Page 49

Emergency Stash

Hector nudged Farid’s dead foot aside, stepped out of the janitor’s closet, and quietly closed the door behind him to find his wife kneeling, rubbing Elmer’s belly, a blue duffel bag on the floor beside her.

She jumped up when she saw him. “Hec-toro! Where were you? How did it go? Where’s Farid?”

Brenda often did that—pepper him with questions without giving him the time to answer. He knew she’d re-ask what was important. She looked around and, apparently satisfied the room was empty, said, “You’ll never guess what Padma wants to do now.”

She unzipped the duffel bag, and Hector peeked in. He raised his eyebrows at Brenda.

“She says it may be the one good lesson she’s learned from her mother—always have an emergency stash.”

Hector peeked at the bag again. There were strapped bundles of hundreds, each worth ten grand. He guessed there were fifty bundles. “Half a million dollars? That’s her emergency stash?”

Brenda shrugged. “I think Padma’s emergencies are bigger than paying cash to the plumber when the hot-water heater leaks. And Hec-toro, guess what emergency she needs taken care of.”

Brenda opened her eyes wide and nodded, presumably encouraging Hector to guess.

“The Falcon.”

Brenda’s face dropped. “How’d you know?”

It was Hector’s turn to shrug. “It was only a matter of time. Someone like her and a guy like that. It’s not gonna end well.”

He grimaced.

Brenda filled him in. “Padma is so pissed. He went to her mother behind her back, and Padma’s beside herself. She wants him gone. Oh! And when you saw her at the bowling alley, she was on a date, and she knew the guy was going to reject her just because she’s short.”

Brenda stood up. “So much drama. I kinda feel sorry for her.”

This is what Hector worried about: Brenda got to know people and warmed to them, overlooking the fact that they’re thieving, two-faced lowlifes. Brenda saw the best in people, and while Hector didn’t want to ruin that for her, he also didn’t want her to be hurt by that either. And now Padma was dangerously close to harming his amor.

Hector poked a toe at the duffel bag. “She just handed this over to you?”

Brenda nodded.

“What did she say?”

“She asked me to find someone to take care of The Fiscal Falcon.”

Hector rubbed his jaw. “That’s not good, Brenda.”

He looked at his wife. “She’s dangerous to you. You see that, right? This is not what we wanted for you.”

Fucking Padma. Handing Brenda that money was pushing his wife into a hole she wouldn’t be able to climb out of. Padma would always have something on her.

Brenda’s smile dropped. “I know. But can we not discuss my career right now?”

She wrinkled her nose. “What’s that smell?”

Hector sniffed. The gunpowder aroma lingered. “Elmer farted.”

Hector waved his hand and eyed the dog. “Elmer, bud. You need to control that.”

Brenda, her hands on her hips, sniffed again. She tilted her head and zeroed in on her husband. “Somebody’s fired a weapon in here.”

Hector braced himself. Brenda was like a dog with a bone, and she wouldn’t let up. He considered his options, and usually, when he was in this position, the best thing to do was come clean with her. He led her to the janitor’s closet and opened the door.

Brenda’s head snapped back at the sight of Farid’s corpse. “Whoa. This is an interesting turn of events.”

They stood shoulder to shoulder in the doorway and looked at The Falcon. He’d had his last flight.

Hector swallowed. “He killed himself.”

“No!”

Brenda spun to Hector, her eyes wide.

Hector tried to match Brenda’s look of shock. Then he remembered the life they’d built together and that the reason it flourished was because it stood on a foundation of truth.

He shrugged. “Okay. I killed him. He was going to kill Elmer.”

“Oh. Good call.”

Brenda nodded sharply, then turned toward Padma’s duffel bag holding half a million dollars. “What are we gonna do about that?”