The Matador Murders (Roger and Suzanne South American Mystery Series Book 4) Read online

  The Matador Murders

  By Jerold Last

  All Rights Reserved

  Copyright 2012 © Jerold Last

  Cover photograph of Pocitos Beach, Montevideo by Jose Porras. We thank Elemaki for permission to use the file.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  As always, my wife Elaine made several useful suggestions and constructive criticisms, and also helped with editing several drafts of the manuscript. Elaine also shared memories of our time spent together in Montevideo and Santiago, as well as the fictional “San Tomas de Aconcagua”. One of her many useful suggestions as the novel was conceptualized evolved into the character of “Bruce” in the story; the idea of recruiting a Nanny with Bruce's many unusual gifts will allow our series characters to solve a few more mysteries more or less immediately post-partum.

  Several readers of previous books have set me puns for Roger's collection. Roger asked me to especially thank John Harman for suggesting a couple of the worst ones he used in this book.

  The cover photo of the actual Pocitos Beach in Montevideo on the Rio de la Plata was taken by Jose Porras and was downloaded from the Wikimedia Commons. Andres Sanchez's apartment would have been in one of the buildings facing the river. We lived for several months just a couple of blocks north of the nearest building in the photo.

  Our friend and colleague Manuel Ellajuene of the University of Chile introduced us to Valparaiso and Vina del Mar, as well as several of the places Roger and Suzanne visited in Santiago including the restaurant Donde Augusto. Thank you, Manuel, for sharing your lovely country with us.

  Table of Contents

  Cast of Characters

  Chapter1. Adios to a crooked cop

  Chapter2. An early morning telephone call

  Chapter3. Back to Uruguay

  Chapter4. A visit to the crime scene

  Chapter5. Killing a killer

  Chapter6. A possible investment opportunity

  Chapter7. Follow that car

  Chapter8. There's a lot to be said for a gang war

  Chapter9. Santiago, Chile

  Chapter10. Valparaiso, Viña del Mar, and Elsewhere

  Chapter11. San Tomas de Aconcagua

  Chapter12. Life on the farm

  Chapter13. Return to Montevideo

  Chapter14. Roger and Bruce go out and play

  Chapter15. The search for Mr. X

  Chapter16. Ernesto's story

  Chapter17. Face to face with Mr. X

  Other books by this author

  Excerpt 1. "The Ambivalent Corpse"

  Excerpt 2. "The Surreal Killer"

  Cast of Characters (in order of their appearance in the story)

  Martin Gonzalez-A detective lieutenant on the Montevideo police force and an honest cop

  Jose Gonzalez-A detective on the Montevideo police force and a crooked cop

  Carlos Cavernas-A small time crook, low on the bad guy food chain

  Eduardo Gomez-A Paraguayan policeman as well as several other things; Roger's friend

  Roger Bowman-Our hero, a Private Detective in Los Angeles and a recent father

  Suzanne Foster-Our heroine, Roger's wife, and a recent mother

  Robert Bowman-The new baby

  Bruce-Robert Bowman's new Nanny

  Patricia Colletti-One of Suzanne's research collaborators in Montevideo

  Bernardo Colletti-Ex-husband of Patricia and a reference for introductions when necessary

  Andrea-Another professor at the University of the Republic and a friend of Suzanne

  Andres Sanchez-The patriarch of one of the richest families in Uruguay

  Maria-Elena Sanchez-The beautiful daughter of Andres

  Ernesto Sanchez-Son of Andres, brother of Maria-Elena

  Graciela Sanchez-Wife of Andres, mother of Ernesto and Maria-Elena

  Norberto Hernandez---A small time Chilean crook and part-time punching bag

  Bernardo O'Higgins--The 19th century patriot who liberated Chile from Spain, also the street name for a big time Chilean crook in the 21st century

  "The Driver"-Useful for getting from Point A to Points B, C, and D in Chile

  Octavio Cortes---A Chilean drug kingpin who offers his help

  Alisia Cortes---Wife of Octavio

  Roberto, Fernando, and Louisa Cortes---Children of Octavio

  Septimus Cortes---Brother of Octavio

  Bartolomeo Colonista---A drug dealer who just wasn't able to answer a question correctly

  Jaime Velez---Another drug dealer who just wasn't able to answer a question correctly

  Jose Escobar---Another drug dealer, who almost got the question answered right

  Juan Sanchez---Son of Andres, brother of Maria-Elena and Ernesto

  Pedro Sanchez---Son of Andres, brother of Maria-Elena and Ernesto

  Chapter 1. Adios to a crooked cop

  Early that day, Jose Gonzalez, in his usual role as a detective on the Montevideo police force, had a loud and highly acrimonious argument with his partner. Martin Gonzalez, the partner, was proud of two things. The first was that he and Jose were not related despite the common surname. The other was that he was the ranking half of the partnership and could say whatever was on his mind with no real fear of the consequences. Martin was in fact a Detective Lieutenant and the officer with the second highest ranking in the detective division after his Captain, fortuitously not named Gonzalez. Probably half of the detectives on the Intendencia de Montevideo Police Force heard the argument, even if none of them were able to hear enough of the words to know what the argument was all about. The loud voices penetrated through the closed door of the small office shared by the two Detectives named Gonzalez, and it was obvious that they disagreed strongly about something.

  On the other side of the door Martin was saying to Jose, loudly and forcefully, “You are a lousy liar and a corrupt cop, a dirty crook and a disgrace to the police force!”

  “You can’t prove that,” was the loud reply. “If you could, we wouldn’t be having this argument.”

  “You know, and I know, that you’re crooked. That’s enough for me. Get out of here, and stay out of my sight till I’m able to get you reassigned and get myself a new partner.”

  Jose opened the door and left the room. With the door open, everyone heard Martin’s last words to Jose and more than a dozen reported them, more or less verbatim, to the Captain after they learned of Jose’s death.

  In one form or another, they all reported that Martin Gonzalez said, “You’ve stolen your last peso from the public you’re supposed to serve. I’m going to see that you never do it again!”

  Meanwhile, Jose left the police station, walked a few blocks to a convenient bus stop, and hopped on an untraceable bus to ride to the street where his next meeting was scheduled. Jose, whose second deadly sin after greed was vanity, admired himself as he sat on the bus. The suit was well tailored for his slight frame, the shoes were made from real Argentine leather rather than the cheap imitation junk from Brazil, and his hat made a fashion statement more than it just covered his head. The bus came to his stop and he pushed the button to alert the driver and stepped off the stairs from the now open back door. He walked another careful couple of blocks after ensuring nobody was following him by bus or car, and entered an apartment house almost exactly 15 minutes late for his appointment. If anything, he was early by Uruguayan social custom, but he knew that Carlos would already be at the apartment waiting for him with his payoff for services rendered. In this particular case the service rendered was to lose the contents of a police file, whi
ch would throw a major monkey wrench into the trial of an important local drug dealer.

  Jose got off of the elevator and rang the correct doorbell.

  Carlos Cavernas opened the apartment door and gestured Jose Gonalez to enter. Jose was slim, medium height, very well dressed---what would have been called dapper a few generations ago---with a fussily trimmed mustache, dark brown hair, and brown eyes. He was quite obviously Spanish in origin. Carlos was much heavier, squat and built like a fire hydrant, clean-shaven, and sloppily dressed in brown corduroy trousers and a gray seaman's cable sweater. He followed Jose into the apartment, shut the door, and led his colleague into the adjacent living room, stooping to pick up a white envelope from a coffee table in front of a long brown sofa. He passed the envelope to Jose, who looked inside, riffled the thick stack of cash to estimate the amount, and put the envelope into the breast pocket of his expensive woolen sport jacket.

  "It's not enough any more for all of the stuff you're asking me to do," Jose told Carlos. "I need a big raise, say about 50%!"

  Carlos pulled out a small pistol, which he pointed at Jose with the first hint of a genuine smile on his face since he had opened the apartment door. "That's the wrong answer. My orders were to give you the money and thank you if you just took it, but to officially terminate the relationship if you tried to get cute and ask for more. I've been looking forward to your decision. I hate cops. I hate dirty cops even more."

  He shot twice. A third and fourth eye sprouted on Jose's head as he fell to the floor, obviously dead. Carlos bent over the body and removed the envelope with the cash, which went into one of his trouser pockets.

  "Thank you very much, Senor Gonzales. I think that is the first time you have ever given me anything. I am pleased that your first gift to me is such a generous one. Now I will take a few more smaller gifts and say adios."

  The detective's pistol, badge, and wristwatch disappeared into another pocket and Carlos was ready to go. He checked the scene to make sure nothing important had been left behind and walked to the front door. Doorknobs were wiped clean of fingerprints, as were any other surfaces he might have touched. After an elaborate ritual with locks and keys, he walked down the stairs and out of the building onto the street completely unobserved. He walked to his car, parked unobtrusively several blocks away, and drove off.

  Chapter 2. An early morning telephone call

  The telephone woke us up with its incessant ringing at 5 AM on a Saturday morning. Suzanne had just fallen back asleep after Robert’s regular demand for a 4 AM feeding, so I got up to answer the phone. The connection was lousy, but I could make out Eduardo Gomez’s deep voice on the other end of the line.

  “Roger, is that you?”

  “Yes, it is,” I replied.

  “I’ve got some bad news to share. Somebody murdered Martin Gonzalez’s partner, Detective Jose Gonzalez, last night. The local cops have no idea who did it. I think that Martin is their primary suspect. There don’t seem to be any forensic clues, there were no witnesses, and we seem to have a classic locked door mystery to solve. I was wondering if you wanted to come down here to Montevideo and give me a hand trying to solve this case and keep Martin out of jail. I think I’m really going to need your help on this one, since I’m under orders to keep a low profile around here.”

  “What are you doing in Uruguay and how did you get involved in a murder case so far from your home in Paraguay?”

  “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you when you and Suzanne get here.”

  “Not Suzanne. She’s nursing an infant and can’t travel that far away from home. It has to be just me this time. I’ll figure out what needs doing here, do it, and make reservations to fly down there as quickly as I can. I can probably be there Tuesday morning. Will that work?”

  “Nursing an infant, eh? Congratulations. Tuesday morning should be OK. I’ll either meet your flight at the airport or you’ll find me visiting Martin in the Montevideo jail. Or, for all I know, I might be in there with him. Can I assume the usual American Airlines flight to Montevideo by way of Miami will be the one you plan to fly on?”

  We completed our arrangements. I got Eduardo’s cell phone number so I could reach him if things went wrong on my end and crawled back to bed to try to get a couple of more hours of sleep. I fell asleep reflecting on how much change had occurred in our already chaotic lives with Robert's birth. Among other things I missed was the intimacy we had shared as a couple, which had fallen victim to the constant fatigue of round the clock feedings and diaper changes, and the passing of the ritual of a pun or bad joke as we went to sleep every night, also a victim of chronic fatigue and now unmatched bedtimes.

  The next morning, after the usual chaos of feeding Robert and a diaper change, I told Suzanne about Eduardo’s call and my promise to fly down to Montevideo to help our friends out. That’s when I got my second surprise of this young day.

  Suzanne finished tucking Robert into the crib where he'd be safe until Bruce took over baby nurturing for the moment. “Whoa, Roger. You’re a married man now, with family and responsibilities. You can’t just leave us here and fly halfway around the world because someone tells you they need you. Robert and I need you. If you have to go to Montevideo, book three seats in Business Class and we’ll all go.”

  “Are you kidding?” I asked. “And why three tickets? Babies as young as Robert don’t need their own seats.”

  “Because I’m not planning on doing 24/7 infant care for all of the time we’re going to spend in South America. We’re bringing Robert’s Nanny with us.”

  "Are you sure you can just take off like that? How about passports for Robert and his Nanny, Bruce?"

  "Not a problem. I have to admit that I expected you to pull this stunt, Roger. You're kind of predictable, you know. We have a passport I got for Robert almost a month ago, and Bruce keeps his passport up to date. I'm still on maternity leave from UCLA for another month, so I can go anywhere I want to for a while, and I'd love some Rest and Recreation leave in South America. I'm pretty sure that Montevideo wouldn't be my first choice of exciting places to visit in South America, but I missed most of the touristic stuff the last time when we almost tripped over a corpse in the park while we were jogging. I'm sure I could enjoy a few days there as a tourist and visiting with some of my Uruguayan friends and colleagues.

  Suzanne fussed a bit with Robert's mobile, hanging over his crib. She and Robert were rewarded with a moving mobile and music. "With Bruce doing day care for Robert, we could also visit Santiago, Chile and one or two other places we've wanted to see and actually get out and see the places tourists go. Just don't get too bogged down solving murders down in Uruguay and we'll both have some fun while we're there."

  "Do you have any idea what three Business Class tickets bought a day in advance of the flight are going to cost, Suzanne?"

  She twirled a figure on the mobile. Robert gurgled with pleasure. "Yes, I do. So are we all going or are you staying here at home with us?"

  This was clearly an argument I couldn't win, so I called Eduardo to tell him to expect a small army to descend upon him Wednesday morning, not just me, and to plan accordingly.

  The next morning we were all at LAX Airport boarding the first flight of what would be a very long trip of about 6,000 miles, from Los Angeles to Dallas-Fort Worth to Miami to Buenos Aires to Montevideo..

  The long set of flights went surprisingly well, with Robert sleeping, nursing, or going for short walks with Bruce or me for most of the trip. He also enjoyed the movie until he fell asleep. Suzanne and I also got a little sleep, Suzanne between episodes of demand feeding for Robert. During one of the middle of the night feeding sessions when we were both awake, Suzanne turned to me to complain just a little bit.

  “You know what, Roger? I don’t think I’m ever going to get caught up on all of the sleep I’ve missed since Robert was born. If he didn’t need me for about 6 meals per day, I think I could just sleep through for a couple of days.” This comment was accomp
anied by a couple of large yawns.

  “Your complaint reminds me of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, at least the Disney version of the story in the movies. I think you may be overdramatizing how sleepy new mothers are. Statistically speaking, it's improbable that all those new mothers are as sleepy as that.”

  Suzanne yawned again. “OK, Roger, I sense a pun coming on. Why does my complaining about lack of sleep remind you of a beautiful maiden and seven weird, but basically good hearted, dwarfs, and what has that got to do with statistics?”

  “Because statistically speaking, six out of seven dwarfs are not Sleepy.”

  The flight to Montevideo stopped at Buenos Aires International Airport to refuel and deliver a load of Argentines to Buenos Aires, practically emptying the plane before our short flight to Uruguay. We stayed at the gate in Buenos Aires for a few hours as “in-transit” passengers. Bruce and I took turns walking Robert through the duty-free store and our little corner of the terminal. Bruce attracted a few amused glances from passing passengers. He fits the Hollywood stereotype of a flamboyant, flaming gay male perfectly, perhaps because that's exactly what he is. Bruce is from West Hollywood, and is slim and wiry, has dark hair with a cowlick, is in his mid-30s, good looking, with an infectious smile. He likes working as a live-in Nanny, a job with excellent pay, easy work in the physical sense, and free travel if you pick the right family. Bruce was great with Robert and was available 24/7 if needed.