All Sales Final

Hector looked over to the passenger seat and saw Jim sprawled there, blood seeping from his wounds. Jim smiled and gave him a thumbs up. Leaning forward from the backseat, Liam spoke, "'Scuse me, Hector." and plunged his knife into Jim's side.

Turning his attention back to the road, Hector addressed his only friend. "Jim, you okay?"

"This? Oh, it's nothing. I was a top-notch Ranger, SEAL, military guy. Happens all the time."

Hector felt Liam looming behind him as the addict spoke again. "Sorry, 'scuse me. Don't mean to interrupt." Once more, he slammed the knife into Jim who looked up, smiled and gave him the same thumbs up he gave Hector.

The phone was attached to the dashboard and squawked like an old-time CB. "Sir, this is Dr. Snafu from the hospital. How far out are you from the Emergency Room?"

Hector started frantically looking for road signs, afraid that he was too late. He had his foot pushing the pedal to the floor, but it felt like they were driving through molasses and every block was miles long. "I don't know. We're going really slow."

"Okay, and what other preexisting conditions are there?"

"Pre...? I don't know. He was in the Army. Call, like, the VA or something."

"No, sir, I meant for you. Have you always been a pussy? Did you just recently become a pussy? I'm looking at Jim's file and it says that he was your only friend and that you sat on your fat ass and did nothing to Liam until after Jim was dead. Is that accurate?"

"What? No, no, that..." The ringing out of the gunshots pulled his attention up from the phone to the gravesite where the men in uniform were firing their rifles into the sky. One of them knelt by Ann's side, presented her with a folded flag, turned and pointed to him. The disgust on his face was visible.

Hector was standing under a tree more than 150 yards away as he watched the funeral. He could hear Ann's voice distinctly as she looked up at him with hate in her eyes. "You killed him. Jim loved you like a brother and was the only person that treated you like you mattered. You let that piece of shit rape me and then you let him kill Jim."

"No, no..."

"NO!"

He was sitting upright in his bed, sweat dripping from his shaking, heavily scarred torso. It was that fucking dream again. Jim had been dead for five years, and Hector made sure that Liam followed him to the grave days later. Hector had left the MC, chapter president or not. Killing a member should have resulted in his own death.

His skills were easily transferable, and he worked as a diesel mechanic. No longer riding tore at his soul, but he couldn't afford anything that tied him to his previous life. Jeans and leather were replaced by dockers and sweatshirts at home and blue uniforms at work. $10,000 had purchased him a new identity and shedding 70 pounds while letting his hair grow back-in drastically changed his appearance.

He fled Idaho and moved to San Diego, but he hadn't been able to outrun his guilt.

*****

Trying to banish the nightmares from his mind, he strode naked into his backyard, slipped into the pool and swam laps until he was exhausted. After showering, he got dressed and opened the shop early, at 5 AM. By mid-morning, his employees were enjoying their egg sandwiches while he had an egg-white, ham and broccoli omelet. This keto diet sucked, but his knees no longer ached and clicked audibly.

Angelina's voice came over the speakers. "Teddy, call on line three."

Wiping his hands on a rag, he walked over and picked up a phone. "AAA Auto, this is Teddy."

"Why don't you just go all the way and make Whitebread your last name? My cousin, Teddy Whitebread."

"Whadda ya want, Vic?"

There was silence.

"Vic?"

"Yeah, listen, you gotta stay cool, okay?"

"What's going on, Vic?"

"Alma, she's, well, she's missing."

"Missing? What the fuck are you talking about? Where the fuck is my sister?"

"Hec, you gotta stay calm. I'm on it."

"Cousin or not, if you don't tell me what's going on, I'm going to drive to Idaho and beat it out of you."

"Okay, I said I'm on it. Wally is telling the family that they went on a cruise in the Caribbean, got separated while shopping and she disappeared. I've been checking with the cruise line's security and law enforcement in Mexico."

"Checking with them? When the fuck did this happen?"

"A few weeks ago, but I just found out last night."

"Son of a bitch. That squirrelly fuck didn't say anything for weeks? They still live in Riverside?"

"Yeah."

"All right, you stay in front of your computer with the rest of your cop friends. Get a box of donuts or some shit, and I'll call you back in a couple of hours."

Hopping into his GMC Sierra, the man living as Ted drove to his home, removed a large paving stone on the back porch, retrieved the waterproof box under it and got back in his truck. He took I-15 north towards his sister's home and the little man she married.

*****

It was mid-afternoon by the time he was done scouting out some dives in San Bernardino, Rancho Cucamonga, and Ontario. A large water sat on the table next to his two salads with chicken breast when he picked up the phone to call his cousin.

"Hey, Hec. You up there?"

"Yeah. Sitting at a Chick-fil-A outside of that huge mall in Ontario. You got anything new?"

"Actually, we made some progress. There was no missing persons report made for Alma with the police, but Wally did file something with the cruise line, and I should be getting a copy of that this afternoon or tomorrow morning."

"Okay, send me a copy of whatever you get to my phone. I'm going to find out who's the biggest bookie in the area and see what he has on Wally. No sense in me doing leg work when my degenerate gambler brother-in-law probably has someone who has already done it."

"All right. Hec, you stay safe, hear me? Call me if I can do something."

Wanting to kill time until it was dark, he dawdled over his food, bought some new sneakers at the Sketchers outlet on the outside of the mall and drove over to Rancho Realty, the last place he knew his sister had worked. The thermometer on the dashboard read 103 degrees and the wind was pushing dust everywhere.

Hustling into the building, he sighed as the air conditioning wrapped around his large frame. The interior was a mix of cool shades of green with chrome fixtures. He approached the receptionist and smiled.

"Hey, I'm looking for Alma. She in?"

"I'm sorry sir, uh, Alma doesn't work any longer."

"Yeah? When did that happen?"

She looked conflicted. "You know, I'm not really sure. Let me get my supervisor."

"Sure, thanks."

After a few seconds on the phone and a minute or two wait, a dour matronly looking woman stepped into the atrium. "I'm Mrs. Kendall; may I help you?"

"Hi, I'm Alma's brother. I came into town to surprise her and thought I would take her out to dinner. I was told she doesn't work here anymore?"

"Uhmmm, do you have any ID Mr..."

"Shit, yeah sorry. I got better, actually. And it's Ted." Pulling out his phone, he went to his photos and standing next to Mrs. Kendall scanned through a dozen of him with his sister over the years.

"You the gentleman with the motorcycle? Alma talked about you often."

He took a risk. "Yeah, but I've been out of that for years."

"Well, she never came back after her vacation. I heard she went on some sort of cruise and when we called the week after she was due back, her husband said she was quitting. It happens sometimes, but it was out of character for Alma. The least she could have done was told us herself."

"Yeah, I getcha. All right, thanks for your time."

Halfway towards the door, he used the remote to turn on his air-conditioner, stopped and turned. "Oh, one other thing, you guys get good insurance here? Employees, I mean?"

"Yes, excellent."

"That include life insurance?"

"Yes, certainly."

"Okay, thanks again."

He slowly drove to a dive bar in Rancho Cucamonga. Sitting in the parking lot, killing time until dark, he called his cousin. "Hey, I need you to check up on something for me. I just left her job. They haven't heard from her since before she left for the cruise. Supposedly, they've got great insurance. I need you to find out if Wally has put in a claim on her."

There was a pause before Vic replied. "What the fuck has Wally gotten himself into? You really think that's necessary?"

"I don't know, but it's worth checking out. You know he's still into me for over 10 grand? Me. Super Bowl bet from over a decade ago. And you know what I was like. He's a fucking degenerate."

"Fuck. All right, text me the name of the company she worked for and any details you have, and I'll find out tomorrow. I'll get the insurance info from her HR and then call corporate."

"You just love that badge, doncha?"

"I don't remember you complaining when I covered your biker ass."

The big man chuckled. "Yeah, you were well compensated. Call me tomorrow."

Rooting around the pickups cab, he found a light long-sleeved shirt. It was a long painful process, but he'd had all of his ink removed. There was some scarring that he didn't want to be questioned about in a place like this, so covering up was the best option.

Sitting in the shade of a tree, he turned the A/C down to low, tilted the seat back and went to sleep for two hours.

*****

Hector took a table where he could have his back against the wall and still have a good view of the TV. Staring at the bowl of popcorn on the table, he kept his hands on his knees and waited for the waitress. If he had a handful of popcorn, he would have the bowl-full. If he had one bowl, once he started drinking, he would have three.

She was a little thicc, which is how he liked his women. Her blue highlighted hair had a buzz undercut on one side of her head. As she approached, he placed two twenties on the table. Her smile was a little warmer after she saw the cash.

"What can I get ya?"

"Whatever you have on tap, as long as it's cold and it keeps coming. Can you do me a favor? Can you take the popcorn back with ya?"

Hector sat there watching the Dodgers lose to the Mariners. By the fourth inning he had watched enough people in the bar to know that there was no bookie on-site. Leaving a nice tip, Hec made his way out to his truck and drove to another bar about 10 minutes away.

Arriving in time for the seventh inning, he watched the Dodgers tie up the game. A tired but pretty woman around 50 seemed to be the waitress for his section. Hector was a little surprised that they had more than one waitress, but he replayed his earlier scene, placing two twenties on the table.

"How y'all doing tonight?" She had a delightful southern accent that immediately perked up his interest.

"Good, good. Thanks. I'll take whatever is on tap and that double cheeseburger special? Can I get the burgers without the bun? Extra bacon. And skip the fries. I know it's a stretch, but if you guys got a salad, could I get that with oil and vinegar? If not, can I just get some lettuce and tomato slices, maybe some pickles?"

"I know we don't look like much, but we got good food. I'll set you up, honey."

Smiling, he took out his wallet and put another 20 on the table. "Thanks."

All things being relative, the food was actually good for that sort of bar. He drank and watched and drank some more. A second TV in a different corner had the Knicks and the Lakers. Some money would exchange hands, penny-ante bets between friends. Hec paid attention to who was watching the ESPN crawler on the bottom of the screen.

One guy was visited numerous times by patrons who would slip him cash. The guy would often check his phone after seeing scores scroll by. Getting up, Hector made his way over to the man's table.

"Hey, can I get 50 on the Knicks to cover?"

"Do I know you?"

"Nah, just in town for a few days and wanted to get some action."

After looking him up and down, the man gave him a beckoning gesture, asking for the cash. "You sure as hell don't look like a cop. Okay, we don't know each other so cash up front."

Hector took out a roll of 50s and 100s kept tight in two thick rubber bands from his pocket, and peeled off a 50. "Oakland is playing the Padres tonight, right? Give me 200 on San Diego." He peeled off two $100 bills, left them on the table and went back to his drink.

The next time the waitress walked by, he signaled her over. "That guy in the blue button-down? Whatever he's drinking, send one over on me."

Times slid forward slowly, and Hec nursed his beers. When the bookie finally left, he followed him into the parking lot.

"Hey! Hey, hold up."

The man spun, gun in hand. "Stay the fuck back!"

"Whoa. Just want to talk, dude." He slowly lifted the waist of his shirt and turned around. "We got no beef. I've got some questions. You may have some answers. I've got cash. I need some info on a local named Wally Dacosta. If you have the information I need, you walk away with $2500 of my money."

"Wally owe you some money?"

"Yeah, he owes me."

"You're in luck. That sad piece of shit is flush for the first time I've known him."

"When did this happen?"

"Don't know. Went on some sort of vacation and paid off a bunch of debts when he got home. Couldn't have had better timing either. Some people higher up than me were looking for him and were looking hard, if you get my drift. Maybe he hit some out-of-town casino and got lucky."

"How did he get out of town if those sort of people were looking for him?"

"His wife bought him some time. Got him a grace period and a hold on the vig."

"Look, could you lower the fucking gun? You could shoot me three times before I was able to reach you. Tell me the full story and the money is yours."

Hector stood there on the broken asphalt listening to the story. There was a small isolated bubble in his mind that was filled with an emotionless clarity. That was the part that was paying attention and responding as a rational person should. The rest of his mind and soul were on fire.

He had spent six years in the Orofino correctional facility. He had killed men and ordered men killed. He had witnessed his only friend willingly and eagerly accept his own death. Hector had left the MC and his previous life and did what was necessary to not be found, but he had never been this angry before in his life.

He paid the man, got in his truck and drove to his brother-in-law's.

*****

Sitting on the couch while waiting for Wally, Hector flipped through his sister's high school yearbook that he found on the bookshelf. Alma was a year older than he was and they had many of the same friends. He almost couldn't believe he had ever been that young. Every picture that he was in, Jim was standing next to him.

Hector deserved to be in the pictures of the football team. He kicked ass on the field and had no false modesty where that was concerned. Every other photo was because Jim would see the photographer, throw his arm around Hector's shoulder and make sure he was in the picture. That exemplified who Jim was.

It was also the best time of Hector's life. With Jim at his side, Hector's darker nature was held at bay. When Jim joined the Army, Hector took a different path, eventually climbing his way up to be the president of the local motorcycle club.

They both had some good years and success in the fields they had chosen. Everything seemed to go to hell around the time that Jim was injured. One of Hector's men raped Jim's cousin. Vic used his badge and pull to sweep everything under the rug, but he couldn't do anything about Jim who came home after his medical discharge looking for vengeance.

Jim loved his cousin like a sister, and she was the only family he had left. Ann was in therapy when Jim got back to town and began his hunt for the rapist. Hector couldn't give up his man to be killed and he couldn't allow his only friend to be killed by the club. So he chose to do nothing.

Eventually, Jim beat the rapist almost to death, abiding by Ann's wish that he not kill the man. For some reason he allowed himself to be killed when he could've easily taken his opponent out at any time. It took more than a year for Hector to realize that Jim had come home to die.

Carefully, gently, reverently placing the yearbook under the laptop at his side, Hector closed his eyes and tried unsuccessfully to not think of his only friend.

No one had been home when he had arrived, but it was clear that someone was still living there. After realizing his brother-in-law was out, he went back out to his truck, drove it over their grass, and parked in the backyard. The driveway was too obvious; Hector wanted to keep his appearance a surprise.

Going through the house, he destroyed every phone he found. Spying Wally's laptop, he took care of some business there as well. That took more than an hour, so Hec fried up some eggs and ham he found in the refrigerator while he waited. When his phone rang, he listened to the young man's explanation and sat down while the expert walked him through what he found.

Hector was finding it difficult to think and launched a kitchen chair through the patio doors.

At a little after 3AM, Wally ambled unsteadily through the door. The house was dark, and he flipped the switch on the wall. Nothing happened. He tried again.

"Leave it off, Wally. Had a late night?"

He saw the small wiry man jump in the near darkness.

"What the hell... Hec, is that you?"

"Yeah. Drove up north to visit with my sister and favorite brother-in-law. Come over here, Wally. Sit down for sec."

"I, uh, I gotta take a leak. I'll, uh, be back in a minute."

"Nah, that can wait. Sit down. We got to talk."

Wally's shaking was visible, but he took a few steps into the living room and sat down. "Okay, yeah, sure."

"You know why I'm here, Wally?"

"You, uh, wanna see family?"

"I'm here for the money. It's been over a decade. I never ran the vig. Family courtesy. But times up."

Wally visibly relaxed. "Oh, shit, sorry. I should've paid that long ago. Just slipped my mind, you know? Good news though, I got it. We are all good. Let me go get it for you."

"You got more than 10 g's sitting in your house? What, you hit the lottery Wally?"

He laughed nervously. "Yeah, no, not that great. Just had a string of good luck lately. Let me get it for you."

"Sit tight. No rush. Don't you want to know how I've been?"

"Ah, yeah, of course. How you doing, Hector?"

"Good. Good, good, good. Real good. Got an auto shop. We do diesel work. Mostly corporate contract stuff, some retail stuff on the side. Little autobody. Lots of turnover though. Always hiring new guys. Get a lot of good workers out of prison. They're hard workers, and we see eye to eye, if you know what I'm talking about."

Wally seemed confused and kept looking about the house. First the kitchen, then the foyer, then the room they were in. "Yeah? That's good Hector, really."

"Got a new kid a few months back. He was different. White-collar crap. Stuff with computers. He's like some sort of genius or something. Got all our bills online, all our records straightened out, even got us a website. Really knows what he is doing.

"The others though? Different story. You know what it means when someone has a teardrop tattoo while on the inside? Means they killed somebody. I guess it's like a sign to other people. 'Watch out, I'm a bad ass.' But it's more than that. You know what I think? I think they get a thrill whenever they see it. Every time they look in the mirror, they get a little rush remembering why it's there."

Wally was back to looking nervous again. "That's, ah..." He seemed to be at a loss. "Okay. Thanks for the heads up. Good to know who to avoid."