Anacacho, An Allie Armington Mystery (27 page)

The room hums with low conversation
interspersed with civilized clinks of silverware on china. Not a
bad table manner among the group. Even Luke has cleaned up his road
act.

Ramón, Paul, and I again become a
conversational island with the two men carrying on a banal
exchange.

Ramón cocks his head and leans
conspiratorially across me. “My Nita is encinta with our
fourth.”

Paul slurs, “Fourth? Wow. A fourth. How I
envy you.” He peers at me through bleary eyes. “Isn’t that
wonderful, darling? Maybe soon we can have some news of our
own.”

I give Ramón a wan smile. “Please give your
wife my best wishes.”

Paul is drinking too much. His usual
martini, a double, was expanded to two and Miguel has already
filled Paul’s glass four times with a nice crisp Fumé Blanc.

I give the room another once-over. No Jed.
It’s plain he’s not part of the “in” group even though he’s Luke’s
cousin. Maybe Ramón is superstitious about a thirteenth place at
the table.

Adelena has outdone herself with a tender
chicken breast in an almond mole, its thick, spicy sauce
highlighted by a tangy texture of almonds and peanuts with the
added piquancy of cloves and cinnamon.

The conversations continue between the men,
their faces averted, leaving the three of us and our conversation
limited to trivia, since Paul is now obviously drunk.

Finally, in desperation I suppose, Ramón
brings up the wedding and Paul brightens. “I’m very honored you
want to be my best man.”

He squeezes my hand and fuzzes, “Allie’s
going to be a beautiful bride. Make me happiest—” He gropes for his
next words, then smiles. “Yes, tomorrow will make me happy. Isn’t
that right, darling?”

I nod, longing to be anyplace but at this
table and in this untenable situation.

“
Of course she will.
That’s all you want, isn’t it, Miss Armington?” Ramón softly
touches my arm with his forefinger.

His touch may be gentle, but to me it feels
like an electric prod. I start, then blurt, “Oh, yes.”

Adelena’s grand finale is Natillas, a
custard pudding and stiff competition for my favorite piñon
flan.

Coffee and brandy are poured, then Miguel
passes a large humidor of Cuban cigars. Ramón’s gift as best man.
Paul is barely able to mumble his thanks before he slumps against
me.

No one seems to notice the host’s sad
predicament, except Ramón, who taps Luke on the shoulder. “We must
help Miss Armington with her fiancé.”

Luke is at our side in three quick steps.
“I’ll ask Felix to accompany us, Patrón. I’m sure you would enjoy
finishing your cigar.”

Ramón nods and smiles, then leans his mouth
to my ear. His hand bores into mine as orders come like bullets.
“Rise now, Miss Armington. Wait until Luke and Felix have your
fiancé on his feet, then follow them. Do not leave Paul’s side
until you are told. Do you understand?”

I’m warm from the wine and the food, but a
shiver knifes my body as the terrible truth becomes clear. How
stupid I’ve been to think Ramón would let me go. I know far too
much.

I watch Luke and a man I suppose must be
Felix, hoist Paul from the chair and shoulder his arms. Somehow, he
staggers between them, while I follow a few steps behind down that
long hall and into the bedroom.

Luke barks, “Shut the door.”

As I do, I hear Paul’s body hit the bed,
then turn to see the men standing only feet away.

Luke slaps his compadre on the back.
“Gracias, Felix. Please go back to your brandy and Cubana. I’ll
handle it from here.”

The man looks at me, murmurs something and
slides past me to the door.

When it clicks shut, Luke pushes me away and
snaps the lock.

I make a move toward the bed, but he catches
my arm, slams me against the wall and pins me with one hand. “Jefe
can’t protect you. He’s out for the count.”

I squelch stinging fear by staring at the
center of his forehead. Surprisingly, my response brims with
self-confidence. “I don’t need protection. Least of all from
you.”

“
That’s what you think,
sister. I’m taking care of you right now. Bad news is I don’t have
time to give you a parting fuck like Reena.”

“
You?” I
squeak.

Luke smiles. “Yeah. I had orders.”
“Paul?”

“
That fucking weenie? No
way. Patrón called that shot. Reena was a weak link. Could cause us
trouble later. Face it, the bitch was useless.” His smile widens
into a hideous grimace. “And now I’m taking care of
you.”

He reaches into his boot, pulls out a
stiletto, and waves it in my face. “What do you think about
this?”

I glance away to hide my alarm as the
tension between us takes on a life of its own.

“
Better think again,
Luke.” The steady cadence of my voice surprises me. “While you and
Paul were putting the records on the jet, Ramón promised me safe
passage out of here and I don’t think he’ll be very happy if you
produce a corpse.”

His sneer fades to shock then disbelief.
“You’re bluffing.”

I manage a small smile. “Am I?”

The hallway fills with sounds of the ending
dinner party, but instead of the usual conviviality, panic seems to
carry the mood as shouted orders are drowned by gunning
engines.

Hurried footsteps approach the door and a
rapid knock accompanies, “It’s Jed. Open up.”

Luke hesitates only a moment to place the
knife in his boot, then moves quickly to admit his cousin.

“
Change in plans.
Carpenter’s going on the jet. You, too, Luke.”

Luke’s “What?” sounds like a chicken
squawk.

“
You heard me. Ramón needs
you. Says it’s urgent. Says there’s big trouble. Follow
me.”

The two men disappear down the hall without
a backward look, leaving me trembling like an aspen to collapse
weakly on the bed next to Paul.

I cover his clammy forehead with the palm of
my hand and whisper, “Paul? Can you hear me?” No response.

Luke’s departure brought a brief wave of
relief, but that emotion died as quickly as it came. Deep sorrow
engulfs me as I bear witness to the depravity that took control of
Paul’s life. His face, though numbed with drugs and alcohol, a
portrait of desolation.

Despite my eagerness to put as much distance
as possible between myself, this place, and Paul, I realize this
probably will be the last time I see the man I once thought I
couldn’t live without.

If by some miracle Paul is spared, he will
need money. I touch the strand of pearls at my neck. Footsteps in
the distance spring me to action. I struggle with the clasp,
desperate to conceal the pearls in Paul’s pocket before I’m
discovered. At first try, the pearls drop away from my neck. I
wiggle the ring from my finger and stash both in his pocket.

The door opens and Jed runs toward me
followed by Miguel.

“
I’m flying you to
Anacacho in the Piper as soon as I load Carpenter on the jet. Get
into your escape gear a.s.a.p. Something big’s going down. Maybe a
turf war. All I know is, we gotta make tracks pronto.”

I can’t help but blurt, “That bastard was
going to kill me.” Jed must realize how shaken I am because he
touches my arm. “That’s over. He’s gone. We have to get out of
here.”

“
But—”

His touch becomes an urgent grip. “We don’t
have much time.”

I nod, take a deep breath, then glance
toward Miguel, who is bent over Paul. “What about him?”

“
I’ll work on the math,
but I can’t promise you anything. Once we get Carpenter settled,
I’ll head for the Piper. Wait in your room.”

THE CHAOS SURROUNDING the jet’s departure is filled
with shouted orders, countermanded by others, followed by slamming
doors and motors gunning. By the time Miguel comes for me, I hear
the whine of starting jets in the distance.

“
Hurry, Señorita, we don’t
have much time. Patrón told Jed that twenty or more men in a
three-truck convoy were headed our way and we have an hour at the
most before they arrive.”

I rush after Miguel’s retreating back and
finally catch up with him at an idling Jeep. “Did you get Señor
Carpenter safely on board?”

He motions for me to climb in next to
Adelena, who is also dressed in jeans and a jacket. “Sí, Señorita,
but I don’t know how safe Jefe will be at the hands of those
murderers.”

I scrunch into the seat as a dark wave of
gloom covers me. Paul is as good as dead. But I can’t think about
that now. We have so little time—so little real hope of making it
with four of us in that tiny canvas plane.

We arrive at the strip just as the jet roars
overhead. Jed motions me to join him and yells to Miguel, “Keep a
sharp lookout, will you? We don’t want to be caught with our flaps
down.”

He pulls me close. “If you want to make it,
we have to leave them here.” “No way.”

“
You’re right, no way.
Look, Miguel seems pretty resourceful. He and his wife can make it
to the nearest boy’s town and get help. They’ll be just
fine.”

I stand a little taller. “I made a promise
and I intend to keep it.”

It’s plain Miguel and Adelena have overheard
us. Hovered to one side, they too are engrossed in whispered
conversation.

“
Look, dammit. It’s simple
math. Six hundred forty-two pounds is the magic number. When we
began the operation, I reconfigured this baby by removing the
second seat. I pushed the pilot’s seat forward leaving me only
enough room to operate the controls. The three of you jammed in the
back will throw the balance way off.”

“
We’ll just have to take
our chances.”

He barks back. “What the hell do you know
about flying a light, single-engine aircraft?”

“
Not a thing, but if they
don’t go, I don’t go.”

Jed squints down at the yellow pad. “Hold
that flashlight steady.”

It’s plain he’s nervous as hell about
risking four people in the airplane, but as far as I’m concerned
we’re committed.

I check my watch. We’ve wasted ten good
minutes arguing.

Jed removes his rifle from its rack in the
plane, then totes up the column again. “Our combined weight adds up
to five-fifty. That leaves only seventeen gallons of fuel at seven
pounds a gallon. By jettisoning this, we might have nineteen, but
it’s still gonna be a scraper.”

“
Then it’s a
scraper.”

“
Taking on two more people
is just plain suicide.”

At that, Miguel leaves Adelena to join us.
“I’ll stay, Señor Jed, but I beg you, please take my Adelena.”

Even though it’s dark, I can almost see the
stricken look on Adelena’s face and say, “Don’t be ridiculous,
Miguel. We’re all going. Aren’t we, Jed?”

The words are barely out of my mouth before
Adelena is clinging to Miguel, sobbing rapid Spanish into his
ear.

I jab Jed in the rib. “We’re all going.”

“
Ouch. Yes, dammit. I’m
not leaving anybody behind.”

I scan the horizon for the glow of
approaching headlights and see none.

“
That’s what I thought.
Hurry up. We’re wasting time.”

Jed shakes his head for the fourth time in
as many minutes. “I still don’t think there’s enough gas to get us
to the Anacacho strip.” It’s hard to keep the exasperation out of
my voice. “You’ve flown fully loaded before. Don’t you have those
figures in your head?”

“
But I’ve always been able
to balance the weight. I shift the bags to even the load, but hell,
with almost four hundred pounds to the rear, we’ll be lucky to get
this ruptured duck off the ground. And if we do, once we’re
airborne, we’re liable to stall.”

It’s time to take matters into my own hands.
I point the flashlight toward the opening. “Miguel, you get in
first. Then you, Adelena.”

Jed’s, “I tell you, it’s not going to work,”
trails me as I place one foot on the step and scrunch into
Adelena’s knees.

“
Sorry.”

“
Don’t worry, Señorita,
I’ll be fine.” There’s an excitement in Adelena’s voice that
ignites my own.

I shine the flashlight on the step. “Come
on, Jed. We’re pushing our escape window.”

He checks his shoulder holster, then
grumbling expletives, hauls himself into the pilot’s seat. Once he
has closed and locked the opening, he turns. “Every goddamnbody
pray.”

The sound of the engine turning over raises
my adrenaline to pitch level and I pat Jed on the shoulder. “I know
you can do it. Just tell us what to do.”

“
You must know something I
don’t.”

I glance out the window and freeze. Three
sets of headlights have just graced the horizon.

“
What I know is, we’ve run
out of time. Look to your rear right.”

“
Oh, shit. Hang on
everybody.”

The plane rolls slowly down the tarmac,
then, bit by bit, gains momentum as the engine strains to attain
the rpm needed to take us into the air.

The plane bucks, then shudders as the tires
break from the runway and for an instant we are free.

All of us scream, venting our triumph, but
it’s short-lived as the wheels crash back into the runway.

From behind comes a muted, “Ave Maria.”

“
I told you it was
suicide.” There’s a weariness in Jed’s voice I don’t want to
hear.

“
Dammit, Jed, you can’t
give up now.”

Miguel’s voice is almost in my ear. “Señor
Jed, you must try again. If you don’t, we are all dead.”

Jed shouts, “Okay, okay. Everybody move
forward. Get that weight out of the rear.”