The House of Wolfe by James Carlos Blake Read Free Book Online Page B

man’s body tumble down the slope to join the others in the fuming mound, vanishing into it in a geyser of scarlet sparks.
    They return to the van and start back to the city.
    4 — JESSIE
    They no sooner head out for the Sosa estate than Aldo places a hand on Jessie’s thigh.
    â€œStop,” she says, pushing his hand away.
    â€œHo, ho, ze Americain girl, she wanz to play, how you say, har to get, eh?” he says in the terrible French accent of the Pepé Le Pew impersonations he used to do in college. He walks his fingers slowly down his leg to his knee and then hops them over on hers and begins walking them backward up her thigh.
    â€œI said quit !” she hisses, and jabs a thumbnail into the back of his hand.
    He pulls his hand away and tries to examine it in the bad light. “I think you drew blood, you she-devil.” She sees his grin in the glow of a passing streetlamp.
    â€œFor Pete’s sake, Aldo,” Susi says. “She doesn’t want to be pawed, so just stop pawing her, why don’t you?” Susi is seventeen years old and in her final year of high school. In the front seat, young José Belmonte snickers.
    Switching to Spanish, Aldo says, You kids mind your own business. This is a matter between grown-ups.
    The only grown-up in this car besides JJ is the driver, Susi says, raising another chuckle from José and even from the driver.
    They follow the other Town Cars to the brightly lighted thoroughfare of Paseo de la Reforma and meld into the northbound traffic, the four cars holding close to each other to prevent other vehicles from getting between them. Now they turn off onto the Periférico, the city’s outer beltway, and bear south. Having been to the Sosa residence, Jessie knows it’s on the south side of the posh Pedregales area.
    They’ve been on the beltway less than a minute when the driver’s cell phone chirps. He puts it to his ear and says, “Sí?” He listens, then says, “Ah, pues . . . sí, claro . . . muy bien,” and puts the phone away. Staying behind the Town Car in front of them as it moves over to the exit lane, he says there’s been an accident a few miles ahead on the beltway and traffic’s been slowed almost to a standstill. We’re getting off at the next ramp and taking side streets until we’re past the point of the accident, the driver says. Then we’ll get back on the belt. We’re lucky we received word before we got stuck in that muddle.
    Jessie inwardly groans at this additional irritation. The idea of extending the car ride with Aldo is irksome, never mind having to continue fending him off when they get to the Sosas’. She chides herself for not having faked an upset stomach or something at the reception and begged off from the after party.
    The Town Cars exit onto an avenue of heavy traffic and stay on it for a few slow blocks before turning onto a less-congested street. Several blocks farther on, they turn into an industrial area of warehouses, most of them closed for the night. The fenced parking lots contain scatterings of semitrailers. Only one of the loading docks is lighted and at work and only one trailer is being loaded. Paper litter lines the bottoms of the fences.
    The cars make another turn, and then another, and are now on a narrow lane, badly lighted and gouged with potholes, flanking a rail track that runs between rows of darkened warehouses with shuttered loading docks.
    The driver says he’s sorry for the rough ride end explains that the lead driver has chosen this detour because there aren’t any stoplights on these backstreets and despite the inferior street surface they’re faster than the main avenues. We’ll be out of here soon and back on the beltway, he says.
    A large vehicle with a red-and-blue flashing light behind its windshield appears from around a corner up ahead, its headlights dazzling. It stops at an angle across the lane,