Accused by Mark Gimenez

Author:Mark Gimenez [Gimenez, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Mystery, Thriller
ISBN: 9780751542240
Google: F7KvQwAACAAJ
Amazon: 0751542245
Goodreads: 6394340
Publisher: Sphere
Published: 2010-01-02T06:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-FIVE

"Just like in the book, Mr. Fenney," Louis said. "Ain't no country for old men."

Benito Estrada maintained offices in a renovated three-story historical structure situated between a yoga studio and the Black Pearl Oyster Bar on Market Street in the trendy part of downtown Galveston. It had the appearance of a real-estate office, except for the two thick-bodied Latinos standing guard out front under a red awning like unhappy doormen. Hank was right: Benito's thugs were big. Their loose Mexican wedding shirts bulged at the waist, obviously concealing handguns. They were armed and dangerous and perfectly within the law in Texas. As long as their guns were concealed, they were legal.

"Working for the cartel," Carlos said, "you ain't gonna grow old."

Scott had sent Bobby and Karen back to the beach house. They were soon to be parents, and they were the girls' guardians under A. Scott Fenney's Last Will and Testament. They didn't need to be in the line of fire. Scott had driven past the building then stopped a half block down the street to plot out a strategy. No strategy had occurred to him when Carlos said, "I'll handle this, boss. These are my people."

Carlos stepped smartly down the sidewalk, clad in black leather from head to foot, past a silver Maserati parked along the curb and over to the thugs. He gave them a hearty smile, stuck his hand out, and said, "Buenos días, amigos."

"Fuck off," the taller thug said.

Carlos recoiled and withdrew his hand. The smiled dropped from his face, and his shoulders slumped. He looked like a kid who had been dissed on the playground. He beat a retreat back to Scott and Louis, who patted him on the shoulder.

"Must not know they're your people."

Carlos exhaled and shook his head as if faced with an imponderable mystery.

"Folks these days, they just can't be friendly. Why is that?"

"We live in a conflicted time," Louis said. "Folks struggling to find meaning in their lives. When they don't, their frustrations manifest in hostility toward their fellow man."

"You really think that's it, with those guys?"

Louis stared at the thugs. "I think those guys are assholes need to be stuffed down a concrete culvert."

Louis said it as if he had some experience with that sort of thing. Scott was about to take his chances with the thugs when a familiar unmarked sedan pulled up to the curb next to them. Hank Kowalski got out. His big gun was prominently displayed on his hip.

"Rex thought maybe I should drop by."

"Thanks, Hank. But let me take a shot at these guys first. So to speak."

Scott walked over to the thugs and held his business card out in front of him like a white flag of surrender—but he was relieved to hear the others' footsteps behind him.

"I'm Scott Fenney. Is Mr. Estrada available?"

"No, he ain't available," the shorter thug said.

"Would you mind checking? It's about Trey Rawlins. I'm a lawyer representing Rebecca Fenney."

The thugs glanced at each other then at Hank; the taller one said, "Wait here.

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