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

by Dallas Gorham

  “Hey, Ike. Where are you?”

  “I’m in Anchorage. I’m five hours behind you. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “No, I was just sitting down to dinner.”

  “Sorry, I’ll keep it brief. You told me to get lost, so here I am. I’ll take a float plane tomorrow to go fishing in the bush. There’s no cell service or Internet so Lorraine won’t expect to hear from me. But I got a satellite phone so you and I can communicate.” He gave me the number. “And I called you for an update before I left.”

  “Okay. By the way, I’m only four hours ahead. I’m in Mexico City.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll get to that in a minute, but you’re gonna like it. That’s the only good news I have. The Atlantic County DA got a court order to exhume your Dad’s body so the medical examiner can do an autopsy.”

  “I guess she has no choice.”

  “Right. Lieutenant Weiner will have autopsy results soon. Right now, we have no evidence linking Lorraine to your dad’s death.”

  “Chuck, I thought of something. If Lorraine did kill my half-sisters to increase my share of Dad’s estate, she may target Gloria too. You’ve got to protect her.”

  “That’s the good news; Gloria is safe with me. That’s why I’m in Mexico City. I lured Ramona here, and the Mexican cops have arrested her for murdering one of her earlier husbands. Gloria and I are at my grandmother’s house. Abuelita…excuse me, my grandmother, is spoiling Gloria rotten right now.”

  Abuelita tore her attention from Gloria long enough to look over at me. A wide grin spread across that wrinkled face that I loved so much.

  I winked at her and continued. “I’ll bring Gloria back to Port City tomorrow or the next day.”

  “How did you get Ramona to Mexico City?”

  “I’ve been courting Ramona for a few weeks now. I figured the time could come when I would need her to trust me.”

  “What do you mean ‘courting’?”

  “I’ve been wooing her.”

  “Wooing? Nobody woos a girl anymore.”

  “Call me old-fashioned, Ike. I’m a wooer.”

  “Wooer? That’s not even a word.”

  “It is now.”

  Ike laughed. “Ok, you wooed her. Then what happened?”

  “Ramona found it impossible to resist my charm and ruggedly handsome good looks. Pretty soon she had the hots for me.” Abuelita frowned when she heard that. Her English was as good as mine.

  I moved to the next room while Simonetti continued. “So how did you get her to go to Mexico?”

  “I lied. I went to see Ramona yesterday, and I explained that Lorraine was a danger to both of them. I convinced her to bring Gloria and stay with my family in Mexico until we could get Lorraine arrested. I arranged with the Mexican police to arrest Ramona when we arrived.”

  “Who’ll take care of Gloria now?”

  “I’ll arrange for a full-time nanny to stay at Ramona’s house until you return. I’ll have guards around the clock until we arrest Lorraine.”

  “This is complicated.”

  “Don’t worry, Ike. You hired the world’s greatest investigator.”

  “Okay, buddy. Thanks.”

  “One last thing, Ike. Stay lost for a while. I’ll handle everything from this end. I’ll call you on your satellite phone when it’s time to come home.”

  Before I rejoined Abuelita and Felix for dinner, I called Snoop.

  “Chuck, you know how late it is?”

  “Hey, I’m in Mexico City. We eat late. Besides, this can’t wait.” I brought him up-to-date and then had further instructions. “Lorraine told me Reynaldo Mateo makes passes at women tennis students. In fact he made a pass at her. Now that Ike’s out of town, I want you to tail Lorraine and see if she meets Mateo somewhere.”

  “I repeat: Do you know how late it is?”

  “So charge me overtime.”

  Chapter 51

  Abuelita fed Gloria. “Carlitos, I want one of these. My friends are having lots of great grandbabies and I only have four.”

  “Si, Abuelita.”

  “When I was your age, I already had three children.” She looked at me over her glasses. “You’re not getting any younger, Carlitos.”

  Felix arrived at the breakfast table and saved me any further discussion of great grandchildren. We held a strategy session at the other end of the table. “Gringo, you can’t go back the way you came. Immigration on the American side requires Gloria to have a passport.”

  “I know. When we left the States, I knew I’d have to improvise to get back home.”

  “What you gonna do?”

  “Don’t have a clue. I have to sneak back illegally somehow. I have my US passport, but that won’t do Gloria any good. You got any ideas?”

  “I have a friend in Chihuahua, Rigoberto Casillas. Rigo owns a tequila distillery. He exports to the United States, and he travels there a lot. Flies his own plane. Chihuahua is just a couple hundred kilometers from Texas.”

  “That sounds promising.”

  “There are lots of private airports in the Big Bend area of Texas. Rigo flies you and Gloria into one, drops you, and gets back to Mexico before anyone is the wiser.”

  “Felix, that sounds like it would be illegal. And you are a respected Mexican Federal Police officer. I am shocked—absolutely shocked—that you would recommend that anyone break the law.”

  Felix smirked. “It’s not against Mexican law to leave the country. And U.S. law is not my responsibility.”

  “Will Casillas help us?”

  “Rigo and I were college roommates. I am godfather to his son.”

  “Thanks, Felix. Call him.”

  ###

  Gloria and I landed in Chihuahua just after noon. I pushed Gloria’s stroller out through security. A tall, slender man in khakis and a red PGA Tour golf shirt extended his hand. “Carlos, I’m Rigoberto Casillas,” he said in English. “Call me ‘Rigo.’”

  “Mucho gusto, Rigo.” I shook his hand and continued in Spanish. “We appreciate your help.”

  “Of course, Carlos.” He squatted in front of Gloria. “And you must be the lovely Gloria.” He took her right hand in his fingers and kissed it softly. “It is a pleasure to meet you, señorita.” He glanced up at me. “Four months old, no? My little boy is the same age.”

  “She was born April 5.”

  “My Felix was born April 15.”

  “You named him Felix?”

  Rigo grinned. “Didn’t Felix tell you we’re best friends?”

  “Of course.”

  He waved a hand and grabbed Gloria’s diaper bag off my shoulder. “Let’s get your bags. You want lunch before we leave?”

  “Good idea. We won’t be able to eat again until tonight.”

  ###

  After lunch I changed Gloria’s diaper and we caught a shuttle to the general aviation terminal. “Rigo, I saw the Chihuahua desert as our flight from Mexico City descended. I expected it to be hotter.”

  “Fifteen hundred meters altitude. It’s thirty degrees right now. That’s eighty-five Fahrenheit.”

  “Yeah, I speak metric. Remember, I’m half Mexican.”

  The shuttle dropped us beside a shiny, white Cessna 182 Skylane with red and green stripes—the same colors as the Mexican flag. Rigo tipped the driver, unlocked the cabin door, and climbed into the back seat. “Hand up the bags.”

  He stowed our baggage behind the rear seat. “Now hand me Gloria.”

  Gloria was in a portable car seat I had detached from the stroller. Rigo fastened the rear safety harness through the car seat. “This is how I strap my son in. She’ll be fine.”

  “Thanks, Rigo.”

  He climbed into the front and patted the co-pilot seat beside him. “Let’s go.”

  After five minutes of pre-flight checklists, talking with the tower, and reading dashboard gauges, we taxied to the runway. “Rigo, is that rain over there?”

  He looked where I pointed. “Yeah. We don’
t get much rain, but this is our wettest month, such as it is. Don’t worry; we’ll dodge it.”

  Ten minutes later, we leveled out two thousand feet above the desert. Rigo raised his voice above the engine’s drone. “We have ninety minutes to Lajitas. Enjoy the view.”

  ###

  The land sloped gradually to a flat valley with miles of circular green irrigated fields. Rigo pointed ahead. “No towns here but lots of farms.”

  We left the irrigated circles behind. The only civilization we saw until we reached the Rio Grande was a dirt road cut across the desert.

  I glanced in back. Gloria slept peacefully.

  Rigo raised his voice again. “It gets a little rougher as we descend, but don’t worry, I’ve done this lots of time. I’ll drop below the mountain tops in the radar shadow from El Paso.”

  We passed a couple hundred feet over the Rio Grande. It didn’t look very grande in this summer heat. A few puddles marked the river course amid the brown sand of the riverbed. “That’s Lajitas, Texas, down there.”

  The American side held resort buildings and a large RV park. On the right, a lush green golf course spread along the river bank. Rigo pointed. “Population about eighty-five residents. Most of them work at the resort and golf course.”

  A dozen houses sat on the Mexican side.

  Rigo pointed straight ahead. “We’ll follow that road a few kilometers. It leads to the airport. You can already see the runway.”

  “You’ve done this before?”

  Rigo laughed. “I come often to play golf, and twice I came to the Terlingua Chili Cook-off down the road a piece. I called ahead and arranged things with some friends. People here are pretty informal about the border. Did you see those houses on the Mexican side back there? Those folks work at the resort.”

  “I didn’t see a bridge across the river.”

  “They row across the river if it’s high and wade if it’s low. Right now, it’s low. The U.S. border patrol puts checkpoints about forty miles inland. Anybody leaving this area, U.S. citizens and illegals alike, has to take one of three highways to the rest of the United States. Easier to catch them on those three highways than at the border, which makes it pretty easy to fly in unnoticed.”

  Rigo pulled back on the throttle and the Skylane dropped toward the runway.

  ###

  We taxied to an apron near the terminal. Rigo shut down the engine and opened his cabin door. The outside air felt like a pizza oven, but it smelled like dust.

  Gloria began to fuss. “Don’t worry, chiquita,” Rigo promised, “Soon we will have you in the air conditioning.”

  A Jeep stopped on the other side of the airplane. The driver hopped out and waited below the door. Rigo turned around and unfastened Gloria’s car seat. “You get the baby. I’ll have the driver get the bags.”

  “Right.” I picked up Gloria in her car seat and popped the door. The landing gear cowling made a good step down to the runway at the unlikely-named Lajitas International Airport. The pizza oven heat got hotter, edging closer to blast furnace, with the dry, gusty wind. Gritty dust stuck to my face as the sweat dried instantly in the low humidity. I draped a baby blanket over Gloria’s car seat to keep out the blowing grit and blinding sunlight.

  In a few minutes, the driver had transferred our bags to the Jeep.

  I turned to Rigo. “Amigo, I can never repay you for this, but at least you can let me fill your gas tank.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Chuck. Buy me a steak dinner next time I’m in Port City. I won’t feel comfortable until I’m back to Mexico. I have enough fuel, so I’d better not take the time.”

  He said his good-byes, and the Jeep ferried Gloria and me to the terminal. I left the bags and carried Gloria to the reception desk. We both sighed with relief when we entered the air-conditioned interior.

  A pretty girl in western attire goo-gooed at Gloria and then shook my hand. “You must be Mr. McCrary. I’m Elizabetta Barilla. Your air taxi is on the way from Terlingua. He’ll be here any minute.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Elizabetta. I’m Chuck.” I held up my phone. “I just have one bar.”

  She shrugged. “Nearest cell tower is in Lajitas, seven miles that way…” she pointed. “Or Terlingua, eight miles the other way. Use this land line.” She shoved a telephone across the counter.

  I checked in with Nancy at the office, played back my voicemail, and then called Snoop. Nothing that couldn’t wait until I returned to Port City.

  I carried Gloria to a seating area and set her carrier on a chair. “Gloria, I’m sorry to drag you around like this. I know you’d rather be home.” She studied me with wide, innocent eyes and blew tiny spit bubbles through her lips. “You didn’t ask for these complications, pretty girl. You didn’t even ask to be born. But everyone is real glad you were.”

  She rewarded me with a toothless grin that made all the trouble worthwhile.

  I heard propeller noise and glanced through a window to see a Cessna 206 six-seater taxi up to the terminal. Elizabetta walked over and gestured toward the window. “That’s Marcos, your air taxi.”

  A tanned man with deep wrinkles entered the terminal. I felt the high summer breath of West Texas suck the cool air through the open door. He looked around and saw me. “Mr. McCrary?” he asked as he walked over.

  “Chuck McCrary,” I answered, and shook his hand.

  “Marcos Sanchez,” the pilot answered. “You’re legal, right? I don’t transport no illegals.”

  “Born and raised in a little town in East Texas.”

  “Oh? Where ‘bouts?”

  “You probably never heard of it—Adams Creek, land of the virgin pines and tall women.”

  He laughed. “You’re right; never heard of it. Those your bags I saw in the Jeep?”

  “Yeah, but I need to change Gloria’s diaper before we leave.”

  “Sure. I see you’ve got her diaper bag. I’ll load your other stuff out of the Jeep.”

  Chapter 52

  The next morning Gloria and I were waiting to board our flight from El Paso when my phone played “When the Saints Go Marching In.” “Hey, Snoop. What’s up?”

  “I tailed Wallace like you said. Guess where I’m calling you from?”

  “Rio de Janeiro.”

  “Guess again.”

  “Reynaldo Mateo’s apartment.”

  “Nope. I’m in the Port City Marine Terminal. Wallace just got on a seaplane flight to Nassau. Alone.”

  “Why didn’t you get a ticket on the same flight?”

  “I don’t carry my passport with me. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I usually don’t carry mine either.”

  ###

  I chauffeured Gloria to her nanny that afternoon. She liked the idea of staying in a guest room at Ramona’s mansion, but come Monday she had to go back to college.

  I had Sunday to arrange for a full-time nanny for Gloria for a week or so until I could tell Ike to come home. I called Dennis Howley. “Dennis, Chuck Calderone. There’ve been developments you need to know about.”

  I filled Dennis in on Ramona’s arrest in Mexico and my adventures sneaking back to the United States. “Gloria needs a live-in nanny for a week or so. You have any connections in that field or anyone you could recommend?”

  “Indeed I do, Mr. Calderone, my wife Margaret. I’m sure she’ll fill in until Mr. Ike makes permanent arrangements.”

  “Thanks, Dennis.”

  “Margaret shall accompany me to work Monday morning. We shall come prepared to stay indefinitely.”

  “Of course, the estate will pay the customary fee for such work.”

  “I never doubted it, Mr. Calderone.”

  “Uh, Dennis, about that, Calderone is my mother’s maiden name, which I use for my dual Mexican citizenship. I can tell you now that I’m a private investigator hired by Ike Simonetti.”

  “As you know, I’d already assumed that.”

  “What you probably didn’t know was that my American name is Carl
os McCrary.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  “You don’t act surprised by any of this, Dennis.”

  “Mr. McCrary, a good butler is never surprised.”

  ###

  I called Simonetti’s satellite phone. “Ike, Lorraine has left for Nassau. I need to hack her personal computer while she’s gone.”

  “Why is she in Nassau?”

  “Don’t know. That’s one reason I need to hack her. Does she leave her computer at home?”

  “Probably. She uses a tablet when we travel.”

  “Does she use a password on her computer?”

  “It’s kissmekate lower case, no spaces.”

  “Thanks. How do I get into your house?”

  “Call Tom; he has a key.”

  “You’ll call him and okay it?”

  “Sure, as soon as you and I hang up.”

  ###

  An hour later, Flamer and I sat at Wallace’s computer. It never ceased to amaze me how smart people can do such stupid things. She had a file named “passwords” and it wasn’t even encrypted.

  Wallace had her own brokerage accounts, IRAs, credit cards, and bank account. She also had credit cards and a bank account for her dermatology practice. And we had the passwords to every account.

  Flamer made a mirror-image copy of her hard drive, and we were out in two hours.

  Chapter 53

  First thing Monday I called Ramona’s house and made sure Dennis and Margaret Howley had arrived.

  I had Tom Collins send me the dates of Simonetti’s wilderness trips in the last two years. He’d made twelve. Canada or Alaska in the summers and Mexico or Central America in winter. The Mexican and Central American resorts had cellphone and Internet service.

  I emailed Flamer and then called him. “I want you to find out where Lorraine Wallace went during the dates in the email I sent you. Check her brokerage accounts, credit cards, debit cards, ATM cards, and bank accounts for those periods. Can do?”