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

by Dan Glover

  Was that why she called McNairy? Was it all simply a ploy? An attempt to recapture a past long gone? Perhaps... but then again, wasn’t that what everyone did? Wasn’t that what got them out of bed in the morning? Sure it was... it was the hope that today of all days might be different. But, it never was. And so on they went, a long parade of fools languishing in the shadows, forever seeking that which they knew they'd never find.

  Christ Jesus... she needed just a little something... a tiny kick to get her over the hump, past those irritants like thorns and nettles and men who claimed to love her as long as it was to their advantage.

  Stepping from the bed she drew a robe over her nakedness as she padded softly to the attached bathroom. She was still at Reilly's cabin. It contained amenities like toilets and sinks and showers that would've been as inconceivable to her while growing up in the paradise known as Santo Tomas as flying to the moon that hovered high and silent overhead.

  She'd run out of the stuff left from the trip to Ensenada. Time to see Tortuga... somethin' for de head... somethin' for de nose. She thought about just bumping a bit but now the need was pressing in on her the way it sometimes did and besides, Reilly was snoring in the next room now... yeah, he loved her that much.

  She'd noticed the packet had been marked with a tiny X... like hey... this is the one. Probably light. She'd considered giving it back but she was in need and if that particular packet was light, well then she'd suffer the consequences.

  On the other hand, when she opened it up, the powder seemed just a tad more white than the Mexican brown she was used to. And after heaping a mound in her spoon she noted a slightly acrid odor rising from the melt that subtly burned her nostrils with a not altogether unpleasant scent.

  For just a second she considered not shooting. Perhaps that batch was tainted. Wasn’t that why Forthright had wanted to go to Ensenada to buy rather than to Tortuga? Forthright suspected Tortuga and Father Fletch were in cahoots... that they wanted to get a lethal dose to McNairy to end the investigation, or so Reilly had said.

  And so she sat on the threshold between desire and fear, like the time the meat inside the tortillas she bought at the roadside stand smelled like it might've turned but she was oh so hungry and so she ate them anyway telling herself she'd deal with the consequences if and when they came. And they did. For three days she hovered between life and death with mother in the background muttering her I told you so's as she ministered to her only daughter in between the double shifts she worked at the resort.

  Besides... Tortuga wouldn’t do her dirty. They'd once been lovers. True, that was ages ago, but still... she trusted the man. She really ought to kick. And one of these days she would... of course that was a promise long in the making but she did her best with what she had, and the smack made all the shit coming her way just a little easier to stomach.

  Chapter 54—Façades

  (And Smack)

  "Hank... I need you to come over to my cabin. Right away."

  "Reilly? What is it? Jesus... it's two in the morning... does this have something to do with Liza?"

  "No... not really. Please. I'm sorry to be bothering you but I need a favor."

  "I'll be there in five, partner."

  He supposed he ought to be calling the authorities but the girl'd obviously been dead for hours. And he was due back in the States today... Christ... they'd doubtlessly want him to stick around for the inquest. And who knew? He might even be charged as an accessory in her death. After all, he was the one who drove her to Ensenada to buy dope.

  But then again who else knew that? Danners? And he wouldn’t want to get involved. Liza? Same thing. Yeah, it was a tragedy that Elena overdosed but he wasn’t the one who stuck that goddamned needle into her and shot her full of smack.

  He knew yet he didn’t. He suspected she liked to dabble in the dope but he'd never actually seen her shooting up. Even if he had, what could he do about it? Hey! Stop that shit immediately! Sure. She'd listen. Just like every other fucking junkie in the world.

  If the Bureau found out about this, it'd be his balls. He was already in the shit with Special Asshole in Charge Mark Murk. The man was just looking for a reason to turn him in to their superiors, if he hadn’t already. This whole trip had turned into a fiasco.

  Meeting Elena had changed his entire outlook on life. For the first time in years he looked forward to the new day. Things like the lack of money and the stress of his job had dissolved into the background of the love affair he was having with the most beautiful woman in the world, and what was more, he didn’t care who knew.

  "I love you too, Elena."

  Those were his last words to her. Were they enough? Obviously not, or she wouldn’t have felt the need to go into the bathroom and shoot up. Or maybe he was just fooling himself—leading her on—and she saw through the façade.

  What did he expect Hank Lupo to do? He'd heard the man had ways of fixing things but that was back in Los Angeles. Down here in Mexico was a whole other story. Perhaps he never should've involved the man but it was way too late for that now.

  "Come in, Hank. Thanks, buddy. Listen. I'm in a bind here. Something's happened to Elena."

  "What're you talking about, Reilly? Where is she?"

  "In there."

  Hank opened the door, took one look, and closed it again.

  "Are you into that shit, Reilly? Let me see your arms."

  "No fucking way, Hank. I'm Bureau. There's no way I'd compromise my job over that crap. I woke up, Elena was gone, and I went to the bathroom. There she was. Just like she is now. I had nothing to do with it."

  "So what do you want me to do?"

  "I don’t know. I thought maybe you might have some ideas."

  "Call the police. That's the best advice I can give you."

  "If I involve the authorities, it'll get back to the Bureau. I can't afford that shit right now."

  "Well, we can't just leave her sitting in the bathroom. The maid'll be in to clean in a few hours."

  "I know that. Well, I guess my time with the FBI was good while it lasted. May as well make that call. You better leave, Hank. No sense getting you in any deeper than you already are."

  "Now hold on, partner. Let's put our heads together and maybe we can come up with something better than calling the goddamned burrito bandito squad in on this. That old Catholic graveyard where you sent me to rescue Forthright the other night... Danners said something about freshly dug graves being out there with multiple bodies in them."

  "I'm not sure what you're getting at, Hank."

  "Well, it seems to me that Elena Stamper up and disappeared like a lot of other folk around here have a habit of doing. Did you see where she went? I know I didn't."

  "So we take the body and bury it in that cemetery?"

  "Ground's soft. Easy digging. Do you have any better ideas?"

  "What if someone sees us?"

  "We shoot 'em and plant 'em in the same hole. Simple as that."

  "But we're police officers, Hank. We don’t go around shooting people."

  "Listen, son... maybe you're right. It's your call. Whatever you decide, though, you better do it fast. Sun up comes about six o'clock. If we're going to do this thing, we best be getting started now."

  Chapter 55—Take Me Home

  (But Not Yet)

  1

  "I don’t know how you found me, DanMan... but thank the Christ you did. I was ready to gnaw my legs off locked in that place."

  "The marbles told me where you were, Liza."

  "I'm not even gonna ask... just take me home, lover. I've had enough of Mexico to last a lifetime."

  "We can't leave yet, Liza."

  "Danners... if you don’t take me home, I'll walk. I'll crawl. I'll get there any way I can. But I'm not staying here another night... hell, not another hour."

  "We have to say goodbye first, lover. Once we do that, I'll take you home."

  "Are you speaking English, DanDan? Because I don’t understand a word you
're saying."

  When the door of the tomb opened she thought they'd come for her... that she'd be dragged into that church blindfolded and kicking and screaming before being sacrificed upon that awful altar, nailed to a cross like a female Christ. But instead it was Danners Forthright to the rescue once more. The man had made his way to her against all odds the way only he could do.

  He'd seen her in one of his fever dreams. It seemed a shame that a man like Danners wasn’t in charge of something important, like a governor of a state or even the President of a country. She supposed she was lucky he preferred junkie blondes to untold riches and wealth that awaited him if only he applied his talents in other areas.

  "You know how this shit is going to end, don't you, Danners."

  "I do and I don’t, Liza. Half the time I'm right but the other half wrong. But I do know we have to finish this, now and forever. We need to put an end to Fletch and his chicanery... to disband that damned Gathering of his."

  "What's to keep someone from coming along and taking Fletch's place? You told me these exorcisms have been going on for centuries. Just because we stop the good padre and his gathering doesn’t mean we put an end to the curse."

  "You're right, Liza. We have to set them free."

  "Who?"

  "The spirits."

  "Danners... you don’t believe in that crap."

  "It doesn’t matter what I believe in, Liza. The peasants of Santo Tomas believe it. And until they're given a reason not to, they'll keep on sacrificing the young."

  "All right, Harry Houdini... tell me how we go about giving them a reason not to believe, por favor."

  "We don't."

  "Ah... that explains everything. Come on, DanDan... let's get packed up."

  "Give me a little time, Liza... there's something I have to do yet."

  "You're not leaving me here alone, Danners."

  "Here... take this. If anyone tries getting in, shoot them."

  "Oh yeah... sure... that way I end up inside a Mexican prison for the next thirty years. Great idea, sweetie. Will ya come visit me?"

  "Come with me, then."

  "Where?"

  "We have to go back to that church, Liza. It's the only way."

  "You know I'll follow you anywhere, right, DanMan? Even into the pit of hell... but make me one promise?"

  "Sure, lover... what is it?"

  "Save the last two bullets for us?"

  2

  Luckily she had just enough candy left to make it through the rest of the day. Danners knew that too. The man might not approve of her habit but he looked out for her. So why was he dragging his feet now? She'd seen death up close and personal and wanted nothing more to do with it.

  Being locking inside a crypt had a way of opening a person's eyes to what was important in life, and a child long dead simply wasn’t enough reason to go through what she'd endured. What if it'd been him inside that tomb instead of her? Would he still be singing this same tune or the one Liza was humming?

  "How'd you get that door to the crypt open, DanDan?"

  "I was a locksmith once. I owned my own business for fifteen years. Good money too."

  "Come on... tell me the truth."

  "That is the truth, Liza. I know everything there is to know about locks. That padlock on the tomb looked formidable but it's one of the easiest there are to pick. I had it open in less than a minute. Plus I brought along a BFH, just in case."

  "BFH?"

  "Big fucking hammer... if I couldn’t pick that motherfucker, I could damned sure beat it to death."

  "Oh Jesus help me... how did I ever get mixed up with a guy like you?"

  "Just lucky, I guess."

  God, wasn’t that the truth. She had her nightmares too, and none of them were sweet ones. And now here they were, on the way back to that church. Danners had given her a loaded pistol but could she do it? Shoot someone in cold blood? The last time that happened she'd gotten the wrong hombre. And this time?

  "I have to give that knife back to the padre, Liza. We can't go home until I do."

  "Mail him the motherfucker, DanDan. I'll even go the postage."

  "That won't work. I have to personally make sure he gets it."

  "Listen... touch me. I'm real. I'm right here. Take me home, DanMan. Be my hero."

  Why was she doing this to him? The poor man was torn... she could see it... she could hear it in the tremulous tenor of his voice, feel it in the way he looked at her as if seeking some sort of solace from the one person on earth who was incapable of giving it.

  "It's those goddamned marbles, Liza. I wish to fuck Elena would've never given them to me. They're all I dream about now. Most times I'm not sure if I'm awake or asleep."

  "Give them motherfuckers to me, Danners. I'll take them out into the deepest part of the ocean and drop them into the sea and you'll dream no more. Come home with me."

  "Remember that little girl who disappeared on the same day as Eduardo?"

  "What? No... yes... maybe... I think so... her name was Alexandria... right?"

  "Yes it was. Her name was Alexandria. She's the reason why Eduardo died. He tried to protect her. He was just a little boy, Liza, and he tried to save his friend. They're buried together... one on top of the other. They deserve better than that."

  "We all deserve better, Danners. But the world is what it is and there isn’t one goddamned thing either of us can do about it."

  "I have to try. Tell you what, Liza. I'll drive you home first and come back by myself. I understand."

  So that was it. He was doing this with or without her. He understood? What? That she was a coward? Oh sure, count me in, Danners, as long as the going doesn’t get too rough. Otherwise, sayonara, baby. And don’t forget to send me a postcard when you get there.

  What the hell gives you the right to talk to me like that, Danners? Do you honestly think I'm going to desert you? Go ahead. Take me home. But I'm coming back with you. There ain't no fucking way I'm letting you do this on your own.

  "Can we go now, DanMan?"

  "Home? Sure... let's do it."

  "No, you silly monkey. Can we go to that goddamned place they call a church? We're in this together. Take my hand?"

  Chapter 56—Searching

  (For Hell)

  1

  Goddamn but it was dark. Clouds had moved in covering what little light there was coming from the stars and it'd gotten chilly too. The sea breeze did it. Damp and salty. Luckily he'd dressed in layers. Later, when the digging started, he was sure to work up a sweat.

  "So how do we get her down to the cemetery, Hank?"

  "We wrap her up, carry her to the car, and drive there. We'll park in the weeds so no one will see us. Is there some sort of rug here? Anything we can roll her up into?"

  "There's a comforter on the bed. Will that do?"

  "Yeah... it'll have to, I suppose. Why don’t you grab it, Reilly, while I tidy her up a little."

  Get rid of the evidence. That's the first order of business. Flush that shit. Crush the needle and bury that motherfucker. Why the hell did people want to play around with death? He'd seen it a hundred times... fucking junkies, good for nothing except searching for that next fix.

  But hell, was he any better? Here he was screwing around with Reilly's mother while his good and loving wife was at home waiting patiently for him to return. It's this goddamned case, sweetheart. The whole thing's taking a lot longer than we anticipated. But don't you worry. I'll be back directly... just as soon as I'm done with fucking Bernie Cooper another time or two. Well, make it three.

  Carrying Elena to the car wasn’t as harrowing as he thought it might be. But then again it was nearly three in the morning. Only the ghouls and goblins were out at this hour and they were all drunk.

  It'd only take a few minutes to get to the cemetery. Whatever you do, don't get pulled over, Lupo. Oh, that body we have in the back seat? It's only some girl we found alongside the road, officer. We thought we'd do the Christian thing and bury
her. A shovel... they'd forgotten a shovel. Christ... did they think they were going to dig the grave with their hands?

  "We don't have a shovel, Reilly."

  "Maybe there's a caretaker shack around somewhere. It's a fucking cemetery, Hank. They must have a million shovels."

  The kid wasn’t as stupid as he looked. Of course they'd have shovels here. Be nice if they came across a backhoe but that motherfucker would doubtlessly wake the dead if they fired the bastard up and started digging with it so shovels it'd have to be.

  This was bad business. If anyone happened along and saw them digging a grave for a freshly dead body, well, it might not go over so well. Hopefully everyone was home sleeping off their drunks and dreaming of another big day of partying tomorrow... or rather today. Christ... was the horizon already turning pink? No... wrong direction... it was just the lights from the resorts down by the beaches. Those assholes never slept.

  There was a light on in the church. That boded ill. The padre was either an early riser or the man had yet to get to bed tonight. Either way, they'd have to take care not to make any more noise than necessary. And who could say? Maybe the old man was just scared of the dark so he slept with the light on.

  "Tell you what, Reilly. Why don’t you go and see if you can find that caretaker's shack while I carry Elena over to her final resting spot. Hurry, though. We don't have much time to do this thing."

  "Where will you be? I can't see shit out here."

  "I'll head in that direction... see that old stone wall?"

  "Yeah... okay... let me take a look around and I'll be right with you. And thank you, Hank. Not many guys would do what you're doing for me."

  "Don’t go getting all gooey on me, Reilly. The night ain't over yet. Just find a shovel and let's do this thing."