Best Decorated Little Whorehouse in Mexico

If this was satisfactory and a price agreed upon the businessman would find himself being led like a conquering hero back to the den of delights. At this point several components kick into place to make this not quite the experience to compensate for several months of "NO", "DON"T" and "NOT NOW". Amorous ardor doesn't seem to be enhanced by subliminal guilt, a heavy meal, too much alcohol and a nagging feeling that the contract you had just signed was not the contract you had in mind when you left Dallas. As the young lady and the gentlemen return from the room, their expressions are in deep contrast to those they took with them into the room. The girl has an expression on her face that leads one to wonder if she isn't completely bored out of her mind and the gentleman seems to be in utter distress in the urgency with which he needs to excuse himself and wash his hands. Just to prove that we have all done the right thing here another drink is ordered and consumed quickly before rushing for the door and the waiting taxi which will make the mad dash to the bridge and to the waiting motel and the compulsive shower followed by the sleepless night wondering if some strange little creatures are not even as we speak actively attacking the tissue of our most private parts and working their way into our bloodstream to destroy our blood vessels our internal organs and finally our brain. These factors will require a month to wear off before the businessman will be able to make his next sashay South of the Border. Did I say taxi?

In front of the Gold Palace there is a parking place which is known as the number one spot. This spot can make it's owner a rich man, not as rich as Enrique DeNava, but rich by 1965 Matamoros standards. Number one was owned by Robert Rodriguez and had been for years. Robert couldn't even remember how he had come by the Numero Uno spot, but it was making him rich. He never had to wait an hour for a fare. The only time other drivers got work was when Roberto was on a run or at home sleeping. Roberto's family lived in a fine home, finer than their families had ever dreamed and the children even went to a private school and Roberto's wife was so proud of him that she never used words like "NO", "DON'T" or "NOT NOW!". Roberto was a happy man, but what Roberto didn't know was that Enrique DeNava had a flea up his rectum that was giving him a great itch that he couldn't scratch. Enrique DeNava coveted the Numero Uno spot for himself because he knew that it was his own Gold Palace that made the Numero Uno spot what it was. So out of the clear blue sky one day Roberto was told to remove his taxi from the Numero Uno spot, that Mr. DeNava had assigned it to someone else. And thus the die was cast for Ray Williams to redecorate the Gold Palace.

A new driver, working for a flat salary of $125 a month and driving a taxi owned by Enrique DeNava dutifully took over the Numero Uno spot with considerably less enthusiasm than Roberto had shown and Roberto slipped into a dark brooding depression. His depression ended the day he drove his taxi up to the Gold Palace, parked in the number five place, walked up to Enrique DeNava, who was leaning against the wall in his straight-back chair, removed a .45 caliber semi-automatic handgun from his waistband and blew most of Enrique's head off.