Mj 7b: Case of the Little Death Pt 2

The good father was staring at me. "Are you telling me you killed this Michael Finnegan? A crime you have not been convicted of?"

I took a pull from the flask he'd passed me during my latest installment of the tale. "This is a confession, father."

"You know I am obligated to tell the authorities if a crime has occurred."

"I hope you do tell them, padre, I really do."

He sat back, mixed emotions on his handsome face. As with all my other erotic tidbits he'd been plainly fascinated and at the violence he'd recoiled. However I had told him many other tales of death at my hands not recorded elsewhere and he'd never been this disturbed.

I suspected he'd come to like Finn. Amazing how that man had that charm- non-existent at the moment, just a character in my story I could very well have made up to entertain the priest, and yet he was mourning him.

"You'll have to wait for the very end to understand his death, father. Just know that on that I regret nothing."

He motioned for the flask I passed it back, watching him take a long pull, the dusky column of his throat working.

"Shall I continue?" I asked as the wind howled louder and rain pelted the outer walls.

"We have only a few hours left, please do. I must know this end, to understand how you could so easily kill the man you truly loved."

I smiled. "I never said it was easy."

***

Just as Finn disappeared over the bridge I heard the sirens.

"Get the car!" I screamed at Hamm who was up and staring at me.

He reacted fast and ran to the driver's side, jumped in, and tires squealed as he slammed on the gas. He drove to me and I jumped into the passenger side and we were off.

The sirens came from the western road so we took the eastern and headed north again.

"What the fuck was that!?!"

"This changes everything. Look, my husband can't know anything. I'll make a deal with you; I'll get you the two hundred thousand for your silence. You call him and tell him you found Finn and killed him. Whatever was the exact deal you two worked out, I'll make sure he pays you, but no more questions."

"Fuck," was all he said.

We drove an hour and stopped for new tires since he had laid rubber. I paid cash and we were off.

Neither of u was hungry so we only topped once more for gas and cigarettes before we made the final leg to Santiago.

It wouldn't matter, I knew, my credit card was on file for the car. If the police found Finn they'd ask around and our "hoteliers" would fess up damn fast. If all went to plan though, in a short while it wouldn't matter.

I made him find a payphone on the quiet south side of Santiago and I stood outside when he called and left the message.

"All right," Hamm said when he hung up. "What next?"

"We ditch the car. I get you your cash, we split up. I get a ride south and file a police report that the car was stolen."

He nodded. "Sorry to say but it sounds like a good plan. Where to now?"

I checked my watch. "It's late, I'll need a computer. We can do a wire transfer, is that acceptable?"

"Preferred, actually."

We got our bags and started walking. The night was warm and people were out but we agreed to walk further from the car before asking for a place with computers.

After half an hour I spotted a quiet alleyway between two buildings that appeared to lead to another. I stopped. "Hamm?"

I jerked my head down the alleyway. "Seeing as we're splitting up soon, I could use another go-round. You game?"

He smiled. "Lead the way."

I slung my bag over my shoulder and stepped into the alley. Better than expected it led to a small courtyard bordered by four buildings. One was burned out, another boarded up, and the last two were closed businesses, not a camera in sight.

I set my bag down and he did the same. I pulled my gun out.

"Whoa!"

"Relax, it was just weighing my pants down." I set my gym bag on it's end and laid the gun on the other end. I leaned against a brick wall and unbuttoned my pants, sliding them down. "Going to get over and get on your knees or what?"

He gave me a grin and stepped close, dropping to his knees. He clutched my thighs and dove in.

I grabbed his head as he began to lick and suck. I spread my legs wider and lost myself to it, needing escape. I was shockingly wet and he lapped at my juices furiously.

My legs began to tremble when he flicked rapidly at my clit and I moaned softly, trying to control the noise.

Soon his fingers joined in the fray and two speared me, running, seeking my g-spot just as he began to suck on my clit.

I came, moaning louder, almost squeaking when he sucked so hard it nearly hurt and those fingers jammed down on the spot.

When at last the orgasm stopped and he pulled back I sank bonelessly against the wall. I grabbed the gun and brought it up.

"What the fuck!?!"

"When you left last night I searched your bags. It's not my first rodeo. My husband never hired you. You were hired by Michael Finnegan to track me down."

"So what if I was?"

"You never told him I was Mrs. Luis Gonzales, aka Luis Javier. Made me wonder why you'd fuck me, but hey, I'm not too bad on the eyes. However, why is it Finn shot at you so fast I couldn't see it coming, but you had time to get down?

"I'll tell you. It was planned. I bet this gun has blanks. Shall we find out?"

He had time to say no and I squeezed the trigger.

Blood exploded everywhere and he swayed on his knees for a moment, then began to fall forward. I jumped out of the way as he fell, then set the gun down and pulled up my pants.

"Figures I'd be wrong on that count. Of course it just means Plan B must have been true."

I wasn't sure if I'd just committed an act of survival or cold-blooded murder and I was nervous as hell. The sex had been a test to see if the noise roused anyone. It hadn't and I needed to get moving but I couldn't stop talking to the corpse face down in the muck, blood pooling.

"If Finn planned to flush out Bowers robbing Javier operations was meaningless. Bowers wants me dead, not Finn. That was a bullshit story. No; Finn needed me to find him, needed you to put me in jail. That would flush Bowers out. Just too bad I checked the gun last night as well as your bags and loaded it properly. Too bad for you both."

I wiped the gun and left it, grabbing my bag and running out. I'd watched Hamm dial the numbers. He did not put in the code for Caracas, Venezuela, he dialed local. That message didn't go to my husband, it went to a cop.

I couldn't do the airport, it'd be crawling with cops, so I fell back on old habits and stole a car.

It was a long drive to Argentina, and I was lonely and scared. The best I could figure it was Finn had been telling half truths. Yeah, he wanted Bowers but he also wanted me. He must have hired Hamm, learned I was married, and either he knew it was Luis and the shock had been an act, or Hamm hadn't been specific.

Either way Finn had it all planned out. He usually did but in the two years since I'd seen him I have learned a few new moves on the chess board myself.

Finn set it up so I'd think I'd found him. Hamm would load my gun with blanks, they planned for the bridge. Hamm had called the cops while we'd been talking.

Finn would prod me to shoot him with the blank and dive over the edge. His body would be washed away but Hamm would be a witness. We'd run north as we had done, Hamm would call the cops so they could get a fix, and I'd be arrested.

Bowers would come and Finn would be hiding. Luis would have to leave me, particularly after I shared Finn's tale of Jovan Hakes and rejected him, and Finn would kill Bowers and spring me. He'd be the hero, and I'd fall into his arms.

That was Plan B. if I could turn back time and kill Finn with something more slow and painful than the .45 I'd loaded into my gun, I would.

However with that call to the police I was in trouble. What neither Hamm nor Finn realized was that I didn't give a shit about Jovan Hakes being a former client of Luis'. I loved my husband, I truly did, and he loved me.

In Rio Cuarto I called Luis and got through to him. "Tell me you're still in Paris."

"How did you know I was in Paris?"

"It's a long story. Luis, do you trust me?"

"Yes, my love," he said over the very thin connection.

"Remember that trip we too for my last birthday?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember where we planned to go for our anniversary? Don't say it."

"Yes."

"If you trust me you need to find a way to that place so no one can follow you. Meet me there in four days. We'll talk then."

There was a pause. "All right my love, I'll be there in two days."

"Two it is. I love you."

"I love you too."

I hung up and sunk to the bottom of the phone booth at a truck stop. It was then that I finally let myself cry for the death of Michael Finnegan, for it also meant the death of Luis and Angela Gonzales.

***

His eyes were like saucers. "You meant at the time you planned to kill your husband and yourself?"

I lit another cigarette. "Hardly, but we would have to move, change our names. Cut ties with the Javier family completely, start fresh."

The priest shook his head. "I still don't know why you killed this Finn."

I laughed at that. "In the time I've know him...let's see: he made me the other woman, he's lied to me, cheated on me, killed for me without asking, he's orchestrated major cases that cost me my conscience just to be with me. He left me twisting in the wind to face two murder charges alone, he stole my money, he disappeared, and when I found him he tried to orchestrate my arrest for murder and my divorce. A woman can only take so much."

"Surely he did not deserve death."

I laughed again, a pure hollow sound nearly swallowed by the howling wind. "What he deserved I couldn't give him, so I sent him along to someone who could."

"You think you an instrument of God?"

I blew out a long trail of smoke. "A mere player in his divine play, but we all have roles written for us."

He shivered. "If you are not sorry I cannot forgive you that sin."

"Some sins are not meant for forgiveness."

He nodded slowly. "So what happened next?" He said with a touch of eagerness.

"The fast track to what lead me here," I replied and sat back against the wall to finish my tale.

***

In a little café in the lowlands of Honduras decorated like a Mayan temple, I sat sipping coffee. My hair was bound tight and a pure white sundress showed off my tan. I wore sunglasses to hide the fact that in 48 hours of near constant travel I'd barely slept.

With the gentle sound of Caribbean waves and the sun slowly sliding down, he entered, all that was solid in my world.

My husband had grown a small goatee and cut his hair short in the near week since I'd seen him. He wore a white linen button-up shirt and shorts, his narrow but perfectly sculpted legs shown off down to his unusually beautiful feet in leather sandals.

I ran to him and we hugged like drowning sailors gripping a life preserver. He kissed me and as always it curled my toes.

"I have a hotel room, come."

I nodded and ran back to my table to grab my new gym bag, filled with cash and a few clothes. The last ID I'd used at the border was long gone.

We walked hand in hand a few blocks to a decent hotel, the kind the required a credit card and boarded the elevator. We went to the top floor to a beautiful suite with an ocean view.

Once inside, despite my aching weariness, I needed him, and said so.

So in tune with me Luis knew what needed and ushered me to the bathroom. There we re-enacted our first coupling. I was cleansed, driven mad, pleasured, then returned the favor.

When it was over he showered too then joined me on the bed.

"We have much to discuss," Luis said, pulling me into his arms.

I told him what had passed from when Hamm told me where he'd been headed right up until I arrived at the café we'd read about in a magazine while vacationing in Costa Rica.

He rubbed my shoulder and kissed my hairline. "I am sorry I could not say anything. I left because I got a call. No, I did not hire this Hamm, but I did wonder how Alabaster found me. He had a very interesting story."

"I'd assume nothing less," I replied and absent-mindedly stroked his chest.

"Alabaster demanded a meeting. I went to Paris thinking I could get something out of it to help you, but now I know we're too far past that.

"When I arrived, this Alabaster told me he was scared of Bowers finding him, that he'd been on a constant move to avoid him. He also told me he needed money, and demanded it of me. When I asked what, he revealed something to me I honestly did not know."

"Jovan Hakes," I murmured.

He hugged me closer and nodded. "Yes. I represented Hakes in a few contract disputes with some employers. Then he was protecting a client from paparazzi and got an assault charge. He came to my first for help and I referred him to another lawyer.

"My brother needed a bodyguard for a trip, he said, and Hakes needed money. I introduced them and that was all I knew."

I believed him and raised to cup his cheek, lowering it for a kiss.

"Alabaster said this went back years ago. He was a pimp yes, but he wanted more. He began working for my brother. He told me when you were on the force he was a sometimes informant."

"Mostly in my very short time in Vice. I knew Alabaster, we went to school together."

Again Luis nodded. "He was the one who told Bowers about the shipment. Those two men who helped you, they worked for Alabaster. He wanted a cut but when they all disappeared...it was Alabaster who told the police you were involved."

My body went rigid.

"There is more. It seems this Alabaster's life ran parallel to yours and whenever it intersected trouble began. It seems back in 2001 Eddie Harwood was a runner for the mob. He met Alabaster who got him involved with my brother's organization, and made a deal. It seems his backing for buying the Purple Rose club came from Alejandro."

I groaned, dreading every word he spoke.

"I'm sorry my love, but it is the truth and you need to hear it. Eighteen months later Harwood defaulted on loans my brother made and that is when my brother sent Hakes to kill him. Hakes had done other such work from my brother and Alabaster was his contact. Witnessing this was what made Alabaster run, truly. He feared my brother.

"He ran to Europe where we have no connections. When Bowers killed my brother and turned his sights to you apparently he threatened Alabaster to keep quiet. Alabaster went on the move and never stopped."

"So in short damn near every major fuck up in my life is the fault of the skinny kid who used to steal the apple from my lunch?"

He wrapped his arms around me tighter.

"What happened then?"

"He threatened to call you and tell you that I had sent this Hakes to set you up on purpose."

"And then?"

"I killed him."

I was silent for a moment. Luis had never killed anyone before, I doubted he'd even been in a fight.

"I killed him for you and I don't care, my love. You're safe and that is all that matters."

"Some life we have."

"It is all in the past. Bowers will never find us, and everyone else is dead."

I thought about that and shivered. He simply pulled the feather comforter higher.

"I did allay my guilt some. Alabaster had a woman. I left her some money and keys to an apartment."

"Why the hell would you do that, Luis?"

"She reminded me of you, damn near your double. Funny, Finnegan, Harwood, Alabaster...for all the trouble they caused you in the end they all went after women who looked like you."

"My gift, their curse. So the mystery is solved. Everyone who can alibi me is dead, I can never go home. Same for you. So what next?"

"I had some money squirreled away for such an event. Whatever we like. We have time to decide. For now we need sleep."

Exhausted, I closed my eyes and slept so soundly not even nightmares touched me.

***

"Did he really kill him?"

I blinked, startled. More than anything I missed sleeping in my husband's arms. Oh, I'd known well we would not be together forever, but I hadn't thought I'd lose him the way I did, and my heart did ache.

"I'm sorry," I sniffled, blinking back tears.

The good father pulled out an old-fashioned handkerchief and gave it to me. I dabbed my eyes and crumpled it in my fist.

"Yes, he did. It was in the papers. I thought it would change him, but Luis was ever a gentle soul. It diminished nothing of his smile, nothing of his passion.

"We bought a small house, not far from the coast. We had a small field, grew cotton there. We employed forty people to harvest it, and we sold it cheaply to local crafters to make clothes for tourists. It was a good life. The demonic forces of Alabaster and Finnegan were gone; men not pure evil but careless in their drives, men who didn't truly understand the impact of their actions. We were was safe as possible from Bowers and we had a happy life.

"Then a random meeting six months ago sealed my fate."

"What happened?"

"This is going to be the hardest part: the end. I'll need another cigarette."

He passed me one and flicked the lighter, holding it out. I cupped my hands against the wind spilling in with the rain and lit it.

"And now I will tell you the sad tale of my husband's death and why I was convicted for his murder, and that of Mark Brisbane."

The priest sat back with a haunted look and nodded.

***

After almost six months we had built our business, if one could call it that. Though Luis, now called Felipe Romero, was a gentleman farmer it meant long hours. For all that Honduras was a modern country, life under the radar meant very meticulously doing things the old fashioned way.

As Paloma Romero I was a woman of leisure to the world. In reality I spent as much time at the books as my husband, and most of my mornings peddling our raw, processed cotton to the small stalls set up to arm tourists. The world economy was hurting and Honduras was no different, selling was tough all over.

We'd grown closer as the Romeros. No longer was our marriage open, and no longer was our lovemaking rigid and planned.

It was a sunny that April morning as I walked from the small plantation to the tourist stalls at the beach. I was smiling, remembering the morning.

I'd woken in an erotic fugue to the feel of Luis' hot mouth on my breast, his rough fingers smoothing over my mons. When I woke and gasped his nibbled the peak of the breast and his fingers slipped between my folds to tease my clit.

He stroked slowly, wriggling his other arm beneath me to hold me tight and cup the other breast while his mouth worked. I reveled in the purely female sensate of being held, of surrender.

He worked his lips and tongue in a slow pull and every movement of his fingers was long and sensuous. I moved my body flowing like water against him but he refused to speed up.

Barely awake as I was my body was loose-limbed and relaxed and the pleasure built slowly, oh, so maddeningly slowly. At last I felt like a pitcher filled, and it spilled over into a shockingly intense orgasm. At long last his thick fingers speared me just as spasmed and I cried out my pleasure as his teeth finally pulled my swollen nipple. His other hand pulled its twin hard and his firm body caged me as I bucked, fingers knotted over his short hair.

I floated down and he moved, his sweat-slicked body covering me. He filled me, the delicious curve of his penis sliding over my g-spot with his entrance.

My legs and arms curled around him as we kissed, his breath smelling of sweet mint. His tongue was as gentle as his thrusting though I wanted it harder. This was his manner of control, the one thing he could never give up, and as my juices streamed and my nails clawed with urging, I wouldn't have changed it for the world.