Her idea of morning coffee was my idea of a serious brunch. Jan was right, I thought, as I shoved down a dollop of pâté, I had to cut back. One of these days.
I’d worried that Monique had invited Jean Luc to join us, but it was just us two. Well, just us two, and a cadre of servants who kept coffee, water, and champagne flowing while cooking crêpes and omelets at the table. I held it down to two glasses of bubbles, as my energy level was running on empty with my continuing loss of sleep. Any more bubbly and I’d probably do a face plant into one of her lustrous, white-on-white, tastefully-decorated plates.
I leaned over and gave the gleaming china a close up look.
“It’s the family crest that came with my husband’s bought title. We have the original china set, in color,”
Embarrassed I’d been caught in mid-ogle, I said, “Sorry. I’m being rude.”
“Nothing of the sort. He would be so pleased you noticed. He wanted to paint every dish in the hotel with the crest, and in full color. I balked, and we agreed on this more demure white on white, under-the-glaze pattern. Much less ostentatious, don’t you think?”
Even though I concurred with her choice, I was in no way going to agree with her that her husband had no taste. I dodged the question by complimenting the design while spooning caviar from it onto a toast triangle.
In French fashion, we chatted about everything except the elephant in the room: my request for information on my so-called friend. As the plates were being cleared, my phone vibrated and I sneaked a peek. It was from Jan. “Monique, would you mind if I read this? It might be important.”
“Please do. I’ll go powder my nose.”
Monique left a trail of exotic parfum in her wake, and I read the text. Rhonda scored. Chaperone’s name is Sascha. She’s his third cousin.
When Monique returned, she said, “I’ve made inquiries, and I think your friend might, indeed, be staying here. The young lady she is with, however, has not been seen in several days, and your acquaintance never leaves the suite. I am, however, still not at liberty to tell you anything more. I wish I could, but you must understand our need for maximum discretion.”
“Yes, I certainly do. I appreciate your helpfulness, but the truth is, I have been in touch with her. I just wanted to have coffee with you this morning, and I’m delighted I did. Merci.”
Did that sound sincere enough? I sort of meant all of it anyway, except the ‘in touch’ part.
She looked surprised and gave me a sly smile. “So, you weren’t just kowtowing to an old lady in order to pump me for information?”
I laughed. “Guilty as charged, but not only are you not that old, I hope I’ve made a new friend. I would love to return your hospitality before we leave France. Also, if I ever need to discreetly disappear I now know exactly where to stay while in Cannes.”
It was her turn to chuckle. As we talked a little more, an idea formed in my meddling mind, and I invited her to the yacht for cocktails the next evening. She declined, saying she suffered from mal de mer, even at the dock, but not one to be stymied by a polite non, I said I’d call very soon with another location. Then, as I prepared to leave, and much to my surprise, she instructed her butler to escort me to the Swan Suite.
Oh, boy, was I on a roll, or what?
When I recounted the morning to Jan, she asked, “So, then you met Sascha?”
“Nope. She’d cleared out. Gone.”
“As in flew the coop?”
“Yep. Even Monique’s stone-faced butler was taken by surprise. Either that, or he suddenly had to hold back a fart.”
“Well, crap. I wonder why now? The chaperone sits tight for over a week, then bolts? My guess is it had something to do with that ransom demand.”
“Grandpa might have called her and told her to split before someone grabs her as well and doubles the ransom.”
“Anything new on Nacho’s computer?”
“Nope, nor has he received any phone calls.”
“How do you know? We don’t have him bugged, only his cabin.”
“Agent Thang is keeping him company.”
“Aha! And Rhonda? Where is she?”
“Where else? Puppy dogging after Roberto. At least we know she’s on our team, but she shore has the hots for the chef.”
“I think Rhonda just has the hots, period. I have this sudden and urgent need for a snack.”
“After that breakfast? Never mind, you always have a sudden and urgent need for a snack.”
I could have protested, but she was unfortunately right. I should stay out of the galley if I ever wanted to lose that extra ten—Jan says twenty—pounds I carry around, but snooping is hunger-making work, so I led the way.
Rhonda and Roberto were not alone, and Rhonda did not look happy about it.
“Hetta! Jan! I want you to meet my cousin, Sascha. She’s Juanita’s traveling companion, and now that we know we will have our young cousin back soon, she has joined us here on the yacht until we all return to Mexico.”
I couldn’t help staring. All the dueñas I’d seen in Mexico were dumpy little old gray-haired ladies dressed in black. Sascha was definitely none of those things.
Chapter Twenty
Dueña Sascha was neither old, nor gray, nor dumpy.
She was dressed in black, but the tight skirt and cashmere cardigan set did little to conceal her curves, and her heavy rimmed glasses barely disguised huge doe eyes, which were slightly puffy and red-rimmed. High cheek bones and blonde hair denoted her Russian DNA. She held a linen hankie to her nose and sniffled on occasion.
“I am so happy to finally meet you, Hetta,” Sascha said. She had that slight lilt to her voice, which I recognized from our hacked recording of her phone message to her cousin. “Roberto speaks very highly of you. And your friends.”
Her handshake was firm, but finishing-school ladylike. Jeez, if she was an old maid, what the hell did that make me?
Not sure what to say, I blurted, “Uh, thanks. Glad to finally meet you, as well.” And, never one not to use an occasion to shake things up, I added. “I stopped by your suite this morning, but you had already left.”
Both Roberto and Sascha looked startled, but said nothing.
“Any word on the drop?” I asked Roberto. “Is the money here yet?”
“On its way, on my grandfather’s plane. By the way, he says you are welcome to join us on the return flight to Mexico.”
“Air France already has us covered, but we’ll see. When is the plane due here?”
“They land at Nice Cote d’Azure within the hour.”
It was a short twenty-kilometer run from Cannes to the international airport. I wondered how they were going to get three million bucks past French Customs, but for a man like El Jefe, with years of experience dealing with the ingrained corruption of Mexican officialdom, it should be a piece of cake.
“Will there be a doctor onboard to see Juanita?” Rhonda asked.
Sascha’s eyes widened and her lips trembled. “Doctor? Why would Juanita need a doctor?”
Rhonda was appalled by her blunder, especially since Roberto threw an unkind look in her direction. He took his cousin’s hand. “It is nothing.”
Nothing a good plastic surgeon can’t fix.
Remembering the image of that bloody earring, the brown crust so vivid against white porcelain, along with the shot of Juanita’s ruined earlobe, gave my tummy a jerk. “Uh, I think what Rhonda meant is that Juanita has been held captive for several days now, so it is a good idea to examine her. Right, Rhonda?”
“Yes, that’s it! You know, they always give hostage victims a physical when they are found, in case they are traumatized or something.”
Jeez, keep digging that hole for yourself, Rhonda. See if you can traumatize everyone.
“Who wants a drink?” I offered. “I think we can all use one. This waiting is downright nerve-racking. Rhonda, could you track down Nacho and Po Thang and see if my mutt needs a quick walk?” I added, giving her a chance t
o skedaddle before she put the other designer shoe in her mouth.
“Sure thing.” Rhonda took off like the hounds of hell were on her heels.
Roberto looked relieved. “Thanks, Hetta.”
I wasn’t sure whether he was thanking me for getting rid of Rhonda and her mouth, or for the glass of wine I handed him. Just as I took a sip of my own drink, Cholo joined us.
I introduced Sascha to him, and he said, “I see Hetta found you.”
Jan and I exchanged a surprised glance. Cholo knew I was looking for Sascha?
When in doubt, punt. “Uh, no, not exactly. I was looking for Juanita’s chaperone here in Cannes, but Sascha actually was here on the boat when I returned.”
Cholo, who, unlike Rhonda can take a hint, said, “Great. Anyway, welcome aboard.” He turned to Roberto. “Any word on the next step?”
Roberto explained about the money and the plane. He also repeated the offer of a ride home to Mexico. Cholo accepted.
Jan excused herself, saying, “Whatever ride we all choose, looks like we might as well go pack. This thing is going to come down fast and I have had it with Nacho and Cannes. Did Rhonda tell you what we found out this morning?”
“No. What?” Rhonda hadn’t returned from the dog walk, and I had a feeling she was going to make herself scarce to avoid embarrassing herself again.
“Not that it matters anymore, but we did find out which boat hosted a party on the night Juanita disappeared. It’s still here. On the dock.”
“Really? Which one?” I asked.
“At the end. I walked down there and had a chat with some of the crew. The boat is a beauty, registered in the Caymans, and guess what? All the guests that night were gay guys. No women. So, no Juanita. But, by the way, our local gossip guys say the owner is a Russian.”
“Russians, Russians, Russians. I’m tired of Russians,” I joked.
Roberto laughed. “Hey, those are our people.”
“Yes, we know,” I said. “Your great-grandfather was a Molokan, right?”
“How do you know this?”
“Google, how else.”
“Google, Google, Google. I’m tired of Google.”
Nacho walked in while we were sharing a much-needed group laugh. “Is this something I should know about?” he asked, then he spotted our newcomer. “Ah, Sascha, how nice to see you again, and welcome aboard. You must be so relieved that this entire nightmare is soon coming to an end.”
Sascha’s eyes teared up again and she dabbed them with that ever-present hankie. I was beginning to wonder if she suffered from allergies. Bad Hetta.
Po Thang loped in, sans Rhonda.
“Oh, what a beautiful dog,” Sascha cooed. She dropped to her knees and my dog buried his snout in her abundant cashmere-clad cleavage. Nacho looked a bit envious.
“Were you looking for anyone in particular, Nacho?” I asked, a little curtly. I was pissed he was so chummy with la dueña and had never even told us she existed. What else hadn’t he shared?
“As a matter of fact, I was looking for you, Café.”
“Little old me? What could you possibly want to lie to me about now?”
Po Thang, picking up on my strident tone, wiggled away from Sascha’s embrace, leaned against me and whined. He does not like his humans being cross with each other.
Nacho harrumphed and shook his head. “I never lie to you.”
“Technically, I guess not. You simply leave out small bits of important information. Like Sascha here. And El Jefe’s real name. But never mind, I found out all that with not one iota of assistance from your secretive ass.”
“Of course you did. But at least you were kept occupied and out of my way for a short time. If you are annoyed, I apologize, but I have come to you for your help.”
“Then you shall be sorely disappointed.”
“I think not.”
“Well, I think—” My curiosity trumped my desire to bicker. “What kind of help?”
“We should speak privately.”
“Oh, goody. This sounds like my bank account is about to get a boost.”
The wind, which had piped up almost every afternoon, died out, and it was bordering on hot. I’d grabbed Jan’s oversized straw hat and Po Thang’s leash before the three of us strolled along La Croisette under ideal conditions. It is days like this that draw French tourists to the area, away from the frigid temps in Paris.
“Have you spoken with Jenks today?” Nacho asked.
“No. You?”
“As a matter of fact, just did.”
Perfect! Later, when we returned to the yacht, I’d be able to listen to Nacho’s end of that conversation. I dearly love bugs.
“And how is Jenks on this fine day?”
“Unhappy.”
“Oh? With me? Or you?”
“Me. When we started this mission, I promised him I would not involve you in anything dangerous, but now….”
“Now what?”
He stopped and looked me in the eye. “Now the kidnappers wish you to deliver the ransom money in exchange for the girl.”
Jan paced and threw questions at me faster than I could answer them after I returned to my cabin and told her what Nacho said. “There was nothing on Nacho’s computer about this! And they want you to what? And why you? When? Where?”
“Deliver the money. I don’t know why me. Soon. I don’t know where. Anyhow, I guess it’s a done deal.”
“No. You can’t do this. I forbid it. Can you imagine what Jenks’ll say?”
“I think he knows. I’ll call him. By the way, Nacho said he talked to Jenks, so it must have been after Rhonda took Po Thang for that walk, dammit. Maybe he called while Nacho was in his cabin. I’d like to hear what was said. Is our bug still working?”
“I hope so. I haven’t checked in a while. Maybe Jenks was the one who told him about this outrageous demand for you to deliver the money.”
“Let’s see what we have.”
She went for her laptop, hit some keys and said, “Musta been a phone call. Nothing on his email account. Standby, I’ll see if I can find something from the audio.”
It took a few minutes, but she handed me the earbuds. Once they were in place, Jan hit a key and I heard Nacho discussing the situation with Jenks. Nacho was right; from what I could hear on his end, Jenks was a very unhappy camper, but they both agreed, that if I was willing to do the exchange, they couldn’t risk endangering a young girl’s life by refusing I be the delivery girl.
Well, this was one mell of a hess, as my dad would say. On the one hand, I was relieved I wouldn’t have to lie to Jenks about what I was going to do, but on another level, I was kind of hoping he’d flat refuse to let Nacho throw me into the lion’s den. Cowardice runs right smart in these veins and I had begun obsessing over what could go wrong.
Or how I could simply abscond with the three mil and move to Argentina.
Chapter Twenty-one
The entire crew gathered in the sky lounge for cocktails at five, where Roberto had laid out a cold buffet for dinner after our meeting.
Emotions were a mixed bag. I was caroming between elated and terrified. Jan was furious with me for agreeing to do the deed, and sat across the room shooting eye-daggers at Nacho like it was his fault the kidnappers asked for me to be their transfer agent.
I’m sure the atmosphere was somewhat like a locker room before the Super Bowl: elation mixed with abject fear of failure.
Conversation was muted, no one wanting to speculate on how the game would turn out, but everyone faked optimism. Except Jan. She had a serious pout going. Po Thang, sensing her unhappiness, sat with his head in her lap.
At a little before six, Nacho turned on the large television. The blue screen filled the room with an eerie glow to match the outdoor light, as the sun had dropped over the horizon and a wintery twilight still lingered.
“As I told you earlier, we will be hearing from El Jefe via a satellite feed soon.”
“You mean we’ll be he
aring from the tomato baron,” Jan spat.
Nacho’s shoulders fell. “Yes. The time has come to be honest with each other.”
“Well, there’s a change.”
“Jan, please. You are not helping.”
“And neither did you. If you hadn’t been such a secretive jerk, we could have found that girl before you had to send one of us into danger.”
“We don’t know that,” I told my best friend. “It is what it is. Even Jenks had to admit we have no choice but to meet their demands.”
That quieted Jan down, but she chugged her drink and went for another just as the screen came alive.
An elderly but still very handsome man, his face a mask of anxiety, was sitting behind a large desk, family photos galore lined up on shelves behind him. I recognized Juan Tomato, as we called him, from our internet searches.
“Are you there?” he asked.
“Yes, Grandfather, we are all here,” Roberto answered. Evidently this was not a Facetime call, for we could see him, but he not us.
“Ah. Good, good. As you know, my plane has landed in France and the money is now available.”
I noticed he didn’t say exactly where the airplane and moola were. Hmmm, maybe he didn’t trust someone in the room, or was afraid the kidnappers might somehow hack his call. Maybe even from inside Mexico?
“So now we wait?” I asked, wondering if I could pull off that Argentina run while there was a lull in the play.
“That must be Hetta Coffey talking.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I have heard wonderful things about you.”
Okay, so maybe I wouldn’t abscond with the money. Yet. “Uh, thanks. I’m ready to go when they are. We’ll get Juanita back.”
“They are ready. We have received our final instructions, which Nacho will have at the close of this conversation. In a little over twenty-four hours, I pray my darling Juanita will be on her way home. I do wish to…” he choked up, “…I wish to extend my gratitude, and vaya con Dios.”
Just Follow the Money Page 13