Cinco de Mayhem (20 page)

“We should stay far back. We're easily identifiable,” I said, pointing out the obvious. Don barreled up the entrance ramp for the freeway, headed toward the pretty village of Tesuque and the world-famous Santa Fe Opera.

Addie stayed several cars behind. We passed the opera house, an amazing, open-air structure tucked amidst rolling hills. Cass had gotten tickets one summer and we'd gone on a warm August night to see
Carmen
. I'd been as entranced by the lightning flashing over the distant Sangre de Cristo Mountains as by the flamboyant costumes and booming voices.

“Never did understand opera,” Addie remarked. “But those girls do belt it out. I like that.”

“What will we do if we catch up with Don?” I asked, changing the subject back to the tailing at hand.

Rustling in the backseat suggested that Flori had come prepared. “We'll observe first. I have my zoom lens,” she said. “In case he meets up with a co-conspirator.”

Who would he be meeting out here? We were near some reservation lands, and farther north, the turnoff to Los Alamos. The government laboratory town, perched high on the Pajarito Plateau, had remained shrouded in secrecy during World War II as its scientists worked to develop the atomic bomb. If a whole town and the deadliest of weapons could be kept secret, what hope did we have in figuring out a dead man's secrets? Or Don's?

“Heads up,” Flori said from the backseat. “Our target is turning right . . . right into our hands.”

A
ddie swung into the parking lot of the Golden Owl Casino and Resort, and I had a flashback to a Thanksgiving about seven years ago. This was before Manny and I moved permanently to Santa Fe, and we'd come to visit his family. Manny, however, soon tired of family festivities and decided we needed to do something “fun.” He'd settled on a boxing match out here at the Owl. Boxing will never be my idea of fun, especially when I could be blissing out on Thanksgiving leftovers. Seeing the two-story owl outlined in flashing gold lights, I remembered my disgust midway through the first round or bout or whatever the initial flurry of punching was called. I'd slipped away to the Owl's museum, a fascinating collection that included ancient Pueblo cooking pots and utensils. I'd enjoyed that, although Manny grumbled all the way home that I didn't support his interests.

“Oooo,” Addie said as the Mum jolted into
lower gear. “It's Friday, isn't it? They have heavy metal cover bands here on Fridays. They're a hoot. I saw a group doing KISS a few weekends ago.”

“Ha!” Flori said. “A hoot! Good one, Addie. The Owl's buffet is something special too. Before I put my foot down about gambling, Bernard used to drive us out here for the weekend buffets. They had crab legs by the bucket.”

I felt that I should say something nice too, so I made a pitch for the Owl's museum.

“We'll come back, let's promise,” Addie said. “And we'll bring Junior and Jake and Bernard and Cass and play no more than five dollars each in the machines.” She slowed, hesitating as Don parked by the entrance.

“How about over there, behind that tour bus by the putting green?” Flori suggested. We pulled up between a towering bus with Texas plates and the edge of the golf course. Don shrugged on a leather jacket with so much fringe it reminded me of Flori's donkey piñata. He added a matching buckskin cowboy hat and headed for the casino.

Flori got out first. “Okay girls,” she said. “Let's blend in.”

B
lending wasn't necessary in the main room. No one gave us a second, or even first, look. There was so much else to look at, like the flashing machines and disco ball chandeliers and chaotically patterned carpet. Flori, Addie, and I stopped in a rare empty spot amidst the machines.

“Do either of you see him?” I asked. A big man in a cowboy hat would typically be easy to spot. Not here. At least a dozen men, probably some of the tour-bus Texans, sported similar outfits.

“There!” Addie said, pointing to doors on the far end of the room. “He just went through those doors. I recognized his fringe.”

We wove through the slot machines to gilt-framed doors. A young man with an owl embroidered on his suit jacket stood in front of the doors.

Flori stepped up. “Thank you for getting that door for us, dear,” she said, playing her grandmotherly card.

The doorman didn't move except to say, “This is the members-only Golden Feather poker lounge. Are you Gold Owl Supreme Club members?”

“Yes, that's us, supreme owls,” Flori said before I had time to worry about lying. “Addie, Rita, did you bring our owl cards?”

“There are no cards,” the man said, backing up against the door handle.

Flori took this setback in stride. “Silly me,” she said. “Well, no matter. We need to get inside. Addie's husband needs her at the card table for good luck.”

Addie nodded vigorously. “Yep, me husband. I'm a lucky charm, I am!” she exclaimed, sounding more faux Irish than her usual British.

The door guy—rightfully so—looked unconvinced. Luckily for us, four men in slick suits had stepped up, along with one guy in torn jeans and an Isotopes baseball cap. Door guy sprang into action. “Mr. Robbins,” he said, bumping me aside as he swung the gold door open wide. I expected
one of the suits to step forward. Instead, the kid in grungy jeans slouched by with a tip of his chin to the doorman.

“We're with him,” Flori said, and we and the businessmen piled through.

Once inside, I silently thanked the grungy guy. If he hadn't been there, I could have won the worst-dressed prize. Following behind him, I looked straight ahead, trying to pretend I knew what I was doing. This worked until the kid reached a velvet-topped table, where he was once again welcomed effusively.

“Time for us to find Don,” I said to Flori.

“We already have,” she said, nodding to the next table over. Don, seated, would have been looking right at us if he wasn't staring at the cards in his hand. I instinctively shrunk back. Addie and Flori, however, were already approaching Don's table.

“You guys,” I whispered, catching up with them next to a rock column. “What are you doing? He'll see us, and none of us have the money to gamble. I overheard a guy back there saying the chips are a hundred dollars, minimum.”

Flori was undeterred. “We'll get behind him. He's not looking.”

Skirting wide around Don's table, I saw him shove forward and promptly lose a stack of chips. His face crumpled. Had he really just blown four hundred dollars? Hot dogs must pay a lot more than café tips. Either that or he had a side business, one involving Gerald Jenkins, perhaps?

Don reached into his jacket pocket, and I grabbed Flori by her sleeve. “Look! That's the envelope! The one that Junior passed to Don. I'm
sure of it.” Don extracted a wad of cash and exchanged it for more chips.

Flori reached for her bag. “Gotcha,” she said, raising her camera and snapping a bunch of photos.

Except we were the ones gotten. The security guard stomping toward us was big, bald, and outfitted in all black, right down to the earpiece bulging from his left ear.

“No pictures in the poker room,” he said, reaching for Flori's camera. He didn't add please to his request or his expression.

“Sorry!” I said, mortified for all our sakes. “We're leaving, right ladies?”

“Not until you delete your photos,” the big guy said. He touched his earpiece, which was probably demanding the same thing, or confiscation of Flori's camera.

Flori sniffed loudly. “Terrible customer service. We'll be telling our entire tour group to avoid this room. In fact, we'll go to Apache Nugget or Buffalo Thunder next time.” She moved to step around the big man, whose bald head glowed in a threatening shade of red.

Mom hadn't taught me casino manners, but I suspected that bringing up rival casinos was a big faux pas. “Shh . . . don't upset him,” I urged Flori. To the big guy, I said, “We weren't taking photos of the casino or cards. They're of a guy. That guy.” I pointed with my right index finger, hiding the gesture behind the palm of my left hand.

His look informed me that no technicalities were allowed in the Owl's photo policy. He reached for Flori's camera. She raised her other hand in tai-
chi striking pose, a move that confused the guard long enough for Flori to slip the camera to me. “Go!” she whispered.

I went, dodging the guys in suits and out the gilt doors. When I looked back, I was glad to see Addie and Flori hurrying toward me. My relief, however, was short-lived.

The guard, frowning, had a finger pressed to his ear. His expression suggested trouble, but I saw worse trouble. Don Busco had stood up and was staring straight at me.

I froze as Don's stare morphed into a glare. Unable to pretend I didn't see him, I raised my hand in a friendly little wave that wasn't returned. Don picked up his remaining chips and headed my way.

“Hurry, hurry, he's spotted us,” I said to Addie and Flori when they reached the door.

“I'll get the Mum.” Addie sprinted off, showing speed I didn't know she possessed. I stayed with Flori, who'd probably moved like a roadrunner in her twenties but not in her eighties. We'd made it across the psychedelic carpet and to the front doors when Don caught up with us.

“Rita,” he said, his voice chummy with a frosty edge. “What a surprise to see you and Flori here.”

“Girls night out,” I stammered.

Flori, a much better lie improviser than me, added, “We were looking for the buffet. The one with the crab legs and shrimp cocktails. Have you seen it?”

Don snorted. “Right, sure you were out lookin' for a buffet. I know you're meddling and why you're doing it: Linda. I
will
take care of her. You stay out of this.”

Take care of her?
I didn't like the sound of that. “Stay out of what?” I dared ask. “Poisoning the health inspector? Murdering Napoleon?” My bluster was cut off by the belching backfires of the Queen Mum. Addie careened around the curved drive, winging a lamp pole as she did. We all jumped back as the Mum's front wheel bounced over the curb. Seeing two security men heading our way, I yanked open the passenger door, helped Flori inside, and crawled over her to the backseat.

Don grabbed the door before Flori could close it. “I mean it! For all your sakes. Don't dig any deeper or you'll get hurt.”

“Sir?” the guards called to him. “What's going on here?”

“Gun it, Addie!” Flori commanded. Addie did, and the Mum roared out of the lot and down the highway toward the distant glow of Santa Fe.

M
y cell phone rang as we were rolling past the opera.

“Done,” Jake said, exhaling the word. “We're leaving the police station now. We got lucky. Judge Alvarez knows Linda and decided that she's no flight risk or danger to the public so she's free to go.”

“That's wonderful!” I relayed the good news to Flori and Addie.

“You're all together?” Jake asked. He sounded a bit suspicious.

“Er . . . girls' time,” I said.

I had no hope of tricking Santa Fe's most successful defense attorney. “Right,” he said, echoing Don's word of skepticism. “Where should I take Linda? She says home, but I'm reluctant to leave her on her own.”

I made a split-second decision. “How about my place, if she agrees? Celia's out tonight and I could use the company.”

Jake's sigh made my heart do flip-flops. “Yeah, me too . . . okay, I'll bring her by.”

Addie broke speed limits, but when we reached my casita, Jake was already there, sitting on my porch bench with Linda beside him.

Flori, Addie, and I gathered Linda in a group hug.

“Thank you!” I said to Jake.

“Don't thank me yet,” he said. He pointed to the Queen Mum. “What happened to your side mirror, Addie? It's dangling by a wire. What
have
you ladies been up to?”

Addie gasped at her mangled mirror and said that Jesús would be angry. Jesús, her airbrushing cousin, I hoped is whom she meant.

“We went out for a drive to see the lovely sunset,” Flori said, tricking neither Jake nor Linda.

“Mama,” Linda cried. “You've been out snooping and corrupting Addie and Rita again. I've told you, I'm fine. Look how it all worked out tonight.”

I caught Jake's eye and the slight shake of his head. Linda wasn't fine, not with the law and maybe not with a murderer too. Don's warning buzzed through my mind.
Linda. I'll take care of her. Don't dig any deeper or you'll get hurt.