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.




32


“Sheriff,” the radio crackled, “you there?”

Eddie picked up the mike, “I’m here, Gloria.”

“I’m getting calls about some big, bad ass guy nailing dead chickens up on buildings.”

Eddie sighed. The sinking feeling from seeing that black truck was coming to pass.

“Okay, I’ll check it out.”

The patrol car turned and headed downtown.

***

The alarmed calls were flooding in. A towering titan with a bullwhip and snarling dog was terrorizing Puerto Cielo.

Stalking the streets, he was ripping down “Carmen for Mayor” posters, crunching them up, and tossing them away.

Then, the ogre went a step further, nailing the carcasses of bloody, headless chickens over the posters.

His intimidating hulk would appear in a shop doorway, scan the store, grunt and stomp off, never uttering a single word.

He was a man on a mission and his mission was fear.

***

Motorbike jolting through Main Street’s potholes, Patrolman Castillo saw a vehicle parked in the “Tow Away” zone in front of City Hall.

Dismounting his bike, Castillo noticed that the protestors were gone. Good riddance, he thought, pulling out his ticket book. He wrote out the citation and reached up to put it under the windshield wiper. Then he realized that the window was beyond his reach, forcing him to clamber up onto the door step.

He heard a grunt behind him.

Turning, Castillo found a giant with a viper mustache glaring at him. The policeman lowered himself to the ground and, helmet visor up, stretched out a hand with the parking ticket. The menacing man, wearing a sleeveless black leather vest that exposed tattooed arms the size of power poles, made no move to take the timid offering.

The pint size policeman had not noticed the nearby dog and was not aware of its troubled past. Mikey, as the animal was fondly called in private moments, had been part of a litter born in a junkyard and left to roam the streets. Caught by a brutal dog catcher, he’d been beaten mercilessly. The emotionally savaged pup had been rescued by a shy giant who’d taken him home and nursed the dog back to health.

Now, two things shaped Mikey’s behavior.

Devotion to his master and a raging hatred of men in uniform.

Which is why, seeing Castillo’s neatly starched and pressed policeman’s outfit, Mikey launched himself at the cop.

The canine missile blasted Castillo off his feet and locked its teeth into a leather boot.

There was a sharp whistle.

The attack dog released its prey. Snarling, teeth bared, Mikey glowered at the fallen cop.

Lying on his back, Castillo rolled to one side and struggled to his feet. His eyes dropped to the dark stain on his trousers.

He’d wet himself

A trembling hand released the citation and it floated off in the wind.

Although the Bernie brothers had no comment on this spectacle, Lazy, always eager to make new friends, sauntered over to meet the new guy in town.

Having learned from his master that it’s best to make clear who’s the top dog, Mikey, wild eyed, with a mouthful of gleaming white teeth, lunged at Lazy.

Freaked by this unexpected response to his neighborly gesture, Lazy flipped into survival mode, did a midair 180 and dove for the safety of the Three B’s porch.

Cowering under the brothers’ bench, Lazy peeked between legs and boots to ensure he was not being pursued.

In the middle of the street, Mikey, who’d used this scare tactic before, barked savagely, knowing that this demented behavior preserved his king of the hill status.

Objecting to the mistreatment of the town’s favorite pet, Paco raised his bottle and voice in protest.

CRACK!

A sonic boom rattled the air and the top of Paco’s beer bottle disappeared.

Across Main Street, the ogre with the monster truck and junkyard dog slowly coiled his bullwhip, flicking off the broken glass from the ball of horsehair at its end. The pair boarded the truck as Castillo regained his feet and stared down at his soiled uniform.

Parked up the street, Eddie watched the big rig disappear.

“Sheriff, you there?”

Eddie did not answer Gloria’s call.

Already, hushed voices were spreading terrifying tales  of “El Hombre” throughout Puerto Cielo.

***

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.




31


The sun had risen an hour before, but it still felt like night. The cloud shrouded sky was ominously dark. Blasts of wind across the white capped lake hurled sheets of spray over the rain drenched dam.

Peeking from its hole, the squirrels face was dashed with raindrops. Annoyed, the squirrel shook its head and quickly retreated.

In the valley below, scarcely visible through the morning downpour, a lone truck headed down the road to Puerto Cielo.

***

It was cold and wet on Main Street. The extreme weather caused the Bernies to change their morning drink from beer to hot coffee. They’d even put on warm jackets. No one was out and about as their cups steamed and rain lashed down the vacant thoroughfare.

Three caps swiveled uphill towards the low, rumble bouncing off the sides of buildings.

Huge off road tires shooting water in all directions, windshield wipers swiping furiously, a black, monster truck rolled into view.

Coming closer, the truck slowed, then stopped, engine growling. The brothers noticed a gleaming ornament on the hood.

A frightening, life size full-fanged chrome rattlesnake head.

Through the open driver’s window, a giant scowling face glared at the trio. Two menacing eyes studied them, the meaty arm on the sill, unbothered by rain pounding its threatening tattoos.

With a twitch of his horseshoe mustache, the immense bald head turned and the truck slowly splashed on.

Standing outside the Star entry, Espy and Manny gaped at the behemoth vehicle which halted in front of them. The sinister face in the open truck window sneered.

Suddenly, frenzied barking exploded from the truck. Foaming at the mouth, the doberman in the back seat, suddenly seeing Arnold, had its face plastered against the window. The junkyard dog wanted chihuahua for lunch.

Panic stricken, Arnold sprang, cast and all, into Manny’s arms.

There was a sharp whistle. The barking stopped.

“Who’s that guy?” asked Manny, as a quivering Arnold watched the truck inch past the parked bodies of Barbara and Ynes.

Espy had no answer.

Standing beside his patrol car Outside Mama G’s, Sheriff Eddie was saying goodbye to Gina. They turned to see a big truck approaching and two evil eyes staring at them.

A cold, wet gust splattered their faces. Gina crossed herself. Eddie felt a sudden flush of anxiety as the black rig turned onto Beach drive, heading through the sullen downpour towards the red rooster.

Bad news had just come calling to Puerto Cielo.

***

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.




30


“No more corruption!”

Maria’s voice blared from the rooftop loudspeakers as the sunflower painted bus slowly rolled down the street. Filled with aroused corruption seekers, Ynes was back in action.

Manny honked and waved at cheering onlookers.

The Puerto Cielo Corruption Tour, highlighting the misdeeds of government officials, had just gone online. There was already a waiting list.

The windshield wipers struggled to keep up with the afternoon shower as Manny slowed Ynes in front of the Palm Estates entry gate.

The guard house sentry poked his head out to view the intruders.

Manny opened her window and waved.

The guard was immediately on the phone. There were some who objected to their transgressions being made public and the gate stayed closed.

Maria spoke into the microphone, “How’s the water supply in your neighborhood?”

“Four days and no water to my house,” someone called from the back.

Other murmurs, how could it be, with so much rain, that people couldn’t get water to their homes??

Maria continued, “You’ll be happy to know that the people in the Palm Estates have all the water they want, all the time, all the water they need to fill their pools and keep the golf course green. And you folks, who only get water two or three times a week, are paying for this, thanks to the Pump House scandal.”

Hoots and jeers shook Ynes.

Maria went on, “The big pink house on the left belongs to your city treasurer. How does a city employee afford such a palace? Perhaps because much of the construction labor was provided by city workers and materials were mislabelled as city maintenance costs.”

Catcalls were interrupted when the exit gate opened and a shiny BMW sped out. The woman driver scowled at her gawking audience.

Maria noted, “That’s the treasurer’s wife. How does she afford the brand new car? It’s listed as a city owned vehicle. What city work do you think she’s doing today?”

The question was answered with boos and whistles.

***

Driving back into town, Ynes stopped in front of a travel agency, its windows covered with advertising posters for exotic vacations.

“This business is owned by the mayor’s sister. Your city officials have been booking trips all over the world here for themselves and their families. These expensive junkets have been disguised as economic development conferences. And the mayor’s sister gets a big fee for every trip she books.”

Maria paused.

“How would you like to go on an all expenses paid vacation to Paris, France?”

There were gasps of disbelief, “Really, they do that?”

As Manny drove on through dreary drizzle, Maria’s voice echoed through the streets,

“No more corruption!”

The “Corruptor Bus” stopped in front of a three story house towering over the white stucco wall surrounding it. Two city trucks were parked in the driveway.

“This is the home of our esteemed mayor. Please notice the city trucks parked here. It seems everyone who works at the mayor’s place is on the city payroll. This includes the gardener, the cook, his chauffeur, even the cleaning lady.”

A torrent of cynical taunts burst out from the tourists.

“And let’s not forget Angela Morales, the mayor’s mistress,” chimed in Manny.

Howls of derision erupted.

Manny drove on.

“When was the last time the city filled potholes on your streets?” Maria asked as Ynes plopped into yet another of the ever present road hazards.

“The only time they show up in my neighborhood is the week before the election,” was the familiar cynical response.

Manny turned off Beach Drive onto Main Street at City Park, slowing past Mama G’s. People stood outside the restaurant looking towards City Hall.

The irate protestors had increased in number, spilling off the sidewalk into the street, waving signs and chanting,

“Throw them out! Stop the crooks!”

Manny parked Ynes behind Barbara, in front of the star office, across the street from the angry crowd. The bus emptied, its occupants shouting encouragement to the demonstrators.

Sipping beer on their bench, the Bernies watched the goings on. Things were getting interesting. Certainly crazier times than they’d seen in years.

The ghost stood nearby, watching her beloved Ynes unload, as the driver and her co-pilot high-fived each other for another successful tour.

Eyeing the action from his table at Mama G’s, Sheriff Eddie thought, good, people are finally going to do something about the town crooks. Then he reconsidered, but If these protests continue, I might have to get involved.

Freshly loaded, the brightly colored Puerto Cielo Corruptor Bus pulled out into Main Street traffic to start another tour.

From inside a dark, grey limo, Tibo watched the bus pass by.

“Stop the crooks!” boomed the loudspeakers.

Yes, Ricky thought, that was his daughter Maria’s voice.

“No more corruption!”

For a moment, he was conflicted, his daughter or his business?

He reached for his phone.

***

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.




29


Sam had insisted that Manny drive as the family piled into Barbara and rode to M&M Motors. 

Now, standing inside the garage, they watch Mitch slide a grey tarpaulin off a hidden vehicle.

“Wow!” gasped Manny.

“Super wow!” Gabe shouted.

Unveiled in front of them, gleaming in the garages bright lights, was a sky blue microbus wrapped with dozens of bright gold, dancing sunflowers.

Manny’s mind flashed, the same sunflowers that waved from the wall inside the Star office.

She looked over at Sam, tears streamed down his face.

Lucy and Espy knew the story. this was Sophia’s bus. Ynes, the bus that once drew Sam to her, the bus in which Sophie and Sam and then young Esperanza had shared so many road adventures.

Espy remembered the wild and wonderful places they’d explored. And then she’d grown up, and other things became more important and family adventuring with Ynes faded away.

Manny saw the name painted on the side.

“Ynes. What does it mean?”

Sam shared Sophia’s fascination with Ynes Mexia and her love of plants.

With his white cane, he navigated around the front of the vehicle and opened the driver’s door.

“Come here, Manny.”

Manny followed. 

“Jump in.”

Manny climbed into the driver’s seat. Sam closed the door. Then he moved to the passenger side and hoisted himself in.

He spoke to Manny, “I know you can drive, you did quite well with Barbara. But have you ever driven a stick shift?”

“No,” was the anxious answer.

He smiled, “Time to learn.”

She put both hands on the steering wheel and hesitated. Something was strange. What was it?

Her nose answered.

Sophia’s perfume.

Her grandmother’s scent filled the car. After all the time Sophia had been gone, the comforting memory of her perfume still lingered in Manny’s memory.

She relaxed. Gran’s here.

There were a few quick instructions, then Sam said, “Turn the key.”

Ynes came to life, engine purring like a contented cat.

Mitch rolled up the garage door and waved them outside.

“Let’s go for a ride,” said the blind driving instructor, and he showed Manny how to put the bus in reverse.

***

“I heard a clever idea for protesting against corruption,” Sam said, as gears ground and Ynes jerked and sputtered through the streets of Puerto Cielo.

“Take a deep breath,” he soothed, sensing Manny was getting frustrated, “there’s no hurry, slow and easy does it.”

He continued, “Some kids in the city created a new way to put the crooks on the public stage. They started the ‘Corruption Tour,’ a bus ride taking people to the most infamous sites of criminal profiteering throughout the town.”

Manny’s eyes lit up and she turned to Sam. Then she saw it, she saw how she could fight the thugs in Puerto Cielo.

“Yes!” she shouted, banging on Ynes’s horn as passersby on the sidewalk looked out at a bright blue bus covered with sunflowers lurching down the street.

By the time Manny parked the bus behind Barbara at the Star office, the stick shifting was so natural she’d forgotten about it. She had bigger things on her mind.

***

Gathered around the courtyard table, the family eagerly shared ideas about the soon to be launched Puerto Cielo “Corruption Tour.”

The bell on the Star office door jingled.

Heads turned.

A familiar face appeared in the doorway to the courtyard. they all looked at the girl in the wheelchair.

She simply said, “I want to help.”

***

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.




28


“City Corruption Scandal”

From the angry shouts coming through the closed door to the mayor’s office, the sheriff knew somebody was upset. He also knew the rage being vented had something to do with today’s Star headline.

Not my problem, Eddie thought. He didn’t want their crooked money, he just wanted to do his job, his way.

The yelling carried on as Eddie walked away.

***

Ricky sat alone in his corner in the Red Rooster, thinking as he slowly savored the rich cup of espresso. The machine behind the bar was installed solely for his use and made life in small town Puerto Cielo a bit more bearable. The Star headline glared up from the tabletop.

He thought about Roddy and the other clowns in the city government, a bunch of greedy, inept fools. They’d suffer now.

But I can’t let things get out of hand, I’m paying those bozos to leave my rackets alone and things would be much tougher without that protection.

He took a cigar from the inside pocket of his blazer, lit it, and slowly inhaled. After a pause, he blew a cloud of smoke towards the ceiling, then looked again at the Star headline.


“City Corruption Scandal”


Yes, he thought, Esperanza Diaz had become a formidable opponent.

***

Sitting on the open veranda at Mama G’s, Espy and Carmen were plotting how to get Carmen elected as the next mayor of Puerto Cielo. Inside the restaurant, gathered around their table, the ladies of the circle chattered excitedly about the shocking Star headline.

The lights went out.

Mama G emerged from the kitchen wiping her hands and looked around, then summed things up, “No electricity, we can’t, cook.”

Espy called Lucy. The power was also out at the Star office.

More calls were made and it was soon clear that the entire block, from the 3 B’s store down to Mama G’s was blacked out.

Standing beside carmen and Espy, Mama G wondered, “No storm, what happened to the power?”

“I think we know what happened.”

In the dim light, the trio turned to see Dona Consuelo.

She continued, “Estaban Salazar, a city worker, was told by his boss, the city engineer, to turn off the electricity to this part of town. His wife, who is the daughter of a lady in our circle, says he did this under threat of being fired.”

“So the big boys are pissed off with being exposed,” Espy smirked.

Dona Consuelo replied, “And now, they have, as you say, ‘pissed off’ all of us. They will pay for their insolence.”

The small white haired head turned and rejoined the Circle. Every lady at the table was texting or talking on her phone.

It took about two hours, but the lights finally clicked on again.

Later, the city engineer, returning to his palatial home for lunch, found a note pinned to the door.

“You are not welcome here. Go stay with your brother”

The man’s wife had received a call. She’d been told that her social standing in Puerto Cielo was at risk unless she disciplined her foolish husband.

She had taken immediate action.

***

School was okay today, Manny thought as she walked home. She hadn’t made any new friends, but kids weren’t avoiding her like they did the girl in the wheelchair.

As rain pummeled the pavement, Manny stayed under the shelter of Main Street’s arcades. Then she remembered her phone account needed more money. She stepped into a phone store. Somebody was arguing. Peeking around a display, she saw two guys dressed in black confronting a young man behind the counter.

“You really need to pay up, Felipe, or things are going to get tough for you,” said the tall thin guy.

“Yeah, you might have an accident,” chimed in the shorter, fat guy who took a new phone off the counter and dropped it on the floor.

“Oops!” said fats in mock surprise. Then he squashed the fallen phone with a heavy boot, adding, “My bad.”

Felipe watched with frightened eyes.

“You’d better find a way to pay, amigo, or there’s going to be a much bigger ‘accident,’ “ thin man threatened.

Felipe threw up his hands, “I can’t give you what I don’t have. Business is slow.”

“We’ll be back,” said thin man and turned to leave.

Thin guy scowled at Manny as he passed. The fat guy with the pig’s face and beady black eyes, gave her a look that made her shiver. She watched them enter a black SUV, then realized they were the thugs who’d tossed the brick through the Star window. She started after them, but tires squealed on the rain soaked street and they were gone.

Manny walked up to the counter. “What was that about?” she asked.

Felipe pulled out a wrinkled bandana and wiped sweat from his face. He shook his head, “You don’t want to know. Just another day in Puerto Cielo.”

Pocketing the bandana, Felipe smiled, “How can I help you?”

***

Troubled, Manny left the store. She hated the goons who had hurled the brick threw the Star window, who were terrorizing the town.

But what could she do about it?

Hood up, backpack gripped tightly over a shoulder, she plunged into a river of rain at the corner and splashed across the street and up the high curb to the shelter of the 3 B’s Store porch. The brothers, always there, nodded to her. Arnold and his buddy Lazy were nowhere in sight. Trust them to have found a warm, dry place for a siesta, Manny thought.

Then she saw them.

Protestors, a crowd of them, holding umbrellas and placards on the steps of City Hall. 

“Throw them out!”

“Jail the crooks!”

“We want our $ back!”

Wow! People must be really mad to be out in such miserable weather. Manny brightened. My family and the Puerto Cielo Star sparked this protest.

She entered the Star office, still wondering, what more can I do?

Espy was at her desk on a phone call. Mother and daughter waved to each other.

Manny passed through the courtyard, raindrops plipping and plopping off the leaves of the maze of plants. She stopped at the altar sheltered under the balcony, and saw her grandmother’s face smiling back at her. 

There was a noise from under the altar table and Manny bent down. Snuggled together in a well padded basket, Arnold and Lazy were sound asleep. The loud snoring she’d heard had come from the very small dog. The cast on his leg was quite the worse for wear, but had no effect on his contented dreams.

That solves the mystery of the disappearing dogs, now what were those delicious aromas coming from the kitchen?

Lucy looked up from the cutting board as Manny entered. “How was school today?”

“All right,” Manny replied, her nose twitching with scents of cilantro, garlic, and peppers.

“Good. Here, you can help me.”

Lucy was making chile rellenos and  she put Manny to work shredding cheese.

 “Smells great, what can I do?” Espy inquired as she came in.

“You can add onions to the beans and start the rice,” answered Lucy.

As the three generations of Diaz women worked together in the kitchen, Manny shared her experience at the phone store.

“Why don’t people throw the thugs out?” she concluded.

Lucy and Espy looked at each other.

Finally, Espy answered, “Some people are afraid that they or their family or their business will be hurt. Some don’t think they can do anything alone that will make a difference. Some just turn a blind eye because they don’t think the bad things going on are their problem.”

“Are you scared, Mom?”

Espy considered the question. “Yes, sometimes I’m scared. I don’t want the people I love to be hurt. I don’t want anyone to be hurt. But, I know that unless we stand up against bullies, against their threats, they will take our freedom away.”

Standing unseen in the corner, the ghost watched the women of her family finish preparations for dinner.

***

As all ate together around the table, Manny once more shared her story from the phone store.

She ended with, “I want to do something to stop these hoods!”

The table was silent.

Then, Sam looked at Manny and smiled, “Let’s all go for a drive.”

***

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.




26


Head buried inside the engine compartment, Mitch was doing the annual maintenance on Dona Consuelo’s ancient Mercedes sedan. Although it was twice as old as Espy’s Barbara, the aged Merc was in pristine condition, not a dent on it, everything in working order. Quite like the lady who owned the car, he thought, solid and reliable in spite of the years.

He looked out from under the hood at the kids gathered around G2 and her computer. She was focused and direct, giving orders, sending her troops into action. 

The battle lines had been drawn.

Mitch smiled. One would be foolish to underestimate woman power in Puerto Cielo.

***

The rooftop loudspeakers blared “Vote for Roddy!” as the van slowly cruised down the street in the steady rain. Two bicycles came up quickly from behind, then veered to opposite sides of the vehicle. Each cyclist lobbed a bomb up into a speaker.

“Vote for R-r-…”

The campaign rhetoric sputtered and stopped as the bags of flour burst inside the speakers, squelching the sound.

As the marauders made off down an alley, the little dog in one of the bike baskets barked defiantly. It sounded a lot like, “Hasta la vista, baby!”

***

Carmen’s big smile was all over Puerto Cielo. The Zorros had plastered “Carmen for Mayor” posters everywhere.

But Ivan and Gomez were busy tearing the flyers down. At the end of one Main Street block, they stuffed the torn remnants of Carmen’s face into a garbage bin and returned to their car.

Behind the steering wheel, Ivan’s nose twitched, something stunk.

He looked over at Gomez, “You take a shower today, hombre?”

Gomez had just been thinking, man, Ivan reeks. He snapped back, “Of course I did! It’s you that stinks!”

“Me? No way, it’s gotta be you!”

The bickering went back and forth until, hours later, they discovered the dead fish under the seats.

The Zorros had struck again.

***

Perched in the front basket of Gabe’s bike, his little leg cast covered with signatures, Arnold held down a stack of “Carmen for Mayor” flyers.

He growled.

“Hola, chica, just what do you think you’re doing?”

Manny and Gabe turned from posting a “Carmen for mayor!” flyer on a Main Street storefront. There stood Julio with his gold tooth grin, holding a bunch of shredded posters under one arm.

He flashed the gleaming point of a knife in their faces, “It looks like you’re littering, but, no worries, I’m cleaning up after you.”

Shoving the ripped papers into a barrel, Julio flicked a lighter and watched the flames rise. 

Still grinning, he added, “There, much better, don’t you think?”

Eyes locked on Manny, Julio pushed the knife blade towards her nose, “Now, I think you should move along and stop messing up the streets of our fine town.”

Gabe shook his head and whispered, “Boy, you are so very, very stupid.”

Manny stared at the knife, the burning posters in the barrel, and smiled sweetly at Julio.

“Oh, my, you are so scary,” she mocked, then added, “Call it.”

She flipped a coin high in the air. 

Julio looked up at the sparkling, spinning silver and before he could blink, Manny had kicked the knife away, slammed a fist in his gut, and kneed him in the groin.

The bully collapsed, groaning. “Tails,” she said, catching the coin and returning it to her pocket.

“You lose.”

Manny bent down and grabbed his greasy hair, pulling his head back so that the anguished face could see the fire in her eyes.

 She hissed, “Never threaten me again!”

Picking up the fallen knife, she tossed it into the barrel with the burning flyers. Then, pointing a finger at her sprawling, stupefied assailant, she added,

“Ever!”

As Manny and Gabe calmly walked away, Arnold put in a “Don’t mess with me” yip at the astonished tough.

Across the street in a dark grey limo, a girl watched unnoticed from an open window.

***

During  a rare splash of afternoon sunshine, Mayor Roddy was doing his own campaigning, waving to the  people who loved him as the caddy, top down, rolled through town. He failed to notice that his greetings to passersby were often returned with a one finger salute.

Crawling by City Park, the Caddy was buried in a barrage of rotten tomatoes. Juicy, bright red starbursts exploded all over the mayor’s pale blue linen suit.

Walking her poodle nearby, the lady wearing the wide white hat witnessed the attack and heard the mayor’s outraged scream.

She couldn’t have been happier.

So happy, she decided to write another letter.

***

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.




25


“Carmen for Mayor”

Bikes careening over rain drenched streets, the Zorros hurled the latest Star headline about town. 

Public response was animated.

At Mama G’s, the brazen announcement sparked debate around the table of gathered ladies. A woman for mayor? This had never happened in Puerto Cielo.

“More coffee, Dona Consuelo?”

The group’s serious faced leader turned to see Mama G smiling and holding a steaming pot.

Consuelo pointed to the headline and asked, “What do you think, Gina?”

“I think it’s about time,” came the prompt response.

“So do I,” came the equally emphatic retort.

***

At the Red Rooster, one voice was not enamored with the headline.

“The people hate me. They love Carmen. I’m going to lose,” Mayor Roddy lamented.

Tibo drew deeply from his cigar and studied the pitiful face in front of him. 

He blew a cloud of smoke into the mayor’s flushed face and calmly replied, “Roddy, it doesn’t matter how much the people love Carmen. What matters is how much they fear us.”

The fat man in the rumpled white suit coughed and squirmed.

Tibo added, “Relax, Roddy, worry will have its way and your ass is safe.”

Unconvinced, the mayor retreated to the bar for a bottle of liquid solace.

Ricky watched the hapless mayor slouch away, musing, I’ve surrounded myself with idiots. But life here wasn’t all bad. It didn’t take help with brains to run the rackets in Puerto Cielo. Prostitution, numbers, protection, a little graft, this was enough to maintain his simple, upscale lifestyle.

Besides, he thought, blowing three perfect smoke rings, nobody was shooting at him here.

Yet.

***

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.




24


Manny couldn’t get Maria out of her mind. Since the breakup, she’d scarcely seen the girl in the wheelchair, occasionally spotting her rolling alone through school hallways.

Who am I to judge Maria by her father, Manny thought, absently walking past the benched Bernie brothers without responding to their nods.

I don’t even know my own dad.

She nearly tripped over Lazy and Arnold lying snuggled, in the warm afternoon sun. Lost in dreamland, they didn’t move.

The stumble snapped her back. She stopped, took a deep breath, and pushed through the door into the Star office.

For a moment, she immersed her mind in the sea of sunflowers dancing on the vibrant blue wall. So many of them, each one different. For the first time, Manny noticed an empty sky space near the door. This end of the wall, about six feet long, was missing the bright waving blossoms.

I wonder why Grandma stopped, she thought, realizing how much she missed the times Sophia would simply sit beside Manny, patiently listening to her granddaughter’s constant questions before offering an answer, an answer that was usually another question.

She so wished her grandmother was here to talk to.

Laughter rang out from the editor’s office. Manny heard two female voices and poked her head inside the open door.

“Manny,” her mom called out, “Carmen and I have an idea. Come in and tell us what you think.”

Sensing their excitement, Manny joined the conspirators.

***

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.




23


“Who Is Angela Morales?”

It was late in the empty Star office when Espy had found the answer to this question. The ledger sheet Alvin had given her showed that Angela Morales was a city employee, getting a monthly paycheck. She was listed as a “personal assistant.” 

Assistant to who, wondered Espy, until she saw the note scribbled at the bottom of the page.

“Angela Morales is the mayor’s mistress and what she gets paid for has nothing to do with city government.”

“Yes!” Espy had shouted into the silence, then wrote the story that was now the talk of the town.

***

The Zorros were back on the streets, furiously pedaling, handing out the latest edition of the Star.

***

In Mama G’s, the ladies in the Circle were aghast. 

Such scandal right here in Puerto Cielo!

“Things are going to get hot around here,” Gina said as she placed the coffee on Eddie’s table.

He put the paper down and looked up at her smiling face. She was enjoying this.

He nodded. He had a sinking feeling that the old days of status quo were history.

***

Across town at the Red Rooster, Ricky looked at the Star headline and smiled. Yes, he thought, change was in the air.

***

Pepe drove the white Caddy into Puerto Cielo and onto Main Street. Sitting in the back seat, top down, Mayor Roddy was all smiles.

Oh my, he fantasized, the things Angela could do to him.

Twack!

The folded paper hit Roddy full in the face. Stunned, he looked around.

A boy on a bicycle smirked and pedaled away. 

Wasn’t that the boy he’d seen defacing his billboard?

Roddy opened the paper.

His eyes exploded and he boiled over.

Now they’d gone too far. Something needs to be done.

He made a call.

***

“Mitch, you’re a magician.”

Espy was standing beside Barbara at M&M Motors, listening to the engine purr, a strange sound never heard in the years she’d owned the car.

Mitch just smiled. He gently let the car’s hood down until it softly clicked in place, “Don’t be a stranger now. I love to work on the classics, anything that doesn’t have a computer in it.”

Kids on bikes were buzzing in and out of the station, loading up on copies of the Star to deliver around town.

“Hey Mom!” Gabe yelled as he rolled by, with Arnold, in the front basket atop a pile of papers.

Arnold barked his greeting and the pair rode off.

Espy slid into her oddly quiet vehicle.

“Well, Esperanza Diaz, your ‘Star’ is certainly lighting things up in Puerto Cielo,” Mitch said as he closed Barbara’s two tone door, “don’t stop now.”

“We’re just getting started,” and a noiseless Barbara pulled away.

***

Patrolman Castillo listened, then said, “Yes, I know what to do.”

The phone clicked off. Castillo considered. He’d never heard his uncle so angry.

Watching Esperanza Diaz drive away from the gas station, he revved his motorcycle and took off in pursuit.

Barely two blocks into town, Espy heard the siren and saw the flashing blue light in her rear view mirror. Pulling over, she stopped and watched Patrolman Castillo park his motorbike behind her, dismount, adjust the heavy equipment belt around his ample waist, then strut, with due importance, to her open driver’s window.

“Driver’s license,“ he said curtly.

Espy calmly opened her purse and presented the license.

Castillo studied it carefully, then handed it back, requesting, “Registration.”

Espy rummaged through the glove compartment to find the document, then passed it to the policeman.

Again, Castillo carefully studied the form with no comment.

Espy noticed that Barbara was now surrounded by a swarm of bicycles. The Zorros had arrived.

“Hey, Castillo, heard you stepped in shit the other day,” taunted a voice from the crowd.

The cop looked about but only saw a pack of kids laughing at him.

Espy asked, “Just why did you pull me over, patrolman?”

Castillo hesitated, then answered, “You made an illegal turn, didn’t use your signal. I’m going to have to site you for reckless driving.”

“What! You’ve got to be kidding!”

“This is a serious offense. We don’t tolerate such lawlessness in Puerto Cielo,” Castillo responded as he wrote out the ticket.

The kids around him started jeering, then the voice again, ”Castillo, the only girl who’s ever going to go out with you is your dog.”

The cop almost lost it. How dare they talk about Poopsie that way. But he wasn’t going to let these punks get the best of him and he kept on writing.

A phone rang. Castillo looked around, realized it was his phone, and answered the call.

He listened, then, “Yes, I understand, where?… Right away!”

Castillo tucked the phone back in its pocket, put his ticket book into his belt and hurried to his bike. He mounted it, kicked the starter, revved the engine and put it in gear. The Zorros parted to make room as the motorcycle, spraying dust and gravel and sounding like a hive of angry hornets, hurdled forward.

He’d gone perhaps forty feet when the line stretched tight, the speeding bike snapped to a stop and Castillo was launched up and over the handlebars. His body did several cartwheels through water filled potholes before coming to rest in the middle of the street.

The crumpled cop groaned and rolled onto his knees. The street was empty, although laughing voices still echoed about. Then he saw the rope tied to the back of his bike, the other end securely fastened to a large tree.

The Zorros had been busy as Castillo wrote out the phony ticket. And one of the kids had called his uncle who was sitting with his two brothers on a bench in front of the 3 B’s. Gus was quite happy to make trouble for Patrolman Castillo.

The sheriff had seen it all. Parked in a nearby alley, he’d heard Gloria’s emergency call and knew Castillo had been pranked again. There was no holdup at the beach drive taco stand. 

Eddie shook his head as Castillo struggled to his feet.

He almost felt sorry for the guy.

***

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.




22


“Jeez!” he cried out, slamming on the brakes.

The pickup slid through the mud, stopping inches from the edge of the brown, rain splattered water.

The wipers couldn’t keep up with the pummeling downpour so Antonio rolled down the window and stuck his head out.

In front of him, the road vanished into a muddy lake. He was still a quarter mile from the base of the dam. No way was he going farther in this beat up, two-wheel drive truck. Besides, he thought, looking fondly at the cowboy boots Carmelita had gifted him, he wasn’t going to trash these tricolor hand tooled beauties for another dam report that nobody read.

Every week this road got worse. Every week he dragged himself out of bed to inspect a pile of dirt that hadn’t changed in years. And every week he put his report on the city engineer’s desk and the man never bothered to look at him, too busy filling out his social calendar.

Antonio’s stomach growled. Hell with it, he thought.

It took a lot of slipping and spinning tires, but he got the truck turned around and headed back to Puerto Cielo. It was still a long way to breakfast.

Atop the dam, the downpour coursed into torrents washing down the face of the sodden mountain of earth.

Deep inside its burrow, warm and snug, the squirrel slept.

***

They were sitting in the editor’s office, drinking coffee, Sam sharing how he’d lost touch with town happenings after Sophia’s death, when Lucy came in.

“We’ve got another one,” she announced, waving a white envelope.

Espy removed the single page inside, a simple message in small, neat script.

“Ask Alvin in Accounting about Angela Morales.”

Espy passed the message to Sam. He read it and handed it to Lucy.

“Who’s Angela Morales?” Espy asked.

Heads shook.

“Then it’s off to city hall,” she said, picking up her notebook and heading for the door.

There was another unanswered question though.

Who was sending these mystery letters?

***

Outside the Star office, Espy watched the garbage truck, with its orange clad workers, grind up Main Street. Was this the same truck she’d watched so many times years ago? Some things never change, she thought.

Looking right, she saw the three Bernies eyeing her. She waved, “Morning boys!”

Three baseball caps raised in response.

She patted Barbara’s faded roof, “We’ve got another story, girl!” Then sprang across the street and bounded up the steps to City Hall..

Inside, wandering down a long corridor, Espy found the door she was searching for. She entered the accounting department.

Back to her, reeking of cologne, helmet tucked under an arm, patrolman Castillo was pleading his case in front of a desk.

Behind the desk, a young woman, more interested in filing her nails than listening to Castillo, finally said, “maybe another time.”

Her tone implied that hell would freeze over long before that time would occur.

“Well,” the nervous cop mumbled, finally adding, “good day,” with a click of heels.

He turned. Stopped, surprised to find Espy staring at him.

His gaze lowered and he bolted from the office.

Espy stepped to the desk. Intent on her manicure, the woman never looked up. The nameplate on the desk read “Sonya Lopez, Account Manager.”

I wonder if Sonya’s skimpy wardrobe has anything to do with her job title, Espy thought, then said, “Excuse me.”

With the long sigh of someone whose idea of work is a cup of coffee, a romance novel, and doing her nails, the “account manager” looked up. “Can I help you?”

Fighting an urge to respond with murderous sarcasm, Espy simply said, “I’d like to speak with Alvin.”

Without bothering to turn her head, Sonya yelled, “Alvin, someone to see you!

A man hunched over at the desk behind her looked up. 

“Yes, Alvin, there really is someone here to see you,” Sonya added sardonically.

Espy regretted not having lambasted the bimbo.

Alvin pushed heavy black framed glasses up his nose and looked at Espy. He had dark circles under his eyes and a harried look on his face. Running a hand through his thinning, combed over hair, he stood, resigned, and shuffled towards her.

“Can I help you?” came the uninspired response.

Espy looked at the middle aged man whose belly hung over his belt. There were smudges of a previous meal on his rumpled white shirt. She handed him the second mystery letter.

Alvin read it and his face flushed.

He looked at her and quietly asked, “Aren’t you Esperanza Diaz from the Star?”

Espy nodded.

He snuck a look at the girl painting  her nails, quite absorbed in her task. He wavered, then softly said, “Yes, I think I can fix this.”

Alvin returned to his desk, sifted through a stack of papers, then came back.

He handed the folded mystery letter to Espy, “That should do it. Sorry for the problem, these things happen.”

Alvin turned abruptly, shambled back to the safety of his desk, and buried himself in bureaucracy.

Espy took a last look at the room’s other occupant.

Admiring her finished nails, Sonya smiled, then picked up the paperback book on her spotless desk.

Restraining herself once more, Espy left.

Outside in the hallway, she opened the folded letter.

Alvin had written, “9 tonight Beach Drive, Tommy’s Tacos.”

***

The kids were doing schoolwork, Lucy was watching her favorite telenovela, Sam had gone for a beer with Mitch, and Main Street traffic was sparse, as Espy exited the Star office. She walked down the darkened sidewalk to Mama G’s, crossed beach Drive, and headed towards a cluster of people huddled around a taco stand bathed in the glow of a streetlight. 

As she approached, there was a low whistle from her left. Turning, she saw a man come out from the shadow of a palm tree. He stopped and Espy walked across the sand to meet him.

Alvin looked around nervously, “Are you alone?”

Espy looked at his anxious face. Of course I’m alone, she thought, but simply answered, “Yes.”

He took her by the arm and pulled her deeper into the shadows, saying, “I can’t be too careful, those people can hurt me.”

“What people?” she asked as they hid behind a beached fishing boat.

Alvin didn’t answer, eyes still searching for watchers. then he released Espy’s arm and said in a hushed voice, “You wanted to know about Angela Morales.”

“Yes, who is she? Where does she work?”

Alvin took a moment to consider his response, then said, “Angela Morales is on the city payroll but she’s never set foot in City Hall.”

“What do you mean?”

“Here, this should make it obvious.” Alvin handed her a folded sheet of paper, looked around once more, then walked quickly away.

***