by Manuel Ramos
“You found something? What the hell does that mean?” Ana’s question carried an obvious note of irritation.
“The way it looks, to us at least,” Gus said, “is that María knew a hell of a lot more than she let on. She was in it all along, from the beginning, and deep. She used us—Luis and me—to get at the poor sucker Valdez. She drew him out when he sniffed around for the missing money that he thought was owed him. She didn’t want him messing up her good thing.”
“What good thing is that?” Ana said.
“The way we think it played out, is that she guarded Sam’s money, or at least she knew where it was,” I said. “It built up for years, since Sam pulled his disappearing act down in Mexico. He was into a lot of stuff and he added to his stash all the time. Then, out of the blue, this guy Valdez is released from prison and wants his cut. He’s a loose end. Knew too much about Sam’s and María’s real business. But he played it coy, kept pressure on her, made her nervous, and she didn’t think she had an opportunity to move the money. She needed a ruse to draw him out, or to find out where he was, so she brought in a lawyer, me, and acted like she didn’t know the real dope.”
“There’s one thing that’s bothered me about that scenario,” Ana said.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“María used you guys to find out where Valdez was. The house in Westwood. But that was Sam’s place. Why would he stay there? And why didn’t María know it?”
“Yeah, that bothered me, too. Then I reviewed the timeline. Valdez first contacted María at a time when Sam was out of the country. He must have known about the house and hid there. Sam wasn’t using it anymore. In fact, Valdez thought Sam was dead, like the rest of us. María got the address from me, but by that time, Sam was back in Denver. They probably surprised Valdez at the house and eventually killed him. Then Sam turned on María.”
“Both Valdez and María played roles for Luis. It cost Valdez his life,” Gus said.
“So she took care of him?” Ana said.
Gus and I nodded.
“She and Sam,” Gus said. “They killed him, burned the evidence, got rid of the body.”
“That starts a chain reaction involving Sam and María,” I said.
Batista sat back quietly while Gus and I talked. “How are you so certain about all this?” he asked. He looked squarely at Gus.
Gus looked at Ana.
“Most of this is what we know from María herself, if we fill in the holes of her story.”
“And we used what we’ve learned about Sam,” Gus added. He continued to stare at Ana.
“It’s guesswork, what you lawyers call ‘speculation’,” Batista said. He stood and paced, his usual mode of conversation. “You don’t have any hard proof.”
Gus had seen enough at the Westwood house to confirm much of what we presented, but Batista didn’t need to know all the details about that.
“Actually, we have a bit more than guesswork,” I said.
“Really? Like what?” Ana asked.
“We found notes and other things in the file that María must have overlooked when she dumped the pile of papers on my desk. We didn’t pay attention to those kinds of things when she disappeared. You remember, it all came down quick. One day we had a client, the next, we didn’t. We didn’t even think about her for months, not to mention the husband we thought was dead. Only now, after we’ve gone through everything again, are we seeing a pattern that tells us the story.”
“It’s nothing like a smoking gun,” Gus said. “But there’s a map in the papers that we didn’t think meant anything until we read a sticky note that was stuck on the map.”
Ana and Batista waited for the rest from Gus. Corrine was in the room and she, too, waited.
“The note says, ‘Paco’s safe.’”
“Paco’s safe?” Ana said. “Like, he’s okay, all right?”
“Maybe,” I said. “Or, that there’s a safe place used by Paco.”
“A place where money could be kept,” Batista said.
“That’s what we’re thinking,” Gus said.
29 [Gus]
good and bad, I define these terms quite clear, no doubt, somehow
The map told an interesting story; at least, I found it interesting. That night in Corrine’s house with all the players present, except for Sam, it was easy to see that Batista had a hard time believing what Luis and I told them. Ana, on the other hand, looked to be inclined to buy into what we said. Or maybe it was that she hoped we were correct. One thing about that woman, she knew what she wanted. Right then, in my sister’s home, I had no difficulty with the concept that my ex-girlfriend, the human resources cop, wanted nothing as bad as getting the chance to see a pile of money snatched from gangsters who didn’t know what to do with all that cash, and not because she was civic-minded. Ana liked the idea of piles of money. That was me giving her the benefit of the doubt.
I’d ended whatever our thing was with a quick visit to tell her that I thought it was time to move on. I didn’t explain that I’d seen her with Batista, and she didn’t admit that she’d already moved on and that I was way behind the curve. She took it with grace, which I admired, and a sense of relief, which I didn’t. And just like that, I was her ex and she was another name on a list that had no use.
So, when we met at Corrine’s, we both understood the situation. I couldn’t help looking at her with some regret. She was, after all, an attractive, sexy woman. But then, aren’t they all?
What bothered me the most was how I was supposed to deal with Fulgencio Batista. Apparently, they didn’t want to share the news about their new-found relationship, and I wasn’t going to bring it up. I’d let Luis know that Ana and I were no longer a duet, but that was all. I figured, if the Mexican cop and Ana wanted to share their happiness with the rest of us, they could do it much better than I. I let it all go and concentrated on what we had to do to bring down Sam Contreras.
The wrinkled map lay unfolded on Corrine’s kitchen table. One crease had a tear and coffee stains spotted one edge. We stood around the table, studying the map. It was a basic highway guide, given out at tourist information centers and sold at gas stations for five bucks.
“What place is this, in the map?” Batista said. “What are we looking at?”
“That’s the I-70 highway,” I said, pointing to a long blue line that twisted out of Denver into the mountains. “It’s hard to see at first, but there’s a small triangle drawn in pencil near the exit to Frisco.”
“What’s a Frisco?” Batista asked.
“Small town about an hour and half from Denver,” Luis said. “In the mountains, near the ski resorts. Copper Mountain, Breckenridge, Keystone, Arapahoe Basin.” He pointed to each resort on the map. “Very popular, very turista.”
“What does Frisco have to do with Sam Contreras?” Ana asked.
“We didn’t think anything until we looked closer at the receipts María gave us to show that the import business didn’t have any money left after Sam supposedly died and Valdez went to prison.” Luis pulled out a few sheets of paper from his briefcase and spread them next to the map. “There was a monthly charge for a storage unit in a place called Alpine Storage and Security, in Frisco. The monthly bill was seventy-five dollars. Paid every month for three years.”
“A small debit each month, hardly noticeable,” I said. “And we didn’t notice it at first. It must be a walk-in closet unit. Only big enough to hold a few boxes or crates of money, but that’s all.”
“This doesn’t help,” Ana said. “If Sam was using a storage unit for the money, then he’s gone up there and taken out the money, and probably is back in Mexico already. Christ, this is useless.”
“It’s easy to jump to that conclusion,” I said. “But look closer at the receipts Luis pulled. Look who paid them. It wasn’t Sam.”
Ana and Batista pored over the papers. “The receipts don’t always say, but some of them show that María paid the fee. So, it was her storage unit?”<
br />
“Looks like it,” I said. “I think she used the map when she went up to Frisco to find a storage place. She wanted it far enough from Denver to not attract attention, but not too far away in case she needed to get to it fast.”
“You think the money is still there?”
“We can’t say for sure,” Luis said. “We don’t know how much María told Sam, or how much he figured out on his own. We had all these papers from the first time she came to our office. Maybe he never put it together. Maybe he’s waiting for me or one of you to make a move to the money. We just don’t really know.”
“Wait a minute,” Ana said. “María’s been dead for months. The bill hasn’t been paid. These places give you thirty days and then they open the units and sell the junk. Except in this case, the storage owner would find the money. He’d have it now.”
Luis drew out one more receipt. “Look at this. She paid up for a year in advance. It was right around the time she came to me. She covered her bases. She knew Valdez was closing in, so she wanted to guarantee there weren’t any glitches with the unit. But you’re right to be concerned. We can’t risk that the storage company will open the unit.”
“I don’t understand,” Batista said. His words surprised me. I thought the guy would understand all of this better than anyone at the table. “Was this woman working with Paco or Sam, as you call him? Or didn’t she know he was alive?”
“We’ll never know the answer to that, but I think she wasn’t sure,” Luis said. “He had her hide the money while he took care of business in Mexico and the Southwest. He was reported dead but that was to throw off all the cop heat. She moved the money to the storage unit and waited, bided her time. She had to know how he operated. She must have had doubts that he was really dead. Or she and Sam were still actively working together. It doesn’t really matter, does it? And then when Valdez made demands, it set off her alarms and she tried to go on the offensive. That got her killed.”
Batista shrugged his shoulders.
“What’s the plan?” Ana asked. “What does this mean as far as dealing with Contreras?”
“We have to believe that he’s watching us,” I said. “He tore through Luis’ office looking for the same thing we were—a sign or clue about where María hid the money. He has her electronic file, he may figure out what she did. But the good thing is that the storage unit receipts weren’t in the computer file, so he couldn’t get them. We think he’s still in the dark and waiting to see what we do.”
“What about the paper file? Didn’t he get that?” Ana kept coming up with questions.
“No,” Luis said. “He never made it into the office storage room. Rosa interrupted him and he must have run after he knocked her out. But he wouldn’t have found them anyway. Rosa had them, at her house. They were part of a box of documents she intended to scan and then destroy.”
Everyone settled back for a moment.
“I think we can set this guy up,” I said. “If he sees that we’re going to the mountains, he might look again at the map. It was scanned into the computer file. It might be enough to lead him into a trap.”
Luis rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not as optimistic as Gus. Personally, I think Sam has found the money and left the state. But this storage unit is all we have. Maybe it can be the bait we need. Especially if it looks like I’m heading to the mountains without all of you, like I’m after the money only for myself.”
My gaze swept from Luis to Batista to Ana. Each one looked worried, doubtful, angry. My eyes landed on Corrine, who stood in the corner of her kitchen. She shook her head, then smiled. She shook her head again and left the room. She’d done the same whenever she thought I was about to get into trouble. It was her older sister way of telling me to cool it, to slow down, to step back. It rarely worked in the past. But I was older than that now.
Two nights before Luis was to drive up to Frisco, a few visitors dropped by the house. Corrine never really liked my friends but she tolerated them. She welcomed Shoe, Ice and Jerome with a six-pack of beer and told them to make themselves at home. Then she pretended to read a book in the kitchen while she listened to us talk.
I spent almost fifteen minutes giving them a summary of the past several months. I wrapped up with an update on what we thought would happen once Luis made his move.
“You want us to wait for your lawyer friend up in the mountains, then save his ass when this bad guy decides to blow his head off?” Jerome cut through my monologue with his typical attitude.
“We’re gonna watch out for him, yes. We think this guy, Contreras, will follow him for the money. It’s our job to make sure he doesn’t do anything more than follow Luis. We grab him when we see him.”
“Why so many of us?” Shoe asked.
“There might be others. We think Contreras is running, not only from the Mexican cops, but also from another cartel. There could be a lot of guns.”
“Shouldn’t you just take this to the cops?” Ice said. He was always the most cautious.
“A Mexican federal agent is involved—Fulgencio Batista. He’ll be with us. I wanted us to talk this over without him around. And we don’t have enough for the police to do anything, really. Ana ran this by some of her pals on the force. Unofficially. They told her we were all cracked. The way it breaks down is this. Luis is taking a drive to the mountains. We think bad shit could happen, but we got no hard proof. We haven’t ever seen Contreras; had no direct contact with him. There was a break-in at Luis’ office, but the police have already concluded it was a run-of-the-mill B and E. The police aren’t going to waste their time with our theories. So, it’s up to me, to us. Are you in?”
“This is wild, even for you, Gus,” Jerome said. “Shoe and Ice aren’t gunmen—no offense, guys.”
I nodded at the way Jerome indirectly pimped his own reputation. Shoe and Ice both smiled at Jerome. They were enjoying this.
“It sounds like you’re asking us to take on professionals, men who know what they’re doing,” added Jerome. “You sure this is a good idea?”
“If we’re up there ahead of Luis, waiting at the storage place, I don’t see how this is too risky. We wait for Contreras, take him as soon as we see him. He may know what Luis looks like, but he won’t know us. We outnumber him; he won’t have a choice. The unknown factor is whether there are others watching Contreras. We might have to just get Luis and take off. I don’t want a shooting match any more than you.”
The three men drank their beer.
“You gonna risk violating your parole?” Jerome said.
“I’m counting on Batista to cover for me. If we nab Contreras, he’s got a nice catch to take back to Mexico. I’m hoping he stands up for me when I need it.”
“Ain’t gonna happen, Gus,” Shoe said. “You could end up back in prison, just for having a gun, and worse if there’s any kind of shooting. What if someone gets hit? You should rethink this, Gus.”
Ice nodded. “You sure it’s worth it?” The boys asked the same question in different ways.
I finished off my beer. “Luis Móntez gave me a chance. I’m just helping him out. The way I hope it goes is that we grab Contreras because we surprise him, Batista takes the credit, and the rest of us are just friends of Luis who happened to be around. No guns, no shooting, no pedo. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds like a fairy tale and smells like manure, little brother.” Corrine hollered from the kitchen. “Sounds like another Gus Corral fiasco. Sounds like you need my help.”
My three visitors all laughed. Corrine was serious.
“What do you think you can do to help?” I said. I wouldn’t turn her down. She’d shown me long ago that she could handle certain situations much better than I—like the ones where I might be somebody’s target.
“These guys will stick out worse than sore thumbs. Look at them—do they look like anybody who hangs out in Frisco, Colorado? No, they look like they came right off the chain gang. These mountain towns may be loaded with immig
rants and gente working the kitchens and cleaning the motels, but for the most part those people want to be invisible to the tourists and skiers. Frisco will be covered with snow but that’s not what makes it a lily-white town. Your friends need to dress the part. Ski parkas, fancy gloves and boots, maybe some skis in a car rack. And they need a good reason to be in the same area as the storage business. What else is going on there?”
None of us had a ready response.
Shoe squirmed then finally said what was on his mind. “You guys might think this is nuts, but on the lake there’s always fishermen. They drill holes in the ice and wait for the fish to snatch their bait. We could be ice fishermen.”
“You must be joking,” Jerome said. “We don’t know the first thing about ice fishing. We don’t have the equipment. We’ll probably fall through the ice. Think of something else.”
“I like it,” I said. “It could work, as long as we’re not too far away. Just a bunch of city slickers trying to fish in the winter. We can act like we’re setting up for a day’s worth of fishing. The lake isn’t that far from the storage building.”
“How do you know that?” Corrine asked.
“When I looked at Frisco on the computer. I did the street level view and saw the storage company, and the lake close by.”
Corrine nodded. “Good, good,” she said.
I continued with what I thought could be our plan. “We keep our eyes on the place, and when we see Luis pull up, we watch for Contreras. We move to the shore, and jump him when he parks.”
“Four city Chicanos on the ice, trying to look like we’re after fish?” Jerome said. “Who’s that gonna fool?”
“Four Chicanos and one Mexican cop,” I said. “Batista will be with us.”
“That makes it better?” Jerome said.
“Look. We just have to look the part so that we don’t get too much attention. We’ll drill a few holes in the ice . . .”