The Territory (Josie Gray Mysteries #1)(23)
Sergio and Marta had been childhood sweethearts. Marta had surprised everyone when she married a local troublemaker, and Sergio married his wife soon after. After his wife was murdered and Marta divorced her abusive husband, Sergio came calling again. Marta had resisted his advances for many years now, but she never explained her reasoning to Josie.
Josie and Marta sat on plastic chairs at a round table covered with a bright orange tablecloth and set with mismatched plates and cups. Sergio, lit up like a man tending to royalty, brought out platters of roast pork tacos and beans and a pitcher of iced tea with lemons.
Marta smiled up at Sergio. “You cook beans to melt a woman’s heart.”
“Ah, if only that were so; you’d have married me years ago.”
Marta patted the empty seat beside her, and Sergio sat and poured drinks from the pitcher. After a delicious dinner and pleasant conversation, Josie felt she had to apologize in advance for ruining the evening with ugly police business.
Sergio frowned at Josie. “No apologies. What happened to you nearly killed me. I hear it on the radio and had to call on your safety.” He paused and looked at Marta with concern. “La Bestia is responsible for the Medrano murder. Most certainly. We struggle every day. Once they infiltrate your town, they are like rats. They will multiply, getting into every corner. They will devour your city.” He paused and pointed a finger at Josie. “You want to start a booming business in Mexico? Open a funeraria.”
Josie looked to Marta. “Funeral parlor,” Marta said.
“I heard yesterday they expect Lorenzo Marín to make a full recovery,” Josie said. “Is that what you hear?”
Sergio frowned deeply and nodded. “Unbelievable. He took three shots, one a centimeter from his heart. He talked to his wife yesterday, but he’ll be in the hospital for another week or two. Then therapy.”
“I can’t believe the difference a few short years has made here. I almost don’t recognize it.” Marta gestured to Sergio. “We grew up running the streets at all hours. Our parents didn’t give a thought to our safety.”
Sergio turned to Josie. “When’s the last time you drove around Piedra Labrada? More than just a trip to the restaurants downtown?”
“Probably six months or more. The crossing’s too much of a hassle,” Josie said.
Sergio stood and walked toward a small white car parked on the curb in front of the house. It resembled an old Volkswagen Rabbit, with rust spots and dented fenders on the front and back passenger side. “Come. Let me show you in person. Talking doesn’t show the extent of the damage La Bestia has done to our city.”
Sergio drove them first through the old section of Piedra, where the streets crossed one another in a maze that funneled into the central plaza. They entered a neighborhood that Marta said she knew well.
From the backseat, she scooted up between Sergio and Josie to point out a house on the right side of the street. “That’s my aunt’s house. We’ve tried to get her to move, but she refuses. Won’t give up on the neighborhood.”
Sergio pointed down the street. “Look at the empty houses, Marta. People move and don’t even try to sell. What would the point be? Who would buy here? I guarantee your aunt is paying protection or she would not be in the house.” He gestured through his open window to a small concrete-block home spray-painted with black graffiti. The windows were broken, the front door splintered in two. A fence post that had been put into a bucket of concrete and allowed to dry lay in the yard.
“The battering ram. Clever, yes?” Sergio asked.
Marta moaned in the backseat. “So sad. This used to be such a nice, quiet area. My mother lived only a block over.”
“The park, just behind your mother’s old place? Gone. Nothing left but bare ground. It’s so horrible, weeds even refuse to grow there.”
Sergio drove them through streets that once held ramshackle shops behind sidewalks filled with people walking all hours of the day and night. Now, about half the businesses were boarded up, windows broken, filth spray-painted on the sides of buildings. He slowed his car and they watched three young boys standing on the street corner stare suspiciously at the car.
“For three centuries, we have shared trade across the river. Raised our families as one community. Since La Bestia arrived two years ago, trade has practically stopped. People like you”—he gestured to Josie in the seat next to him—“are afraid to cross. And who can blame you? A third of the officers in Piedra Labrada have already quit. Every kind of brutal crime has taken place here: beheadings, acid baths, assassinations. They are overtaking the government, the police force, businesses.”
“I understand it’s about the drug routes, but why terrorize the city? How does that help their cause?” Marta said in disgust.
“It’s about control. La Bestia moved into Medrano’s territory and had to show dominance. This is their route now, not Medrano’s. It is their town and they run it. The police don’t arrest them, for fear of their families’ lives.” He looked at Marta in his rearview mirror. “You heard Ramón Díaz, his wife, and two children—all four of them gunned down. All he did was support the chief of police publicly at a town forum, and look what they did. They made their message clear. Since then, over two months ago, you hear no one say anything against La Bestia. The businesses pay protection. Some pay to La Bestia now, and still pay to Medrano. The cartels own us.”