Chapter 6
“Okay, please calm down, señorita,” the flustered desk clerk begged as he picked up the phone and presumably dialed the police.
“Give me the phone!” I yelled, grabbing the receiver out of his hands and explaining my predicament to the dispatcher. “I was at the station the other day. I spoke with Officer Calderon about a threatening note I received, but he didn’t take me seriously. Now I’ve received another threatening note, and…”
“Hold one moment. Officer Calderon is on duty. I’ll see if I can get him on the phone,” the nasal voiced dispatcher announced as I clenched my hands into tight fists.
“No! I don’t want to talk to him again. I want to talk to someone who will listen!” I protested, but the dispatcher had already put me on hold.
Shoving the phone in the desk clerk’s stunned face, I clipped, “Here. Check me out. I’m not staying at this hotel for another minute.”
Racing to the elevator, I punched the floor button aggressively, completely clueless about where I would go next. But all I knew was that I had to get out of that hotel of horrors while I still could…before I came face to face with the writer of those menacing notes. And I didn’t have time to plead with some careless police dispatcher to connect me with an officer other than the one who had virtually laughed in my face.
Inside my hotel room, I haphazardly threw my clothing and personal items into my carry-on bag, not caring what a mess I was making. The inside of the suitcase reflected how I felt inside: chaotic, scattered, wild. Disgustedly, I picked the note up off the floor and placed it in a zipper compartment of my purse. Double checking that I had my passport and credit cards, I slammed the door and hurried back downstairs to settle my account.
The clerk took my credit card without uttering a single word. Clearly, he perceived me as insane, but I didn’t care what he thought of me. I just needed to transfer to a different hotel, someplace where I could be more anonymous and where my stalker hopefully wouldn’t follow. Dragging my suitcase out into the waning afternoon sun, I rolled it up the block in the opposite direction of Dario’s Cappuccino Boutique. Maybe my walk to work would be a little longer, or maybe I’d even have to take a bus, but I would deal with the inconvenience as long as I felt safe.
“We meet again! So soon!” A cheerful deep voice exclaimed. “Hey, are you okay? Why are you racing down the street with your suitcase?”
I looked up into Eduardo’s concerned eyes, sorely tempted to spill my whole crazy story to him right there on the street. More than anything, I needed someone to listen to me. Someone who wouldn’t treat me like a mental patient.
“Are you crying?” He asked softly as I dabbed my eyes in surprise, realizing that a few salty tears had found their way to my cheekbones. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but maybe there’s something I can do to help you? It seems like you’re here in Barcelona all alone.”
“I am,” I replied. You have no idea how alone I am, I wanted to add. “Do you know of a quiet hotel around here? The guests on my floor have been throwing parties every night and I haven’t slept at all,” I lied.
“Sure, I can get you to a quieter place. There’s a little place called the Flores Inn a few blocks away. My buddy’s father owns it. The place only has about a dozen rooms, and I’m sure they’ll give you a discount if I bring you there.” Eduardo guided me towards a more serene area of the Gothic Quarter as I gratefully followed him. Tourist traffic faded away, replaced by quaint park benches and undulating palm trees.
“Thank you so much,” I said, already feeling my system begin to calm. Sure, Eduardo was a stranger as much as everyone else around me, but my instincts whispered that he wouldn’t harm me. And my instincts about men were usually spot-on.
The Flores Inn was situated only a few blocks away, but the limestone building felt like a sanctuary in paradise. Shaded by a lush overgrowth of trees and decorated in Mediterranean pastels, the inn beckoned to me like a lantern in a window on a December night.
“I hope they have rooms available,” I mused. “You said there were only 12, right?”
“Yeah, but this place hasn’t been doing too well. It’s a little off the beaten path for most people. So it usually has at least half the rooms available,” Eduardo said, opening the front door for me and wheeling my suitcase like a gentleman.
In spitfire Spanish, he told the old man at the makeshift desk that he had a guest to check in. “Muy bien,” the white bearded man said with a smile. “How long will you be staying with us?”
Nervously, I shifted my weight between my feet. Truthfully, I had no idea how long I’d be checking in for. At the hotel of horrors a few blocks away, I had booked my room for 30 days, so I figured I would do the same at the inn. “I’ll be staying for the rest of the month. At least.”
Eduardo arched a curious eyebrow as the inn owner happily accepted my credit card and gave me an old fashioned brass key to my room. “First floor. Only floor,” he laughed. “End of the hall. Enjoy your stay in Barcelona, and let me know if I may be of any assistance at all.”
His paternal presence at once warmed me and made me conscious of how much I had missed out on growing up without a father. “Muchas gracias, Señor,” I breathed, feeling for the first time since touching down at El-Prat Airport that I could exhale…even just a little bit.
Turning to Eduardo, who looked like he wanted to ask me about a million and one questions, I said, “Thanks for bringing me here. I think I’m going to sleep very well tonight.”
“De nada. But it’s nowhere near bedtime. How about having an early dinner with me? There’s an amazing tapas restaurant a couple of doors down.”
Eduardo’s smoldering gaze melted my resolve and I heard myself say “yes.”
“Great! Let’s drop off your suitcase and go.”
Despite the abundance of trees surrounding the inn, plentiful sunlight streamed through the windows and everything around me was bright. Including Eduardo’s sparkling pearl smile that I tried not to fixate on. Depositing my cumbersome suitcase in the airy room, we headed out and strolled to Tapas de Pedro.
The menu was mouth watering, and I wanted to sneak a taste of everything in the kitchen. Fortunately, tapas menus were designed for the hungry sampler, and together with Eduardo I chose five different appetizers.
“Okay, so we’re ordering the garlic and chili shrimp, Manchego cheese quesadillas, wild mushrooms with sherry, olive sampler, and tuna tartare? Did I get that all right?” Eduardo asked as I nodded enthusiastically.
“Sounds incredible,” I answered, trying not to drool onto the tablecloth.
“Perfecto. And how about a pitcher of Sangria to wash it all down with?” Eduardo suggested as I nodded even more fervently. As much as I loved coffee, I really needed a fruity glass of wine to savor and send me into oblivion.
A waitress took our order and brought out a pitcher of Sangria with wedges of herbed bread and olive oil for dipping. Ravenously, I grabbed a thick triangle of bread and dunked it into the oil like it was a glazed donut in a piping mug of coffee. We munched and sipped in comfortable silence until Eduardo posed the inevitable question.
“So what are you doing on your own in Barcelona?” He made his tone sound casual, but the intense expression on his face divulged a strong curiosity.
“I’m here on family business,” I said vaguely, already feeling the pleasant effects of the Sangria flow through my system.
“Private family business?” He asked politely but pointedly.
“Kind of,” I hedged, taking a gulp of ice water.
“Okay, I know it’s none of my business---and you obviously don’t want to tell me anything---but it’s just kind of unusual for a beautiful young woman to be checking into a hotel all by herself for a month,” Eduardo observed as I internally battled not to reveal the real reason for my sojourn.
“I guess it is unusual,” I conceded in a low murmur, shoving another piece of bread in my mouth. Then the term ‘beautifu
l young woman’ clicked in my mind, causing me to blush and lower my gaze. It wasn’t often that someone other than my grandmother had called me beautiful. Pretty? Occasionally. Cute? Frequently. But beautiful was a word that I wasn’t used to hearing.
As I ingested another piece of bread, Eduardo grinned at me and commented, “Good, isn’t it?”
“Delicious,” I agreed, embarrassed for wolfing the bread down like a barnyard animal.
“And you’re just going to keep me guessing? Not going to tell me why you’re in Spain? Mysterious little lady you are,” he drawled, pouring us both a refill of Sangria.
“I’m not trying to be mysterious. I just don’t want to burden anyone. My business in Barcelona is pretty heavy,” I said with a sigh, feeling the urge to be honest and not dance around his questions.
“Heavy in what way?” Eduardo pursued as I resolutely set my glass of wine on the table.
“I’m investigating a murder,” I informed gravely as he flinched in shock.
“A murder?” He repeated. “Whose murder? Someone you know?”
“Not exactly. Someone I never knew…but should have.” I sighed again, steeling myself against whatever reaction Eduardo would have to my intricate story. If the tapas dinner turned out to be our first and last date, then I would have to view it as an opportunity to devote more time to my investigation.
“I’m sorry, I’m not following you,” Eduardo said, muscling his dark eyebrows towards each other.
Slowly, I unfolded the whole story for him, starting with my grandmother’s wrenching deathbed plea. Eduardo listened compassionately to every nuance I revealed, tilting his head to one side in a clear gesture of sympathy as I explained how indebted I felt to my grandmother. As I told him about how the police had reacted to the threatening notes, he became visibly agitated.
“That’s terrible! The police can be so useless. Handing out parking tickets every minute of the day and then disappearing when there’s a real problem.” He shook his head furiously. “I hope you kept those notes, Marlena.”
“I did. But I don’t want to think about them right now,” I said with a shudder, desperate to forget everything for a few hours and drown my worries in cold Sangria and spicy appetizers...and Eduardo’s hypnotizing brown eyes.
“So you came all the way across the ocean to solve your aunt’s murder? Do you really think it’s possible? I mean, so many years have passed. Not to be negative, but it just seems a little far fetched…” Eduardo said gently.
“I know. I’ve been thinking the same thing lately. But I’m on a mission that’s bigger than me. I’m not working with my own strength right now. It’s my grandmother’s love that’s getting me through this,” I asserted as Eduardo gazed at me with obvious respect.
“It’s nice to talk to a girl who’s so family oriented. There aren’t too many girls like that these days.”
“Not too many girls like that in Spain?” I asked doubtfully.
“Europe is changing,” Eduardo mused. “Everywhere people are becoming less traditional and more self centered.”
“I guess you’re right,” I said, silently acknowledging how much I had sacrificed by quitting a six figure job. But that was just money. Honoring the memory of my grandmother was infinitely more valuable than any glitzy Manhattan job and wallet bulging salary.
Unexpectedly, Eduardo leaned forward in his chair and reached across the table to clasp my hand. His gaze was spellbinding and the touch of his hand electrifying. Craving more of his touch, I felt myself magnetically draw closer to the man. As the energy from his skin soothed me, I envisioned Nana smiling down on me and whispering, “See, mi amor, you were destined to come to Barcelona.”
Chapter 7
Nana’s whisper floated away into the ether as the deep timber of Eduardo’s voice took over. “I’m glad I met you,” he said simply as I exhaled, realizing that he wasn’t going to kiss me. But all the signs were flashing bright red that he wanted to. Secretly, I longed to tell him how this was the best first date I had ever been on. How first dates in Manhattan consist of cocktails and peanuts in a crowded bar, not delectable Spanish appetizers and wine in a stylish tapas restaurant.
“Me too,” I replied softly as we reached for our wine glasses at the same time and took lingering sips.
Two hours later, my belly full of tapas and Sangria, I let Eduardo accompany me to the inn and safely see me to my room. The place was eerily quiet after dark, like a haunted cemetery, and the windows only shone slices of moonlight. At my doorstep, Eduardo looked uncertain about how he wanted to end the night. My mind buzzed with possibilities: would he kiss me? Hug me? Just shake my hand? But he didn’t do any of those.
Caressing a stray tendril of my hair, he looked into my alcohol-glazed eyes and smiled. “Are you working at the coffee shop tomorrow?” He asked huskily.
“Yes, I’ll be there for opening shift,” I responded, fiercely desiring to invite the man into my room.
“Good. I’ll come by and visit,” he promised, pushing my wispy bangs out of my eyes and turning to leave.
“See you tomorrow!” I called after him, feeling like I had just crashed into cement after soaring on a cloud.
“Yes, you will,” Eduardo called over his shoulder as I shut the door to my room and leaned weakly against the wall, wishing Eduardo hadn’t left.
***
I had no trouble waking up the next morning even though my head was heavy from too much wine and my belly bloated from salty tapas. The thought of seeing a familiar, and friendly, face at the coffee shop filled me with anticipation that bordered on pure glee. Selecting a pair of sexy skinny jeans instead of my old pair that belonged in a Good Will bin, I applied a bit more make-up than usual in an attempt to look alluring rather than hungover. Coffee was the last thing on my mind; what I needed was a bracing glass of ice water to flush all the Sangria out of my system and get my skin back to glowing.
The longer walk to Dario’s Cappuccino Boutique didn’t bother me at all, even though a steady drizzle and fog had settled over Barcelona. Breezing through the door and waving a cheery hello to Luz, I automatically donned my apron and even dared to stand by the cappuccino machine. My time in Spain was indefinite, and if I wanted to keep a steady cash flow, I would have to learn how to brew a good cup of coffee sooner or later.
“You’re in a good mood this morning,” Luz observed slyly. “Could it be the gorgeous sunshine or something else?” She asked sarcastically as the rain started to barrel down in earnest.
“Hmmm, I don’t know,” I replied secretively, not wanting to taint my date with Eduardo by kissing and telling…okay, no, he hadn’t actually kissed me yet. But he would. Soon, if I had anything to say about it. And I didn’t want to share my personal business with the chatty post-adolescent Luz although she already seemed certain that I was attracted to Eduardo.
“Fine, don’t tell me,” she said with a wink and a shrug. “But I know it must have something to do with a man!”
“You’re right,” I sighed theatrically. “Dario finally asked me on a date!” I quipped as she exploded into uproarious laughter.
“Ick! Dario! He’s old enough to be our grandfather! You’re loca, Marlena,” Luz teased through snorts of laughter.
We both sobered as the butt of our joke plodded into the room wearing an expression as dark as a storm cloud. “Are you girls socializing? Or working?” He demanded, reaching into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes and cutting through the kitchen to find a dry place where he could smoke.
Unaffected, I made a test cappuccino, giggling as the foam flattened like a frisbee. “How do I make the foam puffy?” I asked Luz hopelessly.
“I’ll show you.” She steamed a cup of milk until it had the thick consistency of whipped cream. Then she topped the three layered coffee in an effortless swirl. “See? Now you just sprinkle some cinnamon on top. And voilà. A little work of art.”
“I think I can do that,” I said optimistically, trying my hand at a sec
ond test cup.
“That’s a little better!” Luz praised as the foam rose about half an inch.
“Very little,” I groaned, suppressing another giggle.
The door swung open as the first customer of the day jolted me out of my playful mood. I huddled closer to the cappuccino machine as though the contraption could somehow shield me from the poisonous glare that was being cast my way. Grabbing Luz’s apron strings and pulling her over to me, I whispered, “Do you know who that man is?”
She glanced over at him and rolled her eyes. “One of the weird ones I was telling you about. Don’t worry. He stares at everybody. But he’s harmless. Been coming in here every day since I started working here last year and never bothered anyone.”
I wished that Eduardo would walk through the door so I could point out the “harmless” stranger to him. Something in my gut told me that he had penned those blood red notes. Whatever his name was. From that moment on, I thought of him as Reptile Eyes. What better nickname for such a cold, slimy man? Then again, Luz didn’t seem to fear him at all and claimed that he stared at everyone…
Before I could ruminate any further on the disconcerting man and his nefarious intentions, he slipped out the door without another look in my direction. “Huh? He just ups and leaves without even ordering a cup of coffee?” I muttered in bewilderment.
“I told you. He’s weird. He drifts in and out of here whenever he feels like it. But he does order coffee most of the time, which is why Dario has never given him any grief,” Luz explained.
No sooner had the door closed than it opened again and in walked a man who elicited a very different reaction from me. “Eduardo,” I whispered, my heart pounding.
Luz looked at me knowingly and poked me in the fleshy part of my upper arm. “Looks like your lover man is here,” she giggled as I ignored her, all my senses consumed by Eduardo’s compelling presence in the room.
Carrying his clipboard and looking even more handsome than he did on our date, Eduardo quickly approached the counter. “Good morning sunshine,” he drawled. “At least your smile is shining today.”
Cappuccino Twist Page 4