Baja Blues: The Boy Who Played With Marbles (Liza McNairy Mysteries Book 2)

by Dan Glover

  He sure hoped whatever information she gleaned was worth the embarrassment he was feeling. Everyone in the restaurant was giving him the stink eye. Great. Here came the manager with two thugs by his side... doubtlessly Pancho and Lefty.

  "I understand there is a problem here?"

  "No, my good sir... no problem at all. We were just leaving. I'm so sorry for my husband's rude behavior... I'm afraid the poor dear is feeling the effects of severe jet lag. We just flew in from the United Kingdom and the man didn’t sleep a wink. Please forgive us."

  "It is nothing, senorita... such things happen all the time. Please... you are welcome to come back and visit us anytime. But for now, take your husband to your room and allow the man to get some sleep."

  "See... that wasn’t so bad, now was it, Senor Lupo."

  "Jesus, Bernice... me and you... we oughta go into business for ourselves. McNairy and Forthright got nothing on us, do they."

  "I'd take you up on that offer but I think Mrs. Lupo might have my hide if I did."

  "And a lovely hide it is, Bernie. Now that we've saved the day not to mention the free world what say we adjourn to your cabin and do some further exploration on the subject."

  "Yep... you're sure enough a mind reader, Senor Lupo."

  Chapter 42—Ways

  (And Time)

  "I hope you know you went and scared the dog shit out of me, Liza."

  "Who... moi?"

  "Here... I got you something."

  "Danners! Thank you. Why didn’t you just tell me what you were doing? Take me with. I woke up all alone with only a note telling me not to go out. You know me. I never listen to anyone."

  "I thought I'd be back before you got up. Plus I didn’t want Elena Stamper to know who the heroin was for. I'm pretty sure she figured it out, though."

  Dammit. If only he could summon more anger. But it was like being mad at a child. He simply couldn’t do it. And yeah, thinking about it, maybe he should've simply brought Liza with. But then again, if he had, the scene that was now unfolding would've gone quite differently.

  Had he known that? Maybe on some level he did. The curse he carried—or gift, depending upon who you asked—worked in ways he'd never been able to control. He had to let it unfurl in its own way and time. It'd be so much easier if he could simply pull back the veil of uncertainty that they called the future but that skill wasn’t his to command.

  They were all laughing at him behind his back. So what was new? At least Liza was safe. There for a few moments he thought he'd lost her... in fact, he was sure of it. Strange how the dreams were sometimes right yet just as often wrong. Everything seemed to hinge on indecision.

  "Que todas tus pesadillas sean dulces."

  He saw her coming toward them from a hundred feet away. She reminded him of someone... someone he once knew in a dream. But how could it be her? She'd be well into her eighties by now. But so was the old woman. When he tried to step aside, she countered with a move of her own, coming so close to him that she brushed his cheek with the back of her hand.

  "Que todas tus pesadillas sean dulces."

  She mouthed the words rather than spoke them... no more than a whisper, like the touch of her skin upon his. Her lips were so thin as to be nonexistent... the skin on her hand like tissue paper, crinkled and frail. Yet a light burned in her eyes, like that damned portrait of Jesus that he saw hanging on the wall in Father Fletch's old adobe church... as if she was on fire from the inside.

  "Que todas tus pesadillas sean dulces."

  His Spanish was rusty and halting. Hell, it was virtually nonexistent. Yet despite the language barrier something in old woman's demeanor—maybe the fire in her eyes—lent an odd sort of translation to her words. May all your nightmares be sweet ones. How on earth did she know?

  The old woman was his mother. He'd never been so sure of anything in his life. But then a moment later as she vanished into the countryside surrounding the old church he realized the impossibility of that notion. She was obviously Mexican or perhaps Indian and his mother was white... at least those few memories he had of her.

  No... the old woman wasn’t mother... a good thing, that. Instead, she was one of the adept. He'd learned ages ago that a small minority of people in the world could see into the souls of others... to know the demons that tormented them with such fury and anguish. He was one of them. The old woman another, perhaps.

  "Que todas tus pesadillas sean dulces."

  If only that were true he'd be the happiest man alive. Unfortunately, none of his nightmares were ever sweet. The things he learned from them were terrible... living through the horror even worse. There were times when he considered ending his life rather than continuing down the dark roads he walked at night.

  Most people thought him lazy because he liked to sleep in the morning when the sun was up and the light bright enough to chase away the spirits that irrupted into his consciousness with such callousness and malicious intent. He hated waking to the dark, not knowing whether or not he still dreamed... sensing something lurking there in the shadows just out of sight, waiting for its moment to arrive, humming a tune only Danners could hear.

  One day he'd succumb to that sordid siren's song ring ring ringing in his ears. Sort of like Liza... perhaps the pair of them would be found dead intertwined in one another's arms and legs, flesh pressed to flesh. Cold and stiff. Just as well. There'd be no life for either of them without the other.

  "Who is that old woman, DanMan? Do you know her?"

  "No... I never saw her before."

  "What did she say?"

  "May all your nightmares be sweet ones."

  "Danners... that's just a little too weird."

  "She lost a child... a little girl."

  "How do you know that?"

  "I felt it when she touched me... I didn’t realize it till just now. Decades ago. Way before Fletch ever showed up here."

  "How did the girl die, Danners?"

  "The nightmares took her."

  "I'm not sure I follow..."

  "Terrible things have been happening in this area for centuries, Liza. Fletch genuinely wanted to help when he first arrived. The Church sent him here not because of his criminal past, not like we thought. No... they sent him here because he knows how to deal with demons."

  "So now you're saying Fletch is really the good guy?"

  "No... not anymore. Something's happened to the man. He's been usurped. Possessed. The terror that he fought has taken root inside of him."

  "You don’t believe in that sort of crap, Danners. Neither do I."

  "I'm just telling you what I see, Liza. Whether it's true or not, I don’t know."

  Truth... now there was a hoot. How could anything be true? He created the world just by being within it... everyone in the entire world did. Were they all living in their own private universes? Absolutely. Yet there were points that overlapped... edges that touched... flesh upon flesh, sounds impinging upon ear drums. Everyone was possessed by something or another. No one separate and apart... not like most people thought.

  "How are we going to find out?"

  "I'm not sure, Liza. Let's go into the church and speak with the Father again. I've brought something that belongs to him... something he'll be happy to see. But I'm not sure how he'll react knowing that I took it."

  "That knife..."

  "Yeah... I'm going to hand it back to him. When I do, I'll touch his hand. Be ready, Liza. I'm not at all certain what'll happen."

  "Wait... let's go find Hank and Reilly before we do this. Have them come with us."

  "Why?"

  "I'd just feel safer."

  "No worries, girly. I've got us covered. Remember... I'm your strange ranger."

  Chapter 43—Bad Mouthing

  (Oedipus)

  1

  "We need to be getting back, mother."

  "You go if you have to, Reilly. I think I'll spend another week here."

  "It's Hank Lupo."

  "What is?"
r />   "The reason why you want to stay. The man's married, you know. He plays around all the time. From what I hear he's got a dozen different women in various parts of Los Angeles who he sees all the time. The man is a scoundrel, mother. You're better than that."

  "I know all that, Reilly. He told me most all of it himself. And yes, if you have to know, the reason why I want to stay is Hank Lupo. I like being around him. He makes me laugh. Oh, don’t get the wrong impression now. After our time here is over, we'll never see one another again. We both know that. The thing is, I'm not ready for it to be over yet. Give me another week... then we'll see."

  She was like a schoolgirl in love for the first time. Christ... in all his thirty years Reilly had never known mother to be with a man... any man. His father was but a rumor. And yes, she was a good looking woman, sure enough. Doubtlessly she could've had her pick of partners. But she chose to be alone. Why?

  For him... for her son. And now that she finally found someone she connected with, what did he do? Try to spoil things for her. Talk the man down. Bad-mouth him. Was it some sort of Oedipus complex at work? Old Freud would have a field day with all this shit, wouldn’t he.

  "Go ahead and stay, mother. I really do have to get back, though."

  "You do what you need to do, Reilly. I'll catch a ride back with Mr. Lupo or with that pair of detectives you hang around with. Either way, I'll be fine."

  He supposed he'd never see Elena again either. Maybe it was for the best. Still, it bothered him to be going now, right when he was most needed. Oh, not for procuring smack, but for helping McNairy and Forthright analyze the data they were accumulating.

  "Is it possible to learn more about that religious sect you told us about, Reilly?"

  "Refresh my memory, Liza."

  "You told us about an obscure St. Justine sect of priests who performed exorcisms. Remember?"

  "Oh yes... but I think I told you everything I know about it. Why?"

  "We think it's operating here in Santo Tomas. Exorcisms have been going on here for a lot longer than we thought. Perhaps centuries. I know it's asking a lot, but is there any way of accessing Church records on such things?"

  "Actually, yes. The Jesuits are on the forefront of the digital revolution within the Church. They take it as part of their duty to share the Word of God. With a little digging, I think we might be able to find what you're looking for. Give me some time, Liza."

  And now here he was ready to run off, to abandon his friends and lover. For what? To go home and get his ass reamed for being in Mexico when he should've been home sick? Hell, maybe he'd feed Matt Murk a line about coming down here for alternative cancer treatment. That could work.

  Truth be told, the real reason he was planning on going home was to get mother away from Lupo. That man was nothing but a serial womanizer. Now she refused to go with him. So why was he still leaving Mexico?

  2

  He should wait until he had a chance to say farewell to Elena. Oh, he knew she was Hank Lupo's alter ego... that she'd bedded more men than any hundred whores combined. Somehow, though, when they were together Elena made him feel like he was the only other person in the world.

  What would it hurt to stay on another week? Nothing as far as he knew. He had plenty of vacation days saved up. Special Asshole in Charge Matt Murk always made him feel like a loser if he took any personal time but fuck him. He'd been with the Bureau for six years now and how many days had he taken? None. This was his only vacation in all that time.

  First things first. He had a sit down with McNairy and Forthright this morning. He figured before he went anywhere, he'd better check with them on how everything was unfolding. Could be worth his while to stay south of the border after all. Christ. The things he did for money.

  "So what do you have so far on the Eduardo Ramirez case, Liza, Danners? Anything?"

  "We have a graveyard full of corpses that don’t belong there... a priest who is instrumental in performing exorcisms on children who tend to vanish during the procedure, and we have a man who seems to be the facilitator of everything... one Arturo Tortuga Gutierrez. We know Tortuga is a drug dealer... but is he cartel?"

  "Not according to the Bureau's database, Liza... sure, the man's been deported from the United States five times over the past fifteen years. Served time in federal prison for money laundering and smuggling cocaine. Always ends up back here in Santo Tomas. But no record of him being associated with any known cartel."

  "We understand Elena Stamper knows the man... in fact, they were together on the day her brother disappeared. Have you asked her if he is somehow involved?"

  "No, and I'm not going to, Danners. If he is, I doubt she has any knowledge of it."

  "But she has to be suspicious."

  "Maybe. Honestly, Liza, we haven’t talked about Eduardo."

  "The man tried to kill me, Reilly."

  "You don’t know that for sure, Liza."

  Ever since he helped Danners procure heroin for Liza he felt as if he'd seen her naked, like she'd exposed herself to him. Now, here they were arguing over some wannabe gangbanger drug dealer who might or might not have tried slipping her a bad bundle.

  "I do know that, Reilly. I saw the way Fletch was watching us."

  "But I thought you said you threw away the packet you bought from Tortuga."

  "I did."

  "So as far as you know it was heroin, just the same as you bought from him before."

  "Why are you defending the man, Reilly?"

  "I'm not, Danners. I'm just being realistic. If Tortuga wanted Liza dead he could've slipped something into those other packets that he sold to her last week. You told me yourself that she bought three grams from him."

  "Why are you sharing my business, Danners? Who else did you tell? Is Hank Lupo aware of it too?"

  "No, Liza... I only told Reilly because I needed his help in getting more for you. I had that dream where I watched you die from an overdose. I had to get something safe for you. If I didn’t ask Reilly for help I'd have to drive back to Los Angeles and take a chance on crossing the border with it."

  "He's right, Liza... he wouldn’t even tell Elena who the smack was for... but I'm sure she figured it out."

  "In other words, just about everyone in the world knows I'm a junkie."

  "I hate to break it to you, girlfriend, but it isn’t exactly news."

  "What do you mean by that, Reilly?"

  "Come on, Liza... we're supposed to be discussing the case. Let's get back to the facts. Look, Reilly... we're pretty sure Fletch and Tortuga are collaborating in either kidnapping those kids or killing them outright. They seem to be some sort of self-styled exorcists, whether sanctioned by the Church or not.

  "The way we figure it, we can either alert the authorities to what's going on in that graveyard—in which case the good Father will simply claim ignorance—or we can play the game with them. For that, we need your help... and Hank's."

  "Tell me more."

  "Liza overheard Fletch and Tortuga talking about another possible victim... someone who might be possessed. In order to perform the exorcism, we think Fletch is going to need something that I took from the Church... a ceremonial knife called kīla."

  "So you're a thief now, Danners?"

  "You know how I work, Reilly. Anyway, we're thinking of returning kīla to Fletch..."

  "Look... you two seem to have this thing all figured out. I'm going back to the cabin. See ya."

  "Liza... don't go."

  "You know what? Fuck you, Danners. And fuck you too, Reilly. I'm sick of this shit. I can't believe the two of you."

  "Let her go, Danners. Sit down and tell me more about this plan of yours. Liza'll calm down... give her some room."

  "No... I better go after her. See you later, Reilly."

  Great. So far, he'd alienated his mother and two of his closest friends. Maybe he ought to stop by and see Elena... perhaps he could piss her off too.

  Chapter 44—First Fights

  (And
Going Home)

  "Liza... wait up."

  "Get away from me, Danners."

  "Listen... everything I did I did for you, sweetie."

  "Danners... I'm tired of you. I'm sick of this place. I just want to go home."

  "So you're leaving me?"

  "There is no we, Danners. You know that as well as I do. I keep waiting and waiting but for what... "

  "Don't do this to me, Liza. You know how I feel about you."

  "No I don’t know. Tell me."

  "I love you, Liza McNairy. Without you in my life, I'd end it tomorrow."

  "Words... I've been hearing that same shit come out of your mouth for years. I can't take it any longer. I want a normal life, Danners. Dammit. I want... hell, I don’t know what I want. But this isn’t it."

  "You know what, Liza? Then go home. Go bury your head in the smack. Do whatever the fuck you want to do."

  "I will."

  "Good... "

  "But what about you, Danners?"

  "What about me? When the hell have you ever cared about me? Everything is me, me, me. The whole fucking world and everyone in it is like that. Christ. I'm tired of it too. Just pack your stuff and leave."

  "This is our first real fight."

  But he was gone, the air still vibrating with his anger and pain. Why'd she have to go off on him like that? He was just doing what he thought was best. Hell, who else would go out of their way to buy candy for her?

  For a moment, she considered following him. For what? To scream at one another a little more? No... he was right. She should go. She could catch a bus home, or take a plane. Be back in Los Angeles by four o'clock this afternoon. She didn’t need him. She didn’t need anyone. But why did she feel so much like crying right now? Back at the cabin she felt so alone that she pulled out her phone. What would it hurt just to call him to say goodbye?

  A soft knock sounded at the door. Danners! He'd come back. But why was he knocking?

  "Come in?"

  "Ms. McNairy... can I speak with you for a minute?"