Just Follow the Money

by Jinx Schwartz

  Since the attendees outnumbered my volunteer list by almost double, we had our work cut out for us when we returned to the boat.

  With not a peep out of Nacho, we did what we could, using the info we already had. Luckily Rhonda went off with Cholo somewhere for the afternoon, so we were uninterrupted. After about three hours, Jan stretched and said, “This is crap. We gotta think outside the box. Throw what we presume to know out.”

  “As in?”

  “I dunno. How about, there wasn’t any money in those bundles we gave the kidnappers? Ever think about that?”

  “Nope.”

  “So consider this. Since we never actually saw the cash, what if there wasn’t any in those bundles you lowered off Odyssey?”

  “Wow. Let’s say the kidnappers cut into one of those bundles and found newspaper or something. That would explain why they came after us once we got Juanita on board and made a run for Cannes. Jan, you are a freakin’ genius! The fact that they came after us after the exchange has been bugging me. Okay, so I did try to swamp them, but that’s because I was afraid they’d do us in once they had the cash. What if there was no cash in those bundles?”

  “Or never left Mexico?”

  “Nah, Nacho said the bills were marked by his people en route from Mexico to Cannes.”

  Jan snorted. “And Nacho, of course, is the poster boy of fine, upstanding citizens.”

  “That bastard! I’m calling Jenks, right now.”

  “Not so fast. We need to analyze this turn of events before we jump to conclusions. Wine!”

  We moved to the aft deck with a bottle of red, my charts, the volunteer list, and my sketched-out timeline. Everything but the wine was useless if our newly hatched suspicions about Nacho proved true.

  Playing the devil’s advocate, I said, “On the other hand, Nacho hired me and Jenks to investigate how some of the money showed up in Mexico. He ain’t no Eagle Scout, but he isn’t stupid, either. There’s no way he’d let that kind of evidence get loose here in La Paz.”

  “Hmmm. I guess you’re right, And, honestly, I don’t think Nacho would try to double cross Jenks. Us? Yes. Jenks? He’d have to be a complete imbecile to cross Jenks.”

  Jan was right about that. I had a feeling the man I loved would make a very dangerous enemy, and surely Nacho knew that. “So then, if Nacho didn’t take the loot, who did?”

  “Someone with ties to La Paz.”

  “And besides you, me, and Rhonda, only three others were in Cannes and now here: Cholo, Roberto, and Sascha. We don’t even know who Cholo really is, but, I don’t think he’s our guy.”

  “Well, then, that’s that. He can’t possibly be guilty, because Hetta Coffey, that megastar of sagaciousness, says so?”

  “Smarty pants. My money, or rather El Jefe’s money, is on Roberto and Sascha.”

  “Bad as I hate to admit it, I think you may be right. But how? Crime of opportunity? They went to meet Grandpa’s plane. The money was right there, on the plane, they had the time, and no one was looking?”

  “So, maybe the money never left the plane? All they had to do was stuff it in their suitcases and wait for the others to return with Juanita. That was taking quite a chance on their cousin’s life, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, I do. But…oh, hell, Hetta, I just remembered something. Something I didn’t think important at the time. When I followed Roberto, like you told me to the day we had everyone over for brunch, he didn’t go to work. He made a beeline for those condos,” she pointed to a tallish building, “over there. He let himself through the security gate with a key, so I couldn’t follow, but I watched him go up three floors and enter a unit with a key. I figured he’d just gone home on his way to work, but now we know where he lives.”

  “Good to know, in case we need to toss the joint. I say let’s head for El Molokan right now, and then if necessary, raid the thief’s lair when we’re sure he’s at work.”

  “Alleged thief.”

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Jan, Po Thang, and I set off for dinner and fact-snoopery at El Molokan. As I hoped, Roberto was busy in the kitchen and his parents were acting as hosts. We were ushered to the patio because of Po Thang, and found ourselves on our own because of a chill in the air.

  Roberto’s dad brought a propane heater outside, and his mother sat with us while we enjoyed the house special, watermelon Margaritas. Oddly enough, the Mexican drink was made with Midori, a Japanese sweet musk-melon liqueur, then mixed with real watermelon juice, lime and tequila.

  “¡Fabuloso!” I told our hostess. She beamed and told me it was her idea after making a trip to Tokyo.

  “Do you travel that often?” Jan asked.

  “Oh, we did at one time. But now? It is difficult to get away for more than a few days, and since our house is right there,” she pointed toward the hill above the restaurant, “we have no peace.”

  Pay dirt! “Oh, my. It really is a shame that Roberto isn’t going to stay in La Paz, now that he is leaving the military. Especially since he lives so near to your home now.”

  “We will miss him. However, we will keep his room ready, just in case he changes his mind.”

  Jan pounced. “He lives with you?”

  “Of course. He is a single man, where else would he live?”

  I suppressed a smile and didn’t dare look at Jan.

  We called Rhonda and arranged to have dessert and coffee with her at La Perla on the way home.

  Jan didn’t waste any time. “Rhonda, I’ve been thinking. I know you’re considering buying a yacht, but meanwhile, why don’t we look at condos down here? You have the money, and it may take a while before you get that boat.”

  “What a great idea. Where?”

  My turn. “Well, if I could afford it, I’d get one in a building near the marina. Great views, great location. Someone told me the ones right next door are fairly cheap and come fully furnished.”

  “How cheap?”

  “I think you could find one for around two-hundred grand.”

  “Really? How do I get in to see one?”

  Jan finished her coffee. “I’ll handle it. I’m sure someone’ll be available tomorrow.”

  “Super. God, I love my new life.”

  Our real estate agent turned out to be a woman I’d met while playing Mexican Train. We had coffee in the area in front of the condos and asked questions while looking at listings.

  “How about rentals? Can I rent it out when I’m not here?” Rhonda asked.

  “Yes, but only long-term. The residents don’t want weekend partiers.”

  I knew how to translate that: no Mexicans. It is no secret that in Mexico, no one wants to rent to Mexicans, because they bring in too many people and leave the place a wreck. During spring break and Semana Santa—Easter Week—many Mexicans close their restaurants, and marinas shut down their launch ramps.

  “How about security?” I asked.

  “Oh, it is very good. You have to have a key to gain entry into the area, and there is a night guard.”

  Jan sucked in her cheeks. We’d seen many of those guys snoozing away in the wee hours. “Are the condos alarmed?”

  “Not that I know of, but these days it’s easy enough to put in a system. Are you ready to have a look?”

  “Yes, but I think Rhonda would prefer to be on the end. It’s quieter there.” Jan gave a Vanna White arm wave at the bars and restaurants where we were sitting.

  “Then that’s where we’ll start.”

  “I cannot believe Rhonda bought a condo! All I wanted to do was check out the building and security system.”

  “Maybe she’s making a love nest, Hetta.”

  “Probably. I gotta admit, the condo has a great view and cool furniture. And on top of that, she can move right in. The owner said, since she wrote a check for the full amount, there was no reason not to.”

  Jan looked at my ship’s clock as it dinged. “You ready to roll?”

  “Yep, and we need to get going. Robert
o will be leaving El Molokan in an hour, and he just might make tracks for his secret bachelor digs.”

  “Shall we take the balaclavas?”

  “Nah, we just gotta look like gringas.”

  Getting into the building wasn’t what we expected. We brought our lock pick set, but as it turned out, someone left the gate unlocked and we were inside and up the stairs to the third floor in a flash. We’d already scoped out the unit Jan saw Roberto enter with a key. A credit card slipped the lock like a hot knife through butter.

  “We’re in,” Jan whispered.

  “Let’s make it fast. Look for anything incriminating.”

  “Okay. One. Two, Three.”

  We rushed inside to find all the lights on and a white-faced Sascha wielding a huge kitchen knife.

  “That incriminating enough for ya, Hetta?”

  The three of us were sitting in the living room when Roberto came home. He took one look at Sascha’s tearstained cheeks and stopped short.

  “Sascha? What’s wrong?”

  “They know, Roberto. They know we took some money from the plane.”

  He looked confused. “The plane?”

  Jan growled, “Yep, you’re busted.”

  He sank into a chair and put his head in his hands. Sascha rushed over and threw her arms around him. “Hetta saw us kissing at the Christmas fair. And then someone told them they saw me slipping money into the children’s Christmas packages, so they put it all together, since we were the only ones alone on the plane with the money.”

  Jan and I, when we made the accusation, had to tweak the story some to cover the fact that the bills were marked, but Sascha folded like a cheap lawn chair once she realized we had her dead to rights.

  He looked bewildered. “You told them we took money from Grandfather’s plane?”

  “Yes, mi corazón. Our fate is now in their hands.”

  “What will you do?” he asked me.

  “I should slap you. By shorting the kidnappers, you almost got me, Jan, and your cousin, Juanita, killed.”

  “We are sorry,” Sascha said. “We never considered the danger. When everyone left us alone on the plane with all that money, we just….”

  “Stole some. How much did you get?”

  Roberto was still scared speechless, so Sascha told us, “Only half of one bundle. That’s all we could take in such a short time.”

  “That’s a hundred-and-twenty-thousand dollars!” Jan said. “How did you get it home to Mexico?

  “Like I said, in our suitcases. We used our clothes to refill the bundle.”

  Roberto, whose eyes had been glued to Sascha, finally found his voice. “What now? Will you turn us over to the police?”

  Jan and I had this discussion when we figured out who we thought took the money. We exchanged a look and Jan nodded at me to take the question, but I had my own question. “What are you going to do with all that money?”

  “We agreed to anonymously give some of it to charity, and use the rest to open our own restaurant in Puerto Vallarta. Roberto and I cannot remain here together. Our families are what you call old school Catholics and they will scorn us. My mother will be devastated, and my grandfather….

  “…will disown you?”

  Surprisingly, both Sascha and Roberto broke out laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” Jan asked.

  “He already has. Our grandfather has made it clear he is leaving nothing to the family. Any of us. He is a self-made man and believes family money is the key to failure. Each of us have a copy of his will, just to make sure we all know this. So, he has already disowned us. I am worried he will shun my parents, and that will be very painful for them.”

  “So, you are in the shadows. How long have you, uh, been together?” Call me nosy, but I wanted to know. Had they pulled a fast one on both me and Jan? If so, they should be headed for Hollywood, not Puerto Vallarta.

  Roberto gazed adoringly at Sascha. “I, for one, have loved Sascha since we were teens. It was only a year ago that she let me know she felt the same way.”

  “Yes, that is true. I lived in Mexico City, and he here in the Baja, so we only saw each other at our yearly family reunions.”

  “January the fourteenth?” I blurted, drawing a frown from Jan.

  “How did you know that?” Sascha asked.

  Jan stepped in for the save. “I’m pretty sure Roberto’s mom mentioned it. Something about the Russian New Year, right Hetta?”

  Roberto looked at the ceiling. “God save us from my mother’s mouth.”

  “I find her openness charming,” I protested.

  “That kind of charm can get you killed in Mexico,” Sascha said. Then she realized how that sounded and added, “Sorry. In Mexico City one does not dare share information about family. It is too dangerous.”

  “You mean it could lead to something like kidnapping?” I asked.

  Jan sighed. “God save us from Hetta’s mouth.”

  After assuring the couple that we had no intention of turning them into the police, we left before I could step into it again.

  “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Jan asked as we walked back to the boat.

  “Moi?”

  “Yes, you. You want them to think we’re a couple of stumble bumbles, not seasoned snoops. You did an excellent job, by the way. And that thing about how you promised not to turn them over to the police? Brilliant.”

  “It was the truth.”

  “But, you are going to tell Nacho, right?”

  “I’m not so sure. What can he do? Tell Grandpa Juan? And then what? I kinda feel sorry for Roberto and Sascha. She can’t even leave the condo here for fear she’ll be seen, although she admitted she did sneak out and stuff twenties into the kid’s Christmas packages.”

  “I could tell by Roberto’s reaction he didn’t know about her little philanthropic field trips. Anyhow, with all the money they have left they can move to Puerto Vallarta and start a new life together. They’ll live happily ever after, unless Nacho traces those twenties flying out of their love nest.”

  “Gee, Hetta Coffey, you are such a sappy romantic.”

  “I have my moments.”

  After much back and forth, Jan and I decided not to tell Nacho I found our mysterious donor. “He’ll find the kidnappers eventually. The rest of the bills will start showing up somewhere and get tracked back to the culprits. Hopefully that will happen before Sascha and Roberto use their money in PV. I say we stay out of it.”

  “So unlike you Hetta, but I agree. Maybe we should have warned the star-crossed lovers their money is marked.”

  “Not my problem. My conscience is clear.”

  “You don’t have one.”

  “I rest my case.”

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Jan went back to the whale camp, Rhonda moved into her new condo, and Po Thang and I settled back in on Raymond Johnson.

  I unearthed the list of boat jobs left to do. I swear someone sneaked on board while I was gone and added items.

  After spending an entire morning cleaning out the aft lazarette, I made a trip to the dumpster with moldy stuff that had accumulated there for the past two years. “Po Thang, did you hide this in there?” I asked, picking up a life jacket and shaking it at him. The stuffing was oozing out through what suspiciously resembled fang marks.

  As he does when I use that tone of voice, he looked guilty. I figured this was a ploy; if you always look guilty, humans can’t tell if you are or not.

  “Never mind, let’s get this stuff into the dumpster and we’ll take a walk.” The W word set his tail on spin cycle, and he raced for his leash.

  I overloaded a dock cart and was struggling to push it up the ramp when my phone rang in my pocket. Ignoring it, I made it to the gate and was jockeying to open it without dumping the load of junk when Nacho materialized next to me.

  Dropping everything, including Po Thang’s leash and my grip on the dock cart handle, I caused several things to happen at once. The car
t wheel ran over Nacho’s foot, and my dog took off after another dog, a resident stray.

  The cart tipped over, scattering crap all over the ramp, and into the water. Nacho cursed in two languages, Po Thang howled as the stray lunged for him, and several boaters rushed up to see what all the commotion was about.

  “Nacho, dammit, you scared me.”

  “I scared you? You have broken my foot!”

  “Good,” I yelled over my shoulder as I went to Po Thang’s rescue. By the time I got there, he and the stray were playing. I grabbed his leash and yanked him back to the mess I’d left.

  The boaters, once I told them I was headed for the dumpster, were picking through the debris for useful items, and Nacho had limped to a bench overlooking the marina.

  “What the hell do you want, Nacho?”

  “A report. You have had two weeks, and I have heard nothing.”

  “So sue me. I ain’t got nothing for you. Nada. The volunteers on my list are all clean.” That was the truth.

  “I suppose you still expect to be paid?”

  “Yes. I did the work. It’s not my fault I was operating in a vacuum. You haven’t returned a single one of my calls or emails.”

  “What did you want?”

  “I had some questions, but they aren’t important, now. And by the way, I quit.”

  “Fine.” He reached into his pocket and handed me an envelope. “Here is the money I promised.”

  I took it and turned to walk away, then stopped dead in my tracks and did a one-eighty. “Not so fast, Ignacio. That was way too easy. What are you up to, and where have you been?”

  “None of your business. But I do have a piece of information you might be interested in.”

  Curiosity killed the gato.

  “Buy me a beer.”

  “So, you’re telling me the big tomato is offering a fifty-grand reward for information leading to the kidnappers?”