A Quiet Street in El Paso

by Jim Daddio

  ~ * ~

  Hector wasn’t himself as he drove through the maze of streets. He was listening to the voice on the GPS giving him instructions. He continued to look into both of his mirrors as he drove slowly down the quiet streets. He felt for sure he was being followed. He knew they were on to him. He couldn’t control his mind. He wanted it to end.

  He continued to listen to the female voice on the GPS. He made a left turn and found the street. Earlier he had punched in the house number; 11464 El Camino Real. He stretched to see the numbers on the mailboxes in front of the houses. The voice said, ‘You have arrived.”

  Hector turned off the engine and sat motionless. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and bolted from the car. He walked quickly up the long cement walkway. He pounded on the door. His whole body shook as he waited for someone to open it. It seemed to take forever. He pounded again. He kept looking back, to the left, to the right. His head was on a spindle.

  Finally, the door opened. Hector stared at a man standing in front of him in a white tee-shirt and boxer trunks. He didn’t hesitate. He pushed open the door and stormed into the house. Fred called out, “What the hell? Hey, you…”

  Hector shouted, “I want this to be over.” He ripped off his shirt and pulled down his pants and began ripping the tape off his body.

  Fred stood there in amazement. He moved closer to Hector. “What’s going on? Who are you? Why are you…what the hell are you doing?”

  Hector didn’t reply as he pulled the last piece of tape away from his legs and threw the white suit to the floor. “It is over. It is yours now. Sign this and I will be going.”

  Fred reached down and picked up the suit. He could see through several pockets and saw it was money. It didn’t take him long to figure it was a lot of money.

  “What is this? Who are you? You can’t just bust into my house and…”

  Hector shoved a piece of paper in Fred’s face. “Please, sign. I want to go.”

  Again, Fred ran his fingers along the suit. He pulled aside one of the pockets and thumbed the cash.

  Hector yelled, “Come on, man. Sign the paper.”

  For a few minutes, Fred was lost in space. His mind went blank. He turned and ran to his office and came back with a pen. He grabbed the piece of paper and scribbled a series of unrecognizable letters. He handed it back to Hector. The Mexican grabbed the paper and ran toward the door and to his truck. Before Fred could even react, the truck roared down the street.

  Confused and dazed, Fred pulled the white suit into his office. He started to rip open the pockets. He saw dollar bills. Some were five hundred dollar bills. Some were one thousand dollar bills. He began ripping open the rest of the pockets at a fierce pace. The money was flying all over his office.

  Fred finished counting. He said softly, “Two fucking million dollars.”

  He sat staring at the money. Every possible scenario ran through his mind. It had to be bad money. It was for sure delivered to the wrong address. The Mexican had made a mistake. He had to call the police. He had to report this. But what would they say? He would be questioned for hours. They would come to his house. The neighbors would see them. They would wonder what he had done.

  He thought about Janice. She was always concerned about what other people thought about them. She was worried anything they did that wasn’t the right thing would jeopardize her business. She was especially concerned about what the people in the neighborhood thought. She had hosted several dinner parties and barbeques to make sure they knew them, liked them and most of all, they knew about her business. It was one of her ways to promote her flower shop. If the police came to the house it could hurt everything she had worked for.

  His mind continued to race. He thought, I can put the money in a suitcase and take it to the police station. I can tell them what happened. I have no record. They would believe me. But maybe they would interrogate me. I would have to drive the car to the station. Maybe someone is watching. They would follow me. Maybe kill me for the money.

  Something came to him. He began to figure it out. The money was delivered to the wrong address. For sure the Mexican dropped off the money and thought he was someone else. But why me, he thought.

  The man didn’t demand anything. If he came here with that kind of money, you’d think he would be picking up drugs. It had to be. There had been so many reports of drugs coming from Mexico, Fred figured that’s what it had to be. His mind was racing. His head began to hurt.

  His thoughts continued to fill his head. So, if he didn’t ask for something in return, it either had to be debt for work done or someone was coming to pick it up. They had used his house as a safe house. But why his house? Again, his thoughts turned to the fact the Mexican had delivered the money to the wrong place. Someone was coming to pick it up. He had to have a plan. He had to come up with something.

  Fred grabbed an old suitcase and stuffed the money inside. He figured what to do with it. When he bought the house from a divorcee, he was told there was a hole inside the garage behind two large metal storage cabinets. He learned that was where the husband had stored his collection of porno movies and books, one of the reasons for the divorce.

  He had seen the storage hole one time before. He was surprised to see so many CDs and magazines had been left behind. He didn’t throw them away. To kill time the past few weeks, Fred had watched several of the movies.

  He dragged the case to the garage, pulled back the cabinet and stuffed the case inside the opening. It just fit. He closed the cabinet and walked back into his office. He would sit and wait for whoever was coming to pick up the money. But then he figured nobody would be coming. The money was either delivered to the wrong address or the right address at the wrong street. His mind became active again. It was time to call Janice. It was time to get out. Two million ideas ran though his mind. Where? He wasn’t sure. But it didn’t take long for a place to appear: the South of France. He picked up the phone. Then put it down. He decided it was best not to call her. He showered, dressed, packed a suitcase and would wait for her to come home. He would then surprise her with a trip.

  Another thought raced through his mind. ‘If the Mexican dropped off the money to the wrong house, then the person who was going to pick it up would go to the right house which would be the wrong house. That would give him time. Time for what? He wasn’t sure.

  Truth was, Fred’s mind was scrambled. He didn’t know what to do. A thought came to him. He would take the money, stuff it in a sports bag, drive to the flower shop, pick up Janice and drive to the airport. He shook his head and laughed to himself. She couldn’t just pick up and go. She would need to come back to the house and pack. And maybe the Mexican would figure out he delivered the money to the wrong house and there could be people waiting for him. He couldn’t let Janice get involved in what happened. He had to wait until she got home and get her to agree to take off on a trip.

  Fred peeked out the front window. The street looked empty. There wasn’t one car parked on the street. Even the driveways were empty. He knew that’s the way it was every day. He decided to open the door. He stopped. They could be watching for me. He dropped his head down. He told himself to take it easy. He had to relax and come up with a plan. He threw his hands up in the air. He almost called out. He didn’t have a clue what to do.

  Thirty-two

  Sue was on her way to the house. She repeated the address in her mind; 11646 El Camino Real. Again and again.

  She kept reaching inside her purse and running her fingers over the .38 pistol. She had fallen in love with it after Mat had taken her to a firing range. She loved the feel of the gun in her hand. She loved the sound it made and the little jolt when she pulled the trigger. She loved the smell of the fire and smoke.

  She found the street. She saw the house. “Very nice…wow.”

  Sue sat in the car for a few minutes and looked up and down the street. She couldn’t remember ever being in a neighborhood like this. She never had been.

&n
bsp; She was mesmerized by the rows of beautiful homes and the well-kept gardens and yards. She twisted her head in all directions and smiled to herself. She stared at the different designs. The large two-story houses caught her eye. The tan color and the red roofs seem to shine in the early morning sun. She thought how quiet it was.

  She thought about where she had lived growing up. She had spent the most of her life in an apartment in a small town. She lived with her mom and dad. Her mother was seldom home, and Sue learned early on to make it on her own. She had told Mat her story but left out several details. She never told him she left home when she was sixteen, went to Myrtle Beach and hustled men for a place to eat, sleep and clean up. She never took money. They had to settle for a blow job or nothing. She never considered herself a whore. When she was eighteen, she found her way to Atlanta. She had been an exotic dancer ever since.

  Sue emerged from the car, grabbed her purse and walked toward the large house. She had dressed in a very short and tight pair of jean shorts and a white halter top. She had left her bra at home. She wore spiked heels.

  She rang the doorbell. Within a few seconds a man opened the door. He looked at her and said, “You can’t be the fucking delivery boy. That’s for sure.”

  Sue studied him for a minute. He was tall, over six feet, with short blond hair and a round stomach. She said, “Delivery? No. Pickup.”

  The man’s head moved up and down, taking in the full view. He gave her a wicked smile. He remembered Fat Baby told him a lady was going to make the pickup. He wanted to make sure this was the right one. He said, “You’re telling me you came here for a pickup. Pick up what? Garbage?”

  “You going to let me in or not? It’s kind of hot, you know.”

  “Sure. Sure. Come on in.”

  Charlie glanced down at Sue’s ass as she strutted into the house. She looked around. “Nice house from the outside. But inside. Not too cool.”

  “I live alone. I don’t need a bunch of shit. A lounger, TV and booze. What the fuck else do I need? Huh?”

  Sue stood in the middle of the living room. She turned around. “Let’s do this quickly and get it over with. Where’s the package?”

  “Wait. Just wait. You’re telling me you’re here for the pickup. Get out.”

  “Don’t fuck with me. I don’t think Fat Baby would be very happy with you talking to me like that.”

  “He sent you, huh? He sent a hot chick to pick up the money. He said he was sending a woman, but…wow. He’s the man. For a second I thought you were from an escort service going door to door selling your—”

  She cut him off. “Did you say money?”

  “Yeah…money. Lots of it. What? You’re the pickup and you don’t know what you’re supposed to pick up.”

  “I know now. How much?”

  Charlie laughed. “Jesus, what kind of deal is this? I’m supposed to hand over two million large to you and you don’t—”

  Sue shouted, “Two million dollars! Are you shitting me?”

  Charlie walked over and plopped down on the lounger. He pulled on the handle and the chair flipped up. “Well, now you know. You might as well sit and relax. It ain’t here.”

  “It was supposed to be here at eight. I was to be here at nine. It’s six after nine. Get the money and I’m out of here.”

  “I said it hasn’t come.”

  Sue walked over to the chair and leaned over, making sure he would get a good look at her soft breasts. “I’m getting a message here. You figure…what the hell is this? I give this little girl a line of bullshit. She leaves and I’m on my way with two mil.”

  Charlie gave her breasts a long look. He leaned back and said, “I’m going to say it again. It has not arrived. So, if you want to wait, sit and relax. Or maybe you’d like to mess around some. I got some meth, baby. We could get—”

  Sue leaned closer and placed her fingers on his lips. “Get the fucking money. ‘Cause if you don’t, I make a call and you’ll be dead before I hang up.”

  Charlie shook his head and laughed. “Tough girl, huh? Get out of my face.”

  Sue reached in her purse, rolled her fingers around the trigger, yanked the gun out and placed it to the side of Charlie’s head. She said softly, “Now, asshole, stand up slowly. Come on…get up.”

  His head snapped back. It was the first time in his life someone had pointed a gun at him. He mumbled, “Take it easy. I…”

  Sue was enjoying the action. She snapped, “I said. Get up. Slowly. And don’t try to be a hero. I want you to know I shot my stepfather three times when he tried to rape me. I kind of liked it.”

  Charlie stood. His whole body shook. She said, “Take off your belt.” She watched as he did. “Now, let’s walk over to that kitchen chair. You sit and put your hands behind the chair. And don’t move. Bang!” she shouted.

  He let out a small squeal, jumped two feet and then stumbled toward the chair. He sat and put his hands. Sue remembered a little thing Mat had showed her. She wrapped the belt around the back of the chair and around his hands. She pulled tight, twisted it around and tied it tight.

  “Tell me where you have some heavy-duty tape. And don’t bullshit me. All men have that kind of shit.”

  “Top drawer. Over there.” He nodded toward a row of drawers.

  Sue walked over keeping the gun pointed at him. She opened a drawer and found a large roll of gray tape. She walked back and wrapped the tape around his hands and belt. She then tied one leg at a time to the chair.

  She stood back. “Now. Where is the fucking money?”

  “Come on,” Charlie shouted, “It’s not here. Whoever was to make the drop must be late.”

  “I’m pissed.” She grabbed the tape and began wrapping it around his chest and the chair. She moved around the table and sat in one of the other chairs.

  They sat in silence. She kept looking at her watch. She should be on her way back to her place. They had timed the trip. She was already running late. She had to do something.

  “Think about it. You think I would fuck over Fat Baby? He’d find me and kill me before I could spend a penny. He set this whole thing up. The money was coming from Mexico delivered to me by one of his delivery boys. A cat named Hector—”

  Sue smirked. “Wait? A cat? Did you say a cat?”

  “I dunno know. Jesus, you put a gun to my head, tied me up and…okay some Mexican dude. What I am trying to say is he never showed.”

  “Did you call Fat Baby and tell him? It’s been an hour.”

  “He told me not to call him. You got to know this guy. He’s hung up on trust and keeping anonymous. He put this whole plan together to make sure other people handle the money until he’s sure it’s safe and then he’ll have you…or whomever you’re working for, deliver the money. He doesn’t want to hear from anyone until then.”

  Suddenly something came to her. She stood and laughed out loud. “What the hell am I thinking? Two million big ones are making my mind get all fucked up. Am I asleep or what?”

  “Now what” Charlie asked.

  She moved around in front of him. She stood there for a second and then ripped her blouse off over her head. She slid down on his lap. She shoved her breasts into his face. “Let’s work this out. I’m not greedy. I’ll take five hundred thousand. You take the rest.”

  Charlie was caught off guard. Her breasts pounded his face and he could feel her legs rubbing up against him. She began to twist and grind her body over his. “Come on, man. Get it. And I’ll give you an extra surprise and we’re out of here.”

  “Oh, man. You’re fucking me up. You got to believe me. It never came. Somebody ran off with it. Hell, if I had it I would gladly give you some…and for a chance to fuck you. Hell, I might give you all if it.”

  Sue continued to grind on his lap. She had to make sure. She hadn’t met too many men who wouldn’t jump at the chance to have sex with her. She pressed her lips to his ear. “Listen, I’m not an idiot. I know how much two mil is, but you can have it. Just thro
w me a bone and…” she laughed, “I mean five hundred large and then you can throw me a large bone of your own. I decided it was time for me to make it on my own. Don’t be a jerk.”

  “You’re not getting this. If I were going to take the fucking money, do you think I would have waited for someone to come and pick it up? I would have left ten seconds after the money was dropped off. Jesus, use your head.”

  Sue jumped up and put on her top. She believed him. She grabbed her cell. She called Mat. “You got to get over here. This asshole is telling me the money never came. He’s tied up. I held the gun to his head and rolled my tits in his face and promised him a good fuck. He turned it down…he ain’t lying.”

  Thirty-three

  The two men drove slowly down El Camino Real. One was an American and the other a Mexican. They spotted the address clearly marked on the mailbox post. All the houses had the same boxes with the addresses on the posts. The American was driving. He looked over to his partner and said, “There’s the house. I don’t feel comfortable parking on this street. Look as these houses. Nicely built but in a way ticky-tacky. And not one fucking car on the street. Everybody must have left for work or everybody parks their cars in their garages.”

  “Maybe there is some kind of ordinance that they can’t park on the street…like at night or something.”

  “Could be.” The American continued to drive down the street. His head was moving from side to side looking for somewhere to park. He pointed, “Look. There’s a little park over there. There are a few parking spaces. We’ll be able to see the house from there.”

  “Just as long as some mothers don’t bring their kids to the park. It would not be cool for us.”

  “We’ll see.” He backed in to one of the spaces and turned off the engine. “Now we wait.”

  “What’s the drill?” the Mexican asked.

  “We are just to observe and follow…and we can’t be recognized. When the pickup is made, The Captain will tell us what to do.”