Chapter 31: The Final Chapter

“I need your muscles.” Laura sing-songed to Evan, Matt and Michael. “I especially need yours.” She said, flashing Jet a flirty look.

Jet gave her a drippy smile his eyes following as she walked back into the kitchen. The others ignored her directive and were busy cheering as their football team scored another touchdown.

There was a simultaneous knock at the door and Charlie walked in, carrying a sleeping Buddy. Bruce, who looked just as droopy was instantly snatched by Frieda and smothered with grandmotherly smooches.

Charlie handed Laura their son, entered the small kitchen, opened a lid and sampled the potatoes. Laura slapped his hands away.

“You need to wait.” She admonished.

I stole a glance at Jet, who was doing his level-best to be cool about the scene unfolding in front of him.

“Uh, what did you need?” Jet said, grabbing Laura from behind and blatantly planted a kiss on her cheek.

Laura in her most practical voice, instructed Jet to have the guys bring over the card tables stored in Matt’s garage and set them up. If you were just listening you would presume she was playing drill sergeant. But, if you were watching Laura, you would see her cat green eyes just melting looking into Jet’s.

“When’s the Turkey done?” came a call from one of the football fans in the other room. At least one without a Southern drawl.

“Soon” Dee called from the kitchen. Her cornbread stuffing smelled delicious.

I was having the time of my life. In truth, I had never had an informal Thanksgiving dinner. Ours at home had always been a grand production, with the caterers called in weeks in advance to review the menu. There were be at least one chef and two servers and all thirty seats in our dining room would be full. Formal invitations sent out weeks earlier.

Mother would have fretted over seating arrangements. At home our guests would Daddy’s associates or anyone in the East Bay’s elite Mother was anxious to know. Everyone would be dressed as stuffy as possible. There would be jazz or classical music on in the background, not a football game—especially on such an important day such as this. Just like Mother, everything would be perfect. But, I had come to appreciate a new level of perfection. And, more importantly, I had come to appreciate Mother’s definition of perfection as well.

Although I was banned from the kitchen (Frieda promises to teach me to cook some day), I had found ways to make myself useful, mainly running errands between the kitchen and living room by refreshing beers and replenishing football snacks for the men. Right now, I was I was stationed at the door, ready to open as the guys hauled the tables and chairs over, laughing about something in the male camaraderie sort of way.

To bring you up to speed. Roy and Ed both pled guilty to kidnapping, attempted murder and a litany of other charges. The Catholic guilt got to me a week or so after everything settled down. I read the fine print of my contract with good old Carl, the loan-walrus. It turns out he was a legitimate business after all, and, although Carl owned it, the company still had employees and the ability to conduct business. So, I still owed the money to his company for the engine—which I paid off with the sale of Mr. Daniel’s dump. Someone actually bought that place! I still pinch myself.

Jet did meet with Amy finally. But, I never asked how it went. Honestly, the less I see, hear or smell of Amy, the more sun shines in my life. Last I heard he was also doing loans for the majority of Metro Realty Pros’s agents—who continually rave about him. But he still refuses to give Wendy the time of day.

Last week I got a sweet letter from Lillian, telling me how thankful she was to be able to spend the holidays at her daughter’s home. She loves being so close to her grandchildren (several photos were enclosed). She told me more than once how appreciative she was for her place selling so fast. Frankly, I am not sure it had nothing more to do with luck, timing and the multiple listing service, but what the heck! With the commission money, I paid the State of Nevada (with much more to go).

As you probably guessed, Jet is totally into Laura. I asked him recently how this compares to his tom-cat days. “There is only Laurel,” he said solemnly. And, although Laura would be hard pressed to admit it, she is pretty crazy about Jet. Oh, Laura is a nick-name for Laurel. Go figure.

Laura and I had a lot of talking to do after everything ended. At any rate, other than our adventure, I am not sorry Carl told her to keep an eye on me. I feel bad for Laura for the position Charlie had put her in. Laura refuses to feel sorry for herself. Something I admire in her. She said this is the choices she made and this is where her life took her. She told me for that, she isn’t sorry.

Charlie has turned out to be a spectacular father. Better than I think Laura expected. The boys instantly took to him, welcoming him to their lives. Laura has been very generous with visitation. Charlie is still in a half-way house as part of his parole, but spends every moment he isn’t working, rebuilding the Hacienda, with the boys. Of course, he tests clean each time he takes his mandatory drug-test—which is to be expected, as he was only dealing.

And, for that matter, it wasn’t his first choice for a career. I once asked Laura if there was any chance for the two of them to get back together. She laughed at my question, assuring me she wouldn’t go back to Charlie. “We were never right for each other.” It is true. I don’t see any chemistry. But, I do see they are becoming good friends.

I cannot think of two people more of a match for each other than Dee and Michael. Dee calls it, “second time around syndrome”—a more mature and slower take on romance. But, the often syrupy smile on Dee’s face constantly lets me know me things are going well.

Personally, I think Michael is a sweetheart. His need for being taken care of is only outweighed by Dee’s nurturing disposition. And, I am absolutely thrilled for the two of them. I love watching them together. It is what I expect of two people who have “found each other” to look like. They walk in step, finish each other’s sentences and communicate so much by the subtle expressions on their faces. Michael has hinted there are good things on the horizon for the two of them.

Speaking of good things, Matt and I are great friends. I am not sorry we haven’t gone further. (Ok, maybe a little sorry). There seems to be some unspoken rule between us. It goes like this: at some future unspecified time and day, we will think about perhaps discussing the possibility that maybe we can transition our friendship into something stronger. But, for now we hang out together.

Recently, he jokingly brought up my comment I made last summer about his tush. Mortified, head in my hands, I wished for a time machine so I could just go back and erase that particular episode. He answered my silent humiliation by taking my chin in his hand and saying, “Maybe some day we will both be ready for that.”

Maybe someday.

Chapter 30: Even Later

      We were sitting on the waist-high block wall at Juan’s family farm, watching the police do what police do. The ambulance carted Roy, still breathing, away ten minutes earlier. Carl was still inside. Some official-looking people were talking to one of the folks from the crowd of neighbors congregating across the street.

After the first round of police questions, we called everyone, telling them we were all right. Laura spent an enormous amount of time on my phone with Frieda, reassuring her she was safe, then giving her directions on the correct way to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to Bruce’s specifications. Afterwards, Laura used half my month’s cell minutes talking to Jet.

The police picked up the passengers of the Mercedes on the way back from the Sweet Shop, about the same time Laura and I were inside living our nightmare. According to Officer Harding, someone on Carl’s crew had a hankering for chicken wings. So, they all piled in the car, picked up the wings and were in the process of zooming on back, ready to watch late-night cable when they were pulled over by four Phoenix police cars.

Laura took another sip from the water bottle one of the officers gave us. She turned to me, “How’d you find me?”

“I found Julie. I went and saw her and told her about you and Juan.” I shuddered as I thought about my gruesome discovery. Laura hadn’t been aware of Juan’s demise until five minutes earlier.

“Yea. She and Juan were dating. That had to be a blow.”

We sat in silence, watching the scene unfold. The officers had already talked to both of us. Currently we were waiting for the police to release us. The friendliest officer, whose job description included keeping an eye on us, let us know they might have more questions. Hard to believe. We had covered everything spanning from World War 1 to the moment we ran out the door of Juan’s home, into the arms of the police force—who apparently were unaware anyone was in the house until they heard gunshots.

“So, where was Carl’s stuff?” I finally asked her.

Laura brightened, and a wide smile crossed her face, “With the Feds. I gave it to them yesterday. I didn’t figure it was a good idea to hold on to it.” I laughed. “Besides, I was gambling the Feds would get him before he got me. I guess I got it partially right.”

She continued, “Carl had been giving me trouble because he had skimmed some money from this drug lord, Pablo Villanova.” I nodded. “I knew Carl was messing with him. I heard him talking at the hotel one day. I was making the rounds, and he was on the phone with the door open, waiting for his bimbo to join him. That’s one thing about what Carl wanted from me. He had a permanent room at the Hacienda. I really hate him.

“Anyway, the day I heard Carl talking, he was telling someone he screwed up and he wanted a chance to make it up. That’s the thing about Carl, he thought he was smarter than everyone else, and when he got caught by someone more bad-ass than him, he just begged for forgiveness.” Laura took a drink of water from the bottle the police had given her.

“Later that night, he ran across the street to the Sweet Shop. I was curious. I never snooped on him before. I had been afraid to. But, he had been such an asshole to me about being one day late on my payment…” her voice drifted off. “You know, I just wanted to know. I wanted to know who he was talking to and who got him to act like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“You should have heard him Tina, ‘oh, give me another chance… I can get the money for you…’ and on and on. It was pathetic. I admit it. I was nosy. I found his address book and a bunch of other stuff tying him to Villanova. I thought I would just keep it and if I had something on him, maybe he might just leave me alone. Then, Carl figured out it was missing and put two and two together. He had been in a shitty mood that day. He kept coming over to the hotel. Screaming at me, throwing things... When he is angry he gets really violent and then he just gets worse.” She was still, but I shuddered, thinking of what hell she had gone through at his hands all these years.

Laura gave me a reassuring glance. “Oh. No. Carl is a royal asshole, but he isn’t a rapist. He just got mean when he was pissed.” She continued. “Anyway, he was looking for his files. I had a temporary case of stupidity, and had just had it with him and his shit. It wasn’t the brightest thing I ever did.” She stated with a half-laugh. “But, I told him the truth. He lost his mind. He trashed my desk. I told him I made arrangements to give it to the Feds if he didn’t leave me alone. That night, he torched the place. Asshole.” She shook her head.

“Why did you deal with Carl as long as you did?” I asked.

Laura took another sip of water. “Charlie.” She said, biting her lip. “He owns half and he wouldn’t sell. For the first couple of years he was in jail, I tried to buy him out. He refused.” Laura shook her head. “Charlie wanted it for when he got out of jail. He wanted it for the boys. And, I never told him about Carl’s violent streak. Charlie went to jail because we owed Carl money. Charlie was trying to work off the debt. Right or wrong. That is what he was doing.”

Laura paused, and sat up straighter. “And, I do like being in business. I like that I did well with it. I am really proud of myself. I accomplished something. If you had asked me ten years ago, I would have told you I couldn’t do it. Now, I feel like there is nothing I can’t do. There is a lot to be said for doing something completely on your own.”

Chapter 29: Later

I waited in the darkness, my window down for air, listening to the stillness. Though there were three homes and plenty of acreage in between me and my target, my eyes were affixed, adjusted to the night’s shadows.

Finally, there was movement. Three figures walked out of the house and into the Mercedes. As they drove by, I scrunched in my seat, hoping they didn’t somehow recognize my car. Nobody stopped. As they passed, I let out a sigh of relief.

I debated. The cops were (hopefully) on their way. What if they got there after Carl? I couldn’t bring myself to think about what he meant by “took care of” on the answering machine. The interior lights once on at the home, were now dark. I debated. Was Laura in there? Was she all right? Did I wait for the police? Did I take a chance Carl would be late? 10:46.

The first acknowledgement I was mindful of my actions was when I made the conscious decision to stay in the shadows. Until then, I wasn’t truly aware I had left the security of my car. I walked quickly in the dark, the moon my only source of light. I kept to the right side of the street—across from the house and Laura’s truck. The smell citrus and irrigated earth filled my senses.

At the end of the block, I crossed and darted to Laura’s truck. I noticed a surprising comfort as I stood between it and the home’s exterior wall. I didn’t hear sirens. Peeking around the home’s side to the front, I looked down the street towards where my car sat. No police cars had shown up either. Damn.

From the protection of the Chevy, I peeked to the back yard. Another rarity for Phoenix—no back fence. Instead, trees, most likely orange, stood as sentinels, daring me to trespass. I dared.

Tiptoeing towards the back yard, I stopped every few feet, listening for police sirens or for noises from the home. Neither came. I crouched under a window, pretending I was invisible. My heart was beating so loudly that I half-expected a random neighbor to investigate the noise. Hopefully they were heavy sleepers.

I moved with at and exaggerated cadence, caused by tip-toeing while bending over to stay out of sight of the windows. Several more feet and I reached the screened back porch. Opening it carefully, I cringed as the door’s hinges creaked. I stopped mid-step, waiting for what might come. I was aware of every shadow. Every sound.

Standing on the patio, I looked through the glass sliding doors, letting my eyes adjust. As I tugged at the door, it slid open with ease. Stepping in, I was still, listening. I had no idea where Laura would be.

This house was a single level. From what I could tell, I was in probably a den. The room smelled like a musty mixture of stale cigarettes, dust and beer. The clock on the DVD player gave enough of an eerie glow for me to make out the large television and couch to my right. There was some sort of bookshelf and wet bar on the left. The clock read 10:52.

I moved across the room, through archway connecting the den to the kitchen. I felt along the cabinets, gripping the countertops. I was no longer listening for people. I had fleeting thoughts of accidentally stepping on a sleeping pit bull. I was afraid to turn on lights, just in case anyone walked through the front door. Right now, I had the advantage. If someone showed up, I could run back out through the den.

I worked my way into the living room. Now in the front of the house. Feeling vulnerable, I moved quickly into the hall. Carefully, I opened the first door I came to. A closet. Bending down in the darkness, I felt around the bottom of the closet. Nothing Laura shaped.

Back in the hall, I passed a bathroom. Sticking my head in, I whispered, “Laura?” No sound.

I was at a crossroads. To my right were two doorways. To my left one. Presumably bedrooms. I went to the left.

It was the master bedroom. I crept around towards the bathroom, wondering if Julie had been wrong. Now, more comfortable with my surroundings and aware of my time constraint, I turned on the light. Blinking until my eyes were in focus, I let out a discouraged sigh. There was nothing to see.

The bathroom light still on, I walked across the room to the closet. One pace away from the door, the noise I heard made my bones jump out of my skin. Frozen in mid-step, I waited, afraid to put my foot down, for fear it would vibrate off the carpet. The noise came again. Snoring. Loud snoring.

Someone was in the house! I glanced at the bed. Empty. The sleeper was across the hall. I breathed a sigh or relief.

Opening the master closet, I heard a muffled squeak. Fumbling for the light switch, I was unprepared for what I saw. Laura, bound and bruised. I worked fast to untie her legs and hands. Before I even had her legs free, she ripped off the duct tape, not even wincing.

“Can you walk?” I whispered.

She nodded.

“There is someone sleeping in the other room.”

Taking her hand, we tiptoed past the occupied bedroom, moving quickly through the dark. By the time we were in the kitchen, I was relieved to see the DVD clock, a beacon guiding us to the safety of the outdoors.

Now through the archway into the den, we quickened our pace. I felt a surge of relief. We were a few feet away from safety. “Almost out.” I said.

As soon as the words passed my lips, the overhead light came on. “Going somewhere Princess?”

I whirled around. Roy, seriously pissed off, stood with a gun pointed at us. “Put your hands where I can see them ladies and get up against the wall,” he said, motioning us towards the bare space beyond the bookshelf and maybe five feet from the outside.

Laura let out a strangled noise.

“Let us go.” I said, realizing how stupid I sounded.

Roy laughed. “Not a chance.” He walked towards us, his pistol in hand. “Carl wants Red there and I’ve got special plans for you.”

He came closer. His gun pointed at us. I saw the red in his bloodshot eyes. I smelled his sweat.

I took a step closer to the bookshelf, partially out of Roy’s sight. “Stop moving,” he growled.

Roy was still talking, but I stopped listening. I calculated. Patience, I thought. I had one chance to make this happen. Now just a few feet away, Roy lunged at me. In an instant, I slid my hand behind the bookshelf. My back braced against the wall and with strength unknown, I pushed it forward. The contents and the shelf itself tumbled on to Roy with a thunderous crash.

Laura and I gazed down, afraid to move. “Holy shit,” she muttered.

The shelf’s items were now scattered at our feet. A shard of broken glass landed on top of my foot. I lifted my leg, shaking off the debris. Roy’s leg was sticking out, toward us. His jeans torn, blood oozing from a gash. A moan came from under the bookshelf.

We stood watching. I was still shaking from the adrenaline.

The bookshelf shifted. “You stupid bitch.” Roy growled. In an instant, Laura dropped to her knees, snatched a bowling trophy, one of the objects once residing on the shelf, and whacked Roy in the knee cap.

He gave off a series of curses, moving again to free himself. As the bookshelf heaved up, I instinctively jumped on it landing where I hoped Roy’s head lie. There was a crunching sound. Roy emitted an “umph” and then a split second later, silence.

“We better go.” I said, climbing off the shelf.

“Just a sec,” Laura whispered, her hand under the rubble. I looked down at her just as a shot rang out above my head.

I hit the floor.

“Get up,” a voice hissed.

Legs shaking, I stood to see Carl in front of me, pointing his gun my direction. “You too, Ms. Jamison.”

“I can’t,” Laura practically whispered. “The bookshelf is on my arm.” I cast another downward glance. Laura didn’t meet my gaze.

Carl glared at her, “I will deal with you in a minute.” Walking towards me he said, “Ms. Cavanaugh, move away towards the wall.”

I was frozen, afraid to leave Laura’s side. As I looked down at her again, her arm under the bookshelf, another shot rang out. At the same second, I felt something brush past my hair. The smell of gunpowder mingled with the musty odors of the room. I emitted a squeal.

“I suggest you move now.” He said, motioning with his gun for me to back against the wall. “I won’t miss next time.”

I took two steps backwards, feeling for the wall behind me. The gun was pointed at my eyes. Carl glaring at Laura.

“Ms. Jamison, I believe you have something that belongs to me. I suggest now would be a good time to tell me where it is.”

“No.”

I gasped. Glaring at her, I screeched, “What? Tell him Laura!”

Laura was staring at Carl. Her jaw set. Fire in her eyes.

“Mr. Jamison, this is your last chance.”

Laura shook her head.

Carl’s shifted from her to me. His eyes met mine. I stopped breathing, unable to plead to with Laura to save my life.

 “Such a shame to kill you, Ms. Cavan—”

Instantly, a third shot rang out. Carl never finished his sentence, instead crumpling over, next to the bookcase. A bullet hole through his face, blood spilling out through the back of his head.

I looked down. Laura was holding Roy’s gun, her hand now free.

Her eyes met mine. “Carl is such a prick.”

Chapter 28: Tuesday Night

Officer Harding was energetic this time around, asking much more detailed questions. I had to wonder, wasn’t finding a dead body in the laundry room worth this kind of enthusiasm an hour earlier?

Because Laura had the presence of mind to tape her fateful call with Carl, Officer Williams sagely pointed out, this gave us the evidence she seemed to feel was sorely lacking from her last visit. It seems to me Juan with a bullet through his brain made for decent evidence, but then again, I didn’t own the badge and a gun.

It was 6 p.m. by the time the police—this time six of them—left. I was in a state. Panic long gone, I was pacing the floor, wearing out the carpet in the family room. Jet was busy picking up Bruce and Buddy’s room. I had told him to leave it, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Matt and I were debating which one of us should be saddled with the task of calling Frieda.

Finally, Matt gave in. I figured she would react better to it coming from him than me. His matter-of-fact style was somewhat soothing. And besides, I didn’t want to break the news Frieda’s only child and mother to her grandsons had been kidnapped and a man had been murdered in her home.

While Matt busied himself, I finally found something inane to occupy my time. Working the front room, I used masking tape to pick up shards of glass from the carpet. The TV and DVD player were still sitting in the entertainment center. My brain was racking where Laura would put information about Carl. Certainly not here. It would have been found. How much information? What did the information look like? What kind of files?

The police had asked these questions too. They had also answered a biggie. Who was the Pablo Villanova Laura had mentioned on the answering machine tape. It turns out, he is a big time drug lord who is on the FBI’s Most Wanted list. Officer Harding squeezed my hand, as if to protect me from the awful truth as he told me this part.

But, more important than knowing about the location of Carl’s stuff, I really wanted to know where Laura was. I wanted to make sure she was safe—or as safe as she could be under the circumstances. Also, I wanted to tell her how proud I was to hear her stand up to Carl. What a hell she must have been living.

 “This is so frustrating.” I said, looking at my watch. 7:13. We had done nothing but brainstorm for more than an hour. Jet had left and returned with pizza, while I picked up my apartment. Matt had tackled the kitchen, mostly sweeping broken plates and glasses into plastic bags.

Here’s what was nagging me. I didn’t think Carl would have taken Laura to anywhere she could be found. Simply because he would have to figure leaving Juan behind would mean I would call the police. He wanted me to find the body. He wanted me to know he took Laura. He was playing a game. But, why? Did he think I had what Laura was hiding?

Where would they take her? I heard Officer Williams tell one of the cops before she left to head out to the Sweet Shop, Crazy Ed’s, the Hacienda and the homes of Ed, Roy and Carl. But, it seemed too obvious. Carl was going to be somewhere Juan and the other goons had to know about when whomever answered the phone said “Bring her to me.” It had to be private. What I needed was someone who thought like Carl and his pals. I needed someone who could help put the pieces together.

It was twenty minutes later when I shoed Matt and Jet out the door. I needed to be alone. I wanted to pace the floor in private. After several inquiries from both of them, I insisted I was ok. Matt asked me to stay with him just in case. Jet offered to stay with me. I swear it was only to one-up Matt, but I refused him too. “No, I will be fine.” I told both of them.

Now, as planned, I was wearing another hole into Laura’s carpet. I stared across the room. Think, I commanded. What would I do if I were back home? When I needed something back home, there were always resources. People. People who knew people.

Maybe, I figured it was worth a friendly chat. Picking up my phone I called directory assistance for the Sweet Shop. “Um, hi. I am looking for Carl. Is he in?” I asked the woman who answered.

“No, I don’t expect him tonight.”

Of course not. I silently grumbled. “Well, I owe him money and I need to pay him. Do you know where I can reach him?”

She didn’t. And, she wasn’t willing to help me out. I swore as I hung up. It would have been too easy.

I tried once more, doing my best to disguise my voice, and asked for Roy. He wasn’t in and the woman wasn’t fooled.

For nothing more useful to do, I called Officer Williams. “We are working on it. Don’t you worry. I am confident we will find her.” She said. I wasn’t as confident.

It was ten minutes later when I got a gift from Above. Glancing down, I saw Laura’s cell phone peeking out from the side of the entertainment center. Somehow the goons had overlooked it when they took her. I examined it, the ringer was off, and yes, there were all of the missed calls from earlier. Fiddling with her phone, I thought, someone Laura knows must know where to look.

There weren’t many entries in Laura’s cell phone, I thought grimly as I scrolled through. So far, I knew them all, Charlie, Evan, Frieda, Joe her handyman, Julie, the waitress at the Sweet Shop,… Holy cow! I thought glancing at Julie’s name.

Julie didn’t answer her phone. I hoped it meant she was working. Taking a deep breath, I called the Sweet Shop for a third time. I crossed my fingers waiting for someone to answer. “She’s busy working.” Came the response, this time from a man who did not offer to take a message.

At least she was there. Glancing across the street, I toyed with inviting Matt to come with me. But, this was only a fact-finding trip. And, I wasn’t sure how successful it would be. Besides, I reasoned, the cops had already been there. Who knows if I would even speak to her. No, I finally decided. Getting a bit of inside information to pass along to the police was an easy one I could take on my own.

When I arrived at 9:27, the Sweet Shop was more crowded than I expected for a Tuesday night. Apparently, drunk men watching mostly naked women and back room underworld drug deals didn’t really care what day of the week it was.

As I walked in, I felt frightfully out of place. First, I was the wrong gender for this clientele. Second, I was way over-dressed in my capris, t-shirt and flip flops.

Stale beer and smoke engulfed me as I entered Looking around, the music was deafening. The audience didn’t care. They were watching the shows on the stage or on their laps. Making my way towards the bar, I asked the man behind the counter, “Is Julie here?”

He nodded, pointing towards the woman coming toward me. “She’s the one you are looking for,” And then added with a slick smile the bartender said, “I am the one you want.”

“Aren’t you cute!” I gushed as I stood up and walked over to Julie.

Julie was older than Laura. Her over-exposed tan skin had been damaged, aging her beyond recognition. A good portion of her was enhanced. She was my height and about ten pounds heavier. She looked like the type who didn’t take grief from Roy—her boss.

She stood staring at me, beer tray in hand, as I blocked her path. “I am hoping you can help me.” I said by way of awkward introduction.

Julie smiled, “I gotta deliver these, Sugar, I will be right back.” Without ceremony, I let her go hoping she would return.

True to her word, not three minutes later, she arrived back at the table where I parked. I beckoned her close. Between the music and the crowd cheering for the latest dancer, Roxy, I wanted to make sure she heard me.

“I need your help. Laura, the one who owns the Hacienda,” I glanced up to see if she was following, Julie nodded. “She’s been kidnapped. I think by some guys working for Carl. And, there was a guy named Juan who was killed at Laura’s house.”

Julie’s face didn’t change as she pulled away. “Just sit tight and I will get you that drink.” She said, patting me on the shoulder.

“Did you hear me?” I practically screeched over the din.

She smiled, “Draft or in a bottle? Never mind. I will surprise you.” She disappeared towards the bar. The smoke and crowd blocking her from my sight.

I seethed. What the hell was that about? I felt vulnerable sitting here. What if Roy saw me? What if Julie ratted me out? I didn’t know I was supposed to do. Glancing at my watch, it was 9:41.

Julie did come back. Putting down the cocktail napkin, she laid bottle of beer on top. “Might want to turn over the napkin.” She said with a smile. “That’ll be four dollars.

As soon as she left I flipped the napkin over, “I’m on break at ten. Outside,” was all it said. I didn’t drink the beer. Instead, I ran out to my car and waited.

At 10:08, Julie came out. I started the engine, and she ran over to me and hopped in.

“I can’t believe what an asshole Carl is,” was her greeting. She looked at me, tears welling in her eyes. “Are you sure about Juan?” She asked, her face pleading me to tell her something different.

I nodded instead. “Yea.”

“Shit.” She muttered wiping away a tear. Instantly composed, she sat up. “You gotta get out of here. You are Laura’s roommate right?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “If they took her, they probably went to the farmhouse. And, I don’t think anyone is gonna be there for a couple of hours. I heard something about Carl coming in today from Cabo. So, if she is there, you can get the police over there right away.”

“Where is the farmhouse?” I asked.

Julie handed me a scrap of paper. “Ok I don’t have the address, but it is a couple miles from here.”

I felt defeated. “The cops are already swarming around all the houses Carl owns.” I said.

“Yea, they came by tonight too looking for him and Roy. They didn’t say much though. Thought it was the same o’le. But, this isn’t one of Carl’s houses. This one belonged to Juan. His family owned it. He lived there. Sometimes everyone just hung out there.”

She handed me the paper, but didn’t leave the car. “Shit, I need a cigarette.” She whispered. Shaking her head she looked away. “Laura’s a good kid. Juan… Juan was one of a kind. Shit. I need a new job.” Without looking at me, she jumped out of the car and walked back toward the Sweet Shop.

The Julie’s directions weren’t what I expected. “Drive about two miles to Southern, turn at the dairy farm, go past the stop sign and turn at the second right.” It started.

Phoenix being a big city, I was amazed to find a rural area. Laura told me once, the Hacienda was really in a town called Laveen, essentially a rural suburb of Phoenix. It was a small community without a municipality of its own. There were no streetlights and no traffic lights. The roads were dark and deserted.

Getting as far as I did with Julie’s directions, I glanced down, afraid to pull over. She had me winding my way into a small older subdivision consisting of small farms and orange groves. I made mental notes, taking in street names so I could call it in to the police once I got where I was going.

Finally, Julie’s directions became sketchy. She had me turning on to a small road with a handful of houses on the dead-end street. “The house is on the left almost at the end of the street. And it is brown.” Oh yippee. The rural area, void of streetlights made it impossible to tell what color any house might be.

I crept on to the block, hoping I didn’t look conspicuous. All of the homes were like Laura’s: 1960s ranch-styles with slump block fronts and small windows. They were modest homes bought by people with modest means. The majority of the houses were already dark for the night. These home owners would be getting an early start tomorrow.

Creeping down the road I wondered if I made a mistake with Julies directions. I was almost to the end of the street, when I saw Laura’s truck parked on the side of the home I just passed. The only way to have seen it would be to drive by the house. Inside, the curtains were drawn, but the lights were on. There was a black Mercedes parked in the driveway. Quickly, I turned around, before anyone looked out the window.

Glancing down, I looked at the clock: 10:31. I said a quick prayer for Carl to be late. At the beginning of the street, where I had come in, I did another u-turn so I was facing the rest of the block. I parked, turned off the lights and called Officer Williams, leaving her a detailed message. I then called 911.

In all fairness, I probably sounded like a lunatic to the emergency dispatcher, explaining how someone might be kidnapped inside by people who do business with Pablo Villanova. With a great deal of impatience, I relayed to the woman on the other end of my call an abridged edition of the night’s events. I gave her a description of the house and Mercedes (both dark, both sitting on the street where I was). I stressed the urgency and dropped Officer William’s name about four times. Finally, the woman on the other end of the phone assured me she would send a car.

Chapter 27: Tuesday

Tuesday, as I drove home from the early shift at Price Bargains, I was disappointed not to see Laura’s truck in front of the house. She called me that morning to tell me she would be picking up some things in the afternoon.

Getting out of my car, I saw to my horror, the front door wide open. Swearing, I rushed inside. The wind left my chest. I looked around, filled with panic. The place had been completely tossed. And, someone had done a fabulous job of it.

I tiptoed through the cluttered floors in disbelief, feebly calling for Laura. Anything once residing in a drawer, cabinet or shelf was now strewn on the floor. As I walked down the hall, I peeked into the Bruce and Buddy’s room and cringed at the mess. Across the hall, I looked in Laura’s bedroom. Her nightstand was on its side with shattered lamp shards laying on the floor. A picture of the boys, with the frame still whole was sitting by the closet door. I picked it up, in an act of preservation and set it gently on the bed.

The kitchen looked similar to the rest of the war-torn areas I had seen in the house. It was as if someone had quickly come in and selectively and chose what they wanted to destroy. It looked to me like someone was in a hurry. The furniture was still in tact, there wasn’t graffiti, there weren’t holes in the walls. It was just a mess.

The door from the family room to my apartment was wide open, waiting for me as I rounded the corner. It was the same as the rest of the house, but in this case, I didn’t have as much. My jewelry, the only things I had of any value, was thrown in a pile on my dinette table. My jewelry box precariously resting on top. My clothes were out dumped on the bed, with the drawers tossed haphazardly.

I stared in disbelief, paralyzed. I could feel my heart in my throat, racing. I dialed Laura’s cell. No answer.

“Hey, Tina.” I jumped with a yelp.

It was Jet, standing at the doorway of the apartment. “The door was open. I am here to give Laura some loan papers.” He said as almost an apology, holding up a manila envelope.

Looked around, he asked, “Have you called the police?”

I shook my head, “I just got here,” I replied.

Jet scanned my room. “What’s this about?”

“The other day Laura said she had something Carl wants—he’s the guy she needs the money for.”

He scanned the room behind him, “Well, it looks like they did this for the entire house. So, I doubt they found it.” I nodded dumbly.

It took 20 minutes for the Phoenix Police officers to show up. Officer Williams, a short, no-nonsense woman in her late 30s, took charge. I told her what I knew I knew of Laura’s situation and she took notes. I suggested it was Carl and his gang of merry thugs who had done this.

“We are familiar with the reputation of the Sweet Shop.” She said.

“I am not seeing anything,” interrupted the other officer who poked his head from around the corner. Officer Harding, was late 50-something, with a uniform at least a size too small. He walked in, looking like he was counting the seconds to retirement. I opted to talk to his partner, which suited him just fine.

“What! What do you mean you aren’t seeing anything?” I said, looking around at the rubble.

“Look, I am not finding a lot of prints. That’s all. It just looks like the house was vandalized. I am guessing these guys knew what they are doing.”

I turned back at Officer Williams. “Can you go to the Sweet Shop and at least arrest those bastards?”

She blew out some air and stared at me, “What I see here is someone came in and messed up this house. The owner isn’t home and has not been reached. There is no evidence of foul play. This is vandalism.”

At this point, I heard the back door slam. Jet rounded his head from the kitchen. “Um, hey Tina, you might want to come out here.” He said, beckoning us to join him.

As we picked our way through the landmine of glass and debris, he led us outside to the outside laundry room. Jet looked at Officer Harding, “Why don’t you go on in first.”

Without flourish, he flung open the door, stepping aside to let Officer Harding check out the laundry room. However, once the door opened, I knew what Jet found. The heat and the stench hit me before I saw him. I barely stumbled to Laura’s well-manicured lawn before I lost my lunch.

“Do you know him?” Officer Williams had me sitting on a lawn chair. Somewhere from behind me, a child-sized plastic cup of water appeared.

“That would be Juan.” I gasped, holding back another wave of nausea. I was working hard to erase the memory of seeing the hole where his forehead used to be.

“Nice tattoo.” Jet muttered. “Good color all the way around.”

Juan’s discovery sparked a new round of questions, coupled with several more officers poking around. Officer Harding, who changed his demeanor became suddenly interested in everything I knew about Juan.

I gave them both the details of Juan’s and Roy’s midnight visit and Juan’s solo trip to see me. “Both times they were looking for Laura.” I gulped as the rest of the realization hit me, “Juan told me last week, he wasn’t supposed to go easy on me.” I barely whispered, “He said he was supposed to be messing me up pretty badly, Or, something like that.”

I felt a bizarre twinge of guilt. Did Juan loose his life because he only knocked me out instead of…? As I replayed the bizarre events, the tears came.

After the police and the medical examiner left, I sat on a kitchen barstool oblivious to the clutter. Matt had made his way over when the ambulance showed up to cart Juan away.

“We need to find her.” I mumbled.

“Tell me again what Laura told you the other day.” Matt said, leaning across the counter from me.

I filled Matt and Jet in on Laura’s conversation. “She was confident he wouldn’t hurt her because she has evidence. She said if anything happened to her, the evidence would be sent to the Feds.”

Matt considered, “Who is holding the evidence?”

“I would have thought you were.”

He shook his head. “No. This is news to me.”

“What about her mom?” Jet offered.

“I doubt it, she never told her mother anything she was doing with the hotel. Frieda wasn’t a fan of the hotel,” Matt said. “I think whatever she has is still hidden. And, I doubt it is here.” He replied, looking around. “Laura isn’t very savvy about technology. So, I doubt it is on CD Rom or a flash drive.”

“I know she has a computer at the hotel, but it is pretty outdated. She even admits she didn’t get a cell phone until last year.”

“Has anyone tried calling her cell?” Jet asked, popping his head up from the book case behind me. In an effort to be useful and restore normalcy, he’s been tidying what he could. Currently, he was working on the dining/family room area.

“I tried it earlier. I didn’t call her at her mother’s house.” I lamented.

“What’s her mom’s number?” He said, holding the house phone Laura kept on the bookshelf. He gave the phone cord a quick tug, detangling it from the answering machine.

Just as he pulled a second time, poised to dial, I pointed to the machine. It was blinking wildly. “There’s a message,” I said walking over to him. Taking the phone and answering machine out of Jet’s hands, I pushed play.

Chills went down my spine as I heard Laura’s voice on the answering machine.

“Hello. Don’t hang up. I’m here. I’m here,” said a breathless Laura, obviously picking up the phone after the machine went off.

“Ms. Jamison, I didn’t think you were going to answer.” My skin crawled at the sound of Carl’s voice.

“I was outside, I didn’t get to the phone in time.” Laura’s voice was steadier now.

“What do you have for me?”

“I told you Carl, I won’t have the money for a couple more weeks.”

“What about the insurance?” I could hear the impatience Carl’s voice. “All you need to do is talk to the adjuster and you could have it in a day or so.”

“That money is slated to rebuild the Hacienda. My hotel. My livelihood.” There was no mistaking Laura’s indignanty. “You will get your money and then you will get the hell out of my life.”

“Good for her,” muttered Matt.

Carl snickered, “You don’t seem to understand. I want the money now. And, I want you to hand over what you have.”

“No deal. What I have stays with me. You and I both know it keeps me alive. As soon as you are paid off, we are square. You got that.” I could hear her voice seething.

Carl laughed something akin to Vincent Price. “Oh no. We will never be square. You will give me what is rightfully mine. Or, I will go to the authorities and tell them you are running drugs out of the Hacienda.”

There was a pause on the tape, “No.” Laura’s voice seemed to tremble a bit here. “Nobody will believe you. I have your files. I have your address book. I know you have been working with Pablo Villanova. I know you stole from him. I know how much you owe him. I will not give you your files. You can go about your business and leave me the hell alone and I will leave you the hell alone, but I will not give it to you.”

On the machine, there was a noise. “I will call you when I have the money. Someone’s here.”

“Don’t hang up,” he said. “I can hold. It is probably your pretty roommate. Let her hear you talk to your friend Carl.”

“Leave her out of this,” Laura snarled.

“Just get the door.”

For whatever reason, Laura did not hang up. Instead, on the tape, there were muffled sounds of male voices and Laura screaming. Then, “Hello?”

“That you?” Carl said.

“We got her.”

“Bring her to me. I will be in around 11 tonight. Nobody touches her but me. I need to take care of this once and for all.” He paused, “And, while you are there, I want you to take care of Juan. He’s a liability.”

Silence. Then, “Did I hear you right?” the voice sputtered.

“You heard. Carl growled. “Leave him there.”

And, with that, the call ended. Jet reached up, took the machine from my trembling hands and popped out the tape.

Chapter 26: Laura's Secret

I woke up to a peaceful silence Sunday morning. Dully awake, it took a moment to bring the events of last night to mind. I smiled, thinking about how it was been the first time I had gone anywhere social on a Saturday night since moving to Phoenix. It was a nice feeling, I thought as I lay in bed, to have made friends who thought enough of me to invite me out.

Maybe life in Phoenix would work out ok after all. Eventually I would pay off Carl. Eventually I would move out of Laura’s home, get a place of my own. The thought saddened me. Laura’s home seemed a lot more homey to me than living by myself in an apartment.

Carl, I mused as I sat in bed stretching, did me a favor. I loved the feeling of having people around me. I liked Laura. I liked her kids. Mother had a small fit when I told her I was living with a single mother with two young boys.

Laura was nobody I would have known in Shades Crest, not because she wasn’t good enough for me, in most ways, I think she was much better. She had a strong work ethic. She has made decisions to chose her destiny. She has earned the great things in her life. But our paths wouldn’t have crossed. And, I thought sadly, there were probably plenty of people I had missed out on because I never took the time before to meet the great people who make the salt of the Earth.

The next two days were occupied with Price Bargains and real estate. Lillian Fields was getting lots of showings. I was thankful for this, because it meant I didn’t need to spend Jimmy’s money advertising. Michael’s transaction was going along well. Now, it was a matter of him waiting for the loan to be approved. Dee and Nancy were invaluable, quickly offering advice and guidance. I hadn’t heard from Mr. Daniels in a few days. The last directive I received from him was to sit tight and he would call me when the repairs were ready.

I hadn’t seen Laura since Sunday morning, when she came out of her room with a smile on her face. She assured me the party broke down right after tacos with everyone going to their respective homes.

“Jet’s kind of sweet.” She said noncommittally. Afterwards, she packed some things and said she would be staying at her mother’s house for a day or two until she could talk to the insurance adjuster. I asked her how safe she felt.

Resolved she sighed, “Safe enough.” Then, after a sip of coffee, she looked at me. “I really need to get this loan through. If I can pay off Carl, I will own the hotel free and clear and I can get him out of my life.”

I was missing the big picture. “Um, Laura, “Do you think it will be so easy? I highly doubt Carl will go away so easily. It strikes me that he wouldn’t be opposed to killing you.

Laura considered for a moment. “He won’t.”

“Look, how can you be so sure? If he kills you, can’t he collect the insurance money because he holds the mortgage?” It seemed to me she was way too calm about this.

“He won’t kill me.” She said confidently. “I have something he wants. It is well-hidden, and as long as I have it, I will be alive.”

I didn’t hide my frustration, “How can you be so sure he won’t find it?”

“He won’t.” She repeated then chuckled. “The Feds are after him too. I have some information that might help them out. Carl knows I have it. I told him if anything happens to me this information will go straight to all of those people who want him,” She said.

“He does some low-life drug stuff, but most of that is done through the Sweet Shop and Roy and Ed. Those two aren’t the sinister nasty guys Carl is. They aren’t involved with the same level of …” here she searched for the right word, “associates… Carl hangs out with. Carl is into bad-ass international stuff. I am a source of petty cash for him. He will leave me alone when he gets his money.” Laura quickly turned toward the sink, and over her shoulder added, “I just hope Jet can come through with a loan pretty quickly.”

I hoped so too.

Chapter 25: Saturday

Saturday morning I woke up to the Fed Ex man banging on the door. “Have a great day,” he said, handing me Jimmy’s envelope. Ripping open the envelope, I did a quick dance and thanked God and Jimmy. If Jimmy weren’t already a saint, I would personally see to it the Church canonized him.

It was around lunch when Laura came in, after spending the night at Frieda’s. Matt came over too, greeting Laura with a wide smile, a bear hug and a stern lecture about her safety.

“I talked to the new adjuster this morning. We are meeting on Monday at the Hacienda.” She said as she poured herself a cup of tea.

The doorbell rang and I jumped up, letting Laura fill in Matt about her adventure.

“Hey.” Jet said as a greeting. My eyes widened as I checked him out. Collared shirt, dress slacks, loafers and a tie. I raised an eyebrow questioning.

Reading my thoughts, he said all business, “I am here to see Laura Jamison.”

Jet, right behind me, came in stopping in his tracks when Laura stood. “Ms. Jamison, nice to meet you.” He said after introductions.

I giggled. Matt, Laura and Jet stared at me.

“Sorry.” I said to them, snickering again. Matt and Laura just had no appreciation for Jet’s weirdness.

Matt grabbed my arm, “Let’s get some lunch.

Saturday night, Laura, Jet, Matt and myself sauntered into Hayseed’s, a country nightclub in central Phoenix. Dee glided over and introducing herself to my crew.

“You made it! I am so glad you came,” she said squeezing my arm and leading us to our table, near where Roy, Nancy, Sebastian his date and a few other of Dee’s closest friends sat.

As Matt and I had been walking out for lunch, Dee had called. “What are you and everyone you know doing tonight?” she squealed in one long breath.

Tonight was Michael’s band’s debut at Hayseed’s and they needed a good turnout. Getting Jet to agree and drop his date with Beatrice (“rice” being the nature name, he confided later), had been easy. He practically salivated when I told him his idol was playing. Laura took more coaxing and only agreed once Matt called Frieda, who readily offered to watch the boys if Laura would just go out and do something fun.

Not used to anything social, Laura swore she didn’t have the wardrobe for Hayseeds. It turned out there wasn’t much of a dress code anyway. It was mostly cowboy types and those who just wanted to go somewhere and drink beer to escape the heat. So, short-shorts, bikini tops and mumus would have been appropriate.

In this case, Laura was the most properly dressed of all of us. She had dredged up a denim skirt. It was a little loose on her tall frame. She looked like she had dropped twenty pounds in the past two weeks. It was twenty pounds she couldn’t afford to loose. Her hair, usually in a braid or two, was down past her shoulders and she was wearing a little make make-up. I was in a sun dress. Jet and Matt were dressed in jeans, with Jet in a Hawaiian shirt and Matt smartly dressed button down shirt.

I introduced Dee to everyone. Though, when I came to Jet, he stepped forward extended his hand and before I could say anything, introduced himself. “I’m Jayson.” He said resolutely. After the fog cleared, I did a mental head-slap. Of course! He was Jet incognito.

“Michael’s band is starting in a few minutes,” she chirped. With that, she excused herself and flounced off.

“Interesting place.” Jet said. He was looking around as if he were expecting a mosh pit in front of the stage instead of a hay strewn dance floor. Jet had been eyeing the place skeptically, as if a worn out country and western bar was not good enough for his idol.

But, as it turns out, Jet was pleasantly surprised. Michael’s band, The Muddy Outlaws, were well received, playing a mix of rhythm and blues and country. Michael was exceptionally talented, showing he could play everything from the drums to keyboard and even had a guitar solo at one point. At the end of their set, Dee, on Michael’s arm, led him around introducing him to all of us.

“Hello Miss Tina,” he shyly said as he extended a hand to me. He greeted Laura in a similar manner, flashing his dimples her direction. Michael was equally gracious with Matt and Jet. I could tell Jet was self-conscious and stammered an appropriate greeting, making sure to mention his appreciation for Michael’s years in the Tangerine Electric Monkeys. Matt, apparently once in a garage band, talked to Michael for a moment or two about his music, a conversation Dee and I couldn’t follow.

As the evening wore on, I found myself more and more exhausted. The stress of the week, everything from the tires being slashed to last Wednesday’s attack finally took its toll. The adrenaline I’d been living on was depleted. I was spent. The exhaustion hit about three seconds after Jet asked me to dance, something I had been dreading all evening.

I can waltz with the best of them. In Shades Crest, if there was ever a need for a last-minute date at Castlemoor, I was one of several young women on call to fill in. More than once, Bitsy Wellington or Eveyln Jenkins called mother asking if I would be willing to be escorted by their darling sons, as their dates had suddenly become ill or dead or something. (In the case of Rick Wellington, he wasn’t able to get a date without his mom’s help.) Mother would of course tell whomever I would be delighted. That is how I ended up having sex with Brock Jenkins ninth green one night, smashed out of our minds. Sadly, he was no better at sex than he was on the dance floor.

“Hey, um… Tina?” Jet asked breaking into my thoughts of Shades Crest. He led me around the dance floor with an ease I didn’t expect. I looked up, trying like crazy not to yawn in his face. “I was wondering, do you think Laura would mind if I took her home?”

My second wind caught up with me. “What!” I practically yelped. With a strong defensive stance, I glared at him. “She’s a mother! She is not one of your bimbos!”

A look of understanding washed over Jet’s face, as he came to grips with I understood him to say. He looked like I had rightfully slapped him. Quickly, he backpedaled.

“No, no! That isn’t what I meant. I mean, do you think it would be ok to offer her a ride home? You know, maybe I could drive her instead of her getting a ride back with you and Matt” He smiled timidly. “That’s all. She’s kind of cool, you know?”

I held back my first response to remind Jet Laura wasn’t a nature name. However, the look on his face was serious. “I don’t suppose it would hurt,” I said, hoping Laura would feel the same way. After all she had been through these last two weeks, Jet’s overture didn’t strike me as something Laura would be open to, but then again, Jet was more complex than his reputation. He was a loyal friend and a pretty nice guy. Laura might enjoy the company and the attention.

I was rewarded with a bright smile I had never seen from Jet before. He squeezed my hand. “Thanks.” And, looking over to where Matt and Laura were doing some sort of box step, said, “Let’s go cut in.”

At 2:30 a.m., Matt and I were sitting on Laura’s front porch, drinking a bottle of water, waiting for Laura. “I can’t believe this.” Matt muttered for the umpteenth time.

I gave him a side-long glance, wondering if there was any way I could get him to wait for Laura by himself. My not-subtle yawning wasn’t working. And, neither Laura nor Jet were answering their cell phones. We had left Hayseeds at the same time, but Matt and I arrived 30 minutes ago. Now, in the August night, we were sitting waiting up for them as if they were teenagers who broke their curfew.

“Should we call Frieda?” I asked, yawning. I was resisting the urge to use Matt’s broad shoulder as a pillow.

“There’s no reason to worry her.” He took a drink. “Yet.”

“I am sure they are fine.” I answered, also for the umpteenth time.

Matt grunted, disgusted with the situation. By the streetlight, I could see his jaw set in and I was pretty sure he was about to start part twenty-seven of his tirade about all Laura had gone through and the danger she was in. When thankfully, the headlights of Jet’s Jeep blinded us as it pulled into the driveway.

As they tumbled out, I could hear Laura laughing. “I think they are fine.” I said to Matt.

Matt smiled.

It turns out they had taken a side trip through West Phoenix where Laura showed Jet the Hacienda, ashes and all. “I brought snacks!” Laura said happily, lifting two bags from Taco Loco Express and jumping out of the car with a spry step.

“Thanks,” I said, “But, my bedtime was hours ago. We were just waiting up to make sure you got home safe.”

Matt gave me a scowl and I stuck my tongue out at him.

“Come in anyway Matt and eat a Taco.” Laura said, pulling his arm into the house. Apparently the party was moving to Laura’s kitchen. Matt obliged and I said good night to the gang and headed to my room, half-sorry I was missing out.