Just Deserts (Hetta Coffey Series, Book 4) (19 page)

Soon after Blue’s huffy departure, Ted called and said he was on his way up. Allison opted to go with Nanci to the Bisbee airport to get him.

Chino coaxed Jan from my bedroom, where she had taken refuge, and they went for a walk.

Aunt Lil passed out on a chaise lounge in the courtyard, leaving Craig and me to square away the mess of her making.

Craig was used to cleaning up animal crap, but I was hung over and had to take a couple of timeouts lest I toss last night’s wine.

Finally done with poop, Craig and I collapsed on the verandah, me with a large glass of wine, he with a diet coke. Blue slinked up to his usual spot, looking as sheepish as a coyote can. I threw him a dog biscuit despite the mess he’d left us. After all it wasn’t his fault he’d been trapped in the house.

As I recounted the runway terrorist story to Craig, Jan and Chino returned. Both were smiling.

Ted, Nanci and Allison arrived from the airport, Ted and Nanci looking like their dog died. “What’s wrong now?” I wanted to know. “Somebody else disappear on you?”

Ted shook his head. “No, more like some
thing
. I hate to admit it, but it looks like Rosa took an entire container of cobalt rods with her when she left.”

“Why on earth would she do that?”

“They are worth quite a bit of money to other farms that irradiate milk, fruit, and the like. She can sell them for enough to go home to Southern Mexico and buy a house. I guess we didn’t realize she was unhappy.”

Nanci huffed, “I just cannot believe Rosa would do something like this, Ted.”

Ted shrugged. “You may have to. There doesn’t seem to be any other explanation. She’s gone, she was the last one with the rods.”

Nanci sighed. “I still—”

The doorbell rang. I worked my way past the building pile of luggage and opened the door to find a scowling property manager.

“Oh, hi,” I said, looking past him at my aunt sprawled in a lounge chair, arms wrapped around her flask, snoring like a trucker. I could smell the bourbon fumes from the doorway.

“Miss Coffey, may I come in for a minute?”

Reluctantly, I eased the door open. He wound his way through the duffel bags and suitcases, and followed me onto the verandah. I introduced him. Barely masking hostility, he asked if we could talk in private, so we moved to the office, where I noticed the lingering scent of coyote scat.

He sniffed the air and glared at me, not noticing that Allison had slipped into the hall behind him. “Miss Coffey, it has come to my attention that you have an inordinate amount of people living here.”

“Oh, no. Not really. These are just friends from out of town who have dropped in. All at once.”

“So they are all staying with you?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Your lease. You rented this place as a single woman, no pets. I came by earlier and heard the distinct howling of a dog, and now I count at least six other people.”

“Oh, that wasn’t a dog, it’s my coyote.”

He stood, shook his head, and said, “I suggest you find another place to live within the next two weeks.”

“You’re evicting me?”

“That’s putting it a little harshly. I am requesting you find other accommodations.”

“Yeah, well accommodate this. Get out of my house.”

Allison sidled up beside him and shoved a business card into his hand. “Mr. Property Manager, we’ll be looking over that lease this evening, and you can expect to hear from one of my Arizona associates no later than tomorrow afternoon. Meanwhile, you might want to reconsider threatening your tenant.”

He looked at the card, huffed, “Lawyers,” and slammed the door, unfortunately waking Aunt Lil. Not one to take her snoozing lightly, she let the fleeing agent have a hearty dose of Texas vitriol.

I almost liked her for a moment there.

It was decided Aunt Lillian, for what I insisted was a one-night only stay, have the single fold out couch in the office. Nanci and Ted moved into my bedroom, Craig got the living room couch, while Jan, Allison, and I grabbed the two twins and sofa in the guest room. Chino, accustomed to sleeping on beaches, opted for a bedroll on the dining room floor. Blue was not invited back in.

Something had to give. I’ve lived alone most of my adult life, and having anyone around other than Jan, and she for short spurts, puts me into a seriously grouchy mood. Jan knows this, and was warily tippytoeing around me the next morning as I sulked and sipped coffee in the courtyard sun.

“So,” she ventured, “what’re you gonna do?”

“Drink this coffee, get a gun, and murder everyone in their sleep. How’s that sound?”

“Okay by me, since I’m up. Start with Chino.”

I smiled, despite my ennui. “Let’s go find breakfast before everyone wakes up. It could save their lives.”

“Done.”

We walked to the golf club, dead set on glomming onto breakfast enchiladas in peace, but it was not to be. We’d barely settled into our chairs in the dining room when the entirety of my household descended upon us.

Reluctantly shoving two tables together, I ordered a bloody Mary to calm my nerves, which was a mistake, as Aunt Lillian requested a double. Two sips later she was slurring her words.

As if my teeth weren’t already on edge, halfway through our meal the Xer’s sauntered in, gave our motley crew a once over, said, “Good morning Hetta, Doctor, Sister.”

Allison looked puzzled. “Did he just call me Sister?” she whispered.

“No, that was Jan.”

“Jan’s no sister, she’s white.”

“It’s a long story. Later.”

Probably because I barely acknowledged the Xers, one of them sneered and said, “My, Red, your entourage just grows and grows.”

“And yours changes,” I shot back, drawing a look of alarm from Allison. Obviously startled by my reply, the Xer’s exchanged a look, ordered sandwiches to go, and headed out, presumably to test river water.

“That wasn’t real smart, Hetta,” Allison said after they left.

Craig wanted to know what was up, Allison told him about one of the Xers coming across the border with what looked to be the other, but who wasn’t.

“Interesting,” he said. “Think they pulled a switcheroo on the border guys? That’s pretty hard to do, but I guess we really do all look alike. This place is starting to get really small, with way too many coincidences. For instance, what about the Xers giving Sonrisa a lift the other day? And that guy from the mine, Rat Face, paying a visit to the Xers’s RV. Curiouser and curiouser.”

Ted looked up from his eggs at the mention of Sonrisa. “I don’t know anything about someone named Rat Face, but I think I need to have a talk with Sonrisa. Her hitchhiking with just anyone could be damned dangerous. Matter of fact, when I called the winery this morning, the foreman reported she hasn’t returned.”

“Well, Ted,” Nanci said, “she was pretty shaken up by the attempted hijacking. She’s spending time with her brother. We can drive over the line and look for them if you like.”

“Nah, we have to get home early, we have a replacement shipment for the rods we think Rosa took, but I won’t need Sonrisa until the install. I’d just as soon she stay with her brother for now, what with all the excitement at the winery. And since we are flying back, please, Hetta, feel free to use our car since yours is, er, out of commission.”

“That’s an understatement,” I growled. “That VW just flat ran out of lives. I’ve revived her for the last time, so don’t even bother pulling her up the cliff. I would appreciate it, though, if someone could retrieve my papers and the garage door opener. I’m already in hot water with the rental agent, so he’ll probably stick it to me for a new opener.”

Allison chirped, “Should have left that VW dead the last time it took a plunge, but nooo, you had to spend a fortune on barnacle removal.”

Ted, Nanci, and Aunt Lil knew nothing of my VW’s dunk in the Oakland Estuary, so my so-called friend filled them in, adding rude comments on my folly. As soon as I could, I changed the topic to Ted and Nanci’s winery, the beauty of its surroundings, and especially the fantastically stocked wine cellar, in an attempt to set a verbal trap.

Aunty Lil bit, hook, line, and sinker, and finagled an invite.  Then, at my ever so clever suggestion, Craig and Chino volunteered to drive the threesome to the airport and then deliver Nanci’s car to the winery.

Presto chango, back to only two guests, which improved my state of mind considerably.

“Pretty slick, Hetta,” Jan said as we later watched the sun sink in the west. “Pretty slick, indeed. Now you just have to figure out how to get rid of Allison and me.”

“Yeah,” Allison agreed, “you missed your calling. You shoulda been a lawyer.”

“And you shoulda used birth control,” I grumbled.

“Hell, how was I to know my husband, and by the way, your boyfriend, would abandon us like this.”

“Us? Oh, that’s right, there’s two of you there.”

“No,
us
, as in you and me, Hetta. Let’s face it, unless we move to Dubai, we are being left. Pure and simple.”

“Can I take my boat?”

“I think not.”

“Well, then, I ain’t going.”

“Ya know, Hetta,” Jan drawled, “so far as I know, no one has asked you.”

I seriously wanted to throttle her.

Jan was, of course, annoyingly correct. No one, namely Jenks, asked me to move to Dubai. Not that I wanted to go, mind you, but giving me the chance to turn him down would reap untold satisfaction on my part. Men are
so
difficult.

“Hetta,” Jan said, walking out into the dark courtyard where I brooded while stargazing, “truth is, you didn’t give Jenks a chance to ‘splain himself. I think you owe him an apology.”

“Like you do Chino?”

“Truce. Let’s face it, we’re just not good at this man thing. Maybe we should join the Sisters of Perpetual Poverty.”

“I made them up.”

“Then let’s start our own order. How about Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence? Oh, wait, that one is taken by those gay guys, dressed as pregnant nuns, wheeling around San Francisco on roller skates.”

“Ah, San Francisco. You know, Old Bisbee has that sort of flare going for it, in an artsy way.”

“Craig says he might move here. Evidently they need more local vets, and especially a large animal mobile unit.”

“Ted said he’d stay busy on both sides of the border, so why not? Shoot, maybe he and Chino should set up shop together.”

“Not unless they can find a whale up here in the desert. Chino will never give them up for anything, including me.”

“Don’t be so sure. Look, the man has money, so tell him to build you a suitable abode on the beach. One with electricity and hot water. Would that get you back? I love you dearly, but you cannot stay here forever, living off my largess.”

“You don’t have any largess, unless you count your butt.”

“Hey, watch it, Sister.”

“What’s so funny? Allison asked, stretching and yawning as she emerged from an afternoon siesta. “And what’s for dinner?”

“We’re thinking Mexican, or Gus the Greek for pizza or gyros.”

“You’re thinking that, Hetta,” Jan said. “I’m thinking a nice healthy salad. It’ll be good for that largess of yours.”

Alison cocked her head. “Huh?”

“You had to be here. Hetta and I were just discussing how she’s going to get rid of me. Us.”

“Was not.”

“Was too. And she’s right, I need some direction.”

“How about West?” I suggested. “As in, you and Allison get in her car and drive to the Bay Area?”

They exchanged a look. “Allison, I do believe we are being asked to leave Hetta’s not-so-humble abode.”

“No, I am simply suggesting a reality check. I am the only one here with a job, I need to get back to it, and you two, on the other hand, seem to be at loggerheads. Maybe if you go home you can both become useful members of society. How’s that for a concept?”

“That gets rid of us, but what are you gonna do when auntie, Craig, and Chino return?”

“Chino can go count his whales, Craig’ll get his own place, and Aunt Lil? I could just shoot the old bitch and feed her to the buzzards, but I value buzzards far too much.”

“Such familial loyalty.” Jan’s voice dripped sarcasm. “That’s our Hetta. We can always count on her when the chips are down.”

“Yeah,” Allison agreed. “And to think of all the times I’ve given her free legal advice.”

Jan nodded. “And the tight spots I’ve helped her out of. All those Hetta-made man disasters. And where did she go when her dog died? My house, and for way too long. Does ungrateful wretch unkindly describe her?”

“Hey, you two.
Her
can hear you.”

Allison and Jan made themselves scarce the next day, probably hoping for a reprieve on their upcoming eviction.

Enjoying my own company for a change, I made extra coffee, took it outside into the sunshine, determined to read my morning paper in peace. Sighing with contentment, I took a sip of dark, rich Columbian and spat it all over the morning's lead story. Moving quickly into the house, I locked the door and turned on the alarm. Only then did I sit down and finish reading the coffee-spattered news.

Cochise County Couple Assaulted by Mexican Gang

Bisbee: An elderly man called 9-1-1 Wednesday to report he and his wife had been the victims of a vicious home invasion.

The man, whose identity is being held for his own protection, said four hooded men, who spoke only Spanish to each other, broke down their front door, bound and gagged them, then carved Z’s into both his and his wife’s foreheads. After further terrorizing them with a machete, one man told them, in English, that they were never again to report activities on their land to the Border Patrol.

Just days earlier, the same couple had called authorities after spotting a group of a dozen or so suspected illegal immigrants crossing their pasture. Border Patrol responded and apprehended seven men, all Mexican citizens, and several bales of marijuana. The coyotes, or human smugglers, are still at large.

This incident raises new fears among border residents that the Mexican drug cartels, using gangs such as the Zetas as enforcers, are becoming emboldened by what many see as a serious lack of border protection.

The sheriff warned, in a CNN interview last month, “When aliens cross that fence, more likely than not, they’re in someone’s backyard. Now, it may be a two-thousand acre backyard, or maybe a two-hundred-square-foot backyard, but it’s still
my
backyard, and you don’t have a right to be there without my permission. There really is a cauldron here.”

ter·ror·ism (těr’ə-rĭz’əm) n. The unlawful use or threatened use of force or violence by a person or an organized group against people or property with the intention of intimidating or coercing societies or governments, often for ideological or political reasons.

Or drugs and money?

Now that it was in
my
backyard, terrorism had a whole new meaning, and I was properly terrorized.

I unpacked my guns Craig brought me from Jenks’s apartment in Oakland.

After cleaning and loading the weapons, I placed them strategically around the house, then finally settled down enough to get some work done. If I was going to have to leave the area for fear of retaliation by drug thugs, I wanted to get as much done as possible before I was forced to head for a hideout.

I put a chicken on to grill slowly, and by the time Jan and Allison returned with a load of goat cheese, fresh veggies, fruit and an apple pie, I was cheered a bit. We ate, drank, and discussed our futures. I didn’t mention that mine might be a tad on the short side.

Allison wisely decided it was time to go home, after all, and face down the Trob over the move to the Middle East, but Jan was still unsure what she wanted to be when she grew up.

After a good night’s sleep, Allison packed up and left for California, while Jan and I drove Craig’s snazzy car to Sierra Vista so I could buy some wheels. I was thinking along the lines of a pickup with an extended cab, and a camper shell. Since becoming a boat owner, hauling stuff became a necessity, especially back and forth to Mexico. Also, I could sleep in it while on the lam.

We’d met the owner of a Sierra Vista car agency who keeps his boat in San Carlos. Love the yacht’s name,
Deal Maker
. At the time I met Sean, it never occurred to me I’d need a car anytime soon, but now Jan and I headed for his lot.

We said our hellos, he fixed me up with a salesman, and after a couple of hours I zeroed in on a five-year-old Ford Ranger just like my dad’s. The standard transmission adds enough zip to pass a Mexican truck, and there’s plenty of room inside the camper shell for hauling the ubiquitous stuff. Or sleeping. Now came the hard part: paying for it.

The salesman eyed Craig’s fancy wheels with admiration and asked, hopefully, “Got a trade-in?”

“Not unless you have a tow truck you can send to Mexico and drag my old car up a cliff.”

He smiled uncertainly, wondering if he’d been wasting his time on some kind of nut case. Writing something down, he said, “So, no trade in.”

“Nope. Look, I need transportation, this pickup will do the job, and if we can work together, I’d like to drive it home today. So, you think about your best offer while we go to lunch.”

Not wanting to let a live one get away, he hastily offered to join us, but we demurred. Spending over ten grand on a used car needed a little thought, and a quick check of the Internet for Blue Book comps. He took a copy of my California driver’s license, my social security number for a credit check, and promised to do the math before we returned.

We went to the Sierra Vista Library café for lunch, where I fired up my computer on their wi-fi and checked comps for the pickup while downing a feta cheese, sun-dried tomato, and Greek olive panini. The online Kelly Blue Book gave me more confidence in my impending purchase.

For all my other less than lovable idiosyncrasies, I do carefully maintain an excellent credit score, but not having a permanent residence in Arizona was bound to raise a red flag. Thinking it might help with the financing, we went to the DMV, where I intended to put in an application for an Arizona driver’s license.

Miracle of miracles, I walked out twenty minutes later, slightly shell-shocked, with a new Arizona license in hand.

“Have we entered a new frontier of some sort?” Jan asked.

I waved my driver’s license. “This would have taken a whole day in California. That’s it. I am formally divorcing the Golden State, and embracing the Grand Canyon State. I hereby declare myself a full-fledged Zonie.”

In another swift miracle, two hours later Jan was driving Craig’s car while I followed in my brand new, to me, Ford Ranger extended cab pick-em-up truck. Red.

All it needed was a gun rack, which I fully intended to get, even though I’d remove it when crossing the border, lest the Mexicans get a bug up their ass, even sans the gun.

Jeez, the one place you really need a gun, and you can’t take one.