The next few hours were a frightening blur. If it hadn’t been for Charles, I would have spent at least that night in prison. And I would have found myself looking for a new hotel. Even Charles barely had sufficient pull to keep me from being evicted. The manager of the Hotel Bamer was not pleased to have me stay.
I was trembling as I walked out of that office. Too much had happened too quickly, and I was frightened. For myself, for Rick. Charles was at my side, and he guided me to the service stairs. “I suggest we walk up,” he said softly. “You’re in no state to be seen.”
Unable to even think, I agreed. But, by the time we reached Charles’s room, I was trembling much less. Perhaps Charles was not as calm as he seemed, for I noticed his key rattled in the lock. Inside, I took the chair he indicated and made no protest as he handed me a glass. I think it was brandy. Charles took a seat opposite me and waited. Finally, I said, weakly, “What next?”
He stared at his glass. “For you? Or Rick?”
“Both.”
“You will continue your holiday. Sad. Stunned. But you will continue. Because you’ll be followed and that’s the only way you’ll clear yourself. Besides, you heard the police tell you not to leave yet.”
“And Rick?” I asked.
“Prison. There’s no question about the case against him.”
I was angry then. “You seem damn sure! I want to see Rick! Talk to him. Find out for myself if he’s guilty or not. Help him if I can.”
Charles looked terribly tired. “You know, don’t you, the room will probably be bugged?” I shrugged impatiently. He sighed. “All right. I’ll try to arrange it.”
I leaned back. “Thank you, Charles.” I meant it, too. “Charles, they said he was smuggling gems. What kind of gems?”
His eyes strayed to my hand, which was touching one of the earrings Rick had given me. Wearily he said, “Not sapphires. Some opals from the mining region north of Mexico City. Mostly emeralds stolen from mines in South America and smuggled up here. From here, Rick’s gang was somehow smuggling them into the U.S.”
It was a relief to know that Rick’s gift had not been stolen. But I knew that I would have to return the earrings as soon as I could. They were too painful a reminder of the charges against Rick. Charles’s voice cut across my thoughts. “Ellen… I’m sorry.”
I looked at him and said quietly, “I know that. But tell me, Charles, why are you helping me?”
He looked away, speaking roughly. “Because you can’t seem to take care of yourself! Besides, you and Rick are still officially-employees of the company.”
I was too tired to argue, so I stood up. “I think I’d better go back to my room, now, Charles. I have a feeling I’m going to have a long cry, and I don’t intend to inflict that on you.”
“Wait a minute.” His voice was surprisingly gentle as he disappeared into the bathroom, reappearing with a hot, wet towel. “Press this against your face first. You still don’t look very presentable.”
It was a good suggestion. Afterward, I felt much better. Alone, I went back to my room. We agreed it was better that way. I kept telling myself that I was fortunate to have Charles, who believed I was innocent. No one else seemed to. It was only as I crawled into bed that I remembered Charles’s warning at breakfast: clean anything unusual out of my suitcase. Well, now I knew what he had been hinting at. And now I knew just how much he trusted me. Or should I say, how little? My one small comfort had turned to dust.
Morning found me still awake. I felt more helpless, foolish, and frightened than I ever had before. If the basic assumptions I had made about Rick could be so wrong, how could I trust myself to judge anyone, or anything, again? Also, how would I face my family and friends, especially those who had disliked Rick?
Maybe, just maybe, there was a mistake. I’d always been an optimist.
I was still huddled in my chair when Charles knocked. Not knowing who it was, I opened the door reluctantly. He looked at me steadily for a minute or two, then said, “You can’t hide in your hotel room, Ellen. You’ve got to face people as soon as possible, or it’ll keep getting harder. Go on up to breakfast.”
“Alone?” I demanded.
He nodded. “Do you really think I’d help, going with you? It would only give them more to talk about. Go up, by yourself. You’ll be okay.” His hand rested on my shoulder for a moment. Then he added, “Afterward, come down to the lobby.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay,” I said.
Charles was right, of course. I needed to face people now. Perhaps they stared. But I concentrated on telling myself that I was young and attractive and deserved to be stared at. Did it work? Not very well, but I managed to eat everything, and by the time I met Charles in the lobby, I knew I was going to be okay. Charles was carefully casual as he waved to me from across the lobby. Matching his style, I smiled lightly and walked over to where he sat, as though it were a sudden thought.
“Good morning, Mr. Whitford,” I said in a voice that carried.
“Morning, Miss Steffee. Have you been outside yet this morning?” I shook my head and he stood, saying, “How about a walk in the park?”
Charles refrained from taking my arm, for which I was grateful. He also refrained from speaking until we had almost crossed the park. Then he merely suggested, “Sit down?”
I nodded and we found a bench. After several minutes, he asked gently, “How are you feeling?”
I took a deep breath. “Okay, I guess. I didn’t sleep, of course. And I’m worried. About Rick and about me. But I’m not ready to fold up, the way I was last night.”
Charles nodded approvingly. “Good. Then maybe you’d like to come to work, today.”
“What?”
“Well, the mess there still has to be straightened out, and we need a programmer. I thought it might be easier for you than wandering around, trying to pretend you’re having fun.”
In spite of myself, I smiled. “You’re right, it would be. I don’t speak any Spanish, though,” I warned him.
“That’s okay. At least one or two in your group will know English. If anything, you’ll have more trouble with the fact you’re a woman and they’re all men.”
“That I can handle. It won’t be the first time,” I said, my confidence returning.
“Good. Let’s go. We’ll take a taxi. A slow one, so your shadow can follow us without any trouble.”
Startled, I looked around. There were several people nearby, but no one who looked like a policeman. “He’s there,” Charles said grimly, reading my thoughts. “Two benches down, on the other side.”
Skeptical, I studied the man. He looked up and our eyes met. Hastily, we both broke contact. I shivered as I stood up. “Let’s go,” I said curtly.
The Mexico City branch was downtown, not that far from our hotel. It was housed in a tall, modern building, full of glass windows. Next to it stood a two-story, nineteenth-century Spanish style home. The contrast was incredible. Charles paid the taxi driver and we went up the steps to the wide glass doors. Behind us, a taxi pulled up and the man from the park bench got out. Carefully, I tilted up my chin.
Inside, Charles was greeted with deference by everyone we met. I was greeted with frank surprise and covert appraisal. We went to the fifth floor where Rick had worked. (Still worked, I told myself firmly.)
A very attractive young man came forward as soon as we entered the office. “Good morning, Senor Whitford,” he said.
“Morning, Carlos. Carlos, this is Senorita Steffee. Ellen, this is Carlos Zapora. Ellen will be replacing Rick Kemmler. Temporarily.” Carlos regarded me with disapproval and Charles added impatiently, “Someone has to take his place and Miss Steffee is perfectly qualified!”
“Si, senor.”
Charles ignored the sarcasm. “Good. See you later, Ellen. Good luck.”
I nodded. Well, he had warned me. I turned to Carlos. “Well, I guess we’d better get started. Can you fill me in? Tell me what’s already been done?”
&nbs
p; Carlos’s English deteriorated rapidly, and I was very glad I had asked Rick so many questions. The early work had gone well and they were currently debugging the software. Since I had worked with Rick in Chicago fairly frequently, I was able to follow his printouts with relative ease, a big advantage. Most computer programmers have their own way of writing programs. Reading one can be like trying to decipher someone’s handwrit ing. Some programs are nearly illegible. But, as I said, I’d worked with Rick before.
We all ignored each other while I sifted through the stacks of printouts and the two brief reports that Rick had left behind. I hadn’t gotten far by lunchtime, but it was far enough for me to have some idea of where things stood. I decided it was time to do something about improving the atmosphere of the office. “Well, where do we have lunch?” I asked Carlos.
I have to admit he gave in gracefully. And, when our group was seated in the small cafe he had chosen, Carlos asked, “So, you made progress this morning?”
“Some,” I admitted. “But I’m also confused by a few of Rick’s choices-”
“Rick?” Carlos asked politely. “You knew Senor Kemmler well?”
I looked around at the raised eyebrows. Something odd was going on. Hadn’t Rick ever mentioned me? Perhaps not. In any case, better tread warily, I thought. These guys didn’t look very pleased. “Rick and I worked together in Chicago,” I explained.
“I see.” A pause, then: “Senor Whitford did not explain why Senor Kemmler is not coming to work.”
I pretended to study the menu in my hands. “I understand there is some trouble with the police.”
“Ah,” Carlos clucked sympathetically. “How fortunate for Senor Whitford, and the company, of course, that you happen to be here, senorita.”
I couldn’t possibly miss the insinuation and I turned an angry red. Carefully keeping my voice even, I said, “That insult is beneath contempt, senor. I am a qualified computer programmer. That is the only reason I am here. I suggest we discuss the work.”
“But we are on the lunch break!” Carlos protested.
I noticed the amusement on the other faces and, smiling sweetly, I said firmly, “A business lunch, senor.
I spent the next hour or so quizzing the men. I was pleasantly surprised to find how wrong Rick had been. Admittedly, it took a bit of pushing and prodding and veiled insults to get them to open up, but when they did, I found them bright, observant, and well-informed. In fact, I discovered that Carlos had a degree in computer science from the University of California at Berkeley!
I looked at him, my jaw hanging open. “Then why on earth did they send for someone from the States?” I demanded. “Why didn’t they let you head the project?”
“Me?” Carlos smiled stupidly. “I am only an ignorant Mexicano. How could you expect such a thing? It is an Americano company.”
I stared at him grimly. “That’s not funny!”
“No, senorita,” he agreed soberly, “it is not. When they hired me and told me about the computer they were bringing, I thought, Now I will have a good job. Now I will be important. Now I can be married. Instead, this Rick comes and I find myself an office boy, fetching coffee, translating for the others, and having even the simplest things explained to me. Senor Kemmler never even asked whether any of us had ever seen a computer before.”
Appalled, I sat in silence. Finally, I asked, “Why didn’t you tell him?”
Carlos straightened his shoulders and his face was set with dignity. “Why must I explain? These things he should see for himself. In a year he would be gone and the slowness can hurt only him.”
I stared, thinking, No, neither one would have given an inch. And who could guess how much damage such stubbornness had caused, would cause? “Well,” I said, looking at the men, “I’m glad to know I’ll be working with such qualified people. It’s obvious you should be running things, Carlos. And when we get back to the office, maybe you can show me where the project is at.”
Carlos hesitated, trying to decide if I was serious. Finally he said, “Sure!”
He kept his word and even showed me a method of debugging he had been working on privately. In return, I told him about a few of Rick’s program idiosyncrasies that allowed Carlos’s method to be simplified somewhat. The project was obviously behind schedule but, Carlos said, “At least it now feels as if this will be our computer.”
He repeated his comment in Spanish, and the other men shouted their approval. We crowded together, discussing ideas. I practiced my virtually nonexistent Spanish, and they practiced their limited English. Carlos refereed. I was almost disappointed when Charles appeared at the door.
“Hi!” I called. “You’ll be pleased to know the work is going very well, Mr. Whitford.”
“Oh?”
“Si, senor.” Carlos’s tone was faintly servile. “Muchas progress.”
“Cut it out, Carlos!” I said in mock annoyance. Then I turned to Charles. “Did you know, Mr. Whitford, that Carlos has a degree in computer science from Berkeley?”
“Really?” Charles frowned.
“Please,” Carlos hissed at me, “this is not your affair.”
So I shut up. But Charles stared at Carlos for a moment longer. Then he said to me, “Would you like a ride back to your hotel? Mr. Iveson has offered to drive us. He’s originally from Chicago, also.”
“Sure,” I said. As we left, I said good night to the men.
When we walked down the corridor, I noted Charles’s lips were pressed tightly together. “Something wrong?” I asked.
“No.
“I see. You always look this way? Like you’re ready to bite someone’s head off?”
In spite of himself, Charles laughed. “Touche. How was your day?”
“Okay. Except for Rick, of course.”
As I said that, I realized I’d thought about him very little, except in terms of his work. Charles didn’t seem to notice. He was speaking hesitantly. “I wouldn’t mention much about your relationship with Rick to Mr. Iveson, Ellen.” As I nodded, we came up even with the man, and Charles introduced us. “Ellen, this is Mr. Iveson. Greg, this is Miss Steffee from Chicago. She’ll be taking Mr. Kemmler’s place temporarily.”
“Hello, Miss Steffee. Happy to meet you.” We shook hands and he asked, “How did you happen to meet her, Charles?”
“She’s here on vacation and staying at the Hotel Bamer, too. When I saw another American, I introduced myself.”
“Well, I’m glad you found her,” Mr. Iveson said. “That division needs help.”
“Actually,” Charles said easily, “Miss Steffee seems encouraged by what she found today.”
“Really?” Mr. Iveson seemed skeptical.
“Yes, in fact, you have one guy “I began.
But I didn’t get to tell Mr. Iveson about Carlos then, because he was too busy avoiding an accident. “Stupid drivers!” he snapped.
“Actually,” Charles laughed, “they’re better than Italian drivers. Did I ever tell you about the time I was in Rome and…”
Back at the hotel, I got out of the car first, thanking Mr. Iveson for the ride. He promised to pick us both up in the morning if Charles would just give him a call.
In the lobby, someone said quietly, “Senorita Steffee?”
I turned to see the policeman who had questioned me the night before standing beside me. “Por, favor, “he continued, “may we discuss?”
He indicated a corner of the lobby and I nodded. Charles came with us. When we were seated, he said, “Senorita, you say you came here because Senor Kemmler asked you to?”
“Yes.”
“You also say he asked you to marry him?”
“Not exactly,” I said, trying to be honest. “Rick hinted he wanted to marry me and was only waiting until he was sure I would say yes.”
The policeman sighed and said, “Senor Kemmler had a different story. He says you are a friend and that you wrote him you wished to visit Mexico City. So he arranged a room for you here and offer
ed to be your guide. When you arrived, he discovered you were in love with him and that you were determined to marry him. Then-”
“What?”
“Please, senorita, let me finish. So, he took you to Teotihuacan to see the pyramids. There, he saw his fiancee-”
“I don’t believe this!” I gasped.
He glared at me and I shut up. “Please. He saw his fiancee there, with her brother. He was afraid she would misunderstand if she saw the two of you together, so he slipped away from you. The fiancee, she also says she was there, and that her fiance, Senor Kemmler, came up to her and explained he was showing an acquaintance the pyramids. After a while, he left. Senor Kemmler then says he searched for you and finally found you near his car.”
I was stiff with hurt pride. “I see. It seems I misunderstood Rick’s intentions.”
I was so intent on nursing my hurt feelings that at first I didn’t notice the photograph the policeman was pulling from his pocket. Then I saw the face and started. “You have seen this woman?” he asked, with surprise.
“Yes, here in the hotel. With Rick,” I said quietly.
“Senor Kemmler introduced you?” he asked incredulously.
“No. No, I saw them by accident. Who is she, senor?” I asked, not at all sure I wanted the answer.
“Senorita Maria Castella, member of a very important, wealthy family here in Mexcio City.”
I took a deep breath. “Well, I seem to have made quite a mistake, senor. I gather, then, that you have released Rick?”
“On the contrary, Senorita Steffee, we have still no proof he was not involved. I merely wished to understand this business with the two fiancees. Thank you, senorita.” He stood up. Just as he turned away, he paused, as though remembering something, and turned back. “Perhaps the senorita would like to speak with Senor Kemmler? It is not the customary time of day, but, if you wish, it could be arranged.”
Standing up, I said, “I would like that very much, senor.”
“Come with me, please.”
Without a backward glance at Charles, I did. The police car was parked just around the corner and, as we got in, the policeman gave instructions to the driver in rapid Spanish. On the way to the station, he casually pointed out sights of interest. Not that I paid any attention; I was too concerned about Rick.
My Love Betrayed Page 4