Kim turned around so that he could present what he thought was the most appropriate part of his anatomy to his two guests. Bending forward, he went back to completing his shampoo.
The El Toro bar looked like a completely different establishment in the daylight. Without the red glow of the neon bull and without the lively, percussive sound of the Hispanic music, the ramshackle building looked abandoned. The only evidence it wasn’t were the freshly discarded beer cans scattered about the deserted parking lot.
Shanahan shook his head at the miserable scene as his black Cherokee navigated the pockmarked parking area. The rainy, foggy weather didn’t help as it blanketed the area with a dense pall. Shanahan pulled alongside Carlos’s truck whose condition matched the surroundings.
Carlos climbed out of his truck and came around to Shanahan’s driver’s-side window. It was heavily tinted, and Carlos could only see his own reflection until Shanahan lowered it.
With no greeting and no explanation, Shanahan handed Carlos a hundred-dollar bill.
Carlos looked at the money then back at Shanahan.
“What’s this?” he said. “You told me two hundred. The woman’s been taken care of just like we talked about.”
“You messed up,” Shanahan said. “It wasn’t clean. We heard about the doctor. You should have done him. You knew he was there looking for the woman.
“I tried,” Carlos said.
“What do you mean, tried?” Shanahan asked with derision. “You’re supposed to have this great reputation with a knife. The guy was unarmed.”
“I didn’t have time,” Carlos said. “He set off the silent alarm when he broke in, and the police got there before I could finish him. I was lucky to get rid of her blood and stuff.”
“What did you do with her car?” Shanahan asked. “It’s in my cousin’s garage,” Carlos said.
“We’ll pick it up,” Shanahan said. “I don’t want anybody using it. It’s got to be junked.”
“Nobody’s going to use it,” Carlos said.
“What about her phone?” Shanahan asked.
“I got that in my truck,” Carlos said.
“Get it!” Shanahan ordered.
Dutifully Carlos returned to his truck. A minute later he was back at Shanahan’s window. Carlos handed the cell phone to the security man.
Shanahan tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. “I hope I don’t have to ask you if you made any calls.”
Carlos raised his dark eyebrows innocently but didn’t respond verbally.
Shanahan closed his eyes, put a hand to his forehead, and shook his head in dismay. “Please tell me you didn’t use the phone,” he said through clenched teeth, although he already knew the answer.
When Carlos still didn’t respond, Shanahan opened his eyes and stared dumbfounded at his accomplice. He tried to control his rage. “All right, who did you call? Don’t you know they’ll be able to trace the call? How can you be so stupid?”
“I called my mother in Mexico,” Carlos admitted guiltily.
Shanahan rolled his eyes and started to worry that he would now have to get rid of Carlos. The trouble with this kind of work was that when things started to go wrong, they had a way of quickly getting out of hand.
“But my mother has no phone,” Carlos said. “I called a phone in a store where my sister works.”
“What kind of a store?” Shanahan asked.
“A big store,” Carlos said. “It sells all sorts of things.”
“Like a department store?” Shanahan asked.
“Yeah, like a department store,” Carlos said.
“When did you call?” Shanahan asked.
“Last night,” Carlos said. “The store is open late on Saturday night, and my mother always goes to walk my sister home.”
“Where in Mexico?” Shanahan asked.
“Mexico City,” Carlos said.
Shanahan felt relieved. An anonymous call to a large store in the most populous city in the world wasn’t much of a lead.
“And that was the only call?” Shanahan asked.
“Yeah, man,” Carlos said. “Just one call.”
“Let’s get back to the doctor,” Shanahan said. “Does he know what happened to the woman?”
“Probably.” Carlos said. “He saw her blood.”
“One way or the other, he’s a threat,” Shanahan said. “He’s got to go. We’ll pay you the other hundred plus three hundred extra to do the job. What do you say?”