Dog Gone Lies (Pacheco & Chino Mysteries Book 1) (18 page)

Monica decided she needed a good soak to ease some of the tension. After her bath she put on pajamas and got into bed with the book she was reading at the moment. Finally, feeling less tired after such a trying day, she almost smiled. Then the phone rang.

“Hello.”

“Mom, is that you?”

She immediately suspected he was on something. His voice was too quick and a bit too high. Shit. She absolutely hated dealing with his problems. Maybe she was just a bad mother, but she was tired of hearing about everyone else’s screwups.

“Yes, Ed. Where are you?”

“Mom. Some bad stuff’s happening. I’ve got to let you know something. This is hard and it’ll make you angry with me, but you need to know.”

“Just tell me what it is, Ed—we’ll work it out.”

“The papers I gave you on those dogs were forged. I’m sorry, I thought it wouldn’t hurt anyone, but then that old lady started to harass you. I’m really sorry. There’s something else. I’ve been doing other things with some very bad people. Selling all sorts of forged documents, mostly collectables at shows like the one I’m at today. They were selling me stuff on credit and I was selling the crap for cash. Well, I used a bunch of the cash on drugs and other things we don’t want to talk about. So when they came to collect I didn’t have it all. They roughed me up some and when they thought I was unconscious, they talked about their boss. I’m not going to tell you what they said because I think it will be dangerous—but they also asked me about you. They wanted to know if you were involved in selling the documents. Listen, Mom, I have no idea where they came up with such a stupid idea. But I think they for some reason think you may have some of the money. I told them that they were crazy, which didn’t help much—they hurt me some more and left.”

“My god. What the hell are you talking about? You’ve mixed me up in your fucked up mess of a life? My god, Ed. Are you crazy? Call the police, do something. They think I have their money—Ed that’s so stupid. I’m an ex-school teacher. I don’t have some gangster’s money!”

Monica started to cry. She couldn’t help it. She was crying for herself and also for Ed. She felt like she was going to throw up. My god, what was she going to do? The note, the slashed tires—was this from the crazy people Ed was associated with, or that nut case Mrs. Richards?

“Mother, I’m so sorry. I can’t call the police—the top guy has connections everywhere. It wouldn’t do any good. I have to run. I know this is the worst thing I’ve ever done in a life full of bad things, but I can’t fix it. I have to leave tonight. You should go to the police and tell them everything you know. Maybe do that in El Paso and ask for protection. I’m so sorry. I know you must hate me—and you and Dad have every right to curse the day I was born. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I can’t deal with this anymore.” He hung up.

Monica fell over onto the bed and cried until she went to sleep. Bruce lay as close to the bed as he could.

Monica woke early in the morning. Even though she’d slept, she didn’t feel rested. If she’d had her car she would have left right then. Suddenly she felt like nothing was the same—everything was a threat. She got up and dressed. She sat on the bed trying to calm herself. What should she do? She remembered the card the deputy had given her. She decided she would stay in the room until it was light and then she’d call the deputy and tell him she needed protection. She was just going to sit here until someone came to help her. Bruce sensed her anxiety and put his head in her lap to comfort her. It did.

Bruce started making his usual soft noises, indicating it was time to visit the out of doors. Monica was anxious and just wanted to stay in the room, but she couldn’t ignore Bruce’s needs. Hell, a dog needs to be walked. She was probably being paranoid to think that just a quick walk outside would put her in danger. She would do that now while it was still dark, get back to the room, and lock herself in. She got Bruce’s leash and went out the sliding glass doors. She found a pathway that went out a short distance and then came back around by the parking lot. She thought it looked protected from the street and headed out along the path.

As she was walking with Bruce, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye—oh no, someone is out here—she almost screamed. When she looked closer she could see someone carrying tools and pushing a cart with bags of soil. It must be the gardener. He waved and she returned the greeting with a sigh of relief. She couldn’t believe how jumpy she was. Now she just wanted Bruce to finish so they could get back to the room. Bruce found a suitable spot at last. Monica always picked up after her dogs, but she didn’t have a bag today. Nature would just have to deal with the dog poop. She turned and headed rapidly back to the hotel.

As she got closer to the parking lot, she once again thought she saw movement. Her nerves were on edge. She rounded a corner and there were two men standing in her path. Bruce growled.

“Better not release that dog lady, or I’ll shoot him and you.”

Shit. What the hell was happening? Monica felt faint and frozen—she couldn’t move. One of the men had pulled out a gun and was aiming it in Monica’s general direction. She wanted to scream, which probably would have been stupid, but it didn’t matter because for some reason she couldn’t make a sound. The other man walked over and grabbed her arm.

“I think we need to have a little talk. If you don’t make any noise and do what you’re told everything’s going to be fine. If you don’t, it’s going to be very bad. Now, start walking with me, slowly.”

They moved toward a van parked in the rear of the lot. The other man followed. When they reached the van, one of the men opened the sliding door. He was about to push Monica into the back.

“Don’t move you assholes.”

It was Mrs. Richards and she was holding a gun that looked to be the largest handgun ever made. She was small and feeble, but her aim and grip seemed very steady on a gun that was huge in her tiny hand.

“I don’t know who you two assholes are, but if you make any sudden moves you’ll be dead.”

Monica was impressed. She wasn’t real sure that Mrs. Richards had the strength to pull the trigger, but she sure wasn’t going to test that theory.

“Mrs. Richards these men are very...”

The man who’d been leading her held his gun to his side, grabbed Monica’s arm roughly, and whispered for her to shut the fuck up. She did.

The other man had moved away from the van and out of Mrs. Richards’s vision.

“Listen old lady, I don’t know what you think you’re doing but if you point that gun at me, I’m going to kill you.”

Mrs. Richards seemed to blink. Maybe the way the thug said that had penetrated her addled brain. She was pausing. At that moment the other man grabbed her gun hand and pulled the gun away. With absolutely no effort, he tossed poor Mrs. Richards into the van, then pushed Monica and Bruce in with the old lady.

One of the goons looked into the back and demanded Mrs. Richards to tell him which car was hers. She didn’t say anything. The other one said he thought it must be the little white Toyota because he hadn’t seen it earlier. One of the men went over to the car.

“The keys are in it—it’s hers. I’m going to handcuff both of them to the frame in the back, then I’ll follow you in her car. You remember where you’re going, right?”

“Yeah. I have the map. What’s the chief going to think about this other woman?”

“Jeez, watch your mouth.”

One of the thugs roughly handcuffed Monica and Mrs. Richards to an exposed portion of the frame in the rear of the van. They drove off. Mrs. Richards didn’t seem to be responding to anything. Monica worried she might have had a heart attack or a stroke—but said nothing. Instead she stayed quiet, wondering if she was going to die soon.

They raced away from T or C and very quickly were in complete darkness. After ten or fifteen minutes they pulled the van and car over to the side of the road. Releasing the two women from the handcuffs, they pushed them outside. Once Monica got out of the van she unleashed Bruce. “Run boy,” she yelled. He took off. The men cursed and one slapped Monica so hard it knocked her to the ground.

“Goddamn dog.”

“Forget him. That fuckin’ show dog won’t last a day out here.”

One of the men reached down to pull Monica to her feet, when all of a sudden Mrs. Richards pulled out another gun. This one was smaller and had apparently been in her purse—always search old ladies for an extra gun or two. She took aim and shot the man holding Monica. The bullet knocked him to the ground. Mrs. Richards took off running. The other man pulled out Mrs. Richards’s own gun and took a shot at her.

Monica was scared to death. She was trembling so hard she could barely stand up. With more clarity than she thought possible, she realized she had to get to Mrs. Richard’s car and hope they’d left the keys in the ignition, otherwise she was dead.

Mrs. Richards was hidden behind a tree and still armed. The man who had shot at her and missed followed her down the road.

Monica could see the guy on the ground was still alive but maybe not conscious. She took off for the car. Once she got there she could see the keys inside. Could she just leave Mrs. Richards without trying to help her? She was standing there wondering what kind of person she was when Mrs. Richards stepped out from behind the tree and started walking toward the man with the gun. She aimed at him, but before she pulled the trigger he shot her. Monica was terrified. Mrs. Richards was hit in the chest and propelled backwards more than five feet. She landed on the ground, definitely dead.

Monica stopped thinking. She jumped into the car, started it, and hit the gas. Just as she peeled out, the man jumped out into the road, aimed Mrs. Richard’s old gun, and pulled the trigger. A rusty old gun like that might have jammed, but it didn’t. Monica’s erratic driving saved her life, the bullet hitting just to the right of her head, leaving a large hole in the windshield. Without thinking, or really making a decision to do so, Monica ran straight into the man with a sickening thud. He flew off into the trees and Monica floored it. She was travelling dangerously fast and she knew it, but the thought didn’t stop her. She was going to get out of there as fast as the car would go.

The sun was coming up and Monica was able to navigate her way back to the main road without too much of difficulty. When she reached it she had to guess which way to go, but she didn’t hesitate. She knew one man was hurt when she hit him with the car and the other man had been shot, but either one or both might still be alive, and she was still terrified that they would follow her and catch her. She wasn’t going to stop for anything.

Before she realized it, she was at the entrance to I-25. Once on the highway, she slowed down to a pace closer to the speed limit. She didn’t want to get stopped and have to explain the bullet hole in the windshield. Her son had said she shouldn’t trust the cops. She started to cry, but kept driving.

It was a couple of tearful hours later that Monica reached the El Paso downtown exit. When she pulled off, she could see the hotel in the distance. She found an area not far from it that looked to be less than well kept. She parked Mrs. Richards’ car and left the keys in it, hoping that it wouldn’t be there for long. She was very upset about Mrs. Richards—she’d never seen someone killed before. And she was frightened about what would happen to Bruce. She wondered if he could survive. She walked slowly to the hotel, entered by a side door, and headed toward the ladies room. She cleaned herself up some, found the house phone, and dialed Betty’s room.

Betty didn’t answer. Monica left a voice mail telling her she was at the hotel and would wait in the lobby area. She found a quiet corner of the huge lobby and waited. It was almost an hour before Betty appeared.

“Monica, why didn’t you come into the show and get me. Oh my, what’s wrong?”

“I think it would be best if we went to your room.”

They left immediately for Betty’s room. Before they could get into the room, Monica started to tremble and cry.

Monica’s Story, Part II

After Monica calmed down, she told Betty everything that had happened. Betty was in disbelief. Monica was exhausted by the incredible events and the rush of adrenaline. She meant to rest for just a minute or two, but quickly fell asleep.

Betty wasn’t sure if she was also at risk from the people who’d attacked Monica. Would they know who Monica’s friends were? All of a sudden everything seemed sinister. Betty decided she was making herself crazy. She wrote a note to Monica saying she had gone back to the show to let her sleep. She’d be back in a couple of hours and Monica should stay in the room. She left the note next to Monica on the bed, then went down to the main ballroom where the dog show was still in progress.

Betty wasn’t showing a dog at this show. She was there just to enjoy the event, to see Monica, and support Monica’s dog, Bruce. With that thought she realized that Monica hadn’t said anything about Bruce, and the thought made her shudder. Several people asked Betty about Monica, but she said Monica was still having car problems and it was looking like she might have to go back to Albuquerque and miss the show. Everyone was very sympathetic—except Nate, Monica’s chief rival. He just smiled.