The Gunman from Guadalez

by Eric Meyer

  She had a huge red mark on her face that would soon become a bruise, and she was massaging her ribs where he’d kicked her. “I think so. Thank you, but you shouldn’t have done it. They’ll cause you a lot of trouble. And when they’ve had a few drinks, they’re liable to kill you if they feel that way. If I were you, Mister, I’d get out of town.”

  He shrugged. “You let me worry about Paco Martinez. What are you going to do now? Won’t they give you a hard time as well?”

  She nodded. “Yes, they will, but if I’m lucky, they’ll let me live.”

  “Why don’t you go away from here? Find somewhere else to, uh, practice your trade.”

  “Like where? I have no money, no family, and they’d find me wherever I went. I still owe Señor Martinez money, and he never forgets a debt.”

  “How come?”

  A shrug. “Medical bills, I won’t bore you with it. My husband was dying. We’d only been together a few months when a truck hit him, one of Paco’s trucks, carrying product from south of Mexico City. They took him to hospital, and he said he’d lend me the money to pay the bills, and he died. And afterward, all I had left was the debt.” She looked bitter, “Mister, I’m a woman, and I had just the one way to pay it off. I guess I owe you, if you have a place we can go.”

  He looked at Clarence. “We can’t just leave her. They’ll beat her to a pulp.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  He was thinking fast, and the idea came to him. He looked at the girl. “Have you been inside Martinez’s house?”

  “Of course. Sometimes they come here, and sometimes they send for me to go there.”

  “So, I guess you know the layout.”

  “Some of it, yes. It’s a big place, at least a dozen bedrooms, maybe more. I’ve only seen two or three. The downstairs has a huge living room, kitchens like you’d get in a restaurant, and other stuff, like an indoor swimming pool and a cinema room.”

  “Could you make a diagram for us? Especially stuff like the security office. I assume they have security office?”

  “Of course, and the head of security is one of the worst. His name is José Rivera, and his brother is…”

  “Diego Rivera,” Walker guessed.

  Her eyes flew wide with surprise. “How did you know?”

  “Let’s just say it was an educated guess. How would you like to come back with us? We’re staying at a place thirty miles from here, and you should be safe from Martinez. Draw us with a diagram of his place, and we’ll help you get away and set up somewhere else.”

  “Why would you do this for me?”

  “Because you need help. And because I reckon it’s time someone dealt with Paco Martinez and his pals. By the way, do you happen to know if Diego Rivera is there?”

  “He went away yesterday. I don’t know where. Are you serious about helping me get away?”

  “I’m serious.”

  “And thank you. I’ll draw you any diagram you like. And anything else you want…”

  “Just the diagram.”

  Clarence looked up and down the street. “I reckon now would be a good time to leave town. When those guys recover, they’ll come after us mob-handed, and we’ll be in the shit before we start.”

  “You’re right. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  He told them he was going for a walk into town, and maybe pick up one of the whores. When they told him they could get one to come there, he said he needed the exercise. Someone sniggered and murmured something about was the exercise the walk or the sex, but they went quiet. They’d forgotten the kind of man they were dealing with. Diego Rivera strode outside. When he was sure no one was looking, he went to the vehicle park behind the main house and opened his supercharged convertible Jaguar XKR sports car. A vehicle he cherished above so many things, and it’d be perfect to make the journey in no time. He drove to the main gate. They waved him down to stop, until they saw who it was. Immediately, they stood aside. Rivera had a reputation that made even murdering thugs cautious about crossing him.

  He drove fast, not even stopping to snort more cocaine. When he reached the crossing at Ciudad Juarez, he was flying. They saw him two hundred yards before he reached it. A combination of money and fear prompted them to wave him into the staff parking lot, and he slipped a guard ten one-hundred-dollar bills. The guy waved him to the front of the queue, and he was out of Mexico. Driving to the U.S. side, he produced a passport that carried his photo, but the name inside was Carlos Lopez. A businessman with extensive connections throughout the Americas, and they waved him through within minutes.

  He didn’t know where he was going, only that he had a job to do. Something Paco had told him was important, and he accelerated onto the highway, heading north. Not sure where he was going, only that he had to go there. He drove for three hundred miles, looking around for something familiar, and then he saw it. The sign at the side of the road, ‘Welcome to Lewes.’ He grinned to himself, a friendly town, and it would be a pushover.

  How can they know I’ve arrived from Mexico to kill a woman with dark hair and her two sons? There’s no way. It’ll be a complete surprise, and when the task is done, I’ll return to Guadalez, and Paco will be pleased.

  There was one thing missing, his Panama hat, and when he’d parked the Jaguar, he found a store, and bought one that was a reasonable fit. Smiling to himself, it wouldn’t do to be anything other than smart and well-dressed to carry out a hit. Besides, the brim of the hat would hide him from the gaze of the CCTV cameras.

  He went into the bathroom, found a store, and checked his Beretta. The tiny pistol that had never let him down, and the magazine was full. He tucked it into his waistband where he could access it in a flash, adjusted his hat in the mirror, and stepped back out into the busy mall. After a few minutes walking through the crowds, he found what he wanted. It was her, a young woman with dark brown hair, and two young boys. He walked past them, turned, and walked back toward them, so they could see his face. His eyes bored into hers, and he noticed the expression of puzzlement that quickly turned to fear.

  The next part was automatic, something he done so many times before. The gun came up, aimed, fired, and she went down with blood pouring from the wound in her head. Two more shots, and her sons joined her on the ground. He walked away, careful to use measured steps, just a relaxed stroll, an innocent man walking out of the mall. He reached the Jaguar, and minutes later he was heading south. Back to the border, and soon he’d be in Guadalez, listening to Paco’s words of praise.

  * * *

  Sheriff Rick Tolley answered the call, and his belly filled with acid. Another of these killings, and now he was the guy they’d look to for answers. When he reached the mall, the Mayor had beaten him to it. He was standing several yards from the bodies, and his face was thunderous when he saw his new Sheriff.

  “Tolley, what’s going on here?”

  “Mr. Mayor, as you can see, I’ve only just got here.”

  “Don’t give me that shit. This guy is running around the city making monkeys of your police department, and I want to know what you’re doing about it. Apart from sitting on your fannies drinking coffee and eating donuts.”

  “Sir, let me look at this, and I’ll see if there’re similarities to the other killings.”

  He went ballistic. “What the fuck are you talking about? Are you blind or something? Of course there are similarities. They’re the fucking same. You need to catch this bastard and fast. I want an outline of action on my desk inside of two hours. And if I don’t see some results, you can forget your new promotion.”

  “You’d fire me from the Sheriff’s job?”

  “I’d fire you from the Lewes Police Department. So get to it. Two hours, and I want it on my desk.”

  He stalked away, and Tolley watched him go. Much of his blustering was for public consumption. Some of the people looking on would have been voters, and Bridges wouldn’t want them to think their elected Mayor was soft on violent crime. At the same ti
me, he’d made a threat, and he didn’t doubt he’d carried through. If only to prove he was taking it seriously. Tolley had taken up his new post the day before, and already he was missing Kaz Walker. Even if it was just to have someone else to blame. To take decisions, so he could go back to an easy life.

  He used his cellphone to call the harassed crime scene techs, and when he’d finished shouting at them to get their asses moving, he got onto the detectives’ office.

  “We need some people here. I guess you heard about the shooting.”

  The detective who answered, an old timer by the name of Tom Rogers, didn’t seem fazed. “Well now, Sheriff, congratulations on your promotion.”

  “Yeah, thanks, but I need some of your people over here pronto. People are scared, and the Mayor is going ape. We have to get a result.”

  “Have you tried the FBI? They’re the guys to call. You must admit it looks like a serial killing. That’s their ballpark, not ours. Besides, you know how things are. We’ve had a spate of violent robberies, carjackings, and home invasions with at least two murders. I’m sorry, Rick, but we just don’t have the bodies. Like I said, call the FBI.”

  “Dammit, Detective Rogers, I need some of your people, and I need them now.”

  The voice sounded lazy, and Tolley heard someone chuckle in the background. “They’re all out, I’m sorry.”

  “What about you?”

  “I wish I could. I have to give evidence at a court hearing this afternoon, and if I don’t turn up, the judge will go ape.”

  “You mean the detectives’ office will be unmanned?”

  A yawn. “That’s the way it is, Sheriff. I have to go. Good luck with it.”

  “Yeah, thanks for nothing.”

  He was talking to himself. Rogers had hung up. He felt alone, and once again he was missing Kaz Walker. He put out a call for more deputies, took out his notebook, and grabbed the first witness he could see, a security guard.

  “Okay, tell me what you saw.”

  The man looked concerned. “Sheriff, what about the bodies? You gonna leave them lying there? The shoppers won’t like it.”

  He felt relieved when Mayor Bridges arrived. “Mr. Mayor, they’re asking about the bodies, and people are frightened that this keeps happening. I guess they want to know what we plan to do about it.”

  Before he could reply, a TV journalist shouted to him, “He’s right, Mr. Mayor. The shoppers need to be protected. Are you going to shut down the malls in Lewes?”

  He lost it then, ignoring the people watching from a few yards away, ignoring the question and the battery of cameras and microphones pointed at him. “I don’t give a flying fuck about the shoppers. This is a crime scene, and those bodies can stay there until they rot, if that’s how long it takes!”

  If he heard the murmurs of distaste from around him, he didn’t take any notice. Neither did he stop to consider the cameras were recording everything, sound and video, for transmission across their affiliate networks.

  Chapter Seven

  Mayor Bridges made his way through the mall, talking to people, trying to reassure them it was all over, and things were getting back to normal. He made sure the employees in the stores he owned had their story right, and their customers were again safe to spend their money. They weren’t convinced, and he wasn’t sure if he shouldn’t have taken Walker’s advice and shut them down. His cellphone rang, and he found a quiet place to take the call. There was no caller ID, which meant it could be important. It was.

  “This is the Mayor. How can I help you?” He kept his voice calm and confident, forcing himself to smile as he spoke. As usual, the voice chilled him, disguised by an electronic voice changer.

  “Don’t give me that shit. I just watched the TV news, and I had a call from one of our major investors. What are you going to do about it?”

  “I don’t know. I’m looking at all the options.”

  He didn’t need to ask the identity of the caller. What most people in Lewes didn’t know was the extent of their Mayor’s investments in commercial property. Investments secured through funding that came from sources he’d prefer not to divulge. Offshore funding, and the word ‘offshore’ was a euphemism for south of the border. Mexican money. Drug money.

  “Like what?”

  “We’re looking for the killer. What else can we do? Some people want to close the malls until he’s caught.”

  He heard an electronic sigh from the other end. “Don’t even think about it. My contacts tell me they already know the identity of the killer.”

  “You know? Who is he?”

  “That’s none of your business. All you need to do is keep the malls open, keep the traders happy, and make sure the shoppers keep coming.”

  “Dammit, they’ve just had another shooting.”

  “It’s all over. The man is as good as dead.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “What I’m certain is how much money people have invested in commercial property in Lewes? And in you, Mr. Mayor, how many millions is it? I’d guess it’s billions by now, what with the increase in property values. Close the malls, and the values would nosedive. In which case I could call in the loans, and things wouldn’t look so good for you. How much do you owe?”

  Bridges felt like someone had pushed a knife into his belly. “Listen. Don’t call in the loans. Just give me a name. Tell me who’s been doing this, and I’ll get my cops to find him.”

  “That won’t work.”

  “Why not?”

  “Let’s just say he’d be in a position to spit out a lot of information about people’s business they’d prefer to keep quiet, and we can’t allow that to happen. No, we’ve identified another perp, and he’ll go down for the killings, so you don’t need to do anything.” Bridges heard a chuckle at the other end of the line, “This guy will die real soon in a shootout, and confidence will be restored when people know it’s all over.”

  “What you want me to do?”

  “Nothing. There’s no need. This man fled south after illegally entering Mexico. I understand he spent time being treated for psychological problems when his wife died. In short, he’s a loose cannon, and it won’t be hard for people to believe he went crazy.”

  “Who is this person?”

  “Your former Sheriff, Kaz Walker.”

  “You’re not serious? People won’t believe it.”

  “They will if he’s dead.”

  “What about the real shooter?”

  A pause. “They’re taking care of him.”

  “I hope so. Kaz Walker, it doesn’t smell right.”

  “They will if you convince people it’s the truth. My contacts will make sure to deliver him back to you, trussed up like a Christmas turkey.”

  “Does trussed up like a Christmas turkey mean dead or alive?”

  A chuckle. “Have you ever seen a live one?”

  “I guess not.”

  “No. Give me a day, and we’ll have him.”

  “What about the real killer?”

  “Don’t worry about him. I told you he’ll be dealt with. A fatal accident, most likely.”

  Bridges felt a huge weight off his shoulders. “I’ll get things moving this end. People will be relieved when they hear about this new development, although it’s a pity about Kaz Walker. I’ll have to work hard to convince them.”

  “You do that, and don’t fuck anything else up. Remember what you have riding on these malls, Mr. Mayor.”

  “I know, a lot of cash.”

  “I was thinking of your life. I’ll call you when they’re ready to deliver the body.” Another electronic laugh, and the unknown caller hung up.

  A moment later, his cellphone rang again. This time it was Tolley. “Mr. Mayor, we have a problem.”

  Jesus Christ, not another one.

  “What is it this time, Sheriff?”

  “I’ve had a deputation from the Neighborhood Watch call. They say people are scared, and maybe we’re wrong by not closing the
malls. At least until the shooter is captured.”

  He thought about the previous call, and a shiver ran through him. “Let me make this clear, Sheriff. You close down the malls, and you’ll follow Kaz Walker into the unemployment queue. The malls stay open, no matter what.”

  “Sir, these people have a strong voice inside the city. People listen to them.”

  “Rick, I don’t give a shit who they listen to. The malls stay open. Clear?”

  “I’m not sure…”

  “There’s a lot of money tied up in those commercial rents. I’m sure I can arrange a bonus to make your work easier until this is over. Cash. No questions. Five thousand dollars.”

  A pause. “Uh, sure, I’ll tell them the malls stay open. But Mr. Mayor, if we had a line on the shooter, it would make an awful lot of difference. People would relax and start to believe we’re restoring law and order.”

  “I have a line on the shooter, Sheriff. Some information came into me, and I’m not able to divulge the source. But what I do know is he’ll be in custody within the next forty-eight hours, perhaps even less. My informant assures me he has a line on him, and he’s hot on his trail.”

  “Sir, it would help if I could talk to this informant myself.”

  “Not possible, Rick. Have faith in what I’m telling you. Before long, this’ll be over.”

  “If you say so. But wherever they find him, I want him back here in Lewes, Mr. Mayor. He needs to face justice for what he’s done.”

  “That won’t be a problem. He’ll come back to Lewes. I guarantee it.”

  He hung up the call.

  In a body bag.

  * * *

  Manuel was totally unsurprised when they brought the girl back; who said her name was Juanita Rodriguez. It was early evening, he told them to make themselves comfortable, and he’d serve them some food he’d made. Paella served out of a wide steel dish, and Juanita was silent until she’d finished the last spoonful.

  “In Paco’s place, they have these enormous kitchens like they have in big restaurants, yet most of the time they serve up fast food. Pizzas, tortillas, tacos, stuff like that. They bring a lot of it in and freeze it, because the chef can’t cook anything decent. Paco thinks he lives like a lord, but his place would be more suited to a day laborer. It’s filthy, too, but nobody notices the dirt.