When Black came back inside, Shy had already called Edwina and she said that she’d be there soon. With that out of the way, she had already begun searching the house looking for anything that she could find that would be useful to her. Not knowing what she was looking for, Shy hoped that no one had called the police, so they’d have time to search until Edwina got there.
Black knelt down next to Ezequiel. The bullet in his head meant that there was no need to check for a pulse, he was dead and that wasn’t what Black wanted. He wanted to know what was going on between him and Valencia had to do with Shy. Now Ezequiel was dead, and Valencia was on her way to the hospital. He got to his feet and called Carla.
“What’s going on, Mike?”
“We’re at the house. I need to know if there is any police activity directed here?”
“Hold on while I scan the police frequency.”
“And if there’s no activity, get Edwina over here,” he said, looking around at the bodies.
“Shy already called her and she’s on her way there now. I’ll call you back with her ETA and I will update you about police activity.”
“Thank you, Carla. Valencia was shot, Geno is taking her to a hospital.”
“Acknowledged. I’ll update you on that as well.”
“Right,” Black said and went off in search of Shy.
When he went into the office, he found Shy sitting at the desk, rifling through the drawers.
“You find anything?”
“It would help if I knew what I was looking for, but so far, no,” Shy said, and sat back in the chair.
“Be careful what you touch.”
“Edwina is on her way,” Shy said and resumed her search with the papers on the desk.
“I know, and I got Carla—” he began, as his phone rang. “Yes, Carla.”
“No police activity. Edwina’s ETA is ten minutes.”
“Thank you, Carla.”
“Nothing on Valencia yet. I’m still searching hospitals in the area.”
“Let me know.” Black ended the call.
“And?”
“Edwina will be here in ten minutes and no cops.”
“Good,” Shy said, and went back to looking at the papers on the desk while Black went to search the rest of the house.
She’d been looking at documents and papers, most of which she didn’t understand because they weren’t in English, wondering if she did find a clue, would she be able to read it. Then she came across a piece of paper that had a name, a time, and a phone number. She picked it up and read it.
“Look at this Michael,” she said, and Black came to see what she had to show him.
“What did you find?” he asked when he came in the office. She handed him the paper.
The name was Mateo Alejandro and the time was 11 pm. Shy looked at her watch.
“We have time to make it.”
As luck would have it, Edwina arrived at the house just as Mr. and Mrs. Black were leaving. He told Chuck to stay and help Edwina. After he called Carla to check the number, get a location and to have her find out whatever she could on Mateo Alejandro as quickly as she could, they took the SUV and left the scene.
“I hate going in places blind.”
“You mean like running shoulder first into a house where there’s shooting?” Shy asked, while she reloaded her Berretta.
“That’s different.”
“Of course, it is, Michael,” Shy said, patronizingly, and put her gun back in her purse.
When they arrived at the house, Black put the car in park and turned off the ignition. He looked at Shy. Carla couldn’t give them any information on Mateo Alejandro, so there was no way of knowing who he was or what his connection was if there was any at all. They were going in blind; therefore, Black had a question.
“You got a plan or you wanna just go old school?”
“Run shoulder first in there and start shooting?” Shy shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“So what’s the plan?”
Shy opened her door. “I’m working on it,” she said, and got out. They walked up to the house and Shy told Black to keep out of sight while she rang the bell. It took a minute, but the porch light came on and the door cracked open.
“Yes?” the elderly man asked through the chained door.
Shy smiled. “I’m sorry to bother you so late, sir. But my car broke down in front of your house,” she said, and pointed at the SUV. “And my cell is dead. Can I use your phone so I can call an Uber.”
The man looked at Shy and then to the SUV parked in the street. The door closed and she could hear him taking the chain off. She glanced at Black and he readied his weapon. When he opened the door, Black put a gun to his head.
“Mateo Alejandro?”
“Yes,” the frightened man said.
“We’d like to ask you some questions. Can we come in?” Shy asked with her gun in her hand.
He nodded his head and showed them in. Moving slowly, Alejandro led Black and Shy into his living room and asked them to sit. He offered them a drink, which they declined, but he fixed himself one before he came and sat down.
“What were you and Ezequiel Simmonds meeting about?” Black asked.
“Where is Ezequiel?”
“Unavoidably detained,” Shy said.
“Are you familiar with Camilo Patiño?” When neither Black nor Shy said a word, Alejandro continued. “His daughter, Renata was kidnapped, and a meeting was held which was instrumental in securing her safe return. That was because the two factions of the Comodoro’s met to settle matters.”
“Who kidnapped her?” Shy asked, but Alejandro continued without answering.
“After the successful returned of Patiño’s daughter, they met again to expand on that prior success. At the second meeting the Comodoro’s divided up the major United States distribution points; Pérez Ferreira took New York City and his uncles took South Florida and Miami.”
Black and Shy looked at each other wondering if any of that had anything to do with Ezequiel Simmonds or was the old man senile.
“Emiliano Molinero, he’s a high-ranking Ferreira financier,” he pointed at them. “And a childhood friend of Juan, owned the First Americas Bank. Members were permitted to overdraft accounts and take out loans without repayment which allowed them to move and launder large amounts of money.” He laughed. “That bank used to launder so much Comodoro money that the United States government officially cited it as a money laundering operation. Through their affiliation with Matías Cabrero,” he began, but that was the moment when a bullet shattered the window and a single shot penetrated Alejandro’s heart.
This time, Mr. and Mrs. Black wasted no time getting out of there. Alejandro was getting ready to tell them something; something important enough for him to have to die rather than tell it. That let Black and Shy know that whatever was going on, was far from over.
“Where are we going now?” Shy asked as they left the house.
“Where we should have gone from the beginning.”