Just Deserts (Hetta Coffey Series, Book 4) (18 page)

Not tell anybody? She had to be kidding. I couldn’t wait to get to the phone. First I’d go on line and buy all the stock I could afford, then call Dad and tell him to do the same. Then drop a dime to Fox, CNN, and all the rest. Delusions of riches garnered thanks to insider info danced in my head, and I counted my future fortune faster than you can say Martha Stewart. Okay, maybe that’s not the best example, but I was calculating how much moola I could get my hands on to invest when Allison tapped my shoulder.

“Snap out of it, and forget what I said, okay?”

I crossed my fingers behind my back. “Sure, sure, Allison.”

“I mean it, Hetta. I could go to jail for telling you about the move. And so could you if you do anything, like buy stock.”

Is this woman a mind reader, or what? Rats. “I promise not to tell anyone or do anything to enrich myself. Is that good enough?”

“Uncross your fingers.” Double rats.

I held out my hands. “All right, all right. I gather you do not wish to move to Dubai?”

“I told Fidel when I agreed to marry him that I never wanted to leave the Bay Area. I mean, I was even entertaining a run for mayor of San Francisco, until I got pregnant.”

Jan took a sip and focused, with some difficulty, on Allison. “How did that happen?”

“Jan,” I scolded, “don’t you think that’s just a lit-tle too personal?”

Jan spluttered a giggle. “Silly, I meant, how is it Allison almost ran for mayor?”

For that story, we decided to light a firepit and brave the chill to watch the last ray of the day fade behind the purple silhouetted Huachuca mountain range. Bundled into sweats, we crowded around the crackling firelog and listened as Allison gave a quick rundown on being approached by the local politicos who saw her as mayoral material, and she, flattered, almost went for it.

“Had they met your husband?” Somehow, I couldn’t picture the Trob in a photo op, unless they were selling zoo tickets, since he closely resembles a buzzard. A loveable buzzard, but certainly not GQ material.

“Well, no. I kind of kept him under wraps. I think they thought, since he is a big wig at Baxter Brothers, I would appeal to both parties or something.”

“Oh, gee, I didn’t realize there was a Klingon Party in San  Fran,” I quipped, drawing appreciative cackles, even from Allison. “I thought they were all in Berkeley.”

A golf cart skidded to a stop, and we, expecting to be shushed, were surprised to see the Xers gawking at us. They gave the new kid on the block, Allison, a look, but did not acknowledge our cockamamie greetings as they sped away.

“Who are they?” Allison asked.

“We’re not sure, but Craig doesn’t like them. Says they look like Black Muslims.”

“Craig is right, they’re creepy.”

I stifled a yawn. Our day and too much wine was catching up with me. “Girls, I’m done. I’m going to get on the horn and try finding that damned Jenks one more time, then I’m hitting the hay.”

Allison blinked. “Jenks? Didn’t Fidel tell you?” Allison is probably the only person on the planet who calls the Trob by his first name.

“Tell me what?”

“Jenks won’t answer his cell, because they worry about eavesdropping. God knows who might be listening. Hell, no one in Dubai can fart without some kind of electronic surveillance picking it up. Another reason not to go there.”

“Dubai?”

“
Gesundheit
.”

“Shut up and drink your wine, Jan. Allison, are you telling me Jenks is in Dubai?”

“Oh, yes. He’s front man for my husband. Since he’s a private contractor, he can get stuff done without the Baxter Brothers thing getting out until they want it to. But if you ask me, it’s a done deal.”

“So, Jenks is safe and sound, in Dubai?” I punched a warning finger at Jan. She pouted.

Allison bobbed her head. “Yes, as far as I know.”

“I am going to kill him. How dare he be safe.”

Jan rose, slurred, “Atta girl, Hetta,” and tottered into the house. I found her passed out in the very center of my bed, leaving me to bunk on the office daybed. Nanci and Allison took the guest room twins.

For such a big house, we were running low on bed space.  Before I knew it, I’d be hanging out in the garage with Vinny, the vinegaroon. Craig’s scary looking bug was evicted from the main house by popular demand, mainly mine, under threat of calling in the Critter Gitters. He now resided, on the loose, somewhere in the garage. Every time I parked, I expected a crunch and the smell of vinegar, but so far, so good, at least for Vinny.

Everyone drifted off to their rooms, and by the time I loaded the dishwasher with the day’s collection of wine and water glasses, coffee and teacups, and various plates and flatware, my wine had worn off somewhat. I say somewhat, because I still had enough liquid courage left that I dared sending Jenks a scathing email threatening him with great bodily harm unless I heard from him, pronto.

I made up the daybed, got ready to get in it, checking email every few minutes to see if pronto had arrived. Nope. Finally I gave up and climbed between the sheets and was drifting off when I had a thought. Scrambling from the covers, I hopefully checked my SPAM file. Nothing from Jenks, but go figure, while my regular mail contained messages that I’d won the Irish Lottery and yet another Liberian wanted to marry me, it had slam-dunked an important message from someone with whom I was in constant contact into SPAM's file. I wanted to throttle SPAM, whoever he is.

The Trob’s message, dated the day before, told me that Jenks was safe and sound in an undisclosed location, and he’d call me as soon as he could. Oh, and Allison was on her way to my house.

Ain’t cyberland grand? Here we are, in an era of instant communication and my email goes walkabout?

Annoyed no end, I went back to bed, but my head hardly touched the pillow again before the phone rang. Untangling myself, then tripping on sheets in the process and falling onto the bed, I finally managed to corral the phone. Surely, if there is a God, She had Jenks on the line.

“Hetta?”

Not Jenks. Prince Faoud. “Hi, Prince.”

“You are well?”

“Depends on how you look at things,” I said, rubbing a place on my knee that collided with a desk corner during my dive for the phone. “Someone stole my car, then brought it back full of masked, armed, men who tried to hijack a plane I was on, then my car went off a bluff, and the car we drove home in was radioactive. How’s everything with you?”

“Are you jesting me again?”

“I wish.” Several pieces of information suddenly, like a Rubik’s Cube, fell into place. “You aren’t, by any chance, in Dubai, are you?”

“How did you know that? As a matter of fact, that is why I called. I am on a secure line and I have your friend, Jenks, with me.”

“Oh, hell. Don’t tell him what I just said.”

“Too late, Hetta,” Jenks said. “You’re on speaker.”

“I’m not speaking to you.”

“You left a message for me to call.”

“Prince Faoud, would you please tell Jenks I asked him to call so I could not speak to him. I am very angry with Mr. Jenkins. I’ve been worried sick about him while he’s playing around in the lap of luxury in Dubai. He’s probably at that big hotel that looks like a ship and costs a small fortune to stay in.”

“Prince Faoud, would you please tell Hetta that I am indeed at the Buri Al Arab, but in your private suite. So what’s with the armed masked guys? Hijacked airplanes? She promised to stay out of trouble.”

“Prince Faoud, please cover your ears.”

Jan and I, the first ones up, drank coffee in the courtyard, letting Allison and Nanci sleep in. It was freezing outside, but we’d wrapped ourselves in blankets and lit a fire. Whoever built the house planned well, as both the south and north sides had fire pits, and the courtyard caught the morning sun, making it an ideal place to greet even the chilliest of days.

As the sun, fire, and coffee warmed us, Jan shook her head at me. “Ya know, Hetta, you’ve outdone yourself this time. If Jenks forgives you for that tongue lashing you gave him last night, it’ll be a freakin’ miracle. You should just be grateful he’s safe. Nobody blows up anything in Dubai.”

“You were supposed to be passed out, not eavesdropping.”

“I needed a glass of water. God, will I never learn? I feel like crap, and will for the rest of the day.”

“Soon as Allison and Nanci get up, we’ll go have a big old Mexican breakfast that’ll set you straight. I know a place where they serve menudo every day, instead of just weekends.”

“Anyone for breakfast?” Allison chirped as she sauntered into the courtyard. “I’m starving.”

“Think you can handle a bowl of menudo on the table, what with your delicate condition?”

“Menudo? Are you kidding? I love menudo. “

“Did I hear menudo?” Nanci asked, joining us. “Please, take me to it.”

Four steaming bowls of tripe and hominy soup arrived at our table not a moment too soon for me. After dumping chopped onions, basil, and cilantro into the pungent concoction touted by Mexicans as the ultimate hangover cure, we chowed down as though we had not been fed for at least a month.

Conversation dropped to nil, superseded by slurping and moans of rapture. Nanci and Jan had a beer with theirs, but the idea of alcohol in any form made my stomach jump.

Also messing with my tummy was recollecting my rant at Jenks the night before. I simply have to learn not to spew when I’d had a few. Chewing on a tortilla wrapped around a delightfully rubbery piece of tripe, I tried to recall if I’d said anything I couldn’t fix.

“Hetta, you look like a cow chewing cud,” Jan said. “Don’t look so worried, you probably didn’t do any permanent damage. I think Jenks knew it was your fear for him driving that little hissy.”

“Think so?”

“Yeah,” Allison added, “he should be able to tell the difference by now.”

“I’ve said much worse to Ted,” Nanci chimed in. “I mean, at least you didn’t insult his manhood or anything like that.”

Was everyone listening in on my very private conversation last night? I had to get a bigger house, or fewer friends.

My cell phone rang. Hoping for Jenks, I snapped it up and answered without checking caller ID.

“Hetta? Hetta? Can you hear me?”

“Craig? Yes, I hear you, but you’re breaking up.”

“Bus, Naco around three. Okay?”

“What? Did you say—” the phone went dead.

“That was Craig? How’s he liking the Baja?”

“Not. Best I can figure, he’ll be in Naco this afternoon. Didn’t we just get rid of him?”

“Yes, we did, like three days ago. What’s up?”

“Not sure, but I’ll drive to the border this afternoon, just in case he shows. I can’t for the life of me figure out what he’s doing back here so soon.”

Jan stretched and patted her disgustingly flat stomach. “Who knows? What I do know is, I need an aspirin and a nap.”

Nanci decided to go shopping in Sierra Vista while Jan took her nap. That left Allison and me with time to kill before fetching Craig.

“So Allison, want the big tour? We can check out a few shops in Historic Bisbee. Maybe you can score some Bisbee Blue for your hubby.”

“He can get his own damned turquoise. I’m seriously angry with him and may never go back.”

“You’re pregnant, you have to go back.”

“Some feminist you are.”

This was a discussion I didn’t want to get into, so I shooed her out to the garage after a warning for her to watch where she walked, lest she squash Craig’s vinegarroon.

I figured, since Craig wanted me to pick him up, we’d use his car. It’d be a tight fit, but if push came to shove, I’d walk the two miles to the house from the border.

After hitting both sides of Main Street in Historic Bisbee, Allison dropped almost two grand on a painting, another five hundred on a piece of jewelry, and bought a case of killer bee honey. I trailed along, acting as pack mule.

A little before Craig was to arrive, we headed for downtown Naco, Arizona. All one block of it. We didn’t have our passports with us, so we waited on the U.S. side for him. He’d only have a short walk from the bus station, which shouldn’t be a big deal, what with that new healthy bod.

While we waited by the pedestrian crossing into Mexico so we could see Craig when he walked to the border, a stream of kids flooded the turnstile, headed into Mexico after their school day in the United States. Some came by bus from Bisbee’s high school, others walked from the elementary school in Naco, Arizona.

“What’s with this?” Allison wanted to know. “Don’t they have schools in Mexico?”

“Yep, but a lot of these kids are actually American citizens, and prefer the educational system here. Why, I’ll never know. Look, our friendly neighborhood Farrakhan brothers.” I pointed out a yellow Jeep waiting in line on the Mexico side.

“Those guys from the golf cart last night?”

“That be them. Like I said, there’s something shady about them.”

Allison snorted. “What was your first clue, detective? That they were wearing bow ties on the golf course, with no clubs in the cart?”

The Jeep disappeared from view behind a Customs building, then emerged on the other side and rolled right past us. The men never looked in our direction.

“Hetta, Hetta, Hetta,” Allison said with a disapproving look, and a shake of her head. “After all these years, you’re still a Honky at heart.”

“What? What did I say?”

“Ain’t what you said, Grey Girl. For crap’s sake, do you truly think we all look alike?”

I was totally  confused.  Did Allison believe I was prejudiced against these guys because they were black? I was trying to come up with an answer when she broke out laughing and I realized she was messing with me.

“Not funny, Mrs. Wontrobski. You know I’m not like that.”

“Sorry, sweetie, I’m just yanking your chain. Truth is, anyone could make the same mistake.”

“What mistake? What are you talking about?”

“Those guys. They are not the same two as in the golf cart last night. Both dressed alike, bowties, same haircut, and sunglasses. Close, but no cigar.”

“Different men?”

“One of them was in that cart, but the other guy? No way. Hell, he’s African.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m African-American, remember? I know a real African when I see one. Don’t ask me how, exactly, but I can tell the difference. It’s a matter of posture, for one thing, and the shape of his head and his profile. He ain’t homogenized, as I call it. Trust me, he is not from around here.”

I started the car.

“Hey, where we going?” she asked. “Aren’t we gonna wait for Craig?”

“He can hoof it. Do him good, and Jan is home to let him in. I want to see where this Jeep is headed.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, exactly. Just nosy, I guess.”

Within five minutes, we were in the RV park, but I didn’t turn right, to where I knew the Xer’s RV was. I circled slowly behind a line of oversized diesel pushers with enough slide outs to qualify as Transformers, and that would cover us from view. I got out and inched past an RV to check out the Jeep, but by then it was empty.

“I guess they went inside. So, if that guy is new, are there three of them now? When Craig gets here he won’t be pleased with that news. Speaking of whom, I guess we can backtrack to the border, see if he’s on his way to the house.” I left the way we came, hopefully without getting spotted from the RV. As far as I knew, they didn’t know Craig’s car, but who knew anything by now? Why these men made my danger neurons jangle, I wasn’t sure, but I’d somehow have to follow up on their claim of testing San Pedro river water.

We were halfway to the border when I spotted Craig walking alongside the highway, and he was not alone.

“Uh-oh,” I mumbled.

“Uh-oh?”

“Yes, Allison, big uh-oh. See that guy with Craig?”

“What guy with Craig? I don’t even see Craig.”

“He’s right…oh, I forgot. You haven’t seen him in some time. There, my dear, is the new and improved hunk, Dr. Craig, no longer Craigousaurus.”

“Wow. Ditto that wow. Who is that with him, speaking of hunks.”

“That would be Doctor Brigido Comacho Yee. A.k.a. Chino.”

“Jan’s Doctor Chino?”

“The one and only. She’s not gonna be happy with this house call.”

I walked home with Chino so I could grill him, and Craig drove Allison.

Chino was anxious to have Jan back into his life, he said, even if it meant giving up his whales and getting a real job. He sounded genuinely sincere, if not enthused with riding a desk or heading a lab at some university. He made it sound as though earning big bucks instead of living on the beach was tantamount to jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge, but for her, he’d do it.

I took a neutral stance on the matter, neither taking her side, or his. Let them sort it out, I decided. I had my own troubles, which multiplied exponentially as we neared my house.

A shiny blue, 1997 Lincoln Town car with Texas plates was parked at a strange angle in the drive area. I knew the year and model, because I remembered when it was new. Cacophonous prattle, along with a whiff of bourbon, wafted over the courtyard wall, raking my already alcohol-shocked nerves worse than fingernails on a chalkboard.
No, please, don’t let it be
.

But it was.

My least favorite aunt in the world, Lillian, held court in my courtyard, surrounded by my friends. Jan, who for some reason actually likes the old bag, shot me a smirk, but I got the last laugh when I pulled Chino through the gate. Jan’s smirkiness vanished, replaced first by shock, then a menacing glower.

“There you are, Hetta darlin’,” cawed Aunt Lil. “I’ve been enjoying your delightful new friends and, of course, it’s always a pleasure to see little Jan.”

“Aunt Lil,” I said, dully.

Little Jan’s face had turned a light shade of purple. Fists balled, she took two fierce steps toward Chino, who innocently held his arms wide. Disarmed, Jan dissolved in tears, whirled, and fled into the house.

Everyone except Aunt Lil, who was sucking on a flask and oblivious to anything else, gave the crestfallen Chino sympathetic looks. A heavy, embarrassed pall fell on the group until Auntie Lil broke the silence. “Oh, by the way, Hetta, you really shouldn’t keep  pets. First you lose my parrot, and now, well, your dog….” She raised a disapproving eyebrow.

“I did not lose your parrot. Trouble has a happy home on a ranch in Baja where…my what?”

“Your dog, dearie. You shouldn’t let him run loose. After all, there are surely dangerous creatures in this godforsaken desert.”

Auntie dear,
I
am the most dangerous creature in this godforsaken desert where you are concerned
, I wanted to say, but then realized what she'd just said. “Dog?”

My aunt shook her head in disgust. “Really, niecey dear, I sometimes wonder about you. I mean, you are supposed to be such a smart girl, and then you….” Again, she let her sentence hang. My aunt is the queen of the dangling insult.

I wanted to hang her. No, that would be too fast. How about thirty years in the electric chair? Or perhaps tied to a railroad track? Or—

Lillian interrupted that train of thought. “Anyway, just so you know, I let the poor thing into the house.”

Jan’s bloodcurdling scream brought us all to our feet.

Blue, who left a trail of scat everywhere we chased him, was finally corralled in the office. I ran out another door onto the verandah, opened the gate to the golf course, then threw open the outside office door and made a wild leap for the top of the three-foot high pony wall. I barely made it before a snarling, snapping, crapping, Blue bolted onto the verandah, shot me what can only be interpreted as a furious glare, and headed for freedom.

I wanted to go with him.