Free Unwanted Company - Barbara Seranella by Barbara Seranella Page B

venom she saw in
his expression made her stifle a gasp of surprise. He looked like he
didn't know whether to spit or go blind.
    She got off the freeway at Balboa in the small San
Diego community of Pacific Beach. After driving three blocks, she
spotted a small whitewashed restaurant. Painted above the doorway in
the red and green colors of the Mexican flag were the words PAPA
GOMEZ'S. A cardboard sign in the window promised homemade tamales.
    The final selling point of the restaurant was the
three empty parking spaces in a row and the lot's two driveways.
Driving a limo was like driving any other car, she'd discovered, but
you had to pay special attention when you planned to stop somewhere.
    The three of them entered the small, dark restaurant.
It smelled of beer and fried meat. A dark-haired Hispanic waitress
wearing thick eyeliner seated them at a booth. Victor gestured for
Ellen to slide in, then quickly took the place next to her. She
sneaked a quick glance at Raleigh and saw that this irked him, but by
now she'd noticed that everything Victor did seemed to annoy Raleigh.
Victor, in turn, seemed oblivious to the other man's disgust. Or
maybe he just didn't give a shit. The busboy, a young man with hair
so thick that it stuck straight out from his scalp like a porcupine,
set down paper place mats and flatware. He worked without looking up.
"We need menus," Raleigh said.
    Without meeting anyone's eyes, the boy pointed at the
waitress.
    Raleigh pointed at the center of the table and held
his hands out as if to show they were empty.
    This time the busboy seemed to understand. He held up
a finger, hustled off, then returned with a basket of chips and two
dishes of sauce. The first dish contained traditional salsa of
chopped tomatoes, onions, and cilantro. The sauce in the second dish
was soupier and green. The waitress followed with three menus.
    Victor attacked the appetizers like a man who hadn't
eaten in days. He devoured two large scoops of each sauce before his
face changed color. Tears filled his eyes, and sweat broke out on his
forehead. He slapped the table with the palm of his hand, then
clutched his throat, all the while making small strangled noises.
    Raleigh chuckled. "I usually wait until they
bring the water," he said, "before I start on the hot
sauce."
    Ellen waved her napkin to get the busboy's attention.
    " Agua, por favor ,"
she said when he came over. "Pronto."
    The busboy nodded and quickly returned with three
glasses of water. Victor took a deep drink and coughed without
covering his mouth.
    Raleigh grinned, and said to Ellen, "So, you
speaka the spic?"
    The waitress appeared at the edge of the table. "Have
you decided?" she asked.
    Oh, yeah, Ellen thought as
she looked from Victor to Raleigh, both of these bad boys are going
to pay. She ran a fingertip over the outline of the folded
hundred-dollar bill in her pocket, and thought of the many more to
come. Maybe working a straight job wouldn't be so bad after all.
    * * *

    Munch, sitting at her small dining-room table,
adjusted the radio to an all-news station, picked up the phone, and
pushed REDIAL. It was senseless, she knew, to keep trying to call the
limo. Still she had to do something.
    The recording came on again, telling her that the
mobile-phone customer she was trying to reach was not responding or
had left the service provider area. Munch knew the same recording
played when the mobile phone wasn't turned on. She also knew there
was no way Ellen would know how to use the phone in the car, if she
was even aware of its existence. A code had to be entered via the
handset before calls could be sent or received. Derek swore he hadn't
told her the code. She was too annoyed with him to explain that that
would have been the one thing he might have done right even if it was
by accident.
    Had Ellen ripped her off? she wondered. She had
trouble believing that. Was the limo wrapped around a telephone pole
somewhere? Perhaps.
    The gnawing truth was that anything