Cliff Diver (Detective Emilia Cruz Book 1)

by Carmen Amato

  They were ushered into Bernal Morelos de Gama’s office and seated at a round table ringed with blue leather swivel chairs. He was a smooth-faced man in his mid-forties, wearing a perfectly tailored suit and a distinctively printed Pineda Covalin silk tie.

  “I’m so glad to finally meet the detectives who returned our son. Like a miracle.” Morelos de Gama looked like he wanted to hug them all. His eyes shone behind silver wire-framed glasses.

  He spoke proudly about the boy who was recovering from his ordeal and called up some photos on a tablet computer to show them. Bernardo and his mother were in Texas where a famous hospital was fitting him with artificial thumbs. Bernardo was an only child. Emilia tamped down a surge of anger at a father who’d risk his child’s life by paying a ransom with counterfeit money. Which she couldn’t prove.

  Morelos de Gama’s secretary brought glasses of sparkling water and withdrew.

  Emilia felt incongruous in her usual jeans and sandals and denim jacket, her beat-up shoulder bag on the Persian carpet by her feet. “Thank you. We’re actually here to ask you some questions about a business deal you made three years ago with Seguros Guerrero. Fausto and Bruno Inocente.”

  Morelos de Gama shook his head. “Is this about Fausto’s death? We were so distressed to hear of it. Something connected to an investigation of his, no doubt?” He looked at each of them, his face solemn, as if looking for answers.”

  Rico cleared his throat. “We’re looking at every angle.”

  “Well, of course,” Morelos de Gama said. He made an expansive gesture. “However I can help.”

  “You know them from the sale of their company Agua Pacifico to Lomas Bottling,’ Rico continued. “Is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “The purchase price for the company wasn’t very high,” Emilia ventured.

  “That’s right.” Morelos de Gama leaned back, perfectly at home in his luxurious office. “The official purchase price wasn’t high,” he said. “But if I recall correctly the purchase entailed a total recap of the Agua Pacifico distillation plants. Seguros Guerrero wasn’t going to invest any capital in a beverage company, it wasn’t something they had experience with. So we were able to take it for a good price, knowing we’d have to do all the recap.”

  His explanation made sense. “When was the last time you spoke to Fausto Inocente?” Emilia asked.

  “After Bernardo was found.” Morelos de Gama looked down and drew a shaky breath. “I went to his home. Embraced him. He was a father, too.”

  Emilia and Rico exchanged looks and she could tell he was as confused as she was. “You were friends?” she asked.

  “Of course we had Pinkerton handle the negotiations but we needed more help.” Morelos de Gama smiled but it was clear the reference to the kidnapping had upset him. “I knew that Fausto could be trusted. His brother is Bruno Inocente.”

  “How was Bruno involved?” Rico asked. He was pumped; Emilia watched his knee jog up and down as if he could hardly sit still.

  Fuentes at least was composed. He sat quietly, sipping his water from time to time as the conversation went on around him.

  Morelos de Gama took off his glasses and polished them with a little cloth from his pocket. “I only mean that Bruno Inocente is respected as the most honest businessman in Acapulco. He and Sergio Rivas have made Seguros Guererro into the company everybody tries to emulate. I knew I could trust Bruno’s brother.”

  “And Fausto was helpful?”

  Morelos put his glasses back on and smiled sadly. “Of course you two know that better than I do.”

  “But we’ve never heard your side of it, señor,” Emilia said. She resisted the urge to dig her nails into Rico’s knee. The last thing she wanted was to make Morelos de Gama suspicious.

  “He was the go-between the Pinkerton agents and the kidnappers,” Morelos de Gama said gratefully.

  For a moment Emilia thought she’d heard wrong. How could Lt. Inocente have been the go-between the Pinkerton agents and the kidnappers? There had been nothing in the files to suggest that el teniente had been close to Morelos de Gama or had helped him in any way.

  “Actually,” Emilia said slowly, her brain trying to fit this new bit of information into place and failing. “He was very discreet in talking about his role.”

  “All I know is that he orchestrated the rescue.” Morelos de Gama smiled. “Which you so brilliantly executed.”

  Rico’s knee was pumping like a piston. In another minute he was going to leap up and call Morelos de Gama a liar. The owner of Lomas Bottling was either the world’s best actor or everything she and Rico believed about the case was wrong.

  “It took a long time to get the money together, as I recall,” Emilia groped. “You must have been frantic.”

  Morelos de Gama nodded. “My wife still has not recovered from the stress of those few days.”

  It wasn’t what Emilia had hoped he’d say and she couldn’t think of how to move the conversation back to Lt. Inocente. Rico jumped in, however. “Could we talk to your Pinkerton agent?”

  “Of course.” Morelos de Gama went to his desk and came back with a business card which he handed to Rico. “You think Fausto’s death is somehow connected to the kidnapping?”

  “No one has ever found the kidnappers,” Rico reminded him. “Who do you believe was responsible?”

  Morelos de Gama gave an involuntary shiver. “Por Dios. We never had any idea. Just dangerous people who saw my son as a target of opportunity when we were at our beach house in Ixtapa.” He frowned. “You’re not going to reinvestigate, are you?”

  “We understand how you wouldn’t want that,” Emilia said. Few families ever wanted a kidnapping reopened for fear that the kidnappers would retaliate against the family. Sometimes the same victim would be snatched again or someone else from the same family, as a way of teaching a lesson.

  “Again, my condolences on the passing of your lieutenant,” Morelos de Gama said with all sincerity.

  “One last thing before we go,” Emilia said hastily as Fuentes stood up then dropped back into his seat as she started speaking. “Can you tell us anything else about your acquisition of Agua Pacifico?”

  Morelos de Gama moved his glass of water, centering it in the coaster on the polished cocktail table. “It was an ordinary purchase. Lomas Bottling is a beverage company and a water brand would round out our holdings. I knew Seguros Guererro was honest, that the deal would be a relatively simple one.”

  “The company must be doing well, now,” Rico jumped in. “Those trucks are all over.”

  Morelos de Gama smiled. “We brought in a new management team. They’ve done an excellent job. One of our best brands now. I’d be glad to set up a tour of the plant for you.”

  “I’d like that,” Emilia said.

  “Is that really necessary?” Fuentes asked. “There doesn’t seem to be much of a connection, after all, and Señor Morelos is a busy man.”

  “My plant supervisor will be happy to show you around.” Morelos de Gama tapped something on the tablet in front of him. “Shall we say Monday?”

  Emilia looked at Rico. He shrugged. Fuentes fiddled with his watch. Emilia accepted the invitation.

  “What other brands are owned by Lomas Bottling?” Rico asked. Emilia knew he was reaching, searching for something that might be there but didn’t know what it was.

  Morelos de Gama reeled off the names of half a dozen popular beverages. “We’re bringing out a new sports drink, too.”

  “Just in time for the Olympics,” Emilia couldn’t help saying.

  ☼

  “Can I talk to you?”

  Fuentes stopped Emilia and pulled her to the side as they walked into the police station.

  “Sure.” Emilia shifted her shoulder bag to the other side.

  Fuentes’s brow creased with frown lines. He was the best looking detective in the squadroom, with fine features that made him look younger than he was. He was dressed as usual in crisply pressed jea
ns, a designer shirt and a lightweight navy blazer.

  “I don’t want to tell you how to run this investigation,” he said. “But the water company is probably a waste of time when we’ve got another problem.”

  Emilia wanted to laugh. Another problem. As if surly detectives, Obregon, the mayor, Maria Teresa Diaz de Inocente and the impossible bureaucracy of this city weren’t enough? She swallowed hard. “What sort of problem?”

  Fuentes moved around the side of the building, out of range of the gate guard. He dug into his back pocket, his jacket swinging to reveal a big automatic in a hip holster, and produced a very familiar green bill of a very high denomination decorated with a small head of a presidente de los Estados Unidos.

  Emilia felt her heart skip a beat. “Sorry, Fuentes,” she said, trying to sound neutral. “No bribes today.”

  “It’s fake,” Fuentes said.

  Emilia caught herself before she said I know.

  “Silvio has a shitload,” Fuentes said.

  “Silvio?”

  “He doesn’t know I have it.”

  “How did that happen?” Emilia asked. She fingered the bill. It was exactly like the others.

  Fuentes hunched his shoulders. “We were down near the bus station, talking to one of his snitches. Silvio showed the guy the money and gave him some. Asked if he’d keep an eye out for any more bills like it and to call him if he did. The snitch was drunker than sin and I managed to lift some off him.”

  “When did this all happen?” Emilia asked.

  “Monday,” Fuentes said.

  “Did you tell Lt. Inocente about Silvio?”

  Fuentes nodded. “Tuesday. The morning of the day he was killed.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That he’d look into it,” Fuentes said. “And then he turns up dead.”

  “What are you saying?” Emilia realized she was hugging herself, both arms wrapped around her middle, every muscle taut.

  “I’m scared of Silvio,” Fuentes said simply. He rubbed a hand along his jawline as he scanned the lot for anybody else. Emilia saw beads of sweat on his upper lip.

  “You’re sure he doesn’t know you took the money?” Emilia asked. Despite the bright sunshine, she felt cold. “Any chance the snitch told him?”

  “No.” Fuentes gave her a half-smile. “Thanks for teaming me up with Rico. He’s a decent guy.” He paused. “No matter what the others say, I think you were a good choice to head up the investigation.”

  That was the first nice thing any of the detectives besides Rico had ever said to her and Emilia felt a rush of gratitude. She didn’t know much about Fuentes, but he was so earnest. Like an honest kid. She gave him an encouraging smile. “You did the right thing, telling Lt. Inocente and now me,” she said. “Let’s just keep this quiet for a bit. Figure out what it means before we take it any further.”

  Fuentes smiled and looked happy for the praise. “So you probably don’t need to worry about Lomas Bottling,” he said.

  ☼

  Emilia’s thoughts swirled as she made her way to the detectives bathroom. Inocente and Silvio had been partners. They’d kidnapped that child, the father had paid in counterfeit, and they’d given the child back before realizing the money was worthless.

  The sale of Agua Pacifico had either left Inocente angry because he didn’t get enough out of the sale or he simply knew that Morelos de Gama and his Lomas Bottling company were good sources of cash. It took him three years to find a partner and set up the kidnapping.

  Emilia shoved open the door and was relieved to find that no one was in the bathroom. She dumped her bag on the ledge above the sink, shrugged out of her jacket and shoulder holster and stuffed everything into her bag before splashing water on her face. Was it possible that Silvio had been that partner? Had Inocente and Silvio rigged the kidnapping scheme together and worked it from the inside when Morelos de Gama thought he was calling someone who would help?

  She wiped her face with a paper towel. As she wadded it up for the trash can she realized what was wrong.

  The new stall doors were gone. They’d been double doors that came together and locked in the middle. Six hollow enameled metal panels, two from each stall, were heaped on the floor by the last urinal, concrete dust on the floor from gouges made when they’d been thrown down. Twists of metal dangled from the panels, vestiges of the hinges.

  Before Emilia could even begin to be furious, Gomez came into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and turned the deadbolt.

  Emilia’s heart hammered out an immediate and familiar warning bell. “Unlock the door, Gomez,” she said.

  “I’ve waited a long time for you,” Gomez said, stroking his scrap of a beard. Not the smartest detective, but not the dumbest, either. Gomez always had a snitch to help him, always had some cash in his pocket, always got good dispatch assignments from Lt. Inocente.

  “Unlock the door, Gomez,” Emilia repeated. He was between her and the exit and she knew from the look in his eye he wasn’t going to let her get past him.

  “You were supposed to be with me,” Gomez said.

  Emilia gestured at the door panels on the floor. “Did you do this?”

  “You’re supposed to be my woman.”

  “Your woman?” Emilia repeated. He’d watched her head-butt Castro in that same bathroom. Since then he’d barely ever acknowledged her presence. “What are you talking about?”

  “I was going to make my move,” Gomez said. He stepped past the sink and Emilia backed up to the last urinal. “Make my move on you and then Castro fucked up everything. So I waited. And now this shit about you being acting lieutenant.”

  “You took down the doors because you don’t like me being acting lieutenant?” Emilia rubbed sweaty palms on the thighs of her jeans. “Sorry. Talk to Obregon.”

  “You’ve known all along I was waiting for you.” Gomez gestured to the door panels behind her. “El teniente could look at you in the bathroom but not me? I don’t think so.”

  “Look, Gomez.” Emilia couldn’t back up any further without tripping on the pile of hollow metal planks. “We’ll just get somebody to fix the doors and we’ll forget this conversation ever happened.”

  “It’s not about the doors, Cruz.”

  Gomez reached out and Emilia tried to skip around the jagged edges of the pile of partitions. But Gomez was quick and the space was small and he grabbed her by the ponytail, wrenching her head around toward his. As he jammed his face against hers Emilia got her knee up but Gomez was ready and twisted his hip so she didn’t get him in the balls but instead knocked him in the pelvis with enough force to carry both of them into the wall. He overbalanced and went down, his hand still clenched in her hair. Emilia fell with him, crashing into the metal partitions. The clattering din echoed off the tile walls.

  Her head banged into metal and Gomez rolled on top of Emilia and she felt panic rise. He tried to pin down her arms but she fought hard, gouging at his eyes and avoiding his hands. Gomez’s breath was curiously minty as they battered each other across the floor. When he managed to get one knee on top of her left arm Emilia brought her free hand down onto the bridge of his nose, hard enough to hear something crack. Gomez gasped and put a hand to his face, momentarily blinded with tears. Emilia shoved hard and got out from under him.

  She got to one knee but stumbled on the metal partitions and fell. The shoulder of her tee shirt tore away, caught on something sharp, and Gomez pinned her legs with his and his mouth worked as he fumbled with the button on her jeans. Emilia groped for a weapon, anything to balance out the weight difference. Her flailing hands closed around one of the loose partitions. The long piece of hollow metal was heavy and awkward and Emilia strained to raise it. Gomez got her zipper down and the adrenaline surged and Emilia raked the door panel through the air. The edge of it connected with Gomez’s skull with a dull thunk.

  Gomez jerked and blinked and Emilia used the door as a lever to scramble away. She managed to get to her feet
and he grabbed the edge of the panel. Emilia wrestled it free and hit him again, using the panel like a club. The edge caught him in the temple and opened a deep gash. Gomez rolled away and she hit his face again and again with the flat of the door panel until the underside was smeared with blood.

  Emilia dropped the heavy panel. Gomez lay spread-eagled on the floor, head near the pile of stall doors. His face was a bloody pulp but he was breathing.

  She refastened her jeans and took inventory. Her black tee was smeared with white concrete dust and one sleeve was mostly torn off. A welt was puffing under one eye although she didn’t remember him hitting her there. When she touched her forehead her hand came away bloody.

  Gomez didn’t move as she washed her face and examined the cut on her head. It was deep and bleeding like a stuck pig. She pressed a wet paper towel to it, the anger welling, and she spun around and kicked Gomez in the ribs as hard as she could.

  He caught her foot.

  Emilia gasped and swayed. Gomez clung to her ankle with one hand and clawed up her leg with the other, his torso rising from the floor. His eyes opened in time to see Emilia’s fist dive at his face. His head smacked back against the concrete floor, his hands relaxed and Emilia stumbled backward into the cracked middle urinal.

  Her breath was gone and Emilia sucked in nothing, her lungs wheezing. When air rushed in it was too much. She bent over, coughing. As the hacking eased, she found she could breathe again and pulled herself upright.

  Gomez stayed splayed out on the floor, a bloody river traced across his face.

  Emilia pressed another damp paper towel to her head, slung her bag onto her shoulder, and hoisted up the bloody partition. Gomez remained unmoving. Emilia hesitated, then leaned the partition against a sink, rolled Gomez onto his face and rifled his back pockets. They yielded a thick wad of peso notes and the same kind of tool Castro had used to open Lt. Inocente’s desk drawers. She stuffed it all into her shoulder bag, grabbed up the partition again, and walked down the hall to the squadroom.