Sedona Law 6 by Dave Daren (best non fiction books of all time .TXT) 📗

through downtown Sedona and he tore up the shop windows. It was pretty cool to watch, that is, until massive shards of glass flew through the town center and several nearby cars were destroyed. There were some shops downtown that still hadn’t totally recovered. Still, Shawn’s car chase was among the more adrenaline fueled memories of my career.

I don’t think it’s a car chase, a la Shawn, she replied.

Too bad. I said.

With the Irwin lead still in the air, I wondered about his contacts.

What about the shipping guy you met with? I asked Vicki.

Tony Sanchez. Universal Shipping. He’s a closed book. She replied.

I’ll try him again. I answered.

Good luck. She said.

I looked up an address for Universal Shipping. It was easy enough to find, and so I drove out there.

It was way out in the country, desert flatland. Dust and grime, and emptiness. If I were to pick a shady shipping place, this would be it. It was a large gray metal building, two stories high, part warehouse, part office. Rows and rows of metal shipping containers rose on either side of the building. With a dormant crane hovering just above them.

I parked in the dust with all the other vehicles, and my tires sent a cloud of dirt swirling around me. I got out and almost coughed on the dust cloud. Geez, people. There was a reason they invented concrete parking lots.

I sauntered through the dusty lot and looked for any signs of life anywhere. I finally found a squirrely looking young guy, with acne and a too big gray drab uniform.

“Excuse me,” I said. “I’m looking for Tony Sanchez. Any idea where he might be?”

He gave me a vacant stare and didn’t say anything.

“Tony Sanchez?” I asked. “Do you know him? Does he work here?”

Again he just stared at me.

“Anyone else around here might know Tony?” I gestured around the property.

Nothing.

“Alright,” I said. “Thanks for all your help.”

“Uh-huh,” he finally mumbled and then wandered off.

That guy was weird.

I kept going, and then the crane came to life, and started moving metal containers around. Still no sign of life.

I found another man, a burly guy with a full beard and squinty eyes. He was loading boxes onto wooden pallets.

“Hi,” I approached him. “I’m looking for Tony Sanchez. Do you know where I might find him?”

The man smiled and nodded politely and then went back to loading the pallets.

“Tony Sanchez?” I repeated. “Do you know him?”

He shrugged and then fired off in Russian at me in an apologetic tone. Then he went back to loading his pallets.

I sighed and moved on. I looked around and saw no one else in this desolate place. Even the mute kid had disappeared. I approached the building, and then saw two workers sitting on the side of the curb, speaking to each other in animated Spanish.

“Hi,” I waved for their attention. They silenced and turned toward me. “I’m looking for Tony Sanchez. Do you know where I might find him?”

Then looked at each other and laughed.

“Tony?” one of them asked.

“Yeah,” I said, relieved that someone at least recognized the name.

“He’s not here,” the other one laughed.

“Okay,” I nodded. “Do you have any ideas of where to find him?”

“Yeah,” the first one chuckled. “Oh I know exactly where to find him.”

“Great,” I said as I pulled out my phone to jot down the address. “Any chance that he might be there now?”

“Yep,” the first one said. “I’d say, one hundred per cent chance. He’s not going nowhere.”

They both laughed and I didn’t get the joke.

“Has he...passed or something?” I asked.

“No, no,” the first one assured me. “He’s alive.”

“Let’s see,” the first guy said as they looked at each other. “You go down this road over here.”

He them stood and gestured toward the direction of the street.

“Uh-huh,” I said as I started making mental note of the directions.

“You go down all of this way, till you get to the Sedona Police Department,” he said. “Then you go inside, and you look inside the bars. You will find him. I guarantee it.”

The guys both dissolved into laughter, and I finally got the joke.

“Ah,” I nodded. “Tony’s in jail.”

“He’s in there for a long time,” the man shook his head.

“What did he do, might I ask?” I replied.

“Selling unlicensed herbal remedies,” the man said. “His family has a farm where they sell herbal teas and little leaves and stuff to heal your back.”

He rubbed his lower back as he explained.

“That shit works, too,” he said. “He sold me some, and I use it for my back pain every night before I go to sleep. It’s good stuff. But, none of it was licensed. At first it was okay, because he was just selling to his friends and stuff. Then, he started to get big, and started making money off it, and got busted.”

“Sucks man,” the other guy shook his head. “He was a good guy. Just trying to help people with their aches and stuff.”

“Uh-huh,” he said. “Is this herbal remedy also known as marijuana?”

They glanced at each other.

“Some of it,” one of them said. “But he really did sell herbal remedies.”

I smirked. “I’m sure he did. Thanks guys, you’ve been very helpful.”

I turned and walked back out to my car. Yeah, this Tony Sanchez guy was shady. He was a pot dealer, and my guess is he was using the shipping company in some way to move his product. He was also somehow consorting with Irwin Montague to get antiques and other valuables in and out of the country. If I was correct, some of those valuables including getting the elephant tusks from the Matthews backyard, out of the