The City of Rocks Page 24

  He waved toward the building under construction. “Mr. Hammond and his superintendent were inspecting that structure over there about four this afternoon. When they reached the fifth floor, he sent the superintendent to check on something. While he was gone, a man—a stranger—walked up and clubbed him with a length of two-by-four. If Hammond hadn’t been wearing a hard hat, he’d have gone over, but he caught himself and managed to grab on to the man. The old man’s in pretty good shape for his age and probably put up more of a fight than the other guy expected. Anyway, the superintendent heard his boss yelling and came running. He grabbed Hammond and managed to save him. Unfortunately the other guy went over the edge.”

  “Dead?”

  “Absolutely and irrevocably. I’d like you to take a look at him. The medical examiner’s people have him over there in the meat wagon. You ready?”

  “Let’s go.”

  Paul and the other detective materialized just then and trailed us to the ambulance. The rear doors were open, and by the interior light, I could see a stretcher covered by a blanket.

  “The medics were about to leave when you showed up, saving you a long trip downtown.” Padilla stepped aside and waved me into the back of the vehicle.

  The body wasn’t pretty. The man had landed on his face, which distorted his features. I gave it a good look and shook my head.

  “It’s not Carlos.”

  “Are you sure? He’s pretty banged up.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. This Carlos character had a full head of black hair plastered over his ears with pomade. I remember thinking he must have used grease to hold it in place. This guy’s haircut almost looks military.”

  “Some of the gangs around here go for that look. How about the joker with the knife?”

  “Not so sure about that call. He’s the right build, but I can’t be certain. Any ID on him?”

  “Name’s Abner Walczek according to his driver’s license. I suspect the name’s as phony as the union card he’s carrying. This guy doesn’t look like a Walczek to me. Looks like he came right out of Central America.”

  “You might check Brazil. Acosta had a money-laundering operation down there until a couple of people got killed.”

  “We’ll print him and see what we can find. You think your buddy’s up to taking a look? He seems a little wet behind the ears, but maybe he’ll recognize the guy who tried to knife him.”

  Paul and the other detective replaced us in the ambulance. Paul shook his head. He couldn’t identify the man either. Even in the semidarkness, he looked a little pale as he climbed out of the vehicle.

  “Okay if we go see Hammond now?” I asked. “How’s he holding up?”

  “I get the feeling this wasn’t the first dead body he’s seen. He’s a tough old bird.”

  “Any record?”

  Padilla hesitated a second. “You haven’t checked? In his younger days, he got into some trouble busting unions. That’s probably where he got the seed money to start his own operation. He put together some goons and got paid for busting up strikes. But he always managed to stay clear of any serious charges.”

  That pretty well matched the jacket and records Cohen had sent me.

  Padilla rubbed his eyes as if they were tired. “There’s some civil suits, but that’s par for the course in the construction business. He’s inside. You can go on in.”

  Hammond sat at one of the two desks in the trailer. A white hard hat lay on the surface in front of him. He’d shed his linen suit for dungarees and a blue denim work shirt with sleeves rolled halfway up his arms. He seemed no worse for the wear from his recent near-death experience. A man about three inches shorter and four inches wider, whom I took to be his foreman or superintendent, sat opposite him.

  “Mr. Vinson, thanks for coming.”

  “That’s okay. I’m just glad you’re not hurt.”

  “It was a near thing, I can tell you.” He nodded to the other man. “If Tom here hadn’t come running, I’m not sure who would have taken that swan dive. Probably both of us.”

  “How did the man who attacked you get on the premises? The site has lockdown capabilities.”

  “You mean a fence and a gate? The gate is left open during the workday. People come and go all the time—subcontractors, vendors, city inspectors, and people looking for work.”

  “Who knew you were going to be inspecting the job today?”

  “Anybody who wanted to, I guess. My schedule’s not a closely held secret. Look, I haven’t had anything to eat. Can we go somewhere and get a bite?”

  “We can if Detective Padilla’s finished with us.”

  The detective got the location of the duck track in the Glades from Hammond. After saying he’d have someone at the race site Saturday morning as a precaution, he told us we were finished for the moment. “When are you planning to return home, Mr. Vinson?”

  “Not for a couple of days.”

  “Appreciate it if you’d check with me first, okay? Are you both certain you’ve told me everything you know about this situation?”

  “I’ve told you everything pertinent, Detective.” Hammond snagged a large envelope from the desk and stood.

  “I can’t think of anything else,” I said.

  Because no one was dressed for a fancy club or restaurant, we headed for the Ritz lounge for something to eat. Paul and I rushed upstairs to scrub off the sun block and change into fresh clothing while Hammond secured a table in the lounge.

  As we started back to the lobby, I asked Paul if he wouldn’t prefer to go do something else. He broke stride to give me a look.

  “No way. This is exciting. Being around you goes way beyond Journalism 101. It’s like Journalism 1001.”

  Judging from the empty whiskey glass on the table, Hammond was on his second drink by the time we arrived at the lounge. He waved for a waiter as soon as he saw us. I ordered iced tea with lemon, and Paul followed my lead.

  The contractor lifted his tumbler. “I guess delayed reaction is setting in. That guy almost killed me.” He took another gulp and put down the glass. “Despite what I said back there, I’m not hungry. I just needed to talk to you, Mr. Vinson.”

  “Please call me BJ.”

  “Okay, I’m Kenny. After you left this morning, I talked to Heck Acosta. When I laid everything out for him, he started a song-and-dance routine. I told him to cut the bullshit. It was time to get serious. I didn’t want anything to do with drugs or drug running, not even peripherally, so I intended to cancel the bet with Millicent.”

  “His reaction?”

  “He asked me to reconsider. Said he owned a good part of that bet, and it would be personally embarrassing for him if I called it off. And then I made a tactical error. I agreed to reconsider, but I did it too quickly. Heck’s a shrewd man, and he’s known me for a long time. He’d expect me to bluff and bluster and then end up horse-trading with him. I didn’t. I just threw him a line about thinking it through and got off the phone. I think he suspects I simply won’t show up with my racer tomorrow morning.”

  “Then why would he try to kill you?” Paul asked. “Wouldn’t that guarantee your racer won’t show up?”

  “That’s exactly what I thought as I hung up the phone. Another mistake. Heck knows where I keep my racing duck, and he knows the people who take care of her.”

  “So he might snatch the duck and see that the race goes on,” Paul suggested.

  “Exactly. I’m widowed, so he wouldn’t have a wife to contend with. My two children are grown and pretty well estranged, so he knows I wouldn’t have taken them into my confidence. He would either pay over my sixty percent share of the bet to my estate or forge some sort of document showing I’d sold it to him.”

  “Let me get this straight,” I said. “Do you intend to cancel the race?”

  He picked up the envelope he’d carried out of the field office with him and shoved it across the table. “Here’s my signed and notarized agreement to cancel the bet, along with my original copy of th
e wager.”

  “You’re sure about this?”

  “I wasn’t until about four this afternoon. I didn’t even write it up until after that fellow went over the edge. I rushed right down to the trailer and scribbled the cancellation agreement. The field secretary notarized my signature. The original of the bet I already had in my briefcase.”

  I tapped the envelope. “This written cancellation of the debt is important, of course, but it—”

  He held up a hand. “Yes, I know. But it could be challenged by any of the stakeholders. As Paul indicated a few minutes ago, the really important thing is to see that Thunder Duck doesn’t show up at the racing channel tomorrow. That’s the only sure way to put an end to it.”

  “What time is the race scheduled?”

  “Ten o’clock.”

  “Do you have any objection if an associate of mine picks up your racer for safekeeping?”

  When he agreed, I got Cohen on the line. He said he’d go for the bird right away. I put Hammond on the phone so they could work out the details. Once that was over, I asked if anyone besides Acosta would protest the cancellation of the race.

  He toyed with his empty glass. “Ours is a small group. It grew out of a couple of us going to the rubber ducky charity races. After attending the Waddle, Walk, and Run race, where live ducks are dropped off in the ocean and the first one ashore wins the race, we got started joking about ‘thoroughbred’ ducks. One thing led to another, and we set up a place out near the Glades. We invested a few dollars in straightening and lining a fresh-water channel on some property one of us owned. It caught on but has always remained a small, intimate group. We will typically have six or seven racers and no more than two dozen owners and spectators.

  “If you’re thinking about side bets, I gave that due consideration before deciding on a course of action. I am not aware of any and have no responsibility for them if they exist. Besides, the people in my group are all long-standing friends and associates. I’ll make some calls tonight to let everyone know the race is off.”

  “Acosta has a different motive. What if he comes after you again?”

  “He won’t. I’ve already taken steps to let him know what I’ve done. Now he has no motive to harm me.”

  “Except for revenge, of course.”

  Hammond nodded over my shoulder. I turned to see his superintendent sitting alone at the bar. “There are two more outside, keeping an eye on my car. I’ll be safe until this blows over.”

  “It might not blow over,” Paul said. “Some of those patrones carry a grudge for a long time.”

  “That’s true, but Heck is driven by the dollar. We have several projects together, and my death might cause some problems for him. I’ll watch my back until he cools off. But what he tried to prevent by sending that goon is now an accomplished fact. I’m willing to take my chances.” He paused significantly. “However….”

  “However, the danger may now lie back in New Mexico,” I said.

  Chapter 28

  AS SOON as Hammond left, I got a Federal Express envelope from the desk clerk, addressed it to Del Dahlman’s law firm, sealed the wager documents inside, and left it with the night manager for pickup by the carrier. Then Paul and I returned to our room, where I called Del.

  It was after 7:00 p.m. in New Mexico, but he was still at the office. He agreed to hold the envelope until I could pick it up upon my return. I gave him a little of the backstory, soft-pedaling the afternoon’s violence, and explaining anyone wanting to get their hands on the envelope would be more apt to look for it in my office than in his.

  Hazel had given me a good letting alone the last few days, doubtlessly so I could enjoy my vacation time with Paul, but I called her next—before she caught wind of trouble in paradise. She was home, so the shoptalk was short. When she asked after Paul, I handed him the phone so he could work some of his charm on her.

  I hadn’t wanted to talk to Millicent until I made arrangements for securing the envelope Hammond gave me and confirming Thunder Duck wouldn’t somehow appear for the race tomorrow morning. When I reached her, she expressed shock over the attempt on Hammond’s life, but a sense of relief crept into her voice I didn’t want to hear.

  “So it’s over?”

  “If you mean is the bet canceled and the race called off, yes. But don’t make the mistake of thinking this thing is over. It’s not. Acosta wasn’t successful in preventing those two things, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less determined to get your ranch. He wants it for some reason, and it goes deeper than just getting stateside land that abuts his Mexican property.”

  “But that was your premise all along.”

  “He wants it all right, and he’s committed to getting it. But it’s more than just acquiring an easy walk across the border. Millicent, does Bert ever fly over the Lightning Ranch?”

  “He flies over a piece of it quite often, especially when he’s going to Deming.”

  “Has he seen anything suspicious lately?”

  “Not that he’s mentioned. I’ll ask him when he comes in.”

  “Has Acosta been in touch? Or Rael?”

  “Heck hasn’t contacted me, and Bert hasn’t said anything about Paco. He’s still smarting over what he considers a betrayal by his best friend. Frankly, I’m not certain what’s going to happen when they come face-to-face.”

  “So he’s accepted that Paco tried to kill him?”

  “I don’t think he knows what to believe. I’m having trouble accepting it as well.”

  “Both of you had better believe it until we know otherwise—and act accordingly. This afternoon someone tried to kill a prominent Miami contractor in the middle of his own construction crew. Think how vulnerable that makes you out in the hinterlands.”

  “Why would Heck harm me? I’m the one he’s trying to buy the ranch from.”

  “What happens to it if you and Bert are both dead?”

  “It goes to my daughter, Penelope.”

  “Is she capable of running the ranch?”

  “No. She grew up on it, but she always drew and painted, not hazed and branded. Now she’s an artist living in Dallas with her lawyer husband.”

  “So she’d probably sell it if it passed into her hands. Does she know Acosta?”

  “Of course. She’s known him all her life. Calls him Uncle Heck.”

  “And have you shared any suspicions of Uncle Heck with her or her husband?”

  “No.”

  “I think you should. Right away. You know, if I wanted something as badly as Acosta seems to want the Lazy M, I’d make an offer for fair market value. He’s a wealthy man. Why would he try to steal it from you at half price?”

  “You’d have to know Heck. He’s well aware I wouldn’t even consider selling the Lazy M unless I was forced into a corner. And if I died, Bert wouldn’t either. But once Heck learned of my vulnerability—my foolishness—he saw an opportunity. And it’s his nature to take advantage of something like that, both to push me into a sale and to get it at bargain-basement rates.”

  “And now that he’s lost that advantage?”

  “He might come back and offer me a fair price.”

  “And when you turn him down again?”

  “Thirty minutes ago, I’d have said that would be the end of it. Now I don’t know.”

  “Good, that means you’ve heard what I said. You and Bert have to be especially careful.”

  “All of our people are armed and alarmed.”

  “But they don’t carry automatic weapons, and there’s not an army of them. I think you should contact the authorities and express your concerns. The county sheriff, the state police, the border people, everyone.”

  “BJ, are we making more of this than there is? This is my childhood sweetheart we’re talking about. The man I virtually grew up with.”

  “You need to consider that man as dead and buried. The Hector Acosta of today isn’t the same man. If you don’t accept anything else I’ve said, just believe one thing. H
e’s a killer. He kills for profit, and your ranch represents profit.”

  “That’s so cold-blooded. And there’s no proof. No real proof.”

  “I’m not claiming everything is documented and tied up in a pretty package. It’s not. But there’s enough on the table to support what I believe. You don’t need absolute, legal proof to protect yourself and those under your care from potential harm. All of this brings up another question. The Raels.”

  “No way. They’re loyal, BJ. They won’t betray me.”

  “That’s what you said about Acosta. And Paco is their son. Do you honestly believe they spent time with him on Acosta’s ranch and don’t know he was shot, not injured by a bucking bronc?”

  “How would they know? The effects would be the same or similar.”

  “Any mother I know would want to see the wound with her own eyes.”

  “You don’t understand the mindset over there. Heck is the patrón. His word is law. If he says Paco fell off a horse, then Paco fell off a horse. Besides, Heck has supported their family for years. He got them their green cards and recommended them to me. He saw to it they had a job and a better life over here.”

  “That could have been out of friendship… or by design.”

  “You just don’t know them. They’re dear, gentle people.”

  “Or they’re vipers in your own nest.”

  “BJ!” Real outrage tinged her voice.

  “Sorry, but you have to consider the possibility. This is serious, Mud.” Her hands called her that out of respect for her toughness and tenacity, and she needed to be reminded of that. “Someone could be plotting your and Bert’s assassinations as we speak.”

  When she didn’t reply, I asked if she’d had any word from the insurance company.

  “I spoke to them this morning. I think they might end up doing something after all. The police reports you provided nudged them our way. Next week I’m going to have my lawyer start bugging them.”

  “So you think the duck’s dead?”

  “No, I don’t. The more you convince me Heck’s behind all of this, the more I believe she’s being cared for over on the Rayo. He knows how I treasure that bird, and when he gets his way, I believe she’ll come back to me.”