The Open Coffin: Prelude to Murder

CHAPTER 9

While Homer was in Calasiao, Vincent drove to Binalatongan, San Carlos City to pay an old friend a visit. He was Aizen Caralipio, owner of a computer and printing shop. Aizen was in his mid-forties, with rotund body. He was secretly engaged in printing fake documents like land titles, marriage contracts, birth certificates, death certificates, school transcript of records,diplomas, licenses, passports, visas and ID's. He had the faked seals of some government agencies such as the Department of Education, Department of Foreign Affairs, Department of Health, the Government Service Insurance System, the Civil Service Commission, the National Bureau of Investigation, the American Embassy, to name a few. He was able to obtain all these, thanks to the wonders of science and technology.

He was in his office when Vincent came in.

"Aizen, buddy. Can I come in?" he said.

Surprised, Aizen rose from his seat and happily met Vincent, "Vincent, my old friend! It's been a century since we met last. Where the hell have you been, you naughty bastard?."

"Been doin' some business. So how's life?" Vincent said as he took his seat in front of Aizen's desk.

"So far so good," Aizen replied, "What can I do for you? Surely you didn't come here just for a social visit."

"Yeah, you're damn right. I want you to do me a favor; don't worry I'll pay you," Vincent said.

"Oh no, no. Don't worry about payment. That's not a problem. Now, what is it that you want me to do?" the master of fakery said.

"I want you to make me a PTV-12 (Pangasinan TV 12) ID. News and public affairs—you know, those ID's used by PTV-12 newsmen."

Aizen grinned mischievously, and wagged his index finger, "Ho ho ho just what I've thought. You're up to something that is naughty, aren't you?"

Vincent was a little bit irrirated by Aizen's antics but he didn't show it. He said, "Can you do that for me?"

Aizen laughed, "Of course, I can. When do you need it?"

"Can you do it now?"

Aizen sensed the urgency of Vincent's tone. So he said he could do it in less than an hour.

"Of course I have to photograph you for the ID," Aizen explained.

"Yeah, I know. Take my photo now," it sounded like an order, not a request.

After doing Vincent's face to make him more like a news reporter, Aizen took his client's photo, and proceeded to work. Thirty minutes later, the PTV-12 ID was done. It bore the name Bernabe S. Pascual, PTV-12 news reporter. Vincent examined the fake ID and when fully satisfied, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket a drew some thousand peso bills, but Aizen stopped him.

"No, no Amigo. You don't have to pay me."

"But..."

"That's for our long standing friendship. Besides, I've got lots of money. Business is good, you see?" Aizen said.

"Thanks," Vincent said and put back the bills in his wallet. Then he rose from his seat, "See you next time Aizen."

"See you, and have a safe journey, Amigo," Aizen waved him off.

When Vincent finally reached Manaoag Hotel, he found his brother cleaning his 45 caliber pistol.

"Where have you been?" Victor asked him.

Instead of answering Victor's querry, he took out the fake PTV-12 from his breast pocket and showed it to Victor.

"Take a look at this," showing the ID to his brother, "isn't this a real piece of work?"

Victor put down his gun on the table and took the ID from Vincent. He examined it closely. It really looked authentic.

"I'll be damned! Where the hell did you get this fucking ID?" Victor couldn't hide his admiration.

"Where else but from the greatest fucking faker Aizen Caralipio," Vincent laughed.

"You mean, Aizen who looked like Mr. Poquiz, our neighbor in Bued?"

"Mismo (exactly), brother! I told you, I've got my own resources," Vincent said very proudly.

Victor rose from his seat, picked up his 45 from the table, and re-holstered it. He then handed back the ID to Vincent, and said casually, "I'm going to Amandiego tomorrow to get your 'camera,'"

He was referring to the camera-like special gun he mentioned earlier. Vincent smiled at the thought of wearing a fake PTV-12 newsman ID, and holding a deadly camera while rubbing elbows with other reporters.

"By the way," Victor said, "Drigo's live-in partner Merly called. She said Drigo's dead."

Vincent was surprised by the news his brother broke to him, "Why? What happened?"

"Car accident. Was fucking drunk and lost control of his car. It rammed a goddamned electric post in Arellano-Bani. He was pronounced DOA," Victor explained.

"Shit! I always tell him not to drink whenever he drives," Vincent exclaimed.

"Well, anyway we're through with the son of a bitch. We don't need him anymore," Victor said casually, "he's expendable, you know."

Vincent thought his brother was right. Drigo was just one of those guys they were using to further their end. Besides, Drigo might turn out be a thorn on their necks especially if he got caught by the cops. He suspected that Homer Almendares might be hot on the bastard's tail. That damned detective was as alert as a cat. Give him shred of a lead, and he follow it to hell. Likewise, he knew Drigo pretty well. Cock a gun right in front of his face and he would sing like a canary.

"Yeah, you're right, man," Vincent sighed, "Have a happy trip, bro."

"By the way," Victor said, "send Merly some money. I know she needs some amount for her live-in partner's funeral. Give her fifty thousand bucks. That would be enough, I guess."

"I'll make it one hundred thousand," Vincent said.

"Okay," Victor just nodded his head.

The next morning the following day, while Vincent was still snoring, Victor drove his car on the way to Alaminos City. He expected to be in Amandiego by nine or ten o'clock. Hopefully, he would be back in Manaoag by two or three o'clock in the afternoon.