The New Mexico Scoundrel

by R Scott Wallis

  “I am very pleased to meet you both,” Georgia said. She shook each hand firmly and managed a smile. “I’ve never been so scared in my life, but I do feel 100% better now that you are here in Santa Fe. I’ve only heard good things about your agency over the years from my friend, and when I spoke to Archibald yesterday, he had nothing but high praise for you both.”

  “That’s very kind of him,” Anna said, “He tries to make sure he hires people who are very good at what they do. John and I were detectives on the N.Y.P.D. Mr. Grey lured us into an early retirement to come work for him. It’s paid off for everyone involved, I’d say.”

  “Well, perhaps New York City got the short end of that stick. I have to say, you both inspire confidence.” Georgia led the couple into the living room. Skyler stood and introductions were made.

  “Skyler and her best friend Brenda are house guests and they will be here through the holidays. Brenda is currently downtown at her new restaurant. Actually, you might know of her. Brenda Braxton? The restauranteur and celebrity chef?”

  “Of course,” John said. “We’re big fans.”

  “And Mulder and Scully,” Skyler added. “Don’t forget about them.”

  “Oh, yes. They’re dogs, though—not F.B.I.,” Georgia chuckled. “Mulder and Scully are absolute lambs. I forget that they are even here, to tell you the truth. I never, ever see them.”

  Skyler added, “Lazy, but ridiculously friendly and loyal to Brenda. They’re here somewhere and, as you can see, they didn’t even stir when the doorbell rang. That tells you something about how good they are as guard dogs. We probably shouldn’t rely on them for that.”

  “Having large dogs on the property is always a good idea nevertheless,” John said.

  Everyone took a seat near the fire. John and Anna each took out a small notebook and pen and were poised to take notes.

  “What is the main objective?” John asked bluntly.

  “To keep me alive,” Georgia said with complete seriousness.

  Skyler cringed but nodded her head in agreement.

  “We’ve been briefed on everything that has transpired over the last week,” Anna said. “It’s troubling that the local authorities are coming up with nothing. Because the Governor was here when the explosive device went off, this event went pretty high up the ladder, I’d say, and still nothing. That’s quite worrisome. It would seem that whoever planted the bomb, is extremely knowledgeable and very dangerous. Or, frankly, just very lucky.”

  Skyler had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. “It would seem so. So, where do we go from here?” She immediately worried that she was coming off as being a bitch, so she decided to shut up and listen.

  John pushed back his shoulders. “We get the security company out here right away to get the system back up and running. Anna and I get access to the video feed and have it available on our phones and tablets around the clock. One or both of us will accompany you everywhere you go, Miss Reece, and everyone who comes to the house will be checked by one of us before they gain entry. Basically, it’ll be like you’re a member of the immediate family of the President of the United States. This will be close to Secret Service-level protection. And while all that is going on, we’ll liaison, to the best of our ability, with the police and F.B.I. to see if we can assist with their ongoing investigations.”

  Anna spoke up, “It’s very possible, given what’s happened, that we’re dealing with more than one suspect. It could be a crazed fan. A stalker. It could be a disgruntled co-worker or employee. We just don’t know yet. We’re going to want to dig deep into your life and try to identify possible persons of interest.”

  Georgia took a deep breath and placed a hand on Skyler’s knee. “As I have said ad nauseam, I just can’t imagine who would want to do me harm. I really can’t.”

  “We’re going to figure it out,” John said. “I promise.”

  “Is there a money back guarantee?” Georgia asked.

  Anna laughed. “No. But we’ve never lost a client and our track record is pretty golden. It’s why Mr. Grey sent us to you. We’ll figure this out, Miss Reece.”

  “Alright, good. But please, no ‘ma’am’ and no ‘Miss Reece,’ okay? Call me Georgia,” she said, rising. “And I want you both to make yourselves at home. I’ll show you to your suite.”

  Georgia gave the couple a tour of the sprawling house, ending at the large bedroom and ensuite bathroom over the garage that would serve as the base of operations and sleeping quarters for the married ex-detectives. John mentioned that he was pleased with the view of the driveway from the room’s bay window, and Georgia left them alone as they began to unpack their clothing and equipment.

  Before she left the room, both Anna and John removed their blazers, and the singer noticed that each of them had a holstered handgun strapped to their side.

  * * *

  “They’re both packing heat,” Georgia said as she rejoined Skyler in the living room. “I think that makes me feel better.”

  “They aren’t messing around, that’s for sure. A tough looking pair, those two.” Skyler closed her laptop and placed it on the ottoman. She leaned close to Georgia and whispered, “I was trying to picture them having sex. I can’t see it.”

  Georgia erupted in laughter. “You are so bad. But I was thinking the exact same thing. They seem more like brother and sister, don’t they? If the brother and sister were former military and former cops who spend an extraordinary amount of time at the gym together.”

  “This doesn’t seem very Christmassy. I’m so sorry you’re going through this, honey.”

  “You’re so very sweet, Skyler,” Georgia said. “And it’s ridiculously generous of both Brenda and you to spend this time of year here with me. Given these circumstances. There are certainly better places you could be spending the holidays.”

  “I don’t know,” Skyler said through a sigh. “My boyfriend is working around the clock in Maine and my only living family is my stupid brother and his young family, and, I hate saying this, I do, but we’re just not very close and we haven’t spent any holidays together since our parents passed away. And Brenda is feuding with her brother and aunt over financial stuff—it’s all very messy, but I should let her tell you that story. So, Brenda and I throw ourselves into our work and then we go together to where ever we want to for the holidays. And this year, we’re very happy to be here with you here in Santa Fe. I mean it.”

  “But you didn’t expect all of this mess.” Georgia’s eyes welled up. “I’m still sorry for making it all such a downer.”

  “Stop apologizing. It’s all going to be figured out.” Skyler looked over at the Christmas tree. “Concentrate on your gorgeous tree!”

  “I do love it.”

  John came running into the room from the back hall and sprinted toward the front door. He had a handgun in his right hand.

  Georgia and Skyler jumped to their feet just as Anna ran in and commanded them to, “Hit the deck!” The female detective took up a tactical position between the women and the now-open front door. “Stay close to the floor,” Anna said. She too had her weapon drawn and was aiming it at the door.

  Skyler’s heart began to race and she was immediately taken back to the previous summer when a similar siege took place in her house in Maine. She suddenly decided that Christmas in Santa Fe wasn’t a good idea after all.

  Outside on the gravel driveway, John sat on the back of a man. He holstered his weapon and wrestled the man’s arms behind his back. He fished a plastic zip-tie from his pocket and bound the man’s wrists together then effortlessly lifted him to his feet and pinned him to the side of the couple’s rented Ford Explorer.

  “What are you doing here?” John demanded.

  “I’ve come to fix the wall,” the man said. “Miss Georgia asked me to come.”

  John eased off the man and gently turned him around so that they were facing each other. He pressed a finger up to his right ear where an almost-invisible communication device was
nestled. “Anna. Ask Georgia if she hired a man…what’s your name?”

  “Diego. Diego Ferrera,” the man said through labored breaths.

  “Diego Ferrera,” John repeated.

  Moments later, Anna, Georgia, and Skyler were outside on the driveway as John cut away Diego’s restraints with a pocket knife.

  “Diego, darling, I am so very sorry,” Georgia said, trembling. “Please do come inside.”

  “Why were you walking up the driveway? Where is your vehicle?” John asked.

  “On the street. The gate is closed. I tried calling, but no one answered.”

  “So, you jumped the fence?” Anna asked.

  “When someone like Miss Reece asks me to get a job done, I get it done.”

  Skyler couldn’t help but smile. “Diego, you are a very loyal man. And a very lucky one. As you can see, Georgia has called in the cavalry. Things have changed around here.”

  “I will be more careful next time.”

  “I’ll open the gate,” John said, “and you can drive your truck up to the house. But I hope you won’t be offended if I watch you while you work.”

  “I’d expect nothing less,” Diego said. He brushed off his pants and started walking back down the driveway.

  Georgia grabbed on to Skyler’s arm. “I totally forgot that he was coming. I owe that poor man a very sizable Christmas bonus.”

  “I’d say so.”

  * * *

  Brenda and Sullivan weaved through the crowds on the Plaza, crossed Washington Avenue, and stepped into the lobby of the Inn at the Anasazi, an upscale boutique hotel in downtown Santa Fe that would certainly rival their own. It was late in the afternoon, but they were famished, and the bar was serving food. They settled into a banquette and each ordered a Spicy Paloma—a delightful serrano-infused tequila and grapefruit concoction—and a chopped tortilla salad with shrimp. Brenda also asked for an order of the crispy green beans with Cotija cheese. As usually, she was perpetually on a hunt for things she could adapt and call her own.

  When the waiter disappeared, Sullivan absently commented that he was surprised that they had the handsome bar to themselves.

  “Everyone must be out shopping,” Brenda said, “because I know for a fact this place is sold out through New Year’s Eve.”

  “The vibe is very pleasant,” he said as he scanned the room. “Swanky, yet still casual and comfortable. I hope we can manage a feel like this.”

  Brenda shook her head. “No, darling. We’re going to seriously show up this dump.” She chuckled. “This is all very nice, of course, but our plans are nothing short of marvelous and it’s all coming together, Sully. Truly. I have never felt so confident about a project. And I’ve built a lot of restaurants. Trust me.”

  “Carter is working my last nerve,” Sullivan said out of the blue.

  “Listen, I’m told that you two came out of the womb with your hands around each other’s throat, but you also get along better than any two siblings I’ve ever met or worked with. I can’t imagine it can be all that bad.”

  “It’s not world-ending, but he’s the perfectionist in the family, which is not a bad thing in the hotel industry, I guess. But, he’s so hard on contractors and subs, and so damned unforgiving when things don’t go as planned. He’s damned demanding about everything. He’s like Miranda Priestly in The Devil Wears Prada, without the over-priced designer originals.”

  Brenda’s eyes widened. “Straight men aren’t supposed to know who Miranda Priestly is.”

  “That’s old-fashioned sexism, Brenda. I’m very metro,” Sullivan said with a sly smile. “I can watch Mets games and Meryl Streep. I have a broad palate. Plus, I had an ex-girlfriend who was obsessed with that movie. I think I was forced to watch it a dozen times.”

  “Well, whatever you do,” Brenda said, “try not to kill Carter before the hotel is done, because with him dead and you in jail, I can’t get it all done on my own.”

  “I’m not going to kill him. But I do think that I’m going to suggest some changes.”

  “Like what?”

  Sullivan sighed. “We’re co-CEOs. We both do everything. Have our hands in every single cookie jar. Quite literally. Both of our hands. We’re negotiating contracts, picking out fabrics, testing mattresses, hiring hotel managers, buying art, and even selecting the perfect shade of white for the ceilings in the suites. Brenda, we decided, together, which brand of toilet paper that we were going to stock in the bathrooms. It’s just a tad short of insanity.”

  Brenda looked like she couldn’t quite process what she was hearing. “Honey, no,” she said very slowly. “You can’t do all of that at this stage in your business. You’re going to kill yourselves. Repeat after me: del-e-ga-tion. I just had this exact same conversation with Skyler. It’s imperative now that you let other people help you.”

  “I’m not allowed to use that word because we simply don’t know how to do that. I should say, fucking Carter doesn’t know how to do that.”

  “Sully. Carter and you need to split up this job. Specialize. And, for goodness sake, don’t be afraid to hire competent people and let them make some decisions for you. As the company continues to grow, you won’t be able to keep up this momentum. Trust me, please. I learned this the hard way early on. Do you think I write every recipe and every article? Do you think I’m in the trenches developing my olive oils? I get people to do that stuff for the brand. It’s a brand, it’s not all Carter and Sullivan Lowery.”

  Sullivan had a pained, almost stunned look on his face. “I’ll try to have a conversation with him.”

  “Good. It’s important. And if you don’t, I will. I have a stake in this now, remember?”

  “Mmm hmm. I won’t let you down. You’re way too important to the Franklin-Lowery family.”

  “You’re sweet,” Brenda said. She took a long sip from her drink. “And accurate.”

  When the beans arrived to the table, Sullivan dug in. “My goodness, Brenda. What is this cheese? Parmesan?”

  “Cotija. But it’s in the same family. It’s a Mexican cow’s milk. I use a similar aged version called Anejo in a few restaurant recipes. It’s salty and savory and I love it so much.” She grabbed an appetizer fork and helped herself. “This is amazing. The chili powder gives it an extra kick. I have to take some notes or I’ll forget.” Brenda pulled out her phone and jotted down a few words. “Perfection.”

  “Well, don’t copy this and put it on the menu here in Santa Fe,” Sullivan said. “They won’t like that. And it’ll get out.”

  Brenda wrinkled her brow. “I don’t copy stuff. I acclimatize,” she said with a wicked smile. “That means, adapt.”

  “I’m familiar, thank you.”

  “And if I do develop something similar, I’ll use it somewhere far away, I promise. Las Vegas, maybe. Vegas needs green beans with Cotija.”

  “If you say so.”

  Brenda’s phone vibrated in her hand, and she glanced at the screen. It was a text from Skyler:

  When are you coming back to Georgia’s?

  The NYC security people are here now and they’ve already almost killed Diego.

  “I have no idea what this means,” Brenda said out loud.

  “Don’t know what what means?” Sullivan asked.

  Brenda tapped back a response:

  IDK who this Diego guy is, but coming soon.

  Groceries first. Cooking tonight for everyone, twins, security and all. Except Diego. Because I don’t know him. Do I?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Skyler woke up with another hangover. It was wearisome at this point in the trip and she quickly decided that she was getting too old to make herself feel this way on a semi-regular basis, especially when she was supposed to be enjoying a relaxing holiday. She struggled to her suite’s bathroom and started the shower. She had a little over an hour to make herself presentable enough so that she wouldn’t look like a complete freak show in front of a certain billionaire businessman.

  The previous
evening was a blur. As she soaped herself up, she remembered Brenda coming home with Sullivan and a slew of paper grocery bags. She recalled Georgia opening the first of what she guessed must have been several bottles of expensive wine. The security people were there, too, of course, but they drank club sodas with lime. The dogs were extra energetic because Diego was making a racket in the front hall, but he left before the rest of them sat down to eat.

  Then it all fades to black.

  Skyler couldn’t recall what was on the menu—which in itself was a crime when you have a superstar chef making your dinner—or what else might have been consumed that was causing the suppression of memory. A nagging hangover was one thing; a total blackout was something completely different. And it was unsettling.

  When she was standing at the bathroom counter wrapped in a couple of towels, Brenda magically appeared behind her. Skyler was too tired to be startled.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” Brenda sang.

  “How on God’s green Earth are you so chipper?”

  “I didn’t drink gallons of tequila.”

  “Ahhh,” Skyler said as she tried to steady her hand enough to apply eyeliner. “Shots, I presume?”

  “Many.”

  “Super.”

  “It was Sully’s idea; he’s a bad influence. But to give him credit, or a plausible excuse, I think he was trying to erase the difficult day he had with his brother down at the construction site.”

  “None of this is familiar to me.”

  “They aren’t getting along as well as they always have. Or at least Sullivan doesn’t think so. In any event, Georgia, the twins, and you got pretty smashed.”

  “Evidently.” Skyler turned around and crossed her arms. “Did I do anything that I need to be embarrassed about? Do I need to apologize to Georgia—or Leonard, for that matter—for something stupid?”

  “I don’t think so, no.” Brenda leaned against the door frame and smiled at her friend. “You were all just silly. And loud. Oh so loud. But no one ended up in any compromising positions that I was witness to. Well, except for our hostess.”