Magic Valley Murders q1wa

MAGIC VALLEY MURDERS

Jack W Horvath

Copyright © 2019 by Jack W Horvath.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019917251 ISBN: Hardcover 978-1-7960-6811-5 Softcover 978-1-7960-6812-2 eBook 978-1-7960-6817-7

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Rev. date: 10/25/2019

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CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1 Fugitive

Chapter 2 Hideout

Chapter 3 Sweep

Chapter 4 Coyotes

Chapter 5 Crusader

Chapter 6 Federales and Outlaws

Chapter 7 Red Lights

Chapter 8 Lament

Chapter 9 Cotton

Chapter 10 Friends

Chapter 11 Blackmarket

Chapter 12 Deputies

Chapter 13 Dinner at Nine

Chapter 14 Rage

Chapter 15 Progreso

Chapter 16 Doffing Road

Chapter 17 Autopsy

Chapter 18 Saturday

Chapter 19 Natalia

Chapter 20 Millie

Chapter 21 Boca Chica Beach

Chapter 22 Faith

Chapter 23 Kidnapped

Chapter 24 Missing

Chapter 25 The Green Door

Chapter 26 Carlos

Chapter 27 Betrothed

Chapter 28 Blackbirds

Chapter 29 Deputy Down

Chapter 30 Evidence

Chapter 31 Resaca

Chapter 32 Investigation

Chapter 33 Incident

Chapter 34 Anticipation

Chapter 35 Siege

Chapter 38 FBI

Chapter 39 Steel Helmets

Chapter 40 Snipers

Chapter 41 War

Chapter 42 Escape

Chapter 43 Abilene

Chapter 44 Mexico City

Chapter 45 Sham Battle

Appendix

PROLOGUE

Knife

Harlingen, Texas, June 1957

The day was a middle in every way. It was the middle of the afternoon in the middle of the week in the middle of a record whether heat wave in the middle of June. In contrast the climate was cool in the air-conditioned Harlingen bowling alley. The local amateur bowling league teams would compete there in the evening, but the large building was empty except for one team of four enthusiasts working to sharpen their games. With just two lanes in use, one pin boy was required to place the balls on the return tracks and to rack the pins in the semiautomatic machines. The nervous manager had called in two youths in case one did not show or developed a problem during the practice session. Since only two lanes were in use, the teens had plenty of time to socialize. Other than being the same age, the two were different in appearance and attitude. Chris Schmidt was muscular, six-foot-tall, and of Nordic ancestry with his handsome usually smiling face composed of a celestial nose, blue eyes and short curly blond hair. Chris was the quarterback on the Harlingen Cardinals football team and had a muscular build. On the other hand, six-foot tall 180-pound David Garza had a slim build.. He had brown hair held in place with Vaseline hair oil, parted on the left side with a wave in the front. His white skinned oblong face featured an aquiline nose, hazel eyes set in reedy black eyelashes, medium lips that seemed frozen in a permanent frown and a square chin. David seemed to have little muscle; although, he was a champion arm wrestler at the community center and ran the mile race for the San Benito High School track team. In the working space behind the triangles of bowling pins, David gawked at his

companion’s scabbard which was attached to its owner’s belt. Protruding from it was the handle of a beautiful knife made in Mexico. Eighteen-year-old David Garza wanted that knife. The handle was black, topped with a silver eagle’s head. He knew that the 10-inch long steel blade was razor-sharp and inscribed with “made in .” David had never seen anything quite like it before and he had to have it. “Chris, let me buy the knife, please. What’s the price? Heck, I’ll double what you paid for it” David said. But before Chris could answer, a bowling ball crashed through the pins in front of David. Chris glanced at David, and then looked back as another bowling ball scattered the pins before him. Two strikes. The boys busied themselves racking up the loose pins. That done, without looking back, Chris said, “Naw, I don’t think so. I’m going to use it to clean deer carcasses when my Dad takes me hunting with him this fall.” David expected a rejection, but nevertheless, he was furious. He had prepared for a confrontation, and reaching in his jeans pocket, he produced a police style 38 revolver. With the pistol firmly gripped and his finger resting on the trigger, he pointed it at Chris and demanded, “I said let me buy the knife.” Chris look startled, then defiant. He said, “Where did you get the gun? It’s your Dad’s, isn’t it. I’ll bet it isn’t even loaded.” David demanded, “Are you sure you want to find out? Sell me the knife.” Then seeing Chris was ignoring him, he waved the gun in front of Chris’s face. To his surprise, the gun fired. The loud retort and the kick of the pistol caused David to jump and he almost dropped it. The bullet entered Chris’s jaw at an upward angle splattering bones, brain matter, blood and hair into the next lane’s pin boy area. The gory mess and foul odor surprised David. That never happened in the movies he had watched. People who were shot just fell over with no blood splatter. And the loud retort from the shot in the narrow space caused his ears to ring. Over the ringing, David heard shouts from the customers and his boss from down in the front of the alley. Nauseated, he hardly managed to turn in time to not splatter his vomit on Chris’s fallen body and on the precious knife. Recovering his composure, he wiped his mouth on a handkerchief, then threw it down. Reaching over, he unbuckled

Chris’ belt and released the scabbard with its knife. the manager shouted, “Hey, Chris, David, was that a gunshot? What’s going on back there?” David realized that he had better get out. Right Now. His boss and other people would come to investigate. However, he paused for one last look at Chris’s body. He was seized by grief, and tears welled up in his eyes. Chris had been his friend, and while he had been prepared to fight him for the knife if necessary, he had not wanted to kill him. He had just intended to convince Chris to sell him the knife. Hearing footsteps coming, David awoke from his brief reverie, and ran. He exited through the bowling lanes’ rear door into the alley behind it. Parked there was his 1941 model sky blue two-door Ford coupe. The juiced-up V-8 engine came to life on his first try with a roar through the twin straights that he had installed. Jamming the gear shift into first, he floored the gas pedal and peeled out, leaving smoke behind and two black streaks on the concrete pavement. The manager and a couple of customers ran out the back door just in time to see David’s car screech around the alley corner onto the street. “I’ll be damned,” said a bowler. “It looks like David did it, and he’s running for Mexico.” “Maybe, but he lives in San Benito. He could be headed home, ” the manager said. “I had better call the sheriff.”

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Arriving at home, David retrieved a box of bullets and a roll of cash from the drawer of his Father’s bedside, nightstand. After loading clothing in a Samsonite suitcase, he raced to the car and burned out again. He headed South through San Benito on Sam Houston Boulevard. Traffic was light this afternoon, and he quickly came to US Highway 83. They would expect him to turn East, head for Brownsville, then across the river into Matamoros and the safety of Mexico. David figured he would not make it. They would radio ahead, and he would be intercepted on the 20 miles stretch between the two cities. So, he turned West and headed up the Valley where he could get lost in the multiple towns that

encased the highway and parallel train tracks, like beads on a necklace. After denying to the sheriff that he knew anything about the afternoon’s events at the bowling alley or the whereabouts of his son David, Ernesto (Ernie) Garza went to his bedroom. Confirming his fears that the ammunition and pistol were both missing, he fell to his knees, bent over and shook his head, wailing, “David, David my son, Why, Why?”¹ Then he crossed himself and prayed fervently.

CHAPTER 1

Fugitive

Ernie Garza’s wife, Isabella, was in the bedroom sweeping the floor. Although 35, she had the tall, slim but beautifully shaped figure of a 20-year-old young lady. Her light brown skin added to her coal black hair spoke for her Mexican Indian ancestry. Her evenly featured face would have ed the test to be a model in New York City. The dial phone rang on the small table next to the bed. So, she reached over and answered the phone, “Hello.” Then she almost screamed, shouting and babbling, “David, Where are you. Where have you been. I have been so worried about you. What are you doing now?” She was interrupted as Ernie reached around her shoulder and jerked the headpiece from her. “David”, he said, “whatever you do, do not hang up while I am talking to you, and do not say where you are. The sheriff has been here, and he has deputies hiding out down the street watching our house and looking for you. So, do not even think about coming back to San Benito or Harlingen. Did you talk to an operator? They are listening to this conversation right now and figuring out where you are. Watch highway 83 from where you can’t be seen. People you know will be cruising the highway. When you are sure one is not followed run out and him. Whatever you do, let’s not be stupid. Hang up now and go somewhere else. Quickly.” And with that, Ernie slammed the phone headset down in its cradle. As he turned away from it. He came face-to-face with Isabella; her large brown eyes open wide. She hung her head and murmured, “I’m so sorry. I almost had him tell where he was. I didn’t think.” Ernie wrapped his arms around her, pressing her head to his chest, saying, “It’s okay, my love. I know how much you love our son, and how worried you’ve been. So, what you did was natural. Also, you know, I didn’t marry you for your brains.” With that he gave her a ionate kiss full on the lips.

_____

Also, brown eyed, Ernie Garza stood 6'1” in his bare feet. Like David, he was pale skinned. His round face featured brown buzz cut hair, a bulbous nose and moderately full lips. He kept himself in fair physical condition by working out daily with weights and by running around the track at the San Benito high school when it was not in use by the athletes. Nevertheless, as a successful businessman who owned a store in San Benito and a famous bordello in Matamoros, he indulged himself in good food enough to have a moderate potbelly. Ernie Garza walked back to his in-home office, picked up his walkie-talkie and, pressing the button, he gave his two lieutenants instructions. “Diego, come by the house. Stop and come up to the door. Ring the doorbell and talk to me. Then get back in the Impala and cruise Highway 83, all the way to Mission and back. Drive slowly, but do not stack up traffic. Pull over occasionally and let traffic go by. If you see David, keep driving and do not look at him. He will catch on and avoid the deputy. Lord, I hope he does. Repeat the round-trip until I tell you to quit.” “Tomás, stay away from the house. Park under a shade tree on Highway 83 West of San Benito and wait for Diego to go by. Watch for his tail and make sure the deputy does not see you. Let them get a quarter mile or more ahead, then follow. Keep other cars between you and the deputy. Do not let him catch on that you are following. Make sure that you are not being followed. As you any motels or other obvious hideout spots, drive slowly, looking for David. Stop when you see him coming to you and open the door from the inside. When you have him, drive to the shaded hideout that we have prepared at Palm Drive. Stay with David watching out for police until I tell you you’re free to go.” Ernie had just turned off the walkie-talkie and stowed it in his desk drawer when the doorbell rang. Ernie picked up some papers from the desktop and pretended to be studying them while Isabella answered the door. She escorted the sheriff into Ernie’s office and left. “Ernie, you son-of-a-bitch,” Sheriff Bob Dotson said. “I would arrest you for obstruction of justice right now except we both know that you could post bond, and that no jury in Cameron County would convict you without more evidence

than what I’ve got. But, we’re going to catch that murdering son of yours, and we’ve got witnesses and stuff from the bowling alley that will put him in the electric chair.” “Now Bob,” Ernie, said. “If you do arrest my son, there will be witnesses and evidence to prove that someone else shot that poor pin boy.” The Sheriff’s statement had shaken him, but he would not show it. Bob glared at Ernie. “Yeah, you could do that, couldn’t you? How much would you have to pay someone to take the fall for your son? What’s the price? What would cause a man to risk life imprisonment and maybe the electric chair? Ahh, I know. He would get a lifetime ticket for free service at your Red Door whore house in Matamoros. Well, we’ll just have to see how that goes. Why don’t you just have your son to turn himself in, and then try that?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” Ernie said. But the Sheriff was on a roll. He continued, “Well, it doesn’t matter. Turn himself in or get captured. Either way he’s going to be in jail.” Whipping out a sheet of paper, he slapped it down in front of Ernie. Ernie picked it up and scanned it. It was a drawing of his son’s face. A fair likeness. Above the face were the large letters, “WANTED FOR MURDER.” Additional lettering at the bottom said not to approach the dangerous fugitive but to report him to the nearest police. Sheriff Dodson said. “Copies of that have been distributed to every police department in the Valley and to post offices where they posted it on their bulletin boards. I also talked to Sheriff Leroy Thompson in Edinburg. He said he’ll have his deputies all briefed and on the lookout for your son. You may have snuck him across into Mexico, but sooner or later he’ll want to return to the good old USA. Then we will have him.” He paused to catch his breath, then continued with a sneer, “And by the way, the Schmidt family has scheduled the funeral for one o’clock on Friday. As a local San Benito leading businessman, don’t you think you should attend?” Turning on his heel, he said over his shoulder as he left, “We’ll see just how good Billingsley is down there in Brownsville.” Returning his gaze to the poster, Ernie felt acid welling up in his throat. He knew

that Cameron County DA Don Billingsley was an excellent prosecuting attorney with a near 100% conviction rate for a couple of decades.

CHAPTER 2

Hideout

The three-car caravan was approaching Donna headed east on Highway 83 on the return trip. Tomás was hanging back and scanning the buildings along the south side the road as instructed. The north side of the highway was blocked from buildings being next to it by the railroad track that ran parallel to the highway through the entire length of the Lower Valley. As he approached a motel, David stepped out from behind bushes and waved. Pulling over, Tomás was backing up as David ran to him. Jumping in after the car stopped, he bent over to be out of sight as Tomás ordered. They sat there until a break in traffic allowed a U-turn into the middle lane of the three Lane Highway. Then they merged into traffic. Realizing that David’s bent over position would get uncomfortable, Tomás instructed him to crawl over in the back seat and lay there. “There’s a water bottle on the floor for you but try to drink without sitting up. Your papa has a hideout for you, and we should be there in maybe 30 minutes or so. Man are you in trouble! Cops are everywhere. They’re on the lookout for you.” David was tired, not having slept during the night. So, he dozed off, but woke when the car went bump, bump over the railroad tracks. “You can sit up now,” said Tomás. “We’re on Palm Drive. No cops here. Your Father has a hideout for you in that vacant lot,” said Tomás as he pointed. Palm Drive was a narrow two-lane concrete strip lined by tall palm trees on both sides. Houses lined Palm Drive on the west side, but it appeared that no one wanted a home on the first lot, close to the railroad track and the busy highway. It had never been cleared and was grown-up in trees and bushes. Two signs were nailed to the trunk of one of the tall palm trees. One said in large letters, “KEEP OUT.” The other one under it said, “DANGEROUS WILD ANIMALS ROAM HERE.”

Tomás turned into a partial driveway entering the lot and drove through the mesquite trees and cedar bushes until the car was hidden from the road. There was a clearing with a small trailer house, also not visible from the palm drive. Standing next to the car, David was amazed looking at the hideout. Two wires led to the trailer house snaking through the trees. So, it had electricity. A pole stuck up from the top of the trailer house with a television antenna, just tall enough not to be seen from the road. So, it had entertainment. A window unit air-conditioner was attached to the trailer house, and a butane gas tank sat nearby. So, it would be cool inside, and he could cook food. He walked to the trailer house, stepped up and opened the door. The hinges on the door squeaked. David hated that. He thought, I’ll have to oil those hinges. Entering, he saw that it had a couple of chairs and a table on one end. A small refrigerator and stove sat next to the table. In the middle there was a one-person bed folded up on the wall. Opposite the bed was a shelf with books. On the other end was a small sofa. Windows on both sides, and both ends allowed the sunlight to brighten the interior. The windows had curtains which could be closed for privacy and for television viewing. A small television and a telephone sat on a stand near the sofa. All the comforts of home. David walked over and examined the books. He noticed that all the titles were in English. There were novels: murder mysteries and adventure stories. Moving on. He sat down on the sofa. Tomás had followed him in. Addressing him, David asked, “Did papa prepare all this just for me?” Tomás explained, “No, your Father bought this lot a long time ago. Later he put this trailer house here were certain guests from Mexico can hide while they carry on business and pleasure before returning home. Since your trouble, he had it stocked with books and food for your stay.” David said, “This is nice, but it will get lonely and old pretty fast. Just how long will I be staying here.” Raising his shoulders with his hands palms up, Tomás replied, “I don’t know. I’m sure that your Father will be having his lawyers work on getting the charges against you dismissed. The courts are slow and that may take a while. You will have to be patient. Your Father wants to know when you are safely here.” Having said that, Tomás stepped over and, picking up the telephone headset, he

dialed a number. A pause, then he said, “It’s Tomás. We made it to the hideout.” Another pause, then he held the phone out to David. Taking it, David said, “Hello Papa. This place is nice. Thank you for it.” In his Matamoros office in his favorite recliner, Ernie said, “I’m glad to hear it. Enough of this. Let’s speak English. You need to speak English all the time so that you sound like a gringo not like a Mexican. You may have to be there for two or three months. It may take that long for our lawyers to get action from the courts.” David said, “But this place will get lonely.” “You will just have to endure that. Tell Tomás where you left your car. And now listen. This is very important. Did anyone see you shoot that Schmidt boy.” “No sir. The two of us were the only pin boys on duty at that time a day.” “Okay, good. Now another question, did anyone see you with the pistol.” “No, sir.” “Very good. Where’s the pistol now.” “I have it in my pocket.” “Then give it to Tomás.” “Yes sir, but that will leave me without any defense. What if someone comes here and attacks me?” “Give me credit for seeing to your safety, boy. There’s another pistol under the mattress in the bed. The reason we are not surrendering you to the custody of the sheriff’s department is concern for your safety. Young prisoners such as you are assaulted by other prisoners when they are jailed. I don’t want that to happen to my son. You must not go out and be seen by the people who live in the houses nearby. There is a path in the trees of that lot. It makes a large loop going from between the water well pump and the outhouse back into the undeveloped land beyond those houses on Palm Drive. You may jog around it for exercise. But stay out of sight always. And, carry the other pistol with you. There are coyotes

that roam in the undeveloped land. Now, do I hear an agreement.” “Yes sir. I will be an invisible ghost.” “Don’t be a smartass. Your life depends upon you following instructions. We’re going to get your record cleared. I want you to go to Harvard or some other fine school and study to learn how to run a business. You should earn an MBA degree. And I don’t want your stupid mistake in the bowling alley to mess up your chances to have a good life in your own business empire.” David was astonished and impressed. He had not realized that his Father had such ambitions for him. But he had to ask, “Okay, but what’s an MBA?” “MBA means Master of Business istration. It is a graduate degree, and I wish that I had a chance at an education like you do. I’ve had to learn the hard way how to manage my businesses, and I made many costly mistakes. I want you to do better. Now let me talk to Tomás again.” To Tomás, Ernie said, “Stay with David for a day or two. Make sure that he is settled and calm and looks like he will obey my instructions. Then call me back when you’re ready to leave.” As he hung up the phone, Tomás noticed that David had stepped into the small closet like bathroom built into the trailer house. He went and rapped on the door. David opened it and asked, “The shower works, so why is there no water in the commode?” “Your Father had this place set up with labor from Mexico, and I think he forgot to order that a septic tank be installed. So, without that, the workers built a drainpipe for the shower that runs underground to the ditch by the railroad track. Everyone has been afraid to tell your Father that he made such a mistake as forgetting to order a septic tank. So, there is an outhouse. It was installed for the workers, and that’s that.” David laughed. Then he went over and lowered the fold-up bed. Reaching under the mattress, he brought out the pistol and a box of bullets. The gun was a 32 caliber Colt Model 1903 Pocket Hammerless, like the ones used by many officers in the American military in World War II. David’s eyes went wide as he hefted the pistol feeling its weight, and said, “Madre.”

“Don’t point that thing at me, it might be loaded,” was Tomás’ comment. “And do not touch the trigger. Some guns have hair triggers, and they fire if you just touch them.” “Yeah, I know,” David said, recalling the pistol firing in the bowling alley. He removed his finger from the trigger and placed it on the outside of the trigger guard. Then, looking at the gun more closely, “Hey, where’s the hammer.” Tomás explained, “The hammer is covered and hidden from view under the rear of the slide there so that it won’t snag on clothing. You do not want to fire that gun unless you’re in real danger. Someone in one of the houses around here would hear it and might come investigating or they might telephone the police to report it.” David asked, “How do you know so much about this gun?” “My Father fought for America in World War II. He has a pistol like that. He took it from a dead officer and managed to hide and keep it. David nodded and slipped the gun in his blue jeans right front pocket. Fortunately, the pants had deep pockets and the gun fitted in without showing; although, anyone with gun savvy could tell from the characteristic bulge that it was there. Satisfied, he took the gun and ammunition box and slipped them both back under the mattress. Then he took out and handed the murder weapon to Tomás. As he did that, David said, “I have another concern.” Pointing toward the back window. He continued, “the water well is just 10 feet or so from the outhouse. So, couldn’t the water be polluted.” “Not to worry. I once heard your Father explaining that to a guest. The workers who drilled the well had oilfield experience. They cemented in that pipe down where they had drilled through a limestone layer. That water comes from a deep aquifer and is very good.” “Okay, I’m here, and I’m happy with this place. You can go now.” “No, your Father told me to stay. This is for your good, in case someone saw the car turn into this forest. When I drive out of here, it will be 3:00 or 4:00 AM with the car lights off until I’m away from the property. Again, all for your

safety.” “I’ll be asleep at that time of morning. You’ll be gone then when I wake up tomorrow?” Tomás chuckled. “No, but you’re anxious for me to go now, aren’t you? Do you want to find a girlfriend somewhere around here? I will go maybe the morning after tomorrow or maybe later. We’ll just have to see what develops.” “I’m going to go for a run,” David said. That reminds me, what about a change of clothe?. I suppose they’re here somewhere since y’all have thought and prepared so much about all this.” “Chinga! I was afraid that you would do that. I’m going to have to run with you. Look at the sofa. There’s two drawers under it. Your clothes are there.” Busting into English in his anger, David growled, “I’m no baby. I don’t need you to go with me.” Tomás replied in English. “No, you do need me. Or I need my balls which your Father would take and feed to his hogs if I let you get killed by a pack of coyotes or a bobcat in the woods. While I am here, your safety is my responsibility.” Knowing now that, Tomás spoke English, David continued in the language, “Well I hope you’re in good shape, then. I’m used to running a couple of miles every day. I don’t need a lazy Mexican slowing me down.” Tomás bristled at the insult and balled up his fists, but then after hesitating, he switched the subject, “I need the clothes that you’re wearing. They have blood on them, and they are stinking up the place. You may not be able to smell it, but I can. And think about it. They are evidence that you were close to the Schmidt boy when he was shot. We need to make them disappear, forever. And wash your hands and face.” While David was changing clothes, Tomás stepped outside. When he came back he had a cardboard box into which he put David’s contaminated garments. David was dressed in a white T-shirt and shorts set, with black tennis shoes all of which he wore during the school year in PE class. To David’s surprise, Tomás was also dressed in a white T-shirt with brown shorts and black tennis shoes.

David asked, “You keep cardboard boxes and exercise clothes in your car?” “I keep lots of stuff in my car. Working for your Father, I must be ready to go anytime he says, and often to stay away for days. My car is my office and my home away from home. Now let’s get this running out of your system. This ‘lazy Mexican’ can run you into the ground.” I need to pee first, David said, as he headed for the outhouse. Opening its door, he got hit full in the face by the stench, and stepped back, letting a spring pull door closed. There was a slight breeze blowing off and on from the East in the partly cloudy day, so stepping to the north side of the outhouse David peed on a tree. As he pulled up his shorts, he said, “Super David fertilizes this tree. Just watch, Tomás, this tree will outgrow all the others around here.” “More likely it will be dead in the morning,” quipped Tomás. David shot the finger at Tomás and took off trotting along the path into the forest. “Pinche estúpido,” Tomás replied as he followed a couple of yards behind. As he ran, David counted his steps to measure the distance. This was a technique he had used often before, and he knew the length of his step when trotting. As they returned to a small clearing, he said, “about a half mile loop. I will do it four times today. Do you still think you can keep up with me?” “Easily.” About halfway around the loop on the third trip, a gray canine stepped out on the trail about 10 yards in front of David. David stopped and the two looked at each other. A loud bang on David’s right side startled him into jumping to the left, bumping into a mesquite tree trunk and falling. Looking up he saw Tomás standing with his pistol in both hands pointed forward toward the now prostrate animal. As David stood up, Tomás approached the animal cautiously, keeping the gun pointed at it. “Why did you shoot that dog?” David said. “I was going to try and make friends with it.” Prodding the body with his toe, Tomás replied, “This is no dog. It’s a coyote. If you had tried that, it would’ve ripped your throat out. And by the way, wild dogs

are dangerous, too.” Now standing next to Tomás, David said, “Damn. I don’t like this. I think I want to go back and stay in a motel in town.” “The Sheriff’s office has distributed copies of your face on a wanted poster all over the Valley. You would be staying in jail instead of a motel if you went back into town. And you would be Chinga’d finding out the hard way that jail birds are very bad people.” David’s gaze went to Tomás’s gun. “That’s just like the one under the mattress, he observed.” “I told you my Father had one like it,” Tomás explained. “When he died, it became mine. But this is not that one. It’s a family heirloom, souvenir of the great war. Too valuable to carry around, so I bought this one just like it. I had my pants tailored with deep right pockets for this pistol. Even these exercise shorts. Now we’re through running for today. You follow me back and go into the trailer and wait. I’m going to scope the neighborhood to make sure no one is investigating that shot. If they are. We may have to leave quickly. So be prepared.” David watched through a trailer window as Tomás bent over low and disappeared into the bushes headed toward the street. It was over 30 minutes later when he returned. “We’re lucky, he said. There’s no sign of movement in the neighborhood except for some small dogs barking. My guess is that the closest neighbors have heard gunshots before, and so they’re ignoring it. Also, I imagine many of them are at work. Everyone must make a living. Now trade guns with me. I’ll show you how to clean your gun, the coyote killer. Then, you can practice cleaning on it” Two days later, David awoke from a good night sleep to find that he was alone in the trailer. Good, he thought. Now I can explore my new neighborhood. He had been planning this in his mind. He would cut across through the forest out back, leaving the vicinity. He would avoid being seen, and maybe find someone friendly somewhere not too far away without compromising the secrecy of his hideout.

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Another day ed, and Ernie’s telephone rang. Expecting his manager to be calling from Matamoros, Ernie said, “¿Hola?” To Ernie’s surprise, the tinny voice on the phone said, “Papa, I am going crazy here alone, and I want a car. I’ve looked around, and there’s nothing around here but farms. I need to be able to drive around and find some company.” “Shut up. And listen. I will call you back from a safe phone. Stay there next to your phone.” With that, Ernie slammed the headpiece down on the phone cradle ending the conversation. Disturbed and exasperated, he got up and prepared for a car trip. Thirty minutes later, he called back from a friend’s house. “David, what do you mean you’ve looked around? I told you that you are in hiding and the puto police are looking for you. And speak English. I also told you that you need to practice your English so that you sound like a gringo.” “It’s safe, Papa. I stayed off the highway and just walked around some farms in the neighborhood. I guarantee you that no policeman saw me. Send me a car, and I will stay off Highway 83 and stay out of town. Even the farmhouses here are a quarter to half a mile apart. I need to find some friends or at least a friend. Someone I can talk to. I’ll speak English. And I’ll stay on the back roads.” Ernie was silent for a moment, thinking. He realized now that it was unreasonable to expect his teenager to behave like an adult criminal. He would have to change his plans. Should he send his son to swim across the river to Mexico like a wetback in reverse. No, he still wanted his son to grow up to be an American businessman, not a Mexican criminal. He would have to help him be safe in Texas. He would have to give his son more specific instructions, some that a teenager could follow. “¿Papa?” came the tinny voice. “Okay, listen. I will send Tomás with a car for you and Diego will follow to pick him up. Tomás will also bring you some bleach for your hair. You must become a blonde and grow a mustache which must also be blonde. With your light skin, you can for a gringo. This will change your looks enough, so that maybe a policeman won’t recognize you from a wanted poster. But understand this, some

policemen are real professionals. A professional might see through your disguise no matter how good it is. So, when we do this to satisfy your loneliness, there is some risk and it is to your life. This time, you must follow instructions. Do not be obvious about it, but if you see a policeman, do not go up to him and talk. Just drive or walk away. that Texas has a seat in their electric chair for you if they catch you.” “Yes, Papa. But does it have to be blonde. Can I have red hair instead. There was a redheaded gringo at school, and he looked good.” “You’re not taking this seriously enough, David. We will change your hair color, and you will take the treatment that we send to you, whatever color it is. And the car will be an old and cheap one. You will not be driving a new Cadillac or Lincoln. But you will take what we give you. The engine will be in good condition, but you will swallow your pride and drive an old junker. Policemen will not think that the son of Ernie Garza would be driving such a car. The car, if you must have one, will be part of your disguise. Again, and I cannot emphasize this too much, this is your life that is at risk. I have heard descriptions of what it looks like to be burned in the electric chair. It is not pretty. Think about that.” “Yes, Papa, and thank you Papa.”

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CHAPTER 3

Sweep

Near Pharr, Texas, May 1957

Mark Halas swung his hoe down in a vicious chop and another Johnson grass weed fell to the ground. There were a variety of weeds that were native to South Texas. Johnson grass was the most common, but others included sunflowers, the “careless weed” and the “hell of a potato.” Mark detested all weeds, but particularly Johnson grass. They had no business infesting the family’s cotton field. The weeds sucked up water needed by the cotton plants and would interfere with harvesting the cotton. Getting rid of them was hard work, which the teenager also hated. A loud whistle interrupted Mark’s crusade against the weeds. Turning toward the sound, he saw that the “wetbacks”² were breaking for lunch. They were all headed for shade under the citrus orchard trees that bordered the cotton field. Shouldering his hoe, Mark followed suit. They all sat in the shade of a couple of the trees. The Mexicans opened the brown paper lunch sacks and extracted wraps of beans and hamburger meat in corn tortillas. As they ate, Mark munched on his lunch of baloney and American cheese with mayonnaise and mustard in bread sandwiches. They drank cold water from the lids of one-gallon thermos jugs. Six-foot tall 165-pound Mark had the slim muscular build a farmworker. He had brown hair held in place with Wild Root Cream Oil, parted on the left side with a wave in the front. His darkly suntanned oblong face featured hazel eyes, an aquiline nose, medium thin lips and a square chin. A worker named Emilio Munoz held out a jalapeno pepper towards Mark saying in Spanish, “Chico³, this will make your food better.” Mark held up his hand in the universal stop gesture, saying, “Gracias. No.”

The Mexicans all laughed, and Mark felt his face turn red. Emilio waved the jalapeno in Mark’s direction, renewing the offer. Mark took another bite of the sandwich and turned away from Emilio. This brought on another round of laughter. Afterwards, the Mexicans chattered as everybody munched on their food. Something moved in the distance, the view unclear because the air was wavering from the heat, and because of mirages of water on the horizon. Mark squinted as the image came closer and resolved into a walking man. A few minutes later, Mark swallowed what he had in his mouth and said to the stranger standing now in front of him, “Hello, I’m Mark. How can I help you?” The stranger hesitated, then replied, “David. What’s going on here today?” Mark was taken aback by the effrontery of the question. Wanting to be friendly but not able to keep some sarcasm his voice, he said, “We’re eating lunch. But today it’s weeding the field.” David looked around at the field with the rows of tall cotton plants,. This was new to him being a city dweller before now. Turning back to Mark he asked, “The sun is very hot, can I get out of it and sit next to you in the shade?” Mark nodded and waved his hand toward the empty dirt nearby. Once seated, David continued, “Look, I’m new around here. I live in the city and I’m not familiar with all this farming stuff. I’m trying to get an idea what farming is about. Also, I could use more money. How about I your crew and chop weeds too. What kind of pay is there and how much do you think I could earn a day?” Mark thought he liked this newcomer. He told him the pay scale and how much an average man earned a day. “I don’t think you’ll like farm work, but you’re welcome to us, we have a couple of extra hoes and you can use one. What did you say your last name was?” “I didn’t say, but it’s Sanchez,” he lied. Mark was surprised, as he thought David having white skin and speaking English with no accent was a gringo like himself. “Well, my family name’s Halas. You said you were from the city. Did you mean, Pharr or McAllen?”

David continued to fabricate. “No, I’m from Laredo,” he said, picking a city far enough away that he thought would allow him to keep from giving himself away by the details. He had seen Laredo on a highway sign saying the distance was 147 miles. “Where do you live?” “A couple of miles North of here on Sugar Road.” The rest of the crew nearby had observed David approach and they strained to hear the conversation between the two teenagers. Emilio said to another wetback, “They look like brothers, don’t they.” He agreed. Mark led the way to the extra hoes and gave David a sharp one. “Stay with me, and I’ll show you the technique for chopping weeds. As Einstein said, ‘Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler.’ So, I will not make showing how to do it complicated. You will find that it’s a pain in the hands and arm muscles.” David stared at Mark and thought, Quoting Einstein. This guy is pompous and maybe spaced out. I wonder what he’s smoking. I can’t smell marijuana on him. Mark took a file and sharpened his hoe. Then he drank another lid of water, went back into the field with David and resumed work. One or two at a time, the wetbacks followed suit. Later, an airplane flew low over the field from west to east just 1000 feet up or so. Everyone paused to watch it then resumed their work. None of them, including Mark, thought much of it. Airplanes flew low around the area to spray or dust crops to kill insect infestations. But, about an hour later a pickup truck turned off the road onto the dirt track bordering the cotton field followed by a van. Both were tan in color and official looking. The vehicles stopped in a cloud of dust. A couple of uniformed border patrolmen jumped out of the truck. Seeing this, the Mexicans dropped their hoes and turned to run away. One of the border patrolmen pulled a gun from his holster and fired a shot into the air, shouting, “Alto.” They all stopped and turned to face him. One raised his arms in surrender, then the others followed suit. The Patrolmen asked in Spanish if any of the workers had identification showing they were Americans or were here legally. David had left his identification back in the trailer house, not wanting to be identified anyhow. So, he kept his mouth shut like the others. Mark wondered why but decided to say nothing.

In a matter of just a few minutes, David and the illegals were loaded in the van, and the two trucks drove away, leaving another cloud of dust in their wake. Mark stood alone staring after them. After the dust settled, he picked up his hoe and resumed his attack on the weeds. Later, as the sun dipped low in the sky, a battered, rattling green and brown 1949 Ford “Woody” station wagon turned from the road onto the dirt track. It pulled to a stop near Mark. His Father, John Halas, stepped out of the vehicle and stared around at the empty field. Farmer John stood six-foot tall. Working his farmland 12 hours a day kept his weight down to 180 pounds. He was muscular from hard work. He had brown hair which he kept in a flat top style but was usually hidden in a wide brimmed straw hat. His darkly suntanned oblong face featured light blue eyes, an aquiline nose, medium thin lips and a square chin. Turning to Mark he asked, “What happened to the wetbacks?” On hearing Mark’s description, he shook his head and said, “Oh well, there will be more of them come looking for work tomorrow and the next day. The weeds can wait, but that’s too bad for those men. We owed them money and maybe we’ll never see them again.” They loaded the hoes water jugs and trash into the station wagon and drove home. After turning off the two-lane concrete strip named Sugar Road onto their gravel driveway, John stopped the station wagon briefly to let Mark out to retrieve their copy of The Monitor, the afternoon McAllen newspaper, from their front yard. The sun slowly sank behind the horizon, producing red, orange and yellow clouds.

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CHAPTER 4

Coyotes

The Halas home was a small, five room, stucco house on concrete brick blocks. It contained two-bedrooms, a living room, kitchen and a little screened in back porch. The two men paused on the back porch to wash their hands and faces in a wash pan on a bench. Entering the kitchen, John kissed his wife, Margaret. Handsome, white skinned, brown haired, hazel eyed and carrying 130 pounds on her 5'3” frame., Margaret loved her husband John which was something when she stopped and thought about it that surprised her for John was no prince charming. As a young girl she had often dreamed of being swept off her feet and marrying a prince like in the movies and the stories that she read. Then to her disappointment when she graduated from high school there was no prince charming. John had graduated from the same school two years earlier being two years her elder. He inherited a small 10-acre piece of land with a few citrus trees and a small home on it from his Father who died young of drinking too much alcohol. After two years of farming and living alone, John was ready to marry. He could not conceive of living the rest of his life lonely. He ed Margaret whom he never dated but always considered to be a charming beautiful girl. So, he looked her up and they dated for a year before he proposed. After three years of living at home with her parents, Margaret was ready for John and quickly accepted his proposal. Mark was born a year later. “Dinner is ready,” Margaret said. Turning to Mark, she continued, “But the slop bucket is full, so slop the hogs before you sit down to eat.” The “slop bucket” was a 5-gallon pail that sat under the kitchen sink. Tired though he was, Mark picked up the bucket and carried it out through the back porch, careful not to spill any of its contents. He carried it about 50 yards past the fenced chicken pen to the hog pen. The family’s two dogs named Churchill and Spot accompanied Mark. Churchill was a large German Shepherd while spot was a medium size brown and white dog of uncertain ancestry. Grunting, he

lifted the bucket over the fence and poured it into a wooden trough. Two large hogs greedily gobbled it down. Returning to the house, he returned the slop bucket to its place under the sink. Margaret held up a hand in a stop gesture to keep Mark from seating himself at the table, at the same time pointing toward the wash pan on the back porch. Sullenly, Mark went back and washed his hands again. Seated around the dinner table, which was also in the kitchen, was the entire family consisting of Mark, his two parents, mother, Margaret, and Father, John, and two sisters, Elizabeth and Jane. Mark was 18 years old, Elizabeth 16, and Jane 15. Elizabeth had set the table, and she dished out a hearty serving of Hungarian style chicken and dumplings soup into a bowl at each place. The soup was orange from paprika seasoning. The kitchen-dining room was hot. That and the hot meal combination made everyone sweat a little. All the windows were open with insects, mostly kept out by screens, and a cool evening breeze blew through the house, providing some relief. After dinner, Mark turned on the radio in the living room and the youngsters gathered around to listen to programs such as Sky King, the Lone Ranger, and Superman. Sitting in a cushioned chair, John removed the rubber band from the rolled-up newspaper and spread it out to look at the front page. The headline at the top said that the border patrol had brought in 800 additional men to the lower Rio Grande Valley to remove all the illegal workers from Mexico and from other countries to the South. A second article further down the page reported a murder of a teenager in a bowling alley in Harlingen and the search for the responsible fugitive. That article received little attention as John stared at the top one. “Dammit.” He said, “The government is going to force us to hire their contract workers from Mexico that they’re calling, ‘braceros’. The paper says that the farmers using those workers will have to provide housing with electricity, wooden floors and screened windows for the braceros. And they’re going to tell us how much we must pay them, too. That’s going to cost me a lot of money. We may have to give up farming.” “Let me read that when you’re through with it,” said Mark. “The government will have to increase the price that it gives cotton, wont it. Otherwise, they’ll force all the farmers in Texas out of business, not just us.” “Well…, yes I guess so,” John allowed. “At any rate, I’ll keep farming if the

FHA⁴ keeps backing me, and we can make some extra money during the winter by packing fruit. Winter vegetables crops can also help, but they’re a gamble. If Florida’s winter vegetables get hit by freeze, and California’s crop dies in a drought, then tomatoes and carrots can pay off big time. But if both of those crops come in, there’s a surplus. Then the price drops out the bottom. and it’s sometimes better to just plow the crop under than to spend the money harvesting it at a loss.” With that John ran down and stopped his commentary. He just glumly continued to read the newspaper. After another day working on the farm, the family again ate a good homecooked dinner. Afterwards, John said to his son Mark, “Skip listening to the radio. Let me tell you something else about the old country where our ancestors came from. As you know, my Dad brought me and your grandmother, God rest her soul, from Hungary when I was 12 years old. …” That night, lying in their double bed, John was tired and wanted to sleep but Margaret felt romantic. After she turned over toward him and laid her hands on him it didn’t take long before John obliged her. Afterward lying on their backs in bed to his chagrin she initiated pillow talk. After some warm loving conversation, she said, “John, your big toenail cut my leg. I know you’re busy and working hard on the farm, but you need to take the time to cut your toenails. There’s holes in some of your socks where the big toenail cuts through. I must darn them. I’m busy too, and that unnecessarily takes up some of my time.” “Um, well okay,” he said. And then almost instantly, he was snoring. It didn’t take long before a relaxed Margaret’s softer sound of steady breathing in sleep ed him.

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The Halas family was crowded in the small house. With the parents occupying the front bedroom, the two girls had the other bedroom. Directly behind the house, under a separate roof, was a garage with an attached storeroom. The garage had a dirt floor, but the storeroom had a wooden one. Mark slept in the storeroom on an army surplus cot.

His Father insisted that they should go to bed at 8:00 o’clock in the evening. When Mark grumbled about the early bedtime, John regaled him with stories about boxing champions getting 8 to 10 hours of sleep each night, like Carmen Basilio or John L. Sullivan. His Father wanted Mark to be a boxer, but Mark didn’t like getting hit. When he couldn’t avoid a fight at school, he would step into the other boy and make it a wrestling match. John was excited about Carmen Basilio angling to get a middleweight championship bout with Sugar Ray Robinson. He always listened to championship boxing matches on the radio. After exiting the house through the back porch, Mark decided he wanted an orange to eat. The house and ading sheds and pens were surrounded by an acre of a variety of different kinds of citrus trees. In addition to oranges, there were grapefruit, lemons, and tangerines. One tree was a crossbreed between grapefruit and tangerines. It produced large fruit which looked like grapefruit on the outside, but the juicy inside was sweet like tangerines. These were called “tangelos.” The trees bore fruit mostly in the winter, but there was always a few out of season. Mark picked a navel orange and using his fingernails peeled it as he headed back to his small bedroom. The electricity that powered the radio and the lights in the house did not extend to the garage. So, Mark lay in bed reading a book by the light of a kerosene lamp until he fell asleep. The family had a black cat which they naturally named “Blackie.” Blackie would jump up on the bed, and Mark would pet him while he read. He found the cat’s purring to be relaxing, and it helped him fall asleep. The two dogs sometimes slept on the storeroom floor, and sometimes on wallows, which they scratched out in the dirt under the storeroom. Around midnight, the Halas family slumbers were disturbed by a pack of coyotes in the wild land behind the property, yipping and howling. The sound was not unusual, and the humans dozed back off. Churchill however was agitated. He barked, and then went running back toward the noise intending to put an end to the impudent canines that dared challenge him on his territory. Spot had a different reaction. He went into the storeroom and hid under the bed. The sounds of a dogfight followed from behind the property. Then, there was silence. Churchill did not return. At sunrise the next morning, the two Halas men armed themselves and walked west toward the back of the property. John carried a Browning A-5 semi-automatic 16-gauge shotgun fully loaded with four shells in the magazine and one in the chamber. He carried ten extra shells in his pants pockets. Mark carried an antique 22 single shot rifle and a box of cartridges for it

in a pocket. The rifle had been handed down from his Grandfather. The manufacturer was unknown, but John had told him he thought it was a Winchester 61. As they walked along the irrigation ditch which bordered their property on the north side, John said, “That pea shooter won’t do you much good if we are attacked by several coyotes at once. I won’t be able to shoot one in your direction without hitting you. If that attack happens, use it as a club after you’ve taken your shot. Don’t let one of them get at your throat or get you down. Maybe you ought to go back home and let me handle this. Mark said, “I can’t let you go alone, and I can take care of myself.” The back of the property was marked by a deep drainage ditch design to prevent floods during heavy rains. They descended and ascended the sides of the ditch hopping across the muddy bottom. The undeveloped land beyond was occupied by Mesquite trees, cactuses and cedar bushes. Weeds were spotty, the land in semi-desert for lack of sufficient rain. About 200 yards into the wilderness they encountered a single male coyote. It made the fatal mistake of freezing in place instead of bolting for cover. Both men shouldered their guns and they fired simultaneously, the noise from the rifle was drowned out by the blast from the shotgun. The coyote flew into the air spraying blood from its neck. Simultaneously a covey of quail took off from a nearby patch of Johnson grass, their wings making sounds, ‘quick, quick, quick.’ The coyote landed several feet back and lay on the ground bleeding and twitching. John pumped the shotgun and kept it pointed at the coyote until it stopped movement and lay still. They cautiously approached the prostate animal. John probed it with the gun barrel, but it did not respond. It was definitely dead. The shotgun blast had nearly separated its head from its body. Close examination showed that the 22 round had hit the coyote’s chest behind its front shoulder. John commented, “I guess the shotgun blast killed it, but the bullet to the chest would’ve done the job if I had missed. Good shot Mark.” “Thanks, Dad.” For the next hour they searched the closest mile into the wilderness including the property behind the next-door neighbors’ lands. They saw neither hide nor hair of Churchill. they gave up and returned home. Margaret met them at the back door, asking, “Well did you find him.”

In a discouraged tone of voice, John said, “No. We found nothing of Churchill. I’m afraid that he either ed the coyote pack, or more likely, they ate him bones, hide and all.” With her hand in front of her mouth, Margaret said, “Oh John, you know he would not them.” Then she broke out in tears and turned and dashed back into the house. As the reality of John statement fully hit home, tears also streaked Mark’s face. Trying to hide his crying, he turned and went into the storeroom to lie face down on his cot suppressing sobs. John hollered out to him, “Stow your rifle son, and let’s go. We’re late getting out to the field and our cotton-picking crew will be waiting on us.”

CHAPTER 5

Crusader

México City, México, May 1957

The Mayor of Mexico City, Alexander Lopez Sanchez Fernandez de Cortés, sipped on a fine glass of mescal. He looked at the worm in the bottom of the bottle of liquor with distaste. The clear golden liquor was sharp on his tongue, like whiskey, and a small quantity readily produced intoxication. But Alexander was never drunk enough to eat the worm. It would be added to the slop for his hogs. He sat in a very comfortable heavily padded recliner with a view through wide windows of the courtyard in front of his adobe house and the street beyond. The mayor’s 5'8” frame ed a rounded body with a potbellied 280 pounds. He had black hair, a round face, dark brown skin, piercing brown eyes, a bulbous nose, thick lips and a strong pointed chin. Alexander pulled on a rope cord hanging next to his chair. In response, a servant approached him from an adjacent room. “Summon Perez for me,” he commanded. At six foot two and 230 pounds of muscle and bone, Lucas Perez was a giant among men. He had black hair, brown skin and eyes, a Roman nose, smiling thin lips and a strong pointed chin. He never strayed far from his boss except when assigned a chore that took him away. So, in about five minutes, he answered the summons. Alexander offered him a glass of the mescal, which he politely declined. `Then addressing him, Alexander said, “I saw Alex leave the courtyard into the street and wander toward the central square a few minutes ago. Please locate him and follow discreetly to see what he’s up to now. And take Rodrigo with you.” “Yes sir,” Lucas replied. Then, after bowing he turned and left.

`Rodrigo Martin was also heavily muscled, but only about an average five feet eight. His brown eyes were set in dark brown skin above a hooked nose, high cheekbones, thin lips and a rounded chin. The men left through the front gate of the courtyard, and turning left, they quickly walked out of sight. They arrived in the town square just in time to see Alex catch a taxi there. They caught another taxi and directed the driver to follow. The taxis took the men to the Mexico City airport. An airplane bearing USA government logos was discharging a load of average looking working men. Alex approached one of them who looked friendly and stuck out his hand, offering a handshake. As they shook hands, Alex said, “Welcome to Mexico City. And hello, I am of the mayor’s house.” The worker looked perplexed and then disgusted. Withdrawing his hand, he swore, “Chinga! So that’s where they brought us. Well, I guess I’ll travel home, and see how my family’s doing.” Before the man could turn away, Alex asked him, “Were you in the American United States? Did they abuse you? How are our workers treated there?” The man’s attitude had changed completely with the news of where they were. He had a sour mask on his face when he said, “We were paid well enough, but we had to figure out where to get food and where to sleep on our own. And things were expensive in Texas. But look, I don’t feel like answering these questions.” “Then to whom can I talk to find out this information.” Alex queried. The worker said, pointing, “There is a man named Emilio. He said that he was going back no matter where the puto gringos took us. He’s a talker. Go talk to him.” With that, he turned and stalked off. Without hesitation, Alex fast walked, calling, “Hey, Emilio.” A man stopped and turned. A look on his face said he was startled to hear his name called. For a second time, Alex shook hands with a worker. Slim but muscular, at 5'10”, Emilio Munoz was slightly taller than the average Mexican citizen. Light brown skin was the canvas for a handsome face featuring black hair, heavy eyebrows, dark brown eyes, a Grecian nose and a strong square chin.

Emilio in turn found himself looking up at a soft looking teenager who was a slim 6'4” tall. Proud of his looks, Alex had white skin, brown hair, a delicate nose and thin lips on an oblong friendly face. “Hello. Welcome to Mexico City. I am of the mayor’s house,” Alex repeated his introduction. Unlike the first worker, Emilio welcomed Alex’s questions. He explained that he was making good money in Texas. He had enough to send to feed his family and some left over for great weekends in the border towns, Matamoros or Reynosa. He was going back to Texas, stopping by on the way at the village where his family was. Alex instantly liked this man and trusted him. He asked if he could accompany Emilio back to Texas, explaining that he had to see this for himself. The Mexican government had arranged for a worker program, and he wanted to be sure that the braceros were treated properly. Emilio allowed as how he would welcome company for the trip back, but that he did not have the patience to apply to be a bracero. He would cross the Rio Grande River again, and work for a friendly farmer. As they continued talking, the two men turned north and headed out of the airport. Two other men standing nearby lowered the newspapers they had been holding up over their faces, pretending to read while they listened. They looked at each other, and both chuckled. Lucas spoke first, “The mayor is not going to like this. That boy is a lot of trouble to him, but he expects someday to make his son the president of Mexico. I’ll catch a taxi and go brief the mayor. You catch another taxi and try to get out ahead of them. Stop at the edge of the city and look for them. They will have to take Federal Highway 57 North. I will get the government truck and come for you.” Rodrigo shook his head yes and immediately hailed a taxi. Lucas caught the next one, and quickly they were both gone from the airport. Another man stood by also holding a newspaper as though reading. David Garza had overheard both conversations. He trotted forward to catch up and followed Emilio and Alex closely. He had to return to Texas, and they were going in the same direction he was. He had never been down south into Mexico like this, and he figured accompanying someone like Emilio and Alex who knew the country

might mean the difference between his making it back to Texas or not.

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Still seated in his comfortable chair, Mayor Fernandez listened to Lucas’s report. Then, to Lucas’ surprise, he grinned and said, “Isn’t that boy wonderful. He’s worried about our people in a foreign land. He will make a great president of Mexico.” Then a frown clouded his face, and he continued, “But the roads north through Mexico are dangerous. And who knows what the pinche estúpido gringos might do to a naïve young man like him in Texas. Alex would recognize the government truck, so gas and service your car for a long trip.” Producing a roll of hundred dollar bills American, he continued, “Here’s money for your expenses. Pack for you and Rodrigo both, and then you men tail those two and protect them. We now have telephone lines along the main north-south highways. So, call me and report when you get a chance on the way. But don’t let that make a gap in your protection of my son.” Lucas said, “Yes, boss.” Then he bowed and quickly walked away. He had a lot to do and he needed to get on the road before his two targets got too far ahead. He might lose them, or someone might attack them. Northern Mexico was outlaw country. A servant stood by, having poured a fresh glass of mescal for the Mayor. Alexander snapped his fingers and asked for his Mexican roap. Spreading the map out on the side table next to the drink, he studied the highways headed north. Alexander mumbled, “They will have to take Highway 57 to Monterey. From Monterey they can go either to Reynosa and across the river to McAllen, or to Nuevo Laredo and Laredo. But… around Matehuala they could cut across to Highway 101 and follow the coastal route to Matamoros and Brownsville. We have telephone lines along Highway 57 all the way to Texas, but I’m not sure about the coastal route.” He picked up the telephone: “Operator, connect me with Ernesto Garza in

Matamoros. He has a business there called The Red Door. If Ernie is not there, I will talk to the manager. Yes, I will hold.” The mescal had Alexander buzzed. He felt it and hoped that he was not slurring his words. After about 10 minutes, the Red Door manager came on the phone, “This is Mateo Sanchez. I am the manager. Sorry, but Señor Garza is not here.” Alexander spoke again, “Okay, I’ll leave a message. But maybe you can help me. I need to know does Mexico have telephone lines leading from the south on the coastal federal highway. You don’t know? What kind of a manager are you? Oh yeah, your customers come from across the river, not from down south. Tell Ernie that his old friend Alexander Fernandez from Mexico City called. I need to talk to him. Don’t forget to do this. It is important, and your job depends on you doing the right thing now.” Then he hung up. Alexander stood up and nearly went down to the floor. The standby servant caught him and gave him as he stumbled along to the bedroom. After Alexander ed out on the bed, the servant striped his clothes off and dressed him in his nightgown. The mayor would suffer for his indulgence in the morning.

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Ernie Garza answered his bedroom phone. His face fell when he realized it was not Tomás Torres checking in with news of his son David. He listened, then said, “Jesus Christ, no Mateo. You cannot send a hitman to kill Alexander Fernandez. I don’t care if he did disrespect you. He’s the Mayor of Mexico City - a very powerful man. He treats everybody like they are his flunkies. Just hope he never decides to send a hitman after you. He could afford a very professional one. Did he say what he wanted. Okay, good. I’ll call him back tomorrow. I’m not going to call him this late at night, even if he is the future president of Mexico. In the meantime, you stay calm and don’t be ordering hits on anybody. We don’t need any more police investigating us.” With that, Ernie hung up the phone and was asleep in just a few minutes. He too had enjoyed a nighttime glass of mescal.

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CHAPTER 6

Federales and Outlaws

Near México City, June 1957

Rodrigo Martin saw a Cadillac pull off Highway 57 ahead of him and stop. He was expecting the Mexico City government truck that the mayor’s staff used, not this vehicle. It was obstructing his view of the two pedestrians walking along the highway ahead of him about 200 meters. So, he quickened his pace and started to walk by the car. As he did he heard his name called and looking at the automobile he saw Lucas Perez driving. Then he realized it was Lucas’s auto which he had only seen once before. So, he climbed in. “There they are ahead of us. You see them.” He said, pointing. “Yes,” Lucas replied, “but before we continue, let’s discuss how are going to do this. We can’t follow them in this large car because they would notice us and become alarmed. What we should do is pick them up since they are a pair of hitchhikers and tell them we are headed for Reynosa.” “But Alex will be afraid to get in the car because he will think that we’re going to bring him back to his Father,” Rodrigo objected.” “You’re right, of course. I’m going to pull up ahead of them, then stop and get out, and talk to them. The fact that were not in the government truck will help to persuade Alex that we are going to Reynosa, and not here to kidnap him for his Father. You stay in the car and maybe they won’t fear me.” The two hitchhikers observed the car stop in front of them, and thinking it was to pick them up, started to run toward it. They abruptly stopped when Alex recognized the driver who was getting out of the Cadillac.

“What’s the matter?” asked Emilio. “Chinga! That’s my Father’s bodyguard. He will want to take me back home, to Mexico City.” “He’s a big guy, but I know how to fight, and I can help you if you don’t want to go back.” “Hello there. What a surprise to see you here on the highway, Alex,” Lucas called out to him. “Yeah, right. I’m not going back with you,” Alex replied. Lucas feigned surprise. “Hold on there. I’m not here to take you back. You don’t see the city truck, do you. We’re on the way to Reynosa to visit some of my relatives. I’m on vacation. Where are you two headed? Do you need a ride? Rodrigo and I would be glad to have your company. Some of the robbers that work this highway up north would be less likely to attack when seeing four of us, than they would just two people. And Rodrigo and I have our pistols. What do you two have for protection?” While Lucas was talking, David Garza walked up quietly and stopped nearby, listening. Alex looked doubtful. “And you promise on your mother’s grave that you’re not going to take me back home. “Yes, I promise on the graves of both of my parents. May they rise up and strike me with the evil eye if I lie.” “Well, okay.” Then Alex asked, “Will you ride with us, Emilio?” “Yes, thanks. But not all the way. I am taking a detour to visit my family in San Luis before I return to Texas,” explained Emilio. “Oh yes,” said Alex. Emilio had told me about that. I want to see San Luis, too. It sounds like a beautiful place. Can we all make that detour? “I don’t know,” replied Lucas. “I’ve never been to San Luis. I would not want to run out of gasoline on a strange road. Is there a place to buy gasoline in San

Luis?” “Yes,” said Emilio. “There is a mine nearby and several miners have their own vehicles. mostly imported from Texas. The mining company also is a big customer for my uncles’ service station and oil company in San Luis.” “We all go to San Luis,” Lucas decided. “We have stood here long enough. Let’s go.” David Garza spoke up, “Hold up. I’m David Garza from Texas and my Father owns The Red Door in Matamoros. The Border Patrol picked me up along with Emilio and others. So, here am I needing a ride. I have some money and can help buy gasoline. Can I ride with you, please?” Emilio said, “I recognize him. He was in the field with us when the Border Patrol came. And he was on the airplane with me and the others.” Lucas stared at David. Then he said, “Okay David Garza, you can ride with us and help pay for gasoline. But until I know you better, you will not see my back. You will ride in front between my friend Rodrigo and me.” Seeing them coming, Rodrigo climbed out of the car. After his introduction to Emilio and David, he motioned for them to climb in the back seat. “No, David rides in front,” said Alex. “I also like to ride in front, maybe Rodrigo can ride in back.” “Not this time,” Lucas interjected. “We need both guns by the front windows for protection. So, you two get to ride in the back.” Reluctantly, Alex climbed in the back next to Emilio. “Let’s see where we’re going now,” said Lucas as he unfolded his Mexico roap. “There it is.” Then Lucas burst out laughing. “Emilio is your San Luis in San Luis Potosi?” “Yes,” Emilio replied. “Look here,” Lucas pointed at the map. “San Luis Potosi City is right on Highway 57. It’s not out of the way at all.”

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The Mayor of Mexico City was laughing loudly at a comedy show on television. It was starring his favorite comedian Mario Moreno, also popularly known as “Cantinflas.” Irritated at an interruption, by the telephone ringing, he picked up the headset and said angrily, “Alexander.” Then, “Yes, operator, I will accept the charges.” “Lucas Perez reporting as you required.” “Yes,” said Alexander in a friendlier tone, “What’s happening?” “We picked up Alex and his 2 friends in my car. They wanted to stop in San Luis Potosi City, so that is where we are. It took six hours to get here, and we spent the rest of the day visiting locals related to Alex’s friend Emilio and sightseeing. Tomorrow we will continue up Highway 57 North. It is another 680 kilometers to Reynosa. We are comfortably settled in a nice hotel, each with his own room. One of Alex’s friends is a boy named David Garza. He says that his Father owns The Red Door in Matamoros. I don’t know whether to trust him or not.” “David Garza? Really? Good.” the mayor replied. “I know his Father Ernesto Garza. He does own that bordello in Matamoros. He put me up once in a trailer house while I enjoyed sightseeing in South Texas there. I will call Ernesto and let him know that we are giving his son a ride. I am very happy you are protecting my son. You will get a big bonus when you’re safely back with him. Take it easy and do not try to drive that 680 kilos in one day. There is no real rush. Keep up the good work and continue to keep me posted.” With that, the mayor hung up, and continued laughing at Cantinflas.

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It rained during the night, but the next day was bright and sunny with a clear blue sky. Rising early, they all had a good breakfast of ham, eggs and corn tortillas at Emilio’s Uncle’s home. They were ed at the table by Emilio’s 16-

year-old brother, Angel Munoz. At 5'11”, Angel was taller than Emilio and more athletic. He played on the San Luis Potosi football (soccer) team and practiced daily. Angel said that he wanted to go with them to Texas so that he could earn good money, too. “Yes. By all means. Take him with you,” said, Emilio’s Uncle. “Get him out of our house so that his sister can have that bedroom. You can have a free fill up of gasoline, if you take him.” Emilio looked at Lucas with raised eyebrows, expressing the question silently. “He can go with us,” Lucas said. Then addressing Angel directly, he continued, “You will have to sit in the back seat in the middle.” His mouth full, Angel silently but enthusiastically shook his head yes as he continued to chew.

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Ernie Garza had spent the morning inspecting The Red Door facility and personnel. That and going over the books consumed the time. He was about to commend Diego Alonso for doing a good management job and then head back across to San Benito when his office phone rang. He answered it with, “Ernesto.” The voice on the phone said, “Ernie, how are you doing? This is your old friend Alexander in Mexico City.” Ernie said, “Alexander? The Mayor?” Alexander said, “Sure. The one and only.” Ernie said, “Sorry about that. You sound different on the telephone and I did not recognize your voice. It’s been a long time. How can I help you today?” Alexander said, “Actually, I am helping you today. Your son David is riding with my son Alex and two bodyguards on the way up to Texas from down here in Mexico City.”

Ernie was flabbergasted. David was supposed to be hiding in the trailer house on Palm Drive near Pharr, Texas, and not sightseeing hundreds of kilometers south in Mexico. This was a total surprise. His first thought was that it couldn’t be true. But then he realized that the Mayor of Mexico City would have no motive to make up what he was saying. Somehow, David had strayed again against instructions. At least, David was out of the reach of Texas law men. He decided not to let Alexander Fernandez know that he was surprised. He said, “I’m pleased that you are providing a ride with protection and Alex’s friendship for my David. When can I expect that they will get here?” Alexander said, “They’re stopping for the nights in hotels along the way. So, I would say they’ll be there three days from now.” Ernie said, “Thank you for the report. We will see that Alex Junior will have a good time in Matamoros and in Texas. When will you come to see us again?” Alexander said, “My duties as Mayor keep me here. Maybe after the next election in a couple of years. You are always welcome to come to Mexico City.” Ernie said, “Well I must come down there soon and see what kind of damage my son did to your city.” They both laughed. Then Ernie continued, “Gracias, and vaya con Dios.” And he hung up. Ernie then shouted, “Diego, send Tomás to check on David at the Palm Drive hideout.”

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In the car as they headed north, Lucas said, “Alex’s Father said we should not try to drive on all the way to Reynosa in one day. So, I have studied the map, and we should stop in Monterey. Monterey is a nice city and not just a village with peasants. So, we should be able to find comfortable accommodations there. It will take us about another six hours. Then the next day, it should take us only about three hours to drive to Reynosa. We will stay there visiting my uncles and cousins. Then the goal of our trip, we will make our way into Texas. Emilio, we will depend upon your experience to find work north of the Rio Grande.”

Enjoying the feeling of importance, Emilio grinned and said, “Yes, that is easy.”

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A couple of hours later, as they rounded a curve in the highway, the driver Lucas fervently cursed, “Madre de Dios! Federales!” Everyone roused. Ahead, they saw a dozen officers in olive green uniforms mounted on horses blocking the highway. These were flanked with men in brown uniforms carrying dangerous looking M1 carbines. Lucas slowed the Cadillac to a stop as soldiers stepped up to the car on both sides and examined its engers. “A gruff sergeant addressed Lucas, “Show me your identification and explain the business that brings you on this highway.” Moving slowly so as not to alarm the soldiers, Lucas carefully removed his billfold and extracted his Mexican driver’s license and a card that identified him as an employee of Mexico City. Included with the cards was an American $50 bill. The paper money disappeared up the sleeve of the sergeant’s uniform as he examined the cards. “The handsome young man next to the window in back opposite from me is the son of Alexander Fernandez, the Mayor of Mexico City. We are carrying him and his companions to Reynosa and to Texas on vacation.” The sergeants face tightened in surprise as Lucas statement ed on him, and as he stared at Alex, he flatly stated, “Then you should turn around and go back to Mexico City. There are outlaws in the mountains ahead who would love to capture the son of such an important man and to hold him for ransom. Whatever pleasure this group of tourists may derive from such a trip is not worth the risk.” As his identification cards were returned to him, Lucas motion toward Rodrigo and replied, “We are his bodyguards and we can safely escort these fine young men. It is the Mayor’s wish that we do this, and I do not dare to disappoint my powerful boss.”

“And I would not dare to have the blood of the son of your powerful boss on my hands”, the Federale argued. “So, I must send a squad to escort you.” “That offer we appreciate, but we must refuse. The presence of your men would point out to any larger group of outlaws the importance of the contents of this automobile, which, by the way, is armored. Rodrigo and I are armed, and we can and will protect our party. So please stand aside and let us . We have a long way to travel today and time is wasting.” The sergeant stared at Lucas seemingly for a long time. “You are a stubborn man, and I hope that we do not regret this,” he said as he finally gave way and motioned for his soldiers to move the horses and let the Cadillac . As they drove on, Rodrigo said, “I didn’t know that this car was armored. Where did you get that done. Laughing Lucas replied, “Of course it’s not. I just said that to help that son of a bitch decide to let us go on without his escort. And, to not be serious about turning us back.”

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The sun ed the Zenith and began making its way down the western sky. The highway entered a scenic valley with narrow shoulders on the sides, high ground to the right and a drop off to a lower river on the left. Lucas again cursed as they saw two men ahead on the highway waving for them to stop. “Have your pistol ready,” he told Rodrigo as he reached under the seat and pulled his out, keeping it on his lap. Lucas accelerated the automobile, then a shot rang out in a warning, clanking against the hood of the car and ricocheting away. Revealing that at least one gunman was perched on the high ground above. “Show your gun but don’t fire unless I do,” Lucas told Rodrigo as he brought the car to a stop, and men inspected the group from both sides of the car for the second time that day. Lucas and Rodrigo brought their pistols up simultaneously like they had been practicing a coordinated movement.

Holding his hands up, palms out, the man next to Lucas spoke, “Chihuahua, you would not shoot such a famous man as I, Poncho Villa, would you? Especially not as you must realize that my men on the hill above you would make your beautiful car and its engers look like Swiss cheese.” “You’re not Poncho Villa. He died in the 1920s,” said Alex from the back seat. “Shut up,” Rodrigo ordered Alex. After glancing at Alex, the outlaw turned back to Lucas and grinning said, “Yes, the truth is I am the Mexican Robin Hood, Joaquin Murrieta Carrillo. Today Murrieta needs this automobile to help in the revolution to free the poor people of Mexico. Lucas laughed and said, “We are the poor people of Mexico. Would the Mexican Robin Hood take from the poor?” In the back seat, Alex whispered to his companions, “Such a liar. Murrieta died back in the 1800s.” “You are not the poor people of Mexico; not when you drive such a luxurious and expensive car.” Lucas replied, “And you are not Murrieta. Let’s start over with the truth. You are an outlaw, and we are a carload of poor workers on our way to Texas to earn money to send back to our families. As for the car. It is already stolen, and us poor people need it to get us to where we are going. So, let us in peace. Then you can live to rob the real rich people when they come along.” “You threaten me when our guns outnumber yours, dozens to two.” “Perhaps we are so outnumbered, but if people are to die today, you will be the first.” Frowning, the outlaw was silent for a few moments. Then he said, “Are you so poor that you even have no money to spare for the people’s revolution?” “Truthfully, not even a peso,” Lucas continued. “And our wives and children will starve if we cannot make it to Texas because we are killed by hypocritical outlaws.”

“I can see that you are truly poor, or are a very brave man, so today you may go. May God be with you and with your wives and children.” At that, the outlaws stepped aside. The spokesman held his hand up palm open signaling the hillside gunmen. Lucas shifted into drive and the Cadillac slowly accelerated in the peaceful valley with no further gunshots breaking the quiet. “Wow! That guy was such a clown, claiming to be such famous outlaws from the past,” commented Alex. “Yeah, and your mouth could have gotten all of us killed,” responded Rodrigo. “Well hopefully we’re safe now,” said Lucas. “Monterey is not far ahead. Chinga! Look at the dent in the hood of my car.” Alex asked, “Why didn’t you just bribe that man like you did the Federale?” Lucas explained, “If he suspected that we had any money, we were ruined. They would’ve taken everything, including this car. And they could’ve held you for ransom. Something you need to understand about the real world, Alex, is that even though a ransom is paid, the kidnapped person rarely can live. He almost always learns too much about the kidnappers, and they cannot allow him to return.” As that reality sank in, Alex remained quiet the rest of the way to Monterey.

CHAPTER 7

Red Lights

The travelers from Mexico City arrived in Monterey on a Friday evening. Before leaving the car to the group for rooms in a hotel, Lucas consulted the map, and said, “It is 137 miles from Monterey to Reynosa. We have traveled far and need to rest before continuing. So, we will get a good night sleep here before going to Reynosa to visit my cousins. Meet me for breakfast in the morning at 7:00 AM. We will leave at eight. We should be in Reynosa by noon.”

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As the highway topped a small hill and descended toward Reynosa, Alex broke his long silence and asked, “Emilio, should we go on across the river today, or should we spend another night here in Mexico?” Before Emilio could answer, Lucas spoke up. “We ought to spend the night in Reynosa, and then make our way into Texas tomorrow. Emilio, if we go on right now, won’t we arrive at a field in which to work late in the day, maybe even as it gets dark.” “If you can pay for us to stay in a hotel another night, while we are in the city, what Reynosa is famous for.’ Emilio said, with a big smile on his face. “It’s Cathedral,” said Alex, and everyone laughed. These border towns were David’s home territory. So, he knew what was coming. He kept his mouth shut and just smiled.

“I want a whore,” declared Rodrigo. “Oh, it’s red light district.” Alex understood. “You know, Mexican border cities are famous for their bordellos,” contributed Angel for the first time. Then, referring to Alex, he whispered to Emilio, “He’s a Pinche estúpido.” Emilio whispered back, “No, he’s smart, but many smart people are very dumb about everyday things.” “Okay.” Lucas took over the conversation again. “We will find a hotel that’s nice, but close to the red-light district and I will leave you there. I will go to my cousins’ Villa, where the car can be protected from vandals and thieves. Now understand, with no exceptions, everyone in our group should get their business done early, and drunk or sober, be in the hotel room by 11:00 tonight. , breakfast at 7:00 in the morning. And we will be on our way by 8:00 AM. Anyone not on time in the morning will be left here to walk to Texas.” “We are not a bunch of young girls who have to be in bed early at night,” complained Rodrigo. Emilio spoke up again, “Very good for you, Lucas, but we have no pesos for beer and girls. After all, that’s why we’re going to Texas.” “You know Alex’s Father bankrolled us and I have the money. I will give each one of you twenty dollars American for the fun,” said Lucas.” “How many pesos is that?” said Angel. “The whore will want twenty dollars, and that will not leave enough for beer,” said Emilio. “Okay, I can make it $30 each, but that’s absolutely all. And I will expect you everyone to pay it back later out of your earnings in Texas.” “Lucas I have another question,” said Emilio. “Are you going to take this rich car into Texas. I usually wade across the river in an area I know where it is wide and shallow. How will you get the car into Texas?”

“, Alex’s Father is a very powerful man. He has cleared it with the border authorities for us to drive the car across. And they have been told that we are a group of Mexican tourists who will return within three days. So, you all get a free legal trip across. For the return, if you are not with me, then you will be illegal again.” David said to Lucas, “You will not have to put me up tonight. I’m going on across into Texas on my own. This is close enough to where I live that I can swim and walk and be there in just two or three hours.” Turning to the others, he said, “I enjoyed the company. I hope everyone gets what they came for. I’ll buy you Texas beer when we meet again.” With that, he turned and walked away. Emilio said, “That’s odd. Lucas, didn’t you say that Alex’s Father said that David’s family lived in Matamoros? And also, he was with me and some others working in a field near McAllen when the American Border Patrol picked us all up. Something doesn’t smell right about him.” Lucas just shrugged. That night Emilio told the other three men to stay with him. “I know a very good place. It is a bar where you can get your beer and drink it. The whores are in back and also upstairs above.” Later, when they arrived at the bar entrance, a sign above the front door read, “The Green Door”, and the wooden front door was painted a solid bright green. “That’s an unusual name for a bar or for a bordello,” said Alex. Emilio said, “Yeah, it is. They panted that door green a few months ago. I do not know why…unless it is because there’s a business like this in Matamoros with a red door.” “I think I do”, said Alex. The Americans had a popular song last year named, ‘The Green Door.’ They did this for the gringo tourists who come here.” Later, as they gulped down their beer, Rodrigo was very interested to notice two large guards standing at the back near both the downstairs back room entry and the stairs, with their arms crossed over their chests and frowns on their faces. Rodrigo walked up to the guard by the stairs and smiling, he addressed him. “Hello. My name is Rodrigo Martin. You look impressive here. I also have a security job, down in Mexico City. Do you have much trouble?”

To Rodrigo’s relief, the guard returned his smile and glad for the break in a boring evening, said in clipped tones. “I won’t shake hands with you. Others might misunderstand it. My name is Felipe Gonzalez. Occasionally we must throw a drunk or two out. Most of the time it’s just being here. Tell me about your job in Mexico City. I might want to trade with you. Is the pay good?” “Yes, it is good. I work for the Mayor of Mexico City. I’m on assignment here babysitting his stupid son. What would I have to do to be hired here?” “This job is often tedious,” Felipe said. “We do have a turnover, but to get hired here, you must show that you are serious about the business. You need to bring a young virgin girl to be converted to the business. If you do that, and you impress him, the boss would hire you.” “Alas, I am far from home and have no young girl with me,” said Rodrigo. “May I go up now.” “If you have serious money, yes. Show it to me. And behave yourself up there. Don’t make me come up after you, or you’ll regret it.” And Rodrigo went upstairs. There, from the waiting ladies of the night, he chose one with, “What’s up Blondie?”

CHAPTER 8

Lament

In the car the next morning headed for the border crossing and river bridge, the group wore a mixture of expressions. Alex and Angel were both jolly and talkative. Emilio was glum. Rodrigo groaned, “I have a scary hangover.” “Border town beer is stout, but unfortunately you’ll survive,” said Lucas As they waited in the line of cars, the group chattered on. “Hey, I had a beautiful blonde,” said Rodrigo. “She was the best in the world.” “Excuse me,” said Alex. “I saw her, and she was not a real blonde.” “Well, she looked like a blonde when I chose her, but in the bedroom, I saw that she wasn’t,” said Rodrigo. “And the best in the world?” Alex sneered. As Rodrigo drew back his fist to hit Alex, looking in the mirror, Lucas said, “None of that Rodrigo. And watch yourself, Alex.” The fist came down, but Alex looked fearful. As it came their turn at the Mexican side border inspection point, Lucas spoke up again, “Now everyone shut up and smile at the border officials. I will have to give them some money, at least on the Mexican side. The Mayor told me that.” “Don’t try to bribe the gringos,” warned Emilio. “They would arrest you for it.” “I know that.” replied Lucas. “Everyone knows that the American Border Patrol are hard asses.” “Well, I didn’t know that,” said Alex, and everyone else looked at each other in amusement.

After clearing the border, the conversation resumed. Lucas turned to Emilio and asked, “Which way should we go? Take the river road, or the highway north?” “Go North toward McAllen. Then turn right on the wide highway toward Pharr. I will tell you where to turn left from there. I have worked for a farmer in that neighborhood, named John. He is both fair and pays well. You must work all week and get paid on Saturday afternoon. But, you can ask him for some advance money on Monday and he will give it to you if he knows you. Enough to stake you for a week of beans and tortillas.” “Yuck,” said Alex. “Lucas, I don’t want to live on beans and tortillas, even if it’s just for a few days. Can I have enough of my Papa’s money, so that I can buy hamburgers, or Chile, or just other good food that will fit in a lunch pail or sack.” Again, everyone was amused, but Lucas looked at Alex and smiling said, “Okay little chief. We have a car and we will make the effort to see that your delicate stomach has food that it’s compatible with.” Alex looked around at the expressions on everyone’s faces. He didn’t like what he saw. So, he said, “Listen, men, I have seen your smirks when I say things. I know that I’ve had a sheltered life and a pampered one. I know that you all have been out in life as it is out in the world, while I have been in a school getting a higher education. My Papa has been trying to prepare me for leadership, something he’s good at. I don’t know if I’m suited for it. But I’ve got to try to live up to my Papa’s expectations.” Rodrigo rolled his eyes. “Now I know, that what I say often amuses you because of your worldly knowledge that I don’t have. But I think that a leader needs to understand and know what his people know. So, I’m in the real world now with you guys. So instead of laughing at me when I say something that you think is ridiculous or funny, tell me about it and what I should’ve said instead.” He looked at Rodrigo. “I will appreciate it if you do that, and I won’t get mad at you. At least if you don’t ridicule me within my hearing, I won’t get mad at it. That’s because I know that the more I know about the real world, the better off I’ll be in the future. And Lord, I know I need a good future to please my Papa. So please look kindly at me and help me to know better than to say stupid things.” As Alex delivered his soliloquy, the smiles disappeared. Reactions amongst the

others were different, but mostly were sympathetic. No one wanted to have the heavy burden of a hard to please papa that they knew Alex had. All were silent for a few minutes, while they thought about it. The most unlikely of the other men responded first. Emilio said, “Okay Alex. I hear you. You’re lucky to have a Papa who is rich and can love and care for you so. My Papa was a poor farmer in a small country village. He worked hard all his life, sunup to sundown, six days a week, but honoring Mass and resting on Sunday. And he died young while I was still in public school. My uncle took me in and raised me. He did it for his dead brother, but he never loved me like my Papa did. If you’re willing to listen, which you say you are, then I will help you. But don’t get mad at me when I tell you that you did something that people think is stupid. So, change what you’re doing, and never say, ‘I didn’t know that.’ Just listen and learn.” Lucas looked around to gauge the expressions on everyone’s faces. Satisfied with the sympathy that he saw, he turned to Alex and spoke, “Alex, I agree with Emilio. But I want to add something to what he said. When you hear something that you don’t understand, don’t just be silent. If you want to understand, ask me. Your Papa wants me to protect you. I think that includes helping you to learn. So, if you are embarrassed by the subject, ask me in private. Otherwise, ask me in front of the others, and they can contribute. I don’t know everything, but between all of us in this group, there is enough difference in backgrounds that we do know a lot. And you need the opportunity to learn from all of us. If anyone of this group ridicules, scoffs or makes fun of you, I will take care of them. And they won’t do it again. So, feel free to ask questions so that you can learn.” Rodrigo was not so sympathetic, but he knew enough to mask his feelings and try to act that way. Angel was thoughtful and felt like he was somewhat like Alex in that he needed to learn, too. But he did not feel like baring his soul to the others. So, he thought that he would just hear and learn, and he remained silent. By this time, they had stopped at a couple of red lights in McAllen. Lucas turned the car right and headed toward Pharr on the three-lane paved road that was US Highway 83. So, he said, “Hey. Emilio, we’re headed toward Pharr. Look, and don’t let me drive past where we ought to turn.” “It’s three or four miles,” said Emilio. “Just slow down some. You’re driving

way too fast. You have Mexico license plates, and a gringo cop would love ticket a Mexican. And they would ask for our papers which we don’t have. We could all be put in jail, and then be deported back to Mexico. Also, you could zip by before I could say to take a turn.” “All right, Emilio, but before we drive out of McAllen, let’s eat.” They all agreed. Lucas saw a hamburger stand. He pulled over into its parking lot and stopped next to an outside trashcan. The hamburger stand was a small, white, square building, with a flat roof that sloped down from front to back. Windows stretched across the front and halfway back on the sides. Above the Windows on front were painted signs: “WHATABURGER 35¢, MILK SHAKE 15¢,” and “SPECIAL WHATABURGER 45¢.” The stand appeared to be closed, but there were two other cars parked near the building. So, Lucas went up to the window, followed by the others. He saw two men working inside. He tapped hard on the window. The men were the franchisor and his shift supervisor. The franchisor moved to the window and loudly said, “We are not open yet.” Understanding the message if not the words, Lucas frowned. Alex stepped in saying in English, “We all need lunch. Please help us.” “I do not take pesos.” Lucas displayed his role of large American bills. Seeing that, the man surveyed the group, then decided not to turn away money. “Okay, James,” he said. “Fire up the grill, and I will take their money.” So, they had an American gringo lunch. Between bites, Alex said, “Hey, see that green sign up ahead on the north side of the highway. It says ‘Holiday Inn’. Let’s check it out. It could be a nice place to stay tonight.” “We need to get out to the fields so that Emilio and Angel can start work before it gets too late in the day,” replied Lucas. “We can check out motels after we spend a day working.”

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Like the wetbacks, David swam across the Rio Grande. His clothes were only partially dry because he was sweating profusely in the summer heat as he made his way onto Palm Drive from the busy highway 83. Crossing the railroad tracks, he looked around to make sure no one was watching and then walked into the vacant lot where his current trailer house home was hidden. As he reached it, he was surprised to see Tomás Torres’ car parked in the small clearing. He entered the trailer house and was greeted by Tomás who was sitting on David’s bed and drinking a beer. Tomás said, “Where have you been Chico? Your Papa is worried about you. For some reason, he thinks you’ve been all away down in Mexico City. I didn’t think that could be true, but you’ve been gone long time. I was about to give up on you.” David said, “Do you have a beer for me? I could sure use one. I walked over to a nearby field, and the Border Patrol picked me up along with all of the wetbacks. I couldn’t identify myself to them as an American. You know why. They flew a plane load of us all the way down to Mexico City. I hitched a ride, but it’s still a three- or four-day trip all the way back up here. I guess that was the idea that a lot of the Mexicans would not make the trip back from way down there.” Tomás laughed and said, “They flew wetbacks on an airplane? That’s quite a story. Hard to believe. Kinda like the American movie where a tornado picked up a girl and dropped her in a fairyland named Oz. Pick up the phone and call your Papa before he has a heart attack worrying about you.”

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CHAPTER 9

Cotton

The partly cloudy night sky had just begun to lighten in the East when John Halas banged on the storeroom door to awaken Mark. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” he said. “Breakfast is about ready, and we’ve got another big day ahead of us.” Rudely awoken from a deep sleep, as he lay in his cot and slowly processed his Father’s words, Mark thought, ‘Yeah, another shitty day in the cotton patch.’ A few minutes later, when Mark entered the house, his mouth watered due to the warm rich odor from his mother, Margaret, frying bacon and eggs on the gas stove, their usual breakfast. Bread was toasting in the oven of the gas fired stove, and Elizabeth was busy setting the table. Brown paper bags sat on the floor by the door, holding the lunches for John and Mark. A Zenith radio sat on top of the refrigerator in the crowded room. Yesterday’s noon news and commentary by Paul Harvey was being rebroadcast. Having washed his hands and face, Mark sat at the table and listened. Paul Harvey was telling stories about President Eisenhower’s difficulties with British General Montgomery, who felt like he should’ve been the Supreme Commander of the allies for World War II in Europe instead of the American General. When a commercial began, Mark commented, “I’m glad that Eisenhower was reelected. He’s a great leader.” John disagreed, “Harry ass Truman was a sorry president, and General donothing Eisenhower is no better.” Mark was outraged. “What do you mean? President Eisenhower was responsible, more than any other general, for the allies winning World War II. His leadership

is a relief after Truman.” John said, “I mean that President Eisenhower did nothing when the Hungarians threw off their communist leaders and then the Russians sent tanks and soldiers and slaughtered them. Radio free Europe was broadcasting propaganda into the iron curtain countries, and the Hungarians believed what they heard. They thought the Americans would save them. Eisenhower should have sent soldiers to save the Hungarians. But he did not, proving that radio free Europe is a big lie.” “Dad, I know that was very bad. But you know the Russians have atomic bombs too. Eisenhower did not want to start World War III because what happened to those two cities in Japan could happen to our cities here. At school, they have had us practicing hiding under our desks and tables in case of an attack.” John said, “That right? Well, I may make fun of Truman’s name, but at least he stopped the Communists in Korea. And he’s a good Democrat. Eat your breakfast. You’re too young to understand the real world. All politicians are liars and crooks, but at least the Democrats help the poor people like us.” Mark had lost his appetite. But he knew that the long workday lay ahead, and he had to eat. So, he did.

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John Halas farmed several pieces of land. He had 10 acres with the house: two in yards, buildings, citrus trees, the house and eight acres in crops. Additionally, elsewhere he share-cropped two 40-acre pieces and one 20-acre piece for a total of 118 acres under the plow. That much land amounted to lot of work for irrigated flatland crop farming. In 1957, John Halas had 68 acres planted in cotton. The rest was mostly corn with some maize. As the sun peeked above the horizon, John had delivered Mark with a fourwheel cotton trailer to a 40-acre field off the north end of Palm Drive. The large trailer could hold two bales worth of loose picked cotton with seeds, about 3500 pounds. From this load, a cotton gin would produce two bales of cotton without

seeds weighing between 500 and 600 pounds each. Mark mounted a simple balance type scale hung from a notch in a 2 x 4 wooden board nailed to the trailer. A pile of heavy cotton ducking sacks lay next to the trailer, waiting for the workers to appear. Mark’s main job was to be the weigher. He had a pocketsize spiral notebook and a couple of pencils with erasers for recording the loaded cotton sack weights and calculating the net weights. When Mark was not busy weighing in loads carried or dragged to the trailer by pickers, he would pick some cotton himself, as much as he could. He had to stay close to the trailer though, so as not to delay pickers any longer than necessary in getting their sack loads weighed. The pickers were responsible for climbing in the trailer and emptying their sacks. As the sun cleared the horizon, about three wetbacks and one Mexican American family of four had appeared and began picking. Mark had recorded the names on separate pages in his spiral notebook. The family consisted of Juan Pablo and Victoria Diaz and their two children, the 17-year-old daughter, Natalia, and her 10-year-old brother, Juan Pablo Diaz Jr., all working. Mark marveled at the difference in the way that the workers picked cotton compared to how they performed when they were paid per hour. Being paid by the pound, everyone stayed busy all the time and there was little slow working or loafing. In less than two hours, the workers dragged the first sack loads for Mark to weigh. The three wetbacks tended to stay together in adjacent rows and come to the trailer together. Juan Pablo came right after they did with his first sack full. At 5'11”, Juan Pablo was taller than most Mexicans. He was also white skinned but with coal black hair showing his European Spanish ancestry. Instead of the usual brown eyes, his were Hazel and reflected the color of his shirt showing bluer with a blue work shirt or browner with a beige one. A Roman nose and small flat ears completed the effect of his not looking descendent from Indians. Standing there watching Mark weigh his cotton, he looked eye to eye to Mark at about the same height. The rest of the Diaz family trailed in later, one by one, even though Victoria and the children had smaller sacks. Mark picked cotton, but dutifully stayed heads up and met the workers at the trailer as they each got there. He weighed the full sacks and recorded the data on each person’s page. The frequent interruptions limited his production. But the son of the farmer was being paid by the hour as weigher plus he was paid additional for whatever he could pick.

About 10 o’clock, an automobile turned off Palm Drive onto the dirt road that bordered the field on one side. Mark saw it and was amazed to see that it was a recent vintage Cadillac with tail fins. As he stared, his amazement increased when five men climbed out of the car and came toward the trailer. As the men approached, Emilio explained to the others, “The gringo is the farmer’s son. He is left in charge here. We call him the little boss. He will not eat jalapenos, but he’s cool.” Coming to meet them, Mark recognized one of them. “Emilio.” he said. “I never thought I would see you again after that Border Patrol raid picked you up. That was last month, and no one else from that crew has returned.” Emilio greeted Mark with his usual Mexican slang greeting, “Hey dude. What’s new?” Mark was used to this, and simply replied in English, “And who are all these strangers with you?” Pointing, “This is Alex Fernandez.” Then turning to Alex, he said, “Alex, you learned English in school, yes. You translate what we say to him. He knows a little Spanish, but when we talk normal, it’s, too fast for him.” This was Alex’s first encounter with a foreigner, but he had plenty of confidence in his school learned English. So, he proceeded with the introductions. “Hello, Mark. I am from Mexico City, and I came here to visit with you and see how our people are doing here. These two big men are also from Mexico City and they are my friends. They are Lucas Perez, and Rodrigo Martin, and the younger one is Angel Munoz, Emilio’s brother.” Mark was so astonished at all this, that at first, he did not know what to say. As his silence and staring continued, the situation became embarrassing and he could feel his face turn red. He could feel everyone in the cotton field staring at him. So, finally he felt that he had to say the first things that came to mind. Pointing at the Cadillac, he said, “Alex, I’m glad to meet you. That’s a nice car. Is it yours?” “No, the car belongs to my friend Lucas. He was kind enough to provide transportation for our group to come here to the Texas of the United States, but formerly territory of Mexico.” At the last phrase, Emilio Lucas and Rodrigo caught the gist of what was being said. They all flinched.

That phrase was clearly a challenge, but Mark was so unsure of the situation that he felt he had to ignore it and avoid the history of the conflict that removed Texas from Mexico. Still, he needed clarification of the status of Alex. He asked, “So Alex, are you a representative of the Mexican government here to investigate or something?” “No, I am here, out of my own curiosity to see why so many of our Mexican citizens come to Texas to work. Also, I wish to see how they fare here, and if they are well treated. But please don’t worry, I am friendly.” “Okay, so you came all the way from Mexico City, and now you’re here. What’s next?” Emilio understood just enough English to get the gist of what Alex said, and he felt like he had to speak up at this point before Alex screwed things up even more. So, he interrupted and said to Alex, “Tell him that we are here to work. We see that they are picking the cotton. Angel and I wish to receive sacks, so we can start working. Our families are waiting for money which they need. Are you going to work too, or just look?” “We will all help to harvest the cotton,” Alex said. Looking at the workers in the field, he continued, “Where do we get the sacks, when do we start, and how do we get paid?” Looking the group over, Mark, thought that this would be the strangest crew of cotton pickers that he had ever seen. He was still unsure of Alex and his two muscled companions. The Cadillac indicated that at least someone in the group had plenty of money. But if they wanted to pick cotton, well, his Father needed to get it picked. He would let them. “The sacks are there.” Mark pointed at the pile by the trailer. “And we have plenty of them.” He explained that they were paid by the pound and the going wage. Then he walked over and picked up a sack and held it out to Emilio. When Emilio stepped over to take the sack, followed by his brother, Mark looked straight at him with raised eyebrows and asked, “Mexico City?” Emilio smiled, took the sack, and then turned toward Alex and laughing, said, “Tell him the Border Patrol put us on an airplane and flew us to Mexico City where they released us. I enjoyed the flight. I had never been in an airplane before, and if it happens again, I’ll be glad to fly anytime. It was fun. I saw the

big city and visited my family on the way back.” This Alex translated pretty much verbatim. After everyone had their sacks, they moved as a group to the beginning of the cotton rows. Emilio began picking cotton, and after watching him briefly, the rest of the group did too. Mark was glad to see that this strange group all had long sleeve work shirts and hats. It will be interesting he thought to see how these Mexico City dandies work out. Seeing that brown paper lunch sacks were sitting in the shade under citrus trees adjacent to the field, Alex said, “Lucas, they all have lunches, but we don’t. Why don’t you go back to the Whataburger stand in McAllen and get us hamburgers and drinks?” Lucas did. At about noon, the workers unhitched from their cotton sacks, left them in place in the field and headed to the citrus trees. Alex made a point of sitting near Mark. He struck up a conversation with questions, “Picking cotton is tough. You farmers work very hard don’t you? You do this all day every day?” Mark said, “Yes, and sometimes all night too.” Alex asked, “Really? You pick cotton all night?” Mark laughed, “No but sometimes we have to water the crops. The irrigation system works around the clock seven days a week. You request water days or weeks ahead of time, and you take it when they give it to you. Then you irrigate your crop until you’re through. There’s no stopping at nightfall.” Alex said, “You hire workers to irrigate, don’t you? You don’t do it yourself?” Mark said, “Depends on the situation. One time, when I was only ten years old, we had a couple of brothers named Ochoa who Dad hired to irrigate at night. We were scheduled to get water on Monday. As sundown approached, and the Ochoa brothers had not showed up, Dad had work to do elsewhere and so was in a bind. He brought me to the field and showed me what to do. I had a lantern that burned kerosene, a shovel and a hoe. It was really hard, but I had to do it. So, I worked all night for the first time, but it wasn’t the last time.” Alex said, “Chinga! What was the problem with the Ochoa brothers? Why didn’t they show up?”

Mark said, “After we were through irrigating, Dad went to check on them the next day to where they were living with relatives in McAllen. He found out that they were in jail. On Sunday afternoon, they were standing out on the front porch with open beer cans in their hands. A McAllen policeman came by and arrested them, charging them with public intoxication.” Alex said, “There is no public intoxication law in Mexico. Are the Ochoa’s still in prison?” Mark said, “No, Dad paid their fine for them and got them out of jail so they could come back to work for us again. He wouldn’t do that for most people, but they were dependable and hard-working.” Alex said, “That was nice of him to pay that fine for them.” Mark said, “Not really that big a favor. He took the money for the fine out of their paycheck the next Saturday.” Alex said, “Oh…. Excuse me.” Then he got up and went to talk to Lucas.

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CHAPTER 10

Friends

It was lunch time in the cotton field again the next day. The Mexico City trio had departed in their Cadillac to find a restaurant. As usual, the rest of the workers trudged to the ubiquitous nearby citrus trees where their brown paper lunch bags lay in the shade protected from the direct heat of the sun. Emilio and Angel stayed with the group. The two Mexicans had no lunches, but the Mexican American Diaz family had plenty and shared with them. Mark was with the rest, and he munched on his ham and cheese sandwich and potato chips. For the second time, David Garza came walking up from the distance during lunch break. Mark said, “Hello again, I’m Mark, ? What was your name again? We get a lot of workers here, so I don’t .” “I’m always David Sanchez. Now what’s going on here? You’re obviously not still chopping weeds.” Mark still liked this guy. He said, “Today we’re picking cotton.” David looked around at the cotton field with the open white bowls covering the plants, half-full wagon, with the extra sacks piled next to it. This was also all new to him. Turning back toward Mark, he moved into the shade and sat down again on the dirt. David said, “Look, I could still use some money. How about I pick cotton too. What kind of pay is there for picking and how much do you think I could earn a day? Also, you owe me for a couple hours of chopping weeds down last time.” Mark said, “Yes I that and everything else that happened that day. The Border Patrol has never cleaned us out of workers like they did then. It sort of makes the day something you don’t forget. You’re only the second man from the workers that day who has returned.” Mark motioned toward where Emilio was sitting as he said that.

David looked over at the other workers for the first time. He said, “Hello Emilio.” With his mouth full, Emilio just kept chewing and waved back. Mark expressed surprise, “You know Emilio?” David explained about Mexico City and hitching a ride with Alex Fernandez’s group and Emilio on the way back. Mark told David the pay scale by the pound for picking cotton and how much an average man earned a day. “I don’t think you’ll like picking cotton, but you’re welcome to us, we have plenty of spare sacks and you can use one. Payday is still Saturday and I’ll see that you get paid for the two hours.” After lunch, Mark led the way to the trailer, and fitted David with a sack. “Stay with me, and I’ll show you the technique for picking cotton. You’ll find that it’s a pain in the back and to the knees.” As the two boys picked cotton in adjacent rows, Mark explained that he oversaw the crew and was responsible for weighing the cotton when the pickers came to the trailer with full sacks and recording the weights in his notebook. David was impressed but tried not to show it. Later, when Emilio was the first worker after lunch headed for the trailer dragging a full sack, Mark pulled his sack’s strap over his head, dropped it, and headed to weigh it. Instead of continuing to pick cotton, David also left his sack and followed Mark. At the trailer, Mark told David, “You should still be picking cotton. Watching me won’t make you any money today.” “That’s okay”, replied David. “I want to learn what the weigher does. Maybe later, I can be a weigher. I think I’d like that better than picking cotton. You were right, my back does hurt, and so does my knees. And my hands are bleeding. You didn’t warn me about the stickers on the ends of those open cotton bolls. And I don’t have a pair of those kneepads.” “I’m the weigher because I’m the farmer’s son. You don’t have that advantage. Well, maybe you can be the weigher for some other farmer, somewhere. There’s a lot of cotton being picked now in this valley. Okay, so watch.” After weighing Emilio’s sack, Mark headed back toward the field. Noticing that David wasn’t following. He stopped and turned. “Hey, are you coming.” “Naw,” replied David. “I think I picked enough cotton for today. I don’t need

money that badly. You know what they call a worker in Texas that will work hard for low pay and never complain? A Mexican. I’m not one of those. I quit.” “Okay, you didn’t last long. Go get your sack, and I’ll weigh you in.” “That’s okay. You can have the cotton that I picked. I don’t even want to go back into the field. I’m leaving.” With that, David turned away and walked off. Mark watched him turn and disappear down Sugar Road headed South. Mark was disappointed. He had figured that he had found a friend. The Mexican workers were friendly, but he couldn’t say that they were his friends. They were farm workers with whom he had little in common. They spoke a different language, and when they spoke rapidly, he couldn’t understand what they were saying. Emilio and Angel were okay, but it’s hard to have a real friend who you can’t understand when he talks. Also, when he went off to college, he wouldn’t see them again. That applied to David too, but at least he could understand David’s English. And it had no Mexican accent. From that last fact, he figured David had to be a Mexican American, even if he wasn’t a gringo. When they had been picking cotton and talking, David seemed to understand him like the others did not. “Hey, Mark,” came from behind him. He turned and there with a full cotton sack was Natalia Diaz. Her loose work shirt concealed her upper body beauty, but the tight blue jeans were revealing. Mark looked her over and was impressed. Like her Father, Natalia had white skin with a slight olive hue. Her ears were covered by her hair but were small like her Father’s, and her eyes were brown. A feminine small round nose and pointed chin finished the effect of making her beautiful. Impatient, she said, “So weigh this already.” “Uh, yeah,” he said, and took the sack from her. After recording her 88 pounds of cotton, he shoved the sack up and over the side boards into the trailer, saving her the effort. Then he watched as she climbed up into the trailer to empty the sack. Noticing the attention, she blurted, “Don’t you have something else to do? If not, why don’t you climb up here and help empty this sack?” Mark was smitten by Natalia. So, he took that invitation literally, missing the sarcasm, and started to climb the side of the trailer. He stopped as he looked over the top sideboard and saw that she was emptying the sack herself. Realizing his

blunder, he dropped back down to the ground, turned and started to trudge back into the cotton field. He felt a blush in his face and ears. “Hey gringo,” he heard her voice again. “Wait up. I’m sorry about that. It was just a reaction. It’s what I do when I see someone looking me over. I get tired of boys doing that to me. Staring at me like I was some delicious food or something.” Mark paused while she caught up with him. “I’m sorry too, but you realize that you are a very pretty girl.” “Why, thank you,” she said, smiling. “But I like to think of myself as a young woman, not a girl. Now let’s get back to picking cotton, and if you wish, we can talk while we work.” Mark thought this was an excellent idea, so he retrieved his sack and they proceeded to get better acquainted while they worked. After a while, Mark asked her what she was doing Saturday night. She said to him, “Don’t look at my Father, but he is staring at us. He has plans as to who I should marry. He wouldn’t approve of me having a date with a gringo. He would believe that you were not interested in me as a person, but instead just interested in getting into my pants.” Mark became very self-conscious. He felt Juan Pablo’s staring at him and could not help his face turning red again. He was also shocked at Natalia’s remark. He wasn’t used to girls being so direct about what guys wanted to do. So, he thought about it and came up with a reder. “Your pants wouldn’t fit me, and besides they look a lot better on you.” Natalia laughed, “That’s a good one, gringo. You keep blushing. Do you do that around all girls. Mexican boys never blush when they’re flirting with me.” Mark wanted to change the subject, so he said, “You’re a very light-colored Chicana. You could be taken for being a Caucasian. When the border patrol comes around, do they ever ask you for your papers.” As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Mark regretted asking that, thinking he was offending her. But far from being offended, Natalia had a ready reply. “The only paper I carry is what I use when I wipe my butt.”

That was a conversation stopper. Mark did not know what to say to it. So, he just chuckled and kept picking cotton. After maybe 10 minutes of silence, Natalia said, “If you want to take me to a movie Saturday night, I can tell Papá that I will take Junior to the movies. Then we can meet and go together.” “So, your little brother would be with us. A chaperone’s not the kind of date I had in mind. And wouldn’t he tell your Mother or Father .” “It would be okay. Junior likes to go down front and sit close to the screen. You and I could sit in back, or even in the balcony. And I can see that Junior keeps the secret.” “I’ll have to check what’s on at the movie theaters,” said Mark. “Would it make a difference to you whether we went to the Texas Theater in Pharr, or to the Queen or the Palace Theater in McAllen?” “No difference to me,” Natalia said. “It would depend upon what’s showing, but wouldn’t your friends be more likely to be there at the Texas Theater. Are you worried about what they would think about you dating a Mexican?” Mark said, “My friends would just be jealous when they saw me with such a beautiful lady.” “Wow, you’re laying it on thick. Okay then,” she said, “it’s a date. I like the Palace Theater best because it has some good color movies. I think they’ve got one on now, starring James Stewart and Doris Day. You check on what’s on and the show times and then we can talk about when and where to meet. Right now, someone’s waiting on you with a full sack at the trailer. I’m going to keep picking in the field before Papa decides to get after you.”

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Sheriff’s deputy Pedro Vicente was driving his patrol car from McAllen to the courthouse in Edinburg. From Highway 83, he turned North on Sugar Road.

Being the first and only Latino officer in the Hidalgo County Sheriff’s Department, he was given the oldest patrol car, a 1951 model black and white Ford. It had a flashing light on the roof and a loud siren mounted under the hood. The seats were heavy cloth, the original materials having been worn out and replaced. Pedro was a “shade tree mechanic,” and he had tuned up the engine, replacing the generator, distributor and spark plugs. He replaced the shocks, so the car would ride better. With oil change and lubrication completed, the car was in better condition than most of the later models driven by the other deputies. Vicente saw a pedestrian walking toward him on the wrong side of the two-lane concrete highway. He slowed to get a better look at the man and was astonished as he thought he recognized him from the wanted posters. Hoping the pedestrian would not look back and bolt, he flipped on the flashing red light and made a Uturn. Stopping the car, he stepped out, pulling his pistol. Pointing it two-handed at the pedestrian he said, “Stop, or I will shoot.” David Garza turned with a startled look on his face and then raised his hands in the classic surrender sign. “Lie face down on the ground, put your hands behind your head, and lace your fingers together.” David did as instructed, and the deputy moved to him, put his knee on his back. Holstering the gun, he twisted the teenager’s arms down and cuffed him. Pulling David up to his feet, Vicente turned him in face-to-face and said, “You are under arrest for murder.” “What? I never killed anybody. You have me confused with somebody else. My name is David Sanchez and I’m a farm worker. You’re making a big mistake.” Vicente looked at David’s face. He saw a young man that looked like the murderer but had blonde hair and a blonde mustache. The wanted poster had the drawing of a clean-shaven black-haired teenager. He realized that the suspect could have died his hair, but the mustache was blonde too. He began to have doubts and decided not to show it. He said, “I’m taking you in. If you are innocent like you say, we will sort that out in the Sheriff’s office. Now let’s go.” “I have friends in a cotton field back there. Ask them and save us both trouble. They will tell you who I am. I was picking cotton, but the heat made me sick and

I was walking, trying to make it to those trees over there for a shade.” Pedro thought it over and decided, since he was not that sure of the ID, to check out the man’s story. It wouldn’t do for him to bring in an innocent man. He suffered enough ridicule from some of the redneck deputies without making mistakes like that one. “Okay, we will see. I’m going to put you in the car. Then I will drive back there and talk to your ‘friends,’ and see if you’re lying.”

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Emilio and his brother had come to the trailer together with full sacks of cotton. Mark was recording the weights when he saw the deputy’s car turn off Sugar Road and come toward the cotton trailer followed by a cloud of dust. Emilio and Angel had lifted their sacks over the side boards into the trailer and were climbing up after them. The deputy exited the car into the dust cloud which drifted over him and the car. He coughed and staggered out of the dust to face Mark. The two men introduced themselves. Then Pedro pointed toward the car. “I have a suspect in there who says that he knows you. Would you please walk over there with me, take a look and tell me whether you recognize him or not.” “I can see his face from here, and yes, he was here picking cotton just a little while ago. He quit and left on foot down the road.” “He looks like the suspect on a wanted for murder poster, but now, I see that you do too. I guess the drawing on the poster is not as good as a photo for ID. No telling how many people may look like the drawing now that I’ve found two in just a few minutes. Since you his story, I’ll let him go.” As the deputy drove away, David said to Mark, “Man look at that old car that Culero’s driving. Isn’t that something. I’ve never seen a Mexican law man in Texas before, much less such an old police car.” Puzzled, Mark asked, “What’s a Culero?” “What’s the matter gringo? Didn’t they teach you the good words in high school Spanish class? It means ‘asshole.’”

“Yeah, well, you should have called him that to his face. Then you’d be on the way to jail right now.” “Now that you mention it, thanks for backing me up there. I owe you a favor, and I don’t like owing favors. What can I do for you?” “Tell me you’re not the guy that officer was looking for.” “Okay, I have no idea who that guy was looking for,” David lied. Mark looked at David for a moment. Then he cleared the frown from his forehead and said, “Well I guess that answers that. Okay, you may not like to pick cotton, but why don’t we be friends anyhow? You’re the only guy around here about my age, and I need a friend who is not a wetback. Where are you from anyhow? I don’t seeing you at school. Do you or did you go to school in McAllen.” David thought that while he was hiding out, he needed a friend, too. And Mark seemed to be likable. This was easier than he thought it might be. So, he continued to prevaricate and build a convincing cover story. “Yeah, my family moved from Laredo to McAllen last summer. And our Bulldogs stomped your Bears on the football field last fall. That was pitiful.” “Don’t remind me.” “My Dad told me to come out here and earn some money picking cotton since I was not able to get a summer job in McAllen this time. But as you know, picking cotton is not something I want to do now that I’ve tried it. I’ve got a car parked up the road. That’s where I was headed when that deputy stopped me. I was going to continue looking for a job, well, at least a better one than picking cotton.” “Good luck with that. I live up the road toward Edinburg a couple miles. If you’d like, you could come back here around sundown and come with me to my house for dinner. Do you play checkers or chess. Or how about card games. We could play after dinner if you’d like.” “Yeah, I’d like that. Card games sound good. Do you play poker?” “Poker? Naw, I never learned to play poker; however, we could play double

solitaire, or go fish, or you could teach me how to play poker. But if we play poker, it’ll have to be for small change. I’m saving money to go to college, and I can’t afford to lose real money.” David smiled and said, “Good. I’ll teach you how to play poker the right way. Then you can win money when you play for real. How about that?” “Okay, just to be sure, you’re going to come over for dinner, right.” “Well, I don’t know. I’ve had enough tortillas and beans for a lifetime. Not to be rude, but I need to know what kind of dinner are we talking about. I’ve got a sensitive stomach, and some things make me sick.” “My family descended from Hungarians, and my mother cooks good Hungarian food. There is one catch; however, she tends to put paprika on a lot of the food. It’s not real hot like jalapenos or anything. We have leftovers in the ice box which we eat for lunch or whenever. If you can’t tolerate paprika, we can find something to warm up for you that’s good food. I’m sure you’ll like Hungarian cooking.” David was thoughtful. “Well, I guess I’ll come over for dinner and try whatever you’ve got. I’ve never had Hungarian food before. Maybe I’ll like it. I’m going to go ahead and leave now, but I’ll come back in my car a little before sundown. You can ride with me to your house if you’d like. If not, maybe I can follow you. I don’t see a car. Were you going to walk home or what?” Mark replied, “The trailer is almost full. Dad knows that this size crew picking cotton will fill the trailer by midafternoon, so he should be here shortly with an empty trailer to trade out. He’ll hitch up this trailer and haul it to the cotton gin. They’ll tag it as Halas’s. So, he won’t have to wait around for them to gin it. He should be back well before sundown. I’ll tell him that I’ll ride with you if you’re sure that you will be back with your car.” “Yeah, you can count on it. You got me looking forward to Hungarian dinner.” Mark’s face brightened. Then he said, “Say, did you apply for a job at a cotton gin? Our cotton goes to the one near McAllen. I’ll bet you could get on there, maybe for the rest of the summer.” David said, “I never thought about working at a cotton gin. Do you have an idea

of what they pay?” Mark said, “No, but I’ll bet you can make more money there than picking cotton. During the busiest season which is most of the summer they run two twelve-hour shifts, ginning cotton around the clock. That’s eight hours regular pay plus four hours at time and a half for overtime.” “If the money is that good, why are you here weighing cotton? Why aren’t you working at the gin?” “Come on, isn’t that obvious. My Dad’s the farmer. So, I have to help here.” “Okay, that sounds interesting. When do you think’s the best time for me to go apply for a job at a cotton gin?” Mark said, “I would think you could apply there anytime, but I’m not sure that the office staff works around the clock. I imagine, that they just work eight-hour days, plus maybe some overtime when necessary. So, it would be best for you to apply there during the daytime.” David said, “Good, I’ll apply to the McAllen gin in the morning. Meanwhile, see you later.” And he waved as he walked away. This time, David walked into the trees on the south side of the field and disappeared. This puzzled Mark. He decided that he would ask David later why he didn’t walk on the road. Then he thought about the deputy and decided that David didn’t want to risk another cop coming along and picking him up again. Mark frowned. Was that the behavior of a wanted criminal? Or, was David innocent and just avoiding trouble. His reverie was interrupted as a wetback came to the trailer with a full sack. As he weighed the sack of cotton, his Father’s Ford Woody station wagon turned off the road and approached, trailing another cloud of dust and rattling on the bumps. The wind had shifted, and the afternoon breeze blew the dust the other way so that the senior Halas was able to exit the station wagon without being engulfed in the cloud of dust like the deputy had been earlier. Mark hugged his Dad, then stepped back and said, “Dad, I invited a friend to dinner. He said he has a car, and I’d like to ride to the house with him this evening.”

John Halas tightened his face in surprise. He turned and surveyed the workers in the field picking cotton and looked up at the wetback emptying his sack of cotton in the trailer. Then he looked back at Mark and asked, “You invited a Mexican to dinner at our house. Which one? The girl?” “He’s not here Dad. He picked some cotton, and then quit. He couldn’t find a summer job this year; so, he’s going to apply for a job at the cotton gin. His name is David Sanchez, but he’s just as white as you or me. We talked a while and he has no Mexican accent. Dad, he’s just like you or me. I know better than to invite a wetback to dinner at home.” John frowned and was silent for maybe thirty seconds. To Mark, it seemed like forever. Then John said, “Okay, we’ll see what this guy looks like tonight. You say he looks like us. We will not tell your mother that he’s a Mexican. His name will just be David. But if he looks or talks like a Mexican, you’re in trouble. Your mother’s cooking a big pot of chicken-and-gumboats soup and biscuits for tonight, so there’ll be plenty to eat. But next time, don’t invite anyone to dinner on short notice. We might be embarrassed if there’s not enough food. Ask permission ahead of time before inviting anyone to dinner.” The wetback climbed down from the trailer with his sack draped over his shoulders and walked away into the field. Mark glanced at his back and wondered whether he understood any English. He hoped not. Most of the wetback’s spoke only Spanish. To his Dad he said, “He’ll be all right. I’ll ask him not to say his name is Sanchez at the house. If he gets mad about that, then I might have to walk home.” John smiled and said, “That would serve you right.” Then he proceeded to hitch the full trailer to the Ford. While he was doing that, Mark continued to talk to him. “As for the Mexican girl, she is an American. She may be a chicana, but she’s a pretty one. She’s about my age. And I asked her for a date for Saturday night. She accepted, and I’d like to borrow the Woody to take her to a movie in McAllen.” “What? Not only do you invite a Mexican to dinner but now you want to date another one, too. What the hell has happened to you. You know damned well that your mother and I would like you to marry a good Hungarian girl, or at least

a German girl or a Dutch one.” With an angry look on his face, John Halas stared at the Mexican girl who was busy in the distance picking cotton. She seemed to sense the attention and straightened up. She stretched her back and turned her head and looked back. Then she knelt back down and continued picking cotton. John turned to his son and said, “She is light skinned and a pretty one. I’ll give you that. But you be careful. If she’s willing, don’t do it. You don’t need to get a girl pregnant and screw up your plans to go to college. Those Mexican girls lose their virginity early, and a pretty girl like her has been screwed more than once. So that’s a real danger if you date her.” Ignoring his Father’s slurs about Mexican girls, Mark asked, “So, you will let me use the station wagon Saturday evening?” “Yes, but just in case, I’m going to give you some rubbers. And if it turns into a hot date, use one of them.” David was exasperated. “Dad, it’s a first date. There’s not likely to be any sex even with a Chicana.” “I mean this son. You have no idea of the danger. There’s diseases that you can catch having sex. A rubber gives you some protection from that, not just against getting her pregnant. There’s syphilis and gonorrhea. It’s time you learned about them.” Mark’s face was red again. “I know what they are,” he said. “The coach told us about them in PE class. They even had slides showing sores from those diseases. The coach said they can affect your brain, and even kill you.” “That’s good. You never told me that they gave you sex education at school. Talking to you about that is my responsibility as your Father.” And John proceeded to further embarrass his son by explaining in detail how to caress a woman and how to please her. “Dad, a couple of the wetbacks are coming with full sacks. That’s fascinating but is this the place for this discussion? Can it wait till later?” John replied, “Yes, but we will talk about this again before Saturday. You can

use the station wagon. All the wetbacks get curly hair on Saturday afternoon and want to quit early so they can go to Reynosa. So, on Saturday afternoon, I’ll pay the workers as usual. Then you can take a bath at home, so you won’t stink for your date.” Mark said, “Thanks Dad.” Then unhitched the scale from the full trailer and installed it on the empty one. Shaking his head to indicate displeasure, John got back in the station wagon and drove the load of cotton out of the field, turning south on Sugar Road to head toward the cotton gin. Mark thought and decided that he would never tell his Dad about the deputy picking up David on suspicion of something. He wasn’t sure what the deputy thought David had done. He liked David, and surely David was a good guy and not a criminal. At least he sure as heck hoped so. Yet there was a little nagging doubt in the back of his mind.

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CHAPTER 11

Blackmarket

Isabella Garza was busy sweeping and dusting the house. As she worked at the boring housecleaning, her thoughts were of her husband Ernesto. She liked to think of him as “Ernesto”, and not as “Ernie”, the ridiculous nickname the gringos had hung on him. Her thoughts drifted back to the time when Ernesto first told her that he wanted a son….

San Benito, Texas, 1939

There was war in Europe, but the United States had not yet entered the fighting. It was distant and had no affect yet upon lives in the border towns of Mexico and the United States. Ernesto Garza told his wife that he needed an heir to his business ownings. He needed a son, who could take them over and prosper and give him grandchildren to continue and build a dynasty in the Ernesto Garza name. So, they would make love every day of the month, except when she was bleeding, until she got pregnant. It was the best time of her life, and she had many orgasms that month. But, she did not get pregnant, neither that month nor the following one. She became concerned that he would put her away for another woman who could give him the son he wanted. She went to see her Doctor. The doctor displayed the certificate on his wall that proclaimed his medical degree from the University in Mexico City. He had returned to establish his practice in his hometown of Matamoros. He examined her thoroughly; taking her blood pressure and temperature, poking around her tummy, looking in her privates. He examined her body hairs for lice, ticks or other parasites. He found

none and no inflammation. At the end he told her she was in perfect health and he could find no reason why she could not have a baby. “Come back to me after your period, when sex becomes very good for you and let me examine you again. In the meantime, send that stubborn husband of yours to see me. I need to examine the other half of your problem.” She hadn’t had to broach the sensitive subject with Ernesto. The thought that it might be his problem that was the reason there was no pregnancy had occurred to him. He went to see the doctor on his own. He also received a thorough exam. The doctor put him in a closet with a plastic cup and told him that he needed a sample of Ernesto’s semen. Examining the sample under a microscope he discovered the source of the problem. The sperm had no tails. They were unable to make the trip up the tubes to the eggs. He let Ernie look in the microscope and explained the to him the defect and its consequence. Ernie could not produce babies. Aware of Ernie’s reputation, he explained that this was no fault of the man, but something that God sometimes did to protect the man from unwanted pregnancies of women when he had many available to him. “Chinga!” Ernie cursed. “Why would God do this to me? Why can’t he reverse it and let me have a son when I need one?” The doctor had no answer. Fearing consequences, he sought to deflect Ernie’s anger from himself, saying, “Perhaps you should discuss this with a man of God. I am afraid that I am not such a man.” Ernie went to his priest. After the confession, he told the man of God what the doctor had said, and repeated the question “Why did God do this to me, Father, and what can I do to get him to change it?” “God works in mysterious ways,” intoned the priest. “We cannot question his wisdom. He sees all and knows all, and he does what is best for us. Pray to him. Perhaps he can find a way to bless you. At least, if it is God’s will that you cannot begat a son, you can adopt one. There are many orphans who need families. I can help you find one who was Father ed by a man of means. One who has good ancestry in his background, and who thus is likely to grow up into a son of which you can be proud.” Ernie was not satisfied with this answer. He wanted God to give him a son of his own flesh and blood. But he feared that because of his sinful life, perhaps God

would not grant this to him. “I don’t know.” He said to the priest. “I must think about it.” “Pray about it,” the priest onished. “God will show you the way, if you open your mind and your heart to him.” “I will Father,” Ernie said as he turned away and headed for the church entrance. Ernie felt a brief flash of anger at the priest. But then he calmed himself, knowing that to kill a priest would bring sure and swift retribution from the Church and maybe from God himself. He had heard that the Vatican had its own hitmen. And even if the Church did not choose to send such a man after him, it might decide to excommunicate him. This would condemn him to hell, even if he made a last-minute prayer to God for forgiveness before his death. He did not need that complication in his life. He thought that he needed some way to save himself from hell someday. Ernie also now knew that replacing Isabella was not the answer to his problem. He loved her in his own way, and she was faithful to him. She kept his house very clean, she was a good cook, and she satisfied his every sexual need. He thought he might find a younger woman, but never one with the mature beauty of Isabella and with the devotion to him that she displayed. He knew that she was faithful to him because she never strayed away from their home except to buy food and other supplies. And she had never contracted any sexually transmitted diseases. That was a problem with his Matamoros whores, and he often had to replace one who became ill and who could transmit it to customers and to the other women. Perhaps the priest was right, and he must adopt a son. Not being able to sire his own son was a bitter pill, and he was not yet ready to swallow it. He was going to have to think about it to make sure that there was no other solution than what the priest suggested. Maybe he should consult another doctor.

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In the meantime, Isabella returned to Ernie’s brothel to tell her best friend from

her previous life of her problem. Her friend said, “I know a man who sells babies on the black market to families such as yours who are barren and cannot have their own children.” Babies for sale. Isabella was shocked. She had never heard of a black market for babies. “Tell me his name, she said. “Do you have his phone number. I must talk to him.” “His name is Augustine Alvarez. He goes by the nickname ‘Augie.’ His phone number is …” Isabella was in luck. Although Augie lived and operated out of Reynosa, he was in Texas. His wife called him at the Brownsville bar where he did business to tell him about a call from a woman who could be a customer. Finding a pay phone, he called her back, and then crossed the border to see her at the brothel in Matamoros. After introductions, she explained her dilemma to Augie. “You’re the wife of Ernesto Garza? Madre de Christo! I don’t know. I can help you with a baby, but if Ernesto found out about the deception…” He drew a finger across his neck. “He won’t find out. I will fake being pregnant, and nine months from now he will be so happy to have a baby son that he will not question it. And even if he did have doubts, no one will know about it but you and me. If you keep your mouth shut, no one will ever find out.” Augie said, “No!” “Please, you must help me.” “Well, everything has a price. You and Ernesto are both light-skinned Mexicans. Light skinned babies are harder to come by than brown skinned ones. And with the extra risk, I would have to have, let’s see, at least 100,000 pesos or 5000 dollars, U.S.” Isabella was stunned at the price. She was silent for a few moments while Augie looked at her expectantly. Then she said, “50,000 pesos or 2000 dollars.” “No,” said Augie. “I must have the full price, or no deal. A light-skinned baby will cost me a fortune. I can take no less than I said.”

She replied, “Well okay. But for that price, you must deliver the baby looking newborn when I need it nine months from now.” “It’s a deal,” replied Augie. “But when you tell me you’re ready it may be a week or two before I can deliver such a baby. And it will be a cash transaction. No cashier’s checks or money orders. There must be no record of the transaction. That is for your protection as well as mine.” “It will be done. You must deliver the baby here when the time comes.” “No,” said Augie. “I will meet you by the back door of this building. No one else must see me or know that I was here with the baby.” She replied, “Okay, but no tricks.” “Of course,” said Augie. “I also have my reputation to protect. I never do tricks on customers. If I ever did, I would be out of business. My customers must be able to trust me. It’s the nature of my trade.” Isabella thought this would be a solution. She would stuff herself with food and pretend to be pregnant. Then after nine months, she could have a midwife tell her husband that she had delivered his baby. She would have to diet after that to regain her figure so that Ernesto would continue to be pleased with her. This would be tricky. She had never lied to Ernesto before. She would have to put on her very best earnest face and convince him that she was pregnant.

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Ernesto dithered around about his decision. He made himself busy managing his two businesses, traveling across the border time and again. Both businesses improved from the added attention. A month ed, and he still had not decided what to do. He needed a son. Then one day he was surprised when Isabella told him that she was pregnant. Was she pregnant? Had he driven her to seek a seed from another man so that she could tell him that she would have his son? She had never lied to him before, but could she be desperate enough to do this now? He decided to pretend to believe her. Then later he must decide what to do about

it. In the meantime, he would continue to keep and love his precious Isabella. When no son came, he would tell her that he forgave her for the deception. After all, she was just trying to please him. Then a couple of months later, he noticed her belly was swelling. What was going on? Had God granted his fervent prayer? The prayer of a sinner such as him? He thought that he must consult his doctor, and his priest. But then he changed his mind. He would wait and see what happened. If she continued to swell, then he would go back to the doctor and have him retest his semen. Surely, the doctor would be able to tell him whether God had granted to him such a change. The priest had told the congregation that miracles still happened by the grace of God. So maybe this could be one. No, Ernie thought, God would not perform a miracle for a sinner such as he. Then, he wondered, did God grant this miracle because the priest prayed for him? If it was so, he would have to find a way to reward the priest. When they laid together at night, Isabella’s belly was swollen. This seemed to be evidence that she was pregnant and was not wearing something in her dress to make her look that way. What was he to do? He decided to wait and see what further developed. If she went to another man to get pregnant, should he put her away? If she did that, he thought, it must’ve been in desperation to give him the son she knew he wanted so very much. So, it would’ve been his fault. Or was it? Ernesto had a real dilemma. He could not discuss this with anyone. If a rumor got out that his wife had been unfaithful to him, then it would damage his reputation. Then he would be forced to put her away. No, not just to put her away but to have her killed. That would be necessary to save face and to continue to be able to rule his business in Matamoros and enforce his will through his men. And it would show everyone that Ernie was a man to be feared and respected. This troubled his heart, for Ernesto still loved Isabella. So, he continued to wait and see, and did nothing except one thing. He questioned his lieutenants if they had heard any rumors about him and his wife. If there was another man and if the Pinche estúpido who dared to lay with the wife of Ernie Garza and then talk about it, then that cabrón would also have to be executed. But Ernie heard nothing. There were no rumors. So, he waited and watched while his wife’s belly continued to swell, and she bought and wore clothes made for pregnant women. Ernesto’s inquiry to his trusted lieutenants caused the very thing that he had

feared - rumors. Behind his back his men talked both amongst themselves and at night with their wives. Their boss seemed to be coming apart. No one knew of any man who visited Ernie’s home when he was gone. Yet, why had Ernie asked about rumors of such a tryst? Could something have happened that they missed? Was Isabella pregnant with another man’s baby? They thought they made discreet inquiries about such a possibility, but those inquiries spread rumors. The rumors came back to them like echoes from a distant wall. So, they thought it must be true, but they could not find the man who had cuckolded Ernesto Garza. And if such a man existed, who would be stupid enough to tell Ernie? They were aware of the tendency to kill the messenger who brought bad news. Isabella told Ernie she must learn what to do from the doctor. So, he drove her not to a doctor in nearby Harlingen, but to their doctor in Matamoros. That doctor, fearing Ernie, examined her and pretended to believe she was pregnant. If the signs he saw were true, and she were not pregnant, then later he must tell Ernie that she had lied to her husband and to her doctor. Then pray for the best for himself. Ernie accepted the doctor’s diagnosis and continued to listen to the rumors in Matamoros in case someone claimed to have screwed Ernie’s wife. That man would not be able to keep his tongue forever. He must reveal himself sooner or later, and Ernie’s revenge would be swift and brutal. But, Ernie still wondered if this could be a miracle. The silence for so many months was beginning to make him believe that maybe his little sperm’s must have miraculously sprouted tails. Maybe, just maybe the rumors about his wife’s infidelity would never come, and he would be able to keep his Isabella and his son. Just in case, Ernie hoped and prayed that it would be so. That he could keep his beautiful Isabella and have his son, too. Isabella told her husband that she wished to accompany a midwife and observe the advice she gave women and how to best handle the pain of labor and the delivery of their baby by observing others. Ernie agreed and transported his wife to the most famous midwife of Brownsville. That woman told Ernie that he could not observe the delivery of the baby to another man’s wife. So, he waited in an outer room while Isabella visited with the midwife and watched a woman labor and her baby be delivered. Isabella came to an agreement with the midwife. She paid her a handsome sum for her future services in taking her black-market baby and pretending to deliver it to her while concealing the deception from Ernesto. That bribe and the price of the baby had depleted her secret savings from her previous life.

Isabella said to Ernesto that she could not do strenuous housework now since it might cause her to go into labor prematurely and have a miscarriage. So, Ernesto hired a maid to do the housework and help to tend to his very pregnant wife. With all the arrangements made, the nine months had ed. The baby was due, and Ernie was paying the midwife a salary to stay in a motel in San Benito and not be 20 miles away in Brownsville. He also promised her a nice bonus for the delivery of a healthy baby. On a day when Ernesto was in Matamoros, Isabella pretended to be in labor, and the midwife came to deliver the baby. She had a black bag with a recently born black market baby drugged and silent inside. The maid telephoned Ernie, and he drove across the border, through Brownsville and to San Benito as fast as he could. When he arrived, Ernie heard the baby squall through the door. The midwife had slapped it on the rear. Ernesto pounded on the door and demanded entrance. The midwife responded, “You can come in now Mr. Garza.” Ernie opened the door and rushed in. He saw a scene that had been prepared for his benefit. The baby was clearly a newborn, and its hair was wet, plastered to its head. Isabella was also wet from sweat with her body covered up to her shoulders. “You may hold the baby,” said the midwife. “But then we must return it to its mother. The baby needs to be held and loved by its mother, so it can bond to her. This is how it knows who is its mother.” Ernie took the baby and gingerly held it. He observed that it was a son and not a daughter. To Isabella it seemed that his grin was so big that his jaw might become disted and fall off. It was a miracle to him, which he had thought months ago would never happen. After a moment, the midwife took the baby back and laid it on Isabella’s chest. Then she turned to Ernie and said, “The maid can tend to their needs now. Isabella and the baby both need to rest without you disturbing them. There will be plenty of time later for you to love your baby and your wife. Come with me.” And she led him out of the bedroom. Then she said, “Pay me my money and have one of your men take me back to Brownsville. I must get back to my family and my clients.” Ernie gladly fulfilled this request. To his men Ernie said, “Tomorrow we will celebrate the birth of my son, David Ernesto Garza, in Matamoros, where they know how to party. This gringo town cannot do it like we Mexicans can.” Like a contagion, Ernie’s smile spread to all of them.

That night, the baby was hungry and crying. “What’s wrong with him?” asked Ernie. “Shall I go get the doctor?” “It’s my milk,” said Isabella. “It’s no good. Send the maid to the grocery store. She will know what to get. We will then be able to feed the baby with formula which is good and nourishing.” And that was done.

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Near Pharr, Texas, 1939

Frank Field, M.D. was a handsome big man with blue eyes, white skin and brown hair on his 6'2” tall 230-pound frame. Today he drove a new sky-blue Ford coupe, his car for house calls. He also owned a white Lincoln Continental which he reserved for special occasions such as taking his mistress to dinner in Reynosa, or to attend the poker games with friends on Saturday nights. The contests had been limited to small stakes but had evolved into high-stakes games. Doctor Field was not as good at poker as he thought he was. The result was that his losses had careened out of control. Today Doctor Field was in a hurry as he drove at high speed North on Sugar Road. He was on his way to a very important house call. His nurse had taken a phone call, and then said to him that the Halas family baby was on its way. The excited Father to be had managed to tell her after a couple of tries that his wife was in labor and the pains were coming very close together. Dr. Field had told his secretary, “Reschedule my appointments from this afternoon, and then close up the office and you can go home. Then, I’ll see you in the morning.” In his mid-40s, Dr. Field had delivered many babies, but this delivery was special to him. Five months earlier, he had detected two heartbeats with a stethoscope when examining an already showing pregnant Margaret Halas twins. He had kept his face neutral, and then forced a smile as he told her that he

heard a heartbeat and that she had a healthy baby in the hanger. He had been planning for this day ever since. Today he would deliver two babies, but the Halas family would only get one. The doctor carried a larger black bag than usual. In it amongst his supplies was a blanket folded for cushion and a tightly stoppered bottle of ether. It also carried extra supplies for a C-Section delivery. It would’ve been safer to perform this type delivery in a hospital with surgery assistance. But his plans for the extra baby and the necessary secrecy involved made delivery by himself alone mandatory. This would not be the first time that Dr. Field had performed delivery by C-section; he had done it twice before. Those deliveries had been necessary because of breach births. In each case, both baby and mother had survived. Neither case however had involved twins. Since planning to perform this C-section by himself, Dr. Field had reviewed the medical literature on the procedure, paying particular attention to the delivery of twins. The surgery had been performed at least as far back as 715 BC following the death of the mother with the occasional baby surviving. Descriptions of mothers surviving dated back to the 1500s. With the introduction of antiseptics and anesthetics in the 1800s survival of both the mother and baby became more common. This latter fact and his earlier successful experience with the procedure gave Dr. Field the self-confidence to proceed. Arriving at his destination, Dr. Field turned off the two-lane concrete road onto the gravel driveway leading to the small stucco house that was home to the young couple, the farmer and his wife. Stepping out of his car, he turned and lifted the heavy bag from the back seat. Carrying it with one hand and then the other, he approached the front of the house and stepped up on the concrete slab at the door. He knocked, and the door was answered by the anxious farmer. “Thank goodness you made it in time.” Said John Halas. “I was afraid the baby would come before you did. The widow Mrs. Boar from next door is in the bedroom with Margaret.” Both men went directly into the bedroom. The doctor set his bag down on the coffee table next to the bed and began examining Margaret. “You’re doing fine Mrs. Halas,” he assured her. “You and the baby are going to be just fine.” Then he switched to examining her abdomen both with his hands and his stethoscope. Frowning, he turned to John and Mrs. Boar. “I’m afraid there’s a complication. The baby appears to be in a breach position.”

Mrs. Boar covered her mouth with her open hand and said, “Oh my!” Puzzled and alarmed, John asked, “What does that mean?” The doctor replied, “Babies normally come out of the mother headfirst. Your baby is turned around the wrong way. This means he can’t come out in the normal way. I’m going to have to perform a surgery to get the baby out. It’s called a cesarean birth.” In a high-pitched voice, John said, “Surgery? Does that mean we have to take her to the hospital.” Tears welled up in his eyes. “There’s no time to do that,” said the doctor. “I will have to do it here. But do not worry. I’ve done this before and both the baby and the mother were just fine, every time. Everything will be good this time too.” Turning to face Margaret he placed his hand on her arm and said, “I’m going to have to create a germ-free field on your stomach. I’m going to give you an anesthetic, so you won’t feel the pain. You will sleep, and when you awake, you will be able to hold your baby and nurse it. Don’t worry, you and the baby both will be just fine.” The doctor stood and escorted both Mrs. Boar and John Halas to the door of the room. “John, I’m going to have to ask you to stay out here in the living room until I finish the procedure. I’m afraid that your presence would introduce germs that could cause infection later for your wife. Mrs. Boar, I need for you to put some water on to boil and use it to sterilize some washcloths and towels for me. Then you will need to stay out here with John and help him to be calm. Having isolated the laboring woman in the bedroom, the doctor donned white surgery clothing and mask. Then he proceeded to ister anesthetics to her by a shot and by dripping ether on a cloth spread over her mouth and nose. Once she was asleep, he washed his hands in alcohol. Then he uncovered her abdomen and using a warm sterile wash rag he cleaned her. He further sterilized her abdominal swollen stretched skin with alcohol-soaked gauze. He unwrapped and spread the surgical instruments on a sterilized towel on the bed. Preparations completed, the doctor picked up a scalpel and began the large C-shaped incision.

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John Halas paced back and forth in the living room, occasionally stopping to look at the closed bedroom door and at the clock hanging on the wall. Mrs. Boar sat in a rocking chair and rocked back and forth. Her hands together and head bowed, she prayed. In the kitchen, the forgotten pot of water on the stove boiled down to empty. Smelling the odor of overheated aluminum metal, John walked into the kitchen and turned off the burner. Returning to the living room, he heard Mrs. Boar say softly, “I’m sorry.” He smiled at her, “That’s okay.” The wall clock showed two hours had ed when the doctor opened the door and said, “You can come in now.” He held a sleeping newborn baby boy in his arms, wrapped in a towel. Margaret lay asleep on the bed. The doctor had recleaned her stomach, but the towel under her was bloodied. He said, “I’m afraid that the blood soaked through and into the mattress. You can clean the surface of it with lemon juice and put it outside to air in the sun later.” He handed the baby to John, saying, “Margaret will awaken in an hour or two. Let her sleep until she naturally awakens. Then she can nurse the baby. Keep the baby in the bedroom with her. That way, when it cries from hunger, it should awaken her. Addressing Mrs. Boar, the doctor asked, “Will you be able to stay here and assist while Margaret recovers from the surgery?” She replied, “Yes sir. I helped my daughters when my grandchildren were born, and I can help here too.” John said, “Thank you ma’am. I’m going to have to continue to work the farm. It’s obvious someone will need to be here with Margaret during the day.” Dr. Field said, “Good. Now both of you, I controlled the bleeding and she should be okay. However, keep a close watch on her. If you see any signs of bleeding, call me and take her to the McAllen hospital emergency room. I will meet you there. Watch her fingernails. They should remain pink or skin colored. If they turn pale or white, that’s a sign of major blood loss, internal bleeding. It will be two months before Margaret will be recovered enough to assume normal household chores. Mrs. Boar, can you help that long.”

She replied, “Yes sir, I will.” John said, “I can pay you for your help.” “Please, do not insult me that way,” said Mrs. Boar. “Help when needed is just what a Christian neighbor’s for. Besides, Margaret has been kind to me, and I love her.” The doctor handed John a half pint sized bottle. “Give her a tablespoon of this three times a day until it’s all gone.” Then he pointed at the bedside trashcan which now contained the afterbirth covered by a bloodied towel. “Then bury that mess deep so that the dogs or coyotes won’t dig it up.” “Yes sir,” replied John. “How much do I owe you, Doc?” “$20 for today, but you can pay me next week.” Picking up his zipped up black bag, which now contained all of the surgical tools wrapped back up in a towel, but was heavier than before, the doctor headed for the door saying, “I will be back to check on her one week from today. In the meantime, God bless you all.” Mrs. Boar and John both said in unison, “Thank you.” In his car, and now alone, the doctor unzipped the bag to allow air for the baby boy sleeping inside resting on the folded blanket. “Sleep well little one. Back at my place, we’ll feed you. You will never know it, but you are an answer to my prayers.”

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Back in his office, after feeding the baby warm formula, the doctor picked up his telephone headset and dialed “O” for operator. When the operator answered, he said, “Operator I wish to place a call to Mexico. The number is…” And he read it off a scrap of paper from his billfold. The call was answered in Spanish, “Hello.”

“Augie, this is Frank Field. I have the package you requested. I will expect you to pick it up at my office as soon as you can tonight. And , no cash, no baby.” Switching to English, Agustín Alvarez replied, “I should be there by ten.” And then they both hung up. Dr. Field opened the bottom right-hand drawer of his desk, took out a 38 revolver and slipped it in his jacket pocket. This was his first big transaction with Augie, and he didn’t know whether to trust him or not. He thought that the smuggler might be willing to kill for the price he had demanded for the baby. So, he decided better safe than sorry. After hanging up, Augie turned to his mother and said, “Go to the market and buy some goat’s milk. Dig out the old baby bottles we used for José. I must go to get a baby from a gringo doctor in McAllen. You will need to feed it when I get it back here. We may have it for a day or two but not very long. It’s business.” She said, “Goodness. A baby? Business? This is a lot different than the marijuana that you sell to the gringos. Do you know what you’re doing?” “Yes Mother,” he snapped. “Don’t question me about my business. This will be very profitable, and you will be able to buy that new dress you wanted so much from the Penny’s store.” Call the fisherman and tell him to meet me at the usual spot. With that, he turned and went into his office. There he opened his combination safe and extracted a metal box. Using a small key on a ring from his pocket, he unlocked the box. It was full of American cash -twenties and hundreds. He counted out four thousand dollars in twenties and wrapped them in rubber bands in four packs. From a desk drawer he took out a bag made from half a 50-pound feet sack with a shoulder strap attached. Placing the cash packets in the bag, he hitched it over his shoulder. Then picking up his truck keys from his desk he headed for the door. Agustín (Augie) Alvarez was a black-market businessman who smuggled and sold marijuana, and now he sold babies. At a slim 5'8”, Augie earned his reputation as a mean and dangerous thug by both actions and appearance. Under coal black hair, he wore a fierce frown on his pale olive white skinned face that featured brown eyes, a hooked nose, cauliflower ears and a scar that ran from

below his left eye to the right side of his chin making indents as it crossed his lips. He would have preferred to drive up the river to the Los Ebanos ferry. The ferry was drawn across the Rio Grande River by hand and operated by locals. The advantage was that he could take his pickup truck across, and there were no border patrolmen at that crossing. But he did not have time for that trip out of the way tonight. So, he drove a mile northwest out of Reynosa then turned on a dirt road down to the river. There, his fisherman friend waited for him in his rowboat. Across the river, he took the fisherman’s pickup and drove into McAllen. Dr. Field heard a knock on the rear door entry to his offices. He peaked through the curtains on an adjacent window and saw Augie fidgeting outside. Letting him in, the doctor kept a hand in his coat pocket on the revolver. Augie dropped the bag on the doctor’s desk and asked, “Where’s the baby?” The doctor grabbed the bag and dumped the four packets of cash onto the table. He picked up one pack and flipped through the bills confirming a thick stack of 20s. Then he opened his black bag on the desk and lifted out the blanket wrapped sleeping baby. At first sight, Augie thought the baby might be dead. Watching it he saw his chest rise and fall. With relief, he took the baby and put it in the feed sack bag. Shouldering it and without another word he headed for the door. Pausing at the door, Augie asked, “Aren’t you going to count the money?” “No. I know where you live, and you will want future business from me. I’m sure it will be right.” After Augie had left, the doctor attempted to pull the gun from his pocket. It snagged, and he had trouble getting it out. He breathed a sigh of relief, realizing what could’ve been a fatal mistake. The delay in drawing the gun would have cost him his life if murder had been Augie’s intention. Realizing this, he collapsed into his expensive office chair, breathing heavily. Slowly his breathing returned to normal and his hands stopped shaking. Then he began counting the money.

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CHAPTER 12

Deputies

Edinburg, Texas, June 1957

Deputy Pedro Vicente entered the Sheriff’s offices in the Hidalgo County courthouse in Edinburg. He was greeted in a loud voice by the leading redneck of the office, Deputy Craig Polk, “Here’s the pepper belly of Hidalgo County law enforcement. How are you doing, greaser?” At 6'4” and 250 pounds, Craig was a giant amongst the deputies. He had a slight potbelly and was soft from not exercising. His pale face was pockmarked, the legacy of pimpled teenage years. His light brown hair and eyebrows rode above bulged blue eyes, a snub nose, fat lips and a receded round chin. With a pained expression, Pedro answered, “Not your concern pork belly. What have you done today towards finding and arresting the bowling alley killer?” Vicente kept himself in shape by running 5 miles each evening. He was a slim 5'10” and 160 pounds. Black hair and eyebrows set atop an oblong face featuring light brown skin, brown eyes, a Grecian nose, smiling thin lips and a rounded chin. This exchange was rewarded by some chuckles and some annoyed expressions around the room containing several desks at which a dozen other deputies were seated. “Well, at least you showed up on time for today’s meeting. I thought you’d be laid out some were taking a siesta,” retorted Polk. “I hear that they have found another one of your cousins floating in the river again.” “Did you put him there?”

Craig had other reders ready. “Not my style. Everyone knows that most wetbacks are killed by other Mexicans. You know what a bunch of Mexicans are running for the river is? … A jail break!” Crime scene investigator Doctor Brian Quinn inserted, “Give him a break Polk. He’s a good lawman, and we need him. He’s the one in this office who can identify with the majority of the citizens of this county.” Polk said, “You know what they call a building full of Mexicans? Jail.” The oldest Deputy was Nick Worley. At age 64, he was due to retire next year. He said, “That’s enough Polk. We don’t want to listen to any more your bullshit.” Nick’s son Tony was also a deputy and he said, “Amen.” Several other deputies echoed the sentiment. Nick decided the atmosphere in the room needed to be lightened up. He said, “Do y’all know the real reason we don’t have the 10 Commandments engraved on the courthouse wall?” Brian Quinn decided to play along. He said, “You’re going to tell us aren’t you? So, do it.” Nick said, “You cannot post ‘Thou Shalt Not Steal,’ ‘Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery,’ and ‘Thou Shall Not Lie’ on a building full of lawyers, judges and politicians…It creates a hostile workplace for those guys.” The room full of deputies was filled with some chuckles and some outright laughs. Sheriff Leroy Thompson stepped out of his office at this point and interrupted, “All right, that’s enough nonsense. Listen up everybody. The bowling alley killer is still out there. We have his name and his description. The wanted poster may not be a great likeness, but it’s close enough with the other information we have. That is the number one priority for the week. As you patrol your beats, keep a lookout, and check out anyone who fits the description even a little bit. As for the body on the riverbank, Vicente, I would appreciate it if you would the coroner and meet him at the scene. Okay, does anyone else have something we need to discuss, and no bullshit.” The room was silent except for the various soft sounds made as the deputies

began equipping themselves for the day with their weapons and other paraphernalia. Then the sheriff spoke up again, “Oh, and one other thing. Craig, since Vicente must go to the river and will be tied up most of the day with that, you should hightail it down to McAllen and cover the Pharr to Mission highway area today. Ben, you stretch your patrol to include the Edinburg area that Polk usually patrols. If it gets busy here, call on the dispatcher to get assistance. Alright men, that’s it. Let’s hit it.” Sheriff Thompson turned and walked out of the room headed down the hall. The men all knew that he was going to Allison’s Café for his morning caffeine jolt as was his daily habit. A World War II veteran, the sheriff was 6'3” tall and had a muscular lean body which he maintained by working the 8-acre gentlemen’s farm behind his house. That also gave him a nice tan. Yet he sometimes had to let up on the farm work because he still had shrapnel in his back from the war. The military surgeons had refused to operate on it fearing they would do more damage than good. He took Tylenol for his pain; his stomach would not tolerate aspirin. His hair was a mixture of gray and blonde. His craggy countenance reminded folks of Kirk Douglas. Under his breath, Polk grumbled, “Damn Mexicans. If they would just quit killing each other, my job would sure be a hell of a lot easier. I hate covering the greaser’s territory. That is such a busy stretch of highway. There’s always some idiot causing a traffic accident. And with that, lots of stupid paperwork.” Vicente ignored him as he headed out for his patrol car. Like a covey of quail startled by a hunter, the deputies scattered out of the courthouse, each headed for his patrol car. Polk fumbled around getting his equipment and was the last to leave.

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Hidalgo County had no real official coroner. By Texas law, each Justice of the Peace was authorized to serve as a coroner in counties where there was no provision for one. JP William Bennett Benson was known as “Billy Ben.” The other JPs deferred to Justice Benson for coroner duties because he was the most qualified official in Hidalgo County. Billy Ben had attended two years of

medical school in Dallas, financed by his Father. That ended with the elder Benson’s sudden death in a head-on collision automobile accident on the three Lane Highway 83 near McAllen. Billy Ben had his JP office in the county courthouse and an autopsy lab in the courthouse basement. Deputy Vicente called him using his patrol car radio, “Hey, Doc Billy Ben, you got your ears on?” In his coroner’s office van, Benson picked up the mike and thumbed the switch. “Pedro is that you? Must be a lucky day for me to have you on this case instead of that Polk slob.” “I like it too,” replied Vicente. “This should be more interesting than covering traffic on the three-lane highway stretch. Have you got the exact location on the river for the body.” “Yeah, meet me at the Bulldog Café in McAllen and we can ride together from there. You can leave your car parked at the café. It should be safe enough there, and waitress Millie can keep an eye on it too.” The deputy did not argue. The river road trip would be more pleasant with an interesting person like Billy Ben to talk with on the way.

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Entering the café, Pedro easily spotted Billy Ben seated in a booth opposite two men in suits. Billy Ben stood out in the busy restaurant. At 6 foot five with blonde hair, sky blue eyes, ivory white skin and a face that resembled Rock Hudson, he was easily the tallest and most striking figure in the crowd. When Vicente approached, Billy Ben introduced them. “This is Deputy Pedro Vicente. Pedro, you know Corky McCord here. The other detective is Buddy Holiday. Buddy used to be a football coach.” Shaking hands with each in turn, Pedro said, “Nice to see you again Corky, and pleased to meet you Detective Holiday. Is this job a step up from being a coach?”

“Not.” Said Buddy. “Believe it or not, there’s a lot less pressure. I was a head football coach, and you wouldn’t believe what some of the parents would say when you lost a game. And just call me Buddy.” “Oh, I think I can imagine,” said Pedro. “I played, and I can what my Dad used to say to the coach when that happened.” Everyone at the table laughed. After Pedro was seated next to Billy Ben, and coffee was supplied by waitress Millie, Billy Ben said, “The detectives want to follow us down to the river and inspect the body.” “That’s outside your city limits,” stated Pedro. “How do you justify that?” Corky said, “There’s a chance the victim was murdered in McAllen and then taken down and thrown in the river. At least, that’s what we will say on our report. We have a missing man case, and this can be part of our investigation.” Pedro replied, “This is good. I haven’t covered a murder case before, and I would be interested in your comments. But, unless you recognize him as your missing citizen, it’s my case.” Corky raised his hand in a placating gesture. Then said, “No problem. We don’t know that this is a murder case yet. Could be this guy or gal was swimming across the river and just drowned. That does happen.” Pedro quipped, “Us dark skinned Mexicans are just Indians from Mexico, and you know that all Indians are good swimmers.” The detectives grinned at that but made no comment. Turning to Billy Ben, Pedro asked, “So, just where is this body located and who reported it?” Billy Ben said, “It was reported by a man named Juan Carrizales, one of the laborers that operate the hand pulled ferry that crosses the river at Los Ebanos. He said that the body is floating in canes growing by the bank of the river on the U.S. side just a little way down river from the ferry.” “Very interesting,” said Vicente. Looking across at the detectives he continued, “You would think someone throwing a body in the river would not throw it in the canes where it would be stuck. They would want to throw it in a clear area where the river could take it on downstream.”

“They could’ve thrown it in off the ferry dock during the night when it’s not manned,” said Corky. “Then the body just floated into the canes and got trapped.” “That’s possible,” said Billy Ben. “There are about four places on the banks of the Rio Grande in Hidalgo County where bodies floating in the river tend to get trapped. The canes down from the Los Ebanos Ferry is one of them. I have to go down to that spot about twice a year.” “Twice times four spots makes eight bodies a year. That infers that there are a lot of bodies floating down the river every year,” commented Detective Holiday. “Are there that many?” Billy Ben answered with his lecture mode voice, “The Rio Grande River is one of the longest in the United States or Mexico. If you look it up on the map you will see that it starts all the way up in the mountains in Colorado. It flows on down through New Mexico before becoming the border around El Paso. Another large river, the Pecos s it a little way north of the city of Del Rio. There are lots of communities along the way on both rivers. Lots of places where bodies can be introduced into the river.” Pedro said, “Yeah, but four places on the river where bodies are trapped, maybe once a year each, just in Hidalgo County. There must be a lot of counties bordering on the two rivers. That infers a fantastic number of bodies every year floating on down. That can’t be right. I sure would’ve heard about that. The newspapers or television would be saying how fantastic and bad that it is.” Billy Ben said “Whoa. I talk to other coroners, and they don’t have that many bodies from the river. I guess it’s just that Hidalgo County is blessed with more or better natural traps for bodies on the banks of the river than the other counties. Otherwise I can’t explain it.” “We have jawed about this long enough,” said Vicente. “Let’s go see the body before the fishes eat it up and just leave bones for us to look at.” “Right,” said Billy Ben. He took out his wallet and tossed a dollar bill on the table. Corky matched it, putting his hand on Buddy’s arm to indicate he had it covered. Thinking this was extravagant enough, but not wanting to be a cheapskate and leave no tip, Vicente tossed a quarter on top of the paper bills. Then everyone climbed out of the booth and headed for the front of the

restaurant. Vicente said to the detectives, “Billy Ben’s van just has two seats. You guys going to sit on the floor, or take your Crown Vic?” “We’ll drive our car,” said Corky. “We’ll follow you, but in case we get separated, what’s the route you’re going to take.” Billy Ben said, “We’ll take highway 83 west past La Joya and turn south on FM 886 near Sullivan City. Just follow me. I’ll watch you in the rearview and be careful not to lose you. But you keep an eye on me and do not be too tied up sightseeing. It’s a scenic drive, with lots of coyotes, road runners, lizards, cacti and mesquite trees.” “Been there, and seen that,” said Corky.

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Patrolling eastward on the highway, Deputy Polk observed the coroner’s van and obvious detective’s car pull out and head west in front of him. He pulled over on the shoulder and watched them fade away in the distance. “Damn greaser has help. Damn all Mexicans. I could get along just fine without them,” he muttered. Then, deciding he needed coffee too, he turned on his cherry top flasher and pulled across all three lanes into the café parking lot. In the van, Billy Ben observed, “Saw one of your sheriff’s cars back there just now. One of your compadres covering your territory today?” Vicente grimaced and replied, “Yeah, your favorite deputy, that asshole Polk. I just hope he doesn’t screw up and leave a problem for me to clean up later.” “From what I’ve heard about him, that’s highly likely,” said Billy Ben. “There’s a saying about assholes.” Pedro said, “Yeah, what’s that?”

Billy Ben said, “They’re all around us, and some stink worse than others.”

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After parking the vehicles near the ferry dock, the four men walked along an animal trail through the brush, cacti and mesquite along the riverbank down to where the patch of cane grew. Billy Ben carried a mariner’s pole with a hook on the end on his shoulder and a Samsonite case in his other hand. Vicente carried a separate case for the coroner. The two detectives were empty-handed, but looked around, ready to draw their 38 revolvers in an instant. By the way they scanned the ground along the trail, they were worried about Texas’ diamondback rattlesnakes and water moccasins. But the short walk was uneventful. Billy Ben was wearing rubber boots which came up to his knees. Having spotted the body, he dropped the case, and stepped down into the mud by the shore. Then he reached out, hooked the body, and dragged it onto the bank. All four men were wearing dust masks, but they were little protection against the rank order wafting from the bloated cadaver. Its pants and shirt were of a simple style worn often by Mexican citizens but were stretched by the swollen body and ripped in places. Its feet were bare, but with much of the flesh eaten away from the bones. This matched the condition of the hands and head. The eyes were gone, and portions of the skull exposed. All bones were stained brown by the river. “The fishes had a feast,” commented Billy Ben. Examination of the cadaver was interrupted by Buddy Holiday, who, turning away and jerking up his mask retched, spewing coffee and food remains on to the brush. Corky and Pedro both swallowed hard, barely avoiding ing him. Billy Ben glanced back and then snapped open a case and removed an ice pick. After punching a hole in the body chest, he inserted a long thermometer and held a matching one in the river water. After a few minutes, which seemed like forever to the three observers, he removed both thermometers and examined them. Then he turned and climbed up onto the bank, his boots making vulgar squishing sounds as he pulled them out of the mud. Turning to the others, he delivered his verdict.

“The body core temperature is the same as the river water temperature. It’s been in the water a long time, several days. How long has your man in McAllen been missing?” Corky replied, “Forty-eight hours. I think this body’s been around longer than that. No, never mind. The clothes don’t match our missing man. He was wearing a business suit. This guy was a Mexican peon. Thank you, Billy Ben. With your permission Buddy and I will leave to get away from that damned odor not to mention the view.” Without waiting for a reply, the two detectives moved back down the trail. “You’re welcome,” Billy Ben said after them. Then turning to Vicente, he said, “I don’t guess they’ll want to accompany me down here to the river anytime soon again after this.” “You think?” And they both laughed. “You going to put that stinking mess in the van and carry it back with us? Lord, I hope not.” “Not to worry, I called the Kreidler Funeral Home. A hearse should be along shortly. Transporting this will be their problem. I suspect that this poor fella entered the river somewhere way upstream of here and just didn’t make it across. There’s no evidence of trauma to his skull, but if he was the victim of an attack by someone, there’s not enough left to tell. So, we’ll just have to write it off as another drowned wetback. The John Doe body will go into a pauper’s grave. I can’t see any reason for my office to further examine it. We’ll have to keep an eye on it until the undertakers arrive.”

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CHAPTER 13

Dinner at Nine

Sugar Road, Near Pharr, Texas, June 1957

The summer sun does not set in extreme South Texas until about 8 o’clock, and it was dusk when the two vehicles pulled into the driveway at the Halas residence. Looking out a kitchen window, Margaret Halas was surprised to see the second vehicle, a car following John’s Ford Woody. When the boys got out of the second car, she saw David and thought that he looked almost identical to her son Mark except for the color of his hair and his ridiculous matching mustache. In her view a teenage boy had no business growing a mustache. She didn’t like it when her husband John had grown one, either. It tickled her when she kissed him, and that wasn’t romantic at all. So, she just didn’t like mustaches in general. John washed his hands first. While the boys were washing their hands, one at a time, he hurried into the kitchen and spoke quietly to his wife. “Mark has a new friend. Please don’t grill him about his family, his background, or anything else. Just let the boys visit with each other and be friends.” To this request, Margaret replied, “Well okay. But later I want to know more about him. I don’t want Mark associating with any juvenile delinquents or other gang . That boy also is handsome, but he would look better without that mustache.” John said, “Now Margaret.” The boys entered the dining and kitchen area and the two adults fell silent. The kitchen table was set, but seeing Mark’s guest, and after looking at her little sister, Elizabeth proceeded to set another place at the table while Jane brought

another chair into the kitchen. As the girls finished the chore, Mark made introductions: “Mom, this is my new friend David. He’s from McAllen and looking for a job. He’s going to apply at the cotton gin tomorrow. David, this is my Mom, and these are my two sisters. Elizabeth is the older one, and this is Jane.” Elizabeth smiled sweetly saying, “Welcome.” And Jane just giggled. David said, “Hello everybody. Mark, the women of your family are all beautiful.” Jane giggled again. Pointing, Margaret directed, “David you sit there next to Mark’s place. The girls will sit on the opposite side. John sits at the head of the table, and I sit on the other end.” Chairs made scraping sounds on the worn linoleum floor as everybody seated themselves except Elizabeth and her mother. The two women brought the food to the table. Each place had a full-size plate, and a stack of bowls set at Margaret’s end of the table. She proceeded to ladle the soup containing some chicken pieces and large white balls, the latter of which were the “gumboats.” Observing that everyone was waiting to start eating while the food was being served, David also waited. John told David, “We all hold hands and offer a prayer of thanks.” Seeing everyone else linking up, David took the hands of John and Mark at his sides and, bowed his head as the others had. Also noticing that they had closed their eyes he did the same. John prayed loudly, offering thanks for those protecting the nation, for the abundant crops that the Lord had produced for them, and a request blessing for the food and its nourishment for their bodies.” Everyone said “Amen” in a chorus, while David crossed himself. Margaret noted that he must be Catholic. This she didn’t like at all but chose to conceal her disapproval behind another smile. “Where do you attend mass David?” she asked. At this, John frowned at her. David said simply, “In McAllen.” The Halas family began eating except for Margaret who watched as David dipped his soup spoon into the hot liquid. He blew to cool it, then sipped it. “Mm, that’s good,” he said. “What makes the soup orange?”

“Paprika is orange, and it’s a traditional Hungarian old country spice,” said Mark. David scooped up the white ball with this spoon but lifted it only partly out of the soup. He said to Mark, “And this is what is called a gumboat?” Elizabeth decided to keep her silence and let the boys talk. “Yeah, they’re hard to eat in one piece without being sloppy. I like to take my fork and butter knife and cut it up. It’s easier to eat it that way. It’s made with a dough ball, but it’s soft on the outside and firm in the middle, like noodles are.” And he proceeded to show what he meant. After that, everyone finished their soup in silence except for the sipping and the occasional clink of silverware against bowls. Afterward, David looked at Margaret and said, “That was good.” Margaret asked, “Would you like some more?” “I wish,” said David. “But I’m afraid that I’m full. It’s filling” “Well, I hope you have room for dessert.” David made his eyes big. “Having tasted how good your food is, I’ll make room,” he stated. “Good decision,” commented Mark. Margaret went to the kitchen and returned with a platter containing pastries. John told David, “Margaret’s cinnamon and sugar loaded kolaches are delicious. She spreads the dough out into very thin layers and then overlaps them to create the crust around the sweet center. Nothing else like it in Texas.” Margaret served two kolaches to each person around the table. Then took her seat and watched David. He took a bite. As he chewed it he smiled and then said, “delicious as d. Thank you for the dinner Mrs. Halas.” “You’re welcome. You should come to dinner again another day. There are other Hungarian foods that you would like.” She thought, He’s very polite, maybe not so bad even though he’s a Catholic.

After dinner, Mark asked, “David, how about a game of chess?” “Thanks, but not tonight. I’m too full and couldn’t think good. I need to get on home. I’ve got stuff to do and it’s been a long day.” Turning toward Margaret he continued, “Thank you for all the good food. I will come back again for some more as you suggested. May you all have a good evening.” Then he turned and went out the door. This was followed by the sound of his engine starting and then the crunch of the gravel in the driveway as he drove back to the road. John said, “That David is a nice kid. I’m glad that you have found a new friend, Mark. But it was a little rude of him to rush off after eating.” Margaret added, “Yes, John, he seems to be nice. But did you notice that he’s a Catholic. Catholics think that their church is the real one. They look down their noses at the rest of us.” Mark said, “Mom!” John said, “Good night Mark.” Mark hugged his Dad and gave his mother a hug and a kiss. Then he went out the back door. “Now Margaret, said John. “Not everybody can be Church of Christ . The fact that David is a Catholic should not keep him from being a good friend for Mark. Besides, maybe Mark can learn to be politer by David’s example. It will be good for Mark to have a friend during this summer.” “Well all right, but I would feel a lot better about him if he belonged to a Protestant religion, like Baptist, Presbyterian, Methodist or something.” “Oh, and Mark asked for the Woody for a Saturday night date. I talked to him about the facts of life but told him he could have it.” “Mark’s got a date. And I haven’t met her. How could you give him permission without him first bringing her around for us to get acquainted? John, we’ve talked about this before. He’s getting old enough that any girl he dates could be our future daughter-in-law. We agreed that we would screen who he dates.” John replied in a placating tone of voice while holding up his hands, “Now

honey, I know we talked about it a while back, but since then I’ve thought it over some more and this is not the old country. Parents do not arrange marriage for their children in America. That’s never been a practice even in Texas. We need to adjust to the customs here in America so that we can fit in and be accepted and have friends. And Mark needs to fit in, too. We have to give Mark freedom to date who he pleases. But, okay, I’ll talk to him again and make sure that he understands that before he gets serious about any young woman, we want to meet her. That’s reasonable, even for America.” “Well, you’re the head of the household, so I guess I have to go along with this. You know I don’t like it. Do not forget to make that talk you just promised so that the importance of us meeting his young ladies is clear to him.” “Yes Mama.”

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CHAPTER 14

Rage

Palm Drive, Near Pharr, Texas

David Garza was bored. He had never liked to read books, and daytime television was very limited. It seemed to be aimed at housewives and was not entertaining for a young man like him. What could he do to the time while he waited for his Father to find a way to clear his name back in San Benito. He decided to leave the hideout again and go visit his friend Mark at the nearby cotton patch on Sugar Road.

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Sugar Road

Mark Halas was thirsty, laboring to pick cotton under a merciless white-hot Sun in near 100°F weather. His shirt was soaked with sweat under his arms and on his back. Sweat also trickled down from the band of his straw hat and burned his eyes. He straightened up, wiped the sweat from his forehead and stretched his aching back. Then he stood up off his knees and scanned his surroundings to see if any of the crew were near having a full sack to weigh. It had been a while since he had weighed in anyone’s cotton picking sack. He noted Ángel Muñoz and his brother Emilio Munoz had both shouldered full sacks and started walking toward the trailer. As he finished scanning the rows of still green tall

cotton plants, he noticed David coming out of the brush on the south side of the field. Mark decided to unstrap his sack and leave it in place where he was working, then walk over to the trailer to meet the three men and to get a drink of water. David was walking with a staff made from a mesquite tree stripling. The six-foot long stick was about 2 inches in diameter and David felt it would be adequate to ward off a stray coyote. He had fashioned the staff using an ax, a knife and sandpaper to make it bare hand safe. Then he had practiced using it as a weapon by beating on a larger tree which served in his imagination as a coyote. The light-yellow wood had some scratches from the workout in its otherwise somewhat smooth surface. “Hey David,” Mark greeted him laughing. “You look like a biblical character walking with that staff. Maybe like Charlton Heston playing Moses in The Ten Commandments.” Putting on a frown, David said, “Naw, too pompous. If I were Heston, I would be more like when he played President, General Andrew Jackson.” Then approaching the cotton trailer and warming to his idea, he smiled and continued, “Yeah, like when he led an army to beat up on those Indians in Florida.” Mark chuckled as he walked toward the trailer. “So, instead of playing an old man with your staff, you would play a different old man. You have to be over forty years old to be a president. And it doesn’t fit anyhow, Andrew Jackson never used a big stick like that one. What’s it for, defending yourself against someone wanting you to pick cotton?” “Yeah, like this.” Angel and Emilio arrived at the trailer and dropped their sacks next to the scales. They stood waiting and listening to the two bantering teenagers. Emilio understood a little English and knew that the two young men were joking around, but Angel had learned no English and was mystified. So, when David raised the staff to pretend to defend himself against Mark, Angel jumped forward and grabbed the staff, jerking it out of David’s hands from behind. Furious, David whirled around and struck Angel in the jaw with his fist, knocking him down. He followed the blow jumping on top of Angel and drew back his fist for another hit. But before he could strike, Emilio and Mark were

both on him dragging him off and pinning his arms to his sides. Angry but not defeated, Angel struggled to his feet and prepared to attack the now restrained David. “Whoa. Stop.” Said Mark. “No. Alto.” Said Emilio at Angel at the same time. The two antagonists were both surprised by this interruption of their fight. Angel stepped back and visibly relaxed. David wrenched his arms free and then also stepped back. Angel rubbed his jaw which was red where David’s fist had made . Mark said, “Emilio, please explain to Angel that David was pretending that he was going to hit me with that stick.” As Emilio explained in Spanish, and he understood, Angel tilted his head forward in embarrassment. David also appeared to relax and accept that the fight was over. Inside he was furious, but he covered it well, saying, “Okay, no harm done. Mark, I’m leaving you with your wetback friends, and I’ll see you later.” Then he stomped off and disappeared into the woods from which he had come. Sighing, Mark weighed the two full cotton sacks, then Emilio and Angel boosted them up on the trailer and climbed up after to empty them. Work continued as usual. As they picked cotton, Angel said to Emilio, “This will be my last sack full for this trip to Texas. I’m leaving and going back to San Luis.” “Leaving right now?” “Yes. You can get my money from the boss and send it to me. I want to leave early enough to cross the river in daylight. Thank you for your help, uncle.” Upon returning to his trailer house hideout, David threw his staff down on the floor. He filled a glass with water and drank it all. After that, he lowered the fold up bed and removed the colt pistol. After checking that the cartridge was loaded with bullets, he tucked it in his belt and covered it with his shirttail. Then he left, locking the trailer door behind himself.

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Angel Munoz paused on the bank to survey the water flow of the Rio Grande. At this location, the river was wide, but the water was flowing fast. Angel thought that this must mean that the water was shallow. He knew from conversations with other wetbacks that the river bottom had holes and he could not depend on the idea of wading across. He would have to swim as difficult as that would be with a treacherous fast water flow. Rapid pistol shots shattered the silence, and Angel jerked with his hands flying up in the air. He fell forward and splashed into the river.

CHAPTER 15

Progreso

July 1957

Sheriff’s Deputy Pedro Vicente was enjoying coffee at the Bulldog Café with his new friend, McAllen police detective Buddy Holiday, when waitress Millie called out to him, “Hey Pedro, you got a phone call.” In response, a man at another table stood up, and she said to him, “Not you. I meant deputy Vicente over there.” The coffee, tea and food were excellent at the Bulldog Café, but for many men in McAllen, the main attraction of the restaurant was the beautiful waitress Millie Jordan. Her blonde hair hung to her shoulders and it was curled at the ends and over her forehead in the style of the day. She had an hourglass figure with showgirl sized breasts. Her oblong face featured sky-blue eyes, a pert nose and full makeup red lips. Pedro thought she looked like Marilyn Monroe. Pedro stood and said to the other standing man, “Excuse me buddy.” Then he walked over to the wall phone by the kitchen door entrance where the waitress was holding the headset for him. He took it and said, “This is Vicente. How can I help you?” In a tinny voice, the phone said, “Your dispatcher told me where I would find you. We’ve got another body in the river. You free to come with me to there now, or do I need to get another deputy for today?” “Damn it, Billy Ben. Another one? They must make bodies in the river just for you to have fun.” “Don’t stall me. Make the call. You coming with me or not? Do I get you today or do I have to settle for some other deputy like maybe that pompous ass Polk?”

“Yeah, I’ll come. Things are kind of quiet around here today, so let me call in to get someone else to cover, and then where do we meet?” “Stay where you are. I’m on the way and should be there in 30 minutes.” After calling and clearing it with the Sheriff’s dispatcher, Pedro hung up the phone and went back to the table where Holiday was waiting. Pedro said, “That was your favorite coroner. You up for another trip to the river?” “Hell no! I still can’t get the stink of that last body out of my nose. That was the rottenest odor that I’ve ever smelled in my entire life. I had a good breakfast this morning and I’d like to keep it this time.” Pedro chuckled. “Speaking about last time, did you guys ever find your missing citizen?” At that moment, waitress Millie came by the table carrying a coffee pot and refilled Pedro’s cup. Buddy covered his cup with a hand, saying, “Not yet, honey.” After she moved on, he added, “That’s one of my pet peeves. I add cream and sugar and get the coffee fixed just like I like it and then a waitress comes by and messes it up with a refill without asking whether I want it or not.” Vicente laughed, then persisted, “Yeah but how about that citizen?” “He turned up over in Lake Charles, Louisiana. Seems like his family and his job and everything got to be too much for him. So, he just flew the coop without telling anyone. He got to feeling guilty and called his wife to apologize. We had the phone company trace the call, and that’s how we located him. His wife is in Louisiana right now trying to persuade him to come back. She is a beautiful lady, and I’d bet my money on her success.” “That’s an interesting story,” observed Pedro. “You know, we ought to get together sometime and write a novel based on all the fascinating things we see as cops. It’d be a bestseller.” Holiday laughed. “You might write a bestseller, but not with me. I hated it in English classes when teachers made us write stuff. That’s too hard for me.” Then he looked at Vicente and asked, “You’re bilingual, but do you think your English is strong enough for writing a book?”

Vicente said, “Yeah, you bet. I made A’s in English classes, and Sheriff Thompson complements my report writing. Says they’re the best in the department.” Buddy smirked and said, “Then you ought to save copies of all your reports and put them together. After a few years, that would be a book. If you could get someone to publish it, you would make some of my lawyer friends rich. They would love to sue a sheriff’s deputy and the county on behalf of some of the crooks you put in jail. They would take all the money you made off your book and leave you broke.” Pedro said, “You have lawyer friends? That’s dangerous for a policeman. You open your mouth around them, and they could use it against you. Turn on you like a pack of wolves.” Holiday said, “Not my friends. I only know a couple of lawyers well, and we went to school together. And loosen up Pedro. Give me some credit. I know to keep my mouth shut around lawyers regarding my work these days. It’s not like when I was a coach, and I know that.” Vicente said, “Okay, sorry about that. Anyhow, I’m serious writing a book together about our experiences. Maybe in ten years from now. You could just tell me about yours, and I would write them up alongside mine. Then we could be equal co-authors. As for the crooks, we do what other authors do change the names to protect the innocent, and that would protect us too.” “Well, I still think that’s a bad idea,” said Buddy. “But ten years from now, who knows. We’ll see.” The conversation continued until Millie sauntered over and asked, “You guys deaf? Pedro, your friend’s outside in his van honking his horn for you.”

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As Pedro climbed into the van, Coroner, Billy Ben” Benson greeted him with, “Bout time. Had to sit on my horn to get your attention. Losing your hearing

from firing your gun? Supposed to use ear plugs when you target practice.” “The noise level in that restaurant’s very high, and we were in an interesting conversation. Thought you were coming in for coffee, but sorry about that…. You’re turning east on the highway this time? Guess the body’s in a different spot on the river, eh?” Billy Ben said, “Yeah, it’s south of Weslaco under the Progreso bridge. Pedro said, “Progreso? I’ve never been there. Would not know how to get there. That’s the new bridge across to Las Flores that they finished just a couple years back, right?” Billy Ben replied, “You’re behind times. The Mexican side’s town name was changed from Las Flores to Nuevo Progreso. They opened the bridge in ’52, and there’s hardly been enough traffic across to justify it. It’s just another waste of government money. We will turn on Highway 281 south, turn east on the Military Highway and then south on farm to market 1015. It won’t take us but maybe another 20 or 30 minutes to get there.” Vicente asked, “So who reported it?” Billy Ben said, “Some tourists walked down to the river and saw it. They told the border patrol. After he checked on it, a patrolman called me. I wanted to talk to the tourists, but they had let them go on across into Mexico. Everybody wants to encourage visitors coming down here and dropping money on us, so nobody wants to inconvenience them. Not even federal officials.” Pedro asked, “You think this is another drowning victim?” “The guy who called me did not think so. He called it, ‘a murder victim’, and said it’s fresh. That’s why I wanted a competent sheriff’s deputy with me, like you.” “Thanks. Your estimation of me is higher than that of my brother deputies. Most of them think that us Mexicans are so dumb that I get my left shoe on my right foot when dressing in the morning.”

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Arriving, Billy Ben pulled off onto the right-side parking lot off of Highway 1015. There, he prepared by putting on knee-high black rubber boots and black rubber gloves. Taking stairs down to the river, Billy Ben carried on his shoulder his mariner’s pole with a hook on the end and a Samsonite case in his other hand. Vicente carried a separate case for him. “Shit,” Billy Ben murmured as she observed a large crowd gathered down by the river. “Must be the entire population of Progreso here.” Pedro added, “Word spreads fast. From the looks of them, I’d say half are from the other side of the river.” The two men said, “Coming through,” repeatedly, and the crowd parted just enough for them to get through. Two border patrolmen were busy keeping the crowd back about 10 feet from the edge of the water at the base of the bridge. One of them turned to the new arrivals and said, “Glad to see you. Things have gotten difficult here.” The corner extended his hand and the two men shook. “I don’t believe we’ve met, I’m Investigator Billy Ben Benson and this is Deputy Pedro Vicente.” The patrolman said, “Keith Claymore. The crowd wants to see, and it’s a battle keeping them back.” Billy Ben said, “I can help with that problem. Hand me that other case, Pedro.” The coroner knelt and popped the case open on the ground. Inside were rolls of yellow crime scene barrier tape and what looked like foot long metal sticks, each pointed on one end and with a two-inch diameter metal loop on the other end. He took one and pulled at it, telescoping it into a three-foot-long pole. He said to the other three law men, “Take these and the tape and build yourselves a barrier fence.” Then he headed the few steps down to the river. As they finished the barrier, Pedro said to the crowd in both English and Spanish, “Anyone of you who crosses this crime scene tape will be given a ticket and will have to pay a $200 fine. Anyone who refuses to go back will be arrested

and jailed.” Someone in the crowd said, “Muy, muy.”⁵ This was followed by a variety of insults and curse words in both languages, but the crowd stayed back. At the river’s edge, the coroner observed the body floating face down and held by the current against a concrete cylinder peer which was part of the for the bridge. He reached out with this pole and hooked the body under an arm, then pulled it ashore and up on the muddy riverbank. Kneeling, he pulled several crabs off the body and chunked them out into the river. There were two holes in the shirt on the upper back. He knelt and used a pair of scissors to cut the shirt loose, so he could better examine the body. At that point, deputy Vicente ed him. Billy Ben said, “This cadaver is fresh and in good shape. The fishes and crabs haven’t gotten at it much. He has two bullet holes by his spine between the shoulder blades.” Then peering closer, he continued, “And his right ear was nearly blown off by another shot that just missed his head.” Gripping the cadaver’s shoulder, he turned it over and cut and peeled the shirt off the chest. A chunk of flesh was missing in one spot, but there was no second exit wound. You’re in luck; there’s a bullet inside the chest. It must’ve hit a bone. I’ll dig it out for you when we do the autopsy back in Edinburg, but right now I can declare the cause of death is the gunshot wounds, although if he’s got a lot of water in his lungs, I might have to change that to drowning. But either way the death is because he was shot, and Keith was right, that’s murder.” Pedro said, “From the bullet holes in his back, I’d say the gun was a 45. A pistol. Do you agree?” Billy Ben said, “You’re thrown off because the crabs messed with the flesh at the bullet holes. A pistol, but no, not that large of a caliber. Much smaller. a 38 but maybe even a 32.” After examining the body for about 30 minutes longer, Billy Ben continued, “The warm River water makes it difficult to establish time of death; however, from the amount of rigor mortis I would say this man died just yesterday.” Pedro said, “I’m declaring this to be a crime scene. I should have brought my patrol car. Can I use the radio in your van to call for the Sheriff’s crime scene unit?”

Billy Ben replied, “Help yourself. A hearse from Hawkins Funeral Home in Weslaco will be here at any moment. Guess I shouldn’t have called them so soon. They’ll just have to wait until your guys are finished.” Someone in the crowd was a lip reader and picked up enough from the two officials, conversation to understand that it was a murder case. Word spread through the crowd like a wildfire in the wind. This time they parted allowing deputy Vicente easy age. As he reached the parking lot, a Cadillac hearse pulled in and parked one space over from the van. The driver stepped out and asked, “Hey deputy, what’s up down there?” “A murder victim was in the river. I’m calling the Sheriff’s office for an investigation unit. You’ll have to wait until we’re finished before you can take the body. It’ll be several hours, at least.” “Cool. I need some overtime pay.” With that he turned and climbed back in the hearse. Soon country music could be heard coming from a radio through the rolled down the windows of the vehicle. Pedro tuned the coroners’ mobile radio to the 156.03 frequency used by that Hidalgo County Sheriff’s Department and called, “Tricia, you on duty today?” The radio crackled, then replied, “No, Pedro. This is Kate. Roger is sick today, so Tricia called in and took the day off. How can we help you?” Pedro knew that Roger was the oldest son of the regular day shift dispatcher, Tricia Triplett. He had met Roger and liked the boy, and so he was concerned. “Did Tricia say what’s wrong with Roger. Or how serious it is.” “She said he has the symptoms of the flu, and she’s taken him in to see their doctor. What’s up with your day.” Pedro said, “We have a legitimate murder case here by the Progreso bridge. We need the crime scene unit here. Billy Ben fished the body out of the river. He says it’s not more than a day old, and it has two bullet holes - shot in the back.” “Goodness! Doctor Quinn is here today. I’ll connect you.” After a moment, “Brian Quinn here. How can I help you?”

“Doc, this is Vicenti. We have a legitimate murder case here by the Progreso bridge. Gunshot wounds in the back. Billy Ben says it’s not more than a day old. I’ve declared it to be a crime scene, and we need your services.” “Okay,” replied the laconic investigator. “I’ll get my shit together and should be there in about an hour or an hour and a half.” And with that he hung up.

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Brian Quinn parked his van next to the other two trucks. He was a broad shouldered 6'2” 200-pound tough guy who carried not an ounce of fat. People said that he was the exact spitting image of the movie star Burt Lancaster. He made his way down to the base of the bridge. He examined the body, conferred with the coroner and the law men and scanned the river. Frowning, he said in a deep bass voice, “Dang, I hate this. I’ll have to take the river road upstream looking for places someone would pull off on to dump a body or to cross the river. Then I’ll have to look at each one to see if there’s any evidence related to this. Will take me most of a week. Well, at least with a body this fresh it shouldn’t have gone in too far upstream. It takes a body a while to float down river. The currents tend to cause it to go to one side and then the other. It pauses here and there along the banks. It doesn’t just float straight downstream in the middle. If it did, it would have been in the Gulf already and not by the bank here.” Then turning to the border patrolman, he said, “Keith, could you check and see if those tourists have returned from across the river. I sure need to talk to them.” Vicente said, “Me too.” The patrolman nodded yes, and the three of them, Brian, Pedro, and Keith headed up the stairs to check on that. As they left, Billy Ben called to their backs, “Vicente, tell the boys in the hearse to come get the body. Ha. They’ll be happy to hear they get to make a trip to Edinburg. This one goes for an official autopsy.” At the gate they learned the tourists had not returned yet. Keith said, “You guys want to wait with me looking for them. We got a coffee break room. It should

not take too long for them to get bored in the streets of Nuevo Progreso and come back. There’s still not that much there, it’s not like Matamoros or Reynosa. When they show up we can question them there. Meantime, I can make a fresh pot. What’s there now is stale, made at break time about three hours ago.” “Okay, thanks,” said Brian. “Appreciate it,” added Vicente. “That old stuff would taste just as bitter as that Louisiana coffee.” Keith said, “We’re not that insane. It’s regular Folgers. But what’s the matter, Vicente. I thought you Mexicans drink just about anything.” “You mean like beer made from cactus. Yeah, they do drink strong coffee too. But hey, I’m not a Mexican. I may look like one, and my Dad was one. Me, I was born and educated here in Texas. I am an American as much is you are, and I drink Folgers too.” Everybody laughed.

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As Vicente parked and exited his patrol car by the courthouse in Edinburg, Sheriff Leroy Thompson intercepted him, saying, “Pedro, walk with me to the café and let’s talk over coffee.” It was midafternoon, and Allison’s Restaurant was nearly empty. So, it was easy to find a table with no nearby occupants to listen in to their conversation. Once they were seated, Leroy ordered coffee for both of them. Vicente was “coffied out” but decided not to say anything about that. It was a rare occasion that the sheriff invited any of the deputies to accompany him to Allison’s, and he didn’t want to say anything to offend his boss. “Tell me about Progreso,” the sheriff said to begin the conversation. “What do we know about the body found there.”

“Not much, Sir,” said Vicente. “It was a male Mexican teenager, shot twice in the back. Billy Ben says it was a 38-caliber pistol that was used. From his sandals, I would say that he was from Mexico, but he was wearing an American brand shirt and blue jeans. He could have been a migrant farmworker, but all of them I’ve ever seen are adults. I’m hoping that Billy Ben can get me more information. He’s going to do an autopsy on this one.” “That’s interesting information, Pedro, but I guess what I want to know is do you think this is another body from the Mexican side or is this a Texas murder case.” “Who knows?” “Don’t be so careful, Pedro. Good detective work often requires educated guesses. I want your opinion. What do you think, even if it is a guess.” “Okay, if I have to guess, I’m inclined to think that this kid was from Mexico here to visit his migrant worker dad for some reason. He was returning to Mexico and maybe ran into some bad hombre at the river. Maybe a Mexican gangster or a marijuana smuggler. But it bothers me that he was shot in the back. Mexican gangsters like to kill from the front where they can see the eyes of their victims as they realize what’s happening to them.” “So, you think he was shot on the American side of the river.” “50-50. In my scenario, he could’ve run into his killer on either side of the river. The killer would’ve thrown him in the river so the body would not attract attention to where he operates. It was supposed to float on down the Rio into the Gulf for fish food. I hear that is ignorance by the murderer. I hear that bodies in the river are caused to move from bank to bank by the currents. Billy Ben finds bodies by the riverbanks because of that.” The sheriff said, “That’s what I was afraid of. And I’ve already thought this over. Let’s treat this as though we knew it happened in Texas. We hardly ever have a murder these days here in the Texas Lower Rio Grande Valley. Now, in a short time, we have two unrelated cases. The bowling alley murder and the Progreso victim.” Thompson paused. Vicente offered, “Brian Quinn is running the river road right now checking out spots on the Rio’s banks for evidence as to where the murder could’ve been committed.”

Thompson said, “Look Vicente, I’m taking you off of patrol duty for now. I want you to partner with detective Quinn for this investigation. I will notify Brian by radio and find out where he is. Then you go him. You can both come back here and debrief the corner about his autopsy after searching for the crime scene. Concentrate on this murder. Progreso is ours. You don’t have to forget about the bowling alley murder, but that’s not our case. It belongs to Cameron County. If you stumble across the killer on that one, arrest him, but do not go looking for him.” “Yes sir,” said Vicente. “Pedro, I appreciate your being a respectful person, but we’re not in the military. People quit saying ‘yes sir’ to me when I got my discharge papers. I am an elected public official as well as a civilian law officer. I’m not puffed up and I don’t go in for formalities. When we two are talking alone, please call me Leroy. When others are around, just call me Sheriff. “Okay Sheriff, but can I make an observation about the bowling alley case before moving on in this conversation.” “Yes, shoot.” “That wanted poster that they sent out is lousy. I ran across a couple of boys the other day both of which could’ve been the guy in the drawing. I nearly arrested an innocent kid. That would’ve been embarrassing. The drawing is too vague. It could fit a lot of people. They should have put out a poster with a photograph instead of a drawing, or at least a lot better drawing.” “Hmm. You have a point. I’ll ask Bob Dodson if they can find a photo of that fugitive. Maybe his picture is in his school’s yearbook. However, are you sure that one of those two kids was not the killer. Maybe you should’ve brought both of them in as suspects, and we could’ve sorted it out. Better to be sure than to be sorry later that you let the real killer go. But never mind. I don’t want you going back to that case. Like I said, concentrate on our case. Finish your coffee, and let’s go Brian.”

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CHAPTER 16

Doffing Road

Clicking on the mike, the sheriff said, “Brian, you there. This is the Sheriff.” The answer came through the radio speaker, “Yes sir, Sheriff. I’m in the car right now. Still looking for the Progreso murder crime scene.” “Okay Brian, I’m asg deputy Vicente to partner with you on that Progreso murder case. We need your location and where he can meet and you on your search.” Brian said, “Glad to have help on the case, but is it necessary for him to come down here at the river. Wouldn’t it be better for him to observe the autopsy instead?” The sheriff said, “The two of you can follow up with Billy Ben on his autopsy findings later. I’m not questioning your professionalism, but you have to realize that Vicente has a point of view that none of our other deputies do. He might notice something related to that at the crime scene which would not be apparent to me or you. Pedro is here with me now. Tell us where you are right now and suggest somewhere close by where he can meet you.” Sheriff Thompson avoided referring to Pedro’s race as a factor, but all three, both gringos on the radio and Pedro, understood the oblique reference to it. “Oh. Hi Pedro. Glad to have you on board. I’m on Doffing Road south of Pharr. Going is slow along here because there are a lot of little dirt roads and trails leading down to the river. Do you want to meet in Pharr?” Taking the mike from the sheriff, Pedro said, “That would require you to drive out of the way. I’m familiar with the area where you are. Suggest an intersection at which we can meet.”

“Well…, we could rendezvous where Jackson road meets Doffing.” Vicente said, “That’s in the middle of nowhere. Why don’t we meet at the old courthouse in Hidalgo? You could buy yourself a Coke at the service station there to sip on while you waited. It’ll take me about 40 minutes to get there.” The investigator decided to ignore the fact that this would require him to make a round-trip out-of-the-way to get back to the point where he was now searching for the crime scene. He did not want to argue the point in the sheriff’s hearing. So, he said, “That’s fine. I’ll see you there.” After Vicente clicked off the mike, Leroy said to him, “Make sure he takes you back to where he left off to go meet you, and that you continue together searching from there not from Hidalgo. Don’t make him take you back and start the search out of Progreso. If you think it’s necessary, you can search that stretch by yourself later on without making Quinn repeat it.” “Got it.”

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The old county courthouse in Hidalgo was fronted by a Boulevard. Pedro turned left off Texano Road onto the Boulevard and pulled up next to Quinn’s patrol car which was parked in the shade of a tree in front of the courthouse. Both deputies rolled down their windows. Chuckling, Quinn quipped “You found it.” Pedro replied, “I know this area. I have an aunt who lives here in Hidalgo just a couple blocks west.” Brian said, “No use taking two cars and wasting gas. Park your car and hop in mine.” Pedro said, “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll follow you in my car. Riding with Billy Ben and leaving my car behind did not work out well in Progreso, so I don’t want to make the same mistake again. Besides, you know, the sheriff has that asshole Polk covering my patrol territory. If he screws up, like he usually does, I

may have to pull off and go bail him out.” Brian said, “Understood, but I was hoping we could talk in the car. Driving around this area is boring, and my favorite radio station doesn’t come in here…. Okay follow me and we’ll go back to where Jackson Road intersects with Doffing. Arriving at the intersection, they parked the cars half off the road and walked down a dirt path there to check out that spot on the river. The path ended in a short clearing by the riverbank, littered with beer cans and paper trash. Quinn looked around and said “Another dry run. No evidence of murder here.” Back at the road, Vicente paused by the car door and pulled up a pants leg. He pulled a tick off his calf, leaving a bloody bead there. Then he pulled up the other pants leg and found a couple more ticks to remove. “Chinga! Brian. How do you handle all the ticks and fleas in a place like this?” Quinn pointed down at his legs. “These workman’s boots help. Also, I spray my pants legs with mosquito repellent. Ticks and fleas don’t like that stuff either.” He opened the door to his car, pulled out a pressurized spray can and held it out to Vicente. “Here, spray your pants legs and socks and shoes too. Next time you come down here to the river be sure and wear boots and have your own repellent. I would think that a guy like you would know this stuff.” Pedro said, “You’re the investigator. I drive a patrol car up and down the highway between cities where it’s all civilized. Ticks and fleas are not much of a problem there; although, there are some fleas in part of the houses I have to go into. I just get rid of them by washing off with soap outside the house when I get home.” “Ha. I’ll bet your neighbors enjoy that scene.” Irritated Pedro snapped, “In the backyard where I have a high fence all around.” The two deputies got into their cars without further conversation and drove to the next spot where a two-lane dirt road intersected Doffing on the south side. Later, Brian paused by his car and said, “The sun’s low. It’ll be dark in an hour or so. Meet me at the Bulldog Café in McAllen at 7:00 tomorrow morning.” “Roger.”

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Pedro Vicente had a two-bedroom one bath brick house in the Mexican portion of McAllen. The house had a concrete slab foundation with linoleum covered kitchen, dining room and bathroom floors and with wall-to-wall carpeting in the living room, hall and two bedrooms. It had a carpet grass front yard and Bermuda grass inside the backyard’s 8-foot-tall wood fence. He had purchased the house one year after being hired as the first Mexican American Sheriff’s deputy in Hidalgo County. His house was the nicest house in the far south McAllen neighborhood. The street in front of the house was lined on both sides by frame houses on blocks, most of which could be classified as “shacks” compared to houses in those neighborhoods in which the gringos lived, but nevertheless of which the owners were proud. This pride exhibited itself in neatly kept yards with flowerbeds and painted walls. Some even had fenced in backyards. Vicente parked his black and white ’51 Ford patrol car on his two concrete strips driveway, there being no garage. he locked the doors, promising himself to return and fumigate the interior before bedtime. Walking around the house he opened the wooden gate and let himself in the backyard. There he had poured himself a 6 square foot cement slab with an adjacent faucet, a drain that led underground around the house to the street’s storm sewer. And narrow concrete sidewalk led from the slab to the back door of the house. A gray toolbox, labeled with stenciled letters proclaiming, “wash box”, sat on a corner of the slab while a plastic clothes hamper sat on another corner. Pedro began his daily ritual by opening the toolbox and removing a bar of Ivory soap and a soft bristled brush. He proceeded to use them to lather up and scrub himself. Several fleas leapt off onto the grass and the slab. Several others died in the soapy water. Pedro paid no attention to them since he knew they were all doomed. He often dusted his yard and flowerbeds with DDT pesticide. Any fleas managing to make their way into the house were also doomed. He painted around the floor’s edges and windows with roach killer, and each month he fumigated the house by lighting sulfur candles on dishes in each room as he left to go to work. Then on returning home in the evening, he would open all the

windows letting the cool evening breeze that came up off of the Gulf of Mexico each afternoon blow through the window screens and aerate the house while he sat in a metal lawn chair and ate a Whataburger dinner in the shade of the backyard trees behind the house. Afterwards he would complete the job by sweeping up all the dead roaches and other insects, putting them in the outside garbage can. After washing his hair and scrubbing himself down, Pedro rinsed himself off with a hose attached to the faucet. The water was warm at first then turned cool but not unpleasantly cold. Cold tap water in the South Texas Valley happened only in the winter and spring. Vicente then washed down the slab and rolled up the hose. He stowed the soap and brush, picked up his billfold and keys from within the toolbox and latched it. He surveyed the yard, then made his way to the back door and unlocked it. Stepping up inside, Pedro picked up a bath towel from a stack on a low small table inside by the back door. As he toweled himself off, Pedro heard his phone ringing. He walked into the bedroom and picked up the headset from the phone sitting on the bed headboard. “Deputy Vicente”, he said. “How can I help you?” “Leroy here. You can help me by telling what happened today down by the river.” “Hello, Sheriff. We spent the afternoon making frequent trips down deer trails and dirt roads to the waters of the Rio. We picked up a lot of unwelcome guests, fleas and ticks. But, we found no physical evidence of a murder crime scene. There was a lot of evidence of animals watering themselves and relieving themselves on the banks of the river. The birds scolded us, most of the animals hid from us, and a couple of armadillos ignored us. All in all, it was an interesting but not a fruitful afternoon.” The Sheriff said, “A little different from traffic duty wasn’t it. Welcome to real detective work, Pedro. If you think the afternoon today was boring and unfruitful, just wait until you get assigned to a stakeout. Now you’ve got a taste of the kind of work that Brian Quinn does every week.” “My view of Brian has changed from envy to pity.” Sheriff Thompson said, “Don’t get discouraged. Like all police work, there are boring times and there are terrifying times. I learned to much prefer the boring

times. Remind me to show you where I took a couple of bullets. The scars are under the uniform and I don’t like to talk about it. But hey, I have some news for you.” With just a slight tinge of sarcasm, Pedro said, “Okay, I can’t wait.” Leroy said, “Watch that sarcasm. It’s not suitable for a rookie lawman, okay? The news is this, somebody in the Border Patrol sent a copy of their report on our Progresso murder case to the Texas DPS in Austin. A copy of it filtered down to their Valley district, and they’re interested in your case. A state highway patrolman came by my office today and excited everybody with his neat uniform and his black and white patrol car. His name is Bill Blakely. He picked my brains about what was going on, and while we were talking I told him that the two of you would meet him at the Bulldog Restaurant in McAllen at 8:00 AM tomorrow morning.” Pedro said, “Uh oh. Brian and I were planning on leaving there by 7:30 and being on Doffing by eight. A rookie? Sheriff, I’ve been a deputy now for nearly 2 years.” Thompson said, “You’re a rookie as an investigator, and you’re learning from Brian. The time’s not a problem. I already called Brian and told him about the change of plans. I also told him that I would call you about it so that he wouldn’t bother. Now I want to tell you something I told him. Listen up because I’m dead serious about it. Treat the state officer with respect. Do not use sarcasm with him and do not joke around with him unless he turns the conversation that way. My assessment of him is that he’s a serious fellow. A no nonsense guy. He won’t put up with bullshit, so don’t try to use that on him. Give him the straight scoop as you see it. Just the facts and not your opinions. He’s been a law officer for twenty years, and with the DPS for the last ten. That tells me that he made the jump from a local police department to the state police department. That would not have happened if he did not have a lot on the ball. So, treat this as an opportunity to see if that’s where you’d like to go in the future and to see what kind of guy it takes to get there.” Vicente said, “Yes sir. I will.” Then, “Would it be all right if Brian and I meet at 7:30 to discuss things and get on the same page with each other before he shows up.”

Leroy said, “No, Pedro. That’s not a good idea. It’s okay if you and Brian have a little different view of the case. If you both parroted the same words, he would pick up on that and decide that you were either bullshitting him or lying to him. That would get you in trouble. So, show up just before 8:00 AM, and don’t be late.” After hanging up, Pedro found he urgently needed to do his daily dump. A few minutes later, he pulled off a strip of toilet paper from the role hung on the wall by the commode. He looked at it, and it looked different to him than it had before. He looked at one square on the strip. 3” x 3”. He counted the squares on the strip that he had pulled off. There were eight. He thought, ‘3×8 = 24’; that’s about right. Then he said out loud breaking the silence of the house, “Damn Pedro, you’re so lonely here by yourself in this house that you’re counting squares on toilet paper. You are going loco. You need companionship. Not another man, you see enough of them at work. And Pedro is not queer. While your job is going well, it’s not enough. Evenings with your Zenith radio does not fill the need you have…. You need a woman. It’s time you started going out evenings now and then and looking for one.”

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Vicente pulled up in front of the Bulldog Café at five minutes till eight. As he did so, Pedro saw Quinn getting out of his van. As Pedro exited his, he nodded at Brian, saying “Hey Quinn.” Brian said nothing but nodded back while touching the brim of the 10-gallon white cowboy hat he was wearing as a return greeting. As they entered the restaurant together, they saw the state trooper in uniform already seated at a table in the center of the room and sipping on his cup of coffee. They glanced at each other. Brian removed his hat and the two of them walked over and greeted the trooper. The trooper glanced at his wristwatch and said, “Have a seat, boys. You’re on time. I like promptness.” And he waved at waitress Millie to come over. The two deputies pulled up chairs and sat down. Brian placed his hat on the seat of the empty fourth chair at the table. Tillie set down their coffee cups and filled each. All three officers sipped on their strong black coffee while surveying each other,

two on one and one on two. “My name is Bill Blakely. Please just call me Bill. We don’t need to stand on a lot of formality.” Sip. “Sheriff Thompson speaks very highly of you two men. That’s a mark in your favor, but just to be clear, as your investigation progresses I will make my own assessment for my report to Austin.” Sip. “Now please tell me about the Progresso murder and what you’re doing at the river; Vicente you go first.” Pedro had buttoned up his tan uniform shirt all the way. He reached up and tugged at the collar. Then catching himself he lowered his arm and clasped his hands in front of him and began, “Well…, a young man’s body floated down the Rio Grande from somewhere upriver and the current swept it to the bank where it caught on a Progresso bridge column on the American side. The coroner fished him out of the river, and we examined him.” Blakely interrupted, holding up his hand palm out and saying, “How young? Be specific, if you could tell. Was he a little kid, a grown teenager, or was he in his twenties? Did the fishes leave enough for a later possible identification? And so on.” Vicente proceeded to describe the teenage boy’s body in detail. By the time he finished, Trooper Bill raised his hand with a stop sign again and waved Tillie over for another coffee refill. “Quinn, tell me if you have anything to add to Vicente’s description of the body, then take it from there and tell me what y’all are doing down at the river now.” Brian was prepared, and he began his explanation. “Vicente called for a sheriff department investigation, and I am the designated investigator. I drove to the crime scene at the bridge, surveyed the situation there and examined the body. It was obvious that the murder was not committed there, but upriver.” Again, Trooper Blakely interrupted. “Be specific. How was it obvious? Why couldn’t the murder have been committed there at the bridge? Maybe the kid was shot in the back and fell in the river right there. Or maybe they shot him on the bridge, and he fell off or was thrown into the river from the bridge. Could be, couldn’t it?” Quinn looked startled but recovered. “No, none of that could’ve happened. To begin with, there is daily traffic on and around that bridge. People fish in the river there every day. It’s too public of a place for gunshots to not be heard and

such a murder to not be seen. There was no blood, shell casings, or other evidence of a shooting either on the bank or on the bridge. Two tourists discovered the body and reported it to the Border Patrol. Pedro and I were able to interview them. They claimed to have seen the body as it floated up to the bridge and got caught there.” Trooper Bill did not trust bystander witnesses. He found them to be unreliable, often mistaken and sometimes with a tendency to fabricate details. He thought about the shooting occurring in the dark of the night and in the wee hours, but he decided that was unlikely. He knew that there were all night cantina’s in Nuevo Progreso and associated activity crossing the bridge. So, he nodded and said, “Okay, continue.” Brian said, “Since it was obvious the shooting did not occur by the bridge, and from Coroner Billy Ben’s assessment that the body was about a day old, it had to have floated down the river. So, I needed to search for the crime scene evidence upriver. My plan was to search all the way up to the old town of Los Ebanos. That’s near the county line anyhow. The guys in Starr County don’t like me going across that line without their permission and one of their guys accompanying me. It’s not worth the trouble and besides, based on past cases, it would be unlikely for the body to have come from further upstream than that and not have more fish and crab nibbling damage and to not be any older than a day. So, I started up the river road stopping at each animal trail or dirt road leading off down to the river. I found nothing so far. It will take another three or four days to finish the search.” Bill asked, “Couldn’t it be possible that the victim and the criminal went through the bushes and weeds instead of following a road or trail?” Brian said, “So unlikely as to be similar to the possibility that there’s a real man on the Moon. I can’t prove that it didn’t happen that way but think about what’s along the Rio Grande’s banks. Under the trees, some of which have thorns, is a continuous ribbon of all kinds of bushes with thorns, cactuses, and ant beds. In my experience, neither I nor anyone else is willing to tackle going through that. And if they started to, they would quit backing out bloody and with ant bites.” Bill said, “Yeah, I know about Texas thickets and their thorns. Which kind of ants do you think is worse, the large red ants, or the small black ones?”

Quinn said, “If I could, I would consign both kinds all to hell. They are both evil.” Bill laughed, and a smiling Vicente quipped, “What about the little golden yellow ones. You want them to go to hell too?” Brian said, “If we could convert all of them into such ‘sugar ants’, God’s green earth would be a better place.” Pedro said, “Hey, that’s an idea, Brian. Why don’t you ask the Texas A&M agriculture experiment station to take on that? Those Aggies would accept the challenge and work hard on it.” Bill said, “Do you guys know where I went to university.” Both deputies looked embarrassed. Trooper Blakely said, “Relax, the University of Texas. But don’t start up with a bunch Aggie jokes. I think I’ve heard all of them. And it’s time for you men to get to work. I’ll follow you down to Doffing Road. I’d like to see a little of what you’re doing, but I’m not gonna stick with you all day.” Quinn said, “Just one Aggie joke before we go. I heard a good one the other day.” Blakely said, “Just one. Then we get out of here.” Quinn said, “An Aggie graduated and took over his Father’s farm. He decided that he would raise chickens because a lot of people ate chicken meat and it seemed like it would be a high profit product. So, he ordered 12 dozen chicks. Then he went down each row on the plowed ground of his field digging holes and burying a chick in each one. Nothing came up, so he irrigated the field. Still no crop.” Both Vicente and Blakely laughed. Quinn held up his hand. “Wait, that’s not all of it. The young Aggie farmer decided that he needed professional advice. So, he went back to College Station to see his major professor. He explained what had happened and asked for help. His professor said, ‘Why, don’t you know? You have to plant them upside down.” They laughed again, then Trooper Blakely waved for waitress Millie to bring the check.

At the river they immediately hit pay dirt. The second trail led to the usual bare spot on the bank of the river where both humans and animals paused, the people to fish or conduct other business, and the critters to drink. Examining the ground, Brian said, “Eureka. A bullet casing. He told Trooper Blakely, “You brought us luck.” Bill just looked at him and smiled. Then Brian told Pedro, “Stay here but don’t walk around. I’ll be right back.” Moments later, he returned carrying a small Samsonite briefcase. Using a ballpoint pen he picked up the cartridge and dropped it in a small plastic bag. Looking around he found two more cartridges in the grass at the edge of the clearing. He mumbled, “Not a professional.” Then he took out a large magnifying glass and studied the dirt. “Aha.” he said. “Some blood drops. I’ll bet they match the blood type of what’s in that body from Progresso.” Trooper Bill said, “Good job Deputy Quinn. I’ll see you men later.” And he turned and left.

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CHAPTER 17

Autopsy

It was noon when the two deputies returned to the sheriff’s office in Edinburg, each parking his patrol car in spaces reserved for them. Pedro stepped up on the sidewalk and waited as Brian opened the back door of his car and removed an HEB grocery store paper bag. Inside were smaller bags containing his evident samples from the Doffing Road crime scene. They then walked together up the steps and entered the courthouse. Down the hall, they found JP Billy Ben Bennett’s courtroom door closed. Taped on the door’s glass window was a neatly handprinted sign reading, “Court closed for the day. Will resume at 10 AM tomorrow.” Through the window above the sign they could see Billy Ben’s JP clerk, Janice Betancourt, typing away handling paperwork. Brian tapped on the door to get her attention. Looking up, she recognized them and realized they wanted to see Billy Ben. She pointed down indicating that the JP was being the coroner today in his basement lab. The door to the basement had a sign on it saying, “Entry only for authorized Hidalgo County officials.” The door was locked, but Brian had a key to it. Making their way down the steep wood stairs, they saw the familiar scene of a cluttered basement with a room partitioned off, separating Billy Ben\s “homemade” lab from a storage area. They entered the large room walking into an almost blinding whiteness. The walls, floors and ceiling were all painted white. In the center of the room was an ambulance style gurney which served as a table for autopsies. A sheet covered a body on the gurney. Lining a wall on the right were a half-dozen horizontal deep freezers on the floor. These served to store bodies until they were claimed by family or by an undertaker. At the back of the lab in a corner opposite from the cadaver storage was a desk and a swivel office chair. There acting Coroner Billy Ben was busy typing a report. As they made their way around the gurney, Vicente said, “Hey Doc. You through playing with the body from Progresso. We have bad news about it.”

Looking up Billy Ben greeted them back with, “Well it’s about time y’all got here. I was wondering if y’all were having fun lollygagging along the river. Did you find any pretty senoritas in skimpy swimsuits there? No? Then what took you so long? And what bad news?” Ignoring the banter, Quinn said, “We found a crime scene. It appears that the Progresso victim was shot on the Texas side of the river. That’s what Vicente’s calling bad news. It means the Progresso murder is our case.” Billy Ben stood and faced them, with a questioning look on his face. “So, you found what you think is a crime scene. What makes what you found related to the Progresso body?” Brian held up the paper bag and said, “We have evidence. Three gun shell casings, blood contaminated soil samples and photographs of the scene as we found it before removing the evidence.” Vicente added, “ the victim had three gunshot wounds, so that matches.” Looking offended, Billy Ben said, “Of course. Give me the possible evidence and then clear out. Come back about six this evening or in the morning between eight and nine.” The two detectives looked at each other and then Brian handed over the bag and they left. Making their way up to their desks, they then co-authored a report of their day’s activities for the Sheriff. At Quinn’s suggestion, they each wrote a one-page handwritten draft. Then Quinn took the two sheets, read them, and typed up a composite report. He handed it over to Vicente saying, “Okay rookie, see if you agree with my final version based on both our drafts.” Vicente took the typed page, and said “Okay, but cut out the rookie crap. I’m way into my second year here.” Brian smiled and said, “Relax, rookie. Leroy told me to treat you as a trainee investigator. You know, Hidalgo is a large County containing a lot of people and a number of small towns or villages some of which have no police. As the department’s designated investigator, I’ve been stretched pretty thin. The sheriff wants the county to have two deputies as … well, as detectives. It won’t take long for you to get the hang of what I do. There’s no hard and fast rule book for

it. You have to be flexible. It’s common sense and also suspicion of things that look obvious. And watching your back. There’re times when two investigators working together are a lot safer than one man alone. Dangerous criminals often will hesitate to take on two officers when they would attack just one. You’re smart, we know you’ll be good at it if you don’t act like a Lone Ranger. However, if you would rather go back to traffic duty….” Vicente said, “Traffic duty. No way. Detective, huh. Looking at it that way, I’m all in for it. Hey, how about you just call me, ‘Sherlock Vicente’.” Quinn said, “Ha, ha. That’s a good one. But it’ll take a while and lots of successful arrests and convictions before anyone considers you or me to be a sherlock.” Vicente said, “Yeah, I see that.” Brian said, “Six o’clock. No telling how late Billy Ben is likely to keep us, and you know Leroy doesn’t want to pay overtime unless it’s absolutely necessary, like an emergency or something. Let’s take the afternoon off and meet back here about 5:45. I think I’ll go home and take a nap, if the wife will let me. She won’t be happy about me working the evening. She had some plans for us tonight, like dinner and a movie.” Vicente commented, “Dinner and a movie with a lovely woman, and then taking her home for some bedroom activities. You know, I go home to an empty house. I’m beginning to think seriously about married life and having a family.” Brian asked, “Seriously? Who’s the lucky woman?” “No one yet, but I’m going to start looking around and asking some of the available chicks out.” Quinn said, “Lots of them out there if you know where to look. Lucky bastard. I think I envy you that.” Vicente said, “And I envy you. Mrs. Quinn is a beautiful woman. To me it looks like you’ve got what I want to find.” Brian said, “Hey, you handsome Mexican, keep your distance from my wife.”

Vicente smirked, dancing his eyebrows up and down. Brian said, “Looks like you need to know about the Texas Paramour Law. Vicente said, “The what?” Brian said, “If a Texan catches his wife and her lover in the sex act, he can kill the man and get away scot-free.” Vicente said, “No way.” Brian said, “Way. It’s a macho remnant of Spanish colonial rule. It’s sometimes cited as a reason for justifiable homicide in the Texas penal code.”⁷ Pedro said, “I can’t believe that the state legislature hasn’t changed that law. It’s primitive.” Brian said, “I was in Austin last year on business when I heard over the car radio that a representative had introduced a bill into the state legislature to rescind that law. When it was open for debate, another legislator introduced an amendment to the bill that not only kept the Paramour Law in effect, but also gave women equal rights. So, if a wife caught her husband screwing with his lover, she could shoot the other woman and not be prosecuted. The amendment ed by a large majority. That’s all I heard on the radio, but I read in the next day’s AmericanStatesman that the guy who introduced the original bill withdrew it after the amendment was attached. So, as I understand it the Texas Paramour Law is still in effect.” “Unbelievable.,” Said Pedro, stretching out the word into five distinct syllables as he spoke it. Quinn said, “Yep. That means for example if you pick up a woman in a bar, you had better make damn sure that she is single and not a married lady before you become involved with her. Good luck with that. Makes me glad I’ve got a wife and don’t have to date anymore. Another risk for bachelors is this, the Valley here has plenty of cases of gonorrhea and syphilis going around. Just ask your doctor about it.” Vicente said, “Maybe I’ll just stay single. Jacking off is a whole lot safer.”

Brian laughed, then said, “Just find a safer place to meet a woman. I met my wife at the Baptist Church in Pharr. Try the Presbyterian Church, or the Church of Christ… or even the Catholic Church. Heck any church is going to be a safer place to meet a good woman than in a bar, a club, … or on the street. One more thing you need to know, and that’s how to be really successful with a woman.” Pedro said, “Yeah? And how’s that?” Brian said, “To a not good-looking woman, say she is beautiful…, to a beautiful woman, say she is smart… and to a smart woman never lie!” Vicente laughed and then said, “Okay ‘teach’, you’ve educated me on the dating subject. I think I’ll become a priest. Then sex won’t be an issue. Brian said in a very serious voice, “You sure about that? There some rumors going around about Catholic priests and altar boys.” Pedro sneered, “That’s just crap. There’s a lot of anti-Catholic propaganda out there. Don’t believe any of it. In the meantime, I’m going over to Allison’s Café for a coke and a sandwich. Have a nice nap and I’ll see you here at 5:45 like you said.” “OK.” At 6 o’clock, the two deputies were seated in the guest chairs next to Billy Ben’s desk. He handed them each a carbon copy of the report he had prepared. Then he proceeded to explain what he had found. “First, the blood in the soil samples you found at the site is the same type as that in the Progreso cadaver. It’s type ‘O’, the most common one. So, although it’s indicative, it is no real proof of a relationship. The body had water in the lungs. Although the gun shots in the back would have been fatal anyhow, the official cause of death is drowning. It’s likely that he was shot on the bank of the river where you found the blood spots and fell into the river inhaling as he went into the water. It’s likely he tried to scream, but with water in his lungs and being immersed in water, he made no sound anyone could hear.” Vicente said, “Wow. You could tell all that from examining the body?” Brian said, “Yes Vicente, you are listening to the best coroner in the state and maybe in the whole USA.”

Billy Ben said, “That’s laying it on a little thick Brian. But that reminds me of the story about the Mexican shoemakers.” The two deputies looked at each other, both shrugging, and then back to Billy Ben as he continued, “An old shoemaker in a Mexican village was upset when a young shoemaker moved in town and set up business down the street from him. The new shoe shop had a sign in front claiming, ‘The Best Shoemaker in Mexico.’ The old man thought about this long and hard and he had an answer. He made a sign and put it up that said, ‘The Best Shoemaker on This Street.’ So, just tell people that I’m the best in Hidalgo County.” The two deputies laughed, and then Coroner Bennett said, “There’s more. One of the bullets hit a rib and remained in the body. The slug was from a 32-caliber pistol, fired from a Colt Model 1903 Pocket Hammerless like this one.” As he said this, Billy Ben reached in a desk drawer and took out a pistol holding it up for them to see. He continued “It’s the second most common pistol found in the USA today. A lot of them were brought back from the wars by our returning soldier boys.” Vicente asked, “So the standard police 38 revolver is the most common one?” Quinn said him, “Sure. Most all the police departments in the USA use them, and they fit in common coat pockets so crooks like them, too.” Vicente asked, “So from the bullet, we should think that the killer has a military background?” Billy Ben said, “Not necessarily. You can find the Colt 32 pistols in pawnshops and there is also a busy underground trade in them. There was even a case reported in New York City last year of a professional killer using one with a silencer attached.” Vicente said, “So we know what kind of gun the killer used. What else did the autopsy and evidence tell you?” Bennett said, “He is an amateur.” Brian said, “Right. I could tell that from the crime scene. An experienced gunman would have picked up the shell casings.” Billy Ben said, “Yes, the shell casings. Also, a professional or experienced

shooter would have put three shots in the victim’s back, concentrated where the heart is located. This gunman put one bullet in the kid’s ear. He was shooting for the head and almost missed completely.” Vicente said, “You said ‘kid’. The bowling alley victim in Cameron County was also a teenager. Could the two cases be connected. Maybe a killer looking for teenagers to snuff?” Brian said, “Pedro, that would be a stretch. The bowling alley killer used a 38caliber pistol. This one was a 32. So, different guns and nothing else to connect the two cases.” Bennett agreed, “Brian is right. I don’t see any connection between the two cases, and the ages of the two victims being about the same is just coincidence.” Brian said, “Billy Ben, I wish that you had not said, ‘coincidence’. One of the rules that detectives follow is that there are no coincidences. Billy Ben replied, “Ha. One of the rules that JP’s follow is that in the real world there are coincidences.” Pedro said, “Okay, Billy Ben, is there anything else you learned from examining the body?” Bennett replied, “Well… there is one other thing that’s kind of iffy, so I hesitate to bring it up.” Brian said, “What’s that?” Billy Ben said, “The two bullets traversed the body at an upward angle. I thought that it could be because the victim was leaning forward. But on further consideration I’ve come to think that maybe the kid was taller than the killer. Or maybe the killer was on his knees or sitting. Like I said it’s uncertain. And that’s about all that I can tell you from the autopsy and the evidence.” Brian said, “Thanks Billy Ben. We appreciate your work, but in scheduling this meeting so late in the day, you’ve caused us to miss our usual supper times. So how about let’s go to Allison’s and you buy us dinner?” Smiling, Billy Ben said, “Ha, ha. How about going Dutch?”

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CHAPTER 18

Saturday

It was a Saturday morning. Pedro Vicente did not feel like fixing himself breakfast. It was his day off and he decided to splurge and the morning breakfast crowd at the Bulldog Café. He was lucky and a booth was available. Waitress Millie was assisted on this busy morning by another waitress named Kate who came to take his order. He shook his head and said, “I want waitress Millie.” Kate looked exasperated and as she left she walked by Millie and said something to her. Millie glanced at Pedro and continued taking an order from the parties at the table where she stood. After she delivered that order to the kitchen window, she walked over smiling and said, “You upset Kate. This was her table, so to be fair I had to trade with her. What’s you order?” Pedro said, “Two eggs scrambled with two sausage patties, a waffle and coffee black.” Millie said, “You don’t come in often for breakfast, but when you do that’s your usual order.” Pedro said, “You have a good memory. I’m impressed.” Millie said, “I what my regular and special customers like.” Pedro said, “Which am I, regular or special?” Millie said, “I’ll go place your order.” And she walked away quickly. About twenty minutes later, Millie returned with Pedro’s food. As she set it on the table, he said, “When you get a chance, come back over here and have a seat and let’s visit a little bit. Okay?”

She nodded affirmative as she filled his coffee cup, and said, “Maybe in about an hour when the breakfast crowd thins out. But only for a few minutes because the lunch crowd on Saturday comes in early After he finished eating, Vicente sat waiting and sipped his coffee slowly to kill time. Kate refilled his cup as she walked by with a pot. Later Millie refilled it but moved on quickly. Finally, Millie realized that Pedro was not going to give up and leave. Business had slowed, so she walked over and sat in the booth facing him. She started the conversation by saying, “My boss, the owner, does not want his waitresses getting too friendly with the customers. He says, ‘We’re operating a restaurant not a brothel.’ He’s not here now, but the cook will tell him having this conversation.” Pedro was stunned by this opening statement, but he recovered quickly. “Then let’s give the pinche pendejo something to really be worried about.” He reached across the table and took her hand. Millie tilted her head to one side and with her eyes half closed she said, “I don’t know what that means but it doesn’t sound very nice.” Vicente said, “It’s not, but it’s common Mexican language. Millie, I like you very much. I mean I want to ask what time do you get off from work?” Millie’s eyes were now wide open. She said, “Pedro, this is so sudden. You know, you don’t know anything about me and more to the point I don’t know anything about you.” Pedro said, “That’s true. And I would like for us to get to know each other better.” Millie said, “I get off at 6 o’clock, but I have two children at home, and I have to relieve my sister who watches them during the day.” Vicente said, “Why don’t I pick you up this evening and take you to see a movie? I could hire you a babysitter or maybe your sister could stay on this evening. You could use a break, couldn’t you?” Millie stared at Pedro silently for a few seconds. To Pedro, it seemed like an

hour or two. Then she decided to divulge some more personal information. She said, “Pedro, I can’t impose on my sister like that. As it is, it’s difficult for me to pay her to babysit the children and then have enough money for groceries and to pay the bills. That’s why I’m putting in a twelve-hour workday here on a Saturday. The Bulldog Café pays us waitresses minimum wages. We depend on tips… I depend on tips for enough income to live on. I’m going to be tired this evening, but I have to cook dinner for my little family. I’m sorry, you’re a very nice man, but no. I can’t go out with you tonight.” She started to slide off the seat and get up, but Pedro held onto her hand and stopped her. He said, “Millie, I’ve been coming here to the Bulldog Café for years now. I’ve seen how hard you work, and I ire you for that. You’re always friendly and always have a smile. You make me and your other customers feel welcome all the time. You’re a valuable asset to this restaurant. It would not be the same without you. I’m sorry that I asked you for a date on a Saturday. I wasn’t thinking about it being a long hard workday for you. You never let on that you are getting tired. Every time I’ve come to this restaurant, you’ve been here May I ask you when you have days off? Heck, do you even have any days off?” Millie’s smile was back, but with one side of her lips turned down. She said, “Pedro, now you’re beginning to get the idea of what my life is like. Yes, I get two days off a week, usually, like most folks. You know, no waitress could put in seven days a week full time. That’s too much. It would lead to an early grave. Okay, my days off are Tuesday and Wednesday.” She then looked at him expectantly, still smiling. Vicente said, “Millie, would you go with me for dinner and a movie next Tuesday evening? I’ll pay the babysitter.” Millie said, “Yes, but with conditions.” Pedro said, “Conditions?” Millie said, “No drive-in theater. No shoot-them-ups. I get to choose the movie. We don’t sit down front close to the screen.” Vicente said, “That’s a deal. I’ll pick you up this coming Tuesday, at 7:00, and I’ll bring the babysitter. I’ll need your address, and your phone number.”

Removing her hand from his, Millie reached in her apron pockets and produced a pad and a pen. She scribbled and tore two tickets off handing them to him. The first one was the bill for his breakfast. It had an extra note at the bottom, “ the tip!” The second slip had her street address and phone number.

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At home, Pedro sat on his bed and picked up the headset of his phone which sat on the headboard. He took his notepad out of his shirt pocket and flipped through until he found the Halas phone number. He dialed, and when Margaret answered he said, “Hello. Misses Halas, this is Sheriff’s deputy Pedro Vicente. Do you me?” “Yes, I do Mister Vicente. How can I help you?” “Well, Misses Halas, I need a small favor. I have a date next Tuesday evening with a fine young lady, and I need a babysitter to look after her two children that evening. I can pay a reasonable amount. I was wondering if your daughter Elizabeth could babysit for us that evening.” Margaret said, “I don’t know. Isn’t Tuesday an unusual day for a date?” Pedro said, “Yes it is, but my date is with Millie Jordan who is a waitress at the Bulldog Café in McAllen. Friday or Saturday evenings are bad for her since those are her busiest days at the restaurant. She has off Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Since it’s summertime, your daughter will not have homework to do that night, so I thought she might be available to babysit.” Margaret said, “I see. Let me discuss this with my husband and then get back to you. May I have your phone number?” After they disconnected, Margaret looked in the phone book Yellow Pages. Then she picked up the headset again and dialed. When a lady answered, she said, “May I speak to the manager please.” After a moment, she said, “Hello sir, I was wondering what days of the week your waitresses have off.”

The manager said, “If this is about a job, we don’t have any openings now for waitresses.” Margaret said, “I have two daughters, and I was just wondering about their futures. It’s just for information for the future.” The manager said, “Okay. There’s always some turnover, so there will be openings in the future. We give our waitresses different days off so that there’s always one here on the slow nights. One waitress has Tuesday and Wednesday off, the other waitress gets a split, having Monday and Thursday off. Does that help you ma’am?” “Yes Sir, thank you.” Margaret thought about it. Vicente was a sheriff’s deputy, but he was also handsome young man. So, everything made sense. She picked up the phone again and dialed Pedro’s number. “This is Deputy Vicente; how can I help you?” “This is Margaret Halas. Elizabeth may babysit for you, but it will cost you five dollars for her evening. Additionally, John or I will bring her to the address at which she will babysit. We will meet you outside in front. What time are you picking up Miss Jordan? What time do you expect to return miss Jordan home? And what is the address?”

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CHAPTER 19

Natalia

The Diaz family lived in a large single-story old wood house with ribboard siding on Jackson road about a mile north from Highway 83 and the railroad tracks. Mark thought of it as just a big old shack. He pulled the Ford Woody Country Squire station wagon over on the shoulder of the road about a quarter of a mile from the Diaz home, turned off the lights, then edged forward on the road shoulder until the house came into view. Then he backed up until he could no longer see it and stopped. It wasn’t five minutes until Natalia appeared out of the darkness. Seeing her, Mark jumped out of the car but paused to close the driver’s side door quietly. Then he trotted around the back and opened the enger side front door for her. “Thank you,” Natalia murmured as she entered the car and sat. Once seated next to her behind the steering wheel, Mark leaned over to kiss her. Natalia dodged the kiss and pushed him back. “Not on the first date, she scolded. I’m not that kind of girl, so get that stuff out of your mind.” Mark was flustered but recovered by changing the subject. “I checked and the movie at the Palace is The Man Who Knew Too Much. It’s an Alfred Hitchcock, starring James Stewart and Doris Day.” Natalia said, “I like Doris Day. I hear her singing on the radio. She’s very good. I would like to see her. So, let’s go to the Palace.” Mark made a U-turn with the car then headed down the road, flipping on the headlights as he went. As he drove he ed Natalia’s comment about not being that kind of girl and about the package of rubbers in his pocket that his Father had forced on him. He had to smile. Noticing his smile, Natalia asked, “What’s funny?” Mark deflected, “Oh my Dad, he’s worried about me dating a Latino girl. You

said your Dad wants you to marry a Mexican American young man that he picks for you. My folks are similar in that they, my mother in particular, want me to marry some fine young Hungarian descent woman, one who belongs to the church that we attend.” Natalia said, “So, my parents are not the only ones like that. Why can’t older folks understand that in America young people marry for romance and love?” Mark said, “Yeah.”

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Saturday night was busy in downtown McAllen and Mark had to park three blocks from the theater on a side street. Natalia asked, “It’s dark here; is it safe for us to walk from here to the theater?” Mark said, “Well, if it were pitch-dark I would be worried. But look, there’s a full moon tonight and there’s other people parking around here and walking. There should be safety in numbers. But, lots of people walking means we better hurry and get our tickets before the next showing sells out. According to the ad in the paper, that showing is 30 minutes from now.” With that, he was out of the car and around opening her car door. When they reached the Palace Theater entrance, they ed a long line. But their luck was good, and Mark bought their tickets. As they stood in the waiting crowd in the lobby, they heard the lady in the ticket booth announcing that they were sorry, but this showing was sold out. She then said they could however begin now selling tickets to the late show which would start at 10:30. Natalia was impressed. She asked Mark, “Wow. Is it always this crowded for shows on Saturday night?” Mark said, “No, not every Saturday night. This movie has to be popular both because it’s directed by Alfred Hitchcock and it stars two of Hollywood’s best actors.”

Natalia said, “Yeah, I like Jimmy Stewart also, but who is Alfred Hitchcock?” A girl standing nearby and overhearing Natalia’s question, giggled. Natalia flashed her a dirty look and then turned her back to her. Mark said, “He’s a famous producer and director of scary movies. What made him famous was a black-and-white movie that had a scene where a lady taking a shower was stabbed to death with a butcher knife. Everybody was talking about that. It was shocking to see. And then there was another Hitchcock black-andwhite movie of his where people were attacked by birds.” Natalia said, “Ugh. I hope there’s nothing like that in this movie. If that stuff starts, I’ll have to get up and leave.” Mark said, “Not to worry. One of my friends saw this movie and he said it was good. If there was a horrible stabbing scene or something else like that in it, he would’ve said so.” Once the early move crowd had filed out, and the ushers moved aside felt lined ropes and stands to let in the next group, the theater filled rapidly. Mark guided Natalia upstairs and they managed to get two seats on the front row in the balcony. Natalia said, “Perfect.” As coming attractions began, Mark discovered he needed to pee. He asked, “Would you like some popcorn and a drink? Or candy? I’ll go down and get some while you hold my seat.” Natalia said, “Sure. Just get me a small popcorn and a regular Coke.” As Mark headed in the darkened theater toward the stairs leading down, he did not notice a seated Mexican youth who had a foot out in the aisle. He tripped on the foot and stumbled but managed to keep his balance and forward momentum. He turned his head and said over his shoulder, “Sorry” as he continued on. Downstairs, he first went into the men’s room. As he stood in front of a urinal with his pants unzipped, three Mexicans came into the room. The youth who had had a foot out in the aisle was accompanied by two young adults. One of the two reached in his pocket and pulled out a switchblade pocketknife which he thumbed open. A six-inch long sharp pointed blade snicked into place. He waved it in front of Mark’s face and pointing at the Mexican kid with his other hand, said angrily, “What did you say to him?”

Suddenly, Mark did not need to pee anymore. It was obvious to him that this was not the time to be confrontational or smart-alecky. He held up both hands palms up with a shrug saying, “I said, ‘Sorry’.” The knife man said, “Que. …Uh… What?” Mark said slowly and distinctly, “I apologized. I said, ‘I’m sorry’.” Knife man continued pointing the blade close to marks left kidney while the three spoke with each other in rapid Spanish, none of which Mark understood. Then knife man closed the switchblade and pocketed it. He turned back to Mark and said, “Okay, but watch yourself.” And they left. Mark realized he had been and was still holding his breath. He let it out, relaxing. And now he had to pee again. He stood there in front of the urinal for a while thinking over what had just happened. He could picture himself lying on the dirty tile floor of the restroom bleeding to death from his back and from his neck. Shit like that was not supposed to happen in the Palace Theater on Saturday night in McAllen, Texas. And it was not supposed to happen to Mark Halas. After a while, maybe 10 minutes, he felt ready to go. Then it occurred to him that they could come back, and he was still alone in the restroom. He zipped up and left. Returning to Natalia with a large popcorn and two soft drinks in waxed cardboard cups mounted in a cardboard tray, he was careful to stay in the center of the aisle and watch his feet. She said, “That took you a long time. Were there a lot of people at the confection stand?” Mark said, “Yeah, and a lot was going on down there.” Someone behind shushed at them, and the conversation ended as the opening credits were over and watching the movie took their attention. Mark reached over and took Natalia’s hand. She allowed it and they held hands during the movie.

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They also held hands while walking back to the car. Mark asked, “Well… how

did you like the movie?” Natalia said, “There was a man stabbed in the back at the beginning, but it wasn’t gory. Not too bad. The movie was good, and it was tense toward the end waiting for the assassin to shoot that Prime Minister. I guess the best part was when Doris Day was singing ‘Qué sera, sera’. Their search for their son tugged at my heart.” Mark agreed. “Yeah, I felt all that too. I think this was the best movie I’ve seen this year, and I manage to see one a week.” Natalia said, “You manage to go to a movie that often? How do you do that with all the farm work that your Father has you doing? I wouldn’t think you had the time.” Mark said, “Well, as you’ve seen, he lets us workers off at about noon or so on pay day Saturdays. So, there’s Saturday evenings and Sundays after church…. You know, until I was about 10 or 11 years old he didn’t much make me work. And Mom would take and drop me off for the Saturday morning showings for little kids at the Queen Theater. I liked that. Did you ever go to it?” Natalia said, “No. And I never heard of that before. What is a little kid’s program at a movie theater?” Mark said, “There was just one showing on Saturday morning. They showed four or five cartoons. Then there was an episode of a serial and a short national news summary. That was followed by a cowboy movie. The cartoons were in color, but the rest was in black and white. The cowboy movies featured heroes such as Gene Autry, Lash Larue, the Cisco kid or the Lone Ranger and Tonto.” Natalia said, “What’s a serial?” Mark said, “It’s a piece of the movie just 10 minutes long. It starts where the previous episode left off, then they show the next piece of the story, ending the episode with the hero in trouble. You have to see the next episode on the next Saturday to find out how he got out of it. And so on.” Natalia said, “You didn’t mention Roy Rogers. He’s my favorite cowboy. Handsome.”

Mark said, “For some reason, they didn’t show his movies as part of the kid’s program. You know, when I was in grade school at Carnahan Elementary in Pharr, we used to argue on the playgrounds about who was King of the West… Gene Autry or Roy Rogers?” Natalia said, “Roy Rogers is of course. Gene Autry is short, potbellied, and has a big nose. Roy Rogers sings better, too. And I went to Buell Elementary School.⁸” Mark laughed. “Somehow, which one was the most handsome was not part of the discussion. And I don’t anyone ever arguing about which one sang better.” Natalia said, “Boys. All y’all care about is the fighting and shooting.” They arrived at the car, and Mark stepped ahead and opened the enger-side door for her. Inside, Natalia scooted over on the bench style seat and sat close to Mark. Mark reached to put his arm around her, but she pushed it away saying, “Keep your hands on the steering wheel so you don’t have a wreck.” As he drove away from the theater, Mark asked, “So where did you see movies?” Natalia said, “Daddy thinks that the McAllen theaters are too expensive. Sometimes we would go to the Texas Theater, but he would take us to the Cactus Drive-In Theater on Tuesday nights when they offer a special - one dollar per carload.” Mark said, “Yeah, we sometimes went there too on Tuesday nights. Dad was too tired, but my sisters would beg him to take us and he would give in. Then while we watched the movie he would fall asleep in the car and snore. So, we would get out of the car and go to the seats by the projection booth or down front.” Natalia laughed. “My Dad would stay awake, but often he would not understand what they were saying on the screen, and I had to translate it into Spanish for him.” Mark said, “Yeah I understand that. My grandmother, that is… my Dad’s mother, came down to visit and we took her with us to see a movie at the Queen theater. She is from the old country and Dad had to translate what was being said for her because she couldn’t follow it very well. My Mother and I moved to another part of that the theater where we didn’t have to listen to that.”

Natalia looked surprised. “What language is your grandmother used to speaking better than English?” Mark replied, “Well, my Grandfather Luke Halas, came over with his family from the European country called Hungary. The Hungarian language is called Magyar over there. Dad says he was just 12 years old when they came over. They came to the USA through Ellis Island where the Statue of Liberty is.” Natalia said, “In social studies class they taught us about Ellis Island. It’s in New York City. So how did your Hungarian family get all the way down here in South Texas? And where did your grandmother come down from?” Mark said, “Whoa. One question at a time. How we got down here in the Rio Grande Valley is a rather long story. The short version is that Granddad did not want to work in a factory up in the North or Midwest USA. So, he came down to Texas near Dallas looking for a chance to be a farmer. Granddad made my Father work on the farm, pulling him out of school so that he didn’t get past the third grade. Most of the state is too dry for good crop farming, so when Dad wanted to strike out on his own, he came down here to the lower Rio Grande Valley where irrigation is used with water from the river. As for my Grandmother, Granddad settled up near Dallas. And he did dryland farming until he died young at the age of 45. And before you ask, that was because he drank too much alcohol. Grandmother lives with some relatives up there in North Texas.” As Mark finished his explanation, he pulled off the highway into the parking lot around the Whataburger stand. The parking lot was full of cars occupied by a Saturday night crowd of teenagers. Many of them were out of their cars and visiting in small groups and some sat on the hoods or leaned against their cars. Although many were there on dates, there were some groups of boys and separate groups of girls chatting away. Mark found a spot to park at the edge of the parking lot in a corner close to the street. Mark surveyed the crowd and said to Natalia, “I don’t see anybody from Pharr. Some of the McAllen crowd here look familiar, but I don’t know them. Do you see anybody you know?” Natalia said, “No. All my friends go to PSJA High School. I don’t know any of these McAllen kids either.” Mark said, “We should just stay in the car then. Would you like a hamburger with fries and a drink, maybe a float.”

Natalia said, “Yes. A root beer float and a small order of fries, but no hamburger.” Mark said, “The nights pretty muggy and hot, but while I’m gone, it would be a good idea to roll up the windows to just an inch gap to let in some of the breeze, and to lock the doors.” Natalia said, “Okay, I’ll just listen to music on the car radio while you’re gone.” Mark added, “I’ve got the radio set on country music of the Anglo kind. If you would like, feel free to change the station and listen to some of your Mexican music.” Natalia made a face at him, sticking out her tongue. Mark laughed as he turned away and started wending his way through the cars and crowd toward the burger stand window. For the second time this night he returned with two soft drinks in waxed cardboard cups mounted in a cardboard tray but this time also with two small orders of French fries, straws, plastic spoons and napkins. Natalia reached across and unlocked the driver side door for him, and then she rolled down the window on her side. As Mark slipped into the seat and offered her the treats, Natalia said, “That group of Anglo boys over there have been looking here a lot. They make me uncomfortable.” Mark didn’t like the way they looked either, and when the four tough looking teenagers started their way, he relocked his door. Natalia rolled her window back up. Mark’s window was still up with just the one-inch open gap. Natalia took the tray and set it in her lap. Two boys stopped by the driver side door while the other two walked around and stopped by the other front door. A well-muscled blonde guy leaned forward resting his forearms against the car door and said with a sneer in his voice, “Well lookee here. What do we have? Where are you from Mexican lover? You from Mission? Or maybe you’re from Pharr? Or did you swim across the river with your girly there?” Mark felt his face burning, but he started softly in a placating tone and as he spoke his voice got louder. He said, “Look blondie, we don’t want any trouble. Obviously you do. Why don’t you and your friends go find it somewhere else where someone can knock some sense into your head?”

The blonde shot back, “You can talk big while hiding behind locked doors. What’s the matter? Couldn’t you get a date with a white girl? Oh, I know. You’re just getting some easy nookee. You know, we might like some of that too. Why don’t you share? Unlock the door and we can her around?” Mark heard Natalia suck in her breath. He said, “I may be a farm boy, but I’m not stupid enough to unlock the door and let y’all beat on me four to one. Look asshole, you’re not going to get any satisfaction here. So just take your pack of knuckleheads and go out behind the Whataburger stand over there and do a group Jack-off? Maybe that would give you all some relief from what’s bothering you.” Blondie straightened up and brought his fist down hard on the hood of the Woody. The loud bang made Mark jump. Blondie said, “Jimmy, go back to the car and get my baseball bat. I’ll bet these windows will shatter easy. Hurry, before this son-of-a-bitch coward decides to start his engine and bug out.” A red light started flashing. From behind the Woody and two McAllen city policemen approached carrying their batons. One had Sgt. stripes and he said, “I wouldn’t do that Jimmy. What’s the matter with you boys? You been smoking marijuana or just drinking alcohol? If I still see you 10 seconds from now, you’ll spend the night sobering up in jail. Nine… eight… seven ….” The four toughs vanished, each at a dead run weaving through the cars and crowd. Within seconds a large white Cadillac fired up its engine and left the scene carrying four McAllen football players. The sergeants name tag on his uniform read “MacLeod.” He tapped the Woody’s driver side window with his baton and said, “Roll down the window son. I want to talk to you.” Mark complied. Sergeant MacLeod said, “I don’t recognize you. You’re not from McAllen. And, you are a white boy dating a Mexican girl. If those boys hadn’t objected to that, someone else from this crowd would have. Why don’t you leave McAllen before there’s more trouble and I have to put you in jail and call this girl’s Father to come get her?” Mark recognized a command from authority when he heard it and understood that it was not a question. He said, “Yes sir. I’ll do that as soon as I can.” He turned the ignition key and started the station wagon’s engine, but he had to wait

because his vehicle was blocked in by a pickup truck in front of it and the police car in behind with its cherry top flashing. The two policemen returned to their car and it moved forward. Mark backed out onto the shoulder of the highway. Then he waited until there was a large gap in the traffic and pulled out headed East toward Pharr. Natalia said, “I thought that having a date with a cute Anglo boy was a good thing for me. Now, I think that maybe my Dad is right and that I should stick to who he chooses for me from the fine young Mexican American men who are available.” Mark looked over at her and saw that there were tear streaks running down her cheeks. He thought about what had happened and what to say. The silence drug out for a couple of minutes that seemed like it might’ve been a couple of hours to him. This was a very delicate situation and that it had to be handled carefully or it would damage both her and him. Then he said, “Look, let’s get off this highway onto a back road and park, drink our root beers and talk this out.” Natalia looked at him and said, “You want to park with me? Do you think that those McAllen boys were right and that you can get some easy sex that way? Is that what you think about me?” Mark said, “This is a bad situation. Nothing I can say will be good enough. You just accused me of being exactly what those stupid McAllen boys said I am. I’m not, but there’s no way that I can prove that to you….” Mark swallowed, then he said, “I’m going to confess something to you that I’ve never said to a girl and that I will never say again. Heck, I’ve never said it to one of my friends either. Natalia, I’m a virgin. I have never had sex with a girl or a woman. I’m not looking to change that tonight. In fact, I think that I will be a strong enough Christian to remain a virgin until I get married. I want that someday when I do get married, my wife will be a virgin on our wedding night, and that I should be too. In fact, if I do anything else, the Bible teaches that it’s adultery, and a sin that I will have to ask God for forgiveness of…. Also, there are venereal diseases that my Dad told me about. Stuff called gonorrhea and syphilis. I sure don’t want any of that.” Natalia had been watching Mark as he talked, but she snapped her face forward when he mentioned venereal diseases and stared out the wagon’s front window. In a low voice she said, “Oh, so you think I might have venereal diseases?”

Mark tried to swallow again but found that his mouth was dry. He reached over and picked up his root beer float from the tray in Natalia’s lap. He used his thumb to flick off the plastic lid, and took a mouthful, swishing it around before swallowing. Then he put the drink back in the tray. Natalia picked up the lid off the seat between them and fitted it back on the drink tumbler. Mark said, “No Natalia, I never thought anything like that. It’s just stuff that my Dad told me about a long time ago. Nothing to do with us,” he lied. Mark swallowed again, then continued, “Natalia, let’s drive to where I parked to pick you up near your home. Then we can talk in the car there. That way, you can feel safe because if I act badly toward you, you can flee home and if necessary you have the option of screaming and bringing your Father’s anger down on me. So that way we can talk, and you will know that you are safe.” When Mark quit talking, Natalia stared at him. She then looked back out the window and didn’t say anything for several minutes. Well, it was only two or three minutes, but again Mark felt like it was a long time. Natalia said, “Okay.” Then, she burst out laughing. Startled, Mark blurted, “What the heck is funny about that?” Natalia said, “Mark, you should see yourself. You have an ice cream mustache from drinking of out of that float.” Both visors had mirrors mounted on their backs. Mark pulled down the driver side one and looked at himself. Then he laughed too and took the napkin she offered. With that, the tension in the car felt much less to both of them.

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Parked again on the shoulder of the road just out of sight from the Diaz home, Natalia opened the conversation by saying, “Look Mark, I am impressed with that confession you made. I never heard anything like it before, and never will again. Listen, I know what you gringo boys think Chicanas, and there are a few who deserve that reputation. But that is a very few. Most of us are good Catholic girls. And most of us have Mothers and Father s who love us and would

do harm to any boy who hurt their daughter. I go to Mass on Sunday, and I have never had to confess to my priest that I have committed the sin of adultery. As God is my witness, I am a virgin, too.” Mark said, “Natalia, that does not surprise me. Those McAllen thugs were full of cow manure. I never thought of you as anything but a nice girl. Pardon me, I mean a nice young lady. Just as nice as say, my two little sisters…. But something just occurred to me, where is your little brother this evening? I thought he was supposed to accompany us to the movie.” Natalia said, “Our home has three bedrooms, so I have my own room. I said I had a headache and was tired. Mama watched me take an aspirin, and I retired to my bedroom early for the evening. I climbed out the window, and quietly closed it behind me. So, it is unlocked, and I’ll go back the same way. Junior should be asleep in his bedroom. It’s better that he did not come with us this evening because I don’t think he could’ve kept it a secret.” Mark said, “Natalia, this has been a wonderful evening. In spite of the incident at the Whataburger, I enjoyed being with you and seeing the good movie with you. I would like for us to do this again soon. Do you think we can work something out with your parents so that we can date without having to sneak around? That’s not going to work for long, and you can’t have a headache every Saturday night.” Natalia said, “I enjoyed the evening with you too, Mark. I’ll talk to Mama and see if I can get her on my side to get Papa to allow me to have dates with whoever I choose. That may take a while. In the meantime, you might help yourself by making and taking opportunities to be friendly to Papa. He likes to listen to baseball on the radio. You might ask him who he thinks will win the World Series this coming season. He likes the Dodgers, so talk about the Dodgers and the Yankees teams. Then see if he wants to talk about anything else. Don’t push it, just let it seem natural and accidental that you pick cotton next to him.” Mark said, “That’s good. You’ve thought about this haven’t you?” Natalia said, “Well yes, I’ve been wanting to be able to have dates for some time now. Before you asked me for a date. I never have liked the idea that Papa is going to arrange a marriage for me. Now you’ve come along, and now I want to

be free to date. But for now, a date next week would be too soon. And right now, I need to get back home.” With saying that, Natalia opened the enger side door and stepped out of the station wagon. Mark opened the door on his side, closed it quietly, and rushed around to Natalia before she could walk away. Natalia turned to him and whispered, “One short first date good night kiss, and that’s all.” They stepped into each other and pressed lips together briefly. Then she turned away and as she started to walk she staged whispered back at him, “Don’t forget to clean the lipstick off before you get home.”

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Natalia lifted open her bedroom window and crawled inside she reached back and pulled the screen closed and latched it. As she turned away from the window, the overhead light came on and there was Juan Pablo Diaz, her Father, sitting in a chair next to the door and lowering his hand from the switch.. Victoria, her mother, was also there sitting on the edge of the bed. Shocked, Natalia lifted a hand to cover her mouth. Scowling at her, Juan Pablo asked, “Where have you been my daughter?” Natalia recovered quickly. She held both hands out palm up, smiled, and said, “I went to a movie in McAllen.” Victoria asked, “By yourself?” Natalia said, “With a friend who had a car, of course.” Juan Pablo snapped, “Don’t be smart-alecky. You went with a boy didn’t you? Who was he?” Natalia knew that they would see through any lie that she might dream up, so she said, “I went with Mark, the farmer’s son.” Juan Pablo said, “You know you should have asked permission.”

Natalia said, “I knew that you would’ve said no.” Juan Pablo asked, “So are you still a virgin, or did he rape you?” Victoria said, “Juan!” Natalia said, “Mark is a nice boy. He wouldn’t do anything like that, and you know that I wouldn’t either, Papa.” Juan Pablo said, “Well if you’re telling the truth, we are lucky. Since you won’t obey us, it’s time for you to marry a fine Mexican man before it’s too late. I will call Augie Alvarez and tell him to his priest and set the date and time. Victoria, dig out your wedding dress and make it fit her.” Natalia screamed, “Augie?… No Papa! He’s a terrible disgusting man. And he’s too old. I won’t marry him.” Juan said, “Shut up! You know nothing. Agustín Alvarez is an upstanding and prosperous businessman. He will be able to provide well for you and for my future grandchildren for which he will be a good and loving Father. The matter is settled. Victoria, see that our daughter bathes and goes to bed.” Juan left the room. Minutes later there was a squeak followed by a loud banging as he pulled Natalia’s bedroom window down to an inch of closed and nailed it in place. Then he nailed the screen closed.

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CHAPTER 20

Millie

Tuesday afternoon, Pedro Vicente prepared for his date with Millie Jordan. He started with his 1951 model black and white Ford patrol car. First, he opened all four doors and thoroughly vacuumed the seats and floors. Then he dusted the hard surfaces. He closed the doors and with a bucket of soapy water and a sponge he washed all the old dirt off, finally unrolling his front yard hose and rinsing it off. Then he took shammies and wiped the car dry. While he was wiping, his neighbor from directly across the street walked over and said, “Hey Vicente! I’ve never seen you cleanup your patrol car like this before. You got a hot date tonight or something?” Vicente smiled but kept working while he said, “Hey Felipe! You bet!” Felipe said, “Anybody I know?” Pedro said, “Only the hottest woman in McAllen.” Felipe said, “That would be my wife. You leave her alone, I need her.” Vicente laughed and said, “Millie Jordan. Eat your heart out.” Felipe said, “The waitress? No way! Every man in town hits on her, and she always sloughs them off. She never has a date with anyone. You’re kidding me, right?” Vicente straightened up, put on a big smile, turned toward Juan and puffed his chest out. Felipe said, “You’re not kidding. Wait till the guys hear about this. You know someone will shoot you out of jealousy.”

Pedro winked as he patted the pistol on his hip. “Shootings a two-way street.” Felipe turned and walked away rapidly heading for us his closest neighbor’s house. Pedro headed into his backyard for the second stage of preparation, bathing himself.

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Millie Jordan was almost ready for her first date with a man in Texas. Her teenage sister, Barbara, stood watching her as she applied her makeup. She was finishing up, applying dark red lipstick. Barbara said, “Almost perfect.” She stepped forward and straightened the collar on Millie’s sky-blue blouse. The blouse reflected in Millie’s blue eyes in a striking way. “I can’t wait to see the man that broke through my sister’s impregnable defenses to get a date with her.” Millie said, “I don’t want you scaring him off. He’s bringing a babysitter that he’s paying for, so you really don’t need to be here. Why don’t you just go upstairs and to bed?” Barbara said, “Aw sis, you’re just afraid he’ll think I’m prettier than you and ask me for a date for next time.” Millie said, “Seriously, I don’t want you hanging on to me when he shows up. You stay up here in the bedroom with the lights off and look out the window to see what he looks like. That’ll be enough.” “Well… Okay.” “And don’t forget to turn out all the lower room lights and lock the door after I leave.” Millie turned and hugged her sister. She went through the hall to the other upstairs bedroom and checked on the two children who were asleep. Then she went downstairs to watch the news on television in the den while she waited for the doorbell to ring. Barbara pulled up a chair to the window and sat. She had a clear view of the front yard and the street. She was surprised to see a Ford

Woody station wagon parked in front of the house but at the edge of the property, near the hedgerow separating the Jordan’s yard from their neighbor’s. She watched it expectantly, but no one got out. That had not changed ten minutes later when a black and white patrol car with a star on the side pulled up and parked by the curb in the center front of the house. Barbara put her nose to the window to get a better look as Pedro Vicente got out, glanced at the house and then turned toward the Woody. The station wagon’s front doors both opened, and Margaret and Elizabeth got out. Vicente met them, they talked briefly and then walked to the front of the house. The doorbell rang, and Millie hurried and opened it. Pedro said, “Millie, this is Margaret Halas and her daughter Elizabeth. Misses Halas, this is Millie Jordan, my date for the evening.” Millie said, “I’m pleased to meet you Margaret, and you too Elizabeth. Margaret said, “And I’m pleased to meet you Miss Jordan. May we come in for a moment?” Inside, Margaret looked around and said, “Well the house is nice and also clean. And you look nice Millie. Where are the children?” Millie said, “They’re upstairs asleep. My sister Barbara is also up there, but she’ll be leaving in a little while.” Addressing Elizabeth, she continued, “Barbara is nosy, so she’ll want to talk to you. Please keep your voice down so y’all don’t wake the children. You can watch television but keep the volume down and check on the children during commercials.” Vicente handed Elizabeth a slip of paper, saying, “Here’s the phone number for the Sheriff’s dispatcher. If there’s any problem, call and they can reach me.” Margaret and Millie were both satisfied, and soon the adults left. Elizabeth went upstairs to meet Barbara and check on the children. Pedro opened the car door for Millie, then stood and watched until Margaret drove away. After he got in behind the steering wheel he said, “That all went well. So, where are we going and what’s showing?” Millie said, “There’s an old movie that I have not seen starring Lucille Ball at the Texas Theater in Pharr. The name is Lured. Have you seen it?”

Vicente said, “No, I don’t think I’ve even heard of it. Doesn’t Lucille Ball do comedy? Is it a funny movie?” Jordan said, “Well yes she’s a comedian, but from what I’ve heard about it this movie is more of a murder mystery.” Pedro said, “Good! I’m a detective so I’ll see if I can figure it out before they reveal who did it. Where would you like to eat?” Millie said, “Anywhere except the Bulldog Café.” Pedro said, “Whataburger?” Jordan said, “Very funny.” Vicente said, “Seafood, steak, or tacos?” Millie said, “Seafood of course. But really Pedro, can you afford an expensive seafood dinner? I’m sure Sheriff’s deputies don’t make large salaries. We can split the cost.” Pedro said, “Then we’ll go to the Alamo Restaurant in Pharr. I know the owner and he’s also the cook and he’s very good. And I can afford it Millie. Not every night, but this is a special occasion.” Jordan said, “Well you’re a special person, Pedro.” Vicente smiled but he was embarrassed and decided to change the subject. He started the car and headed for Pharr. He said, “Millie, you don’t talk with a drawl like most Texans. Where are you from?” Millie said, “I was expecting that question. You wouldn’t be much of a detective if you didn’t ask it. I’m from Camden, New Jersey.” Pedro said, “New Jersey? So, you’re a Yankee. My geography is weak for New England. Is Camden near New York City?” Jordan said, “Actually no. Camden is across the river from Philadelphia. You could say it is a suburban of Philadelphia except that Camden was a major manufacturing city until not long ago.”

Vicente said, “So how did you wind out down here all the way in the southern tip of Texas?” Millie said, “That’s a long story. You sure you want to hear it?” Pedro said, “Absolutely yes. If you don’t mind telling it.” Jordan said, “Well just briefly, Dad and Mom both worked for manufacturing companies. Dad worked for Campbell Soup Company, and Mom worked for RCA Victor. They were making good money and Dad wanted me to have a college education. So, after high school I enrolled in the Camden branch of Rutgers University. Things were going well until two things happened. First, one of Dad’s coworkers, a man named Jake Carson who was also a union representative, asked me for a date and soon we were engaged. Then we got married and along came Johnny and Jill. I dropped out of college to take care of the children. The unions were demanding a lot of money, so both companies Campbell and RCA closed down their operations in Camden.” Vicente said, “We’re lucky here that the unions aren’t much in Texas. Texas law is not favorable to them.” Millie said, “Dad had a heart attack and died.” Millie’s eyes teared up. Pedro took out his handkerchief, ed it to her and said, “I’m sorry about your Dad.” Millie said, “Mom was out of a job and couldn’t herself, so she moved in with us. Jake did not like having Mom living with us, and she didn’t like Jake. So, she left and went back to her folks farm in Pennsylvania Dutch country. I was angry with Jake for that, and it was the beginning of the end of my love for him. Also, listening to Jake talking to his bosses on the telephone made me aware that he worked for union gangsters. The union got Jake a job working for a clothing manufacturer in Philadelphia. We continued to live in Camden, and he commuted to work.” Millie stopped talking. She dabbed her tears from her face and blew her nose. She put the handkerchief in her purse. They rode on in silence for a while. Vicente did not know what to say, so he just glanced at her as he continued to drive and shook his head. He realized that there was more because she still had not said why she was in Texas, and what about Jake? They arrived at the Alamo

Restaurant and Vicente was able to park in front of it. On a weekend he would’ve had to park a block or two away, but this was Tuesday night. Pedro went around the car to open the door for Millie, but when he got there she was already out of the car and waiting for him, smiling. So, he locked the car and held out his arm. She hooked her arm in his and they went in.

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Inside the front door the hostess was a young lady who sat on a stool by the cash with her history book and a spiral notebook doing her school homework. Millie guessed she was about 13 or 14 years old. She jumped up and greeted them saying, “Welcome to the Alamo Restaurant. Pedro, who is this beautiful lady with you?” Vicente said, “Good evening Julia. This is Millie Jordan, and yes she is beautiful.” Millie smiled and said, “Thank you Julia. I see you doing schoolwork. What subject are you working on?” Julia picked up two menus and walked toward the back of the restaurant escorting them while she said, “American history. I have to answer the questions at the end of the chapter and turn it in tomorrow. Papa has me filling in for the regular hostess who gets Tuesday through Thursday off each week.” She led them to a table in a back corner of the restaurant but away from the kitchen entrance. About a quarter of the other tables were occupied. When they were seated, she walked to the kitchen saying, “Papa, Deputy Pedro is here.” Jordan said, “They know you here. You come here often?” Pedro said, “Not that often. I get over here maybe once or twice a month, but for enchiladas and tacos. Usually I don’t eat seafood; although, I like it. Anything that Al Herrero here cooks is excellent. Alejandro Herrero came out of the kitchen to their table accompanied by a

young man. Alejandro wore the traditional white cooks hat and a white apron with food residues and sauce smeared on it. He said, “Pedro the Lone Ranger Vicente, who is this beautiful lady?” Pedro stood and the two men hugged while each pounded the other on the back. Pedro stepped away and said, “Tonto Al, this is my new girlfriend, Millie Jordan. Millie, this is Alejandro Herrero, the best cook in the United States. With him is the best waiter in Texas, his son, Alonso.” Alonso said, “I will wait over there by the kitchen. Take your time, but when you’re ready to order signal me.” He turned and walked away. Alejandro said, “It is nice to meet you Millie. It is too bad that you have fallen in with this scoundrel. Make him behave himself and if necessary call me. I will come with my meat cleaver to rescue you. In the meantime, I will return to my domicile to continue preparing the best food north of the Rio Grande.” He half bowed and walked back to the kitchen. Millie said, “I never dreamed that eating with you would be such an adventure, Pedro. With this much entertainment at dinner, the movie may be a disappointment by comparison.” Pedro said, “Al is usually not that eloquent. I think it’s the sight of you that inspired him. Let’s go ahead and choose what we’re going to eat and get our order in or we’re liable to be late for that 8:30 show at the theater.” They examined their menus and a few minutes later Jordan said, “I’m ready to order.” Pedro waved and Alonso came over with his pen and pad. Millie ordered broiled shrimp and oysters, and Pedro ordered fried shrimp and scallops. Both dinners came with salads and rolls. While they waited on the food, Pedro said, “I understand that you had problems in New Jersey, but I’m still not sure why you’re here or where Jake is.” Jordan said, “The clothing manufacturer in Philadelphia was resisting the union, so that put a lot of pressure on Jake. He started taking it out on me. He hit me repeatedly. It got so bad, that I was afraid for my life. I had secretly saved up some money over several years. I looked at a map of the United States for a

place that was so remote and unlikely that I could hide there, and Jake would never find me. I thought about hiding in California or in Florida. But I knew that Jake would think of those places and look for me there. I settled on the southern tip of Texas. Vicente said, “Well that makes sense. This is an unlikely place for a Yankee to come to. And it is remote.” Millie said, “While Jake was at work one day, I packed our clothes for me and the children, rode a bus to the station and caught cross-country buses to Jacksonville, Florida, then to Dallas, Texas, and from there to San Antonio and McAllen. I used fictitious names when they asked for them. Including the time waiting in bus stations, the trip took four days. Pedro said, “So your name is really Millie Carson, and you’re still married to Jake.” Millie said, “Unfortunately that’s legally true. If I could get a divorce, I would. But Jake would kill me before I could do that. So, in my mind, he’s not my husband anymore. I will never live with him again. I’ve been Millie Jordan for a couple of years now.” Vicente said, “I know how to fix that legal problem for you.” Jordan said, “What? You’re going to kill him? The union gangsters would kill you first.” Pedro said, “No, that’s not what I meant. We could go across the border. I know a Mexican judge in Reynosa who would help us for a price. You could get a divorce in his court without Jake being notified. Then you would no longer be married to him. You could really be Millie Jordan instead of Millie Carson.” Millie said, “Would that be legal in the United States?” Vicente said, “It would be legal in Mexico. Mexico and the United States generally recognize each other’s laws, but there are some exceptions. The point is you and I would know that you’re no longer married to him. After he looks for you for a while in California, Florida and maybe Dallas, he will eventually give up, and go marry someone else. And you will be free.”

Millie said, “I’ll have to think about that.” When the food came it was excellent as d.

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At the front of the theater, a poster for Lured was on display under the heading, “Now Showing.” Pedro looked at it and said, “Well I hope the movie has a good plot because I already know which character is the bad guy.” Millie said, “You mean Frankenstein?” Vicente said, “Yeah, Boris Karloff will be the killer. He’s always a monster villain in movies.” Millie said, “Well George Sanders will be the hero. Isn’t he handsome?” Then she looked at her wristwatch and said, “Buy the tickets already. The movie is about to start.” As he pulled his billfold out, Pedro said, “No problem. There will be coming attractions and stuff before the movie.” In the theater lobby, Pedro asked, “Would you like popcorn?” Jordan said, “Just a small one. I’m stuffed, but a movie wouldn’t seem right without popcorn. And I’ll have a small Coke to go with it.” During the movie when the heroine was in danger, Pedro reached over and took Millie’s hand. She squeezed his hand softly but warmly. After the movie as they were making their way out of the theater, Pedro said, “Well I was wrong. Karloff played a crazy man, but he wasn’t the poet killer. That part was Julian Wilde played by Cedric Hardwicke.” Millie said, “The Wild guy seemed creepy to me early on in the movie and I wondered about him. Lucille Ball played her part very well didn’t she? She’s a good actress not just a comedian.”

Vicente said, “Yes, she is. How about we go for pie and coffee before I take you back home? The Holiday Inn restaurant in McAllen is good for that and they stay open all night.” Jordan said, “Okay, but understand up front that we’re going there just for the coffee and a snack and not for a room. Will the late hour cause a problem with your babysitter?” Pedro said, “It will be okay. I told Missus Halas we we’re going to the late show and she said, “Just bring Elizabeth home safely tonight.” They were seated at a table for two next to a window that looked out on a backparking lot with trees and houses beyond. The lights were dimmed, and only a few tables were occupied. Their waiter asked, “are you ready to order?” Vicente said, “We would like coffee and the lights not so dim. I can’t even see the menu much less read it.” The waiter said, “I will tell the manager and see if we can get them turned up some, but it is company policy to dim the lights in the restaurant after seven in the evening.” Pedro said, “Please do that. Also, I’ll take a slice of apple pie and the lady will take chocolate pie.” “Will there be anything else sir?” “No, thank you.” As the waiter walked away, Millie said, “how did you know what I wanted to order? I might have wanted hot tea and peach cobbler.” Pedro said, “Do you? I can call him back and change the order.” Millie said, “No. But answer my question. How did you?” Pedro said, “In the Bulldog Café, I’ve seen you drinking coffee and eating chocolate pie more than once.” Millie said, “You’re very observant.”

Pedro said, “Well I try to be. I’m a detective, but I’m no Sherlock.” Millie reached out and took Pedro’s hand. “And modest too. Pedro, you’re a very nice man.” The lights came on fully bright, then dimmed, but not nearly as much.. Pedro said, “Much better.” Millie said, “I can’t help wondering if you have a mean side that comes out when you’re on the job and dealing with criminals.” She withdrew her hand and clasped them in her lap. Vicente said, “On the job, you have to be tough, but you can’t be mean. Otherwise, you will lose control at critical times and use your gun when you really don’t have to. I’ve never shot anyone…. Not yet, anyhow. I have to it, that there have been times that I could have. Lots of criminals are vicious bastards, and some of them deserve to be shot.” Jordan said, “Oh. When would you shoot somebody?” The waiter came with a tray and delivered their coffees and pie slices. The break gave Vicente time to think about it. He was uncomfortable with this turn of the conversation. It was not how he wanted the evening to go. He sought to answer her question and then to deflect the dialogue into a nicer neighborhood. “To save a life. If a criminal was about to murder someone, I would shoot him to stop that. But how about you? I see idiots in the restaurant hitting on you frequently. How do you handle that and keep your cool? I think that in your place there are times I would dump food or coffee on a particularly obnoxious man.” Millie said, “Actually, I consider a man being interested in me to be a compliment. If I were ugly, they wouldn’t be interested. That, and my boss’s attitude makes it easy to ignore their advances. Some of the women are another matter. A woman can be really catty toward me when her husband or boyfriend makes eyes at me and they see it. Jealousy makes a woman mean. I’ve been tempted to dump on a few of them like you said. In fact, I probably would have if I didn’t know that I would be fired immediately. I really need my job.” Pedro said, “Wow! I guess we both have to have self-control on the job. You know, I feel really privileged that you accepted my offer for a date after turning

down so many other guys. Why did you accept mine?” Millie said, “You never hit on me before, and you’ve never given me vulgar looks. And that’s although I’ve known you for two years of your eating at the restaurant. I could tell that you’re really a nice man, and a good-looking one too. I like you Pedro.” She offered her hand again. Pedro took it and she squeezed his hand. Then they both released to use those hands to drink and eat. Each had a warm feeling toward the other. Pedro said, “How’s your pie?” Millie swallowed and then said, “Don’t talk with food in your mouth.” Pedro said, “Yes mother.” They both laughed.

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When they pulled up in front of Millie’s house, she was surprised to see lights on downstairs. She said, “Barbara’s still up. I hope that doesn’t mean something’s wrong.” Pedro hopped out and trotted around the car quickly to open the door for Millie. They walked up to the front door arm in arm. On the doorstep, Millie turned to Pedro and kissed him quickly and lightly on the lips. Then she said, “Pedro, I really enjoyed this evening with you. I hope it’s not the last one. Please come in and let’s see if everything’s okay.” Pedro said, “I enjoyed it too, and it won’t be.” They found Barbara and Elizabeth sitting on the sofa in the living room and talking. Millie said, “Is everything okay?” Elizabeth hopped up and said, “Everything’s okay. Barbara and I have been talking and discussing lots of stuff. She’s a lot of fun to be with and I really like her.” Barbara stood and said to Millie, “Elizabeth is a nice girl but has some growing up to do. By the way, the children were just pretending to be asleep when y’all

left. After the door closed behind you, they came out of bed and went to the front window to watch you all leave. I stayed up to help Elizabeth with them since they were so full of vinegar. We played Go Fish and a short game of Monopoly and by then they were yawning. So, we put them to bed again.” Pedro said, “I did not know that there was such a thing as a short game of Monopoly. Let’s go Elizabeth. Your mother will be waiting up for you to get home.” In the car as they drove away, Pedro said, “So what did you and Barbara talk about all evening?” Elizabeth said, “Oh, just girl things. You wouldn’t be interested.” Pedro made a mental note to talk to Millie the next day and see what she found out from Barbara concerning what the two girls talked about.” Back in the house, Millie said, “Barbara, Elizabeth is a very young girl. You didn’t talk to her about sex did you?” Barbara said, “No of course not. We started off talking about our favorite movies and then about movie stars. Liz’s favorites are Elizabeth Taylor and John Wayne. My favorites are Deborah Kerr and Clark Gable. Millie said, “While I appreciate you staying the evening with Elizabeth and the children, that was voluntary, and I can’t pay you for it.” Barbara said, “That’s okay, Sis. It was fun and I don’t expect any pay for that.”

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CHAPTER 21

Boca Chica Beach

The noon sun glared down through an almost cloudless sky as the ambient temperature climbed past 95 on the way to the 4 o’clock high of around 100 degrees Fahrenheit typical of July in the lower Rio Grande Valley of South Texas. A small crowd of Mexican workers were gathered by a four-wheel trailer full of hand-picked cotton behind a Ford Woody station wagon while a single Anglo farmer and his son counted and ed out each man’s weekly pay in American paper money. John Halas had his straw hat pushed back on his forehead. With pencil in hand, he consulted records in a small spiral notebook of how many total pounds of cotton each man had picked for the week and multiplied to determine each money amount. His son Mark counted out the money into each man’s hands. The workers were happy and joked around with each other in rapid Spanish, laughing and sometimes poking at each other. They each stuffed their money in blue jean pockets and walked to the nearby citrus orchard where they picked up their belongings and waited on their fellows. Then they headed out to make their way toward the river and a weekend celebration in the border town Reynosa. Maybe half of them would stop at a post office to buy money orders to send to their families back further South in Mexico. A few would walk east along the highway with thumbs up hitchhiking their way to Brownsville and across to Matamoros. After the wetbacks were paid and left, Mexican American Juan Pablo Diaz remained to collect the pay for his family’s efforts. John noticed that Juan’s daughter and his son Mark avoided looking at each other. She stayed behind her mother a few yards away while the younger brother accompanied his Father as the patriarch drew their pay. The family piled into their light blue two door Chevrolet sedan and it drove off. John looked at Mark and said, “What’s going on? Did you and that Diaz girl have a falling out?”

Mark replied, “Her Father doesn’t like me. He wants her to marry some Mexican guy instead of an Anglo, so I’m too white for her. He’s making her stay away from me and not even look at me.” John said, “Too bad, but your mother will be a lot happier about that. You need to date some American girl, preferably one from a Hungarian family but at least from a German or Dutch one and bring her by to meet your mother. She wants that to happen. How about that cute little girl you were dating last year? What was her name…uuuuh, Sarah something?” Mark said, “That was Sarah Gil. Yeah, she is very light skinned, but you know her parents are Mexicans too. They had a lot of Spanish blood in their veins and not much if any of the Mexican Indian blood. So, just as white as you or me. We don’t think of this very much, but the Spaniards are white Europeans.” John said, “So Gil is a Spanish name. I never would’ve thought that. It doesn’t sound like it to me.” Mark said, “Yeah, it is. But, so what? Sarah is very pretty and very nice and fun to talk to and be with. We went steady for a year and then she dumped me for a fly boy from the Harlingen airbase. Rumor is they’re going to get married next year after she graduates.” As they talked, they got in the station wagon and prepared to pull the trailer load of cotton to the gin in McAllen. But a white sporty looking automobile came up the dirt road that bordered the field and pulled up next to them. The vehicle trailed a cloud of dust, but the afternoon breeze blew it away from them. Both autos had their windows down in the hot afternoon. Mark leaned his head out the window and said, “Hey David. Good to see you again. Wow. Where did you get that car and what’s up?” David Garza leaned out the window of the white car and said, “Hi Mark. Hello Mister Halas. It’s my Dad’s car. He has several of them, so I managed to borrow this one. It’s a ’56 Lincoln Mark 2. I’m headed to the beach over by Boca Chica. Would you like to come with me?” Mark said, “We’re taking this load of cotton to the gin, so maybe another day.” But John laughed and said, “I can take this load in by myself, so you can go with him, but you’ll have to swing by the house to get your swimming trunks. I

wouldn’t want you going into the waves in your skivvies. Too many people at the beach who would see you. Heck, luck would have it that somebody we know would see you. Maybe even somebody from church.” Mark said to David, “Okay, but you’ll have to take me by the house to get my trunks.” “Come on then.” Mark switched vehicles climbing into the front enger side seat of the sports car. They sat still and watched the station wagon and trailer pullout onto Sugar Road turning South. Then David said to Mark, “You don’t need your trunks. The girls would love to see you in your birthday suit.” Smiling, Mark replied, “That would be a real disappointment to most of them. It would destroy the rumors about the size of my penis. Better to keep them guessing. So, let’s go by the house so I can get my trunks.” Margaret Halas was at her sewing machine when she heard the car coming up the driveway toward the house. She rose and walked into the kitchen to look out the window as Mark got out of the car and went into the garage storeroom which served as his bedroom. She then walked to the back-porch screen door and called out to Mark as he came out of the storeroom carrying a rolled-up towel with the shorts inside. “Why don’t you and David come inside for some iced tea?” “Thanks Mom but we’re in a hurry. We’re going to the Boca Chica Beach, and I’d like for us to get back before it gets too dark this evening.” Margaret became worried, “Don’t go in too deep. The radio said that a girl got bit on her leg by a shark yesterday. They rushed her to the hospital in Brownsville.” “We’ll be careful.” And he trotted out and got in the car. David jammed the stick into reverse and threw rocks as he spun the car’s rear wheels backing out of the driveway. Seeing this, Margaret shook her head in disapproval. She had liked Mark’s new friend when she first met him, but the way he drove and all, now she had her doubts about him. And the sharks in the Gulf. She knew that she would be worried the rest of the day until Mark returned home that evening.

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With his disguise of blonde hair and blonde mustache, David felt confident that he would not be recognized by any law men he might encounter. So, he Drove South on sugar road and turned left on Highway 83 headed towards Brownsville and then beyond it to the Boca Chica beach. The two boys chatted on the way, starting with the weather and then moving on to the beautiful girls in swimsuits that they hoped to encounter at the beach. Mark said, “When I was in grade school, we used to sometimes drive to Boca Chica and spend the weekend there. Dad pulled a trailer with our camping out gear in it. We had a hand cranked to wind it up phonograph with a stack of records in the trailer. One time I jumped over into the trailer without first looking where I would land, and my feet landed heels first on a stack of records breaking most of them. Mom was heartbroken and Dad was angry. But, she kept him from giving me a whipping for it. David asked, “Who were the singers y’all listened to with those records?’ Mark said, “We listened to country-western music and still do today. Mom’s favorite was Gene Autry, but we also had songs by Roy Rogers, Hank Williams, Johnny Cash, Eddy Arnold and George Jones. David said, “What. You don’t listen to any women singers?” Mark said, “Well yes. We listen to a few. I like Kitty Wells, Patsy Cline and uh.. Gee, I can’t but there were others. David said, “Those two are good, but I like Jean Shepard, too.” Mark said, “Yeah she had a couple of good hit songs. You know when the first Gene Autry movie came to the Queen Theater in McAllen, Mom couldn’t wait to see what her favorite western singer looked like. Boy was she disappointed. She said, ‘He’s short, has a big nose, and he’s potbellied.’ But she still likes to listen to his records.”

David laughed. Then said, “Well forget all those cowboys. Today we’re concentrating on the women at the beach. It won’t matter whether they can sing or not, just whether they have good figures or not.” Mark said, “That suits me. You know, the girls all wear full long dresses to school. It means you don’t know what they look like under those dresses. At the beach, we’ll get an idea of what they look like.” David laughed again, then said, “Turn them upside down in those dresses, and they’ll all look the same.” Mark said, “I don’t think so. The parts we can see look different from girl to girl, so I think the parts we can’t see will also look different.” David said, “Boy are you naïve. You’ve never been into the Matamoros or the Reynosa red light districts, have you?” Mark said, “No. Dad told me to never go there. He said they are dangerous places where you could be robbed and maybe even killed.” David gave Mark an amazed look. “And you always believe what your Papa tells you?” Mark said, “Well not always. But when he says that it’s dangerous and you might be killed, well I listen to that. He’s been around, and I found that he knows what he’s talking about on most things.” David said, “Okay, but I’ve been to those red-light districts. And I can tell you that women’s asses all look pretty much alike. And they’re all good. Maybe we ought to detour and go across to Matamoros instead of just straight to the beach.” Mark said, “No thanks. Let’s just go to the beach. There ought to be enough girls there for us to look at and meet. And they are a lot less likely to have gonorrhea or syphilis. By the way, do you have one of those two diseases or maybe you got both of them from over there in Matamoros.” David said, “No, I’m clean. I know my way around over there, and I know a safe place to go to. But you know it just hit me. You are a virgin, aren’t you?”

Mark did not want to it to that, so he lied. “No, I’m not.” David said, “I think you’re lying, but that’s okay. Your day will come.” Mark quipped back, “And your day has come and gone. How sad. Something special that you no longer have to look forward to.” David shot back, “Do you know how many gringos it takes to screw in a lightbulb?” Mark replied, “I’ve heard that one before. It was an Aggie joke.” David said, “Okay how about this one: how many gringos does it take to cross the Rio Grande?” Mark, “Okay I’ll bite, how many?” “David said, “Three. One gringo and two border patrolmen to row.” Mark chuckled, then said, “I don’t know any good Mexican jokes so how about a Hungarian joke?” David looked surprised, then said, “Yeah, let’s hear one.” Mark said, “Two soldiers were walking home along a dirt road after the end of the war. One soldier was a Hungarian and the other was a German. They were out of supplies and both were starving. Then they saw a slab of roast beef lying on the road. They both ran for it and grabbed it. They jerked back and forward each trying to pull it away from the other one. Then the Hungarian said, ‘Wait, let’s not fight over this. I have an idea. You take one end of the slab in your teeth and I’ll take the other end in mine. Then we both pull back hard. Wherever it breaks will divide the meat between us. It will be in the hands of God.’ The German agreed. After they both bit down on the slab the Hungarian asked, ‘Ready?’ And the German said, ‘Yah.’” David frowned, “I don’t get it.” Mark said, “Well just try saying the German word for yes, that’s yah.” David clenched his teeth together and made a muffled sound like yah.

Mark said, “That’s not the way the Germans say yah. Oh, I get it, you’re pulling my leg.” David said, “Okay, I’ll tell you a good joke from Mexico. In a gringo school in Texas, the teacher says, “Kids, what does the chicken give you?” Gringo student says, “Meat!” Teacher says, “Very good! Now what does the hog give you?” Student says, “Bacon!” Teacher says, “And what does the fat cow give you?” Student says, “Homework!” Mark laughed, and then he said, “Okay, I know a good religious joke.” David said, “No Catholic jokes. I don’t want to hear them.” Mark said, “It’s not a Catholic joke. It’s nondenominational. A preacher waited in line to have his car filled with gas just before a holiday weekend. The service station worker moved fast, but there were a lot of cars ahead of the preacher’s. Finally, the worker motioned him toward a pump. “Preacher,” said the worker. “I am very sorry about the delay. It looks like everyone waits until the last minute to get ready for a long trip.” The preacher laughed and said, “I know what you mean. It’s the same in my business.” David laughed. The boys continued their bantering back and forth as they drove into Brownsville and made the connection to State Highway 4 which leads to Boca Chica Beach.

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Sand dunes ran parallel to the highway on the East side. They came to a through the dunes and David turned off the highway and cut through it to the wet

sand. The beach was empty except for a single car and family which consisted of the parents and two grade school age children. This led Mark to say, “This is lousy. We should have gone to South Padre Island instead of here.” David said, “Keep your trunks on. We’ll just drive down the beach a way. We’ll find some girls, and there won’t be a lot of guys competing for their attention like on Padre.” Mark said, “I thought you were a pessimist, but here I find out that you’re a closet optimist. I hope you’re right.” A couple of miles down the beach they came upon a parked Lincoln Continental. Across from it splashing in the waves were four young women. Further down the beach about a quarter mile were a couple of other cars and more people in the waves. “Yeah. This is more like it,” said Mark. “I don’t see any guys. I like the odds, two girls apiece for us.” David said, “Maybe. Maybe they’re dikes.” Mark frowned, puzzled. “Dikes. What do wire cutters have to do with this.” David laughed out loud. “You are so naïve it’s unreal. A genuine hick farmer’s son. Dyke stands for homosexual woman. You know, women who love each other instead of loving men. Get it. Or do I need to further spell it out for you.” Mark felt his face reddened. “Naw, I get you. But I’ll believe it when I see it. Odds are that they’re just normal girls.” David said, “Well let’s find out.” And he parked the car just 15 feet from the other Lincoln. As the two boys climbed out of David’s car, the girls had stopped splashing around and were standing waist deep in the water looking at them. Mark had brought along one of his work shirts with the intention of wearing it while the sun was high in the sky to keep from getting so sunburned. At about 3 o’clock in the afternoon the sun was still way high in the sky and glaring down hot. But he couldn’t bring himself to pull on that shirt with the girls watching. The two of them went into the water and soon were also waist deep. They were between the shoreline and the second sandbar. Each swell came up to their shoulders and lifted them up off their feet and then put them back down as it ed.

The four girls included one blonde, one redhead, and two brunettes. The blonde hollered over at the boys, “Hey you two, are there two more of you guys back in that car or coming along in another car?” David said, “Sorry ladies, but there’s just the two of us today. If we had a known ahead of time, we would have brought some friends with us.” The four girls said in unison, “Aw….” Then they broke out laughing. A brunette said, “Well anyway, let’s get acquainted. Come over. We’ll meet you halfway.” The girls and guys stopped just a couple feet from each other. Mark started the conversation, “I’m Mark Halas and this is my friend David Garza.” He ended by raising his eyebrows as an unspoken question. He liked what he saw as all four girls had pretty faces and appeared to have substantial breasts inside their onepiece swimsuits. The blonde took the lead again, “My name is Cindy and my friends here are Pamela, Vicki, and JoAnn.” She indicated as she named the redhead and then the two brunettes in order. JoAnn was taller than Vicki. David said, “No last names?” “Well good to meet you anyway,” said Mark. “I’m going out to the third sandbar. Anybody going with me.” The girls looked at each other then they each shook their head up and down. “Okay, we’ll all go,” said Cindy. “Fine with me too,” agreed David. And they all headed out, forming a string parallel to the shore. The water between the second and third bars was neck deep on the boys, and the girls were actually swimming. David and Mark had to hop each time a swell came to keep their faces above water. As they reached the third bar they were able to stand up and water that was only waist deep. The swells coming from beyond created large breakers on the deep bar. Mark wasn’t prepared for the first one and carried him back into the deep between bars. So, he had to work his way back. The four girls were having great fun splashing through the waves, and David moved over

amongst them. There were sharks fins moving about in the deeper water further out. Vicki screamed, “Something crawled across my foot.” “Relax,” said David. “That would be a crab. They won’t bother you as long as you don’t step on one. If you do step on one, it’ll pinch you.” “Yuck,” said JoAnn. “So, I’ve got to be careful stepping around while trying not to be knocked down by the waves at the same time. Having to concentrate on that takes some of the fun out of it.” “We’re just playing around in these waves,” said Mark. Imagine what the waves would be like in a real storm.” JoAnn said, “No, I can’t imagine that. You would have to be crazy to try it.” David said, “Yeah, I’m crazy. I tried it once during a small hurricane. I was lucky that the waves washed me ashore instead of a rip current caring me out to sea. That was when I decided to leave the beach before the high tide came in and swamped my car in water.” “So, you’re brave,” said Pamela who was standing close to David. David tried to put on a modest look on his face, but he couldn’t help grinning with pride. A shark decided to take a closer look and swung near the breakers. JoAnn, who had been paying close attention to the sharks’ fins, screamed and pointed at it. David said, “Hey relax. Sharks won’t come into these breakers. The waves stir up the sand and it would get in their gills.” Mark shook his head in agreement, but the girls all looked nervous. “I’m going in,” said JoAnn. With that all four girls in unison struck out for shore. David and Mark looked at each other, and both shrugged their shoulders. Then they followed the girls. The girls left the water in a group and went to their car, where they took out beach towels and began drying off. The boys followed but stopped about 2 yards short and watched them.

Vicki said to the boys, “Getting your eyes full?” David and Mark said in unison, with enthusiasm, “Yeah!” Vicki draped her towel over an open car door, then turned back toward the boys and said, “What school are you two guys from?” David looked a little uncertain, but he said, “I just graduated from San Benito High School.” Mark added, “I graduated from PSJA High School this year.” The girls looked at each other with surprise and then consternation on their faces. Seeing this, David asked, “So what school do you gals go to?” The girls took turns answering. Vicki said, “The four of us went to high school together, but I’m a junior at the University of Texas this fall.” Pamela said, “I’m a junior at Texas A and I College.” JoAnn said, “I’m a junior at North Texas State University this fall.” Then Cindy finished it up by saying, “And I’m a senior at Hardin Simmons University this fall.” Then she turned to the other girls and said, “Ladies, we’ve been flirting with high school kids.” With that, all four girls loaded into their Continental, and drove away. The two boys had to trot over to David’s car to keep from being runover. Watching the car disappear down the beach, David said, “Well that turned into a bust. No dates with those girls tonight. Want to drive down the beach looking for some more women?” Mark said, “No, I don’t think so. It’s getting late and my Mother will be worried if I don’t get back before sundown. We need to go.” David said, “So you always obey your Mother as well as your Father? Okay, but next time I come to the beach it won’t be with you, Mother’s boy.” David’s words stung, and Mark was silent as they drove to and through

Brownsville. As they turned onto Highway 83, he decided to try to save his friendship with David. Mark said, “Did you notice that Cindy was a bleached blonde? I could see Brown roots in her hair.” David gave Mark a glare, then turned his face back toward the highway. With the late afternoon sun coming through the windshield and highlighting the two boys, Mark then saw that David’s blonde hair also had brown roots, although not very noticeable. He realized that he had chosen the wrong topic. So, he was silent for a while longer. Then Mark said, “Well would you be interested in going to the Cactus Drive-In Theater tonight? Maybe we can hook up with some girls there.” David’s face changed to thoughtful. “Maybe so. What’s showing there?”` “Trapeze is showing. It’s supposed to be good. It stars Burt Lancaster, Tony Curtis and Gina Lollobrigida. Boy, would I like to have a date with her!” David sneered, “She would laugh at you just like those college girls did. She’s too busy at night with Bert and Tony to think about some farmer’s son from Texas.” Mark said, “Well, I can dream about it, can’t I.” David said, “More to the point, that sounds like a good movie. It’s one that would attract girls to watch it. Okay, so let’s go to the drive-in. Maybe we can hook up with a couple of them there. I haven’t been to a drive-in theater since I was a little kid. What time does the show start?” Mark said, “They wait until an hour or so after sunset so it’s dark enough for you to see the movie on the screen. about 9:30 or 10.” David said, “Okay, we’ll go to a café in Pharr and get sandwiches. You can call your folks from a pay phone there to tell them what we’re doing.” Mark said, “Good plan. We can kill time there until the theater ticket booth opens at about sunset.”

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The lady in the ticket booth said, “Anybody else hiding in that car? No? That’ll be two dollars, boys.” David extracted a $20 bill from his billfold and held it out to her. She said, “I don’t take large bills. I said two dollars not 20.” “Sorry,” He said as he stuffed the 20 back in his billfold and then offered her two one’s.” As they drove on into the theater, Mark said, “You were polite to her when she got stuffy about the 20.” David said, “Well, yes. Didn’t you notice the 38 pistol she had in a holster on her chest? I’m sure she doesn’t get much guff from anyone when she’s carrying that.” Mark said, “No, I couldn’t see her from where I’m sitting. I thought you were just staring at her tits.” David laughed. “No, she didn’t have a lot of that to look at. I guess the pistol is to keep people from trying to rob her.” Mark said, “Yeah, and I heard it said in school that she has a shotgun in that booth, too.” As they rounded into the drive-in theater, there was enough daylight to show the ridges topped by rows of posts with wires and speakers. In the middle over halfway back was the projection booth building with a couple of rows of outdoor metal chairs down in front of it. There were maybe a couple dozen cars, station wagons and pickups already parked scattered throughout the theater. David parked in a spot to one side but close to the booth building. From there they had a clear view of the empty metal seats. Down in front of the theater by the large screen was a playground, and a half dozen children were romping around in it.

David rolled his driver side window half down and mounted the speaker on it. It had a hook on the back for that purpose and a volume control knob at the bottom in front. He turned that about halfway bringing up country music. “Man, I can’t get away from that crappy music anywhere around here,” he said. “I like it,” said Mark. The projection building also contained a stand selling soft drinks, hot dogs, hamburgers and candy. After a few moments of silence, Mark said, “I think I’ll get me a Coke. Would you like anything?” David said, “Yeah, a shot of Jack Daniel.” Mark chuckled and said, “No chance.” David drawled, “Well…, since I can’t have the real thing here, I guess I’ll take a root beer. You’re buying? I guess you’re wetback rich since your Dad paid you today.” At the stand, there were two girls buying drinks. Mark sized them up and decided they must be freshmen or sophomores in high school at the most – maybe even junior high students. They glanced at him then whispered to each other and giggled. As they walked away, he ordered the two soft drinks, large size. After Mark climbed back in the car and handed David his drink, David said, “I saw two girls walk out of the booth and head further back. Anything interesting?” Mark said, “No, they were way too young. Jailbait for sure.” The two boys sat in silence for a while sipping on their drinks and listening to the music. When the screen lit up showing ads, coming attractions and a newsreel, they noticed a couple of teenage girls find seats in the front row in front of the booth building. Without a word, David and Mark both got out of the car and walked over there. They seated themselves behind the girls. The girls had been talking, but when they saw the boys approaching they fell silent. David leaned forward and broke the silence saying, “Hello, I’m David and this is Mark. How are y’all doing?”

“The girls remained silent. So, David spoke up again, “Say, we’re in that white Lincoln over there. These metal seats are hard and cold, why don’t y’all us in the car? It’s way more comfortable, and we can get acquainted?” One of the girls said, “We don’t know you. I’m not that kind of a girl and neither is she.” With that, the two girls got up and walked away. “Crap!” Said David. Mark said, “That was way too fast. We needed to do a little talking with them first before asking them to come sit with us. You got to break the ice before making any kind of a proposal to them.” David sneered, “Okay Don Juan. Maybe I’m too used to easy girls in Matamoros. You take the lead next time. I’ll watch and learn the technique from you.” The two boys sat there in the uncomfortable metal seats for another thirty minutes, but no more girls came to sit there. By that time the shorts were over, and the movie was showing. David said, “Okay I give up. Let’s go sit in the car and watch the dang movie.” So, they did.

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CHAPTER 22

Faith

When the movie ended and the theater floodlights came on, as other cars were rolling out of the drive-in theater, David said, “You were right, that was a good movie. Let’s make the evening complete by going over to Matamoros after all.” Mark said, “No, I’ve got to get up in the morning and get ready and go to church. I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you go to church with me tomorrow?” David said, “No, I go to Mass in the morning.” Mark said, “Oh I forgot, you’re Catholic. I guess you will confess to a priest about your Matamoros trip.” David said, “Yes I will. The way you said that, you’re looking down on Catholicism. I’ll bet I know as much or more about the Bible than you do.” Mark laughed. David said, “Okay here’s a question to test your Bible knowledge. Who was the first convert to Christianity after Jesus died on the cross?” Mark thought about it. He wasn’t sure. He said, “Was it Saul of Tarsus who then became known as Paul the Apostle?” David said, “Ha! I got you. When Jesus said his last words, ‘Father, into your hands I commit my spirit,’ and then he died, the Roman centurion said, ‘Surly this was the Son of God.’” Mark said, “That sounds right, like what I’ve read in the Bible. How did you know that? Did you read it this morning or last night?” David laughed. “No, I had that drilled into me in school. My Dad put me in a

Catholic parochial school and classes included one on the Bible. Nuns made us memorize key scriptures.” Mark said, “Okay I’m impressed, but now it’s my turn. According to the Bible, what do you need to be saved?” David said, “Believe in God, and repent of your sins when you’re dying.” Mark said, “No. That’s not right.” David said, “I think that’s right because it’s in a story by Shakespeare.” Mark laughed again. “Now you’re quoting Shakespeare to prove your belief. I don’t think he was inspired by God. I never read or heard that anywhere. The correct answer is, ‘Repent and be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ and you will be saved.’ That’s found in Acts 2:38.” David said, “Now you’re splitting hairs. What are you, a religious lawyer or something? Never mind, our beliefs are too far apart so let’s just end this conversation.” Then, David started the car, saying, “Now, Mother’s boy, I’m taking you home to your Mama. A lousy ending to a lousy day.”

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CHAPTER 23

Kidnapped

Rodrigo Martin had a plan. The plan had several steps. It was complicated but he had it all in his mind, and it was clear to him what he had to do. He thought back over his plan step-by-step reviewing it, making sure there was no mistake hidden in there. His thoughts were interrupted. “You’ve grown quite Rodrigo,” said Alex Fernandez, Jr. “What are you thinking about.” “Nothing,” lied Rodrigo. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day and you’ve taken us all over this gringo Valley.” Alex said, “Well I’ve seen enough. There must be hundreds of Mexican citizens working for the farmers in this Valley and on up the Rio to El Paso. From what the ones we’ve talked to say, they’re a happy bunch, and they’re sending thousands of American dollars back to their families in Mexico. It’s important to our country that this continues. I think I’m ready for us to head back home. But first we’ll need a good night’s sleep so we can all be rested up when we start the trip home. It’s getting late in the afternoon. Lucas, how long ‘til we’ll get to the motel where we’ll be staying tonight?” Lucas Perez said, “We’re almost there. we’ll be staying in the Holiday Inn in McAllen tonight. It’s close to where we came across the border. And it’s still a couple of hours until sundown. You can get your beauty rest early tonight Rodrigo, but you’ll need to close the blinds on the windows to your room or the sun will shine in your face.” And he chuckled. After dinner, Rodrigo left his room and went and knocked on the door to Lucas room. When Lucas opened the door, Rodrigo said, “I need to borrow the keys to the car so I can run and get me some cigarettes.”

Lucas said, “They sell cigarettes in the store in the motel lobby.” Rodrigo replied, “I don’t like the shit that the Americans smoke. I need to get me some real ‘Patriotas’ cigarettes.” As he dug in his pocket for the keys, Lucas said, “All right, but be careful. I don’t want my car damaged, and you don’t want a gringo cop stopping you either. If you get a ticket, the money will come out in your pocket not mine.” “Si, madre,” said Rodrigo. “Cabron,” said Lucas as he handed over the car keys. As he started up the car, Rodrigo ticked off in his mind the first item on the list of steps to his plan. He had the car. Instead of driving to the store to buy Patriotas brand cigarettes, Rodrigo drove East out of McAllen on highway 83 and then he turned North on Sugar Road. He searched until he found the Halas family’s cotton field where workers were harvesting the crop. It was getting near sundown, and the workers were starting carry sacks to the trailer to weigh their last loads for the day. Rodrigo realized he was just in time. He drove by the field and parked the Cadillac behind a citrus tree in a neighboring orchard. He watched and waited for the Diaz family to weigh in their cotton and leave. When they did he hurried back in the car, started it up and followed them at a distance.

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Back at the Holiday Inn, Lucas realized that it had been a long time since Rodrigo left to get cigarettes, and he wasn’t back yet. He got up off the bed where he had been lying watching television and went outside the room. He surveyed the parking lot. No Cadillac and no Rodrigo. “That faggot,” he thought. “I bet he went across to Reynosa to the red lights district for a good time. “Well he better not get my car stolen.” Then he went back in the room to continue watching television. Before the movie ended, he dozed off.

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Rodrigo followed the Diaz car until it turned onto the driveway to an old wood house on Jackson Road. They live in a shack he thought as he drove on by it. Natalia saw the Cadillac and she thought it looked familiar. She frowned but couldn’t where she’d seen it before, and it kept going. So, she forgot about it. At the next dirt crossroad, Rodrigo turned and headed back to sugar road where he turned south headed for highway 83 and then McAllen. In the city, Rodrigo cruised around until he spotted a Rexall pharmacy. Then he parked around the corner from the Queen theater. He bought a ticket and watched a movie, killing time until the pharmacy would be closed. It was about 11 o’clock when he parked in the dark alley behind the pharmacy. Except for the two theaters, the businesses in McAllen were all closed at this late hour. Rodrigo was always impressed by the electronic controls for the Windows and the trunk in the Cadillac. He pressed the button that popped the trunk open. From the trunk, he took out a tire iron. One end would fit on the nuts on the wheels, but the other end was sharp and flat like the end of the screwdriver only larger. In his teenage youth, Rodrigo had made a living as a burglar for a few years. So, he knew what he was doing. Rodrigo suspected that if he opened a window or door to enter the pharmacy, it would set off a burglar alarm. His plan was to go through the wall. The back wall was made of large cement blocks. He jammed the sharp end of the tire tool repeatedly between two of the blocks until he was able to use it to pry one of them loose. He stepped back before it could fall on his foot. One by one he removed blocks until he was able to go through. He used the tire iron like a hammer to break out a large hole in the drywall behind the bricks. Inside he found himself amongst shelves lined with bottles and vials. He found a vial with a label that said it contained 30 pills for insomnia. Pocketing it, he looked around until he found a bottle of water. Then he left the pharmacy. Back on Jackson Road, he parked the Cadillac in the entry to the driveway. As he got out of the car, a rattlesnake hunting toads and rats in the roadside ditch behind him, coiled up and shook its tail. Hearing that made Rodrigo run several steps forward toward the house, but he slowed down for fear of stumbling and making noise that would attract attention from within. He proceeded to the closest window. It was propped open but covered by a screen. He placed an ear

to the screen and listened. He was able to identify that two distinct loud snoring persons were inside. He figured these were the adults. At the third window, he heard gentle breathing inside. He forced the sharp end of the tire iron through the screen and used it to unhook the latch holding it closed. Lifting the screen loose, he set it aside. Inside, he found Natalia sleeping on a single bed with a metal frame. He covered her mouth with the palm of his hand being careful not to block her nose so she could still breathe. Her eyes popped open and showed she was terrified. He whispered in her ear, “Be very quiet or I will kill your entire family.” He flipped her over on her stomach and using duct tape gagged her mouth and bound her wrists behind her back. Then he likewise bound her ankles together. She was sleeping wearing only her bra and panties. He wrapped her in her blanket, lifted her up and put her over his shoulder like a sack of feed. As he cared her back to the car he listened for the snake, but all was quiet. It had moved on. He laid her in the trunk. “Just relax,” he told her. “I’m not going to hurt you. It would be better if you just went to sleep.” He covered her with a blanket so that she was not visible Then he closed the trunk lid quietly. An advantage to the Cadillac besides being very large was that it was also very quiet running. He backed out of the driveway and headed south on Jackson. He stopped the car on the deserted road and forced Natalia to swallow two of the sleeping pills, washing them down with water from the bottle. He figured that would do no more than just make her unconscious for a few hours. Then he continued to drive toward McAllen, headed for Reynosa. The hour hand on the built-in clock on the dash of the Cadillac pointed at the four as Rodrigo parked on the street in front of the bar in the red-light district. It was named “The Green Door”, the same bordello to which Emilio had guided them when they were on the way to Texas. It was a 24 hours a day business. Rodrigo locked the car and paid a teenager standing nearby to guard it for him. A couple of streets working prostitutes stood nearby and Rodrigo figured they knew who the teenager was. He made his way inside and to the back of the bar where the guard named Felipe Gonzalez was standing at his usual post by the stairs leading up. This was the man who had told Rodrigo that the manager might give him a job if he would bring in a virgin for them to add to their business. Rodrigo approached Felipe and said, “Hello again. Do you me? I was

here with the group a few days ago, and you and I talked.” Felipe said, “We get a lot of dumb assholes here all the time, but they’re always afraid to talk to me. So yeah I you. So, what?” Rodrigo said, “Well, I have a virgin for your boss.” Felipe looked around behind Rodrigo, then said, “Where?” “She’s outside in my car.” “Then go get her and let’s see her.” When Rodrigo lifted the struggling girl to his shoulder, still bound and wrapped in her blanket, the two prostitutes and the boy all stared at them. He said to the boy, “Keep guarding the car and I’ll pay you extra.” Then he hurried back inside with his load. Felipe cleared the closest table and Rodrigo laid the girl on it, unwrapping the blanket from her. Mateo inspected her and said, “She’s Mexican. What makes you think she’s a virgin.” Rodrigo said, “She’s Mexican American from Texas. Her Father has been keeping a close eye on her. I know that she’s a virgin.” Felipe said, “Okay let’s take her to the manager, and we’ll find out.” The manager’s office was an upstairs room on a back corner of the building. Its door was closed, and Felipe rapped on it. A voice from inside said, “Come.” He was a tall slim man with pale skin and coal black hair, pencil mustache and thick eyebrows. He wore a loose cream-colored long sleeve tee shirt and matching white pants with a rope for a belt. He sat behind a large antique oak wood desk. He looked at them with raised eyebrows. Felipe said, “This hombre says he brings you a virgin. He wishes the reward of a job.” A double bed set against the wall at a 90° angle to the desk. The manager motioned for them to lay the girl on the bed. He got up and walked around to inspect her. He said, “Take the tape off her mouth.” Rodrigo reached over and complied. Natalia screamed. The scream was cut off as the manager slapped her

hard, saying, “Quiet.” Tears rolled down her face. The manager looked at Rodrigo and said, “My name is Bruno Reyes. I own this place. And who are you?” “Rodrigo Martin at your service, sir. I am a security guard for Alexander Fernández, who is the Mayor of Mexico City.” Bruno said, “Security guard for the big city Mayor. Impressive.” Motioning at the girl on the bed, he continued, “And she is beautiful. But we have many beautiful women here. Well, I cannot test her to see if she is truly a virgin tonight. I have already shot my wad twice today, and the gun is empty. Heh, heh. She will have to wait until tomorrow.” Turning to Felipe, he said, “Put her in the spare bedroom and lock it but be sure she gets dinner and water for tonight.” Then back to Rodrigo he said, “Go to the Red Walls Hotel. Just tell them I sent you, and they will put you up for the night at no charge. Mateo will tell you how to get there. Be back here tomorrow afternoon by about 2 o’clock.” Then he returned to his desk and busied himself there.

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CHAPTER 24

Missing

Dawn light had begun creeping into the sky on the eastern horizon when the rooster crowed in the chicken pen behind the Diaz home. 10-year-old Juan Diaz Junior came running into the kitchen shouting, “Mama. Papa. Natalia is not here.” Then they all three hurried into Natalia’s bedroom. Her blouse and blue jeans lay on her chair next to the small table she used as a desk for her schoolwork. Her bed was not made, and her blanket was also missing. Victoria Diaz stared in disbelief, then she threw up her hands and screamed, “The devil has taken her.” And she broke into sobbing. Juan Pablo Diaz cursed, then he put his arms around his wife pulled her head onto his chest and comforted her saying, “Now, now Victoria. The devil has done no such thing. We will find her.” Juan Pablo noticed that the screen covering the window was missing. He walked over and leaning forward looked out. The screen was lying on the ground to one side. He could see a hole in the screen near the bottom, just where a burglar would make it to access and unlatch the hook that held the bottom closed. Returning to the master bedroom, Juan Pablo opened a wooden chest which sat by the foot of the bed and withdrew a western-style belt and holster with a colt 45 pistol in it. He buckled the belt around his waist. He tied a leather cord around his leg securing the holster and making it easy to withdraw the pistol. He walked out into the kitchen and told his family, “Stay here in case Natalia comes back while I’m gone.” Then he turned to leave. Victoria called after him, “Pablo, where will you look for her.” “Everywhere,” he replied as he went out and allowed the screen door to slam behind him.

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At the McAllen Holiday Inn, Lucas Perez banged on the door to the room where Alex Fernandez, Junior slept. When it opened to reveal the sleepy-eyed young man in his pajamas, Lucas said, “That bastard Rodrigo took my car to get his favorite cigarettes last night, and he never returned.” Alex said, “What? Our car is gone?” Then he thought and added, “Something must’ve happened to him.” Lucas said, “Sure something did. A good time in Reynosa no doubt.” Alex asked, “What do you think we should do?” Lucas said, “I don’t want to sit around my motel room with my thumb up my ass waiting for him to show up. What if he never does?” Alex said, “You know he wouldn’t have to go all the way to Reynosa to find a good time. He was staring at that Diaz girl when we first got here and picked some cotton at the Halas farm. Do you think he could’ve got a date with her?” Lucas replied, “Not very likely, but we can check that out before we go charging off to Reynosa.” Alex said, “And just how will we do that without a car?” Lucas said, “Get dressed and pack. I’ll call the local Hertz office and rent a car.” “Yes.”

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Deputy Pedro Vicente kept thinking about the bowling alley killer. He knew the

sheriff told him to forget about that Cameron County case and to concentrate on the Hidalgo cases, but that kid he had picked up on Sugar Road sure looked like the drawing in the wanted poster. He wanted another shot at taking that young man in so they could check him out as a suspect. He decided to drive back around that area and see if he could find the kid again.

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David Garza woke with a headache. After dropping off Mark Halas, he had driven back to Matamoros where he had a great time with a prostitute and also drank several mixed drinks. He loved tequila. Now he was paying the price. He rolled out of bed and folded it up against the wall. Then he looked at the bookshelf, found his bottle of aspirins and took two of them washing them down with tap water. He walked over to the sofa and sat. It was too quiet in the trailer house. And his headache was bad. He had no appetite for breakfast. He did not relish the idea of sitting around and reading books all day to kill time. His Father had promised to find a way to clear him of the murder charge from the bowling alley killing. But it still had not happened. So, he was still a fugitive in hiding. But with his hair now bleached blonde and a mustache the same color, he felt confident that he could venture out without being recognized by the local law enforcement. So, what could he do today? Thinking about it, he realized that he had only one friend in the neighborhood, and that was Mark Halas. Mark would be busy all day with a cotton-picking crew. He himself had tried picking cotton for a short while. He discovered that he hated it. It made his back and his knees both hurt. So, he would not do that because he didn’t have to. Then he decided that he would go find Mark and hang out by the cotton trailer. He could help Mark weigh the cotton sacks and visit with him. Also, he ed the cute Mexican American girl that was part of the cotton-picking crew. He knew that Mark was sweet on her, but he thought that he was better looking than Mark and maybe he could get a date with her. It would be good to have a girlfriend who is not a prostitute. What was her name? He had heard it but had trouble ing it. Oh yeah, it was Natalia. He was

wearing pajamas. He decided that in spite of his headache he would change clothes and go looking for Mark and the working crew.

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The sun was just an hour above the horizon but already Mark had a crew of five wetbacks in the cotton field. Emilio Munoz was one he knew by name. He would record the names for the others, each when he came to the trailer with his first full sack of the day. He wondered what happened to the Diaz family. They were usually among the first to arrive and start work, but they were not yet there this morning. Then he saw the Diaz family car, a light blue two door Chevrolet sedan, turn off sugar road and kick up a cloud of dust as it drove toward him and the trailer. It pulled to a stop and Mark was surprised to see that Juan Pablo Diaz was the only one in the car. When Juan Pablo got out of the car, Mark was shocked to see that the patriarch was wearing a cowboy style holster with a six-gun in it. Juan Pablo marched up to Mark with a grim look on his face. He barked out, “Where is my daughter?” The other workers in the field stopped, straightened up and stared. Emilio unhitched his sack and leaving it there trotted toward the trailer. One of the other men ed him. Mark stammered, “I … I don’t know. Why are you asking me that?” Juan Pablo said, “Natalia is missing. You are the one who has been interested in her. Do not lie to me, I know you took her. Where is she. She better be safe, pendejo.” Emilio halted standing next to Juan Pablo’s right while the other worker positioned himself by Juan Pablo’s left. Mark said, “The last time I saw her was Saturday noon when we paid you and you left with her, your son and wife.” Juan Pablo shook his head no and grabbed the handle of the pistol. Before he could pull it from its holster, Emilio grabbed his wrist, preventing him from drawing the gun. The second worker grabbed Juan’s other arm. Together they restrained him. Mark stood there wide eyed and speechless. Emilio spoke to Juan

Pablo in Spanish, “Stop this. Mark is a good Christian man, and he would not take your daughter. I have known him for several years.” At this point, another car turned off on the dirt road adjacent to the field and created the usual cloud of dust as it approached the trailer. Seeing the tableau by the trailer, David Garza blasted them with the sound of his Lincoln Mark 2’s horn as he pulled to a stop nearby. He left the car door open as he jumped out and trotted over to the four men. He blurted, “What the hell is going on here.” Mark said, “I’m not sure why, but Mister Diaz here thinks I kidnapped Natalia.” David said, “Let’s protect you some from his anger.” He moved over and pried Juan’s fingers off the pistol. He jerked it out of the holster, stepped back, and inserted it in his belt behind his back. Then David laughed, and said, “Well, did you kidnap her?” Mark replied, “Heck no! I was with you Saturday evening, then Sunday was taken up by church and being with my family.” By now, the other workers had wandered over and stood around in a semicircle, watching the drama. A siren blared nearby, startling everyone in the group. A Sheriff deputy’s patrol car had pulled up next to the cotton trailer, unnoticed to the crowd, which was focused on Juan Pablo, David and Mark. Deputy Pedro Vicente stepped out of the car and walked over to the crowd. As he approached, he pulled his gun and pointed it at David. “I’ve been looking for you. Pull that gun with two fingers using your left hand and give it to me.” David obliged then raised his hands up. Vicente stuck the Colt pistol in his belt behind his back then stepped around behind David, holstered his pistol and handcuffed David’s wrists behind his back. While the crowd watched, he marched David over and put him in the rear seat of the patrol car. Returning to the crowd, the deputy noticed a bright red Chevrolet Bel Air turning off Sugar Road. He held up his hand and said, “Everybody wait. It looks like we have even more company coming to this party.” Mark grumbled under his breath, “And there’s no cotton being picked now.” The Chevrolet from Hertz pulled up by the Lincoln sports car. Lucas Perez and Alex Fernandez stepped out of the red car, both slamming the doors behind

them, and they walked over to the crowd by the trailer. Vicente said to them, “And what do you gentlemen want today?” Lucas replied, “We’re looking for one of our number named Rodrigo Martin. He’s driving my green Cadillac. Have you seen him here today?” Vicente looked at Mark, and Mark replied, “No, he hasn’t been here, and we haven’t seen your car today.” Alex piped up, “What’s going on here? Nobody is picking cotton.” Vicente said, “Yeah, I would like to know that too.” Mark gestured toward Juan Pablo Diaz and replied, “He says that his daughter is missing and has been kidnapped.” Several pairs of eyebrows shot up. Vicente turned to Juan Pablo and asked, “Teenagers have social lives. How do you know your daughter has been kidnapped?” Juan Pablo replied, “Someone punched a hole in the window screen to her bedroom last night and removed it. Also, she’s gone, but her clothes are still there in the bedroom. Her bed blanket is also missing. And my daughter never leaves without permission.” Lucas said, “Chinga! I’m afraid I know where your daughter is.” Vicente rounded on Lucas, “You’d better explain that right now.” Lucas said, “When we were coming to Texas, we stopped in Reynosa for the night. Of course, we went to a bar there called The Green Door, which is also a bordello. Rodrigo struck up a conversation with one of the security thugs there. I overheard the man tell him that if he wanted a job there he needed to bring a virgin for the boss to convert to the business. Then, last night Rodrigo borrowed my car to go buy some Mexican cigarettes, but he never returned. That’s why I’m driving this rent car.” Emilio spoke up, “That is true, what the thug said. I was with them and I also heard it.”

Juan Pablo let out a loud pitiful moan. “Madre de Christo! I must save my beautiful little Natalia.” He turned toward Vicente stretching out his hands, and said, “Give me my pistol.” Vicente noticed the holster on Juan Diaz’s hip for the first time. He said, “So that’s your pistol that I took off the blonde boy.” Juan Pablo repeated, “Give me my pistol, please!” Vicente held up his hand toward Diaz, palm out, saying, “Wait a minute. You can’t go charging into that Mexican whorehouse by yourself. You’ll get yourself killed, and maybe get her killed too.” Juan Pablo let out another pitiful wail, and said, “But I must go to save my little girl, now!” Vicente said, “I will go with you and help you, but I cannot take my patrol car across the border. He turned toward Lucas, “Can we go in your rent car. It’s your friend who’s done this.” Lucas said, “Yes, but I will drive and help you. I have a pistol too. That will give us three guns and maybe a chance to rescue her. Also, I want revenge on Rodrigo and my Cadillac back.” Alex said, “I will help too.” Lucas said, “No Alex. You can’t go. If you got hurt or killed, your Father would neuter me and then hang me in the Mexico City Central square. You have to stay here.” Mark spoke up, “Let me go with you and help. We can swing by my house and I can get my Dad’s shotgun. It’s a 16-gauge Winchester pump. Vicente said, “Yeah, that’s a good idea. With my shotgun that’ll give us two of them. And can we drop Alex off at your house until we get back?” Mark looked at Alex, then said, “Will you behave yourself if we leave you there with my Mother?” Alex looked insulted as he said, “I don’t want to be left here, but I am always a

gentleman around the ladies.” Vicente said, “Give me a moment to call in and go off duty.” The other workers had been talking amongst themselves. One of them spoke up saying, “We all can go with you. There is strength in numbers.” The other workers all said, “Si. Si.” And they shook their fists toward the sky. The deputy held up both hands palms out toward the crowd and said, “No, men. We cannot take a mob with us across the border. There’s no time to ferry you across, and you would be in the way.” The crowd did not like this and some cursed. Mark added, “You must stay here and pick cotton. My Father will come and weigh your sacks. He will be here soon to check on us.” Pedro walked over to his patrol car and sat in the front seat. Picking up the microphone, he flicked the switch on it with his thumb and said, “This is Vicente. I have a family emergency so I’m going off duty. I will call in later about when I will return to duty, but it may be sometime tomorrow.” The Sheriff’s office operator on duty replied, “Acknowledged. Pedro Vicente off-duty at 8:30 AM for family emergency.” Pedro flicked off the radio switch, then he turned and looked at David in the back seat. “And what do I do with you?” David said, “Take me with you. Take these cuffs off. I’m a good fighter and I can help.” Vicente said, “No way. I arrested you and there were witnesses. If you got killed while in my custody, it would be the end of my career.” David said, “Just take the cuffs off of me in front of everyone. They will see you unarrest me. I know my way around in Reynosa. I can help.” Without another word, Vicente opened the rear driver side door and David climbed out. Then the deputy unlocked the handcuffs while he said to David, “Okay, you can come along, but stay behind us. You can be our rear guard when we get into the bordello.” Vicente wondered if he was making a big mistake.

Well one more on top of the other big one he was making wouldn’t make much difference. Then he counted the posse they had just organized: Diaz, Lucas, Mark, David and himself, a carload. Five for the trip to Reynosa after they dropped Alex at the Halas house.

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Margaret Halas stared out the kitchen window with consternation at the new bright red Chevrolet Bel Air full of men which had just pulled up next to the house. When Mark got out with another young man and a sheriff’s deputy in uniform, she relaxed some but now was both puzzled and alarmed. Was Mark under arrest she wondered. The three men walked to the back door, and she went to meet them there. Mark said, “Mom, this is Alex Fernandez and Deputy Pedro Vicente. Alex needs to stay here as our guest while I go with the deputy and the other men in the car to take care of some coyotes near our cotton patch. I’m going to take Dad’s shotgun.” Margaret nodded hello to Alex and invited him to have a seat on the sofa in the living room. Then she followed Mark as he retrieved the shotgun and a box of shells. She said, “Mark, you should wait on your Father to help. You know he will be angry that you went after the coyotes with his shotgun and without him. He still wants revenge for them killing Churchill.” Mark replied, “Mom, we have the deputy with his shotgun and three other coyote hunters with guns out in the car. We can’t keep them waiting for who knows how long until Dad shows up. I have to go with them now. Alex is the son of an important official in Mexico, and he’s not allowed to go on the hunt. Please make him comfortable and visit with him until we get back. Then Mark turned to leave. Margaret followed him to the back door saying, “You be very careful. Don’t get separated from the other men when you’re out there where those coyotes are.” David stopped at the back door and turned and gave his Mother a hug and a kiss.

“I’ll be careful, Mom.” Then he followed Vicente back to the car. Margaret shook her head, then she turned and went to the door into the living room where she stopped and said to Alex, “Young man, are you thirsty or hungry. I can make you some tea and we have kolaches.” Back in the car, Vicente said to Mark, “That was a good cover story you gave your Mother, but aren’t you going to be in trouble when we get back and your parents find out the truth?” Mark said, “It will be okay. I can handle it.”

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CHAPTER 25

The Green Door

As they were driving south on Sugar Road, Lucas spoke up, “How are we going to get all these guns across into Mexico?” Pedro Vicente said, “Good question. American border patrol will not do a thorough search of the car going into Mexico, but they will on the way back. We can pay off the Mexican officials. The problem will be getting the weapons out of Mexico rather than getting them in. Pull over at that next crossroad and we’ll put all the guns in the trunk. Everyone make sure the safety is on and your gun is loaded. Juan Pablo, take the cylinder out of that revolver.” They all got out of the car and proceeded around to the back. David was the only one without a weapon. He thought about asking Lucas to go by his hideout on Palm Drive, but he didn’t want to give away the location to the deputy. Vicente checked each weapon before it was put into the trunk to make sure that the safety was on and it was loaded but without a bullet or shell in the chamber. They drove back through McAllen and South to the border. The crossing went smoothly as the deputy had predicted. Both sets of border officials noticed Vicente’s uniform and questioned his reason for crossing into Mexico. He told them he was off-duty and just visiting Reynosa for fun with his friends, and they accepted it. Lucas ed the way to The Green Door bar and bordello in the red-light district that Emilio had led them to before. He drove to it but stopped and parked around the corner out of sight from the entrance. The guns came out of the trunk and they all prepared for a battle. It seemed that the schick, schick sound made by pumping shells into the chambers of the two shotguns was loud and echoed from buildings up the street. Vicente thought maybe that may have given themselves away and alerted the thugs in the bar to their presence, but the only o only evidence that they were noticed was a prostitute who looked around the corner at them. She looked surprised then scared and disappeared.

They all had seen her, and Vicente said, “Let’s go before she warns them. Safeties off and spread out when we get inside.” They walked around the corner and entered the bar with guns up pointed ahead. There were no customers in the bar at the early hour. The two security guards at the back of the bar room both pulled guns and fired. The five posse were scattering and both shots missed, one smacking the inside of the brick front wall, and the other shattered a window. Everybody ducked down and a hail of returned gunfire knocked one guard down. The other one dashed up the stairs firing his pistol as he went. A bartender came up from behind the bar with a shotgun and fired. Buckshot pellets hit Juan Diaz left shoulder spinning him around and down. His gun clattered on the floor. Vicente fired his shotgun hitting the bartender in the face and the man disappeared, going down behind the bar. Cursing, Diaz scrambled to retrieve his pistol. David jumped over the bar landing feet first on top of the dead bartender and crashing his shoulder into a cabinet behind the bar. He picked up the bartender’s shotgun and pumped it. As the empty shell clattered atop the bar, he blasted a shot up toward the top of the stairs and the guard there cried out. Then a bullet from that guard struck the top of the bar digging into the wood and creating a shower of splinters one of which struck David on the side of his neck. David ducked down and reached up and pulled the bloody splinter out. Blood trickled down his neck and he put a thumb on the wound to stop the flow. Firing paused, and silence fell over the room. The four posse scattered around the bar room were hiding behind the tables. Vicente shouted up at the guard in Spanish, saying, “You’re outnumbered and outgunned. Throw down your pistol and come down with open hands out and you will live to see another day.” The guard replied, “Si. Si.” And pitched his gun down. It hit the floor and discharged; the bullet struck a table creating another shower of splinters three of which struck Lucas in the chest. He cursed and sat to pull splinters out. The guard started down the stairs, his hands open in front of him. A shot rang out. He jerked, tumbled down the stairs and lay twitching at the bottom. Vicente cursed and said, “Hold your fire!” Then added, “Who shot him?” A new voice said from the top of the stairs. “I paid the son-of-a-bitch good money to guard for me and the first real trouble and he quit on me. Who are

you?” Vicente said, “We are Texans.” “I’m Bruno Reyes, the owner of this bar. You do not have to shoot everybody to have access to my whores.” Juan Pablo Diaz spoke up, “You cabron. I am the Father of the girl you stole from my home last night. If she is hurt, I will kill you!” There was a pause, then Bruno said, “I did not steal a girl. A man brought a young woman here last night. She is not hurt, and she is even still a virgin if she was one. You can have her back if you will just leave.” Juan Pablo said, “Return her to me now.” Bruno said, “Wait where you are and no more gunfire. I will get her for you.” Five minutes later, Natalia came down the stairs a hand on the rail and taking in the devastation in the bar. She was dressed in a tight sweater, miniskirt and tennis shoes loaned by one of the prostitutes. Seeing her, Juan Diaz jumped up shouting, “Natalia!” His gun in its holster, he ran to the foot of the stairs and up a few steps to meet her. Natalia responded, “Papa!” They hugged and staggered the rest of the way down together. At the foot of the stairs, she paused and looked her Father over. She touched his bloody shirt. “Papa, you’re hurt.” Juan Pablo replied, “It is nothing. My daughter is safe. That is everything. Did they hurt you?” “No. But I was so scared. I could not sleep all night.” Bruno said still out of sight from above, “I see that she is your daughter. We made her comfortable last night, and no one touched her. Now will you keep your part of the bargain and leave?” Pedro replied, “There was no bargain, but we have what we came for. Now I have a question. Where is the man who brought her here? We have unfinished business with him.”

Bruno replied, “You can have him. He brought death to my place of business. He should be at the Red Walls Hotel. Ask any streetwalker whore where it is, they all use it from time to time.” Vicente said, “If you value your life, stay where you are while we leave.”

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As the posse rounded the corner toward their car, they were surprised to see Emilio Munoz leaning against the Chevrolet. Lucas said, “Emilio. What are you doing here?” Emilio said, “I came to help. I figured you would need it, and I was right. You were so excited that you rushed off and left this car without a guard. It would not be here now if I hadn’t saved it for you. Stealing American automobiles is a favorite pastime around here in these border towns.” Lucas slapped himself on the forehead with his open palm. “Of course. We owe you for that.” Emilio smiled and added, “I also saved you from arrest. Three Reynosa policemen came charging up the street, I suppose in response to the reports of gunfire. I stopped them and told them that an American Mafia hit team was extracting revenge on the bordello for the kidnapping of the daughter of a godfather.” Incredulous, David said, “And they believed that story?” Emilio said, “They must have because they lost interest and left. Also, there was the bribe. I gave them thirty dollars American.” Lucas said, “Very good. Thank you.” Juan Pablo said, “I will refund the money to you.” Lucas said to Diaz, “No, I will pay him twice that for his help.” Then he turned

back to Emilio and asked, “Since you are so familiar with this place, do you know where the Red Wall Hotel is?” Emilio said, “Yes, and I can guide you there if I can ride with you.” In the car, Mark looked exasperated. “I was taught that it’s rude to speak a language in front of somebody who does not understand it. David, can you tell me what all that Spanish jabbering was about just now.” “Sure.” And David told him.

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Lucas was relieved to see his Cadillac when they drove up to the Red Walls Hotel. “Everybody stays in the car.” He instructed. Then he went inside the door to the office lobby. There, a bored clerk sat on a stool behind the check-in bar reading a book. He looked up and said, “Rooms are one hundred and twenty pesos per day or night, or ten dollars American.” Lucas pulled his pistol from his pocket and pointed it at the clerk. “You must tell me now what room number the man who drove that Cadillac is in and give me a key to it.” The gun did not seem to faze the clerk. He said, “That is against the hotel rules; however, it doesn’t matter in this case because he left the keys to the Cadillac with me saying someone like you would come for it. He left in a taxi.” Then the clerk held out the automobile’s key ring. Lucas took the keys and asked, “Do you know where he went?” The clerk replied, “I wish. That would cost you two hundred forty pesos or twenty dollars. I could use the money, but I have no idea where he went.” Back at the car, Lucas said in English, “Bruno must have telephoned and warned

him. Roderigo’s gone, but he left my Cadillac for me. I guess he hopes that will keep me from pursuing him. He left in a taxi.” Mark asked, “Well are you going to pursue him?” Lucas replied, “He kidnapped Natalia Diaz, and he stole my car. He betrayed me and he is a criminal. The Mexican authorities will not care. The American authorities cannot do anything about him since he’s in Mexico. I will find that pendejo and kill him.” David said, “¡hurra!” Mark then asked, “Okay, how do we get our guns back into Texas?” Lucas said, “Everybody put your guns in the trunk of my Cadillac. I will get them back into Texas. Vicente can drive the rent car back with you all in it. I will take a different route, and I will meet you at the Halas farmhouse. I have to go back there anyhow to pick up Alex.” Emilio said, “Lucas, may I ride with you?” Lucas looked surprised, then he smiled and said, “Of course. I owe you, and you know where I’m going don’t you?”

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On the Mexican side at the border crossing, the officer looked at the new Chevrolet with Texas license tags and a Hertz sticker on it driven by a sheriff’s deputy in uniform and just waved them on through. On the Texas side the border patrolmen checked the trunk and inspected the inside of the car. And they looked at everyone’s identification proof. Natalia had none. The officer looked at her and she shrugged. Juan Pablo spoke up, “This is my daughter, and today I rescued her from a bordello. I am taking her home.” Vicente also spoke up, “As a Texas law officer, I will vouch for the Diaz family here that what Juan says is true.”

The border patrolman took Diaz’s driver’s license and went into the nearby office. He made a phone call and took a long time on the call while the posse stood around by the car and waited. The patrolman returned and gave Juan Pablo back his license saying, “Okay Mr. Diaz, you check out and also the DPS confirms that your daughter Natalia has a valid Texas driver’s license. You may go, and congratulations on getting your daughter back.”

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From Reynosa, Lucas took Mexican back roads and drove up the river to the Los Ebanos ferry. He knew that the ferry was drawn across the Rio Grande River by hand and operated by locals. The advantage was that he could take his Cadillac across, and there were no border patrolmen at that crossing. He paid the fee to the ferry supervisor and tipped him with an American five-dollar bill. The man’s reaction told Lucas that this was a much larger tip than the guy usually received, if he received any.

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CHAPTER 26

Carlos

That evening, Lucas used a pay phone to call his boss, the Mexico City Mayor, Alexander Fernández, and to bring him up to date on the recent events. Fernandez was shocked. He said, “So Rodrigo is a traitor and a criminal? I cannot have one of my staff be such. We must take care of that.” Lucas said, “Yes, I will hunt him down and no one will ever see him again after I find him.” Alexander said, “No, you are not a professional killer. I will take care of this matter. Your responsibility now is just to return my son Alex safely home.” After the call, the Mayor stood up from his easy chair and walked into his office. Sitting in his also comfortable office chair, he thumbed through his Rolodex and found a phone number listed under the name, “Carlos.” He dialed the number. On the seventh rang, it was answered with, “What?” Fernandez said, “This is Alexander Lopez Sanchez Fernandez de Cortés.” He gave his full formal name so that there would be no confusion as to who was calling. This was an out of country call, and Carlos had customers worldwide. Carlos said, “Ah, The Mayor.” The conversation became an exchange of codewords since both men knew that there could be police wiretaps on either or both ends. The Mayor said, “I am planning a party, and I request your attendance.” Carlos replied, “I would love to attend, but I’m committed for the next week. When will your party be?” Fernandez said, “That is fortuitous. The party will be week after next.”

Carlos said, “I would attend but I do not have the funds for a trip to your beautiful city.” The Mayor said, “Give me your number, and I will send you expense money.” Carlos replied with a long string of numerals which Fernandes scribbled on a pad. He recognized it as a Swiss bank number. He had such an himself. He said, “I look forward to seeing you.” And he hung up. Fernandez sighed. Carlos required that his fee plus a deposit against expenses be paid in advance. He dared not call his banker to arrange the payment on the telephone. For such a matter, he would need to go to the bank and make the arrangements in person with the bank vice president who handled his confidential affairs.

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In an apartment building near Carlos’s Villa in Spain, an Interpol officer clicked off a wiretap recorder. To his companion officer he said with a disgusted tone, “Carlos has a customer and it is out of our jurisdiction.” The second officer replied, “The phone company operator says that call was from Mexico City. Should we notify the Mexican Federales?” The first officer replied, “Yes, but no doubt it will be a waste of our time. Anyone in Mexico with business with Carlos would have some high ranking Federales on his payroll.”

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In Reynosa, Rodrigo waited a week before reporting to The Green Door bar to

assume his new security guard job. He figured this allowed enough time for the Texas posse to return across the border and leave the coast clear for him. The bar had new employees manning all its positions except for the owner upstairs. This evening the barroom was full, with every table occupied. A customer in tourist style clothing was enjoying Mexican beer from a brown bottle. He wore a loose-fitting pullover shirt which hung out over his blue jeans. Rodrigo figured the tourist was a Texan since he wore cowboy style boots. Rodrigo scanned the entire room, wondering where the next problem would come from. He had already on two separate occasions tonight thrown arguing drunks out the front door before they could cause trouble that could engulf the bar in fistfights. An old man who was retired from the federales, at a table near the tourist, gave the gringo a glance, then looked again. He saw the man’s eyes and recognized the hard look of a killer. He immediately looked down, and after the tourist looked away whispered to three other men who were sitting at his table. They all became very busy with their drinks and with ignoring the tourist as if he didn’t exist. The tourist gulped down the last of his beer, set the bottle down and walked toward the back of the bar. Rodrigo held up his hand saying, “Show me your money before you can go up to see the girls.” The tourist reached behind his back lifting up his shirt and Rodrigo expected to see his billfold. To his surprise, instead he saw the silenced business end of a pistol just before it spat a bullet at his face from inches away. The tourist then turned and trotted up the stairs. The few customers at nearby tables who noticed what had happened concentrated on keeping their heads down ignoring the action. About 10 minutes later, the tourist came back down the stairs worked his way through the tables and out the front door. Then a prostitute stepped out through the curtains of the downstairs back room with her satisfied customer. She stepped in squishy liquid. Looking down she saw Rodrigo lying in a growing dark red pool speckled with bits of brain. Her blood curdling scream was loud enough to penetrate through the noise of the bar and get everyone’s attention. When the Reynosa police arrived to investigate, they found two victims – the owner also dead upstairs. No one itted to ing the tourist.

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CHAPTER 27

Betrothed

Agustín (Augie) Alvarez was dismayed. He did not need a wife and he did not want a wife. He tried to hide his feelings, but his face betrayed him. Seeing it, Juan Pablo Diaz was disgusted. He said “We made the deal 10 years ago, but it is still binding. You have slept a few times since then, so let me refresh your memory. You are to pay to me a productive milk cow, a two-year-old horse and five goats, all healthy. In exchange I give you my daughter in marriage and I gave you $100 to cover the wedding expenses.” A decade earlier, Augie had insisted on the money up front since he needed it to pay off a gambling debt. Eight-year-old Natalia was a small child then and the deal looked harmless enough. He had figured it would be forgotten by the time she was old enough for marriage. Since then, he had created for himself a profitable drug smuggling business, so the money did not seem to be very much today. He said, “Look, I can return you the money right now.” He reached for his billfold. Juan Pablo held up his hand signaling stop and said, “No! The deal is cement. You cannot just blow it away. You will produce the animals and marry my daughter. If you try to renege, I will report you to the police. They would love to know about your smuggling business.” Augie said, “Okay, okay! But I need time to get the animals together. I do not own animals. I have to find and purchase them.” Juan Pablo said, “I will have a trailer for the livestock parked in front of the Cathedral in Brownsville on Thursday at 8 AM. I expect you to be prompt. My daughter will be there in her wedding dress. You should also be appropriately dressed.” Augie said, “Three days is not nearly enough. I’ll need a week.”

Juan Pablo said, “Three days is more than enough. Be there or suffer the consequences.”

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Natalia stood wearing her Mother’s old wedding dress which had been dug out of storage. Her Mother sat before her on a stool with straight pins in her mouth. She took them out one by one and used them to mark how the dress would need to be modified to fit Natalia who was slimmer than she had been at the same age. “Mama, please! I cannot marry that man. Everyone knows that he is evil. He will beat me, and I will die.” Tears rolled down her face and fell on to her Mother’s wrists and hands. “Hush child. We must do what your Father has promised.” “But I’m too young to marry an old man like Mr. Alvarez.” “You are four years older than I was when I was given to your Father in marriage. And Augie Alvarez is not an old man.” “Mama, this is America and women are not given away to men here. It is even against the law.” “Nonsense! We are following family tradition. It has been done this way for many generations, both here and before in the old country. Now raise your arms so I can slip the dress off of you.”

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Rodolfo (Rudy) Romero was in the business of smuggling people across the Rio Grande into Texas. He was a short and muscular with a thick mustache and a prominent nose. Some said he looked like Joseph Stalin of Russia and he was

every bit just as ruthless. Anyone who got in his way was likely to be found either preserved in a barrel of cerveza or floating face down in the Rio Grande. Rudy also could be hired to remove bothersome hombres for a bargain price. Augie Alvarez handed Rudy Romero a black and white photo of Juan Pablo Diaz. Augie said, “This man is a problem for me. How much will it take to make the problem go away?” Rudy’s eyebrows went up. “What kind of a problem?” Augie said, “He requires that I marry his daughter.” Rudy said, “Ah! The worst kind of problem. One hundred dollars American.” Augie dug a roll of hundred-dollar bills from his pocket, peeled one off and handed it over. Rudy said, “You should not let people like me see your roll of money. Someone might decide to take it all. But for now, another hundred dollars will do.” With a pained expression, Augie handed over another bill. Rudy said, “And where does one find the unfortunate Mister Diaz?”

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At about 9 PM, the Diaz family were seated around their table eating dinner when there was a loud knock on the front door. Natalia put a hand on Jr’s shoulder holding him down in his chair while she rose, saying, “I’ve got it.” She opened the door and stood as Rudy Romero looked her over. He said, “Are you the only daughter of Juan Pablo Diaz?” She stood straight and looked him in the eyes as she said, “I am.” Rudy said, “Then I must speak to your Father.” When Juan Pablo came to the door, he said, “Who are you and what business do

you have with me?” Rudy said, “Mister Diaz, you are fortunate that your beautiful daughter is the same age as my daughter, and they look a lot alike.” Diaz said, “Then we are both fortunate, but I do not think you came here tonight to tell me that.” Rudy said, “Augie Alvarez does not wish to marry your daughter and he hired me to put an end of you as a threat to him. Now however, after seeing your beautiful Natalia, I have decided to go back on Augie instead. He will soon discover the truth of the old proverb that a fool and his money are soon parted. Good night Mister Diaz.” With that, Rudy turned and walked away. When he returned to the table, Victoria Diaz asked her husband, “What did the man want?” Juan Pablo said, “He told me that Augie Alvarez will not marry our Natalia.”

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Sheriff’s Department Detective Pedro Vicente was filling out his weekly report at his desk when his phone rang. He picked it up and heard the dispatcher Tricia Johnson say, “Pedro, you have a call from a border patrolman. He says his name is Keith Claymore and that you know him.” Pedro said, “Yes I do know him. Put him through please, Tricia.” The voice over the phone said, “Pedro this is Keith Claymore at Progresso. We have another floater. So, could you get your partner and that Billy Ben character together and then head down here?” Pedro said, “Another John Doe? I’ll round them up. It’ll take about an hour before we leave here.” Keith said, “Thank you, but by the way it’s not a John Doe. We know him.”

Pedro said, “Oh? What’s his name?” Keith said, “It’s a dope smuggler that we’ve been after. His name’s Augustin Alvarez. The body is in bad shape. Looks like he was tortured before he was killed. We’re suspicious that we know who did it. The MO fits another smuggler named Rodolfo Romero. We’re not likely to be able to prove it though.”

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CHAPTER 28

Blackbirds

John Halas fired his shotgun into the air over the field of maize. A flock of blackbirds took flight.. They flew over nearby trees and lit, lining wires between telephone poles. He had been relieved but angry when the posse including Mark returned with his shotgun. His anger evaporated when he heard the entire story of what had happened in Reynosa. He considered Mark to have participated in a heroic action and was proud of the apparent maturity of his son. However, he made Mark promise never to go charging off on such a dangerous venture again. Mark had replied, “But Dad, what if I can’t cut it at college. If I go in the Army then, or what if I’m drafted. Won’t I have to take dangerous actions.” John had replied, “We will cross that bridge when we come to it.” Now, John was angry at the blackbirds, not to mention other kinds of birds that found his field of maize to be “feed on the stalk.” Margaret had built a scarecrow for him, and he had mounted it in the field, but the birds had figured out that it was no threat. Some even landed on it and perched there, pooping on it. If he could just keep the birds off the crop for another couple days, a harvester machine was scheduled to come, and it would be over. But in the meantime, he could not afford to stand here all day to keep the birds from devouring this crop. He decided that he needed someone else to man the shotgun for him. And he knew who the person might be that he needed. John got in his Woody station wagon and drove to the cotton field just north of Palm Drive where a crew was re-picking the field, harvesting the bolls that had opened since the first picking. There were fewer open bolls to pick than there had been before, so he had to pay them ten cents a pound higher price for the job to get a crew. The Diaz family was there. John made his way into the field to talk to Juan Pablo Diaz. He asked, “Can your son fire a shotgun?” Juan looked puzzled and replied, “No, but he could if he were taught how.”

John explained about the blackbirds in the maize field. Then he asked, “May I hire your son to guard the maize field and fire the shotgun to keep the birds away? I would need him for that for two days. I would show him how to handle and fire the shotgun.” Juan Pablo said, “he doesn’t pick that much cotton. So, I guess he could do that. How much per day would he get paid?” John proposed 5 dollars per day, Juan Pablo countered asking for 15. They settled on 10. Juan Pablo called Junior over and told him about his new job. Junior was very happy about it since he did not like picking cotton. At the maize field, John explained the job and showed Junior how to load and fire the shotgun, holding the stock against his shoulder so it wouldn’t bang into him causing bruising and soreness. Then he watched as Junior fired the gun a couple of times scaring off the birds. He left Junior there with a box full of shells and a promise that his Father would be back for him at days end. Junior’s first day at the field went well. Then on the second day, Junior made the mistake of leaning against the shotgun with the barrel down and boring into the soil. When a flock of blackbirds again came and Junior raised the gun and fired, two things happened. First the end of the barrel pressured up and bulged before blowing out the dirt plug. Second the additional kick it caused knocked Junior down on his back. The birds flew off, but Junior laid there for a moment, the gun resting across his chest. Junior didn’t understand what had happened, but he could see that the shotgun was damaged. He fired it and it still worked, making a loud bang and knocking a couple of birds out of the sky with pellets from the wide scatter pattern that the new barrel configuration created. Juan Pablo and John Halas both arrived at the same time in their separate vehicles as the sun was setting. Halas was upset about the damage to his shotgun, but Diaz defended his son by asking, “Did you explain to him not to push the end of the barrel into the ground?” Halas itted that he had not thought of that. It had seemed so obvious to him. But he thought, That’s what you get for using a child to do a man’s job. So, he paid Junior twenty dollars for the two days employment, and they went their separate ways home. Disgusted, John left the damaged shotgun in the back of the

Woody when he got out.

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CHAPTER 29

Deputy Down

Sheriff Thompson kept the young Deputy Pedro Vicente assigned to Detective work in partnership with Investigator Brian Quinn. This left Deputy Craig Polk assigned to patrol the busy highway 83 stretch between the cities of Mission, McAllen and Pharr. Driving south on Sugar Road toward highway 83, Craig decided to deviate from his normal route and take the dogleg scenic road named Palm Drive. Craig enjoyed Palm Drive. Except for a couple of small barking dogs, it was quiet and peaceful, the tall palm trees rising it looked like 100 feet into the air and then bushing at the top, green leaves over gray-brown ones which hung down like beards. The afternoon wind would pick up later in the day and blow through the high leaves making a constant sound similar to waves breaking on the beach. To Polk palm drive was too short and he too soon reached the vacant lot which came on his right just before the railroad tracks and highway 83. The peacefulness of Palm Drive was a sharp contrast to the noisy bustle of traffic on the busy highway beyond. Craig braked and brought his patrol car to a stop just before the tracks. His subconscious mind had ed an anomaly; something that he had just seen was out of place or wrong. The rear-view mirror revealed nothing but the empty black and gray asphalt pavement behind him. He backed up looking both left and right, trying to see what was bothering him. Then he did see it. There were two strips of laid down weeds leading into the vacant lot just the right distance apart to be made by automobile tires. He thought that it meant nothing, but why would anyone be driving into the weeds and bushes? Perhaps someone hunting, but it was not the season for that, and this residential area next to the busy highway was not the place to hunt. Polk’s law enforcement officer inclination to be suspicious kicked in full force. He had to investigate to see what was going on. He turned and followed the

tracks into the bushes and mesquite trees. To his surprise he came to a trailer house that could not be seen from Palm Drive. Even more surprising, it had wires indicating electricity and telephone service. It also had a TV antenna on a pole. Parked next to the trailer was a white sporty looking Lincoln. Behind the trailer house was a typical outhouse. The outhouse and the electricity supply indicated that this was more than just a temporary location for the trailer house. His suspicions said that this would be the perfect hideout for an outlaw, one who stole enough money to afford such a car.. Greg decided to be cautious. He backed out of the lot and noted the address on the mailbox of the first house next to the vacant lot. He thumbed the shortwave radio mike and called in, asking identification of the resident living in what would be the address of the first house on Palm Drive where the vacant lot was. The dispatcher asked him to hold while she used a reverse directory to see who lived at that address. Then she reported that there was no such address, or at least no listing for it. Now Craig was certain that he had to confront the resident or residents of the trailer house. It occurred to him that if a fugitive was living there, he could make points with the Sheriff and be a hero for making an arrest. Maybe that would earn him a promotion and something better to do than writing tickets on traffic patrol on highway 83. Maybe he could become a detective, replacing Vicente and bumping that pepper belly rookie back to highway 83 patrol. Polk pulled into the vacant lot again and drove up to the trailer then turned off the engine and exited the car without closing the door. He withdrew his pistol from its holster and walked up to the door. He tried to open it, but it was locked. He put his ear to the door and listened for two or three minutes. He could hear no sounds. He walked all the way around the trailer house inspecting it. It was only half the size of most trailer houses in which people have permanent residence. This added to Polk suspicions. More like a hideout than a home, he thought. He walked back to the outhouse, caught a whiff and retreated. He thought, fresh shit. He looked at the automobile. Of course, check out the ownership by the license plate. He took out a ballpoint pen and a small spiral notepad that he kept in his shirt pocket and jotted down the Texas plate number. He went back and seated himself in his patrol car, closing the door to minimize the sound. Then again he figured the mike and called in the plate number. As he waited for the dispatcher to consult the DPS and then call him back, he started to sweat. The car was getting hot as the Texas sun was starting to beat down even at about eight

o’clock in the morning. So, he started the engine to run the AC. To the time he listened to the radio as other deputies and the dispatchers called back and forth about various concerns and events. After about 30 minutes, the dispatcher called him back, “Craig the license plate was reported stolen last April. It was originally mounted on a Nash Rambler. The car you’re looking at may be hot. Would you like backup?” Polk replied, “No, that won’t be necessary. The car is parked, and it appears there’s no one around. I’ll call in again if I decide we need to put a stakeout on it. Polk out.” If he made an arrest, he did not want to share the credit with anyone else. He was running out of time. He was past due by now to be on highway 83 patrol. The different law enforcement agencies shared the traffic patrol duty with three eight-hour shifts per day. At four o’clock, Polk would be relieved by a McAllen city policeman. The graveyard shift officer this week was a state trooper. The city policeman would be irritated that Craig had not showed up on time to relieve him. Polk decided to give up stealth. He drew his gun and then pounded on the trailer house door with his fist and said, “Hello?” He did not identify himself as a lawman, hoping that the resident would open the door not expecting to be confronted with the deputy holding a pistol. He wanted surprise in his favor. Inside the trailer, David Garza was sound asleep and having a sweet dream about Natalia Diaz. The dream was interrupted by the loud pounding on the door and someone shouting. He awoke startled and jumped up as his bare feet made no noise on the floor. It took him a few seconds to get oriented. Then he reached under the mattress and retrieved his 32 caliber Colt pistol. He went to the small window on the same side of the trailer house as the door, lifted a blind just half an inch and peeked out at an angle. He could make out someone’s back in tan clothing. Then he saw the patrol car. He realized that it was a sheriff’s deputy. Panic hit him. He had been found! The deputy heard no response from inside the trailer. He decided no one was home; then he thought that he had to see the inside of the trailer house to determine what kind of occupant lived there and whether it was a criminal or someone innocent like a little old lady maybe. He stepped down from the door stairs, holstered his gun and walked over to his patrol car. There he paused thinking and mumbling, “How can I get into that trailer house?”

Feeling desperate and still watching through the blinds, David saw the deputy walk away to the patrol car and pause standing there motionless. He saw an opportunity and acted. He had stored the eagles head knife on the bookcase across from the bed. He dropped the pistol on the bed. He grabbed the knife and dashed to the door. It opened quietly on well-oiled hinges. He was down the stairs and to the deputy’s back in an instant. Polk decided that he needed to get his tire tool from the trunk and use it to pry the door open. But at that moment, he lost all his options. David grabbed Polk’s chin from behind, jerked Polk’s head back and slit the deputy’s throat. As blood squirted out in pulses on the trunk of the patrol car, David whipped the knife around switching his grip and stabbed the deputy in the back on the left side. The ten-inch bowie knife type blade penetrated into Polk’s heart. As the deputy fell to his knees his hands on his throat, the knife was jerked out of David’s hand. Face down on the ground, the dying deputy spasmed and jerked a few times as shock stole his consciousness. His movements slowed and stopped. David staggered back and sat on the steps to the trailer. He stared at what he had done. The silver eagle head on the knife handle glinted as a stray sunbeam shined through the leaves of a mesquite tree and struck it. David arose thinking he would retrieve his precious knife but then he stopped. It penetrated into his thoughts that what lay before him would assure him a trip to the Huntsville prison and a seat in the electric chair. He had to get rid of the evidence, and his eagle head knife was now part of that. The red blood on the trunk lid of the car caught his attention. He trotted over to the pump where a galvanized bucket had been left lying on its side. He picked it up and opened the door to the water pump shed. He then filled the bucket with water from a faucet and carried it over to the patrol car where he sloshed it on, washing off blood. It took several trips to the pump to complete the task. Water and blood mixed and puddled between the body and the deputy’s car. David threw the bucket down and stood staring. Then the deep blast of the horn of an 18-wheeler from the nearby busy Highway 83 interrupted his trance. He had to decide what to do about the body and the patrol car and even the blood on the ground. He couldn’t think. He wandered in a circle around the trailer house. Coming back to the stairs, he went inside and lifted the telephone headset. He dialed a familiar number but not the number of his home in San Benito.

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CHAPTER 30

Evidence

In the office of The Red Door in Matamoros, the ringing telephone was answered by Diego Alonso, a tall dark-skinned older man who kept himself well-muscled by exercising with weights daily. His brown eyes were set in a round face with striking high cheekbones from his Indian ancestry. Over the phone he heard the tinny and panicky voice of David Garza saying, “Diego, I’m in trouble and I need help. I’ve killed a sheriff’s deputy.” Gray hair at the temples testified to the fact that Alonso had been around and was experienced with events of all kinds, but he couldn’t the killing of a deputy sheriff by an acquaintance before. Nevertheless, he knew what to do about bodies and evidence. But before he acted, he needed to advise Ernie Garza of his son’s reported trouble. He said, “Chinga! Are you in a safe place?” David replied, “Yes, and the body is also in a place that is safe for now, the Palm Drive hideout.” This caused Alfonso pause. He asked, “A deputy found the hideout?” David said, “Yes he did. And he drove his patrol car right up to the house trailer.” Diego thought of several questions, but he knew that this was not the time for them. “Stay where you are. Do nothing and wait. Help will come. Be patient.” There was a silence on the phone for several seconds. Alfonso waited for an answer. David said, “Okay.” Alfonso hung up the phone. He raced outside to his car and headed for the Garza residence in San Benito. This was something he dared not report over the

telephone which was still tapped by the Cameron County Sheriff’s Department.

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A green Ford pickup truck pulled up behind the two cars parked next to the trailer house. David heard it coming and he went outside to meet it. It was about noon now and the sun shone almost straight overhead. The afternoon breeze had not picked up yet and the area reeked of blood odor. Diego Alfonso and Tomás Torres both stepped out of the pickup truck and stared at the body and the patrol car. Then they turned to David and greeted him warmly. Tomás said, “You can’t stay out of trouble can you?” David said, “I don’t look for it; it finds me.” Diego said, “For killing a gringo sheriff’s deputy, you will be a hero in Matamoros.” Then while David watched the two men busied themselves. They exchanged their sandals for rubber boots. Diego sat in the car and popped the trunk lid. Tomás pulled the knife from the deputy’s back, wiped it on the grass and offered it back to David. David tried to refuse it saying, “That knife is the murder weapon and it can be used as evidence against me. Leave it with the body.” Diego said, “It would be evidence if the body were found before it rotted the flesh away from the bones. We will not let that happen. I know that you killed the boy in the bowling alley to get that knife. Keep it.” Then the two men lifted the deputy’s dead body and put it in the trunk. Both men shoveled the bloody soil into the patrol car between the front and back seats. When they finished, there was a hole seven feet long, five feet wide and one to three feet deep. Next they used a wheelbarrow and the shovels to fill the hole with soil taken from a clearing in the wild area beyond the trailer house lot. The two men took turns on the wheelbarrow and on stomping on the soil filling the

hole to pack it as best they could. When they were through, Diego said to David, “It’s still early in the afternoon. We will have to wait until about four o’clock in the morning to drive the deputy’s car off and make it disappear without witnesses. In the meantime, let us cool down in your air-conditioned home and watch your television to kill time. While we’re at it, you can explain to us how you managed to kill that deputy with your knife without him shooting you with the pistol that was on his hip.” Tomás motioned toward the trailer and asked, “You have any cold beer in there?”

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Diego finished a brown bottle of Lone Star brand beer and dropped it in the trash can. He glanced at his wristwatch and said, “Four o’clock. Time to go.” David said, “I owe you men for bailing me out of a fix. I will have to find a way to pay you back. Many thanks.” Tomás stood to go and said, “You owe us nothing. We do what must be done and what your Father wishes.” David said, “May I ask what you will do with the patrol car and the body in it.” Diego said, “You do not need to know, but I will tell you. We will take the patrol car to a deep place that I know of in a resaca and put it in there. No one will ever see it again.”

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After the cars drove away, David undressed, pulled down his fold up bed and

crawled in. He had trouble going to sleep, but an hour later, after his adrenaline level had lowered, he dozed off. It seemed to him like he was awakened by loud rapping on his house trailer door. He crawled out of bed, picked up his pistol and peeked out the window. Diego and Tomás were back. So, he went and opened the door. The two men stepped inside. Tomás spoke first, “Your Papa says this is no longer a safe hideout for you. Secure everything inside here. We’re disconnecting everything outside from the trailer and we’re moving you trailer and all.” David was stunned. He asked, “Where are we going?” Diego replied, “There’s an RV park on highway 83 between Pharr and San Juan. It is used by tourists in the summer and ‘snowbirds’ in the winter. There are a few locals who live there in the rear part of the park. That’s where you’re going. We’ll set you up there.”

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Dispatcher Tricia Johnson rang the phone in Sheriff Leroy Thompson’s office. He listened as she said, “Sheriff, we have a problem. There was an accident on Highway 83 a couple miles west of McAllen city limits. I tried to Craig Polk, but he doesn’t answer his radio. I called the Bulldog Café and they haven’t seen him today. I also called the McAllen Police Department and the dispatcher there put out a call over the air. None of their officers say they’ve seen him today. Same with the departments in Pharr and Mission. So, then I called his wife and she said he left for work this morning and hasn’t called her today either. He seems to have gone missing.” Sheriff Thompson glanced at the Big Ben alarm clock sitting on his desk; it indicated 11:20. He asked her, “Did you hear from him today at all?” Tricia said, “He called in this morning at about 7:46 asking who lived at an address. I looked in the reverse directory and that address did not exist or at least was not listed.”

Leroy told her, “ McAllen again and ask them to cover that accident if they’ve not already done it. What was that address that he called about?” Tricia said, “I’ll do that right away. I wrote the address down; it was 101 Palm Drive, Pharr, Texas.” Thompson thought about it. Craig Polk was an obnoxious asshole that had hired into the department under a previous sheriff, but he was as conscientious as anyone. This was not like him at all. He got up and walked into the hall making his way to the dispatcher’s office. When she finished talking to the McAllen dispatcher, he said to her, “Call Vicente and tell him about Polk. Ask him to look for that 101 address, and then to take over the highway 83 patrol duty for today. In the meantime, try to reach Polk again every 15 or 20 minutes. If you find Craig have him call me.” Tricia said, “Yes sir.”

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CHAPTER 31

Resaca

Dispatcher Tricia Johnson called the phone on the desk of Justice of the Peace and acting Hidalgo County Coroner, William Bennett Benson. The JP picked up the headset and said, “Justice of The Peace Office. How can I help?” Tricia said, “Billy Ben, there has been another floater turn up. This one is in the Resaca about two miles north of San Benito. Mrs. Henrietta Cox called it in just now. She lives in a house on Aqua Road, the back of which borders on the water. Her son went out to fish in the Resaca this morning and found the body by the bank. She’s very upset about it. She said that she will drape a sheet out front over her mailbox so you can spot her house.” Billy Ben said, “Okay, thanks. You know that’s not in Hidalgo County. Why is it our concern?” Tricia said, “Apparently they think the body belongs to us.” “I’ll get right out there. Who’s covering for our Sheriff?” Tricia said, “We’ve dispatched Quinn and Vicente. They’ll be waiting for you at the scene.” Benson said, “Got it.”

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Billy Ben pulled up his van behind the patrol car parked in the driveway in front of the attractive red brick house. He reached back and picked up his mariner’s

pole with a hook on the end and a Samsonite case before stepping down from the van. Mrs. Cox met him at the front porch. She gave the fisheye to what he was carrying but anyhow led him around the house to the back. On the way, she said, “A 12-year-old boy like my son Calvin should never have to see anything like this. It’s just horrible!” To Benson it seemed like she was blaming him. He said, “I’m sorry ma’am.” She just said, “Humph.” And continued, “I called my husband Charles at work, but he said he was too busy to come and look at it. He is a barber in San Benito you know.” Billy Ben knew nothing about Charles Cox but listening to her he thought that Henrietta should have married some man named Henry Harvey or something like that. Henrietta pointed toward the Bayou where the two deputies were standing on the levy that bordered the water. Then she turned away from him and entered her home through the back door. The house was about 200 feet from the Resaca. Benson stepped it off, measuring the distance although he thought it was unrelated to the body in the water. As he climbed up on the embankment, he greeted the deputies. They greeted him back but with grim countenances. When Billy Ben looked down at the body he saw why. He was familiar with the entire Hidalgo County Sheriff’s force and he recognized Deputy Polk. The deputies were not being rude to him; they were upset that one of their number had been murdered. The body was floating with its pale face up exposing a gash across the neck. Billy Ben thought that it would not be difficult to determine the cause of death in this case. He said, “Damn!” He could not think of any appropriate remark to add except, “I’m sorry men.” Pedro Vicente said, “I didn’t like him, he gave me a lot of guff, but even Polk did not deserve this.” Billy Ben popped open the Samsonite case and removed his camera. He photographed the body in place from three different angles then he turned around photographing the surroundings. He set the camera back in the case and closed its lid. Then he hooked the body and pulled it out of the water on to the levee. Kneeling down, he opened the case again, removed paraphernalia, and donned rubber gloves. Using a spatula, the coroner probed the neck wound. Into his tape recorder he

identified date, time of day, name of the victim and location. Then he said, “The neck wound opens both jugglers and the esophagus. The victim must have ed out and bled out in a matter of seconds. The instrument used for the murder must’ve been very sharp. It could’ve been a scalpel, a knife or some other kind of blade like possibly even an ax. Then he turned the body over face down with help from the two deputies. He fingered the two-inch tear in the shirt between the shoulder blades. He reached down then and pulled the shirttail out of the pants and up to the shoulders. Into the recorder he said, “there is a second wound in the back just on the left side of the spine near the bottom of the shoulder blades. This stab wound is a redundancy to the neck wound. We will have to autopsy to get an idea of which injury came first. From the size of the wound it appears that a large knife was used; maybe a butcher knife. The position is right for penetrating the heart.” Benson asked, “Brian, have y’all called yet for a hearse?” Brian Quinn said, “Yes. I called the Henry Thomae Funeral Home in San Benito about 30 minutes ago. It should be here any minute. I said for them to come in quietly since we don’t need a crowd around this poor woman’s home.” Pedro said, “Polk’s patrol car is missing. I have a theory that the body was in the car and it was driven off into the Resaca. Missis Cox says that the water is very deep here, making this a very good place for that. So, in addition to the hearse, we called for divers and a wrecker. We might not need the wrecker, but I think it’s a good idea to have it here in case the divers do find the car in the water.” The coroner asked, “So do you also have a theory how the body got out of the car?” Vicente said, “Maybe a window was open or broken. Or maybe a door was open. Who knows. Maybe if we find the car it will be obvious.” Quinn said, “We can hope. Oh, and we also called Sheriff Thompson. Couldn’t see his face over the phone but his voice sounded pretty angry at hearing the news.” In rapid succession, the hearse, the tow truck, a van with the divers’ logo on the side, a Cameron County Sheriff’s Department patrol car and a San Benito police car all arrived. The vehicles parked up and down the road. Neighbors in houses

nearby also came wandering over to see what was going on. Vicente strung yellow vinyl crime scene tape across trees in the backyard creating a barrier to keep the curious civilians out of the way. Benson instructed the hearse driver on were to take the body in Edinburg for the autopsy. After it was loaded and the hearse drove away, he told the deputies that he was leaving the scene himself. He said, “I would say it would be several days before I did the autopsy; however, in this special case Sheriff Thompson would be all over me for results. So, I’m going to say that I should have a report out by tomorrow between six and nine PM. Call tomorrow afternoon and I’ll tell you what time to come by to review the results with me and to get a copy of the report for the Sheriff.” Pedro told the wrecker driver, a man named Miguel (Mike) Trevino, that he would have to stand by while the divers searched the Resaca for a missing patrol car. Mike said, “I will be glad to, but I will have to charge you for standby time.” Vicente said, “How much would that be?” Mike replied, “For me plus the truck, fifty dollars per hour.” Pedro then said, “You’re gouging. I’ll have to call for another wrecker who would be more reasonable.” Trevino held up his hands in front with palms out and said, “Okay, forty dollars per hour. I can’t take any less. I have expenses and I have a family to feed.” Vicente said, “Thirty dollars per hour it will be. The clock starts now, and when this is over, we’ll figure the amount and I’ll have the Sheriff’s secretary to cut you a check. You can either drive over to Edinburg to get it, or it’ll come in the US mail.” Mike shook his head yes. While this was going on, Deputy Quinn was discussing the job with the divers. Their rate was $100 per hour for two divers and equipment, and no negotiations on the price. Quinn called to get approval for that from the Sheriff. Thompson said, “Yeah I know that’s pretty bad, but we’ll have to accept it. Otherwise, we would have to get divers all the way from Galveston to come over. There’s not a lot of choice. These professional divers work for oil companies with offshore

rigs and offshore production wells. That sets the market price for their services and they don’t have a lot of competition.” The lead diver was Victor Engle. He said, “This’ll be sure different than diving in the Gulf offshore. I suggest that we put a boat in the water and sound for depth to determine what the area is that we need to search. My understanding is that if criminals ditched your patrol car in the Resaca, they did it here because this is a known place where the water is deep. So, there’s no sense in us wasting time and effort by searching underwater in the shallow areas.” Soon the divers had an aluminum boat in the water. They started a hundred yards south using a spool of fishing cord with lead fishing weights tied to one end. After about one hour the boat had reached a point in the middle of the Resaca straight across from where the body was found. The divers stopped and tied a float to the line where they were, a buoy marking the location. Then they paddled the boat straight to shore. Victor said to the two deputies, “You’re in luck. We were hitting a depth of 30 feet when suddenly it was 24 feet. We think the car you’re looking for is at that spot, but it could be something else like maybe a different car. We’re going to put on our gear and dive there to check it out.” Thirty minutes later, the divers were back on shore. “Yes, your patrol car is there. It’s twenty feet away plus thirty feet to the bottom. Does your wrecker have a chain long enough to reach that.” Mike said, “You’ve got to be kidding. Of course not, but I know where I can lay my hands on some steel cable that will be plenty long enough and strong enough and have a hook on the end. But I’ll have to go get it and that might take thirty minutes or an hour.” Victor said, “You’re going to rent that cable from an oil field service company, right?” Mike looked at the two deputies and said, “Yes, and I will have to through that charge to you. My markup on it will be 10%. And I don’t know now how much the charge will be for the cable. Also, I’ll have to bring another driver with a forklift to handle the roll of steel cable. It’ll be too heavy to manhandle.” Pedro and Brian looked at each other. Then Brian said give us a few minutes to call in and get all that approved. Assuming it is, we’ll need a copy of the receipt from that oil field company to come with your invoice.”

“Okay, said Victor. “The receipt will come from Dowell.” Quinn said, “That’ll do. One from Halliburton would also do.” Sheriff Thompson said, “We need to examine Polk’s patrol car for evidence. So just do it. I may have to pay some of the costs out of my salary, or not. The county has a slush fund; they don’t talk about it and the public doesn’t know about it, but I do. I’m pretty sure that I can get them to pay out of that pot.” Brian said to Mike, “Okay, the Sheriff approved. Payment to any third parties will be by check, same as I told you earlier.” Two San Benito policemen and a Cameron County Sheriff’s Deputy all in uniform had been standing aside observing all of the action. After Mike left, they stepped forward and one of them said, “Hello. You guys are pretty busy.” He stuck out his hand and continued, “My name is Alan Blake, and this is John Rodriguez. The deputy is Ben Barnes.” Brian and Pedro introduced themselves and they took turns shaking hands. Pedro said, “We’re surprised to see you since this is outside of San Benito city limits.” Brian thought that the two officers’ names sounded made up, but a glance at the engraved brass nameplates on their uniforms told him that they were true, “Blake” and “Rodriguez.” John said, “A lot of people work in San Benito and live out here along the Resaca. Also, the San Benito city Council is considering annexing this area. So, we have an interest, and the police chief sent us.” The deputy said, “Sheriff Dodson sent me.” Brian said, “I thought maybe you were just curious.” The three local lawmen laughed. Blake asked, “So, do I understand right, that one of your deputies is dead and his patrol car is in the Resaca?” Pedro said, “Yes you got that right. We have to fish that car out and inspected it for evidence. Our crime scene unit will be here soon, maybe before we get it out of the water.”

Rodriguez said, “You know that our interest is more than just that we will report this to the chief, but when a brother law officer is murdered, all law officers have a stake. If there’s anything we can do to help, call on the San Benito Police Department. We have a crime scene unit close by over here. Should we call it out for you?” Brian said, “We appreciate that, and of course we would feel the same way if a San Benito policeman were killed. Thanks anyway, but our crime scene unit is already well on the way.” All five officers looked surprised when Henrietta Cox spoke from just a few feet away saying, “This is a circus and you all are destroying my lawn!” She stood with her arms crossed on her chest and anger on her face. Brian said, “Ma’am, we are sorry about that, but it can’t be helped. You can file for damages with the Hidalgo County Sheriff’s Department when this is over. I’m sure that an appropriate compensation can be made.” Blake said, “Misses Cox, these Sheriff’s deputies have lost one of their friends; another Sheriff’s deputy has been killed. Please cut them some slack.” Henrietta ed shock on her face and covered her mouth with her open hand. She looked at Blake’s navy-blue San Benito uniform, and then with a red face she turned and walked back up to the house.

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While they waited on the wrecker driver to run his important errands, Vicente said to the other officers, “You guys all know what a Resaca is don’t you?” Patrolman John said, “Yeah, we all know that. So, what about it?” Pedro said, “That means the Rio Grande River used to flow through here.” John said, “And?”

Vicente continued, “And the Rio Grande the is the border between Mexico and the United States. So, this side of the Bayou including San Benito and Brownsville should all be part of Mexico.” Quinn was familiar with Vicente’s brand of humor, and he had seen this punchline coming. The other officers were surprised, and all laughed. Rodriguez said to Pedro, “By your logic, both of our brown asses should be in Mexico today.” All five laughed at that. Ben Barnes said, “Do you know why the cantaloupe jumped into the Resaca?” Pedro said, “What? Okay why?” Ben said, “It wanted to be a watermelon.” There was a mixture of chuckles and groans from the group. John looked at Barnes and said, “Where did you get that lame joke?” Ben said, “My daughter brought that one home from school. I just wanted to lighten things up here now. That was the only joke I can think of on the spot.”

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The two divers paddled their aluminum boat out to the buoy marking the location of the underwater patrol car. The hook on the end of the steel cable was attached to the boat were a motor was often clamped on. It sagged into the water behind the boat making hard work of the rowing by the divers. They paddled past the buoy to the opposite shore in an effort to string out enough cable to reach the car on the bottom. After pulling the boat up on the bank, they unhooked the cable and dove into the water together. Patrolman Rodriguez said, “You know, there is a marine salvage company that works out of the port at Brownsville. They could’ve done this a lot easier without jury rigging anything.” Blake shook his head in agreement.

Deputy Vicente said, “Now you tell us.” Quinn added, “The Sheriff is impatient for whatever evidence we may find examining that patrol car. We didn’t have the time to and bring in another company. And who knows if they would’ve had resources available to help us today or if they would have everything tied up elsewhere.” The divers surfaced and swam to their boat on the opposite shore where they climbed out of the water. Then one of them raised his arm up in the air and made a circular motion indicating time to start. Additional cable was reeled off the roll. Bolt cutters were used to separate the part being used from the remaining cable on the roll. The end of the cable was looped, and heavy-duty wire tied around it again and again forming a bundle larger than the cable itself, then it was twisted and tied off. Mike Trevino hooked a chain on the cable loop, then he turned and walked to his truck. As Mike climbed in, the two deputies came up to the truck door and Quinn said to him, “Go slow in taking up the slack.” Mike said, “I know what I’m doing.” Vicente said, “Wait. The divers were smart. Look at where they are now. They think the cable could snap and whip around.” All of them looked. The undeveloped land on the other side of the Resaca was covered by forest. Both divers had walked away from the Resaca into the forest, and both were peeking around the trunks of large oak trees. Vicente continued, “Hold off until we get everybody cleared out around to the front of the house.” Mike shook his head yes, relaxing and began his wait. People and cars driving by on the road tended to pull over and get out to investigate. The crowd of civilians standing outside the yellow crime scene tape had swollen to two dozen. Brian explained to them in a loud voice about the hazard of the steel cable snapping and whipping around. Some started walking away before he even finished. In about 20 minutes every one was in front of the house by the road except for the two deputies who stood in front of the tow truck prepared to walk back as it moved forward. Brian repeated the over the head circular motion that the divers had used. Trevino started up the truck, shifted into low, low gear. Then slipping the clutch he eased the truck forward. The cable drew up tight and the sound of the truck engine shifted as the load increased. As the truck moved forward it developed

surges indicating that the patrol car was sliding catching and then sliding again on the muddy Resaca bottom. the front-end of the patrol car came climbing up out of the Resaca onto the levy accompanied by the higher pitch sound of the straining truck engine. When the rear end came up out of the water and the car leveled off atop the levy, the tow truck moved forward faster. Muddy water streamed out of the car as it came forward off the levy down onto the lawn. Mike stopped and shifted the truck into neutral. Engaging the emergency brake, he killed the engine, climbed down out of the truck and ed the two deputies walking back to inspect the drowned automobile. Tape recorder and camera in hand, Quinn began photographing and describing what they observed. The back seat of the car was filled with mud while the front seat was not. The trunk lid was popped up open. There was mud in the trunk. Vicente commented that the mud in the trunk and backseat had a different color than mud dragged up on the bank as the patrol car came out of the Resaca. Trevino wondered aloud, “Why do you think the trunk was open?” Quinn said, “Hard to say. Since all the car doors are closed tight, we can speculate. My theory is that as water leaked into the car it compressed the air inside the car and built up pressure. The trunk lid was not locked down good, and additional pressure on it was applied by the body which wanted to float. The combination was enough to pop the trunk open. If that had not happened and released the body, the car would still be on the bottom and we still would not know what happened to Deputy Polk.” Vicente said, “I would guess that the mud in the car rear seat and trunk both with a different color than the Resaca mud means that bloodied dirt was shoveled up into the car as part of removing the evidence from the crime scene wherever that was.” Brian shook his head in agreement and added, “We will take samples coring into the mud in both the trunk and the car. Also, a sample of the mud drug up from the bottom of the Resaca. Back in Edinburg, Coroner Benson should be able to use them to see if that idea checks out.” Mike said, “Amazing what you guys can do. I guess that makes it worthwhile to drag this car out of the mud.” Quinn said, “Buttering us up won’t get you any extra pay; however, we need for

you to see that the cable goes back where it came from. Then we want you to load that car on the back of your truck and haul it to Edinburg. A deputy from the Sheriff’s office there can show you where to leave it. It’ll get a lot more detailed going over there, but after it being soaked in Resaca water and mud I doubt they’ll find fingerprints or more evidence than we see here.” Trevino said, “Oh boy, overtime charges at time and a half.” Brian said, “It’s customary to pay mileage rather than time for cross-country transportation.” And they began haggling. After a few minutes, Vicente reminded Quinn, “I know you enjoy bargaining, but Sheriff Thompson is waiting to hear from us.” Henrietta Cox was now standing on her back porch observing, and people were returning from safety sheltering in front of the house, including the other three lawmen. Seeing this, Quinn said, “Vicente, you, Deputy Barnes and the two patrolmen keep the crowd away while Mike cleans up and loads up. I will go radio our report to the sheriff.” Sheriff Leroy Thompson listened to Brian’s report. He cursed under his breath. Then he said, “You and Vicente cleanup what needs to be at the location, then get a good night’s rest and be here in the morning at eight. We’re having a meeting of the entire department about the death of Deputy Polk.”

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At 8 AM on the dot, Sheriff Leroy Thompson stood before the crowded deputies’ room and cleared his throat. The buzz of conversation died down. Every desk was occupied plus dispatchers and secretaries sat in chairs along the wall. There were several invited guests who also were seated along the wall. Without preamble, the sheriff launched into a speech, “As you all know by now Deputy Craig Polk was murdered. His patrol car with his body in it was dumped in the Resaca north of San Benito. This is just the latest of a string of murders that have struck the Valley in the past few weeks. This meeting is to discuss what the Hidalgo County Sheriff’s Department is going to do about it.

Please note our honored guests. In addition to the voters of Hidalgo County, our boss is County Judge George Waters. We also get assistance on legal matters from County Attorney Donald Kennedy. They are here to advise and consent. Also here is Justice of The Peace and Acting Coroner Billy Ben Benson. At this time Billy Ben will report to you on the autopsy which we appreciate that he did in record time working all night.” The sheriff waved at Benson and sat down. Benson walked to the front and turned and spoke loud enough for everyone to hear but in a hoarse voice. “I will spare you the gory details but suffice it to say that about 24 hours ago Craig Polk was attacked and murdered. The weapon was a knife. He was cut on the throat and stabbed in the back. The blade was razor sharp and about ten inches long. This stab wound penetrated his heart. The knife making the stab wound was a large blade like what is called a bowie knife. The neck wound was sufficient to cause him to have lost consciousness and to have bled out in not more than a couple of minutes. Either wound was mortal, but he died from loss of blood. So, I am ruling that the neck wound was the cause of death. Detectives Quinn and Vicente brought me samples of mud taken from the inside of the trunk and floor of Polk’s patrol car and a sample of mud from the Resaca. I have analyzed the three samples. The two samples from the car both contained blood. I was able to type the blood and it matched Polk’s blood type. The sample from the Resaca contained no human blood although it was loaded with algae and bacteria. The analysis seems to the theory that the mud in the car was from a cleanup of the crime scene. I submitted my written report to Sheriff Thompson this morning and he says you all may read it when you wish, but copies will not be distributed. It has more details than this brief oral report.” With that Benson nodded to the sheriff and then walked out of the room headed home for some much-needed sleep. Sheriff Thompson stood again and said, “Effective immediately we’re reorganizing the patrol schedule. No deputy will work alone. You will be paired up, and each pair will have twice the size of territory to cover that the lone deputies had. The assignments of partners will be posted on the bulletin board up here by my office at the end of this meeting. You will work out who will drive between you, but I suggest you alternate that duty. If you’re unhappy with your assignment of territory or partner, don’t go around bitching about it. Come and discuss it with me. I understand that this is a disruption of a routine which you are used to. There will be an adjustment period and we can work together to fix

whatever problems it creates. Deputy Pedro Vicente is promoted to Detective and assigned to work with Brian Quinn. This formalizes what has been the case for the past couple of weeks. They are now assigned to work full-time on the Polk murder to identify the location of the crime scene and the perpetrator or perpetrators. Last night I delivered the sad news to Misses Polk. At the end of this meeting, there will be a conference of the secretaries and dispatchers in the reception area to work out a schedule for around-the-clock accompaniment of Misses Polk at least until the funeral. This will be voluntary extracurricular service and anyone who cannot do it will be excused from the duty without penalty. Judge Waters, do you have anything you wish to add?” The County Judge stood and said, “The county commissioners met last night, and we discussed this tragedy amongst other things. You have our sympathy and we grieve for your loss. In Sheriff Thompson you have a dynamic leader and we agree with what he’s doing, He has our as do you all.” Then he sat down. Sheriff Thompson then said, “Don Kennedy, any comments.” Kennedy said, “Not at this time.” Sheriff Thompson said, “Then that’s it for this meeting. Be safe out there and watch your backs.”

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CHAPTER 32

Investigation

While the other deputies crowded around the bulletin board getting their new assignments, Vicente sat in the visitor’s chair by Quinn’s desk. Pedro said, “Okay partner, we have our assignment. Where do we start?” Brian said, “Well Detective Vicente, I think that we should look at the address that the late Craig Polk called in for the dispatcher to look up in the reverse directory. It was not in the directory, but if it exists that would be the leading candidate for the crime scene. Did you catch what that address was?” Vicente itted, “Uuh…no.” “She said that it was 101 Palm Drive in Pharr.” Pedro perked up, saying, “Well I know where Palm Drive is. It’s a dogleg off Sugar Road and connecting to Highway 83. It’s three or four blocks long with no crossroads. And it has the loudest barking little dogs that I’ve ever seen. If you try to walk on that road you get your heel bit.” Brian said, “Have you heard about the Matamoros 500 car race?” Surprised, Pedro said, “What? No.” Brian said, “The first car to start wins.” Pedro said, “I thought with Polk gone there wouldn’t be any more Mexican jokes.” Brian said, “Just trying to lighten things up. Get your hat and let’s go. Since you know where we’re going, you drive, if your car will start.” Pedro said, “Hey!”

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Turning off of Sugar Rd., Pedro drove as Quinn counted down the numbers on the rural style mailboxes. As Pedro prophesied, small dogs raced out from the houses barking at them as they ed by. After the number reached 103, they saw an undeveloped vacant lot were 101 should have been. Pedro brought the patrol car to a stop and they stared at the trees and bushes. Then Brian said, “Hold on there. Do you see what I do?” Pedro said, “I sure do.” He turned off the road and drove along the trail through the weeds made by tire tracks. They came to a clearing and stopped. They got out and looked around. On their left was a short telephone pole with wires hanging down, coiled and not connected to anything. Next to it was a rectangular area clear of weeds and grass. Straight in front of their car was another clearing in the weeds with freshly dug dirt on it. A deer trail led back beyond into more wildlands. A water well pumphouse and an outhouse completed the picture. Quinn said, “This must be the fatal discovery of location that Polk made. What do you see Detective?” Vicente said, “Grass does not grow under houses and trailer houses where the sun doesn’t shine. The wires indicate electricity supply to what must’ve been a trailer house and maybe telephone service. The dug dirt area here must be where the bloody soil in Polk’s patrol car came from. Looks like they hauled in some dirt and filled in the hole.” Brian said, “Agreed.” Then he squatted down and inspected the area around the dug dirt, and murmured, “And they didn’t quite get all the blood splatter. See the dark spots on the grass blades here.” Pedro said, “I’ll get the sample jars.” After blood sample collection, Vicente commented, “The outhouse stinks of fresh shit. That and the wires and that clear patch indicate somebody’s been here for a while.”

Brian agreed and added, “Call in and tell them where we are, what we’ve found and what we’re doing. Then let’s walk that deer trail at least for a little way to see if there’s anything else back there. After that that we’ll interview the neighbors in case they’ve noticed anything.” A large jackrabbit hopped out of the bushes and stopped. Seeing the two men it turned around and disappeared back into the bushes. Brian said, “There went Coyote food.” Vicente said, “So what do you call a rabbit with fleas?” Quinn said, “What?” Pedro said, “Bugs Bunny.” Brian rolled his eyes but smiled. Pedro said, “That’s revenge for all the bad Mexican jokes that I’ve been hearing. When they were ready to enter the deer trail, Quinn pulled his pistol out and said, “That sign about ‘dangerous wild animals’ might be a real warning so let’s be careful.” Vicente thought about cougars and coyotes, then he pulled his pistol too. The two officers walked along the trail with their guns pointing down and looking around. Their first stop came at a small clearing where there was a pit beside the trail. Quinn said, “This must be where they dug up the dirt that they used to fill in the hole they made in removing the bloody soil. Since they pulled out afterward, it was wasted effort.” Vicente said, “Yeah, I don’t understand why they left here after making a coverup effort like that and hiding Polk and his patrol car in the Resaca. You would think that they would’ve felt safe here after doing that. I wish they had” Brian chuckled then said, “I wish that too, but you know that would be too easy. Solving murder cases is rarely easy. Since you’re a detective now Vicente, you’re going to have to learn to get along with that fact of life. What I’m saying is that detective work is often very frustrating and many if not most murder mystery cases are never solved.” Pedro frowned and said, “I don’t think I like that. How do you handle it?” Quinn said, “You have to be an optimist. You always have to believe that you

can solve the case and catch the criminal. Besides that, I never close a case that is unsolved. I always believe that sooner or later I’ll break it open and justice will happen.” Vicente looked incredulous as he said, “Chinga! You must have a lot of open cases. How many?” Brian said, “That’s another thing. I have a drawer in my filing cabinet with those cases’ file folders, but I never count them. Only a pessimist would count the folders and brood over the number. I’m not a pessimist. Sort of reminds me of some lines from a poem that I once read: ‘Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn’t there, He wasn’t there again today, I wish, I wish he’d go away.‘” Pedro said, “I’m amazed. You’re the expert, so you will have to show me how you’re organized so that I can do the same thing.” Quinn said, “You are asking me to pollute you with my bad habits as well as the good ones. Maybe you should just organize yourself.” Vicente said, “No, please teach me how you do this job. If it doesn’t offend you, I’ll pick and choose what to do out of what you do. I believe I can use good judgment about what fits my personality, but I guess we’ll see.” Brian said, “I won’t be offended, but in time you will get experience as a detective. Good judgment comes from experience, but experience comes from bad judgment. You will make mistakes. We all do. Look we’re just standing here; I don’t see any additional evidence at this spot. Wait a minute. Look at the edges of that pit. What do you see?” Pedro looked, then said “Yeah. I see it. Two different shovels were used. One was a narrow spade and the other a standard shovel.” Quinn said, “And that means that there were at least two criminals working on

the cover-up. That’s unless of course it was one criminal and he had to switch shovels because of something like he broke a handle. You always have to allow for Murphy’s Law. However, applying Occam’s Razor, it would be at least two criminals. This is beginning to look like a gang operation and not just a lone murderer.” Pedro agreed, “I was wondering about that. If the murderer lived in that trailer house, he must’ve had a vehicle. So, either it was a large vehicle with a trailer hitch, or there were two vehicles, the second one big enough to pull a trailer house. Not a Volkswagen bug. If there were two vehicles, then there would’ve been two drivers to drive them away. But please cut out that referring to Murphy’s Law and Occam’s Razor stuff. It just confuses me.” Brian smiled and said, “You know what those are, don’t you? Every detective should. And now you’re thinking like a detective. Let’s keep walking. We’ll come back here with my camera and get some photos of the pit when I photograph main the crime scene.” Their next stop was to look at some bones by the trail. Quinn said, “What kind of animal do you think that was?” Vicente said, “It looks like dog bones to me. Not a big cat. I would guess a coyote. They look chewed on but look at that bone.” Quinn said, “It’s part of the skull and it has a bullet hole in it. Look Pedro, I should’ve brought my camera and bags for evidence. Would you mind guarding the bones while I go back and get them out of the car?” Pedro said, “Go. Me and my trusty pistol will be okay here.”

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When Brian returned, Pedro asked, “What took you so long?” Quinn said, “Couldn’t help myself. I photographed the crime scene where the trailer house had been. Then I stopped and photographed the pit where they dug

out the dirt. Got good photos that will show the two different kind of shovels marks. Why? Were you lonely?” Pedro laughed. “No, but I thought something might’ve happened to you and I started to get worried. It occurred to me that you might’ve got caught if the gangsters returned and surprised you.” Brian said, “I appreciate your concern. But you should understand that if something like that happened you would’ve heard gunshots or some other loud noise. I would not go down quietly like Polk may have.” Vicente said, “Good point. But how do we know that Polk went down quietly?” Quinn said, “Some of this we should discuss at the office. Polk had his throat cut. I can’t believe that someone walked up to him with a knife and slit his throat from in front. The killer must’ve sneaked up on him from behind to cut his throat. Once that happened he couldn’t say anything of course. If the killer had stabbed him first, he would’ve screamed. We can Question the neighbors to see if they heard anything. But my theory is that his throat was cut first. Then the killer in a frenzy with bloodlust stabbed him to be sure he died. This is a macabre discussion, and it doesn’t matter which wound came first because either way he’s dead.” Pedro said, “Okay I understand you. And he was stabbed from behind, so we know the killer was behind him which fits the throat cutting. The killer may have cut the throat first to keep him quiet as well as to kill him.” Brian said, “We’ll be thinking about this a lot as we work the case. Right now, hold this garbage sack open while I put the bones in it. I want all of what’s left of that coyote for Billy Ben to look at. He might have something to add. The fact is, this dog or coyote may have been killed a long time ago and have nothing to do with the case.” Using rubber gloves, Brian picked up the skull first. Both detectives saw the bullet lying on the ground where the skull had been. Brian picked it up and held it up between thumb and forefinger examining it. He said, “The front is mashed, but there’s enough left to identify it. It’s a 32 caliber, common size for a pistol. That makes sense. There would not be a hunter with a rifle this close to houses and the highway.”

As they continued walking the trail, they realized that it was making a large loop. As they walked around a juniper bush they discovered they were back on the trail returning toward the crime scene. Pedro said, “Hey I like this. If I weren’t concerned about running into a pack of coyotes, I could trot around this trail for exercise out in the wild. That would be less boring than running around the track at a high school.” Quinn said, “Yeah that would be interesting all right. You could shoot at possums, house cats, skunks, rats, field mice, all kinds of critters besides cougars and coyotes. I believe I’ll stick to the high school track and field.”

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Back in the patrol car, Vicente said, “Well we have evidence but no suspect ID. I guess we interview the neighbors now?” Brian said, “Right. We also have three important leads for follow up.” Pedro said, “Yes. Let’s see, number one is whose name is on the property at the electric company.” He counted off on his fingers as he spoke. “Number two is check who owns the property in the county courthouse records. Number three is see if we can identify a phone number and a name associated with this address.” Quinn said, “Right you are. And that’s three more leads than I usually have for a murder case. Let’s go to 103. I’ll take the lead and you listen. Don’t interrupt, but if you have a question that I don’t cover by the end of the interview, ask it then. That’s if anyone’s home. You can take the lead at the second house.” At 103 Palm Drive, the one-story brick house had two front windows, but no window in the front door. Curtains blocked the view inside through the front windows. Brian pulled open the screen door and knocked three times on the solid wood door. The door opened, and they faced a tall white-haired but smooth faced Anglo man with striking blue eyes, a large hooked nose, small ears and a small mouth with thin lips. His arms were down, and he held a large pair of binoculars in his right hand. He stood staring at them.

Brian said, “Hello sir. I am Detective Brian Quinn, and this is detective Pedro Vicente. We are with the Hidalgo County Sheriff’s Department and we would like to ask you a few questions regarding recent activity in the vacant lot next door.” The man spoke up with a deep bass voice, “Well, it’s about time.” Brian raised his eyebrows, then took his pocket notepad and pen out and said, “Sir?” The man said, “My name is Fred Triplett. I’m not a nosy person but my wife was. I have a hobby that is bird watching. While doing that, I cannot help but see anything unusual going on in the neighborhood. That vacant lot next door is unusual these days.” Scribbling on his pad, Quinn asked, “And how is that Mister Triplett?” Fred said, “Well there has always been occasional visitors to that lot. A car or truck would drive into it once or twice a year. I always figured that they were lookers, maybe interested in buying the lot. Some were there for a few days, so I figured they were camping out, but that bothered me since it’s so noisy from the highway and with trains on the nearby track. Better places to camp out, but some people are strange. Then since about a month ago, several different vehicles have driven into and out of it. One car in particular, a white sports car of some kind has been in and out of there for weeks.” He fished in his shirt pocket, came out with a scrap of paper and held it out. “Here, I got the license plate number for you.” The two detectives looked at each other. Then Brian said, “Excellent, thank you.” He took, glanced at and pocketed the scrap. “You make good use of those binoculars, don’t you?” Triplett said, “Yes. They’re very good for identifying birds. I can make out the difference between a large hawk and an eagle or between a robin and a female cardinal.” He continued, “Then early this morning I heard truck gears grinding. I looked and saw a Ford pickup truck pull out of the lot hauling a small trailer house. It was followed by the white sports car. They turned toward highway 83 and left. Then a few hours later your car came and went into that lot. Okay, I’ve told you what I know, how about telling me what you’re investigating?”

Brian looked at Vicente who shrugged. Then Brian said, “You’ve been very helpful Mr. Triplett. We can’t tell you that now because our investigation is open. When it’s completed, we’ll you. Is there anything else you can add?” Fred said, “No, but do you want me to keep an eye on that lot for you?” Brian said, “It wouldn’t hurt. If you see anything else from your house here, please call us. Here’s my business card. However, do not go there or into that lot. Some very bad characters are involved, and it wouldn’t be safe. By the way, could we interview Mrs. Triplett.” Triplett look like he had been struck. He said, “She ed away six months ago; it was cancer.” Quinn said, “I’m very sorry sir.” After a pause, he asked, “Can I bother you for one more thing, the names of your neighbors in home number 105 over there?” Fred said, “That’s Virginia and James Gregus. He used to work in a steel mill in Dallas. He retired and moved down here he said because it’s warmer in the winter. They are nice folks, but they don’t get out much. They won’t know anything.” Brian glanced at Pedro who nodded no. Then Brian said, “Thank you Mr. Triplett. We’ll have to check with them anyhow.” It turned out that Fred Triplett was right; the Gregus couple did not know anything about activities at the vacant lot at 101 Palm Drive. After the Gregus interview, the detectives took stock. They decided to first check with the Southwestern Electric Company office in Pharr. Thirty minutes later they had a name. Electricity supplied to 101 Palm Drive was billed to Ernesto Garza at his residence in San Benito. Back in the patrol car, Brian said, “Ernesto Garza. Why does that name ring a bell for me?” Pedro said, “It’s a common Spanish name. There’s a hundred Garzas in the Valley.” Quinn said, “True, but I’ve heard it connected to a case. Hmmm… I’ve got it. Wasn’t the bowling alley killer a kid named David Garza.”

Vicente said, “That’s right, and the bowling alley was in Harlingen. That’s right next to San Benito.” Brian said, “I think we’ve identified a suspect. We can follow up with the phone company later by telephone. Let’s head back to Edinburg and check ownership of that vacant lot. I bet the owner lives in San Benito.”

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Sheriff Leroy Thompson sat behind his desk with his chair tilted back and his hands locked behind his head as he listened to his two detectives summarizing their findings. They were both standing, too excited to sit. Quinn said, “So I called Brownsville to ask about the status of the bowling alley murder case. I was talking to the sheriff’s department secretary when she said, ‘Just a minute’, and put me on hold. Then the next thing I knew I was talking to Sheriff Dodson. He wanted to know if we had a location for his fugitive, David Garza. I explained to him about the Polk murder and what we had found so far in our investigation. He said they had a good photo of David Garza from his high school yearbook and that they would fax me a copy. He made me promise to keep him posted on our case. Here’s a copy of the picture.” Leroy tilted his chair forward bringing his arms down and asked, “Did Bob say he wanted us to surrender David Garza to him if we find him?” Brian said, “No. He said he understood that our murder of a sheriff’s deputy has priority over his case. He also said that if Hidalgo County did not send David Garza to the electric chair, that Cameron County would. He was also interested that David Garza has been hiding out on property owned by his Father. He told me that Ernesto Garza owned a store in San Benito, but that it was just a front. Garza’s main businesses are a whorehouse in Matamoros and smuggling marijuana into Texas.” Vicente said, “I’ve seen David Garza. The picture shows him with black hair, well brown hair. When I saw him, he had blonde hair and he was with another young man, a brown-haired farmer’s son who looks just like him. The farmer’s

son vouched for him and I let him go because they both looked like the drawing in the wanted poster. You I told you about this, and you told me next time to just bring him in and let us sort out here whether he’s the fugitive.” The Sheriff said, “You missed out on a good collar that day. You could’ve made the 6 o’clock news. But for now, David Garza is implicated in Polk’s murder and he’s likely fled to Mexico. That trailer house would also be hard to find now. There are a lot of trailer house parks in the Valley here. I understand Dodson’s interest in the Palm Drive hideout ownership. It means they can bring charges against Ernesto Garza for aiding a fugitive to evade arrest. Never mind the fact that David is his son. That issue would be settled in court, and Cameron County has the best prosecutor in Texas. Pedro hung his head as he said, “If I had brought David Garza in that day, Craig would still be alive. Do you want my resignation?” Thompson said, “Heck no! You can’t get out of this investigation assignment that easy.” Quinn said, “Pedro, we don’t know that David Garza killed Craig Polk. We’ve established that two or more people were involved in cover-up efforts at the crime scene. The other man there or someone else working for Ernesto Garza may have wielded that knife. There’s no direct cause and effect relationship between your non-arrest and Polk’s death. Partner, I need your help on this case. Don’t bug out on me.” Sheriff Thompson said, “Pedro, I hired you because I thought that you would make a good deputy. The fact is that it was also because you’re a Mexican American. The majority of the citizens in the Valley are Mexican Americans. That gives you an important position here as the representative in this department of that majority. Your point of view is needed in this department.” Brian said, “When we need to interview a Latin American, you speak the language. He will look at you and see a brother, and he will tell you stuff that we need to know that he would never tell a gringo like me. Don’t underestimate your importance to me.” Staring straight into Vicente’s eyes, Leroy said, “That’s right. So, no more nonsense like feeling guilty and sorry for yourself. Now you two go and continue your investigation until Polk’s killer and whoever is with him is behind

bars.” Outside the Sheriff’s office, Quinn said, “Time to take the evidence we collected from Palm Drive down to the lab and give it to Billy Ben. William Bennett Benson arranged the sample bags and jars in a row across his desk. Then he reached down for the garbage bag, which Vicente had placed on the floor next to Benson’s chair. He opened and peered into it. He said, “My, my. Have you brought me the remains of another victim. They’re small. It must’ve been a child.” He reached in and his hand came out holding the skull fragment. “Aha. Not a human at all, but a gunshot victim, nevertheless. Don’t tell me that you brought me the bones of someone’s poor dog.” Quinn said, “Okay, I won’t tell you that. From the location, it could’ve been a dog but that’s unlikely. It was in a wild area where coyotes roam.” Billy Ben had a puzzled look on his face. “Then why do we have these bones?” Brian replied, “Because it was near the crime scene on Palm Drive where Deputy Polk was murdered. The bullet in that bag there was laying under that skull piece. Because of the location, we believe that it is very possible the Polk killer or one of his cohorts shot this coyote.” Billy Ben laid down the skull piece and examined the bullet. He said, “A 32 caliber and the skull bullet hole matches that size. If we had the gun, there’s enough of the bullet left to prove it came from that weapon. Brian, you know that there are a thousand or more 32 caliber pistols in Hidalgo County alone. The coyote killer could claim self-defense. So, I fail to see the value in this evidence.” Pedro smirked. Quinn said, “Very funny. Quit giving me a hard time. You know that if we catch the shooter, matching his pistol to this bullet would prove that he had been at the location where Polk was killed.” Benson emptied the garbage sack on to his desktop. The bones clattered on the wooden desktop and a couple of pieces fell off the edge to the floor. Vicente picked them up and added them to the pile. Billy Ben picked up a rib and examined it then he laid it down and picked up a leg bone. He said, “The critters out there cleaned these bones. It would be fun to identify what all kinds feasted on this coyote from the bite marks on these bones, like possums and rats and

maybe even a skunk or two. Too bad I don’t have the time. The buzzards didn’t have a chance to get their share. One thing I can see right off though is that these bones are not ancient. They could not be more than a few days old because they’re not weathered, and sun bleached.” Brian said, “The highest priority from our viewpoint is that you check the blood type from the spatter on the grass that we picked up. If it matches Polk’s blood type, that would help clinch that we found the crime scene where he was murdered.” Billy Ben picked up the plastic sack containing the spotted grass samples. He examined them, then said, “Well I’ll try. Not sure there’s enough there to work with, but I’ll give it my best shot. You know, this is the first time I’ve ever had coyote bones brought to me as evidence. I think I’ll start me a museum and make them the first exhibit. As ubiquitous as coyotes are in Texas, it will happen again someday. Bound to. Or the next thing I know someone will bring me armadillo remains. Which reminds me do you know how many A&M Aggies it takes to eat and armadillo?” Brian said, “I’ll bite. How many?” Benson said, “Three, one to eat it and two to watch for cars.” Laughing, Pedro said, “Ugh! Well at least that wasn’t a Mexican joke.” Quinn said, “Since you said that Pedro, Polk’s ghost insists that I tell one. What do you call four Mexicans in quicksand?” Billy Ben asked, “What?” Brian said, “Quatro sinko.” Pedro had to laugh. Billy Ben said, “Craig’s murder still has the highest priority, so check back with me on the blood and all the rest of this stuff tomorrow after five o’clock PM.” Vicente said, “Yes sir. Will do. Thanks for the ‘PM’. I wouldn’t like it here at five A.M.” As the two deputies turned and walked away, Quinn said in a loud stage whisper, “With a name like William Bennett Benson, he should have been nicknamed

‘Ben Ben’. Or heck, even ‘Willie Ben Ben’.”

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CHAPTER 33

Incident

David Garza opened the door of his trailer house hideout and stepped out down the two step stairs and onto the concrete pad nearby. He surveyed his new neighborhood. His temporary home was located in the rear row of the Beauleche Meadows RV Park about a mile east of Pharr city limits. A row of oak and elm trees would shade his trailer house, and the five others that shared the back row, from the noon and afternoon sun. Last night, he had met his new neighbors. All were retirees from northern states who had come to South Texas as what the locals called, “snowbirds.” Yankees with RVs who fled south to escape the severe northern winters. These five parties had decided that they liked Texas enough to make it their permanent homes in spite of the summer heat. They kept their RVs instead of buying or renting houses; as one had told David last night, so that they still had their option to go North in the summer if it got to where they could not afford the electric bills for air-conditioning. So far, the Southwestern Electric Company gave them reduced rates during the summer. David thought that without doubt, the company charged-off the difference against taxes as charity. It bothered David that the youngest amongst these converted Yankees were in their early 70s. They looked at him like they would look at their grandchildren. He felt like a child amongst adults must. The old ladies cooed at him like they once had at their babies and toddlers. He was polite and he tried to hide his feelings, but it made him furious. Another thing that bothered him was that he no longer had his sporty Lincoln Mark II. Diego had explained to him that like his hideout on Palm Drive, a description of the Mark II must be known to the police. So instead he now had a lime green 1940 Dodge coup. A Dodge was a step up over a similar model Chevrolet or Ford, but seventeen years old. It was a sickly color, and a two-door coup at that. He felt cramped, and like he was driving an antique in spite of the

fact that it was clean and in excellent running condition. When he had complained, Diego had told him that there were two important things about this car. First, if he obeyed the traffic laws, a policeman would not give it a look. Second, it was what David’s Papa wanted him to have. Diego said, “Look kid, I went against your Father’s wishes in providing you with that flashy sports car. He was angry at me when he found out what you were driving. He said driving that Mark II in front of a policeman would be like a bull fighter waving a red flag in front of El Toro. I could not go against his wishes again and survive.” As Diego said “survive,” he drew his finger across his throat. That was something David understood, and he offered no more argument. David felt bored and lonely. There was no one here in the Beauleche Meadows RV Park that understood him. And no girlfriend for him. He decided that he had to get out for a while. So, he took the coup for a drive. First he decided to see what was on at the two closest theaters. The sign at the Cactus Drive-In Theater read, “The Teahouse of the August Moon.” David hadn’t seen that, but it didn’t seem like anything he wanted to watch. So, he drove on into downtown Pharr. The Texas Theater sign said, “I’ll Cry Tomorrow.” David thought, “Chinga! I’ll cry today if there’s not a good movie to watch somewhere now.” David drove out of Pharr toward McAllen on Highway 83. He knew this was risky. He kept his eyes peeled for any sign of a patrol car but saw none. Without thinking about it, he turned North on Sugar Road. The first Halas cotton field just north of Palm Drive had no cotton loaded trailer and no workers picking. So, David drove on, looking at the fields on both sides of the road. about halfway to the Halas home, he saw a familiar looking four-wheel trailer and he recognized several of the workers in the field. He pulled off and stopped in a neighboring citrus orchard hiding his car behind trees. He watched for a while, but he did not see Natalia nor any other member of the Diaz family. He decided that he needed to know why. When a worker lifted his full sack up on his shoulder and headed for the trailer, he saw Mark straighten up, unhitch his sack’s strap and follow. So, David walked out into the field toward the trailer, too. Several of the workers noticed him, look surprised and stared. He decided to ignore them and kept going. At the trailer, Mark had weighed the cotton sack and was recording the number in his spiral pocket notebook when he noticed David coming up to him. Like the other workers, he too looked surprised and startled. “Hey David,” he said. “What are you doing here? You know the sheriff’s deputies are looking for you and,

they could come by here anytime.” “Yeah I know. I won’t stay long. I just want to ask where the Diaz family is.” Mark said, “Victoria Diaz wasn’t feeling well, and the whole family went, taking her to the doctor’s office. They left about an hour ago.” Then Mark gave David a sharp look, and said, “You’re not interested in Natalia are you? You know I’m dating her.” David smiled and said, “I know that her Papa does not want her hooking up with a gringo like you. On the other hand, my name is Garza. So, he will approve of me.” Mark balled up his fists but then rested both of them on his hips. He said, “The deputies told me about you. As soon as a deputy or a policeman finds you, you’re going to jail for killing that pin boy in Harlingen. Juan Pablo Diaz would not approve of his daughter dating a murderer. You stay away from her.” The two boys had now raised their voices and they had the attention of all the workers in the field. Several of them were walking towards them. David’s fists were also now balled up but at his sides. He said, “This is America. Here women decide who to go with and who to marry. We’ll let Natalia decide.” Mark said, “She doesn’t need your kind of trouble, you whore monger.” David’s face flushed red. He stepped forward and swung his right fist toward Mark’s face. The swing was wide, and Mark parried the blow with his left forearm as he leaned forward putting his weight behind his right fist, smashing it into David’s nose. David’s head snapped back, and he went down flat on his back blood pouring from his smashed nose, some of it into his open mouth causing him to gag. He rolled over onto his all fours and staggered up. As he did his right hand ducked in and out of his pocket, producing a switchblade which he flicked, opening a wicked looking five-inch blade. Seeing this, Mark stepped back, then as David jabbed the knife at him he jumped back further and tripping he went down on his butt. David switched his grip holding the knife and a stabbing position and stepped forward raising the knife. Strong hands grabbed his arm and twisted it back behind him causing him to drop the knife and grunt in pain. Emilio and two other workers secured David

with grips on both arms and an arm around David’s neck. Mark climbed to his feet and said, “Don’t choke him.” Emilio repeated it in Spanish. The worker with the neck grip released it and bent over. Picking up the knife he offered it handle first to Mark. Mark took it and closed the blade back into the handle. He said, “We don’t have any ropes, but this knife will come in handy. We can use it to cut straps off of a couple of the extra sacks, and then use them to tie his arms and legs. We’ll keep him here in the shade of the trailer until Dad comes and we can get a message out to the sheriff’s office.” David was desperate. He spat out spittle mixed with blood. Then he twisted his head and addressing the workers, said in Spanish, “Don’t help this gringo. My name is Garza. Help me. I want to go from here.” Emilio kept his grip on David’s right arm, but the worker holding the left arm let go and stepped back. David turned toward Emilio straightening his right arm and twisting loose from Emilio’s grip. He brought around his left fist and punched Emilio’s gut just below his chest. Emilio staggered back and bent over. Then David ran toward the citrus orchard and his car. He stumbled once on the uneven ground of the cotton crop rows and he used his hands and legs to crawl forward and then straighten himself back up continuing his forward momentum. As David disappeared into the orchard, Mark struggled up onto his feet and stared after him. Then he looked down at the switchblade in his hand and said, “I guess I’ll keep this for the sheriff’s deputies.” He thought, too bad I didn’t ask him where he is living now before the fight broke out. Oh well, he wouldn’t have told me that anyhow.

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That afternoon, Mark yielded the knife to detectives Quinn and Vicente as he told them what had happened. Vicente held open a plastic bag and Mark dropped the knife in. “Mark,” said Brian, “Did you touch the knife blade?”

Mark said, “Well yes. When I closed the knife.” Vicente said, “We’ll need for you to come down to the sheriff’s office in Edinburg to let us fingerprint you. That way we can discount your fingerprints from others that we may find on the knife.” Mark’s Father, John Halas, said, “Is that necessary? I thought you all just fingerprinted criminals.” Quinn said, “That’s not true. It’s just routine to fingerprint innocent bystanders when it’s necessary to help separate their fingerprints from those of criminals on pieces of evidence. In this case you’re telling us about an attempted murder with your son as the victim of the attack. You’re very lucky that these workers intervened. We believe that David Garza murdered a sheriff’s deputy using a knife with a much bigger blade than this one. He’s a very dangerous person. We will also want Mark to make a written statement about this incident while he’s at the courthouse.” John said, “. I hadn’t heard about a murdered sheriff’s deputy.” Brian said, “Listen to your radio tonight. It’s on the news today.” John said, “Okay, I guess this is very important. I’ll come with Mark. When do you want to see us in Edinburg? Could we do it on Saturday or on Sunday in the afternoon?” Vicente said, “Either day would be fine. The sheriff’s department operates around the clock, twenty-four seven.” John looked at Mark who nodded yes and then John said, “Saturday afternoon it will be.” Brian said, “Very good. Please wait here a few minutes.” He motioned to Vicente to follow him and walked to the patrol car. He opened the trunk and opened a box inside it. He took out a second box of batteries and two small devices and showed them to Pedro, saying, “Walkie-talkies.” Then they walked back. Quinn handed one of them and the box to the farmer, saying, “That is a handheld radio called a ‘walkie-talkie’. When you want to use it, you pull out the antenna here and you press this button to talk. Then you release it and listen. It’s made by

Motorola and they list it as having a five-mile range. I’ve tested it, and it can reach up to 10 miles on fresh batteries. As the batteries go down, the range will shorten. Please keep this on whichever one of you is in the field. If you see David, ignore and avoid him, but press the button and call us. One of us will acknowledge. I promise that one of us will be in range and come. Did you both get all that?” John said, “I think so.” He glanced at his son who nodded yes. Brian said, “Okay, good. We’re going to leave now. Let’s test. When Detective Vicente and I get in the car, press the button and talk.” Back in the patrol car, the detectives heard John’s voice say, “Hello Sheriff’s Department. Testing.” Quinn pressed the button on his walkie-talkie and said, “Thank you, John. Now to leave it with Mark when you go.” Then he started up the patrol car and drove away. He turned North on Sugar Road and headed toward Edinburg. Pedro asked, “What’s the plan?” Brian said, “After we check-in at Edinburg and eat lunch, you should take the first shift with this walkie-talkie. Patrol the Palm Drive and Sugar Road area but stay within radio range and where you can respond quickly. I’ll relieve you at 8 o’clock this evening, and you relieve me at 8 o’clock in the morning. Oh, and don’t forget to bring your lunch pail tomorrow. The restaurants in Pharr and McAllen are little too far away for the walkie-talkies and also for quick response.” Pedro said, “David might show up again now before I get back.” Quinn said, “No, he won’t come back right away after what just happened. I expect he’ll come sneaking back at night for revenge. And he’ll be armed with both a knife and a gun. Or he may brood about it for a day or two and then come back.” Vicente said, “What if he decides to come at night and the Halas family are at home asleep?” Brian asked, “They have dogs don’t they?”

Pedro said, “One small dog.” Quinn said, “The dog will bark and that will cause David to back off. A lot of people, when hearing their dogs bark at night, will pick up a gun and go check it out. David is bound to know that. Anyway, I’m taking the night shift and I’ll be watching for David.”

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CHAPTER 34

Anticipation

When David Garza returned to his hideout at the Beauleche Meadows RV Park and climbed out of his Dodge, the lady who lived right next door was outside shaking dust out of a rug. She said, “My God, David. What happened to your face?” He said, “Ran into a post.” Then he ducked his head and hurried into his trailer house. In the tiny bathroom, he looked at his smashed nose. He had been in fights like this before, and he knew what to do. He leaned forward over the sink and using both hands pushed the cartilage back in place straightening his nose. He couldn’t help grunting from the pain. He grabbed a wad of Kleenexes from a box that he kept on the top of the commode waterbox and held them to his face in a reflexive effort to stanch the renewed blood flow. He kept leaning over the sink until the bleeding ceased. David was past angry. He was now coldly furious. He picked up his pistol, sat on the bed and stared at it as he thought about revenge. What Mark had done to him was worse than when that wetback named Angel had insulted him by jerking his homemade staff from his hands. Angel had paid the price for that, and David vowed that Mark would also pay in full measure. He also thought about Natalia. When Mark was out of the way, his path would be clear to claiming her. With her as his wife, they would be the respectable family that his Father wanted him to have. Then thinking about his Father brought him back to revenge. He had observed that his Father never allowed anyone to get away with an insult. He knew that his Father would expect him to do no less. He worshiped his Father and wanted to be like him. David looked at the calendar that he had pinned to the wall. He had X’ed off each day as it ed. It was Friday. He decided he would wait out the weekend before going back to Sugar Road. He needed to rest and to let his nose quit throbbing. Also, he needed to plan his move against Mark. There might be

sheriff’s deputies looking for him in that neighborhood after what happened today. He couldn’t let them see him. This would require a lot of caution, which was something he normally didn’t worry about. Back in the bathroom, David opened the medicine cabinet. From a bottle and a vial respectively, he took out two 500 mg Tylenol caplets and a 4 mg tizanidine pill. He kept a plastic tumbler next to the Kleenex box; he filled it with water and used it to wash down the medicines. He would have liked to have a real narcotic to relieve the pain he was suffering, but his Father forbade him from indulging in such. The muscle relaxer, tizanidine, worked as a sleeping pill and also helped with pain. David laid down on his back on the fold-down bed and soon was sound asleep.

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On arriving in Edinburg, the two deputies decided it would be best to go by the office first and report their plans to Sheriff Leroy Thompson. After Quinn finished his summary, the Sheriff said, “Good work. And I like your plan. We should use the walkie-talkies more often. Have either of you talked to Billy Ben yet today.” They both shook their heads no. “He has some news about your case that you should know. Have you boys had lunch yet?” Again, they both shook their heads no. “Let’s have lunch together, and I’ll try to pry Bennett out of the lab so he can tell you the news himself. I’ll buy lunch for everybody. Free lunch will lure him out.” He picked up the phone and pressed the button labeled “lab.” After talking to the Coroner, he hung up and said, “Good. He’ll be right up. Where would you guys like to eat?” Vicente said, “Tamez’ Restaurant has the best enchiladas and tacos in the Valley.” Brian said, “Not Mexican food. That stuff gives me heartburn. Pedro said, “There’s Alka-Seltzer® for that.” Quinn said, “Maybe we should wait and see where Billy Ben wants to eat. He is the connoisseur of the department.”

Leroy said, “Billy Ben will eat anything and anywhere. Thanks for the suggestions Vicente, but I guess I’ll decide since I’m buying. Bennett walked in and quipped, “I heard that, Leroy. Surely we’re not gonna eat at Allison’s Restaurant again.” Thompson said, “Okay we’ve got three of you guys each of which would go eat at a different restaurant if he were by himself. So, we’re going to Luby’s Cafeteria where you each can pick whatever you want to eat and as much of it as you want for a reasonable price.” The other three men all groaned loudly. Then they looked at each other and broke out laughing. Leroy said, “Very funny guys.” Then he picked up the phone and dialed the receptionist. “Tricia, call Luby’s and see if a meeting room is available. If so reserve it in my name for two hours starting fifteen minutes from now. If not, see if you can reserve us a table for four in a corner where we will at least have some privacy.” The meeting room was designed for thirty people, so the four men had plenty of elbow room; although, the sheriff insisted that they sit on the same table near one end. As they ate, he said, “Okay this is a business lunch, so Billy Ben make it officially one by telling our two detectives your news.” Bennett said, “We were lucky with the bullet from the dead coyote skeleton. The markings on the bullet made by the gun barrel match those on the bullet taken from the body of the Progresso victim. I can say of a certainty that the two bullets were fired by the same gun.” Both deputies looked startled. Vicente spoke first, “That connects David Garza to three killings that we know of: the bowling alley victim, Deputy Polk, and now also the Progresso murder. The Valley has a serial killer.” Brian said, “Hold on Vicente. We can’t yet say for sure that he’s guilty of all three murderers. there’s indications that two or more people were involved in evacuating the Polk murder scene on Palm Drive before we got there. So, at this point we can say for sure that Ernesto Garza’s gang is involved but only that David Garza is a suspect in three murders. There’s a possibility that one of the other gang killed one or two of the victims. The bowling alley murder is the only one that can be pinned on David Garza without doubt.” Pedro said in Mexican slang, “Sure dude.”

Sheriff Thompson said, “Brian’s right. I don’t want to hear the phrase ‘serial killer’ come from anybody’s mouth unless we discover more evidence that proves it. You know what the news media would do with it, and some people would panic and do stupid things. We don’t need exaggerated news and collateral damage fogging up the picture. Vicente said, “Yes sir. I’m beginning to get nervous about being away from where David might strike today. I’m going to get a to-go package for my food and head out.”

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That evening, on the drive home, Mark said, “Dad, I know that the deputies say they’re going to be within walkie-talkie range, but if David comes back with a gun he could shoot me dead before a deputy could get there. You keep your shotgun in the Woody, but I have nothing. I need something for self-defense. When we’re in Edinburg tomorrow afternoon why don’t we go buy me a pistol?” John looked at his son, then shook his head saying, “No. There’s a lot of things that could go wrong with that idea. If you were to shoot David before he fired a gun, or if he didn’t have a gun, then you could be arrested and put on trial. You might be convicted at least of manslaughter and sent to prison.” Mark shuttered at the thought. “You’ve been saving a lot of money to go to ACC this fall, and I’ve been setting aside money to help you. The college…, heck no college would want to it you knowing that you had killed someone, even if the jury found you not guilty by self-defense. There would go your college education down the drain.” Mark said, “What do I do then?” John said, “Don’t be such a nervous Nelly. Trust the detectives. Those are two good men. They won’t let you down. And that’s enough said about this for now. I don’t want anything about this said in front of your Mother. We don’t need her fretting and worrying about it all day and night like she would. Could give her a heart attack.”

Mark said, “Okay Dad.”

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CHAPTER 35

Siege

When David awoke, it was midafternoon, and the sun shone brightly through the trailer’s windows. David went into his bathroom to relieve himself. Clicking on the light and looking in the mirror, he saw that he had a black eye in addition to the bruised nose. Cupping water in his hands he washed his face being careful around the sore nose. He cussed Mark Halas and decided that he could not wait for revenge. He had to have it today. He went to his bookshelf and retrieved a map of Hidalgo County. As he munched on a sandwich, he studied it carefully and planned his route. From Highway 83 he would go north on Jackson Road then cut across to Sugar Road near the Halas home. From there he would drive south to the citrus orchard adjacent to the cotton field where he knew they were working. Mark would be there. After Mark was dead, he would cut back across to Jackson Road and go north to where it dead ended into FM Road 1925. From there he could go east through Edinburg and then south on FM 907 to Highway 83 at Alamo. It would be a short trip from there through San Juan back to the trailer park. He thought this route should avoid any deputies lurking on Palm Drive. David armed himself with his eagle head knife in its scabbard on his right hip and his pistol in a scabbard on his left hip, western style. He left his trailer locking the door behind, him, got into his Dodge coupe and drove out of the trailer park. The neighbor lady in the trailer next door watched David depart through her window. She shook her head in dismay at his weapons. She thought he must be up to no good. She decided that she should call the police and report it.

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Deputy Pedro Vicente sat in his patrol car in the shade of an elm tree in the vacant lot on Palm Drive. He had tested his walkie-talkie earlier and had made a good connection with Mark. It was late in the afternoon and very hot in spite of the afternoon breeze from the east. He had all four doors open on his car. He had walked around the vacant lot again looking to see if there was any evidence that they had missed before. The activity had caused him to sweat, and he was trying to cool off. He started the engine and turned on the air conditioner adjusting the vents to blow on him. He would have to turn the ignition off after a few minutes to keep the engine from overheating. The police radio in the car came to life with, “Calling Deputy Vicente. Come in Deputy Vicente. Over.” Pedro picked up the mike, clicked it on and said, “Vicente here. What’s up Trish?” The dispatcher said, “Millie Jordan called on the telephone here asking for you. She said she needs to talk to you at the Bulldog Café.” Vicente said, “Did she say ‘needs to talk’ to me? Or is that just your version? I mean did it sound like there was trouble?” Trish said, “She said that she needs to talk to you, and then she hung up without adding anything else.” Pedro said, “Okay I’ll handle it. Thank you and out.” He sat there and thought. He had a dilemma. He was sure that the Bulldog Café would be out of range for walkie-talkie with Mark. He was supposed to stay in range, but he decided that he had to check up and make sure that Millie was not in trouble at the restaurant. He closed the car doors and headed out. He planned to make it a quick trip and hurry back.

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David was approaching the Sugar Road intersection on Highway 83 when he saw Vicente’s patrol car pull onto the highway from Palm Drive and head away from him toward McAllen. Apparently the cop in the car was in a hurry and it sped away so quickly that he didn’t have to slow down to keep from approaching it.. He decided that it was no threat to him because even if the cop saw him in the rearview mirror he wouldn’t know what David’s current car looked like. David would stick to his plan, so he turned north on Jackson Road when he reached it.

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The Hidalgo County Sheriff’s Department dispatcher received a report by telephone from the Pharr Police Department that a lady had called in saying a heavily armed young men had left an RV Park headed west on Highway 83. She copied down the information on a phone call notepad. Trisha knew that Detective Quinn was working a night shift, so she put the note in the inbox on Detective Vicente’s desk. She thought about calling Pedro Vicente on the radio with the report, but she ed that he had sounded upset just a little while ago when she had radioed him about the call from the Bulldog Café. Most citizen call ins like the one to the Pharr Police Department were a waste of time for the officers responding to them. It was the end of her workday shift and she was anxious to get home. So, she let it ride.

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The sun was less than an hour from the horizon and sunset. The workers had all brought in their last sack fulls of the day and headed out for the evening. Waiting on his Father to come for him and the trailer, Mark sat on the tongue of the fourwheel trailer which was full 6 feet deep with raw cotton. He was busy adding up the weights of cotton for the day for each worker using his pocket notepad and pencil and eraser. In the quiet of the evening, Mark could hear the faint sound of the wind blowing through the tree limbs and the occasional calls of the birds in the trees. He liked the call of the kind of bird that made the tweet after which it

was named, sounding like “Bob White.” David parked his car behind a citrus tree in the adjacent orchard. The ground between the trees had been plowed, but the weeds growing up under the edges of the limbs of the citrus trees obscured the view of the car wheels from the cotton patch. Those weeds required chopping down by hand and that had not been done. Peeking out around the tree, David saw Mark sitting on the trailer tongue. He decided to circle around and approach the trailer from its backend so that Mark would not see him coming. He approached the trailer quietly, but not completely silently. There were large clods by the edge of the dirt road that had been turned up by the plows removing the weeds. David’s stepping on and crunching the clods made a faint sound. In the silence of the evening, Mark heard that out of place sound. He thought maybe one of the workers was still around. He stood up, put the pad and pencil in his shirt pocket and walked around the corner of the trailer to see. Instead of a worker, Mark was surprised to find David coming toward him with an animal like angry grimace and a large knife in his hand in a stabbing grip. David raised the knife above his head and rushed forward growling like a dog. Mark stepped forward, grabbed David’s forearm with both hands and slammed it against the trailer side as their bodies slammed into each other. The knife flew out spinning end over end in the air. By chance it stuck in the ground about two yards away the Eagle’s head pointed up at the sky. They each staggered back a step. David with two fingers pointing forward attempted to stab Mark’s eyes. Mark ducked his head forward as he punched David in the ribs. The two fingers grazed Mark’s cheeks, the fingernails drawing blood. They both staggered back again a couple of steps. David reached for his pistol seeing this Mark turned and ran. Righthanded David made the mistake of shooting left-handed for Mark’s head instead of his body. Mark felt the wind from a bullet whizzing by his ear just before he ducked around the corner of the front of the trailer. He stepped up on the trailer tongue and climbed up over the top throwing himself down on the cotton. He had earlier thrown the cotton scales up on top of the trailer and Mark’s left wrist hit it painfully. He rolled over on his back and examined his wrist. Luckily it was bruised but not broken. With Mark on top of the trailer and David below beside it, now a siege began.

Pistol pointed forward and finger on the trigger, David walked around the trailer looking in all directions as he went, searching for Mark. He realized then that Mark must be on top of the cotton in the trailer. He was standing at the side of the trailer that faced the cotton field. He decided he would climb up the trailer side and shoot Mark. The cotton was very warm from the sun shining on it during the day, and Mark was sweating. He did not dare to sit up or stand up fearing making himself into a visible target. The cotton scale was a balance about a yard long and made of carbon steel. He gripped it near the narrow end and lifted it up, a few inches above the cotton. He swung it side to side feeling its weight. It was heavy but he could handle it like a club. He had a weapon! He twisted around trying to look in all directions. He had no way to tell from which direction David would come at him. Mark heard a creaking sound on one trailer side. He looked in that direction and saw David’s head and shoulders rise above the top wood board. As David gripped the top board with his left hand and raised his pistol with his right, Mark swung the scale overhead bringing it down. It struck David on the right shoulder and bounced sideways knocking the gun out of David’s hand. The gun flew up in the air and away from the trailer. David fell backwards and landed hard flat on his back on the footsteps packed ground below, his head between the cotton plants on the ends of two rows. Mark peeked over the edge and saw David get up and look for his pistol. He lay back and thought. David would find the pistol and attack again from a different direction. He might get a shot off and that would be deadly. Mark began digging a long foxhole in the cotton. He made it 12 inches deep, 2½ to 3 feet wide and 6 feet long. He lay in it but kept his grip on the cotton scale. He resumed looking around expecting David to appear again.

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John Halas turned his Woody station wagon out of his home driveway onto Sugar Road. He headed south to pick up his son and the cotton trailer. The field where they were was a mile and a half away. It would only take him five minutes

to get there.

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Pedro Vicente turned from US Highway 83 onto Palm Drive and crossed over the railroad tracks. He turned into the vacant lot and parked. Millie had only wanted to know what Pedro’s intentions were about next Tuesday evening so she could plan ahead. Pedro tried to call Mark on the walkie-talkie. There was no answer, and he decided to try again in five minutes.

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David had found his gun and was circling the trailer again trying to decide what to do. He was at the front of the trailer when the walkie-talkie sitting on the ground there crackled to life with static and a voice asking for Mark to respond. David looked at it, then decided to ignore it. He made another decision. He would not climb up there and risk being hit again with whatever that weapon was that Mark had. Instead, he would shoot through the cotton at upward angles until he killed Mark. He stood to one side and fired upward into the cotton between the trailer sideboards. The first shot was close to the edge and the bullet flew out at the top throwing cotton into the air. Mark was startled but continued to lay flat while he raised his head a little to see what he could. The next bullet came closer to Mark and the cotton it threw up fell down on his back. Before he could do anything else, the third bullet, traveling through a longer path, was stopped by the cotton. But Mark felt it as a punch to the gut. He let out an involuntary grunt. He rolled away toward the opposite side from David. Lying on his back, Mark was sure that he had been shot. He felt of his stomach where it hurt but found no bullet hole and raising his hand he saw no blood on it. Surprised, Mark realized what had happened. The cotton stopped the bullet but did not save him from the impact, and it hurt!

Having heard Mark’s grunt, David paused and called out a taunt. “Are you hurt Mark? Oh, too bad!” Then he fired again. The fourth bullet had an even longer path through the cotton. So, it too was stopped, and Mark felt it as a punch to his back, which caused him to grunt again. David said, “I heard that too. So, you’re still alive up there. We’ll see what we can do about that.” David decided to walk around to the other side of the trailer and shoot again. Mark guessed what David was doing and he rolled back into his foxhole.

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Deputy Vicente heard the gunshots as distant popping sounds. From experience he knew what they were. He said, “Chinga kaká!” He flipped on the cherry top light and the siren as he started the engine. The patrol car had a standard transmission instead of an automatic one. He jammed the gear lever into reverse and popped the clutch out. The rear wheels spun slipping on the grass causing the car to back slowly out of the vacant lot. The rear wheels lay down rubber in two streaks when they hit the pavement of Palm Drive. Pedro shifted into neutral as he stomped the brake pedal, then he ground the gears by shifting into drive and popping the clutch out again. The rear tires squealed leaving two long black streaks on the pavement. Pedro thumbed the switch on the mike and reported that he was responding to gunshots on Sugar Road at the Halas cotton patch and requesting backup.

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John Halas braked to a halt on Sugar Road when he heard gunshots, and he then saw a figure shooting a pistol up into the cotton trailer. At the same time, he saw an arm and a head pop up and down on top of the cotton trailer. Without thinking he jumped out of the Woody. Running around, he opened the back door of the station wagon and grabbed his loaded shotgun. There was no time for anything but to shoot. David Garza was killing his son! In one smooth motion from long experience as a hunter, he pumped the shotgun as he shouldered it and pulled the

trigger. The blast was normal as was the kick against his shoulder, but the bird shot pellets reacted to the barrel being bulged at the end and scattered in a wide cone pattern. John exclaimed, “Dammit all to hell!” He ed that the shotgun was damaged due to being fired when plugged by the Diaz boy that he had hired to protect his maize crop from the birds. He would have to get closer for the shotgun to be effective. If necessary he would use it as a club. John heard the distant siren. There was no time to wait on that either. He took off running across the field.

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David had just decided that firing up through the cotton was not getting the job done when he heard the siren. He was immediately sure that it had to be a sheriff’s deputy coming after him. He had to get this over with now. He would have to climb up the trailer side and lead with his pistol instead of his face shooting as he went. He stuck the pistol in its scabbard, grabbed a sideboard on the trailer to start pulling himself up. Before his feet were off the ground a shotgun pellet hit him in the lower center of the back and two more pellets made popping sounds as they hit boards on the side of the trailer. This happened almost simultaneously with the loud bang of the shotgun blast. He dropped back to the ground and turned as he reached back and felt of the spot where he had been hit. There was something small and hard stuck in his shirt there. He caught it between his thumb and finger, and it came loose. He knew he had been shot but this was not a bullet. He looked at it and saw a tiny black ball. He recognized that it was a shotgun pellet. He looked up and saw John Halas running across the field toward him waving a shotgun. At the same time the siren sound became right there along with the flashing red light as the patrol car turned off of Sugar Road onto the dirt road bordering the field and headed for him and the cotton trailer. All of this action ed with Mark and he stood up in the cotton on top of the trailer with the iron scale for weighing cotton still in his right hand. David turned and started to run toward the citrus orchard where his car was hidden. Mark shouted, “No you don’t you son of a bitch,” as he hurled the cotton scale. It spun through the air end over end. It made a deadly weapon with sharp points

on both ends. As luck would have it, the round part of the heavy end struck David a glancing blow on the back of his head just as he had made five steps away from the trailer. He went down face first in the cotton field. Pedro Vicente saw David go down. He switched off the siren and light, got out and started walking toward David. He looked up and saw that Mark was still standing up top of the trailer on the cotton. Pedro said, “Come on down Mark.” Motion seen out of the corner of his eye brought Pedro’s attention back to the fallen killer as he still walked in that direction. John Halas had trotted up, stopped and had his shotgun pointed down at David. He pumped the shotgun. Pedro shouted, “John, don’t do it!” Mark said, “Dad don’t shoot!” John Halas stood motionless. Then he took a deep breath, swung the shotgun so it pointed straight up and rested the stock on his hip. He said, “But Mark, he was trying to kill you!” Pedro put his hand on the shotgun and took it away from John. Then he thumbed the safety on and said, “Mr. Halas, please go stand over there by the trailer.” John complied and Mark climbed down off the trailer and ed him. Pedro kneeled down and he gently felt the bloody spot on the back of David’s head. There was a large bump there, but the skull seem to be intact. He took his handkerchief out and used it to protect the back of David’s head while he turned him over. He then handcuffed David’s wrists. He picked up David’s pistol and stuck it in his belt. David’s eyes fluttered as his consciousness was returning. He opened his eyes, frowned and said, “Ow! What hit me? Man, my head hurts!” Pedro said, “David Garza, you’re under arrest. Do you think you can stand up, or do you want me to call for an ambulance?” David said, “Let me try to stand up.” Vicente took David’s right arm and helped him to his feet. David swayed a little but then he straightened up. His face contorted as he realized his situation. He then said, “I need to call my Father.” Vicente said, “They’ll be time for that later. First, I’m going to take you to the hospital in Edinburg. After the doctors have checked you over and when they’re

through with you, you’re going to jail. You’ll be given the opportunity to call your Father from there.” Pedro picked up the shotgun and then walked David to the patrol car. As he put David in the back seat, another Sheriff’s Department patrol car drove up and parked behind Pedro’s . Deputy Nick Worley stepped out of it and said, “Hey Pedro, sorry it took me so long to get here. I was in Pharr turning around when I got the call to back you up. Is everything under control?” Pedro said, “Yeah, but as usual the cavalry arrives when it’s too late to save the stagecoach from the indians.” Nick was staring at the shotgun in Pedro’s hands. He said, “Is that what they call a blunderbuss?” Pedro laughed. The two deputies walked over to the farmer and his son. Pedro pumped the shotgun repeatedly ejecting all of the shells from its magazine. He broke open the shotgun and removed the remaining shell from the firing position. John Halas caught most of the shells in midair. Mark picked up the two that he missed. As he handed the gun back to John, Pedro said, “What happened to your shotgun?” John explained about the Diaz boy getting it plugged with dirt and then firing it at the birds at his maize field. The two deputies shook their heads and grinned. Nick said, “I do not believe that I’ve met these two gentlemen.” Pedro said, “This is Deputy Nick Worley. Nick, this is farmer John Halas and his son Mark.” They shook hands. Pedro said to the farmers, “I believe the situation’s under control now, so we’ll be leaving you to your work. Be sure and include this incident in your written report when y’all come to Edinburg.” As the two deputies walked back to their patrol cars, Pedro said, “I’m taking the prisoner here back to Edinburg. I know you live in Pharr, but were you on duty?” Nick said, “Yes. Leroy assigned me to your old patrol route on Highway 83. It’s a heckuva way to finish my career, doing traffic. It’s just like when I started with the Sheriff’s Department 45 years ago. Haven’t made much progress, have I?” Pedro said, “Well I just started, and it’ll take me another 45 years to reach where you are today with the fine reputation that you have in the department and in the

county. I hope I get there, too.” Nick said, “Thank you. By the way, exactly who is the criminal you’ve got there?” Vicente said, “Take a good look at him. That’s David Garza, the bowling alley killer. We think that he also killed the Progresso victim and Deputy Polk, but we can’t prove that he did those two. We can prove though with witnesses that he attempted to murder Mark Halas here today.” Nick said, “If your witnesses include wetbacks, you better get their testimony recorded right away. You know how they are, here today, gone back home in Mexico tomorrow.” Pedro laughed and said, “Only three witnesses. John Halas, his son Mark and me. All three of us will tell the same true story in court. We have the pistol he was using, and that reminds me….” Pedro turned around and called out, “Hey Halas, please try to find some bullets that we can use for evidence. He fired several times. There should be some lying around here somewhere.” Nick said, “Well the sun is setting so my relief ought to be patrolling on the highway by now. I’ll go check on it before going home. See you at the Monday morning meeting.” Pedro said, “Hasta la vista.”

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CHAPTER 38

FBI

President Dwight “Ike” Eisenhower was an excellent . This fact had earned him the appointment as Supreme Allied Commander in Europe during World War II. His success in Europe made him unbeatable when he chose to run for president. Two men sat in front of the President’s desk in the Oval Office on this summer day in 1957, Attorney General Herbert Brownell Jr. and FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover. Ike knew the impressive history and background of the Director, but the military general in him was disgusted with what he perceived as a lack of proper respect shown to him by his subordinate, Hoover. When the President decided he needed a meeting with Hoover, the General in him naturally went through the chain of command which brought the Attorney General to the meeting. Upon receiving his law degree, the young Hoover ed the U.S. Department of Justice in 1917. He had served in various capacities in the Department under a series of seven presidents, from Woodrow Wilson to Dwight Eisenhower. He kept his opinion of the current president to himself, but unfortunately he was not a good actor and it showed on his face and in his manner. When General Brownell had told him of his invitation to meet with the President, he had replied that he was too busy, and the meeting would have to wait till next week. His boss then made it clear that the meeting was to be now, and that the president would tolerate no delay. As Hoover had taken his seat, he locked eyes with Ike and the two men stared silently. When he could tolerate the silence no longer, and although aware that the first to speak lost the contest, Hoover asked, “How can I serve you today Mr. President?” Ike said, “The CIA has called to my attention a problem that I believe should be handled by the FBI.”

Hoover said, “Allen Dulles’ territory and mine do not overlap. The FBI is aware of Russian spies in the U.S. and we are tracking them. We don’t need their help on this.” Ike smiled. He said, “That’s very good, but it’s not what I’m talking about. A CIA agent in Mexico reports that a serial killer exists in Texas, and he believes the killer is a Mexican citizen who travels back and forth across the border river there.” Hoover said, “Then why doesn’t he apprehend or erase the killer on the Mexican side?” Ike said, “There’s too many Mexican citizens crossing that border. He hasn’t been able to identify the killer.” Hoover said, “Then he doesn’t even know for sure that the killer is a Mexican.” Ike said, “I’m sure he has is his reasons for believing that. The point is that the murders are occurring on our side of the border. Due to the possibility that the murderer is a Mexican citizen, this case may be beyond the capabilities of local law enforcement. Also, there’s concern about the impact on relations between the United States and Mexico. I want you to assign an FBI team to the case to work only on our side of the border.” Hoover said, “Not being able to investigate the killer’s home base is a serious handicap for our agents.” Ike said, “The CIA will handle that part of the case. I know that you’re not used to doing this, but your agents will need to coordinate with the CIA agent. Get together with Allen and work it out.” Hoover stood and saluted in military style. He said, “Yes sir!” Then he turned on his heels and stomped out of the oval office. The Attorney General twisted in his chair to watch Hoover leave. Turning back, Brownell said, “I apologize for Hoover’s insolence, sir. I’ll see that he does not do anything like that again.” The President said, “I’d fire him for that right now, but he’s a well-known and popular Washington institution. The Republican Party does not need the shit

storm that would cause.” Brownell said, “No sir, it doesn’t.” Ike said, “Tell him that I want a written status report from the FBI on this case on my desk tomorrow afternoon, and no excuses.” Brownell said, “How often do you want follow-up reports?” Ike said, “I think weekly reports would be appropriate.” Ike thought ‘while I might not be able to replace Hoover, maybe now is the time to replace you.’ But he said nothing about that.

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Back in his office and seated comfortably behind his desk, Hoover asked his Associate Director, Clyde Tolson, “Who’s the best agent that we have in Texas?” Tolson said, “I’d say that’s Jim Crouch in the Dallas office, but on the other hand Ted Booth in the Houston office is just as good.” Hoover said, “Assign Teddy to the Valley serial killer case.” Tolson said, “Oh that case. The Attorney General called about it. The secretary gave me the call when you didn’t answer. He said that we must have a written status report on the Mexican serial killer case to the White House by 5 o’clock tomorrow afternoon and no excuses.” Hoover said, “That’s a stupid order, but we’ll have to do it. Ike has a feather up his ass about the case. Make sure that Teddy understands the Valley serial killer case is his number one priority right now and he has to take it over from the local law enforcement down there and start on it right away. Then get Allen Dulles on the phone for me.”

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CHAPTER 39

Steel Helmets

Pedro Vicente parked his patrol car next to an ambulance at the emergency entrance to the Edinburg Grandview Hospital. There were two doctors on duty handling emergency room patients. Doctor Dieter Bauman was well respected and liked in the community. He was assisted that evening by a young MD doing his residency, Doctor Aaron Maldonado. When Pedro walked in with his prisoner still in handcuffs, Doctor Bauman glanced at them. He said to Doctor Maldonado, “This girl is suffering an acute attack and has to have her appendix removed right away. I’m taking her to surgery. You see to those two.” Doctor Aaron Maldonado said, “We are very busy this evening Deputy. What’s the problem with your prisoner?” Vicente said, “He got hit on the back of the head with a heavy piece of iron. We need to make sure that he’s okay.” Aaron said, “You hit him with your pistol? Was he unconscious for any length of time?” Pedro said, “No I didn’t hit him, but he deserved what he got. Yes, he was unconscious for a short period, maybe five minutes.” Maldonado said, “That means he suffered a concussion. Set him down on the chair here and let me examine him.” First, the doctor looked David in the eyes. Seeing no indication there, he next felt around on David’s skull. When he pushed gently on the large bump there, David flinched and said, “Ow, damn it!” Aaron said to Vicente, “The cranium seems to be intact, but we’ll have to x-ray it to be sure. Also, there might be internal damage to his brain. We should keep

him in the hospital here for three days for observation.” Pedro said, “This man is a dangerous fugitive. He would have to be guarded and placed in a room from which he could not escape. Do you have a room like that? And can you do the x-ray tonight?” Aaron said, “There’s a couple of patients in line ahead of him for x-ray imaging, so it may be an hour for that, but no we don’t have bars on the windows of our rooms and the doors don’t lock.” Vicente said, “let’s do the x-rays tonight then, but after that I’m taking him to jail. We can bring him back for you to look at again each day for three days, or you can come to the jail to examine him each day.” Maldonado said, “That’s not ideal. I’m going to it him to the hospital for observation, and you officers will just have to guard him here.”

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later in room 204, Pedro handcuffed David to the head of the bed which was constructed of steel tubes welded together and painted brown. Then he picked up the phone on the table next to the bed and called the Sheriff’s Department. Sheriff Thompson came on the phone and said, “The dispatcher told me that you have the killer David Garza in custody, but that you are stuck with him at the hospital. Is that right?” Vicente said, “Yes sir. The Halas boy hit Garza on the head with the cotton scale in self-defense. It was made of iron. I was worried that the injury might cause him to drop dead on us before he could be questioned and put on trial. So, I brought him here to the ER to be checked out. The doctor insisted on itting him to the hospital for observation. I’m in the room with him now and I have him handcuffed to the bed.” Pedro knew that the self-defense statement was a lie, but he did not think that Mark Halas should be accused of assault with a deadly weapon for striking back at the one who had been trying to kill him. Thompson said, “Good work Pedro. A deputy will have to be guarding him all

the time until we get him in jail. I’ll send Brian Quinn to relieve you for the night shift, and you relieve him in the morning.” Vicente said, “Thank you sir.” A nurse came into the room and saw David Garza lying in bed fully clothed and handcuffed to the bed. Pointing to the handcuffs, she said, “Is that really necessary, deputy?” Pedro said, “Yes it is. He’s a dangerous man and I would hate for him to kill you or one of the other nurses in an escape attempt.” She said, “Oh!…. Well, here’s a hospital gown and he will need to change into it. I don’t see how he can do it while handcuffed to the bed.” Vicente said, “If he needs help with that, I will do it.” The nurse threw the gown onto the bed and turned and left the room. Pedro said to David, “There is the phone. Go ahead and call your Father. Be sure and tell him they’re taking good care of you here in the hospital.” Garza said, “While you’re listening to me?” Vicente said, “Yes. You’re not going to be alone so you can escape any time between now and your trial. So, you might as well get used to a deputy hearing everything you say.” David called his Father and explained his situation and a version of how he got there. Ernie Garza was furious with his son. He said, “Shut up and don’t say anything else in front of those officers. I will get you a lawyer. This gets hard to do when you disobey instructions and get stupid, but I still love you son.”

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After the phone call, Ernesto Garza sat for a full 15 minutes silently thinking. Then he called Diego Alonso in and said to him, “My son David is a prisoner in

Edinburg in the hospital. He is guarded by deputies. In two or three days they will put him in jail. I’m going to send a lawyer, but in the meantime I want you to go and look over the situation. Just observe, and do not do anything that the deputies will think is threatening. I don’t want you to get arrested or shot. Map out the route from the hospital to the Sheriff’s office in the courthouse and from there to the jail. Figure out how we can rescue David while they’re moving him from one place to the other. Any other time will be more difficult or impossible. The escape will need to include a safe route to Mexico. Then report back here to me in person. No phone calls. Any questions?” Diego said, “I will do is you command, but the hospital? Is David seriously hurt?” Ernie said, “A bump on the head. He’ll be okay. The sheriff is just being careful, that’s all.” Alonso said, “How long before you want me back here with my report?” Garza said, “One day and then be back.”

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“Pssst!” Hearing the whispered signal, Deputy Brian Quinn looked and saw a nurse standing in the doorway to the room motioning for him to come to her. As he did he cautiously looked around with his hand on the butt of his pistol. The nurse said in a low voice, “There’s a strange man lurking here. He’s been walking around in the halls for 30 minutes without going in any room or talking to anyone.” Brian said, “Where is he?” The nurse looked both ways, then said, “He saw me walking to this door just now, and he’s disappeared.” Quinn said, “Okay, thanks. If you see him again let me know right away. Use the phone in the nurses station and call me here in the room so he doesn’t see you

coming here. And don’t let him see you look at him.” Quinn closed the door and walked over to the table by the bed. He picked up the phone headset, dialed the Sheriff’s office and reported the incident. Then he placed a chair in the corner away from the window and facing the door. He sat there watching both entrances with his pistol in his hand resting in his lap. In the bed, David Garza slept peacefully unaware of the drama around him.

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The following morning, Deputy Pedro Vicente stopped by the Sheriff’s Department on the way to the hospital. Sheriff Thompson called him into his office. The Sheriff said, “Last night, they spotted one of Ernie Garza’s gang casing the situation at the hospital. I don’t think there’s any doubt that they plan to break out David. So, I’m beefing up the guard. I’m asg Nick Worley to assist you on the day shift. Tony Worley will work with Brian on the night shift. Additionally, a third deputy with a rifle and scope will be positioned on a rooftop with the view of that side of the hospital. Have Nick guard the window from the outside while you guard David’s room from its inside.”

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Back in San Benito, Diego reported to Ernie, saying, “Edinburg is about twice the size of San Benito. The hospital is maybe 10 blocks from the courthouse to the west, off Highway 107. There are several places along there where we could set up an ambush. After they get David in the courthouse and book him, the county jail is only about a block away on a plaza across from the courthouse. That will be a short trip, without much hiding place for an ambush.” Ernie spread out a city map of Edinburg. He studied it, and then said, “The Sheriff and his men will think the way you do. They will believe that any effort to rescue David will occur between the hospital and the courthouse. So, they will be expecting you to attack during that trip. After they get David in the

courthouse and book him, they will relax thinking that we’re not going to do it. That’s where we rescue him between the courthouse and the jail, when they’re not expecting it.” Ernie Garza had a surprise weapon. He had bought a 1957 Cadillac sedan Deville in the fall of ’56. Then he had taken it to the industrial area by the Port of Matamoros and had it customized. It had bulletproof glass all around. Steel plates were inserted in all four doors, in the wall separating the engine compartment from the front seat, in the wall to the trunk behind the back seat and in the roof. The additional weight was too much for the tires, so special tires used by some military trucks were bought for the modified luxury vehicle. Ernie and his henchmen referred to it as “the tank.” Ernie said, “We will use the tank. A sniper will shoot out the tires on the deputy’s vehicle transporting David. Then we will shoot the driver and guard in the car and anyone else in our way. After we have transferred David to the tank, we drive it away from the courthouse east then turn south and circle back around to Highway 107 on the west side of Edinburg. Turn left and go south on Jackson Road. We’ll transfer David to another vehicle and drive him to the river and across on the Los Ebanos Ferry. Diego said, “We can’t know whether they will simply walk him from the courthouse to the jail or put him in a patrol car and drive him on the one block trip.” Ernie said, “It doesn’t matter. Either way, we shoot his guards and put him in the tank. Use six armed men.”

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Sheriff Leroy Thompson sat in his office with a notepad in front of him on his desk and a sharpened number two lead pencil in his hand. In front of his desk in his guest chairs sat his detectives, Brian Quinn and Pedro Vicente. Other deputies were guarding David at the hospital. Thompson said, “Okay we got four things on my list here that they can try to spring David Garza while we’re transferring him. Let’s think harder. According to my sources, Ernie Garza is a very creative gangster and he will come up with something that we may not expect. So, what else do we need to do to head them off?” His phone rang, and

with an irritated look on his face Thompson picked up the headset. He listened for a few seconds, then said, “Dang it, I said no interruptions.” Then an astonished look came over his face. “What?! The FBI? Come on, no jokes. Oh. Okay, escort him back here to my office.” The two detectives rose in preparation to leave. The Sheriff said, “Keep your seat Quinn. You may need to hear this. You too Pedro but bring me another chair in here.” The secretary, Kate Vasquez, escorted the FBI agent into the office and she left. Agent Theodore (Ted) Booth was an average looking man. At 5'10” tall, he had light brown hair above slightly tanned skin with brown eyes set in a Jimmy Stewart face. He would blend in and be hard to find in a crowd. Thompson stood and leaned across his desk to shake hands. The agent said, “I’m Ted Booth with the FBI out of Houston. I’m here to help you with the Mexican serial killer case. I hear that you have a suspect in custody. Is that right?” The Sheriff said, “Welcome, and please have a seat. These two are detectives Brian Quinn and Pedro Vicente.” They stood and also shook hands with the agent, then everyone sat. Thompson said, “Yes, we have the killer in custody; however, he’s an American and not a Mexican citizen.” Booth said, “Really? Well my bosses will be relieved to hear that. They were concerned about relations with the Mexican Government over this case. Mexico does not have the death penalty, and they don’t like us executing one of their citizens. So, when can I meet the suspect? I’d like to question him.” Thompson said, “The doctors have him in the hospital for observation because he got struck over the head by a farmer’s son who he was trying to kill. We have him under guard. We expect to get him out, book him and put him in jail day after tomorrow. But there’s a problem with the transfer from there to here.” Ted said, “What kind of problem?” Leroy said, “His name is David Garza. His Father is a gang boss named Ernie Garza. We expect the Garza gang to try to break David out while we’re transferring him. We were just discussing what they might do and how to counter it.” Booth said, “The FBI has a file on the Garza gang. They smuggle a lot of marijuana from Mexico into the United States. Stopping them is a major goal for us. We would like to help you against them.”

Thompson said, “We will take all of the help we can get.” The agent said, “Good! Tell me what you’re planning on doing and what you think they’re going to do.” The Sheriff did that. Then Booth said, “Here’s a suggestion. Put a sack over the head of someone with David’s build and dressed in David’s clothes. Make a big show out of taking him out the main front entrance of the hospital. Have the driver in bulletproof vest and steel helmet and have a dummy guard in the back seat with the fake David. While that decoy heads for the courthouse, we sneak David out a back door into an unmarked FBI car which drives him directly to jail. Handle the booking in the jailhouse with lots of extra heavily armed and bulletproof vested guards, including both deputies and FBI agents.” The sheriff looked a question and his two detectives. Vicente shook his head yes. Quinn said, “Won’t that leave the driver in the decoy car defenseless when the Garza gang attacks?” Booth said, “The FBI will hit the attacking Garza gang with a unit of agents in vests, helmets and armed with Tommy guns.” Vicente said, “Tommy guns? There will be civilians in the neighborhood. We can’t be shooting it up.” Ted said, “Okay, we’ll give the agents shotguns loaded with buckshot and rules of engagement to prevent collateral damage.” Brian said, “I want to accompany the attack on the gang.” Vicente said, “Me too. And the two Worley’s go with the agents in the real David Garza transfer car.” Sheriff Thompson said, “How many FBI agents are you planning to use on this operation?” Booth said, “The entire Houston office. That will be six in the attack on the gangsters and four with the real transfer convoy. A total of ten.” Leroy said, “I want all our deputies on this operation wearing vests and American Army steel helmets, too. Brian, check the surplus store and see if they have them.”

Ted said, “You may have trouble getting them on such short notice. If so, the FBI can loan you a few. How many will you need?” When the discussion ended, the sheriff offered to have the secretary show the agent out. He stated that he didn’t need help and walked out of the office. Thompson said to his detectives, “It’s going to be a very bad day when we move David. I think that Ernie Garza will have a sniper in position to shoot the driver of what we’re going to make the diversionary car. I just hope his vest can stop it. Let’s make him mount an extra steel plate behind the vest no matter how uncomfortable. Also, I want our sniper on top of the courthouse to take out theirs so he can’t be picking off our men. It means a change of plans for young Worley. Tony’s deadly accurate with a rifle, so let’s put him up there.”

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Back in his motel room, Agent Ted Booth called to report to the FBI Houston office. “No, I didn’t take over the case. The Hidalgo County Sheriff’s Department here seems very competent and they believe they have the killer in custody. He’s an American citizen not a Mexican. So, I decided to cooperate with them instead. We have an opportunity to take out the Garza drug smuggling gang. The suspect is Ernie Garza’s son David, and they expect the gang to attack to rescue the kid when the deputies are transferring him to the jail. I want the FBI to attack the attackers. To do that, while successfully transferring David to jail, I’ll need all ten agents suited up with vests, helmets and shotguns plus one sniper. The gang will probably have their own sniper, and I want to position ours to take him out. I want them here by tomorrow night so we can have a planning session before the battle the next day. Oh, the delay is because the Garza kid got hurt and they have him in the hospital here for observation, and under guard. The doctors are expected to release him day after tomorrow. Okay, good. Have them check in to the Holiday Inn in Edinburg. I’ll be looking for them. I’m in room 12. Have the agents bring along the three extra army helmets, too. Bring six helmets for the locals if you can find three more. The deputies will need them. Yeah, buckshot for the shotguns. Too many citizens in the neighborhood for the Tommy guns. Also, we should take some prisoners to testify against Ernie Garza so we can arrest him too. Past practice says he won’t risk his own skin in this

operation even though it’s his son they would be rescuing. He’s a real slimeball. Tommy guns would kill them all and we wouldn’t get any captives.”

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CHAPTER 40

Snipers

It was to be a fateful day in the Magic Valley, and it dawned cool and foggy. As the sun climbed up the sky, the fog burned off, the heat built up and the breeze from the Gulf resumed from where it left off the evening before. The weatherman’s prediction of hot and partly cloudy with afternoon thundershowers seemed prophetic. People grumbled about the weatherman being wrong more often than right with his forecasts, but they allowed that maybe he got it right today. At about 7:00 AM, an FBI sniper carrying his gun case rode the elevator in the Hidalgo county courthouse to the top floor. He was a slim 5'10” and 170 lbs. He had mixed blonde and grey hair with a crease on the right side at the hat edge, a bullet scar. Then he climbed stairs to a door that he believed opened onto the roof. It was locked. He pulled a small black leather packet from his coat pocket, zipped it open, pulled out a pick and unlocked the door. He found himself in a cupola. It had tall narrow windows which allowed him views in every direction. There were two larger square rooks lower down on corners of the front of the courthouse. Looking down he was surprised to see a man in sheriff’s deputy uniform in the cupola on the northwest corner. He decided that he needed to determine the man’s business there. He wondered if it could be another sniper, from the Sheriff’s Department. Then he wondered if it could be the Garza gang’s sniper in a stolen uniform. So, he took his pistol from his shoulder holster and fitted a silencer in the end of the barrel. Carrying his rifle case in his left hand and his pistol in his right he made his way back down the stairs careful not to trip. FBI safety rules said that he was supposed to keep in hand on the rail when on stairs, but he felt safer with his pistol in his hand and he didn’t want to leave his rifle behind in the empty top cupola. He was a firm believer in Murphy’s Law and leaving the rifle back there could be a mistake. He quietly entered the corner cupola, unnoticed by the uniformed stranger whose

attention was glued to the neighborhood towards the hospital. He Crept up behind and poked the silencer into the middle of the man’s back while saying, “Put your rifle down slowly and carefully, then raise your hands and lock your fingers together behind your head. No sudden moves if you want to live. The agent then stepped back three steps to be beyond arm reach and he said, “Now turn around slowly and tell me why I should not think that your part of the Garza gang.” Deputy Tony Worley turned as instructed, and said, “Look at my badge on my chest here. That’s photographic proof of who I am.” The agent saw a handsome young man with white skin and black hair who reminded him of Hollywood’s Tony Curtis. Looking him over, the agent estimated him to be about 5 foot 11 and 180 pounds. The FBI agent smiled and said, “Okay, I don’t guess the Garza gang has fake badges and also would be wearing Sheriff’s uniforms.. That would be too much smarts. I’ve never seen a crook who was that smart. They’re generally a dumb bunch who don’t know enough to make an honest living.” He holstered his pistol and said, “My name is Don Tavoian and I’m an FBI sniper.” He held out his hand to shake. Tony Worley said, “Chinga! You scared the devil out of me. I think I aged 10 years in a few seconds there. Do you have any clean underwear on you that I could borrow?” Don laughed and continued holding his hand out while he said, “The sheriff did not tell us that you were going to be up here. That could be poor communications or lack of trust. Either way not good. When I thought you might be a Garza gangster, I could’ve shot you.” Tony very slowly lowered his hands in an exaggerated move. Seeing this the agent frowned and sighed. Tony said, “Well, you said no sudden moves.” Don laughed again and they finally shook hands. Then he motioned toward a walkie-talkie which Tony had sitting on the floor by his foot. “You better call in and let your boss know that we’re both up here and we’re going to coordinate with each other.” Tony said, “We are? Good! I’ll do that.” He bent over still slowly but not quite as much, picked up the walkie-talkie and called in. He explained to Sheriff Thompson what had happened.

Thompson said, “Dang! I didn’t think about them sending a sniper up there. We didn’t discuss that when Agent Booth was here. Well we both figured out a need for the same thing. Yes, you two work out how two snipers up there can be better than one. Then call me again and let me know what you two are going to do so I can advise Quinn and Vicente. We need to all be on the same page today for sure.” Tony said, “Roger, and out.” Don said, “Roger and out? You’ve been watching too many movies.” Tony laughed and said, “Yeah I like war movies. I thought it sounded neat.” Don thought that he had an overgrown kid for a partner today, but he kept his silence about that opinion. He said, “So the sheriff believes that you’re the best shot in his department, the designated sniper?” Tony said, “Yeah I am. Dad taught me to shoot before I started in public schools. I practice every weekend, and during deer season I get a couple so we can put up meat for me and my wife for several months of the year. And I supplement that with my shotgun during dove hunting season in South Texas.” Don said, “You’re allowed two deer per season?” Tony said, “Not really, but Dad allows me to bag his too.” Don said, “Okay, I accept that you’re a good shot. Have you ever shot a person? That’s different you know. Some people can kill all kinds of animals, but they freeze when they’re faced with shooting another man or woman.” Tony said, “No I haven’t done that yet but I’m looking forward to doing it today. Some people get off on big-game hunting. They even go all the way to Africa to do it. You can have that. I’m hunting the biggest game there is today. The most dangerous.” Don said, “You’re right about people being the most dangerous, but we’re going to learn something about you today. I hope you can do it when you have to. The Army has a real difficulty with a lot of their troops not actually being able to shoot enemy soldiers in the heat of a battle.”

Tony said, “Don’t worry. I know I can do it. If I don’t, some of my friends could die today because of me. That’s enough motive for me. I will do what I have to.” Don said, “Yes, that’s the right kind of motivation. I think you’re going to be all right. Now, as I see it we have two theaters of potential action today. The first is the hospital route to the courthouse. The second is from the hospital by a different route directly to the jail. I think it would be a good idea for you to take one route and concentrate on it, while I concentrate on the other one. There’s a possibility that there could be action in both routes. What do you think?” Tony said, “I don’t see how that the Garza gang has enough manpower to stage two attacks in different places.” Don said, “It wouldn’t take much manpower for a diversion; one or two men with guns would do it.” Tony said, “Yeah, that’s possible. But do you think the Garza’s are that smart?” Don said, “Well, I thought of it, and my coworkers don’t think I’m that smart.” Tony smiled and said, “Okay, that’s a possibility.” Don said, “Here’s a plan. You take the jail and cover that area of an attack as best you can on the routes there from the hospital. Since there’s a possibility that your deputies escorting the Garza kid could go around a block, the Garza attackers cannot be sure from which direction they will come to the jailhouse or to the courthouse. So, the ambush most likely will be close to the destination. Either close to the courthouse or close to the jail. What do you think?” Tony said, “I think you’re dead on right. That also means, that if they have a sniper, he will be close by either the jail or the courthouse.” Don said, “Now, if that sniper is not dumber than a piece of wood, then he might also think that the Sheriff’s Department could have a sniper. He might be down there right now looking up here or up at the roof of the jail trying to spot you and shoot you first.” Tony said, “Híjole! I did not think of that. He could a shot me while ago. Lucky I stepped forward to shake hands.”

Don said, “What was that Spanish word you just said? I don’t know that one.” Tony said, “Mexican slang. It means something like holy cow.” Don said, “You know a lot of Mexican slang?” Tony said, “I grew up down here just a few miles from the border. On the playgrounds at public school, I heard all kinds of Mexican words being used all the time. Many of them cuss words or dirty words. Then also, I took two years of Spanish class for gringos in high school.” Don said, “Spanish class for gringos?” Tony said, “Yeah, they separated the Anglo kids from the Mexican kids for Spanish class. That way, both groups got more out of it. Also, I heard a story about where the word gringo came from.” Don said, “let’s hear it. I would like to know that one.” Tony said, “During the Texas war for independence from Mexico, some Anglo prisoners were actually sent down to a prison in Mexico City. There was a song that was popular amongst Americans at that time and the prisoners would sing it. The chorus started with ‘green grows the lilacs…’ After hearing it repeatedly, the Mexican guards started calling the Anglos prisoners ‘gringos.’” Don said, “That’s a good story. I’ll that one. Okay, back to business. We have to shoot that Garza gang sniper before he shoots one of us.” Tony said, “How do we do that?” Don said, “Thinking about him shooting you, do you feel kinda skittish now?” Tony said, “Yes, I certainly do.” Don said, “He feels skittish too. So, he’s down there hiding when he is not pointing his gun up here or up at the jail roof. Once in a while he’ll pop out to try to shoot you, then failing that he hides again.” Tony said, “You sound like you’ve done these snipers shooting at each other before. Where and when was that?”

Don said, “It was during the Korean War. Let’s sit-down a moment while we talk…. I was drafted into the Army. When they saw that I was a good shot, they sent me to a special school for snipers. Then in Korea, whenever there was a pause in the fighting, enemy soldiers would try to pick off our men. That’s when I went into action picking off their shooters. After we won the war against the Koreans, then the Chinese attacked us, and it was a whole new war. So, then I traded shots with Chinese soldiers. It didn’t take the Chinese too long to figure out that we had snipers. And pretty quick they also had snipers. The North Koreans never did figure that out. I don’t know if it was because the Chinese were smarter or because there were more of them so it was more likely that someone would figure it out. I was lucky to get out of there alive.” As he said that he ran his fingers along the side of his head where there was a crease through his hair, a scar. Tony saw that and recognized the scar for what it was, made by a bullet. He decided not to ask about it. “I would not have if the war had continued. Luckily, there was a truce.” Tony said, “So, the U.S. Army trained you to be a sniper and you used it for years in a war. Wow!” Don said, “Yes, and if there’s another war and you get drafted, they will want to make an Army sniper out of you, too.” Tony said, “Okay, you’re really the veteran at this sniper business. So, tell me, how do we do this?” Don said, “The one who shoots first, wins. So, the trick will be to see and shoot him before he sees you. We have him outnumbered 2 to 1 and he doesn’t know that I am here, so we’re likely to win. That does not mean that we will both live through this. If he Shoots one of us, then it will be up to the other one to shoot him before he can get reloaded.” Tony said, “What if his rifle carries a magazine with several bullets and he can shoot and shoot again?” Don said, “Does your rifle have a magazine for multiple shot capability?” Tony said, “No, because they are not as accurate.” Don said, “For older rifles like yours, that’s true. But take a look at my rifle. What do you see?”

Tony said, “It looks weird. What kind of rifle is that?” Don said, “This is the Savage 10FP-LEA. The military have been using versions of this sniper rifle since World War I. The LE designation means that this one is designed for law enforcement use. I can fit five rounds in the magazine. It is not an automatic, I have to pull the trigger for each shot. However, with one in the chamber, I can shoot six times before I have to reload. It also has a safe trigger, which means even if I drop it, this rifle won’t fire accidentally. This is a modern sniper rifle.” Tony said, “I’m beginning to have a bad feeling about this. I have a single shot rifle. If the Garza sniper also has a modern rifle, he won’t have to reload between shots. So, I could come out with the short end of the shootout. On top of that, you’re a survivor as shown in Korea. So, between us, I’m the one most likely to die.” Don said, “There’s another way to look at that Korea survivor thing. One that I worry about. I was lucky time and again in Korea. But if you keep at it, sooner or later, your luck runs out. There’s a high likelihood that my time of out-of-luck is past due. It’s like the old gunslingers of the wild West. If they kept shooting long enough, no matter how good they were, sooner or later somebody shot them. Examples of that are Billy the Kid and Wild Bill Hickok.” Tony fell silent. He had a worried look on his face. Don saw this and decided to say something funny to try to help the young deputy relax. So, he said, “While we’re waiting let me tell you a story. An old sheriff’s deputy walked into a barbershop for a shave and a haircut. He told the barber he can’t get all his whiskers off because his cheeks are wrinkled from age. The barber got a little wooden ball from a cup on the shelf and told the old deputy to put it inside his cheek to spread out the skin. When the barber finished the old deputy told the barber that was the cleanest shave he’s had in years, but he wanted to know what would have happened if he had accidentally swallowed the ball. The barber replied, “Just bring it back in a couple of days like everyone else does.” Tony laughed loudly. Then he said, “I got a line to add to that story.” Don said, “What’s that?” Tony said, “Then the deputy pulled out his pistol and shot the barber.”

Don said, “Really?” Tony said, “Yeah, that’s what my Dad would have done. Okay, we’ve been talking long enough. Isn’t it time that we took on the Garza sniper?” Don said, “You’re right but let me give you a couple of survivor tips that might help you live through this. It wasn’t all luck. First, poke your head up and look. If you see the sniper immediately duck before he sees you because he will come out of hiding pointing his gun. Second, if you look and don’t see him, point your gun out and down and be ready to shoot him as soon and he pokes his gun out. You have to shoot first. If you both shoot straight, the one who shoots first wins. Do you understand all that?” Tony said, “Yes, that makes a lot of sense.” Don said, “Now, which way do you think that the Garza’s are most likely to set an ambush?” Tony said, “They don’t want David Garza in jail. So, I think that they will set up close to the jail where they can attack either way. That is either the approach to the jail from the west toward the hospital, or from the courthouse toward the jail.” Don said, “That means that they would have to have two lookouts. One watching the west side of the jail, and the other watching the approach from the courthouse. Then the one who spotted the caravan carrying David would shout and the others would turn in that direction and attack.” Tony said, “That sounds right.” Don said, “Since I have the most firepower, I will take the side toward the jail to cover both approaches to it. You take the west side on the Highway 107 direct route from the hospital. If they do a decoy attack there on the decoy convoy, shoot the attackers. Should not be more than one or two. Then reload and me. When you fire, the sniper will come out to shoot you. I’ll take him out before he can. Is that okay with you?” Tony said, “Better plan than I can think of.” Tony popped up looking down then quickly ducked back.

Don said, “Did you see him?” Tony said, “No, but I didn’t want him seeing me either.” Don said, “Very funny. if you don’t see him you’re supposed to point you rifle so that you can shoot him when he comes out.” Tony looked again, then pointed his rifle aiming along the barrel. Don was looking toward the jail, his gun to his shoulder but pointed up with his finger resting on the outside of the trigger guard. The two snipers fell silent. They waited quietly for the action to start. Don did not know whether his young companion was bored with the waiting . Don was not bored. Between shooting events, there were often long periods of waiting with your rifle in hand. The FBI sniper shifted quietly working out a cramp in his shoulder. He never tired during these assignments. He took life seriously enough that preparing to extinguish bad guy’s kept his adrenaline high. In war and in law enforcement his enemy had always represented in his mind the evil that was in the world. Fighting evil was what kept him motivated and his conscience clear.

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Nick Worley lounged next to his patrol car prominently parked by the main entrance to the hospital. In the parking lot nearby, four FBI agents sat in a green and white Ford Crown Victoria, the follow vehicle to the decoy. At the rear of the hospital, two additional cars sat. One, another green and white Crown Vic with four FBI agents inside. The other was Vicente’s patrol car. FBI agent Ted Booth was explaining to detectives Pedro Vicente and Brian Quinn why there were eight FBI agents for this exercise instead of the 10 that he had promised earlier. Ted said, “Two agents were required for a Houston case, so I couldn’t get all 10. It won’t matter because with the FBI’s four plus you two, all armed with shotguns we will be able to take out the Garza gang attack.” Deputy Quinn said, “What the heck are these two German NAZI helmets that you gave us? We were supposed to have American G.I. helmets like everyone

else.” Ted said, “There weren’t enough G.I. helmets available for everybody, but we had these two souvenir helmets and they’ll protect you just as well.” Pedro said, “Well I don’t like it, but I’ll wear it since it might save me from a shot to the head.” Brian looked at his wristwatch and said, “9 o’clock. The decoy will be coming out of the front of the hospital right now and loading up in the decoy patrol car that Nick Worley will be driving. That means we leave in 10 minutes. The guard will be bringing David Garza from the room to back here right now.” Agent Booth said, “I’ll ride with you two in the patrol car with the prisoner. The agents in the Crown Vic will follow far enough behind not to lose sight of us but not to appear to be following. Okay, here comes your guard with the Garza kid.” After leaving the hospital, the decoy patrol car with the fake David Garza proceeded north toward the courthouse on Closner Boulevard. A few minutes later, the patrol car bearing the real David Garza also proceeded north but on 10th Avenue, a parallel route toward the jail. Pedro Vicente drove with agent Ted Booth next to him in the front seat. In back, David sat sandwiched between the deputy guard and Brian Quinn. About six blocks from the jail, they heard gunfire from an attack on the nearby decoy.

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The Garza gang sniper had situated himself in a nearby vacant house across the street from the courthouse. At the sound of gunfire, he leaned out the open window, from which he had removed the screen, leading with his rifle as Don Tavoian had predicted. Tony Worley fired before the gang sniper even saw him. The bullet hit the gangster dead center between his eyes. His rifle fell on the wooden porch fronting the house and discharged; the bullet ricocheted off of the sidewalk to strike sandstone on the front of the courthouse. Tony reloaded. Don’s rifle was now aimed down Closner where he saw the decoy patrol car

stopped and under attack. The following FBI Crown Vic screeched to a halt behind it. Doors on the opposite side of the Ford from the attackers popped open and agents came out with shotguns. Don fired three times, paused, then fired three more times. The bullets struck each of the two attackers dead center in their chests. Both fell with no shots being fired from the FBI shotguns. Two of the shotguns carrying agents trotted forward to check on the driver in the decoy patrol car. There they saw Nick Worley cussing loudly as he shucked out of the bulletproof vest and unhooked the strap from his neck that held the extra steel plate against his chest behind the vest. The plate had two dents in it, made by bullets that had penetrated through the “bulletproof” vest.. His bruised chest hurt, and he groaned.

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CHAPTER 41

War

Dante Morales was the lone lookout for the Garza gang watching the approaches to the jail. Dante stood inside the open door of the vacant house where the sniper had died in a nearby window. Ernie Garza’s armored Cadillac which his crew called “the tank” sat in the driveway of the same house with four more of the gangsters inside it. All were armed with pistols. The lookout stared speechless at the dead sniper on the floor nearby. He vomited, spraying the corpse and adding to the bloody pool spreading from around its shattered head. He wiped his mouth on a dirty handkerchief from his pocket and threw it down. He then turned back toward the rear of the house and ran away in a panic. Diego Alonso sat in the driver’s seat of the “tank.” Peering back toward the house, he no longer could see Morales who was supposed to be stationed there. He had heard the gunfire, but inside the Cadillac with its windows rolled up, the engine and the air conditioner running, it sounded distant. He also could not see his sniper stationed at the window but knew that the sniper hid inside and did not poke his head and gun out until ready to fire. Diego figured that the Sheriff’s deputies transporting David to the jail would arrive soon since the shooting had started. But, after a few minutes with nothing happening, Diego began to get antsy. Where was that pendejo lookout? He decided to investigate.

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In the courthouse corner rook, Tony Worley saw Diego exit the Cadillac in the driveway of the sniper’s house and he sighted his rifle scope on the trotting figure. Don Tavoian said, “Don’t shoot.”

Tony eased his finger off the trigger and rested it on the trigger guard. Then he said, “Why not? That car is in the driveway of the same house that the dead sniper’s in. That guy has to be a member of the Garza gang too.” Don said, “There was a man standing in the doorway until you fired. That had to be a lookout. With the man from the car that s for three. So, there’s probably three more in that Cadillac unless they stacked them on top of each other or had another car. The two I shot who were attacking the decoy convoy were in another car because they were far enough away that they could’ve escaped in it, but too far away to help anyone in the Cadillac or house here escape. So, six more here is probably the whole gang and these all rode in that Cadillac. If you shot that one, the car would drive away and those in it would escape. We want to get the whole bunch so that we shut down the gang and their smuggling dope into the USA. So be patient. They’ll be more targets for you soon enough and that we need at least one survivor who we can get to testify against their boss.” Tony said, “Okay. When the shooting starts, I won’t be able to re-load fast enough to get four or five more. So, what will you be doing?” Don said, “I’ll be helping you unless another car full of gangsters shows up. That’s not likely but not impossible. When we’re both shooting at the same bunch, each of us will need to call which once’s their next target so that we don’t waste bullets by both shooting the same guy at the same time.” Tony said, “That’ll get complicated if any look alike and dress the same.” Don said, “Yeah, a battle is usually confusing. We’ll just have to do the best we can.”

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As Diego stepped inside, the stench of vomit and blood hit him almost like a solid wall. His stomach did it’s on flip-flop and he had to swallow hard to keep his breakfast down. After seeing that the sniper was dead, he trotted toward the hall to the back of the house with his pistol out searching for the lookout. He

found him sitting in a chair at a table in the combination space at the back of the house which was both kitchen and dining room. Dante’s face was grim and slightly green. Diego said, “¡Dale cabron! You’re supposed to be looking for the sheriff’s car with David in it. You’re worthless! Get your ass back up front and do your job.” Dante said, “No! They’ve got a sniper on the courthouse roof. Did you see what he did to our sniper? I don’t want that to happen to me. I ed this crew for the money, not to die.” Diego pointed his pistol at Dante’s face and said, “Too bad.” Dante held up both hands palms out, saying, “No wait! I’ll go!” Diego fired.

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Up in the courthouse rook, Tony said, “Did you hear that shot?” Don said, “Yeah, that puts finish to their cowardly lookout. One less for us to dispatch. When that guy comes back out don’t shoot him. , we’re waiting to get the whole group when our convoy arrives for the jail and these guys come out of the car to attack. They’ll be here any minute.” Tony said, “You’re the boss.” Diego reappeared and went back to sit in the Cadillac. Don said, “When it starts, I’ve got that guy.”

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Danny Curran lived in the house across the street from the one currently occupied by the Garza gangsters. A veteran of the Korean War, Danny was disturbed by all the gunshots he had heard. He liked the fact that he lived only a couple houses down the street from the county jail, but he got his fill of shooting and death in Korea. He didn’t want to be involved in whatever must be going on today. He had his windows up to take advantage of the breeze, and he nervously looked out through the screen but saw nothing going on. Danny figured the Cadillac parked in the driveway of the vacant house across the street must be someone thinking about renting it. He sighed and went back to his easy chair to sip on a long neck bottle of Lone Star beer and to watch a rerun of the “I Love Lucy” show on the small black and white TV screen in his living room. The telephone, sitting on a small table next to Danny’s easy chair, rang loudly. He picked up the headset and said, “Yeah.” He listened briefly, then said, “Yes, Sis, I heard the gunshots, and no I don’t know what’s going on. I looked around and nothing’s happening here. So yes, we’re all okay. So, go back to your ironing or whatever you do all day. Or call your husband at work and bother him.” Then he hung up and returned his attention to the TV.

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In the Garza Cadillac, Diego said, “Look! Here comes a patrol car toward the jail on this same street. How sweet. I thought they would come on Closner Street.” Diego had turned off the Cadillac’s engine to keep it from overheating. He restarted the engine as he said, “Brace yourselves. Since we have no sniper to shoot out their tires, I’m going to ram that Sheriff’s car to stop them.” Tomas Torres said, “Don’t hurt David!” Diego said, “I’m not stupid. I’ll hit the engine and driver.”

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Continuing slowly up 10th Avenue and nearing the jail, Agent Ted Booth said, “Hey! See the smoke. That Cadillac just started its engine. That’s the Garza car and they’re either going to block us or ram us.” Driving, Detective Pedro Vicente said, “I’m watching him.” As the patrol car was ing the house, Diego accelerated forward to ram it. Pedro slammed on his brakes and the Cadillac missed stopping in front of the patrol car. Pedro released his brakes and jammed his accelerator slamming the front of the patrol car into the Cadillac and jamming the two doors on the enger side, preventing them from opening. The doors opened on the opposite side of the Cadillac and the gangsters piled out. They ducked behind the trunk of the Cadillac and behind the hood and began firing. Pedro and Booth open their doors and used them for shields as they raised their shotguns and fired back. Pedro saw buckshot hit a window of the Cadillac and just bounce off with no effect on the glass. “Chinga!” He shouted, “That Cadillac is armored.”

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Danny Curran grabbed the phone and dove to the floor. His beer bottle flew through the air and shattered against the house’s front inside wall. He cautiously raised his head and peaked out the window. He saw the gun battle and the helmets. He ducked down again, lifted the headset on the phone and dialed zero for operator. He shouted into the phone, “There’s a war going on out here by the jail. There’s both Germans soldiers and American soldiers. Call out the national guard!”

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Ted Booth shouted curse words as he traded shots with the gangsters at the front of the Cadillac. The two sides seesawed up and down taking turns popping up and firing and then ducking down again. Pedro dropped to his stomach flat on

the ground and fired his shotgun into the feet visible below the rear of the Cadillac. Two Mexican gangsters screamed and fell to the ground. Pedro fired into them again and their screams suddenly stopped. Seeing that action, Agent Booth also dropped down and fired at the front-end gangsters with the same result. The remaining gangster at the rear stepped behind the truck tire wheel to protect his legs.

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In the courthouse rook, Don said, “Driver!” Tony said, “Red shirt.” Both fired.

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Diego ducked and jumped back inside the Cadillac pulling the door closed behind him. The sniper’s bullet meant for him smacked into the driver side window cracking the glass as it flattened out but did not penetrate the inch-thick glass. The redshirted gangster by the back wheel fell to the ground after the other sniper’s bullet tore clean through his chest and ended its downward trajectory striking the Cadillac’s rear driver side hubcap. Diego restarted the Cadillac’s engine and floored the gas pedal burning out and leaving two fresh black streaks on the pavement. He spun the steering wheel left away from the patrol car and circled the block to head south on Closner before finding Highway 107 and heading out west. At Sugar Road, he turned south. When the Cadillac had screeched away, Pedro had jumped back in the patrol car to pursue. Quinn said, “No, Pedro. We came to deliver David to the jail, not to take him off on a wild goose chase.” David laughed. Looking at David, Quinn said, “That’s a strange reaction. We just wiped out your Dad’s gang. Get it? We killed your friends.”

David said, “I only had two friends here today. I don’t know who those others were. You got one of them, and my other friend just escaped in Dad’s Cadillac. You’ll pay for killing my friend Tomás.” The FBI Crown Vic that had followed Vicente’s patrol car had come up too late for the agents inside to participate in the gun battle. Ted Booth spoke to them, “Check those bodies on the ground. If any of them are alive, rush him over to the ER at the hospital ASAP. We need one for a witness against their boss.” The agents approached the bloody cadavers cautiously kicking away pistols. None wanted to be shot by man lying on the ground. One of them spoke up, “Hey! Here’s one breathing. Help me and let’s move him to the car.” As two agents carried an unconscious but bleeding body to the car, a third walked along with them and attempted to stanch the bleeding. David stretched his neck to see who they were carrying, then he smiled and said, “That’s Tomás.” Quinn said, “Thanks for telling us his name. That will help when we question him.” David said, “Just save him. He’s not a bad guy.” Quinn said, “That’s a matter of opinion. He tried to kill lawmen today. If he had succeeded, he would get the electric chair just like any other bad guy.” David sulked.

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Up in the courthouse rook, Tony said, “I got mine.” Looking disgusted, Don said, “Mine got away. That Cadillac was armored. Let’s go down and the troops below.”

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The jailhouse was a two-story square building with red roof tiles to match the courthouse. It had a rook and a square third floor outlook. A fireplace burning wood in a rear corner provided insufficient heat on cold days. It provided adequate warmth to the lone office in the building where the guards rotated in and out to warm themselves, and where the paperwork was done. On this day, the prisoners were rowdy, excited by the gunplay nearby. Rumors about what had happened swirled around between the jail cells. In the jail office, a sheriff’s secretary fingerprinted and photographed David Garza, officially booking him in. He was placed in a cell by himself for his own protection. Prisoners in nearby cells hounded him for information. He kept his mouth shut.

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CHAPTER 42

Escape

Ernie Garza said, “So everybody died except you, and you escaped in the Cadillac?” Diego Alonso said, “Besides the deputies, there were FBI agents with shotguns, and there was a sniper shooting from the courthouse. He killed our sniper and would have killed me if the glass on the door of the Cadillac had not stopped a bullet. I had to get out of there or die. They even had on steel helmets.” Ernie said, “FBI agentes? ¡Madre de Dios!” Diego said, “Si. One called out FBI and demanded we surrender. I nearly got him. I think I shot his ear.” Ernie said, “Let’s go to Matamoros now. The FBI will be here for us. Hurry.” The two men ran out and jumped into the Cadillac. Ernie’s wife, Isabella, called out after them but was ignored. She stared as the Cadillac drove away headed South down the street toward the highway. She sighed and went back to take dinner off the stove.

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In the hospital foyer, Agent Ted Booth said, “The doctors say that he will survive. He’s a Mexican citizen named Tomás Torres, but he had a Texas driver’s license. It was pretty authentic looking, but a forgery.” Sheriff’s Detective Pedro Vicente said, “His guardian angel must have been

protecting him. I’m not surprised about the fake driver’s license. We see them all the time around here.” Booth said, “Gangsters have guardian angels?” Pedro said, “All of us Catholic Mexicans have them. Mine has saved me several times.” Booth said, “It’ll take two or three days to get all the paperwork done, but then we’re going to transfer David to Huntsville. The way things go, he’ll be in prison there for several years before they put him in the electric chair.” Pedro said, “Did your men get Ernesto Garza at his home in San Benito?” Booth said, “No. Our agents questioned his wife and she said that Garza and his lieutenant Diego Alonso fled just an hour before we got there. The border patrol at the Matamoros bridge said that they had just ed them through when we called.” Pedro said, “Well that’s it. Garza has a home and a business in Matamoros and knowing that we are after him, he won’t be back.” Booth said, “We’ll request extradition, but the Mexican government is not cooperative when there’s a chance that we’ll execute the criminal.”

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Ernie Garza said, “Looking back, we should not have tried to rescue David while they were transferring him. I have a plan that is simple and will work. We’ll get him out of jail and down here.” Diego said, “How will we do that?” Ernie said, “Isabella will cook a large delicious turkey and ham dinner with vegetables. I will get cocaine from the hospital here in Matamoros. My there will supply it for a price. We will inject it into the meat and vegetables.

Then, one of my girls here who the gringos don’t know will deliver it to the guards at the jail for evening dinner. They will all be asleep an hour after eating. At 1:00 AM, you will enter the jail and bring my son David out. You will use the Los Ebanos ferry for crossing so that the American border patrol will not interfere.”

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Ernie’s plan worked like a charm. As Diego drove them south on Sugar Road about 1:30 AM, David asked, “Where are we going?” Diego replied, “To the Los Ebanos ferry.” David said, “No. I want to go find that pendejo farmer’s son. Diego said, “Your Papa said not to let you go anywhere else but across the ferry to Mexico and home in Matamoros.” David said, “That cabron is the cause of all my troubles. Because of him I went to jail. I want revenge.” Diego said, “Tell your Papa. He’s the one who got you out of jail, and you owe him respect. Also, if you get arrested again here, we probably will not be able to save you another time. You will go to the electric chair. We have to get you to safety across the border.” David said, “I will tell my Papa. My Papa understands revenge.”

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Ernie said, “You cannot return to Texas. Every lawman in the state will have your picture and you will not be able to avoid being caught. That would mean

your death.” David said, “Papa, the death of Mark Halas is what I need. You know he did this to me. I must have revenge.” Ernie said, “You must wait here several years before you can return to America. I am sending you to the University of Mexico in Mexico City to continue your schooling and get a bachelor’s degree. By the time you get that degree, they will no longer be looking for you in Texas. Then you must go to an out-of-state university. I would send you to Harvard University, but you could go to either Louisiana State University or to Oklahoma University to get your MBA degree. Then you will be able to manage my businesses.” After a long silence, David said, “Yes Papa.” But he thought that he would be a bachelor with a bachelor’s degree. He would rather be a husband to a good woman and have lots of sex and children than be a bachelor. Natalia would be a good wife for such, but that puto Mark was in the way.

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Vicente had the day off, and he was sleeping late when the phone rang and woke him up. He reached over and picked up the headset and drowsily said, “Hello. Pedro Vicente here. How can I help you?” The voice on the phone was FBI Agent Ted Booth. He said, “How did your Hidalgo County Sheriff’s Department jail guards allow David Garza to escape last night?” Suddenly, Pedro was wide-awake. He said, “Let me call you back. What’s your phone number?” He wrote the number on the pad he kept by the phone for that purpose. Then he dialed the Sheriff’s office. Sheriff Thompson himself came on the phone. “Best we can tell, a woman delivered a big turkey and ham dinner to the guards that was spiked with cocaine. Then someone took David out while the guards were drugged out unconscious and they disappeared. I know that this is a day off for you Pedro,

but why don’t you come in and help Quinn investigate. We’ll pay you overtime.” Pedro called agent booth back and explained what had happened. Booth said, “Why weren’t your guards suspicious of someone bringing them such a free feast?” Pedro said, “No. It happens from time to time. Sometimes a woman from the neighborhood in Edinburg will bring the guards food as charity, a reward for their service in helping keep bad guys off the street. Sometimes they get a free meal like that on a holiday, but it happens more often just any old day. So, they had no reason to be suspicious.” Booth said, “After this, some kind of safety procedures regarding food contributions will have to be put in place.” Pedro said, “Detective Quinn and I are delegated to investigate. We will make recommendations like that.” Booth said, “I had closed the case on David Garza. Now, I’m reopening it. The FBI will assist in recapturing that serial killer.”

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CHAPTER 43

Abilene

The middle October day dawned bright and sunny in Abilene, Texas. On the campus of Abilene Christian College, freshman Mark Halas enjoyed the crisp cool morning air as he made his way from class in the istration building to the student union building. Cloudless blue sky was the frequent rule in West Texas. He checked his mailbox and received a letter from his Mother, Margaret. Before he could open it, a hand tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to see the smiling face of an upper-class friend, Bill Robinson, whom he knew from meetings of the Student Senate. Mark had won a seat representing the freshman class. Bill said, “I would like to invite you to the Destroyer Men’s social club. You would really enjoy it and we need like you.” Mark was surprised and did not know what to say. Bill patted him on the back and walked away. Before the day was over three other acquaintances had invited Mark to the Destroyer Men. The last person to invite him that day, Gene Billingsley, said, “If you’re interested, we’re meeting at 7 o’clock Tuesday night in the istration building room 201. Hope to see you there. Come a few minutes early, you know – Jim Lee Howell time.” Mark was puzzled by the reference to the coach of the New York Giants NFL football team. He did not know what “Jim Lee Howell time” was. He asked another friend who he knew was on the ACC freshman football team, Jason Hayes. Jason said, “Yeah, that means 15 minutes early. Coach Howell tells his players that if they show up for a meeting right on time, they’re late. They’re supposed to be so interested in the meeting that they show up at least 15 minutes early.” At 6:45 PM, Mark walked through the open door into room 201. It was a large room with seats for about 40 students. The room was filled with Destroyer’s standing around or seated and talking with each other. Mark

recognized some students standing at the back of the room who were freshman like him. He ed them with his back to the wall and next to the door. Beside him was a blonde curly haired muscular fellow who stood 6 foot four, taller than Mark’s 6 foot even. Mark introduced himself and the blonde said, “Glad to meet you. I’m Jim Floyd from Comanche, Texas. Where are you from?” David had to explain where Pharr was located. Jim said that he had never heard of it before. Jim said, “Oh, now I . Isn’t that where Bobby Morrow is from?” Mark said, “No, he’s from a town called Rangerville which is closer to Brownsville and near San Benito where he went to high school. We hated playing against San Benito when he was on their football team.” Jim said, “You played football?” Mark said, “Yeah. I played end. Morrow played half back for San Benito. If he got past the line he went all the way. It was an automatic touchdown. He was greased lightning, and none of us could catch him.” Jim said, “Why aren’t you on our freshman football team?” Mark said, “Guess I wasn’t quite good enough to get a football scholarship here. So, I’m working in Catching’s Cafeteria dishwashing department to help pay my way.” Jim said, “Our freshman team is light on receivers. Why don’t you show up as a walk on? The coach might decide to give you a scholarship after all.” Mark said, “Thanks, but I hurt my knee seriously in my junior year. It required surgery. The doctor said that I shouldn’t play football anymore, and that ended my career with the PSJA Bears.” Jim said, “PSJA?” Mark said, “Pharr, San Juan, Alamo. The three towns are part of one school district with one high school.” Changing the subject, Jim said, “You know, we’re in an elite group here. The big fellow standing in the corner over there is Will Fox. He’s the starting fullback on our freshman team. The short rotund guy talking to him is Noah Oliver. He told

me that he plans on being our sophomore class president next school year.” Mark took a good look at Noah. He had ambitions to be sophomore class president himself. So that guy would likely be his competition, maybe amongst others. At that point any further conversation amongst the freshmen was interrupted when Bill Robinson stood up at the front of the room, tapped a gavel on the teacher’s desk and called the meeting to order. He led the group in loudly singing the club song titled, “We Are the Destroyer Men.” Then he said, “We are privileged to have a fine new crop of squid candidates standing at the back.” Everyone turned and looked at them. “Last year’s squids are now promoted to shipmates. Do I hear a motion regarding the squid candidates?” Someone in the room said, “I move that we add these squid candidates to hip in the Destroyer Men.” Someone else shouted, “Second the motion.” Bill said, “Does anyone wish to debate the motion? … No? Then we’ll proceed to a vote. All in favor say aye.” There was a chorus of ayes. “All against say no.” There was a loud shouted single “No!” Everyone laughed. Bill said, “Motion es. Welcome to your new lowly status as squids in the Destroyer Men. Please remain where you are when the meeting is over so that all of your Destroyer Men shipmates can meet you as they leave. Also, we have an assignment for new squids which we will discuss with you. Now, does anyone have new business to bring before the meeting?” A member raised his hand and Bill said, “Yes John?” John Graywinter stood and said, “We also need to organize the relay team for the November race against the other men’s clubs.” Bill said, “Good point. I appoint you to be the leader of our relay team. Anyone volunteering for the relay team see John. John, choose those you want on the team from the squids before they’re dismissed for the night. Any other new business? … Yes Gene?” Gene Billingsley stood and said, “I have the T-shirts for the squids here in a box. I need to the shirts out to them tonight and discuss hip dues with them.” Bill said, “Good! Any other new business? … No? Then the meeting is adjourned until next Tuesday night at seven.”

Billingsley lined the squids up in single file in the hall just outside the door. The Destroyer Men slowly emptied out of the room and walked down the line of squids shaking hands and everybody introducing themselves. After the last member exited the line, Billingsley shepherded the squids back in the room and had them seat themselves in a group near the door. John Graywinter addressed the group saying, “You two football players, Jim and Will, will not be on the relay team. Our football coaches won’t allow it. Noah Oliver, you’re not on the relay team for obvious reasons. We wouldn’t want you to have a heart attack. The other three of you are on the relay team. Any objections? Mark said, “I have a bad knee from a football injury that required surgery.” John said, “Can you run?” Mark said, “Well yes, but it can hurt like heck.” John said, “Can you sprint 110 yards?” Mark said, “I was able to do 100 yards in 11.3 seconds last time I tried.” John said, “Then you’re on the relay team.” Turning toward Billingsley, he said, “They’re all yours.” Gene Billingsley said, “We have these white T-shirts for you squids. You will wear them every day the rest of the week and until the next meeting. If they start to smell, launder them and then put them on again.” Then he started ing them out. Each T-shirt had a photograph of a U.S. Navy destroyer on the front and a painting of a squid on the back. They looked at them, then smiled and pulled them over their other shirts. Gene said, “The destroyer on the front of your T-shirts is the USS Sullivans. It successfully served in World War II and in the Korean War. This will tell everybody on campus who sees you that you are now a proud member of the Destroyer Men. The squid on the back shows your status in our club. Any questions?… No? They’re all yours Bill.” Bill Robinson said, “As squids in our social club, you will receive some mild hazing from our . Don’t let that get to you. You are a bright bunch and having you will improve our club’s average IQ and make us proud. Now there’s one more thing.” He reached in a box and picked up some white objects each

about the size of half a hand grenade and tossed one to each squid. They caught them and examined them. They were small white paper sacks, the bottoms filled about 2 inches deep with white flour. The sacks were rolled closed and secured by one rubber band around each. Bill said, “We call these shams.” He turned and threw one at the blackboard. It sailed through the air and splattered, creating a large white smear on the board. The squids mostly looked astonished. Bill said, “Week after next on Saturday we have our annual sham battle. Imagine what happens if someone throws one of these at you and it hits you. You will be marked and in the battle you will stop where you are and sit down because you are playing dead. We will divide into two teams. One team will be the defender and the other team will attack. In a clearing on a small hill in the Garza County Park near Post, Texas, there’s a small cedar tree. A red flag will be tied to that tree. The attackers will succeed if they can capture the flag before they are all killed. Naturally, if all the defenders are killed, the attackers win. Now we have an assignment for you squids. The club hip totals 38 including you. Two will serve as referees. There will be two battles with each team taking a turn as defender and as attacker. Each team member will have five shams for each battle so that’s 10 apiece for 36 or 360 shams. Plus, we’ll need some extras for contingencies. Your assignment will be to make 400 shams between now and the day of the battles. Gene here will supervise your efforts. He is our Treasurer and he will provide you with the paper sacks, rubber bands, scoops and flour. Gene, they’re all yours.” Gene said, “Past experience says that the best time to make the shams is Sunday afternoons. Does anyone have a problem with that?” No one said anything. “Okay, I will meet you all this Sunday afternoon at 2 o’clock in the Sewall Auditorium. Agreed?” They all shook their heads yes. “Now about the club’s dues….”

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CHAPTER 44

Mexico City

The National Autonomous University of Mexico (UNAM) is located in a neighborhood of Mexico City originally known as San Angel (pronounced “anhel”). The urban sprawl of Mexico City made the area a suburb in the southwest of the Federal District of Mexico along the southern end of Avenida Insurgentes (insurgencies avenue). David Garza liked that street name. Although he was not here by choice, he was enjoying immersion in the rich Mexican culture that was quite different than at the Texas border. To the west of the campus was a mountain range which included a volcano named Ixtle. Parts of San Angel sat on volcano rock. At the University, a sign announced classes would begin on the first Monday in September. David Garza and Diego Alonso sat in a line of metal chairs along the wall in the UNAM registrar’s office awaiting their turn to talk to the busy bureaucrat handling new students. Ernesto Garza had assigned Diego to assure that his son enrolled in UNAM and began his studies there. Ernie Garza knew that his son craved revenge against Mark Halas whom he blamed for his arrest and for his having to flee to Mexico. He had made his son swear that he would wait for that revenge until after he completed his education and was then able to take over the family businesses and hire his own hitman to literally execute that revenge. For his part, David swore to wait to satisfy his Father, but he knew in his heart that he could not delay that many years to satisfy what had now become the most important facet of his emotional life. He soon would find a way to get his revenge. He did not believe that the oath to his Father taken under duress was binding. When the registrar called for David Garza, he glanced at his watch and was surprised to find that only an hour of waiting had ed. To David, it did seem like much longer, maybe half a day. He and Diego sat in two chairs in front of the man’s desk. Diego explained, “I am David’s uncle, here at his Father’s

instruction to assist in his enrollment in the University.” The bureaucrat nodded at Diego but turned and addressed David. “Our university has many colleges for study of different fields. What will be your major subject? I need to know into which college to you.” Uncertain, David said, “My Papa wishes me to study business.” The registrar said, “There are too many students studying business. Mexico needs men for other fields. We have colleges for mathematics, physics, history and philosophy, among others. So, what are you interested in studying?” Diego said, “That does not matter. He is to study business and then to get an MBA degree. He will take over his Father’s businesses.” The bureaucrat said, “Ah! Then business it must be. Your first class will be ing 101. There are already over 100 enrolled for that class, so it is being held in the main auditorium starting on Monday morning. Usually, by the end of the semester that class will have shrunk to less than 50 and will be transferred to another classroom. We hope that you will be in the survivors and not be just another dropout. You will also be enrolled in the standard required subjects which will include the basic courses for math, science, history of Mexico, typing and the three required languages – Latin, Spanish and English.” David said, “Latin? But this is not a parochial school.” The registrar said, “No, but this is Mexico and the country is strongly Catholic. Besides, in these modern times, businessmen must be able to communicate with foreigners. Thus, they must know how to speak the most common language in the world which unfortunately is English not Spanish. The other most common international language is Latin. So, there will be times when a foreigner does not know Spanish or English but does know Latin because he’s Catholic. So, it’s a requirement.” David said, “Studying Latin, that’s medieval.” The bureaucrat said, “You need to adjust your attitude, or you will not survive university level studies. I will provide you with a schedule of classrooms and times for those courses. But first there is the matter of your filling out these enrollment forms, … and of the financial arrangements.”

Upon leaving the registrar’s office, David said, “Well Diego, I guess you’ll be leaving.” Diego said, “No. I will be staying here in Mexico City until I see you attending all of your classes, to make your Papa happy. I guess I’ll be here another week.” David said, “One thing I do not understand. After you leave, how will I pay for my expenses?” Diego took out his wallet and removed three plastic credit cards. He handed them to David and said, “Your Father told me to give you these.” David examined them. One was a blue American Express card. The other two were oil company cards, one bearing the Texaco logo and the other bore the Gulf Oil logo. Diego said, “I used all three of these on the way down here from Matamoros and they worked just fine. I’m not sure which gasoline card will work best here in Mexico City. You will have to figure that out for yourself. Your Father will get the bills for what you charge on these cards, so do not abuse them. That means eat in the University cafeteria and modest local restaurants. And do not go driving to Acapulco and back or such like. Look around and live a modest lifestyle like most of the other students have to. That way I will not be told to come back down here and take these cards away from you.” David laughed and said, “This means you’re leaving me the car! Otherwise I would only need the American Express card.” Diego said, sarcastically, “You’re a very bright boy. Amazing deductive capabilities. A week from Monday you will take me to the airport, and I will fly back to Matamoros via Aeroméxico.” David said, “With the lecture you just gave me, I’m surprised that you’re not hitchhiking your way back to save money.” Diego playfully cuffed him on the shoulder.

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While David was required like all freshmen to stay in an on-campus dormitory,

Diego stayed in a nearby hotel. Nevertheless, when David came out of his dormitory room early on Monday morning, Diego was waiting for him in the hall. David said, “I have to find where this ing class is being held.” Diego said, “I already found it for you.” They walked to the main auditorium together. Ropes made of locally grown hemp were strung along the aisle seats in the back part of the auditorium indicating those rows were closed to the students. So, everyone was sitting near the front. Diego said, “Go your new associates. I’ll see you when the class lets out.” Diego watched David find a seat, and then he left to go locate coffee and breakfast. David had taken an aisle seat at the rear of the open rows and the seat next to him was empty. Someone stepped over David’s feet, their rear ing next to his face, and sat next to him. David turned to introduce himself and was surprised to see a familiar face. While he was trying to place it, the young man held out his hand saying, “Hello friend. me? Alex Fernandez.” David shook hands and said, “Yeah, I you. The Mayor’s son.” Alex said, “And you were a brave member of the posse that went into Reynosa and rescued that kidnapped girl from the Green Door Whore House.” Quickly changing the subject, David said, “You’re taking this ing class?” Alex said, “Yes. My papa says that I must understand the businesses of Mexico before I can be an effective politician. He wishes that when I get older I should become the President of Mexico.” David thought how lucky he was to meet Alex. This was a very important person for him to know. He said, “Are you also taking the Latin class that meets next hour?” Alex said, “I already know how to speak and write Latin. Next hour I have Army Officer Training School.” David said, “Your Father thinks you must the Army too?” Alex said, “No, that’s my idea. After what happened in Texas, I realized that I needed to know how to handle and use firearms. Someday someone may decide to try to assassinate me, and I must then be able to defend myself.”

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After Diego boarded his Aeroméxico flight for Matamoros, David had Alex take him to the Army school and introduce him there. The military instructors welcomed David and helped him enroll. David excelled in marksmanship with both pistols and rifles. He became a favorite of the instructors. He assisted in teaching marksmanship to other students, and the instructors gave David keys for around-the-clock access to the weapons and the practice ranges. By the end of the first six weeks of university studies, David was doing well with all A’s and B’s. But in odd moments now and then, his mind returned to his ex-friend whom he hated so much. Where would Mark be now? Oh yes, he said he was going to that college in Abilene, Texas. It was a religious school, what was its name? Oh yeah, he called it ACC. Mark would not be expecting David to come there for him so his defenses would not be up. He purchased a highway map of Mexico. He studied the Mexican map and also a Texas map that he had packed with his clothes before leaving Matamoros. He carefully plotted a trip north through Mexico to Reynosa. From there he could cross over to McAllen and then catch US Highway 281 North to San Antonio. From San Antonio, US Highway 84 would take him to Abilene. There he would surprise Mark Halas and have his revenge. He knew that once he left Mexico City he would have to make the long hazardous trip to Abilene, Texas, in less than a week in order to assure that he would get there and put a finish to Mark before he was missed at the University. And before his Father received bills from the credit cards companies which would reveal where he was going. His Papa would be furious, but with the revenge an accomplished fact he would understand and forgive. After all, he always had forgiven David in the past. After that, he could drive back all the way to Mexico City and UNAM. He would miss a couple of weeks of classes, but he was confident that he could do make up work for what he had missed. He would concoct a good story, and the professors would accept it. He filled up the gas tank on his car. He had a Big Ben alarm clock. He made sure it was wound up and set for 4 AM. Then in the wee hours while everybody else

was asleep he went to the practice range and took a sniper’s rifle, a Colt 45 revolver, and boxes of ammunition. When the sun first rose above the mountains to the East, he was 2 hours’ drive north of Mexico City cruising along Mexico Highway 57 holding the needle of the American-made speedometer at 55 miles per hour. Not every town had a gas station, so he topped off his tank every time he saw one. As the sun threatened to drop behind the mountains that always seemed to lie to the West, he stopped in Matehuala, a city at the northern end of the Mexican state named San Luis Potosi. The second day, David reached Reynosa and spent the night in the Red Wall Hotel. He was afraid to try to cross the bridge there to McAllen because of the American Border Patrol who he feared most certainly would be on the lookout for him. So, we drove west and floated in his car over the Rio Grande on the always convenient Los Ebanos ferry. Sticking to country back roads he circled around and ed US Highway 281 North of Edinburg. Everything was going according to his plan.

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CHAPTER 45

Sham Battle

Carlos DeLeon was on the telephone calling his supervisor in Austin. Carlos was every bit like the mythical Texas Ranger. He liked to ride horses and did it almost daily. At 32 years old he had light blue eyes embedded in weathered darkly tanned skin and sun-bleached hair on his 6’ 2” slim muscular body. He wore his silver star badge on a long-sleeved western shirt above faded but clean blue jeans held up by a brown belt with a large rodeo prize award buckle. The pants legs were tucked into western style boots. He said, “Jim, I need the day off tomorrow. Walter will cover my territory along with his while I’m gone. Things are pretty quiet around here now, so there should not be a problem the locals can’t handle.” His boss, a Captain in the Rangers, replied, “Carlos, you know that you’re supposed to give us at least two weeks’ notice when requesting time off unless there’s an emergency. What is it this time?” Carlos said, “Well, I haven’t been keeping up with my college social club buddies and an important event snuck up on me. They’re having our annual sham battle nearby over here at the Garza County Park near Post. It’s really fun to watch and I would hate to miss it.” The Captain said, “You’ve mentioned those sham battles before. Okay, take off tomorrow, but next time give us the proper notice ahead. Maybe I’ll come and you to watch the next one. I’d like to see one of those myself.” Carlos said, “Thanks chief. Yeah you’d enjoy seeing one. Tell you what, you’re officially invited to the sham battle next year. And I’ll give plenty of notice so you can make it too.” Carlos hung up the phone which was located on the wall in the kitchen of their Lubbock, Texas home. His wife Marilyn was cooking a bacon, eggs and toast

breakfast. She said, “Sounds like he approved. Are you going to sleep late in the morning like you do on most of your days off?” Carlos said, “You bet I will! They’ll have to drive over from Abilene, so the battle won’t start until around noon.” Turning to his son who was sitting at the table feverishly completing his homework that he should have done the evening before, Carlos said, “Billy, I wish I could take you with me, but with the poor grades that you brought home last week, that’s out. You can’t afford to miss any school now. Get your grades up and you can go with us next year.” Billy said, “Yes sir.” He kept his head down and continued scribbling.

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The next day, Carlos left the house at 11 o’clock in his trooper uniform and in his black-and-white patrol car. In spite of it being a day off, he had to be prepared any time to resume his duties when called upon. If fellow Ranger Walter Hausman ran into trouble, he would have to hightail it back and needed to be ready for such a contingency. Once he got out of Lubbock, the drive to post was only about 40 miles so he did not need to rush. The day had a clear blue sky and bright sun typical for West Texas. Farms on both sides of the highway grew cotton, corn, wheat and other crops which were irrigated from deep wells. About halfway to his destination, he came upon a two-car traffic accident. No other patrol car was there, so we had to stop. Both cars had been crowding the middle of the highway while traveling in opposite directions. Predictably, they had crashed front end driver side bumpers and fenders. Fortunately, no one was seriously hurt. After issuing traffic tickets to both drivers, he used his car radio to call for wreckers to come and get the cars and their occupants. Carlos loved working on the high plains which ended at his destination. Post, Texas was located in the hilly country just below the escarpment known as the caprock which was the edge of the plains. He planned to turn off the highway just short of the caprock and find his favorite spot where he could look down on the Garza County Park and watch the sham battle from above, using his binoculars now and then to see details.

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David Garza arrived in Abilene in the late evening. He pulled off the highway and checked in for the night at the Sands Hotel. He went into the hotel club and ordered a beer. The waiter apologized saying that Abilene was in a dry county and that there was no alcoholic beverages available by law. Astounded and disgusted, David ordered a Coke and carried it up to his room. He watched the Ed Sullivan Show on television which to his surprise turned out to be good entertainment. The next morning, he ate breakfast at the hotel restaurant. As he paid his bill he asked directions to the Christian college in Abilene. The waiter asked him which one. David said, “What do you mean which one? You mean there’s more than one in Abilene?” The waiter said, “That’s right. The closest one to the hotel here is McMurray College which is a Methodist Church school. I think the biggest one is Hardin Simmons, the Baptist college. Then the third one is Abilene Christian College which is the Church of Christ school. Do you know which one you want?” David thought that it was no wonder that Abilene was in a dry county. With all these church schools, that was bound to be the cause of why he could not have his beer last night. He said, “I guess Abilene Christian is the one I want. They call it ACC, don’t they?” The waiter gave him directions. The street in front of the college was named Campus Court. At the south end of Campus Court was a huge church building. David thought that it was big enough to be a cathedral if it had been Catholic. The first building he saw on the campus was an old auditorium. Across the street from the auditorium was a block of businesses and a service station was on the corner of the first side street. David drove the length of campus Court and noticed that across the street from the football stadium on the north end of the campus were nice homes. He turned around and drove down to what looked like an istration building. He turned away from it on a side street and parked. David had been worried that everyone would be wearing a school uniform which

would make him stand out on campus as a stranger, but he saw that this was not the case. Although there were a few purple and white T-shirts with a snarling cat’s head logo, everyone was dressed casually, most male students wearing blue jeans while the female students wore skirts which modestly reached down well below the knees. He decided that he would walk around the campus getting the lay of the land hoping that he might spot Mark. Soon he realized from the size of the campus that there must be well over one or two thousand students enrolled here. Two girls dormitories were on the south side of the campus while two boys dorms were on the north end but south of the football and track stadium. While David had walked around, no one had paid any special attention to him. He decided that the chances of just seeing Mark Halas was unlikely. So, he stopped one of the male students and asked if the guy knew Mark Halas. The student answered, “No. Is he a freshman?” David shook his head yes. The student said, “Then he’s probably housed over there in the barracks.” David looked, and sure enough there were some two-story military style barracks on the other side of Campus Court from the men’s dormitories. Asking around in the closest barracks building, David had no luck. In the second one, a student studying at a ratty old desk said, “Yeah I know Mark. You’re out of luck. He’s a member of the Destroyer Men, and today’s their sham battle. This year, it’s being held in the county park by Post, Texas. That’s over 120 miles west from Abilene, and they left early this morning.” With difficulty, David controlled himself and thanked the student without cursing out loud. Back in his car, he took out his Texas road map and found Post. He started his car and headed west and northwest on Highway 84. He estimated that it would take him maybe two and a half hours, but after having to slow through Sweetwater and Snyder, he saw that in spite of his early start it would be close to noon when he arrived at Post. He wished that he had not wasted over an hour on the ACC campus. The west Texas countryside along the highway was hilly with a few widely separated ranch houses along the way. Dermott and Justiceburg were single traffic light towns which did not slow him much.

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Finally arriving and driving into Post, Texas, David saw that it was much more than just another one traffic light town. He saw businesses: a bank, a newspaper, a hotel, a post office, a school and a manufacturing plant. The sign by the plant said Burlington Industries. That was a name that sounded familiar. He thought they made cotton sheets and pillowcases. He parked by the hotel, went inside and asked where the park was. The clerk behind the check-in desk said, “If you’re one of the students here for that battle game, you’re late. The others drove through town an hour ago.” David said, “Yeah, I’m here for the battle. Which way to the park?” The clerk looked surprised and said, “You don’t know? You must be a freshman. Turn around and take Highway 380 west out of town. Look for a sign saying Garza County Park and turn right. The park borders on the caprock. That’s where you’ll find your buddies.” David said over his shoulder as he hurried out of the hotel, “Thank you.” Driving into the park, he saw a gathering with a lot of men and cars. He pulled over behind some cedar bushes and mesquite trees where he could not see them, and they would not see him. Taking out his binoculars he peeked through the bushes and spotted Mark amongst the others. It looked like they were just starting a battle. They split into two groups. One group went out ahead of the rest of the students to a clearing with a small hill and single cedar tree in the middle. They stopped there, one of the students pinning a red flag shoulder high on the bush. They formed a ring around it in the clearing apparently to defend. David surveyed the surroundings and decided the best place for him to shoot Mark from would be the top of the caprock above the park. It looked like it was about two or three hundred feet up there. In practice with a good rifle he was able to hit targets every time as much as 800 feet away. He would also be safe up there from them coming after him. David got back in his car and drove into post then turned left on Highway 84. He was glad that he had the engine of his car in good condition as it struggled on the steep Highway climb to the top of the caprock, his car belching smoke on the way. At the top, he turned left on County Road 165 which proceeded south about half a mile before turning right and running parallel along the edge of the caprock. After driving through such rough country below, David was amazed at how flat the land was up top here. When he thought he had gone about the right

distance, he stopped and got his sniper rifle out of its case from the trunk of his car. He attached a clip of bullets and loaded one into the chamber. He walked to the edge and then carefully along it until he saw the sham battle progressing below. He laid down and took careful aim. The crosshairs in the telescope mounted on the rifle were centered on Mark’s head as he moved his finger from the guard to the trigger and slowly started to tighten it.

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When Trooper Carlos DeLeon finally reached his usual parking place on County Road 165, he was surprised to find another automobile already there. He looked it over closely noting that it had a Mexican federal district license plate. This raised a big red flag for the Ranger who by profession was always suspicious of unusual things. He pulled his pistol, pointed it down at the ground and quietly walked forward. He saw a man lying on the ground at the edge pointing a rifle down. He raised his pistol and shouted, “Hey! Stop!” The sudden noise from behind him made David jerk as he fired. The sound of the rifle firing caused the trooper to pull the trigger on his pistol shooting David in the back between his shoulder blades. David’s whole body jerked as blood spurted out of the bullet hole in pulses into the air. Shock made David immediately lose consciousness. The rifle fell over the edge and clattered against protuberances in the stone wall on the way down. In the sham battlefield below, Mark felt a real bullet whiz by his ear in the same instant that he heard two gunshot reports which repeated in echoes. Standing in the yard in front of Mark, his Destroyer Man squid brother, Jim Floyd, grabbed his lower leg and fell to the ground screaming. Everyone else froze for an instant. Then they almost all dove for cover under the nearby trees and bushes. Mark knelt by Jim and saw blood flowing from an apparent wound in the calf of his leg. Mark pulled off his own T-shirt and fashioned a tourniquet using it and a stick that he picked up from nearby on the ground. He told Jim, hold this tight then he and three others picked up Jim Floyd and carried him toward Mark’s car. When they realized that there was no more gunfire, others ed them forming a large crowd returning to the cars. Mark shouted, “Abilene is too far away.

Where’s the closest hospital?” Bill Robinson said, “Lubbock is only about 40 miles away on the high plain. That will be where the biggest and best nearby hospital is. I know the city because I’m from Lubbock. I’ll ride in the front seat with you and navigate.” They loaded Jim into Mark’s car laying him on the back seat. Bill said, “Someone needs to ride in back with him in case he es out. We can’t let him bleed to death, but the tourniquet will need to be opened for a minute or so once every 15 minutes so that blood can circulate and minimize lack of blood circulation damage to the leg.” John Graywinter carefully climbed in back and rested Jim’s legs in his lap. As Mark started his car, Gene Billingsley came trotting up with the sniper rifle, The scope broken off and separate. He said, “This rifle came down the cliff right after the shots. It nearly hit me.” Bill said, “Put it on the floor in back. The police will want that. That’s probably the gun that shot Jim. There were two shots, but only one bullet hit around us. I wonder what happened to the shooter.” Jim Floyd said, “I hope that he fries in hell. He just put an end to my football season and probably my football career.” When they reached the top of the caprock, they saw a police car parked next to the highway, and the Texas Ranger standing next to it waving for them to stop. When they did, Mark rolled his window all the way down and said, “We have a wounded man here. We’re taking him to the hospital in Lubbock.” Ranger DeLeon said, “How bad is it?” Bill said, “He’s shot in the lower leg. We have a tourniquet on it. We know firstaid. I’m from Lubbock and I know the way.” Carlos said, “That’s fine, but I’ll lead you in my patrol car to clear traffic for you. I’ll come back here later with help to examine the crime scene in detail and retrieve the shooter’s rifle. We’ll want to interview you guys as witnesses. So, don’t leave on me.” From the back seat, John said, “We have the rifle here.” And he held both parts of it up. Carlos reached over and took it. Then he climbed back in his patrol car,

flipped on the switch for the flashing light on top and pulled out in front to lead the caravan.

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They sat on benches in the hall outside of the surgery in the hospital while the doctors repaired the wound as best they could and cauterized it. Carlos DeLeon stood in front of the students, held up a billfold and said, “This belonged to the shooter. He had driver’s licenses from both Texas and Mexico. His name was David Garza. Does that mean anything to anyone?” Mark raised his hand and said, “Yes. I know him. He was shooting at me. But you said he had and was?” Carlos said, “When he started shooting at you, I had to shoot to stop him. He’s dead. We sent an ambulance and another Ranger to retrieve his body so that the animals would not get at it tonight.” DeLeon then pointed down the hall saying, “Mark, you come with me to the chapel. I have some questions for you. The rest of you can stay tonight at the Best Western Motel that we ed on the way into Lubbock. I’ve notified the manager there, and Texas will pay for your rooms for the one-night stay.” If the motel does not have enough toothbrushes for a crowd this size please share. He put on a big grin so they could see that he was kidding. Then he continued, “After you check out in the morning and come by to see your friend here in the hospital, and if we need to talk to you further there will be a message there for you. Then Carlos turned and walked down the hall with Mark.

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When they entered the chapel, six men stood up and stared at Mark. Carlos said, “This is Mark Halas. He says he knows the shooter and that he himself was the target. Mark, let me introduce these gentlemen. First this is my supervisor

Captain Jim Johnson. He flew in from Austin this afternoon just to meet you. The gentleman in the Navy-blue uniform here is the police chief in Post, Greg Benson. Next to him in civilian clothes is his chief of detectives, Roger Avery. The gentleman in the tan uniform with the star is the Sheriff of Garza County, Ray McIntosh. The second man in civilian clothes and with cowboy boots on there is Texas Ranger Bob Beasley. Finally, the third man here in civilian clothes is the Garza County Judge, Richard Morgan.” Mark shook hands with each man as they were introduced. “Mark, please stand in front there by the altar and explain to us how you knew David Garza and why he would want to kill you.” Mark noted that the Ranger had used, “He says…” Instead of, “He was….” From that he surmised that he had not told the man enough for them to know whether to believe him or not. He decided he would fix that. Taking his place as directed, Mark found that he was facing two bright spotlights that shown on the altar from the back of the room effectively blinding him to the point that he could not see the expressions on the faces of the others. He explained how he met David Garza and how they became friends and then how they had a falling out. Then he told them about the strange siege at the cotton trailer were David tried to kill him and how he had thrown the cotton scales and knocked David out before he could flee when a sheriff’s deputy arrived on scene. He concluded by saying that somehow David escaped from the county jail in Edinburg and fled to Mexico. At this point discussion broke out amongst his audience. Captain Johnson told the others about the Father of David, Ernesto Garza, and his gang of marijuana smugglers who operated out of Matamoros, and how the FBI wanted to put an end to their operation. “We understand that there was a shootout in Edinburg during an attempt to free David, and that the FBI killed six of the Garza gang.” Finally, the conversation died down. Carlos said, “Thank you Mark for clarifying the situation. You may go and your friends and I’ll see you tomorrow.” After Mark left, Jim Johnson said, “What I’m about to say is for your ears only and not to be repeated outside this room. From past history, we have good reason to believe that Ernesto Garza will hire a hitman to target the Ranger who killed his son and probably to take out Mark Halas too. For this reason, I’m asg another Ranger to partner with Carlos and help cover his back. I’m also ing the feds in the hopes of getting an undercover operation going to take

out Ernesto Garza before he can act against us. We understand that the CIA has one or more agents in Mexico and that agency also performs an occasional surgical strike to take out foreign enemies of to our country. We’re going to request their help.” County Judge Morgan said, “Well I hope that y’all can get that done before those Mexican gangsters can kill that fine young man who just talked to us. You said you would assign a second Ranger to help protect your officer, but you didn’t say anything about protecting Mark Halas. What about that?” Jim Johnson said, “That I didn’t mention it doesn’t mean that we don’t have a plan for Mark. As a matter of fact, we want to take him out of school and sequester him in a safe house where the Garza gang won’t be able to find him. This is not Russia, and we can’t do that without Mark’s agreement. Carlos will discuss it with him tomorrow morning, and if he agrees he will not go back to Abilene until after the Garza case is finally resolved.”

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CHAPTER 46

Messages

The Brownsville Messenger Serving The Rio Grande Valley Since 1910

(DP MEMBER) BROWNSVILLE, TEXAS, MONDAY, OCTOBER 21, 1957 CLOSING EDITION

The President Apologizes

Preston Eisenhower made a public apology to the Queen of England over illegitimate children left behind in England by American GIs who returned to the United States after the war. A reporter in the crowd shouted out a question about those orphan children to Queen Elizabeth as she rode in an open topped vehicle from an appearance in Parliament. General Eisenhower had been the supreme commander of all troops in Europe during the Allies invasion at Normandy on D day and during the subsequent drive to defeat the Nazis. The President stated, it was his obligation to issue the apology because he had been in command of those American troops who were responsible. He added that America would send to England for those children. Queen Elizabeth sent a reply message to the President stating that while she

appreciated the offer of assistance, it was unnecessary, and England would handle the matter without such aid. The Queen added that Britain is forever indebted to the Americans for their sacrifices in the war to defeat Hitler and his followers. Because of his success in commanding the defeat of the evil Nazi empire in Europe, when Eisenhower decided to run for president, he was undefeatable. (Continued on page E 30)

Minister Condemns Elvis Pressley

The minister of a little-known church located in Big Rock, Missouri, condemned Elvis Presley from the pulpit in his sermon this past Sunday. The ordained minister of the Universal Brethren Church (UBC), Simon LaBerge, stated that the hip gyrations performed by the singer during his recent performance on television during The Ed Morgan Show were “vulgar and should not be allowed in public.” A reporter in the congregation who was recording the sermon wrote up the minister’s remarks and they appeared in a front-page article in the Big Rock Monitor newspaper the following Monday. Minister LaBerge further condemned Elvis’ rock music as “the devils lure for innocent teenagers.”

SURPRISE DEATH

Ernesto (Ernie) Garza was found dead in his bed in his palatial home in Matamoros this morning. The Matamoros Coroner said that there would be no autopsy in spite of the fact that the middle-aged businessman was reported to be in prime healthy condition by associates. Nevertheless, Coroner Roberto Lerma stated, “Ernesto Garza’s death was certainly from a heart attack brought on by news of the death of his only son, David Garza.”

(No photographs available)

The surgeon made his rounds in the hospital after completing his scheduled early morning operations. He stopped by the room of the young man whom he had been called out to operate on for a bullet wound the day before. Jim Floyd’s Mother was seated on the visitors chair by the bed visiting with her son who was propped up. His leg was wrapped in white, but not encased in plaster. The surgeon said, good morning ma’am I’m the guilty party responsible for wrapping up your son’s leg like that yesterday. After introductions he turned and said, “And how are you doing this morning Mister Floyd.” Jim replied, “Well, I’ve had better days. They gave me a couple aspirin, but my leg still hurts like heck. More importantly, Doctor, will I be able to play football again?” The doctor smiled, and said, “The important question first, right? You won’t be playing football anymore this season which is halfway over anyhow. You were fortunate that the bullet that struck you did not hit a bone. So, it was just a flesh wound. It was going at a downward angle, so it did a little more damage than normal for a flesh wound. We knitted it up good, but it will take a while to heal. There’s a board under that wrapping to limit your working your leg and pulling on that muscle. I decided not to put it in a cast, but you need to use crutches for the next six weeks. After that we’ll put you on physical therapy which will include walking but not running. We’ll gradually increase the exercise for another six weeks for a total of three months after the surgery. Then, you’ll be able to really start working out again, but no football or other such violent activity till next spring. Then your team’s trainer and coaches can have you.” Mrs. Floyd said, “Doctor we’re not local. How long until I can get him out of here and take him home?” The doctor said, “Give us a couple more days to observe him and make sure that he does not have an infection. Where are you from?” She said, “We live near Comanche.” The doctor said, “Have your family doctor there call me, and I’ll answer his

questions and fax him all the information he needs to take over the case.” The phone on the cabinet next to the bed rang. The doctor said, “You better get that” as he turned and left. Jim picked up the phone and heard the hospital operator say, “There’s a call from a Donald Harding in Abilene for you Mister Floyd. Will you take the call?” For his Mother’s benefit, Jim said, “It’s my coach. Yes, I’ll take the call, thank you.” Coach Harding said, “Bill Robinson told me what happened to you, Jim. How are you doing now?” Jim said, “It hurts like heck, but the doctor was just here, and he said that I should be able to do spring training next year. Will I still be on the freshman team?” Harding said, “We’ll hold your athletic scholarship open for you, but we’ll move you up to the varsity. You won’t have to do the freshman team for two years. When the doctors are through with you, call us and we’ll have our trainer give you a workout schedule to help you get your strength back in that leg.”

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Texas Ranger Bob Beasley made a local phone call to Texas Rangers Captain Jim Johnson in Austin. Beasley said, “Jim, I saw the article in the Brownsville Messenger about Ernie Garza’s ‘heart attack death’. Am I to take it that was arranged?” Jim said, “Bob, you know that I can’t it to knowledge of any such thing. I will say this though; the federal CIA agents are very effective.” Bob said, “That’s what I thought.” Jim said, “But I’m puzzled about one thing. How did you get the news so

quickly? Do you subscribe to the Brownsville newspaper? Bob said, “No, of course not. Let’s get together for drinks after work and I’ll explain the roundabout way that the news came to me.”

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Lubbock District Attorney Paul Mathis answered the buzzer on his desk, “Yes?” “Your 10 o’clock appointment is here to see you sir.” “If it’s Texas Rangers DeLeon, send him in.” Carlos DeLeon entered the office, and the DA motioned toward the chairs in front of his desk, saying, “Please have a seat, officer.” As he took a seat, Carlos said, “Paul, we’ve known each other for over 10 years. Why so formal?” Paul said, “Carlos, the Coroner ruled that the David Garza kid that you shot in the back was murdered. This automatically means that I must take it before the current Grand Jury. There’s a possibility that you might be indicted in which case I would have to prosecute you.” Carlos said, “Come on Paul! The kid had a rifle and was about to kill one of the college kids from Abilene that were playing in the Garza County Park. I shouted for him to stop, but he fired anyway. When I shouted at him he jerked, and that probably saved a life because his shot missed its intended target and hit a different kid in the leg. I had to shoot him to save somebody’s life. Also, I don’t understand where you get the authority to handle this since the shooting happened in Garza County.” Paul said, “Yes, the coroner and I both read your official written report on the incident. So, we know all that. The authority comes to us since David Garza’s body is in the morgue here in Lubbock. The question is, could you have stopped him and disarmed him in a less lethal way? For example, could you have pistol

whipped him and then jerked the rifle out of his hand? The coroner thinks so.” Carlos said, “There was no time for that. He was lying on the ground at the edge of the caprock, and I was a yard away from his feet. By the time I had stepped forward to do what you just said he could’ve fired once or twice again. I had no way of knowing whether his rifle had rapid-fire capability, which incidentally it does. I had to stop him instantly. Shooting him was the only way. Anything else could have resulted in some dead students down below.” Paul said, “You should have put that in your report.” Carlos said, “Well, I’ll file an amended report which will include the reason that I had to shoot.” The DA was silent for a few moments, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Do that, but that alone will be not quite enough to prevent your indictment. However, there’s a political factor in this. Carlos, what church do you belong to?” Surprised by what seemed like a sudden switch of topics, Carlos said, “The Church of Christ. I attend the Broadway church. What’s that got to do with any of this?” Paul said, “I read recently that one in ten of the people living in Lubbock belong to the Church of Christ. Between you Campbellites, the Baptists, and several smaller churches like the Nazarenes, conservative Christians are a majority of the voters in our great city. And as a group, conservative Christians favor strong law enforcement. If I prosecuted you, I would lose the next election. Don’t ever repeat what I’m telling you, but that tips the scale in your favor. I’ll recommend to the grand jury that they no bill you. You will skate on this one, but in the future, be a little less deadly and trigger-happy. You could’ve shot him in the butt or jumped forward onto him and pistol whipped him.” Carlos said, “Thanks! I appreciate your decision to recommend that the grand jury no bill me. For future reference only, I want you to know that I think your reasoning stinks. I stand by what I said which is I had to make a split-second decision and if I had done anything else there would have been one dead student and maybe more.” Paul said, “For your information, I’m a Baptist. Your reasoning chooses one life

over another. Possible death of a student over certain death for David Garza. Only God knows enough to make that kind of decision.” Carlos said, “Now you’re elevating this into a theology discussion. Never mind that. Law enforcement officers of all kinds who are on the spot in bad situations have to make split-second decisions frequently, all over the world. Often if they don’t act immediately they die or some victim dies. It’s easy to second-guess them after the fact. You have to walk in their shoes or be able to put yourself there in your mind to understand.” Paul said, “I grant you that, but after a shooting their action should be reviewed by an independent agency, and not just by their superiors.” Carlos said, “Maybe so. It depends who’s doing the reviewing. Some citizens have axes to grind and are not willing to give officers a fair shake in a shooting review… and I have a little story to tell you.” The DA said, “Not another Aggie joke.” Carlos said, “No…. A preacher, a Texas Ranger, and a lawyer were engers together in an airplane returning from Japan. The pilot came back and said to the engers, “Bad news! The fuel tank had a leak and we’re running out of aviation gas. So, this plane is going down in the Pacific. We’ve thrown a life raft in the water. We have parachutes for everyone. We must jump in an orderly fashion, one at a time. Who goes first?” The preacher said, “Not me. The Lord will take care of me so I will bailout after you men.” The Texas Ranger said, “Not me. I serve the public and save people. I should go last.” The lawyer said, “What about you pilot? Aren’t you going to bail out first?” The pilot said, “No, I’m like the captain of a ship. I bailout last even if it means I go down with the plane.” The lawyer said, “Then that just leaves me. I’m valuable, so I’ll go first.” And he bailed out. The others looked down to see what would happen to the lawyer when he hit the water. He disconnected his parachute. But he was some distance

from the life raft. The preacher said, “Look! There’s sharks but they’re not attacking him. They’re just circling around him. I wonder why?” The Texas Rangers said, “It’s professional courtesy to their kind.” Paul said, “Very funny. Get out of here.”

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Pedro Vicente was parking his patrol car in front of the Bulldog Café. He was to meet Brian Quinn there for coffee and to discuss their agenda for the day. Before he could get out of the car, Emilio Munoz appeared at his window on the driver side and rapped on it with his knuckles. Pedro rolled down the window and said, “Emilio! What is it?” Emilio said, “I called home to make sure that the money order I sent arrived okay. I was shocked to find out that Angel never arrived home. He should have been there a long time ago. I don’t know what to do. I guess I’ll have to go into Mexico along the path home that Angel would’ve followed to see if I can find him. I’m really worried. There are outlaws in northern Mexico who could have kidnapped or killed him.” Pedro stared at Emilio’s face. Suddenly he knew the identity of the Progresso murder victim. The similarity between Emilio’s facial features and that of the body now buried in a pauper’s grave in Edinburg was striking. They had to have been brothers. Vicente said, “Emilio, I think I can help you find Angel. Please come around and get in the car with me in the front seat here.” While Emilio walked around the car, Pedro restarted the engine and turned up the air conditioner. When Emilio was seated, Pedro said please wait here while I go inside and leave a message for my partner with waitress Millie. I’ll be back in just a couple of minutes then we’re going to go find Angel.” Pedro hated to be the bearer of such bad news, but he knew what he had to do. Acting Coroner Billy Ben Benson had photos of the Progresso John Doe victim.

He would show them to Emilio to confirm the identification. Then he would take Emilio to the grave and suggested to him that he might want to buy a gravestone for his brother. Emilio would want to know who killed Angel. Although he wasn’t 100% certain, Pedro would identify the now dead killer David Garza as the one so that Emilio could have closure.

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CHAPTER 47

Love

After being sequestered for two weeks in a state police safe house in Austin, Mark was discouraged about returning to classes in Abilene. He would be nearly a month behind in the required studies, so he decided to give up on the fall semester and just re again for the spring semester. He also decided not to tell his folks about that over long-distance telephone. He just drove south heading home. Highway 281 across the King Ranch is a very boring drive when alone, but he managed to stay awake. When Mark reached Edinburg, he made three stops there. The first was for a hamburger lunch. The second was to re-fuel the car. The third stop was at the Gonzales Jewelry Store. There he purchased an engagement ring, on credit with a $15 down payment. The diamond on it was not very big, but at least you did not need a microscope to see it, and it was all he could afford. Mark knew that he would not find Natalia Diaz in the cotton fields. Because of the scourge of the pink boll worm, which was very damaging to cotton crops, farmers in the lower Valley were required to plow under the cotton plants by September first. He thought that the Diaz family might be busy helping with the harvest of early fall vegetables. He didn’t know where the they would be working, so he decided he would wait to call on Natalia until that evening. When Mark arrived home and turned on to the driveway, he knew that his two sisters would be in school and his Father would be off driving a tractor on a field somewhere so his Mother would be home alone. Margaret Halas sat in the living room pedaling hard to power the Singer machine in sewing together pieces of material she had cut out to make dresses for the two girls. The cut outs were made using patterns on paper that she had ordered from the Montgomery Ward catalog. The machine was seven years old and had become noisy with wear from the years of use. The noise prevented her from hearing Mark’s car pull up on the

rocks of the driveway next to the house. Mark entered through the back door, saying, “Mom, are you home?” Margaret screamed and then said, “In the living room.” Mark came in, she stood, and they hugged. She said, “Mark, what on Earth are you doing home? You’re supposed to be in school in Abilene.” Mark said, “Mom, it’s a long story. Let’s sit on the sofa and I’ll tell you all about it.” After he finished, Margaret said, “Thank the Lord that Ranger saved you and that horrible David will no longer be a threat to us. I know that we should forgive those who sin against us, but I have to pray for forgiveness myself because I can’t forgive him for trying to kill you and I’m glad he’s gone.” Mark said, “Mom I have some other news for you.” He reached in his pocket and took out a small black box the exterior of which was velvet lined. He opened it and showed her the engagement ring. Margaret said, “Oh! You met a girl at ACC? Don’t tell me she’s out in the car now.” David felt his cheeks flush. He said, “No Mom. It’s a girl I met here. I’m in love with Natalia Diaz and tonight I’m going to ask her to marry me.” Margaret’s face fell.. She said, “But David, she’s a Catholic!” David said, “Yes Mom, I know that. But when I dated her, we just seemed to match up so well. She likes the same things I do. I’ll convert her. She will understand.” Margaret said, “I don’t think you’ll be able to convert her. And she will want to raise your children, my grandchildren, as Catholics. She’ll try to convert you. And if you really love her, she might be able to do that. I have a horrible feeling about this.” Mark said, “Mom, my faith is strong, and my knowledge of the Bible is good. I’ll take her with me when I go back to Abilene Christian. Surrounded by so many Christians there, she’ll be the one converted. ACC has a course on church history. I’ll get her itted for monitoring the class with me when I take it.

When she learns the real church history that will change her mind.” Margaret said, “You really believe that she will go with you to ACC?” David said, “If she really loves me, then she will go with her husband. If she doesn’t love me, then she won’t marry me and none of this will matter.” Margaret said, “For your sake, I hope you’re right.”

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Juan Pablo Diaz Junior was listening to the Lone Ranger program on the radio in the Diaz living room. It came on for 30 minutes starting at 7 PM. He was startled when headlights flashed through the front windows as a car turned off of Jackson Road into the Diaz driveway. He jumped up and ran to the kitchen dining room combo shouting, “Papa, someone’s coming!” Juan Pablo said to his son, “Go back to listening to your program. When they knock on the door, I will answer it.” Natalia was sitting at the table with papers and textbooks spread out before her. A senior in high school, she was doing homework and studying for an American History test scheduled for tomorrow. When Junior had come in shouting, it had taken her attention away, and she wondered who would be coming here at this late hour. Since her Father would handle it, she turned her attention back to her studies. Victoria Diaz stood by the cabinet next to the stove, preparing sandwiches for lunches for the two children for the next day. The school bus would pick them up, and she and Juan Pablo would go to work in the fields picking tomatoes. Their workdays were long, so they did not stay up much after dinner. The knock on the front door was loud, and Juan Pablo clicked on the porch light switch and opened the door less than 30 seconds later. Seeing Mark Halas standing there and squinting in the light, he said, “Yes?”

Mark said, “Good evening Mr. Diaz. May I speak to Natalia for a few minutes?” A year ago, Juan Pablo would have snapped, “No!” And slammed the door closed. But when Mark had accompanied him and others in a posse that rescued a kidnapped Natalia from pending service in a Reynosa whorehouse, he had changed his mind about this gringo. So, he said, “Yes, please come in.” Mark hesitated and then said, “I would like a private conversation. Could she step out here for a little bit?” Juan Pablo stared at Mark eyes to eyes, then he turned and called, “Natalia, you have a visitor. Come here.” Natalia came and seeing the situation she stepped outside on the small porch with Mark pulling the door closed behind her. She gave him a questioning look. Mark suddenly found himself tongue-tied. He stammered and then said, “Natalia, I know I’ve been away and haven’t seen you in a couple of months.” He reached out and took her hands in his as he continued, “Natalia, I came back here all the way from Abilene to see you and tell you that I’ve missed you so much and that I … love … you. Natalia, I cannot live away from you. Will you marry me?” Natalia was momentarily stunned. She looked in his eyes and saw sincerity. She searched her own feelings and realized that she had a strong attraction to this gringo like she had never felt toward anyone else before. To her surprise, she thought, I really love him. She said, “Mark, I love you too, more than I have any other before now. Mark, yes! But we must do this in the right way. You must ask my Father for permission to marry me. It is our custom. My Father asked my Grandfather Lopez for permission and you should do it now.” Mark said, “What if he says no?” Natalia said, “Then you must wait until I get him to say yes.” Mark said, “You sound sure of yourself.” Natalia said, “He loves me too, as only a Father can love his daughter. It is a deep love, but different from romance.”

Mark said, “Okay, right now.” He reached for the door, opened it and they went in. They walked together, Natalia’s left hand in Mark’s right hand. Junior glanced up, then returned his attention to the radio. In the kitchen, Juan Pablo and Victoria sat at the table looking at them. They had anticipated this. Mark said, “Mr. Diaz, I love your daughter. May I have your permission to marry her?” Juan Pablo looked at Victoria and said, “What do you think?” Victoria looked dubious and said, “I don’t know. He is a gringo.” Juan Pablo said, “We’ll have to think about it.” Natalia said, “Papa!” Suddenly both Juan Pablo and Victoria burst into laughter. Natalia gave her parents an exasperated look. And they managed to stop laughing. Juan Pablo said, “Natalia, do you love this man?” Natalia said, “Yes Papa. I love him more than any man that I’ve ever known.” Juan Pablo said to Mark, “Then yes, you have my permission. We have some things to discuss about the wedding. You’re not a Catholic, and we have always thought our daughter would have a Catholic wedding. And we would also like for you to have a conversation with our priest.” Mark said, “My parents also have opinions about the wedding. I know that we have differences to work out. Please let Natalia and I work them out. Would that be okay?” Victoria nodded yes briefly, but Juan Pablo sat silent for what seemed to Mark to be a very long time. Then Juan Pablo said, “Yes, you work them out. It has been a long day and I am tired. I’m happy for you, but Victoria and I must get our rest before another long workday tomorrow.” They stood and took turns hugging Natalia. Victoria was in happy tears. Juan

Pablo shook hands with Mark before leaving for the master bedroom with his wife. Natalia and Mark engaged in a deep kiss mouth-to-mouth Hollywood style. Then Natalia said, “Sit down with me here and let’s talk.” Mark sat and then said, “My parents want us to be married in our church and your folks want us to be married at your church. What do you think we should do?” Natalia said, “We have to be honest with each other. I don’t know. What do you suggest?” Mark said, “I knew this would be a problem. So, I have been thinking about it and I think we should avoid the which church question by having a civil ceremony. A justice of the peace can legally perform a wedding. This will avoid a conflict with your parents versus my parents. Then we can have an after the ceremony party at the Civic Center in McAllen or in Edinburg. Would that be okay?” Natalia said, “Not the best thing to do, but the necessary one. Will you still talk to our priest?” Mark said, “I could do that, but he would not be very happy with me. I would not agree to convert to the Catholic Church, and then there’s the question of baptizing babies. My church does not practice that. We believe that they are born innocent. Also, he would want us to raise the children as Catholics. That’s something you and I need to work out. But again, he would not like my answer.” Natalia said, “We must always love each other very much, or all these problems will destroy our marriage.” Mark decided that this woman he loved was very wise. Then he thought and said, “There’s something else.” Natalia said, “Yes? What?” Mark said, “I have enrolled in college in Abilene. I’ll have to tell you later why I’m not in classes there today, but right now I want you to know that I would like for you to go with me to Abilene. There are small houses there on campus for

the married students. I think you would really like it there.” Natalia was quiet for a while. Then she said, “Could I take classes there, too?” Mark said, “Yes, I’m sure you could. Have you graduated from high school?” Natalia said, “I’m a senior at PSJA high school right now.” Mark said, “What kind of grades do you have?” Natalia said, “I make straight A’s with an occasional B. I’ve never made a C in high school.” Mark said, “They may require you to take a standard exam. But with that kind of grades and being the wife of a student in the college, they would it you. But they would want you to finish high school first. You could take classes at Abilene High School. There is an alternative to that. It’s called a GED. You study and take a test and then you get the GED. It’s considered equal to a high school diploma. We would have to talk to a counselor on campus first and find out what they will accept. I’m not sure, but I am sure there’s a way for you to be itted to ACC.” Natalia said, “ACC? What does that stand for?” Mark said, “Abilene Christian College. Before you ask, it is ed by the Churches of Christ.” Natalia said, “I don’t know anything about that denomination. Would the college require me to your church?” Mark decided that this would not be a good time to explain to Natalia about the Church’s teachings regarding denominations. He said, “Most students at ACC are of the Church. However, it’s not a requirement. I know a few students there who are of other churches.” Natalia said, “Okay, as your wife, I’ll go with you to Abilene. When will the wedding be?” Mark said, “As soon as possible. This is my first time, so I’ll have to check and see how to set it up.”

Natalia said, “This had better be the only time.” Mark said, “Right!”

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Pedro Vicente sat in his patrol car in front of Millie’s house. He was in love with Millie Jordan. He knew in his heart that he would never again be happy unless he married her. Contemplating this, he wondered what it would be like to suddenly have a family with two children who he did not know well, and that he had not fathered. He also wondered if the children’s Father would ever show up. He thought that wasn’t likely, after all Millie had assumed a false name, Jordan, and come all the way down to the southern tip of Texas to hide. But if Jake Carson ever did show up, it would be a real crisis. Certainly, the Father of the two children had a real motive to keep looking for her and them. What Pedro and Millie had no way of knowing or of finding out was that Jake Carson had died of an alcoholic’s pickled liver and thus would never trouble them. Pedro interrupted his musing, thinking to himself you’re wasting your time on crossing a bridge that you will never come to. He reached in his pocket and pulled out the obligatory little black box with the engagement ring and matching wedding ring for Millie’s finger. The diamond on the engagement ring was impressive, and there were five small diamonds in a row on the wedding ring. This had cost him a fortune, but he had saved up the money over several years, planning for a wedding in the future someday and he had paid cash. Pedro knocked on the door to Millie’s house, and her sister Barbara answered it. Barbara said, “Come in Pedro and have a seat. I will go up and let Millie know that you’re here.” As Pedro made his way to the sofa, he said, “Good evening Barbara. How are you and the children doing this evening?” As she made her way to the stairs, Barbara said, “We’re all fine.” Giggling

revealed the children on the stairway. Pedro smiled up at them. Barbara shooed them back on upstairs as she went up. In a little while, Millie came down and smiling at Pedro said, “I’m ready, let’s go.” Pedro patted the seat next to him and said, “Sit down Millie and let’s talk a minute before we go.” She sat, and taking her hands, Pedro said, “Millie, I have something here for you.” He took out the box and opened it as he held it out toward her. As she focused on it, Millie’s eyes went big in surprise and she inhaled deeply. Looking back up, she said, “Pedro!” Pedro said, “Millie, you must know by now that I love you. Will you marry me?” Millie said, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” Pedro took out the engagement ring and slipped it on Millie’s correct left-hand finger. She held it out in front of herself iring it. Then they both stood up and embracing tightly, they kissed for a long, long time.

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APPENDIX

A. Geography

The Lower Rio Grande Valley in the southern tip of Texas is not a true valley located between mountains. Rather, it is a coastal plains area about 20 miles wide and parallel to the lower Rio Grande River running from Brownsville on the coast to Mission 50 miles inland. North of it lies desert and the huge King Ranch isolating it from the rest of the state. Unlike the desert north of it, the Valley is green from irrigation with water pumped from the river through canals, concrete pipes and ditches. The Chamber of Commerce often refers to this oasis as the Magic Valley and you can see this term repeated in the newspapers and broadcast over radio and TV. In contrast to the desert, the Valley is covered with trees and the open areas covered with crops. Palm trees line the roads and citrus orchards cover large acreages. Undeveloped areas have the scruffier wild mesquite trees and bushes. In the 1950s, the subtropical area crops included cotton, corn and maize in the summer and tomatoes carrots lettuce and cabbage is in the winter. With government price s, cotton was the main money crop while winter vegetables where a gamble to farmers each year.

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B. History Notes

1. Development of the Valley really began when the railroad came down and ran the length of the current Valley about 10 miles north of the Rio Grande

River and parallel to it. A highway was constructed parallel and adjacent to the railroad on the south side of it which became US Highway 83. Originally it was a two-lane concrete strip but with time heavier traffic areas were widened covered over with asphalt and given a third center lane for left turns. Brownsville was originally Fort Brown and Harlingen was Six Shooter Junction. Other towns sprung up along the railroad and highway at rail junctions, crossroads and farmers markets. Today, McAllen and Edinburg have grown together into one large metropolis, and the same thing as happened with Harlingen and San Benito. In the 1950s however, each of these was a separate city with open country between them. 2. Race and language - In the 1950s, the lower Rio Grande Valley was gradually increasing in the ratio of Latino population to Anglo due to continuing migration from Mexico and a few from further south. The border patrol was never able to completely stanch the flow. Some latinos would bring their wives and sometimes their families across the Rio Grande, and they would settle in Texas instead of returning. When children are born to these migrants’ families in Texas and other border states, they are American citizens by law. So gradually, these families became “Mexican American,” and so are their descendants. For a long time, many of these families spoke only Spanish at home, although further north others learned English and Americanized. Americanizing has been particularly true of the families who moved north away from the border and settled in other Texas towns and in other states. A result of this trend was that the population of Spanish-speaking children coming into the school systems in the Valley contained many children who could not speak English when they faced the first grade. (Public schools of the time did not have kindergartens.) School districts handled this challenge by creating separate grammar schools for Spanish-speaking children where they were taught English as one of the subjects. By 1957, school districts in the Valley and many elsewhere integrated the Spanish-speaking children population with the Englishspeaking group in middle schools. These middle schools generally spanned the fifth grade through the eighth grade. So, high schools were taught only in English; although, Spanish language was a high school required or elective subject taught to both Anglo and Latin American children. (, we are

discussing the 1950s.) 3. Pay Scale - Illegal aliens in the Valley in the 1950s were generally paid around $0.25 per hour or $3.00 per 12-hour day. (ing for inflation in today’s dollars that would be approximately $2.60 per hour or about $31.50 per 12-hour day.) After the government initiated the bracero program, legal contract workers from Mexico were paid $0.50 per hour, doubling their income. Additionally, the farmers were required to provide housing with utilities for the braceros. Picking cotton was paid by the pound of loose material with seeds. https://www.dollartimes.com/inflation/inflation.php?amount=10&year=1950

C. List of Characters

Alonso, Diego – Lead Henchman for Ernie Garza.

Alvarez, Agustín (Augie) – black market businessman, selling everything from marijuana to b Bauman, Dieter – a MD working in the Edinburg hospital Benson, William Bennett – a.k.a. “Billy Ben”, JP and acting Coroner for Hidalgo County Billingsley, Gene – Treasurer of the Destroyer Men social club at ACC Booth, Theodore “Ted” - FBI agent stationed in Houston, Texas Brownell Jr., Herbert – Attorney General under Eisenhower Carlos – European assassin Claymore, Keith – Border patrolman at the Progresso bridge crossover Curran, Danny – A veteran of the Korean War and Edinburg citizen. A bystander.

DeLeon, Carlos – A Texas Ranger working out of Lubbock, Texas. Also a Destroyer Men alu Diaz, Juan Pablo – Mexican American, Father of a family picking cotton Diaz, Juan Pablo, Jr. – 10-year-old son Diaz, Natalia – Daughter and kidnapping victim

Diaz, Victoria – Wife of Juan Pablo and mother of Natalia Dodson, Robert (“Bob”) – Sheriff of Cameron County. Eisenhower, Dwight (“Ike”) – President of the USA, Engle, Victor – A professional diver. Fernández de Cortés, Alexander López Sánchez – The Mayor of México City. Fernandez, Alex, Jr. – the México City Mayor’s idealist son.

Field, Frank, M.D. – Halas family doctor, and source of an Anglo baby for black market sale. Floyd, Jim – Destroyer Men new member and freshman team football player at ACC Garza, David – A hot tempered teenage boy, the killer.

Garza, Ernesto (“Ernie”) – David’s father. the owner of The Red Door whorehouse in Matam Garza, Isabella – mother of David Gonzalez, Felipe – Guard/enforcer in a Reynosa brothel Sanchez, Mateo – Manager of a Matamoros brothel. Also an enforcer for Ernie Garza. Graywinter, John – Vice President of the Destroyer Men social club at ACC Halas, Elizabeth – A sister to Mark. Halas, Jane – The younger sister to Mark. Halas, John – Mark’s father; a poor sharecropping farmer. Halas, Margaret – John’s wife and Mark’s mother.

Halas, Mark – 17-year-old farmer’s son. Planning to attend college in the fall. Working for his Hoover, J. Edgar – FBI Director, served under several presidents Johnson, Jim – Captain in the Texas Rangers and supervisor over Rangers in West Texas Johnson, Tricia – Day shift dispatcher for the Hidalgo County Sheriff’s Department Jordan, Barbara, Sister to the waitress and her babysitter.

Jordan, Millie – Waitress at the bulldog Café. A young single mother struggling to make ends Kennedy, Donald – Hidalgo County Attorney MacLeod – Sergeant in the McAllen police Maldonado, Aaron – a young MD doing his residency in the Edinburg hospital

Martin, Rodrigo – A México City Mayor’s strongman. Mathis, Paul – Lubbock District Attorney Morales, Dante – A lookout for the Garza gang watching the approaches to the jail Munoz, Angel – Emilio Munoz’ teenage brother Munoz, Emilio – An illegal alien earning money to send back to Mexico for his family. Perez, Lucas – The México City Mayor’s right-hand strongman. Polk, Craig – A Hidalgo County Sheriff’s deputy, a bigot Quinn, Brian – PhD criminologist, investigator for the Hidalgo County Sheriff’s Department Reyes, Bruno – Owner and manager of The Green Door bar and brothel in Reynosa Robinson, Bill – President of the Destroyer Men social club at ACC Romero, Rodolfo (Rudy) – Another gangster, smuggler and hitman Schmidt, Christian (“Chris”) – Teenage pin boy; the first victim. Tavoian, Donald “Don” – An FBI sniper Thompson, Leroy - Sheriff of Hidalgo County. Tolson, Clyde – Associate FBI Director under Hoover Torres, Tomás – Henchman for Ernie Garza. Triplett, Tricia – Sheriff Department receptionist and dispatcher

Vasquez, Kate – Secretary and occasional substitute dispatcher for the Hidalgo County Sherif Vicente, Pedro – First ever Latino sheriff’s deputy to be appointed in Hidalgo County Vicente, Pablo – Pedro’s 50 yr old father, a wetback who served in the U.S. army in Korea Waters, George – Hidalgo County Judge Worley, Nick – The oldest Sheriff’s deputy in the department. Due to retire shortly. Worley, Anthony (“Tony”) – Nick Worley’s son, who is also a sheriff’s deputy.

D. Spanish and Mexican Slang

Alto – Halt or stop Cabrón – Literally, “goat”, actually means smart ass or bastard. Chico – means “little boy.” It could be a term of endearment, or it could be derision Chinga – Commonly used Mexican curse word. Polite company in America refer to it in English as “an F bomb.” Otherwise indicated here as F___k. Con - With Gracias – Thank you Dios – God Madre – Mother, meaning “mother F___er” or just “mother” Peda – Literally, “fart”, actually means drunk Pendejo – F___ker Pinche estúpido – F___king idiot Puta – Whore Puto – Faggot Vaya – Go - End -

ENDNOTES

1 Spanish language is translated into English and indicated in italics, except for a few Mexican slang . See the Appendix for the untranslated words. 2 illegal aliens in Texas were referred to as “wetbacks” since they had to cross the Rio Grande River to enter Texas from Mexico. They often swam across. 3 “Chico” means, “little boy.” It could be a term of endearment, but in this case, was derision. 4 FHA: Farm and Home istration - a branch of the USDA agency that makes or backs loans to farmers, allowing them expense money for living and for farming to produce crops. 5 “very, very”- Mexican slang, refers not in a good way to a person who thinks highly of themself. 6 Originally named “Tejano Road”, but the gringos in charge did not like that “Mexican” word and Anglicized it. 7 History note: The Texas Paramour Law was enforced until 1974. 8 Hispanic and Anglo children were segregated into different schools at the elementary level during the 1950s in South Texas. They were integrated in middle schools. This was justified on the basis that many of the Spanishspeaking children did not know English. This allowed them to be taught the second language for about four years before being put in a school where English was the only language used by the teachers.