by Carmen Amato
“Ten million pesos?” Emilia was surprised. Ten million pesos wasn’t very much for a major company. Agua Pacifico trucks were a common sight in Acapulco and neighboring cities up and down Mexico’s Pacific coast. Doubtless millions of big water jugs called garrafons, the kind designed for water coolers and dispensers like the one in Tío Raul’s garage and her own kitchen, were delivered every day by those Agua Pacific trucks. After all, bottled water was something that everybody in Mexico had to have. The company should have been coining pesos. “Was the company in debt?”
Rico shrugged. “Don’t know yet.”
“See what else you can find out,” Emilia said. She wondered if she’d asked Bruno Inocente and Sergio Rivas the right questions. “Who owns Lomas Bottling. Did they buy any debt along with Agua Pacifico. How the money was paid out. Macias and Sandor, you follow up with the other marinas.”
“What about the rest of the residents in the apartment building,” Sandor asked. “We didn’t get to talk to many.”
“Castro and Gomez should be able to handle that,” Emilia said. If they ever showed up.
She looked around the little knot of men. They were all there grudgingly, even Rico, but they’d discussed the case and made some progress. As a peace offering, Emilia handed Silvio a new clipboard with the dispatch forms on it. There was only one for the day. He took the form from the clipboard and put it in his pocket.
The phone in el teneiente’s office rang. Emilia left the group and answered it.
The call was from the desk sergeant. “Workmen have an order for bathroom repairs and your name is on it,” he said.
“They can come through,” Emilia said.
Villahermosa walked into the squadroom a minute later with two burly workmen in blue coveralls who were wrestling with several big flat cardboard boxes, a power drill, and a tool box.
“The detectives bathroom is down the hall,” Emilia said from the doorway to the office.
“You went shopping?” Silvio turned his back on the murder board and marched over to her, his shoulder holster dark against his white tee shirt.
Emilia watched as Villahermosa and the workmen made their way down the hall. When they went into the bathroom she went to the murder board. Silvio followed and she could feel the anger rising from him. Only three days since the discovery of el teniente’s body and she felt like it had been three years. “Murder board looks good,” she said.
“Making Portillo and Fuentes chase some water company his family sold a couple of years ago is a waste of time,” Silvio replied. “You don’t know what else to do so you’re running wild and they all know it.”
“So you have a lead to the killer?” Emilia swung around to confront him. “And you’re not saying?”
“You should be knocking on every door in that apartment building,” Silvio snapped back. “He was screwing somebody in that building before he got on that boat.”
“If you weren’t trying to play games instead of focusing on the job, maybe everybody would be a little more cooperative,” Emilia countered. She was angry, now, too. “We’d have something from knocking on all those doors.”
“I think Obregon’s paid you not to go there.” Silvio pointed a finger at Emilia. “Maybe he’s put his little chica in charge so he can make sure we only look at the things he wants us to look at. Leave the real stuff alone.”
“Leave Obregon out of this,” Emilia blazed. “If you know something about Lt. Inocente you need to spit it out.”
Silvio shook his finger. “If it weren’t for Obregon we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I’d be in charge and we wouldn’t be wasting our time on water.”
“What do you know?” Emilia asked hotly.
“His computer’s not going to tell you anything, either. Inocente never kept anything on a computer except dirty pictures of little girls.”
“What do you know,” Emilia repeated. Obregon’s warning spun through her head. Watch your back with Silvio.
“Nothing.” Silvio walked toward the door, skirting his own desk as he did. “Only that you’re making it up as you go.”
He wrenched open the squadroom door and nearly collided with two men in coveralls pushing a brand new copier on a trolley. The machine was swathed in blue-tinted plastic.
☼
Emilia was in el teniente’s office when Rico knocked on the open door. She gave a start when she realized he had Kurt Rucker with him. “Got a visitor,” Rico said.
“Hi.” Kurt was in uniform again; a crisp white shirt, khaki pants and ocean-colored eyes.
“Hi.” Emilia aimed for casual and thought she managed it fairly well. “What brings you down here all the way from Punta Diamante?”
He looked around the office, at the stacks of files and the few items taped to the sickly-colored walls. “Did you get a promotion?”
Rico snorted.
“I’m just using this office for a bit.” She didn’t meet Rico’s eye. “For the investigation into Lt. Inocente’s death.”
Kurt stepped in front of Rico. “That’s why I’m here. Thought you’d like to see this.” He put a folder with the Palacio Réal hotel logo on the desk.
Emilia opened the folder to find a copy of a bill for a room at the hotel, a bill from the Pasodoble Bar for a prohibitive amount of money, and a copy of a charge card receipt that had paid for both the room and the bar bill. The name of the guest on all three documents was Fausto Inocente.
“Come in and close the door,” she said to Rico who complied. Emilia swung her gaze back to Kurt. “He stayed at your hotel?”
“One night,” he affirmed.
“Who?” Rico leaned over the side of the desk and his eyes followed Emilia’s pointing finger. “Ah, shit.”
“Notice anything about the date?” Kurt asked.
“It’s before we found Ruiz’s head,” Emilia said.
“He stayed at the hotel the same time the Hudsons were there,” Kurt said.
“That fits,” Rico said. He rubbed a hand over his round face and exhaled loudly.
“Everything about the Hudsons has been purged from our files,” Emilia said quietly. “Plus some other stuff from the Ruiz investigation.”
“You didn’t tell me that,” Rico said.
“I haven’t had time,” Emilia said. “I found it the other night.”
“Inocente?” Kurt asked.
“El teniente or somebody else who was in on it with him,’ Emilia said with a nod to the door to the squadroom. “Or both.”
“Does this help?” Kurt indicated the folder.
“Yes. Thank you.” Emilia was painfully aware of Kurt’s physical presence. She was also painfully aware of the gossip that was almost certainly going on in the squadroom. She came around the side of the desk and for a moment her knees sagged. He was just so different from other men she knew. And so out of her league. “We’ll need to keep this quiet for now.”
Rico jerked his head at the door. “You know they’ll ask.”
The three of them stood in silence for a moment.
“I’m registering a complaint about the two detectives you sent around to ask questions,” Kurt said with a grin. “They’re a couple of assholes.”
Rico snorted.
“That works,” Emilia said.
She ignored the looks as she walked Kurt out of the squadroom. They didn’t speak as they passed the holding cells and Emilia shot the guards with her thumb and forefinger like always. His SUV was in a visitor space in the front of the building and Emilia felt their steps slow as they walked out into the sunshine. It was a beautiful day, with a breeze rolling in from the bay and the sun warming cars and cement.
“How are things going?” Kurt asked. They were at his car. He took out his keys but didn’t press the unlock button on the fob.
“Awful,” Emilia admitted. Someone in a flowered shirt probably polished his car every day. It was so clean she could see her reflection; no makeup, usual ponytail, black tee shirt tucked into skinny jeans.
“The police union made me acting lieutenant and head of the investigation and the rest of the detectives hate me for it. Nobody even seems to care that el teniente is dead.”
“What’s the union got to do with it?” Kurt asked.
“Everything. Head of the union for the state of Guerrero runs everything. Even the chief of police does what he says. The man’s got a direct line to Carlota, too. Who gushed about you.” A spurt of jealousy ran down Emilia’s spine, just as it had before in the alcaldia.
Kurt smiled. “Ah, Carlota. Did you know she wants to put in a bid for a summer Olympics?”
“So I heard,” Emilia said. “God help us if she succeeds.”
“Forget the Olympics,” Kurt said. “You look exhausted.”
“Three days and it’s all a pile of loose ends.”
“But it’s about the money, isn’t it?”
“The mayor wants me to solve the case fast and make sure it doesn’t have any cartel connections,” Emilia said. “Can you believe that? She actually told me--no, ordered is more like it--to make sure he didn’t die from anything that would be embarrassing to the city.”
“That would be our Carlota.”
“The union guy is . . . scary. He doesn’t want an arrest, just to know what el teniente was doing that got him killed. But if el teniente got killed for the counterfeit--.” Emilia didn’t go on. Her hands were shaking. To hide the tremors she pulled her hair out of its ponytail, fumbling with the coated rubber band. It seemed to take a long time to wrap it around a wrist, bracelet style, as the breeze whipped her hair into her eyes.
Kurt looked around and then back at Emilia. “You have to find them before they find you.”
“And I can’t even get everybody to come to a morning meeting.” Emilia heard the pathetic note in her voice but she couldn’t help it. If she could just sob for ten minutes in Kurt Ricker’s arms she might survive another day. Feel him hold her tight. Let her absorb some of that quiet confidence.
“You want to have a meeting?” Kurt asked.
“I’m trying to get all the detectives to come to a regular morning meeting.” Emilia’s hair blew untidily and she caught it up in her hand. “Lt. Inocente always kept all the investigations separate. Nobody helps each other because nobody trusts each other. When I was going through the files I found a case that Macias and Sandor were working on. A murder investigation that was somebody . . . well . . .” She hesitated, wondering if he’d think she was wasting her time keeping a list of las perdidas. “It would have helped me with something if I’d known. I can’t be the only one. If we had morning meetings where everybody talks about what they’re working on, we might close more cases.”
Kurt watched her struggle with her hair. “This a real break with tradition?”
“Yes.”
“Every day?”
“At 9:00 am,” Emilia said. She gave up and corralled her hair into a new ponytail. “About half came today and this is the most important case we’ve got.”
“Well, it’s the same at the hotel.” He reached out and smoothed the hair above her ear toward the back. “We have a senior staff meeting every day. I don’t want to tell you how to handle things, but try bringing food. Pull them in with breakfast, get them talking.”
Emilia blinked as she felt him guide stray hair to the root of the ponytail and tuck it under the band. It was like the touch of his hands on hers on the steering wheel that night; strong, purposeful, knowing exactly what he was doing. “Food,” she said lamely.
“Nothing brings people together like eating.” Kurt’s thumb smoothed hair away from her forehead and then his hand dropped to his side. “Draw them in, then give them some time to get used to the change and see the value in it.”
“I should feed them when they’ve been so shitty to me?”
“You’ve got to give a little to get a little,” he said. “Let them see the advantage in doing it your way.”
Emilia realized they were standing very close. “If I do that I’m just the woman again,” she said. “Feeding them. Like their mother.”
Kurt grinned. “What decent Mexican man doesn’t care about his mother?”
Emilia grinned, too, in spite of herself.
“On the subject of food, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” Kurt asked. “We can continue our discussion about motivation.”
Emilia took a step back and a deep breath at the same time before she found herself flirting. “No, I’m working.”
“Working tonight or working all the time?” Kurt bent to catch her eye. “Just wondering how much of a brush-off this is. Again.”
Emilia managed a small smile and shook her head. “It’s just not a good idea, okay?”
“I don’t think you really believe that, Detective Cruz.” Kurt caught up another errant strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear. He bleeped open the car door and then the SUV was swinging out of the parking space and was gone.
☼
Emilia looked around Dr. Rodolfo Chang’s waiting room in the medical center near the Hospital Santa Lucia. Dr. Chang was a plastic surgeon. While his practice was devoted to making women look younger or glamorous or perpetually surprised, he also fixed cleft palates and other facial birth defects. His waiting room featured before and after pictures of children who had benefited from surgery, as well as a bank of brochures about Operation Smile Mexico. Other pictures were of Operation Smile charity events including a fashion show. Emilia recognized Maria Teresa Inocente strutting down a runway wearing a flowing chiffon evening gown. The photo looked fairly recent. When the receptionist said Dr. Chang was free, Emilia unhooked the picture from the wall and followed the girl down a blue-painted hallway to the doctor’s office.
“A pleasure,” Dr. Chang said. He stood and extended his hand.
“Detective Emilia Cruz Encinos.” Emilia shook the doctor’s hand. He was simply arresting, with almond eyes, chiseled cheekbones, a sharply angled jaw and hair so black it was nearly blue. He wore a lavender shirt and striped tie under a white lab coat that reached to his knees. The office walls were adorned with multiple certificates and diplomas.
“What can I do for you, Detective?”
“Can you tell me about your relationship with this woman?” Emilia handed him the picture from the reception area.
“This is from an Operation Smile fundraiser several months ago.” Dr. Chang smiled, showing perfect teeth. His lips were narrow but very red. “The police are interested in Operation Smile?”
“No, we’re interested in your relationship with the woman in the picture.”
“I expect she’s involved with Operation Smile and was one of the volunteer models.” Chang smiled. He hitched a hip on the edge of his desk and dangled one loafer-shod foot. His socks were gray argyle. “Is that it, Detective?”
“Witnesses say you left the San Pedro charity fundraiser last Tuesday evening with this woman.”
“Really?” Chang smiled mischievously at her.
Emilia did not smile back. “Witnesses have her departing the fundraiser with you at 11:00 pm. Her husband was killed approximately an hour later. His body was found in a boat drifting off Punta Diamante yesterday morning.”
Chang straightened his tie. “Let me take another look at that.”
Emilia handed him the picture and he gave an embarrassed tinny laugh. “Well, yes. Maria Teresa Diaz de Inocente. Sorry, didn’t recognize her at first. Terrible quality photo.” He put it down with a studied casualness. “What did you say about the husband?”
“Found dead,” Emilia said. “Can you tell me where you and Maria Theresa went after leaving the San Pedro event?”
Chang gave another tinny laugh and spread his hands. “We went where you’d imagine two consenting adults to go.”
“Which is?”
“To bed.”
“So you have a relationship with Maria Teresa?”
The fantastic cheekbones lifted in another smile. “Sometimes.”
“Could y
ou be a little more precise?”
“Sometimes with Maria Teresa. Sometimes with other friends.” The doctor’s expression said Emilia could be one of those friends.
Emilia got out her notebook and flipped to the timeline page. “How long were you and Maria Teresa together Tuesday night?”
Chang pretended to think. “Maybe until about 3:00 am. My driver took her home.”
“Took her home or back to the fundraiser?”
“She’d left her car so I suppose back to the fundraiser.” He smiled again, working those cheekbones. His shoulders rocked forward as if to imply interest. “My evening was over. I’m ready for something new.”
“Is there anyone who can verify that?”
Chang took a prescription pad out of his lab coat pocket and wrote down something. He tore off the sheet and held it out to Emilia. “There. My driver. And the maid.”
Emilia went to take the paper but he held onto it. She didn’t pull and they stayed connected while his smile melted into a smug expression of victory, as if he’d outwitted her. When he let go Emilia tucked the paper inside her notebook.
“So you and Maria Teresa were together for about four hours,” Emilia pushed on.
“I take my time, Detective,’ Chang said smoothly.
Emilia kept her voice neutral. “Did you have future plans with Maria Teresa?”
“Detective, exactly why are you asking questions of such an intimate nature?” The rocking shoulder movement resumed, as if a mating ritual.
“Maria Teresa’s husband was killed the night you and she were having a relationship,” Emilia said. “I’d think you’d be somewhat concerned.”
Chang ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “If you are implying that we killed her husband to run away together, let me assure you we didn’t. What Maria Teresa and I have, when we have it, is enough. And as I said, she’s not the only one.”
