Baja Blues: The Boy Who Played With Marbles (Liza McNairy Mysteries Book 2)

by Dan Glover

  1

  Damned if the rays didn’t feel good dancing across her naked body. She knew better than to sit out for long... but since it was middling October and late afternoon the Mexican sun wasn’t as wicked as it might've been in full summer and the middle of the day and if she took it easy she'd tan in all the right places instead of burning.

  She liked showing off for Danners. The man acted all nonchalant but she could see him peeking at her from under that ridiculously large sombrero and from behind those dark Ray-Bans. He was too shy to show off his goods, at least here on the public beaches. Maybe later they might find somewhere a little more secluded. But one had to take care down in Mexico these days, what with the drug wars raging.

  "Somethin' for de nose, somethin' for de head?"

  Yeah, she'd been a little leery of bringing too much candy with her on the trip. The goddamned border dogs would sniff that shit out, sure enough. Just enough to get by for a few days, and if she couldn’t score down here, well then, they'd have to cut things short and head for home. It turned out she had no worries on that account.

  "Somethin' for de nose, somethin' for de head?"

  She heard the singsong voice way down the beach coming closer with each cadence. Yeah. Something for de head. That's just what the doctor ordered, sure enough. But did he have the shit? Quite likely... down here, Mexican brown was cheap and potent. Hell, she ought to lay in a supply. But then again, the border crossing could be a bitch.

  "I'm going to find the little girl's room, DanMan. Be right back."

  Standing up and pulling on her robe Liza headed towards the voice of the something man. Sure, Danners knew which end was up but so what. She'd just pick up a couple packets to last out the week. Nothing wrong with that. It always made her jittery knowing her supply was limited. If the something man had the goods, she'd be set for the duration.

  "What'cha got for the head?"

  "Oh, senorita... only the finest."

  "Heroin?"

  "Ah, si, senorita, la heroína. Is muy special just for you... two hundred and fifty pesos, por favor."

  Jesus, seventeen dollars for a gram of primo shit? Not in Los Angeles... not anywhere north of the border. Dabbing just a taste of the brown powder to the tip of her wetted finger and touching it to her tongue numbed her entire face immediately. This was the tecata. None of that Nixon fluff down here. She handed the something man a pair of twenty dollar bills and on second thought matched them with a third to score three grams. That'd last out the week, if she took things easy. And if she ran low, she had a feeling the something man wouldn’t be difficult to find.

  "Ah, gracias, senorita... you must come back any time. I am always here. Somethin' for de nose, somethin' for de head?"

  And after bowing ridiculously low, on he went, ambling down the beach with a bow-legged gait kicking up white sand while hawking his wares like some old rag merchant. She didn’t look to see if Danners was watching. She knew he was. The man always had her back. He'd gotten her out of a jam or two over the years, sure enough, and what's more, he never made too much of a stink about it. Simply did what needed doing.

  He'd been a marksman in the military, or so he said. Back in the Vietnam days. Didn’t like to talk about it too much... only when they'd sit together and watch old war movies together would he begin to reminisce. The man went through some real shit, wasn’t no lie about it. Killed a lot of men and not always the enemy either.

  "Don't you ever feel bad about it, sometimes, DanDan? I mean, the mistakes you made?"

  "Honestly, Liza... no. I never do. I was sent to do a job and I did it. Did I fuck up a few times? Yeah. So did everyone. That's war."

  "Would you do it again, DanMan? If you had to... if someone pushed you?"

  2

  "Absolutely... "

  And that was Danners Forthright, a limp-wrist pink shirt wearing old faggot who looked like he'd shit his pants if he encountered his own shadow unawares. He always packed... of course in their business he was allowed a license to carry. And he never went light. What's more, he knew how to use his weapons. She'd been to the gun range with him. Danners could knock the center out of a bulls-eye time and again from a hundred meters and that with a hand gun. Put a rifle in his hands and watch out.

  "Where'd you learn to shoot like that, Danners?"

  "I did a stint in the Army. I guess I just had a natural predilection for it, Liza. So they assigned me to the infantry and handed me a Springfield. I spent a year in country. Tagged along with a Ranger unit, mostly. I was what they called a guardian angel... a sniper, in other words.

  "Jesus... that's some elite shit, DanDan. How'd you get into that?"

  "Well... see, Liza, over there no one paid too much attention to what anyone did. I wasn’t actually assigned to the Ranger unit. I hung around the perimeter... swatted the nasties away from their camp. They tolerated me but that's about it."

  "You mean you just went off and did your own thing?"

  "Well, yeah. That was Vietnam. Hell, I suppose it's the same in any war. Maybe these days it's different. I don’t know. But back then, you did whatever needed doing. And after a while, if you did it long enough and did it good enough, they'd finally send you back home. One way or another."

  And now he had her back... her guardian angel. Did he think of her as simply tolerating him too? That bothered her more than a little. There were times when she wanted to confess but the words never seemed to materialize. I'm in love with you, Danners Forthright. No, that didn’t seem right, somehow. Yet it was true.

  Why couldn’t he see that for himself? Or did he? Danners saw a lot, more than he ever let on. Maybe he had the same malfunction when it came to professing his undying devotion. Perhaps the words warped around themselves and by the time he managed sorting them into something intelligible, it was too late. Or maybe she was mistaken... maybe he felt nothing at all toward her but contempt and disgust.

  She walked down the beach to a row of porta-potties languishing in the shade of a row of palm trees. The chemical stench assailed her nostrils even before she entered. Hell, old fashioned outhouses would have been preferable but not as hygienic, she supposed. But then again...

  She only stayed inside long enough to make it seem as if she tinkled. Playing the game... making a lie into the truth. Bumping a bit, just to see if the stuff was really as good as it seemed. Oh my God... the burn... pure and potent as hell. She remembered getting shit like that in the old days, during her Belltown sojourn, or maybe her tolerance hadn’t grown exponentially back then, but damn, Lissi. Something for the head was right.

  3

  "Hank lied to us, Liza."

  "What?"

  Jesus, Danners... don’t do this to me now. Not when I'm in outer space. Give me a chance to get my heels back on the ground first. Can't you tell a junkie when you see one standing right in front of you? Sure you can.

  "About going to Mexico when he investigated the Ramirez case. According to the file we got from Cooper, Hank Lupo was here. In fact the Bureau ran an undercover sting on the man... to see if he was dirty."

  "You know Hank by now, DanMan. He's a good cop but sometimes he cuts corners. We gotta give him some slack, otherwise..."

  "Otherwise he'll clam up on us... I know the routine, lover. Says here he was bopping Elena Stamper... or rather Elena Ramirez. She was still single then. They had quite the affair."

  "And that's why he lied about being there, DanDan. Hank plays around. He always has."

  "If he lied about that, what else is he keeping from us?"

  "Nothing that matters... I'll vouch for the man. He saved my ass once, Danners. I owe him."

  Nothing like killing a buzz, DanMan. Thank you so much. Now, instead of lying back and soaking up a little more sunshine, we're embroiled in the shit again. Well, I suppose that’s what we're being paid for, isn’t it. So come on. Let's get on back to the room and see what we can put together.

  "Where are you going now, Liza?"

 
; "I want to read the rest of that file, DanMan. Time to get to work... so come along, ding dong."

  Chapter 16—Risky

  (Business)

  He was here and they were there and though he'd hoped for some sort of payday it was apparent he'd been mistaken once more. Jesus, how could the middle of the month come around so quickly? Hadn't he just paid mother's mortgage? Sure seemed like it. But here it was, due again. Just think, Reilly old boy... only another one hundred and sixty nine payments to go and you'll own the place free and clear.

  Living paycheck to paycheck sucked ass. Here he was, thirty years old and still skipping meals and shoplifting Ramen noodles from Ralph's in order to make it through the week without getting overdraft notices from his bank. He made half way decent money but the cost of living was right up there in the clouds. The rent was outrageous, his dry cleaning bills seemed to run six figures, and there was no fucking way he could or would allow mother to go back to East Los Angeles.

  He knew enough about the Bureau's investigative techniques used in bank robbery to circumvent most failings. Carry a big gun and talk loudly. Wear enough of a disguise to fool the cameras but not so blatant as to stand out while making a getaway. Only use stolen vehicles in which to travel. Park close enough to the scene of the crime in order to leave quickly yet not so close as to allow anyone to get a make on the vehicle. Watch out for dye packets.

  Yeah, he had all the angles covered, sure enough. All except having a pair of brass balls... he'd have to grow a set before he ever considered that route. Instead, he relied on playing the lottery. Oh sure, Reilly... you'll hit that jackpot this week. Hell, the odds are only a hundred and seventy five million to one. You got a lock on it, son.

  "We need you, Reilly. Can you run some prints for us?"

  When he saw Liza's number come up, he'd been hoping for more. Maybe a call to action. Come down to Mexico, Reilly. We need your expertise. We'll pay you the going rate... what is it now? Five hundred a day plus expenses?

  Instead, all she wanted was a favor. Run some prints for us. Gratis, of course. One hand washes the other, Reilly. Do us a solid and we'll remember. Don't worry. Just as soon as we need your services, you'll hear from us.

  "Send them to me, Liza... I'll see what I can do for you. How's the weather down there?"

  "Oh it's awful, Reilly. Eighty degrees and sunny every fucking day. You should've come with us."

  That'd be nice, Liza. The only thing is, I wasn’t invited. Well, maybe I was, but then promptly disinvited. Was that even a word? Hell, who cared. Just remember, when I brought it up, I got shot down. You probably thought I was kidding. Yep. Silly old Reilly Cooper... good for nothing except running prints for us and handing us information, gratis, of course.

  He was feeling the snark again. Best to wrap things up before he said something he'd later regret. Were McNairy and Forthright using him? Sure they were. But he was using them too. With a little luck and a lot of patience, one of these days they'd invite him aboard. Make him a partner. How's a thousand dollars a day sound, Reilly? We'll throw in expenses too.

  "Well, you keep Danners out of the sun, Liza. The man burns quickly. And you should have the info on those prints within twenty four hours."

  Jesus, was Murk looking at him funny now? How much of the conversation did the man hear? Normally, Reilly didn’t mix and match, but what with business being slow and the need to scare up some quick cash rearing its ugly head, he'd taken Liza's call at the office. Matt Murk was an asshole but he was also the fucking boss... the agent in charge of the Glendale facility. And Reilly got the distinct impression the man did not like him even a little bit.

  Murk was one of those guys who were white as they wanted to be... a by the book motherfucker who could make life either exceedingly pleasant for his underlings or else brutally awful and unfortunately for Reilly, he fell into the latter category rather than the former. And here he was, one big ugly bastard towering over Reilly's desk and asking questions.

  "So what you got cooking, Cooper?"

  How to answer? If he lied, Murk would find out. Yet he couldn’t tell the truth. Maybe he could bend it, just a little. Make it appear he was lawfully engaged in solving one of those vexing cases that came up every now and again and which baffled even the most dazzling of agents like Matt Murk and company. Tell the truth. Just not too much of it.

  "I got a call from the San Diego Sheriff's Office. They're thinking of reopening an old case concerning some missing kids south of the border. Apparently some new evidence surfaced and they're requesting some help from us."

  "You know better than that, Cooper. You need my approval if you're going to supply any outside agencies with information."

  "I'm sorry, Agent Murk... I was just on my way to see you about it."

  "Why can't San Diego access the prints themselves?"

  "The case is too old... the data hasn’t been digitized as of yet."

  "I see. Well... go ahead then. But, Cooper... do me a favor... next time, check with me first before you start making promises. At least act like I'm your superior. Understand?"

  "Yes, sir."

  You cocksucker, sir. Now the man was going to be in his ass but good. One fuck up would be all it took and his cunt would be out in the street. Murk would see to it. Still... there was a chance he could make some real dough with McNairy and Forthright. It was worth the risk, or so he hoped.

  Chapter 17—Dragons

  (And Playing With Marbles)

  1

  Being so close to the scene of the crime always seemed to get him over the inevitable hump when it came to helping Liza McNairy solve the cold cases she took on but the close proximity to the old disaster also brought a sense of befuddlement too. Plus sitting next to Liza while she flaunted her naked body on the secluded beach they discovered didn’t make gathering his wits any easier.

  Do you do that shit on purpose, girl? You have to know I'm courting insanity sitting here next to you, right? But then again, maybe you're thinking I'm immune to your charms. I'm not. In fact, I'm anything but immune. Jesus... what would it be like to make love to a woman like that? Or to any woman, for that matter?

  He'd never wondered about that before meeting Liza McNairy. Sure, he had girl friends, but not the lover type. They seemed drawn to him on account of his preference for men... as if they felt safe around Danners Forthright knowing he'd never take advantage of their weakness. Had he simply been misrepresenting himself all those years?

  They'd rented a cabin only two blocks from where the Ramirez boy disappeared. Though they considered staying at the resort where the mother once worked, when Elena Stamper told them about the cottages a couple blocks off the beach, it seemed the perfect place to make their headquarters.

  "How long do you think we'll have to stay here, DanMan?"

  "Not long, Liza... a week, maybe less."

  It was starting all over again. He'd been through it before, the uncertainty, the denial, and finally a slow dawning realization that he had to speak out despite the risks. Would he be incarcerated like the previous time? It didn’t matter.

  "I had that dream again last night, Liza... you know the one."

  "Well, yeah... I don’t doubt it after that dinner you ate. I could feel the heat from across the table."

  Spicy food always brought out the dragon dreams in him. By combining that with little Eduardo's sack full of marbles rolled up and stuck beneath his pillow, Danners managed a brief glimpse of what had happened to the boy on that day he disappeared. Now, though, he couldn’t decide if what he saw was real or if it was merely a figment of his imagination.

  The marbles were loved. Each one had a sense of history attached to it... one had been a gift from mother... another'd been won in a game during recess at school from a boy who later disappeared... yet another'd been given to Eduardo by a little girl... what was her name? She made the boy's heart race and his blood pump faster and each time he saw her, the world was a brighter and a better place.


  For the moment he was Eduardo and six years old all over again. The dragon was there so he knew it was a dream yet it was one of those perfect times he'd want to last forever if indeed there was such a thing.

  "I found it in the bottom of the creek bed, Eduardo. The marble was singing to me."

  The girl's voice was music... a melody untold. Her brown eyes sparkled like newly struck gold coins, her hair shined like the morning sea.

  "Marbles don't sing, you silly."

  "Sure they do, Eduardo... if you know how to listen."

  "Wait... don’t go..."

  But it was too late. The sunlight breaking through a rent in the blinds drove the dream into the nether regions of his mind. Waking and grabbing the pen and tablet next to the bed on the nightstand, he wrote a few words, just enough that he might recall the dream's essence.

  It bothered him he couldn’t remember the girl's name. Pulling the marble sack out from beneath the pillow, he emptied it onto the sheet. One marble caught his attention... a pure blue gem twinkling as if in delight that he recognized it. Keeping that one out and picking up the rest of the marbles and placing them back into the sack, he nuzzled next to Liza until she woke too.

  "I had one of my dreams, sweetie... I met a little girl. She gave me a marble, only it wasn’t me. It was Eduardo Ramirez. She said she found the marble in the bottom of a creek bed. She said it sang to her. We were right there on the school bus, Liza... you know, the one that dropped Eduardo off close to his home every day. All of a sudden I was no longer Eduardo. Instead, I was hovering beside the driver. I watched the boy get off, and the little girl too. Only I couldn’t see out the glass. But I heard something... a voice, maybe a man but it could've been a woman too. Maybe tonight I'll try again."

  "A woman? Really?"

  "Possibly... but I couldn’t see anyone. When I tried to look out the window, someone had painted it over in black. And it might've been a man... I had a hard time discerning the words they were saying."