Malice in Mexico Read online

  “Are we talking about Claire and Jack?” he asked slowly.

  “Yes, of course we’re talking about Claire and Jack,” she spit out with disgust.

  “What about the frog?”

  Her teeth were clenched so tightly it was hard to understand her words. “We didn’t discuss the frog. But I don’t think we can assume it was destroyed. I don’t think we can believe anything Ben told us.”

  He carefully laid down the papers he had been studying, noticing how his hand had suddenly acquired a tremor. This was very bad news. He thought he had solved the problem of the missing frog. He hadn’t been happy to hear it had gone up in flames, but had considered the financial loss was better than the risk of discovery if it stayed in Jack and Claire’s possession.

  “We can’t blame Ben for this. He told me the car had those dark mirrored windows, so he couldn’t identify the people inside. And I know he got the right car because I was in the Jardin this morning and everyone was buzzing about the awful accident that killed Raphael. No, he got the right car. Damn! This is just what I meant when I told you Claire has this uncanny luck. This is how she avoided being eliminated in Washington D.C.!”

  “I say we just go in tonight and blast away. That way we can make sure we search the place and get the frog if they have it. That will solve the whole problem.”

  Her uncle looked at her and slowly shook his head. “Let’s not rush in here. We need to think about all aspects of the situation.”

  “Stu, are you losing it? Are you going soft? What’s with you? These people are dangerous, you said so yourself. So why are you so reluctant to take them out? This isn’t like you?” Kathleen said hotly, her voice reflecting her anger and her confusion at her uncle’s reaction.

  “Calm down, Kathleen. I don’t like you talking to me like that.” He glared at her, then in an effort to get control of the situation he said, “No, I’m not getting soft, but I have learned a few things over the years. And don’t forget I’ve been involved with these people before and neither of those times was the situation resolved in a way that satisfied me. And you forget, San Miguel has been a safe haven for me for several years. I’m not anxious to jeopardize my safe house if I don’t have to. And most importantly, we have set up shop in the pottery. It’s the perfect cover and we need to protect it.

  “I want to think this out carefully. When we make our move I want it to be the right move.”

  Kathleen, chastised, sat down on one of the chairs facing her uncle and waited as he thought about the situation while idly doodling on one of the papers in front of him.

  “Tell me everything that was said when you met them today. Don’t leave anything out.”

  She concentrated and then repeated word for word the conversation she had with Claire and Jack.

  “So, they will be on the Home Tour on Sunday?”

  She nodded.

  “That would be a very good time to break into the house and search for the frog, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, but....” She hesitated, not sure if she dared admonish her uncle again. She knew he had a fiery temper, and she didn’t want him angry with her.

  “Yes, but you’re worried about Claire and Jack? I’m telling you, Kathleen, sometimes you’re too quick to act. I agree with you they must go. I can’t go through life with them popping up at the most inopportune times and messing up my plans. But I’m not sure I want to do it here, in San Miguel. I’m going to think about that part, but right now recovering the frog is our most important goal. Do you agree?”

  She nodded, reluctantly. It wasn’t like her to get so wrapped up in a situation she lost sight of the important issues. They needed to have control of all the frogs. Not only was it valuable, but it was a clue to what they were doing and, therefore, could potentially jeopardize their whole operation.

  “I don’t think we should use Ben and the men from the pottery. There is no sense taking the risk of one of them being identified and directing attention to the pottery,” he said, thinking out loud.

  “I could do it. We could get Carlos here, and he and I could do it easily.”

  Her uncle looked at her. “No, Kathleen, again there is the risk of you being seen and identified. We’re going to do this in the middle of the day. We don’t want to take unnecessary risks. No, we need someone from outside, someone no one in San Miguel could identify if they saw them and remembered them.”

  It was totally silent in the room, only the faint sound of the bells, which had started ringing, penetrating the thick walls of the study.

  “I think,” he said slowly, the ideas forming in his head, “I think I will call my friend the Columbian, in Mexico City. He has resources. I believe he will be able to help us with this little problem.” He thumbed through his old fashioned Rolodex sitting on the credenza behind him and finding the right card, quickly punched in the number on his phone.

  Kathleen listened intently as her uncle explained the situation, nodding her head in agreement from time to time. Finally he concluded his conversation and hung up the phone.

  “All right, that’s settled. Now Kathleen, what are your plans for finalizing this deal in Houston with Manny Hillerman? George tells me the man keeps leaving messages for you on the answering machine, and they’re getting more frantic in tone as time goes by.”

  Kathleen couldn’t keep the smile from her lips as she nodded. “Yes, I believe he is sorry he sent his goons after me.” She laughed. “I have been checking my messages, and I think he is just about ripe for a deal, but I’m still not ready to trust him.”

  “You don’t have to trust him to do business with him. He’s got the money we need, so perhaps it’s time to start doing business with him. We could use the cash.”

  Kathleen agreed. “Yes, you’re right. I’ll call him and make a deal. Do you want me to have him wire the money to the Cayman Island account?”

  “Will he do it?”

  She smiled widely. “Just watch! He’s frantic, like George says. He’ll do anything to get a source of good product.”

  “Okay, do it. And let me know how it goes. If you’re going to leave with Carlos tomorrow, how will you arrange this deal?”

  “Oh, I’m not going to be there. I’ll take care of it via the phone. George and Gary can deliver it. And if Manny behaves and it goes well, we’ll set up regular deliveries every time we get confirmation from the bank about his deposit.”

  Her uncle nodded then picked up the papers he had dropped when she came in the room. Kathleen left quietly already planning the phone conversation she would have with Manny.

  CHAPTER 8

  “Coffee’s not as good,” Claire commented, “but that omelet looks great.”

  Jack only nodded, because his mouth was full of egg. They had been very slow to get up and out of the house this morning due to the evening they had spent in Harry’s Bar.

  Actually it was called Harry Bissett’s New Orlean’s Café, and they stopped there for a drink on their way home late yesterday afternoon, still carrying all their loot from the art festival at Bellas Artes. Somehow, after they had coffee and a pastry at Bellas Artes, they never had lunch, so later as they were heading home past Harry’s, Jack suggested they pop in for a Margarita and a bite. They sat at the bar and were having such a good time with the people they met there, they didn’t get home until very late. And during the course of the evening they drank more than their customary two Margaritas. Plus they ate a dinner of bar food which consisted of lots of tortilla chips, cheese, hot peppers and guacamole. Not necessarily the best choice for dinner.

  Still, it had been a congenial group with lots of laughing and story telling, so they had fun.

  “You know, Jack, you didn’t call Raphael last night.”

  Jack paused, a fork full of omelet on its way to his mouth. “I know, but I did try him this morning.” A shadow crossed his eyes as he shook his head. “I didn’t reach him. He must have his phone turned off. It’s very strange, but I’ll try him again a lit
tle later; I brought his number with me.” And the fork popped the bite into his mouth.

  Claire squeezed lime on her plate of orange colored papaya. She preferred fruit and toast, or as in the case of today’s breakfast, fresh baked, crusty rolls for breakfast. And she loved Mexican papaya. It grew as big as watermelons here and was deep in color and flavor. “Jack, this papaya is wonderful, are you sure you don’t want a bite?”

  He shook his head. He preferred a more traditional breakfast.

  “Well, I wonder if Helen Marie is coming today. I guess most people go to church on Sunday here.”

  “She said she was coming every day, so I assume she meant Sundays too.”

  “Well, even if she doesn’t, we didn’t leave a mess in the kitchen for her. What with having drinks and dinner out last night and now breakfast out, the kitchen still looks good.” She watched the people passing the small café they had noticed yesterday on their wanderings. They were very happy with the place on the edge of the Jardin, but Jack suggested they give this place a try for a change.

  “That couple from Seattle was very nice, didn’t you think?” Claire said smiling at the memory of last night’s fun. “While you boys were playing dice she was telling me about her job. She says she travels to the San Francisco area several times a year, so maybe we’ll see them again.”

  Jack nodded. “That would be fun. Too bad we didn’t run into them sooner. We could have gotten together a few times while we were here.”

  Claire nodded. “The good part about traveling is meeting new people; the bad part is they’re always on their way somewhere else. Oh well, I’ve got her address and email, and so we can stay in touch. It’s kind of funny we didn’t run into any of the locals there last night. Maybe they don’t hang out at Harry’s, or maybe just not on Saturday night.”

  Jack finished his breakfast and helped himself to one of the rolls left in the basket.

  “Did you take your pills this morning?” Claire reminded him.

  “Yes, with a piece of tortilla, but thanks for reminding me. I don’t know why I find them so hard to remember.”

  “Well, you don’t have many more, do you?”

  “No, probably about four more days. I’m feeling so much better, I’m wondering if I even need them.”

  “Oh, no you don’t. Remember what Dr. MacIntyre said. Take them with food and don’t forget. If you don’t take the whole sequence of them, they won’t work and you’ll have to repeat them. Let’s not have to do that.”

  Jack nodded sheepishly. He admitted to being a testy patient, and he was grateful that Claire put up with his whining.

  “Well, it’s about time to head over to the Biblioteca, don’t you think?”

  So they did.

  They were both surprised at the size of the crowd milling around in the courtyard. They hadn’t realized how many tourists were in San Miguel at any one time. There were people speaking in a variety of languages, some dressed in regional garb of India, and even Africa. They didn’t see anyone they recognized, although they expected to see the others who were on their van from the airport. Claire assumed they were there in the crush, just not visible. There was a stirring of the crowd near the tunnel-like entrance, and soon people started moving in that direction. Claire and Jack followed along, finding themselves on the sidewalk where four city buses were parked. They moved toward the closest one and got on.

  When the bus was full one of the volunteers wearing a ribbon to show his status came on board.

  “Listen up everyone. You are in bus fifty-three. You may want to make a note of that so you’ll get on the correct bus after each stop. This bus will be starting at the destination listed on your flyer as House Number Two. After touring the house you will get on this bus and be taken to House Number Three, then to House Number One. At the end of the tour the bus will bring you back to the Biblioteca. Is everyone clear on that?” He looked around and then said, “There will be volunteers at each stop directing you through the houses, and in some cases the owners may be on site to greet you and answer your questions. Have a wonderful time and don’t forget your bus number...?”

  He waited until he heard the loud response, “Fifty-three.” He nodded and waved as he swung down the steps and the driver closed the door, shifted into gear and pulled out onto the street.

  The first house they visited Claire thought was near where Teddy and Jeff lived, but higher on the hill. They passed a park, near the top of the hill, where they could see flocks of white herons nesting in the trees. The bus cautiously turned onto a side street and slowly went down the hill before pulling over and parking at the entrance of a dissecting lane. As they left the bus the driver pointed them toward a volunteer standing a ways down the lane. The volunteer pointed them to a gate opening into a garden, which led to a house perched at the top of the property. The house had stunning views of San Miguel spread out in front of it. The builder had taken advantage of the views by installing large windows and well-placed terraces leading off from each room all across the width of the house. The house itself was rather generic in design, neither Spanish nor modern, but it didn’t matter because it was hard to draw attention away from the view to check the details of the house.

  After going through the entire house they took their time wandering through the garden to the exit.

  “It’s a nice home, but without the garden and terraces I think it would be a little boring, didn’t you think?”

  Jack nodded, agreeing. “I wouldn’t want to be in charge of the garden. It must be a big job.”

  “No, but they must employ gardeners, don’t you think? I can’t wait for Lucy to get back. I know you want to meet her, but wait until you see the garden she has at her house in Burlingame. It’s a beauty. I keep thinking I need to do something with my yard, and the one behind Gulliver’s, but so far neither have gotten to the top of my To Do list.”

  “Don’t worry, someday it will. Meanwhile you can just enjoy looking at other people’s efforts and thinking about what you’ll do with yours.”

  The next property was in town, closer to the Jardin. In many ways it reminded them of the Pruitt’s house they were leasing. This house was Spanish in style, built around a patio, but had a large artist’s studio built up over the rooms at the rear of the property. The entire house was obviously owned by artists, as it was filled with unique and lovely pieces of art, including paintings, collages, sculptures, pottery and metal work. It took a longer time to see the house as everyone wanted to see everything. It was like an exquisite art gallery, but the house still had the comfortable feeling of a well loved home.

  On their way to the last property on tour that day Claire commented, “I can see why they only offer three houses at a time, can’t you? It’s exhausting, like going through an art museum, after a while it all runs together and you forget what you saw where.”

  The last property was also in town, but in the opposite direction from the Jardin. Here the house wasn’t built around the patio, rather to the side of it. The patio was delightful, the house was spacious and beautifully decorated, and as soon as Claire saw the room at the front near the front door, she knew right away whose house this was.

  “Jack, this must be Bill and Barry’s house. You remember we met them at Mama Mia’s that first night?” She whispered and then she saw Barry sitting in the shade at the back part of the patio.

  “Hello, do you remember me?” He smiled up at her.

  “Of course, we met at Mama Mia’s, didn’t we? I’m Claire and this is Jack.” Claire put out her hand to shake his.

  “Yes, one of Teddy’s famous get-togethers. Are you enjoying your visit to San Miguel?”

  Jack nodded. “We love it.”

  “And this house tour is wonderful. It really gives you a feeling about how people live here.”

  “Well, how the gringos and the rich people live anyway.” Barry said with a cynical smile, “You won’t find many locals’ houses on the tour.”

  “You have a wo
nderful salon here. Jeff told me you still keep your business going.”

  “Have to.” Barry nodded. “Got to maintain some normalcy. It’s what I do, you know. It’s part of who I am. I’m an artist too, but I use hair to express myself.” He handed them each a business card. “In case you need a trim while you’re here.”

  Claire nodded, slipping the card in her tote bag. “I didn’t see you and Bill at Teddy’s Thursday night, and I thought everyone in town was there.”

  Barry laughed. “We were there, but we didn’t get there until late; we know from experience that it will be an all night affair and Bill wears out if he starts too early.”

  Claire smiled. “I guess we left before you came. We’re early-to-bed people.”

  They chatted a bit more, and then, just before they turned to leave, Barry said, “Wasn’t that terrible, you know, what happened to Raphael?”

  They both froze with surprise.

  “What happened to Raphael?” Jack asked slowly.

  Claire felt a sense of dread creeping over her.

  “You didn’t hear? Oh my dears, it was so tragic. It was Friday I think. Yes, yes, I’m sure it was Friday. His car went off the road coming back from Guanajuato and just exploded. Whoosh!” He raised both his hands dramatically to illustrate his words.

  Claire swayed; the shock was almost too much. Jack reached over to grab her arm and steady her, at the same time asking, “Raphael? What happened to Raphael?”

  “Dead, of course. Very fast I’m sure. No time to suffer when that happens. I understand they identified him from the car. The numbers indented on the license plate allowed the authorities to identify the car. Raphael was apparently burned beyond recognition. Of course his family is devastated. He was so young. We will all miss him terribly.” Barry looked at them strangely. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it. Everyone has been talking about it. The Jardin has been full of all the horrid details since it happened. We are such a small town, you know.”