Last Of The Good Guys – Chapter Twenty-One

The Senator’s Home
Austin, Texas
Saturday Morning

The senator was bitching at the maid about his coffee as he rushed his way past the children, placing his usual indifferent kiss on his wife’s fat cheek.

He was in his car and onto the freeway without a moment’s notice. His watch said ten forty-five. He’d get there with minutes to spare. If there was one thing he didn’t want to be absent for it was his eleven o’clock call to Estaphan. It was something important, he’d said, something that would ‘brighten up his day’. The senator fondled the words with a certain unknown excitement as he exited the freeway and pulled into the complex of office buildings.

He pulled into his reserved parking. It was Saturday and the lot was empty anyway. He headed for the elevator, speculating how nice it’d be to have no traffic all week.

Once in his office, the senator settled behind his desk as he glanced at his watch. Ten fifty-seven. He was going to wait the three minutes. He wanted to be right on time to show Estaphan how precisely he could listen to orders.

It was something big, he thought. Maybe Enrico’d cleared up that thing with Howie and Hertzel. He wondered how it went down. He really didn’t give a shit so long as he was clear. With those two out of the way, maybe the old man wanted to move ahead with the political issues. Estaphan had insisted on him calling this morning – from the office, alone with no one else to listen in. Must be something big, he thought.

For Lorraine the morning routine had been just like all the others, tedious and humiliating. The only difference this morning was Estaphan’s state of mind. He was unusually cheerful, much too pleasant for his nature, and that, in itself, unnerved her.

To heighten the mystery, he’d ordered her to bring a phone and a newspaper to his bedside, both requests very out of character. She knew well how much the ringing startled him, not to mention his irrational fear that it might disrupt his pacemaker. But she knew better than to question him, never did.

Antonio arrived abruptly, paper in hand and impending trauma all over his face.

“What is it?” Her beeper went off.

“Does he know about this?” Antonio said. “Brownsville. It’s all over the newspapers.” The beeper squealed again, several times, sounding angrier at each repetition. “Enrico. They’re calling it a massacre.”

She answered his anxious stare with a shrug. “What massacre?” She silenced the beeper as she turned quickly for the stairs. “I’ve got to go!” Her words drifted back over her shoulder. “The master calls.”

“What time is it?” Luis Estaphan asked the question the moment Lorraine entered the bedroom, his eyes glowing just a little brighter than usual, like a child about to open a new toy at Christmas.

“Almost eleven.”

“What time is it exactly?”

“She picked up the tone, and rechecked her watch. “One minute to eleven.” The words weren’t out of her mouth before the phone rang. He smiled, and waited for it to ring a second time.

“Hello Senator.” Estaphan’s voice sounded like an excited little boy. “Right on time, thank you for being prompt. I like that.”

Lorraine opened the drawer he pointed to, saw the solitary revolver and what looked like a television remote. She’d never seen the little black box before. Funny she thought, there was no television in the room – he hated them too.

“Well, I think I’ve pretty well taken care of all our problems.” His face showed a tiny smile as he pointed to the remote. “All but one, and that’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

The senator hung expectantly on the other end of the phone. “Whatever I can do for you. You name it, Mister Estaphan.”

“Are you listening, Senator?” Luis held the remote to the receiver and pressed it. “This is the most important message I ever gave you.”

There was a high-pitched beep, and then an explosion. Lorraine could hear it through the phone.

“Well, I bet that really blew our friend away.” He looked at Lorraine, his smile turning into a wide grin.

Lorraine stood there, the paper still tucked under her arm, thinking something she couldn’t believe possible, watching him enjoy it to the last chuckle.

“Well, I’ve got myself an appetite this morning. Give me the paper and bring me something light. I think I’ll lounge in bed for a while.”

Lorraine was no sooner downstairs transferring an order to the kitchen help than the beeper started up again. This time it was the emergency code, the unbroken, high-pitched one that got shriller the longer it ran unanswered. Cursing under her breath she double-timed through the house, grabbing the oxygen on her way.

From the top of the stairs she could see right in through the open double doors to the room. Estaphan was squirming like he was in the grip of a python, the newspaper distorted and shredding in his hands. She ran through the doors only to be grabbed by Antonio. He looked at her hard, his head shaking slowly as he took the oxygen pack out of her hands and closed the doors.

Estaphan’s eyes got wide. “Help me!” He squeezed the words out between gasps for air. His shrivelled face twisted as he attempted to get himself up far enough to reach the drawer. Antonio left Lorraine’s side and walked calmly to the bed. Oxygen pack in hand, he opened the drawer and picked the handgun out of reach.

“I’ll kill you.” Estaphan gurgled the words as his face turned blue. “You little son of a bitch.” The sentence died in his throat as he pulled the covers and the newspaper with him to the floor.

Lorraine moved across the room slowly, her eyes never leaving the still body, expecting it to twitch back to life like it did on more mornings than she wanted to remember. Antonio wiped the gun, replaced it in the drawer and checked for a pulse. Getting none, he picked the front page of the newspaper from the floor and handed it to Lorraine as he punched the pre-coded emergency line.

She read the headline and didn’t need the accompanying pictures to understand.

“This is the Estaphan residence. We need an ambulance immediately. My uncle has had a heart attack. Hurry.”

Antonio hung the phone up as calmly as though he’d ordered pizza. He looked at the crumpled body of Luis Estaphan for a second, tossed the oxygen pack on the bed and turned to Lorraine. “I guess it was bad news, baby.”

*