Trouble Down Mexico Way

by Nancy Nau Sullivan

  He jumped out of the police van, a nondescript grey paneled vehicle parked near the lab. He ran toward the alley. “Blanche! I told you to stay clear. ¡Carrajo!” He held the radio in one hand, yelling into it for an ambulance all the while he yelled at Blanche. She and Haasi both looked like someone had hit them over the head.

  Emilio sat up, one hand pressing his shoulder. “I’ll be fine. It went right through the muscle.” His face was pale.

  Blanche was ripping the bottom of her T-shirt into raggedy strips and holding them against his chest in an effort to staunch the blood. She kept looking in his eyes, and then to the spot near his shoulder that seeped red. He squeezed her with his free hand. “Bang. What a perfect name for you.”

  Blanche put her hand on his cheek. “Emilio, I’m sorry. Oh my God, I am so sorry!”

  Haasi stood up. “What a sorry bunch of goons! Are the police picking them up, detective?”

  Cardenal patted the top of his head. “We have them on the radar. We’re heading them off.”

  u

  They nabbed El Patrón, Blussberg, and López—and their ancient passenger stuffed with loot. The mummy was on its way back to the Convento from which it was borrowed to rest in peace. The recovered artifacts would be assembled and catalogued by the national arts alliances to be returned to the rightful collections. The perpetrators, including El Jefe, began to sing when it was clear they would all go to jail for complicity in art theft, murder, and kidnapping. They had myriad reasons, and a lot of time, to think it over while Cardenal and his team planned to piece together all the parts. Their culpability was all picked up on the bugs planted in the lab. In Mexico, Cardenal explained to Blanche in a rundown of the arrest and charges, one is guilty until proven innocent. They would all sit for quite a long time while authorities sorted things out and assigned blame.

  Blanche and Cardenal sat in his office where he revealed some of the details. Blanche had calculated that it was a good time to produce another chink in the wall of chicanery and thievery. She handed over the key she’d found next to Oleantha’s broken desk. “Maybe I shouldn’t have picked this up at the scene, but I was afraid it would get lost.”

  “Well, you’re right about that. How do we know where that key came from?” Cardenal wore a stern look.

  “I’m telling you where it came from. I found it when we found her, and if we hadn’t walked in when we did, she’d be dead. Come on, detective. You need to follow up with it. This key may open records, evidence, stuff she’s into. You know?”

  “Sí, Blanche. I know.”

  u

  Emilio was recovering nicely. He did not require a hospital stay, but he needed time off from practicing his doctor duties. The medical academy had gotten him a room at the hotel near his caretakers so that he could rest. “Nurse” Blanche was in attendance while the three of them enjoyed a beer on the patio of her hotel.

  Haasi breathed a sigh of relief and lifted her Modelo to the good news that the bad guys were locked up and they could get some peace in their final days in Mexico. She wondered out loud how the whole scene at the lab and Palacio would fit into a travel article. “You can’t say this place isn’t five-star in the action category, Bang. Let’s see if we can just chill now.”

  Blanche and Emilio were sitting on the loveseat on the patio, holding hands. They raised them in one loving, entwined fist of solidarity. “We first and second that!” Emilio smiled. He appeared to be content; Blanche was calm. For the moment.

  u

  Cardenal requested that Blanche and Haasi come to police headquarters for a special ceremony. He wanted to celebrate “closing the books on a bad chapter,” he said.

  Blanche and Haasi were dressed in their best. Blanche was in yet another thrift-store find, a red paisley shift cinched at the waist with a silver belt. Haasi had opted for her black sheath. “I’d like to stay in the background on this one,” Haasi said.

  “Imposible. Especially when you look like Aztec royalty,” said Blanche.

  “Nahua. These days, I’m channeling Nahua.”

  A small group of police officers, María—who had introduced them to Detective Cardinal—Carmen and Eddie, and, of course, Emilio, with his arm in a sling, clustered around the detective. He held a document in a leather-bound folder. He cleared his throat. “It is with great pleasure that we present this reconocimiento to the Señoritas Blanche Murninghan and Haasi Hakla for their assistance in the pursuit of justice. And, may I add, their doggedness.”

  Blanche laughed. “The dog with the bone?”

  “Sí,” the detective said. He seemed to be in a particularly voluble mood, and added to that, there was a party of cake and bubbly set up on a long linen-covered table in the meeting room. Sun blazed through the wide windows, and Blanche could see the lovely treetops of the park across the street. It was a time for celebration, a victory over evildoers. “You saw something, and you said something. That is important.” His eyes were serious now. He handed a copy of the reconocimiento, one to Blanche and one to Haasi. “We are grateful.”

  Eddie held his cane over his head. “Let’s dance!”

  “Oh, Eddie, sit down” said Carmen.

  “Will you say a few words, Blanche?”

  “Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking…” Haasi gave her poke in the ribs. “I just want to say, I love you all.”

  Haasi put her arm around Blanche’s shoulders. Emilio squeezed her hand.

  The Tres-Leches cake was delicious, and so was the Cava wine.

  It was a recognition ceremony, but it was also a hasta-la-vista ceremony.

  Cardenal pulled Blanche and Haasi off to the side. He was frowning now, completely switched from party to police mode.

  “What’s the matter? Are you sorry we’re leaving?” Blanche was feeling the bubbly after all the toasting and celebration. Her cheeks were flushed red. She pushed away the melancholy that crept into her thoughts. It would be hasta la vista soon.

  “Pues, sí. I hope you will return to Mexico one day and have, shall we say, a less eventful time of it. I want to thank you both.”

  Haasi was on a sugar high, working on a second piece of the white cake with strawberries, cream, and chocolate. “It has never been boring. It is delicious here, and you are all so kind and generous.” She delivered this in a cool monotone, but her eyes were dancing with warmth.

  “Not everyone,” he said. “I am sorry for the trouble, especially the trouble with Doctor Flórez. The key you gave me, Blanche, it opened a closet in her apartment that was a treasure of books and records of all of her deeds. With names. We have enough evidence to put everyone in El Patrón’s circle away, including him. Doctor Flórez was very culpable.”

  “Was? What do you mean was? Did she get out of this one, too?” Blanche was once again incredulous at how slippery the doctor could be.

  “No, she did not get out of this one. She won’t be causing anyone any more trouble. Ever again.”

  “Did you arrest her?”

  “That is not possible. She is dead. She was murdered in her hospital bed. The killer got past the guard, smothered her in her sleep.”

  It was fortunate there was a chair behind Blanche. She melted backward and sat. Haasi’s face was impassive as a dark sky, and for a heartbeat, Blanche wondered at her expression. Haasi’s reaction to La Escandolera’s kidnapping caper that put Blanche in grave danger, plus the doctor’s other scandalous behavior—particularly the gruesome treatment of Lalia Solis—had been venomous, even vengeful.

  Blanche recovered. She thrust her chin at the detective. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I thought you should know. Since you are the one who has helped so much. Pushed us to follow leads, look into all this trouble.” He patted his head. “Feels like months ago. It’s only been a few weeks.”

  “We were glad to help.” Blanche linked her arm in Haasi’s. But she was anxious. She’d gotten to know the detective, and she felt he was holding back. And then he didn’t.


  “Thought you should see this.” He held out his enormous fist and opened it; in the middle of his palm was a pink hair clip. “We found this next to the body of Oleantha Flórez.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  THE END IS SOMETIMES THE BEGINNING

  Blanche tried to relax, and this was difficult despite the brilliant blue, sunny sky flying past her window. She was less bird and more fish. It was a six-hour flight, and she had to settle in. Haasi was rolled up in a ball, napping. Blanche got a whiff of a meat-like aroma wafting up the aisle and imagined tacos. Or beans and chiles. Something delicious, like in those swinging white boxes she saw every day at comida time.

  She was “homesick” for Mexico already, and for Emilio. Carmen had insisted on driving them to the airport. They had huddled—more like cuddled—together in the huge hangar-like departure area. Emilio had nearly recovered his strength, and he did quite well with one “wing,” which was draped around Blanche. She called him “Angelito”—one angel to another. He was free to finish his social service in peace, now that El Patrón and his crew were put away. Emilio had Bella to keep him company, and the plan was for the two of them to come to Florida as soon as he could get approval for a fellowship. He already had a “patron” at the university who would be happy and willing to facilitate Emilio’s study of children’s diseases and birth defects. The paperwork would be tedious, but it was possible. He’d picked a dire need, and his heart was in it. Blanche’s own heart swelled with pride and hope for him. She missed him, and couldn’t wait to see him again. And she would forever be sorry she’d opened her big mouth and gotten him shot.

  The flight attendant plopped a tray down with beef in gravy, mashed potatoes, and cooked carrots, all wrapped in plastic. It was a strange selection for a flight from Mexico, and a bite of reality. She was headed home. Blanche longed for one of those juicy tacos de chamorro and fresh tortillas with roasted serranos and an orange Victoria on the side. But more than that, she longed for Emilio.

  She pushed the food away. Her mind drifted back to Mexico City. The most fascinating place she’d ever been—outside of Santa Maria Island, Florida. Haasi wasn’t thinking at all, curled up on two seats next to Blanche. Zonked out. She’d consumed two burritos and a pineapple-and-mango smoothie at the airport, so she was set for food, for now. Blanche knew she’d wake up ravenous. But then they’d be back in the land of McDonald’s. Not that either one of them ate that stuff…

  u

  Back at the cabin on Santa Maria, Blanche walked in the door and the nostalgia of old cedar and memory rushed at her and wrapped her in welcome. Peace had settled, justice had been served. She was glad to be back on her island. She turned to look at the Gulf of Mexico, and her dreams flew faraway over the water. Over the stark white sand, over the turquoise Gulf. Under a bright pink sky—the color of Lalia Solis’s hair clip.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Nancy Nau Sullivan began writing wavy lines at age six, thinking it was the beginning of her first novel. It wasn’t. But she didn’t stop writing: letters at first, then eight years of newspaper work in high school and college, in editorial posts at New York magazines, and for newspapers throughout the Midwest.

  Nancy has a master’s in journalism from Marquette University. She grew up outside Chicago but often visited Anna Maria Island, Florida. She returned there with her family and wrote an award-winning memoir The Last Cadillac (Walrus 2016) about the years she cared for her father while the kids were still at home, a harrowing adventure of travel, health issues, adolescent angst, with a hurricane thrown in for good measure.

  The author has gone back to that setting for this first in her mystery series, Saving Tuna Street, creating the fictional Santa Maria Island home of Blanche “Bang” Murninghan. Blanche has feet of sand and will be off to Mexico, Ireland, and other parts for further mayhem in the series. But she always returns to Santa Maria Island.

  Nancy, for the most part, lives in Northwest Indiana.

  Follow Nancy:

  www.nancynausullivan.com

  @NauSullivan.

  If you liked Trouble Down Mexico Way

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  The harder Blanche pushes against the source of trouble, the more she is sucked into the vortex of greed, murder, drug runners, and kidnapping (hers). The appearance of the mysterious Haasi, a tiny Native American with glossy braids and dark eyes, complicates things, and it’s a good thing. She appears and disappears but always ends up at Blanche’s side.

  They all keep getting closer to the sources of the spurious land development and the murder and the drug running. Who can look away? It’s like watching a hurricane, which, literally, comes straight for Tuna Street.

  The Nicole Graves Mysteries

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