by Dan Glover
Chapter 7—Redheaded Blondes
(And Real Men)
1
Danners knew exactly what she was going to do. Sure, she'd take a bath, lie down for a bit, but first, a little candy to help the dreams along. He dreaded the day she didn’t wake up. How he'd be the one to discover her inert body, syringe still dangling from wherever she'd plunged it into her affectionate flesh. How could he stop her? He couldn’t. Not without alienating her. And so he accepted the fact that the woman he loved was a junkie. Had been for years. Probably would be until that day came when she got a bad bundle, a poison packet, the massacre in the tip of a needle, yeah... that subtle flower... the nightmare all addicts faced on a daily basis.
But then again, everyone was a junkie in some way form or fashion. Every living being had their own private hell to sort through, to wallow within, black dogs cornering them in dark places... the ones that would eventually kill them, rip them apart, and the ones from which no one or nothing could save them. Why should Liza McNairy be any different? Because he loved her? Ha. What a hoot that was.
"I talked to Reilly today, Danners. He agreed to be our contact here in the States when we go to Mexico. Is that okay with you, sweetie?"
"Of course it is, Liza. I'm so over Reilly. I honestly don’t know what I ever saw in the man."
"You always have me, sweetie pie. Let's share a room tonight. I need you with me. Is that okay?"
"You know how much I hate staying alone in strange places, Liza. Thank you."
Now here he sat. Alone again. Always alone. Sometimes it seemed as if the years he'd spent in the can were the only time in his life when he wasn’t completely isolated from the rest of humanity. But then again, he never liked being around people. It wasn’t that he hated them. He simply felt better by himself.
Why not just take that silver spoon and gouge my heart out with it, Liza? Do it while I'm awake and watching. Let me revel in the pain. Hear my ribcage crack open. Smell that visceral odor of blood filling my nostrils. Taste that copperish flavor welling up from the back my throat, choking me. Suffocating what little breath I have left.
There was a time when he thought about taking the money and running. Leaving California behind... hell, maybe even the States. Maybe go to Europe. France appealed to his sense of humor, for some obtuse reason that he really couldn’t put a finger on. But he didn’t speak the language and besides, Liza was here. He could say goodbye to everything else... except when it came to Liza McNairy. She was the exception to the rule. His glitter in the afternoon. His wet in the rain. He never realized how much his life changed the day he met her. He told himself she was just another woman. A member of the sacred race, untouchable to men like him. Yet none of that seemed to matter to Liza.
He listened to the water running in the bathroom and imaged her lying back with that ever-present needle poised and waiting to weave its enchantment. If he wasn’t such a cunt he'd try it too, just to know the same sort of magic she felt... the cravings, the urge. But no. He had his own monkeys that he'd never managed to shake. Didn’t need more of them... that was goddamned sure.
He absently thumbed through the files in front of him. A name amid the babble caught his eye. Apparently Eduardo Ramirez wasn’t the only child to disappear that day. A little girl by the name of Alexandria Cervantes had vanished too. Earlier in the day, it was true, but could there be a connection? It might be worthwhile to check it. See if Elena the sister knew anything about Alexandria the missing, or if his intuition was simply running on empty again. Jesus... was she going to be in the bathroom all night?
2
"Liza? Can I come in? I need to take a wicked piss."
"Oh, don't be such a fag, Danners. Get in here and whiz if you need to. I won't watch. Unless you get off on that sort of thing."
"Maybe I do, lover."
"But only if I'm Reilly Cooper, right, Danners?"
Fuck Reilly Cooper. Nope. He secretly enjoyed her watching him. And her alone. He could sense how she loved him seeing her like this too, naked and vulnerable, wet and waiting. For what? A sign that she aroused him? How about this boner of mine, baby? Does that tell you anything? When the hell would he man up and just take the woman? Never. That's when.
Her voice had that languid tickle to it as if she was speaking from under the water. The tub was filled to overflowing with only the tips of her pinkish nipples peeking out above the bubbles. A thick mist of steam filtered up into the air turning it into a sauna thick like soup. Liza's platinum blonde hair was plastered to her forehead, her cheeks, her ears, even her shoulders, like a helmet.
"Jesus god, Liza... if I were only a painter I'd make you a masterpiece."
"I'll go you one better, lover. After you pee, come over here and wash me?"
"You got it, darling. You know how I love your hair. It's so blonde. And so red."
That streak drove him bats. It grew out above her left ear, a circular patch of red set amid a field of platinum blonde, a rose in the snow. When they first met, he thought she purposely colored it that way. Nope. That's how it grows, Danners my boy. That's my little bit of Lissi still with me.
She'd grown her hair out for him. Used to wear it in a pixie. Danners, in one of his infrequent fits of nostalgia, once told her how his mother had long blonde hair. It was her best feature, so far as he could recall, anyway. Jesus. Bottle blonde? Maybe. Why did he dwell on that bitch? He supposed children were forever indebted to even the worst of parents. And his qualified on every count.
"Yep. You got stuck with the blondest part of us. Lissi was the reddest of heads, Danners. I always thought she was the pretty one. Smart too. Not like me."
"I prefer blondes, sweetie, but I bet Lissi was every bit as beautiful as you."
"We were identical, Danners. All but the hair and eyes. I had a little of hers. She had a little of mine. That's how people told us apart. Even our parents said if Lissi dyed her hair all blonde and I did mine red they wouldn’t know who was who."
If you both were identical why did you think your sister was the pretty one? He knew without asking. The same reason why he always believed every other man was his superior. His whole life was nothing but a fitful dream that the morning would exhaust. A figment that never quite measured up to his vision of what he should've been... what mother thought he'd become. Not what he was... not some faggoty maggot, but a real man... one who'd grow up to become a warrior, a man of means. One who'd produce hundreds of children with dozens of beautiful women. A regular Attila the Hun. Not a queer. Not a man who relished the feel of dick on his lips.
3
How did she taste? Like she smelled? Like peppermint? No... mint julep. He wondered what immeasurable power held him in check as he breathed in her essence with that luscious mass of hair twisting through his fingers, watching her breasts heave in pleasure, touching those shoulders, longing to work his way down, down, down. Take those triple D's into his trembling hands. Work his way lower. Feel her legs open up for him. What would she say? Was it worth the risk in finding out? She seemed to feel the same passion as she spoke in but a husky whisper.
You'd better stop that, Danners, before I go and make a real man out of you. The voice sounded inside his head though her mouth never moved. Stop what? Does she know how horny I am for her? I'm a fucking mind reader now, I suppose. Or am I? Jesus Christ, girlfriend... don't tempt me like this. The old ticker can't take it.
"Sit up and I'll rinse you, Liza. Close your eyes."
Filthy little visions danced about inside his fervid feral imagination and those tiny terrors had nothing to do with Reilly Cooper. Sure, he let her go on believing... it was easier that way. If he came on to Liza McNairy and she rejected his advances, that'd be it. Friendship, over. Partners, no more. Yet what if she didn’t turn him down? Things might well turn out even worse. They'd drag each other into the mire of hate and deceit all the while naming it love, just like all couples did to one another. He'd seen it his whole life.
Why was t
he world such a hard place? He kept thinking it'd get easier but it never did. Hell, he was still that scared little runt hiding in the schoolyard corner closing his eyes tight and wishing himself away... to anywhere but here. But when he opened them, here he was.
Chapter 8—Burritos
(And Bullshit)
1
"Did you ever go to Mexico, Hank?"
"What do you mean, Danners? Like on vacation?"
He'd stopped by Liza's office to bring a forgotten packet that belonged to the Ramirez file. Not that the folder contained anything of real value... but then again, he knew McNairy and Forthright well enough that he'd rather not ignore the possibility. Liza was nowhere in sight when he arrived... Danners Forthright assured him she'd be back in just a few minutes. Hank imagined she was off shooting up but said nothing. Did Danners know about her little habit too? Probably.
"No, silly... not on vacation... to investigate the disappearance of Eduardo Ramirez."
I'm not your silly, you fucking faggot. If Liza McNairy wasn’t your partner I wouldn’t even be here talking with you. Just ignore him... the man likes to get a rise out of you with his sweet talk.
"Couldn’t see the need, Danners... there was nothing to go on, no witnesses to interview. Besides, I only got the case third hand... I was doing the Captain a favor is all. Don’t tell me you and Liza are thinking about going south of the border."
"We are. Liza wants to talk to the parents of the little girl who vanished the same day that Eduardo did. She suspects there might be some sort of connection. And then there's the twins... the ones who were the last ones to see Eduardo that day."
"What girl was that, Danners? I don’t remember any girl disappearing."
"It's right here, Hank... here, take a look. Her name was—is—Alexandria Cervantes. Same age as Eduardo. Lived in the same neighborhood."
"I'll be damned... how the hell did I forget that?"
"So you do remember?"
"Yeah... apparently she was one of Eduardo's classmates. Was sick that day though so she didn’t go to school. Stayed home while her mother went into work at the resort. When she got home, the girl was gone. No trace of her was ever found."
"Was there any other connection between the two kids besides them being classmates, Hank?'
"Well, yes, come to think of it, there was... both their mothers worked together at the resort... but most of the village was employed there so that didn’t seem out of the ordinary."
"What about the twins? We've read the case files you lent to us, Hank. Thank you, by the way. But there's no mention of any interview being done with them."
"I suppose not... like I said, I came into the case late. By that time all the leads seemed to have been followed up on. Christ, those twins were just kids themselves. Same age as Eduardo too. I simply didn’t see the need to interview them. Not six months after the fact."
"Hello, boys... what are you two talking about?"
"Liza! There you are. I thought you might have fallen in, sweetie. Hank here is telling me about how he never went to Mexico to check into the disappearance of Eduardo Ramirez."
"Come on, Danners. Don’t make it sound so dramatic. I told him how I came into the case late, Liza, and how I couldn’t see any reason to stir up a hornets' nest by asking a bunch of questions others had already asked."
"Besides, you hate Mexico, right Hank?"
"I'd never let that stand in the way of my job, Liza. You know that. Christ... if I thought you two were going to crucify me I never would've stopped by. Here...
2
"I come bearing gifts. It's part of the Ramirez file that was misplaced. It has to do with the father. He was the prime suspect in the disappearance. Custody dispute. But there simply wasn’t enough evidence to charge the man. Name is Alonzo Ojeda-Ramirez."
"Is he Mexican?"
"No, Liza... he's a Columbian national. After leaving Mexico he was living in Cartagena according to the last contact anyone had with him. That was ten years ago. Sort of dropped off the map after that."
"So there's no chance the father is responsible for Eduardo's disappearance?"
"I didn’t say that, Danners. Sure, it's possible. Likely, if you ask me. If you're really thinking of traveling to Mexico, Liza, be forewarned. Bad shit happening there, especially to unwary travelers. I read about it every day."
Between the two of them they seemed intent upon backing him into a corner. Why? Could he have done a more thorough investigation? Maybe. But they'd never been a Los Angeles County Deputy traveling to Mexico on police business. He had. They treated him like the gringo he was.
And Columbia... Jesus, these days he heard that the backwater country wasn’t so bad, but back then, in the '90s, it was a regular drug-addled cesspool. Cocaine heaven. No American cop in his right mind would travel to Columbia, especially not on hearsay and innuendo, which was all they had. Hank Lupo might not've been the best deputy sheriff ever, but his mother didn’t raise a nincompoop either.
"Thanks for the warning, Hank. We're hoping to stay away from the hot spots. Keep to the resort towns. They say things are better there."
"Honestly, Liza... I wouldn’t risk it if I were either of you. What do you stand to gain? A million dollars?"
"No... we'll probably be working for free on this one. The sister's broke. Hoping to borrow money from the ex but we're not going to wait."
"Have you talked to her already?"
"Yep. We just got back. Met in San Diego for lunch yesterday."
"So what'd ya think? Some piece of work, eh?"
"Did you meet her, Hank?"
"No... never had the opportunity, Liza. Heard all about her, though. Not a pretty picture, from what I gathered."
"Fill us in, big boy."
"Well, Danners... to start with, and this is strictly between you and me, her ex divorced her for screwing half the hired help in the resort he owns... or rather his family owns. Took both kids and hightailed it back to Boston. So if she's hoping to borrow money from him, good luck."
"Where'd you come by that information, Hank?"
"Well, I tell you, Liza...
3
"A few years back I ran into one of the Federal Marshals who helped fill me in on the case. Robert Benson. They call him Bobby B. Retired now, but still keeps up on things. You know the type. Wife makes him retire but he can't let it go. Anyway, old Bobby likes to have a few. Me too. I happened to stop into the watering hole after work one evening and there he was.
"We got to talking and he tells me how the sister, Elena Stamper, aka Elena Ramirez, is now officially divorced and living here in the States. I guess he had the idea that since I work cold cases that I might like to interview her in person, something neither of us were able to do in the way back."
"And did you?"
"Did I what, Danners?"
"Interview her?"
"Oh, Christ no, not after I sat there for two hours buying drinks and listening to Bobby B hold forth. I got enough trouble with the wife without going out and courting more."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that Elena Stamper is likely as not as close to a nymphomaniac as anyone you'd ever want to meet. Hell, Danners, I'm surprised she didn’t blow you on the spot. Oh, wait a minute... I forgot... she's a woman."
"Are you sure about that, big boy? Have you checked underneath the wrapping?"
"Stop it, Danners, Hank. Come on. We might have something here. Elena told us she was home alone sick when Eduardo disappeared. Was she really? Or was she entertaining someone? Someone who might well've had something to do with the disappearance of her brother."
"Not sure I follow you, honey boo."
"You always seem to know when someone is telling the truth, DanDan. Was Elena Stamper being honest with us?"
"Yes and no... it's been fifteen years, Liza. It seemed to me she was telling us as much as she could remember... but that woman's been through the wringer. Gotta give her a little leeway. That's how I see it."
<
br /> "She drinks... yeah, Bobby B told me all about that too."
"I don’t see anything in the files you gave us about a boyfriend, Hank. Seventeen years old and chaste doesn’t seem to go together from what you're telling us about Elena Stamper."
"Bingo, girlfriend. Yeah, I noticed that too. So did Bobby B. But who could we ask? The mother? Hell... she went basket case after the kid vanished. And those Mexican cops are all related to Frito the Bandito. Polishing their moustaches, looking for a handout, and then feeding you bad burritos and bullshit. You'll see... if you're really planning on going there. Don't say I didn’t warn you."
Chapter 9—The Truth
(Or Something Like It)
1
"Little Eduardo and Alexandria were playmates, Liza."
"How can you know that with any certainty, Reilly?"
"Because I'm Houdini reincarnated... maybe next time you take on a case like this one, you'll hire me too. I could use the extra dough, you know."
"You got it, darling cakes... now tell us the truth."
"The Bureau got involved early on, Danners. And don't quote me on that. It's unbecoming of a man in my position. Anyway, their case file is a lot thicker than the one Lupo gave you... plumper, bigger, juicier... Jesus... is this all Lupo handed over? A guy'd be hard pressed to wipe his own ass with it. I'd let you see mine but it's off limits to non agency personnel. Sorry, Charlie."
"So you just came here to tease us with that Montgomery Wards catalogue of yours? Is that your plan?"
"No, Liza... I thought your precious boyfriend here could use this sombrero to keep the sun off his precious little wee pee down there on the beach in Mexico."
"Can it, Reilly. We need to get a look at that file. Can't you...?"
"No, I can't, Danners. Look. I'm already risking my job just by telling you about it. I shouldn’t have brought it here. My bad, girls. Don't know what I was thinking."
