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— he's always had a tough time making ends meet. I was
the more ambitious one. I came up through the ranks — activist, Board of
Adjustments, City Commissioner — and finally was elected mayor a few
years ago. Then I got re-elected last year. It doesn't pay much in terms of
salary, but there are a lot of perks attached. Lots of free stuff, if you know
what I mean."
    "I know what you mean." The way she
looked and talked, I was pretty sure free money from ambitious out-of-town
builders was one of the perks.
    "Anyway, I called South Padre about the money
and said, you know, that I had it, the whole hundred thousand. They said they
would accept it, which meant his hotel permits would be greenlighted. This was
in the afternoon. I told Blake everything was all set, so he flew back to Las
Vegas that evening, and Ricardo was supposed to deliver the money the next
morning."
    "So I take it he never delivered it."
    "This is where it gets fuzzy. He went over to
South Padre that morning, and the Public Works Director apparently tod him
they've had to revisit the whole thing. Said he didn't really have time to
think it all the way through. Said there were other people in the pipeline who need
to get taken care of. Said it was going to cost Blake another hundred
thousand."
    That didn't sound right. I said, "Why would
the guy do that after agreeing to Blake's initial deal? I mean, there are
standards of honor, even in bribery."
    The waitress appeared from nowhere, bringing our
breakfast and pouring me a fresh cup of coffee. Erica drowned her pancakes in
syrup, forming a wide pool all around them.
    "That's a nasty word, Jack. Don't use it.
You've got to understand something. We've got our own way of doing things down
there. All these big developers come to town — they've been coming for
over thirty years now — thinking they're just going to steamroller over
all us little Mexicans. They think we don't know what we're sitting on. And I
say 'we', because what's good for South Padre is good for Port Isabel. We're in
it together."
    As I pushed my poached eggs around on the plate, I
wondered what her cut of all this was supposed to be. I guessed it would be
pretty major. In fact, glimpsing her jewelry, it wasn't too big of a stretch to
imagine the second hundred grand being all her idea.
    She dug into the omelet with more enthusiasm than
I would've figured. After washing down the first mouthful with a big swig of
orange juice, she continued. "I would guess that the Public Works Director
just wanted to spread a little more of Blake's money around, you know, just to
make sure everyone over there got a taste."
    "I'm sure." I sipped my new cup of
coffee. It was much better. Then I said, "Did you tell Detective Madden
all this?"
    "Well," she replied in a measured voice,
"not all of it, really. I left out the part about the money. I said that
Blake asked me if I could somehow intercede on his behalf, you know, 'talk' the
South Padre guys into giving him his permits." She sliced off a large
wedge of the syrup-soaked pancakes. Her fork plunged into it, and she rammed
the whole thing into her mouth.
    "So when you told Blake about the revised
deal, what'd he say?"
    I shouldn't've asked that question so soon. She
hurriedly chewed the pancakes and moved them around in her mouth before
swallowing, then let out a one-note chuckle. "What do you think? The shit
hit the fan — pardon my French."
    She returned her attention to the omelet,
furiously pushing it around on her plate before taking another heaping forkful.
I let her eat, then she said, after another big pull at the orange juice,
"He accused me of torpedoing his entire deal and pocketing the money
myself. He threatened me and my family. That was a big mistake."
    Looking at her, feeling her steely presence, I
could see how she wouldn't be cowed by Blake's threats. But she'd never seen
Julius and No-Sleeve Steve up close.
    I said, "Where is the money? Did you keep
it?"
    "Hell, no. But if I had it,