Chapter 9

Alex made a beeline for the police station where the officer yawned as he filled in the complaint form. He was fat, with a roll of lard hanging over his belt and his jowls were covered with a day's growth of beard.

"You know, senor," he said, scratching his crotch. "You Americanos come down here and go to places like that one, what can you expect?" He shrugged and looked questioningly at Alex.

"It is not my money!" Alex said desperately. "There are the two women."

The Mexican cop picked his nose, then wiped his hand down the seam of his gray slacks. "Madre de dios!" The detective threw up his hands. "How can you take two mujeres, school teachers, to a place like that?"

"I didn't take them, they took me!"

The detective gave Alex a quizzical eye, but said nothing. There had been a recent shakeup in Tijuana and the new mayor was busy saying he would clean up the police force. He had already fired many of the old timers and detective Castella wasn't sure whether or not he was on the mayor's list. He shrugged. Probably everybody was on that list. Still, it would do him no good to have one crazy gringo in el jefe's office saying he, agente de policia Castella, did not do his duty.

"Probablemente," he said, "these women have already gone home."

"But..." Alex stumbled over his words. "But I was drugged. With narcotics. Your own doctor will tell you that. And they must have been drugged too."

"Si, si!" Castella was getting impatient. He was thinking of a hot, little chica waiting for him. One who needed some police protection. He grinned at the thought of the kind of protection he was going to give her. "What is it you have lost, senor?"

Alex, despite his dismay, filled Castella in with a detailed description of his wallet, lighter, ring and jeweled cuff links and tie clasp that had disappeared.

"Bolero!" The detective stood up, opened the drawer of his desk and took out a small, pearl handled automatic pistol. He stuck that in his coat pocket and then led Alex out of the dingy green room into the musty hallway where he signaled to a younger, cleaner cut detective. Obviously a rookie from the eager way he responded.

They drove to the whorehouse in relative silence, each immersed in his own thoughts. Alex had the sinking feeling that he was the only one in any way concerned with finding the two women. The fat detective was acting as if he had a date somewhere else and kept looking at his watch. The youngster would look too and nod his head every time the older cop did.

The doorman tried to slam the door in their faces, but it was too late. The fat cop looked slow, but he had his shoulder through the door while the kid was still trying to decide where to put his hands.