Drunk Driving

by Zane Mitchell

  I held up my hands and shrugged. “Funcle Drunk, remember? I offered. She accepted. I honestly didn’t think that would happen, Mari. I swear.”

  “W-why didn’t she come to me?”

  “She was scared to tell you what had happened.”

  Mari’s hand went to her mouth. It shook as she looked at me. “Ay, Dios mío!” she gasped. “Does this have something to do with Jordan’s passing?”

  I glanced over at Frankie.

  “She told you her friend passed away?” asked Frankie.

  “Yes. In an accidental drowning at the beach. She’s been in her room crying since it happened. But yesterday, I worked a late shift, and when I got home, she wasn’t in her room.”

  I sighed. I hated having to break the news to Mari, but it had to be done for her to understand the direness of the situation. “It wasn’t an accidental drowning, Mari,” I said quietly. “We think someone killed Jordan.”

  Mari’s head shook. “No. No. There’s no way. Jordan was a sweet girl. Why would anyone want to kill her?”

  “Sometimes bad things happen to good people,” said Frankie quietly.

  “But who? Who would want to kill her?”

  “That’s what Frankie and I have been working on.” I held up my shirt and showed her the bandages along my side. “I just got released from the hospital, Mari. We think that the same group of people that killed Jordan tried to kill me last night. It’s possible they got their hands on Giselle.”

  Mari’s eyes widened to the side of quarters. “No! Giselle!” she whispered. She made the sign of the cross and began to pray in Spanish as tears streamed down her face.

  Frankie went to the kitchen and got Mari a napkin. When she returned, she handed it to the woman. “Ms. Marrero, there’s a lot to explain and I know you want to hear the whole story. You are owed the whole story. But right now, we need to find Giselle before something bad happens to her.”

  Mari blotted her tears. Her head bobbed up and down.

  “Is there someone that I can call? Someone that can sit with you until we have news to share with you?” I asked.

  “I’ll go to the front office,” she whispered. “The girls will take care of me.”

  I glanced over at Frankie. When she gave me a little head tilt, I nodded back. I sucked in a deep breath and gave Mari a tight smile. “Okay, Mari. Come on. We’ll drop you off.”

  40

  After dropping Mari off with Alicia and Roxie at the front desk, Frankie and I headed to the resort’s main dining hall, where we had a meeting set up between us, Al, Big Eddie, and the Weaz. Having wisely chosen to skip the hospital’s bland breakfast of cold, tasteless eggs and rubbery bacon, I was ready for a full-blown meal.

  “You want something?” I asked Frankie as I went through the buffet line, filling my plate up with enough carbs to last me a week. If I was going to after the guys who took Giselle, I was going to need sustenance. I shoved a piece of bacon in my mouth. “I’m buying.”

  “This might be the first time I’ve seen you eating anything besides chocolate and soda for breakfast,” she chuckled, grabbing the plate I offered her.

  I chuckled. “Come on now, Frankie. It’s Sunday. Sundays are for brunch. I save the chocolate and soda for dessert.”

  When we’d filled our plates, we made our way to the seating area. Al and the guys were seated out on the balcony. It was a warm morning, but the outdoor seating area had a roof and ceiling fans to provide a little air movement. The sea crashed against the rocks just below the balcony and gulls squawked over the water. Al waved Frankie and me over when we emerged with our food.

  “There you are,” said Al.

  “Sorry, we’re a little late. We were starving,” I said, pulling a chair out for Frankie with my free hand.

  Al eyed Frankie and me up and down. “Uh-huh. I bet you were.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Get your mind out of the gutter, old man.”

  “You two look like you didn’t sleep a wink,” said the Weaz, his smile wide.

  “Thanks, Weaz. You know, those bags under your eyes are great, too. Are they Gucci?”

  Frankie elbowed me in my good rib.

  I sighed. “Frankie, let me introduce you to a couple of Al’s buddies. This is Big Eddie, and this is Ralph, aka the Weaz.”

  “The Weaz, huh?”

  The Weaz waved a hand in the air dismissively. “It’s a nickname.” He took her hand and kissed the top of it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, madame.”

  She shook his hand and grinned. “It’s nice to meet you both, I’m Francesca Cruz.”

  “She’s better looking than you said she was, Drunk,” said Big Eddie, a devilish smile on his face.

  I let my head fall forward, catching it with the palm of my hand. I felt like I was in high school again and my friends were doing their best to embarrass me in front of my crush.

  Frankie elbowed me a little. I tipped my head slightly so I could see her out of the corner of my eye. She grinned at me. “You told them I was good looking?”

  “Actually, I think the words he used were ‘fucking hot,’ his language, not mine,” said the Weaz.

  I sighed and then looked up at the table. “Can we get to the point here, fellas? Things got ratcheted up a notch since I set up this meeting.”

  Al looked at me curiously. “Ratcheted up a notch? What do you mean?”

  “Mariposa just paid Frankie and me a visit at my cottage. She thought I was having a thing with Giselle.”

  Al’s head bobbed. “I’m not surprised. Evie said she heard that from one of the girls that you and Giselle were”—he twiddled his fingers in the air—“you know. She asked me if it was true.”

  “Evie believed the rumor too?!” Fuck! Did no one on this island have faith in me that I wasn’t a scumbag?

  “Relax, kid. I said she asked me if it was true. I didn’t say she believed the rumors.”

  “Well, I hope you set her straight.”

  “Of course I did.”

  “Ms. Marrero said that Giselle didn’t come home last night,” interjected Frankie, trying to keep us on topic.

  Al’s eyes widened. “What do you mean, she didn’t come?”

  Tension over Giselle being missing had my body wound tighter than fishing line on a new reel. “Just what she said, Al,” I snapped. “Giselle didn’t come home last night. Geez. Are the batteries in your hearing aids working?”

  “Calm down, Danny.” Frankie put a hand over mine. “We’re gonna find her and bring her home.”

  “You think Markovitz’s people got her?” asked Al.

  “Pretty much. If I had to guess, I’d say that it was Gibson’s guys, specifically. We told him last night that she was the one that tipped us off that Jordan was missing.”

  “Damn,” breathed Al, clubbing his fist onto the table. “That’s terrible.”

  “I know it is. We have to find her, Al. Tell me you figured out who’s in charge of the whole operation. Tell me we have new leads.”

  Al looked over at Eddie and the Weaz. “Go ahead. Tell ’em what we know, fellas.”

  Eddie nodded at the Weaz.

  “There’s a whole lotta money coming in,” explained the Weaz, nodding. “Far more than just for this whole sex trafficking operation. This is way bigger than that.”

  “Wayyy bigger,” added Eddie, adjusting his glasses. “This is a multimillion-dollar operation. The sex trafficking thing was peanuts in comparison.”

  I shook my head. “Multimillion-dollar operation?” I glanced over at Frankie. She looked just as confused as I felt.

  “Where are they getting millions from?” she asked.

  “We traced the money back to the source, and you’re not gonna believe what we found out,” said the Weaz.

  “Try us.”

  Ralph and Eddie exchanged a look and then both shot glances over at Al.

  Al cleared his throat. “It’s coming from the Paradise Isle government.”

  As if she’d just ta
ken a blow to the stomach, Frankie sat back in her chair. “The government?! The government’s in on this? I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t get it either,” I added.

  “Yeah, well, we’re not quite sure what’s going on either,” said Al. “But that’s where they traced the money back to. It’s coming from a government account.”

  “So you think the government is intentionally funding this organization?” I asked.

  Frankie furrowed her brows. “I can’t imagine that they would. I mean, that doesn’t make any sense. The government as a whole would not fund an organization such as PGC. I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess that someone within the government found a way to embezzle the money from general funds. Whoever it is is likely the one who’s in charge of all of this.”

  “But who in the government would have access to that kind of money?” I asked.

  “They’d have to be pretty high up on the food chain,” said the Weaz, shrugging.

  “And obviously if they’re funding PGC, they’d be included in their own club,” said Frankie. “So whoever this guy is has to be pals with Markovitz, Gibson, and all the rest of them.”

  That was when it hit me. I sucked in my breath. Leaning back in my chair, I covered my mouth with my hand. “Ohhh, fuckity-fuck-fuck-fuuuuck.”

  “What is it, Danny?”

  “I think I know who it is.”

  Everyone stared at me.

  “Well, come on, kid. Don’t leave us hanging.”

  “Frankie, you remember that day that Al and I came to see you to ask about Jordan?”

  “Before we knew she was dead?”

  I nodded.

  “Yeah. I remember.”

  “There was that guy who was in Gibson’s office. The customs guy. What was his name?”

  “Rupert Villanueva. He’s the commissioner of customs.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, old Rupert. As commissioner of customs, you’d have to assume he’s got access to the tariffs on all vehicles coming to the island.”

  Frankie nodded like she got it. “He sure would.”

  “You know, there was a spiffy vehicle out front that day. It was a tricked-out black Escalade. How much would you like to bet he got it at Steve Dillon’s Automart?”

  “You think he’s skimming the vehicle tariffs off the top?” asked Al.

  “I don’t know. But we know he’s friends with Gibson, and if he’s got Steve Dillon in his pocket, then that idea is not totally off the table.”

  “Oh, man,” said Frankie. “But how in the world do you go after a guy like Villanueva without the head of the police on your side?”

  Al stabbed one gnarled finger into the table. “I think I know a way.”

  “But first we need to find out if that’s really who’s behind all this. I mean, I could be totally off base here.”

  Frankie shook her head. “No, I think you might be on to something.”

  “So what do you say? Should you and I pay the commish a visit.”

  “Absolutely. And if we find out that he’s innocent, then at the very least, we’ll let him know that Dillon’s neglecting to charge his buddies the vehicle tariff. That alone is worth paying him a visit.”

  “Oh, absolutely,” I agree. “I just wish we had an army backing us.”

  Al nodded. “Look, you two just work on figuring out if the commissioner is our guy. I’ll work on getting you some help. Deal?”

  I shoved a waffle in my mouth and held a hand out to Al. “Deal.”

  41

  I took a quick guzzle of my Dr Pepper, then leaned back in my seat and patted my stomach. “I feel like a new man.”

  Frankie took her eyes off the road for a moment to look over at me and smile. “And that would be the pain meds talking. Which is exactly why I’m on this side of the vehicle and you’re on that side.”

  Feeling the aftereffects of a large breakfast combined with relief from the pain meds, I’d allowed Frankie to drive us over to Rupert Villanueva’s private residence in my Jeep. “Eh, I think it’s a toss-up between the medicine, the big breakfast, and a hot shower.”

  Frankie nodded. She’d also changed out of her fake caterer’s uniform and into her police uniform. “Yeah, I feel better too. But I’m really glad to hear that you’re feeling better.”

  “Thanks to you,” I said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “Now, let’s talk plans. We’re heading over to Villanueva’s place. Then what?”

  She shrugged. “We’ll see if he’ll talk with us. I’m a pretty good judge of character. I think I’ll be able to tell if he’s involved just by asking him a few questions. And then we’ll go from there. The number one goal is to find Giselle before something happens to her and bring her back safely.”

  Within minutes we’d pulled up to Commissioner Villanueva’s private residence. Stopping at the gate, Frankie pressed the button.

  The speaker crackled as it came to life. Latin music played in the background. “Hola,” said a woman’s voice cheerfully.

  Frankie leaned out the window and flashed her badge at the camera. “Buenas tardes, señora. Estoy aquí para ver al Comisionado Villanueva.”

  “Lo siento, el comisionado no está aquí. Él acaba de irse.”

  I frowned. My Spanish was rusty. I understood lo siento to mean I’m sorry, but that was all I got. “What’s she saying?” I hissed.

  Frankie held up a finger to shush me. “Habla usted inglés?”

  “Oh, sí, yes.”

  Frankie nodded and whispered over at me. “He just left.” Then she turned back to the speaker. “Ma’am, my name is Officer Cruz with the Paradise Isle Royal Police Force and I need to speak with the commissioner right away. Can you tell me where he went?”

  “I’m sorry, but he didn’t say where he was going.”

  “Is this Mrs. Villanueva?” asked Frankie.

  “Oh no. Commissioner Villanueva is not married. This is Frida. I’m Commissioner Villanueva’s housekeeper.”

  “I see. Frida, can you tell me if the commissioner had anyone with him when he left?”

  “Mmm, not that I’m aware of.”

  “And he didn’t give you any indication of where he might be going?”

  “No. He only said he’d be gone for a while.”

  “A while? As in a few hours or a few days?”

  “I didn’t ask, but I think maybe a few days.”

  Frankie glanced back at me and then back at the speaker. “Why do you say that?”

  “He left with a couple suitcases—tore the house apart doing it, too. I think he was in a hurry.”

  “Commissioner Villanueva took suitcases with him?” asked Frankie sharply.

  “Yes, Officer.”

  Frankie let out a little sigh. “Okay. Gracias.”

  “De nada.”

  The speaker clicked and went silent. Frankie backed us out of the commissioner’s driveway and put us back on the road.

  I looked at her curiously. “Well, where to now?”

  “He’s got luggage. My guess is he’s heading for the airport,” said Frankie.

  “You really think he’d fly out commercially, where his movements could be tracked? He’s trying to get away before we can put the pieces together and nail his ass.”

  “You think maybe he chartered a boat?”

  And then it hit me. I shook my head and pointed to the next turn. “Nah. Why would the commish charter a boat when he’s got a private helicopter at his disposal? I know exactly where he’s headed.”

  42

  We pulled up to the Hidden Beaches Aerial Tours hangar, situated in a flattened basin at the bottom of a hill jutting out along the edge of the island’s coastline. There we discovered a black Escalade parked out front beside a pair of police cruisers. About thirty or forty yards away from the building on the concrete pad sat a motionless helicopter. The lower half and underbelly of the helicopter were painted bright blue, with three green stripes splashed across the middle section and a white top. The doors had b
een removed from both sides, and from what I could see, the helicopter sat empty.

  I let out a little puff of air. “Aaaand I was right.” I pointed at the Steve Dillon Automart sticker on the back of the Escalade.

  “Yup, you were.” Frankie nodded towards the squad car in the middle. “And that one’s Sergeant Gibson’s.”

  “Of course it is. And I bet that’s Jones’s and Ames’s next to it. Can’t wait to get my hands on those two asshats and let ’em know how much I appreciate the little souvenir they left me to remember our time spent together.”

  Frankie shut off the engine and gave a cursory glance around the property. “Everyone must be in the hangar.”

  “You have to assume they aren’t going to be in there for long. We’ve gotta get to them before they get to that helicopter.”

  “Are you kidding, Danny? There’s only two of us.” She shook her head. “No. We wait for the backup Al said he’s sending over. Did he say when they’d get here?”

  I’d called Al on the way to the hangar to give him an update about where we thought Villanueva was headed. He’d hardly been forthcoming with the details of our support team. “Not exactly. After I told him where we were headed, I asked him if help was on the way. He just said they were working on it and hung up.”

  Frankie sighed.

  “I know, I know. I need to work on his phone etiquette, I got it.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not that. All we need to worry about is getting Giselle back safely. She’s our priority. I just hope she’s still alive.” She glanced up at the building. “But until help arrives, we don’t engage with them.”

  “Fine. So we don’t engage. That doesn’t mean we can’t sneak in there and see if they’ve even got Giselle with them. Maybe they dropped her off with Markovitz’s other girls.”

  Frankie nodded. “That’s a definite possibility. But fine, we’ll sneak in there and see if we can’t get eyes on her.”

  “Alright, let’s do this.”

  The two of us slid out of my vehicle. With my back pressed up against my Rubicon and gripping the handle of my G43 tightly, I slid around to the driver’s side, joining Frankie and ducking low behind the Escalade. She gripped her own pistol, and together we crept behind the Escalade and over to the two squad cars, making our way towards the building.