Chapter 24: Friday

At one o’clock Friday, I arrived at the dive Jet had recommended for lunch. Located in downtown Glendale, La Fonda, he promised me would be the best Mexican cuisine the culinary world had ever tasted.

La Fonda is a shabby 1940s bungalow-turned restaurant, with the majority of the seating located in several rooms, which had been added willy-nilly. Probably at least one room per decade and probably out of necessity. Parking was haphazardly strewn behind, in front and on the side of the building. The front of the joint concreted over for maximum walkway and probably minimal landscape maintenance. Also outside were several benches optimistically waiting for patrons.

Inside, the overpowering aroma of indistinguishable spices and the stench of cooking oil greeted me. No employee was present, but there were a few customers, who were happily chatting over their burritos and tacos. As I walked through the maze of rooms, I noticed the walls were painted a garish orange color and faded lime green cocktail curtains graced the windows.

Each room, decorated in its own individually themed brand of beer, proudly displayed neon signs and posters given, no doubt, by the same beer companies. And, when I finally made my way to where Jet sat, I noticed our seating area was also decorated with a variety of surgically enhanced pin-ups proudly advertising car parts. Nothing says engines and pistons like a size double D falling out of a bikini.

The morning had already been a bit annoying, with Jet’s invitation to lunch the welcomed highlight. I slept in my own bed last night, not wanting to put Matt out—though I tossed and turned listening to every little creak the house made. Several times I thought about scurrying across the street and taking refuge in his extra room. Instead, I made sure the alarm was set, kept a tight grip on my stun gun in my right and my cell phone in my left and blocked the doors with furniture, figuring it might slow down the goons if they came back.

I returned yesterday’s calls after my shower, only to find out my manager at Price Bargains had no appreciation for people who do not call in sick for their shift—two days in a row. Thus, although I still had a job there, I had no hours for the next week. Which of course led to a call to Jimmy. He promised to overnight me a check for more than I needed. Thankfully, he didn’t ask a lot of questions.

I also contacted the agents who had shown Lillian’s place this past week. The comments didn’t amount to much other than what a lovely home it was and they were sure it would sell soon.

Lillian, though happy for the opinions, was much more concerned about my health. It took several bold-faced lies to convince her I was really fine. As I hung up the phone, I idly wondered how much time in Purgatory I could expect for duping such a sweet woman. Perhaps God would look favorably upon me for sparing her any further worry.

Dee was my next call and was agreeable to running errands with me. After dropping off advertising flyers Val graciously made of Lillian’s place, we went back to Mr. Daniel’s home to inspect Chip’s and Rocky’s handiwork. There were definitely windows in the house now. And, thankfully, they weren’t broken.

Rocky’s work was much less impressive. Although the cars, mattress and major debris were gone, it appears he just spread gravel in the front and back yard, hiding the remaining trash, weeds and dirt. With the exception of the overgrown oleanders there wasn’t a plant to be seen.

“I don’t suppose this Mr. Daniels guy intends to hire someone to put a kitchen in?” Dee asked.

I shrugged. But, I certainly hoped so, because when I returned to the office to pick up the paperwork, I saw where he crossed out the selling price I had recommended. Instead, putting his own price—forty thousand higher.

In the office, I put in my requisite call to Mr. Daniels and thankfully got his voice mail. I promised pictures of Chip’s and Rocky’s efforts, letting him know there was now a for sale sign in his yard and a lock box on his door. The last part of my message was to remind him I had not yet heard from anyone he might have hired to remodel the inside—which still was in desperate need of some basics like flooring, appliances and cabinetry. I hung up, mentally debating between gratitude for Amy sending me over a client or if it would be better to threaten bodily injury for the lame Mr. Daniels next time I talked to her.

Afterwards, I put Mr. Daniel’s information into the Multiple Listing Service and called my mother. Mother’s call was strategically timed to her weekly noon tennis league game. I didn’t want to feed her overactive imagination. So, in my voice message, I touched upon Matt being a neighbor and a friend and please don’t get any ideas. As I was leaving, I bid Dee a good weekend.

“I will!” she said with what I swear sounded like a giggle.

It turns out Jet was right about the food. La Fonda’s was as good as he promised. Because he was paying, I didn’t go al a carte. After a warm bear hug from Jet, which just about moved me to tears, I thanked him profusely for coming when Juan called.

He waved me off, “Tsk! Don’t mention it.” I smiled at his sweetness, telling him what I knew about the situation.

Jet considered this for a moment. “If Laura owes this guy money,” he started, why doesn’t she just refinance her house and pull the equity out to pay off Carl?”

It took a moment to process all of his terminology. “So, you mean take out a loan against her house to pay the guy off?” I wanted to make sure I completely understood.

Jet waited a beat and nodded, “That’s what I said. You are a real estate professional right?” I am almost certain Jet wasn’t being sarcastic. Sometimes it is hard to tell. Instead, I told him if Laura ever got back into town, I would discuss it with her.

“Is she cute?” was Jet’s ultra-professional response.

“Laura isn’t a nature name or a French name.” I reminded him.

He seemed to consider this for a moment. “Bummer for her,” he finally conceded.

I returned home, pleasantly surprised to see Laura’s familiar white Chevy truck in the driveway. Rushing in, I was practically giddy, momentarily forgetting everything having transpired while she was gone. It was going to be so good to see her and the boys. I raced in the door, bracing myself for Bruce and Buddy’s leg hugs.

After resetting my alarm, I threw my purse and file folders on my dinette. Swinging open the home’s interior door, I rushed in to find Laura at the breakfast bar intently sorting through the mail. As I went toward her ready to welcome her with a hug, she looked up and said crisply, “Why the hell is there is a for sale sign in my front yard?”

I felt my eyes grow wide, my cheeks hot and I responded in a similar bitchy tone with the first completely inappropriate thing coming to mind, “Carl told you to baby-sit me?” Never mind I had been attached—twice—in her home, I thought numbly.

We stared at each other for a moment. Neither of us flinching. She returned to the mail, ignoring me.

Now angry, I said, “Look! The least you can do is explain why these goons are looking for you? It has become a bit personal now—”

“I know,” she said cutting me off in mid sentence. She was still studying at the water bill. “Matt told me what happened.” She paused and it seemed like two weeks before she spoke in barely a whisper, her head down.

She bit her bottom lip. “I don’t know what you know…No, let me start over.” She looked up, “Tina, I am sorry. You should never have been dragged into this. I can’t tell you how much—of all the things about this…this…” she squirmed on her stool, struggling to think of an appropriate description, “situation…that I regret. I am so glad you haven’t been hurt. You just don’t deserve any of this. From the day you walked into the Hacienda to this week. I am really sorry. I hope you can forgive me.” Her eyes were moist, and the look on her face was pleading for understanding.

“I can’t believe I am in this mess.” Her voice wavering. She looked down again. I reached across the counter and charitably pulled a few tissues out for her. Taking them, she immediately smashed them into her fist as she filled me in on her nightmare.

“Right after I married Charlie—he was a mechanic. And he worked for Ed and Roy—they are brothers—Ed owned the Hacienda and offered to sell it to him. I was 20 and I didn’t understand, so I just went along with it. Owning a hotel sounded like fun. We didn’t think about what we were doing. Or, who we were buying it from. We owned a hotel. You know, but it came with a price.”

I absorbed this. The look of repulsion on her face when she had said Ed’s name spoke volumes louder than her words.

“We didn’t have the money, so Ed set us up with Birsa Financial. Do you know who that is?”

I thought about it. “That name sounds familiar but—”

Laura nodded. “It is a private loan company that finances just about everything. Like when you needed a new engine.”

Laura read my face. “Yea, Carl’s company.”

Charlie and Laura mortgaged the hotel from Carl’s company. And from day one Carl let them know he owned them. At one point, they had gotten behind on their payment. Things went downhill. Carl called in Charlie, telling him he would work off the late payment. That meant Charlie was to start selling drugs at the Sweet Shop for Carl.

Laura shook her head in her hands. “I suppose I should give him credit. Charlie was trying to get caught up. I knew we were behind. But, I didn’t know about Carl forcing Charlie to deal. I found out about him selling, and how Carl put him up to it, the day he was arrested. I guess Carl threatened him if he didn’t pay. I can’t believe how stupid I was not to see it.” She shook her head in disgust.

“Charlie went to jail,” She said. “Arizona has a zero-tolerance policy. With everything else, I had had enough. My dad died when I was a kid and about a year after Charlie went to jail, I turned 25 and got my inheritance. It wasn’t enough to pay off Carl, but that with a small business loan, it was enough to fix up the Hacienda. I was able to get some decent business and turn a profit. In fact, I had enough after the first year on my own to buy this house. It isn’t much, but it is better than having my kids grow up in that neighborhood.”

She frowned. “I am still expected to do stuff for Carl. I refused once and he broke my fingers.” She looked at her left hand. “I can’t get away from him until this loan is paid off.”

I looked at her with horror.

Laura dismissed my concern. “No, not that kind of thing. Thank God! I would kill him. But, I have had to do an odd job or two. Including look after you.”

She looked at me, pleading. “I was planning on asking you if you wanted to come here anyway. I know you don’t have any reason to believe me. But you said you were going to El Paso, so I didn’t.” I did believe her.

“Um. So what does this have to do with you taking off and the assholes looking for you?” I cringed as the words came out. It wasn’t as delicate as I hoped for. Laura didn’t seem to notice.

“I made a payment last month a day late. I should have just kept my mouth shut. But, I had a fight with him. He wanted an unholy amount of interest because it was late. Then he wanted me to pick up a shipment for him. So, I told him take my payment one day late or I would go to the cops tell him about the drugs and prostitution at the Sweet Shop and everything else.” Laura’s face hardened and eyes blazed. “Anyway, Carl got mad and called my loan due immediately—even though I only had a few more months, he wanted it all now. He said if I didn’t pay it he would take one of the boys and sell him in Mexico.” Laura choked up, her eyes down.

My jaw dropped. “Oh my G—”

It took a moment before she spoke again. “Instead, he torched the place and now he wants the insurance money.”

My repulsion of Carl just tripled. “Why are you back?” I practically yelled. “You need to get out of here. Take the boys and go.”

“I need to talk to the adjuster. Julie, she’s the waitress at the Sweet Shop that I hang with sometimes, I told her if she needed me to get in touch with Matt. Anyway, Julie called Matt and told him the adjuster went over to the Sweet Shop looking for me.” Laura said. “I want to talk to the insurance company and get a new adjuster. I can get the place rebuilt and find out if the insurance can just pay the contractor. Carl is out of town for a week. He has a beach house in Cabo. Julie told me.”

“Can you trust Julie?” I asked.

Laura shrugged. “I am not loosing my boys.”

“No, you really need to pay off Carl.” I said, giving her Jet’s idea of refinancing.

Laura considered for a moment. “That might work. I would like to talk to him.”

I slipped away, called Jet who offered to come over on Saturday and meet with Laura.

“So, what’s with the for sale sign?” she asked as I walked back into the kitchen. She was back to studying the bills.

“Yea, about that. Sorry about the sign. I was drumming up business.” She looked up and I took her silence as a sign to continue. I told her about Jet’s idea to find buyers.

“Did it work?” she finally asked after taking a moment to consider my logic.

I laid my head in my hands, not wanting to answer her question. Finally I returned her gaze. “Actually, the only one who came by was a man who, I think it might have been Charlie.” I told her about my conversation and described his eyes. “Which reminds me, where are the boys?”

“My mom’s. And yes, it was Charlie. I talked to him an hour ago.”

For some reason, I found this admission surprising.