by Roach Spell
“We call it a ‘code of conduct’ in our business,” boomed a deep voice. The voice came from a man wearing a black suit, a white shirt, and an unusually large tie with some pattern on it. Two other men with dark glasses stood behind him. They looked, Italian. They are the Mafia! Shit, Spencer thought.
“Do you have rooms available?” asked the man with the deep voice. “Two rooms would be perfect, and I will pay three nights in advance. That should be enough for us to finish our business around here.”
The man glanced over his shoulder at his partners. Spencer would not get nervous often, but he felt his heart pumping because these people were so confident. They showed no discretion when it came to hiding their real profession. He hesitated to accept all the empty lines on the registration sheet, but he knew that the keys behind him showed there was plenty of vacancy.
The man with the deep voice DV spotted the keys.
His big hand was still on the guestbook. “Oh, va bene, you have many rooms to choose from,” he said. “We take rooms 7 and 9, right over there on the ground floor.”
Jim, Harper, and Esperanza choked simultaneously so that it sounded like a pond full of frogs on a warm summer night. Miller almost laughed aloud, but instead he chose to cough discreetly, as though it came from his cigar smoke. Spencer agreed and gave the men standard price for the rooms. He received a hundred dollars as a tip, which made Spencer smile in a friendly way. He thought to himself, after they take off your skin, they would take back the money. Do not worry.
“Enjoy your stay, gentlemen,” said Spencer. “Breakfast is from eight to eleven a.m. here at the reception. Do you need the newspaper or perhaps anything else? No? Okay.”
The men were fully aware of Miller, who nodded as they left the office and went to their black limousine. In the limo, they retrieved some black bags and moved them to their rooms.
A cloud shifted in front of the sun and turned the sky slightly dark.
Spencer and the rest of the motel staff exhaled, trying to breathe the smoky air. “Damn, this is an explosive situation right now.”
Searching for relief, Spencer looked at Miller, who was busy writing in his little notebook and thinking very hard.
Before long, Miller said, “Remember what I told you yesterday evening during our discussion? Well, it seems that I overlooked the fact, that when we deal with the Mafia, they never let anything go where they once were involved and still smell profit. Everybody should leave now. I need to talk to Spencer alone,” he said.
Jim put his hand to the holster under his long cowboy shirt. “If you need me, just call me,” he said.
Spencer gave him the okay sign, and then they all left.
Spencer locked the reception door and started talking. “How the hell do they know?” he cried. “Now the mafia is staying in Room 7 and 9, and it’s crystal clear that they know about the money, treasure or whatever the fuck it is. It’s obviously in Room 8, but how could they know?”
Miller spoke quietly. “Mary’s last name is Fratel, and how could I ignore that? She is part of a Nevada mobster family. She knew about the Villa treasure before she even ‘adopted’ Stan and made him become her brother. She is aware, involved from the very beginning. Stan’s father kept that treasure away from his mobster associates, but they found out and waited all those years until it was passed on to Rose – and she would have come here to collect it. Mary has always informed these mobsters; she will use Stan to get her hands on the cash, then later she will get rid of him. It is the Mafia family business. Now we need to make sure that this ends without a big mess.
“In Room 8 we have Scarface,” Miller went on. “When did he sign in again?”
Spencer looked. “Jim signed him in yesterday evening when we were at the Pilgrim site.”
Miller proceeded; “Stan will make his move soon, pushed by Mary, who has three guys now with guns, maybe machine guns on standby. They are not aware of Scarface, who is just as dangerous and ready to kill as they are. The only one who is harmless is Stan. I can’t do anything at this point; talking to Stan will not be effective and will only delay the final –” “The final countdown!” Spencer yelled. “Let’s listen to it.” He ran back to his living room, looking for the record, and in seconds, he arranged it and put under the turntables needle, which he cranked up. He lost his mind and became very emotional over the whole situation.
Miller came in and with a scratch, turned Europe off. “Easy, young man, I will call for immediate support here. I will place one man in here with you and another on top of Room 8 on the second floor, and after all Jean will show up too. I saw two of the mobsters moving into Room 7, so let me have Room 6 in addition for my team. They will be here this afternoon, looking like short-pants tourists. I need to drive to downtown L.A. but I will return later in the evening. I’m confident that no one will make any moves at the moment.”
Miller walked back to the reception. Spencer followed him there, opening the front door and stepping out for air. His motel packed with criminals who were ready to kill for whatever remained buried on the grounds of the Villa Motel. Miller sat into his car. “We’ll be fine,” he said, turning the engine on. The Peugeot’s AM radio played Johnny Cash’s “I Walk the Line.”
We will be fine, thought Spencer.
31
A huge travel bus pulled into the parking lot. Crowds of people gathered outside the motel, all of them Japanese – Spencer could tell once he heard them talking. One waved a flag in order to attract all attention. The woman started to translate, speaking loudly and holding the flag. She walked over to the reception while Spencer followed her quickly inside, trying to keep up with her pace.
“Hi,” greeted Spencer, bowing his head down.
“Have looms, many looms?” asked the Geisha dressed woman.
“Yes, we do, miss,” replied an amused Spencer. “I can give you fifteen rooms, since some have enough space for four people.” The woman was very pleased to hear that, and she registered for two nights. She and the rest of her group planned to go whale watching and visit the Pilgrim. They also wanted to spend some time at the beach.
Spencer took the entire bundle of keys and directed the thirty Japanese guests, most of whom were women, to their rooms. On the way, he explained everything they needed to know about the lights, TV, water supply, and gas. Spencer directed them to the kitchen as well, even though he did not think that anyone understood him. Only the woman with the flag spoke English, it seemed. Nonetheless, everyone was paying close attention to his explanation.
I hope that they will not get in the way with all the police action around here, Spencer thought.
Terry called to the reception and wanted to see Spencer urgently. Spencer returned his call. “Can you come to the reception and talk? I am busy here with all of the guests and their requests.” Once Terry showed up, he expressed his concern over everything. Jim told him about those Mafia-looking guests. Terry said to Spencer, “Now it’s turning into a treasure hunt. What the hell is going on?”
Spencer was adding business figures from behind the desk, using his old calculator. “You know, the good thing is that we are no longer the main suspects, and that’s a relief. You should talk to Miller because it is really up to him to figure out how this investigation will go to its final stage. I can tell he is pretty close to nailing the case. Interfering with the police is not a good move. That treasure will show up if it is there, and then you will only need to collect it, as it is on your property. I worry more about crime here – a shooting or something.
Miller will bring in more undercover cops before the night closes in.”
DEA Jean arrived and placed a piece of chewing gum in her mouth, before she spoke. “Hi guys. Spencer, can we talk?” Spencer pointed to Terry. “I’d like to kindly introduce the owner of the Villa Motel to you, Jean. This is Terry, my boss.” Jean extended her arm and squeezed Terry’s hand so hard that he winced, she said.
“I had a call with Miller and he told me about
your new guests here, moving in right next to my protégé. So I decided to stay here for a while, overlooking the scene and interfering if I need to.”
“Coffee, anyone?” offered Spencer. Both Jean and Terry nodded.
“Will you shoot holes into my hacienda here in the next few days?” asked Terry. “The idea of that really has me worried and concerned. I don’t understand why you don’t just stop everything now and make some arrests.”
“Based on what we in the DEA and what Miller is saying, we don’t have enough evidence to arrest anyone,” said Jean and continued; “Miller told me the facts, and he is one of our best in L.A. I know exactly what he is waiting for. Since those new guests moved in, it is only a matter of time. The rats will come out at night.” Terry looked at Spencer. “What other guests do we have at the moment?” Spencer drew a quick map showing all the rooms with the Japanese guests, the Mafia, Scarface, and the police.
He pointed at Jean and said, “I put you in Room 30, which is on the second floor, right above a mobster and next to a cop. I’ll hand this map to Miller so he can instruct his people.”
“Do not rent out any other rooms,” suggested Terry. “Just keep it as it is.”
Jean called Miller to give him the latest updates. He was on the 710 from Downtown to his Long Beach home, so that he could see his wife for a brief moment. He sounded worried while he gave Jean some advice regarding the possible scenarios. Meanwhile, Terry left and told Spencer that he would be in Las Vegas for the next few days. He also said that Bertha would be around, and he gave Spencer her home number in case of an emergency. “If the treasure shows up, say it is the property of the motel,” said Terry.
Spencer thought about what his boss said and could not sort it out correctly. What is going on? He wondered. This is a dangerous job.
Jean sat outside on the bench, overlooking the area and drinking coffee.
“You know, Spencer, we are involved in a shitload of cases these days,” she said. “I’m usually more of a celebrity inspector. Biggest star I ever dealt with was Miss Taylor; she uses prescription drugs, so they are legal, but there is a limit before it becomes illegal activity. So many doctors out there are involved with these drugs, and it is purely criminal. Even prescription drugs, if administered illegally, turn normal people into wrecks, making them dependent on those doctors. Bad business and it is all over.
Scarface here is actually a minor fish, but he pulled the trigger on a police officer, so we will string his neck eventually. He is only selling speed and cocaine here at the beach because his bosses want to protect him, and keep him away from their core deals. Those deals are big time, involving huge amounts of drugs. Crazy how easy it is to sell to rich people in L.A. And everywhere else among the wealthy spoiled ones I guess.”
Spencer paid a lot of attention to Jean. She is tough, he thought, joining her on the bench.
Practically in a whisper, he said, “What will happen if Scarface finds out about a treasure right beneath his feet? Would he bring in his entire gang?” Jean kept her cool way as usual, blinking at him as though the sun were blinding her. He sat really close to her, so close that her thigh touched and rubbed against his own.
“That’s a dangerous thought,” she replied. “It would be disastrous, and we would have a war on this parking lot. No one could stop that from happening, though, so it is better that Scarface gets no wind of that treasure at all.”
“But,” whispered Spencer, “Didn’t we plan to throw that out as bait to him?”
Jean brushed her thigh against his.
“That was before the Mafia showed up,” she said and kind of smiled. “Now the situation has changed completely. You know?” Spencer knew, of course, and he knew that Jean was not so tough anymore. He offered her the key to her room and agreed to show her how everything was set up. He took the bundle and locked the door to the reception. Carrying Jean’s sports bag and some extra high-heeled shoes for her, Spencer thought, is she using these silver shoes to run behind suspects. Probably not.” He opened the door and let Jean, who was letting down her hair, in first. Then he closed the door to her room softly, and they did not come out until after dark.
32
Scarface was sitting on the edge of his bed with a wrinkled blanket and a pillow under his bottom. He was cutting paper. His partner Shadow stood in front of the small bathroom mirror, shaving his fuzzy moustache. It was around ten p.m., and the light in the room was very dim. Shadow stopped suddenly with the scissor on his nose hole and looked at the front door; he noticed that the knob turned slightly.
Moving toward Scarface, like a shadow, he directed him to hide: Both stood behind the bathroom door, closing it until there was just a small gap. The intruder was the silhouette. Scarface and his accomplice could not tell whom it was from where they stood, but it was Stan, and he saw that there was light coming from the room. He stood completely still, hesitating to enter, but he chose to follow Mary’s aggressive directions anyway. He sneaked in and closed the door behind him, holding two pieces of paper, forming a map. He went straight to the corner, lifting the carpet in front of the planks on the floor. He pulled one of them up and removed a large, flat screwdriver from the side pocket of his pants. He pushed it in between the gap of the wood and tried to lift the planks up once more. Surprised at how easily they came up, he fell backward and landed on his bottom.
That was the exact moment the two drug dealers jumped out of the bathroom over the bed and knocked him out with two flying fists. Scarface and Shadow tied him up; they used tape from their drug production and the court of the TV. Scarface shook Stan, who remained unconscious until he slapped his face.
“So, gringo. Came here to steal from us?”
“How do you know where we hide the cocaine?” added Shadow.
“Speak up, ugly gringo,” Scarface said, punching Stan in the stomach. In confusion and in pain, Stan stuttered, “No, I don’t know what you’re saying. I don't know anything.”
Shadow held the two papers; he took from Stan and looked at them. “Room 8, it says, and there’s a sketch with the setup of the room interior and floor.” He held it toward Scarface.
“Where did you get your information about our hidden drugs?” Scarface asked, kicking Stan again.
“Stop, please,” begged Stan. “I am not looking for drugs. I am looking for a treasure. This is a treasure map.”
Shadow blinked at Scarface, and the two banditos laughed aloud.
Shadow pushed the rug away again and pried several floorboards open. Seeing a hook beside the drugs, he looked at Scarface in disbelief and pulled on it. There he found a square metal plate, and he could see down into a dark abyss.
“Madre mio,” snorted Scarface, with a white powered nose, nervously holding his lighter, starring down into the blackness.
33
“Spencer, where have you been?” asked Miller. “We’ve been looking all over the place for you.” He pointed to the two men standing beside him. “These are my two additional colleagues, Parson and Taylor, who will be placed with you. Parson will cover the room.”
Spencer welcomed them.
Miller added; “Let’s see that we all get rest soon, hope that the night remains quiet. Where is Jean?”
“Here, Miller,” she replied, sauntering into the Mexican restaurant bar corner where everybody was drinking Coronas. Jean smiled as if Miller had never seen her smile before.
She looks so obvious, Spencer thought.
They moved to a table and realized that the three mobsters were sitting in a booth right behind them, enjoying some late dinner. They stood up and moved discreetly to a booth at the other end of the establishment, looking through the room plans. “Let’s hope that those Japanese guests don’t get in the way,” said Spencer to all the cops.
“It’s getting late, and the mobsters are here, so not much is going to happen. We need to move to our posts. Parson, take the night shift and watch over the parking lot,” Miller said.
Jim wa
s still drinking whisky at the bar. Spencer walked over and tapped his shoulder. “Hey Jim,” he said. “I know it’s late, but how is the hole behind the building? Did you check on it and close it again?” Jim did not answer, but he looked like, he trapped into a lie. Jim was a good person, trustful and honest, but here he was hiding something.
Spencer thought; why have we not investigated that hole in the back. Aligned to Room 8. Actually, what if…? Before Spencer could finish his entire thought, Jim handed him a shot of whisky.
A mobster was standing by the bar right next to them, ordering a bottle of vodka. Spencer realized it was one of them and thought, ‘Shit, he must have heard what I said to Jim’. “Don’t stay too long Jim, goodnight”.
Taylor followed Spencer to his home via the reception, while Miller, Jane and Parson left for their rooms. “You can take my bedroom,” Spencer said to Taylor, who looked like a tourist in his outfit: blue shorts and an extra-large Hawaiian shirt. He wore a chest holster with a gun, invisible beneath his clothes. Taylor was fine with the couch in the living room, but Spencer insisted that he stay close to the reception. He thought about going over to see his sweet Yuki for a quickie.
It was a clear night. Spencer took Yuki for a walk by the beach at around midnight. He told her all about the guests at the Villa Motel. She seemed worried about the situation that was boiling up and told Spencer to be very careful. “Don't get caught up in it all when they start moving,” she said. “The police will step in and arrest everyone.” She was right. It was now, just a matter of time.
Only some hours later, behind the Villa Motel, flashlights were shining into a tunnel system toward an unexpected fortune.
The stars were very bright in the sky, surrounded by a full moon that made it hard to think of sleep.
Instead, the pair lay down in the sand and kissed while the early grunion fish hid their eggs.
Spencer was in love with Yuki, while Jean was asleep with a beautiful, womanly pleasured and relieved smile.
