Murder on the Equator Box Set

by Becca Bloom

  Straightening my shoulders and sticking both of my feet to the floor to keep from fidgeting, I repeated over and over in my head, ‘I did not see José.’ Looking Agent Vasquez squarely in the face, I said again, “I have not seen José since the morning his wife was killed. If there is any way you think I may be of assistance to you in your investigation, please tell me so I can help. Otherwise, I do not understand why you are here if it is not to return my things to me." The self-possession in my voice surprised me.

  I would not allow him to treat me like a suspect when I knew I was innocent.

  The corner of his thin lips twitched. "How did you get so many bites?" he asked.

  "I’m too sweet."

  His gaze narrowed at me, but I didn't waver. I was on a roll of confidence, and I wasn't ready to get off that particular train just yet.

  "It's most uncommon even for fresh blood to get that many bites unless your traipsing out in a place with a lot of vegetation … say, a sugarcane field?"

  I swallowed hard, but I held steady. If he sought proof, he was not going to get it from me.

  He continued, "Is there anything you want to tell me, Miss James?"

  No. Definitely, no.

  We sat in silence, staring at each other in a stalemate. I wouldn't give, and he couldn't attack unless I did. I knew it and he seemed to know it too.

  "The first of our samples from the crime scene came back…." He let the rest of his sentence trail off unspoken.

  The butterflies in my stomach fluttered nervously, but I kept them in check. "That's good. I hope you find the murderer." I really did hope that. I knew my DNA must've been all over the backseat of the car, but surely he knew why, right? The way he stared at me made me wonder.

  "How long have you known Mrs. Jimenez?"

  My breath caught in my throat. “Which one?” I whispered, trying to gather my thoughts.

  “Have you known one longer than the other?” he asked incredulously.

  My throat felt dry, but I squeaked out, "I hadn't met the Jimenez family before arriving here yesterday. They have, however, been good friends of my parents for many years."

  I clasped my fingers together so I couldn’t fiddle my fingers.

  “And what is your opinion of the señoras Jimenez?”

  I knew my answer was important from the way he looked at me, which had the undesired effect of clearing my mind of all rational intelligence.

  “That is an excellent question and it deserves a thoughtful answer,” I said, my mind reeling while I stalled for time. I allowed myself a moment to gather my thoughts under the observing eye of Agent Vasquez. As always happened, just at the peak of my inhale, something clicked. Whatever Agent Vasquez had discovered or believed to be true, I knew in my heart that none of us in the restaurant were in any way responsible for the death of Maria Guzmán. I had no cause to be nervous, nor any reason for my confidence to fail me because the truth was on my side. That had to count for something. I knew what to say.

  “There is a reason why everyone in town calls them Abuelita and Tia. Did you know they sent enough food to feed Martha’s entire family today — and plan to continue to do so for the rest of the week? Abuelita has a strong personality and Tia Rosa comes across as oblivious, but actions such as these show that they have a strong sense of values, of right and wrong, of humanity, and decency. If they have involved themselves in your investigation, it was done to protect their friends in a time of need. Everyone should have such a loyal friend as Abuelita and Tia Rosa.” More than ever, I was relieved to have those crazy ladies on my side.

  Agent Vasquez looked at me askance. “You’ve learned all this in a day and a half?”

  Indeed. “It’s been busy.” It felt like a lifetime had passed since I’d boarded my first airplane in Portland.

  Agent Vasquez nodded. “I thought you would answer as much, and let me warn you about your new friends. To me, the Jimenez sisters appear to be nothing more than accomplished con artists who make themselves likable to suit their purpose. You should know that the woman you call Tia Rosa is the chief suspect in the murder of Maria Guzmán, and your association with her doesn’t reflect well on you.”

  “What proof do you have?” I asked, keeping my cool. Agent Vasquez didn’t know it, but the table had turned. I needed information, and he was going to provide it.

  Chapter 13

  Agent Vasquez said nothing. Had he heard me?

  “If I am to believe your allegations, I need facts. Why is Tia Rosa under suspicion?” Calm down, lassie. Too bitey. He wouldn’t share anything with me like that. I needed to be a victim.

  Relaxing my eyebrows, widening my eyes, and slumping my shoulders, I raised my hand up to my forehead and let my elbow rest against the table, shaking my head as the realization settled in that I may have been duped. (At least, that’s what I wanted him to think.) I added breathlessly, “They are such nice, old ladies.” Okay, maybe that was stretching it a bit, but I needed him to feel sorry for poor, little, foolish me.

  It worked.

  “I will give you what facts pertain to your situation in the expectation that you cut all ties with the señoras Jimenez. By Señora Rosa’s own testimony, she had not seen Maria Guzmán the day of her murder or the day before. It is a blatant lie.”

  “A lie? I don’t understand….” I considered twirling a piece of hair, but decided against it. I wanted him to think I was merely dumbfounded, not a complete bimbo.

  I shrugged. “Maybe she forgot. That’s hardly incriminating evidence.”

  “Senora Jimenez’s fingerprints were on the driver’s side of the cab at the crime scene.”

  I shook my head, fishing for more. “She may have taken her taxi during the week. There must be hundreds of prints all over the car.”

  “Her prints were fresh. No smudges to indicate they had been made days before.”

  Okay, now I was starting to get worried. “You said they were on the front of the car? How many people really rest their fingers on the front of the car? Couldn’t they have been made days ago?”

  His eyebrows raised. “How can you explain the curly, gray hair on the hood of the car Señora Guzmán was slain in?”

  He raised his hand. “Before you suggest that somehow some adhesive material on the hood of her car prevented the hair from blowing away, let me stop you. The fingerprints and the hair put Señora Rosa at the scene of the crime within the time frame of the murder.”

  “You can’t honestly think she did it.” No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t even imagine Tia Rosa wielding a machete. There wasn’t a mean bone in her squishy body.

  “At this point, I have to consider everyone a suspect. It’s my job. And I’m very good at it.”

  I wasn’t ready to let it go just yet. “Why would she go to Maria’s house to get my stuff if she had just murdered her? Wouldn’t she want to stay away? I was with her when we went to give our condolences to the family as soon as we learned what had happened.”

  “Can you account for her presence the entire time?” he asked.

  No, no, sir. You are not going to get information from me.

  Choosing my words quickly, I let my nerves loose. I fidgeted and avoided eye contact.

  “What? What do you remember?” he asked, leaning forward, his pen poised over a notepad.

  “Um. Well…” I finally met his gaze and wrinkled my forehead in consternation. Just when I thought he’d burst with impatience, I said, “I feel so foolish now, but maybe I should have followed her into the bathroom. I don’t think she would have appreciated that, but—”

  He raised his hand, his cheeks bunched up in disappointment or disgust. “That was not necessary.”

  I congratulated myself at avoiding his question successfully.

  “However, your willingness to follow her leads me to believe you capable of going with her to José’s shed this afternoon.”

  Well, that had backfired.

  “Me?” I asked, convinced he saw through my innoc
ent front. For years, it hadn’t fooled Mom either. It must be I was out of practice.

  “You could only have two reasons for pulling such a stupid stunt.” He raised one thick finger. “You were attempting to plant evidence against José for the murder of his wife. My men are searching the fields as we speak for the weapon used to kill Señora Guzmán.”

  Agent Vasquez kept his cards close to his chest, but I knew what weapon they searched for. A machete. I also knew they would not find it. I had José’s machete. Unlike Abuelita, I wasn’t convinced José had used that particular machete to kill his wife, but it had my fingerprints all over it.

  He held up another finger and I readied myself to hear stupid reason number two. “The only other explanation and, by far the more foolish of the two, is in an effort to retrieve your backpack, you have involved yourselves in a murder case in which you have no right to poke your noses. Your impatience and interference are impediments to my investigation.”

  It was difficult for me to take his dig seriously when it was so well alliterated. “It never was my intent to interfere, impede, or unintentionally invoke inconvenience in your investigation.”

  “You may not think it’s so humorous when you miss your flight home. That’s right, Miss James, if your actions cause me to take longer than normal to wrap up this case, I’ll make you stay for the trial as a key witness.”

  “Inconceivable,” I mumbled, feeling as smart as Vizzini right before he keeled over.

  “Believe me, I’ll do it if you continue to hinder my progress.”

  I didn’t have to pretend to look shocked. Making a mental note not to underestimate Agent Vasquez, I listened as he continued.

  “I am going out to José’s distillery right now. I wonder what evidence I’ll find against you there….”

  His threats effectively delivered, Agent Vasquez placed his notepad in the pocket of his black polo shirt, downed the last of the water in his glass, and sauntered out to his black SUV with the tinted windows sitting at the side of the park full of carefree tourists. Unlike them, I was very soon to be in a great deal of trouble and my conscience tormented me at involving Tia Rosa and Abuelita. I shouldn’t have made such a big deal about losing my bag… as if I couldn’t handle life without books and cinnamon gum. It had seemed important at the time, but it wasn’t worth going to jail over.

  Bracing my hands against the table, I stood, my resolve in pursuing my new goal as firm as a bulldog’s bite. I had a murderer to catch.

  Four sets of inquisitive eyes landed on me as I returned to the kitchen.

  Sylvia spoke first, setting aside her knife and the mound of onions and bell peppers waiting to be chopped. "What did Agent Vasquez want?"

  I looked over at Abuelita and Tia Rosa, who leaned against the side of the island.

  "I know what he want," Tia Rosa said, the resignation in her voice adding to my resolve to clear her name.

  Before she could continue, I asked her, "I thought you said you left no evidence behind you, but Agent Vasquez just told me he lifted your prints from Maria's car. How did that happen?"

  Abuelita crossed her arms and shook her head. "Is estúpido."

  Tia Rosa came over to me, reaching up to pat my shoulder. “Bertha right. Is stupid. We make bad choice.”

  “Why did you lie to me about it? I was defenseless out there.”

  She patted my cheek. “I no worry you, okay? Is no problem.”

  Adi wrapped her arms around Tia Rosa’s open side. “It doesn’t sound like it’s no problem.”

  Abuelita lifted her head defiantly. “Is my fault. My idea, it bad.”

  Sylvia stepped toward Abuelita. "Mother, what have you been doing?"

  Abuelita didn't seem to want to tell her daughter what she had done, so I did. "When we went over to get my bag and found out Maria had been murdered, Abuelita and Tia Rosa pretended to go to the bathroom. What they really did was climb over the property wall into the Guzmán's garage in an attempt to get my stuff back for me. If only I’d been more patient. I didn’t know—"

  “You stop!” interrupted Abuelita. “I make decision. Rosa make decision. You no fault.”

  “But I really did want my stuff back and I think I made too much of a big deal about it.”

  Tia Rosa put her hand over my mouth. “I mature woman. I make choice. I pay consequence. How you be guilty for my choice?” She clucked her tongue at me and removed her hand. “You no suffer for me. Is not okay, okay?”

  It wasn’t in my nature to hand off responsibility so easily. I fixed things when they went wrong. I didn’t make them worse.

  Adi broke the silence. "You climbed over that big, concrete wall? I would've liked to have seen that."

  Sylvia glared at her.

  "What?! You have to admit that at their age, that's pretty impressive."

  Focusing my attention back on Tia Rosa, I asked her again, "What happened? Why were your prints and hair on the car?"

  "I lose balance, okay? My legs shake after wall climb.”

  “Is because you fat. You need exercise,” Abuelita accused.

  Ignoring her sister, Tia Rosa continued, “I trip over feet. I fell on car and police hear me. No time to clean, we run."

  Abuelita clapped her hands together. “I have good idea. We do power walk every morning. We bring Lady.”

  While I was happy to hear Abuelita take an interest in Lady, she clearly didn’t understand the situation. "Agent Vasquez told me Tia Rosa is his prime suspect because of the fingerprints and the gray hair on Maria's car. He also suspects that we were the ones to break into José's distillery in an attempt to plant evidence against him."

  Sylvia raised her hand to her temples, rubbing them. "Ay, Mamá, what have you done? I told you the next time you get yourself locked up, I'm leaving you in there."

  Abuelita had been in jail before? I sensed there was a story there, but it was hardly the time to ask about it.

  Turning to me, Sylvia said, "Jessica, I am so sorry. Here your parents arrange for you to have a nice, calm, relaxing trip and you’ve had nothing but problems since you got here. I can't help but feel responsible for it, and I know these two don’t help matters at all," she said, motioning toward her mother and aunt.

  "You're very kind, but they’re only in trouble because they tried to help me out. Obviously, Agent Vasquez is on the wrong trail, and I think we should help him get on the right one."

  Abuelita perked up at that news. "Is about time!”

  Tia Rosa clapped her hands. “Is okay! You have plan?”

  Before I could respond, Abuelita said, “Right now, no plan. I show pictures and we make cake!”

  My nostalgic, carb-loving self thought that was a brilliant plan.

  Chapter 14

  Abuelita pulled the lid off a tin of shortbread cookies sitting on the counter. Ruffling through the pictures inside, she finally found what she searched for. Holding the picture over her heart, she said, “I gave promise. I keep promise.” She held the photograph out.

  My breath caught and my eyes blurred. The colors were faded and a crease ran down the middle, separating the two young men in the picture. I knew Dad’s twin would look exactly like him, but I still wasn’t prepared to see my uncle.

  Dad smiled back at me, his arm wrapped around the shoulders of a man who could have been his mirror reflection. Only Dad’s long, flowing hair, worn jeans, and woven shirt distinguished him from his brother. My Uncle Eddy. His hair was shorter, but not so short he couldn’t style it up and away from his face like he’d been racing a jet or driving a convertible. He wore slacks with creases down the front and a blazer over a pastel t-shirt. He belonged on the set of Miami Vice.

  I held the picture up in my trembling hand for Sylvia and Adi to see and braced myself against the solid island.

  Abuelita plucked it from my hand, saying, "No faint in kitchen."

  My fingers tingled at its loss. “I’m not going to faint,” I said, holding my hand out for the picture.


  Tia Rosa said, “You keep, Jess. Okay?”

  Abuelita leaned in to me, her smile widening as she looked at the picture. Pointing to my father, she said, "Benny was kind, young man. He want save the world."

  Sylvia poured coffee. “We all did back then.”

  “I know that my parents met through Greenpeace, and they often refer to their time here as the best of their lives. It’s why they sent me.”

  “Greenpeace brought more than a few idealistic couples together. Your mom and dad, and James and me. While the trials of life proved too much for my marriage, your parents have thrived on it. I admire them more than you can imagine.”

  Adi rested her chin on Sylvia’s shoulder.

  Sylvia kissed Adi on the cheek. “Not that I’m ungrateful. I wouldn’t trade my family for anything in the world. I can only imagine how painful it must have been for Benny when Eddy was lost.”

  I bowed my head under the weight of my memories. “It devastated him. He’s never been able to accept it.”

  “He brave send you here,” said Tia Rosa as she shuffled through the contents of the tin.

  “Knowing that is what helped me get here. I was tempted to call it quits a few times, but I couldn’t do that to him … or the rest of my family. They were set on me coming.”

  “Well, I’m glad. Things have been much livelier since your arrival,” said Adi.

  “You can say that again!” chuckled Sylvia.

  Tia Rosa waved a photograph in the air in triumph. “Aha! I know it here! I find it!”

  We all leaned forward.

  “Oh my goodness, is my mom wearing pearls and shoulder pads in the jungle?” I should have known. My mother never left the house until she looked her best. I guess she’d always been that way.

  Adi pointed to the couple standing next to my mom and dad. “Could you wear any more rubber bracelets, Mom?”

  Sylvia raised her chin. “I was channeling my inner Madonna. Helen went with the more classic look. We had a lot of fun together.”