“Why do you have such a small kitchen for such a large house?” Ted asked.
Theresa handed Ted a blown glass with a blue rim full of lemonade. “We don’t have to do much cooking. There’s just the three of us. When we have guests, we either eat at the lodge down on the beach or have them cater up here.” She gestured towards the two-story building Ted had first seen when driving up.
“A lodge?”
“Didn’t Maria tell you? Ricky’s father first built this place as a fishing lodge. All of his Hollywood buddies flew down, stayed in the lodge and fished on our boats.” She walked back to the formal living room.
Ted was stunned by the original art on the walls and the pre-Columbian figures filling every nook and cranny.
“Are these real?” Ted asked as he pointed to a stone statue of an Aztec warrior.
“Yes. Ricky has a keen interest in all things pre-Columbian. I think he should have been born in those times.” She walked through the sliding glass doors onto a wide balcony. “I guess that’s where Maria got her interest.”
“Cortez was the first European to touch Baja.” She waved her arm towards the water’s edge to her left. “He heard stories about el Dorado, a city made of gold. He founded La Paz in 1535.”
Ted took in the golden sun sparkling on the water. He could see why someone might believe that there was a city built of gold here.
“Is Maria here?” he asked.
“No. Like I said, I haven’t heard from her in several days.”
Ted noticed the twitching around her eyes, the slight trembling of her lips.
She’s lying.
“Look, Mrs. Gonzales . . . Theresa. I know Maria has to be down here somewhere. I’ve looked all over for her, talked to all of her friends, checked with the airlines. I know that she flew down here on a chartered jet. So where is she?”
Theresa’s eyes teared up. “I told you, I don’t know.”
“She said that she had a family emergency. That she had to go home. I get here and I find an armed camp. Maria says that her dad has over five-hundred people working on this ranch. Some of them third generation. I’m guessing that they’re all armed, too.” He took a sip of his lemonade.
“So, what’s going on here? This ranch is more fortified than a medieval castle.”
The tears came rolling down her cheeks. “Ricky’s been kidnapped,” she sobbed. “We think El Pozolero has him.”
“El Pozolero?” Ted whispered, remembering his confrontation with the evil drug lord the last time he’d been in Mexico. With the help of a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist from San Diego, they’d put him away. “He just escaped, didn’t he?”
“Yes, and he’s trying to rebuild his empire. I haven’t heard anything from him. I don’t know what he wants.”
“And Maria came down here to find her dad? To bring him home?”
Theresa nodded her head. “I’m so scared that something will happen to her, too.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about her. No one’s going to cause her any trouble, especially with that giant dog of hers at her side.”
Theresa grabbed Ted and pulled him into a hug. He could feel the wetness of her tears through his University of Washington T-shirt.
“Do you really think so?” She was clutching for straws.
“I’ll find her, she’ll be safe. I’ll help you find Ricky, too. That’s the business I’m in.”
Chapter 17
Candace stopped at the office door. She’d been in Harvey’s office a hundred times, but never before had she felt nervousness or a sense of dread. Things had changed between them.
Like all of the senior partners, Harvey had a window office. The walnut furnishings emitted an aura of power. The wall to Harvey’s right was filled with pictures, diplomas and mementos.
Harvey shaking President Bush’s hand. Harvey on the golf course with Pete Carroll and Russell Wilson. Harvey giving the keynote speech at the annual ABA conference.
They were there to establish Harvey’s authority.
She knocked softly on the door jam. “Harvey, do you have a minute?”
Harvey looked up over his reading glasses. “Yes?”
“I need to talk to you.” Candace paused. When Harvey didn’t respond she continued. “About a case.”
“Which case?”
Candace entered Harvey’s office and sat down. She wore a dark blue pantsuit and a cream-colored blouse. She no longer wore form fitting clothes or short skirts at the office. New rules were in effect for her since Harry’s death.
“It’s about the Medical Manufacturing case.”
“Uh-huh . . .” Harvey took off his reading glasses and gave her his attention.
At least he can still talk to me about business.
She couldn’t remember Harvey saying a word to her since his meeting with the family.
“I’ve been doing a lot of research. I’m not comfortable with this case.”
“Why not?”
“Because I think MM is selling a dangerous product. They know it has flaws, they know it’s killed people, but they won’t recall it, and they keep selling it.”
“What does that have to do with us?”
“Harvey, somebody has to stop them. To make things right. To force them to fix their machine.”
Harvey shook his head. “Candace, Candace, Candace. Don’t you remember your first class from law school? We work for Consolidated Insurance. They insure Medical Manufacturing. We can’t take a stand against our own client. It would be unethical.”
Candace felt warm under her collar. “But they’re wrong. MM is killing people and no one is doing anything about it.”
Harvey swiveled in his chair and faced the windows. He took a deep breath, then spoke as if he were lecturing a child.
“It’s not our problem. Everybody deserves a defense. Our mission is to support our clients, right or wrong. Can you imagine what would happen if we sued MM? “We’d lose every insurance client we have.”
“Somebody has to defend the poor people who are being harmed by this machine. What about the families, the wives and children? Harvey, I think that there are more victims out there, lots more. They may not know what happened to their loved ones, but I think there’s enough for a class action suit here.”
He turned back to face her. “Are you out of your mind? This isn’t some little ham and egger law shop. If we sued MM, our other clients would have second thoughts about using us, too. What you’re talking about here is nothing less than destroying HB&J. Is that what you want? Is this some sort of revenge against the firm because we wouldn’t make you a partner?”
Candace slapped down her folders on Harvey’s desk. “How dare you . . . You’re being totally ridiculous. You have no idea what motivates me. I do my job. I put the firm first. I produce good revenue for this company. Don’t you ever accuse me of not supporting the firm my husband built.”
Harvey stared at her for a moment, then picked up her folders and handed them back to her. “I knew this sort of thing would happen. That’s why we offered you the bonus if you left the company. We have to protect the firm.”
He rose from his chair and walked around his desk to the door. “You may leave now.”
****
Ted entered the Baja Cantina bar on the west end of the Malecon. A large deck with tables and chairs wrapped around two sides of the bar. Beyond the deck was the beach where vendors rented everything from surf boards and snorkeling gear to towels and coolers. Pretty girls in bikinis lounged on the sand and women hawking bikinis, blankets and beachwear wandered the beach.
The sunset exploded over the bay. The front of the bar was open, allowing a spectacular view of intense reds and oranges as the sun slowly descended behind the mountains.
As he approached the bar, Ted recognized a tall, thin Mexican man with a bad comb-over. His beak of a nose, which reminded Ted of a vulture, supported wire-rimmed glasses.
“Rudi, is that you?” Ted asked.
; “Eduardo, mi amigo!” The tall man rose and took Ted’s hand.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Ted sat in the seat next to Rudi.
“Ted Higuera,” Rudolfo said without the trace of an accent. “I knew I’d eventually run into you here.”
Ted ordered a Dos Equis and dipped a totopo in salsa before bringing it to his lips. “What made you think I’d be here?”
Rudolfo smiled. “Señor Higuera, you’re big news. Wherever you go, there’s a story to be written.”
Rudolfo Trujillo, a reporter for the San Diego Union-Tribune, won a Pulitzer Prize for his work covering Ted’s last adventure in Mexico.
“I’m in Mexico covering El Pozolero’s escape.” Rudolfo said. “Rumor is that he’s here in Baja somewhere. Then I heard from my sources that Ricky Gonzales disappeared. I put two and two together and it added up to the certainty that I’d find Ted Higuera in La Paz.”
“Not bad detecting for a half-blind hack.” Ted sipped at his beer.
“So, Ted, really, why are you here?”
Ted turned to face Rudi. “It sounds like you already know why. My fiancée’s father disappeared. She came down here to find him and she disappeared. I’m here to get them back.”
Rudolfo tossed back a shot of tequila. “Maybe we should work together. We made a good team last time, didn’t we?” He held up his shot glass to the bartender. “Un otro, por favor.” Turning back to Ted he said, “I know things. I have sources.”
Ted finished his beer and waved the empty bottle at the bar tender. “Yeah? Like what?”
“For instance, did you read about that drive-by shooting last week?”
Ted nodded his head.
“I know who did it and why the police haven’t arrested anyone yet.”
“So why haven’t you turned them in to the authorities?”
Rudolfo smiled. “Because the Municipal Police did it. They work for El Pozolero. He wanted to eliminate his rivals and they were the hit men.”
Ted just stared at his friend.
“You heard the police chief on the TV? He said they would stop at nothing to find these criminals. They will never find the killers, because they are the killers. He’ll frame a couple of nameless kids; they’ll be shot trying to escape.”
Ted considered that for a moment. Outside, he could hear the waves crashing against the beach across the Malecon.
“This sounds worse than Juarez.”
“Sí, mi compadre. In Juarez we had Roberto Lazaro to clean up the town. Here we have a court jester.”
The seed of an idea began germinating in Ted’s head. “Is Lazaro still in Juarez?”
“You haven’t been keeping up on the news, have you?” Rudi pulled out his smart phone. “Our friend was promoted for his good work in Juarez. He is now the head of the federales.”
“Whew! He’s moving up in the world.”
“Let me send you my number,” Rudolfo said holding up his phone. “How can I help you?”
****
Hope lived with her mother and two siblings, Carlito and Angela, on the south slope of Queen Anne Hill. The 1920’s house had an incredible view of Elliot Bay, the Space Needle and downtown Seattle.
They moved from East LA where she grew up to be near Ted, after Papa was killed in Mexico looking for her middle brother, Guillermo.
Mama, an early riser, was always in bed by nine or nine-thirty. Her brother and sister were in bed too, they had school in the morning. Hope sat with a cup of tea, watching a recorded episode of Downton Abbey, munching on shortbread cookies, when she heard the commotion.
“POLICE, OPEN UP!”
She heard the pounding on the door.
“CARLOS HIGUERA, OPEN UP! This is the SPD.”
Hope moved to the door and saw two men in suits and a handful of uniformed officers through the glass panes.
“Open up, ma’am,” the man in the brown suit said holding up a badge for her to see.
Hope unlocked the door and cracked it open. “What do you want?” She looked at her watch. It was almost two in the morning.
The large detective slammed into the door, pushing Hope back against the wall. “We have a warrant for Carlos Higuera’s arrest. Is he here?”
“A warrant . . . ?“
“Hope, what’s going on?” Mama appeared, dressed in her bath robe, her dark hair flying loosely around her face. Carlito and Angela stood behind her, wiping the sleep out of their eyes.
“Carlos Higuera?” the big cop asked. “You are under arrest for the murder of Tony Sanchez and José Perez.”
“Huh? MOM!” Carlito yelled as the cop spun him around, slammed his face into the wall and placed handcuffs on his wrists.
“What’s the meaning of this? My son didn’t kill anybody.” Mama inserted herself between Carlito and the cop.
“We have it on tape. Closed Circuit TV shows him shooting those boys.”
“He couldn’t have. When did this happen? He was right here.”
The cop pushed her out of the way and grabbed Carlito’s arm.
“Tonight ma’am. We have it on tape.”
“No . . . “
He tugged on Carlito’s arm. “C’mon kid. We got a date downtown.”
“No,” Mama yelled as the cop led Carlito out the door. “You can’t take my boy . . .” She grabbed at Carlito, but a uniformed officer held her back.
Her pleas fell on deaf ears.
She collapsed to the floor crying. “Why? What’s going on?”
“Mama,” Hope said as she lifted her mother to her feet, “we need help. Carlito needs help. I’m going to call Chris.”
She sat Mama on the sofa and searched for her phone. It was on her bedside table.
She looked up Chris’s number and hit send.
“Ummm . . . Hello . . .”
“Chris, this is Hope.”
“Huh?” He was obviously still asleep.
“Chris, wake up. You have to listen to me.”
“Hope, is that you? My God, what time is it?”
“Carlito was just arrested.’
Chris seemed to click into gear. “Arrested? When? For what?”
“An army of cops were just here. They took Carlito away. They said he killed two other boys.”
“Jesus, Hope. Where are you? At home? I’ll be right over. No, I’ll meet you at the police station. Get there right away.”
Hope pushed the end button and dropped her phone on the bed. She had to get dressed and go save her brother.
Chapter 18
Ted strolled along the waterfront, stopping in stores and restaurants, stopping people on the sidewalk, showing them a picture on his cell phone.
“Have you seen this girl?” he asked.
He always got the same answer. “No, señor.”
The day marched on. He was hot, thirsty and hungry.
Frustrated, he found himself standing in front of the Tailhunter restaurant. Happy sounds came from inside. He climbed the spiral staircase to the second floor dining room/bar.
A Mexican man in a Hawaiian shirt greeted him. “Table for one, amigo?”
“Yeah, I just want a cerveza.” The tacos could come later.
The host seated him at a table under the big screen TV where the Dodgers were playing the San Diego Padres. Ted occasionally glanced up at the screen while he pondered his next move.
An attractive middle-aged woman with shocking red hair buzzed around the dining room, talking with guests and issuing orders to the waiters.
Must be the owner.
A gentle breeze flowed through the open-air restaurant. Trophy fish mounted on the walls hung next to every kind of bizarre memorabilia. A thatched palapa cover hung over the bar. When Ted used the men’s room, he chuckled at the series of murals with a large breasted, red-headed mermaid making suggestive remarks to the fish. The mermaid was amazingly similar to the owner.
The drink turned into a couple of cervezas and carne asada tacos. It seemed like carne asada was the national
dish of Baja.
While he was taking a bite of jalapeño en escabeche a small voice found its way into his consciousness.
“Mom, can we go back to the beach? I want to see the lady with the big dog.” A small boy pleaded with his mother.
“Yeah, Mommy, I want to see the dog again,” the sister chimed in.
Ted turned to take in the family. Obviously Americans, a good looking woman in her late thirties sat with a boy, probably around nine or ten and a girl a couple of years younger.
He tuned into the conversation.
“We want to play with the dog. We’ve never seen such a big dog.”
Popo?
Great Danes were rare in Mexico. Most of the animals he’d seen here were typical Mexican street dogs. He had yet to see any purebred anythings.
“Okay, why not? We can go by on the way home. It’s getting on towards evening, maybe she’ll be there.”
The family paid their bill and got up to leave.
Ted dropped a hundred and a twenty peso note onto the table and followed at a discreet distance.
The little family disappeared down the spiral staircase. Ted gave them time to reach the bottom before he followed.
The boy and girl skipped ahead as the mother followed them west on the sidewalk. When the traffic thinned, they crossed over to the Malecon.
Ted kept them in sight from the sidewalk side of the street. They had no idea he was spying on them.
A few blocks down the street in front of the big gazebo, they jumped down from the Malecon to the sand below. Ted crossed the street.
There she was, walking, ankle deep in the ocean, with Popo at her side. She wore short white shorts and a light blue blouse. She held her flip flops in her hand.
Her long red hair waved in the breeze. Just as Ted was about to run across the street to her, he noticed two large, dangerous looking guys trailing her. His spidey sense went wild.
She was in danger. These guys were going to hurt her.
He sprinted through the cars and across the Malecon.
When he jumped down to the sand, Maria turned to one of the thugs and said something. He laughed and replied. She laughed too and put her hand on his broad chest.
The Cartel Strikes Back: The Ted Higuera Series, Book 5 Page 12