Incredible!
The phone rang, and he picked it up before Lorenzo or Phyllis could answer. “Hello.” Please, God, let it be Helen.
“Rafe, is that you? Geez, didn’t Lorenzo give you my message? I’ve been calling all day.”
He let out a sigh of disappointment. It was his brother, Ramon.
“What now?”
“I’m in jail.”
“Damn! Where?”
“Mexico. A little village in the hills. These local policia are nuts, Rafe. You gotta get me outta here.”
“Okay, slow down. What did you do?”
“I didn’t do nothin’. I was just helpin’ the migrant workers unionize, and — ”
“Damn it, Ramon, I warned you about this before. When will you ever — ” He stopped talking when he heard a rough voice barking out orders, followed by Ramon arguing, then a cracking sound, like a punch or hard slap.
“Ramon… Ramon, are you there?” Rafe spoke into the phone, panicking now.
For a long time there was only silence, then Ramon’s voice came on again, weaker this time. “I need your help. Real bad.”
“Tell me where you are and what the charges are.” Ramon spat out the information quickly.
“It’s three o’clock. I’ll hop the first plane I can get.”
“Hurry.”
“I will. Take it easy, Ramon. Don’t say anything. Just tell them you’ll talk when your lawyer gets there.”
The phone went dead before he got a response.
Rafe glanced up to see Lorenzo and Phyllis staring at him with concern.
“Ramon again?” Phyllis asked.
He nodded. His youngest brother was always getting into trouble. Ramon’s ideals clashed with harsh reality. Rafe should just let him sit in jail for a few weeks to teach him a lesson, but Mexican jails were no place for an education. They could spell death for an inexperienced boy of twenty.
“Call my mother and explain, will you, Phyllis?” he said, choking back his worry.
She nodded and took notes as he belted out the things he needed for his trip. His mind spun with all the details to be handled through his Mexican contacts. He had to withdraw a sizable amount of money from the bank for bribes. That was the way lawyering was still done in some parts of Mexico. Plane reservations. Passports. Ramon’s birth certificate proving American citizenship. Then he thought of Helen, and groaned.
“Lorenzo, I should be back here with Ramon by tomorrow night at the latest. It’s important to me that you take all my messages. Keep changing the tapes on the answering machine, not like the last time when you forget and the tape ran out. Especially — are you listening carefully? — I’m waiting for a call from Helen Prescott. If she calls, you tell her I had to go to Mexico. Tell her to leave her number and I’ll get back to her as soon as possible. Can you remember that?”
“Si.”
He started to add, “And tell Helen I love her,” but decided that was not a job he wanted Lorenzo to handle.
There were at least fifty phone calls to be returned as a result of his three-day absence — clients, friends, family — but he had no time now. He asked Phyllis to cancel his court docket for the next day.
The door opened abruptly, and his sister Inez rushed in, without knocking. “I heard about Ramon. I’m going with you.”
“Absolutely not!”
He tried shoving her to the side, but she wouldn’t budge. In fact, she shoved back. Inez was of medium height, with coal-black hair and dark, glittering eyes. A petite fireball.
“I’ve already made my reservation on the same flight as yours. So, listen up, brother. I’m going, whether you want me or not.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
She told him something vulgar he could do to himself, and Phyllis and Lorenzo cringed in the background. Inhaling deeply, she wagged a forefinger at him. “I’m a cop. He’s my brother, too. I’m going.”
“You were supposed to be checking on Helen’s telephone number for me,” he accused. “How come everyone expects me to jump when they ask for a favor, but when I want something, it never gets done?”
“Ramon is more important than locating one of your bimbos.”