“So much for moving on to Part 3”, I told the empty room. I then proceeded to empty out my vocabulary of curse words in both English and Spanish. I might have thrown some French in there for good measure.

Was the lawyer THAT connected that he instantly got someone to take me out? No, that couldn’t be. If that was the case, he wouldn’t have hired me.

Ever the optimist, I considered that maybe this tied everything up in a nice little bow? I had fulfilled my duty to Client A (the A standing for Asshole) and had given him her whereabouts and some roots she had planted.

Granted, they were flimsy roots that wouldn’t grow, but still. I could pocket the 10 grand without him being able to sue me. And, worst case, I could give him the money back. It would mean a hit to the retirement account but at least my conscience, what existed of it, would be clean.

Client B (the B standing for Bitch) was another matter. What the fuck just happened? Did she hit me and run? It was a pretty hard hit. I doubt she was that strong.

And if it wasn’t her, then who?

My mind was spinning and I wasn’t sure it was the confusion of what happened or the hit on the head. I needed food and some air.

I walked out of the hotel to the nearest tapas place. The selection was decent so I picked out a couple of plates and ordered a Mahou.

That was just what the doctor ordered. I instantly felt better and I could think clearer. Unfortunately, I wasn’t any closer to figuring anything out.

Time to move on to the next place.

I must have hit about six different taperías, tabernas, bodegas, and mercados. I honestly can’t remember. All I know is I was stuffed.

Yet I still wanted more.

Somehow, I ended up near the Plaza Mayor. I remembered the little churro and chocolate shop in the little alley that had been there for over a century and headed in that direction.

Sure enough, Chocolatería San Ginés was exactly where I thought it would be and the line wasn’t that long. I placed my order and managed to find a seat on the outside. It was a little far from the shop, but the waiter or waitress would bring me my stuff and I could relax and be alone with my thoughts.

From my seat, I had a great view of the shop’s entrance. I looked longingly at each waiter or waitress carrying a plate to see if it was headed my way. Frustratingly, they always went in a different direction.

After about 45 minutes, I started getting nervous. Did they forget my order? I was about to get up to check when I saw a beautiful and young waitress coming out of the door. Her cleavage was ample and low and her skirt was high and tight. In another world, I’d ask her for a lap dance.

She was walking directly at me.

“¿Chocolate con seis churros y una ración de 2 porras?”

“¡Aquí mismo!”

“Perdone la espera. Tuvimos un poquito de drama en la cocina.”

“¿Qué pasó?”

“Aparentemente, el gerente no piensa que mi uniforme está… diremos… bien puesto.”

“Yo no veo ningún problema.”

“¡Exacto! Entonces mi amigo el cocinero me defendió y se armó una bronca y tuvieron que llevar al gerente al hospital.”

“¿En serio?”

“¡Sí! Agarró un sartén y le dió en la cara. Creo que le salieron dos dientes.”

“¿Pero usted está bien?”

“Si, claro. Conmigo no hay problema. ¡Pero creo que van a despedir a mi amigo!”

“¡Que lastima! ¡Espero que pueda encontrar otra chamba bien rápido!”

“Seguro que si. Gracias. ¡Bueno, buen provecho!”

I dunked a piece of the porra into the chocolate and took a bite. Fuck that was good. Then I switched to the churro. I couldn’t tell which one was better.

Then I froze in my tracks.

“I am a fucking idiot.”

***

I quickly asked for a container for my chocolate, the churros, and the porras. As soon as I got it, I packed everything and started walking quickly back to the apartment building.

In about 20 minutes, I was there. Luckily, I’d kept the key, so I climbed the flight of stairs and opened the door. The silent room stared back at me.

Perfect. No one had been there yet. I started setting the scene. I turned one of the lamps on, unmade the bed, and put the pillows in the right place.

With the trap set, I pulled a chair over to the hinge side of the door and set up a little table next to me for my churros. There was nothing left to do but wait.

I was almost through churro number 5 when I heard a noise in the hallway. I turned the lamp off and took up my position behind the door.

I could hear someone working the lock. Key set? It wasn’t a credit card. Pin set more likely.

The lock gave and the knob turned. I crouched down and slowed my breathing to make extra sure I wasn’t noticed.

A man entered the room dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt underneath a dark suit jacket. He seemed to be in pretty good shape. That didn’t bode well. I’d have to use my brains.

He walked towards the bed, pulled the gun with the silencer already attached from the holster inside the jacket, and shot twice at the pillows before I smacked him on the head with the cast iron pan.

***

“Hi! Sorry about the head. I got one on the noggin myself today already. I know that hurts like a bitch.”

I had tied him up while he was down on the floor and propped him up against the bed. I also had found some rubbing alcohol in the bathroom and had just finished shoving it under his nose to wake him up.

“Who are you?”

“Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“Isn’t it obvious I don’t have a name?”

“My apologies. You’re right. I guess the better question is: Who was paying you for this job?”

“Did you do it already?”

“No, she’s escaped.”

“Fucking asshole! He told me I had an exclusive!”

“Lemme guess. Same guy that hired me?”

“Who hired you?”

“Asshole lawyer in Beverly Hills. You?”

“Same.”

“If it makes you feel any better, he hired me just to track her down. You got the dirty bit.”

“I guess it does. Can you untie me?”

“Promise not to kill me?”

“Pinky swear.”

“I do have your gun. Please don’t make me use it.”

“Fine. I can easily get another one. Besides, you’ll have fun explaining the bullet holes to the landlady.”

“Thanks.”

“So, do you have any idea where she went?”

“Do you have any idea why they hired you?”

“You know better than that.”

“Worth a shot. I think I have a better idea than you anyways. I have a business proposition for you. You interested?”

“Do you know the amount of money I’m getting for this job?”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know. But I know she’s very rich. She can probably pay you enough to stop the hit. Heck, she might even pay you extra to reverse it.”

“Always interested in a profitable business venture. How do we go about doing that?”

“Leave it to me. Get us a rental car for tomorrow morning and meet me here. Here’s my number. Call me when you’re ready.”

I gave him a piece of paper with my cell number on it, loosened one knot, and left the room, gun in hand.

The short walk back to the hotel was uneventful. I triple locked the door and put chairs in the way just in case my new friend didn’t want to play along.

I put the gun under my pillow and closed my eyes for a second.

When I opened them again, it was daylight.

***