Unwanted Company - Barbara Seranella (17 page)

The seated
federales
rose in unison, shouting at the dog and clapping their hands.

Munch leaned over to Mace, and said out of the side
of her mouth, "I guess you know what you have to do around here
to get some attention."

Mace cracked a small smile. Munch was amazed at the
transformation that the small shift of his lips brought to his face.
She could see how other females found him attractive. He had that
tough but tragic air about him that a lot of women went for. Derek
had cured her of that wanting-to-be-needed syndrome. Now she was only
interested in men who needed nothing, which narrowed the field
considerably.

"
Amigo
," Mace
said, addressing the cop who'd just hung up the phone. He'd shed his
pissed-off look and now wore a broad smile. Munch fought to rein in
her surprise at this second metamorphosis. Mace walked over to the
federale
and extended
his hand. "Mace St. John," he said.

The Mexican cop accepted the handshake. "Gilbert
Ruiz," he said. "What can I do for you, Senor?"

"
My lady friend here is looking for her car,"
Mace said. Munch nodded in agreement, keeping her expression neutral.

"
What kind of car?" Ruiz asked.

"
A limousine," Mace said. "Silver
Cadillac. Came across the border yesterday but never returned."

The other
federales
stopped their play and looked up.

They smell money
, Munch
thought.

"We have such a car in impound," Ruiz said.

"Where is it?" Munch asked. "And the
lady driver?"

They were interrupted by a woman who entered the
police station, crying hysterically. She went at Ruiz with clenched
fists, screaming in Spanish. The
federale
deflected her blows, but managed to do so gently. The woman sank to
her knees, beating her chest and sobbing.

"What's wrong?" Munch asked.

Ruiz pulled a chair over for the woman to sit in and
told one of the other cops in Spanish to get some water. He patted
the woman's shoulder.

"
Her husband and son suffered a tragic. . .
accident," Ruiz told Munch. "Their bodies were fished from
the river just this morning."

"
Mi niña, tambien
,"
the woman said.

"No," Ruiz said.

The woman choked out another rapid string of words,
interrupted by moans and sharp cries of pain. Munch distinctly heard
"
guvacho
,"
the Mexican slang for white man, used several times.

"
¿Es verdad?
"
Ruiz asked, anger and surprise clouding his lace. He fired back
another round of words. Munch watched as well as listened.
Occasionally a word would be used that was the sane in both
languages, such as "television" and "radio." When
Ruiz spoke to the woman, his face was kind, almost pleading. The
woman shook her head as she replied, obviously not buying whatever he
was selling. A second f
ederale
helped the woman gently from her chair and led her outside.

Ruiz finally looked up at Munch and Mace. "She
has just come from the morgue. They did not tell her that her
daughter was also dead. I tried to explain that there was no
identification on the body of the woman—the girl. No one knew it
was her niña."

Mace placed a hand on Munch's shoulder and gave her a
quick squeeze. She didn't need his prompt to tell her to keep her
mouth shut. She stared at the poor woman, wondering  how anyone
could endure the sight of their child laid out on a mortician's slab.

"I can see you are all very busy," Mace
said. "Do you have any idea where we might find the passengers
and driver of my friend's limousine?"

"
After you pay the impound charges," Ruiz
said, "you may take the car. We, too, are looking for the
driver. She robbed her passengers and left them by the side of the
road. They have filed complaints."

Munch dug her nails into Mace's arm. She hoped he'd
get her message. lf Ellen had ripped off her customers, she must have
had a good reason.

"How is it that you have the car and not the
driver?" Mace asked, looking genuinely puzzled.

"
The limousine was found abandoned eight
kilometers north from the two men," Ruiz said.

"Two men?" Munch asked.

Ruiz smiled at her, flashing his gold front tooth.
"The victims. The passengers. We believe the car might have
developed mechanical difficulties. An unlucky break for our thief."

"
So you had to tow it?" Munch asked.

"No," Ruiz said. "The car remains
where it was found. Without keys."

Munch wanted to ask why she had to pay an impound
charge if there had been no towing or storage involved.

"
Can I use your rest room?" Munch asked.

Ruiz pointed at a wooden door in the corner.
"Thanks," she said. "I'll be right back."

She pushed open the door and stepped onto the wet
cement floor. The bathroom smelled of urine. When she closed the
door, it was almost too dark to make out the fixtures. By reluctant
feel she found her way to the toilet and sink. The seat was up, so
she put it down. She turned on the faucet and ran her fingers under
the dribble that leaked out.

Then she opened her purse and removed her wallet. Her
money was all together in the side fold, and that wouldn't do at all.
She left two twenties and three ones in the bill compartment of her
wallet; then she separated the remaining twenties, folding them and
distributing them in different pockets of her jeans. She still had
the hundreds that Raleigh had given her. One she stashed under her
driver's license; the rest she tucked in her socks. Then she flushed
the toilet and reemerged.

"How much do we owe you for your trouble,
Senor?" Mace asked Ruiz.

She watched the man's eye calculate. Without waiting
for his answer, she opened her wallet and pulled out the two
twenties.

Ruiz shook his head. "Your limousine was
operating without a Mexican permit. We'll need to let the judge
decide."

Munch put the twenties back and dug out the hundred.
Ruiz reached his hand out. "There is also the impound charge."

With a sigh she pulled the twenties back out and
added them to the hundred on his outstretched palm. '

"
I'll draw you a map," he said. He didn't
offer her a receipt.

"Maybe we should go talk to your customers."
Mace said to Munch. "Sounds like they had a rough night."

"
I believe they made
other arrangements to return to Los Angeles," Ruiz said.

* * *

Munch will just have to understand
,
Ellen thought.
I'll make it up to her someday,
but I have to survive if that someday is ever to come around.
Besides, didn't Munch say something about having insurance? Shit, she
works it right, she am come out pretty sweet an the whole deal.

Ellen walked along the poorly paved highway, ducking
into the bushes when she heard cars. Finally she arrived at a small
town and risked contact with other human beings to buy much-needed
supplies.

The door of the small market stood partially ajar.
Flies buzzed at her face as she entered, and she swatted at them
angrily. The woman behind the cash register regarded her with only
small interest. Ellen found that reassuring.

A rotating stand by the front door was filled with
cowboy hats. Ellen selected one made of black felt and tried it on.
She studied her reflection in the small four-inch mirror embedded in
the hat stand. Not quite satisfied, she went to the display of
sunglasses next to the hats. She chose a pair of mirrored aviator
glasses and felt pleasantly incognito when she viewed the results.

She walked to the back of the store, accompanied by
salsa music piped out of AM transistor speakers. The handle of the
screwdriver pressed against her spine. Munch's blanket was folded
over her arm. She grabbed a bag of Fritos, comforted by the familiar
orange wrapper, and then proceeded to the unlit cooler humming
noisily against the back wall.

As soon as her hand grasped the handle, she knew that
she was going to have a beer. She'd already broken her sobriety, so
what was the big deal? Besides,
cerveza
was the only cold beverage the market offered. Surely, nobody
expected her to swallow warm Pepsi this early in the day.

She passed her money to the cashier and received
pesos in change. She had no idea if she was being ripped off, but at
this point that was the least of her worries. Pocketing her change,
she left the market to find a secluded spot where she could consume
her breakfast and form some kind of plan.

She walked with her face averted to the street,
ignoring the kissing noises directed toward her by the local men.
Did
that ever work for them?
she wondered.

She ripped open the bag of corn chips, ate a handful,
and chased it down with a healthy chug of the cold beer.

"
Ahh," she said out loud, feeling halfway
human again. She continued to walk, passing an array of small shops,
private homes, and an old church with a whitewashed marquee entrance.
A picture of the Virgin Mary kneeling in prayer before a gory,
crucified Christ was enshrined behind a glass signboard. Ellen lifted
her bottle in a toast.

Beyond the church was a line of warehouses. She
headed for them.

A loud squeal of brakes nearly made her drop her
breakfast. The ground beneath her feet rumbled; then the shadow of a
large truck overtook her. She turned around. The first thing she
noticed was the stack of bug-spattered license plates on the truck's
grille. She took a deep breath, threw back her shoulders, and smiled
her biggest and brightest. The truck stopped. The driver stuck his
head out the window. The brim of his cowboy hat cast a shadow over
most of his face, but Ellen didn't care. She was in no position to be
choosy. .

"Hey, Texas," she said in her best Lone
Star drawl. "Y'all taking any passengers?"
 

CHAPTER 15

He had never felt so violated. The woman had left
them on the side of the road like garbage. And if that wasn't bad
enough, she had touched his body while he had no means by which to
defend himself, no conscious choice in the matter at all. He thought
of his mother pulling down his pants, making him lie across her lap
as she slapped his bare bottom. She managed to double the castigation
by scorning the emergence of his pubic hair, all the while taking
advantage of his helpless nakedness.

You think you We a man? Whack. Stupid, sloppy monkey
boy. Whack.

Whatever minor infraction of his mother's impossible
rules the punishment had been for was long forgotten. But the
humiliation of her treatment still made his face burn. And now
another woman had evoked all those same feelings of outrage. He knew
of only one way to alleviate his angst. She was probably laughing at
him still. That was intolerable. Her second mistake had been to leave
them with a credit card. Perhaps he would incorporate the sharp
plastic edges in her punishment. It was her fault; he had no sympathy
for her. She was the one who had made it so personal. Before, he'd
merely disapproved of her brashness. Now, he hated her more than he'd
ever hated any woman, and that was saying a lot. She'd brought this
on herself. She would pay.

Once more he studied the automobile registration card
in his hand, reading again the name and address printed on it. His
mind filled with the fantasies of what he'd do to the woman, how her
eyes would reflect her fear. He chuckled. She'd probably wet herself.

"What's so funny?" his companion asked,
intruding on his daydream.

He turned to the other man, feeling a kinship. He
smiled and shook his head as if to say, never mind. He'd never had
many friends. Maybe he should work to cultivate relationships with
others who shared his interests. After he'd dealt with the woman,
this Ellen, he might very well pursue that next and see where it took
him.

"
Let's go find a car rental agency that takes
MasterCard," he said.

"Yes, we've had
enough fun here," his companion said.

* * *

Munch followed the road signs pointing to Tecate. She
found her battered limousine just where the
federale's
crudely drawn map said it would be, on the shoulder of the highway. '
"X marks the spot," she said to Mace, as they pulled up
alongside the mud-spattered stretch. Her casual remark belied what
she was really feeling. Was Ellen also lying in some muddy ditch,
broken and battered?

Munch walked around her ravaged limo and did a silent
calculation of the damage. The spoke hubcaps cost a hundred dollars
each if she went to the dealer. No doubt she could buy back her own
from some curbside booth in town. The antennae were another matter.
The little cellular-telephone antenna was no big deal, but the car's
radio antenna would set her back another bill. Add another twenty for
the Cadillac hood ornament. The dent on the driver's door really
pissed her off It would have to be pulled out, feathered with Bondo,
and repainted. Besides being costly, the process would put the car
out of commission for a week, and they'd never get an exact match on
the color.