Murder on the Equator Box Set

by Becca Bloom

  "Jessica?" Hugo interrupted my thoughts.

  Coming to, I apologized. "I'm sorry, I was … pondering." I'd keep the subject of my thoughts to myself. I doubted Hugo would be as interested by Mr. Darcy's eye color as I was when there was a murderer in our midst.

  Sleep deprivation and excessive amounts of sugar made it difficult to concentrate, but I did my best. Gluing my eyes to Hugo's face, I said, "Please continue."

  He answered with a question. "Why do you think she's so insistent on marrying Roberto?"

  "She told me she wants to support him through this difficult time."

  "By adding to his responsibilities? By insisting on the larger diamond and interior decorator for his newly-bought home?"

  "How do you know about the diamond?" I asked, though my mind was stuck on the interior decorator. I didn't know anyone who had hired a designer, but those shows on HGTV were addictive.

  "As if she can really keep that thing secret by wearing it on a chain around her neck. Besides, Roberto and I have become friends over the years and I'm trying to help him out of a financial pickle right now."

  "Roberto's in trouble?" I didn't want to pry into his financial affairs, but it didn't take a great detective to know how many murders were provoked by greed to sniff out a potential motive.

  "He's stretched too thin. A wedding, a new house, a building project to add his own practice on his property, and now the lawyer's fees he'll have to pay to keep his nose clean in this whole mess. He's the prime suspect and he knows it. If Vanessa manages to marry him before he's arrested, she'll get everything."

  Roberto's situation cast a shadow over his presumed innocence and it looked even worse for Vanessa. It wasn't my inclination to like her, but for Adi and the sake of fairness, I couldn't condemn her so easily. She deserved better. Everyone did. Innocent until proven guilty.

  And then there was Hugo. Did he know he was under suspicion? Was this merely an attempt to cast the blame from himself?

  I looked around. We were surrounded by people. If Hugo were attempting to misdirect attention from himself, he wouldn't attempt to harm me in the middle of a crowded fair.

  "I thank you for your warning, Hugo, but I have to ask why you're so pushy about buying this property. There are some who might think that you hope to benefit from Victor's death."

  He scoffed. "That's Abuelita talking. She's a real piece of work, isn't she? On one hand, she respects me as a teacher. But in the same breath she praises my language classes, she calls me a Mafioso."

  "Well, you have to admit it does look bad. I heard you hired Wilson." More than that, I wouldn’t say. If Hugo was the murderer, I didn’t need for him to feel the need to silence me, Abuelita, or anyone else he might suspect of speaking out against him.

  “I’ll own to it. However, you have to understand where I come from. My family has always been involved in real estate. It’s a cutthroat business, and if you don’t get in there and insist, you won’t last. That’s why I got out and started teaching. I was too nice.”

  I looked at him skeptically. “Teaching at an intercity high school was easier?”

  “I wouldn’t say that. In many ways, it was much tougher. But it was more rewarding. There’s nothing better than feeling like you’ve helped someone; improved their chances by a fraction. I would have taught longer, but my heart couldn’t take the stress. Esmeralda — and my doctor — made me quit.” He spoke softly and looked blankly out over the crowds, a world of regret and sadness etched in his downcast face.

  Could murderers be so altruistic? I now understood his body language from earlier. He was being protective. Considering what a poor student I was, and how many classes I’d missed (due to circumstances beyond my control, but still…), my heart softened toward him enough to feel bad for ever suspecting that he could have anything to do with Victor’s death. I hoped my gut was more reliable than Abuelita’s.

  I guessed I’d find out soon. Agent Vasquez and the inspector he didn’t like closed in on Hugo and me.

  “Good afternoon. Enjoying the freedom of the outdoors before I lock one of you away?” asked the inspector as he snapped his gum and inched down the frames of his reflective sunglasses. He was the only one to laugh at his lame joke.

  Agent Vasquez, his tone full of the restraint and long-suffering required to put up with such an individual, shook Hugo’s hand. “Señor Santorini, we’re merely asking some questions. Do you have a few minutes?”

  Hugo invited them upstairs.

  To me, the arrogant inspector said, “I saw you hurry away from a house one block down from the robbery last night. You’re next.”

  “Robbery? So something was stolen from Victor’s house?”

  He scoffed at the idiocy of my question, looking at me over the small gap at the top of his sunglasses. “I won’t discuss details of the case with a suspect.”

  “But you said there was a robbery. That means something was stolen, otherwise you would have called it an attempted robbery or a burglary.”

  He crossed his arms and jutted out his jaw. “I’m perfectly aware of the difference, Señorita. I find it odd how well you understand the difference.”

  “So having a good understanding of my own language and a decent vocabulary makes me a robber?” This guy was something special. “Unless Abuelita wants to press charges against me for accompanying her own daughter to her home last night, you’re wasting your time breathing threats to me. If, by your own admission, you saw me leave from a different house, how do you expect me to have robbed Victor’s home? Or were you too slow arriving to the crime scene, a criminal would have had time to break into two houses?” That came out a bit saucier than normal. What could I say? The guy brought out the best in me.

  Agent Vasquez stepped between us. Placing his thick hand on my shoulder, he said, “Calm down, Miss James.” The warning look in his eyes silenced me.

  It helped that Edgar showed up with empty trays just then. “Jessica, I hope there are more doughnuts in the kitchen. We’ve almost sold out!”

  Agent Vasquez said, “You’d better go. I’ll talk with you later.”

  The jerk inspector lunged forward, his chest puffed up like a rooster. “We’re not finished yet.”

  I heard Agent Vasquez say, “Yes, you are,” and saw him shove the twerp up the stairs to Hugo’s apartment.

  Edgar said, “Don’t worry about him. He’s an idiot.”

  “He questioned you too?”

  “Yeah. They intercepted me on the way to the kitchen for more doughnuts. When I saw they were headed over to you and Señor Santorini, I thought it couldn’t hurt to try to get you out of there. I just hope Hugo has a good alibi.”

  I did too. But if Hugo didn’t kill Victor, then who did? The only other suspects put Adi in direct contact with a killer.

  The dining room was empty, it being too far from lunch and too close to dinner for there to be many diners. “Can you please tell Martha and Fernanda I’ll be there in a couple minutes?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “No problem, boss.”

  Boss. I almost corrected him, but I stopped myself. I’d shied away from that kind of responsibility my entire life — not because I didn’t think I could do it, but because it was such a big word to take on. And I wasn’t much of a go-getter when it came to doing something for myself. I wasn’t the kind of girl to become the boss lady at the inexperienced age of twenty-three. However, today had gone remarkably well…. Jessenia couldn’t have set up her online business without my help. And had I not written one heck of a CV for Jessamyn to get accepted for her dream internship at the modeling agency?

  I wondered what awaited me through the kitchen door, but I didn’t dwell on it long. Doughnuts and career choices could wait. I needed to call Adi.

  Chapter 22

  Adi answered on the first ring. "I was hoping it was you," she said. I could hardly hear her over the chatter and laughter in the background.

  "How did you know I'd call?" I asked, trying to keep
my voice down.

  "Mom has called me twice since I left, Abuelita and Tia Rosa have called, Jake has been texting me all afternoon … I figured it was just a matter of time before my bestie rang."

  "I'm just grateful you consider me a friend instead of a pest invading your space and dragging you into all kinds of problems with cadavers."

  She laughed. "It's not been boring. I'm glad you're staying an extra month, and don't worry about the space. After this wedding, I'll have more room."

  "Not when you get more work. It's only a matter of time before you become a household name."

  "That's what I'm working for. It may take a while, but it'll be worth it in the end."

  That's where my hang-up had always been. What if I failed? What if I dedicated years of my life to my dream only to have it fail? Now, however, wasn't the time to air my fears. I needed to make sure Adi was safe.

  "I have no doubt but that you'll succeed." Hey, if I can't be optimistic for myself, at least I could be for my friend. "How are you doing? Is everything okay?"

  "You mean, do I feel safe? Yes, I do. I'm surrounded by bridesmaids and Vanessa's parents have been so kind. They would never do anything to ruin their daughter's special day. All of Vanessa's bridesmaids are from Ambato and didn't even know Victor."

  "And the parents?"

  She spoke so quietly I had to press the phone to my ear tighter. "Her mom is in a wheelchair and they were in Quito all day Wednesday for a special therapy she's doing."

  Quito was hours away from Baños. If they had gone to the capitol city, they had a solid alibi. "You trust that story?"

  "I asked for the name of the therapist on the pretext you might need therapy after your unfortunate accident. I Googled her to find her phone number and was able to confirm that they were there when they said."

  "Well done, Sherlock." Finally, my heartbeat calmed into its normal, steady rhythm.

  "I watch my back just as well as you guys do. I couldn't have you worrying about me when the murderer could still be in Baños. Be careful, okay?"

  I promised to do my best, at which time we both got back to our respective jobs. Edgar hadn't returned with the trays yet and I was getting concerned. There had been enough time to load them up and replenish the supply at the booth.

  It was a beautiful sight awaiting me in Sylvia's kitchen. The baking trays were full of frosted and glazed doughnuts waiting to be sold and Martha switched off the fryer just as I stepped inside, pulling out the last of the fluffy, golden doughnuts.

  “It’s a good thing you stink at math,” Fernanda said, adding, “Edgar, tell her how many we’ve sold today.”

  “Last I checked, it was just over three thousand five hundred. There’s another few hundred here. Hopefully, it’ll be enough.”

  My jaw dropped. Four thousand? How on earth had I miscalculated so badly?

  Martha laughed at me, patting my shoulder and speaking a stream of Spanish.

  Fernanda translated. “She says you ought to open up a shop here in Baños. If you do, let me know. I liked making designs with the glaze and have a few ideas for flavors. That’s me talking, not my mom. Although I’m sure she’d rather work in a pastry shop than a dull bakery … especially if the hours are better.”

  “Here? Oh, no, I couldn’t. I’m only here on vacation,” I said immediately.

  “If you want to stay, you can stay. Or, do you have something better to go back home to?” Fernanda asked, filling the last tray and sending Edgar outside. Martha waved her red face and I understood her need for fresh air. I needed some air too … or for Fernanda to stop asking hard questions.

  “Well?” She raised her eyebrows at me, waiting for an answer.

  “I have a cute apartment in the best part of the city. Seriously, I live within walking distance of the best bookstore ever. There are three coffee shops within sight of the front door of my building.”

  “There are cute apartments here for rent, and at a fraction of what you’re probably paying. We don’t have bookstores, but we have Internet and I know you have a Kindle. As for coffee,” she tsked and shook her head, continuing, “in case you haven’t noticed, Juan Valdez is our next-door neighbor. I even know several people related to his donkey.”

  I smiled at her joke, but my mind kept coming up with excuses. Lots and lots of reasons it would be crazy for me to even consider what she suggested.

  “I have a job that pays well and my family.”

  “Your family? Didn’t you tell me they were all gone? That they felt guilty leaving you behind as they moved on with their lives, so they sent you on this big adventure to South America?”

  I hadn’t said it like that. But, cutting away all the fluff, that was pretty much what had happened. I didn’t reply because she already knew the answer.

  And so her questions continued. “If you go back to Portland, what are you going back to?”

  My empty studio apartment and a job I only endured because it paid well enough to save a tidy sum at the end of the month.

  Then, she hit me with the big question. “Are you happy? How will you feel when you’re old and wrinkly and you think back on your life? Will you have regrets? Will you be able to live with them?”

  Deep questions from a teenager still in high school. Obviously her guidance counselor was more of a dreamer than a planner.

  Fernanda covered her mouth and scoffed. “O.M.G., I totally sounded like my mother. She’s always telling me that I should do what brings me joy now because life has a way of derailing hopes and dreams. She says I need to pursue them while I still can or risk losing them forever.”

  “My parents tell me the same thing.”

  “Maybe you should listen to them.”

  “Okay, Mom,” I teased, needing to lighten the mood. It was suffocating in the kitchen. “Let’s take the rest of these out and get out of here. We can enjoy the rest of the fair.” I looked at my watch. Six o’clock. “There’s only two hours left.”

  “Too hot in the kitchen for you, huh? Fine, I can take a hint. No more sticky-sweet pep talks from me. They make me sick anyway.” Fernanda dipped the last doughnut in the chocolate frosting, then circled her finger through the bowl and licked it. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to do that all day.”

  “Knock yourself out,” I said, helping myself to one of the glazed doughnuts and double dipping it into the remaining coconut frosting. The perfect combination of crispy and creamy melted in my mouth along with every bit of stress from the day. Carried away by the sugary goodness, I basked in the glory of a job well done.

  As much as we'd tried to clean as we went, the counters were littered with mixing bowls and frosting-caked wire whisks. I couldn't leave the kitchen looking like a tornado of powdered sugar and food coloring had let loose in it.

  With Fernanda's help, we soon had a stack of sparkling dishes in the dish drainer. Edgar had taken the last of the doughnuts outside, commenting how it would be a close call not to run out before the fair ended. It wasn't a bad problem to have … as long as someone else made more money than we did and could grace the television screens across the nation with their face. I knew the mayor considered it to be the best prize he could offer, but it sounded more like a punishment to me.

  "Come on, let's go outside. I didn't get to see very much last time I went and I'm dying to see how Tia Rosa is doing." I grabbed the light sweater I'd worn in the morning and peeked into the backyard where Martha's kids had returned to play with Lady after a brief reprieve at their cousin's house.

  "They must have watched Robin Hood. Have you seen that? It’s a Disney classic," Fernanda said, pointing at Lady, who apparently, had been given the role of Robin Hood. A newspaper folded into a pointy hat with a bird feather stuck in it propped on her head and a couple of sticks tied into place to look like arrows made up her ensemble.

  “Are you kidding? It’s my favorite Disney cartoon! Nutsy and Trigger are the best.” I’d always played the pair of them (which I preferred by far to
playing the Sheriff of Nottingham) while Jessenia was Robin Hood and Jessamyn was Maid Marian.

  Fernanda asked if they wanted to come outside with us, but they were having too much fun with Robin Hood. The cousin, who looked to be a year or two older than Fernanda, sat on the steps leading up to Adi's apartment. She offered to stay with them a bit longer, leaving us free to enjoy the amusements awaiting us across the street in the park.

  This time, I made sure my keys were firmly shoved to the bottom of my pocket before entering the crowds.

  The sun had set and thousands of white twinkle lights looped through the palm trees and bougainvillea plants in the park. The mayor had set up a large platform where he promised music and fireworks to give a worthy finale to the fundraiser on the wide sidewalk in front of our booths. Abuelita would not be happy about it, with the platform obstructing people's view of her booth and making the crossing more difficult, but I was pleased. The other booths would get more notice that way.

  "Now I know why my cousin was willing to stay with the kids," said Fernanda, looking at the boxes of fireworks on the shaky stage.

  "She's scared of pyrotechnics?" I asked.

  "With good reason. The last time they did this, her hair caught on fire when one of the sparklers misfired and didn't burn out in time. She had to cut her long hair into a bob."

  I touched my hair, the one thing I knew looked good on me, and cringed. Maybe I'd stay inside for the fireworks after all.

  A group of teenagers hovering over a cell phone looked up, their eyes growing wide before they burst into laughter when we walked by them.

  Instinctively, I brushed my fingers over my cheeks and nose. Did I have a smear of frosting on my face?

  Fernanda pulled her hair out of the pony tail it had been in, fluffing it around her face and hiding behind it.