The Girl at the Deep End of the Lake

by Sam Lee Jackson

  Escalona and Emil had their jackets unbuttoned. I assumed they both were carrying a firearm. Better to assume they did and not be surprised. Blackhawk stood and moved his chair away from me. No sense in bunching targets.

  They came to a halt at my bow, the older man and Escalona looking up at us. Emil was looking out at the water. The sun was bright on their faces and I knew we were silhouetted against the sky.

  “Mr. Jackson,” Escalona began formally.

  “Just Jackson,” I said.

  “Yes, of course.” He indicated the man next to him, “May I present his Excellency, Jairo Soto Amado Revera.”

  “How do you do,” the old man said.

  “How’s it hanging?” I said. Blackhawk smiled.

  The Ambassador gave Escalona a puzzled look and Escalona explained what I had said in low tones we couldn’t hear.

  The old man chuckled, then smiled up at me, “Yes, yes, very good thank you.” He paused a moment, studying me. “Would it be possible to speak with you inside?”

  I stood. “Yes, of course.” Then I saw what Emil was watching. A boat just off my stern with two men in it. Captain Rand and Eddie. Eddie had a shotgun across his lap.

  “How’s it going?” Captain Rand called up.

  I waved a hand. “Doing fine. Just entertaining some new friends.”

  “Want us to hang around?”

  “I do appreciate it,” I said, “but no need.”

  Eddie waved, and Rand moved the boat around and putted back down the line of boats.

  Blackhawk and I went down and I opened the sliding door as Blackhawk moved across the room to lean against the wall beside the bar.

  The three men stepped aboard. The boat moved under Emil’s weight. I waved them toward the couch and chairs.

  “Please, have a seat.”

  The Ambassador was looking out the port window, watching Captain Rand and Eddie move away. He looked back to me.

  “It is good to have cautious friends.”

  “Yes,” I agreed.

  Emil stood by the door looking at Blackhawk, who was looking at him. The Ambassador and Escalona sat on the oversized couch.

  “Would you care for something to drink?”

  The Ambassador nodded, “In the gesture of friendship I will accept. Do you have cognac?”

  “I believe I do,” I said. “And for you?” I said to Escalona.

  “Nothing for us,” Escalona said.

  Blackhawk moved behind the bar and looked through the bottles.

  “Remy Martin okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, completely,” the Ambassador said.

  Blackhawk looked at me and I nodded. He poured a small amount in two glasses and set them on the bar. I picked them up and handed one to the old man.

  “Saludar,” he said, raising the glass. I lifted mine in return. The tiniest bit touched his lips and he set the glass aside.

  “You are here about the girl,” I said.

  “Yes,” he said. “Right to business.” He motioned to Escalona and Escalona pulled my photograph of Gabriela from his inside jacket pocket and handed it to the Ambassador. The old man unfolded it and gazed at it for a moment, then held it for me to see.

  “This is my grandaughter, my Gabriela. She means the world to me.”

  “Where are her parents?” I asked.

  He shrugged with a weariness you could feel.

  “Family is not always an easy thing, Mr. Jackson. Gabriela is young and headstrong. Gabriela’s mother is sensitive and has gone back to Columbia to be with her family. My son is also headstrong. He does not have the age nor the wisdom that I have, and he does not see anything, except the girl will not bend to his will. He forgets that he also was a problem when he was younger.” He shook his head ruefully, “He has washed his hands of the girl.”

  “And you want to find her.”

  He clasped his hands together and looked down at them for a long time. When he looked up his eyes were moist.

  “Mr. Jackson,” he started.

  “Just Jackson,” I said.

  “Yes. Jackson then. Jackson, I have had a long life. During the course of my life I have had great success. I have gained much power. I have many young men and women who will do exactly as I ask. I have powerful friends. And I have powerful enemies. Gabriela is my granddaughter and I hold her deep in my heart. She will come through this rebellious period and she will be a true and great person. But this cannot happen if she is lost. I must find her.” His eyes turned harsh, “And I must find her before others do. If the others find her first, they will try to force me to do things I will not do.”

  “I understand,” I said. “I know something about you,” I continued. “I know you have very powerful friends. I know that some of your friends have a lot of influence on the gangs that are on the streets. I believe your granddaughter is with one of these gangs. Surely your friends can help you find her.”

  He smiled. “You speak of the Valdez family. Regretfully my association with them is innuendo and rumor. But if I did have such an alliance I would call upon them in the name of friendship. The same as I am calling upon you.”

  “What can I do that they can’t?”

  He shrugged and stood. Escalona stood also.

  “You have friends they don’t have. Influential friends. But I have told you how much the girl means to me and so I will not leave any stone unturned.”

  He moved to the door and turned. He held out his hand and I took it. It was warm and firm.

  “Jackson, I am willing to pay a very large sum of money to get my granddaughter back. A very large sum.”

  He stepped out the door and Escalona and Emil followed. On the pier he turned back to me.

  “Anything you find, I will be grateful if you contact Mr. Escalona immediately.”

  He turned and they went back down the pier. At the gate, Emil turned and raised a hand.

  I looked at Blackhawk and he was smiling. “A very large sum,” he said. “Maybe enough to get a new white horse.” He looked at me, “Influential friends?”

  “Mendoza,” I said. “How did he know about Mendoza?”

  25

  I was sound asleep when my name came reverberating through the boat and into my ears.

  “Jaaackson.”

  The green LED alarm clock showed two forty-two. It was almost like I had dreamed it, when again, “Jaaackson”.

  I swung out of the bed, pulled on swim trunks and attached my utility foot. I made my way forward. I pulled the curtains back, unlocked the door and stepped out on the bow. At first I didn’t see her, then it was just the top of her head. I leaned over the railing and Romy sat, her feet dangling in the water.

  “You okay?” I said and she giggled, squinting up at me, the faint light glistening off her hair. “Oh boy,” I said softly.

  “Come on in, the water’s fine,” she said, slightly slurring her words.

  I stepped off the boat and moved to sit beside her. I pulled my foot off and set it on the pier before I put my legs in the water.

  Romy reached over and picked up my foot.

  “Poor ol’ Jackson,” she said. “Got no foot.” She started laughing. “Can’t put it in your mouth if you don’t have it.” She draped an arm around my neck and leaned against me. “Thas a joke,” she said. She looked up at me, “Hey, how ‘bout you buy me a drink.”

  “Let’s go inside,” I said. “It’s chilly out here.”

  “Good ol’ Boy Scout Jackson,” she said.

  I took the foot from her and attached it. I stood and helped her up. She stumbled against me as she stood, and I put my arm around her waist to steady her. I helped her up the gangway and into the main lounge. She pulled away from me and went behind the bar. She set up two glasses and poured vodka into one of them.

  “What you havin’, Jackson ol’ boy?”

  “Don’t you think you’ve already had enough?”

  She leaned across the bar glaring at me. “Fuck you, Frank. You don’t tell me what
to do.” She downed the vodka. “All you men think you can tell me what to do. Stand here, stand there, wear this, wear that. Don’t you worry your silly little head. Fuck you all. I’m doin’ this my way.” She splashed more vodka into the glass and tossed it down.

  She put her head down, then looked up at me and laughed, “I meant Jackson. Good ol’ Jackson. I said Frank and I meant Jackson. Fuckin’ Frank. Don’t you want a drink?”

  “No, thanks,” I said.

  She came around the bar carrying the empty glass. “I think I want to sh’it down,” she said, then she giggled. “Sh’it down, I said. I mean sit down.” She giggled again, “Shit down.” She shook her head, “Tha’s funny.”

  She went over to the oversized couch and sat. “Good ol’ Jackson,” she muttered. She slouched back and rested her head on the back. I sat in the chair and watched. After a moment she closed her eyes. A few minutes more and she began to buzz softly and the glass rolled out of her hand. I reached over and picked it up and placed it on the bar. I got a pillow and blanket from the guest room. I gently lifted her legs up on the couch and got the pillow under her head. She mumbled and muttered but didn’t wake up. I spread the blanket over her. I locked up, turned off the lights and went to bed.

  When I opened my eyes Romy was sitting at the end of the bed. It was light out.

  “You got any aspirin?”

  “I’ll get you some,” I said, sliding out of the bed.

  When I came out of the head with four aspirin, Romy was in the galley seated at the breakfast nook. Her head in her hands. I set the aspirin in front of her.

  “Let me fix you something to wash them down with.”

  “God,” she said rubbing her temples. “I didn’t know my head could hurt like this. I still feel numb.”

  I poured tomato juice in a glass, cracked an egg into it, added tobasco and worcestershire and stirred it all together. I put the glass in front of her. She looked at it dubiously.

  “Just drink it down.”

  “It looks awful.”

  “It’ll help. It’s an old Marine recipe.”

  “Let the old Marine drink it.”

  I moved the glass closer. “Just drink it.”

  She took the aspirin and put them in her mouth, then with her eyes clenched shut she drank the concoction. She got most of it down. She set the glass down.

  “God that was awful.”

  “If you keep it down, you’ll feel better.”

  She looked at me.“If I keep it down?”

  I smiled. “Just a joke, you’ll be okay.”

  She put her head in her hands. “I don’t know if I will ever be okay again.” She rubbed her face with her hands. Not looking at me she said, “I woke up on your couch.”

  “Yes.”

  “So,” she said.

  I waited.

  “So,” she was still not looking at me, “did we…?”

  I laughed. “No, I’m sorry to say, things didn’t make it that far.”

  Now she looked at me, “It would’ve been okay,” she said. “But, you know, I would like to remember something like that.”

  “Maybe another time,” I said.

  “Yes,” she said. “Another time.” She paused, then, “Have you found out anything about Lucinda?”

  I stood. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “Please,” she said.

  “Do you like it strong?”

  “Stronger the better.”

  I grind the coffee fresh every day and keep it in a container above the coffee pot. I put several scoops in the little basket, poured filtered water in the reservoir and pushed the button.

  I sat down. “I went downtown and talked to a Lieutenant Mendoza and a woman detective name of Boyce. They are in the section that is involved with the gangs. They knew the Seventh Avenue Playboy Diablos. They knew where they hang out.”

  “Is Lucinda there?”

  “I decided to look. So I went to the warehouse they hang out in really early in the morning, to catch them unawares.”

  “Was she there?”

  “The only ones there were dead.”

  “Dead? What do you mean dead?”

  “Two guys, two girls, each shot once.”

  She stared at me, “Shot? You mean, like murdered? Oh my God. Was it Lucinda?”

  “I found no sign of her, but she had been there.”

  “How do you know?”

  I reached over and picked up the book of matches I had found at the warehouse. I showed them to Romy. “Recognize these?”

  She shook her head, “Matches?”

  “Remember I bought Lucinda cigarettes?”

  She nodded.

  “These are the matches I gave her, on your boat.”

  “But they were there where the dead people were?”

  I nodded, laying the matches on the table.

  She was silent, then, “You called the police?”

  I nodded again.

  “But you didn’t tell them about the matches?”

  I shook my head.

  “Why not?”

  I shrugged. “I also went to see a Catholic priest named Correa. He runs a shelter for abused women.” I told her about Father Correa and Santiago Escalona.

  When I finished she said, “Gabriela. Her name is Gabriela? Why did she tell us her name was Lucinda?”

  I shook my head. “Her name is Gabriela Vallentina Amado Revera. And I have no clue as to why she told us what she did except she didn’t want to go back to family.”

  “I can understand that,” she said.

  “The other thing I learned is that her grandfather is the Consul General from Columbia. He came to see me yesterday.”

  “Whoa. Hold on,” she said. She rubbed her temples. “This is going too fast. Revera? I think I met him once at a reception with Frank. Old guy, white beard. Why did he come see you?”

  “I guess he wanted to know what I know.”

  “Did you mention me?”

  I shook my head. “No need.”

  She looked relieved. “Good.” She looked up at me, “I have enough trouble with Frank as it is.”

  I waited, but she didn’t offer more. I wasn’t sure I understood how trouble with Frank was connected to Gabriela’s grandfather.

  “How does Frank know Revera?”

  “If you are anybody that is anybody in Columbia, Frank knows you.”

  We sat silently for a long moment. Finally I asked, “How is your friend’s finger?”

  “Who?”

  “The gentleman I met on your boat.”

  “Oh, Diego. He’s fine, and believe me, he is no gentleman. Frank sends him around to check on me. He thinks he is the Latin lover.” She brushed the hair from her face, “He always has to make a run at me. He doesn’t go too far because he knows if I told Frank, Frank would have him shot or something.”

  “Shot?”

  She smiled, “Well, maybe not shot. But you have no idea what Frank is capable of.”

  We sat in silence for a moment, then the coffee maker beeped.

  “Still want coffee?”

  “Can I borrow a cup and take it with me?”

  I got up and poured two cups.

  “Cream and sugar?”

  “Please, two sugars.”

  I fixed the coffees and set them on the table.

  “It’s hot,” I warned.

  She blew across the top of her cup.

  “So Frank is a lawyer and he has a tough guy like Diego around to run his errands.”

  “Frank is a lot of things and lawyer is probably the least of them.”

  I sipped my coffee. “What else is Frank?”

  She shook her head, then ran her fingers through her tousled hair. “Hell, I don’t know what he does. He’s always in some kind of meeting or flying here or flying there. He won’t even talk on the phone if I’m in the room. I know he’s on the board of several corporations.”

  “Like what?”

  “The biggest is Kamex.” />
  I shrugged. “Don’t know it.”

  “Mexican construction. Nothing gets built in Mexico unless Kamex has a piece of the pie.”

  “So that makes Frank very powerful.”

  “And very rich.”

  “Why is Frank’s wife living on a houseboat instead of in a penthouse?”

  She gave me a fierce look, “Because he is a total cold stone bastard.”

  She stood. “I have to sleep now. God my head hurts.” She handed me the coffee cup. “Sorry, I guess I don’t want this after all.”

  “No problem,” I said taking it and setting it in the sink.

  “I'll get rid of the headache and we’ll talk some more,” she said.

  “Sounds good.”

  She moved through the boat and out on the deck. With a little wave she was gone.

  My phone rang. I went to the master stateroom and found it under a pile of clothes.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Jackson, its Father Correa. Melinda and Hayden have been taken, and the police can’t do anything, and I didn’t know who else to call.”

  26

  “I tell myself that there is only so much I can do.”

  We were sitting in Father Correa’s office. I had fought the rush hour traffic all the way down the Black Canyon and found a parking spot two blocks from Safehouse. He had coffee waiting.

  “You can’t force her to stay here.”

  “No, but he can force her to leave.”

  “Tell me who he is.”

  “Hayden’s father. His name is Darryl Maupin. I don’t know much about him. Street punk, deals crack, petty theft, works the system for welfare and food stamps.”

  “They married?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t know. In the street culture, marriage is just a piece of paper that has no worth.”

  “So he came and took them?”

  “Well, he came and they left with them. She’s over eighteen, she can do what she wants. But yes, he took them. The other girls said she was frightened to death.”

  “Eighteen,” I said. “Lord, she looks twelve.”

  “I know.”

  “And short of physical force, there was no way for you to stop it?”