Chapter 14
One morning while working on my laptop my little Grand stole my reading glasses during a pause and laughed because he thought he "looked like me."
Hidden Secrets
Leona Palmer Haag
Chapter 14
"Now let me get this straight, Jose Miguel de
Carlos y Santitas, you happen to be in the wrong room?" Monica looked at
the ID she'd found in the man's wallet to make sure she had his name right,
then looked back at him. "You were looking for a Mr. Halterman, but this
is not his room and you're terribly sorry about interrupting us?"
The man seated in the chair, and held in place by a
pair of Monica's best nylons, slightly nodded his head.
Monica rose from the corner of the credenza where
she'd lightly perched and began pacing the room from the door to the chair and
back. Her face was in deep thought. "So what room were you originally
looking for?" she asked, stopping in front of him.
"Twenty-two."
"This is
room twenty-two," Monica said with a nod.
"Floor eighteen," Jose added.
Monica returned to her perch. "This if floor
nineteen."
"Si. Yes. Floor nineteen."
"So you were looking for floor nineteen?"
"No. No, senora. Floor eighteen."
A light rap on the door stopped Monica before she
could proceed with the interrogation. She slid to her feet. "Room service,
I suppose?"
"I think so," Matt said,
waving his gun at Jose Miguel de Carlos y Santitas and adding, "Are you
going to behave for our guest?"
Jose's eyes narrowed as he stared at the gun, but he
nodded.
"Go ahead and get it, sugar. Our visitor has
promised to present himself properly."
"Is that so?" Monica asked, pausing and
searching the man’s face.
Jose didn't answer with anything more than a nod.
"Honey, use that little thing in your hand if he
acts up," Monica said before turning toward the door.
Monica pulled the door open and ushered in a man
dressed in black pants and a black shirt under a crisp white jacket. A red tie at his neck, white
gloves on his hands, and ultra-shiny black shoes finished his ensemble. The polished
silver cart he pushed held two dome-shaped fine china covers over dinner
plates.
Monica directed him to where she wanted the cart
placed—not far in front of Jose—then lifted the lid from one plate. She stabbed
a shrimp with a tiny fork and dipped it in cocktail sauce and nibbled off the
end. "Honey, do you want some?" she asked.
"No, go ahead. I ate not too long ago. Besides,
I'm a little busy," Matt replied.
"It's yummy," Monica said after her second
bite. She speared an asparagus tip next, then sampled the fresh pineapple.
"This is fantastic," she drawled.
"What's on the other plate?" Matt asked.
Monica threw her head back and laughed. "Honey,
you know me! I ordered dessert too. Give me a minute. I'm still half famished.
I'll share with you."
Matt grinned and leaned back in his seat and watched
Jose as he ignored his beautiful wife. The waiter patiently waited. Finally
Monica took the linen napkin and dabbed at her pretty fire-engine red lips. She
reached for the second plate cover and carefully lifted it. The man's eyes
flickered to the cart, then stopped as if frozen.
"Senor, please assist me," Monica said,
flicking her long fingers at the waiter, then pointing at Jose as if inviting
the waiter to approach their prisoner.
"Si," the waiter said with a slight bow. The
waiter first lifted a small pad of ink and proceeded to fingerprint the
intruder. Next tweezers plucked a black hair from his scalp and placed it in a
tiny plastic bag marked for DNA sampling. A small electronic box was turned on
and he scanned the man's clothing, finding a tiny blade in the tip of each
shoe, but no other metal.
As the agent in gloves worked, Nick turned back to his
computer and glanced over the information he'd sent moments before about the
encounter, then proceeded to send off the fingerprints. A moment later he said,
"Sugar, you might like to see this."
Monica leaned over his shoulder and smiled. She
straightened and turned toward their prisoner. "Mr. Gonzales, it's a
pleasure meeting you."
He blinked and visibly swallowed hard.
Monica resumed her perch on the credenza and said,
"You can begin answering questions now, or it can wait if you'd prefer,
but now would be preferable for all of us." She paused, waiting for a reply
that never came. She finally added, "What will it be?"
Gonzales remained silent, but his baby finger twitched
nervously.
Monica glanced over her shoulder and watched the
waiter for a minute as he placed a drop of murky fluid from the syringe on several
test strips. "That can wait, she said," holding up her hand.
"Si, Senora," the waiter replied, slipping
the rest of the strips back into their containers and stepping aside.
"Gonzales?" Monica asked, returning her
attention to their captive.
A second later Matt's hand flashed around and he
pulled his trigger. The waiter fell with a thud to the carpet. "Was that
necessary, sugar?" Monica sweetly asked in her best drawl.
"Absolutely," Matt said, standing up and
stretching. He stepped past his wife in her black and red silk suit and stooped
down and pried a gun out of the waiter's hand. He pulled the clip from it and
set it on the credenza beside his wife, then kissed her pretty lips. "I
don’t think you saw that. I'll get fingerprints from him later." He returning
to his seat. “Reliable help is hard to find.”
"Thank you, sugar," Monica cooed in
adoration.
Gonzales swallowed several times, perspiration dripped
from his hairline, making its way down one cheek, and he sunk back in his chair.
"You don't look very well, senor," Monica
cooed. "Shall we talk about it now?"
Gonzales frantically shook his head, then let his chin
sink to his chest.
"Honey, just answer a few questions," she
gently coaxed.
"Mr. R." Gonzales whispered after a long
pause.
Monica and Matt waited quietly for more.
"Narcocorrido."
“Where?" Monica prompted after a long silence.
"Ciudad Mexico."
Monica glanced at Matt, catching his eager eye.
"Details," she coaxed, knowing Matt was subtly catching everything on
his phone’s video recorder.
In barely a whisper Gonzales named a band and song,
then hung his head as if he'd pronounced his own death sentence. Monica waited
patiently for more information without saying a word. A skill that had earned
her bragging rights of pulling vital information from those she interrogated.
Her mere presence often sent shivers down their spines and words from their
lips.
"Listen," Gonzales whispered. "Listen
carefully. Slowly."
"And then what?" Monica whispered in reply.
"A name."
"Anything more?" she asked after a long
pause.
Gonzales shook his head, then added, "A date. A
place. In code." He whispered the title of another song and his hands
clenched and loosened as sweat poured from his face. He finally looked up with
anguished eyes and said, "My sister. I have given you information. In
return, I beg you to rescue Carmen."
"Rescue?" Monica gently asked.
Gonzales' frantic eyes shifted to Matt, then back to
Monica. "I must appear dead or you cannot act. I must be dead to Mr. R or
Carmen will die."
"I'll arrange for that," Monica drawled in a
soothing voice. "How would you like to die?"
Gonzales' sweat increased. "I don't want to die. Please,
senora. I don’t want to die, do you understand? Only make it appear as if I
died, but don’t make me dead."
"But death is much easier and more convincing if
it's real, honey."
Gonzales gave Monica a wild look. "Please. I will
do anything for you. For Carmen. Anything."
Monica looked as if she was considering it. Finally
she nodded. "Very well. How do you wish to die? What is your
preference?"
Gonzales nodded toward the syringe. "That."
"What does it do?" Monica asked glancing at
the needle, then back at him.
Gonzales looked up with desperate dark eyes and
whispered. "Death. Painful. Terrible agony. Foul smell. Very foul smell.
But don’t make me dead with that!"
Monica nodded. "Consider it done." She
glanced at Matt and drawled, "Honey, be a sweetheart for me and kill
Gonzales."
End Chapter 14
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