Unwanted Company - Barbara Seranella (13 page)

Victor charged the slighter man and thumped his fist
into that man's chest. As Ellen watched, the young Mexican performed
a strange, slow-motion pirouette. His knees buckled and he sank to
the sandy ground. Victor pulled his hand back, and there was a flash
of silver. He had a knife. Everything made a horrible sort of sense
then: the look of shock on the older Mexican's face, the spreading
dark stain on the stricken man's loose-fitting white-cotton shirt.

Raleigh disarmed Victor with startling efficiency-one
quick, fluid move, and he was holding the knife. Victor just stood
there, looking bewildered. The whole scene was made even more surreal
by the absolute silence in which everything that followed seemed to
be happening. It was as if the world needed a moment to catch its
breath after this rash, irreversible act. Then Raleigh's hand struck
out again and grabbed the older Mexican by his hair. Before she could
blink, the man was spun around and his head pulled back. Raleigh
looked once more at the body on the ground, then ran the knife blade
across the helpless man's throat. The next sound she heard was a
sickening gurgle. By the light of the moon, she could see the man's
lips move uselessly above his slashed neck.

At some point in the seconds it took for the gruesome
scene to be enacted, Ellen's fist found its way into her mouth. She
bit down on her finger until she felt the flesh break, but she
couldn't stop herself. She dared not make a sound.

Raleigh and Victor rolled the two bodies into the
river. The corpses made a slow progress with the current. They were
both facedown, the backs of their shirts billowing with trapped air.
Eventually the shirts wilted and the bodies sank. Raleigh pulled a
gun from his belt and the wallet from his pocket and threw them both
on the sandy bank. He then jumped into the Water. Victor also threw
his billfold onto the shore and waded thigh-deep into the river.

While the two men washed the evidence of their deeds
from their clothes and skin, she took the opportunity to scramble
back up the bank. She forced herself to move slower than her racing
blood demanded, picking each footstep so that no rock was dislodged
or dry twig snapped.

She found the limo parked at the top of the hill with
one front tire in a ditch. She tried the driver's door but found it
locked. She searched her pockets with shaking hands, already knowing
she didn't have the keys.

How far is the town?
she
wondered.
And where the fuck are the federales
when you need them?
A fifth of tequila rested
against the windshield, balanced on the wiper blades. Three fingers
of liquor remained. She heard Raleigh and Victor stumbling up the
riverbank. She grabbed the bottle, popped open the capsules, and
dumped the powdered drug into it.

When the two men emerged at the top of the hill,
Ellen was sitting on the hood. She smiled drunkenly and held out the
bottle. "Where the fuck have you two been?" she asked.

"The party is just getting started."
 
 

CHAPTER 11

Saturday night, Asia pulled out a jigsaw puzzle, and
asked, "Can we?"

"Yeah, sure," Munch said, clearing the
coffee table. She brought the phone over and set it on the floor
beside them. Asia dumped out the box and went to work on the edges.

The picture on the box depicted two puppies under an
umbrella in the rain. While Asia constructed the frame, Munch
gathered all the pieces that made up the dogs' faces. Twenty minutes
later, Asia had linked all the edges. Then, instead of working on the
umbrella, or a puddle, or even the tree limb lying on the ground in
front of the puppies, Asia had to start messing with some of the dog
pieces.

Every time she reached across the table, her arm
caught the edge of the puizle and sent it askew.

"
Stop moving everything," Munch finally
said, "and keep away from the dog stuff. That's mine."

Asia didn't say anything. She didn't have to. Munch
had heard herself. "All right," she said. "You can
touch anything you want on the puzzle."

Asia responded by taking her index finger and
touching every piece in front of Munch. Munch watched Asia's face out
of the corner of her eye, then laughed. She was up to the test, and
Asia was one smart kid. That's what counted, that and spunk. It was
okay to be fair and kind and share with others, just so long as you
kept your eyes and ears open.

"
So, Mom, I've been thinking?

"
Oh, yeah?" '

"
I don't think it would hurt my dad's feelings
if we found another daddy here on earth."

Munch choked on her coffee. "What?" She
shouldn't have been surprised. Asia had been on the daddy riff a lot
lately—asking questions about her real dad. Munch told Asia as much
as she could. That John Garillo had a great smile, that Asia had his
same dark eyes. John was part-Mexican, making Asia about an eighth;
maybe there was even an Inca princess somewhere in the mix if they
went back far enough. Munch told Asia that her daddy used to give her
baths when she was a baby. He died when she was six months old,
although Asia swore she could remember lying on his chest and him
smiling down on her.

"You and me are good cuddlebugs," Asia
said. "I just wish I had a daddy, too. Then he could come to
school on career day and talk about what he does."

"
What about me being a mechanic?" Munch
asked. "Isn't that interesting?"

"Yeah, but all the kids know that already."

"
Is that the only reason you want a daddy?"

"
No. If we had a daddy, we could all walk down
the street together. I could hold both your hands and you could swing
me up."

"
And we'd always be smiling?" Munch asked.

"Yeah," Asia said. "Because we'd be at
Disneyland."

"
Oh, I see. Maybe we should look for some guy
who works at Disneyland?

"
Or Sea World," Asia said, brown eyes
sparkling. "Good-idea."

"
But not a redhead," Munch said.

"
Not like Justin," Asia agreed. She'd often
complained about the annoying boy in her class with the red hair and
freckles. Some days he was all she could talk about.

"
When should we begin this search?"

"Oh, I already started. My friend Scott doesn't
have a mom. Him and his dad know all about you. He asked me what kind
of music you liked."

"
Your friend?"

"No," Asia said, a little exasperated.
"Eric, his dad. I told him you liked that Aerosmith song. 'Big
Ten Inch."

Munch felt her face flush. "You didn't."

"
Well, you're always singing along real loud
when it comes on the radio."

Munch covered her eyes with her hand, feeling the
heat of her cheeks. Then she looked over at the kitchen clock.

"
You know what? It's bedtime."

"Ten more minutes?

"
Five."

"
And three more pieces."

"One each, then you brush your teeth and put on
your jammies."

They worked for a moment
in silence, then Munch said, "I don't think your real daddy
would mind either." And was her real mommy also smiling down on
them? Munch liked to think so.

* * *

After Asia went to bed, Munch worked the puzzle long
into the night and again the next morning. When Asia woke up, they
finished. Asia, of course, popped in the final piece. The phone
didn't ring until nine o'clock. It was Mace St. John.

"
Border Patrol reports that your limo crossed
the check-point at two o'clock yesterday afternoon," he said.
"They don't have any record of its coming back across."

"
So it's still down there," Munch said.

"Most likely. You didn't hear anything?

"No. How about Raleigh Ward? Have you found
him?"

"
No. As far as I know, he hasn't returned to his
apartment. I'm still trying to get a photo of him. I'll bring it by
when I do."

"
All right."

"
How long have you known Ellen?" he asked.

"
Over ten years."

"
That long?" he asked. She heard papers
rustle. "So you knew her from partying?"

"
Yeah, we partied some."

"Did you two always get along?"

"What are you saying?"

"Maybe she just ripped you off," he said.
"Have you thought of that?"

"You don't know her. She wouldn't do that, not
without a reason."

"
People make up their own reasons, especially
dopers."

"
Look, I don't expect you to understand? Munch
picked up the phone and walked into the kitchen, out of Asia's
earshot. "I'm not saying she's a saint, but she has her
principles. She's got no reason to rip me off."

He didn't say anything for a long moment, then, "I
hope I get a chance to meet her."

She didn't like his tone or his pauses. It made her
think of someone who had bad news for you and was waiting for a good
time to break it. "There's more, right?" she asked. It was
always best to get all the bad shit out in the open; then you could
deal with it.

"
Yeah. The judicial Police in Tijuana have found
the bodies of three people."

"That probably happens a lot down there,"
she said. "Why did they call you? Were the dead people
American?"

Mace took a while before he answered. She knew there
were things in an ongoing case that cops didn't tell, details they
didn't give out.

"
Two of the victims were local men," he
finally said, "stabbed, slashed, and found floating in the
river. The other was a woman. They haven't been able to identify
her."

"
Was she young, old, white?"

"The only information I have is that she is a
young female. She was found nude and wearing a red wig."

Munch thought of the wigs lined up in Asia's room
There was a blond one and a brunette, but no red. "My friend
Ellen wears wigs."

"
I know. Your boy Derek told Detective
Cassiletti."

"
Are you going down there?" she asked.

"
Yes."

"I want to come, too," she said. "If
that body is Ellen, I can identify her."

"
I can take a Polaroid," he said. "Might
be easier for you."

"
I can also identify Raleigh Ward," she
reminded him. He paused again, obviously weighing the merits of
involving her. "What about your kid?"

"
Derek can watch her. That's the least he can
do."

"All tight. I'l1 pick
you up in twenty minutes."

* * *

Munch called Derek and told him what she needed of
him. "Damn," he said, on hearing the latest developments.
"You think it's her?"

"
Right now I'm trying real hard not to think
anything until I know."

"Yeah," he said. "That's probably
best."

"
I thought you might understand," she said.
Waiting for problems to solve themselves was one of Derek's
specialties. After hanging up with Derek, Munch dressed Asia. She
insisted on wearing her dress with the yellow daisies when she
understood they were to have another visit from Detective St. John.

For herself, Munch selected a pair of Levi's, a thick
white T-shirt, and tennis shoes.

"
Aren't you going to put on some makeup?"
Asia asked.

"
I wasn't planning on it," Munch said.
"Why?"

"
Makes you prettier."

"This isn't a date, honey. Besides, Detective
St. John is already married to a really nice lady."

"
Oh," Asia said, clearly deflated.

Munch was just tying her laces when Derek arrived. He
let himself in without knocking. She heard the refrigerator door
open.

"
Asia's in the bathroom," she called to
him. "I'll call in every couple of hours to see if you've heard
from Ellen. So stay close, okay?"

"You're out of milk," he said.

"
Shit," she said. "I was going to go
marketing yesterday. Go on out and get something to eat, but then
stick close to the phone, all right?"

"
No problem," he said. '

She heard a car door slam out front, and said,
"That's probably him now."

The bathroom door opened and Asia emerged, preceded
by a haze of floral perfume. Was that blush on her cheeks? Munch
wondered. Where did this kid get all her girlie-girl instincts? And
would the phase pass? Munch was constantly trying to puzzle out how
much of the girl's personality was genetic and how much was
environmental. She once went to a meeting about adoption. The joke
among the adoptive parents was that any bad traits seen in the
children were attributed to the birth parents, and consequently all
good characteristics were a result of upbringing. One thing for
certain, this kid was very much her own person and always had been.