Page 28 of Backwater Justice
Annie recited the information. “Mr. Rowan, please do not tell anyone about this. Just tell your wife you need her to meet you at the doctor’s office. You needed stitches or something. We don’t want anyone to overhear that we have her. We’ll see you shortly.” She handed the phone back to Vanessa.
“I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you, too.”
The next challenge was to get Vanessa out of the hospital without anyone recognizing her.
“What about our bags?” Myra said to Annie. “Your tote, my purse?”
“You go upstairs and get them.” Annie turned to look at Vanessa. “I have to get the car. Do you think you can walk a few blocks? Or do you want to wait on a side street?”
“I’ll wait wherever you tell me.” Vanessa finally believed she was being rescued.
Annie looked at Vanessa. “Come on. There’s probably something you can put on over your clothes.” They began to search the massive laundry room, walking along row after row of curtained areas. They finally came across sets of scrubs hanging on a rack. Annie grabbed a size small and tossed it at Vanessa. “This should fit.”
Vanessa quickly obliged. Annie thought about Vanessa’s hair. She took one of the shirts off a hanger and put it on Vanessa’s head with the bottom around the edge of her face and hairline. She took the sleeves, tied them together, and wrapped them around the top of Vanessa’s head. Odd-looking headgear, but not surprising for Oregon.
Annie took Vanessa’s hand, and they followed the exit signs. When they reached the service dock, Annie stopped. “You wait right here. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” Minutes later, Annie was peeling around the corner and pulling up before Vanessa. “Get in the back. Stay down. We’ve gotta get Myra. She’s at the main entrance.” Vanessa piled in and followed Annie’s instructions. Annie whipped around the block and came to a screeching halt in front of Myra.
“Where is she?” Myra’s voice was edgy.
Annie jerked her thumb toward the back seat.
“Excellent!”
Vanessa was baffled.Who are these two middle-aged maniacs?She was sure of two things: she was going to see her parents very soon, and she would never, ever eat a ham and cheese sandwich again.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
How It Started
Cabo San Lucas
Two Years Before
Oliver was treating himself to a week at Pueblo Bonito Sunset Beach Resort, located at the western tip of Baja in Cabo San Lucas, on fifty acres of private beach. Situated within Quivira Los Cabos, it overlooked the Pacific Ocean on a secluded private coastal bluff. He booked a suite. He liked the idea of having exclusive access to the Jack Nicklaus Signature golf course at Quivira Golf Club. That would surely be something to brag about.
Oliver had been burning through his inheritance quickly and figured this might be the last lavish vacation he could take for a while unless he could devise another means of increasing his income. He was already working on manipulating the invoices for the tree restorations. He had a deal with one of the accounts receivable personnel at the supplier. The invoices would say “fifty,” but he actually received thirty. S.E.I. paid the supplier for fifty, then the supplier would split the difference with Oliver. A little extra cash in each of their pockets. How the guy at the supplier finagled the extra cash from the invoice was none of Oliver’s concern. He never complained, so it must not have been a problem. If you’re smart enough, embezzlement is one way to increase your income. This scheme of Oliver’s was giving him a few extra thousand dollars every month. Enough to cover his new cocaine use. He refused to call it a “habit.” He viewed it as a “recreational sport.” Plus, if he was with other people, he’d gladly share if they felt so inclined. Real addicts don’t share. At least that was what he told himself.
One late afternoon, after a round of golf, Oliver pulled up a seat at a patio bar. The view was breathtaking. A man around Oliver’s age sat a few stools away. He was even more richly dressed than Oliver. The man wore white linen pants, with an untucked silk tropical print shirt, silver-tone Saint Laurent boat shoes, a huge gold coin pinky ring on his left hand, and a watch with a diamond-encrusted bezel. It was the Iced-Out Rolex, arm bling to the stars. Oliver figured it cost just under 20,000 dollars. Not overly ostentatious, but a little too much sparkle for his taste. He preferred his Rolex Submariner, or his Breitling Top Time B01. Both cost about the same as the other gentleman’s shiny wristwear. The man turned and nodded at Oliver. Oliver noticed the man was also wearing a heavy-link gold chain around his neck, a gold and diamond ID bracelet, plus another gold ring. The second ring was a David Yurman Memento Mori Skull Ring with black pavé diamonds. Oliver nodded in return while he calculated the amount of gold the man carried. Probably could buy that Lamborghini he had been eyeing. But it was the skull ring that caught his attention. It could represent a number of things.Interesting. He watched the gold-clad man ask the bartender to buy him a drink. “Tears of Llorona Extra Anejo,” Oliver told the bartender.
“I see you have good taste.” The man in gold smiled.
“Thank you.” Oliver held up his glass to toast the man. “Oliver. Oliver Spangler.”
The man nodded. “Ernesto Calavera.”
Oliver remembered his short stint studying Spanish.Calaverameant skull. He was intrigued; got up from his seat and approached the man. “Mind if I join you?”
“Please. Sit down.” Ernesto had a refined Spanish accent. “Did I see you playing golf this afternoon?” he asked.
Oliver chuckled. “Guilty. But I doubt anyone would call that playing. I was fumbling.”
“We all have our own talents.” The man took a swig of the liquid in his glass. It was a similar amber color as Oliver’s.
“What are you drinking, Ernesto?”
“Marques de Casa Noble Anejo.”