Colin took the Budweiser from the sack, twisted off the top and placed the bottle in the fire. As the fire boiled the liquid and it foamed out of the opening, Colin opened the O’Doul’s.
“Here’s to you, Pete” said Colin, raising his drink and taking a sip. Then as an afterthought, “Here’s to you, Joe. Good luck in your next life. You’ve earned it.”
Colin sat quietly and finished his drink, watching as the remaining beer boiled out of the bottle in the fire. [Read more…]
“Look at it!” Sheila demanded.
“Easy,” Joe said calmly. He looked at the coin in his hand. It was similar to the one found by Pete Castillo’s body. On one side, the rooster, talons extended. On the other, the five pointed star.
“You know what that is?” asked Sheila with a smile.
“I’ve seen it before, but no, I don’t know what it is.” replied Joe looking back at the coin, taking his gaze from Sheila.
“It’s your death token.” said Sheila. [Read more…]
The appearance of the man on the gurney drew everyone’s attention in the holding tank, including Joaquin Torres. Among the deportees, Joaquin did not stand out, as he sat pondering how he would get back across the border once he was released. He recognized Leonard Jefferson immediately and his rage began to grow. In Joaquin’s mind, that was the man who had caused all this crap to happen.
As soon as the paramedics and guards left the tank, Joaquin motioned for four of his companions to watch the door. He walked to Jefferson’s side. Leonard was doped up, but not asleep. He surveyed his new surroundings as best he could, completely held in place by the leather restraints. The man standing over him looked familiar, but it took a moment for him put a name with the face. [Read more…]
“Joe, Sheila Masters thinks you killed her partner…” Scott Raines said.
“Wait a minute, Scott, I didn’t even fire my piece,” said Joe, defensively.
“I know that. Hell, we all know that. The fact of the matter is, she thinks you killed her friend, Tyrone. She said she will talk to you and give herself up to you alone.” Scott Raines paused. “She says she will kill someone else if she does not talk to you. Joe, you are off administrative leave. I am sending a patrol unit to pick you up. You must be at the office in fifty minutes to take her call.”
Joe was dumbfounded. Two minutes earlier, he had given up; nobody wanted him. Now Scott Raines stopped just short of begging him to come back. [Read more…]
Scott Raines looked at the flashing light on the telephone. “What now?” he said out loud. Picking up the receiver, he said, “Sergeant Raines here.”
“Are you the sergeant of the cop who killed Tyrone last night?” asked the southern-twanged female voice on the other end of the line.
Scott Raines hesitated. “A police officer did not kill anyone last night.”
“Bullshit!” yelled the voice. Then calmer, “I was there, I saw it.”
“Well, we are still investigating the shooting,” he said, not wanting to lose the caller.
“Investigate all you want, I know what happened, I was there,” hissed the voice. Before he could respond, the voice continued, “I got your telephone number at the hospital from your office. Now listen up. You want me. I’m the one that killed that pig the other night.”
[Read more…]
Directly above them, dangling from a makeshift rope of bed sheets was Leonard Jefferson. He was almost level with the windows of the second floor. When he saw the two officers he began struggling on the sheets. His gyrations caused the pistol in his waistband to slip out and fall.
“Look out!” yelled Clark, pulling Rusty out of the path of the pistol. It hit the ground with a metallic “crack” and skittered across the pavement. The two officers stuck their heads back out cautiously. Jefferson swung back and forth banging into the wall of the motel. [Read more…]
The desk clerk looked up in amazement as the detectives entered the lobby. This was certainly a diverse assortment of people so early in the morning.
“Welcome to Motel Seventeen, how may I help you this beautiful morning?” managed the clerk.
Scott Raines took the lead. Displaying his badge he said, “San Diego Police. We want to know who belongs to the silver Volvo out there. This is the license plate number.” Scott handed him a slip of paper.
The clerk looked at the paper and then to guest registry. “Here it is. Yes, the owner of that car is registered here.”
“Good,” replied Scott, “To whom and what room number.”
“Oh, I’m afraid I can’t give you that information unless you have a warrant or something,” said the clerk, trying to convince himself that was the way to handle things.
Carl stepped forward and reached over the counter. “Gimme that!” he growled as he grabbed the registry from the clerk. Carl looked down the columns. “Here it is, Leonard Jefferson, Room 314.” He turned back to the clerk and handed him the registry. “Thank you.” [Read more…]
Joaquin watched with annoyance as two United States Immigration and Naturalization Service vans pulled in front of the restaurant and stopped. The van disgorged agents in their dark green uniforms and they began herding the workers to curbside to check for green cards.
“Hey, Pablo, you waiting for an invitation or what?” asked the harsh voice with the southern twang from behind Joaquin. He ignored the voice; he had been rousted innumerable times, but was always released after he produced his green card.
“Hey…I’m talking to you,” said the voice, this time accompanied with the prod of a billy club in Joaquin’s back. Joaquin took a deep breath, checking his anger. He then stood and turned to face the agent.
“Lo siento, no hablo,” said Joaquin with a smirk. The young officer had a flat top haircut and far too many freckles to be taken seriously. His name tag read “Robert Pritchard.”
“That’s okay,” replied the cocky agent. “Yo hablo. Papeles, ahora.”
“Bueno, un momento,” smiled Joaquin as he reached for his wallet in his back pocket. The smile left his face when he suddenly realized he had left the wallet in his Bronco. The Bronco he had carefully parked four blocks away. This was not good. [Read more…]
Sheila Masters slept in the shower of her motel room.
By the time Colin had discovered Joe and Tyrone in the passage way, Sheila was more than a half mile away. When she landed on the opposite side of the fence, she ran through the underbrush and rolled into a small concrete culvert which ran parallel to the freeway and behind the blocks of commercial buildings. The culvert was full of runoff from the rain. Under the cover of ungroomed pepper trees and oleanders, she slogged her way through the culvert.
Her self-preservation had kicked into high gear. All she thought about was getting away. Tyrone was gone. There was nothing she could do about that right now. She would grieve for him later. And later she would take her revenge. But now, she had to get away. Her clothes were soaked and she shivered with cold as she pushed her way through the heavy underbrush, branches whipping against the bare skin of her face and hands. [Read more…]
Colin continued running to the corner, then turned back to Kettner Boulevard. He saw a blue Ford Bronco driving south on Kettner as he reached the corner. There appeared to be only a Hispanic driver. The Bronco was too far away to read the license plates. He mentally filed the information. He was looking for a black man and a white woman.
He slowed to a jog as he continued up Kettner, looking into the fenced yards and parking lots of commercial buildings. As he passed a gap between two warehouses he stopped to look. Under the harsh glare of the security lights, he could see two figures among the debris at the other end. The first was sitting slumped with his back against the wall. The other was lying on his back.
Colin stepped away from the entrance to the passageway. Pointing his pistol toward the figures, using the corner of the warehouse for cover, he surveyed the passageway. He waited several seconds looking for any movement, listening for any sound. Although he could see no movement from the figures, he could hear a faint mumbling. Nothing else stirred in the corridor. [Read more…]
“This way,” Sheila said, entering the corridor. They made the end in seconds. Sheila jumped up on a dumpster against the fence. She had started to climb the fence when a voice stopped her.
“Goddammit, I’m not going to say it again!” shouted Joe, his breath labored. “Police Department. Stop and put your hands where I can see them. Now, Assholes!”
Joe had stepped far enough into the passageway that he was now under one of the lights. Sheila could see his face clearly. She looked down at Tyrone, who was still on the ground. He looked to her for guidance. She motioned toward Joe with her head and raised her hands. She could take this guy if she could just get close enough. Tyrone raised his hands. No one saw the figure appear behind Joe. [Read more…]
Leonard’s telephone call had left Joaquin very anxious. He was upset at Leonard for hiring two people of questionable ability and discretion. Now Leonard had told him they were snitches. He had only met Sheila and Tyrone once. He did not like either one. Tyrone was stupid. Stupidity was not a fault which could be tolerated in his business. Sheila on the other hand was a woman. Joaquin simply did not like to work with women. They were unreliable and moody. He did not need that. If he wanted that, he could stay home with his wife.
Joaquin and Leonard had agreed the best thing to do was to get rid of Sheila and Tyrone. Since they knew Leonard, he probably could not get close enough to do the job. Joaquin would raise little suspicion; he was just another of Leonard’s workers, as far as they knew. He would go to them at their motel and tell them that Leonard wanted to see them. When they opened the door to the room, “pop, pop.” And that would be that. [Read more…]
