A Killer Margarita (Nikki Sands'/Wine Lover's Mystery Series)

by Michele Scott

  “Susannah, are you okay?” Nikki asked.

  The girl shook her head. “No.”

  “Here, let’s sit down,” Simon said. “You can talk to us.”

  They sat at one of the tables. “What is it?” Nikki asked.

  “My mother. She said she is going to confess to killing that man. I am packing up the restaurant now. I’m waiting for Guillermo to help me. Tonight is going to be our last night serving dinner. I can’t do it without my mother. And…” she rubbed her stomach. “…I have a baby coming.”

  “Oh my, Susannah. What are you going to do?”

  “I am going to marry Guillermo. His family will help us. He is going to college soon. He wants to be a doctor.”

  “You and Guillermo are…”

  “Yes. Guillermo and I have been together for months. He is a good man and my mother loves him.”

  Nikki glanced at Simon, who asked, “What about your mother? She didn’t kill that man. You know she didn’t. Did you see her? Did you talk to her?”

  “No. Guillermo’s uncle did.”

  “His uncle? How?” Nikki asked.

  “He is a policeman. He is the man who took my mother to jail, but he is a good man. It was so hard for him to take her there. He promises that he’ll try to help her.” Susannah wiped her tears.

  “She can’t confess to a crime she didn’t do,” Simon said.

  “I don’t know why she is saying this. I haven’t been able to see her yet.”

  “You don’t believe that she killed that man, do you?” Nikki exclaimed.

  “No. I don’t know.”

  “Susannah?”

  Nikki turned to see Guillermo approaching. Susannah stood and hugged him. “I have started packing,” she said.

  “It will be okay. I promise,” Guillermo told her.

  Nikki looked at him. “Your uncle said that her mother is confessing to the murder?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say. I wish you both the best.”

  “Thank you. Come back with your family for dinner tonight. I will treat you,” Susannah said.

  “You don’t need to treat us, but yes, we will come by.”

  She and Simon left. Simon looked at her. “You wish her the best? Her mother is going to prison for a murder she didn’t commit, and she’s closing the family restaurant, and you wish her the best?”

  “Not much else I could do. Trust me, something stinks. But first, we have to get ready.”

  “Ready?”

  “Yeah. Come on. We have a playhouse to visit.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  “I hope this place is open,” Nikki said.

  “What is this place?”

  “Where Derek and I found our outfits.”

  “What?” Simon asked.

  “Remember Jorge, the rental car guy? Well, he’s in this play, and let’s just say that it’s priests and nuns gone to the dark side doing some very gymnasticky type things in the buff.”

  “Oh. OH! Goodness. Who would have thought? So, why are we here?”

  “We need to get into the jail to see Juanita. And I can’t think of another way to do it. Can you?”

  “Dressed as a priest and a nun? I’m not sure that this is a very good idea at all,” he said.

  “We don’t have time to go back to the villa and change, so this is how it’s going down.” Nikki pulled on the door handle. “Good. It’s open.”

  “That probably means someone is here,” Simon whispered.

  “Yeah well, it’s not like either of us hasn’t made up a story before. If we run into someone, that’s what we’ll do—come up with something. Be prepared to think on your toes.”

  It didn’t take long for that kind of preparation to come in handy when they went inside. They spotted Jorge sitting on a wooden bench looking forlorn. He glanced up. “Oh my. You came to see the play? You found me!”

  “Of course,” Simon replied. “I lost your number, but my sister here remembered the playhouse name.”

  “I am so sorry. The man who stole your wallet wound up dead. The police came to see me and told me.”

  Simon waved a hand at him. “That is terrible. Anyway, we really want to see the play tonight. Where do we get tickets?”

  “Someone stole two of our costumes last night, and I need to get these cleaned.” He held up another set. We sweat so much in them and these are all we have left.”

  Simon glared at Nikki.

  “I don’t know how I am going to do it. I have to be at my job in half an hour and back here tonight by ten to go on. I get off work at nine o’ clock. That gives me no time to wash the costumes.”

  “We’ll do it,” Nikki offered.

  “You will?”

  “Sure.” She smiled and took them from him. “We’ll meet you back here tonight.”

  He kissed each of her cheeks and then Simon’s. “You are like angels.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Simon muttered as they walked out of the playhouse. “What in the hell are you doing? First you steal the man’s one set of costumes, and now you’re going to wash these and bring them back?”

  “Yes. After we use them.” She handed Simon the priest outfit. He wrinkled up his nose.

  “Okay, there is only so much I will do for you, and this is going too far.” He smelled the costume. “OMG. Like serious BO!”

  “Adds to the authenticity.”

  “What? You don’t think nuns and priests take showers?”

  “Put it on. We’ve been working to build an orphanage all day. That is our story.”

  “You are so going to hell, Snow White.”

  “The thought has crossed my mind.”

  “You’re not taking me with you. I’m not doing this.” Simon crossed his arms.

  “What do you want for doing it?”

  “Are you bribing me?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She knew it worked with children.

  “Hmm. Okay, since you’re stooping so low and therefore, forcing me to stoop just as low, I want a diamond collar for Señora Maria Consuelo Hidalgo, and I think Señor Juan Pablo Hidalgo should have a jade one. Jade feels masculine to me.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Don’t you think? It’s a great stone.”

  “No, I mean, that’s what you want?” Nikki asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Fine.” Good thing she knew where to get some decent cubic zirconia. Like hell she was getting Maria Consuelo a diamond collar, and as for Juan Pablo, she’d figure something out there, too.

  “Good.”

  They found a public restroom where they were able to change. Nikki had to admit that the costume was a bit ripe and kind of grossed her out, but she reminded herself that it was for a good cause.

  “Now what?” Simon asked. “This is really disgusting.”

  “I know. Now we find the jail and talk to Juanita.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Thirty minutes later, Nikki and Simon found themselves standing outside a Mexican jail on the other side of town. They had called their friend Frederico the cabbie for a ride over.

  “You are really American police?” Frederico asked after picking them up.

  Simon glared at Nikki. “Something like that,” she replied.

  Frederico glanced back at them. “This is just like television. Most excitement I’ve ever had. You’re going to get the bad guys! But why are you wanting to go to the jail? The bad guys are locked up there.”

  “Top secret. Need-to-know basis only.”

  “Oh. I understand.”

  The Mexican jail was nothing like what they had seen in the U.S. It was run down, old, not very large—and chickens ran around freely in front. Two armed guards stood at the entrance.

  “I don’t know if we should do this,” Simon whispered.

  “We’re here. Can you please wait for us?” she asked Frederico.

  “Of course. I will wait like a getaway car.”

  Nikk
i approached the guards, one of whom spoke English. “Hello. I am Sister Nicole Malveaux and this is Father Simon…uh Simon Sands.” She couldn’t use the same last name, so she gave him hers.

  “Yes?” the guard replied sternly.

  “We would like to visit one of your prisoners. We are here on a mission, and one of the women we are helping, her mother is in jail here and she asked if we could come and pray with her.”

  “Her name?”

  “Juanita Sanchez.”

  He picked up his radio and spoke in Spanish. A moment later, the guard let them pass through the large double wooden doors. Inside, they were greeted by a man dressed in a suit who told them that he was in charge and did not expect any visitors.

  “This isn’t planned and I know this is not customary. However, the daughter has asked us to pray with her mother.”

  The man looked skyward then said he would allow five minutes but that was all. He led them through the yard of the concrete building. The stench overwhelmed them. There were bars on everything. People yelling. Clothes on lines—it looked and sounded just like a prison camp, which essentially it was.

  The warden led them to Juanita’s tiny cell. Nikki looked through the bars.

  “Thank you,” Simon said. “Five minutes.”

  The warden nodded and left them alone.

  Juanita sat on a concrete cot and did not look up. “Juanita,” Nikki called. “Come here, please.”

  The woman rose and walked to the bars. “Oh my. Is that you? From my restaurant the other night?”

  “Yes. We don’t have time and we can’t explain, but why are you saying you killed that man? The one found murdered in the car.”

  “What?”

  “Yes. Susannah told us that you are admitting to the police that you killed Paul Carrigan.”

  “No! No, I never would admit that. It isn’t true!”

  “Shhh.” Nikki looked at Simon. “Get on your knees.”

  “What? No.” he shook his head.

  “We need to look like we’re praying. Come on.”

  Simon sighed but sunk down to his knees. Nikki did so as well. “Why would she say that? Why would Susannah say that?” Simon asked, crossing himself over and over again.

  “I don’t know,” Juanita said.

  Nikki glanced down the corridor and spotted two guards talking as they watched them. “Lay off on the crossing, Si. I think once is good. We might be drawing some attention.”

  “Just playing the part, Sister,” Simon muttered.

  “No need for overkill. We need to go. Juanita, we will get you out of here.” Nikki squeezed her fingers through the bars.

  They left in a hurry because her gut told her that the guards might be on to them, and they needed to get the hell out of there.

  As promised, Frederico waited for them. “Let’s get out of here fast!” Nikki exclaimed as she shed her costume.

  Frederico did as he was instructed. “Where to?”

  “A Laundromat. You have them, right?”

  “Sí.”

  “Okay. That’s where we need to go.”

  “What do you make of that?” Simon asked. “What Juanita said? That she didn’t admit to killing Carrigan.”

  “Well, something definitely stinks besides these costumes. Someone is lying big time.”

  “Susannah?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Guillermo?”

  “That might be the better bet.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Right now, I don’t know. But I’d better come up with something pretty darn quick. Otherwise, Juanita isn’t getting out of there ever, and I’m not even sure she’ll get of there alive at this point.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  They waited for the costumes to dry while hanging at the Laundromat.

  “We aren’t coming back for the play tonight, are we?” Simon asked.

  “No. Once we’re finished here, we’ll return the costumes and head back to the villa. See what Derek and Marco have for us. Then we can go from there. I also need to get the other costumes back to Jorge. I don’t want to be a thief.”

  Nikki stared absently at the TV positioned in the corner of the ceiling. The local news was on. A pretty anchorwoman spoke as a photo flashed on the screen. Nikki’s jaw dropped. She didn’t know a ton of Spanish, but she recognized the woman in the photo: the waitress from El Corazon.

  “Frederico, what is she saying?” she asked their driver.

  “She says that woman was found dead this morning.”

  “Oh my God!”

  “Do you know her?”

  She didn’t answer right away. Her mind reeled. Nikki had a bad feeling that going to the police with some of the information she’d gathered might not be the best idea at all. “No. I don’t know her. That’s just terrible though.”

  Simon got the costumes out of the dryer and folded them. “Ready?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Nikki replied, a bit dazed.

  Frederico drove them back to the playhouse and they were able to return the costumes without any hassle. The doors were unlocked and no one seemed to be around.

  Frederico dropped them at the villa and told them to call if they needed him anymore that day. Nikki thanked him and they headed into the villa, where they were greeted by Maria Consuelo and Juan Pablo.

  “Yoo hoo, we are home. Marco?” Simon called.

  Footsteps sounded on the staircase. Marco followed Derek down. “Oh good! Wait ‘til you hear what I found out,” Derek said. He hugged Nikki. “Oh, honey, you’re a little ripe.”

  “I know. What did you find out?” she asked.

  “You shower first.”

  Marco pinched his nose. “I agree.”

  “Fine.” Nikki and Simon headed upstairs for quick showers.

  As Nikki scrubbed, her mind raced with what had happened that day. Juanita didn’t confess, and didn’t plan to do so. According to Guillermo, his uncle said that her mother had admitted murdering Carrigan. That didn’t make sense. But as her mind raced, Nikki started to believe she knew who killed Paul. She didn’t quite know the motive yet, but she was becoming more certain of whodunit.

  The other question was, if she was right about who murdered Carrigan, then was Dream’s killer one in the same? And what about the waitress from El Corazon? Had she been murdered, or was it an accident?

  If she guessed right about who killed Carrigan, and if that same person killed Dream, it didn’t completely add up for her. In fact, she felt more and more confused by the moment.

  The only sure thing she could decide on was that now she had to set a trap to catch a killer and get Juanita released.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  “Okay, what did you find out?” Nikki asked. They all sat outside by the pool. The ocean stretched out in all of its blue and white splashing glory. One would never know that these four were tracking one or more killers.

  “We learned Dream’s real name,” Derek said. “Kendall Young. But there’s more than that.” Juan Pablo jumped up on Derek’s lap. “What is this?”

  “He likes you,” Simon said.

  “Great. He’s no Ollie, but for now I’ll go with it. Anyway, as I was saying, I found the hostel that Tim and Becky are staying at. Tim still claims he can’t remember the last place they went, and that he isn’t even totally sure how he made it home that night. He thinks he took a bus.”

  “Do you still believe him?” Nikki asked.

  “Not sure. I think so. As we already knew, he’s not the sharpest tool in the toolbox. But what was more enlightening is what the girlfriend had to say.”

  “Really? What?” Simon asked.

  “Well, according to her she didn’t think much of Dream upon meeting her. She said Dream did tell her that she had come down here to find her best friend, who had disappeared after meeting Paul here eight months ago.”

  “Kind of what we thought, or along those lines,” Nikki said.

  “Yes. But there
’s more. When her friend Erin disappeared, the authorities up north didn’t take anything very seriously. They said that they couldn’t help. According to Tim’s girlfriend, Dream said the reason no one would help her was because they were both dancers in Vegas—exotic dancers who also on occasion had some other, uh, side jobs.”

  “They were call girls?”

  “That’s what Becky said.”

  “How did you get her to tell you all of this?” Nikki asked. “And why did Dream open up to her?”

  “Dream told her all of it after a few drinks by the pool, she said. She also said that she really didn’t believe her, because her take on Dream was that she liked drama and that she likely was someone who embellished things. Now, with the girl dead and also Paul Carrigan, she wonders if Dream was telling the truth. As far as her talking to me, I played the private investigator card.”

  “You did?” Simon asked.

  “Yes.”

  Simon clapped his hands. “We have taught you well.”

  “Did Becky say anything to you about Carrigan, and what Dream suspected him of doing?” Nikki asked. “I mean, if Dream thought that he had something to do with her friend’s disappearance, then what was she up to?”

  “I asked her that question, but she said they never finished the conversation because Carrigan interrupted them.”

  Nikki leaned against the back of her chair and thought for a moment. “If I had to guess, Dream figured that Carrigan knew something about Erin’s disappearance, and like a few of us here she decided to go the amateur sleuth route since she didn’t feel she was getting support from anyone else. If I also had to guess, I would say that Carrigan knew something about Erin’s disappearance, and maybe whatever he knew got Dream killed—and maybe himself. The thing is, I don’t think whoever killed Carrigan is the same person who murdered Dream.”

  “You don’t?” Marco asked.

  “No. I think we’ve done enough snooping for me to know who killed Paul Carrigan. Dream’s murder was a bit more violent—I mean, cutting her throat is savage. Not that shooting someone and then stuffing them in a car isn’t. The fact is, Juanita has been set up. The thing reeks of an amateur rather than a professional. I hate to say it, but I think Dream was likely killed by the cartel. I think Paul Carrigan was tied to them and was doing something really bad. I don’t know what that is, but if I had to guess: human trafficking, sexual slavery—that sort of thing is a part of this. I think Carrigan would have wound up murdered anyway by the real bad guys, but I think a smaller fish got to him first for one of the more basic motives that gets a person murdered.”