Murder on the Equator Box Set

by Becca Bloom

  Abuelita, who had been too busy studying the pictures to say much, finally broke her silence. “Where you? Why you no in study group?”

  The mayor turned red, but he turned one page over and pointed at a boy with acne, a headgear, and helmet hair. “I wasn’t part of the study group because my grades weren’t good enough. I keep this picture of myself as a reminder of how hard I’ve worked to get to where I am. I’ve come this far, and I don’t intend to let anything stand between me and my goals.”

  Abuelita nodded, smacking him on the back. “You good man, Marlon. If you make goal be president, I vote you.”

  Mayor Guerra smiled. “I appreciate that, Abuelita.”

  I pulled the yearbook closer to me, focusing on the pictures. There was still one class photo we hadn’t looked at yet. Sophia was much on my mind, and I would much rather have a mental image of the vibrant girl she was than the remnants of her I’d seen.

  Her picture was in the middle of the first row of students. Half of her light brown hair was pulled up and the other half cascaded in wavy curls around her shoulders. She smiled, but I got the idea that it wasn’t a genuine one. Her eyes caught my attention. Maybe it was the effect of what I knew about her end and my own sadness distorting my vision, but I would’ve sworn that her eyes pleaded for help.

  The bell above the front door jangled as an officer stepped inside. He zoned in on our table, holding out a folded piece of paper to Sylvia. She offered him a juice, but he couldn’t stay. He left as quickly as he had appeared, having delivered the promised phone number.

  Sylvia rose from her stool. It was like a call to action as we followed suit. There was much to be done, and we didn’t have much time. Thankfully, Adi and Tia Rosa returned in time to help. They’d return to the newspaper archives after lunch.

  The mayor was on a mission to get at least one of the bigger newspapers to run an article on the skeleton found in Tia Rosa’s building. He and his secretary would personally see to all calls claiming to have information. I knew from experience that he had a busy few days ahead of him. I still averaged a half dozen calls every day about my uncle. I didn’t mind the ridiculous ones. It was the ones that made me get my hopes up that I found the cruelest.

  Abuelita and Adi stayed to see to the lunch crowd soon to arrive while Sylvia called Sophia’s mom.

  That left Tia Rosa and me to go to the Hotel Imperial to meet Shirley and anyone else who might have shown up early for the event.

  One look at Tia Rosa’s slumped shoulders and brave attempt to smile when her forecast was bleak tempered my doubts and insecurities. It was easier to cast them aside than I had thought, them being as familiar to me as my favorite v-cut, white t-shirt and worn Levis. Maybe it was time for me to add more color to my wardrobe.

  Chapter 10

  Hotel Imperial was only a ten-minute walk away, located under the cascade dropping down the mountainside into the steaming hot spring pools at the other end of town.

  By the time we stood before the giant archway of the grand entrance, my nerves ping-ponging between the focused calm of the private eye I needed to be and sheer terror of the insecure introvert I had been most of my life, I was a sweaty mess. A hot mess with a dogged determination to find the truth for the sakes of my friends and for a dead girl I’d never met.

  The hotel was exquisite. The textured, beige finish lent softness to the concrete walls and pillars. Palm trees shaped like fans lined the drive to the covered area in front of the lobby to welcome guests.

  Ceramic tiles covered with plush rugs in forest green and gold added to the jungle feel inside the reception area. Vaulted ceilings with exposed beams and hanging ceiling fans with bamboo blades shaped into leaves cooled the lobby and spread the exotic perfume of the brightly-colored flora in terracotta planters spread throughout the ample room.

  The receptionist looked up from her computer, smiling in welcome as we passed the seating area to our right.

  “Welcome to Hotel Imperial, how may I help you?” she said with only a slight accent.

  Tia Rosa nudged me in the arm, clearly expecting me to do all the talking.

  I cleared my throat, reminding myself that I had permission from the highest police authority in the country to be there. Granted, he thought I was a joke and was waiting for me to fall flat on my face. But, seriously, after what I’d been through in the past month since arriving in Ecuador, he had severely underestimated how little I cared about what others thought of me at this point. All that mattered right now was Sophia, Adi’s future, and Tia Rosa’s building.

  “We’re here to speak to the organizer of the event for Miss Matty. We have some questions for her.” I did my best to sound authoritative and professional. Jessica James, P.I.

  “Señora Shirley is here,” she said, her smile widening as she leaned toward us and lowered her voice. “You’re Jessica James, right? Please tell me you’re here to offer your delicious doughnuts for the banquet! I tried them at the fundraiser last week and I’ve been craving more ever since.”

  Stunned that she knew who I was, it took me a moment to respond. Long enough for Tia Rosa to answer for me. “She Jessica. She make the doughnuts in my shop. We open soon.”

  Tia Rosa looked up at me and flashed her dimples. She had far too much trust in me.

  The receptionist bounced on her toes and squealed quietly. “I can hardly wait. When are you opening?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

  Tia Rosa’s chubby face brimmed with confidence. With a wink, she said, “Very soon. You first to know when we open. We have the grand open with many flavor doughnut!”

  “That’s wonderful news! You know, if you’re here about the doughnuts, I can speak to my manager. We’ve been asked to cater the dinner Friday night as well as the banquet on Sunday, and I think your doughnuts would be a cheerful addition to our dessert table.” She lifted the receiver of her office phone, cradling it between her shoulder and ear, and punched a number I could only guess was the direct line to her manager. I raised my hand to stop her, but she ignored me, blinded by the promise of gooey, sugary doughnuts.

  “Is wonderful, no, Jess?” asked Tia Rosa, her cheeks as pink as the rims of her glasses.

  “No, it’s not wonderful,” I whispered to her. “We have to find out who buried Sophia in your building or there won’t be any doughnuts! We don’t have time for this.”

  She reached up and patted my cheek. “Have more faith, Jess. You find murder before Sunday, and you free for to make the doughnuts.”

  I grimaced at her.

  The receptionist covered the receiver with her hand and whispered to us, “This will be great advertising for your doughnut shop. Make sure to print a bunch of business cards for our guests to take with them. There will be influential people from all over the country at the gala.” She removed her hand, said a few words, and hung up.

  “He say is okay?” asked Tia Rosa.

  Looking between us, her hands clasped together under her chin as if they contained the best of news, the receptionist said, “He thought it was a wonderful idea. Can you have enough for the estimated one hundred guests we expect to attend the dinner and three hundred for the banquet?”

  Tia Rosa spoke before my brain could think of a good enough excuse to back out. “No problem. We make the doughnuts.”

  My life had turned into one uncomfortable succession of insurmountable odds to overcome after another. What were a few hundred doughnuts? I could whip them up with one hand while I checked-off suspects with the other. If only Tia Rosa could hear the sarcasm in my head.

  “Oh, good. In that case, do you have a few minutes to step into the manager’s office? He can give you the details,” said the receptionist.

  The elevator dinged and I looked over in time to see the cheerleader I’d seen earlier in the yearbook accompanied by a guy with slicked back black hair and the same style of thick-framed glasses he’d worn in his picture. They hadn’t changed much.

  They turned to right
, which from the sound of clattering dishes and the delicious smells must lead to the hotel’s restaurant.

  “We really need to speak to Señora Shirley,” I said, trying to remind Tia Rosa of our purpose with a few wiggles of my eyebrows and jerks of my head toward the elevator.

  Tia Rosa shoved her glasses up her nose and squinted her eyes at the couple before they disappeared into the dining room. “Ah, is good. You go, Jessica. I speak to manager and you solve mystery.”

  “But what if they don’t speak English?” I asked.

  She patted me on the cheek. “You Spanish okay. Is good for to practice.” With that, she wobbled off to join the receptionist waiting to take her to the manager’s office.

  Fine. I’d just have to go on my own. Unless they spoke English, I was sunk. My Spanish was basic at best.

  I scurried across the foyer and past the elevators where I saw the couple waiting for a table.

  “Señora Shirley?” I asked.

  She turned, regarding me with a friendly smile. “Yes?”

  The man with her faced me, too. Alex, the smart one.

  “I apologize for interrupting your lunch, but might I ask you a few questions regarding a girl you went to school with?”

  She flicked her hair behind her shoulder and asked airily, “Is this for the opening edition of the school paper? They said they’d send someone by, but I was expecting a student.”

  “No. I’m asking because I think we found Sophia.”

  The reactions were instant. Alex clamped his mouth shut and looked down pensively. I could practically see the gears of his mind spinning, but I had no idea where his thoughts lay.

  Shirley clutched at her heart, her happy disposition gone and her eyes swimming in tears.

  Alex handed her a starched white handkerchief, which she accepted. She dabbed at her eyes without smearing any of her makeup.

  Collecting herself enough to suggest we grab a corner table inside the restaurant, she told the waiter to give us a few minutes before taking their orders.

  “Will you join us for lunch, Miss … I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name,” Shirley said, returning Alex’s handkerchief with only a few mascara smudges on it.

  “My name is Jessica James. A woman recently purchased a building and during the remodel, a body was discovered. We believe it is Sophia.” I tried to give as little information as I could while capturing their interest. After all, one of them could have been the killer.

  Shirley closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. “All these years. And I had hoped she had run away and was happy.”

  Alex’s eyes looked small through the thick lenses of his glasses, or maybe he was narrowing them at me. It was difficult to tell. “You know this means she was murdered, don’t you, Shirley?” he said pragmatically.

  “But who would want to hurt Sophia? Everyone loved her.” She turned to me, adding, “When I moved to Baños for my senior year, I was devastated to leave my friends behind … until she befriended me. Sophia really cared about people. She had a way of making everyone feel comfortable and … important.” She dabbed at her eyes with a napkin.

  “How were you able to identify her?” asked Alex, sounding more like he was solving a complicated math problem than discussing the demise of a former friend. Or maybe he’d never been Sophia’s friend. Maybe their acquaintance only went so far as Miss Matty’s study group.

  “She wore a gold necklace with her name written on it,” I answered.

  Shirley said, “I remember that necklace. She never took it off.”

  I added, “She also had a class ring on her finger.”

  “What year?” Alex asked.

  “1986,” I said, watching him lean back against his chair and process the information I’d given him.

  “Do you remember if she wore a class ring on her ring finger before the night of her disappearance?” I asked.

  Shirley’s face scrunched up in confusion. “On her ring finger? I can’t imagine who—” she stopped mid-sentence.

  Alex finished for her. “There’s no sense keeping silent now, Shirley. If he’s guilty, the advances in forensic science will help the police get the evidence they couldn’t use to support their case before.” Turning to me, he added skeptically, “You don’t look like a detective, Miss James. Are you authorized to make inquiries?”

  I had an answer. I just hoped they didn’t request identification. “I realize I appear quite unorthodox. General Bolivar suggested I might receive some discrimination because I don’t wear a trench coat or smoke a pipe.”

  “General Bolivar?” Alex repeated, his expression toward me changing from one of blatant disbelief to open curiosity.

  “One and the same. His cold case team is currently occupied near the Colombian border and won’t be able to come here for some time. This being an important case in the history of Baños, the mayor made a call to the general and requested that I assist in the investigation,” I explained, stunned that every word was true. I couldn’t blame Alex for doubting me. It did sound rather incredible as I repeated it aloud.

  “Marlon has access to General Bolivar?” Alex gawked at Shirley, who shrugged her shoulders.

  “People change,” she said. “And I’m happy Marlon is doing well.”

  Alex shook his head. “I always thought he was a loser,” he scoffed.

  My opinion of Alex lowered significantly.

  “Alex, don’t be mean. We should be happy he’s using his influence to help lay our friend to rest as she deserves.” At the reference to Sophia, Shirley raised her napkin to her eyes again. With a sniff, she lowered her hand and asked, “How can we help you, Jessica?”

  “Do you know anything about what happened to Sophia the night she disappeared?” I asked.

  Shirley frowned. “I only wish I could remember more. It was graduation night and everyone was so excited, it’s hard to imagine anything untoward could have happened during such a happy occasion. I remember seeing Sophia at the ceremony, but—” She breathed deeply. “I never saw her after that.”

  Alex nodded. “None of us did. I thought she was clever escaping while the whole town was busy celebrating. I never supposed she’d gotten herself murdered.”

  As if Sophia had had much choice in the matter. I tried to hide my disgust by pulling out my journal to jot down a few notes. My vision focused on the paper, I asked, “Escaping? Why would Sophia want to escape?”

  I looked up when there was no immediate reply.

  Alex huffed, crossing his arms as if the answer was too obvious to bother saying.

  Shirley said, “She had some problems at home—”

  “You and I both know that wasn’t all she needed to get away from,” interrupted Alex.

  Shirley looked down at her twisting hands. “I did see them together before the graduation ceremony. Sophia trusted him.”

  “Yeah, and it got her killed,” said Alex. “He was obsessed with her.”

  “Who was obsessed with Sophia?” I asked.

  “Luis Escalante,” they said unison.

  Chapter 11

  Tia Rosa floated all the way back to Abuelita’s kitchen on Cloud Nine. Not only did the fanciest hotel in Baños want us to provide them with doughnuts for the event that weekend, they also placed a standing order of doughnuts for their guests once her shop was up for business. I let her talk excitedly, even though her raised hopes and unwavering confidence in my investigative prowess weighed on me.

  When we made it back to the kitchen, Adi was there looking just as excited as Tia Rosa.

  “I couldn’t wait until after lunch to go back to the archives, and guess what I found out?” Adi asked, setting a printout on the counter and pointing at my journal. “You’ll want to write this down.”

  Pulling up a stool and opening to my pitiful list of suspects, I poised my pen over the page and waited for Adi to reveal her great find.

  “They threw a kid into jail for a week three days after Sophia disappeared,” she said. Adi looke
d at her mom. “Get this, his name is Luis Escalante.”

  Sylvia gasped, dropping her spoon into the soup she’d been stirring.

  “I know, right?” Adi said.

  I was still lost. It was the second time I’d heard that name in connection with Sophia, but I had no clue who he was. The waiter and Tia Rosa had prevented any further inquiries at the hotel.

  Sylvia filled me in while she attempted to fish out the spoon she’d dropped. “Luis Escalante was in the ‘86 class with Sophia. He owns the gas station by the bus terminal. Did you copy the article? Let me see it.” She pored over the page, handing it to me when she was done. It was a short entry, hidden between bolder headlines.

  Abuelita said, “He no kill Sophia.”

  “He love Sophia. Everyone know it. He love her since they little childrens,” said Tia Rosa.

  Abuelita grumbled. “He follow her like the little puppy, is true. But he no kill her.”

  “Could he have become obsessed enough with her to kill her?” I asked.

  Adi answered, “He never did marry. And he’s grumpy.”

  “I’d be grumpy too if I spent a week in jail and knew myself to be innocent. It would be awful for a young man to be accused of killing the girl he loved. They didn’t have any evidence against Luis, leading the police to conclude that Sophia had simply run away,” said Sylvia, pointing to the article.

  “Why hasn’t this come up before? Wouldn’t people remember that he’d done some time in jail?” I asked.

  Abuelita turned her attention to the neglected pans simmering on the stovetop. “Sylvia not here. She no remember.”

  “That was the summer I spent with my cousins in the jungle. When I returned for the next school term, everyone had accepted that Sophia had left. It’s what we all wanted to believe.” Sylvia returned to her soup, but Abuelita slapped her hand when she reached for the spoon.

  “You no cook. You burn.” Abuelita called over another woman who was chopping vegetables further down the counter to take over the stove.