say to me.”

  “I want out. You win.” I tried to sound scared and beaten.

  He lauded. “Of course I’ve won. I’d won before it even started, but you were too stupid to know that, so I had to show you.” His voice grew hard. “Why are you calling?”

  “Like I said, I want out. Things are too hot for me here. I want to get away.”

  “So? Go.”

  “I need some money.”

  He laughed again. “And you think I’m going to give it to you? Why should I?”

  “I’ve been beaten. I admit it. But I can still be a nuisance. I don’t want to get picked up by the cops—we’re not on very good terms—but if I am, I’ll talk. I’ll talk loud enough and long enough, and maybe somebody’ll listen. You don’t own everybody. In the long run it probably won’t make any difference, but you never know, it might be awkward for you. You don’t need, that, especially since the Medco thing is coming along so nicely. Give me some money and I’ll disappear. I want to.”

  There was silence for a moment.

  “How much are you thinking about?”

  “Ten K and I’m gone.”

  “You overestimate your nuisance value. I’ll give you five.”

  “Come on, I need more than that.” I tried to sound desperate.

  “Five. And be glad I’m feeling generous.”

  “Okay. But I want it now. I want to get away tomorrow.”

  “You’re fucking right you’ll go tomorrow. Come up in half an hour. I want to see if you look as dumb as you act.”

  “No tricks?”

  He laughed and hung up.

  I had wondered how I was going to get into his house, but he had made it easy. Overconfidence will do it every time.

  I dug out the gun I had taken from Faro and taped it to the side of my leg just above my ankle. I had to figure they wouldn’t frisk me too carefully, and even if they found the gun, I hoped it wouldn’t make much difference to what I had in mind. To increase my chances, I put my own weapon in a holster that attached to my belt in the back. I pulled my shirt out so it covered the gun, and put on a jacket.

  I went over one of the canyons, took some back roads, and pulled up in front of Casa Domingo in just over half an hour. I sat in the car a minute to get myself into the part I was going to play. It wasn’t going to be easy to resist the temptation to blow a hole through the guy, but it was necessary if my plan was going to work.

  I shambled up the long curving drive, trying to look like I was busted and beaten. I was coiled tight inside, not from nervousness, but from anticipation, and I had to keep it from showing so that Domingo wouldn’t get tipped off that his house was about to come tumbling down.

  I pressed the door bell and heard the chimes play what I recognized as the first few notes of the theme song of his old television show. He probably thought that was really nifty.

  The door was pulled open wide, and the space was entirely filled with the towering bulk of Mountain Cyclone. He looked even uglier than before.

  He looked at me with his little pig eyes for a long time and then turned sideways to let me in. Even that didn’t leave much space, but I squeezed by.

  We stood in the entry hall looking at one another. The monster gurgled something that sounded like “Hold out your arms.” I obliged, and he ran two hands that were the size of Smithfield hams over my chest and under my arms.

  “Watch it, I’m ticklish,” I said.

  He made a sound like a hippo wallowing in the mud, and ran his hands around my waist. He snorted derisively when he found the gun, and roughly pulled it from the holster, nearly lifting me off the floor. He made another gurgling sound that I took to signify amusement and dropped my gun in his pocket. And that was that. Frisk over. They’ll do it every time. I loved it.

  He motioned with a thumb like a large zucchini squash that I was to precede him. We walked to the back of the house to the large room I had seen the night before. In the doorway, Mountain gave me a gentle push that sent me flying into the room.

  I whirled around, but Mountain was gone and I was alone. They couldn’t have made it easier for me. I looked around the room and sat down on the large overstuffed sofa. I was still alone. A couple of quick movements and I had gotten the gun off my leg and buried under the thick cushions. I didn’t know what I was going to do with it, if anything, but I figured I could use all the edge I could get when the final scene was I played.

  It was a comfortable room and a large one, taking up most of the width of the house. It was done in shades of rich brown and deep red. The furnishings were not new, but were of the kind of high quality that mellows and improves with use. Antique Persian rugs covered the pegged wooden floor and even older Peruvian weavings hung on the walls. An odd feature was that part of the wall opposite the glass back wall was covered with floor to ceiling drapes. I wondered what was behind the covering, but I didn’t want to be caught snooping around, and I remained seated.

  In one of the side walls there was a door that was half open. Originally it would have been a closet, but the opening was blocked with a huge steel door that must have led to a walk-in vault. It looked to be too elaborate an arrangement for storing his expensive cigars, so it must be where Domingo kept his “sensitive” materials.

  Domingo kept me waiting a long time, obviously trying to rattle me, but I just relaxed and thought about what w
as going to happen in a couple of hours.

  Finally Domingo strolled in, his fat cigar preceding him by eight inches. He was wearing a greenish brown terry jump suit which, with his plump body, made him resemble a furry New Zealand kiwi fruit. He stood in front of me, legs apart, heavy lips curled in a sneer around his cigar, and looked me over. I tried to appear uneasy.

  “You’re a fucking, cheap, stupid bum,” he said.

  “I’m pleased to meet you as well,” I said.

  “You were expecting an embrace and a kiss on both cheeks, punk? I leave that to Mountain. Shall I call Mountain?”

  I hastily waved off the suggestion with what I hoped was suitable anxiety.

  “Good choice,” he sneered. “Mountain’s embraces tend to flatten things, and his kisses might very well tear off both your ears.”

  “I’ve seen samples of his work.”

  “Yeah, I guess you have.” He laughed. “Must have been real pretty. Sorry I missed it.”

  “I can understand the others, but why was my secretary killed?”

  “It was a lesson. I guess you learned it. Besides, I have to let Mountain have some fun every once in a while. He’s hard to handle if I don’t. He just loves to tear apart pretty girls. I find it a wasteful habit, but what is one to do?” He shrugged.

  My hand slipped under the seat and touched the gun. It was all I could do to keep from opening up on him.

  “Did Mountain also do the others?” I tried to keep my voice even.

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “It’s not important,” I shrugged. “Some of them were my friends.”

  “It figures you’d have friends like that.” He stared at me for a while. “No, Mountain didn’t do them all. Only your girl and that old guy.”

  “Stubby Argyll.”

  “Yeah, him. I don’t know what a guy that old was doing still working. He shoulda been in some retirement home.” The fat man laughed briefly. “I guess you can say he is now.... Mountain spotted him coming out of Medco late at night and figured he must have seen the late shift at work. There was no choice but to take care of him. Mountain wanted to do it his own way, but I made him fix it like an accident. Mountain wasn’t happy about that. He likes the personal touch.”

  “An old-fashioned craftsman,” I said.

  “He likes his work.”

  “What about Watkins?”

  “Christ, that dummy! Tried to bust Medco singlehanded, like he was in the movies. But Ratchitt was onto him and took him out. He gets enough of the profits, he has to do some of the work. Besides, I don’t much care about offing cops.”

  “So you let a cop do it.”

  “He didn’t mind.”

  “What’d he do, drug Watkins so he’d write the note?”

  “Oh, so you found it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I wondered what happened to it. I thought Ratchitt had screwed up. He’s been nervous lately.”

  “He’s got a lot of financial responsibilities.”

  “He is fond of spending money,” Domingo chuckled. “I give him plenty, but he earns it.”

  “Then who did Faro? You or Lascar?”

  “Lascar? That turkey. He’s a big disappointment to me. Thinks he’s Mr. Sophisticated. He doesn’t know it, but he’s through.... No, when my people double-cross me, I like to take them out myself. Of course, Mountain helped a little. It was something to see, Hunter. Faro was still alive when I soaked him with gasoline and tossed the match. I usually don’t care that much for bonfires, but this one was nice. There’s a lesson in that for you, punk. You try to bum me, and that’s exactly what’ll happen to you.”

  I shifted uneasily in my seat and tried to sound nervous. “Thanks for the advice. Now, if you’ll just give me my money, I’ll go.”

  “In a minute, punk. Mountain likes breaking things; I like seeing punks like you squirm. Come here. I want to show you something.”

  He walked across to the closed drapes and I followed. He pulled something and the drapes opened, revealing a wall of glass behind which was a terrarium. At first I saw only a lush tangle of tropical plants, but then I started to pick out the black and green and speckled shapes that were coiled around the branches and hidden under leaves.

  “Snakes,” Domingo said.

  “I noticed.”

  “But not just any snakes. Poisonous snakes. Some of the most deadly in the world. See those large gray ones there? They’re black mambas, some of the largest poisonous snakes in the world, and the quickest. Their bite is nearly always fatal unless treated immediately. One of the specimens I have is probably the largest one in captivity, and it has enough venom in it to kill several men. And that little brown one under the leaf. That’s a saw-scaled viper. It causes massive hemorrhaging. Death can follow quickly. I’ve got snakes from all over the world, and I’ve gotten them to live together without destroying each other. It’s kind of a hobby of mine.”

  “They make nice pets. Do they curl up at the foot of your bed? Or do you take them for walks in the park?”

  He continued as though I hadn’t spoken. “They’re fascinating creatures. They’re just about the most deadly animals on earth, but they’re not really vicious. They’re quite passive, in fact. All they want is to be left alone, and if they’re not disturbed, they don’t care what goes on. But as soon as they are bothered, as soon as something intrudes upon their privacy , they strike immediately and with total force until the intruder bothers them no more.... Hunter, punks like you could learn about the world from observing these snakes.”

  “I don’t get many reptiles for clients.”

  He sadly shook his head. “I mean there are people like these snakes, Hunter, and if you step too close to them, you are made to regret it. If you are to survive, you must learn to recognize them and stay as far away from them as you can. You and your friends did not do this, Hunter, and you have paid the price.”

  He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a packet of money. He was about to hand it to me when he hesitated.

  “You know, Hunter, I’m still wondering why I’m giving you this money instead of killing you. I do not think the black mamba would understand.”

  “You’re giving me the money because I may have left a letter behind telling everything I know about you. That letter combined with my death would be far more trouble for you than me alive and out of town.”

  “Did you leave such a letter, Hunter?”

  “I did. And if I don’t personally pick it up in one hour, it’ll be opened. Then somebody else will know about you. Look, I told you and I meant it. I don’t want any more trouble. All I want is to get out of town, out of your life, away from all this. Give me the money, and I’ll be gone tomorrow.”

  “I know you’ll be gone tomorrow. Because if you’re not, you’ll be dead tomorrow, letter or no letter.”

  He handed me the money. There were fifty one-hundred-dollar bills. I put them in my pocket.

  “Okay, that’s that,” I said as though I was relieved.

  Domingo blew some smoke in my face. “You really are a cheap punk, Hunter, settling for five Gs. It would have been worth a hell of a lot more to get you out of my hair, but you’re just a nickel-and-dime wise guy who comes on strong but scares easy. You want to play with the big boys, but you’ll always be small time. Now get out of here.”

  I walked across the room and stopped at the door. “Your man took my gun. Can I get it back?”

  He snorted disgustedly. “Outside.”

  Mountain was waiting for me and trailed me down the hall. I opened the door, stepped outside, and held out my hand. Mountain motioned that I should keep walking. He threw the gun about thirty yards over my head.

  I was grinning to myself as I picked it up. The next eighteen hours or so would be a positive pleasure.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  I called Green. He said everything was going perfectly and they were going to hit Venus Films in two hours. He sounded like a hound on the scent of
a fox. I urged him not to fuck it up. He didn’t appreciate the advice and told me that I should keep far away from the action. I didn’t appreciate that advice. I had no intention of following it, but I told him not to worry.

  I had some time to kill so I went to the Krakatoa restaurant. It’s one of the few Indonesian places in town, and while it’s not great, when you feel like Indonesian-style noodles, it can be pretty good. Honoring its name, they served a huge cone-shaped pile of noodles that was volcanically hot. The side dish of chile sambal that I poured onto the noodles was nearly strong enough to dissolve the bowl it was in. The delicate, sarong-clad girl who served me couldn’t believe what I was doing. She called the rest of the staff out and they stood a discreet distance away as I worked through the heap. They politely applauded when I finished and returned to their respective jobs. After I finished my third Oranjeboom Dutch beer and a couple of smokes, it was time for me to go.

  I parked across the street and a little down from Mound of Venus Films. I wasn’t there very long before four unmarked cars and a panel truck pulled up, and Burroughs and Green got out, leading more than a dozen cops, half uniformed, half plain clothes. A couple went around the back and the rest burst into the front entrance.

  I didn’t think it would be a good idea to stick my nose into the operation, but I wanted to know how it would come out. I was sort of dozing in the stifling heat of late afternoon, feeling uncomfortable because I was sticking to the car seat, when I saw somebody coming down the alley next to the building. It was one of the uniformed cops, and he was looking nervously over his shoulder.

  He reached the sidewalk, looked both ways, and started walking quickly in my direction. I waited until he passed me. I got out of my car and followed him on my side of the street. He didn’t even look around. He reached the gas station on the corner, and when he went toward the phone booth there, I hurried across the street. Shit! I was pretty sure he wasn’t ordering in pizza. Fucking incompetents. I told them to make sure the cops they picked were clean and to keep everybody together. Jesus Christ!