Malice in Mexico Read online

  “Stu,” Kathleen called shyly when she approached the open door of his room. “Stu, Granny wants you to run over to Mrs. McGuire’s with a plate of food. Can I go with you? Can I, Stu?”

  Stuart put down the book he was studying and got to his feet. “I don’t know, Kathleen. I’m going to take my bike. Can you sit on the back and hold on to the food the whole way?”

  She nodded, holding her breath, just hoping he would agree.

  He looked at her seriously and then smiled. “Okay, if your Ma says all right, you can go.”

  He headed for the kitchen with Kathleen dancing excitedly behind him.

  She couldn’t believe her luck as she rode down the road, sitting on the little seat mounted over the back wheel of Stu’s bike while she clung to the basket of food with one hand and used her other arm to clutch around her uncle’s waist.

  Poor Mrs. McGuire was hollow-eyed and gray of face. She could barely get to the door to let them in and was pathetically grateful for the dinner they brought her. It took them a little while to warm the food and serve it to her, and by the time they returned to Granny and Pap’s house it was too late.

  The street was cordoned off a block away from the house by large army transport vehicles and armored cars.

  “Hey, you two kids, get off the street. Go home. Go on, hurry. None of this concerns you.”

  Stuart backed his bike away, not saying a word, although both of them knew it did concern them. Of course it did.

  Without saying a word Stuart pedaled furiously around the area and tried to approach from the other side only to find another barricade. But by this time the shooting had begun. From this point they could see, for sure, that it was Granny and Pap’s house which was the target of this attack. And from the bullets whining around them, it was apparent the Sullivans weren’t going down peacefully. Stuart and Kathleen abandoned the bike to duck behind a car, then they dashed around the corner of a building for protection.

  By then they could hear explosions, most likely the result of the odd looking guns they had seen the soldiers setting up which were apparently shooting grenades at the house.

  “What are they doing?” Kathleen wailed. “What’s happening?”

  “Shush,” Stuart cautioned her, his face contorted with anxiety. Just then a huge explosion rocked the building they were hiding behind, causing chunks of mortar and bits of roof to rain down on them. They couldn’t hear anything for a moment, and then they realized it was because a deadly silence had fallen. They backed away, eyes wide with horror. Now they heard yelling as the soldiers moved in, and screaming from the wounded. Stuart grabbed Kathleen’s hand, yelling, “Run. Run as fast as you can.”

  They heard the motors and ducked into a space behind some bins in an alley. They saw the armored carriers pass; then they ran again.

  Some friends of the family took them in, what better place to hide than amongst a passel of kids. They were two more and no one could distinguish these two Sullivan children from the actual children of the family.

  Their entire family had been obliterated in the time it took to deliver a meal to a failing old lady. Stuart grimly told Kathleen not to feel guilty about surviving; they were meant to be spared. He said it was so they could see the English bastards paid for this atrocity.

  Later the papers had a lot to say about the incident. They said one of the grenades lobbed into the building had ignited explosives stored in the basement causing the blast. Some said the English soldiers killed in the blast deserved it for meddling in local affairs. Others said it was fortunate all those Sullivans had been wiped out as they were extremists and terrorists as evidenced by the explosives they had accumulated.

  Kathleen just mourned the loss of her other self, her twin who was like her reflection in the mirror, the softer more gentle side of her. She grieved for the loss of Granny, who always thought about others less fortunate, such as Mrs. McGuire, who needed a hot meal. And baby Michael, who wasn’t a terrorist. He really didn’t know how to do anything but gurgle and coo. And she hated the English with a burning passion, because they had wiped all trace of her loved ones from the earth.

  * * *

  They were later than they meant to be when they finally entered Mama Mia’s. The noise was deafening, with the rock band and the conversations vying to be heard over each other. And it was confusing, the man at the door indicated there were several bars to choose from, but in the end motioned them to go through to the back where they also served food.

  Claire craned her neck to see over Jack’s shoulder as he led them through the tables to the area that seemed to be designated the dining room. It was dim, lit by shaded lights and candles. The tables were crowded together leaving very little space to get through.

  Jack tugged at her hand. “There,” he said.

  She saw Teddy, standing, waving to them.

  When they reached him, Teddy shook Jack’s hand and gave Claire a hug shouting in her ear, “So glad you made it. I was afraid you were lost.”

  He put his hand on a man’s shoulder and when he jumped to his feet turning around, he introduced him. “Jeff, here are Vern and Mike’s friends, Claire and Jack.”

  Jeff was a very large black man with a friendly face and a sweet smile half hidden by his unruly beard. He nodded at them and used his hand to suggest they sit down.

  Teddy grabbed a couple of chairs from the table behind them and shoved them up to the crowded table. Then blessedly the music stopped, and the musicians showed every indication of taking a break.

  “Hey, Graves move over a bit so I can fit these chairs in.”

  The man obligingly scooted his chair over before standing up and turning to be introduced. He was slender, of medium height, totally hairless, with a small gold hoop in his right ear. And while his slightly sardonic smile didn’t falter, Claire noticed how his eyes widened slightly as he looked at them. Suddenly beads of sweat appeared on that bald head.

  He coughed, “Sorry.” He pulled a snowy hanky from his pocket and blotted his forehead. “Hot peppers,” he muttered sheepishly, “I love them and can’t help piling them on, but sometimes they get to me, you know?” He grabbed his drink and took a swallow before turning back to them. “Now, I didn’t get your names. I’m Graves.”

  Claire took his hand. “I’m Claire and this is Jack. We’re visiting from San Francisco.”

  “Lovely town, I love visiting it. One of the most beautiful cities in the world, I’d say.”

  Jack nodded cordially, shaking Graves’ hand.

  Teddy took advantage of the momentary silence to introduce them to everyone around the table, explaining they were staying in the Pruitts’ house. After nodding and smiling in response to the greetings from around the table they all sat down.

  “Hope pizza is all right with you, they have other dishes on the menu, but this was the choice for the night.” Teddy sat forward to talk around Jeff.

  Jack had already helped himself to a piece, so Claire just nodded. She liked pizza. Glasses appeared; beer was poured, even as the waiter arrived with another pizza and two more pitchers.

  Jeff Avery, sitting next to Claire, entertained her with amusing descriptions of the others at the table when there were lulls in the conversation.

  “That’s Bill and his partner Barry on the other side of Teddy. He’s from Silicon Valley, one of the lucky ones who cashed in his stock options. He makes no bones about living well off his spoils. Barry is a hair stylist and still works at it. He sees clients in a little shop he’s set up in their house. They’ve been here for a couple of years now and have really settled in.” He muttered for Claire’s ears only.

  “Next to Barry is Monica. She taught art in a junior college in Minnesota for years but said she had enough snow and ice. She moved here about a year ago. I’m not sure if she’s retired, I think she looks too young for that. But you can live well down here cheaply, so maybe she came into some money and doesn’t need to work. But she’s full of energy. You wouldn’t believe a
ll the things she’s involved in here. And of course she paints. I have one of her pieces in my dining room. When you come to our party I’ll point it out to you.”

  Jeff’s attention was diverted by the story Barry was telling about one of his clients and a tourist in the Jardin. After the laughter died away and the conversations began again amongst the people around the table, Jeff continued as if his narrative hadn’t been interrupted. “The man next to Monica is Xavier. He never says much about his past, but he listens well. And obviously, he pleases Monica as they live together.

  “Next to her are the Mondot sisters, Lucille and Margery. They are very French, even though they lived in Chicago for many years. They are musicians; I believe of some stature, but now retired. Lucille plays the piano and Margery the cello, and I know they are very good musicians because on occasion they play for us. They are very involved in the Music Festival held here every summer.”

  “And the attractive lady next to them?” Claire prompted, eyeing the woman across the table who was engaged in a conversation with the man sitting next to the bald-headed man.

  “Isobelle? Ah, our Isobelle. She designs and makes that stunning jewelry she’s wearing. She has a shop near the Bellas Artes. She’s very successful. She’s talking to Steve Carter. He’s retired military, as anyone can tell by his posture. I don’t know where Steve’s wife is tonight, but they are both very involved in local projects. So tonight she must be busy with one of hers. She’ll be at our party Thursday and you’ll meet her then. She’s very efficient and organized. It must be all those years of living on military bases all over the world.”

  “And the bald man? Who is he? For a moment there I thought I knew him from somewhere, but I guess I don’t, as I’m sure I’d remember him.” Claire saw Jack was now totally engrossed in a conversation with him and Steve Carter.

  “Ah, Graves has been coming here periodically for many years. However, last year he said he was ready to settle down and he’s been here ever since. I think he’s starting up some kind of business here. He’s an important part of the local scene, very well liked.”

  Jeff described his own work in ceramic sculptures. He sold most through one of the local galleries. “I am limited in the commissions I accept, because shipping from here is very expensive and very iffy. You never know what shape the piece will be in at its destination. But fortunately the galleries sell enough to keep me solvent. And of course, Teddy tells me not to worry about money. That’s well and good for him, he has no money worries being the only son of a very wealthy family, but I like to be financially independent. You know?”

  Claire nodded, understanding that sentiment completely. She had managed to finish the piece of pizza Jeff had put on her plate and agreed to another from the fresh one just delivered. Meanwhile, she noticed that no one let the glasses of beer get low. There seemed to be an endless stream of pitchers of beer coming from the bar to their table. It was a congenial group with lots of laughter and sharing of stories. She mostly listened, responding to questions a couple of times. Later when yet another couple joined them, Cindy and Bart, everyone shifted, more chairs were found and somehow squeezed into place.

  Teddy reached around Jeff to hand Claire a heavy cream envelope.

  “Your invitation, my dear. It has all the information. Any taxi driver can find us. Come early so we can show you our house.”

  Claire dropped the envelope in her bag, which she had placed between her feet on the floor.

  “Teddy gets very enthused about these things, but I hope you and Jack will join us. I think you’ll have a good time and I would like to show you some of my work. I have a studio built on the back of the property.” Jeff was very gracious.

  “We’ll try, but Jack is still recovering from a terrible accident. I don’t know how he’ll be feeling. We take one day at a time.”

  “Of course, I understand, and sometimes these parties do get a little wild. But please try; it would please Teddy so much.”

  Just then a new band broke into what Claire thought of as raucous rock, and several of the people at the table got up to join others on the tiny dance floor. Conversation was no longer possible and they contented themselves watching the more active people gyrate to the beat. After a while, Jack nudged her and she nodded, smiled and waved to the others around the table, mouthed a thank you to Teddy and Jeff, then followed Jack out in to the relative quiet of the night.

  They squeezed through the people clustered in front of Mama Mia’s enjoying the music which drifted out into the street, perhaps debating whether or not to go in. As if of one mind, they headed down the dark street toward the Jardin. It was late, but when they adjusted for the two hour difference to California time it seemed early. Still they were surprised by the numbers of people still in the Jardin. The Church facing it was elaborately lit to highlight its ornate façade. There were still stands selling snacks and drinks parked at the edge of the park in front of the church, and some determined flower vendors were still sitting in stone arches of the arcade along either side. There was even a toy vendor carrying a large bouquet of balloons and inflated plastic toys to tempt the few children still up.

  “Jack, I didn’t pay anything toward the bill. Did you?” Claire suddenly remembered.

  He nodded. “I slipped Jeff a few bills and told him to put it towards our share. I don’t know who was picking up the tab, but I thought we should contribute.”

  She was relieved, grateful that Jack thought of it when she didn’t until just now. They sat on one of the benches in a strategic spot to watch people, while Claire shared Jeff’s descriptions of their tablemates. “I don’t know anything about Cindy and Bart; they’re the ones who arrived late. Do you?”

  Jack shook his head. “No, it was an interesting mix of people though.”

  “You know I keep feeling I know Graves from somewhere, but he’s rather unusual looking so I’m sure I’d remember him if I knew him.”

  “Interesting fellow. He and Steve and I were talking about the problems of exporting. I guess moving goods across the border can be a little tricky these days, just more complications from Nine-eleven. I thought he looks a lot like Yul Brynner. Remember The King and I?”

  “Of course he does. Maybe that’s why I keep thinking he’s someone I know. It’s probably the shape of his head, and that grin of his.” She felt better now; she could stop racking her brain to remember if she knew him.

  CHAPTER 3

  “Kathleen met with Hillerman, and she left him with a sample. I swear that girl is fearless. And I admit she’s a lot smarter than me. She suspected Manny might try to follow her and had us wait and follow her back. Sure enough, three guys in a big Lincoln were right behind her. I admit I thought she was being precipitous when she told us to take them out, but now, after thinking about it, I’m convinced she was just being bold.

  “She’ll tell you all about it when she gets there. She and Carlos left with the truck a while ago.”

  “She’s my girl.” The pride in his voice was unmistakable, as it came through the phone. “I told you she was ready to take charge.”

  Then the tone of his voice changed as he confided, “George, I’ve just had a rather nasty jolt. I was having dinner with some people here and you’ll never guess who joined us?” His pause was minuscule; he rushed to tell, “Claire Gulliver. Remember her?”

  “Christ! You’re kidding. What did you say? Did she recognize you?”

  “No, of course not! She has no clue as to who I was. But I nearly lost it when I recognized her. And then if that wasn’t bad enough, that guy, Jack, our erstwhile tour director was with her. Didn’t you tell me he was CIA?”

  “Yes, that’s what that guy, Neil, told me. Shit! They can only mean trouble for us. What are they doing there? Why are they together?”

  “Those are all the questions I’ve been thinking about. It could be coincidence, but I’m not a big believer in coincidences. Do you think there’s been a leak?”

  “Impossible. No on
e knows, but us and Kathleen. None of us would have leaked it. No, there is no way the word is out!”

  “What about that guy Kathleen met with, Manny? Could he be on to us?”

  “I don’t think so. He’s probably still reeling from losing his guys so suddenly to be thinking about how Kathleen is going to be able to supply him.” He continued, “I imagine he’s reassessing Kathleen’s proposal just about now. And probably looking for some more soldiers,” he added grimly.

  “So what are you going to do about Claire and her friend? She just keeps turning up at the wrong time. Do you think we should put things on hold for a while?”

  “Hell, no! We need the money and we’re too close to getting that pipeline flowing.” Determination rang in his voice, “We’ve got to get money coming in; we’ve got to be able to fund some action. I can’t believe how cozy and friendly everyone’s acting about this peace treaty. We’ve got to stop it or the English will have won.” Then as if realizing he was getting off track, he said thoughtfully, “No, I think it’s better if I just keep an eye on them for now. If necessary, I’ll take care of them. If their being here is a coincidence they’ll be leaving here in a few days, no wiser. If it isn’t, they’ll be shipped home in a box.”

  “Well, you’re the boss. Meanwhile, expect Kathleen to arrive with Carlos and the truck sometime tomorrow. She can help you keep an eye on those two.”

  * * *

  “For sure, we need to buy some groceries. I need coffee to start my day.”

  Jack sounded a little grumpy. In the short time they had been together Claire had already learned it took at least two cups of coffee to get him going in the morning. And while Teddy had assured them they wouldn’t even notice the bells after a while, they found it hard to believe when the clamor started at seven-thirty this morning, driving them out of their cozy bed before they were really ready to move.