Chapter Thirteen
Titus “Tito” Alvarez waited quietly in the doorway of Allen Brewer’s home. It was a large house by normal standards, fancy, the kind of house rich white men seemed to prefer, but Tito knew he nearly dwarfed the massive front door with his size. Something that gave him great comfort.
“Tito, good to see you,” Allen said, trying to give him an embrace. Tito stood very still, and Allen drew away, forcing a smile. “Come in, come in.” He waved him inside and walked to the wet bar in the living room. Evening had set in already, sunset coming earlier now that it was September, and Allen had yet to switch on the main lights, so the room was backlit only in blueberry accent light. He fumbled with two tumblers, as if he were nervous, and began pouring himself a little Petron Tequila Burdeos Anejo.
“Tequila?” he asked, as if Tito couldn’t read the bottle. “It’s the good stuff.”
Tito walked slowly into the room and stood next to a chair. He didn’t answer, just flexed his fists, making the tattoos on his forearms dance. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror behind the bar and took in his large head with a tight flat top haircut, pock-mocked cheeks, and a neck the size of most men’s thighs. His eyes were what got to people though. They always had. They’d been described by some as dead eyes.
“Okay, one glass of the good stuff, coming right up.” Allen poured him a generous helping, despite Tito’s silence on the matter. He rounded the bar to hand it to him and sat on the sofa and crossed his legs to sip from his own glass. “Please, sit.”
Tito stared him down as he sank into the chair across from him.
“Bet you’re wondering why I called.”
Tito didn’t respond. He knew what was up. Nico Fitz had filled him in on Allen’s missing wife, despite Allen have gone around him to contact Tito. But one couldn’t keep much from Nico. The man seemed to know all. And Allen would be wise to remember that.
“I have a job for you,” Allen continued. “An important job. I need you to find my wife. She’s, uh, taken it upon herself to skip town, you see. And that’s unacceptable.”
Tito sat very still, staring at him. Then he swallowed his tequila in one big shot. Allen blinked at him. “Would you like another?”
Tito shook his head. Allen seemed to relax. “I’ll pay you generously, of course, just as I have before. But I need her found quickly. Because I don’t like it when she’s gone. The house feels…” He spread his arms. “Empty.” He smiled. “I feel empty. You feel me?”
Tito sat in silence.
“Of course you do. But you may be saying to yourself, well, Allen, you’re divorced, so of course the house feels empty.” He wagged a finger at him. “But to that I say, bullshit! The divorce was not my choice, and she left without my permission, taking something from me, which in and of itself is…you guessed it…unacceptable.”
Tito leaned forward and deposited the empty tumbler on the glass coffee table. Beyond them, just outside the floor to ceiling windows, the pool light glowed in the growing darkness, turning from aqua to green to purple, making Allen look like a small ogre sitting there in his chair.
“You sure you wouldn’t like another?” Tito shook his head and Allen leaned forward. He slid a large envelope toward him and encouraged him to open it. “For your trouble.”
Tito snatched up the envelope and opened it to eye the contents. He looked at Allen and stood. Allen stood along with him and extended his hand. “When you find her, and I know you will, call the number in the envelope. I trust you won’t let her know she’s been found. And Tito, I don’t just want her found. I have other things in mind for her if you know what I mean.”
Tito took his hand and purposely crushed it in his massive paw. Allen looked like he was trying not to wince before Tito released him and walked slowly to the door.
“Thanks, Tito. It was good to see you.”
Tito opened the door and walked out.