Nine Days: A Mystery Read online

  Connie came back from delivering her last order, and Tova turned to her. “Bad tidings, I’m afraid. Herrera’s offer on the Ranch fell through.”

  “Damn it!” Connie slapped her tray down on the serving top.

  “Have you given any more thought to my suggestion to subdivide?”

  “I can’t afford it, as you well know,” Connie snapped, rubbing her forehead. “What the hell did I do in my last life to get saddled with this accursed piece of real estate?”

  “You own a ranch?” I cut in.

  “I wish,” Connie said. “Maybe then somebody would buy the place.”

  “It’s just twelve acres, west of town,” Tova told me. “Dad always referred to it, with his typical levity, as ‘the Ranch.’”

  “Does it have a house on it?”

  Both of them looked at me, momentarily speechless. Tova recovered first. “It’s not habitable.”

  Now I was interested. It wasn’t a commercial building, but it would get my foot in the local construction market door, and double as my place to live in the bargain.

  “How old is it?” I asked.

  Connie said, “The title lists the original building date as 1906. Dad fixed it up some before he died. Of course, that was ten years ago.”

  “What do you want for it?”

  Connie put her outside hand on her hip and glowered. “If you’re screwing with me, I swear to God, I will personally beat you senseless.”

  “It’s appraised at fifty-one thousand,” Tova said.

  “No, I mean for the whole acreage.”

  “That is for the whole acreage.”

  My mouth didn’t actually drop open, but I had to take a moment. In California, you’d be lucky to get an undersized vacant lot in a bad neighborhood for fifty thousand dollars.

  “When can I see it?” I asked them.

  “Any time you want,” Connie said, sounding cautious.

  “How about tomorrow morning?”

  She grimaced, looking at Tova. “I’m in class all day.”

  “I’ll be unavailable as well, I’m afraid,” Tova said.

  “You’re welcome to go out there on your own,” Connie offered. “Hector’s got some stuff locked up in the barn, but the house is open. Take Fourth Street west for about eight miles, and you’ll see the sign on the left, just before you cross the river.”

  The Amazon had come in and made a beeline for Richard and Jesse. Tova was watching them, and now she excused herself and joined them. Connie waited until she was out of earshot, then leaned toward me and said, “I’ve got tuition to pay. Make me an offer, it’s yours.”

  Mike had set up her last couple of drinks, and she wound back out amongst the clientele to deliver them. Something in his demeanor pointed my attention at Tova again, who had taken the booth seat next to Jesse, facing Richard. The Amazon was rattling pointedly at her ex, leaning on the table. He made a short reply, then Teresa straightened up and stalked out. The remaining troika watched her go, then hunched toward each other like they might be dealing with the end of the world.

  Watching them, I started to wonder what Richard was doing in here, considering what I’d just learned about Hector and Teresa. If the Amazon’s divorce was proceeding as badly as Connie had suggested, I couldn’t imagine that her husband was on good terms with her boyfriend.

  XIII

  Around eleven, the door behind Mel pushed open, and the young cashier from the café came in. I’d moved back to the catbird seat during a heavy rush around ten. Hector, serving customers at the far end of the bar, lifted his chin at her and headed for the bar register. “Ones and quarters?” he asked.

  The cashier nodded, handing him a couple of bills.

  “Y’all got anything left?” he said, opening the cash drawer.

  “Some pork chops and potato salad,” she said, with her squinty shy smile. “You want me to save some back for you?”

  “Yes, please!” Hector replied.

  Mike, who’d come down to fill some mugs at the beer taps to my left, chimed in, “Hey, I want in on that.”

  “Neffa, this is my new bartender, Julia,” Hector said to the young cashier.

  She smiled over at me and did a small wave.

  “That’s an interesting name,” I said. “Is it short for something?”

  She rolled her eyes, embarrassed. “Nefertiti.”

  “Queen of the Nile!” Mike crowed as Hector gave her a packet of bills and several coin rolls.

  Neffa showed Mike her tongue with mature confidence, and he laughed. As she turned to go, Kathleen’s table got her attention; she thanked Hector and joined them.

  I went back to watching Mike and Hector work, which had been keeping me entertained for the last couple of hours. Mike was all nervous energy, moving constantly between customers, taps, and cash register, while Hector had a lazy man’s efficiency, grouping tasks together so that he spent less time traveling. Mike’s section of the bar turned over faster, but Hector sold more drinks—his slow ease put people in a relaxed and indulgent mood, keeping them pinned to their seats and their money flowing.

  It was close to midnight when Connie came back to the wait station, plunking down her empty tray with a tired sigh. “If you guys are doing OK back there, I’m going to take a break.”

  “Go for it,” Mike said. Hector was changing the keg spigots on his side of the ice well.

  “Hand me my bag, will you?” Connie said to Mike.

  While Mike rummaged under the register, a huge biker who’d taken the seat on this side of the wait station turned woozily toward Connie. “How yer doin’ tonight, sugar?” he asked her. His voice was remarkably clear, considering he was barely managing to stay upright on the barstool.

  “I’m fine,” Connie said, raising an amused eyebrow in my direction. She got a set of keys and a pack of cigarettes out of her small tan shoulder bag, then gave it back to Mike.

  The biker’s head swiveled unsteadily around as she passed behind him. “Pretty hot for a beaner,” he said, watching her make her way toward the office.

  Hector’s head snapped up, revealing a savage expression so intense that it seemed to blast-heat the air around him. “Hey, take that shit outside.”

  The biker swayed with indignation. “I was giving her a compliment, man! Don’t you fucking wetbacks know when somebody’s trying to be nice to ya?”

  Hector had already pushed behind Mike and ducked under the flip-top. He turned rapidly around the curve in the bar and grabbed the biker’s collar, lifting him bodily off the stool. Realizing he’d soon be on the sidewalk, the drunk emptied his cache of profanity into the bar as Hector dragged him toward the front.

  “Wow,” I said, watching the door close behind them. “Remind me never to piss him off.”

  Mike grinned at me. “We save a shitload of money on bouncers.”

  Through the storefront window, I saw Hector give the biker a shove that sent him stumbling toward the north. A cold fury radiated around my new boss, keeping the people on the sidewalk at a distance. The smell of bigotry in the air made my stomach hurt, reminding me of who I was hiding from.

  Mel began to make leaving motions, and Mike went over to close out his tab. When he came back, he glanced out the front window, where Hector was now talking into a clamshell cell phone, and said, “Hey, I hate to put you to work, but would you mind getting me a couple bottles of Stoli from the back? There’s an open case right next to the desk.”

  I nodded and slid off my stool. As I stepped into the mouth of the hall, I heard a sharp shriek from inside the office. A few fast steps, and there was Connie, standing against the rear wall next to the double doors, one leaf of which was standing open. She was breathing hard and had her hand pressed to her chest.

  “Are you OK?” I asked, moving quickly around the sofa toward her.

  She pointed at the floor. My eye followed her finger to a pale shape lying in the doorway.

  It was a human hand.

  FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 2

/>   I

  “I stepped on it,” Connie said, a shudder in her voice.

  She moved in behind me as I crouched down to get a better look. A faint foul odor rose up, like dead fish soaked in paint thinner. This was no rubber Halloween prank. It was the real thing.

  “Where—?” I started, but was interrupted by the office door crashing open. Hector plunged in, carrying a baseball bat.

  “It’s OK, Pops,” Connie said, holding an open hand toward him. “We’re both OK.”

  The wild look on his face froze as he came around the sofa. Connie pressed one hand gently against his chest, taking the baseball bat with the other. Hector receded back and deflated into the desk chair. She kept her hand on his shoulder while she picked up the phone and dialed.

  “Benny? Hey, it’s Connie. Could you and Teresa come over here? We just found something really creepy in the alley. Yeah. OK, thanks.”

  My head had gone silent as a church, and I could almost feel the blood scraping along the insides of my veins. One of the Brotherhood’s classic tricks is leaving a family member’s body parts at its enemies’ homes or places of business. Kind of like the horse in The Godfather, only it’s your mother’s head. Pete would walk into the Pacific with his pockets full of rocks before playing ball with the feds, so I hadn’t been surprised when he didn’t join me in protection, and I hadn’t worried too much about something happening to him, given his connections. Now I was wondering if I should have.

  I willed my breath slow and steady as Connie put the phone down and slid her hand to Hector’s wrist. His eyes wouldn’t leave the thing on the floor.

  “Would you do me a favor?” she said quietly to me. “Upstairs in the medicine cabinet there’s a green bottle with some tablets in it—would you bring it down with a glass of water?”

  I nodded and went around the sofa and out, glad for something to do besides stand there and try not to throw up. Mike was looking anxiously toward the office from behind the bar, where the flip-top stood open. I gave him the OK sign and turned up the stairs.

  Hector’s apartment was one big room with a stainless steel kitchen to the right of the front door. A rustic plank table stood in the center, and beyond it there was a sitting area with a sofa and side chairs, and a king-size bed half hidden behind a tall bookcase. Just like downstairs, a short hallway to my left led to a square back room, except up here it contained a laundry and dressing area. A shower, toilet, and sink backed up against the stairway wall.

  Through the floor, I could hear a subterranean hum of activity from downstairs that was oddly comforting, like a distant hive of friendly bees. I sat down on the toilet seat to wait for the brain to reboot. After a few minutes, it reminded me of what Teresa had said earlier that day: there was no payoff for the Brotherhood in wasting time trying to scare me. If they knew where I was, I’d be dead, not tripping over body parts.

  Braced by this thought, I pulled the medicine cabinet open and found the green bottle. The name BOTÁNICA MOLINA was hand-printed in pencil at the top of the label, with a Latin plant name I didn’t recognize written below. I filled a glass with water in the kitchen and went back downstairs. The Amazon had arrived and was standing just inside the double doors, looking at the hand while Connie talked. Benny was taking notes, an aluminum field case at his feet.

  “… had it propped open while I was in the alley,” Connie was saying, “like I always do when I go out for a smoke.”

  “These doors swing out,” the Amazon told her. “It couldn’t have been there before you opened them, or it would have been pushed out into the alley.”

  I went over and handed the pill bottle and water to Hector. He took them without looking at me and set them on the desk.

  “You’re positive nobody came into the office while you were out there?” Benny prodded Connie.

  “Listen, I’m telling you,” she said, sounding irritated, “I was never more than a couple of feet from the door. I’d have seen anybody who got near it, inside or out.”

  “Why don’t you show me where you were standing?” he replied with that patient tone cops use when they don’t believe you. Connie got up with a sigh and they went out into the alley.

  “Can I talk to you privately?” I said to the Amazon.

  She glanced over at Hector, and I was surprised to catch an intensely hateful expression fleeing from his face as her eyes slid onto it. She looked quickly back at me and said, “It’s OK. Hector knows your situation.”

  I stared at her for a baffled minute, then said, “God damn it.”

  “Not who you are,” she said brusquely, “just that you’re in protection. You’d want to know the same thing about a prospective employee.”

  I pressed my teeth together, holding on to my temper, and gestured at the hand on the floor. “I guess you missed gang day at orientation.” The Amazon kept her poker face on, so I went ahead and spelled it out. “This is classic Aryan Brotherhood shit.”

  Before she could respond, Benny hurried back in, saying, “Couple of guys in the parking lot saw somebody on the roof about ten minutes ago.”

  He trotted past us toward the office door. The Amazon fell in behind him, her hand rising to the service pistol on her belt. They turned rapidly out of the room and we heard them moving fast up the stairs.

  I gave Hector a puzzled look, and he explained, “The roof access is at the top of the stairs, on the landing.”

  The youthful buzz in his voice had aged, and he wouldn’t look at me. Which was fine. I was feeling embarrassed, as if I’d tried to pass myself off to him as somehow better than I am and gotten caught at it.

  Connie came back in, making her way gingerly around the thing on the floor. “Where’d Benny and Teresa go?”

  “There might be somebody on the roof,” I told her.

  Her eyes widened. “You mean they threw it down while I was out there?”

  Hector made a sudden, impatient movement. “How could they? We’re the only place on the block with roof access that’s open right now. We’d have seen them going up there.”

  “We’ve been pretty busy the last couple of hours, Pops,” Connie said doubtfully. “We might not have noticed.”

  He moved his head in a nodding motion, but it didn’t seem as if he’d heard her. Connie went over and leaned against the desk next to him. I paced around the office, trying to think, while we waited for the cops to return.

  It was almost one-thirty when the Amazon came back in. Benny wasn’t with her. “If anybody was on the roof, they were probably gone before we got here.”

  “But how’d they get down?” I said. “I was on my way back to the office when I heard Connie, and Hector came in right behind me. We’d have seen anybody coming out of the stairwell.”

  “I sent Benny to check the other buildings on the block,” the Amazon said. “They could have found another access point.” Her eyes flickered toward Hector, then back to Connie and me. “Y’all notice anyone acting weird this evening?”

  “Hector threw a drunk out just before Connie went to the back,” I said.

  “Who?” Teresa asked him.

  He shook his head. “Some biker. Not a regular. He made a nasty remark to Connie, so I took him outside and sent him on his way.”

  “To Connie?” the Amazon repeated, looking over at her.

  She blanched and sank down onto the arm of the sofa again.

  “You pissed anybody off recently?” Teresa asked her.

  Connie paused and put a finger to her lips. The Amazon gestured, and Connie sighed reluctantly, “I turned Jesse Reed down for a date again last week. He wasn’t very nice about it.”

  Teresa and Hector looked at each other, then back at her.

  “Oh, come on,” Connie protested. “Something like this really isn’t Jesse’s style. You know how he is. If he’s going to be ugly, he’ll be ugly to your face.”

  Mike’s voice buzzed from the intercom. “Hey, what the hell’s going on back there? I feel like a plague survivor up here.�
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  “Oh, shoot!” Connie said, hopping up. “We left him by himself with all those customers.” She trotted out, letting in a waft of club noise and smoke.

  Teresa had gotten a digital camera out of the field case and gone over to take photos of the hand in situ. “Male, I’d say,” she murmured, taking a few shots, then put the camera away and snapped on some latex gloves. She squatted and lifted it a few inches, peering at the wrist end. “That’s a pretty clean cut. Might be surgical.”

  The brain, fully awake now, did a light-speed fact shuffle and told me that she’d just implicated her ex-husband.

  She seemed to realize it, too, and pressed her lips together, inserting the hand into a plastic evidence bag. She peeled her gloves off and stood up. “I’ll take this down to the lab in the morning,” she said, reaching for a label. “If they can get me an ID, finding out where it came from should be pretty painless.”

  Hector didn’t say anything, but the Amazon nodded toward him as if he had, then picked up the field case and gestured at me to follow her into the alley.

  A strip of garbage-stained asphalt ran between buildings to the left, forming a dark valley. The lots behind Guerra’s and to the right were vacant. There was a collection of motorcycles parked there, their front wheels flopped sideways like sleeping birds.

  I followed the Amazon as she stalked past them. She stopped about halfway to the street and turned, saying, “I don’t need you questioning my competence in front of the locals.” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it stung like a whip. I kept my face quiet and waited.

  “It’s taken me years to establish my credibility here,” she said. “Try to undermine me like that again, and I’ll out you to the Brotherhood myself.”

  “I wasn’t—,” I started, but she cut me off.

  “You get a whiff of this thing?” she snapped, lifting the field case in her hand. “It’s been embalmed. It’s not fresh meat off some gang carcass. OK? I know my turf. I know what goes on here and what doesn’t.” She jabbed a finger at me. “You don’t.”