Antigone and Cosmic Sin

By George W. Barclay Jr.

Sandra Lerner pleads both accused not guilty due to insanity in defense of ax murderer Juan Baptista and serial rapist and murderer Xavier Vargus. Coach Guiana Hungun conducts his own defense and is acquitted of murdering Saint Nicholas coeds. "If the shoe don't fit, you must acquit." Guiana sues Sandra for malpractice and alleges malicious entrapment, reckless disregard for life, and illegal use of deadly force. Sandra's fiancé, Dr. Austin Hale, is abducted by persons unknown and flown to Mexico in private jet. Detective Derek Strong accompanies industrialist Maria Tantalia to Switzerland and south China where they join an armed helicopter reconnaissance of south China, Laos, Cambodia, Myanmar Shan hill country and explore for oil reserves. On return, their Chinese Commuter collides mid-air with MIG over Wuhan.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jun 30, 2005
• ISBN: 9780595804054

George W. Barclay Jr.

Dr. George W. Barclay Jr. is retired Beaumont Cardiologist. He writes adventure, mystery, science fiction and metaphysics. This is his twenty-sixth novel. He is graduate of Texas AM and Southwestern Medical School (MD FACC).

Book preview

CHAPTER 1 zzzzzzzzzzzz 

Houston, Texas Monday, July 25, 1993 Temp 102º/80º, 30% cloudy, 10% chance of rain

Who killed Rico Carbello? asked Sandra.

Master Sergeant Booker Washington opened a chart crammed with loose reports, leafed through, set it aside, leaned forward, smiled, and whispered.

An orangutan!

Sandra giggled. She was serious. Neva Braun, her client was suspect.

Don’t bullshit me, Booker. You know I represent Neva, and you found her fingerprints. What orangutan?

The only other good clue was the top half of his bathroom window was open and slid down. Somebody crawled down from the third floor balcony, slipped through the window, and caught him asleep. Otherwise it was a locked apartment, and Tina Deagio let us in with a master key. He smiled broadly. She called 911. There are sixty apartments in that building, and she is house manager.

If it’s a locked room mystery, then you should have checked Tina’s apartment too. She’s a suspect, replied Sandra, perplexed.

We did. Tina is a nice woman. Do you really think she could have climbed down from the third floor balcony, through the top of the bathroom window, shoot Rico with his own gun, stick the gun in his mouth and escape the same way without being seen by somebody?

Did you find anything else unusual?

Yes, somebody turned off his air conditioner, which screwed up the time of death. It was hot when the EMS arrived, and they turned on the air conditioner. Tina said it was hot when she found him and the air conditioner was off. He had a blood alcohol of 0.2, so he was drunk.

Anything else?

Yes, we found Tina’s ex-husband’s fingerprints on the commode top in her apartment. She said she called him, a Mr. Caesar Deagio, to fix her commode when it wouldn’t stop running.

Did you ask Caesar?

Booker laughed. Caesar said she should have married a mechanic.

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

Sandra walked across the courthouse parking lot ($2/hr.) and noticed her car wasn’t level and the front tire was flat. Her new Buick was still at Claud’s, and she hadn’t changed a flat tire in ten years. Her 1982 LTD had one hundred and twenty thousand miles on it, and the tires, except the spare, were four years old and had forty thousand miles on them. They looked slick, and the treads barely showed.

She opened her trunk. The spare and bumper jack were both like new. Before trying to lift the spare, she took out the jack and walked to the front of the car, dropped down the base, put in the jack, flipped up the lever, and started jacking with her hand to see if it was going to fit.

Miss Lerner, may I help you?

Sandra turned to see Caesar Deagio standing behind her. She left the jack in place, stood up, shaded her eyes, smiled, and shook hands with the big man. Caesar looked just like Sandra’s client, Sam Deagio Jr., but Sam Jr. walked with a cane. Caesar owned and managed a bail bond service close to the county jail.

Mr. Deagio, I’ll hug your neck if you’ll help me with this tire.

I’ll take the hug, he replied, grinning. He opened the door, made sure she was in park and set the hand brake. Then he removed the spare, bounced it, and picked up the lug wrench.

I always break loose the lugs before I jack up a car, said Caesar, matter-of-factly.

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

Sandra gave Caesar Deagio her business card with a promise to return the favor. Lots of her clients used Caesar, and she had seen him around, but it was her first time to meet him.

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

Maria Tantalia was waiting at Sandra’s office. Maria skipped pleasantries and got to the point.

"I’d like to use Derek. We’ll leave Saturday and be back Sunday August 7, plus or minus a few days. Sherry Deagio will plan my reservations from her SROCO office, and Misty will contact Derek and run my businesses while we are gone.

I’m going to transfer Miriam Travitas’, Frieda Allegromande’s and Evita Garza’s money. We’ll fly Swiss Air to Europe and visit Einsiedeln.

CHAPTER 2

Ruby Comeaux Redmon owned and operated Ruby’s Pub down by the docks and catered to the entertainment wishes of foreign sailors on shore leave. She was Patrolman Brice Redmon’s mother, and Sandra had requested she come in. Brice was in county jail on a drug charge and was investigating officer at the scene of the murder of Dr. Guadelupe Alvarez in the parking lot of Del Arroyo Hospital at 5 AM on June 1, 1993. Sandra was attorney of record on both cases.

Ruby’s was known to seamen all over the world. Ruby was French African American and spoke with a Louisiana French accent characteristic of southwest Louisiana and southeast Texas. Brice’s father was a Matigwa Indian, and Brice was the father of Princess Delta Hummingbird’s two oldest children.

Ruby looked younger than her imagined age, wore a black suit and heels, sheer hose, and had just come from a beauty salon. She impressed Sandra as a businesswoman, not a madam and barkeep.

Mrs. Redmon, I am investigating your son, Brice, on a drug charge. He was arrested along with Lieutenant Shelby Fox and Sergeant Everett Wilbur transporting contraband from the home of lawyer Juan Baptista on the evening of June 8, 1993.

Ruby, annoyed, interrupted. Brice doesn’t tell me anything about his police work. I’m his mother! My daughter, Beatrice, has two kids by Sergeant Everett Wilbur, and he’s a year behind on child support. Seems to me that hauling in dope is part of Brice’s job.

Yes, ma’am, but he was charged with intent to distribute, replied Sandra.

Oh! Well, I can’t help you. May I go?

Please, just one more question. My client, Lieutenant Hernan Costello, has been charged with the murder of Dr. Guadelupe Alvarez in the parking lot of the Del Arroyo Hospital at 5 AM on the morning of June 1. Brice was an investigating officer and arrived at the scene late. He claimed he was at your place from about 4 AM to 6:30 AM while on duty. Can you help me?

No, I was asleep, but my employee, Scarlet, can. I don’t give out last names. Scarlet runs Ruby’s at night. She and Brice have a ‘thing’, replied Ruby in thought.

Sandra let her think a bit. May I send out my private detective? He’ll identify himself. His name is Wallace Derek Strong."

Ruby ignored Sandra’s question. Whatever! There’re a couple of winos that hang around the hospital kitchen looking for handouts that time of the morning. They might have seen something.

Sandra was interested. Do they have names?

They go by Charley and Didymus on the street. Sometime they hang around the Fifth Sun Mission and A Better Place shelter for the homeless over by the railroad tracks off Washington and Jester.

Rico Carbello was murdered mysteriously, and two of Sandra’s clients, both suspects, were waiting along with a middle aged black man with a lightly bandaged left hand, Willis White, who was new, but as it turned out was also a suspect in Rico’s murder. Although Rico had been murdered in the early morning hours of July 19, his funeral had been held up by the morgue and was conducted at Saint Colombo Cathedral and cemetery this morning at 10 AM. The three were dressed in black, so she surmised correctly they attended Rico’s funeral.

Next, Betty, her secretary-receptionist, ushered in Sergeant Neva Braun, detective assigned to Willow Bend patrol and partner with Sergeant Olinda Starr, who took no crap. Sandra had recently represented Neva on a gambling charge for which she pled guilty to a lesser charge and was fined and reassigned. Neva knew both Rico Carbello and his boss, Desi Cartenegro, socially, and her fingerprints were found in Rico’s apartment along with her missing service weapon which was rammed in Rico’s mouth by the killer after he shot Rico in the temple at close range while Rico was asleep in a drunken stupor. Neva’s weapon had been missing four months, and she accused Sandra’s client, Lieutenant Hernan Costello, of stealing it from her patrol car when they were dating. Dirk had talked with Neva on two occasions, and Sandra had represented her in jail and court.

Why were you in Rico’s apartment? asked Sandra.

Neva squirmed and looked apologetically. I heard from Booker that the bullets that killed Blackie White and Dr. Alvarez were reported by Beretta USA to have come from my lost gun. Rico came in from Dallas earlier, and I went to his apartment and demanded the gun. I accused him of stealing it. Neva was anxious.

How did he react? What did he say? asked Sandra.

Nothing! He had cocktails on the plane, and he was drinking straight bourbon.

What kind of bourbon?

Old Taylor. It had an orange label.

Quart or fifth? asked Sandra, routinely.

Gallon! It had a finger hole, and he put it on his shoulder and swigged out of the side of his mouth.

Did the cops find the jug?

I was one of the investigating officers! Nobody found any jug. The only things they got were my fingerprints, my weapon, my seeing him alive last, my motive, means, and opportunity. They think I turned off the air conditioner to foul up the time of death and lowered the bathroom window to confuse the investigators. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they have a pretty good case.

I’d say so, too. What did Booker say?

He’s going to put out an APB on an orangutan. He put me on!

Have you talked to Derek? You hired me, and he’s my detective. He doesn’t work for Booker, but he had twenty plus years on the Dallas police force, and he retired a lieutenant.

I don’t know where Dirk’s going to come down on Estella Carville’s murder. He knows Judge Vargus and I cohabitated. He knows I was close to Desi Cartenegro, Rico’s boss. Dirk suspects Rico shot Blackie on Desi’s orders. Neva stopped abruptly and looked in her purse. She came up with a door key and handed it to Sandra. She leaned forward and whispered. This is the key to Desi Cartenegro’s apartment at the Heights LUX.

Sandra looked at the key. It was stamped 201. Who knows about this?

It’s no secret that I visited Desi at his apartment. I was off duty, and I’m free to date whomever. Desi is a nice looking guy, but he has a wife and two kids, and he’s Catholic, etc. He and his wife weren’t getting along at the time. Since his bypass surgery, he’s a changed man. He’s back home with his family. Neva smiled bravely.

Was he shocked about losing Rico?

Hah! I don’t think he liked Rico. Maybe he had him killed. Tina’s sitting out there. Ask her. He’ll get another pistolero, just as stupid and mean as Rico. Those guys have a short life expectancy. That key belongs to the Heights LUX. Desi had another made and carries it on his chain. Neva stood to go.

I’ll send Dirk around. You still work out of Willow Bend Patrol?

Yes! I live at North Park high-rise for girls. Dirk knows my address, replied Neva.

There’s something you need to know. Five people saw me enter and leave Rico’s apartment.

My goodness, who? asked Sandra.

Tina Deagio, Caesar Deagio, two old panhandlers named Charley and Didymus, and Lieutenant Hernan Costello, replied Neva.

What was Lieutenant Costello doing?

He carried me in his car, so I could get my gun back. The one he stole from me.

Did he admit to stealing your service weapon? That doesn’t make sense, asked Sandra, confused. Hernan was suspected of killing Dr. Guadelupe Alvarez with Neva’s service weapon. The same weapon found in Rico’s mouth. The same weapon that killed Rico, Dr. Alvarez, and Blackie White. Hernan was trying to find Dr. Alvarez’s murder weapon himself.

He claimed he didn’t, and we were looking for it, replied Neva.

Did you tell the investigating officers?

No! I’m one of the detectives on the case, and my fingerprints were in Rico’s apartment. Hell no!

Tina Deagio was ushered in, and Sandra met her for the first time. Tina was business manager of the Watermelon Man restaurant and club on Cavalcade. Also, she managed the building where Rico Carbello and Desi Cartenegro rented apartments. Tina lived in 113 downstairs below the stairway to the second and third floors where Rico was murdered in 213 in the early morning hours of July

19. Desi had quadruple coronary bypass at Baylor Hospital in Dallas on July 18. Mrs. Deagio, how may I help you? asked Sandra with her best friendly smile.

I’m a suspect in Rico Carbello’s murder. The police detectives searched my apartment, asked me questions, vacuumed, and looked for fingerprints. I had the only key to Rico’s apartment.

Meaning? asked Sandra. It was routine. I wouldn’t worry.

Anybody could have a spare key. Neva didn’t have one. She always knocked.

Have you ever seen Lieutenant Hernan Costello from southeast patrol?

"No! Neva was one of the detectives on the case. She left at ten, and I con

firmed her alibi."

You are the house manager, right?

Just for forty apartments in C complex. I show the apartments, check the maid service, call in maintenance, keep an eye on the occupants, and take complaints, etc. The occupants pay the central office. I am bonded and carry personal liability insurance. Is it true your lawyer can’t tell?

Yes ma’am, replied Sandra.

Tina spoke slowly. Caesar Deagio and I have never gotten a divorce. They found his fingerprints in my apartment. Caesar had nothing to do with Rico’s murder, and I hope you will keep our secret.

Sandra put her arm around Tina and walked with her to the door. Next was Willis White, the Watermelon-$2 stand owner. On his last visit to the valley Willis returned with his left hand bandaged and two fingers missing. Somebody had chopped off his fourth and fifth digits and part of his left hand. He wouldn’t tell who did it.

A little bird on Sandra’s shoulder reminded her that clients lied to their lawyer. Just because Rico chopped off Willis’ two fingers didn’t mean Willis killed Rico. The cops probably sent a detective out to see Willis and scared him. He seemed shaky and kept his hat in his hands. She broke the ice.

How may I help you, Mr. White? Sandra knew a lot about Willis, but he didn’t know she knew. Dirk had recommended her to him.

The policemen have been asking me about Mr. Rico Carbello. They think Rico cut off my fingers and hand, and I murdered him for revenge.

That’s a strong motive, but they need physical evidence, an eyewitness, or a confession. Sandra smiled.

They found a whiskey jug in the dumpster behind my watermelon stand, replied Willis, shaking.

What kind of whiskey?

Old Taylor straight bourbon.

CHAPTER 3

Wallace Derek Strong, 47, private investigator, officed out of his apartment in Atascocita on the west bank of Lake Houston, carried a beeper and cell phone, did investigative work for lawyer Sandra Lerner and provided odd job bodyguard services for several very rich women for which he charged $1000 extra if overtime and gun play.

He brushed his shoes, looked in the mirror, pulled his hat down slightly, and smiled with a little sneer like Humphrey Bogart in the Maltese Falcon.

Actually, Dirk was a double dipper. He received a monthly retirement check from Dallas HPD, a monthly disability check for coronary bypass, and a veteran’s pension for losing two toes and one testicle in Vietnam. He’d never missed them, and his coronary bypass was an apparent success. After bypass, he gave up smoking and followed a cardiac diet. His only medications were aspirin, Zocor, Atenolol, and an occasional Clorazepate for nerves and sleep. He limited to two drinks a day.

He checked his weapons, bifocals, and wallet, exited the apartment, got in his blue 1987 Chevrolet Caprice, and drove 55 mph through Atascocita, Humble, up on US 59 South, crossed Buffalo Bayou, drove through downtown Houston, took IH-45 South and turned off at the Little Mexico shopping mall and Granada high-rise and out Greenwood to Juan Baptista’s house where he found Carmaleta Posadas and Rene’ Lopez waiting. It was 7:45 AM and the city was burying Jésus Posadas in an unannounced informal ceremony at Saint Monica’s at 8:00 AM. Carmaleta was Jésus’ estranged widow, and Rene’s husband, Lupe, was in county jail charged with Jésus’ murder in broad daylight in the Oxaca restaurant on May 17. Before autopsy Jésus’ body disappeared from the morgue and was missing for a month. Subsequent autopsy of the decomposed body revealed that Jésus was an Extraterrestrial, much to everybody’s surprise.

Recent studies reported in the forensic literature, which included eight cases from Houston, revealed that Extraterrestrials have remarkable powers of rejuvenation, reincarnation, transmigration, and self cloning. Cosmologist and Astrobiologist believed they came from the fourth dimension, since other inhabited planets would be millions of light years away.

Dirk drove west on US 610, got off on South Queen, passed South Mean, slowed and drove slowly through Saint Monica’s cemetery to where several industrial trucks, city and county police cars, and a concrete mixer stood. They were burying Jésus next to Johan Milkozavich’s grave. Dr. Nu and several city officials were standing at the pit and Father Augustine of Saint Monica’s was standing well back holding his Catholic prayer book and Rosary beads. They had missed the part where he read in Latin the ancient prayers to exorcise the devil and protect the living from werewolves, vampires, and witches, etc. It worked for Johan Milkozavich after they staked his heart, welded closed his iron casket and buried him in concrete. If Johan came back, Father Augustine planned to have him cremated.

Dirk helped both ladies across the grass and fresh dirt to the grave. Both carried crosses to protect them from Jésus’ ghost. They prayed in Spanish and made the sign of the cross.

The workers dug as deep as they could down to the water line, welded two iron bands around the casket, placed the casket in a laminated steel box which they welded shut and covered the whole thing in concrete. They packed a mound of dirt on top and placed an unmarked cross at the head.

The two ladies went over to Father Augustine who held his Rosary cross and beads in front, crossed his chest, mumbled a prayer in Latin, said a couple of Hail Mary’s and Glory Be’s, crossed his chest, and turned to the ladies, smiling. They were weeping silently. Father Augustine put both arms around them and walked with them back toward Saint Monica’s.

Dirk walked over to his friend Dr. Nu and asked.

Why did Carmaleta have Jésus buried out here? She and Jésus owned a house on Mayfly close to Lawndale Cemetery, asked Dirk.

Dr. Nu, smoking a pipe, replied, We didn’t give her a choice. The city paid for this one. We already lost his body once. I put him right next to Johan Milkozavich, so we can watch them both. Father Augustine will help.

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

Dirk dropped Rene’ and Carmaleta off and rang Evita Garza’s door chimes. She lived in apartment 806 at the Granada high-rise. They had to rush to get to Rico Carbello’s funeral. Evita opened the door dressed in half slip, hose and pumps. Her face was made and her hair brushed. She grabbed Dirk by the arm and pulled him along to her bedroom and dresser. She slipped through the straps of a brassier, turned her back to him, adjusted the brassier, and said, snap me. Dirk obliged, and she slipped on a black tailored one piece dress over her head and wriggled it down until she got her arms into the sleeves and pulled it the rest of the way. She flattened her abdomen, checked her seams and hose, turned facing the mirror and said, zip me.

Evita lit a cigarette, took a .25 cal. Beretta out of her purse, checked the clip, chambered a round, put it on safe, and slipped it back in her purse. She raised her dress and slip and showed Dirk the switchblade she had strapped to her left inner thigh. She was right handed.

Let’s go bury Rico and see what the cat drug in.

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

As cathedrals go, Dirk estimated that Saint Colombo was at least a hundred years old and had seen better days. It was built out of sandstone and granite and had large Ionic columns out front. The doors were bronze and had conventional locks popular at the turn of the century. Inside it had wall-to-wall carpet, three rows of benches that might accommodate five hundred people, stained glass windows, and small statues of the Holy Virgin on either wall.

Rico Carbello, only 36, lay in open casket and looked great from a distance. Dr. Nu released his body Saturday morning with a bullet hole in his forehead and the back of his head blown off after he had undergone complete autopsy and laid under a sheet in the morgue for four days.

The funeral director and pallbearers were professionals from a local funeral home. Fathers Villa and Escobar and several nuns from Saint Colombo were conducting the service. They were near the end and had finished the Glorious Mysteries, Hail Mary’s and Glory be’s.

Dirk and Evita walked down to the back row of about fifty people dressed in black. Some of the women were drying tears, and there was an occasional sniffle.

In Dirk’s estimation, Rico had killed Dr. Guadelupe Alvarez and Blackie White and chopped off the fingers off Willis White, the watermelon man. He attempted to kill Miriam Travitas in a high speed chase on IH-10. All bullets were from the same police issued 9mm Beretta stolen out of Sergeant Neva Braun’s patrol car sitting in the Watermelon Man nightclub parking lot in February. Records at Deagio’s Pawn Shop showed that Willis White had hocked the weapon in February, and Rico Carbello bought it in April or thereabouts. In Dirk’s opinion, Dr. Raul Capistrano, administrator of Del Arroyo Clinic and Hospital paid Rico to kill Dr. Alvarez, and Desi Cartenegro paid Rico to kill Blackie White and his wife, Miriam Travitas. All was speculation, and Dirk suspected Desi Cartenegro paid for Rico’s funeral, since Rico was Desi’s pistolero and bodyguard at the Watermelon Man Club. Nobody liked Rico, and he tried to hustle Jotte’ Jalopena, singer at the Watermelon Man Club, and Sergeant Neva Braun, who was having an occasional affair with Desi Cartenegro and the late Blackie White. On his time off, Rico had frequented Ruby’s lounge out by the docks and the Golden Apple bar run by Uzi Kalashnikov across town on South Queen.

Dirk liked Neva, but she had motive, means, and opportunity. She’d argued with Rico a few hours before he was murdered, and her fingerprints were found in his apartment. The murder weapon was her lost 9mm Beretta.

The big mystery was the missing whiskey jug which the cops found in a dumpster behind Willis White’s watermelon stand. Several unidentified set of fingerprints were on the jug, along with Rico’s, but none belonged to Willis White. Old Taylor was a popular brand, and winos may have drunk out of the jug.

After Father Villa said the last Glory be, Father Escobar sprinkled the casket and flowers with holy water and swung the incense pot. Father Villa knelt by the casket and recited.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, may all the power of the devil against you be at an end, through the imposition of our hands and through the invocation of the holy and glorious Virgin Mary, of her most worthy spouse, Saint Joseph, and of all the holy angels, arch angels, patriarchs, prophets, apostles, martyrs, confessors, virgins, and all other saints. Amen.

Father Villa anointed the forehead of Rico with holy oil, crossed his chest and prayed.

Through this holy anointing may the Lord forgive you whatever sin you have committed.

The nuns sang, "Alleluia! Alleluia!"

The congregation stood and sang one verse of GLORY BE TO THE FATHER.

Father Villa crossed his chest slowly and spoke remorsefully.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

He nodded to the funeral director, then at Desi Cartenegro in a wheelchair, and spoke to the audience.

You may pass by and view our beloved departed.

Dirk chuckled. Rico didn’t get any respect when he was alive.

A middle aged Cuban lady helped Desi and supported him while he walked through. Although pale and unsteady, Desi looked pretty good for six days post bypass. The lady was his wife, no doubt. Next were Drs. Capistrano and Fell and Chief Finance Officer Valentino Redfox from Del Arroyo Clinic and Hospital. Next came city councilman San Pablo Huston, Lieutenant Bribey from North Patrol, and Constable Jesse White from North precinct. Next came Jotte’ Jalopena who was tearing and drying her eyes. Tina Deagio was accompanied by Caesar Deagio. Next was Ruby Redmon accompanied by a youngish woman with flaming red hair. Next was Willis White who had a clean bandage on his left hand where Rico had chopped off two fingers. Willis owned a watermelon stand across the street from the Watermelon Man Nightclub.

Next was a middle aged Hispanic couple Dirk didn’t know. He asked Evita.

That’s Alejandro and Santera Bautista, replied Evita.

Sergeant Olinda Starr in black dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, leaned, kissed Rico on the mouth, and left crying.

As Evita and Dirk joined the line, Lieutenant Hernan Costello and Juanita Alvarez, Dr. Guadelupe Alvarez’s widow, lined up behind them. Hernan whispered, Sorry we’re late. Are you folks going to graveside?

CHAPTER 4

As Dirk was riding up the elevator with Evita to the eighth floor of the Granada high-rise, he got a call from his answering service to appear in Misty Yamamoto’s office at the El Cyuga State Bank before noon. Evita frowned. She was clearly turned on sensually by the funeral and wanted him to stay for a cocktail and whatever. Dirk stoically refused, but hesitated long enough to collect ten $100 bills and help Evita with her zipper and snaps. Dirk knew for a fact that Evita had a twenty-five pound cardboard box of neatly stacked slightly used $100 bills hidden in her apartment. Allowing for the weight of the box and the inaccuracy of bathroom scales, that came to about two million dollars she coerced from Desi Cartenegro as payment on the ten million dollars Desi owed her.

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

Dirk found Misty Tantalia Yamamoto sitting calmly at her desk and smoking. Dirk walked in, smiled, spoke, and stood at attention. Money, power, beauty, and brains commanded respect, and Misty had them all. She was the youngest sister of Maria Tantalia.

Sit down, Derek. I’ll be brief.

Dirk refused her offer of a cigarette, relaxed slightly, and sat down.

Maria wants you to guard her body on a trip to Switzerland, Rome, Istanbul, and Tel Aviv. You’ll leave on American at 3 PM Saturday and be back on Sunday, August 7. You’ll fly back on El Al from Tel Aviv to New York and Chicago, then change to American at O’Hare. You’ll be driving across Switzerland in a rented vehicle, so carry your Texas driver’s license, VISA credit card, and passport. Your entry visa to Turkey is still good. This trip involves money, lots of money. Sherry Deagio will arrange for you to be passed around the x-ray machine at the airports. Misty stood up and extended her hand.

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

Dirk had a few minutes before driving to pick up Frieda Allegromande and attending the graveside services of Estephan Guevera at Saint Monica’s cemetery, so he picked up Li Chen at Sam’s Gym and Ballroom and walked across the street to Deagio’s Bar and Grill for a snack and chat. Since Li Chen taught aerobics and ballet, she was slender as a reed and always hungry. Li Chen ordered a double burger with cheese and tea and Dirk had a tuna and Diet Coke.

Captain Billings was pissed, when she heard I freelanced with you and ordered me to clear with her on any future undercover forays that I undertake with you. In other words, she didn’t want me embarrassing the Texas Department of Public Safety, taking unauthorized risks, and accepting pay from private cops, namely you. I think she was jealous! She didn’t mention tips which are okay. I don’t report tips. Li Chen giggled and grinned at Dirk, waiting for his reaction.

Dirk didn’t smile. Will that change anything? You are help in certain cases, and we are compatible in a professional way of course.

She made a face, kicked him under the table and whispered, Not a damn thing! Are you going with Maria to Geneva to get Miriam Travitas’, Evita Garza’s, and Frieda Allegromande’s blood money stashed away in Swiss bank accounts?

Dirk was shocked. Misty didn’t tell him the details. Very little escaped Li Chen.

I’m sorry! Misty said something about a trip to Europe, but didn’t say why or where. She asked me if I liked Truffle Soufflé, replied Dirk, smiling politely.

You’re lying. What did you say?

Given a choice, I’d rather rent an American car.

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

Frieda Allegromande and Dirk were sort of betrothed or whatever you’d call his casual proposal of marriage back when she was still legally married to Rafael Allegromande. She accepted his proposal and since, Rafael and Pancho Fernandez, her next husband, were violently murdered. Dirk requested a six months cooling off period, since bad things came in threes. Frieda was rich and managed Pancho’s Automotive Repair and Body Shop on South Mean across from Montressor’s Mini-Storage and the Charisma Lounge. Frieda had streamlined Pancho’s automotive business, stopped Pancho’s contraband business, and sold Pancho’s cabin cruiser to Uzi Kalashnikov.

After leaving Li Chen at Deagio’s Bar and Grill, Dirk drove back and took US 610 south to South Queen and down South Queen through all black neighborhoods and the eyes of the tigers until he reached the light at the intersection of South Mean and South Queen. There was a new sheltered city bus stop out front of the Vista Ole’ Motor Hotel with newly painted benches sponsored by KGB Insurance and Security run by Uzi Kalashnikov and Nicki Raskolniko across the street. They also owned the Vista Ole’, the Golden Apple Strip Bar, the XXX video store, and more recently Syracuza’s Meat Packing and Abattoir five miles further down South Queen past Cow Bayou.

Uzi docked his cabin cruiser at the Pine Street Country Club Marina on Brakes Bayou which emptied into Galveston Bay by way of Clear Creek and Clear Lake. Johan Milkozavich, deceased, their former partner had contract to dispose of unwanted pauper bodies. The crematory broke, and the graveyard across from Brakes Bayou flooded and washed away, so Johan stored them in Montressor’s until it burned down last April. Dirk didn’t know what Uzi and Nicki were doing since Johan passed away. They were on call to pick up the unclaimed bodies at the funeral homes, hospitals, nursing homes, shelters, parks, vacant lots, etc., etc. and on and on. The city didn’t pay very much, and it was more hassle than profit. They sold usable spare parts to the local transplant surgeons.

Montressor’s had been rebuilt bigger and better, had a tall chain length fence around it, stayed locked except when in use, and provided a home for a friendly looking Doberman.

Frieda and her sister-in-law, Evita, were two rich widows of Pancho and Emil Fernandez, former Colombian drug lords. Frieda usually carried a purse with a 10mm Glock. A funeral was a good place to see old friends and be seen.

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

Dirk parked in front of Pancho’s. His beeper went off, and he called in. Captain Jerry Billings, DPS was holding. He answered, and Jerry came on.

Did Misty tell you about Blackie White’s funeral tomorrow?

I thought it was tonight. I’m meeting Sandra at Luby’s, and we’re going to Blackie’s Rosary at Savemore on North Main. Misty didn’t say a word about any funeral, replied Dirk with a sigh.

"Listen carefully. It’s important! You’ll have to wear your tux and go armed. It’s formal and will be held at the African Baptist Church on the corner of Memorial Drive and Washington at 10 AM. You go in first and sit down front three rows back on the left in the family and mourners section. Locate the exits.

Misty Tantalia, Miriam Travitas and her parents, Alejandro and Santera, and I will sit on the first row down front.

Dirk interrupted. What’s the big deal? People don’t wear tux to funerals.

Just listen! I’ll come by later and spend the night.

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

CHAPTER 5

Frieda was dressed and waiting. She took a 10mm Glock out of her desk, slammed in a clip, chambered a round, snapped on the safety, slipped it in Dirk’s left coat pocket and pulled down the flap.

I’ll hang on your left arm. I don’t expect any problems. Sharla and Tamara are going out of respect to Uzi and Nicki. Nobody liked Estephan. He spoke little English. He wasn’t here long enough to make any enemies. Do they have any clues? asked Frieda.

We found Blackie White’s corpse hanging on a meat hook in Estephan’s refrigerator and Blackie’s head, hands, and feet buried elsewhere. Somebody gutted Blackie and dressed his carcass like a hog for sausage. They must have burned his entrails, kidneys, and internal organs, etc. Uzi found a greasy soot covered 9mm slug in one of the ovens they use to re-cook the hog feed. The bullet matched with the gun in possession of Rico Carbello, replied Dirk.

Frieda joined Dirk in the car. Please drive out to the Abattoir. They’ll be at the funeral. We’ll attend the graveside, and see who shows up.

Dirk continued. "Friday afternoon before we found Estephan dead on Saturday morning I followed two Russian priests in an airport Budget rental car out here from the courthouse to Abattoir Road. I waited thirty minutes before they came out and followed them back to the Mexicana Norte Hotel where I got their room numbers, car license number, and names.

"The next morning we found Estephan strangled to death with piano wire marks around his neck. No fingerprints were detected. They checked out of the hotel Friday evening, returned the Budget car Friday night, and returned to the hotel Sunday afternoon as personal bodyguards of Presidente Portapotillo of Mexico. In the confusion of the terrorist bombing they disappeared and haven’t

been seen since," Dirk chuckled.

Did they leave with Presidente Portapotillo?

Maybe! He left right after the signing in his private helicopter headed south toward the border. He denied knowing the Russians and thought his brother, the General, hired them. Unfortunately, his brother and two French agents were blown up, explained Dirk.

Do you have their names? Gracious! They could be hiding at the Vista Ole’ or some place. That sounds like something Johan Milkozavich might have arranged, replied Frieda, giggling.

Dirk tried to remember. The Russians chased Maria and him from Rome to Sicily, and they last saw them in Agrigento. Then they showed up at Ilych’s and Viktor’s murder trial, and, after Jerry Billings and the Arab baker testified, they drove out and garroted Estephan Guevera.

Fidel Castro of Cuba and General Emil Fernandez of Colombia came to an understanding on the Russian submarine that the Colombians hijacked and captured. Fidel sent ten million $US drug money to Desi Cartenegro to pay Evita Garza, and Desi used it to start a chain of Watermelon Man restaurants and casinos in Houston, Las Vegas, and Miami.

Their names were Father’s Amur Yakursh and Gorki Belagorsk, and they operated out of the Russian Embassy or Consulate, whichever, in Islamabad, Pakistan. Maybe they flew back home. It’s only twenty-four hours either way by commercial airlines, shorter if you fly over the North Pole.

Dirk drove five miles out South Queen, passed Pine Street, over Brakes Bayou, and slowed as he neared Cow Bayou and passed ranchettes, feeding pens, and ranches. He could smell the abattoir before he saw it, and there were always a few buzzards circling high overhead. He didn’t see any smoke or smell the ovens. However, garbage and delivery trucks were entering and leaving Abattoir drive which ran parallel to Cow Bayou to Syracuza’s Meat Packing and Abattoir. A big roadside sign advertised Syracuza’s delicious breakfast sausage and bacon.

Dirk turned east and drove one mile to the gate. The meat packing plant, refrigerator storage, and slaughter pens were a hundred yards from the entrance on the left, and on the right were hog, calf, and cow pens and further over a pasture completely enfenced in barb and hog wire. Concrete and cast iron gas fired ovens were out back and idle.

Hogs would eat anything, even a live human if they slipped or got stuck in a wallow. There was a joke in Hardin County about Grandma falling in the hog trough and nobody missed her for three days. It was all just protein to hogs, alligators, sharks, chickens, etc., etc. and on and on. House cats would eat grandpa, but dogs wouldn’t unless they were starving. Dirk chuckled. He wondered if Uzi, et al. were feeding pauper’s cadavers to the hogs, since the crematory broke, and nobody would fix it.

They drove through the gate and parked in front of the main office. The screen and office door were open. Except for the trucks and truck drivers, everybody had gone to Estephan’s funeral.

They heard a sharp CRACK of a rifle to the southwest over by the edge of the pasture. They stood and watched. A hunter carrying a rifle climbed down a ladder, walked about twenty yards and picked up a wild animal, either a coyote or small wolf. The hunter looked like a woman. She hung the coyote or whatever on the metal post upside down, grabbed it by the tail, incised and disemboweled it, threw the entrails to the hogs, lifted the coyote over her shoulder, picked up her rifle, and walked briskly back to the office. She was stockily built, had long black hair and was wearing overalls and rubber boots.

Dirk quickly recognized her as the lady that accompanied Uzi Kalashnikov to Rico Carbello’s funeral. She nodded, smiled, and explained she barely knew English. She was a new Russian immigrant whom Uzi hired from an Employee Placement Service in Russia.

Dirk introduced himself and Frieda and explained they knew Estephan and were longtime acquaintances of Uzi and Nicki, her bosses.

I’m Natada Klodyaska, and I don’t speak much English, she replied.

What are you going to do with that coyote? asked Dirk.

Wait until he dries and stiff, skin him, stretch and scrape the hide, and bake him for supper. With his fur I’ll make a beautiful Russian hat.

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

Estephan Guevera’s funeral service had moved to his final resting