The Sometime Sister

by Katherine Nichols

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this close to a man. Casual sex had never been easy for me. I’m not good at casual anything. Lesroy says it’s because I think too much. Whatever it was, after Ben left, I gave up on relationships.

  Looking into Justin’s dark blue eyes, then down to his lips, I stopped thinking about the past. I wanted to get even closer. I traced his jawline with my fingertip.

  His breathing quickened and his eyelids fluttered, then opened wide; he moaned.

  “This is not a good idea.”

  “It’s a terrible idea,” I whispered into his ear. “Really, really terrible.” I touched the tip of my tongue to the hollow spot at the base of his throat before bringing my mouth to his lips.

  If not for the vibration in Justin’s pocket, I don’t know how long we might have stayed locked together. It was Harry. I could tell from the one-sided conversation he got worried when we weren’t behind him anymore. Justin told him we stopped because I felt queasy but was okay now. I surmised he would wait at the bar for another strategy meeting. Then he began giving abbreviated responses, and I gave up trying to follow.

  My lips were swollen, and my mouth and chin sported the beginnings of a rash from Justin’s beard. I finger-combed my disheveled hair into a semblance of order and dragged out lipstick and powder.

  He delivered one last, “Right. Sounds good.” Then ended the call.

  “What’s going on?”

  He explained Harry planned to ask around about Adelmo Balsuto. My encounter with Ben had made me forget about the mystery man’s existence, but the idea of him exhilarated me in a strange way. If he was as powerful as we’d been hearing, he could be a much better source of information. But Harry wasn’t confident about the reliability of his sources when it came to getting anything solid on a man like him. He wanted to talk with our stoned hotel concierge. When I asked why, he said they were sure Prez had lots of friends in the surfing community, the type of people who could fill in details about how and with whom Stella had spent her last year.

  Once we arrived at our suite, I changed out of my heels and checked my email. I hoped Justin would come with me to talk about what had happened on the way back to the hotel, but he went straight to the bar. There was a message from Mike telling me Mom was “hanging in there.”

  I debated how much to share regarding my meeting with Ben. Rather than admit my encounter was a disaster, I said Ben had been less than forthcoming, and we were pursuing other avenues. I promised to give details later.

  After slipping into jeans and tennis shoes but keeping the V-neck, I headed to happy hour feeling anything but. I didn’t regret those moments with Justin but was clueless as to what they meant.

  Cheap lights dangled from the fake thatch awning over the bar, reminding me it was only a few weeks before the holiday that had always been a big deal for Stella. Santa Claus and decorations and presents. She was super into the whole thing. Her first Christmas was the last one our family celebrated together before Dad went out for cigarettes and kept on going. Maybe that’s why we all worked so hard to give her the magic we lost.

  Harry and Justin were the only customers. They had taken a table near the small bar. Prez Allen was seated with them. He wore a multi-colored shirt covered with dancing flamingos, cut-off jeans, and bright orange and purple tennis shoes. The open-air set-up provided a spectacular view of the ocean. Surfers in vibrant greens and yellows and violet swimsuits slashed in and out of the frothy water. Prez sipped draft beer and gazed longingly at them. He seemed startled when Harry stood and pulled out a chair for me.

  “Prez has been telling us about the culture here in Montañita,” Justin said.

  “Not sure I’d call it culture, but it’s definitely a cool place.” Once again, his brilliant smile faded a little when he looked at me. “You meet people from all over the world here.” He drained the last drop from his mug. “I’m having more beer. You guys want one? And what can I get for the lovely señorita?”

  “Prez is the bartender, too,” Justin explained. “A real Renaissance man.”

  “It’s Fresno, Dude. I’m from Fresno.”

  “Of course,” Harry interceded. He and Justin ordered another round, and Prez suggested I try a locally brewed wheat.

  “There’s no extra buzz from it, though.” He laughed and ducked behind the bar.

  “No buzz?” I asked.

  “Ecuador used to be famous for their special honey. They got it from bees who flew over the coca fields. People said it had a little extra zing. Must be something to it since the US doesn’t import it anymore.”

  How appropriate that Stella would have landed in a country where wholesome honey had a dark side. Prez returned with our drinks, and I took a cautious sip. The tangy taste of wheat balanced nicely with a sweet tartness. If it was drug laden, I couldn’t tell.

  Our bartender continued his narrative on the virtues of Montañita. Harry encouraged him with general questions and suggested we share a pitcher.

  I drank slowly and noticed my companions did, too. Both kept refilling Prez’s glass while the younger man praised his new home for its festive and open qualities. After about an hour, he was slurring his words. That’s when Harry got more specific.

  “Montañita sounds almost too good to be true. Rumor is things get a little dicey if you land on the wrong side of certain people here. Local gangsters and thugs.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.” Prez’s tone sharpened, and I wondered if he was as drunk as I’d thought.

  “When we were in Guayaquil, a friend told me we should be careful here who we offended. He mentioned somebody named Balsuto, Adelmo Balsuto, I think.” Harry started to refill Prez’s glass, but he covered it with his hand.

  “I’m good, thanks,” he said and rose from the table. “You guys seem cool and all, so I’m going to help you out. Like I said, everybody’s pretty laid-back here, but it’s not smart to go around mentioning names and asking questions. Unless you’re interested in doing some business.” He looked at Justin.

  “And if we did want information on, say doing a little exporting?” Justin asked. “Would you be able to connect us with the right people? There’d be a finder’s fee for you.”

  “I can’t make any promises, but it’s possible I could put you in touch with some guys.” He picked up the empty pitcher. “Better get back to the bar.”

  Harry waited until he was out of earshot before speaking.

  “That guy’s a piece of work,” he said.

  “Agreed, and I bet he has at least a working knowledge of the criminal element here in paradise.” Justin drained his glass. “I can’t speak for you two, but I’m starving. Mr. Chamber of Commerce recommended a place before you joined us, Grace. Best Mexican food in town, he says.”

  I got up too quickly and stumbled against my chair. Justin noticed and took hold of my elbow to steady me. “I just realized I haven’t eaten since breakfast. I might be a little drunk.”

  “I’ll settle the bill, and we can go straight to the restaurant,” he said, without releasing me. “I don’t see our bartender anywhere.”

  “I’m sure he’ll run a tab. Or maybe the drinks are on good old Prez,” Harry offered.

  On the way to the car, I glimpsed our bartender, talking on his cell phone behind a scraggly palm tree. He glanced in our direction, then turned away.

  The guy might have been flaky, but his restaurant recommendation was solid. We shared orders of fish tacos, burritos, guacamole, and empanadas. Harry and Justin had another pitcher of beer, but I stuck with naranjilla juice, like orange juice back home but more tart.

  After we returned to the hotel, the men had coffee at the bar. All I wanted
was to take a quick shower and go to bed. The combination of adrenaline let-down from my meeting, the heated encounter with Justin, too much food and alcohol, and general disappointment at what we’d been able to find out about my sister had left me exhausted and depressed.

  The pathway was darker now. Scattered lanterns hanging from tree branches cast wavering shadows. I picked up my pace. When we were kids, Lesroy always wanted to play shadow tag. He and Stella would laugh and race all over the backyard trying to overcome what she called our ghosties. But the game creeped me out. Seeing my shadow-self was like watching a part of me shift and dissolve into nothing.

  As I inserted my key, I started at the sound of footsteps. Before I could face whoever was approaching, my potential assailant slipped up behind me. I recalled what I learned in the self-defense class Stella and I had taken with Mom, her idea of mother-daughter bonding, and jabbed my elbow into my attacker’s rib cage.

  “Dude!”

  I turned to see Prez fall back, arms wrapped around his chest.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I demanded.

  He rubbed his injured ribs and gave me an accusing look. “That was like, really hostile. You could have done some serious damage.”

  “Don’t be such a baby. I didn’t hit you that hard. Besides, that’s what happens when you sneak up on people in the dark. What in God’s name do you want anyway?”

  He stood there with the same weird expression on his face I’d noticed when he first saw me and later at the bar.

  “I said, what do you want? And what’s with that stare you keep giving me, like I’ve got two heads or something?”

  He moved toward me. When I stepped back, he extended his hands, palms up. “It’s just that one minute you’re her spitting image. The next, you’re nothing like her at all. Freaks me out.”

  “Who do mean?” I demanded. Even though I knew, I needed to hear him say it.

  “Like her, Stella, your sister. It was your eyes that confused me. Hers were that crazy blue green. And yours are all gray and shimmery. But they’re the same shape. And the way you tilt your head when you talk to somebody, giving him that you’re the only one in the world you want to be listening to vibe.” He sighed. “She and I were friends. I’m guessing that’s why you’re here, to find out what happened to her.”

  Without realizing what I was doing, I leaned in and grabbed his wrinkled cotton shirt in both fists. “What do you know about my sister?”

  “Chill, Grace.” He pried my fingers open and freed himself from my grasp. “Sorry, but I don’t know much. Stella showed up at the beach about two years ago. One day she came up and asked if I would teach her to surf. I thought she was, uh, coming on to me. It was common knowledge she was married to some rich guy. People said he was a jerk. I was like sure. I mean, she was super-hot. But she just wanted to learn to surf, and she was a natural.” He shrugged. “I was cool with that. We hung out a few times a week, depending on the waves. And then she stopped showing up.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “It’s been a little over a year. I tried getting in touch with her, but she wouldn’t pick up, and she never called back.”

  “In a place like this you must have seen her or heard something about her.”

  “There was talk she was seeing somebody, but no one wanted to say too much about it. This is a small town, and you can get in serious trouble for talking out of school. I liked Stella, though, and she really missed you.” He gave me another strange look and shook his head. “So, I made some calls when I realized who you were. If you want, I’ll set you up with someone who might help, but she’ll only speak to you. And you have to ditch the muscle.”

  “You mean Harry and Justin?” I wanted to ask how he knew my sister really missed me, but I needed to stay focused. “That won’t be easy.” Thinking of how upset Justin had been when I’d gone off script with Ben, I thought it would be impossible. “And who is ‘she’?”

  “It’s Eva, Stella’s housekeeper. They were pretty tight. She called me after Stella went missing. Wanted to know if I had any word from her. She sounded real worried. Told me Wilcott had flipped out when Stella disappeared, but she didn’t buy it. She asked me to get in touch if I learned anything. Then they found her. Don’t worry about your buddies. I can take care of that for you. Just be ready tomorrow at ten o’clock.”

  Prez jumped at the sound of voices. It was Justin and Harry coming down the pathway. “Quick!” He stepped out of the shadows into the villa’s entrance. “Get inside and let’s keep this between you and me.” He turned the key and shoved me through the doorway. “Remember,” he whispered. “Be ready at ten.”

  “What do you mean ‘take care of that’?” I asked, but he had already vanished into the night. I eased the door shut and rushed to the bathroom. By the time I got out, the lights were off in the living area and the entire apartment was quiet. I put on my pajamas and sat on the bed, wondering if I should tell Harry and Justin about the proposed meeting with Eva.

  I had no doubt they would insist on going with me or on following Prez and me. And while he might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, I suspected he’d spot a tail. But if I let him “take care of it” would I be putting the men in danger? Or would I be walking into it myself? Several times I almost knocked on Justin’s door to tell him about my plans, but I didn’t trust myself to stick to business.

  I would wait until morning to see how he planned on getting rid of my chaperons. If it looked as if they might be in trouble, I’d come clean. If not, what harm could there be talking to the one person Stella could have confided in?

  Chapter 22

  The morning sun streamed through my window. I watched the slow rotation of the ceiling fan and thought of the peaceful flight of the gulls in my dream. A thick blight of sorrow and dread dimmed the sunlight. Would this be the course of every day for the rest of my life? A few moments of emotional amnesia, then hours and hours of painful reality. Before I could fall any deeper into the grief pit, there was a knock on the bedroom door.

  “Are you awake?”

  It was Justin. I grabbed my robe. “Almost.”

  “Harry and I need to talk to you. I’ve got coffee started.”

  “Sure. Just give me a minute.” I needed more time to consider whether to tell them about my late-night visitor, but stalling wouldn’t do much good. I put on a pair of jeans I’d only worn once and a fresh T-shirt, sloshed mouthwash, fluffed my hair, and joined the men in the kitchen.

  Justin handed me a cup of steaming coffee.

  “Hope you slept well.” Harry didn’t wait for a response. “We’ve got a situation going on. Luis Cordoza called late last night. There’s been a security breach in his office, and he needs my company to get involved. I’d send one of my guys to check it out, but he said it was an extremely sensitive issue. He wants me to take care of it. Says it could be several days. I feel good with Justin handling things here, or I wouldn’t consider it. You two can manage without me, can’t you? If you want me to stay, say the word.”

  Luis Cordoza? There was no way Prez had gotten to one of the chief political advisors in the country. Was there? Harry was still waiting for my answer.

  “You should go. We’ll be fine.”

  “You’re a trooper. Remember, I’m less than three hours away if you need me.” He shook Justin’s hand and left.

  “I hope you meant what you said about us being fine because we will be.” Justin began pouring another cup of coffee for himself. “I want to run something by you, too.” He gave me a piece of paper with block letters printed on it, reminiscent of a ransom note. “Prez stuck this under the door.”

  “McElroy, if you’re serious about doing business here, this i
s your man. Be there at 10:00 am. Come alone.” He’d written the name Franco with what must have been a local address beside it. On the back was a roughly drawn map.

  “I hope this doesn’t piss you off, but you need to sit this one out. I’m guessing Franco is a front for Balsuto, and I don’t want to spook him.”

  If Prez’s plans included putting Justin in danger, he wouldn’t leave an incriminating note. But what if he was too stupid to know better? Should I play it safe and fill Justin in what was going on, or let him go on what would, hopefully, be a harmless wild-goose chase?

  He seemed to take my silence as anger. “I promise I’ll go over everything he says.”

  I felt guilty at his desire to please me.

  “Besides, you could use some relaxation. Shop a little or go on a nice long walk on the beach.”

  “A nice, long walk on the beach?” I wanted to tell him what he could do with his long walk. And, seriously, did he think I’d enjoy a shopping trip knowing the man who probably killed my sister was lounging around drinking gin and tonic? Then I realized he had given me the perfect out.

  “That sounds lovely,” I said, smiling sweetly. “You go on and see what you can find out. I’ll just relax.

  He tilted his head as if he misheard me.

  “Well, then.” He took his cup to the counter. “It’s after eight and Prez’s directions say I’m an hour out. I want to get there early to scout out the area. Are you sure you’ll be all right by yourself?”

  The genuine concern in his voice gave me another pang of guilt. I remembered the way his lips felt when he kissed me. But I was determined to follow through.

  “I’ll be fine. I need to take a shower before I head out. Promise to call and let me know you’re okay.”