Dog Gone Lies (Pacheco & Chino Mysteries Book 1) (16 page)

“My goodness, Ray, you really are a cook aren’t you?”

“I’m trying to impress you.”

“I thought it was the woman who was supposed to cook to impress the man.”

“Yeah, guess I got that confused.”

“I’ll see you in about two hours. And you stay away from the Café cashier lady, okay. For the time being you are mine.”

Ray smiled. He knew she was teasing him and he liked it.

Saturday

Ray had two Clayton campaign events scheduled for the day. He also hoped to talk to Tyee and Big Jack about the FBI offer. He still didn’t know what to think about the idea. Obviously it would give them an immediate boost in business, but somehow working with the FBI felt a little odd to him.

Sue had left before he was up. She’d fixed coffee and left Ray a note saying she was working this morning and had left very early. He felt bad that he hadn’t remembered that she worked the Saturday early shift. Once again it proved to Ray that he was a lot more self-absorbed than he thought. Deciding he needed to do a better job of seeing the world from other people’s perspective, especially Sue’s, he started getting ready for the day.

As Ray and Happy stepped out onto the porch, he noticed large trucks in the distance and men milling about. A better look told him it was the telephone company. How about that. It looked like they were working on getting phone service to his property. While Ray’s instinctive impulse to hide from the world during his retirement still held a warm spot in his heart, being involved with Sue and the new business had given him a renewed sense of purpose in life that felt good. The phone would be a tangible sign that he wasn’t hiding any longer.

Ray found Big Jack on his dock dealing with a customer. The customer seemed irritated with Big Jack about something. As Ray approached he heard some of the conversation.

“Listen, fat man. Just because you own this pile of shit store gives you no right to tell me what I can do on this goddamn lake—got it?”

Ray could see immediately that the customer was very drunk—and it was barely eight in the morning. He had a buddy in the boat who looked like he was passed out.

“Hey, pal. I’m not telling you what to do—I’m telling you I won’t sell you anymore beer. Now get the fuck off of my dock.”

Not the thing you say to a big drunk guy so early in the morning. The big customer took a step toward Big Jack. In a move that completely surprised Ray, Big Jack moved unexpectedly fast, with impressive power and skill, and quickly had the man flat on the dock. By all appearances, Big Jack had dislocated the drunk’s shoulder. Ray ran up and helped Big Jack subdue the man, who was yelling his shoulder was broken. Ray finally got the man’s attention and told him to shut up.

Big Jack headed back into the store where Ray hoped he was calling the sheriff and an ambulance. T or C only had a small clinic for emergencies, so the guy would probably have to be transported to Las Cruces—but this guy was going to need some immediate help.

As Ray tried to make the man comfortable, he could see that he was going into shock from the pain. He found an old tarp and tried to cover the man to keep him warm.

“Dumb, drunk bastard. Found him trying to steal beer out of the store room. Then he wanted to buy beer, and I told him he’d drunk enough. He starts yelling at me. Sure didn’t mean to hurt him that much—you think he’ll be okay?” There was genuine concern in Big Jack’s voice.

“He’ll need medical help quick or it could be serious.”

“I called the sheriff’s office and they said they’d dispatch the ambulance. Should be here pretty soon.”

Ray would never have guessed that a man as large as Big Jack could have moved that fast and with that much power. He could easily see the years of training that had to be behind the coordinated moves. He also had the feeling that if Big Jack had wanted it, the man could easily be dead now rather than just injured.

They heard the siren as the ambulance neared the store. The paramedics moved in quickly and took charge of the injured man, speaking on the radio with someone as they examined him. In one of those moves that’s probably best not to watch, one of the paramedics skillfully relocated the man’s shoulder. With a deep groan the drunk patient passed out.

“He’s going to be fine. Don’t see anything else wrong with him other than the shoulder. We’re going to take him to the clinic and let the doc look at him. Might keep him there or take him to Las Cruces. Will the sheriff be involved in this?”

Big Jack said he wasn’t going to press charges so he didn’t know, but that a deputy would be there soon and Big Jack would let him know where they were taking the guy.

“How about his buddy over there?”

“I think he’s just passed out. I’ll let the deputy handle that one.”

The paramedics put the man onto a gurney and took him to the ambulance. As they were pulling out, a deputy’s car pulled in. After a discussion with Big Jack, the deputy roused the other morning drunk and got him out of the boat and into the deputy’s car.

“Life in the big city, right Big Jack?”

“Well, there’re morons everywhere.” Big Jack was headed to the store to make some more coffee. It was obvious he was a little pumped up, and it would take him some time to calm down.

Happy, who had observed all of this from his customary spot on the dock, decided it was all over and it was time for his fifth morning nap. Ray followed Big Jack into the store.

“Big Jack, there’s something I need to talk to you about. You know yesterday I was in El Paso. I dropped in the hotel and went to the FBI office. I was just poking around looking for anything that might give me some ideas on where Monica might be, and something very surprising happened.”

Ray went on to relate what had happened in the FBI office. He gave Big Jack the details, as far as he understood them, regarding the FBI offer. Ray said he thought it was something they should consider but that there were problems.

“The biggest issue I see at this point is the background checks. I only want to do this new business if you and Tyee are involved, and I understood your reluctance to have your identity compromised. I guess I’m not real sure of Tyee’s background as far as an FBI check.”

About that time, Tyee entered the store from the dock. “What’s this? The FBI wants to check my background?”

Ray explained everything that had happened to Tyee.

“Let me say I think we have some flexibility here with the FBI. Of course I don’t know what they might find, but my gut says they’ll overlook some things to get us onboard with this new program of theirs.”

“Ray, what you’re saying is they might overlook some minor things in my past, or Tyee’s, to get you to work for them. I’m not sure they want us at all.”

“You can read it anyway you want. I’m telling you that if this doesn’t work for either one of you, I won’t do it. This isn’t just being loyal—it’s reality. I can’t do everything I once could. I’m not dead yet, but I’m also not getting any younger. Whatever we’re going to do with this business, I’ll only do with you and Tyee as partners—end of story.”

“Ray, my story is fairly simple,” Tyee said. “I don’t have a criminal background, just a lot of stupid personal decisions. After a messy and very emotionally trying divorce, I dropped out of life. My family had turned against me when I married a white woman I’d met in college, so I couldn’t ask them for help. The woman was the love of my life, and when she left me for another man I fell completely apart. When I graduated from college I’d been hired by a software company in Denver and I was on a path to financial success like nothing I’d ever dreamed about. But due to my depression and drinking, I was fired. Everything got very bad. I spent a lot of years just barely getting by and avoiding all responsibility. Looking for a place to hide, I ended up on this lake. Then you came along and things started to change for me. This company and our friendships mean a great deal to me—I’ll do whatever we agree is the right thing to do. ”

Ray was touched by Tyee’s honesty and trust. He knew that trusting people after a personal trauma like that was the hardest human skill to regain. They all stood there quietly for a while as they absorbed their friend’s difficult past.

“Well, fellas. My story isn’t so simple.” That was Big Jack. “There may be some criminal charges, and there are definitely some less than desirable associations. On the good side is that there are no convictions.”

Big Jack wasn’t going to be as casually forthcoming as Tyee. It was going to take a while to get the whole story. Ray was concerned that Big Jack wouldn’t see the benefit to him of letting someone delving into his past. Why risk whatever threat his past held for him by becoming visible again? But then Big Jack continued.

“Fuck it—what the hell. First off, my real name’s Philip Duncan. I’m a graduate of the Stanford Law School. I was practicing law in L.A. and was a very successful criminal defense attorney working for the largest firm in California. I was making big bucks. Life couldn’t have been better. One day I was contacted by a member of the Mexican Mafia—you may think this doesn’t exist, but let me tell you, it does. He wanted me to represent him. Most of my clients were criminals, obviously, but this guy was a real kingpin. I should’ve stayed away. I knew this guy was the lowest of the low, but greed got in the way.”

Big Jack paused for a moment, then continued. “Almost from the beginning, things went wrong. I’d quoted him a huge figure as a retainer. The next day several large boxes showed up at my house, and inside was the retainer in cash. Should have stopped right there and called the cops. Instead I counted it. More cash than I’d ever seen. I put the boxes in the garage. Went to work and was in court all day on another case. Got a call from the police that my house was on fire. When I arrived it had burned almost to the ground, including the garage. So this asshole calls me at the office the next day and says that it’s really tough about my house—he hopes I put his retainer in a safe place.”

“No question in my mind, some of his goons stole the cash back and then burned down the house. After a couple of days of worrying about this mess I called him and said I wasn’t going to represent him. He said sure that was okay. Just give him back the retainer. I told him I didn’t have it—it had been in the house and burned up with everything else. He said I had two choices, represent him or return the retainer. So I represented him for nothing. The partners in the law firm came unglued. Not only were they not going to associate with these assholes, they weren’t going to associate with me—I was fired. I told the client I’d been fired and couldn’t represent him anymore. He said fuck that—I was still an attorney, and I would represent him until I returned the retainer or I was fired by him. One day I’m on top of the world, making more money than I can spend, and the next day I’m a legal slave to the lowest scum on the planet.”

“It actually got worse. I wasn’t being paid and now he had me representing one scum bag after another who worked for him. I was being chauffeured around in a big black SUV by an armed thug and being watched at the apartment I rented by an around-the-clock team of thugs. I confronted him. They broke my leg. I was in the hospital for a week. When I got out, they were there. Now, I’d lost all contact with any friends or associates. Everyone had decided that I’d gone to the dark side. I had two ex-wives who were receiving substantial alimony payments, but over the next few months of living on my savings and going to court defending these useless indefensible creeps, I missed two months of payments. I was served a summons by both ex-wives to appear in court. One night I’m sitting around drowning my sorrows, and the FBI shows up at the door. In full site of the babysitting thugs, they drop in to ask me to testify against my so-called clients. I told them that any information I had was protected by privilege. They said they didn’t give a big fuck, they wanted me to become a confidential informant and they’d put me into the witness protection program. They said I had two days to join their side or they would drop a big rock on me.

“The next day during a court recess I took a taxi to the bus station and left town. Left everything behind and told no one. Except that morning I’d cashed out my savings and had it in a duffle bag. Went to Portland first, bought an old car and started driving. Lived in the car for a week or so before I began to relax. My savings had been depleted over the last few months, but it was still substantial and it was in the trunk. I expected at any moment to be stopped for some violation of something and never see freedom again. Somehow or another I made it to Las Cruces via Phoenix. Was hanging out there in an incredibly cheap motel when I decided to head north. Wandering had become my practice, so I would often take exits and see where they headed—that’s how I ended up here at Elephant Butte. Most of the story you’ve heard about me buying Big Jack’s is true—it was just a fluke and an impulsive decision. I thought I could hide here forever and none of the people who wanted me dead or in jail would be able to find me.”

“My god, Big Jack, what a story.” Ray was stunned that his friend, whom he considered an honorable man, had such a past.