Authors: Brian M Wiprud
Ringer (34 page)
“But the video of me going to the boat showed I was there only a few moments, and the gardener saw Purity run past him with a fish in her hands headed for the yacht earlier that evening. That would account for the gulls flocking around the camera at that time. And remember Purity’s phone? She had done a Web search about boat explosions.”
“That’s all a possibility, and circumstantial—it doesn’t translate to fact. If Purity is found alive it will go a long way to diverting blame from you to her. Putting Grant’s murder aside, the navy’s position is that even if you didn’t kill Purity, you killed Dixie thinking it was Purity.”
“But the Mexican hit man—what of him?”
“It would be one thing if we knew something more about him, or at least had a body, but he and Grant were obliterated in that explosion. There’s no actual evidence that Paco was here other than your eyewitness of him in the gardener’s shed.”
I groaned. “What about the Waffle House place mat in the gardener’s shed?”
“That’s probably your only hope. We’re having less-than-perfect prints from that matched with those in the Richmond motel room and Grant’s Gulfstream. It’ll take time, and it’s dicey.”
“Still, there is a lot of doubt here. They cannot shoot bullets into me now can they?”
“Morty, the
Daily Post
is doing everything it can to save you. You have made so much money for the paper these last months, the editors don’t want this story to die if it can be avoided.”
“I see.” I sank onto the edge of the cot and heaved a heavy sigh. “So I am to be executed after all, yes?”
“We’re doing everything we can, Morty, but I’ll give it to you straight: I think the Mexicans won’t listen, and we don’t have enough time—much less Purity Grant—to make them listen.”
We shared a long pause.
“Well, Skip, I can only hope I am exonerated after my bullet-ridden corpse is buried. I want you and the
Daily Post
to know how much I appreciate that, and the efforts to free me.”
“Um, could you write something up like that for us, Morty? You know, a farewell note, an exclusive that we could print? Once you are exonerated it will sell a ton more papers if you profess your innocence to the end and credit our paper with being the noble guardian of justice.”
I nodded. “Of course.”
A guard appeared at the bars to my cell.
“Looks like I have to go, Morty. Chin up, OK? If all else fails, when they say ‘fire’ … duck.” He winked and smiled.
I returned his joke with a firm handshake and a wry grin.
Skip’s footsteps faded down the long prison hallway, and so did my hopes.
Since that fateful day I have been working both day and night to revise this film treatment to reflect the truth of what happened, to fill in all the unknowns, to fit all the crazy pieces of this jigsaw into a hideous landscape that features an innocent man standing bravely before a firing squad.
FINAL CHAPTER
I THINK IT WAS LINCOLN
who once said of an unfortunate predicament that he was too old to cry yet too sad to laugh.
It is now three in the morning, the day of my execution. I have had my last meal: a grilled cheese, of course, and it wasn’t very good because Mexicans can only make quesadillas. They were nice enough to provide me with some tequila. In the USA they don’t let condemned men drink, which if you ask me is perfectly insane. If ever there was any poor slob who really needed a drink it is a condemned man, wouldn’t you say? Write your congressmen.
Gina came today, after Skip. I refused to see her; the prospect of witnessing her tears was too painful. Instead I have left her a note:
Dear Gina: I have left you my villa in La Paz, sell it, do whatever. My destiny is no longer in La Paz, but with God, who will hopefully look favorably upon His poor servant, the one who restored the relic of Hernando Martinez de Salvaterra at the expense of his life. My gratitude to you, dear Gina, for staying in Mexico and comforting me, is boundless. I have but one regret in my life, and that regret is that I cannot spend eternity cherishing my sweet Gina. Perhaps I will see you on the other side, but do not pine. Find a man as good as me if you can, but do not settle, and avoid men with elaborate facial hair. Just trust me on this one. Love always and forever—Morty.
As you might imagine, a condemned man cannot sleep at a time like this, and I have been quite busy trying to finish this film treatment. Soon, I will be sleeping for all time, with any luck in a bed with squishy pillows at God’s feet.
To be brutally honest, I feel I have failed in my attempt to package this incident as a good screenplay because according to
Screenwriting: Yes You Can!
my story lacks catharsis. What have I, Morty Martinez, learned? How have these incidents altered my worldview and my soul? I keep going back to the words in my family crest, the ones on the fountain in the courtyard at my La Paz villa and oddly also above the entrance to Grant’s much nicer Cabo San Lucas villa.
Destino Ganado.
Earn Destiny. I earned a firing squad for having restored a holy relic? Has He given me Gina—arguably one of history’s greatest beauties with one slightly imperfect nostril—only to cruelly take her away? Is there some lesson in this ironic punishment? In my dark hour, I await some word from God, some sign, some piece of the puzzle that puts it all together so I see His grand design. Yet like a child who stays up late on Christmas Eve, my blank stare into the cold fireplace begins to make me feel foolish.
I’m going to end this film treatment now and contemplate what lies ahead, not behind. Even if I am not a very good screenwriter after all, I hope that what I have written here compels you to tell my story, and that it can inspire others who have been framed by two insane rich people who were hell-bent to kill each other.
Go with God, amigos.
ALSO BY BRIAN M. WIPRUD
Buy Back
Feelers
Stuffed
Crooked
Sleep with the Fishes
Tailed
Pipsqueak
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
RINGER.
Copyright © 2011 by Brian M. Wiprud. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Wiprud, Brian M.
Ringer : a crime novel / Brian M. Wiprud. — 1st ed.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-312-60189-8
1. Mexican Americans—New York (N.Y.)—Fiction. 2. Relics—Mexico—Fiction. 3. Billionaires—New York (N.Y.)—Fiction. 4. Conspiracies—Fiction. 5. Mistaken identity—Fiction. 6. Trials (Murder)—Mexico—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3623.I73R56 2011
813'.6—dc22
2011008724
First Edition: July 2011
eISBN 978-1-4299-4064-1
First Minotaur Books eBook Edition: July 2011
