Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries Boxed Set: Books 1-3 (The Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries)

by Heather Haven

  I swiveled around in the chair, reached out and grabbed the handle of the top file drawer. Locked. With the flashlight between my teeth to free up both hands, I took out the small screwdriver and began to pry the drawer open. It gave in an instant. When are people going to learn to invest in file cabinets with a good locking system? I clucked to myself.

  I pilfered through standard, letter-sized manila folders, neatly labeled and alphabetized, then grabbed a handful. Twirling back to the desk, I started pouring through them. Receipts and bills of sale, names and addresses, all looking very normal. Did I have it wrong again?

  Whoa, Nellie. None of the receipts had the name Mesoamerican Galleries as a heading. In fact, there was no logo or heading on any of them. Even though each purchaser’s name was different, the receipts were signed by Julio de Arroyo Mendez, Estaban’s cousin. Some of the amounts were astronomical, too, ranging from fifty thousand to several hundred thousand dollars. One receipt, merely marked “Toltec idol,” was for one million, five hundred thousand dollars. It was the only one with no buyer’s name or address.

  I returned the files to the drawer and got up, about to tackle more boxes. That’s when there was a noise below, at the back door. Someone was jimmying the lock. I switched off my flashlight and hid behind a stack of boxes.

  The door opened and light from the back alley streamed in, gone with the closing of the door. The beep beep warning of the alarm pierced the air, followed by a scratching, clipped sound. Then silence. I waited, knowing that whoever it was, they had no more right to be here than I did. That didn’t make me feel any better.

  Rustling and the sounds of someone’s footfall on the soft padding of the rug of the stairs filled the air, coming ever closer. I jammed the flashlight in my pants and went into attack stance. Not time yet for the snub nose heavy in my jacket, but I reached in and undid the snap holding it firm inside the holster. My heart thudded in my chest.

  I sensed rather than saw someone at the head of the stairs. Instinctively, I knew he was searching for me. I leaned into the boxes and waited. Quiet movement, almost undetectable, brushed by me in the dark. Then an intake of air. The sound of that breath was my guidepost. I knew the approximate height of the man and his distance from me. I lunged and grabbed him from behind, both arms around his neck in a headlock. I yanked him back toward me, while jabbing a hard knee into his kidneys. There was an “Oomph,” and he crashed to the floor.

  I turned to run, but my feet were knocked out from under me. I went down, too. This guy knew what he was doing.

  The man tried to throw himself on top of me, but I’d rolled on my back with knees against my chest and catapulted him backward with my feet. He smashed into a section of boxes, toppling them on top of him. Sounds of shattering pottery and breaking wood mixed with his grunts pierced the black void. I let out a yowl of satisfaction.

  From somewhere under the rubble, I heard him call my name out in the darkness. “Lee? Is that you?” I also thought I recognized the voice.

  “Gurn?” I snatched at my flashlight and switched it on. I got to my feet and pulled the revolver out of my pocket. I pointed both in his direction. “Get up, you son of a bitch, and if you make one wrong move, your kneecaps will never be the same.”

  I shone the light in his direction and he surfaced from underneath the pile. The beam of light partially blinded him, but he could see well enough to tell I was holding a revolver. “Lee! Richard sent me.”

  “What?”

  “I’m a friend of Richard’s, I swear. You can call him.”

  “What are you talking about?” I said, still hesitant to lower the gun. “You’ve got thirty seconds to explain yourself, and then I won’t be responsible,” I threatened.

  “That’s what I’m doing,” he said in a more reprimanding tone than I would have used in his position. “Richard and I go back to the Navy Reserves. I was his commanding officer, and we became friends.”

  “So you’re not a certified public accountant?”

  “Yes, I am. I’m both. That’s the point of being a Reservist,” he replied, and a might huffily, too.

  “Wait a minute, what’s your name? Not the Gurn part, what they used to call you, the nickname.”

  “Huckster. I’m Huckster.”

  “Go on,” I said, lowering the revolver.

  “Richard’s the one who turned me on to Mexico. He knew I was going back and forth between San Francisco and San Miguel, so he asked me to keep an eye on you.”

  “Oh, he did, did he?” I ground my teeth together, bringing the revolver back up again.

  “I agreed because he’s a good guy, and I wanted to help out. That was before I met you. He only told me you were his sister, he didn’t tell me about the rest of you,” he said, stepping forward.

  “Don’t move,” I said, in clipped words. I held the revolver at arm’s length. He stepped back. “But keep talking.”

  “After the fiasco on the plane, I didn’t think I could suave my way into your life, so I decided the stealth approach might be better.”

  “So it was you behind us from the airport to the rancho.”

  “I wanted to make sure you got there.”

  “You didn’t follow me on horseback the same day, did you?”

  “I don’t ride horses. Never did. When Richard told me you spotted the plates on my car and got a partial number, I switched to my motorcycle. I staked out the front gates. Saw the police arrive the next morning and take you into town. I followed. I was going to stage an accidental meeting with you in San Miguel, but your friend nearly got hit by that car, so I didn’t have to. The rest you know.”

  “Not quite. How did you get here from San Miguel?” I asked.

  “When I dropped you off at the Leon airport, I filed flight plans, fueled up, and flew directly here. I got here a little while ago. I spoke with Richard, and he told me where you were. I promised I would find you.”

  “That’s a lot of work to do just for a pal,” I remarked.

  “I didn’t do it entirely for him. I did it for me. I like the girl, even if the girl doesn’t like me.”

  I placed the flashlight on top of a box with it aimed at his face, dug out my cellphone, turned it on, and hit the speed dial. Lady Blue was still pointed at his right kneecap, so the man in front of me remained motionless.

  “Richard,” I crooned when he answered. “It’s your sister.”

  “Liana! Did Huckster find you? I’ve been frantic.”

  Finger off the trigger and safety back on, I pointed the revolver to the ceiling. Laying it next to the flashlight on the top of the box, I said, “You miserable rat, how dare you?”

  “Well, if you’d answer your phone,” came his indignant reply, “you would have known. You think I’m going to let you and Mom go off by yourselves when there are dead bodies everywhere? I tried to tell you!”

  Mr. Gorgeous Gin Guy, aka Gurn, aka Huckster, came over and took the phone out of my hand, saying, “Richard, don’t worry. I’ve got her now, and we’re leaving.”

  “You’ve got me? It’s looks to me as if it was the other way around.” I snatched the phone away from him. “Richard, if you ever do anything like this again I’ll--” I was interrupted by the sound of a key in the back door. “Gotta go,” I whispered into the phone and turned it off.

  Gurn reached up for the flashlight and killed it. I picked up the revolver again. Together, we scurried behind some boxes.

  The downstairs backdoor opened. Light flooded the bottom and upper floors. I heard the musical notes of the alarm keypad being tapped by a person who had no way of knowing Gurn had already disabled it.

  Indistinguishable talk, shuffling, and then what sounded like a gaggle of people ascended the staircase. Gurn looked at me, and I put my forefinger to my mouth. He gave me a look that said, “You state the obvious.” We backed into the shadows. I would have been content to stay there, listening to the proceedings, if only.

  “You’ll never get away with this, you mangy coyo
te,” Tex said. I was so shocked when I heard her voice, I jumped. The next voice almost caused me to drop the gun.

  “Now, Virginia, there’s no point in aggravating the gentleman. He’ll see the futility of his actions soon enough,” said Lila, stressing enough words for me to tell that while her voice sounded cool, she wasn’t feeling that way.

  Gurn grabbed my shoulders to hold me back. I shrugged him off and went to the other side of a box where I could have a view, obstructed though it was. The silver-haired man who’d disappeared from the shop in San Miguel was now pointing a lethal looking Smith and Wesson pistol at Tex and my mother, their hands bound in front of them with duct tape.

  “Silencio,” Estaban’s cousin ordered, so angry his body shook with it. He gyrated around the center of the work area while Mom and Tex stood near the desk. Stationed at the top

  of the stairs, two nasty-looking men held their arms by their sides and shifted their weight from one foot to the other, caught up in Julio’s rage. The shorter one’s face was covered with scratches and several looked infected. Score one for Tugger.

  I raised my revolver and tried to ready myself, unsure of whether to aim at his head or his heart. He was less than twenty feet away. Even with a snub nose, it would be an accurate shot.

  “You think you can ruin my life’s work and that of the entire de Arroyo Mendez family and get away with it? Now we have to make new plans, find a new place to store our heritage, start over.” He walked closer to Mom and aimed the pistol in her face. “You two will pay,” Julio Mendez threatened, his voice filling the room, “and so will your family.”

  “Your heritage?” Tex came back. “You’re stealing from the Mexican people.”

  Julio shifted the aim of his pistol over to Tex and backed up a few steps, waving the pistol back and forth between the two of them. With mounting fury, he said, “For forty-five years, ever since my grandfather found the hiding place of the Toltec priests through his years of searching, those trinkets have been our salvation. This is the way we feed our children, clothe them, send them to good schools, give them a better life. Do you think we are going to pay attention to what the government says or what you do?” Julio sneered, lowering his voice but never his gun. He spat. “I spit at your feet, mujeres. Both of you.”

  Tex glared at him but backed up. Lila, to her credit, remained still and stone-face.

  Fighting the urge to fire then and there, I knew I had to wait until he took his sights off the two women. I’d read about shooters pulling the trigger as a reflex action on their way down. I didn’t need my mother or Tex to be standing in the way of a bullet.

  “That’s a long time to keep such a secret,” Lila said evenly, undercutting his emotions. “How many of you are there? How did you and your family manage to do it?” Julio shifted the pistol, again aiming it at my mother.

  Gurn tapped me on the shoulder and gestured he was going to move nearer to where the two henchmen had been drawn in by Julio’s ravings. They now stood side by side, several feet in from the head of the stairs, with their backs to a stack of boxes. I dug out the can of mace and handed it over.

  Giving me a thumbs up sign, Gurn moved away. I watched him get into position. When the time came and he pushed the stack of boxes, I was sure Julio would be momentarily distracted. Then I’d make my move. I had just been waiting for him to swing the pistol away from either woman’s face for just an instant. Then I was going to drop him.

  “It was not easy,” Julio said. I focused full attention on him again. He seemed to be calmed somewhat by Mom’s lady-like demeanor. “My grandfather was a great man, a great man, an inspiration to us all. As a poor youth, he had been fortunate enough to work on a dig in Mexico City and paid attention to what the jefes would say, always learning. He’d heard of a legend telling somewhere far north of the Yucatan was a hidden treasure, where the last of the Toltec priests had fled from their Aztec pursuers, taking with them their accumulated wealth of silver, gold, and idols of worship. He spent the early part of his life seeking this treasure. When he finally found the cave on the other side of the mine’s entrance, he knew what he had. The gold and silver had either been sold off or looted centuries before, but what remained had great value. He knew that. He called a family meeting, deciding to tell no one but his own.

  “He went to work for the man who owned the rancho before this woman’s husband,” Julio said, pointing the pistol at Tex, “to keep an eye on things and to keep strangers away.” He brought the pistol back into Mom’s face again.

  I could do nothing but wait. I sensed Gurn didn’t want to do anything, either, not with my mother staring down the barrel of this angry man’s gun. I looked in Gurn’s direction but couldn’t see him. Whatever he did and whenever he did it, I would be ready.

  “You mean no outsiders, no one except your family members knew? For all those years?” Mom asked.

  Following my mother’s lead, Tex added, “It’s remarkable so many people could keep a secret like that for so long.”

  That’s it, I thought, keep him talking, ladies. Sooner or later, he’ll move the gun away. Then he’s mine. A bead of sweat trickled down my nose.

  Julio droned on. “Si, it is, and we were not greedy. No, never. You did not know the foreman and his wife, Eduardo and Eva, were sent there to keep an eye on things, to keep you and the vaqueros away from the cave. We did not know they would betray us, steal from their own family. They are the ones who started all this trouble by taking and losing the statue your son found.”

  My right hand began to shake with the tension of holding the revolver taut for so long, finger on the trigger. I switched to my left hand. My breathing came fast and shallow.

  “For generations, the family would vote on what pieces to sell and only as we needed them. For this wedding, for that business. Never having too much money to earn the authorities’ interest but enough to keep the family thriving. Soon we became more educated, we became people of importance in important places. A commissioner here, a judge there, a customs agent…”

  “An assistant curator at a museum,” Mom added.

  “Exactamente. We are everywhere,” he bragged.

  I saw the glint of a diamond stud in his left ear. I made my decision. The head.

  “Over sixty of us, all in important, strategic places. We are educated men of the world. I, myself, have a degree in Archeology from Cornell University. I own this place, along with another family member who is not as trustworthy as I would like,” he said, looking around him, his anger picking up momentum again. “This was the perfect place to find buyers who do not care how a piece arrives to them, so long as they get it. Private collectors, wealthy and eager.”

  “I’m impressed,” Mom said, nodding. Tex nodded, too, but clearly wasn’t.

  “Are you?” Julio asked of my mother. “That is good because I would hate for you to die not agreeing with the reason. Now you will tell me where that daughter of yours is, and I will make your deaths easier for you.” He moved closer, the pistol at my mother’s heart.

  I aimed and cocked the hammer.

  The back door burst open, and there was the thumping of feet running up the stairs. Everyone turned toward the noise except for Julio. He’d been startled but kept the pistol pointed at Mom.

  I stepped out from behind the box and waited for any slight change in the positioning of his firearm before I took what would probably be my one and only shot.

  No one even looked in my direction; all attention was on the stairs. What happened next went by like the speed of light. In other ways, it was the slowest ten seconds of my life.

  “Julio!” Estaban’s voice came from what sounded like midway up the stairs. “Stop! Do not do it. No more killing,” he begged, waving his arms and breathing hard, pausing at the head of the stairs.

  Julio said nothing but swung his armed hand around. A gunshot rang out and Estaban collapsed into Douglas, who was three steps behind him.

  “Oh, my God,” screamed Douglas. “Y
ou shot him. You shot him!”

  As Julio’s extended arm began in its arc back toward my mother, I fired. Within a nanosecond of reasoning, I changed my mind. I didn’t shoot to kill. But Lady Blue got him where I intended, the right thigh.

  With a look of surprise and pain, Julio dropped down, wrapping himself around his bleeding leg. I ran forward, revolver to his head, and snatched the pistol out of his limp hand. I shoved it into one of my many pockets. Boxes toppled over, followed by scuffling, grunting, and the pffffft of an aerosol spray. I knew Gurn was subduing the two other men, but I never faltered my focus on either Julio or on the revolver pointed at his head.

  “You okay over there, Gurn?” I hollered after a moment of silence.

  “Under control. I’m just tying these guys’ hands together with their own belts.”

  “Mom,” I said, without looking at her. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, yes,” she said, coming to my side. “Virginia?”

  “I’m fine. I’m fine,” Tex replied. “We’d better call an ambulance, though, for these others.”

  I temporarily took my eyes off the moaning Julio and glanced over to a silent Estaban, chest covered with blood, cradled in Douglas’ arms. “Mom, find the cellphone in one of my pockets and call 911. I can’t remember now which one it’s in.”