by Rayna Morgan
He was an engaging speaker with passion burning in his eyes. The volume of his voice increased with the intensity of his feelings. “Look how hard we fought for the right to be paid overtime, but it is still an issue. Migrant workers receive overtime only after working ten hours a day instead of the normal eight hours.”
Pedro raised his voice to be heard above the ensuing grumbling. “In most cases, the free housing provided is substandard. Many workers are charged unreasonable rent, burdening them with debt which is difficult to pay.”
A man in the back stepped forward. “Our building has a leaking roof, our appliances are not working, and the make-shift housing lacks heating and cooling, but the landlord turns a deaf ear to complaints.”
“What they say has little to do with the tour guide’s description,” Lea whispered.
Dan pressed a finger to his lips as Pedro continued. “And what about the risk caused by exposure to pesticides? The directions for using chemicals are not being followed. And even when the farmers aren’t spraying, the produce we handle is full of residue.”
“Yesterday, I worked in an area where pesticides were applied,” a woman in the front complained. She raised her arms to display red welts on her skin. “When I woke up this morning, my arms looked like this.”
A murmur ran through the crowd.
A girl in her twenties stood to speak. “I started working with my parents when I was ten years old. We worked seasonal crops so we moved around a lot. We lived in a van parked on the side of the fields. When they sprayed pesticides near us, the smell lingered in the van but there was nothing we could do. The one time my father spoke out, my parents had to find a new job.” Her eyes misted with tears. “My family continues to work in the fields and these things still happen. You hope things will change because of stronger laws, but they don’t. That’s why we need to keep fighting.”
People sitting around her slapped her on the back as she resumed her seat.
Another woman stood up. “Most of you know me. My name is Ernestina. I moved to California when I was twenty-four and have been a farm worker here ever since. I’ve seen children’s bodies damaged at an early age because of pesticide exposure. The fields are no place for a child, especially around chemicals. There should be a law allowing only adults to harvest so children stay in school and get an education. That way, they won’t have to work in the fields as I do.”
The mother holding the baby raised her hand. “I worked until my child was born. The work is harder when you’re pregnant, but I did it to support my family. It's scary knowing pesticides increase the chance of health problems for my son as he grows.”
Next to speak was the woman holding the squirming child. “In the vineyard where I pick grapes, they spray early in the morning. I smell the chemicals when I get to work. Sometimes they are still spraying when we arrive. They tell us it's not dangerous and won't harm us. But each time, it makes me sick with headaches and nausea. The poisons intended to kill the bugs stay in the fields for days. Even when you pick the day after they spray, you still feel and taste the pesticides.”
Noise outside the building interrupted her story. The woman's face filled with fear. Everyone grew quiet. No one moved.
A man walked to the window, held back the curtain, and looked out. After a moment he gestured, signaling the coast was clear.
“What are they afraid of?” Lea whispered.
Dan asked the person standing next to him in broken Spanish and then translated the reply. “He says they can't be prevented from gathering, but they still fear repercussions.”
The woman speaking regained the courage to continue.
“We see our kids after a long day at work and want a hug,” she said, looking at her son. “But that show of affection comes with the toxic chemicals on our clothes.”
A man shook his fist in anger. “Repeated exposure week after week causes damage, yet we receive no protective gear against the chemicals or the smoke.”
People turned their attention to the front, where a man waved his bandana in the air.
“Every day since the fires started, I use this scarf to cover my face. The smoke burns my throat and makes my eyes water. Fires used to happen only once in a while. Now, there are many every season. Our employer knows the fires will come. Still, he provides no protection.”
“What can we do?” someone asked.
“A safe place to work is the right of any laborer,” Pedro responded. “We must demand a workplace free of pesticides and protected from smoke inhalation.”
“The situation is unfair,” a stoop-shouldered man argued. “Those rights come more easily to workers in other industries.”
Pedro punched the air with his fist. “That's the reason we must keep fighting for the respect and dignity we deserve. My girlfriend and I refuse to raise our children in an environment hazardous to their health and ours.”
“He's right,” someone shouted angrily. “I shouldn’t have to worry about giving my kids a hug when I come home from work.”
The room filled with a chorus of angry voices. People crowded around Pedro in a frenzy.
Dan leaned close to Lea. “We’ll have no chance to speak to him now. We should go before things get out of hand.”
Lea’s eyes blazed. “I don’t want to leave. Pedro’s emotion is contagious.”
He pushed her out the door. “We’ve been here long enough. Maddy will be eager to be on our way before the tow truck arrives.”
Once outside, Lea asked for his opinion. “What did you think of Pedro?”
“He has the qualities of a leader, a person other people are willing to follow. The question is which path he leads his followers on.”
Halfway to the car, Lea grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. “Hold on a minute.”
She pointed at a barn designated by the tour guide as the place packaging was done. “See that light? They must be burning the midnight oil. Let’s have a quick peek.”
He looked skeptical. “Don’t you think we’ve ruffled enough feathers for the time being?”
“As long as we’re careful, we won’t get caught. C’mon, where’s your spirit of adventure?”
“All right,” he agreed reluctantly. “But you’re the one who will answer to your sister.”
• • •
As they made their way toward the lights, Lea stepped on a dried branch. It snapped in two under her shoe. The sound didn’t carry far, but to her it sounded like a cannon.
“Watch your step,” Dan hissed.
“A little late for that advice,” she fired back.
They took cover behind the bushes and watched as three men hauled crates from inside the building and loaded them onto a truck.
A fourth man leaned against a jeep. Cradled in his arms was a shotgun. He barked instructions when the loading was completed. “Let’s grab some grub before we come back to guard the truck. We’re heading out at daybreak.”
The intruders held their breath until the men jumped in the jeep and drove away. When they were out of sight, Dan hurried to the trailer and opened the door. In one swift move, he hopped into the cabin and broke open the nearest crate.
“What are you doing?” Lea asked, as she peeked inside.
“They don’t usually need guns to guard produce. This must be very special fruit.”
He spent the next few minutes rummaging through the container of avocados until he held up a sealed package filled with white powder.
Lea gasped. “What made you suspect they hid drugs in the produce?”
“I worked on a case in Texas where a farmer transported drugs for the cartel using lemons he grew in his orchards. In this instance, it appears the ranch is being used to distribute illegal cargo to other parts of the state.”
They were suddenly blinded by the headlights of the jeep moving in their direction. Dan pointed toward the grove where they met Roberto. “Hightail it over there. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
She started to object, but he cut he
r off. “There’s no time for discussion. Go!”
As soon as she turned and ran, he pulled off his shoe, pounded the lid of the crate, and pushed the container back into place. He then jumped from the truck and swung the door shut moments before the jeep appeared.
Half expecting to be shot at, he darted through the bushes toward the grove. By the time he caught up to Lea, he was out of breath and sweating.
He wiped his forehead with a sleeve and grabbed her arm. “Walk slowly to the entrance. If the guards see us, act like we're supposed to be here.”
“What plausible reason could we have to be here at this hour?”
“I’ll figure it out as we go. Just follow my lead.”
One guard turned as they neared the gate, startled by their presence.
Dan waved in a friendly manner. “How y’all doin?”
“What are you doing here?” the guard shouted. “Tourist hours are over. The property is closed to the public.”
Lea stepped in front of Dan and offered an explanation. “We were on the tour earlier today. When we got home, I couldn’t locate my purse. We figured I lost it on the hayride or when I filled a basket with fruit. We came back to find it.”
She held up her billfold. “Sure enough. It was in the field where I knelt to pick berries.”
The guard shook his head. “You’re lucky the manager is out of town, or he’d have your scalps for trespassing.”
The other uniformed person joined them. “How did you get in?”
“The gate was open when we came,” Dan replied. “The guard station was deserted, so we walked in.”
“Must have been when we helped that woman with her car,” the second man muttered to the first. He looked at them suspiciously. “Where are you parked? We saw no other vehicles on the road.”
They were interrupted by a blaring horn. Lea turned toward the sound and waved her hand. “There’s our ride.”
Without further explanation, they ran to the waiting car.
As they drove away, one guard scratched his head. “Isn’t that the car belonging to the woman we helped?”
“She obviously got it working,” the other man responded. “The tow truck driver must have figured out what was wrong.”
“I didn’t see or hear a tow truck.”
“Quit worrying about it. I’ve had enough excitement for one night.”
• • •
As he drove back to town, Dan praised Maddy for a job well done. “You showing up when we were dishing out excuses to the guards was a sight for sore eyes.”
She beamed. “When you didn’t appear on time, I figured I should switch the wires back and come looking.”
“And you, Lea,” he continued. “Nice story to the guard about losing your billfold. You two have an instinct for this cloak-and-dagger stuff.”
Maddy leaned forward to exchange a high five with her sister.
“You deserve praise as well, Dan,” Lea said. “Your experience is proving invaluable. I never would have thought to search those crates. Your ingenuity helps me overlook the fact we nearly got killed, besides making ourselves unwelcome here forever.”
“Don’t worry about that. Did you hear the guard say the manager is out of town?”
She nodded. “That was the highlight of the night.”
“Better news than you imagine. It means Scout is at the kennel.”
“Why do you care where the manager’s dog is?”
“That’s the basis of the idea I had after our conversation with Whitey.”
Lea looked confused. “What are you talking about?”
“Whitey suggested Carl would only talk with us if we have something of value to exchange.”
“So?”
“So we need to get our hands on what Carl values.”
Maddy clapped her hands. “The something you plan to get your hands on is Carl’s dog.”
“Tell me you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking,” Lea said incredulously.
“We’ll pick Scout up at the kennel and bring him to our office. When the manager comes for his dog, we’ll have our chance to talk.”
“Great idea!” Maddy exclaimed.
“Don’t encourage him, Sis.” Lea stared daggers at her partner. “He’s suggesting we fetch the animal under false pretenses.”
“A bit of underhandedness may come into play,” he admitted.
“What you’re proposing is kidnapping,” Lea said, outraged.
“Dognapping to be more precise,” Maddy offered, which earned a dirty look from her sister.
“Kidnapping, dognapping, whatever. What Dan is suggesting is illegal.”
“Not if we leave a message telling Carl where to find his dog,” Dan insisted.
“I don’t mean to put the kibosh on your plans, but aren’t you forgetting what Whitey said?” she reminded him scornfully. “Scout nearly attacked his little poodle.”
Dan held up a finger. “If you remember, Whitey also revealed a secret to winning the dog over.”
“But why should the kennel turn the animal over to you instead of its owner?” Maddy asked.
“I’ll tell the attendant Carl sent me to pick up his dog.”
Lea discounted his proposal. “They would expect the manager to send a person on friendly terms with Scout.”
Dan smiled triumphantly. “That’s the best part. Based on Whitey’s information, I can befriend the dog with bacon to convince the attendant Scout knows me.”
Lea scoffed. “This feels like a fool-proof plan which isn’t fool-proof.”
“You of little faith.”
When they arrived at Maddy’s house, Tom was sitting on the steps. He walked to the car and leaned close to the driver’s window.
“Hey, Dan. Have a nice evening?” The question was casual, but the tone was strained.
“Can’t complain,” came the cautious reply. “How about you?”
Tom glared at his wife in the back seat. “Find any shoes you fancied?”
A flush crept up Maddy’s face. She got out of the car and hurried to his side. “Let’s go in, babe. It’s cold out here. What were you doing sitting outside, anyway?”
“Worrying about my wife’s safety.”
Maddy gulped. “Why would my safety be of concern? A shoe store is hardly a dangerous place unless I spend too much money.”
Tom looked at Lea. “You gave Paul the version you were going to a movie. You two need to get your stories straight.”
Lea responded with a lopsided grin. “We’ll work on that.”
He turned his attention to Dan. “The next time you recruit my wife for one of your escapades, I'd appreciate a heads-up.”
Dan acknowledged the request by tapping the brim of his hat.
Putting his arm around his wife, Tom asked Dan a final question. “Are you figuring out how these two operate?”
“I’m catching on,” Dan replied, grinning.
Tom shouted over his shoulder as he escorted Maddy to the door. “Let me know if you need help with whatever you three were up to this evening.”
• • •
When she got home, Lea couldn’t wait to call her father.
“I hope you have good news. We’re running out of time if we’re going to keep Pedro from being deported.”
She told him about the drugs they found hidden in crates of produce.
“Well, well.” He sounded pleased. “This puts the game in a whole different ballpark.”
She thought of the incident outside the restaurant in San Verde. “Listen, Dad. There’s something else you should know. Coming back from our visit with Roberto, we stopped for lunch and—”
“Hold on a minute, honey. Your mother is hollering at me.”
Lea chewed on her fingernail, waiting anxiously to come clean with her father.
“Something needs my attention,” he said when he returned. “Give me the rest of your news at the office tomorrow morning.”
She rang off and placed a call to Dan. “I
told my father about finding the drugs. I think it’s time we inform him of the San Verde incident as well.”
“I’m busy right now. Let's talk tomorrow. By the way, I’ll be late getting to the office. There’s something I need to take care of in the morning.”
“Anything I can help with?”
“Nope. Got it covered.”
“I’ll be late myself,” she said curtly. “I’m meeting someone for coffee.”
“Do you want me along?”
“No, thanks. I’ll handle it myself.”
They both raced to be the first to hang up.
After the calls, Lea felt alone and neglected. “Neither of my partners listens to me,” she complained.
Spirit was sleeping on the other side of the room. At the sound of her voice, he opened his eyes.
“At least you pay attention, don’t you, boy?” She clapped her hands for him to come.
The dog closed his eyes and went back to sleep.
CHAPTER TWELVE
After returning to his boat, Dan decided he needed company and a drink. With any luck, he could make Stacy’s closing set.
He took a quick shower and changed into tan slacks, a burgundy sweater, and loafers.
When he opened the door of the Whale’s Tail, the sweet sound of an Ella Fitzgerald song floated to his ears. He found a table in the corner and ordered bourbon on the rocks.
“Did Stacy just start her set?” he asked the waitress when she brought his drink.
“Nope, she’s ready for her closing song.”
He scribbled a message on a napkin and signed his name. “Give that to her, please.”
“Sure thing, Dan.”
The server moved to the piano and pointed in his direction when she delivered the note. Stacy looked his way and held up her hand to indicate five minutes.
Waves of relaxation swept over him as he listened to her sing. He watched with anticipation when she closed by thanking her listeners.
She gradually made her way across the room, greeting customers along the way. At one point, a beefy man wearing black jeans and a hoody staggered toward her. When he was close, he leaned over and whispered in her ear. She pulled away and he grabbed her hand.