Buck must find two missing college students

ENCOMIENDA

1

Evil appears in various guises; that’s why Satan wears a cloak. Each devil protects his particular hellish domain with a vengeance born of jealousy, malice and suspicion. I would learn that lesson on this case.

I had warmed and was eating a plate of lechón con moros y cristianos and yuca that my partner Ruben’s wife Luli had sent me after the Christmas holidays. This was off my normal diet, but it was tasty, and I vowed as I ate to work out doubly hard that afternoon. My two cats Franklin and Churchill rubbed against my legs, gentle, carnivorous hints that they were willing to share the food.

Then the phone rang. When I picked up the receiver, Caridad’s familiar voice said, “Hóla, Boss. You got a phone call from a potential client.”

I mumbled between chews, “Yeah? Who’z id?”

“You ok? You sound funny.”

“Eadin’.”

“Oh, geez, sorry, Buck. You want me to call back later?”

I swallowed everything in my mouth . . . “No. Now, who is it?”

“He’s Mexican, but his Spanish is very educated. His name is Jesus Maria Concepción y Carvajal.”

“Don’t know him.”

“He said we were recommended by someone at Miami University.”

“Oh.”

“He said his son is missing and he wants us to find him.”

“Did you give him our standard rates?”

“Sí, and he said it was no problema. So, I set up an appointment for this afternoon. You were coming back today, weren’t you?”

I hesitated, but since I knew Ruben was out taking his kids to the Three Kings Parade, I said, “Sure. What time’s the appointment?”

“Four.”

“I’ll be there.”

* * * *

I was in no hurry. I finished the meal. Gave a few tidbits to Franklin and Churchill – I don’t usually because I know it’s not good for them . . . but once in a while. It’s the holidays after all. I got to the office at 1223 Bolero in South Miami about five minutes to four, not expecting to see Señor Concepción.

But he was there: a tall, thin white-haired man wearing a white guayabara over khaki pants and brown loafers. He turned to me as I entered the door. His narrow face held anxious brown eyes. “Mr. Jaspers?”

“Yes. It’s Concepción, isn’t it?” We shook hands and I gestured toward my office. “Go in, have a seat. Cari, can you come in, please?”

She was already standing with her pencil and pad and began moving on my request. What employees I have!

Mr. Concepción was from another culture, so I tried to guess his age. In our culture, he could pass for mid-seventies, but he could have been a decade younger than that.

I gestured for him to sit and sat myself in my desk chair behind my cherry wood desk. He sat. As Caridad took her seat to take notes, I said, “Caridad said that your son is missing. How is he missing?”

He spoke slowly but his pronunciation was good enough that I surmised he must have gone to university in the States. “He is a student at Miami University. His name is Fernando Vicente Concepción. Everyone calls him Nano. He’s a good boy, a good student. But he never came home for Christmas. He never returned to school. So, he’s been missing almost a month. That’s the last time anyone saw him. His roommate Paulie is missing, also. He and Paulie left for vacation together. Neither returned.”

“Do you know where they were going?”

“Nano said they were going to visit some friends, but I don’t remember their names. I’m not sure Nano named them.”

“Have you been in Nano’s room at the university?”

“No. He and Paulie have an apartment off the campus. I went there, but nobody answered the bell.”

“How were they traveling?”

“I think they took Nano’s car. It’s not at the apartment.”

“What kind of car is it?”

“A red and white Toyota Samurai.”

“Does Nano use credit cards?”

“Yes. He has a trust fund from his grandfather, so he’s financially independent. He doesn’t have a lot of cards, but he likes them more than carrying cash. He said it’s safer in Miami that way.”

“Sounds like a level-headed kid.”

“Yes, he is. He has never been out of touch this long, so that’s why I’m worried. It’s not like him.”

“Does he have a cell phone?”

“Yes.”

“A PC?”

“Yes.”

“Internet access?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know his roommate?”

“I met him only once. His name is Pablo Menendez; he’s Venezuelan. I believe his father is a businessman. He seems like a good person. I was relieved that he was Nano’s friend. He seemed responsible, not foolish or wild like some college students.”

“Have you filed a missing person’s report with the police?”

“Yes, I filed it yesterday after I found no one at the apartment.”

“Good. Ok, Señor Concepción, we’ll take your case. I should tell you that the police might find the boys before we do, and then you would’ve spent your money for nothing.”

“I don’t think so. If Nano has been gone so long, I don’t think the police will find him very easily. I think I need someone like you.”

“Very well. Do you have a copy of the missing person’s report with you?”

“Yes, in my pocket.”

“Good. Give Caridad Nano’s address, phone number, social security number if he has one, cell phone number. Give her your address and phone number in Miami, too. And let her copy the missing person’s report. Tomorrow, I would like you to go with me to Nano’s apartment. Can you do that?”

“Of course.”

“Give her the consultation fee and retainer, too. She’ll have a contract for you to sign.”

Before he left, he stood and pointed at the framed portrait behind my head. He said, “Isn’t that Benjamin Franklin, the one who flew the kite and discovered electricity?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Unusual for a detective’s office. Is he your hero?”

“Yes, he’s one of my favorite people. But, I don’t think his being here is so unusual. He was a person who loved mysteries, especially of the scientific and psychological kind, and he was a wonderful businessman, and our agency is a business. We solve mysteries, but we try to make a profit while we do it.”

“I see. You must be good at it.”

Caridad chimed in, “Somos el mejor de South Florida.”

We shook hands and he left.

After he left, I had Cari call Vlad, Jose and Shamir to see who was available the next day. She reported a few minutes later. “Vlad is the only one not committed tomorrow. He’s on hold. Do you want to talk to him?”

“No. Just tell him that I’ve got work for him tomorrow and to be here at 8 a.m. and to bring his thinking cap. We’ll need him to get into a computer.”

END of Chapter One.

After re-reading this chapter, I understand why readers like it.  The mystery is something that can touch anyone: a missing child; and Buck seems like a likable, professional detective.  His humanity shows.

When a writer hasn't seen a piece of work in a while and re-reads it, it almost seems as if someone else wrote it.  That fact that I got into the story and the characters pleases me.  It is the kind of narrative that I will probably like.

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