Murder Made Legal: A Casey Alton Mystery

by Richard Wren

  “Wow, so you got the information?”

  “I got all he remembers, but it isn’t much. He remembers the name of the commune and the city it’s in, but that’s all. He doesn’t remember the name they gave the girl.”

  “We’ll find her,” Smitty volunteered. “Any idea of which state it’s in or the name of the commune?”

  “La Escuela de mi Madre, that’s the name, and it was in a pretty large city that had the name DeSoto in it, that’s all he remembers. I’m surprised he remembered anything at all. This was many years ago. He said he remember the commune because he’s Catholic, and the city because his dad used to own a DeSoto. Pretty lucky for you guys, huh?” Ted turned to his uncle.

  “Uncle, I have to go. I hope this helps. Maybe you could let me know how this all turns out, and I hope your friend gets out of jail.” He turned to leave.

  Smitty grabbed his arm. “Thanks. Really thanks. Gus’s one of my oldest and best friends; maybe you saved his life. We really appreciate what you did.”

  Ted cleverly replied. “It’s just one thing, but maybe it’ll help. It’s kind of like peeling an onion to get to the middle, isn’t it?” He turned and left, with Smitty wondering if the remark was an oblique way of admitting his involvement with the Onion Collective.

  Casey’s mind was racing. He turned to Smitty. “Do you have a passport?”

  Perplexed, Smitty answered, “No. Why?”

  “Guess I’m elected then. I have one, and I can speak passable Spanish. C’mon we gotta go.”

  “Hold it,” Shorty commanded. “What am I, a bag of beans?” He leveled his eyes on Smitty. “You owe me bigtime. A scandal involving a local politician? A covered over rape? A young girl forced to flee for her life? We gotta figure a way to solve this without involving my nephew, and I want to be in on the whole thing.”

  Both Smitty and Casey noted the use of the word “we” in Shorty’s statement.

  Smitty was quick to agree. “Absotively. We’ll keep you in the loop. Fact is, there’s something else you can do right away like going through the files to see if there was any mention of a rape at Cal around that time. Do you have access to any of the other papers from that time?”

  “Probably. You thinkin’ we might get lucky and get a name or two?”

  “Can’t hurt to try.”

  “Okay. We got a deal?”

  “Did I ever let you down? Not only are you in the loop, but we’ll try to get your camera involved too.”

  CHAPTER 27

  The kitchen table was covered by a large AAA map of Mexico. Josie, Casey, Smitty, and three gang members were hunched over it. “De Soto, De Soto, De Soto, this must be it,” Josie exclaimed. “Pachuca De Soto.” She pointed to a spot more than halfway down Mexico. Leaning over her shoulder, Smitty said, “It says Hidalgo.”

  “Hidalgo’s the name of the State. It looks like the city’s not too far south of Mexico City.” Casey put in.

  “You been there?” Smitty asked.

  “Nowhere near. It’s a hell of a long way from the Pacific. I’ll have to fly to Mexico City and rent a car.”

  “Hang on a sec,” Josie interrupted. “I know your friend Hal got the information about where that girl was sent to, and I know she might be the best source of the truth we’re after, but did you stop to think she’d be near sixty years old by now if she’s even still alive. Rushing off down there may be just a wild goose chase and waste a lot of time. Maybe we should try to find out if she’s there some other way?”

  “How?” Casey objected. “We can’t make a phone call or hire a private investigator without explaining what we’re doing, and on top of that she’s there totally illegally. The way I see it, we have to assume she’s still alive and still there. Then we’re going to convince her to tell her story and maybe come back home with us. I can’t see anyone doing that except one of us.”

  Smitty had remained silent during the debate and remained so for a quiet moment or two. Suddenly he jumped to his feet and was a whirlwind of decision and direction.

  “That’s enough. We gotta take whatever steps we can to get Gus free. First thing, Josie, get on the phone and find out if the commune even still exists. If it’s still listed, get two one-way, first class tickets on whatever airline will get your husband and Les to Mexico City the fastest way. Casey and Les, start packing.”

  “Les?” Josie asked questioningly.

  “Les!” Her father responded. “He’s big, he’s strong, he’s here, and I know he has a passport.”

  Casey wasn’t surprised by Smitty’s outburst. By now nothing that Smitty did surprised him, certainly not his decisiveness.

  Everyone quickly carrying out Smitty’s orders. Casey helped Josie with her Spanish on the phone and after a half hour of miscommunication, they were able to find out that La Escuela de mi Madre still existed, and even got a current address.

  Next, she rather easily secured two first class seats on a redeye flight with Air Alaska for that very night.

  “Dad,” she called from the living room, “Air Alaska at Midnight. One stop in L.A and then Mexico City at,” she paused and looked at the print out, “5:38 a.m. Sound okay?”

  Smitty appeared at the door between the kitchen and the living room. “Two first class?”

  “Dad, they don’t have first class on this flight, but it’s only five hours, okay?”

  “Do it.”

  Casey had no trouble packing light and quickly with his experience packing for sailing trips.

  Les struggled a bit, but with some cussing from Smitty, was able to put together enough borrowed clothing from Smitty and Nips to be okay for a short time. Smitty gave him some final encouragement.

  “Nobody gives a fig about how you look. Just as long as they don’t kick you off the plane everything’s jake. Right?”

  Josie whipped up a quick dinner as they finished packing, then stopped by Les’s house to get his passport. They arrived at the airport with almost an hour to spare.

  “Listen up,” Smitty said as he gathered them in a circle around him in a corner of the waiting room. “I’ve been thinking of the best way for you guys to handle this at the commune. You can’t just barge in and expect to get full cooperation. She’s been there going on forty years, who knows what kind of attachments she’s formed.”

  “I think just tell them the truth and keep it simple. Maybe something like,” he paused and read from a note in his hand. “The people that had her sent here are being exposed, and her testimony will help put them away. Real simple.”

  “I wish we knew more about the commune, like is it a religious outfit or just a bunch of do-gooders?” Josie wondered. “Something else,” she added. “Look at it from her viewpoint. Somebody took almost thirty-eight years of her life away. That wrong needs to be righted.”

  “Catholic, I’m pretty sure.” Les contributed. “It sure as hell has a Catholic name.”

  After a short pause, Smitty shook his head as if clearing his thoughts and continued.

  “I like that idea, but it’s more complicated than that. We gotta think ahead. First off, do we really need her up here to testify, or can we get a sworn affidavit that’ll do the trick, and does she even want to come home after more than thirty years? Secondly, if she wants to come home, how do we do that? Don’t forget she’s down there illegally. Josie, that’s your department.

  And then, most of all, how do we protect her? Remember what Peterson said Earl told him, that he’d been hired to kill her. On top of that, we’re pretty sure there’ve been two killings already that’re related to this investigation. I think you’re going to have to tell all of that to her when you find her and in fairness let her make the decision.”

  Casey was confused and addressed Smitty. “First you said keep it real simple, then you’re saying tell her how dangerous it might be.”

  “Right. I’m saying keep it real simple for the commune so you can get in to meet her, but level with her before she decides to come back to the States. Ma
ke sense?”

  Josie jumped in. “You’re right Dad. It isn’t fair to her to drag her into a dangerous situation. But on the first question you had, I’m sure she could be interviewed by a representative of the court in Mexico without giving up her location and without having to appear in a US court. After all, she’s only testifying that she was raped. But I had a thought about that. Maybe she was going to testify about more than that. Maybe she wasn’t the only one raped. If she was the only one, then it boils down to a he-said-she-said case, and back then, it was hard to make those cases. But if she was going to drag other girls into it, that might explain the severity of their reactions.”

  Casey looked at her admiringly. “That sure answers my thoughts about why kill a young girl over a campus rape when they’re so damn commonplace.”

  Josie continued. “So I’m thinking maybe she could be convinced to release those other names if that happened. That would sure help us make a case.”

  “That’s a tall order. Think it can be done Case?”

  “Actually yes. When you string it all together, it makes sense for us and her.” He rose and slung his backpack over his shoulder, nudging Les to do the same. “Time to go.”

  Josie gave him a hug and a kiss and warned him to be careful, then gave Les a hug and counseled him to take good care of her husband. Smitty just about broke his hand giving him a crushing handshake.

  On the plane Casey had questions for Les. “You didn’t say much during that last-minute planning session. Got any questions or ideas?” He didn’t know what to expect. Les was probably in his early sixties, strong as an ox, and usually very taciturn. Josie had told him that Les had met Smitty in jail years ago and they had become fast friends, but she had no idea what he had been in jail for. All her Dad had told her was that it ‘wasn’t no big deal.’ She said he’d been around as long as she could remember and she thought of him as a gentle giant. Now he surprised Casey.

  “Yep,” he replied, “I do. I’ve been wondering about her family. What about her mom and dad? What about brothers and sisters, or aunts or cousins? Did she just abandon them, or maybe she didn’t have any? I think we should ask her about any relatives and whether they’re still important to her after all these years.”

  Casey immediately felt ashamed that he’d never thought to ask those questions.

  “Sweet Jesus Les, I wish I’d thought of that. Thanks.”

  Les wasn’t through. “Are you Catholic?”

  “Nope, and to be honest I’m not much of anything, religion-wise.”

  “Okay. There are probably nuns running the commune, and you need to know that before you go running in there with your story. You can appeal to their reason, but it better be Catholic reason, or you’re shot down before you start.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know, once a Catholic always a Catholic. I’ll bet the Catholic religion in Mexico’s a lot more conservative than it is in the U.S. You’ll want to be careful talking about rape and abortion and so on.”

  Impressed with what Les said, Casey asked, “So what do you suggest I say?”

  “As little as possible to find out if she’s there and to get to meet with her. Once you get past the front guard, then I think you can talk about anything you want directly with the gal. After all, she’s been there.”

  “Thanks, Les. I think Smitty was smarter than he knew when he insisted that you come along. Let me sort out all the advice I’ve gotten between you, Smitty, and Josie, and we should probably try to get a little sleep in ‘cause I don’t think we’ll get much after we land.” He turned away from Les and closed his eyes.

  CHAPTER 28

  They decided on a taxi to the city of Pachuca De Soto, as it was only thirty miles south of Mexico City and neither had an international driver’s license. Halfway there, Casey was having second thoughts about their decision. He tried to tell the driver that there wasn’t that much of a hurry, but his Spanish wasn’t up to the task. All he got back from him was, “No comprendo,” over and over as he kept nodding his head up and down, driving with one hand, and pointing to the paper on the seat next to him with the name of the commune printed on it. Casey tried to peer over the driver’s shoulder to see how fast they were going, but like so many other things in the cab, the odometer was broken.

  Hanging on for dear life, Casey commented to Les, “And I thought riding with Smitty was scary.”

  Finally, with a jolt and a cloud of dust, they pulled up in front a massive, wooden gate, part of a tall, and obviously very old, adobe wall. Their driver swiveled in his seat and in surprisingly good English, demanded his fare.

  In a moment, the fare was paid and the driver raced off, leaving Casey and Les standing in front of the closed gate, totally confused. “What do we do now, pound on it?” Les asked.

  Casey started walking around the wall and soon found a small wooden door that looked well used and was standing ajar. He pushed it open enough to see inside. A few yards away a hooded figure was hoeing a well- tended garden. He knocked loudly, but got no response.

  Gesturing to Les to follow him, he edged through the gate and slowly walked so as to gradually come into the man’s view and avoid startling him. Suddenly the hooded face swung around, and Casey found himself looking into the startled face of a young woman.

  “Quien eres?” she demanded in Spanish.

  Casey backed up a little and raised his empty hands in a placating manner. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  She switched to English. “This is private land not open to tourists. You don’t belong here.” Then she added, “Vamoose!” and waved her hands as if she was shooing chickens.

  Les immediately realized she was a nun, and in a flash of genius came up with the perfect response. “Sister, we need your help.”

  She turned back to them and sharply demanded, “What’s that?”

  Les, with his Catholic background asked, “Is there an Abbess in charge?” He assumed that the so called commune was really a nunnery.

  Again showing impatience, she said, “Of course. Why?”

  Getting the drift, Casey took over. “We’ve come all the way down from the States with some good news for one of your residents who fled here almost thirty-eight years ago.”

  “And who might that be?” she asked suspiciously.

  Casey looked at Les and shrugged his shoulders. “We don’t know her name; that’s why we need to talk to the Abbess.”

  The nun looked at both of them for a moment, then said, “That’s ridiculous. You don’t know her name. She’s been here for more than thirty years? What’s the real story?”

  Casey hesitated. “Unfortunately, that is the real story. The reason we don’t know her name is that she was given a new name and sent here for safety from some bad guys. We know she came here, and we know it was approximately thirty-seven years ago. But that’s all we know, except that the truth’s finally coming out, and she’ll be able to come home soon if she wants to.”

  Still suspicious, she asked another question. “And who are you? What’s in it for you?”

  Feeling as if they were making headway, Casey said, “We’re part of the team that’re uncovering the evidence that’s righting this wrong.”

  After a few moments of looking Casey directly in the eye as if she was trying to divine his honesty, she laid her hoe down and said, “Follow me. We’re not used to visitors, so you might have to wait a while before I find out if she will see you or not. Please stay right here in this room, and don’t use your cell phones.”

  With that warning, she quietly disappeared. Gradually Casey realized that there was something strange about the room and the building. It was eerily silent. No distant sounds of people talking, no radio or TV sounds, no dogs barking, nothing. He wanted to ask Les if this was normal, but was afraid to break the silence.

  Les whispered that he’d never been a nunnery before, but it reminded him of his childhood growing up in Catholic schools. He whispered behind his
open hand, “Nuns rule!”

  Almost forty-five uncomfortable minutes went by before a different hooded woman opened a door at the end of the foyer hall and silently beckoned them in.

  Without a word, she led them down a narrow hall and to a large wooden door with a cross carved into it. As she opened the door for them, Casey saw an elderly woman sitting at an ornate desk across the room. She was sitting almost painfully upright in an old-fashioned, uncomfortable-looking chair and writing. Without looking up, she beckoned them in. Casey, followed closely behind by Les, strode confidently into the room. Within a step, Casey sensed someone else was there, but before he could react in any way he was attacked from behind by two men, one of whom slipped a noose around his neck and yanked it tight. At the same time, Les let out a loud, “Oof.” He had taken a hard punch to the stomach as he tried to overpower his captors. Now they were both immobilized with a tight noose around their necks, and the men were further restricting any movement at all by tying their elbows together tightly behind their backs. Next their wallets were removed and handed to the Abbess.

  “What the?” Casey began, but the woman interrupted him.

  “Quiet.” She ordered in a voice that was clearly used to being obeyed. “You will be held incommunicado until we establish your credentials, if you have any. In the meantime, let me tell you who we think you are, and if we’re right, Lord have mercy on your souls.” Her tone of voice made it sound like a threat.

  “Ma’am, we’re just…” She cut him off again. “I said quiet! You’ll get your turn. In the meantime, I’m going to tell you a short story.

  Many years ago, a young woman did come our way asking for protection. Our mission is to take in women who are in need regardless of circumstances. We did not turn her away. That was two abbesses ago. She had one stipulation. That stipulation was that a sealed letter from her was to be placed in our safe and only opened if strangers showed up asking for her. I have now opened that letter. I won’t read it to you in its entirety. In short, her letter warns that if any men show up asking for her they are probably killers sent to murder her. In the letter, she begged us to conceal her and do whatever was necessary to get rid of these killers.”