CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

As I’ve said, I told the police pretty much everything. I was an innocent bystander, a hostage, caught in the middle of a vicious family vendetta.

The police kept me there long after the Seaquarium had been cleared out and closed for the day. Grand showed up early in the questioning. I took him to the Estrada house on Key Biscayne. None of the inhabitants were in evidence, not Doña Carmen nor Manuel nor Lorena. All their personal belongings had been packed up and removed in a matter of hours. The furniture and pots and pans were still there, but that was all.

Early that evening, Grand learned that a private jet, leased by a Colombian bank, had taken off from an executive airport near Fort Lauderdale. About a dozen people had been aboard. The flight plan said their destination was Mexico City, but they didn’t fly that way. Grand assumed they had headed back to Medellín. He notified Colombian authorities, who told him they would get right on it, but given the clout of the Estrada clan, I told Grand not to hold his breath.

Along the way, I explained to him the gruesome family history. He rolled his eyes.

“When these people have a family feud, they don’t fool around, do they?” he said.

“There are sharks and there are sharks,” I said.

Alice finally arrived to take me home about nine that night. Grand ordered me to return the next day for another debriefing. Alice stayed for a drink on my back porch. She winced, even before I got to the sharks. Carlos Estrada hitting the water near the barracudas was enough for her.

“Stop right there. It’s a good thing José Estrada didn’t use you as fish food, too, Willie, just to get rid of the only witness.”

“I’m too bony,” I said

“Sharks eat bones, boyo.”

The next night, I went back to work as head of security at my brother Tommy’s salsa club, Caliente. That’s my day-to-day bread and butter. The Estrada case had been brief and, given the risks, relatively low on cash.

About a week later, I was lying in bed, mid morning, just awake after a long night at the club, when my doorbell rang. I pulled on my robe and headed for the door.

I found a Fed Ex deliveryman holding an envelope for me. I signed for it, closed the door, fixed some coffee, sat down and opened it. Inside, I found a letter from Doña Carmen.

Querido Willie,

I hope you will forgive us for leaving so suddenly, but given what occurred, we felt we had to get home as quickly as possible. Your authorities would never have understood what we have gone through.

I hope you’ll believe that I was not aware of all the facts when I first contacted you. José and Catalina say now that they could not tell me what they were planning to do because it would have worried me too much and I would have interfered. I’m sure they are right. And then that awful man Ramírez became involved, and even they could not control what occurred. José didn’t tell me what was happening until that very last day.

At those moments when you were truly in danger, moments over which I had no control, I was terribly worried for you. I hope you can believe that.

Thank you so much for helping avenge my dead husband and for saving my future grandchild. I went with Catalina to the obstetrician and the latest films show that, in fact, I will soon have a grandson.

I don’t believe we will ever meet again, but I will always remember you.

With love,

Doña Carmen.

With the note I found a folded cashier’s check. I opened it and saw it was made out for a sum that doubled what I’d already been paid. It brought a smile to my face.

I would never forget her either.