Who Killed Rudy Rio?

by Lee Bellamy

  "Cut it out. Go deeper. What event ties everything together?"

  "That's easy, the war in Afghanistan."

  "Of course," I replied. "The war because if Jay hadn't been sent to Afghanistan, then he'd have kept an eye on Rudy, and Rudy wouldn't have started gambling again. And if Rudy hadn't started gambling again, he wouldn't have gotten himself in debt. And if he hadn't been in debt he wouldn't have had to steal the trailers, and—we don't know for sure yet—he wouldn't have had to blackmail whomever he blackmailed. And if he hadn't done all that, he wouldn't have ended up with a hole in his head. Maybe."

  Perez looked impressed. "Not bad logic. Tell me more."

  "Same with Crystal. If Jay hadn't gone to Afghanistan, then Crystal wouldn't have moved back from Santa Barbara. If she hadn't come back—we've got sub-plots here. Maybe she pushed Rudy into drinking and gambling again. Maybe Rudy recognized her—although it would have been right before he was killed because he sure wasn't aware of it the day of the polygraph. If he did, she had a fine reason for killing him. Either way, I wouldn't have gotten into the picture, stirring things up, discovering who Doris really was. And another thing. If Doris-Crystal hadn't been there, she would not have fired Tyler. Then there's the little matter of some Las Vegas mobster being after her. As for anything else she's done—"

  "We don't know yet, do we? But go on."

  "If Jay hadn't gone to Afghanistan, I'll bet Tyler wouldn't have gotten shot. I don't know exactly why yet, but Jay said Tyler changed while he'd been gone." I brightened. The tangle of events had unraveled, just a little. "So our basic premise should be..."

  "The war in Afghanistan caused a lot of shit."

  "Oh, well done, Perez. You have such a beautiful way of expressing yourself."

  "Yeah, Mexico's answer to Wolf Blitzer. But hey! Your luck has changed. Have you heard me say the F-word lately?"

  It occurred to me I hadn't. Could it possibly be that he'd cleaned up his act for my benefit? Nooooo...not Perez. He was not a soft and pliable man. I still didn't know what to make of him. "Actually you've been very helpful," I said, deliberately prim. Safety lay in clichéd phrases.

  "Thanks." One side of his mouth pulled into a sardonic little quirk. "Not bad for a wetback, eh?"

  I drew back. "Come on, I'm not playing into that."

  "Okay, okay!" He laughed and switched gears. "So, lady P.I., you're going with the premise?"

  "The war in Afghanistan caused a lot of shit," I repeated ponderously. "Ah, the magic of those words! A little crude, perhaps, but yes, I can be comfortable with that. I'm thinking about it." I got off the bench and smoothed my skirt. "Know where I'm going now?"

  "Only you and God know."

  "To Denny's to get something to eat. Want to come? We won't know about Tyler for hours yet. I'm starving."

  "Sure." He stood and took my hands, looking serious again. "You're okay now?"

  I met his gaze. Instantly, a kind of chemistry started flowing between us, like a Harlequin, Joy would say. We were eye-to-eye, almost. In my three-inch heels I had to look down on him, just a little, but a little was too much. How disappointing, and why was I even considering such trivia at a time like this? I couldn't help but think, though, that without the heels on I would be shorter than he. Barefooted? I could easily have flowed into his arms and tilted back my head to kiss him. The moment was there. I felt that pull. Was he aware of it? I wasn't sure. What was I doing? Why should I care if Guillermo Rivera Perez didn't tower over me? He was not my style. He was not my type. He simply was not. "I'm fine now," I answered stiffly, pulling away. "You coming with me? I'll drive."

  "No, Holly," Perez answered softly, almost regretfully, as if he'd read my thoughts. "I won't leave the Harley behind. I'll meet you there. Denny's—the one on Herndon. I'm in the west lot. You in the east?" I nodded. "Come on, I'll walk you to your car."

  "That's okay."

  "Those threats—"

  "No one's going to attack me in the parking lot of St. Agnes Hospital. If they do, believe me, I can handle it."

  He shrugged and answered, "Meet you there," and turned away, disappearing towards the west parking lot.

  I looked down the curving moonlit sidewalk, past the statue, towards the east lot. A little Mazda whipped into the near-empty lot and swung, tires squealing, into a parking space. Seconds later, a big, black Lincoln with tinted windows appeared. The driver doused the lights immediately. Silently, he cruised into a parking spot not far from my Camaro. Something about that car struck me as strange, and rather eerie.

  I forgot about it, though, when I saw a woman in slacks climb out of the Mazda, slam the door, and come clumping up the sidewalk towards me. Her long, unbuttoned coat flapped open every step she took. Her hair flew every which way. Obviously, she'd thrown herself together in a hurry. She was almost upon me before I recognized her.

  "So it's you," Crystal exclaimed through gritted teeth when she got abreast of me. She stopped and shook her fist at me. "God damn you!"

  "And a pleasant evening to you, too."

  She was taken aback by my answer and lowered her fist. "How is Tyler?" she demanded.

  "They don't know yet. He's still in surgery." Diplomacy was almost beyond me, but I would try. "I know you're upset, but don't take it out on me. I was only doing my job. Look, I'm sorry about all this. Your family has had more than its share of—"

  "This is your fault. If you hadn't started digging...snooping...and you know, don't you? You know!"

  "If you mean, do I know you're Crystal, yes I know."

  I could feel her pent-up fury as she glared at me. "Do you know what you've done?" she screeched.

  "Shhh." I pressed a finger to my lips. "Not so loud. You're standing in front of a hospital, so tone it down. I'm not going to tell on you. Jay must have told you that."

  "Liar!" she said, but not as loudly. Tears started rolling down her cheeks. "I just got a phone call from Sereno Ghimenti. God help me, he knows where I am. He knows who I am. That slimy bastard! Do you know what he's going to do to me?"

  "Not really." I didn't want to hear this.

  "He's sending his boys after me. They're going to break my legs with a baseball bat. Then they'll go to work on my fingers, then the rest of me." She was working her way towards hysteria. "After they shatter me, they're going to take me for a one-way helicopter ride." She dropped onto the bench where Perez and I had been sitting and gazed up at me. Even in the moonlight I saw the glazed look of despair in her eyes. "I knew I was taking a chance when I came back from Santa Barbara. But I couldn't stand the isolation anymore. I wanted to be there for him when he got back from the war." In an anguished voice, she asked, "Who told on me, Holly? Was it you?"

  I dropped down beside her. "It was someone else. It wasn't me."

  "Then who?" she demanded, extending pleading hands. They were shaking.

  "A lot of people knew who you really were. Jay and Velia, of course, and Gussie, Joy, even Tyler caught on. It's possible Rudy recognized you before he got shot. And what about Bill Hatcher? Did he—?"

  "No, no, no," she said hastily, "Bill never caught on."

  She was still angry, still thinking I was the one who snitched but beginning to doubt. I pressed my advantage. "What would you have done to keep them silent, Crystal?"

  Bewildered, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and stared at me. "What do you mean?"

  "Would you have killed Rudy to keep him silent? What about Tyler? Maybe he threatened to tell. Maybe you're the one who shot him."

  "Good God no." Crystal recoiled in horror. "I could never kill anyone. I just want to get away from Sereno."

  I could not see her face too clearly, even in the moonlight, but I'd have sworn she was telling the truth. Of course I could be wrong. In Virgin in the Pines she had proved she could act if the stakes were high enough. "Then who, Crystal? Who told Sereno?"

  "I don't know, except it wasn't Jay. It couldn't have been Jay. I can't think of a soul who would tell on m
e. Not even Velia would go that far."

  Her strange reference to Velia intrigued me, but I let it pass. "Why haven't you called the police?"

  "The police? Are you nuts?" She snorted with disgust. "They'd think I was out of my mind."

  Of course they would. "Then what on earth are you doing here? If Sereno Ghimenti were after me, I'd be half way to South America by now."

  "I know, I know," she cried, "that's why I've come looking for Jay. He helped me before. He's got to help me again."

  As she talked, I started slowly shaking my head. "Not this time," I told her gently. "Do you think Jay would leave his son at a time like this? Tyler could be dying."

  She seemed to understand, and said in a tremulous whisper, "I know. I'm making excuses. Maybe it's just... I wanted to see Jay one last time. He'll be leaving again soon. What if he's killed over there? I may never see him again."

  "You really love him."

  "Oh, yes." She squeezed her eyes and nodded. "From the day I set eyes on him in Vegas. When he married Velia, I wanted to die." She paused. "That black-hearted whore."

  "Could you possibly mean Velia?"

  "Who else but my darling sister?" Mockingly she sing-songed, "Such a little lady. Velia walks on water, she can do no wrong." Her lips twisted. "Everyone thinks she's so, so wonderful. Well, that conniving slut stole Jay away. She knew I loved him. She did it on purpose, and you know why? Because she's been jealous of me all my life. She'd lie—cheat—steal—anything to show me up. And the worst of it is she hides behind all that religious crap so everyone thinks she's a saint. Well, she's not."

  I thought, poor Crystal. She didn't realize how bad she made herself look—tearing herself apart with sibling jealousy. Obviously, she could use some counseling. Poor Velia, too. As far as I could tell, she'd done everything she could to help her sister, without a clue how Crystal really felt.

  "I'll get him back, you know," Crystal continued with a remote, glassy gleam in her eye. "Jay's got to be tired of her by now. Soon he'll come running."

  How sad. Couldn't Crystal see that if ever there were two people madly in love, it was Jay and Velia? I gripped her arm. "You don't have time to trash Velia. You'd better start thinking of yourself."

  She pondered a moment and squared her shoulders. "My God, why am I sitting here? I'd got to haul ass out of Fresno."

  "Now you're talking."

  She fairly jumped off the bench. "Will you tell Jay I said goodbye, and that I'll e-mail every day?

  "Sure. Now go!"

  She headed back down the path towards the parking lot, me following. I paused, digging in my purse for my keys. Perez could be at Denny's already, wondering what kept me. The black Lincoln with the tinted windows still sat in the parking lot. There's something ominous about tinted windows, I mused, just as three of the four doors swung open, and three men sprang quickly from the car. They were big, burly, and dressed in black. Judging from the swift, determined manner they came charging up the hill, they had a mission. Clearly, it was not to visit a sick friend.

  The biggest of the three took the lead. He was a mean-faced six-feet-six, with Viking legs and shoulders, and a pony tail. The other two crowded close behind him, forming a sinister, silent trio, their brows drawn, their expressions hard as stone, heading straight up the path towards Crystal.

  She froze in her tracks, knowing. "Oh, no!" she gasped, and started to turn. They were upon her instantly, like eagles on a dove, surrounding her, pouncing, holding something under her nose—a white cloth it looked like, hauling her off her feet. Standing farther up the path, I watched in a state of numbness while she struggled. I heard her half-muffled scream. All at once she went limp and silent in their arms.

  It happened so fast that I hadn't even breathed since those car doors opened. Viking looked up the path where I stood paralyzed. Suddenly I realized Crystal wasn't the only one in trouble.

  I started to turn. Somebody hissed, "Grab her!"

  The Viking came at me in a flash. I stomped on his foot, but it didn't faze him. I blocked him with my forearm, but he ducked away and laughed. "Ah—so she knows Karate, does she?" I attempted my sure-fire, ball-of-the-hand to the cup move, but he easily blocked my hand before it even got close to its target.

  "Nice try, sweetheart." Whatever amusement he felt suddenly vanished. "Have you learned this one yet?" He balled up his fist and punched me in the stomach. I went down in a heap and lay gasping on the grass.

  Through a haze of pain I heard, "We'll have to get rid of them both."

  "Yeah, but we'll have some fun before we do. Twice the fun now."

  "First, we've got to get out of stinkin' Fresburg."

  "Head for the airport."

  Whatever fight I had left was totally knocked out of me. I felt myself lifted and carried to that big, black car. Viking held me tight, pressing his hand over my mouth while they taped Crystal's hands and feet and threw her, still unconscious, on the floor of the back seat. They did the same to me—taping my eyes, taping my ankles together and my hands behind my back. They heaved me face down on top of Crystal. They'd have given a sack of garbage more consideration.

  The three piled in, two in the front, I guessed, one in the rear, digging his heels sharply into the small of my back. The engine came alive. As we began to move, the horror slammed into me. What Crystal had just described, about the baseball bat and the broken bones, about the one-way helicopter ride—all that was going to happen to me.

  God only knew the "fun" they planned on first. Judging from the vicious way Viking had slammed me, and the callous way they threw me into the car, they would show no mercy. All my own fault. I had failed to defend myself again. What good was my refresher lesson at Golden Tiger Karate when I'd stood there like a dummy, letting Viking use me for a punching bag? Still the helpless female. Good going, Keene.

  I had to get out of here!

  But how? I couldn't move, couldn't see, couldn't scream. In total despair I realized all I could do was die.

  Chapter 15

  The car left the parking lot and turned right. I sensed it was following the side road that ran in front of the hospital. It curved and stopped at what had to be the red light at Herndon. When it moved again, to my surprise it turned left. If they'd been going to Fresno Air Terminal, they'd have turned right. Maybe they were going to Chandler Field, or Sierra Sky Park, the two small airports close to Fresno. They probably had a plane waiting...

  Or a helicopter.

  Oh, Ashley. Terrible regrets assailed me. Why hadn't I run when I had the chance? Now I'd never see my little girl again. And who would bring her up? Her selfish, alcoholic father? Her bigoted, one-dimensional, WASP grandmother? The thought of either was unthinkable. I felt a helpless despair. Nobody could raise her right but me.

  The car picked up speed. Herndon, a fast, fifty-mile-an-hour speedway, was wide open at that time of night. We were passing Denny's right about now. Perez. Little did he know...

  Crystal stirred beneath me. "Crystal?" I whispered, my lips next to her ear, "are you awake?" No answer, and no wonder. A strong odor of chloroform hung about her. She was the lucky one. She didn't have to lie there like me, tortured by thoughts of what was to come.

  She moaned again. I repeated, "Crystal?"

  I heard a muffled, "Oh...where are we? What's on top of me?"

  "In a car," I whispered. "I'm on top of you. We're being kidnapped."

  "Then I'm done." Her voice broke in despair. "It's over."

  "Hang in there," I murmured, thinking, what an empty, meaningless phrase.

  Crystal turned her head slightly. "Holly, I didn't kill him. I didn't kill Rudy."

  Before I could answer, a sharp heel struck the middle of my spine. A voice bawled, "Shut up down there!"

  I cried out as pain lashed though me. Again he brought his heel down, harder than before, yelling, "I said, shut up!"

  The pain was excruciating, but I'd have to bear it. I bit my lip to keep from crying out, but tears welled
and spilled underneath the tape over my eyes. Was this a preview...?

  The waves of pain were starting to ebb when we stopped at a red light. Herndon and Fruit, I guessed. The sound of a motorcycle pulling up beside the car distracted me. Was it Perez? Come to rescue me? Oh, sure, wishful thinking, Keene. Even if it was Perez, what good could he do? If he carried a gun, I'd never seen it. He was tough, but a match for three professional hit men? No way.

  I'd watched hundreds of kidnappings on TV, but they never seemed real. The helplessness and stark fear you feel when you're taken against your will doesn't come across on a tiny screen in your living room. How could anyone ever imagine it? You have got to be there.

  Suddenly an ear-splitting noise of shattering glass jolted the car. Cold air gushed in. Pieces of glass fell on top of me. Even blindfolded, I could tell the side window had shattered. If only I could see!

  "Hooo....yee...ahhhhh....eeee!"

  The shocking sound blasted my ear drums—a savage, blood-curdling, yell—the kind General Custer must have heard that last day on the Montana hill.

  "What the hell?" came alarmed voices from the front.

  "Jesus Christ!"

  "Wha...?"

  I heard the car door next to me fling open, another "What the hell?" from the man in the back, and then a sudden crunching sound, like a fist pounding into a face. A scream of agony rang out as two strong hands gripped vice-like around my waist. In one fell swoop, I was lifted off Crystal and slung out of the car, onto the pavement of Herndon Avenue, flat on my stomach.

  "DRIVE, YOU BASTARDS!" Perez's voice—loud, rough, threatening—like I'd never heard it before. "DRIVE! GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE OR YOU'RE DEAD MEAT! GO, DAMMIT GO! GO!"

  I heard, "Grab her! Get her back!" then the slam of a door, the screech of tires, and the Lincoln was out of there, the sound of the engine quickly fading.

  "Damn, they got her." Perez's frustrated voice. "Holly?"

  "It's me," I cried. "What's happening?"

  "Got to get you out of here, babe." I felt myself tucked under his arm and dragged from the middle of Herndon Avenue to what I guessed was the curb. "Let's get that crap off your eyes." Seconds went by until—oh the relief!—he ripped off the tape and I could see.