The Body Market: A Leine Basso Thriller (6 page)

But first she wanted to connect with the DEA agent Santa had told her about, Bob Herrera. If the Russian had been hanging out for any period of time, he’d more than likely heard of him.

She kept to the shadows and moved along the back streets before cutting between buildings to reach the parking lot. No guard greeted her at the entrance. As she approached her rental a prickle of awareness tracked up her spine.

Someone was watching her.

A
drenaline spiking,
Leine
slowed down and took stock of her surroundings. The absence of the guard gave her pause. The parking lot, though touted as secure, held several dark spaces from which a person could attack. She stopped mid-stride and reached for the switchblade secured to her calf, acting as though she were adjusting something on her shoe. She straightened, careful to conceal the weapon in her hand.

Without appearing to, Leine scanned the area as she skirted her vehicle, alert for anything out of the ordinary. She turned left as she exited the lot and jogged to the end of the street. She checked behind her and, seeing no one, slipped around the corner. As she continued along the dark boulevard, she pulled out her phone and hit speed dial.

“Herrera,” a man’s voice answered.

“Agent Hererra, my name is Leine Basso. We have a mutual friend—Detective Santiago Jensen?”

“I’ve been expecting your call. Santa contacted me earlier, letting me know you were going to be in town. What can I do for you?”

“Did he fill you in on why I’m here?”

“It’s about the two missing teenagers, right?”

“Right. Can you think of any reason I might be followed?”

“Not unless the police were given advance notice. Have you spoken with anyone in town regarding the case?”

“Yes. Two bartenders. One from the Blue Manatee, one from the Gypsy. But I haven’t been in town long. Less than an hour.”

“A local businessman named Felix Otero is majority owner of the Blue Manatee so he’ll know you’re here, eventually. He’ll probably have his guys keep an eye on you. Anybody asking questions about something as potentially explosive as a murder and kidnapping in this city is going to be subject to intense scrutiny. An hour’s pretty fast for them, though.” Herrera paused. “We should meet. There’s a
carne asada
place about two miles outside of town on the free road. Has a big white sign with the picture of a happy cow on it. Meet me there in half an hour.”

“I’ll be there.” Leine disconnected the call and continued along the sidewalk. She reached the end of the block, crossed the street, turned right, and then continued to the corner. There, she turned right again and entered an alley. She stepped behind a dilapidated pickup parked next to the building and waited. Sirens wailed in the distance. Somewhere a dog joined in with a low howl.

Several minutes ticked by before a shadowy figure with an unsteady gait walked past the entrance to the alley. A few moments later the same figure reappeared and stopped on the sidewalk, hesitating as he peered into the darkness. Leine waited patiently, willing him to step under the lone streetlamp so she could get a better look at him.

The man glanced both ways before proceeding slowly into the alley. Something about him seemed familiar. She took a step back into the shadows as he approached. He passed the pickup, unaware she waited nearby.

Leine grabbed both of his arms from behind. He stiffened and struggled to break free of her grip as she wrenched one hand up between his shoulder blades.

“Hey—what are you doing?” he said in English, his voice ratcheting up an octave as he continued to resist.

“I might ask you the same question,” Leine replied through her teeth. She forced him behind the truck and shoved him face first against the alley wall, pinning his free arm with her body. She gripped his elbow, letting him feel the tip of her knife next to his left kidney.

An American accent,
she thought.
Probably not cartel.
Realizing her captive was overweight with virtually no muscle tone, Leine relaxed slightly, allowing the adrenaline in her body to ebb. He probably wasn’t somebody’s enforcer. The smell of cigarettes and stale beer mixed with sweat and body odor wafted between them. Not a pleasant combination.

“Why are you following me?” she asked as her gaze cut to the alley entrance and back again.

“Let me go and I’ll tell you,” he said, panting. He inched away from the knife, attempting to become one with the wall. “I have information.”

“How about you tell me, and if I like your answer you live,” she replied. “And stop moving. This knife is hella sharp.”

He stopped moving.

Leine sighed and glanced at her watch.
I haven’t got time for this.
“Let’s try something simple. What’s your name?”

“Willy. Willy Flint. You may have heard of my blog—Flint’s Stones?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.” She pushed his arm a few inches higher, eliciting a grunt of pain. “Why are you following me, Willy Flint?” she repeated, watching the entrance.

He turned his head so his cheek rested flat against the wall. “I heard you asking the bartender in the Manatee about those two kids.”

“You were the one drinking a beer at the bar.”

ow

Willy nodded, his breath coming out in a wheeze. Leine let up on the pressure slightly.

“How long have you been following me?” she asked. How did she not notice him?

“Jorge told me he sent you to the Gypsy.”

“Why would Jorge tell you anything?”

Willy hesitated. Leine gave his arm a twist.

“I told him I wanted to ask you for a date.”

Is this guy for real?

“Why not tell him you had information?” she asked.

“I can’t just tell everybody what I know. It’s very sensitive.”

“Such as?”

“Let me go and I’ll tell you.”

She gave his arm another push. Willy gasped in pain.

“Okay, okay. I have a friend,” he said, between breaths. “In the police department. He told me everything.”

“And?”

“I know about the cell phone and the blood.” Willy closed his eyes and tried to swallow.

Leine backed off a little more, releasing some of the pressure. “And you want to help me, why exactly?”

“Why else?” he replied. When she didn’t respond, he continued. “Money. I saw you slip some to the guy in the Gypsy and figured there was more where that came from.”

“I take it Flint’s Stones isn’t cutting it on the affiliate links.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

“What makes you think I gave him money?”

“What else would you slide across the counter that would give somebody a shit-eating grin?”

“He’s an old friend.”

“Right. An old friend who just happens to be a bartender who works Saturdays at the Blue Manatee.”

Leine released her hold. He started to turn but she stopped him. “Stay where you are and put your hands on your head.”

Willy slowly raised his hands. Holding the knife in her right hand Leine frisked him with her left. When she didn’t find any weapons, she stepped back.

“You can turn around,” she said.

Willy faced her and leaned against the wall, his gaze riveted on the knife as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm.

“What’re you going to do with that?” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat.

Leine glanced at the knife and back at him.

“That depends on you,” she answered.

He visibly swallowed. “I suppose you want me to tell you what information I was referring to earlier?”

Leine blinked.
How drunk is this guy?
“You’re wasting my time.”

He hesitated.

What the hell is he waiting for?

Money. This idiot still thinks I’m going to pay him. Wow.
She shook her head.

“Listen, Willy.
You
made the mistake of following
me
,” she said, making sure she enunciated the words slowly. “Now, I know you aren’t familiar with the way I work, but that isn’t how I do things. You’ll be lucky to walk away from this encounter with your appendages intact, so I’d advise you to tell me what you know and be on your way. No hard feelings.”

Willy gave her a blank look.

“No
dinero
. Get it?”

Understanding lit his face, followed by consternation. He met her gaze.

“But I—”

Leine rolled her eyes and stepped back. “You need to leave.” She nodded at the street beyond the alley. “Now.”

“Wait. What if I tell you what I know, and if you think it’s worthwhile, you pay me for the information?”

“Fine.” Leine glanced at her watch again.

He cleared his throat. “About a week ago, I overheard some guy talking on his cell phone outside of the little market near my apartment. He mentioned that he was expecting a special delivery from LA in a couple of days and that he’d be able to complete the transaction soon. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but two days would have made it Saturday. It seems kind of strange in light of the missing kids, don’t you think?”

“Or, it could have been that the guy was actually expecting a delivery. Did you notice an accent? Was he speaking English?”

Willy shook his head. “Definitely Spanish. Why?”

“No reason.” Leine narrowed her eyes. “How did you know the kids were from LA?”

“Like I said, my friend at the police station. Anyway,” he continued. “I told him what I’d heard, but he said that I should keep quiet and not talk about the case or he’d be in deep shit for telling me.”

“How would his superiors find out?”

“They might have been watching him or something.” Willy shrugged. “My blog gets a lot of local traffic. It’s possible he was worried I’d write a post.” His chest seemed to expand a bit. “I’m known for writing a headline that gets noticed.”

“Ah,” Leine said. “Well, thanks, but what you’ve told me isn’t worth anything.” She stepped back and pointed at the alley entrance. “And now you need to go.”

His eyes widened. “You’re not going to pay me?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

Willy looked at the ground. He puffed out his cheeks and sucked them back in.

“What?” Leine asked, exasperated.
Why won’t this guy leave?
She glanced toward the entrance again in case he was stalling, waiting for someone else to show up.

He looked up and down the alley before speaking in a low voice. “I know what happened to the car.”

Leine looked at him sharply. “What car?”

“The kid’s Porsche.”

“I’m listening.”

Willy crossed his arms. “Uh-uh. No more info without the
dinero
.”

Shaking her head, she dug into her pocket and held up a fifty. Willy made a grab for it, but Leine put it back in her pocket. “Not until you give me something I can use.”

Willy sighed and pulled out a wrinkled handkerchief from his back pocket to mop his face.

“I could get into some serious shit for telling you this.” He glanced behind him. “My friend knows the guy who got rid of it,” he whispered.

“Go on.”

Willy closed the distance between them, a conspiratorial look on his face. Leine stepped away, trying to get upwind.

“According to my friend, a guy who does side jobs for some, uh, businessmen here in town got a call to go up to Vista del Mar and get rid of a vehicle that was parked there. So this guy gets what he thinks is a brilliant idea and decides he’s going to take this fearsome Porsche and hide it in his garage, intending to sell it in a couple of weeks when things die down.”

“And?”

“When he went out to file off the VIN he noticed a bunch of flies buzzing around the trunk so he opened it. What do you think he found?”

“I’m guessing a dead body.”

Disappointed, Willy appeared to deflate from Leine’s non-reaction. “How did you know?”

Leine ignored his question. “Male or female?”

“My friend didn’t say, but he found this.” Willy dug in his front pocket and showed her a man’s wristwatch. Leine reached for it, but he pulled it away before she could see the make.

“That could be anyone’s watch,” she said, annoyance creeping into her voice.

“Yeah, anyone’s
expensive
watch, with
To Josh from Mom and Dad
engraved on the back.”

“Show me.” Leine nodded at the timepiece. Willy held it up so she could read the back. 

“What did this guy end up doing with the car?”

“He took it out of town and pushed it into a ravine with the body still inside.”

“And your friend knows this, how?”

“He helped him do it.”

“Where?”

Willy frowned. “I want a guarantee that you’ll pay. How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t.”

By the look on his face, he wasn’t going to budge.

Leine shrugged. “Yeah. I figured you were bluffing.” She turned toward the alley entrance and made a sweeping gesture. “After you.”

Willy’s expression morphed from belligerent to panicked. “Hold on a minute.”