Justin screeched into our parking spot at the villa and hit the brakes hard. When I reached for the door handle, he spoke.
“Hold on,” he commanded. “I need a minute.” He exhaled and continued. “What the hell were you thinking? Sending me off to talk to some stoner about buying weed from the locals while you were off doing God knows what with that lunatic Allen!”
I started to answer, but he hadn’t finished.
“And what about Harry? Is he chasing his tail in Guayaquil so you could play Nancy Drew?”
“Well, I—”
“And getting arrested in a foreign country? You realize you don’t have any rights here? They could lock you up and throw away the key. That’s what I should have let them do. At least, I’d know where you were.”
He scowled at me. I expected a second wind, so I saw no need to respond.
“I was worried sick when I realized you’d gone off by yourself. Which I figured out as soon as I met that dimwit boy Prez tried to pass off as a local gangster. When I got to the hotel and you weren’t there, I was sure he tricked you, too. A maid told me you and that jughead took off after I left and I thought, Oh, no! Grace might be in trouble running around with that hippie imbecile.” He pounded the steering wheel and glared at me. “And I was right; you were in trouble. But not because Prez was a threat. Oh, no. Because you went along with him willingly without a clue of what he might do to you. And you didn’t tell me anything.”
He took off his sunglasses and waved them close to my face. I scooted as far away as possible.
“If you’ll let me explain,” I began.
“Oh, you’re going to explain, all right. But not here. Come on. Let’s go.”
He released the auto-lock and shoved his door open. I trailed behind as he stormed down the path.
He went straight to the refrigerator, removed a bottle of aguardiente, opened it, and poured it into a juice glass. He drank and shuddered. Then he poured another and handed it to me.
All I wanted to do was wash the jailhouse off me but refusing him didn’t seem to be an option. I sipped and gasped as the fiery liquid blazed its way down my esophagus. A droplet slipped into my windpipe, and I began choking. Justin sat at the kitchen table where he watched while I sputtered. After several seconds, I caught my breath.
“Jesus! This stuff is terrible.” I fanned myself.
He ignored my beverage critique. “Hey, if you’re tough enough to get thrown in jail for assault, you’re tough enough to drink a little guaro, right?”
I intended to be contrite when I explained how Prez said Stella’s housekeeper would only speak to me, but I was getting sick and tired of his high-handedness. Sure, his morning had been a waste, but at least he hadn’t gotten arrested and thrown into a Third World jail.
I braced myself and tilted the glass. The second swallow was just as awful, but since I knew what to expect, I relaxed a bit as the heat radiated through me. I set it on the table and stared at him.
“Are you ready to hear my side?” I asked.
For the next ten minutes, I recounted my conversation with Prez and Eva’s insistence I come alone. I explained how Ramirez interrupted us and finished with how Prez’s lawyer friend negotiated my release. Then I thanked Justin for bailing me out and apologized for wasting his morning.
I kept my meeting with Adelmo a secret.
“You did more than waste my time, Grace.” He stood and looked down at me. “You showed a complete lack of faith.”
His expression made me forget how obnoxious he’d been earlier.
“You trusted some burned-out beach boy more than you do me and Harry.”
I felt another round of remorse.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” I began.
“Don’t give me that bullshit! You haven’t been honest with me this entire trip.”
“Honest? You’re mad at me because I haven’t been honest? You tell me my mother hired you to kill someone and then never say whether you plan on doing it. How could I trust you?”
He slammed his palm on the table.
“How could you believe I’m a stone-cold killer? Is that who you thought I was yesterday in the car? Does being with a potential murderer turn you on?”
“Please, I need some time to think.” I stood and pushed away so quickly my chair tipped and crashed onto the floor. I stumbled past it and ran toward my room, but he was too quick and caught me at the doorway.
He held my shoulders and glared. “I’m not a killer, Grace. Your mother was half out of her mind when she found out what happened. She told Mike she intended to find someone to settle the score. Said she knew some tough guys from her old neighborhood—hillbilly Mafia types. He was afraid she’d ask the wrong person and get arrested, or worse, so he called me. I agreed to go along so things wouldn’t get out of control. You weren’t supposed to know anything about it, but I can’t seem to keep my mouth shut around you. It’s awful what your sister and Ben did to you. But someday you’re going to have to learn to trust people.
I dissolved into his chest, warmed by his heat. He crushed his body against mine, then covered my mouth with his. The kiss was soft, moving from my mouth to my neck. I pulled him close and gasped as his lips touched flesh.
He leaned away from me. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
I couldn’t remember when I’d been more certain of anything. I nodded and led him into my room. We stood beside the bed. He guided my body to his and began kissing me again, more insistent now, as he cupped the fullness of my hips.
When I glimpsed our reflection in the mirror, I panicked. I had very little confidence in the love-making department. Before Ben I’d only had two serious relationships, my college boyfriend and an accountant I met through a friend. Sex with the first one was enthusiastic but bumbling. With the second, it was thorough but systematic and uninspired. Sex with Ben had been a production. Rose petals strewn across the bedspread, champagne on ice, expensive lingerie. But it became clear he was the star of the show.
My initial clue was the oval mirror mounted on the ceiling above his bed. The first time we had sex at his place, the lights were mercifully low, so I hadn’t seen it. I had too much wine in anticipation of being seduced and threw myself into the act with my personal imitation of reckless abandon. Things had been progressing nicely when he started barraging me with a series of dirty questions. Did I like it when he did that? Or this? Maybe I wanted that? I was at a loss for responses. Later, I learned it had nothing to do with my answers. It was about the interrogation, a sexual grilling. I was so busy trying to process information, I didn’t realize we finished. It wasn’t until the next morning, when I had the creepy notion we were being watched, that I noticed my naked reflection gazing down on me.
When I told him I was uncomfortable performing with myself as an audience, he explained that he loved seeing me from every angle. I ignored the fact that the mirror had preceded me or that he got more time in front of it than I did. He assured me I would come to love looking at myself. I never did.
I always wondered how the script had changed when it was Stella’s body hovering over him. My sister was not a supporting actress.
Justin’s hands moved from my hips to my breasts, brushing over my nipples. I moaned and guided his hand inside my blouse. He sat and pulled me onto his lap. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and thoughts of Ben and the past disappeared.
Chapter 25
I woke alone in tangled sheets and heard Justin talking in the other room. I slipped into my clothes and joined him.
“It turns out Harry’s trip to the city wasn’t a complete bust. Cordoza gave him the name of the guy who took photos of the ac
cident and Harry met with him.” He paused before adding, “He has the pictures, Grace.”
“Oh.” I had trouble speaking. Guilt surged over me. For the past few hours, I hadn’t thought of Stella at all. I had been behaving like some college coed on spring break. But the knowledge I would soon see the last photographs ever taken of my beautiful sister brought me crashing head-on into reality.
He wrapped his arms around me, and we stood together for a moment before he spoke. “Harry won’t be back until late. Why don’t I make dinner? Then we can get some rest and look at the pictures in the morning.”
I watched as he scrambled eggs and fried bacon. The image of Adelmo’s burning eyes turning cold when he promised to find out what happened to my sister came to me. Stella’s lover was another example of the dual nature of this beautiful but dangerous country.
“Hey,” Justin said as he placed my plate in front of me. “You seem a million miles away.”
“I’m just tired.” I dragged my fork through the eggs, then put it down.
“I’ve heard doing hard time is exhausting.” He rested his fingertips on mine. “You’ll feel better if you eat,” he urged.
I choked down a few bites before giving up. “It’s good, but I guess I’m not as hungry as I thought. I think I’ll go to bed.” I stood and picked up my plate.
“I’ll get that.” Justin eased it from my hand. “You rest. Tomorrow could be rough.” He kissed the top of my head.
If it disappointed him I didn’t invite him to join me, he didn’t show it.
I showered, changed into pajamas, and fell onto the bed. Thoughts of the tiny blonde surfer at lunch reminded me of the last time Stella and I had gone to the Gulf, the summer she was almost fourteen and I was a few weeks from my nineteenth birthday. I told her I was too busy for a family vacation, but she begged and I gave in.
Always precocious and moody, at thirteen Stella seemed to be fighting a war with herself. One minute, she was childlike and charming. The next, paralyzed with sophistication. But when it was just my sister and me, she was still Stella Star. Our last night at the beach, we sat on the sand with the tide coming in. We dug our toes in and squealed as the warm water eroded the solid ground around them. She turned to me and said she wished we never had to leave. I was surprised at how sad she sounded and tried to comfort her by saying we’d be back next year and the year after. But she stood and shook her head.
“We won’t, you know.” Her words returned to me as clearly as if she were standing beside me now. “This is our last beautiful summer.”
Then she ran into the surf, away from the light of the shore. For a few seconds, I hadn’t been able to see her and had called out to her in fear. Instead of coming back to me, she dashed straight into our small cottage without saying another word. And for the usual reasons—busy schedules, conflicting interests—Stella had been right. It was our last beautiful summer.
. . . . .
The smell of coffee woke me. I joined Justin in the kitchen.
“I think it was after two when Harry got in, so I thought we could just let him sleep.”
Sitting with him at the table, like an actual couple, I had forgotten about Harry and the photos. Now I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. I was no closer to understanding why my sister was dead than when we started. I was certain Ben was responsible; but even though I knew his kind of abuse could escalate, I still had trouble imagining him going that far. And there had been easier ways to cover it up than faking a boating accident.
“Hello.” Justin was holding the pot over my cup. “More coffee?”
“Sorry. I just keep thinking about Stella.” I nodded and watched as he poured, remembering how strong, but gentle he had been.
“Yesterday was fantastic,” he began, taking my hand and tracing his finger across my palm.
Alarms sounded in my head. His next words would be something along the lines of how we had to put all that sex stuff behind us and go back to a businesslike relationship.
“It was great,” I echoed, cutting him off. “But I got caught up in the moment. I don’t regret anything about last night, but we shouldn’t get distracted like that again.”
“So, it was a distraction for you?” Justin asked and released my hand.
“Not just a distraction. I mean it was terrific and all, but nothing serious.”
“I get it. Don’t worry. You’re right. We need to stay on track.” He stood abruptly, walked to his room, and shut the door.
Well, that was a record for me: screwing up what might have developed into a relationship in less than twenty-four hours. Of course, I was lying about it only being a distraction. The good news was Justin could hardly avoid me since we were staying together, so I should have a chance to make things better. The bad news was I would probably find a way to make them worse.
I considered following him, but it wasn’t the time to get into a long discussion about our non-relationship, not with the missing pictures hanging over my head.
I borrowed Harry’s laptop and checked my email. Nothing from Mom, but Mike had sent a quick message telling me Lesroy dropped by with Scarlett, and the dog had stopped growling at my cousin. He also let me know my mother was eating more and missed me. I told him about talking to Eva and not getting much in the way of information. I avoided telling him the local authorities had tossed me into the pokey.
My stomach rumbled, so I headed to the kitchen where Harry stood at the counter making coffee.
“I never sleep this late,” he said, pouring a cup for me. “Guess I’m not as spry as I used to be.”
I felt terrible about misleading Justin, but at least Harry hadn’t been part of the deception. I heard the door to Justin’s room open and tried to act natural when he joined us.
“This guy tells me you had quite the day yesterday.” Harry grinned over his coffee. “It’s been a while since I had breakfast with an ex-con.”
I tried to smile.
“Too soon?” he asked. “Sorry. What did you find out?”
I replayed my conversation with Eva, then came clean about my meeting with Adelmo.
“But she wasn’t the only one I met with yesterday.” I turned toward Justin. “I should have told you before, but the timing was off.”
I took a deep breath and explained about the detour Prez had taken on our journey. When I got to the part about our trip to Puerto Lopez, Justin jerked upright and sat on the edge of his seat. When I got to the point when Adelmo approached me on the beach, he jumped out of the chair and began pacing in front of the patio door.
“Please, do not tell me you left with that thug!” he said through clenched teeth.
“He’s not a thug. At least, I don’t think he’s a thug. And I didn’t go off with him. We went to a museum to talk.” There was no reason to tell him no one else was at the museum or how long we sat in the garden. “Could you please sit down? You’re making me nervous.”
He sat.
I summarized my conversation with Adelmo, leaving out the part about his ominous promise to make things right. When I finished, no one spoke for what seemed like forever. Harry broke the silence.
“So, Balsuto claims he’s working on uncovering what happened to your sister.”
The way he said “claims” made me remember Adelmo’s warning about not believing everything I heard. Could he have been referring to himself in his warning? Did Harry suspect Adelmo of direct involvement in Stella’s death?
“I still can’t believe you were alone with one of the most dangerous men in the country.” Justin sounded angry but seemed to be losing steam. I ignored him and responded directly to Harry.
“Do you think he�
��s lying about not knowing anything?”
“It’s hard to tell. Luis tells me not much happens around here that gets past him. And he and Ben were into some very shady business. That doesn’t mean he was in on whatever was going on with your sister. But the part about not seeing Stella for months seems strange to me. Does that sound like her?”
That part of Adelmo’s story had puzzled me, too. “Honestly, I’m not sure what Stella might have done.”
The truth was the Stellas described by Ben and Adelmo were both different from the woman I’d known. Being discontent with the luxury Ben had provided, protecting her family from him—neither sounded like the Stella who had no qualms about marrying the man I loved. And the garden museum didn’t fit into the type of place my sister would want to hang out. Even eating cookies with Eva wasn’t something she would enjoy. Was it possible she had changed, or had I never recognized what she could have been?
Once in high school she got wasted at a party, somebody called the cops, and they took everybody in. I was at college but offered to come talk to my errant sister. Mom told me to stay put. She said Stella needed to face up to what she’d done and if I came home, I would shift the responsibility to someone else. She said I was like predictive text for her, always completing her words and thoughts to make her into the person I wanted her to be. Maybe being on her own in a strange place, away from me, let her become her own person.
The weight of my loss pressed down on me, and I could think of nothing more to add.
Justin slumped back in his chair, then leaned toward me.
“I hate that we have to talk about our conversation with Harry’s source right now, but we’re running short on time.”
Our return tickets were open-ended, but we planned on wrapping up our business in no more than a week. It seemed the more we found out about Stella’s life, the less we understood. Maybe she left the important clues behind with her body.
“You have the pictures?”
The Sometime Sister Page 15