When she came to the blue-trimmed white building, she strolled across the pool area and into the lobby. She knew exactly where she was heading. Rob Williams had rented unit 410B. The elevator carried her to the third floor, where she found the maintenance closet.
Maids wore a sack-like dress in the same blue as the building’s trim, belted in white. She found one of the uniforms hanging on a nail behind the closet door, closed the door behind her, and slipped the uniform on over her clothes. A bottle of spray cleaner and a white rag completed the outfit.
When she emerged, she took the stairs to the fourth floor and let herself into 410B with the passkey she’d snagged off a maid’s cart she passed in the hall. A furtive look through the rooms let her know Williams hadn’t checked in yet. She opened the sliding door to his terrace and looked toward the Ladies’ lodging, where Mary stood on the balcony, binoculars to her eyes.
The prearranged signal was that Amber would carry some brightly colored object out to the terrace. When she spotted it, Mary would send a text to Amber’s phone, which would give a little buzz down inside her pocket. If Rob was present, he’d never realize a thing.
Amber looked around the condo. The bath towels were red—perfect. She carried one out and flapped it up and down, as if she was shaking it free of lint or something. Down in her pocket, her phone buzzed. She smiled.
For good measure, since she couldn’t very well leave a bath towel outside, she found a brilliant red, yellow, and blue talavera flowerpot near the sliding door. A sprig of lush magenta bougainvillea grew out of it. She took the pot from the floor and set it on an outdoor table. Rob was unlikely to rearrange the patio furniture and plants, so they would have a more or less permanent way to locate his place. Her phone buzzed again. Fleetingly, she wondered what text messages in a foreign country were costing, then decided not to worry about it.
All at once, she heard the doorknob rattle. Quick as a fox, she picked up the bath towel, stepped inside, and closed the slider behind her.
Don’t stress—you belong here, she reminded herself. She strolled casually to the bathroom where she rehung the towel.
The door opened and she heard a masculine grunt as his suitcase hit the tile floor. She ran her cleaning rag over the surface of the bedroom dresser and emerged into the living room. His appearance had changed somewhat—the goatee had become a full beard, the conservative haircut had grown out a couple of inches and had a bit of curl to it.
“Buenos dias, Señor.” She picked up her spray bottle and ducked her head slightly as she passed him on the way out the door.
“Buenos dias, miss,” she heard behind her.
The door closed and she fast-walked to the stairs. Down to the third floor. No one in sight. She slipped back into the maintenance closet and replaced all the borrowed items, removed the pins and band from her hair and shook her curls free.
Strolling through the lobby, the dark-skinned girl with wild hair looked like any other guest as she went out back toward the pool and beach. A casual glance upward showed Rob Williams standing on his balcony, hands on hips, gazing toward the sea.
“He’s here,” Amber announced as she walked back into the condo.
Mary stepped in from the balcony. “I spotted him. Just to be sure, I counted—four floors up, sixth window from the left. Even if he moves the flowerpot—which was a great touch, by the way—we can watch.”
“Too bad we don’t have a way to watch the parking lot. What if he leaves? How will we know where he’s going?”
The five of them exchanged a look. “I suppose we shall deal with that as it happens. Wing it, would you say?” Pen said.
Chapter 58
The sun felt warm on his bare stomach and he shifted slightly on his lounge chair to get a better look at the group of women who were obviously on a ‘girl’s weekend out.’ They wore too much makeup and too-skimpy bikinis for their ages, in his opinion. All were over forty and their bodies showed the signs of childbearing and an American diet focused on crispy fried foods and diet soft drinks. No sign any of them had run a mile or lifted a barbell in at least twenty years. He liked that age—it marked a woman of experience and savvy—he just liked them better if they looked like Jennifer Anniston.
For some reason, his mind switched to Abby. She looked nothing like Jennifer but she was a hell of a lot prettier than most of the pickings around here. Maybe he should have taken her hints about commitment more seriously.
On the other hand, it was still his first day in Mexico and the weekend hadn’t fully arrived yet. He could take his time. When he found the right one, or ones, his movie-producer line would fit right in.
“Sir, you want something to drink?” A slender young man in the uniform of the condo complex stood beside him, holding a brown tray. His hair was thick and glossy, his shoulders and arms showed evidence of regular workouts. “We have margarita … piña colada … mojito … cerveza …”
“Which is the best?” Normally he would have ordered a beer or a whiskey, but why not go a little local for a change?
“People love the margaritas. And it is our especial today. Two for the price of one.”
“Okay, bring me that.”
“Dos?” The waiter held up two fingers in a V.
“Sure—dos.”
See? He was getting the hang of the language. When he looked up, the group of women had picked up their towels and headed toward the beach, twenty yards away. They looked better at a distance so he watched as they dabbled their toes in the water and bent to pick up shells.
The waiter was back with his drinks within five minutes. They seemed a little on the skimpy side in small glasses. Where were those huge ones you always saw in pictures advertising the goodtime life in Mexico?
“Our bartender he make them very strong. You get you money worth.”
“Great.” He fished some cash from the pocket of his trunks. “Say, what is there to do around here?”
The guy waved an arm toward the beach.
“Well, yeah, but like for shopping or restaurants or just to watch the people. Where do the locals go?”
“Everyone go to the malecon. Is many shops there, very good prices. On Sundays, everybody there, everybody. The fish market, the vendors with the candy and churros. Go to my brother’s shop and tell him Jose send you. You get more discount.” He tore a corner off his order pad and wrote on it. Chuey’s Souvenirs. “You will see his name above his shop, and he have the best glass … what do you say … glassware?”
Rob nodded. He couldn’t figure out why he would be interested in glassware, but the tip about the malecon sounded okay. He could settle in at the condo for a day or so and then give it a try.
“Do the pretty girls hang out there?” he asked as he handed Jose a little extra tip.
“Oh, the girls—for the prettiest girls you want Guau-Guau. They dance with the pole, they have the little outfits—” He stopped suddenly. “So sorry, maybe that is not what you mean. Maybe the girls at church are more you like.”
Rob smiled and assured him it was okay. Jose thanked him for the most generous tip and backed away to check on one of his tables. Rob snickered as he picked up his drink. A tittie bar called Wow-Wow. Okay.
He sipped his first drink, pleased to see that Jose had not been mistaken about the amount of tequila in it. He drank some more. It was already midafternoon, and the air was cooling. If he downed two margaritas he’d better be thinking about what he would do for dinner. He’d driven around town a bit before coming to the condo and was pretty sure he could find his way to this malecon area, but that might wait until Sunday when it sounded like there was more action.
It seemed like a nice little town, kind of on the quiet side, but that might be all right too. He remembered the graphic picture on the newspaper’s front page—murder and violence related to the drug trade. But wasn’t that everywhere these days? There were certainly parts of L.A. he’d never dared drive through, especially at night.
Again, his mem
ory flashed back to the big vehicle that had nearly run him off the road last night. Yeah, if he had any ideas about settling in this country, he’d better learn more about it, about which areas were safe and which were not. Maybe the guy at the breakfast place was right—most of the people minded their own business and wanted a peaceful life. Maybe the violence truly did take place among the narcos.
His first glass was empty and he picked up the second, after slipping his sweatshirt on. The air had definitely become chillier, and the sun was low in the sky, developing into a magnificent sunset. Yeah, not a bad little town at all.
It seemed like minutes later when someone jostled his chair and he realized the sun was gone and the vivid turquoise sky was fading quickly. He’d only closed his eyes for a moment to rest them. He didn’t even remember finishing the second margarita or setting the glass down, but he must have. His empties had been cleared away, and most of the pool crowd had vanished.
He sat up a little too quickly and had to take a few deep breaths to steady himself. It had been an intense night and a long day. Maybe he would just go to the room and get a good night’s sleep.
He barely remembered walking up to his condo.
Chapter 59
Pen and Amber entered their condo, pulling off the wigs they’d worn down to the beach—Pen’s a froth of blond curls and Amber’s a shaggy orange with pink tips. If Rob had noticed them at all, the vividness of Amber’s hair would likely be the only thing he remembered. But he had never turned around to see the two women in the lounge chairs directly behind his.
“Tomorrow or the next day he’ll be down by the port, cruising the malecon, I’d bet,” Amber told them as she unpinned her own voluminous hair and let it free. “His waiter made it seem like the place to be.”
Mary was out on the balcony. “I can see him in his living room … now the kitchen. He’s got lights on but didn’t bother to pull any curtains. He’s standing in front of the fridge. Oops, he must have forgotten to buy food—he slammed the door.”
“I wonder if he’s going out for dinner,” Gracie said with a yawn. “I don’t know that I’m much in the mood to chase after him again.”
“He’s digging into a bag of chips he had with the cooler he brought with him. And a beer. Settling on the couch with the TV remote in his hand.”
“Personally, I would bet the two margaritas he chugged down at the pool will have taken away his energy,” Pen said. “Did you see how quickly he went through those?”
Amber laughed. “Yeah, and how he was snoring in about five minutes.”
“As far as chasing after him, how much do you think we need to follow his every move?” Sandy asked. “I do still have the means of contacting him on the pretense of the new gala plans.”
“Sandy is right. Our goal is to make sure he doesn’t disappear into the jungles of South America somewhere,” Pen said. “But as long as he seems comfy and happy here, this is most likely where he’ll stay.”
“Mainly, while he’s distracted by women on the beaches and consuming strong drink, I’m going to be working on figuring out how to get our hands on the millions he took from his victims and how to get it back to them. Luckily, there’s a good wi-fi connection here, and I’ve already got my VPN in place.” Amber had parked herself at one end of the comfy sofa and was tapping away at her computer keys.
“Enjoy yourself,” Gracie said. “I’m heading for bed.” She went into the room she and Sandy would share and claimed one of the double beds as her own.
Sandy was busy with her phone. “I’m texting him as if I believe he’s still in L.A. Telling him about this great venue I’ve discovered and sending a few pictures. It’s supposedly a country club on the west side of the valley, but I grabbed the photos from an online stock artwork site.”
“He’s taking a look,” Mary said when she saw Rob reach to the end table and pick up his phone. “Seems interested. Oops—he tossed the phone down. Ah, nature call—he’s heading to another room.”
“Well, this is all very fascinating,” Pen said, “but I agree with Gracie. It’s been a long day. I’ll be fresher and ready for more adventure in the morning.” She’d drawn the straw for the single bedroom and bade the other ladies good night at the door.
By the next day, it became apparent Rob wasn’t on a fast track to another destination. He hung around the pool some more, walked a short stretch of the beach and back. It was warmer today with more people out in bathing suits, which seemed to be Rob’s central focus.
“What’s he up to?” Pen and Gracie mused, watching from above. “I expected he would be much more on the move, meeting someone or traveling through.”
Sunday morning he was seen gathering his wallet, sunglasses, and car keys. The Ladies did likewise, piling into Gracie’s van in time to follow him out of the parking lot. It couldn’t have been more than a couple of miles, but Rob took a meandering path toward the Old Port area, past the fish market, and finally parked in one of the cramped slots at the malecon. Gracie had no choice but to drive past and go another block—parking was at a premium.
“Keep an eye on him,” she told the others. “I won’t be able to get very close.”
“I know where he’s going,” Amber said. “We just passed it, Chuey’s Souvenirs.”
Gracie spotted a curbside spot on one of the small side streets and quickly whipped into it. Sandy tucked her hair up inside a large sunhat she’d brought and put on a pair of dark glasses. She was the most likely to be recognized.
“Don’t worry,” Amber said. “He’s convinced you’re in Phoenix.” She had pulled her own hair up to the top of her head with a stretchy band, making a fluffy whale spout, and wore huge round sunglasses with orange frames.
Pen, the only other of the group Rob had ever met, had put on baggy sweats, a dark wig, and red lipstick. The others laughed at how unlike herself she looked in the new guise. As long as Rob was fooled, that was the main thing.
They got out of the van, a motley group.
“Maybe we should split up,” Pen suggested. “A group is more memorable than one or two. Plus, we can maintain better coverage that way.”
Amber and Mary volunteered to move in close and find out what he was doing at Chuey’s Souvenirs. The fact he’d gone there right away, and the place had been recommended by the waiter at the pool, made them wonder if he’d asked for something specific and this was where he would find it. They edged along the crowded sidewalk where every shop’s stock had exploded outward, taking over the space with t-shirts, ball caps, beach bags, brightly colored toys and more. Mexican vanilla and garishly painted shot glasses abounded in nearly every shop, and the wares began to look very much alike after half a block.
When they spotted Rob, Amber had to laugh. The ‘glassware’ the waiter had mentioned turned out to be a huge selection of water-pipes, bongs and similar drug paraphernalia. He was chatting with the proprietor, a short man with his black hair combed back from his forehead and a ready smile of gleaming white teeth, but Rob didn’t seem to be buying.
The two women meandered past without catching either man’s attention. They weren’t so fortunate at the next shop down the line, where a dark guy with a crewcut and gold front tooth called out. “You want something? Some vanilla? Some new shirt? We got best prices—cheap—almost free.” His wheedling tone was cute and they laughed as they shook their heads.
The next shop owner took up the call, as did the next, and finally the women crossed the street where they had spotted Sandy and Pen.
“Your turn. These guys’ll wear you out with the patter. We’ll keep an eye on Rob from here.”
Rob wandered in and out of a half-dozen places, although the women never saw him buy anything. At one place he came out with a couple sheets of paper in his hands. He rolled them and stuck them in his hip pocket, crossed the street, and strolled among the small carts where vendors sold fried pork skins, foil wrapped burritos, tamales in their cornhusks sealed in plastic bags, and gumdrops and a variet
y of other candies by the scoop. He shook his head at all the offerings, even though the vendors called out just as pleadingly as those in the shops across the street.
The wide concrete promenade was nice, bordered by a railing along the shoreline where the gentle surf sent waves splashing against the black rocks below. Palm trees grew out of the sand at intervals where the walkway had been poured around them. Halfway down stood a huge monument of a shrimp fisherman with a tribute of some sort in Spanish. Flanking the statue were purposely rusted metal plaques, one for each of the American border states—California, Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas. Pen remembered when the governors of these states, from both sides of the border, had attended a ceremony of friendship and solidarity between the two countries.
As it got closer to noon, the crowds thickened. The Ladies pretended to browse while keeping an eye ahead. As long as Rob wasn’t walking toward his vehicle, they figured they had time. He eventually ended up at the end of the long promenade and aimed toward a restaurant with a sombrero-wearing frog emblem out front and frond-shaded tables in the sand facing the beach.
Rob walked inside and took a seat at the big, U-shaped bar.
“So, lunch?” Sandy suggested. They got one of the outdoor tables.
“How long do you suppose he’ll stay?” Gracie asked.
“Let’s see if I can find out.” Sandy typed a quick text: Did I catch you in the middle of lunch? What did you think of the venue pix I sent?
A reply came back in less than a minute. Liked them. Great place. Just having a sandwich at my desk.
“Well, aside from the part about the desk, it seems true,” Sandy said, noticing that the bartender had set some kind of basket in front of Rob.
They explained to the waitress who came outside that they were in a bit of a hurry. They settled on quesadillas, guacamole and chips, hoping to become mobile if Rob suddenly made a move.
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