As the entrance opened ahead, Paloma noticed a taxi pulling up behind them. The taxi stopped, and the security guards hovered around it. In the brief moment between Paloma’s driver moving forward and the gate closing behind them, she thought she saw a kid with a black knit hat pop his head out of the back window to speak to the security guard. Paloma could swear it was Gael, but when the car drove forward, she lost sight of the boy in the taxi. What would Gael be doing here? Did he also live in the neighborhood? And if so, Tavo must know him. As the car drove up the tree-lined driveway to the mansion, Paloma decided she would definitely ask Tavo tonight.
And it was Tavo himself who opened the car door for Paloma and her mom when the car rolled to a stop. It had only been two days since Paloma last saw him, but somehow with all the excitement of a mystery and Gael, she’d forgotten how super dreamy he was. Paloma wanted to be sure to get a selfie with him so she could make her friends in Kansas swoon with jealousy.
“Bienvenidos to our humble home!” He grinned, and Paloma laughed. There was nothing humble about his place. It was a three-story white stone mansion with at least a dozen stairs leading up to the dark wood front doors. The yard was decorated with an elaborate fountain and dotted with manicured trees and rosebushes.
When they entered the house, Paloma’s mom almost slipped on the gray marbled floors. Tavo caught her by the arm and winced.
“I forgot to warn you about the floors,” he said. “I slip all the time because I like to run around in socks, but I have to stop doing that because my mom says one of these days I’m going to crack my head open.”
“Gross!” Paloma said, shaking her head.
Tavo chuckled. “My bad. No cracking-head jokes before dinner. Got it.” He led them into the main living room, where Tavo’s parents sauntered down a beautiful long staircase to greet them. To Paloma, they looked like models straight out of an advertisement for a luxury yacht or something else she was sure she couldn’t afford.
“¡Bienvenidos! Welcome!” Mrs. Farill exclaimed.
“Dinner is almost ready,” Mr. Farill said after their greetings of kisses. “While we wait for the finishing touches, why don’t we give you a tour of the house? Let’s start with the patio. You can say hello to Ninja and Matador, our purebred German shepherds. True beauties but worthless guard dogs.”
Mrs. Farill quickly locked arms with Paloma’s mom and followed Mr. Farill out of the living room and onto the patio. As the parents walked ahead, Tavo offered his arm and Paloma took it.
“You look really pretty today,” he said. Paloma felt her whole face flush. “After dinner, I want to show you something downstairs, okay?”
After a tour of the house that included a den decorated with several paintings, a home theater, and a gym that overlooked the lap pool and patio, they enjoyed a feast of chicken mole, a traditional Mexican dish of spicy chili and chocolate sauce drizzled over chicken. Paloma took several pictures throughout the evening, including a few photos of the mole. During dinner, Paloma’s mom and the Farills discussed her fellowship project in Coyoacán, but spent the majority of the evening talking about the upcoming party at Casa Azul for Frida Kahlo’s birthday. Mrs. Farill boasted that many of Mexico’s most famous artists and most prominent families would be there. The dress code for the party was formal, and everyone was encouraged to wear fancy masks.
“Whose idea was it to make it a masquerade?” Paloma’s mom asked. “That sounds like so much fun.” Mrs. Farill and Tavo both pointed at Mr. Farill and then laughed that they’d done it at the same time.
Mr. Farill shrugged. “Guilty as charged,” he said with a playful grin. “I thought it would be a unique way to celebrate Frida. Everyone shows up in a mask, and you’re not really sure who is who.”
“Yes, but it was a very last-minute idea …” Mrs. Farill said. She shook a finger at her husband. “Two weeks ago, the invitations were ready to go to the printer. Suddenly, he comes up with this idea. I loved it, but I wish he’d come up with it earlier. Anyway, I had to change the invitations to add baile de máscaras.”
“The invitations turned out fine,” he said. “You did an amazing job.”
“I heard there will be mariachis like at the reception the other night?” Paloma asked, thinking about Lizzie’s group practicing tonight at Casa Azul.
“Absolutely! There will be several mariachi groups playing throughout the evening. We will also have folkloric dancers.” Mrs. Farill beamed. “Only the best for Frida!”
Once the last bites of chicken mole were taken and coffee had been served, Mr. Farill apologized and returned to his office to work. Paloma’s mom and Mrs. Farill went out to the patio with their coffees to chat more about the upcoming party. Tavo and Paloma stayed with them for a few minutes before he invited Paloma downstairs to play a game of billiards.
Paloma followed him down a spiraling staircase to a large room lined with built-in bookshelves. Off to the side was the billiards table. And to the right was a glass door that led to a room with wall-to-wall wine bottles. Inside the wine cellar, Paloma could see a small painting hanging above a silver high-top table with three silver stools around it. Tavo jiggled the doorknob.
“This room is off-limits,” he said. “It’s always locked, but I know where the key is …” He shot Paloma a devilish grin. “Do you dare me?”
“Double-dare,” Paloma said, to play along.
Tavo walked to a bookshelf and pulled out a book. He opened the book and removed a key. He flashed it in front of Paloma with a satisfied smile. “Ta-da!” he exclaimed, and unlocked the cellar. “Open sesame!”
Paloma followed Tavo into the cellar. He disappeared behind a shelf and came back out with a dark bottle in his hand.
“This bottle is worth five thousand dollars.” Tavo juggled it around.
Paloma shuddered. “Whatever you do, don’t drop it. That’s like our apartment’s rent for four months.”
Tavo threw it up in the air and caught it. Paloma rolled her eyes. Why did boys have to be so obnoxious sometimes? Tavo laughed and returned the bottle to its shelf.
“And how much is that creepy painting worth?” Paloma asked. The painting on the wall was of an old wrinkled man wearing a slouchy yellow hat. Around his neck he wore a white furry collar, but what spooked Paloma most was the uneven eyes.
“Ick.” Paloma shuddered. “It’s one of those harlequin clowns, right? Gives me the creeps.”
“Not a Picasso fan?”
“It’s a Picasso?” Paloma spotted the signature along the bottom right of the painting. “A real one? People pay millions for Picassos, right?”
“Sure, but did you know that one of Frida Kahlo’s paintings was sold for nearly eight million dollars in New York City a few years ago?”
“Whoa, way to go, Frida,” Paloma said, punching her hand in the air. “Too bad she’s not alive to enjoy it. If she were, she’d probably buy more hummingbird necklaces. You can never have enough of those.”
Tavo chuckled. “I’m impressed,” he said. “You were really paying attention the night of the reception.”
“I went back to Casa Azul yesterday, too,” Paloma said.
“My dad said he saw you there. You were with your Spanish tutor. How’s that going? You know, I could have helped you with Spanish if you wanted. You wouldn’t have to pay me or anything.”
“It was my mom’s idea. She signed me up with a tutoring program, and I start Introduction to Mexican Art and Culture and my Spanish class later this week,” Paloma said, adding a gagging gesture.
“Can you get out of it?”
“I wish!” Paloma said. “Honestly, I don’t mind the tutoring, but summer school is boring. It’s worse than watching people floss.”
Tavo laughed.
“My tutor isn’t bad, though. He’s nice. Maybe you know him … His name is Gael Castillo. He’s our age, and I think he might live around here. I thought I saw him in a taxi behind us as we pulled up to security.”
Tavo shook
his head slowly. “Doesn’t sound familiar, but I’m only here during the summers.” Tavo shrugged.
Paloma bit down on her lip. Maybe the kid she saw in the taxi wasn’t Gael. It’s not like he was the only boy who wore a black knit hat. Paloma shook her head at her wild imagination.
“Do you think it’d be all right to take a picture of the creepy Picasso?”
Tavo clapped like it was the best idea he’d heard all year. “A selfie in my dad’s ‘off-limits’ cellar. That’ll show him, right?” He excitedly pulled his cell phone from his back pocket.
Paloma smiled but suddenly felt sorry for Tavo. The first night they met, after Lizzie played that sad melody on the trumpet, Tavo had called himself a lonely boy. Now she could see why. Tavo was being dragged from Spain to Arizona and back to Mexico at his parents’ whim. He probably barely had time to make any true friends.
Tavo nudged her. “Ready?” He snapped a few selfies of them standing at the tall table with the Picasso painting directly behind them.
“Send it to me,” Paloma said. She recited her number.
“Sending it now,” he said as he tapped his phone.
Paloma glanced at the photo as it appeared. A small gold coin sat on the cocktail table in front of them. She hadn’t even noticed it before. She looked closer at the picture and also spotted a little green light coming from the ceiling above the painting. It was a security camera.
“Tavo!” She pointed up at the green light. “Your dad is probably watching us right now.”
Tavo winked at her. “The cameras are filming, but he’s not watching. He hasn’t figured out how to do that on the computer yet. I know because I set it up for him. He has no clue how it works.”
Paloma was amazed that she only noticed the gold coin and the camera in the picture when the whole time they were in front of her face. How many times did her mom lecture her about too much time spent behind the phone and not enough paying attention to what was actually around her? She hated to admit it, but her mom was right.
On the ride home, Paloma watched her mom doze in the backseat. She murmured strange things like “I have to finish my paper,” when raindrops started to pound against the car windows.
“Of course, it has to rain,” Paloma said out loud, and shook her head. As if sneaking out of the house by climbing down a tree wasn’t tough enough. Just then, her phone vibrated. It was a text from Gael.
How was dinner?
Paloma sent a thumbs-up emoji. She followed it with a bunch of photos she’d taken of her plate of chicken mole, the home theater, the pool, the selfie with Tavo, and the two adorable German shepherds.
Her phone vibrated again.
Do not chicken out tonight. Rain or shine.
She wasn’t going to chicken out. They needed to see this secret room. Paloma’s mom was so tired, she’d sleep through anything. Paloma wasn’t sure if she’d ever get a better chance to sneak away. No, the mission had to happen tonight.
Ten minutes before midnight, the rain stopped and the only sound Paloma could hear was her mom’s snoring vibrating through the house. It was a high-pitched wheeze that sounded like the vacuum cleaner trying to suck up a stray scarf or sock that Paloma left on the floor. Once her mom started snoring like that, nothing woke her.
Dressed in black jeans, sneakers, a long-sleeved shirt, a rain jacket, and a baseball cap, Paloma crept quietly out her open bedroom window. As she latched on to a wet tree branch and found her footing on another, she could already see Gael and Lizzie waiting for her beyond the front gate. Gael waved, and for a second, Paloma almost waved back but then remembered she was nearly twenty feet off the ground. Polite greetings would have to wait. Within a few minutes, Paloma was on the ground and out the gate. She closed it slowly behind her and locked it with her key.
Paloma grinned at Gael and Lizzie, who were dressed head to toe in black. Lizzie had her hair in two tight braids and held her black trumpet case strapped over her shoulder like it was a bow and arrow.
“Everything is set,” Gael whispered. “Lizzie left the door unlocked after mariachi practice.”
“Vamos. Let’s go,” Lizzie said in a soft but urgent voice. Gael and Paloma followed after her. They walked through the dark uneven streets, lit only by a few streetlamps. Paloma took a good look around. Coyoacán was beautiful at midnight. The golden glow from the streetlamps made the cobbled streets look like they were paved with magic shiny stones. She felt very much like Lulu Pennywhistle out on an adventure. Her heart pounded fast.
“The dinner with Tavo looked awesome,” Gael whispered. “I especially liked the photo of the chicken mole.”
“I knew you’d like that one,” Paloma said. “Did you see the Picasso painting? I sent you a picture from their wine cellar—”
“A real Picasso?” Lizzie asked over her shoulder, never missing a step forward toward Casa Azul.
“I think so,” Paloma said. “It was signed.”
“Cool,” Gael said.
“And before we left, Mrs. Farill invited my mom and me to go with them to Mexico City on Sunday to see more art by Frida and Diego.”
“You’re going to see Tavo again?” Gael asked, keeping a quick pace beside her.
“I guess so. I can learn more about Frida, you know. Gather more clues,” Paloma said, worried if Gael was a little bit jealous. Gael shrugged and stayed quiet until they arrived on Londres Street.
Lizzie steered them past Casa Azul’s front entrance on Londres. She stopped in front of a side door on Allende. From the golden glow of a streetlamp, Paloma could make out the Mexican flag and another flag with blue stripes and a yellow circle painted on the door.
“Let’s hope it’s still unlocked,” Lizzie said, crossing her fingers. She pushed open the door. “Vamos.” She grinned and stood aside as Gael and Paloma entered. The garden was dimly lit. It took a few seconds for Paloma’s eyes to adjust, but soon she could see the outline of the trees, large leafy plants, and lilies that covered Frida’s courtyard.
“What’s the plan?” Paloma asked.
“I’ll hide here to make sure no one comes. If anyone shows up, like a security guard, I’ll whistle like a bird. Gael knows my whistle. Stay low so the security cameras in the trees don’t capture your face.”
Paloma trembled at the thought of a security guard or police officer catching them. She wished she could be brave like Lulu Pennywhistle, but a chill shot up her back. Gael must have sensed it, because he gave her arm a gentle squeeze.
“It’ll be okay,” he said. “Lizzie will keep watch while we check out the room and become heroes.”
Lizzie snapped at Gael in Spanish, causing him to lower his head like a punished child.
“I’m not going to waste our time,” he answered back in English to her.
“Keep it simple,” she whispered to both of them. “Get into the room. Find out what’s in there. Make it quick. Don’t use this until you’re at the door.” Lizzie handed a small flashlight to Gael. “Buena suerte. Good luck!”
Gael and Paloma sped through the garden, past the gift shop, and around the cafeteria to the tree they had discovered the day before. As they squeezed between the tree branches toward the door, Paloma couldn’t believe what she saw.
The door was already open! Light glowed from inside the room and spilled into the darkness. Paloma looked over at Gael. “What do we do now?” she mouthed to him.
Gael put a finger over his lips. Paloma nodded in understanding. Although her heart felt like it’d jump out of her chest, she wasn’t about to make a noise. Gael stepped closer to the open door. He stopped when the tree rustled and sent a spray of leaves crashing against the ground. Paloma wiped her palms against her jeans.
Gael grabbed the doorknob and peeked into the room. Every hair on Paloma’s body felt like it was standing up. She prayed no one was inside. Gael nodded to her and waved her over. Paloma felt suddenly woozy, but somehow she managed to move one foot in front of the other and follow Gael into the room. The go
lden glow from a lightbulb that dangled from the ceiling revealed a room crowded with ladders, metal paint buckets, a wheelbarrow, and a couple of wheelchairs partially covered with blankets.
Paloma exhaled. “It’s just a storage room,” she whispered.
Gael beamed his flashlight toward a dark corner of the room. “That’s why it was unlocked,” he said, his voice oozing disappointment. “There’s probably a janitor here tonight. We should leave before he comes back.”
“What’s that?” Paloma said, taking Gael’s flashlight to point at the ground near a wheelchair. A flicker of gold blinked in the flashlight’s beam.
She picked it up. “It’s a Mexican peso, I think,” Paloma said, showing Gael. “Except it has this weird little knobby thing attached to it.”
“That’s a cuff link,” Gael whispered. He tossed the cuff link between his two hands. “It’s heavy. Real gold. Men wear them with their suits.” He handed the cuff link back to Paloma.
“Do janitors wear them?” Paloma asked, already knowing the answer to the question.
“Not the janitors I know—”
Lizzie’s whistle was distant, but it shot through the garden, the rustling tree behind them, and straight through Paloma’s chest like an arrow. Someone was coming. She quickly buried the cuff link in her back jean pocket.
Paloma felt frozen until Gael clutched her hand. “Let’s go!” They rushed out the door, but before they could duck out of sight, they heard steps approaching.
Their only exit was blocked. Gael gazed up toward the tree branches like he wanted to climb.
“Don’t even think about it!” Paloma whispered, and pulled him back into the janitorial closet. She grabbed one of the dusty blankets from atop a wheelchair, and gestured for Gael to squat under an old wooden desk. She quickly spread the blanket over the desk and snuck beneath it just as the door gave out a long whine.
Me, Frida, and the Secret of the Peacock Ring Page 7