Diabla meets Abaddon, Page 5

  About five, I went back to Cooley’s. I rode the side streets and checked the parking lot for any trace of the blue Caliber. Nothing. I parked. It was still hot as hell, but GREAT GESTURE rocked gracefully in her slip. Silent . . . but proud. I needed to do both of us a favor and take her out for a sail. Just the thought made me feel a little better. I grabbed a couple of slices of stale bread and slathered them with peanut butter. Then I locked the boat from the inside. A couple of glasses of Cabernet and I was asleep.

  The next morning was day three. I got up about nine and I called the clinic for the test results. All negative. Hey, thank God for small favors, but this damned sure wasn’t so small.

  I picked up a newspaper out of the rack on the dock. Local murder and mayhem mixed in with ISIS beheading an American journalist in Iraq; Boko Haram in Nigeria still holding several hundred of the school girls they kidnapped; Israel and Hamas still trying to blow each other to kingdom come; not to mention our buddy Putin invading the Ukraine. Pure joy. Makes you proud to be a human being, if that’s what we are. I glanced at the weather forecast. Low 90’s and a 60% chance of rain. Same as yesterday and the same as tomorrow. That was the Florida summer for you. I peeked out of the companionway. Dark clouds over to the west. The thunderheads were already building. At least we hadn’t had any visits from girls and guys who only got names when they reached tropical storm status.

  I was about to go below and fire hose the crud off my body when I noticed a white envelope in the back of the cockpit. It was behind the binnacle just under the wheel. It takes me a while to wake up. I had missed it earlier in my A.M. daze. I picked it up and went below. No name, no address.

  “Diabla,

  I hope your morning is pleasant. It may be one of your last. You came to me in a vision last night. Your naked breasts were full and shapely. Your thighs glistening with the residue of my fervent desire. Your lips were red and full. I wanted to taste you, couple with you in a wet bond like our last encounter. You see, even I, the Avenging Fist of God can be tempted.

  Then I remembered how you disgust me, you and the spiteful witch who must also die. HE came to me in all of his vengeful glory. His voice was strong and clear. I must cleanse the earth of this plague of evil. I know what I must do. You and she must be wiped from this earth and the demons within you must be consigned to the Abyss where they will howl in eternity. You won’t see me. You won’t hear me. But know that The Appointed One will carry out his God-given mission. There is no escape. Best you give yourself to me and let us enjoy one last taste of Sodom and Gomorrah before you pass through the gates of hell.”

  Abaddon

  The ‘Appointed One’ left something inside of me, a taste of Sodom and Gomorrah. That’s what he called it. Well, I was gonna leave something inside of him. A couple of .357 mags.

  Still, I shuddered. The sonovabitch had been on my boat again. Now what the hell? He knew that we had seen him, probably knew that we had his address, knew we could identify his car. He was clever and deadly. Who knows how many girls might have been victims of this demented creature? But he haunted the streets and stalked not only me, but one he called the spiteful witch. I racked my brain, tried to consider all of the possibilities. There weren’t many and I kept coming back to just one.

  I was still lost in concentration when the phone rang. I had been graced with a call from our future senator. Just the man I needed to talk to.

  “Hello, Rod. Hope all is well.”

  “It might be, if you have some information for me.”

  “We’ve turned up some things. I’ve got a lead on Abaddon. Even saw him . . . up much too close.”

  “So why didn’t you shoot the bastard?”

  “I’m planning on it, but I’ve got to find him first. I need to meet with Estrella, just me and her. Your secrets are safe . . . for now . . . but I need to find out if we’re missing something. I can’t move forward without some help.”

  “Sorry, but that’s just not possible. She’s still in black, heavily sedated. I don’t know when . . . or if she’ll come completely out of it.”

  “You don’t get it, Rod. This is not a negotiation. Tell her anything you want, but I need to see her as soon as possible. I think she may be in grave danger.”

  There was an audible sigh on the line.

  “Don’t go dramatic on me, Dee. Don’t think I can’t protect the woman I love. You can see her. I’ll fix it, but this had better go well. I can’t afford to waste any more time. If you blow it, I’ll have your ass and that Cuban pretty boy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

  The sarcasm welled up in me. “Oh, Honey. I love it when you talk dirty.”

  My ear exploded as his phone slammed down. I’d wait.

  I met Ricky at the office. It didn’t take long to realize we were thinking the same thing. We had to get into Orlando’s apartment. I was sure he was gone by now. I expected an empty warehouse, but he might have left something behind without even knowing it. After all, we were supposed to be the trained investigators. I told Ricky I didn’t like the idea of going in after dark. The complex was too compact and it seemed to be well lighted. We’d stand out like the felons we’d be if someone called the cops to report a B and E.

  Ricky’s told me his idea. I liked it. He left to suit up. An hour later he was back in a blue shirt and slacks that looked like it had just come off the hanger at the cable company. He handed me a matching blue shirt with a name embroidered on the left pocket. It was Audrey, but who cared? We looked pretty damned official. All we needed was a truck, but after discussing it, we figured finesse might just get us by.

  Chapter 13

  In twenty minutes we were parked a block from the complex. Ricky had a nice little bag of tools, but instead of the cable shit, it contained an assortment of lock picks, not to mention a loaded Glock. I had my S and W strapped to my calf. Better to be safe than sorry.

  It was just after 2 P.M. and except for the same couple of girls at the pool, the place was empty. Good news. At least there were some working stiffs living in the units. No blue Caliber in the parking lot. We went up the steps and knocked on the door as protocol would dictate. No answer.

  I put my ear to the door hoping I would hear the hellish clicking that announced the presence of the gruesome insects. It was silent. Ricky reached in the black bag and fumbled with the picks. Simple lock. We were inside within a minute. The shades were all drawn and there was a musty smell that overwhelmed us as soon as we were inside. I hit the switch and a lamp flicked on next to a cheap rented sofa. The furniture was early K Mart. The place was littered with the carcasses of dead locusts. I tried to step around them, but the occasional crunch tortured my ears. They had gnawed at the fabric of the sofa and chairs, and the nap of the carpet was bare in places, but nothing moved. A few faded rings on the coffee table, a small galley kitchen that showed no signs of any use. No TV.

  It was like a mausoleum. The perfect place for a psycho to plan a few serial murders. There was a single sheet of notebook paper on the table with a black Bic next to it. Printed capital letters, each with a date beside it. That was all. C, L, E, D. The C and the L had been scratched out. I didn’t have to guess who the E and the D were. I picked it up and stuffed it in my shirt pocket. The only other things that stood out were a few lousy prints and epigrams that littered the walls.

  One was the famous Michelangelo from the Sistine Chapel. God was conveying the spark of life to an eager, but respectful, Adam, his finger outstretched as the spirit radiated between them. Another depicted the St. George of legend slaying the heinous dragon. A sheet of phony papyrus framed the Old Testament words, “Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord.” It was all too predictable. The piece de resistance was a large print of “The Garden of Earthly Delights”, Hieronymus Bosch’s frightening depiction of the torturous fate of the sinners of the earth. It was full of monsters. Orlando should have been the centerpiece.

  One thing seemed way out of place. It was a photo perched in a
gold frame on one of the end tables. Three smiling teenagers, two younger women and a man a couple of years older. Maybe a birthday party or a family vacation. The photo seemed posed, but there seemed to be love and acceptance in it. The epitome of sibling bonding. I knew the faces. Estrella, Carlita, and Orlando.

  We checked the bedroom. Two pairs of blue Dickies work pants and matching shirts hanging in the closet. A pair of black work boots neatly lined up on the floor. I checked the bottoms. The pattern matched what was left on my boat. There was an annotated copy of the Old Testament and a yellow Highlighter on the night table. Several of the pages had been torn out. Next to it was a throw-away camera still in the box and a large envelope. I glanced inside. Several photos. I didn’t want to take the time to look at them here. I grabbed both and tucked them in Ricky’s bag.

  In the tiny bathroom the medicine cabinet held a few generic painkillers next to a plastic container of Thorazine. It was one of the early antipsychotic drugs, once very popular, but mostly replaced in the late ’80’s by some newer medications thought to be more effective. At one time it was the drug of choice for Delusional Disorder, a serious, but rare, form of schizophrenia. It didn’t make much difference for Orlando. He was definitely delusional, but the prescription was dated nine months ago. The prescription was in Spanish. The bottle was full. I couldn’t tell that he’d taken the first tablet.

  There were two items noticeably missing from the collection of cheap junk and poor taste. The trench coat and the sword. No sabre of any description. Not so much as a steak knife. I’d bet both were in the luggage compartment of the Caliber. He probably never returned to the apartment after our little tete-a-tete at the restaurant. I doubted that he would now.

  We rifled a few drawers and cabinets, some socks and underwear. Other than that, it was like the place had been inhabited by a ghost. No traces of anything that suggested the living. We left the door locked and headed for the car. The girls at the pool were still at it, baking and chatting at a deafening rate. No one even seemed to notice us. Just the average visit from your friendly neighborhood cable company.

  The message light on the telephone was blinking when we got back to the office. I pushed the button.

  “Eleven o’clock tomorrow morning at Chico’s. She’ll be there. I’m sending another 5 K by courier. Remember, we have a deal.”

  We did. Despite Rod’s rather obvious indiscretions, I still had a soft spot for him. He was a man, and that territory came with a lot of stuff no woman wants to recognize. I would protect him as long as I could. But when I couldn’t, we’d all have to deal with the poisoned shit that ensued. Actually I was anxious to meet with Estrella. I wanted to know whether if circumstances had been different, she would have been a worthy rival. I was about to find out.

  Ricky and I decided to knock off for the rest of afternoon. Sometimes the best strategy is to relax and let your mind breathe in some fresh salt air. I went back to Cooley’s.

  I watched GREAT GESTURE straining at the lines. She wanted out. A fine craft like her wasn’t designed to sit endlessly at the dock. She needed to stretch her legs, plow through the swells, exercise her power and majesty just like any other noble being. I made a silent promise that she would do just that before long.

  Chapter 14

  I made a quick trip by the office. Ricky was sitting in his chair counting money. The courier had delivered. This time it was crisp hundreds and my partner was all smiles.

  “The Caddy gets her tune up,” he said.

  I arrived at Chico’s fifteen minutes early. She was already there, big Prada sunglasses that she didn’t remove. Her hair was tucked up under a white straw hat, a running suit, shiny black with a beige stripe, clinging to her taut body. A few wispy strands of her magnificent mahogany tresses hung about her ears. Despite her feeble attempt at disguise, she was positively stunning.

  “Ms. Martella, I am Dee Rabow.” I offered my hand. She just glared. I sat.

  “I know who you are, Ms. Rabow. Let me get a few things straight. I don’t like you. I know of your history with my fiancé and much more. Perhaps I have no right, but I resent it. I don’t want to be here. He says I must trust you. I don’t know why, but I will grant his request out of respect. Please don’t ask me to be cordial, or even polite. Let us do what we must as quickly and as efficiently as we can. Then we can get on with our own personal business.”

  Nice greeting. At least she was honest. I studied her for a moment. Even the big round lenses couldn’t hide the dark pockets beneath her eyes. Through the Brazilian glow of her olive skin was an undertone the color of sickly pewter. She was still mourning and I didn’t think it was near over.

  Well, if she wanted direct, she’d get it.

  “Ms. Martella, my associate and I have done some investigation. Your home is Rio de Janero. I know you and your younger sister, Carlita, both attended Columbia University in New York. You were Estrella, the star. I am aware that your family had financial problems that prevented Carlita from completing her degree. I also know you have an older brother, Orlando.”

  “You are misinformed about my brother. He is two years older, but his name is Rodrigo.”

  “Sorry, our mistake,” I decided to save big brother for later. “So can you tell me a bit more about your time at the university?”

  At first the words were breathless and halting, but I waited and they began to flow.

  “It was always easy for me. The concepts and the instruction took root in my mind quickly. The grades were secondary. They just came. Of course, I am not stupid. My appearance always helped, especially with the male professors. They were never crude, but they were decidedly admiring. Make no mistake. Carlita was beautiful and intelligent, but she was always the ‘little sister’, a step or two behind. She did not like it. This was clear. There was a rivalry between us, but she always came in second. It made her angry. When the money dried up, she felt betrayed. She turned to things that were not good for her.”

  “I apologize for prying, but what type of ‘things’ did she turn to?”

  She looked at me like I was a dog turd on the sidewalk. Then she took a deep breath.

  “My fiancé has assured me that we have client confidentiality. If that is a ruse, the price you pay will be very high.”

  “Of course,” I said tersely. She stared down at the table for a minute and sucked in another shallow breath.

  “At first it was simple, a bit of marijuana, a series of questionable associations with men who were no gentlemen. But it got worse. I think the turning point was when she met Ray Renato. He was a bastard, handsome and slick, but a bastard nevertheless. Claimed to know people in the movie business. She could be a star. An old line -- that is certain -- but one that has worked for an eternity. Money, fame, influence. Carlita was the baby of the family, always a bit naïve. She trusted people much more than she should. He was her Svengali and she was his Trilby. The spell grew. Soon school was secondary, no longer important, no longer worth her time and effort. She drifted and sank.”

  She raised a soft palm as if to say no more. Crystal streaks broke down her cheeks in sad bursts. She dabbed at them with a napkin, but they kept coming.

  “I have said enough. I must go. The dead must rest and the living must go on living.”

  “I see the pain and I know how difficult this is for you, but please, another moment. There is something I haven’t told you. There is reason to believe your life is in danger. There are indications that you or I may be the next victims of the monster who killed Carlita, and her friend Lana. They were violated and defiled in a way that no human being deserves. We don’t want that to happen again.”

  Her hand became a fist. I thought I detected a tremor in her shoulders. She shook her head and fought a sob.

  “I don’t like you, Ms. Rabow. I have told you that, but I don’t wish your death. As for myself, despite my grief, I am simply not ready for the grave. I will help you if I can, but please be brief.”

&
nbsp; At least that was a breakthrough. I had a few more questions.

  “So what of your brother, Rodrigo?”

  “He is not involved in this. He left home at nineteen, emigrated to the states. Went to Los Angeles, I believe. He left with money. Last I heard he had joined some religious cult. I have not seen him in years. I do not even know if he is still alive.”

  I did, but a dead sister and a psycho might be too much for one day.

  “I may need to contact you again. Your fiancé is right. I know this is difficult, you can trust me. Thanks.”

  She got up abruptly and left without so much as a goodbye.

  Chapter 14

  I went back to Cooley’s remembering my promise to GREAT GESTURE. Teeny and Elvis were on the Catalina. I walked down the dock and asked them if they wanted to go for a sail. They beamed in unison.

  In a few minutes they were on board with a small cooler, both in bathing suits and giddy as a mare and stallion at the starting gate of the Kentucky Derby. I checked the oil and coolant, then fired up the Perkins. She hummed like caged tiger eager for an afternoon hunt. Elvis handled the lines and I backed out of the slip and into the New River. There was a light breeze out of the southeast. As soon as we got into the ICW, we turned off to starboard, hoisted the jib and motor sailed. Elvis and Teeny cooed and pawed each other all the way to Port Everglades inlet. For all they knew I could have been in Wisconsin. Watching them created a little pocket of joy in my breast. Maybe the world wasn’t going to hell on a rollercoaster after all.

  We hoisted the main and reached out of the inlet. The seas were flat and welcoming. The old Pearson rolled gently in the swells, then kicked up her heels. Suddenly we were making a steady five knots. I grabbed a cold Kalik and hoisted it silently. To Uncle Teddy, this was a day he would have celebrated. His beloved yacht showing her petticoats to the sun and the wind. Gleaming and doing exactly what she was meant to do. The lovers were locked into each other. Knowing smiles and discreet touches. No conversation. Just the feel of the indigo water caressing the hull and the breeze whispering in the canvas.