Just The Pits (Hetta Coffey Series, Book 5) (23 page)

Bad news isn't wine. It doesn't improve with age.— Colin Powell

We waited for
Lucifer's
return, dreading giving them the bad news despite the fact that we thought they were a den of thieves.

Neither of us could keep our eyes open past ten. The past twenty-four hours had been extremely exhausting, even for Po Thang. I gave him and Jan my bed and crashed on the couch so I'd be sure to hear
Lucifer
when it returned, but when I awoke at dawn the slip was still empty, and Safety's truck remained in the marina parking lot.

Topaz's plane was due in early, so I decided to go get her instead of making her take the shuttle, and I wanted to keep an eye out for
Lucifer
as I drove along the coast.

My pickup isn't meant for but two people, so Jan and Po Thang stayed on the boat. She planned to finish the search we were doing on Bert's information, using the PIN and passwords we'd lifted from the house before I was rudely attacked, and then the house went up in flames.

Topaz was surprised to find me waiting for her on the tarmac. The guys unloading cargo knew me from the marina, so we exchanged a friendly greeting, greasing the wheels on the already perfunctory luggage searches by the group of young marines bivouacked at the airport. There is no airport building and the teenaged soldiers were camped in a dilapidated building with few conveniences. A litter of pups seemed to be their only entertainment.

Until Topaz arrived. She was definitely the star attraction for the bored teens.

The diminutive deputy has an unruly head of hair closely resembling that of a shaggy German shepherd, and a show-stopper body that somehow manages to look athletic and softly sexy at the same time. I know she works out hard at least an hour a day, but all that exercise hasn't flattened any curves. Had she been in uniform and sporting that large gun on her hip, the marines would have gone bonkers.

"You tired from the trip?" I asked her after we'd loaded her suitcase into my pickup and buckled up.

"Nah. After the drive down yesterday I was pooped and went to bed at nine. Last of the big time party animals here."

"Good, let's take a little drive south. I'm not going to work today for a lot of reasons which I'll catch you up on, so I'll give you the Grey Line tour before we go back to the boat."

"There's more since we last talked?"

"Lots more." I filled her in while we made the thirty mile trip south to Mulege, one of the prettiest towns in the Baja. The village claims a population of about four thousand people and is nestled between two hills hugging a fresh water river that runs into the sea. The contrast between the parched desert we'd driven through and this lush oasis delivered the surprise I had in store for Topaz.

"Wow! Sure didn't expect this."

"Let's get breakfast in town. I know a great little fish taco stand by the river."

As we ate our tacos I pointed up at the bridge over the main highway, way above our heads. "During one of the hurricanes this charming little river was two feet over that bridge. You can still see the devastation on both sides."

She looked up at least fifty feet to the bottom of the bridge. "Hard to imagine."

"It is. Okay, onward to Saul's groceries. There is Velveeta to be had."

While at Saul's (pronounced Sa-ool) store he pointed out for Topaz a spot six feet up the wall. "The mud was to here."

On that cheerful note, we moved on to Conception Bay, where I introduced her to Geary, then gave her the tour, stopping in at Café Olé to see how things were there. Their ordeal at the hands of thugs, and the death of one of those thugs, was shrugged off as part of doing business in Mexico. After nine years in a property dispute, little surprised them anymore.

We backtracked to Posada where I showed Topaz the hot springs. One would never know it was the scene of a grisly death.

All along our drive I asked Topaz to scan the sea, looking for boats. When she spotted one, she handed me the binoculars I'd brought from the boat. Only pangas and one fishing boat rippled the calm water. Not a roostertail in sight.

We were abreast of San Bruno, the village across from Sweet Pea cove, when Topaz spotted a boat making its way north in the channel between San Marcos Island and shore. I took a quick turn into San Bruno and down to the beach.

As we neared shore, I saw a telltale plume of black smoke spewing from the ship's stack. "Just a Mexican navy patrol boat."

Topaz handed me the binoculars. "Take a look at his tow."

I adjusted the eyecups and center access. "Good eye, Topaz. That's
Lucifer
, all right."

Jan made lobster Louis for lunch and we were eating when a smaller navy skiff maneuvered
Lucifer
into her slip. The Gang of Four was not aboard.

I walked over and asked the young marine where the men were, but received only a shrug in response. He didn't stop me, though, when I continued down the finger to take a look inside. I was standing there with my mouth agape when Topaz and Jan joined me.

"Holy crap!" Jan said.

"Ditto," Topaz added. "I don't know much about boats, but I know a fire scene when I see one."

The interior was fire gutted. The black streaks on the fiberglass hull and house, which I'd attributed to soot from the navy ship, were actually evidence of an interior fire.

"Looks like either an explosion or a really intense fire. Or both," Topaz told us. She sniffed the air. "Good thing she has diesels. Otherwise there wouldn't be much left."

"These whalers are built not to sink," I told her. "Lots of flotation chambers. The big question is, where are the guys? Safety's truck is still in the parking lot. Call me silly, but I smell more than smoke here."

I called the jobsite and reached a very distraught Laura. She hadn't heard from any of the men, but the Port Captain had called with disturbing news of the boat fire. That, coupled with the home fires did not bode well for the fate of Ozzie, Bert, Safety and John. 

"It is
terrible
,
no
?" Laura sounded on the verge of tears. "We are receiving calls from Mexico City and Canada, and I do not know what to say. Can you please come?"

"It is terrible,
sí
. Look, close down the office and send everyone home. Leave a recording for anyone who calls to phone me here on the boat. I will be in tomorrow morning, for sure. Okay?"

I hung up and told Topaz and Jan about Laura's distress and that I'd sent her home for the rest of the day rather than trying to field calls.

"Poor woman," Jan said. "She's right, though, something terrible is going down here."

"And you know the worse part? That cat from hell survived."

"What cat?" Topaz put her hands on her hips and glared at me.

"I guess Hetta left out the breaking and entering part?" Jan asked.

"Jeez, Jan, she's a cop. You don't tell cops incriminating stuff like that."

"I am not anything here in Mexico, you dork. I'm here to help you, although that's beginning to sound like an impossible task, since it looks like I'll have to protect you from yourselves. Now you two sit down," she stabbed her finger at the floor, "and—

We all cracked up as Po Thang promptly sat and raised his paw for a high five.

"Is there anything else you've conveniently overlooked? Craig was right, you two are
way
in over your heads. I've been here, what, five hours? And you've already come up with a burned out boat, three burned houses and four missing men? What the hell kind of vacation is this? And what's a cat got to do with anything."

The confession of evil works is the first beginning of good works.— Saint Augustine

We began at the beginning, but were constantly interrupted by my cell phone blasting "La Cucaracha." I fielded all sorts of calls from Mexico City and Canada and was glad when three o'clock—official quitting time at the mine—rolled around and I turned the cell off. Anyone I cared about had my Skype number.

We sat out on the sundeck while Topaz tried to get up to speed on what we'd learned. Or not learned.

"So let me get this straight. Hetta was hired to investigate cost overruns at the project, and she hired you, Jan, to help."

We both nodded.

"And a guy breaks into your boat and is stealing food, so Jan hogties him. He turns out to be a reportedly dead guy, who also worked at the mine and claims he'd discovered information about fellow employees that got him killed...or rather, almost killed?"

"Uh-huh," I said, "he ate my Velveeta. We should have killed him ourselves."

"Doesn't something about this part of the story not add up to you two?"

"Well, duh. He doesn't even
like
Velveeta," Jan huffed.

"I'm serious here."

Although Jan's answer brought a giggle I had to tamp down, I went to her defense. "Yes, of course, now that we know more about our Rosario, we've already surmised his arrival was no happenstance. He targeted us. Or rather me. I don't think he was counting on being trussed up by a tall blonde."

"Which means that, before he allegedly disappeared, he knew who you were and why you were hired."

"Everyone did," Jan said. "If they had a newspaper in this berg Hetta probably would have made the front page. There are no secrets in Mexico."

"So this Rosario, who also turns out to be some kind of computer hacker whiz, sought you out, gave you the sad tale of his life, wormed his way under your protection, and then threw hints that certain people might be dirty? If  you ask me he was
sent
to the Lucifer mine. Who would, or could, do that? And why?"

"The why is easy. Money." We told her about the upcoming payoff to some outfit in Monterrey for almost seven million dollars, and our suspicion that the merchandise—five large dirt haulers—was never delivered.

"Do you have a copy of the purchase order?"

Jan stood. "In the computer." She brought it up and printed out a copy.

Topaz unpacked her laptop, we connected her to the marina WiFi and she accessed her address book. "Can I use your cell phone? Mine won't work down here."

After punching a few numbers, she said, "Hey, MaGee, sorry to bother you at home. I need a favor. I'm visiting with Hetta Coffey down here in Mexico and—"

I could hear his outburst from three feet away. Not the words exactly, but the tone was unmistakable. Topaz held the phone away from her ear until Investigator MaGee quit his barking.

"Yeah, yeah. I know, MaGee, but she doesn't even
have
a gun on her boat." She hugged the phone against her chest to muffle the sound and looked at me. "You don't do you?"

I shook my head. 

"Look, we'll talk about it when I get back. Right now I need your buddy, Jorge's, home phone number in Monterrey. I'll explain later."

While Topaz waited on the phone, I made a pitcher of iced tea and Jan ran out with Po Thang for a quick walk. By the time she returned, Topaz was already greeting someone in fluid Spanish, and then read off the name and address of the company in Monterrey. Another delay as she was evidently put on hold, then she grabbed a pen and made a few notes as the person on the other end talked.

"Okay, tell," I said as I handed her a tea when she hung up. "Who was that?"

"Guy we've worked with on occasion when they, or we, were looking for someone. I can't tell you more than that. Anyhow, unless your mine has need of a seven million dollar mani and pedi, that address sucks."

"Let me guess," I said. "A nail salon."

"See, you aren't half the imbecile Investigator MaGee said you are."

Jan piped up. "Yeah, Hetta's only half an imbecile. Isn't MaGee that blonde cop we think looks like a wheaten terrier?"

Topaz laughed. "And I have hair like a German shepherd. Gosh, maybe we should hook up and have very hairy pups."

The fake address wasn't much of a surprise, as we were already fairly certain the purchase order was suspect. "And the phony address isn't all that important because the invoice is paid by wire transfer, which Bert had already approved last...oh, hell."

I called Laura at home, who confirmed she'd couriered the paperwork to Mexico City on Friday afternoon, so by now the whole package was probably in the hands of Julio Vargas, the final person whose signature was required in order to transfer the payment.

I sighed. "So our Gang of Four each did what they were supposed to. Ozzie cut the purchase order, which was signed by Bert and Vargas and never mailed anywhere. Then John made out a fake Material Receiving Report for four brand new Caterpillar 777Gs which never arrived, Safety wrote a bogus inspection report, then Bert approved the invoice. All the above mentioned paperwork was then sent to Julio Vargas for final payment."

"Double crap," I said. "Then the four conspirators take off fishing and vanish on the same night their houses and boat are torched."

Topaz nodded. "
Entre putas and cabrones, no hay fijones
."

"What's tha
t
mean?"

"It's the Mexican version, a very rude one, of the proverb, 'There is no honor among thieves.' Looks
like your Gang of Four may have been out-thieved."

I nodded. "Maybe in a classic case of what I call Get the Gringo."

I decided to go in early Tuesday morning and retrieve my bugs. With Bert, Safety, John and Ozzie still missing, they would have no new info on them, and there was no sense leaving them around to get found.

Jan and Topaz planned to spend the day delving deeper into the comptroller's background. We already knew Julio Vargas was a Facebook chum of Baja Gamer, a.k.a. Rosario. What was Rosario's role in all of this? I hated to think he had a hand in the disappearance of the Gang of Four, even if they had tried to off him. Somehow I wanted Rosario to be more honorable than I would be in the same situation.

While I was listening to what little was left on the bugs, I remembered something and called the boat. "Jan, do you recall when I sent Rosario a conversation between Ozzie and someone in Spanish? He never got back to us."

"I'll find it and have Topaz give a listen. Anything new out there?"

"Nah, too early. No one here yet."

"Plenty of folks here. Lucifer is crawling with official looking guys. Turns out the EPIRB went off on
Lucifer
and the U.S. Coastguard became involved."

An EPIRB is an emergency position-indicating radio beacon, a device carried by most boats, including mine, and is activated in several ways. If it hits the water, it goes off automatically, or it can be set off manually. My guess is someone activated it when the fire broke out aboard
Lucifer
.

"Get Topaz to talk with them. Maybe with her Spanish she can get more info. Short of sending you off to Mexico City so you can hogtie or sleep with Vargas, I don't know what to do next. If the money's already been transferred to God only knows where, it's certainly above my paygrade. I'll update the Trob later today, but for now I'll keep us on the payroll."

"You mean I'm gonna get laid off? Already? Do I get a severence package?"

"Jan, I'm hanging up now, before I fire you myself."

Laura arrived at the office early and by six thirty others, even those who normally rushed their desks at seven, began drifting in. The mood was gloomy and they were probably all wondering what came next, and how it would affect their jobs. When five people disappear off one jobsite in a short period of time, it's bound to cause feelings of uncertainty. Laura's puffy eyes were proof of that.

"Oh, Miss Coffey, do you think they are drowned?"

"I don't know. We are just finding out some details, like their emergency beacon went off. But guess what? The whole United States Coast Guard is looking for them."

This gross exaggeration fetched a small smile as she crossed herself and whispered, "
¡Gracias a Dios!
"

As things stood, I had little to smile about myself. In my mind one of two things had happened. Either my Gang of Four was feeding the fishes, or they were headed for banks on obscure islands to retrieve their booty.

I wasn't sure which one I hoped for at this point, but when the Mexico City office opened for the day, I planned to make the call that would answer at least the seven million dollar question: where is the money right now?