fight.’
The two men looked blankly at Elizabeth. The strength of a mere woman was not something they’d lose any sleep over. Moya then blandly announced: ‘I know where to get hold of a gun.’
He turned down Elizabeth’s kind suggestion that they use her car to transport Olga to her grave. Even these two drifters knew it was better to make sure there were as few links to their employer as possible.
Shortly afterwards, Elizabeth left the Cafe Tropical and headed to the nearest pawn shop to raise the cash for the hitmen’s first proper down payment. She traded in two rings for $175, which she gave to Moya in the kitchen of the cafe a few minutes later.
Elizabeth and the two young Mexicans even agreed on a code word – ‘Dorothy’ – to be used at all times. Elizabeth also mentioned she’d already wasted $1,000 on another hitman who’d let her down. Moya and Baldonado knew she meant business.
As Elizabeth and Mrs Emma Short tottered back out of the cafe, she turned to her elderly friend and said, ‘I think we got a real bargain with those two.’ But then Elizabeth had absolutely no intention of paying the two Mexican drifters another penny.
Moya never even suspected she’d renege on the deal. He later explained: ‘We trusted Mrs Duncan. We reckoned her word was good, as we made good ours.’ And Moya and Baldonado certainly kept to their side of the bargain. They hired a cream-coloured Chevrolet and borrowed a .22 pistol from a pal.
At 11.00pm on the evening of 17 November, Baldonado arrived at the cramped apartment of Moya’s girlfriend Virginia Fierro and picked up his accomplice before they headed off to carry out the hit.
That evening Elizabeth’s daughter-in-law Olga was entertaining two old nursing colleagues from the Cottage Hospital where she’d once worked. They left the apartment at around 11.10pm. Twenty minutes later the Mexican’s cream-coloured Chevy rolled quietly up near the neat two-storey apartment block on Garden Street. Moya slipped silently up the stairs alone, leaving Baldonado slumped in the back seat.
When Luis Moya knocked on the door of number 1114, Olga answered wearing a skimpy pink dressing gown over her seven-months-pregnant belly. ‘I brought your husband home, Señora,’ he said in broken English. ‘I met him in a bar and he’s pretty drunk. He got a lotta money on him and told me to bring him home. He’s downstairs in the car but I need help getting him up here.’
Although Frank rarely drank alcohol, Olga didn’t question Moya any further. ‘Sure, let’s go get him,’ she said.
She walked down to the pavement with Moya and saw what she thought was Frank slumped in the back seat.
‘Frank?’ she called quietly, not wishing to wake up the neighbours.
As she leaned in to take a closer look, Moya pulled out his gun and smashed it over the back of her head before bundling her into the back of the car, screaming. Just then the man in the back seat – Baldonado – sprang to life. As Moya raced round to the driver’s seat, Baldonado held Olga down. But she continued screaming and struggling and even made a grab for the door handle. Baldonado tried to throttle her but she just wouldn’t be silenced. At a set of traffic lights, Moya leaned back and smashed the gun butt into her head until she finally crumpled to the floor with blood pouring from her head. Soon they were heading out of town and south towards the Mexican border.
But then the ancient, rusting Chevy started shuddering and both men wondered if it would make the 250-mile trip to Mexico. The two hitmen decided to divert and head for the mountains just 30 miles south of Santa Barbara. As Moya later explained: ‘We’d find a nice little spot to bury her in.’
That ‘nice little spot’ turned out to be a ditch just off Highway 150. But as the drifters pulled Olga’s body out of the back of the Chevy she recovered consciousness. They couldn’t shoot her because the gun had been broken
The two men looked blankly at Elizabeth. The strength of a mere woman was not something they’d lose any sleep over. Moya then blandly announced: ‘I know where to get hold of a gun.’
He turned down Elizabeth’s kind suggestion that they use her car to transport Olga to her grave. Even these two drifters knew it was better to make sure there were as few links to their employer as possible.
Shortly afterwards, Elizabeth left the Cafe Tropical and headed to the nearest pawn shop to raise the cash for the hitmen’s first proper down payment. She traded in two rings for $175, which she gave to Moya in the kitchen of the cafe a few minutes later.
Elizabeth and the two young Mexicans even agreed on a code word – ‘Dorothy’ – to be used at all times. Elizabeth also mentioned she’d already wasted $1,000 on another hitman who’d let her down. Moya and Baldonado knew she meant business.
As Elizabeth and Mrs Emma Short tottered back out of the cafe, she turned to her elderly friend and said, ‘I think we got a real bargain with those two.’ But then Elizabeth had absolutely no intention of paying the two Mexican drifters another penny.
Moya never even suspected she’d renege on the deal. He later explained: ‘We trusted Mrs Duncan. We reckoned her word was good, as we made good ours.’ And Moya and Baldonado certainly kept to their side of the bargain. They hired a cream-coloured Chevrolet and borrowed a .22 pistol from a pal.
At 11.00pm on the evening of 17 November, Baldonado arrived at the cramped apartment of Moya’s girlfriend Virginia Fierro and picked up his accomplice before they headed off to carry out the hit.
That evening Elizabeth’s daughter-in-law Olga was entertaining two old nursing colleagues from the Cottage Hospital where she’d once worked. They left the apartment at around 11.10pm. Twenty minutes later the Mexican’s cream-coloured Chevy rolled quietly up near the neat two-storey apartment block on Garden Street. Moya slipped silently up the stairs alone, leaving Baldonado slumped in the back seat.
When Luis Moya knocked on the door of number 1114, Olga answered wearing a skimpy pink dressing gown over her seven-months-pregnant belly. ‘I brought your husband home, Señora,’ he said in broken English. ‘I met him in a bar and he’s pretty drunk. He got a lotta money on him and told me to bring him home. He’s downstairs in the car but I need help getting him up here.’
Although Frank rarely drank alcohol, Olga didn’t question Moya any further. ‘Sure, let’s go get him,’ she said.
She walked down to the pavement with Moya and saw what she thought was Frank slumped in the back seat.
‘Frank?’ she called quietly, not wishing to wake up the neighbours.
As she leaned in to take a closer look, Moya pulled out his gun and smashed it over the back of her head before bundling her into the back of the car, screaming. Just then the man in the back seat – Baldonado – sprang to life. As Moya raced round to the driver’s seat, Baldonado held Olga down. But she continued screaming and struggling and even made a grab for the door handle. Baldonado tried to throttle her but she just wouldn’t be silenced. At a set of traffic lights, Moya leaned back and smashed the gun butt into her head until she finally crumpled to the floor with blood pouring from her head. Soon they were heading out of town and south towards the Mexican border.
But then the ancient, rusting Chevy started shuddering and both men wondered if it would make the 250-mile trip to Mexico. The two hitmen decided to divert and head for the mountains just 30 miles south of Santa Barbara. As Moya later explained: ‘We’d find a nice little spot to bury her in.’
That ‘nice little spot’ turned out to be a ditch just off Highway 150. But as the drifters pulled Olga’s body out of the back of the Chevy she recovered consciousness. They couldn’t shoot her because the gun had been broken
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