An Unacceptable Death - Barbara Seranella (24 page)

Humberto packed his weapons, clothes, newly acquired
cash, and the remaining cocaine. He needed to set up base somewhere
safe, where no one knew to look for him, and regroup. He drove the
rental car into the alley and parked next to his truck. Working
quickly, he removed the door panels on the Chevy, carefully pried
back the insulating plastic, and stuffed the window cavities with
drugs and money. He patted the hood of his truck in fond farewell,
hoping that he wouldn't have to abandon his vehicle forever.

Ten minutes later he was
on the busy freeway, heading for downtown.

* * *

Munch made Roger go through the plan one more time.

"
So who are you again?"

"
I'm a guy you went to school with. I left the
neighborhood and went up to Alaska to work on the pipeline. Now I'm
back in town and looking for good investments." He had asked her
for the transmitter and now was popping the case open.

"
But if you made so much money up there, why do
you need to deal coke?"

"
You're not looking at this like a criminal,"
he said.

This was the closest he'd come to giving her a
genuine compliment. "And you think this scenario is believable?"

"
It covers you if I get made," he said. He
removed two 9-volt batteries from the black plastic case and set them
on her kitchen table.

"
This is a win-win with minimal risk on your
part. Don't worry about the cover story. Everyone understands the
temptations of easy money."

Munch understood the American dream. She wanted more
for herself and Asia, but she had her limits on what she would do and
whom she would crawl over to get what she wanted. At the end of the
day, what you really had was how you felt. A million dollars in the
bank didn't mean anything when your gut was crawling with regret or
fear.

She poured more lemonade into his glass. "You do
this a lot, don't you?"

Roger avoided eye contact. "You mean these kinds
of operations?"

She glanced at the clock over the stove. He'd been
there twelve minutes. She wondered if he was carrying the gun that
had put all those holes in Rico's chest. "Do you ever get to
like the people you meet? The dealers?"

He shrugged. "Some of them are very likable. But
hey, I didn't ask these people to break the law." He removed two
new batteries from their cellophane wrapper and popped them into the
transmitter.

"
How about if somebody just got caught up in
circumstances, and you saw they had potential to be like . . . I
don't know . . . a good citizen later?"

"
You mean would I cut them a break?"

"
Or at least put in a good word for them."

"
That's not my end of things." He handed
her back the transmitter. She turned the device over in her hands.
"How long is this good for?"

"
About five hours. I'll put fresh batteries in
before the meet." He looked her in the eye. "I need to know
now. Can you pull this off ?"

She figured she'd given Ellen plenty of time, plus
she wanted to get back to Roxanne before she left for the day. She
made eye contact right back at Roger. "Sure, we're the good
guys, right? Nothing's more black and white than that." She
popped off the back cover and unsnapped the batteries. "No point
in wasting these."

Roger looked a little perturbed, but what could he
say?

Munch walked Roger out, turned on the garden hose,
and made like she was attending to her front yard. The Shelby turned
the corner and Ellen appeared from behind the neighbors' low block
wall. She had already called the Shelby's VIN number in to Roxanne,
using a pay phone.

"
It came back as ‘Record not on file, ' "
Ellen said.

"
How can that be?" Munch asked.

"
She didn't know. She'd never seen that before."

Munch moved the hose to another rosebush. "It
was worth a try. It would have been nice to have this guy's home
address, but oh, well."

"
Roxanne said she didn't work tomorrow, but
she'd do whatever she could for you," Ellen said.

Munch nodded as she spoke. "I've been getting
that a lot lately."

She turned off the hose.

Ellen went with her across the street to Li'l Joe's
house. He had several friends over. Munch and Ellen looked at each
other before crossing the threshold. An unspoken agreement passed
between them. Women were much safer traveling in pairs among three or
more male bikers. The guys were the most dangerous when they packed
up. The wise biker chick also knew not to accept any drinks she
didn't watch poured from a sealed bottle, and then never to leave
that drink unattended.

"
Can I use the phone again?" Munch asked.

Li'l Joe puffed out his bantam-rooster chest, "Sure
thing, ladies. You want something to drink?"

"
Thank you, darling," Ellen, always the
diplomat, said. "Maybe later."

Munch went into the kitchen and called Mace St. John.
Wouldn't the bikers freak to know she was using their phone to call a
cop?

"
Hi," she told him, "it's me."

"
Are you home?" he asked.

"
Not exactly. I'm at a neighbors Too many people
on the line at my house, if you know what I mean."

"
What's going on?"

"
These cops want me to help them. I'm not
undercover or anything. I'm just supposed to introduce this narc
named Roger to one of Rico's contacts."

"
Where will that leave you?"

"
Exactly what I asked." She told him about
the cover story.

"
They can't make the case without you?"

"
This just ends it that much faster," she
said, feeling weird to be defending these guys.

"
Have they said Rico was clean?"

"
I told you he was."

"
Yeah, right."

Munch turned her back on a biker who had wandered in
the kitchen for ice. "I would think the exact same thing if they
were saying these things about you."

"
You want my advice?" St. John's voice
sounded tired.

"
Actually, I have a question. If I ran the VIN
and plates on an undercover car, how would it come back?"

"
It would be registered to the department, or,
if it were a deep undercover car, it would be registered to a PO box
or some kind of mail drop."

"What if it came back, ‘No record on file'?"

"
Then it would be a fed car. Why?"

"
This guy Roger. I ran his plates, but I thought
he was with the LAPD."

"
DEA is more likely."

Well, there was a big surprise; Roger had neglected
to mention that. "You think I can trust these guys?"

"
Like I said before, your best interests aren't
their first priority."

"
What do you think I should do?" she asked.

"
Get out of it if you can. Tell them you had a
change of heart. I mean that. I want you to listen to me."

"
I always do," she said.

"
What are your immediate plans?"

"
I've got to go pick up Asia, then I"ll
call Roger back and tell him it's a no-go."
 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

LA SAMBRA CHOSE TO MEED AT A HOTEL IN SANTA MONICA
that overlooked the water. Abel arrived for the meeting at ten on
that Sunday morning. He heard church bells as they arrived at the
hotel's circular driveway. Abel thought of his wife and children back
home, attending mass. He told his driver to wait with the car and
then took the elevator to her fourth-floor room.

La Sambra answered her door.

He was surprised at her appearance, wondering who had
been foolish enough to blacken her eyes and split her lip. Whoever it
was, if he or she was still breathing, had a short unpleasant future
in store.

She had hot drinks waiting for them on a tray.

"
Are you still indulging?" she asked,
showing him that she had brought hot chocolate and a small shaker of
red pepper.

"
How kind of you to remember," he said.

He waited until she had poured and blended his drink
before he began. "Do you have it here?"

She strode purposely across the room to the closet
and returned with a shoe box. He took the envelope of cash from his
inside jacket pocket and placed it beside him on the settee.

She removed the lid of the shoe box. The cocaine had
been removed and repackaged. He didn't mind, he wasn't buying back
his own product. He recognized his logo immediately.

"
Do you mind?" he asked, reaching for the
wrapper.

She made a graceful gesture with her hand. "Please."
 

He unfolded the end flap and saw the number written
there. This was indeed part of his stolen shipment. A cold fury swept
through him. "Where did you get this?"

"
I bought it. He gave me too good a price.
That's when I got suspicious."

"
Did you know the man?"

"
Very well."

Abel tried to picture a cool mountain stream, willed
his face into a peaceful expression, and made his tone light, as if
he were asking for a spoonful of sugar. "And, senorita, would
you be so kind as to tell me this man's name?"

"
Certainly, for all the good it will do you. The
man is dead. He was killed last week by the police. I think you knew
him. Rico, he was called. Enrique Chacón."

The cool mountain stream Abel had envisioned
evaporated. So it was him. The man he had treated as a son, well,
perhaps not a son, but certainly a favored nephew. How dare he. Abel
needed to get in touch with Humberto. Chacón had left behind a
daughter and father, several brothers, and hadn't Humberto mentioned
something about a fiancée? She would pay for his betrayal as well.
How dare he!

"
Wait a minute," Abel said. "You and
Enrique. Weren't you lovers?"

"
Ancient history." Christina pointed to her
face. "Who do you think was responsible for this?"

"
Not Enrique." The marks were too fresh.

"
No, not Enrique. These last few months he
wouldn't give me the time of day. It was the little bitch he was
going to marry. She attacked me for no reason."

"
May I use your telephone?" Abel asked, his
rage making his voice tremble.

"
Certainly," Christina said as she slung
her bag over her shoulder.

"
I need to go out. Please make yourself at
home."

"
I might have another piece of business for
you."

She nodded. "I expected this. Rico had family
everywhere."

"
I assume you want to deal with the fiancée
yourself ?"

"
I would almost do it for free."

"
Before you kill her, make her tell you where
the rest of my cocaine is."

Christina hesitated only a second. "Got you."

"
When will you be back?"

"
Two hours. Order
room service if you like. The omelettes here are very good."

* * *

Christina left Abel for the house on Hampton. It was
time to implement the second phase of her plan, and that meant
getting hold of Humberto and telling him what she had and hadn't done
for him.
 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

HUMBERTO'S COUSIN COULDN'T BE MORE CRACIOUS. He
accepted Humberto into his home and offered him his own bed. Humberto
told Felix not to be ridiculous, the couch would be fine. Now, as he
stretched his cramped muscles, he wished he hadn't been so quick to
refuse. They should have shared the bed, as they had when they were
boys.

They had talked long into the night.

Felix had been excited to hear that Delaguerra was in
town.

"
He will have a bodyguard, and he still commands
an army of loyal men," Humberto cautioned.

"
So what?" Felix said. "I will gun him
down like a dog, without warning. God is my witness."

"God witnesses many things. That doesn't mean
He's on our side."

"
Delaguerra deserves to die," Felix
insisted.

"
No doubt," Humberto agreed. "At this
point you could even argue self-defense. I'm just saying that we must
be smart, and not react with hot blood. I still intend to have a
future when this is over. You deserve one, too,
mi
carnal
. It is what your father would have
wanted." Humberto had a quick image of his Uncle Nestor, who had
died so needlessly. Over what? One careless snip of a rosebush. When
Humberto returned victoriously to the ranch, he would make Victoria
light the match that burned those roses to the ground. Now it was
ten-thirty in the morning and Felix was still asleep.

Humberto padded quietly into the apartment's small
kitchen and put the makings of coffee into Felix's percolator. He
shut the door to muffle the noise and dialed Chicken's number.