Blood Orange

by Brenda Spalding

  "Yeah, real nice," Gabe said—handing her a bottle of wine he had picked up. "Hope it will go with whatever we're having."

  Nora read the label. "This will be perfect," she said about the Merlot he had chosen. She really didn't know much about wine and winged it.

  Gramps opened the screen door and called, "Come on in here, guys. Food will get cold, and I'm starved."

  Rosita placed the food on the table and then left for her own supper with Hector. Her nephew, Mateo, had turned up on her doorstep unexpectedly a few weeks ago. He was supposed to be looking for work, but most of his days were about sleeping after being out all night.

  Walking in the door to her small house, Rosita saw Mateo lounging in front of the television. Hector saw her and looking at her nephew, shrugging his shoulders.

  Her sister, Juanita, still lived in Columbia, and she had not seen her since coming to the states. That seemed like a world away. They wrote back and forth and sent pictures. Every year, the sisters planned to visit each other, but it never happened. Juanita wrote about the hardships in Columbia with Pablo Escobar and the cartel trying to take over the government. She wrote that she had heard the cartel had blown up the police station—killing many.

  Rosita had tried to talk to her nephew several times about why he was here. All his answers had been very evasive and gave away nothing. She wanted to help him and her sister, but she had to make him get a proper job or else . . . ."

  "Hello, Mateo, any luck finding work today? Did you go to the orange juice factory in Bradenton? They usually have work, especially right after the harvest is finished."

  He didn't even answer Rosita. He got up, grabbed a jacket and left, slamming the door behind him.

  "Hector, I am so sorry. I don't know what to do," she cried, tears in her eyes. She was hurt and embarrassed by her nephew's actions.

  Hector came and embraced her tightly, "Do not worry. Things have a way of working themselves out. On Sunday, we will pray again for God to find a way to help us.”

  Gramps took his usual place at the head of the table and invited his guests to take a seat. "We're happy you could make it tonight. I thought maybe the bad guys would have you working this evening."

  "No chasing bad guys tonight. We took the night off," Dan said.

  "This looks wonderful, Nora. I don't often get a home-cooked meal," Gabe said.

  "Yeah. His specialty is spaghetti and sauce from a jar," Dan offered.

  "Nothing wrong with that. Now dig in and pass the cornbread," Gramps said taking a piece of chicken onto his plate and passing the rest along the table.

  "I hope everything is okay. Rosita usually does the cooking. She gave me a couple of her recipes to try," Nora said, anxiously waiting for her guests to take their first bite. "She has a nephew visiting. Maybe you'd like to meet him sometime?"

  "Sure, Nora, if we get the time with all that is going on right now," Gabe said. "This is really good, Nora. Thanks for inviting us," he added, spreading butter on his piece of warm cornbread. The men tucked into the rich dish of chicken sautéed with peppers, onions and spices served over yellow rice to catch the hearty sauce.

  Dan could only nod his agreement, his mouth full. Taking a sip of wine, he said, "Nora, if you cook like this every night, I'll marry you tomorrow."

  "No way, I saw her first," Gabe found himself saying.

  "Two worthy suitors, Nora," Gramps laughed. "They do say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

  Nora flushed with embarrassment, changing the subject quickly. "What is happening with finding out who's behind all this drug business?" she asked.

  "I've asked the DEA to send me some agents from Washington. They should arrive in the morning," Dan said.

  "We have a man in custody that was supposed to be guarding their place of operations," Gabe said. "We've been talking to him all day, but he's not telling us anything we don't

  already know. Dan and I have been working on Tito to wear a wire. He's so afraid of his own shadow that he still won't agree to do it."

  "I don’t blame him, but what if I talked to him?" Nora surprised them by her offer. "He used to work for us. Maybe I could convince him to do it. But then again, maybe it's not such a good idea. We did get him arrested after all."

  "I don't want you involved, Nora," Gabe said. Gramps stopped his fork halfway to his mouth. Noticing Gabe was a little protective of his granddaughter, he smiled.

  "Me either, but we might have to give it a try. It can't hurt," Dan ventured.

  "I don't like it, Nora," Gramps said—pushing away his empty plate.

  "We don't have to decide tonight. We can see what the agents from D.C. have to say and go from there," Dan said.

  "Right. How about having coffee and key lime pie on the porch?" Nora suggested as she stood up and started to clear off the table. Gabe and Dan both stood to help her. "Oh, no you don't," Nora said –taking some dishes from Dan. "You're both guests tonight. Next time, I'll have you do the washing up. Go on the porch and talk to Gramps. I'll be along in a minute."

  Puttering around the kitchen, clearing the table and getting the coffee and pie ready, she thought of Tito wearing a wire. She just didn't think he could pull it off and hoped he wouldn't have to. There had to be another way to track where the shipment went from the shop in Arcadia and where they were keeping the plane. If she couldn't help with Tito, maybe she could help locate the plane.

  After clearing up in the kitchen, Nora joined the men on the porch. "So, what is the big discussion out here? Are you educating them on growing oranges in Florida or catching bad guys, Gramps?"

  Gabe jumped up to help her place the coffee and pie on a table. Dan and Gabe helped themselves, juggling the cups and plates. Nora had to boot Hobo out of his favorite chair to sit down. The cat wound himself around her legs, tail in the air.

  "He's telling me it's his dinner time, too," Nora said. "I'll get to you in a minute."

  After dessert, Gabe insisted on helping Nora take the dishes to the kitchen. He leaned against the counter, watching her while she fed the cat.

  "Come take a walk with me," Gabe took her hand and guided her out the back door.

  "What about Dan? We can't just leave him," Nora protested.

  "Yes, we can. Your gramps is on the porch with him, and didn't you notice? Dan was closing his eyes. He'll be asleep and not even notice we're gone. It's been a rough few days, and we're all exhausted."

  "And you're not?" Nora asked—her eyes wide with question.

  “Not too tired to be with you.”

  They walked in the direction of the stable hand-in-hand. The evening was warm but with a cool sea breeze coming from the west.

  Ending up in the barn, arms resting on the door to Jasper's stable, they stared into each other's eyes. "You must have brought me out here for something, Gabe," she said smiling knowingly.

  "Yeah, I did," Gabe took her arms from the door and turned her towards him. He gently kissed her. Not satisfied with one, he went back for more. She tasted sweet and warmed his heart. They both could feel the desire for more than kisses, and the hayloft above called to them. Breaking away, breathless, hearts pounding, they stood their ground.

  "We can't," Nora said, staring at the ground. Gabe shifted, uncomfortable, not sure what to do. He wanted her in the worst way.

  "You're right," he stammered. "Nora, you must know how I feel about you, and I think you feel the same about me." He took her hands again and brought them to his lips and kissed her palms one-by-one. She felt her insides churning with emotions she had never felt before—desires she was trying not to think about.

  "Will you be my girl and see where it leads us?" he asked. "On one condition," she said.

  "What's that?" he asked, a puzzled look on his face, not sure he wanted the answer.

  "You let me teach you to ride," she giggled.

  "Deal," he answered. He wasn't sure what he had just gotten himself in to. He was a city kid, after all.

  "Deal," the
y laughed, shaking hands.

  Jasper let out a loud whinny as if he understood, too, tossing his head up and down in approval.

  They walked back to the house, stopping outside the door for one more kiss. When they stepped out to the porch, Gramps smiled, "Well, if you two don't look like the cat that ate the canary."

  Dan roused himself, stood up and grabbed Gabe's hand. "It's about time you made a decision, old man. Guess I'll have to console myself with beer and cheap women."

  The group sat around the kitchen table and helped Gramps fill the pay packets to hand out the next day after morning Mass.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Gabe and Dan met with the DEA agents from Washington at the Tampa Airport. There were three men and one woman. Agent Maggie O'Donnell was the senior agent. Agents Montrose, Baker and Esposito all had skills and training in drug enforcement.

  When Dan saw the agents in baggage claim at the airport, he had whispered in Gabe's ear, "Here comes trouble." He explained that Montrose and O'Donnell didn't get along that well. O'Donnell was a hard-working female and was rising fast through the ranks. Montrose was old school and resented O'Donnell and her success. He was lazy and hard to work with. Baker and Esposito, he didn't know that much about. They were both young, eager and out to make a name for themselves.

  Once back at the station, the agents and Gabe discussed strategies, trying to find ways to bring this arm of the cartel down. Gabe's men had been sitting on the tool shop in Arcadia, reporting in every couple of hours. No one had been seen there since the night they surprised and apprehended Manuel, aka Manny Hernandez.

  "So far, the only name we have is Santos. We don't think that's his real name, but he could be running the operation. Someone is flying the plane, and someone is giving the orders. I don't think they are both the same person, either. Why pick the old tool shop to distribute the drugs? They had to know that it was abandoned. Who knows all this stuff?"

  "Have there been any strangers around asking questions?" Agent O'Donnell asked.

  "Not that I know of. The migrant workers have moved on to their next crop. The majority left after getting paid this morning after Mass. The rest will follow over the next couple of days," Gabe said. "I've been talking to Mr. Hollister, and he never mentioned any of them staying around.

  "Has there been any movement at the tool shop?" Agent Esposito asked.

  "We've had an officer watching the place, but so far nothing. I don't think they'll be going back there," Dan said.

  Agent O'Donnell went over and poured herself another cup of coffee. "Yech! This tastes like old socks. Don't you guys have a decent coffee shop around here?"

  “There’s only one coffee shop around here,” Gabe said trying to stop laughing at her distress. "The 'By the Slice Diner' in town. They do a great cup of coffee." The stress and tension were getting to them. A little laughter helped to relieve it.

  "Burgers too," added Dan. “And don’t forget the blueberry pie.”

  "Okay, wise guys," she said pouring the coffee in the sink. "You’re a couple of comedians."

  Montrose spoke up and said, "Why don't you make a pot. You seem to be the only one complaining."

  O'Donnell held her tongue and glared at him. She had put up with his remarks on the plane from D.C. She wanted to get this job over with. She walked over to the water cooler, filled a paper cup with water and returned to the table.

  "Where around here can a small plane take off and land without arousing suspicion?" Agent O'Donnell asked.

  "There's a small airport right to the south east of Arcadia," Gabe said. "They could use that or just about any large pasture in the county would do. There are acres of land out here that no one ever uses except for cattle. There are roads in and out of the groves where a plane could land. We have to get our eyes on that plane again and try and track it somehow."

  "The how is the hard part," Agent Montrose said. "What about that Tito guy you told us about? I have an idea percolating that might just get us to tracking the cocaine after it gets picked up." Montrose took over the lead from O'Donnell and enlisted the help of Baker and Esposito.

  They talked about his idea for the next couple of hours, working different angles and finally came up with a plan. Baker and Esposito had worked with some new technology that might be the answer to tracking the cocaine.

  "Let's break for today and bring in Tito tomorrow morning and convince him it's in his best interest to help us with this," O'Donnell said. "I need a decent cup of coffee."

  Gabe took the agents to a small guest house on the outskirts of Arcadia. Baker and Esposito had to share a room—while Montrose and O’Donnell each had their own.

  Gabe went back and picked them up after breakfast and drove them to the station to start putting a plan together. They gathered in the conference room and brought Tito in.

  "Have a seat, Tito," Gabe said when Tito was escorted into the small conference/ lunch room.

  "What's this all about? I told you I'm not wearing a wire, and you can't make me. I plan on staying alive for a while yet." Tito paced the small room, sounding more like a petulant child than a grown man.

  "You don't have to wear a wire. You don't have to do anything except make a phone call. Call that guy you talked about, Santos.” Gabe tried to reassure him.

  "Why in heaven's name would I want to call a nut case like that and tell him what exactly?" He caved-in a tiny bit and sat down at the table. His legs were shaking nervously. "That guy has no soul. He shot Richie in cold blood. I don't want to be next."

  "Tito, my name is Agent Gina O'Donnell. I'm with the DEA in Washington D.C." She stood up and showed him her badge. "These other men are Agents Montrose, Baker and Esposito. We have a plan that will not put you in any danger."

  "Just listen, okay?" Gabe asked, putting a hand on Tito's shoulder. Tito shrugged, "Whatever. I'll listen but you can't make me do anything against my will."

  "You're right, so just listen," O'Donnell continued. "I'm going to let agent Montrose tell you about our plan and how you can help. If you help with this, it will go a long way with the DA when you come to trial."

  "Trial? I only helped load up some packages. I didn't even know what was in them at the time."

  "Tito, you aided with the receiving and distribution of illegal narcotics. You were there when Mr. Jessup was killed. That's an accessory to murder. You fled to avoid arrest."

  Gabe felt sorry for the man. "You're going to trial, man. This is serious."

  "Oh shit. This is so fucked up. What do you want me to do?"

  Agent Montrose stood up and came over to face Tito. He held a small device in his hands. “This is a tracking device. The government has been working on it for some time now. We put it in Santos’s van or in the shipment, and a satellite will tell us where it goes. You don't even have to

  be with it. We just need you to place it where we can get the signal."

  "And how am I supposed to do that from here? They know I got arrested," Tito challenged.

  "I thought about that. When you make the call, you tell them you got out on bail. Mr. Hollister felt sorry for you and put it up for you." Gabe had cleared it with Gramps to go along with the idea. "You tell Santos you need some money fast to get out of town and can help with the next delivery."

  Montrose picked it up from there. "He'll pick you up and take you with him for the drop. At some point, you take this," he held out his hand to show him, "and place it either in the van or better yet in one of the packages while you are loading it."

  "What if he don't want me to help with the drop? What if he tells me to get lost?"

  "Then we'll have to come up with something else."

  "What about the DA if Santos says no way. What about me?"

  "You make the phone call; you have the deal," Gabe assured him. "The more you help, the better the deal."

  "Okay, get me a phone," Tito said shaking his head. He sure as hell didn't want to make this call, but what choice did he have.

 
“Too bad we didn’t have time to get a court order for a wiretap,” Dan said.

  “Around here that could take weeks,” Gabe replied.

  They waited patiently while Tito talked with Santos. At first, it didn't sound like it was going to work, but when he hung up the phone, Tito said, "The drop is all set for tomorrow night. He'll pick me up and take me to where the drugs will be dropped. He wouldn't tell me where it was. He didn't believe me, at first, so this had better go down right, or I'm a dead man."

  Chapter Sixteen

  Gabe and Dan were busy tracking down drug dealers. Gramps was teaching Hector the ropes with the cattle. Soon the trees would have to be inspected for disease, pruned and sprayed, ready for the next crop. Summer was around the corner. It

  was always a slow time in the groves, and Nora was bored.

  Putting down the book she was reading, she stroked the cat, lying comfortably in her lap. It was getting late, and she should get to bed. Maybe she could do some deep cleaning around the house tomorrow. Stuff she never got a chance to do during the time the crop was coming in. Yuck, she didn't want to do that either.

  A ride on Jasper sounded better. She could ride out on the back road for a couple of miles, pack a little lunch and stop by the Myakka River. That settled, she turned off her reading lamp, pushed Hobo to the floor and stood looking out over the grove.

  A noise in the distance caught her attention. It was the same plane, the one with the misfire in the engine. She tried to locate the direction it was coming in. Picking up the binoculars that were always on the porch for bird watching, she scanned the night sky for the plane.

  Following the sound of the engine, she spotted the small plane coming from the south. It came in right over the house, shaking the windowpanes. Swooping low over the packing plant, she could easily make out the identification number on the tail section. She wrote it down quickly, N6109N. "Gotcha," she exclaimed softly, not wanting to wake Gramps. "Now where did you come from, and where are you going?” she asked herself. Putting her lamp back on, she dragged out an old county map. "You have to land somewhere."