Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #2: Books 5-8 (A Dead Cold Box Set), Blake Banner [readnow TXT] 📗

thirteen—a little streak of piss of a kid. They all had a pretty unenlightened attitude towards the staff, as you can imagine. Human life hasn’t much value in those parts of the world.”

She stopped talking. I sipped my whiskey and reached for her cigarettes. She watched me light up and smiled a triumphant smile.

“Careful, big boy. Don’t lose control completely. You never know where you’ll end up sleeping tonight.”

I raised an eyebrow at her and allowed myself a smile. “Don’t stop, keep going.”

She sighed. “Reggie and I were invited. And of course Luz, his whore, and their son, Humberto. You know? I really believe Luz was the only woman he ever truly loved.” She shrugged. “She was bad and cheap and fake… like him, I guess. She meant something to him. Humberto was about twelve, I suppose. But even then he was a damned freak, almost six feet and terrifyingly strong.”

She paused, picking a piece of tobacco from her lip with her index finger. She examined it a moment and carried on talking.

“Humberto has this thing, where he becomes obsessively attached to women. Probably because his mother was an ice queen who was always fobbing him off onto their black nanny, Carmela. He adored Carmela. Anyway, I don’t know exactly what happened, but on this particular night, before dinner, Humberto and this boy, Gonzalo, were in the pool. Gonzalo was tormenting Humberto mercilessly, as he always did. He enjoyed it because Humberto was so much bigger and stronger, but with the mind of a child, it was so easy to terrorize him.”

She sighed, stubbed out her cigarette and reached for another. I lit it for her. She drew in the smoke and let it out in puffs as she spoke.

“Naturally, Paul and Luz were not going to intervene, and Gabriel and his wife, whatever her name was, thought it was all terribly amusing. Reggie only cared about his cut of whatever deal was going down and I, well, I’m sorry, but however distasteful I may have found it, I wasn’t going to get involved. So that just left Carmela, the black nanny. Frankly, she handled it very well. She came out with a towel and told Humberto it was time to get out of the pool and come in for his supper. I think Paul was relieved. I know I was, and I am damned certain Humberto was. He clung to her like she was his guardian angel. Poor freak was sobbing his eyes out.”

“So what happened?”

“What happened was that little Gonzalo got mad at having his fun spoiled. He got out of the pool, on his skinny little legs, and started screaming at Carmela that she was a ‘puta negra’, a black whore, and how dare she break up their fun. I remember it so clearly…”

She turned to look at me. The amber light from the spots lay across the drawn planes of her face, casting her eyes into shadow.

“Humberto protected her?”

“It was worse than that. I can see him now, the nasty little runt, his skin all wet and glistening in the lights from the house, and the spotlights from the pool. He was like a dancing, wriggling worm, stamping his feet and shouting. It should have been comical, but he started slapping Carmela, screaming at her. It happened in a matter of seconds. I can see it so vividly: Gabriel and his wife half standing, laughing, calling to Gonzalo to stop, Paul getting to his feet, looking embarrassed, poor Carmela cowering away…”

I felt the heat from the cigarette on my fingers and stubbed it out. Her gaze was lost in her glass. The drink was gone and the ice had melted. I said, “And Humberto?”

She gave a little shake of her head, like she was taken aback about what she was about to say.

“He punched him, like a boxer. Two great thumps with his right fist. Gonzalo fell and Humberto sat on him and started pounding him again and again. Everybody ran, screaming. Carmela was trying to drag him off, so was Paul. Gabriel and his wife were trying to drag Gonzalo from under him. It seemed to go on for an eternity. I saw his huge, balled fist hit Gonzalo’s head three or four times, maybe more. He was bleeding badly. His eyes were kind of goggling and out of focus. He wasn’t even trying to defend himself. It was horrible.”

“He was dead?”

She handed me her glass. “Get me another drink, would you?”

I stood and moved to the trolley. I started putting together a gin and tonic. Her voice followed me.

“You know? I have never talked about this. It’s kind of therapeutic. I suppose if I had been sensible, I would have gotten myself a therapist. But I don’t go in for that kind of stuff. Stiff upper lip, and a stiff drink to go with it.” I heard the smile in her voice. “I’m watching you. Don’t drown the gin.”

I gave her the drink and smiled. “Just don’t get drunk before you’ve told me the story.”

“After that, have I got permission?”

“After that, you can drink yourself into oblivion, if you so wish.”

“I do wish,” she said sourly and drank. “They tried to revive him, there by the pool. Paul wanted to call an ambulance, but Gabriel stopped him. He said it would take too long, they would take him in the car.” She shook her head. “I could see he was already gone. His skin was pasty and gray. His eyes were open and he wasn’t breathing. His mother was hysterical, screaming that he was dead.” She mimicked her without compassion, “‘Está morto! Esta´morto!’ They rushed him out to the car and bundled him in the back. And just before they left, Gabriel went up to Paul and I have never seen anything so horrific and evil and terrifying in my