can a frustrated single mom and failed big city journalist save her family and salvage her career by returning to a town run by a gang of bungling thugs?
“The Resurrection of Puerto Cielo” is a novella published in serial form, 43 posts.
11
The wipers jerked to a stop as rain hammered against the windshield.
“Damn you Barbara,” Espy cursed, winding open the door window, eyes searching for M&M Motors through the blinding downpour.
Missing the driveway, Barbara bounced over the curb, banging Espy’s head into the ceiling.
“Ouch!”
With a final wheeze, the obstinate car lurched to a halt in front of the gas pump. An alarm bell rang. The rain eased as the wet cloud sailed on.
Wiping his hands on a rag, a tall man emerged from the garage. Seeing Espy get out of the car, his broad black face broke into a grin.
“Esperanza Diaz, it’s so good to see you,” beamed the man whose large body amply filled his coveralls.
“I’ve missed you, Mitch, missed Puerto Cielo,” Espy said, hugging the man who had been her father’s best friend many years before she was born.
Adding to the warm welcome, sunshine burst through the clouds.
“Sounds like Barbara has missed me too,” quipped the mechanic, eyeing steam misting up from the car’s hood.
“Sadly true, but I’m chasing a story and, for now, she just gets gas.”
“Fair enough,” said Mitch, reaching for the gas nozzle. He stopped and looked across the street. Espy’s eyes followed.
A dark gray limo slowed and paused. tinted windows stared at them.
Pumping gas, Mitch nodded across the street, “Seems your arrival has attracted some noteworthy attention.”
“From who?” asked Espy, her eyes following Mitch’s as one of the limo’s black windows rolled down.
“That’s El Tiburon, known about town as “Tibo.”
They watched as a cigar butt flew out the open window and the sinister car silently slipped away.
“Does Tibo have a Christian name?”
“Yes, you might have heard of him,” replied Mitch, his grin now gone, “he’s also known as Ricky Ruiz.”
Espy’s heart stopped.
The nightmare came crashing back.
***
There was little evening traffic as Espy stood in the shadows and studied the restaurant across the downtown street. Uneasy, she considered her next move.
Her big city journalistic career had been flagging. She’d needed a scoop, a story that would catapult her name into the lights. And she’d found it. After weeks of searching and calling in favors, she’d been granted an interview with the city’s most notorious gangster.
Ricky Ruiz was the son of the infamous Don Ricardo, who’d run the city’s crime world for years with a brutal, unforgiving hand. Don Ricardo had met his own bloody end in a gang shootout. Son Ricky was now running the family business. Word about town was that Ricky was even more ruthless than Dad.
Unlike his father, Ricky liked the outside world to think of him as civilized and benevolent. He donated to charities, sponsored youth soccer teams, and attended gala functions with his movie star wife. But you didn’t want to get on Ricky’s bad side. If that happened, you were going to find out that El Tiburon, “the shark,” had teeth.
So Ricky, who liked good press and enjoyed the company of beautiful women, had consented to an exclusive interview with Esperanza Diaz.
This is my ticket to the big time, she thought, preparing to cross the street to the restaurant meting place.
The restaurant door opened. A man whose body was much to big for his suit came out and cautiously looked up and down the street. Satisfied, he turned back and held open the door. A stunning woman in a sleek black pantsuit appeared with her arm around a teenage girl.
Tires squealed and a car sped by, spraying bullets at the restaurant. Glass shattered. People screamed. the assailants fled into the night.
Espy gaped in horror. Three bodies lay on the sidewalk.
A man flew out of the restaurant and fell to the ground, grasping his dying wife. His eyes glared.
Espy would never forget those eyes. eyes so black, so full of hate, so evil.
The eyes of Ricky Ruiz.
***
“You’re awfully quiet,” Mitch noted, replacing the nozzle on the gas pump.
“Memories,” said Espy, opening the car door, “but we can’t live in the past.”
She climbed into the driver’s seat and looked out, “Thanks Mitch, I’ll be back so you can do your magic on Barbara.”
***
Espy studied the letter she’d found in the pile of bills once more. A plain message, handwritten, no signature.
“If you want a story, ask Dominic Prado where the new pump house water goes.”
Espy looked out Barbara’s window at the sign on the high wall.
“Prado Construction.”
Yes, she told herself, I need a story, and that’s what the letter promised.
Okay, she thought, taking a deep breath. then she threw open the car door, jumped out, and strode through the gate into the dusty yard. Passing derelict equipment, she noted, business isn’t booming here.
Stopping in front of a two story building with paint flaking off its walls, she observed flowers cascading from boxes below the ground level windows.
But somebody’s trying to keep up appearances, she thought.
Under the entry porch, a “Welcome!” sign hung on a wide, weathered wood door. She turned the knob and entered.
Inside the small office, a few battered chairs lined one wall. Opposite them, a woman was typing at a desk. She looked up and smiled.
“Can I help you?”
“I hope so,” Espy answered, “I’d like to speak with Dominic Prado.”
The woman, who had a plain but pleasant face, looked hard at Espy and then said, “Aren’t you Sophia’s daughter?”
“Yes, I should have introduced myself, I’m Esperanza Diaz.”
“I’m so sorry about your mother’s passing. She was loved by everyone and the Puerto Cielo Star is the heart of our town.”
“Thank you,” Espy replied.
“I’m Victoria, Dominic’s wife. May I ask what you’d like to talk about?”
“The new pump house,” Espy answered.
Victoria was silent, considering, then, “Please have a seat.”
She rose and went to another door, tapped twice, then disappeared inside. Espy heard raised voices.
Moments later, Victoria returned, beckoning Espy in.
With his back to her, a man stood in front of a window at the far end of the room. Turning, he strode to meet Espy, hand outstretched, “Welcome, Ms. Diaz. I’m Dominic Prado. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Espy took the firm handshake and studied Dominic Prado’s face. He was in his forties with a full head of black hair streaked with gray. His lean, tanned face had more lines than usual for a man his age. His piercing gray eyes studied her.
He motioned to a chair then sat behind a time marred wooden desk. the only thing on its top was a small picture frame, its back towards Espy.
“Would you like something to drink, Ms. Diaz?” he asked.
“No, thanks,” Espy said, surveying the pictures on the walls. Construction projects, sponsored sports teams, a younger Dominic Prado standing with a smiling older man.
Seeing her interest , Dominic responded, “We’re a family business, started by my parents, much like your family and the Star.”
With both arms on the desk, hands clasped, he leaned forward and asked, “How can we help you?”
Espy dove in, “Tell me where the water goes from the new pump house.”
Dominic paused, then slowly turned in his chair and pointed out the window. “Do you see that burned out building?”
Following his hand, she saw the charred remains of a shed filled with blackened machinery.
He turned back, “That’s what happened the last time I talked with someone about that pump house.”
“Talked with who?”
He reached out and spun the photo on his desk to face her. It was a family shot, Dominic, Victoria, and three teenage kids. “Do you have children?” he asked.
“Yes,” Espy said, looking into his troubled eyes.
“And they are everything to you?”
“Yes.”
“And so you understand why I’m hesitant to continue this conversation.”
“I’ll never mention your name.”
He laughed, “You won’t need to. There are no secrets in this town.”
From behind Espy, Victoria spoke, “You need to tell her, Dominic, tell her the whole story.”
Dominic answered defiantly, “I won’t endanger my family. I won’t let them hurt you.”
“They’ve already hurt us. They’ve taken our pride and left us in fear. This is no way to live.”
Victoria entered the room and walked around the desk, putting her hands on Dominic’s shoulders, “It’s time we stood up to these crooks.”
Dominic looked up at his wife and nodded. She moved to sit beside Espy.
And Dominic began.
“About five years ago, people started talking about some big money from the city wanting to build a golf course in Puerto Cielo. At first, it was just a rumor floating around. But then the delta farmland on the far side of the lagoon was secretly bought up. Plans and permits were rushed through City Hall.
“Most people weren’t thrilled with the idea. those farms had been there for generations and they fed the town. Good farmland is scarce here. So is fresh water and everyone wondered where the water would come from to keep a golf course green and fill up the pools for the rich people’s big houses. The developers promised wells would be drilled to supply the needed water.”
“Construction began and the boom in work was exciting. In just a few months, the farms were replaced by the shapes of a golf course and the foundations of huge houses.
“Then a notice appeared in your family paper, the Star, a request for bids on a water pump house project. The stated intent was to increase the water pressure for the town’s water supply to better serve the community. At the time, the system was so decrepit that Puerto Cielo was broken into districts. Buildings in each district only received water two days each week, sometimes less.
“The new pump station was supposed to put an end to this scarcity. Prado Construction put in a bid. Soon after, I was notified that our bid needed more information. I was instructed by the city engineer that another bid would be required. I was told what the bid amount would be, a number much higher than the one I’d originally posted.
“I knew what was going on. The city would award the contract for the higher number and then pay out the lesser actual bid to the contractor. The difference would be pocketed by corrupt officials and their cronies.
“We needed the project and I played along. We got the job and went to work. It was soon obvious that the so called ‘pump house project’ was not as it seemed. It was really a water diversion scam with city water being slipped off to the new Palm Estates.
“I found out that the proposed Palm Estates wells had struck unusable brackish water. Faced with the failure of the project, the big money boys had paid off people in city government to promote the phony pump house project.
“There was nothing we could do but finish the project. Then we were refused final payment when the city engineer claimed there were construction deficiencies.”
Victoria spat, “They’re all a bunch of pandejos!”
Espy glanced at the angry wife, then watched Dominic place his hands flat on the desk.
“Now, the Palm Estates has all the water it needs for its lush golf course and palatial mansions, water that the people of Puerto Cielo don’t know they are paying for.”
Astounded, Espy asked, “And nobody knows about this?”
Dominic smiled, “Everyone knows about it, Ms. Diaz. But everyone’s too scared to do anything about it.”
He pointed again to the burned out building shell in the yard, “Everyone knows my equipment shed and everything in it was burned the night I argued with Tibo about getting paid.”
“Tibo? You had it out with Ricky Ruiz.”
Dominic said nothing.
Shaking her head, Espy stood up. She took Victoria’s hand, then Dominic’s.
“Thank you,” she said and turned to leave.
Stopping in the doorway, she looked back at the forlorn couple.
“She asked, ”Did you tell my Dad this story?”
“Never did,” Dominic answered, “your mother was very ill at the time.”
***
Returning to Barbara, Espy didn’t see the black SUV parked up the street.
Two pairs of eyes were watching her.
***
To be continued-
Copyright 2024 Tio Stib
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