by Ellen, Tracy
Jazy only laughed again while filling a glass with water and guzzling it down in one long drink. “Ah! That pizza was good and salty!” Filling her glass a second time, she held it up to drink but stopped to inquire, “Hey, did you decide if you’re working with James Byrd or not?”
I saw Tre motioning to me from the dining room and started walking that way while answering, “Yeah, I am. I’ll tell him when we meet on Monday.”
Jazy followed me into the dining room and the pleased approval in her voice was obvious. “That’s so awesome!”
A round of hugs later, Jazy, Tre, and Anna all left to go home. I begrudgingly promised to call them all tomorrow with a status update. It was only fair after all their help. Rosita and the girls were all beat and went off to bed, each carrying a stack of clean, warm clothes from the dryer in their arms.
It was 11:23 PM, and after I compulsively verified again that I have missed no calls, Mia helped me finish restoring the kitchen and dining room to their former immaculate conditions.
Afterwards, we sat down together at the Formica table in the kitchen with a glass of wine each. I listened for a solid thirty minutes while Mia told me the story of how she came to be hiding five Mexican females in Diego’s office at Dos Santos’.
To make a very long, incredibly detailed, and emotionally overwrought story short, I will relate the highlights, as I understand them.
Mia Besosa claimed proudly to be a descendant of Manuel Besosa, a patriot and pioneer of the Puerto Rican section of the Cuban Revolutionary party in the late 1800’s. He was credited with designing the Puerto Rican flag and his daughter, Maria Manuela Besosa, claimed to have sewn it.
Mia’s the youngest child of a large brood, and an ardently idealistic young woman with plenty of brains, spirit, and too much family money. Her father’s a busy, important businessman and her mother’s a busy, important socialite. Unfortunately, Mia’s has no NanaBel in her life kicking her ass into more productive routes and she spent the majority of her teens reading romantic historic novels and dreaming of adventures.
At eighteen, she started hanging out with a dangerous crowd that fancied themselves as Freedom Fighters for the people. This appealed to Mia’s romantic, idealistic nature and the group used her, playing up her lineage and bilking her for money. Neither parent noticed their youngest, headstrong daughter falling in with the wrong crowd until two months ago.
Mia got arrested vandalizing government property in protest against the Puerto Rican government’s “regime of oppression”. She was the only one caught and arrested after being deserted by her supposed friends. Her furiously embarrassed parents got her off the hook through their political contacts and shipped the disheartened troublemaker far away to their Dos Santos relatives in the States.
At least Diego was smart enough to put Mia to work at the store. He couldn’t be blamed that his young relative promptly got involved in an underground movement helping women and children escape from three different Mexican border cities and crossing illegally into the U.S.
Mia informed me these cities were considered some of the most dangerous in Mexico. The violence has escalated in the past years due to the Mexican government cracking down on the powerful drug cartels. Tijuana’s infamous for being a hub of human trafficking and known for brutal rapes and femicide. Juarez and Mexicali were known for the number of collateral damage deaths occurring as a byproduct of the ongoing warfare. Thousands of people have been murdered in Juarez alone over the last three years, and that city was considered to be doing better in comparison to previous times.
Learning a lesson from her Freedom Fighter days in Puerto Rico, Mia worked alone in Faribault doing her part for this cause, but she came to the attention of a Faribault cop named Chuck Trotter about a month ago. Not that he suspected Mia was doing anything illegal, but because she’s a hot girl that caught his eye while he was shopping at supermercado de Dos Santos.
I was perplexed at what planet this Chuck Trotter was from because Mia described him as a forty-something bald man with a pig nose. When this old, unattractive pig man dared to approach her and actually had the nerve to press repeatedly for a date, Mia was not gentle in her scathing rejections. One dark night in the store parking lot, Officer Trotter got physical and tried to force Mia into his car. She screamed bloody murder and went crazy. He backed off when he saw some people exiting the store and looking their way. Mia was scared, but too nervous to report him to anyone and cause trouble for Diego or his family. She decided to let it go because Trotter seemed to have gotten the hint. Mia said he was always leering at her, but he never tried to talk with her again.
Maybe that would have been the end of it, but Officer Trotter happened to see Mia drive by one evening while on duty and out patrolling the streets. Being a total creeper, he followed her, saw Mia drop off several Mexican women at a meeting spot in a deserted warehouse parking lot, and got suspicious.
Ten days ago, the same day she had the responsibility and a short window of opportunity, to move Rosita and the others, was the day Officer Trotter cornered her again. He demanded $10,000 and Mia’s sexual favors for his silence based on what he had seen her do that other night at the warehouse. Chuck threatened to arrest her if she didn’t comply. Mia’s young, but no longer naive. She suspected Trotter had no proof of anything and was trying to terrorize her.
Mia called Trotter’s bluff and she was right, but he’s stalked her since that day. Mia has been scared to death, since he always showed up whenever she drove somewhere. He also came into the store under the pretense of shopping and talked lewdly to her when only she could hear.
Later the same night after Trotter threatened Mia with imminent arrest; Diego unexpectedly came to work after hours. Diego walked in on Mia moving Rosita and the girls into his office. She had no choice but to involve Diego and beg for her cousin’s silence for the week. Having missed her connection, and having nobody else to depend on or ask for advice, Mia had to find a safe place for the girls. They needed to wait out the time until the following Saturday when they could safely be moved on their way again. Mia’s solution was the secret room in her cousin’s office at the store.
When she first started working at Dos Santos’ and was in Diego’s office, Mia had noticed the missing window, as well. When questioning Diego about it, he’d shown Mia the hidden space of three feet by twelve feet. He explained it was created when he had the room framed-in and dry walled. Diego had a small entrance panel installed in the back of the closet to get at the electrical wiring, but he had no intention of ever using the space as a secret room to hide illegal Mexicans. However, Diego was not able to say no that night to Mia’s hysterical tears and the wailing of three women and two terrified girls.
Still worried about Trotter finding out, Mia had tentatively asked Diego if he could get her $10,000, just in case. She lied and said it was for the Mexican women. She swore up and down she would pay him back and not do this dangerous work anymore, if Diego would only help her out this once.
Mia had just punched out after her shift tonight and was checking on the girls before she left the store when Team Ninja burst out of both ends of the closet.
After her story, we sat in companionable silence for a few moments sipping our wine.
I sighed. “I just served a minor a glass of wine, didn’t I?”
Unburdened of worries for the first time in a month, Mia giggled girlishly and nodded yes. I sighed again, but had to giggle a little, too.
I held up my glass and toasted, “To the Night of the Ninjas!”
Mia looked confused, but valiantly held up her glass. “Salud!”
We clinked our glasses before we each drank a swallow of wine.
“Did you call Diego and let him know his office has been evacuated?”
“Yes, I called him from the van while we waited for you to lead,” she made a spitting gesture, “that pig away from the store.”
I patted her hand. “Mia, here’s the deal, as I see it. Don’t ask me h
ow, but you leave Officer Too Hot To Trot to me, okay?”
She smiled at the name, but agreed slowly while her forehead creased with doubt. “Okay, I guess.” She shrugged. “What can it hurt to let you try?”
“Exactly.” I grinned widely at her pragmatism. Summing up, I said, “You said you gave your word to Diego not to do anything dangerous any longer. I can clearly see that you’re an honorable woman who keeps her word, right?”
“Yes,” she nodded, sadly.
I bit my cheek. “I also see that you have a huge heart and a big fat brain, but,” Mia giggled at this statement and I frowned at her for interrupting. She made a big deal of straightening up and zipping her mouth. “BUT you definitely need to be on a choke chain before you hurt yourself or others.” I nodded at her affronted gasp. “That’s right, you heard me, little sister. You are in desperate need of a mentor and work direction. We need to get you doing your thing through legal channels and get your cause backed by big money and media exposure.” She was looking less outraged and more intrigued by the second. “You are about to become the spokesperson and driving force behind the…what should we name your cause? Bitches without Borders? Bite this, Coyote Ugly? Brave Girls against Border Bad Guys? Borderline Crazy?”
As she listened to me carrying on and making up crazy names, Mia laughed. Nothing was remotely funny about the reasons behind the need for Mia’s cause, but I was glad she has a sense of humor. Her expressive brown eyes were glazed with happiness, or maybe it was the wine.
Impulsively, she reached over the table and clasped my hands in hers. Thin nostrils flared in her fierceness when she proclaimed, “You will be my mentor, Anabel!”
Blinking in surprise, I sat back. “Huh. I was thinking more along the lines of this brilliant woman attorney I know who would eat you up with a spoon and love to help your cause. And then there’s this fantastically handsome, insanely rich financier who won’t be able to resist your downtrodden little feet…”
Mia was flinging her head back and forth while forcefully smacking her fist on the table to emphasize each shouting word. “No! No! No! I want you!”
“Well Geez,” I griped, giving the little fiend the evil eye. “Have a tantrum, why don’t you! Do you know how many spoiled brats I have in my life already that I have to deal with on a daily basis?”
Mia crossed her slender arms over her curves and mocked sweetly, “Well Geez, then taking on one more shouldn’t be any trouble for such an incredible badass as you!”
Hiding my grin, I took the final sip of my wine. “Aren’t you just the cutest little smart cookie? Now go to bed and leave me alone.”
Chapter XVIII
“What’s Up” by 4 Non Blondes
Friday 12/07/12
11:55 PM
It’s late, but it’s a Friday night, so I called Chief Jack Banner from the privacy of Luke’s bedroom.
His gruff voice demanded, “Are you in jail again?”
“I wouldn’t call Luke’s farm jail exactly, but speaking of favors…”
Jack interrupted and complained, “Can’t you ever just call me to say hello?”
“I’m sorry, have I hurt your feelings? Should I call you every night at midnight from now on and say good night, you big baby?”
He growled, “This is how you ask for favors?”
I protested, “Hey, against my better nature, I was nice to you twice this past week at the gun club, so don’t push your luck.”
A brief snort came over line. “Okay, Tiny Terrorist, what’s the favor?”
Shaking my head over this latest term of endearment, I said, “What do you know about a Faribault cop named Chuck Trotter?”
There was silence on the line and when he finally answered, Jack’s voice had no trace of humor. “No, Junior, the question is why are you asking me about a Faribault cop?”
I didn’t mince words. “Jack, the guy’s dangerous. He’s stalking a nineteen-year-old friend of mine and he won’t stop. I want it to stop. Can you help me help her?”
Jack’s eruption into a viciously long string of curse words, beginning and ending with “That fucking peckerhead should’ve had his balls cut off years ago” were a clue that he didn’t think too highly of Officer Chuck Trotter.
“Your friend’s a Mexican girl?” Jack stated more than asked.
“Ah, I see Trotter’s reputation precedes himself, but Mia’s Puerto Rican and Diego’s second cousin.”
Jack barked out questions that I answered without any mention of Mia’s extracurricular activities. By the time we ended the call, I was pretty reassured that when Jack Banner got done with him the oversight with Officer Chuck Trotter’s balls would be rectified.
That problem was taken care of for now, but it was officially Saturday. My shoulders felt physically weighted down with disappointment that Dickie had not come through. I really had faith the odd little dude would be able to get us information leading to the identity of his killer client and that would be that.
Obviously that was wishful thinking on my part, but could you blame me? What girl wants to believe there was someone out there that hates her so much they’d pay someone to kill her? What girl wants to look over their shoulder and worry every minute of every day until the bad guy was caught?
Not this girl, that’s for sure.
In the quiet darkness, I made the rounds of all the doors and windows in Luke’s house to verify they’re locked. I felt secure in the knowledge Luke will get notifications of any movements on his property by his security system. If I was gutted in my sleep while my boyfriend was out gallivanting, at least he’d know that it went down.
‘Maybe Luke can show those snuff videos to the next woman he’s only ever committed to!’ I grumbled, feeling terribly sorry for myself and lonely. And yes, I admit I was a little scared, but mainly I was cranky. It was no fun climbing into that big bed alone at my first ever weekend sex party.
Taking a quick shower, I went over in my head what I knew about this enemy out to kill me. It was depressingly not much. I have many more questions that I wished I’d asked Dickie yesterday when I had the chance. He claimed not to know anything, but maybe I could have toggled his brain.
At the apartment this afternoon when I’d searched the internet, I looked up houses for sale on various websites, including Zillow and MLS. If the sites have pictures attached, it’s easy to determine if a property was occupied or not. Otherwise, there’s no category that spells this out, although sometimes it’s written in the description blurb. I combed through every rural property for sale I could find in Rice Country. I didn’t find any listings, pictures or not, that matched the abandoned property where I was taken by Dickie.
Unwinding my braids, I brushed my hair while plotting my next move. It’s always possible that the person arranging my abduction and demise was a local that knows the area well enough to pick out that house, but has no connection to the property legally. However, it was worth the follow up to search the property records and find out the owner’s name on the title.
Brushing my teeth, I made a face in the mirror. I don’t know why I’d begun assuming my enemy was not local. Probably because the thought the killer was someone I passed every day on the street or someone I considered an acquaintance, or heaven help me, a friend creeped me out big time.
Rubbing my body with my favorite oil, not even the sensuous floral smell of rose and jasmine could raise my spirits enough to make me want to pick out a pretty to wear to bed. Instead, I searched the drawers of the massive black dresser until I found Luke’s neatly folded T-shirts. I pulled a soft white one over my head.
Turning off all the lights in the room but the bedside lamp, I put Rita and my phone on the table. I was getting cozy with my books, the pillows, and the comforter when my phone vibrated.
I snatched it up, but slumped when I saw it was Anna. “Hey girl, what’s up?”
“Sorry, did I wake you?” She asked, surprised.
“No, I’m just bummed we’ve never hear
d from Dickie, but I am tired, too. I’m going to bed.” I yawned and stretched. “You?”
“Yeah, I am hitting the sack here in a minute. Is Luke home yet?”
“Nope, not yet, but I wish he was.”
A few seconds of quiet hummed over the phone before Anna continued. “Oh, well, I thought I’d let you know that I’m staying at Reggie’s tonight and the poker party is over.”
“Okay.” I answered slowly.
‘Damn!” Anna swore. “Listen, Junior, I don’t know what to think, but I need to tell you something. Right when everyone was leaving a few minutes ago, I was standing near Luke when he got a text. He put his phone down on the table to put on his jacket. I didn’t mean to read his text, but I kind of dropped a pretzel right then and couldn’t help seeing what it said.”
“Okay,” I repeated quietly.
“Don’t tell me that you don’t want to know what it said!” cried Anna.
I laughed grimly. “I won’t. What did it say, Anna?”
“It said, ‘I’m keeping your spot next to me warm, handsome. Hurry up.’ You know how much I like Luke, but what is this?” Anna was almost wailing which was kind of funny when you thought about it. I was the one who should be wailing. “Are you sure he’s not home?”
“Pretty sure, but I’ll go check.” I left the bedroom for the back entry. Peering out the back door, I saw my jeep but no truck. “No, he’s not at the house.”
“What about the barn?” Anna asked, anxiously.
“I can’t see the barn from here and I’m not running out there to find out.”
I went back to Luke’s bedroom and was about to close the door when Mia poked her head out from the bedroom across the hall.
“Is everything okay, Anabel?” Mia asked, also anxious.
I nodded and held up a finger to Mia, then asked Anna if she could hold on for a second. “Yeah, everything’s fine, Mia. Sorry I woke you up.”
She grimaced and jerked her head back at her room. “I wasn’t asleep. They all snore! Besides, I’m too wired. Can I come and talk with you until your boyfriend gets home?”