Unlock the Truth

Chapter Seventeen

Zeke drove along Interstate 10, turned up the music, and tried to relax. He normally loved the peace and quiet of driving. Today the lack of conversation depressed him.

He blew out a huge puff of air. They’d had their first argument. But damn it, Dena was so stubborn. While he had to respect her need for closure in her friend’s murder, he wished she’d not do dumb things like ride around his property without a co-rider.

Or worse, confront Cyril. Who the hell knew what she’d actually said to him. He had his own thoughts about his egotistical neighbor. And those he wanted to investigate thoroughly.

He looked to the left of the freeway at Mt. San Jacinto. There was a little cap of white from last week’s storm, and dark gray clouds hovered. He hadn’t been up in the cable car for years. Two miles to the top and families could escape the desert heat, hike, eat in the restaurant. Now there’d be sledding and cross-country skiing.

Soft snow fell. It dusted down to the middle of the mountain, yet the sun was out on the desert floor. He watched for a moment, keeping one eye on the traffic. It was beautiful. Like a shaken upside-down snow globe, soft and almost magical. Maybe he’d take Dena up there to the top. She’d like that.

He shook his head. Why was she always in his thoughts these days? He couldn’t even stay angry with her for long. But why on earth had she pulled that stunt this morning? He doubted Cyril would risk his standing in the community to murder women. And anyway, what possible connection would he have to two women young enough to be his daughters?

Zeke tapped at the steering wheel. He turned his thoughts to Three C’s. There were discrepancies in the books. And there was the problem with Manny, and now another with Cyril. And Rocky acted like a total stranger. But what it all meant, he had no idea. And there was Dena. She’d arrived only four days ago and had opened up a hornet’s nest. He grimaced. Probably a good thing, though. He’d ignored everything for a year.

An hour and a half later he entered the downtown Los Angeles district. He did a quick loop from one freeway onto another and pulled up minutes later at the Bonaventure Hotel.

When he got into his hotel room, he dialed the room number for his clients and left a message to remind them of their appointment. Then he stripped off his clothes, pulled on shorts and a t-shirt and went to the gym for a workout.

Tonight he’d wine and dine the two men. Tomorrow morning he’d meet with Steve. He hadn’t told Dena about that, but knew she’d be thrilled with his decision to hire the firm. It wasn’t right that she do all of this work pro bono. Then he’d swing by the bank and check on the records and return home to Dena.

Home? Interesting thought, that.

Jim Bauer and Hal Harmon ambled into the bar right on time. They were red-faced and on the rowdy side, and it was only eight o’clock. Zeke suppressed a frustrated groan; were they intoxicated? He stood, forced a smile and offered his hand.

“Good to meet you guys, at long last.”

“Yeah, I’m Hal, this here’s Jim. Used to meet up with your mother and the other guy. Your mother was a fine lady—”

“Excellent businesswoman,” Jim Bauer said. “I was damn sorry to hear she passed.”

“Thank you,” Zeke said, and indicated they should sit. “What will you have to drink?”

“I’m shot,” Jim said. “Make it a Sam Adams. It’ll be the safest choice.”

Hal laughed. “Yeah, ditto for me. We went deep sea fishing. Had a few brews when things were slow. Damn fish.”

Zeke ordered and decided to stick with beer himself. “So, I take it you had no luck?”

“Caught us a couple a guppies,” Hal said, and laughed again. “Got a suntan.”

Zeke noticed their red noses. They’d blister and peel for sure. The waiter returned and put the three beers on the table and went to place glasses on the coasters.

“Forget the glasses,” Jim said, and waved him away. “We don’t use ’em.” He picked up his bottle, raised it in a quick salute and took a long swallow. Then he eyed Zeke over the top. “You a fisherman?”

“No, not really.”

“Yeah, bit hard…if you live in the desert.”

Both men laughed again and gave each other a shove and a punch. Zeke resisted telling them he stocked his own small lake with big-mouthed bass, and allowed a catch and release fishing experience for locals. Or at least his mother had.

He drank from his own beer bottle, and wished he wasn’t so finicky. He wanted a glass, a frosted one. This was going to be a tough night. He had to secure the account or they’d be in trouble by the middle of next year.

“Ready to talk business, or should we wait until after dinner?” Zeke asked, glancing toward the restaurant.

There was a flicker of expression, a warning note perhaps, between the men. He should have fed them first. Jim peered down the neck of his beer bottle like there was something floating in there. “See…here’s the thing,” he said slowly. “Cyril at West Coast Citrus called last night. He’s offered us a price that I doubt you could meet—”

“We like working with you guys.” Hal shrugged. “But, the economy, you know—”

“Yes I do,” Zeke said. “Everyone is having a hard time.” His heartbeat pounded. How would Cyril know about this meeting? He stood. “The hostess just gave me the signal. Table’s ready.”

The men stood, listed slightly as if on a cruise ship at high sea. Once they were seated and had ordered, Zeke re-opened the conversation.

“So, why don’t you give me Cyril’s figures and we’ll see if we can match them,” he said, and remembered to smile. “Or do better.”

There was another flick of warning that passed between the men. The sommelier arrived with a wine list.

“Would a cabernet be fine? We’ve all ordered steak,” Zeke said, and put the wine list on the edge of the table.

Both men agreed and Zeke ordered. A young woman filled water glasses and delivered a basket of assorted breads. Zeke waited as the men slathered butter on bread rolls. The wine arrived and was poured. Zeke took a couple of sips and relaxed. Now he had the stamina to return to the conversation.

“We’re talking about the price for the citrus, right?” Zeke asked. “Or are you also interested in the mangoes? Cyril doesn’t handle those.”

Jim nodded.

“So, give me Cyril’s figures,” Zeke said, and pulled a small notepad out of his pocket.

Hal shook his head. “Can’t do that.”

Zeke was a straight up guy, deal or no deal. About to throw down his napkin and leave, he took in a deep breath and tried to quell the anger and disappointment that rose into the back of his throat. How would Dena deal with this?

“And why not?” he asked, and kept his voice calm. He even managed to smile. Dena would be proud of him.

“We don’t have the actual figures,” Hal said slowly. “Our meeting with Cyril is after the Vegas trip. Next Sunday.”

Zeke eyed him carefully. Think before you speak. “So, how do you know his offer will best mine?”

“He…said it would…be.” Jim toyed with his wine glass and his sunburned face appeared redder.

“Look, gentlemen,” Zeke said. “I won’t give you my numbers tonight. I suggest we sit back and enjoy dinner.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hal said. “Good idea.”

“When you’re ready to talk business we can do that by phone.” Zeke made eye contact with both men. “You know our Ruby Red grapefruit are of higher quality than anything Cyril can offer you. And he doesn’t grow mangoes. We had a bumper crop of citrus this year.”

Both men nodded.

“Sorry, you know…about all of this,” Hal said, and shrugged. “It was what Cyril told us to do.” He raised his glass and took a sip. “Good drop, this.”

“Yes it is. Listen, I don’t do underhand deals,” Zeke said. “I don’t play games. You either buy from me, or you don’t. I’d never try to undercut Cyril.”

“I know, I know. Your mother and that guy—”

“Rocky?”

“Yesh, him,” Jim said, and slurred his words but didn’t seem to notice. “They were alwayshh upfront with us.”

“This would be a huge order,” Hal said slowly, and pushed a glass of water in front of Jim. “Shipments are international.”

Zeke felt his throat tighten. It was exactly what Three C’s needed to turn it around. He took a long sip of wine and let it roll back over his tongue. Felt the smoothness of it in his throat, felt the warmth fill his chest.

“All the more reason to provide the very best quality,” he said, and put his wine glass down. “Ah, dinner has arrived.”

They all cut into their tender filet mignon. More wine was poured but Zeke noticed Jim had declined and stuck to water. He’d read his mother’s notes and tried to remember everything she’d mentioned about the two men. She was like Dena in that regard and knew everything about her clients. Their interests, likes, and dislikes.

He recalled something about horses and the men’s desire to visit the desert and almost snapped his fingers when an idea suddenly took shape.

“We do a lot of horseback riding at Three C’s. My grandparents and parents were all—”

“Yeah, Isabella said you had some Argentine horses,” Jim said, and took a long drink of water. His eyes flashed interest. “My Dad had a ranch in Texas. But he had to sell. You know, he got old and I was gone…”

“My favorite horse is old José, he’s a Criollo.”

Hal snapped his fingers. “Yeah, Isabella used to talk about him all the time.”

“Always been a lover of horses,” Jim said, and sat tall. He signaled the waiter for a water refill. “You got a big spread out there?”

“Sure do.” Zeke was happy to see the food had helped. Jim seemed less intoxicated now that he’d eaten. “After you meet with Cyril, you might like to come down to Three C’s. You’ve never visited the desert, have you?”

“Nope, and that’s mighty generous of you, Zeke,” Hal said. His eyes glistened. “Isabella invited us and we were gonna go, but then she got sick.”

“Yeah, it would be great, always wanted to visit,” Jim said. “Hey, how’s about this, Hal, we could leave Vegas a day early? We’ve hired a rental car, so no airline changes or problems there.”

“Be good for us.” Hal nodded. “By Tuesday we’d squish when we walked, the way we party.”

“Yeah, probably be broke, too,” Jim said, and grinned. “I heard the blackjack tables will get your money fast.”

“I’ve no idea. I’m no gambler.” Zeke signaled for the waiter. “Would either of you like dessert or coffee?”

Jim shook his head. “I’m ready for bed,” Hal said. “It was a rough day.”

Zeke asked for the check. “Make sure you re-hydrate. A day out at sea can get to you.”

“Yeah,” Jim said. “Good idea. We’ll get some water bottles from the gift shop.”

The waiter came back with the check and Zeke signed it to his room. “Well, that’s it then.” He stood and offered his hand. “You’ll be the guests of Three C’s for Monday night. If you want to stay longer I’ll leave that up to you.”

“Lookin’ forward to it,” Jim said, and pumped Zeke’s hand.

“Thanks.” Hal shook hands and slapped Zeke on the back. “You’re a good man.”

Zeke smiled. And I’ve got a great PR expert who advises me well. “We’ll talk business on Monday and you can make your decision. Here’s my card, give me a call and let me know what time to expect you.”

Hal put the card in his jacket pocket and nodded.

“I have to meet someone in the bar,” Zeke said. “Gentleman, it was a pleasure, we can call it a night. See you next week.”

He watched them walk away. He had no meeting, but a strong desire to call Dena. And an even stronger desire to confront Cyril.

Damn, it was after ten. Would Dena be asleep? He pulled out his cell phone, punched in the number then hit extension four, and sat on a bench outside of the bar.

“Hello.”

“Hey, it’s me, Zeke.” Great, she sounded awake and alert. “Sorry to call so late.”

“It’s not a problem. I’m not even in bed. So tell me, how did it go?”

He quickly brought her up to date.

“That Cyril is a real slick deal, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, but I thought about how you’d handle everything. When I got angry I took a breath and thought it through before I spoke.”

“I taught you that?” Dena asked, and laughed.

“Yeah, despite your disbelief, I’ve listened to you and—”

“Hah.” Dena laughed again.

Zeke smiled, leaned his back against the bench. He stretched his legs out, and relaxed, realized how much he loved her laugh. He could listen to her voice all night. He felt guilty for how hard she worked for him.

“Are you sure you can manage both the chili cook-off and the art fair and auction?”

“It’s a breeze,” Dena said.

“Great. I’ll be home mid-morning. Do you want me to come down to the casita and help?”

“No, it isn’t necessary. Drive safely. Good night.”

“’Night.”

Zeke headed for the elevator. After what he’d learned at dinner with Jim and Hal, he had a strong sense that Cyril had undercut Three C’s in other deals.

Things were about to change. First thing tomorrow, he’d meet with Steve Brennan, and if the man agreed to represent him, he’d sign the contract.