Just The Pits (Hetta Coffey Series, Book 5) (12 page)

The key for us, number one, has always been hiring very smart people.— Bill Gates

It was a cozy cyber-world-century family scene in the main saloon after a dinner of order-out Chinese.

Rosario gamed on his computer, Jan and I researched on ours. Whatever happened to being perfectly good couch potatoes? Watching mindless sitcoms and game shows? At least then kids talked to each other, even if it was to say something like, "Oh, that Fonz." Even though
Happy Days
went off the air when I was ten, I still wondered if my fascination with The Fonz didn't lead to a later penchant for bad boys. 

Jan took the genealogy route via Ancestry.com and I hit the social media. I was tired and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed, but I am a research junkie. My dad says I'm part bloodhound; point me at a problem and I'll run it to ground. 

My search paid off fast. "Bingo," I said fifteen minutes later.

Jan came around to my side of the table. "What?"

I put my finger to my lips. I didn't want Rosario to know we were looking for his dad, just in case we came up cold. Jan squinted at the screen. "Send it to me," she said and returned to her own PC.

A minute later we were only three feet apart, chatting online. And they say the art of conversation is dead.

Jan: Looks like you are onto something. Age is right.

Me: Let's see if we can find him on Facebook.

Jan: Roger that.

Another minute or two went by.

Me: Bingo again.

Jan: For sure. I mean, look at him. Rosario is a dead ringer.

Me: What should we do?

Jan: Let's Friend him.

Me: You Friend him, I'm going fishing on LinkedIn and Pinterest.

Jan: You're afraid you'll land in Facebook jail again for pestering people.

Me: Yeah, well, you ended up in Twitmo more than once.

Jan: That was before I learned how to stay out of trouble with those Twitter cops. Let's both send a Friend request to this dude.

Me: Oh, all right. I hope he doesn't think I'm some kind of stalker like that last guy.

I was pretty sure we had our man.

Forty-two years old, divorced, no kids mentioned, loves surfing (which is why we have little Rosario sitting nearby right now), Software Engineer (of course) in the San Francisco Bay Area. I even snagged his resume off LinkedIn.

Jan: Should we show Rosario?

Me: Not yet. What if this Russell character doesn’t care if he has a son?

Jan: Yeah, you're probably right, although I really hate it when that happens.

Me: What with Rosario being so computer literate, and a hacker to boot, wouldn't you think he'd have found this guy himself?

Jan: That is odd. Maybe he has?

Me: Feel him out tomorrow. You know, you and Chino have to take him with you to the whale camp. He can't stay here.

Jan: Right you are.

Me: Uh, why are we sending each other messages on the computer when we could be
talking?

Jan: B/C TLK2U is a PITA

I hugged Jan, Rosario and Po Thang, before leaving for the mine the next morning. I wasn't sure who I was going to miss the most when I returned to an empty boat later that day. But since it was already Wednesday and I planned on heading for Camp Chino on Friday, I wasn't all that sad to have a couple of days of solitude.

And, of course, there's the Internet. What on earth did we do without it? Oh, now I remember: We read paper books, played cards with actual physical cards, wrote letters in longhand, took walks, and had meaningful conversations with people we actually knew. Or not. I spent a lot of time in bars having meaningful conversations with total strangers.

Well, at least I no longer watched television, and a side bonus is that stuffing one's self with after-dinner snacks is harder when you have your fingers on the keys instead of a channel changer. So why can't I dump that pesky ten pounds? Okay, fifteen.

Safety, by rescuing Po Thang, had redeemed himself in my mind. I found it hard to believe he was a killer after that pooch cottoned to him so, but then again, dogs are not always the best judge of character.

However, I consider myself a brilliant judge of others. Matter of fact, being judgmental is a Texan birthright. Others may find my opinions somewhat harsh at times, but I'm usually pretty good at sniffing out nefariousness. Unfortunately, I have been attracted to some fairly villainous characters in my past, but that didn't mean I didn't know them when I sniffed them out, so to speak.

I was reminded of an old song, "The Snake" by Al Wilson. Like the woman in the song, I knew a snake when I saw one, but sometimes took them in anyhow. I'd gotten a vicious bite or two for my efforts, but until very recently I had still managed to be mesmerized under the s-s-spell of a charming snake or two.

So, if S-S-Safety was involved in Rosario's boating "accident" and an ensuing cover-up, then while not exactly innocent, he was at least not guilty of participating in an intentional attempted murder. On the other hand, maybe there was a vast conspiracy on site and I was gonna have a hell of a time finding the culprits if more than a couple were involved.

My investigation was going to have to start with the first piece of paper ever generated that had anything to do with costs and the idea of starting at the beginning made me groan.

For years before the project ever broke ground, a lengthy feasibility study was made. For starters, a team of Canadian geologists, one of whom was the now project manager, Bert Melton, literally unearthed evidence that the old mine might be profitable using new technology. Copper deposits were left untapped when, using the old techniques, Lucifer's ore plumb petered out.

I'm certain there is some profound life lesson here, but it escapes me.

However, this team of scientists also knew there was a possibility of rich cobalt deposits, and that is a game changer. Cobalt has been, in the western hemisphere, a by-product of copper mining in the past, but demand in high-tech applications and the aircraft industry has made it more important.

Lucifer is primarily a copper mining facility, but it is the cobalt that will make it so valuable. The cobalt supply coming from the Congo is threatened by political unrest and the other sources, namely China and Russia, are also open to shaky politics at times. Canada and the United States are looking to cut back their reliance on overseas sources, and Mexico is not, technically, overseas.

Hopefully I wasn't taking part in another Blackbird mine fiasco, but since there is going to be a cobalt mining facility opening in Idaho near that disaster, maybe history has taught us a lesson.

Blackbird left almost four-million tons of waste rock, a ten-acre open pit and tons of tailings that contaminated the soil before it was shut down in the nineteen eighties.

Anyhow, once cobalt was deemed viable to extract as a new product from Lucifer, the pencil pushers moved in to estimate the financial possibilities, or lack thereof. If what I'd learned was true about extensive cost overruns, then the estimating team was either incompetent or someone had their hand in the till. I suspected the latter, but now I had to prove it.

Rosario had done some of the work for me. Payroll costs appeared consistent with what they should be, as well as the expense of housing and feeding so many workers. Well, until they get
my
bill.

Using a tried and almost true formula or two I'd learned when doing ball park estimates of my own on former projects, the quantity of purchase orders issues seemed slightly high, but not terribly out of line. I couldn't find what I called double-dip vendors; these are phantom purveyors, usually of something like tortillas. In that case, Vendor Jose would actually supply tortillas to the jobsite, and get paid for them. Jose's phantom brother, Vendor Jorge, gets paid off the same Material Receiving Report.

One of the problems of doing business in Mexico is that there are so many
agencias
, which are basically middlemen for products ranging from design services to equipment. I read somewhere that the drug cartels had wormed their way into legitimate business by acquiring agencies for high-end vehicles such as Jaguars, and I sincerely hoped I wasn't headed for another showdown with those guys.

At any rate, the
agencia
middlemen gave much opportunity for kickbacks and the like.

The Trob sent me a program I downloaded that would allow me to enter a key word, like tortilla, and a search would ensue throughout the system for duplicates. None of that showed up.

After a frustrating few hours, I emailed the Trob that I needed help and wanted Jan on the payroll.

His answer came back almost immediately: Whatever.

I love a man of few words. Gives me more time to talk.

Putting Jan to work would solve a couple of problems. First off she wouldn't have time to make poor Chino miserable, and I'd have a cohort since I planned to have her work from the boat. I'd also glean a dog sitter for Po Thang and we could delay sending Rosario away. Although I gave it long and hard thought, I couldn't figure out how to get a dead man back on the mine's payroll, but figured I'd pad my expense account to make up for feeding both him and Po Thang.

I emailed Jan, hoping to catch her before Chino picked her up. She had not been looking forward to returning to Camp Chino so soon and now, when Chino showed up to take her back home to her rivals, the whales, she had a legitimate reason to stay on with me. And if she was busily employed, Chino didn't have to worry about her taking off, as she does on occasion.

I should hire myself out as a problem solver, extraordinaire.

Oh, wait, I already do that.

Less than an hour after the Trob approved the hiring of Jan, one pissed off Chicano stormed my closet waving a sheet of paper. "CPA? CPA? We are in Mexico! What is this all about?"

"A CPA," I said with a smile, "means Certified Public Accountant."

Ozzie's face turned an alarming shade of purple, which isn't all that easy when one is of Hispanic descent. "I am aware of what it means, Miss Coffey. I simply don't understand why on earth we need one on a project in Mexico! And where will we put another person? This office is already over-crowded. I knew you were trouble from the first day, and –"

I cut him off before he imploded. "You do realize this CPA is my friend, the lovely Jan, don't you?"

His anger dissipated as fast as you can say tall hot blonde. "Oh. Well. I, uh, in that case—"

"Yeah, I get that a lot."

No good deed goes unpunished.

After a frustrating day of unrequited snoopery, and realizing I was in over my head, snoop-wise, I was elated I'd have Jan in my corner to help out in the future. She has a degree in mathematics, an MBA in accounting, is a PeopleSoft (Oracle's whizbang capitol management program) guru, and can ferret out accounting snafus where I wouldn't have a clue to even look. I know the construction/engineering bidness, but can barely balance my checkbook. Okay, I never balance my checkbook.

For engineers, one would think being math savvy is second nature and it sort of is, but I don't like doing it. You would be surprised how many engineers feel the same way. If we are designing something that's one thing, but anything that smacks of simple subtraction and addition? Nah.

I was somewhat surprised by my relief that Jan and Rosario were staying on for awhile. A bit of a loner, I've never really enjoyed being around people a lot, and especially in my living quarters. Given my druthers, I would have had my own house as a child. Next door to the parents, mind you, but  separate. Maybe this getting near for...late thirties had something to do with it? Or maybe I just liked coming home to a home cooked meal.
If
I beat Po Thang to it.

As I headed for the boat after securing Jan a place on the payroll, I thought I'd  find an elated Jan, as she was back to working at something she loved instead of flipping tortillas at the whale camp. I had another think coming, for the Jan waiting for me was one I had never known: an insecure one.

I barely made it into the main saloon when she began spouting angst and fury, all because of Chino's new assistant.

After ten minutes of listening to her totally unfounded anxiety, I had had enough. "Oh, for crap's sake, Jan, you knew Chino was getting an assistant."

"An assistant marine biologist. A doctor. Not a golderned centerfold."

"I think you must be exaggerating."

Rosario piped up. "Oh, no, she is not. Doctor Diane is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. She has the most amazing hair with these gold streaks, sexy eyes, and her figure—"

I cut him off in order to save his life, as I caught sight of Jan reaching for my fish filleting kit. "Okay, Rosario, I think I've got the picture here."

Not heeding my attempt at a warning, he whipped out the cell phone Jan had retrieved from his rental room and shoved it in my face. Jennifer Lopez peered at me from the screen. No, not Jennifer, because the actress doesn't have jade green eyes. And in the photo Rosario snapped early that day, those emerald orbs were trained, laser-like, on Doctor Brigido Chino Comacho Yee, who had a silly grin pasted on his face.

"Well, crap."

"Well crap, indeed Hetta," Jan growled. "I should have never let them drive off without me. What was I thinking? They will be together all day, every day, and half the night and it's
your
fault."

"What? My fault?"

"Well, you hired me and now Chino and that, that,
doctor
will be
way
too together while you have me slaving away over here."

"They'll be counting whales and such," I reminded her. "Something you hate doing."

"Yabbut, they are
my
whales to hate."

"Gosh, why on earth would Chino be interested in someone else when you are so reasonable?"

"You know what I mean."

"I guess. Look, Chino is in love with you, in spite of your lousy attitude. He is a wonderful man, an honorable one, and someone who would never do anything nefarious."

"Wanna bet? He stole your dog."

"What?" I hadn't even had time to notice Po Thang was missing. "The dirty low down sonuvabitch!"

Later, when Jan was taking a shower out of hearing range, I whispered to Rosario, "I'm almost afraid to ask, but just how old is this Doctor Bombshell? She looks fairly young in her photo, I mean for a doctor."

As I said this I had a twinge of my own angst, as I'd heard it told that you know you're getting old when doctors start looking young.

Rosario's answer gave me even more to worry about. "I think she is about twenty-six. My age."

Yikes, no wonder Jan was in such a tizzy, what with her concerns of the age difference between herself and Chino.

"And Hetta, Doctor Yee took your dog so he can check him for worms and any other health problems. He is, after all, a veterinarian as well as a marine biologist. I do not think he wishes to keep Po Thang."

I'd had time to calm down over my missing mutt and when I thought it over, Po Thang was in good hands. "Truth is, I really don't need a dog. I'm gone all day and you and Jan won't be here for long to dogsit. I guess Camp Chino is actually a better place for him in the long run."

"Perhaps." He cut his eyes toward my cabin, where Jan went to shower. "I think Jan is…confused. She says she doesn't want to work with Doctor Yee, but then she doesn't want him to have an assistant."

"Oh, I think it is the
type
of assistant she's worried about. Did you learn anything else about Doctor Powell? Like, is she married or anything?"

"She wore no ring." He blushed. "I sort of noticed."

"Like you sort of noticed she's got more curves than Hell Hill?"

"But she is not so beautiful as Jan," he said loyally.

"You might want to mention that to Jan."

To keep Jan's mind off possible hanky-panky afoot at Camp Chino, I had her download every single accounting number for the project, no matter whose it was. This was no small task, for we had subcontractors galore and they had their own purchase orders. I also wanted to look at any large outstanding invoices, maybe glean an anomaly somewhere.

Luckily the numbering system was such that the string of numbers and letters actually meant something, once you get the hang of it. Or rather, Jan got the hang of it, because my pea brain only saw hieroglyphics. In what looked to me like a meaningless string of alphanumeric nonsense, Jan deciphered information. Under Jan's tutelage I slowly learned to recognize subcontractors, vendors, products, and the like, but it was still a pain.

I was complaining about learning a new language—Accounting—when Rosario stepped in and wrote a translation program for me. Jan was more than impressed with how quickly he grasped not only the concept, but his ability to quickly put it all in plain English for me. He also acted as our project personnel guide, filling us in on who did what for whom. We made a good team, each of us possessing a particular knowledge or skill, and none of us with another damned thing to do.

Things were looking much rosier until my office phone rang.

"Hetta," Rosario whispered.

"Ro—" I looked around to see if anyone was nearby my office. "Uh, hi there. What's up?"

"Someone is on the boat."

"Where's Jan?"

"She went shopping."

"Can you see who it is?"

"No, when I heard someone walking around on the decks, I hid in my cabin. Can you turn on the cameras? Whoever it is is still here."

"Okay, are all the hatches locked?"

"Yes. And so is my cabin door."

"Good. Standby." I pulled up my security system and activated all the cameras on the boat. At first I saw nothing, then a deck camera caught movement and rotated towards it. A man was walking along the starboard side, his back to the camera. It looked as though he was getting ready to leave the boat.

"Rosario, make a noise. I need him to turn around."

"What noise?"

"I don't care. Whistle, yell, bang on the wall. Whatever."

"Okay." Seconds later I heard a loud thud and the man whirled to face the camera.

I almost fainted with fright as I stared into the ugly mug of an old arch enemy, one who had vowed to get even with me if it was the last thing he did.

"Hetta?"

I couldn't speak, I was in such shock.

"Hetta?"

I drew a deep breath. "I'm here. Stay put. No more noise. If he tries to break in, I'll set off the alarm. That should scare him off, pronto."

I watched, a shaky finger on the alarm key, as the creepy lowlife finally shrugged and stepped off the boat.

"I think he's gone. Peek out from the main saloon and see if he's on the dock."

After a few seconds, Rosario let out a sigh of relief. "Yes, he went out the gate and walked toward the parking lot. What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing. Have Jan call me as soon as she gets back. We have more to worry about now than who tried to kill you. Now we have a guy who wants to kill
me
."

Ricardo Lujàn, whom Jan and I had dubbed Dickless Richard after the smarmy
cabrón
told us, upon our making his sleazy acquaintance, that we could call him Richard, or Ricardo, but not to call him Dick.

I've called him many things since then, none of them nice. Lujàn is in real estate. Stealing it, as best I can figure. And he tried doing serious harm to me and Jan the year before, but Jenks rode in on his white horse and saved the day by launching a Molotov cocktail at him and blowing up his boat.

The last I saw of Dickless, we set him afloat in a leaky skiff.

Last I
heard
of him, he still held a grudge.

And now he had found me. Or at least my boat.