For two days, Paloma left notes for Gael inside the planter, asking him to come see her at school. Every day she checked, her notes were gone, but there was never a note in return. During the break between classes on Tuesday, she heard Gael’s and Lizzie’s laughter before she even saw them.
Paloma bolted out the school entrance and then paused on the stairs to watch them. Lizzie was standing, and Gael was sitting. Both of them were finishing Popsicles. Gael let out a snort-laugh, and Lizzie convulsed into loud joyful cackles. They seemed happy, like they had no cares in the world. They didn’t seem like kids whose father was in jail.
“Paloma!” Gael shouted once he spotted her. He rushed up to her, and Lizzie followed. Gael kissed her cheek and then pushed an orange Popsicle in her face.
“You have to try this. You probably don’t have these in Kansas.”
Paloma stepped back. “What is it?”
“A mango paleta. With chile,” Gael said. “It’s sweet and spicy just like us.”
Paloma winced and took a bite. It was good until she got to the chili pepper. She made a sour face that sent Gael into a laughing fit.
Lizzie shook her head at Gael and handed Paloma a bottle of water.
“Obviously, I’m the sweet part,” she said, and then took a few steps back from Paloma, who looked like she might cry. “¡No llores! Don’t cry! It wasn’t that spicy, was it, Paloma?”
“It’s not the chili. Did you guys get the notes that I’ve left in the planter for you for the last two days? I needed to talk about something important.”
“What notes?” Gael said. He and Lizzie exchanged blank looks and shook their heads. “We stopped by both days and didn’t see a note from you.”
“How did you know to meet me here, then?”
“Because you always have a break at this time and we missed seeing you,” Gael answered. “We thought you’d like a paleta.”
Paloma didn’t know whether to smile because they had missed her and brought her a paleta or to scream at them because they were one big phony charade.
“Maybe you guys can tell me how to say ‘lie’ in español?” Paloma hissed.
“We say ‘mentira.’ Why, Paloma? What’s happened?” Gael asked with a face so innocent and sweet, Paloma felt bad for bringing it up. She had Gael spell it for her on a note card.
“Mentira,” she said, holding the card in front of them. “Both of you have been lying to me about the peacock ring and your father.” Paloma stopped as Gael let out a deep breath. He looked like a deflating blowfish. Lizzie looked down at her black ballet flats. “You told me your dad was in New York, but he’s really in jail. My mom spoke to your aunt at the churro stand. I know it was your dad who stole the ring.”
“No, Paloma,” Gael said, shaking his head. “That is not the truth. You’re right. We haven’t been one hundred percent honest, but we will tell you everything right now. The honest-to-God truth.”
Paloma wasn’t sure she could believe anything they said now. She looked around and noticed students heading back into the school with their snacks and juices.
“We don’t want you to get into trouble,” Gael said. “We can wait for you here after class.”
Paloma looked back toward the school. If she didn’t go now, she’d miss some of her Spanish class, but Gael shifted around like a squirmy fish she’d just caught. If she left now, he might just swim off. Leaving her with no answers.
She sat down on the bench. “Tell me the truth,” she said.
“Our father is Antonio Castillo,” Gael said. “He isn’t an artist. He’s an art teacher, but he lost his teaching job because of government cuts. Anyway, he found work at the museum helping to catalog all the jewelry and dresses discovered in Frida’s secret room. Many people were hired to go through it. They worked to have it ready for exhibit and to preserve it.”
Paloma nodded.
“Our dad was doing his work, and he noticed that a ring that had been recorded was suddenly missing. He told his boss. Two days later, his boss was transferred to another museum in Guadalajara. My dad spoke to him before he left and he urged our dad to just forget it, but our dad couldn’t. He continued to ask people about it. He even called the police to report it missing.” Gael’s head dropped, and his shoulders slumped. “That was his big mistake.”
“What happened?” Paloma asked.
“Our dad received a phone call from someone he thought was the museum director,” Lizzie said, continuing the story. “He invited our dad to meet him at a market in Mexico City for lunch to discuss a full-time job with the museum. Our dad believed he had done the right thing, and he thought that he was being recognized for it with a job offer but he was wrong. At the market, a man our dad didn’t know offered him thousands of dollars to be quiet about the missing ring.”
“The man was trying to bribe him,” Gael said in disgust. “Our dad refused. He told the man that he would talk to the press. He tried to leave, but the man threatened him. My dad knocked the man down. He was leaving when the police arrived. The man accused our dad of stealing Frida’s jewelry. They searched our dad’s bag and found a jade necklace. My dad didn’t know how it got in there. He never stole anything. Someone put the necklace in his bag. This man told police that our dad had shown up there to sell the necklace to him illegally. He lied. Our dad was an art teacher. He would never do that to Frida or to the museum.”
“He’s not a thief,” Lizzie added. She flashed a photo on her phone in front of Paloma. Paloma took it from her. It was a picture of Gael, Lizzie, and their dad in front of the coyote fountain in the Jardín Centenario. In their dad’s soft, smiling eyes, Paloma could see an older Gael. Paloma handed the photo back to Lizzie.
“You have his eyes,” Paloma said softly.
“And his corazón,” Gael added, touching his heart.
“So if your dad didn’t steal the peacock ring, you …” Paloma trailed off, trying to put the pieces together. “You think you can find it and free your dad from jail?”
Lizzie and Gael nodded.
“He’s only allowed visitors every other week. He’s told us everything that happened, but he doesn’t know that we’re looking for the ring. He can’t know. He worries about us because the man who trapped him is very powerful and can hire people to hurt us.”
“Hurt you? Is that why you bought the Aztec eagle medallion and the crucifix from the Fortune-Teller?” Paloma asked.
Gael and Lizzie exchanged a puzzled look.
“She told me that you both seemed desperate and that you wanted them for protection.”
“He’s dangerous. He will come after us if he thinks we’re trying to help our dad. Our dad will never be free unless we can find the ring and expose the real thief.”
“So then why was the Trench Coat Man lurking around if he already has the ring? Why hasn’t he already left town with it?” Paloma asked. “That’s who you’re talking about, right? The Trench Coat Man? He framed your father?”
Gael and Lizzie both shook their heads.
“No, Paloma,” Gael said, stepping closer to her. He looked around to ensure no one was close by to overhear him. “We still don’t know who the Trench Coat Man is or why he was at Casa Azul. The real thief is Tavo’s father, Mr. Farill.”
Paloma stood there stunned for a few seconds before throwing her hands up over her head. “Are you guys out of your minds? That can’t be right. He loves Frida. You should hear how he talks about her. He—”
“He framed our father,” Gael said. Paloma shook her head. It was too hard to believe. “He’s hidden the ring for now until his smuggler can do his part. Our dad told us.”
“Smuggler?” Paloma asked.
“The Trench Coat Man,” Lizzie said. “We think Mr. Farill is working with him to collect the ring and get it out of Mexico. He was there at Casa Azul that night and we think he’s watching us in the black car.”
“But,” Paloma started. “If he’s the smuggler … why hang around, lurking at Casa Azul
? He should take the ring and go, you know?”
“We thought about that, too,” Lizzie said. “Maybe he’s waiting for the right time to take the ring.”
“Mr. Farill is importante in this town. He donates to churches, museums, and universities,” Gael added. “Everyone thinks he’s a saint. Even your mom loves him, right? He paid for her fellowship. This is the mask he wears. He can’t be caught with the ring. He hires thugs like the Trench Coat Man to do his dirty work.”
Paloma felt suddenly woozy. “What did you say about a mask?” she asked.
“He’s a faker who wears a mask,” Gael repeated.
Gael’s words rushed over Paloma like a brushstroke of bright red. Paloma’s mind shot back to the dinner at the Farills’, when Tavo’s mom mentioned that it was Mr. Farill’s idea to make Frida’s party a masquerade. She complained that it was a last-minute change made just two weeks ago. Two weeks ago! Isn’t that what she said?
“What’s going on in your head?” Gael asked. “I see it working, Paloma. You know we’re right.”
“Frida’s party is going to be a baile de máscaras. It was Mr. Farill’s idea,” Paloma said. “What’s his motive for making it a masquerade party at the last minute?” Paloma stood up now. She paced the sidewalk. Lulu always said that a little exercise gets the brain humming.
“He’s a jerk. That’s his motive,” Lizzie said. Paloma ignored her comment.
“I know!” Gael said. “Maybe he’s planning to steal again at the night of Frida’s party—”
“If Casa Azul is full of guests wearing masks, the cameras can’t identify him or the Trench Coat Man,” Paloma said.
Gael suddenly hugged her. “You believe us?”
Paloma frowned and stepped back from his embrace. It felt wrong to suspect Mr. Farill. He had been so kind to her. He paid for her mom’s trip to Mexico. He was Tavo’s father. Still, Paloma couldn’t ignore the evidence: Mr. Castillo told Gael and Lizzie it was Mr. Farill. As if that wasn’t enough, Mr. Farill admitted that it was his idea to change the party to a masquerade. Plus, there was another clue that nagged Paloma. Her mind shot back to the day at the museum when Tavo told her that her father was against the security cameras being installed at Casa Azul. Mr. Farill argued that it was because it would destroy the dignity of Frida’s home, but maybe that wasn’t the whole truth.
“After your dad was caught with the jade necklace …” Paloma said, piecing together a timeline. “The management at Casa Azul decided to install cameras. Mr. Farill was against it. I know this because he told me himself when we were on our trip. When he saw that they’d installed them, he had his wife change Frida’s party to a masquerade. A last-minute change.”
“That’s right!” Lizzie said. “They started installing cameras outside right after our dad was sent to jail. They’re installing them inside, too. I saw them at mariachi practice.”
“That’s why he wants everyone to wear masks,” Paloma said. “He could be planning something the night of the party.”
“Who needs Lulu Pennywhistle when we’ve got you?” Gael gushed.
Paloma couldn’t smile. She was still annoyed with their lies. Instead, she focused back on her two burning questions. First, if their father stole the peacock ring, why were they looking for it?
She had her answer now. According to Gael and Lizzie, he didn’t steal it. He was framed. Now they were trying to find it and set their dad free.
The second question still remained: Why did Gael and Lizzie involve her in this? Paloma’s stomach tightened into a knot.
“Tell me this, were you ever my true friends?”
Gael stepped back like she’d just taken a swing at him. “What do you mean?”
“Of course we’re your friends,” Lizzie said in an offended tone.
“Are you? That first night we saw each other. The night of the reception in Frida’s studio, I know that you guys were listening to Tavo and me. You probably overheard me say that I love mysteries. You probably overheard Tavo say how we’re going to spend a lot of time together. Didn’t you? You wrote me that stupid note with the crazy-sketched eye because … because Mr. Farill is Tavo’s father? I’m right, aren’t I?” Paloma shook her head and sat back down on the bench.
“Yes,” Lizzie said softly. Gael shot her an angry look. “It’s why I didn’t want you involved. I didn’t feel right using you to get information about the Farills.”
“That’s why you were so rough with me? Told me I was a simple Kansas girl?”
Lizzie nodded. “But you proved me wrong,” she said with so much sincerity in her voice that Paloma wanted to hug her. She wished she could forget all about this and be their friend again.
“Since Tavo was taking an interest in you, I thought through you we could learn where they lived. Even though our dad thinks Mr. Farill has the ring hidden at Casa Azul, Lizzie and I thought it might be at his home, but now we’re not so sure,” Gael explained.
Paloma let her head drop back in frustration. “That was you in the taxi behind me that night my mom and I went to dinner at their house. I knew it!”
Gael nodded.
“What were you doing?”
“We wanted to know where they lived and how tricky it would be to get past security,” Gael admitted.
A thousand alarms went off in Paloma’s head, but still she pressed on. “Why?” she asked, bracing herself for his answer.
Gael looked down at his feet. Paloma turned to Lizzie. Lizzie picked at her long dark braid and avoided Paloma’s gaze.
“No more lies,” Paloma warned them. “I deserve to know the truth.”
Gael let out a deep breath. “The truth is we needed to know where Tavo lived so we could get inside his house to find the ring, but even though we searched, we didn’t find anything.”
Paloma steadied herself on the bench with her hands. They were the ones responsible for breaking into Tavo’s home. In one quick motion, she pulled the Aztec eagle soldier medallion off over her head. She felt strange without it, but thrust it at Gael.
“Take it,” she said, forcing it into the palm of his hand.
“Please, Paloma,” Gael said. “We didn’t want to lie to you, but we have to help our dad. He’s innocent and we love him. Will you still help us, now that you know the truth?” Gael said, extending the medallion back to her.
“You said you wanted my help because of what I said about Frida’s painting: She was telling us not to be fake in our lives.”
“I believe that with my whole corazón, but it’s our dad we’re talking about,” Gael said, placing a hand over his heart. “I’m sorry for the lies.”
“We both are,” Lizzie added.
Paloma stood up to go and then stopped. “I’m sorry about your dad,” she said. Paloma turned back toward the school’s doors. With every step she took, a sharp pain shot across her chest. She knew what it was like to want your father back. Paloma would give anything for another day with hers, for even one true memory of him.
Paloma felt zapped of energy. Her chest thumped hard like a chisel was hacking away at her heart, leaving it in pieces. She walked toward Spanish class, but halfway there she turned around, unwilling to practice vocabulary for an hour. She already knew the most important words and expressions.
Mentira—a lie
Lo siento—I’m sorry
Amigos—friends
Adiós—good-bye
She headed out of the school, toward the street, and jumped on the first bus that came her way. A few minutes later, it dropped her off a couple of blocks from Casa Azul. As she walked toward Frida’s home, Gael’s words replayed in her head: “We didn’t want to lie to you, but we have to help our dad. He’s innocent and we love him. Will you still help us, now that you know the truth?”
Paloma rubbed her forehead. It felt rotten to be lied to. It felt rotten to lose friends. She entered the museum and walked over to one of the staff at the door. She asked where she could find Frida’s My Dress Hangs There painting
. The woman directed her to the first floor.
Face-to-face with her father’s favorite Frida Kahlo painting, Paloma soaked in the image of Frida’s colorful dress dangling from a clothesline in the middle of New York City. All around the dainty dress were New York skyscrapers, Lady Liberty, and images of people marching. Paloma squeezed her eyes shut and imagined herself as the dress, dangling and swaying from a clothesline above the city of Coyoacán. In her mind, Gael and Lizzie held one end of the clothesline. On the other side, Tavo and his parents held the other end.
“Paloma?” Tavo called out to her. She opened her eyes to see him walking toward her. “You just can’t get enough of Frida now, huh? You’re like a true-blue Fridanista!”
Paloma prayed he couldn’t hear her heart pounding in her chest. She felt guilty knowing now who broke into his home. She was the one who led them there. It was all done behind her back, but still the guilt was like a hot, scratchy blanket she wanted to shrug off but couldn’t. She smiled and tried to breathe like a normal person.
“Fridanista. I like that. I’m going to write that one down,” she said, and pulled out a note card and pen.
“You and those note cards,” Tavo snickered. “What are you doing here anyway?”
“This was my dad’s favorite Frida Kahlo painting. So I came to pay tribute.”
Tavo dug his hands into his pockets. “It’s a good one. She painted this while she was in New York City with Diego. She was super homesick for Mexico. It’s crammed with symbolism.”
“Maybe my dad was homesick for Mexico, too,” Paloma said, taking a deep breath.
“I know your dad died when you were young. Your mom mentioned it at dinner. Is it hard to be without him?”
“It just feels like something is missing sometimes.” Paloma paused, unsure if “missing” was the right word for how she felt. “And you? What are you doing here?” she asked. “Can’t get enough of Frida, either?”
“I came with my mom. She’s meeting with the party committee. It’s only a week away. And while she’s doing that, I came inside because my dad lost something here. My mom and I thought maybe it was taken during the break-in, but he insists that it’s here at Casa Azul. He’s here all the time meeting with the staff about different art projects and exhibits. You know adding the gift shop was my dad’s idea. He thought the museum could make money selling Frida magnets and coffee cups.”
Me, Frida, and the Secret of the Peacock Ring Page 11