The Big Enchilada (A Sam Hunter Mystery Book 1)

by L. A. Morse

  A bitter feeling rose up from my belly and I tasted it in my mouth. Disappointment? Anger? Jealousy? I didn’t know what it was, but the strength of the feeling confirmed what I had tried to avoid facing for the last few days: this woman mattered to me.

  “Is everything all right? Who is this?” The Mexican tried to sound like he belonged there. He didn’t make it.

  “It’s okay. This is a friend. Go back to the bedroom,” she said.

  He didn’t look too happy about that. He moved out of hearing, but he kept us in sight.

  “Gardener?” I said, and she nodded. “Congratulations. You’ve just joined the beautiful people of Bel Air.” It was supposed to be a joke, but even in my ears it sounded all wrong.

  She looked at me for a long minute. “Hunter, you’re making me feel like I should be apologizing.”

  Was that what I wanted? Probably, but as soon as she said it, I knew I was wrong. “No, not at all,” I said, and I meant it. Fuck the double standard.

  She continued to study my face, but I didn’t know what she saw there. “Hunter, I think you might be human after all.” She smiled. “I’m glad.” Her smile faded, however, when she noticed my torn and bloody jacket. “What happened?”

  Here it comes.

  “Your husband did that. We had a fight.”

  “What! What happened? You look okay. How does he look?”

  Was there any point in trying to be delicate? No. “Half his face is gone and his balls have been ripped off.”

  Her face went pale beneath her dark tan, and she took a step backward. The news hit her almost like a physical blow, but she struggled to deal with it. “Why?”

  “By now the police have arrested your husband for the sex murder of a fourteen-year-old girl. It happened two years ago. Your husband gave me no choice. He tried to kill me.”

  She looked at me, but didn’t say anything. I read a question in her eyes.

  I nodded. “Maybe I gave him no choice. The girl was the daughter of a friend of mine.”

  “Oh, Hunter!” There was pain and sadness and understanding in her voice. I watched as she thought about what I had told her. She was still shocked, but the shock was no longer at what I had done to her husband, but rather at what he had done. Finally, she looked up at me.

  “It’s funny,” she said. “I can’t believe that Simon is a murderer, but at the same time there’s something—a part of me—that’s not really surprised. I guess I always knew he was sick, but I never wanted to think he could be that sick. I wonder how much I’m responsible for? Probably a lot.”

  “No! He did it himself, all by himself. He did it because he chose to do it. He wanted to do it. The evil son of a bitch got off on it.” I spoke harshly because I wanted her to see it the right way, and fast.

  “Oh, Hunter,” she said. She came over to me and held me. Her robe opened and I felt her body against mine and her strong fingers digging into my back. The Mexican kid flinched, but he did not move otherwise.

  After a moment she stepped back. “Well, I guess I got what I wanted. I won.”

  “I guess you did.”

  “Does victory always feel so shitty?”

  “Not always, but it always has its price.”

  “Yeah.” She thought for a minute, and then nodded. “I can live with it.” She waved her hand at the house. “All this stuff was so important to him, and now he’s got nothing, and I’ve got it all. That’s what’ll kill him. I guess that’s what’s known as revenge.”

  “Not quite.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Besides being busted for murder, your husband was arrested for manufacturing and selling heroin out of Medco.”

  “What? Is that true?”

  “It’s true. They raided Medco tonight. How do you think this house was paid for? Not from a bankrupt pharmaceutical supply company, that’s for sure.”

  “Heroin! Jesus! Hunter, do you have any more surprises for me?”

  “One more, I’m afraid. You have to pack your bags and get out of here.”

  “Why?”

  “I figure any minute now this place is going to be crawling with cops. Local narcs, state narcs, federal narcs, the IRS, and maybe a couple of other government agencies.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t keep saying ‘what.’ Get your ass moving. And take all the money you have around here. And all your jewelry. And anything else that’s portable and valuable.”

  “What for?”

  “All this property’s going to be seized. Without much trouble the cops’ll be able to show Acker’s entire income came from the sale of illegal drugs. Beyond the income he declared, there’s a large undeclared income for which be owes taxes. The factory, property, bank accounts, and everything else of your husband’s will be confiscated or frozen. Maybe one day you’ll get some of it back, but it’ll be a long time, and there won’t be much left.”

  She looked at me with disbelief. At first I thought she was upset, but then she shrugged and her mouth broadened into a smile. “No more Bel Air rich bitch?”

  “No more.”

  “What a relief!” She laughed. “But why should I go, and why should I take anything?”

  “Just because you’re no longer a rich bitch is no reason to become stupid. If you’re around, you’re going to be hassled, and you don’t need that, at least not right away. Let things cool down a little. And if you don’t take anything, you won’t have anything, and, lady, you’ve got a big bill to settle with me.

  She laughed again. It sounded pretty good. “You’ve really got a lot of class, don’t you, Hunter?”

  “That’s me. And your little friend had better get out of here unless his immigration papers are in order.” I called to the kid. “You got your green card?”

  He looked at me, and then at her, and then without a word he dropped his towel and ran in the direction of the bedroom. Thirty seconds later I heard a door open and slam shut.

  “So much for romance,” I said. “He was pretty cute, though.”

  “Fuck off, Hunter.”

  She went to pack her things. With the cash in the house, and the jewelry, and the stuff that was easily convertible to cash, it turned out that she’d have a pretty good stake. Not enough to last forever, but enough to set her up fairly well if she was smart, and I figured she’d be smart.

  I kept telling myself I wouldn’t let her know about the ten thousand I got from Acker, but I knew I’d give it to her in the end. Stubby Argyll would never have understood, but fuck it. If I was going to be stupid, I was going to be stupid.

  She didn’t even look back as we drove away from the house. It was behind her, and over, and that was that. That was a tough lady.

  On the way down the hill, we passed four official-looking government cars going up. Each car was filled with official-looking men.

  “It’s all yours,” Clarissa Acker said quietly.

  Tough.

  I still had my room at the Love Nest Adult Motel, and I figured that was as good a place as any for her for the night.

  “Oh, Hunter, how charming!” she said as I pulled her into the parking space in front of the room. “From Bel Air to the Love Nest in one night. You really did a good job for me.”

  Yeah, didn’t I?

  I got her stuff inside and started to leave.

  “You’re not going to stay?”

  I looked at her for a long time. “I can’t. I’m expecting somebody to come to my place in the morning.” That was true, but was that the real reason?

  “Okay,” she said,

  I went to my car, opened the door, and stopped. All the way to the motel I had been thinking about something, but I hadn’t said anything about it. Now was the time, but did I want to do it? Yes? No? Maybe? What if?

  Fuck it.

  I went back and knocked on the door.

  “Look,” I said when she opened it, “if everything goes right in the morning, I’m taking off for Mexico for a while. It might be a good id
ea if you came along.”

  “What about the authorities? Won’t they need to talk to me?”

  “Probably...” I hesitated. Shit. “But I think I’ll need you more.”

  She looked at me and then smiled. “Okay. I think I’d like that.”

  “Okay. I’ll call you.” I turned and then stopped. “Oh, by the way. Don’t ask for room service.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” I laughed.

  It was after 4 a.m. With luck I could get a couple hours’ sleep before I received an angry visit. It had been a pretty good night. I hoped.

  THIRTY

  I didn’t get to sleep very long, and I also didn’t sleep very well. Usually there’s nothing like giving it good to some assholes to guarantee that you have sweet dreams, but mine were troubled. For the first time in years I saw the face of the Vietnamese girl in Saigon, soft, quiet, and gentle. Then she faded into Maria, happy and laughing and shaking her long dark hair. And then both those faces melded, and they became that of Clarissa Acker, and that face stayed. The eyes showed warmth and strength, understanding and humor, and they scared me.

  I woke up wondering what the hell I was doing. I kept trying to tell myself that taking her to Mexico was a mistake, but somehow I wasn’t very convincing. Fuck it.

  Mexico was a long way away, and I had a lot of other problems to deal with before that one. Who knows? Maybe the decision would be made for me.

  I got up earlier than I probably had to, but I wasn’t going to face those dreams again, and 1 wanted to be sure I was ready for what I thought would come down.

  It was still quite early, but it was already fucking hot. The radio that was blasting away in the next apartment said the heat wave would continue for at least ten more days and maybe longer. Brown- and black-outs could be expected to continue from the over-use of air conditioners, and acute water shortages were inevitable. Forest fires were engulfing half the state. A crackpot mystical group said the weather was due to L.A.’s bad karma, and would not improve until everyone ate only green leafy vegetables and stopped using underarm deodorants. And that was the news.

  I saw that I was covered with sweat. I didn’t know if it was from the heat or from anticipation... or from something else. Whatever the reason, a cold shower took care of it. In the interests of water conservation, I held it to a quick ten minutes.

  In the shower I thought about what I was doing. I mean, I had over fifteen thousand in cash. I could just take off, either by myself or with Clarissa Acker. Why didn’t I? I didn’t have a good answer, but I knew I had to see things through to the end. I thought maybe it was for Maria and Stubby and Watkins, but I knew it was mainly for myself. Fuck it. I was going to do it, and that was that.

  I dried off and pulled on an old pair of pants. I was about to put on a shirt when I got an idea. I got out my gun and checked the load. I was about to snap the barrel shut, but I reconsidered and emptied out the bullets. I reached in the back of my dresser drawer and found the box of ammo with the cut points. I could almost hear my friend in the D.A.’s office groaning to himself. My gun was already strong enough to go through steel, but I figured if I had to use it, I wanted to be sure I made a really big hole. Using dum-dums, you didn’t have to be very accurate to do a lot of damage.

  I pulled up my trouser leg and taped the gun to my shin. Shit, it worked once. It should work again. A .357 is a bulky weapon, but my pants had wide legs and it didn’t show. I didn’t bother with a shirt and went to fix breakfast.

  I fried up four eggs and smothered them in jalapeno salsa. I used some San Francisco sourdough to soak up all the juices. I was sitting at the table, drinking coffee and waiting.

  I was on my third cup and thinking that I might have figured wrong when suddenly an incredibly loud cracking sound shot into the room. This was followed by the hinges of my front door being ripped from the wall and the door itself falling flat into the apartment. Mountain Cyclone walked in over the door, making one of his typical entrances. I dropped my hand to my leg and touched the gun. Just in case.

  “You should have knocked,” I said.

  He made a gurgling noise that sounded like “I did.”

  “Would you like some coffee,” I said, “or would you just like to chew on a cup?”

  “We go to Domingo.”

  “I was just getting ready to leave town. Isn’t that what Domingo wanted? Why does he want to see me?” I tried to make it sound good.

  “Domingo! Now!” he gurgled. The guy sure had a way with words.

  “But what about my plane reservation?”

  “Now!” Mountain brought a fist down on an end table, causing the legs to buckle and fly off.

  “Hey! Take it easy. That was antique Formica.”

  He made an impatient growling sound, and his hand went into his pocket and came out pointing a gun at me.

  “Okay, okay. I’m coming. Can I put my shirt on first?”

  He watched me closely as I took the shirt from the back of a chair where it was hanging and put it on. As far as the big ape was concerned I was unarmed. Slick, Hunter, very slick.

  On the way out I propped up the door as best I could, not that I thought it would do any good. With the piranhas that lived in my neighborhood, the apartment would probably be stripped bare by the time I reached the bottom of the stairs. I didn’t care. Anything important of mine was well hidden, and the furniture belonged to the apartment, not to me. I was planning on moving anyway, and besides, unless things went right, I might not even be coming back.

  We went down to the limo, which seemed to require three parking spaces. Mountain made me drive, keeping his gun fixed on me the whole time. The only sound in the car was the wet, bubbling noise of Mountain breathing.

  I parked in Domingo’s driveway and was escorted into the big back room. The vault door was open and there were two suitcases sitting on a table. The fat man was in the process of taking things from the vault and putting them in the cases. One case held plastic bags that were full of white powder. The other was filling up with envelopes and folders that appeared to contain documents and photographs.

  “Packing a few things for a weekend in the country?” I said.

  Domingo looked up at me, his features contorted with an expression of contempt, anger, and hatred. His heavy lips were wrapped around the large cigar stuck in the center of his mouth. It had gone out.

  “You stupid schmuck,” he said, his heavy jowls shaking. “You thought you were going to be real cute. You thought you would fuck with me. Well, asshole, you can’t.”

  “What are you talking about? I was just about to leave town when your gorilla here came in my apartment without bothering to open the door. What’s going on?”

  “Don’t try to come on dumber than you are, Hunter. It won’t work. As though you didn’t know, I was hit last night.”

  “Yeah, I heard this morning. Too bad.” I paused for a second and then looted surprised. “You don’t think I had anything to do with that?”

  “Nice try, schmuck.”

  “Hey, you’ve got it wrong. I swear to you I had nothing to do with it. Man, I wouldn’t cross you. No way.” At this point Domingo was supposed to ask who would cross him.

  “You know, of course, you’re dead.” He said this as though he were announcing that the tonic water was flat. This interview didn’t seem to be going quite the way I had intended, and I started to get genuinely nervous. Mountain was only about two steps away from me, watching closely, and there was no way I could get the gun off my leg. Shit.

  “I could have had Mountain finish you in your apartment,” he continued, “but I wanted to see it. I guess I’m just a sentimentalist, but I wanted to be there when you were torn limb from limb and spread out thin around the room. You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, Hunter, but no more.”

  “You’re making a mistake. I—”

  “My mistake was in not doing this long ago. Waste him!”

  Before I could even react, Mountain had
closed the short distance between us. His giant arms went around me, pinning mine to my sides. He pulled me to him in a bear hug, lifting me off the ground. His immense stomach pressed into my rib cage, forcing the air from my lungs. The pressure continued to mount as he applied more force than I thought a human being was capable of. I wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer, and desperation must have given me extra strength. I started to squirm in his grasp and managed to pull an arm free. That didn’t help any. On the contrary, it served to increase the pressure on my chest. Pain shot through me as I felt several ribs crack. I started to club at his head with overhand blows. I did no damage, but I distracted him enough to get my other arm free. I grabbed and scratched at his face, but he squeezed me all the tighter. I couldn’t draw breath. The pain in my chest was incredible. I knew I was very close to passing out or to having my ribs snap completely and pierce my lungs. I summoned my last remaining strength and spread my arms wide. With all my force I brought an open hand down on each of his ears. He bellowed like a wounded buffalo and released me. I fell to the floor and would have liked to lie there for about a year, but I forced myself to scramble away from him. From the way he clutched at his ears and rolled his head, I knew I had succeeded in bursting his eardrums.

  I tried to suck in air, but every breath felt like I was taking in fire. My vision was badly blurred and I was seeing double or triple. My whole body was weak and trembling and I was unable to stand up.

  Mountain tilted back his head and roared, a cry of pain and rage. He started advancing toward me. I pulled at my pant leg, trying to clear my gun. My fingers would hardly do my bidding. Mountain approached. I got the gun exposed, but I couldn’t get the tape free. He was almost upon me when I finally tore it off my shin. He aimed a kick at the gun, but I managed to half fall, half roll away in time. He was a step away from me. I still couldn’t see clearly and my hand was shaking so badly I could hardly hold the gun, but I pointed it in his direction and pulled the trigger. The loudness of the explosion and the strong recoil caused the gun to fly from my hand.

  I had been trying to hit him in the body but only succeeded in catching his upper arm. The soft bullet hit him. The head opened like a flower. It tore through muscle and cartilage and bone, continually expanding as it traveled. The bullet completely severed the arm above the elbow, and the torn limb was thrown five feet before it hit the floor, still twitching spasmodically like a giant worm.