Death, Taxes, and a Skinny No-Whip Latte

by Diane Kelly

  “What do you say, guys? Are we Mr. Ruiz’s associates?”

  The other white guy snickered. The black guy merely fidgeted with nervous energy, glancing back at the front window as if to assure himself they couldn’t be seen from the outside.

  Bubba stepped up to the desk, putting out a hand to cup Christina’s chin. He looked at her with cold, ice-blue eyes. “I bet it would be a lot of fun to associate with you.”

  She jerked her head out of his hand. “What do you want?”

  Bubba grabbed her by the hair this time, twisting the bun in his fist and pulling her face to his as he leaned in over the desk. Christina pulled her right hand up to her hip, readying herself to shoot if needed. I felt guilty putting her through this, though I knew the situation was nothing new to her. Still, it was creepy, scary.

  I glanced at Nick. He’d shifted closer to the edge of the cabinets, preparing himself to pounce.

  “You need to transfer the money like you were told. Every last cent of it.”

  Nick gestured at the other white guy, who’d moved closer in now and stood beside the desk. “He’s mine,” Nick mouthed, pointing to his chest. He motioned with his gun toward the black guy, who was standing lookout now near the front windows. “You get him.”

  I nodded.

  That left Christina to deal with Bubba. Big as he was, I hoped she was up to the task.

  “What money are you talking about?” Christina asked Bubba.

  “Gonna play dumb, bitch?” He released her hair and raised his arm to backhand her across the face. Fortunately, she jerked her head back just in time to avoid the blow and Bubba managed only to knock Claudia’s banker’s lamp off the desk. The green glass shattered as the lamp hit the floor.

  Bubba’s eyes narrowed. He grabbed Christina across the desk by the front of her jacket and put his face only inches from hers. “You tryin’ to make a fool of me?”

  I had a feeling he could do a good job of that all by himself.

  Nick held up one finger, counting.

  Christina shook her head and looked at Bubba. “No. I j-just didn’t w-want to get h-hit.” The frightened stutter was a nice touch. Christina played her part well.

  Bubba released her jacket and took a step back. With her left hand, she grabbed the telephone receiver on her desk.

  The other white guy ripped it out of her grip. “Nice try.”

  Nick held up two fingers now.

  Bubba grabbed the water cooler and dragged it to the door, turning it over on its side to form a barrier, blocking any escape. The cone-shaped cups rolled across the tile and water ran out of the overturned cooler, forming a puddle on the floor.

  Bubba cracked his knuckles. “Let’s get down to business.”

  Just as Bubba cocked his fist, Nick held up three fingers. He leaped from his hiding place. “Federal agents! On your knees! Now!”

  Before Bubba could say, What the fuck? Christina had pulled her gun and aimed it point-blank at his ugly face.

  I dashed forward, hurling myself toward the black guy. He turned and tried to flee out the front door, but the water cooler was in his way. His feet slipped in the water and he ended up on his hands and knees in the puddle. “On your stomach!” I shouted from where I stood over him, my gun aimed at his back. “Put your hands behind you!”

  “Okay! Okay!” He flopped onto his belly in the pooled water, curling his hands up behind his lower back.

  I pulled my cuffs from my pocket, and in two clicks he was restrained. I turned to find Christina engaged in a standing wrestling match with Bubba. Idiot. He could now add resisting arrest to his list of charges.

  The guy Nick dealt with wasn’t giving up easy, either. Nick had knocked the chunky man off his feet, but the guy kept trying to get back up. Nick brought the handle of his gun down on the guy’s head. It didn’t knock him out, but it stunned him enough for Nick to kick and shove him into position for cuffing.

  Bubba’s meaty fingers wrapped around Christina’s wrist, squeezing, trying to force her to drop her gun. I wasn’t sure how best to help Christina, but no way could we let Bubba get a hold of the gun in her hand.

  I jumped onto his back, crooking my elbow around his neck. Fortunately, my maneuver threw him off kilter and he released his grip on Christina. Unfortunately, he fell over backward. Onto me. On the hard, wet floor.

  Whoomp.

  All of the air left my lungs as we hit the tile. I was surprised my spine didn’t snap in two. With Bubba’s weight crushing me, I couldn’t breathe. White sparks danced around the edges of my vision and I felt myself losing consciousness.

  No.

  No way was I going to die being crushed to death by someone named Bubba. It would be too embarrassing.

  Remembering the moves we’d been taught in training, I jerked to one side and dislodged Bubba enough to take a breath. Nick and Christina pounced on him then, pulling him off me, rolling him over, and slapping cuffs on him.

  Click-click.

  There’s nothing as satisfying to a federal agent as the sure sound of handcuffs snapping shut.

  I lay in the puddle of water flapping around and gasping for air like a fish stranded in a tide pool. After a few seconds, I caught my breath and was able to sit up.

  Nick lined the men up in the middle of the floor, forcing them to sit in the puddle. The two white guys glared up at Nick, pissed. The black guy was the only one smart enough to look worried.

  Nick sat on Claudia’s desk, looking down at the oversized brutes. “We know why you’re here and who sent you. You might as well save yourself some trouble and spill your guts now.”

  “Miranda’s,” I reminded Nick. Until we read them their rights, any confessions or statements would be inadmissible in court.

  Nick glanced my way and rolled his eyes before turning back to address the goons. “All right, you sorry-ass bum fuckers. Listen up. She’s going to read your rights. Not that you deserve any.”

  I pulled my cheat sheet out of the wallet that held my badge and rattled them off. Right to remain silent, right to a lawyer, blah-blah-blah.

  “I want a lawyer,” Bubba said.

  Not to be left out, the other white guy said, “Me, too.”

  Sheez, you’d think we were handing out free beer.

  Nick rolled his eyes again. He jerked his chin at the young black man. “Let me guess. You want a lawyer, too?”

  He shook his head. “I want to talk about immunity.”

  Nick’s upper lip crooked into a grin. “At least one of you has some sense.”

  Nick and I moved the upended water cooler back into place. While Christina stayed inside to stand guard over the other two, Nick grabbed the black guy by the upper arm, helped him up from the floor, and led him out front to the curb. I followed. The front of the guy’s shirt and the back of his pants were soaked, water dripping from him as he walked. I wasn’t in much better shape. My blazer was drenched and the back of my head was wet, too.

  Outside, the guy spilled his guts. He’d obviously watched a bunch of crime shows on television and thought that by being the first to talk he’d walk scot-free. Not exactly how it works, though. We hadn’t struck any deals with him yet, hadn’t promised he’d be off the hook. TV shows left out the boring yet crucial details. Unlike Frizzy Lizzie, who’d been through the routine before and had insisted on a signed immunity deal before she’d talked, this guy didn’t ask for a written agreement. But we weren’t about to advise the creep he’d be digging his own grave here.

  “What’s your name?” Nick asked him.

  “Jared Jackson.”

  Nick hiked his thumb toward Claudia’s office. “How’d you get hooked up with those shits-for-brains?”

  “I know Bubba and Mack from high school,” the guy said. “We played football together back then. They work as bouncers at Cowtown Cabaret.”

  I’d heard of the place. Cowtown Cabaret was a popular strip club in nearby Fort Worth. The place sold itself as a “distinguished gentleman’s ent
ertainment venue.” As if there was anything distinguished or gentlemanly about horny middle-aged men getting lap dances from barely legal half-naked girls. Urk.

  “Bubba got a phone call from a guy offering big bucks for some muscle to rough up a bookkeeper who’d stolen from him.”

  Nick and I exchanged glances. “What was the guy’s name?”

  Jared shook his head. “Don’t know. I don’t think he told Bubba, neither. But he sent some cash and instructions and said he’d pay another five thousand after Bubba got Claudia to return the money she’d stolen.”

  Clever strategy on Mendoza’s part. “Did any of you ever see the guy who hired you?” I asked. “Meet face-to-face?”

  Jared shook his head again. “No. It was all very secret. Like James Bond.”

  Not exactly an appropriate analogy, but he’d made his point.

  I eyed Jared. “You were at the bakery, when your friends beat up the owner and his wife.”

  Jared’s eyes flashed surprise. “You know about that?”

  I nodded.

  Jared tried to raise his palms, but couldn’t manage well with the cuffs on. He settled for lifting his shoulders. “I didn’t have any part of that. I was only the lookout.”

  I fought the urge to kick the guy in the kneecaps. Without a lookout, Bubba and Mack couldn’t have carried out their plan. Jared may not have committed the violent physical acts himself, but he was as much to blame for the Pokornys’ injuries as his friends.

  I jerked my head to indicate the two men inside. “They killed Andrew Sheffield, too, huh?”

  Jared’s eyes flew open and his voice rose three octaves. “Kill somebody? What?” He looked from me to Nick, panic in his eyes. “I don’t know nothin’ about them killing anyone. Honest.”

  Nick’s gaze met mine. “I think he’s telling the truth.”

  I thought so, too. Still, I had to wonder if Bubba and the other thug had been responsible for Andrew’s disappearance. Something told me they didn’t do it, though. Andrew’s murder didn’t quite fit their MO.

  “What was the plan after you three came here?” Nick asked.

  Jared looked from me to Nick. “The guy who hired us is going to call Bubba’s cell phone at ten, to make sure things worked out.”

  I glanced at my watch. Nine-forty. Mendoza would call in twenty minutes. That gave us only a short time to come up with a plan.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Baiting the Trap

  Nick stepped to the door of Claudia’s office and pushed it open, sticking his head inside and looking down at the men on the floor. “Either of you want to talk?”

  Bubba glared up at him. “Fuck you.”

  “Yeah!” Mack said. “Fuck you!”

  Nick chuckled. “Tough guys, huh?” He turned to me. “I’ll get the phone.” He stepped inside and searched the pockets of both men, giving Bubba a swift, hard kick in the thigh with his pointed cowboy boot when Bubba attempted to resist the frisking. He found the cell phone in Bubba’s back pocket. Phone in hand, Nick stepped back outside and motioned for me to follow him. We walked down the sidewalk, out of earshot of Jared.

  “Any ideas?” I asked.

  “Only one,” Nick said.

  “And?”

  “And hopefully it will lure Mendoza out here.”

  “What if it doesn’t?”

  Nick closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they were sad, resigned. So was his voice. “If it doesn’t, he gets away.”

  “That’s unacceptable!” I’d worked too hard to let Mendoza get away. So had Eddie and Josh. Nick, too.

  “We’ve got nothing but circumstantial evidence, Tara,” Nick said. “We don’t have enough to arrest him or to force him to stay in the country. This is it. Either he shows up tonight or it’s all over.”

  “But what would that mean for you? For Eddie? For me and Josh?”

  Nick looked past me as if trying to look into the future but unable to see beyond this moment. “I go into hiding. Eddie and his family stay in protective custody indefinitely. You and Josh keep mum and hope nobody finds out what you’ve been doing.”

  Bright headlights illuminated the parking lot as a car turned into it. I raised my hand to shield my eyes.

  The car pulled up to the curb. Josh’s rental. Claudia unrolled the window. “I’ve been listening on the walkie-talkie. You got them, right?”

  We nodded.

  Nick stepped to the car and put his hands on the open window ledge. “We need you to do us a favor, Claudia.”

  I had no idea what favor he was referring to, but figured it had something to do with his plan to lure Mendoza out of hiding.

  Nick and I escorted Jared back into Claudia’s office and she followed us in.

  Her eyes widened in fright when she took in the three men, their size and bulk. “Oh my God.” She put a hand to her chest, swaying slightly as she realized what could have been.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do,” Nick said. He ran through the plan. “Everybody got it?”

  We nodded.

  Nick removed Jared’s cuffs, admonishing him not to make any dumb moves.

  “No way, man,” Jared said. “I’m in this with you guys now.”

  What did this dipshit think, that he was our new BFF? But I wasn’t about to set him straight. We needed his cooperation.

  Christina pulled a roll of duct tape from her purse and we taped Bubba’s and Mack’s mouths shut. Didn’t want to risk them shouting a warning to Mendoza when he called. She slid the roll back into her bag. “Amazing how often this stuff comes in handy.”

  Then we waited. Ten o’clock came, but Bubba’s cell didn’t ring. We continued to wait. Christina and I sat in the wooden chairs while Nick paced back and forth through the puddle on the floor.

  Soon it was five after ten.

  Then ten after.

  A layer of nervous sweat glued Nick’s shirt to his back. He glanced at me, our eyes meeting. This phone call meant everything to Nick. The rest of his life depended on it. “Come on,” he willed Mendoza under his breath. “Call.”

  At ten-fifteen, we nearly jumped out of our skin when Bubba’s phone blared the George Thorogood classic “Bad to the Bone.” The perfect choice of ring tone for the bully.

  I glanced over at the brute. “Your mother must be so proud.”

  Nick checked the caller ID, nodding at me to indicate the number on the readout matched the new cell phone number Mendoza had sent to Claudia via e-mail.

  Jared answered the phone, holding it so Nick could lean in and hear Mendoza’s side of the conversation. “Go.”

  Nick quickly wrote something on the notepad in his hand. Jared read it off. “Bubba’s busy with the bookkeeper. He messed her up pretty good.”

  There was a short pause as Mendoza responded. Nick scribbled furiously on the paper.

  Jared squinted at the notepad, speaking slowly as he followed Nick’s chicken scratch. “We got a problem. You offered Bubba five grand to take care of this, but she’s offering us twice as much to back off. She’s got money here in her safe. Mack went with her to her house to get the key.”

  Mendoza shouted so loud into his phone all of us could hear him at this end. “That’s my money! Don’t you fuck with me!”

  He didn’t sound at all like the calm, cool, and collected man who’d issued the polite threat to Eddie. He sounded like a man who was losing it.

  Nick scribbled on the pad again, and Jared repeated the words aloud. “We gotta do what’s best for us. You understand. But you want to make a better offer, we’re listening.”

  There was another pause as Mendoza spoke and Nick scribbled. “How do we know you’ll follow through? She’s got cash right here. You want to negotiate, you come here with some green.”

  At that, Nick grabbed the phone from Jared’s hand and snapped it closed.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Mano a Mano

  The role of Claudia was now being played by Claudia herself. I dressed her
in my spare ballistic vest. Christina applied some dark blush to Claudia’s cheekbones to make them look bruised and the two of us messed up her hair. She’d been crying so she already had mascara running down her face, adding authenticity to the scene we were setting. Eat your heart out, Steven Spielberg.

  Claudia sat at her desk. Bubba and Mack sat in two chairs off to the side, facing the front windows, their cuffed hands hidden behind them. Jared stood at the front window, pretending to be on watch duty. Before taking our places behind the filing cabinets, Christina and I removed the duct tape from Bubba’s and Mack’s mouths, warning the men one last time not to try any funny business. Then again, I almost hoped they would do something stupid, give me a reason to shoot their sorry asses, give them a taste of what they’d done to Darina and Jakub Pokorny.

  Nick hunkered down in Claudia’s minivan out front. If things went as planned, Nick would snag Mendoza on the sidewalk before he could enter the office. If things didn’t go as planned … well, I decided not to think about that. Nobody likes a negative Nellie.

  I phoned Josh, who was keeping watch on Crescent Tower, and told him about the phone call from Mendoza.

  “He’s making a move,” Josh said. “His car is leaving the garage as we speak.”

  “Follow him,” I said. It couldn’t hurt to have another agent here in case we needed backup.

  Josh phoned a few minutes later. “He’s on Interstate Thirty, eastbound.”

  Heading our way.

  Nick’s plan just might work.

  I texted Nick to let him know Mendoza was on his way.

  Twenty long minutes later, Josh rang me again. I’d put my phone on vibrate. I answered the phone in a whisper. “Yeah?”

  “He’s parked his car down a side street a block away.” Mendoza must’ve known Claudia’s building had security cameras. “He’s out of the car now, heading your way on foot.”

  I texted this information to Nick.

  Three minutes later, a shadowy figure appeared at Claudia’s door. He wore a dark hooded sweatshirt pulled out around his face, obscuring it from view. He rapped on the locked door, then stuck his hands back into the pockets of the hoodie. “It’s Ruiz,” he called. “Let me in.”