Johnny said, “You had two of them do it, and that was because you paid them extra.”
Jesse said, “Face it, we’re all you got on this.”
“Wonderful,” said Godoy. “We’re still going.”
“You try, and we’ll tear that uniform off you, pistol or no pistol. You go in there wearing your fancy uniform and we’ll all be dead before we reach the first building. I’m not joking Felipe.”
“What do you suggest, then?” He sounded pouty.
“Change clothes, do what we say. Johnny and I have been there a hundred times, and we know where to go, who to talk to. You dress like we say, and don’t tell anybody you’re with the damn military, then we’ll be all right. We can get that little Indian witch and get out of there.”
“All right. I’m going to my house. Follow me, and we’ll make plans while I change into clothes more fitting for a place of drunkards and whores.” Godoy stomped out of the room and left in the limo.
Johnny rubbed his hip as he said, “Was that an insult?”
“I don’t think so. What’s wrong with drinking and visiting whores?”
“Yeah, he probably meant it like we could have fun while we’re there.”
“Maybe old Felipe’s loosening up some, trying to be one of the boys.”
“Well, we might tolerate him if he picks up the tab, but I don’t know if he’ll ever be one of the boys.”
“Yeah, too tight-assed.”
Johnny snickered, “Tight-assed, unless Bobby Mata’s working on him, huh?”
Johnny looked at Bobby’s body, “I wouldn’t have had Mata go this way, you know?”
“Me neither.” They stood there in silence for several minutes, each in their own thoughts, then Jesse said, “Let’s go. We got things to do.” They drove away, leaving the two corpses in the room.
CHAPTER 13
Truman was in a good mood after lunch. He wiggled and squirmed in his chair, and twice Hunter had to place her hand over his to stop him from drumming his fingers. Ronald droned on, going over the exhibits in painful detail until Truman objected again.
“Objection, your Honor. Mr. Kincaid’s taking forever to tell us something we already know. Tolstoy didn’t take this long to write War and Peace.”
A few titters broke out in the audience, and Judge Pelham tapped his gavel. “Mr. Kincaid, how much longer do you expect to take with this description of events?”
Ronald glanced at Truman, and said, “About two minutes, your Honor.”
“Objection over-ruled. Proceed, Mr. Kincaid.”
Ronald started on his wrap-up and glanced to the back of the courtroom to see the widow Garcia walking up the aisle to take her seat. Ronald concluded his presentation in another ten seconds, then asked, “Your Honor, I would like to request a break, so that I can confer with my client.”
The Judge had seen the widow come in, and said, “Court will recess for thirty minutes.”
Truman went to the restroom and Hunter was in the hallway when her cell phone rang. She punched the button and said, “Kincaid.”
Raymond said, “Hunter, I’ve got some bad news. I’m in OJ, with a Police Sergeant I know, and we’re at a crime scene.” He paused and Hunter could hear him taking in a long breath before he continued, “I’m lookin’ at Bobby Mata here. He was murdered. Another guy’s beside him, and he’s dead, too.”
Hunter felt her stomach sink, and she leaned her forehead against the wall. “What happened?”
“We’re at the old slaughterhouse outside of town, and it l
ooks like somebody brought him here, then tortured him. He’s got two big meat hooks in his back and he’s been shot several times.” Raymond continued, “Hunter, that’s not all. When we arrived, Wayne Rockman was already here.”
“Wayne? I talked to him a little before noon, and he was up by Candelaria.”