Just The Pits (Hetta Coffey Series)

by Schwartz, Jinx

  I didn't wake until noon, and even then it was a struggle to pull myself from what was probably a self-induced near epinedrine/wine coma.

  Jan sat on the edge of the bed and Po Thang stood over me, licking my face.

  "Phuhh, dawg! Get off me."

  "He's just concerned. I was gonna get a mirror to see if you had enough breath to fog it up."

  "Speaking of breath, what in the hell did you feed this dog this morning?"

  "Raccoon shit."

  "What?"

  "Well, I'm not certain, but I caught him chewing something that looked like it."

  I shoved Po Thang off the bed and was reaching to throttle Jan when she deftly avoided my intended choke hold and sashayed to the door. "Your breakfast is ready," she cooed over her shoulder. "Po Thang left you some."

  "Why are you being so crappy?" I asked Jan when I managed to get out of bed and haul myself up to the main saloon.

  "I saw that Google search you did last night. Are you trying to kill yourself?"

  Busted. "I really wanted a glass of wine and figured it wouldn't hurt anything."

  "In spite of what you read."

  "Oh, come on Jan. Everyone knows you can't believe anything you see on the Internet."

  Coffee and eggs helped my recovery. Jan dosed the cat scratches on my neck and hands with peroxide and antibiotic cream as instructed. Luckily there were no bite wounds, but just in case the intern gave me a prescription for antibiotics. Jan had gone into town, found an open farmacia and filled it for me. A good thing, too. Heaven knows what bacteria lurk in raccoon scat.

  She called Chino and I called Jenks.

  "Hetta, you don't look so hot," Jenks said. "Are you okay?"

  "Rough night. Po Thang ate raccoon poop and then licked my face."

  "Oh, sure, blame it on the poor dog. How's your investigation going?"

  I brought him up to date, naturally leaving out the boat trip, breaking and entering, and cat attack. "So, to summarize, our friend Rosario isn't what he seems. We had six suspects, but now we're down to five after talking with the Trob. That comptroller we figured was dirty turns out to be the one who hired us. It's all giving me a giant headache."

  "It sounds to me like you two may be in over your head. Have you called Nacho yet?"

  Jan had sauntered up and was listening in. Skype calls do have privacy issues when you have nosy friends. But then again, she learned from me.

  "Hi, Jenks," she said with a wave.

  I glared at Jan and shooed her away. "Jenks, I'll call you back when we can talk privately. But to answer your question, the Lujàn thing is over. He's still alive, dang it, but has relocated after Nacho evidently strongly suggested he do so. And the guy in the hot spring died of natural causes, so no one is looking for me anymore."

  That was a simplified explanation of a complicated plot, but so far as Jenks is concerned, all he really need know.

  Jan returned as soon as I hung up. "I still cannot believe Jenks told you to contact Nacho. I mean, what with you lusting after his criminally gorgeous bod and all. How come you didn't tell me you'd called him?"

  "Because, Miss Meddles, not all of my bidness is your bidness. And I do not lust, I simply...admire. Anyhow, when I saw him—"

  "You saw Nacho? Like in person? And you didn't tell me? Spit it out."

  "Only if you'll make an apple pie. And get Topaz's cabin ready."

  "No prob, Chica. Matter of fact, I've already cleaned the guest cabin. All I have to do tomorrow morning is change the linens."

  "And give me a pedicure."

  "It's apple pie or nothing."

  "Po Thang, your Auntie Jan drives a hard bargain."

  "Woof."

  Jan made two apple pies, saying that was the only way there was a snowball's chance in hell there would be any left for Topaz, what with the likes of me and Po Thang onboard. While the pies baked I told Jan about Nacho materializing and what he said about the boiled dude. I skipped his sexy cheek-stroke farewell.

  "Did you discuss the Gang of Four?"

  "No, but I emailed him a list of characters and what we suspect, just in case he has any input, but haven't heard back yet. I don't think white collar crime is his thing."

  "Doncha just wish we knew what his thing is?"

  We sighed a collective sigh and then got back to work.

  While I was comatose she'd started tapping into Bert's information we'd lifted the night before, and we hit the computers so she could show me her findings. The Gang of Four still hadn't returned, but we still worked behind closed blinds and locked doors.

  We did take our hot pie and iced tea out on the sundeck later. The fresh air felt wonderful, but a north wind was piping up. Lucifer was still not back in her slip and I commented on how they were going to take a pounding on the way home.

  "Couldn't happen to a nicer group of guys."

  Po Thang sprang alive from an apple pie coma of his own, and started to howl. I'd never heard him do that and it was eerie and chilling, like he was in mourning. Jan and I surrounded him and stroked his ears and back, risking major hearing loss in the process.

  "What the hell?" Jan asked, and then we heard the sirens.

  From my flying bridge we saw a huge plume of black smoke on the hill. Right by the hospital.

  We couldn't get up the hill, as the police blocked our way. Turning around, I took the back road to Cha Cha's house and managed to get within three blocks. Putting Po Thang on a leash, we walked the rest of the way. It looked as though the smoke had diminished some, but was still significant.

  I knew the town of Santa Rosalia had fallen victim to a few devastating fires over the years, but nothing had changed in the way of fire prevention except for the trucks. Water is the biggest problem, as there is no reservoir backing up the few fire hydrants in existence. The city water system is simply not sufficient to put down a serious fire, so they have a water truck. I'd heard that during one outbreak the truck ran dry and rushed to a large tank where people could wash cars and fill water jugs. Unfortunately there was a long line where they were forced to wait their turn.

  Po Thang had stopped his howling, but still quivered. ChaCha, despite her concerns for her carpet, welcomed Po Thang into the house. I think when he lifted his leg on her faulty dirt hauler, he made a friend forever.

  Since the wind had switched and now blew toward their house ChaCha and her neighbors were frantically throwing everything that would fit in their pickup, and other cars her husband was working on, so Jan and I pitched in. Jan drove an ancient Ford packed to the hilt with ChaCha's belongings, then hiked back up the hill. I continued to pack the next vehicle until it was full, then drove it to safety.

  Dark fell as we were shuttling cars and belongings. We had just finished when we learned the fire was out. Not fond of the idea of hauling everything back up the hill, Jan and I said we had important business to attend to—not a total lie—and skedaddled.

  I left Po Thang in my pickup and went to survey the fire damage. Bert's home was in ashes, as were the adjoining houses, and three company pickups. Safety was lucky his was at the marina.

  Across the street, a bewildered little girl stood leaning against her mother. Her arms were wrapped around a singed cat.

  He hissed at me.

  36

  Bad news isn't wine. It doesn't improve with age.— Colin Powell

  We waited for Lucifer's return, dreading giving them the bad news despite the fact that we thought they were a den of thieves.

  Neither of us could keep our eyes open past ten. The past twenty-four hours had been extremely exhausting, even for Po Thang. I gave him and Jan my bed and crashed on the couch so I'd be sure to hear Lucifer when it returned, but when I awoke at dawn the slip was still empty, and Safety's truck remained in the marina parking lot.

  Topaz's plane was due in early, so I decided to go get her instead of making her take the shuttle, and I wanted to keep an eye out for Lucifer as I drove along the coast.

  My pick
up isn't meant for but two people, so Jan and Po Thang stayed on the boat. She planned to finish the search we were doing on Bert's information, using the PIN and passwords we'd lifted from the house before I was rudely attacked, and then the house went up in flames.

  Topaz was surprised to find me waiting for her on the tarmac. The guys unloading cargo knew me from the marina, so we exchanged a friendly greeting, greasing the wheels on the already perfunctory luggage searches by the group of young marines bivouacked at the airport. There is no airport building and the teenaged soldiers were camped in a dilapidated building with few conveniences. A litter of pups seemed to be their only entertainment.

  Until Topaz arrived. She was definitely the star attraction for the bored teens.

  The diminutive deputy has an unruly head of hair closely resembling that of a shaggy German shepherd, and a show-stopper body that somehow manages to look athletic and softly sexy at the same time. I know she works out hard at least an hour a day, but all that exercise hasn't flattened any curves. Had she been in uniform and sporting that large gun on her hip, the marines would have gone bonkers.

  "You tired from the trip?" I asked her after we'd loaded her suitcase into my pickup and buckled up.

  "Nah. After the drive down yesterday I was pooped and went to bed at nine. Last of the big time party animals here."

  "Good, let's take a little drive south. I'm not going to work today for a lot of reasons which I'll catch you up on, so I'll give you the Grey Line tour before we go back to the boat."

  "There's more since we last talked?"

  "Lots more." I filled her in while we made the thirty mile trip south to Mulege, one of the prettiest towns in the Baja. The village claims a population of about four thousand people and is nestled between two hills hugging a fresh water river that runs into the sea. The contrast between the parched desert we'd driven through and this lush oasis delivered the surprise I had in store for Topaz.

  "Wow! Sure didn't expect this."

  "Let's get breakfast in town. I know a great little fish taco stand by the river."

  As we ate our tacos I pointed up at the bridge over the main highway, way above our heads. "During one of the hurricanes this charming little river was two feet over that bridge. You can still see the devastation on both sides."

  She looked up at least fifty feet to the bottom of the bridge. "Hard to imagine."

  "It is. Okay, onward to Saul's groceries. There is Velveeta to be had."

  While at Saul's (pronounced Sa-ool) store he pointed out for Topaz a spot six feet up the wall. "The mud was to here."

  On that cheerful note, we moved on to Conception Bay, where I introduced her to Geary, then gave her the tour, stopping in at Café Olé to see how things were there. Their ordeal at the hands of thugs, and the death of one of those thugs, was shrugged off as part of doing business in Mexico. After nine years in a property dispute, little surprised them anymore.

  We backtracked to Posada where I showed Topaz the hot springs. One would never know it was the scene of a grisly death.

  All along our drive I asked Topaz to scan the sea, looking for boats. When she spotted one, she handed me the binoculars I'd brought from the boat. Only pangas and one fishing boat rippled the calm water. Not a roostertail in sight.

  We were abreast of San Bruno, the village across from Sweet Pea cove, when Topaz spotted a boat making its way north in the channel between San Marcos Island and shore. I took a quick turn into San Bruno and down to the beach.

  As we neared shore, I saw a telltale plume of black smoke spewing from the ship's stack. "Just a Mexican navy patrol boat."

  Topaz handed me the binoculars. "Take a look at his tow."

  I adjusted the eyecups and center access. "Good eye, Topaz. That's Lucifer, all right."

  Jan made lobster Louis for lunch and we were eating when a smaller navy skiff maneuvered Lucifer into her slip. The Gang of Four was not aboard.

  I walked over and asked the young marine where the men were, but received only a shrug in response. He didn't stop me, though, when I continued down the finger to take a look inside. I was standing there with my mouth agape when Topaz and Jan joined me.

  "Holy crap!" Jan said.

  "Ditto," Topaz added. "I don't know much about boats, but I know a fire scene when I see one."

  The interior was fire gutted. The black streaks on the fiberglass hull and house, which I'd attributed to soot from the navy ship, were actually evidence of an interior fire.

  "Looks like either an explosion or a really intense fire. Or both," Topaz told us. She sniffed the air. "Good thing she has diesels. Otherwise there wouldn't be much left."

  "These whalers are built not to sink," I told her. "Lots of flotation chambers. The big question is, where are the guys? Safety's truck is still in the parking lot. Call me silly, but I smell more than smoke here."

  I called the jobsite and reached a very distraught Laura. She hadn't heard from any of the men, but the Port Captain had called with disturbing news of the boat fire. That, coupled with the home fires did not bode well for the fate of Ozzie, Bert, Safety and John.

  "It is terrible, no?" Laura sounded on the verge of tears. "We are receiving calls from Mexico City and Canada, and I do not know what to say. Can you please come?"

  "It is terrible, sí. Look, close down the office and send everyone home. Leave a recording for anyone who calls to phone me here on the boat. I will be in tomorrow morning, for sure. Okay?"

  I hung up and told Topaz and Jan about Laura's distress and that I'd sent her home for the rest of the day rather than trying to field calls.

  "Poor woman," Jan said. "She's right, though, something terrible is going down here."

  "And you know the worse part? That cat from hell survived."

  "What cat?" Topaz put her hands on her hips and glared at me.

  "I guess Hetta left out the breaking and entering part?" Jan asked.

  "Jeez, Jan, she's a cop. You don't tell cops incriminating stuff like that."

  "I am not anything here in Mexico, you dork. I'm here to help you, although that's beginning to sound like an impossible task, since it looks like I'll have to protect you from yourselves. Now you two sit down," she stabbed her finger at the floor, "and—

  We all cracked up as Po Thang promptly sat and raised his paw for a high five.

  "Is there anything else you've conveniently overlooked? Craig was right, you two are way in over your heads. I've been here, what, five hours? And you've already come up with a burned out boat, three burned houses and four missing men? What the hell kind of vacation is this? And what's a cat got to do with anything."

  37

  The confession of evil works is the first beginning of good works.— Saint Augustine

  We began at the beginning, but were constantly interrupted by my cell phone blasting "La Cucaracha." I fielded all sorts of calls from Mexico City and Canada and was glad when three o'clock—official quitting time at the mine—rolled around and I turned the cell off. Anyone I cared about had my Skype number.

  We sat out on the sundeck while Topaz tried to get up to speed on what we'd learned. Or not learned.

  "So let me get this straight. Hetta was hired to investigate cost overruns at the project, and she hired you, Jan, to help."

  We both nodded.

  "And a guy breaks into your boat and is stealing food, so Jan hogties him. He turns out to be a reportedly dead guy, who also worked at the mine and claims he'd discovered information about fellow employees that got him killed...or rather, almost killed?"

  "Uh-huh," I said, "he ate my Velveeta. We should have killed him ourselves."

  "Doesn't something about this part of the story not add up to you two?"

  "Well, duh. He doesn't even like Velveeta," Jan huffed.

  "I'm serious here."

  Although Jan's answer brought a giggle I had to tamp down, I went to her defense. "Yes, of course, now that we know more about our Rosario, we've already surmised his arrival wa
s no happenstance. He targeted us. Or rather me. I don't think he was counting on being trussed up by a tall blonde."

  "Which means that, before he allegedly disappeared, he knew who you were and why you were hired."

  "Everyone did," Jan said. "If they had a newspaper in this berg Hetta probably would have made the front page. There are no secrets in Mexico."