by Becca Bloom
I really wanted to go there. There was a wooden bridge close enough to the waterfall called The Devil’s Cauldron to bathe a person in water vapor.
"Not until later." Jake grabbed the now-empty paper bag and filled it with enough bread, ham, and sliced cheese to make sandwiches. "I'll cater." He held the portable brunch bag up.
Sylvia opened a drawer and gave him a knife. "You'd better take this to slice open the bread. There are some boiled eggs on the top shelf of the fridge. Grab those and some bananas from the fruit bowl."
While Jake finished packing our breakfast, I went outside to Lady. She ran around the yard chasing the early birds trying to hunt for worms in the garden. When she saw her leash, she calmed down enough for me to hook it around her collar.
It was still dark outside. The air smelled of bread as the bakeries opened their doors for business. The wide sidewalks were empty and the only sounds to be heard were those of barking dogs, crowing roosters, and the occasional radio playing a salsa rhythm. It was quiet enough I could hear the waterfall splashing against the rocks at the other end of town.
The mayor sat in his office chair behind his giant desk while a woman smoothed his hair and dusted his face with powder. His secretary gathered papers off of the surfaces and tucked them out of sight in drawers, running her finger over the desk and checking them for dust.
Jake found a corner to stand in while they rigged Abuelita and me with microphones and told us where to stand — first behind the desk, then in front of it to better see Lady — and blinded us with lights and reflectors.
Before my nerves had time to catch up, we were on air. Lady sat tall and perked her ears up when her role in the capture of a murderer was praised by the mayor. When he reached down to pet her, she raised her paw to shake his hand. She made the mayor look good and her effort was rewarded with a dog biscuit his secretary slipped to him.
My instructions had been to smile and nod, which I did fairly well. When Mayor Guerra presented me with a small plaque with my name etched on it from the good citizens of Baños, I said, "Gracias."
He asked Abuelita a couple of questions, during which she often looked at me while she answered. She spoke so swiftly, I couldn't tell what she said, but from the mayor's reaction, it couldn't have been anything too shocking. His face grew serious for a brief moment, then he took over and wrapped up our interviews.
Abuelita jabbed me in the ribs with her elbow. "Smile and wave," she whispered out of the corner of her mouth.
I did, then the lights turned off, a flurry of people swarmed around us to remove microphones, pet Lady (she was definitely the star of the show), and congratulate us as they packed up their equipment.
It was still early and we were hungry.
"Care for a picnic?" Jake asked. "Let's eat at the park. It's much more peaceful there today than it was yesterday."
"That sounds perfect." As much as I dreaded early mornings, I loved the sunrises here. The burst of red in the sky just before the sun lined the mountain peaks surrounding us with gold was all the more special for how briefly it lasted. The soft glow of sun's rays warmed the sky. The sparkling morning dew adorned the palm trees and wild orchids like diamond earrings.
We sat on a bench while Jake made our sandwiches. Sitting hadn't hurt so badly, which was progress. And contrary to Dr. Montalvo's alarmist warning, I hadn't needed brain surgery after all.
A black SUV with tinted windows drove by us and parked on the side street. Agent Vasquez, or maybe I could get away with calling him Washo again now that the investigation was over and we could be friends again, walked over to us.
"You early. What you do here?" asked Abuelita in her usual straight-forward manner.
"Good morning to you too, Señora Jimenez. Sylvia invited me for breakfast." He leaned forward and held his breath, looking intently at Abuelita. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight when she gave no immediate answer.
I almost chuckled. Big, bad Agent Vasquez was scared of Abuelita! And Abuelita knew it. She narrowed her eyes at him, doing absolutely nothing to lessen his nerves.
But Washo was accustomed to tense situations. He moved on, speaking to Jake and me. "Now that Edgar is detained, I thought you might like to know his motive. It'll be in the papers today, so I see no harm in sharing it with you now."
I was definitely curious. I'd overlooked Edgar from the start because I could only see how taking his boss out of the picture would hurt him. He’d been a victim.
"The clues were there from the beginning." He pulled out his notepad and flipped back a few pages. "In your initial statement, you said that Edgar arrived on the scene with a Star Wars t-shirt on and that Victor said he was taking time off to consider his future."
"That’s right. That’s what made me discount him as a suspect. Victor didn’t imply that anything was wrong between them, and Edgar reaffirmed what Victor had said by confiding that he was about to be made a partner.”
"He lied. Victor had fired him."
"Wait. You’re saying that Edgar wasn't working for Victor anymore?" Jake asked.
Washo nodded. "Victor fired him. Edgar was quite cooperative once we got him back to the station. He must have thought we'd be more lenient if he was helpful. I didn't correct him."
I was dissatisfied. “Then why didn’t Victor say so? Why did he say he’d given Edgar time to consider his future when he could have spoken more plainly? All of this could have been avoided.”
Jake leaned back against the bench. "Wow, I can't imagine Victor firing anyone. He was too nice. Edgar must've done something really bad to deserve that."
"I would assume he didn’t want to burden his brother more than he already felt he had. Whatever the case may be, Victor handled it on his own. For years, Edgar had been extorting money from the business. They were small amounts, but done consistently over a good deal of time, the total amount added up to fifty thousand dollars. Victor found it when his brother gave him his computer and insisted he keep better records. Did you know one of Victor's incomplete career paths was accounting?"
"So it was about the money. I bet that's what Victor was referring to when he said he wanted to show Roberto something. Not the email to Hugo."
Washo nodded. "Hugo is pushy, but he isn't a killer. You're probably right about Victor. Edgar said that Victor had given him until the morning of the homicide to either turn himself in or replace the fifty grand he'd stolen. When the electricity went out, Edgar waited until Roberto left. He offered to help Victor with the customers, telling him that he had the cash to gain his trust. When there was a lull, he hit Victor over the head with an ice cream scoop and shut him in the freezer. He bought cream at the store and made sure enough people saw him outside to establish an alibi."
"Why he come back?" asked Abuelita.
"He needed the computer," I answered. "So long as nobody knew about his extortion, he could pretend to be a shocked employee who'd just lost his job. He knew Victor was trying not to burden Roberto and rightly assumed that Victor hadn’t told his brother what he’d done. And to think I sympathized with him."
"That's why he broke into Victor's house. He thought the laptop was there. It wasn't until he saw you leaving Diego's shop that he thought you might have it. He was already staying close and it was easy for him to pick your pocket, make a copy of your keys, then pretend he'd found them."
"When could he have taken my keys?" I thought back to every contact I'd had with Edgar the day of the doughnuts. He would have had to been better than The Artful Dodger of Oliver Twist fame to have gotten my keys out of my pocket.
"In the kitchen. He dropped a doughnut hole and managed it during the commotion he caused."
"Wow. I had no idea."
"To his credit, he felt bad about that."
"Yeah well, not bad enough not to break into the apartment and point a gun at me."
Washo grinned. "Do you watch a lot of cop shows or something?"
"No. I'm too squeamish for that. I like to read myst
eries, though. Why do you ask?" I braced myself for a grand explanation of how real life isn't anything like what I read in my books or watch on TV.
"You kept him talking until I could get to you. Well done, Jessica."
"Oh." I hadn't seen that one coming. "Thank you, I guess."
He continued, "It still won't keep me from breathing easier when you return to Oregon. When is that? A week away or thereabouts?"
I almost felt bad for telling him. Almost. "Actually, I extended my trip an extra month."
Washo groaned. "Lord help us."
Chapter 27
Dusk settled over Baños and I donned Adi's maxi dress for the wedding she had insisted we accompany her to. I would have preferred to spend the night in, having taken a renewed interest in all things Agatha Christie, but as Adi reminded me, she hadn't dolled me up that morning for nothing.
When I learned that Sylvia, Abuelita, Tia Rosa, and Jake were going, I really had little choice. Friends over fiction.
The wedding was to be held at the house Roberto had grown up in. An arbor of flowers intertwined with twinkle lights showed us through the walled-in garden, opening up to an intimate space with a perfectly manicured lawn surrounded by trimmed rose bushes in full bloom and lemon trees surrounding the wall. Streamers lined a path down the aisle carpeted with rose petals leading to a trellis where Roberto and Vanessa would exchange vows. Purple paper lanterns strung along the wall and around the trees added a regal glow to the happy occasion.
Vanessa, stylishly late to ensure no latecomers would miss her wedding, proceeded down the aisle while the wedding march played from speakers hidden between rose bushes.
I squeezed Adi's hand. "She's gorgeous!" Vanessa's dress was a dream of lavender trim and glimmering, white satin. A glimmer of lavender silk tulle peeked out from the gown with every step Vanessa took. Well-placed, shimmery sequins sparkled around the lilac trim swirling over the bodice and framing the bride's figure to her advantage.
"When I can afford it, I'm going to use crystals instead of sequins," Adi whispered.
I'll be honest, I spent more time looking over the crowd and admiring Jake in a suit than in paying attention to the actual ceremony.
The reception was set up inside the house. Roberto had cleared the room so that there was an area for dancing on one side and circular tables arranged on the other. There was a bar behind the tables with several glasses filled with champagne waiting to be served. It was small, elegant, and simple.
Soft music played and people milled about congratulating the newlywed couple and posing for pictures. Tia Rosa cornered Roberto, pulling a card out of her plastic bag with a dimply smile. Waiters filled the tables with plates of chicken cordon bleu. Yum! Adi, her work done, laughed with the bridesmaids and made new friends with Sylvia at her side. Jake tugged at his shirt collar until Abuelita smacked his hand down and away from his tie.
Finding a place in a quiet corner, I had settled in for a night of people-watching when Vanessa joined me.
Without a care of smudging her makeup or flattening her hair, she gave me a huge hug. "Thank you so much! Because of you, my husband and I can enjoy this night. Please, if there's ever anything we can do for you, I hope you ask. We are forever grateful."
Her eyes glistened with tears.
"I'm just happy you're able to start your life together without any dark rainclouds looming overhead." And I was. Weddings were new beginnings and everyone should begin as happy and as well as they could.
"I know how guilty we looked. It's a challenge to keep up appearances when things are difficult, but I trust Roberto. It's hard right now, but he's talented and we're both hard workers. I just remind myself of all of the people we'll be able to help together and it's all worth it. Maybe by the time we hit our fiftieth anniversary, we'll be able to put a real diamond in this ring." She held up her ring, admiring it as she had the day I’d met her in Dr. Montalvo’s office.
"What? It's not real?" I asked, stunned.
She looked around to make sure no one was listening. "I bought it for twenty dollars out of a catalog. It sure is sparkly, isn't it?"
"But why?"
"Roberto rubs elbows with a lot of prominent doctors and influential people in the city. It's unfair, but it's a fact that appearances mean everything. I'm just doing my part to make sure he's not overlooked by his peers or considered as less when he's an excellent doctor who cares for his patients. So long as I don’t let them look too closely at my ring, we’re good."
Boy, I'd misjudged her.
One of her bridesmaids called Vanessa over for more pictures. With a parting conspiratorial wink, Vanessa left me to ponder motives and why people did the things they did. I watched as another bridesmaid tried to pry Roberto away from Tia Rosa. They shook hands and he left, leaving Tia Rosa to shake her hips and wave her arms in the air in a victory dance … at least, she did until her plastic bag smacked a waiter with a gravy boat in his hands across the face. It wasn’t gravy in the dish. It was a white, cream dressing — probably Ranch or blue cheese — as was clearly seen as it streamed down the front of Abuelita’s blue dress suit before I could reach her with a napkin.
Sylvia crossed the room and whisked Abuelita into the kitchen in short order, followed by Tia Rosa and the sorry waiter. Jake and Adi had seen it too, and they followed us into the kitchen where Tia Rosa attempted to appease Abuelita.
“Why you dance like crazy lady?” demanded Abuelita, dabbing at the stain down her jacket with a towel.
Tia Rosa smiled. “I have happy news! I tell you if you no revenge,” she held her finger in front of Abuelita’s face, looking every bit the bossy, older sister she was.
Abuelita reluctantly promised. I had to wonder what pranks they had played on each other over the years. I bet they were way better than the ones Jessenia and Jessamyn had come up with.
We fell into silence as Tia Rosa’s smile grew. “I buy the building!” she said, clapping her hands in lieu of another disastrous victory dance. “I be business owner too and you no have reason for be mean to me, Bertha.”
I covered my mouth to stifle my laugh. Take that, Abuelita! It’s always the quiet ones you need to watch out for.
Abuelita, however, was not impressed. “What business you do? You no know nothing about business.”
Plopping her hands on her hips and widening her stance, taking Abuelita’s challenge head-on and making me so proud of her, Tia Rosa said, “Doughnut shop, dress shop, and apartment for Jessica.” Turning to me, she latched onto my arm with both of her hands and blinked up at me with her big eyes. “You stay, yes?”
She was playing me hard. I knew it. She knew it. And for some crazy reason I couldn’t explain had I tried … I didn’t really mind.
Chapter 1
“I’m sorry, ma'am, but there’s no way you’re my uncle,” I said, struggling between my desire to hang up the phone and my inherent need to be nice.
“Is amnesia,” the feminine voice said.
“I’m not an expert, but amnesia doesn’t work like that. I haven’t forgotten what my uncle sounded like.” How could I when Uncle Eddie was the exact copy of my dad? And my dad did not sound like a woman.
“I suffer injury. It change me,” the woman shot back in reply.
At her snarky tone, I leaned more in favor of foregoing politeness to hang up the phone, but I hesitated. I’d never hung up on anybody in my life. Not even telemarketers. My family made fun of me for it, teasing me for being too amiable. Like that was a bad thing.
The woman’s words faded into the background as I contemplated how different the world would be if people were nicer, then was snapped back to the present when Abuelita (the oldest of the Jiménez family in the room) snatched the phone out of my hand.
Speaking to the woman claiming to be my long-lost uncle, Abuelita said, “You no uncle. You no call no more or I call the police and you go to jail because you the mentirosa,” then smashed the phone into its cradle while shaking her head at me.
I asked her, “Mentirosa is liar, right?” feeling a little proud of myself at my improved comprehension of Spanish. (Of course, Abuelita ensured that the first words branded in my memory were mostly insults.)
Ignoring my question, she jabbed her finger at my arm. “You too … what is word … dulce,” she said with a sour expression.
I failed to see how being sweet was as great a flaw as her look and the disdain in her voice suggested.
Jake, Abuelita’s grandson, defended me as he spread mustard over ten slices of bread laid out in perfect double lines down the butcher block island in the middle of the kitchen. “The world would be a better place if people were nicer to each other.”
My thoughts exactly! My heart fluttered as I flattered myself that Jake and I might have a connection only the truest of soul mates enjoyed. Hey, a girl can dream.
Sylvia, the boss of the kitchen and Jake’s mom, turned from the stove, waving her soup spoon at Abuelita and clearing all mushy thoughts of Jake from my head as I dodged a blob of broth. I’d been reading too many romance novels lately.
She said, “Ma, if it wasn’t for you, Jess wouldn’t be getting all these calls. You had no business offering a reward to anyone with information about Eddie. He was declared dead years ago, and it’s cruel of you to get our hopes up.” She waved her hands in the air, sending a rain shower of soup flying around the kitchen.
“They never find the body,” Abuelita said, grabbing a dishtowel to clean the soup from the counter and bringing up the one fact that had made acceptance of Uncle Eddie’s death impossible in my family.
I reached out to Sylvia, lowering her spoon-wavering hand before she made more of a mess. “I really don’t mind. If there’s anything to find out, I have a better chance of finding it here than I do back home in Oregon.”
“But the calls have been endless and have led nowhere,” she countered.
“I don’t mind,” I repeated. And I meant it. It was tedious and, so far, had revealed nothing, but it felt good to do something to help ease the doubt tormenting my dad and Mammy (aka, my grandma, who is way too cool for me and my two sisters to simply call her “Grandma”).