Six Murders Too Many (A Carlos McCrary Mystery Thriller Book 1)

by Dallas Gorham

  “Usually he’s worse.”

  Teresa grinned and turned to me. “How about that coffee shop across the street?”

  “Java Jenny? One of my favorites.” I grabbed her gym bag and threw it over my shoulder.

  “Good idea.” She took my arm. “We don’t want to invest too much effort in a first, almost date.”

  This was good. She called it an almost date. I gave myself a mental fist bump.

  We stashed our gym bags in our cars and dodged the traffic to Java Jenny’s. I picked a table in front. “What would you like?”

  “Iced coffee, large and black.”

  I brought back two iced coffees. I prefer a little creamer, but I ordered mine black like hers.

  She rested her drink against her bottom lip. “Okay, as I was saying at the gym, why’d you leave the job?”

  “Never intended to stay. I worked there for my experience requirement for a PI license.”

  “Why a PI?”

  “I’ve wanted to be a PI since high school. Private investigation lets me indulge in things I like to do.”

  “What sort of things do you like to ‘indulge’ in?” She made air quotes.

  “Oh, the usual: consorting with low lifes, asking embarrassing questions, solving mysteries. And there’s always the chance for an occasional gunfight.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been in gunfights?”

  “No, no. I was joking. Had a fistfight a couple of days ago, but I’ve never drawn a gun in the line of business. Hope I never do.”

  “I hope I never do, either.”

  Then I added, “Besides, my mission is to make the world safe for democracy.”

  “You’re kidding.” She saw my face. “Oh, you are kidding. Do you make jokes out of everything?”

  “It’s a curse.”

  “I’ll have to learn to tell when you’re joking, won’t I?”

  “If you do, you can teach me.”

  We both laughed. I felt better than I had any right to.

  “What about you, Teresa? Why’d you become a cop?”

  “Family tradition. Dad and Gramps were cops, and Mom is a dispatcher. We’re big on law and order in the Kovacs family.”

  “My parents are farmers, and Mom is also a veterinarian. No one in my family has been a cop except Uncle Felix.”

  “And there are fringe benefits like working with a high class of criminals.”

  I liked her. We talked about pirates and poets, walruses and walnuts, coal-heavers and confectioners. The tail of the afternoon raced by as I bought us giant chocolate chip cookies and more coffee.

  Vicky had invited me to dinner that night, so I had to bring the almost date to a close. I gave her my best smile. “As far as I’m concerned, Teresa, this first almost date is a roaring success. How do you feel about it?”

  “Pretty good. I give it a B minus.” Her eyes sparkled.

  “B minus? How does a guy get an A?

  She laughed. “He asks me to dinner.”

  Dumb, dumb, dumb. “Oops. I have plans tonight.”

  “I didn’t say he asks me to dinner tonight. I just said he asks me to dinner.”

  Dumber, dumber, dumber. “I’m usually not such a dim-wit, Teresa. How about dinner tomorrow night?”

  “It’s a date. And my friends call me ‘Terry.’” She pulled a business card from her purse, turned it over and wrote on the back. “Here’s my info.”

  I gave her one of my cards.

  As we approached Terry’s car, she clicked her remote. I opened her door with my left hand and extended my right. “Terry, this is the most fun I’ve had in two hours.”

  She squeezed my hand and kissed me on the cheek. “Chuck, that line deserves a double-entendre reply, but I can’t come up with a worthy one. So let me just say I look forward to tomorrow night.”

  Chapter 12

  My mother was the oldest of five children. Her brother Felix was the youngest. As a result, Felix was just a few years older than I. During the summers I spent in Mexico, Felix and I became as close as brothers. The summer before I entered the Army, we chased girls together and closed more than one bar.

  I called him as soon as I got home. “Felix, this is Carlos. I need a favor.”

  “Sure, gringo. How much money you need?”

  I never knew what Felix would say when I asked for a favor. “I’m sending you a partial set of fingerprints I got off some personal stationery, and I want you to see what you can find out. She goes by Ramona Maria Elena Gamez-Cristobal Simonetti. She says she is forty, but she looks about thirty. I think she is a criminal, maybe a confidence woman.”

  “Sure, send it to my personal email. I’ll do it tonight after work.”

  “Muchísimas gracias, Tío.”

  Chapter 13

  The late afternoon rain ended as I pulled into Terry’s parking lot. She lived on the second floor of a three-story garden apartment. I skipped the elevator and climbed the stairs two at a time.

  Terry opened the door. Her yellow silk blouse had a scoop neck that revealed the swell of her breasts. I inhaled the bouquet of her fragrance. After I regained consciousness, I beamed my best thousand-watt smile and stood speechless like a doofus.

  She smiled back, showing a cute dimple in her left check. Her eyes twinkled. “Hello, handsome. My, you certainly clean up well.”

  “You smell a lot better than you did yesterday. Oh, shit. Did I say that out loud?”

  She laughed.

  “I meant to say that you smell even better than you did yesterday. Yeah, that’s it: ‘even better.’ Did I recover? Or should I go back to my car and start over?”

  “I’ll take either one as a compliment. Come in for a drink?” She led me into her apartment. The view of her derriere beneath the white linen knee-length shorts was inspirational. She turned at the kitchen counter. “What’s your pleasure, Chuck?” I knew she enjoyed the double entendre from the twinkle in her eye.

  “What a great question, so non-directive. You asked that yesterday, and I let you pick. That worked out so well, why don’t you pick again tonight?”

  She opened a cabinet. “Merlot or Cabernet Sauvignon?”

  “Blindfold me and I wouldn’t know them apart. But then I’m a barbarian.”

  “I’m counting on it.” She chose the Merlot. “What shall we drink to?”

  “What does one drink to on a first-and-a-half date?”

  Terry pursed her lips in mock thought. “I’m pretty sure this is our second date. But I haven’t decided yet whether to upgrade yesterday’s almost-date to a full date or not. I’ll tell you later.”

  “In that case, let me rephrase that. What does one drink to on a probably second date?”

  She clinked my glass. “To us.”

  “To us,” I echoed.

  She grabbed my hand. “Let’s go to the living room.” She sat on the couch and patted the cushion next to her. She kicked off her sandals and swung her legs across my lap.

  After my experience with Vicky, I figured she wanted me to rub her feet. I did.

  She sighed. “So, Chuck, tell me everything.” We exchanged some details from our personal lives as we sipped the wine. When we had emptied our glasses, she raised an eyebrow. “Another?”

  “I’m driving. I’ll have another at the restaurant.”

  ###

  My favorite Chinatown restaurant is Nine Dragons. Terry and I rode the elevator to the twelfth floor. As we walked up to the host stand, I saw a familiar face with a warm smile. “Mr. Chuck, nice to see you again. And what beautiful lady you bring to grace my restaurant.”

  “Great to be here, Jimmy. Teresa, may I present Jimmy Wang, the owner. Jimmy, Teresa Kovacs.”

  “So nice to meet you, Jimmy.”

  Jimmy took her hand. “You decorate my restaurant with your beauty.” He turned to me. “Your table ready soon. I show you place in bar. Come.” He led us to a table overlooking Chinatown. He gestured a server over. “Take good care of Mr. Chuck and Ms. Tere
sa.”

  Terry ordered the house Chardonnay. I ordered coffee, and I noticed the surprise on her face. “I’m driving. I’ll have one glass with the meal.”

  She put her hand on mine and lifted her glass. “To new beginnings.”

  “New beginnings,” I toasted with my coffee.

  Jimmy appeared and bowed. “Table ready. You follow me, please.”

  I’m not sure how the rest of dinner went, but after dessert, Terry said, “This is the most fun I’ve had in two hours.”

  “Better than yesterday’s probably-first-date?”

  “Yes, this one gets a B plus so far.”

  “So how does a fellow get an A?”

  She grinned. “I’ll tell you later. Better yet, I’ll show you later.”

  I signaled our server. “Check please.”

  She burst out laughing.

  My Avanti has bucket seats, but somehow Terry sat closer on our way back. We soon found ourselves standing at her door. She handed me her key and I opened the door. She led me inside. “Would you like a drink?”

  “Better make it coffee; I’m driving. I know how big the Kovacs family is on law and order.”

  Terry put her arms around my waist. “What if you didn’t have to drive until tomorrow?”

  “That would be different.”

  “Then I’ll show you how to get an A. And this is definitely our second date.”

  “Why are you now sure that yesterday was an official date?”

  She closed one eye in a slow-motion wink. “Because I don’t put out on the first date.”

  Chapter 14

  Rule Number Two: When in doubt, follow somebody. So I decided to follow Ramona, or tried to.

  The following Monday at 7:00 a.m., I parked near Ramona’s house and played my iPod. Marty Robbins still sang about El Paso and still got shot from his horse for love of a Mexican girl. I could relate; Dad did the same thing. Fell in love with a Mexican girl, that is. Getting shot from a horse is not an occupational hazard for farmers. Stepped on by a cow maybe, but not shot.

  I pulled out my laptop and reviewed the files on Ramona as I listened to my music.

  At 9:00 a.m. Ramona came out the door pushing Gloria in a jogging stroller, and they took off up the street. I knew she wouldn’t be going far, so I waited. She returned at ten.

  At 11:30, a dark-blue Kia sedan drove through the gate. I snapped a picture, put the van in gear, and idled forward for a better look. I took a telephoto picture of the license as the Kia drove up the driveway. The sedan parked in front of the garage and a young, nanny-looking woman got out. I zoomed in and snapped another picture and video as I cruised past the gates.

  If Ramona was waiting for the nanny so she could leave, I could see action soon. I drove around the block and parked up the street. I couldn’t wait in front of the same house where I had earlier; the homeowner could get suspicious.

  My earlier research had disclosed that Ramona owned a silver Mercedes CL600 Coupe, a red Cadillac XTS sedan, and a black Lincoln Navigator. The silver Mercedes glided down the drive and sped past. Funny how silver looks different on a Mercedes than it does on a regular car.

  When I’d parked at my surveillance spot, I had gambled that she’d turn right. I’d guessed wrong, so my van faced the wrong way. I couldn’t make a U-turn to follow her, because she might see me in her rear-view mirror. I waited until she turned the corner and raced to follow the Mercedes, but she was already out of sight.

  I drove by Mateo’s apartment on the remote chance that she was going to see him. I drove past every car in the parking lot. No luck.

  I got a sub sandwich and a diet Dr Pepper to go and returned to the street near Ramona’s house where I took up station again. I’d gotten lots of practice waiting when I was in the Army. Ramona returned at 5:38 p.m. If she had been to see Reynaldo Mateo, I’d missed it. The Kia left at six o’clock sharp.

  ###

  I called Terry. “This is Meals on Wheels. Did you expect a Chinese food delivery tonight?”

  “That depends. Will it come from Nine Dragons?”

  “Is there something special about Nine Dragons?”

  “Yes, I ate there the other night. An hour later, instead of being hungry, I was horny. I wound up naked in bed with a stranger. I suspect their food is an aphrodisiac. I want to experiment and see if their take-out food has the same effect.”

  “I’m forty-five minutes away. Why don’t you call our order in and I’ll pick it up.”

  “Okay. But I must warn you; if their take-out has the same effect, I might tear your clothes off and jump your bones. You willing to take the risk?”

  “‘Risk’ is my middle name.”

  “Okay, you’ve been warned. By the way, who is this?”

  ###

  After dinner, I helped scrape the dishes and load the dishwasher. “Terry, I’m working a case I could use a woman’s perspective on.”

  “I can give you a woman’s perspective on anything, anywhere, anytime.” She licked her lips slowly and winked.

  “Hold that thought. But first let’s talk about my case. Can you keep this confidential?”

  “Sure.”

  “Okay. A young woman marries a wealthy old man in poor health who doesn’t have long to live. Their prenuptial agreement limits her to a small portion of his estate. She wants to get pregnant so she can claim a share of his estate for her child. But he can’t perform, or can’t perform very well.”

  “I hate it when that happens.”

  “I’d bet you’ve never faced that problem.”

  “Not yet, anyway. But then I don’t know any wealthy old men in poor health.”

  I finished loading the dishwasher.

  Terry said, “Let’s go sit on the balcony.”

  We sat in the dimness, lit by light escaping from the apartment swimming pool nearby. Terry poured us each a glass of wine. “Go on with your story.”

  “So she got him happy hard-on pills and jumped his bones every time he could get it up.”

  “I’m sure he hated that.”

  “His health was poor, but he wasn’t dead. Believe me, she’s as hot as Las Vegas in August. If you were her, and you wanted to hedge your bets about getting pregnant, who would you choose as honorary sperm donor?”

  “If she’s as hot as you say, lots of men would take her offer.”

  “Her prenup cuts her off if she roams off the ranch.”

  “So the hard part is not finding a man, but keeping the affair secret.”

  “So how would you do it?”

  Terry sipped her wine. “It should be a man she sees anyway. That attracts less suspicion.”

  “Like the swimming pool man?”

  “Or the gardener, or the butler, et cetera.”

  “She a snob, not the type to shtup the hired help. How about her tennis pro?”

  “She take lessons?” Terry asked.

  “She used to. Every week until she got pregnant.”

  “What’s her tennis pro look like?”

  “A Latin movie star.”

  “Is there a golf pro, a masseur, a personal trainer?”

  “Not as far as I know.”

  “Then I vote for the tennis pro.” She took another sip.

  “That’s what another of the tennis pro’s customers told me. She claimed he made a pass at her too.”

  “There you have it. Case closed. It must be the tennis pro.”

  “Okay, next question. She put a birth date on her marriage license that says she is forty years old. But she looks about thirty. I understand that some women lie about their age and say they are younger. But why lie and say you’re older?”

  “You said this May-December marriage was late in the millionaire’s life?”

  I decided not to tell her he was a billionaire. “Just over a year before he died.”

  “If she were a true gold-digger, she probably lied to reduce the age difference so the marriage wouldn’t look so suspicious. If she’d been fifty-five, no o
ne would have said a thing, right?”

  “I see. She knew she couldn’t get away with adding twenty-five years, so she added about ten.”

  “Probably.” She got up and sat in my lap. “Now that we’ve solved your case, let’s play a different game.”

  Chapter 15

  The blue Kia that appeared again at 11:30 belonged to a college student. She had to be the nanny Simonetti mentioned.

  Fifteen minutes later, Ramona’s Mercedes rolled down the driveway and sped away. I followed at a discreet distance. Three miles later, she entered Crosstown Parkway.

  I called Flamer on my hands-free. “I want you to hack Ramona Simonetti’s SunPass accounts on all three of her cars for the last ninety days. Can do?”

  “When you want it, Chuck? I’m at lunch with a friend.”

  “This afternoon.”

  The phone went dead. No “yes sir,” no “screw you,” and no “good-bye.” That was Flamer alright. His truculence had distracted me and I’d lost Ramona.

  I didn’t want to waste the rest of the day and start all over tomorrow tailing Ramona. After a minute’s discombobulation, I decided to think like Ramona. If I were a tabloid-newspaper-worthy fashionable woman with an afternoon to kill, where would I go? The answer hit me: the Galleria, an upscale mall where rich people prove they can afford to pay $300 for $50 sneakers.

  I took the gamble and arrived just as Ramona’s Mercedes pulled into view.

  I let two cars in between us and followed her into the parking garage. Naturally, she stopped at valet parking. After all, no one could expect her to park her own car. What would the tabloids think?

  I parked a floor above and walked down the ramps until I found her Mercedes. I stood behind a concrete column until a valet had locked another car in a spot near Ramona’s and entered the elevator. Glancing to make sure I was unobserved, I stuck a GPS tracker under the rear bumper.

  I retrieved my van and parked across the street where I could watch both garage exits. By then, Flamer had hacked Ramona’s SunPass account and sent me three months’ toll charge details. SunPass transponders work on any toll road in the state and integrate with the parking garages at the major airports. Her SunPass account statement would show me every entrance and exit she’d made from any toll road or airport parking garage in the state.