Crazy as it sounds, that's the story I was sort of starting to piece together from snippets I overheard in the secret, back alley sala de emergencias on the outskirts of Tijuana. Those guys do an awesome job treating suspicious gunshot wounds for a price, what with the drug wars and all.
None of it mattered to me anyway if I'd managed to kill the one true love of my life just when I finally got the lying rat bastard to admit his true feelings. I never have been lucky in love."Apparently the rib splintered and punctured a lung," Jane whispered, taking a seat beside me on a rickety metal bench outside surgery. She covered the mouthpiece of her cell phone. "A.K. wants me to be very clear we won't be abandoning you down here, even if he dies." She offered me a slug of tequila from a flask.
I wondered how bad their so-called marriage must have gotten for Agent Knowles to be so unflaggingly supportive of the gal who'd just up and shot the hubs. "It's eight o'clock in the morning," I informed Jane. "Mix in some orange juice and get back to me." She nodded and got up, still listening in on her clandestine conference call.
"Perdón, hay alguna noticia?" Muñoz asked a passing nurse. She shrugged an apology and kept walking. "Quit acting like you're in charge just because you speak Spanish," I told him. Out of uniform he looked like just another big hairy jerk with an overbuilt torso you'd never talk to at the gym. He checked out the nurse's ass, which was extra gross considering she was also a nun. "How come you never tried to sleep with me?"
"Chain of command," he said. "Seemed like the captain had dibs.""You never wanted to date me," I said as the obvious finally hit me like a smack in the head. "You just wanted to control me."
"Let me ask you something," he queried with all the sincerity the big ass could muster. "Are you really this stupid?""I'm stupid? You can't even give a deaf guy his Miranda rights!" I shot back. "I know you botched the arrest and I know you beat up the reporter who was onto you. I also know you and the captain were way closer to Rita than you wanted to let on. Were you both having sex with her, is that it? Did you let her get killed by some psycho when she turned out to be more trouble than she was worth?"
"Me gusta un poco de espicia,"
he offered in lieu of an apology -- cupping a
seriously plump imaginary ass in his hand. "Your stripper friend had it coming and going. You're just another skinny
little runaway on Hollywood Boulevard wearing her underwear on the
outside." He looked at me with the infuriating bemusement of a cop who's
nabbed you in a speed trap you should have seen coming for miles. I
opened my palm to receive that disgusting wad of Big Red he was always
working between his teeth. "You're a lousy kisser," I lied.
"Okay, here's how it's going to go." Jane clicked off her cell to provide an update, emitting a strong odor of alcohol and conspiracy about her breath and person -- forgiving the cop talk I was getting way too good at slinging around.
She
waved Muñoz toward the exit. "You, go fishing. Catch something big,
take a lot of pictures." She turned to me. "You and me are on extended
leave. Girls just want to have fun and all that, also with plenty of
pictures." Adding another splash of booze, she refreshed her morning cocktail with a
wooden coffee stick. "If the captain pulls through, we quietly nurse
him back to health in plenty of time to ship him back to L.A. after some
unscheduled but much-needed pre-election R&R. Any questions?"
What if he doesn't pull through? I would have asked -- if I hadn't noticed a large pair of sweaty, jack-booted federales arriving at the reception desk.
The hot Mexican nurse slash nun pointed at the three of us. "Que es el tirador?" she inquired of the dimwitted blonde, the bad cop and the drunk federal agent. "Which one of you is the shooter?"
