by Sasscer Hill
The air outside was cool, and held a trace of exhaust, and cooking from nearby restaurants. The painted wood on the railing beneath my hands was as smooth as enamel. I leaned forward to look at three men who had left the hotel entry below, but Calixto slipped up behind me, put his arms around my waist, and pulled me against him.
“Querida, I cannot stay with you tonight. Not with Julissa here.” His warm breath touched my neck. “I find this to be … painful.”
My own disappointment was sharp, and the heat from where he pressed against me, almost overwhelming. I started to speak, but something about the three men walking away from the hotel stopped me cold. Dreadlocks. A brightly colored hat shaped like a popover.
“That’s the Rastafarian! The other two have to be Onandi and Kamozey.”
Seeing them, my desire wilted like a spring blossom in a sudden freeze.
32
Calixto moved to the balcony railing and stood by my side. His gaze followed the three men walking on the street below. They crossed Broadway and entered a bar a half block away.
As he pulled his cell from his pocket, a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. “An opportunity has presented itself.” He entered a number, and said, “May I have security please?” A beat later, he said, “This is Calixto Coyune, I spoke with you earlier? I need immediate access to room four-ten. Mrs. Coyune will be going inside. Yes, that’s right. Thank you.”
“Am I about to do what I think I am?” I asked.
“Yes, querida, you are. I will go to the bar, keep an eye on them, and text if they head back.”
“Got it,” I said, opening the French doors and walking quickly into the living room to where Julissa had remained on the gold and beige couch. “Where does Onandi keep your papers?”
“What?”
I explained that I was about to have access to his room.
“The last time I saw them they were in a briefcase he has. It’s made of plate steel, always locked. You won’t be able to open it.”
“Oh, I’ll get it open.”
Calixto appeared from the bedroom, making a beeline for the door.
“Wait a second,” I said. “I need your gun.”
He sent me a questioning look, and I explained my plan. When he handed me his gun, I slipped it into my tote bag. He made a hurry-up motion with his hand.
“The man is on his way to open the suite.” He paused a second, his eyes suddenly worried. “You will ask him to make sure no one else is inside, yes?”
“You can bet on it.”
After making sure no thugs were lurking in the corridor, we left. Behind us, I heard Julissa bolt the door. Calixto caught an elevator, and I stepped into the stairwell near room 410, leaving the fire door ajar so I could see the hallway. I reminded myself that if anyone did see me enter Onandi’s room, they wouldn’t know who I was. Calixto would have been a different story, so it made sense for me to be the thief.
A moment later the elevator dinged. A man, with a hotel security badge, stepped off. He paused outside 410, glancing around as if expecting someone.
I slipped into the hall, quietly introduced myself, and asked if he’d check the room.
“Of course,” he said. “I’ll make sure it’s clear.” He knocked on the door, saying, “Hotel Security.” He said it once more, and when no one responded he unlocked the door and stepped inside, continuing to announce himself as he moved through the room and out of sight.
I wondered what he’d say if one of the thugs was in there, but, no doubt, he had a list of clever excuses. I also wondered why the hotel was letting us into Onandi’s room. Maybe Meloy had intervened on Calixto’s behalf, or maybe the Coyune family was just that well connected with the hotel. Whatever the reason, it certainly made my job easier.
The hotel detective appeared in the doorway. “It’s clear. You’d better get in and out fast. I can’t stay here to keep watch.”
“Mr. Coyune’s taking care of that,” I said. “Thanks for your help.”
“You understand,” he said, giving me his best hard-cop stare, “I never saw you. I was never here. The hotel will deny complicity.”
“Of course,” I said, walking past him into the room.
I wasn’t here, either. If bullet holes appear, or a document goes missing, it’ll be a mystery to me.
After the security guy glanced left and right, he hurried toward the elevator. I walked into Onandi’s suite and bolted the door. The setup was larger than ours. A two-bedroom with a sizable sitting area. I wanted to find Onandi’s room—the obvious place for him to hide things. The first bedroom I stepped into had two double beds. On one of the beds was a brightly colored dashiki, similar to the one worn by Dajon on the night of the murder. Dajon and Komozey must be staying in this room.
I left, slipped quickly across the sitting area and entered the bedroom on the other side. The sight of the king bed and the thought of Julissa sleeping in it with Onandi turned my stomach. As I moved farther into the room, I was stopped by a gleam of metal on the floor by a nightstand. The briefcase.
I closed the distance and grasped the case’s handle, surprised by how heavy it was. I hoped its heftiness wasn’t caused by something small and dense inside, like boxes of ammunition. Surely, the thick metal construction caused the weight? I set the case on the bed, then pulled Calixto’s Glock from my tote.
I stared at the lock. It looked solid and tough. Blasting it with the Glock could mangle the lock mechanisms and they might never give way. I wasn’t keen on firing straight at the case, either. Who knew what was in there? I turned it around. Hinges are usually weaker and easier to breach. Why fight the lock when I could blow off the hinges?
I grabbed one of the big foam pillows, folded it over the Glock to dampen the sound, and fired down on the hinge so the bullet would enter the mattress. The hinge flew off. I did the second hinge, then pried the case open. Papers. I pawed through a pile of them, wishing I had time to read them all. Even if I did, I couldn’t use any of it as evidence. My mode of obtaining them was illegal and totally unauthorized.
I found Julissa’s Jamaican passport near the bottom, dropped it and the gun into my tote, and got the hell out of there. There was no one in the hallway when I cracked the door open, so I sped down the corridor, rapped on the door to our suite, and Julissa opened it immediately.
“Here,” I said, thrusting the passport into her hands. I was panting and could feel sweat beading on my forehead. I shook slightly from the adrenaline that coursed through me when I fired the gun. The timeless fear of getting caught had pumped even more of the hormone into my system.
Yet somehow I felt myself grinning. It had been so easy, and gone so well! I sent a message to Calixto relating my success. Julissa had been watching me, and when I put the phone back in my tote, she hugged me, her enthusiastic squeeze making it hard to breath.
“Thank you so much!” she said, stepping back before staring at the passport clutched in her hand, like she didn’t believe it was really there.
“And tomorrow,” I said, “you go to New York City.”
“You have been so kind. I’m indebted to you both.”
“You needed a break,” I said. “We were happy to give you one.”
The passport retrieval had gone so smoothly. I only hoped her escape would be as painless.
* * *
That night, Julissa and I shared the huge king bed. Though my heart longed for Calixto, with all that had happened in the last week, I was still glad that I wasn’t sleeping alone. There had been too many alarming events. There were way too many scary people in this town.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I was awakened by whimpering and muffled cries. I tensed until I realized Julissa must be caught in the throes of a nightmare. Listening to the fear in her voice, I was more determined than ever to help this woman escape. I put a hand on her shoulder.
“It’s okay, Julissa. You’re safe now.”
She murmured something unintelligible and settled bac
k into a deeper, silent sleep. I lay awake for a while, staring at the ceiling that was lit by the ambient light sifting through the glass of the balcony’s French doors. My stay in Saratoga had been so strange, so unlike what I’d expected.
I was in a wonderful vacation spot. In a city whose focus on horses, racing, and the arts made it “the place to be” in the summer. Soon, the Fasig-Tipton sale of blue-blooded yearling Thoroughbreds would be held. Sheikhs, billionaires, and movie stars would sprinkle the pavilion as million-dollar colts and fillies brought down the auctioneer’s hammer.
But somehow I’d discovered a different Saratoga and spent my days on the dark side of this town.
33
In the morning, we ordered croissants, fruit, and a large pot of coffee. I would have preferred to eat outside on the balcony with Julissa, but she couldn’t risk being seen from the street below or from one of the balconies that flanked ours.
So instead, we sat cross-legged on the carpet near the open French doors, enjoying the shaft of morning sun that pooled around us. We both uttered little groans of pleasure with our first sips of hot, fragrant coffee.
About the time we finished eating, Calixto showed up wearing a leather vest over a crisp shirt, jeans, and the inevitable, perfectly polished boots.
“Julissa, I have a town car picking you up at ten and driving you to the city. And I’m giving you this”—he pulled a wad of hundred-dollar bills from a vest pocket—“so you can get the clothes you need and pay your room and board until you get your own income.”
He turned back to me. “You have a plan for getting her out of the hotel, yes?”
“I do. And you should take your gun back.” I pulled the Glock from my tote and handed it to him.
“Bueno.” After he slid the gun into an inside vest pocket, he turned to Julissa. “I think you will like your driver. He is a former New York State trooper, and, of course, has a license to carry. The car is furnished with heavily tinted windows. You will be safe.”
When tears welled in Julissa’s eyes and she pressed fingers to quivering lips, I suspected she was about to launch into more declarations of undying gratitude.
“So, about sneaking you out of here,” I said, “what do you think of wearing my blond wig, some fake tattoos, and a piece of jewelry you ordinarily wouldn’t be caught dead in?”
“Querida, you are not giving away your bat wings?”
Calixto’s lips were doing the twitch-that-is-not-quite-a-smile thing and his comment served as an excellent distraction for Julissa.
“No,” I said. “I don’t give away diamonds. It will be a loan. But you’ve got to admit, if Onandi sees her with tattoos, a blond wig, and wearing a tacky piece of Goth jewelry, he will never believe it’s her.”
“The black diamond is not tacky,” Calixto said.
“You’re right, and I have plans for that diamond. The bat wings, maybe not.”
His face became expressionless. “As you wish, Fia.”
Had I offended him? I started to backpedal, but as Calixto turned away from me, I saw the grin he was trying to hide.
“I love being around you two,” Julissa said. “There’s so much energy surrounding you.”
Not to mention desire.
As if reading my mind, Calixto nailed me with a glance so penetrating, I flushed. I could almost read his thoughts, and they were fixated on us being alone together, in this very room, during the coming night.
“All righty then,” I said. “Let me get that wig.”
“Yes, do that, querida, and I will head to Maggie’s barn.”
Calixto left, and after Julissa and I headed into the bath, I grabbed a tube of gooey hair product and went to work on Julissa’s thick, curly hair. I slicked it back and pinned it up, then settled the wig onto her head. The wig’s long, straight bangs hid a few stray curls determined to spring forward from her crown.
We studied the result in the large mirror. Julissa’s cafe-latte skin, dark brows, and almond eyes looked sensational beneath blond hair. From my undercover kit, I pulled a package of stick-on dragon tattoos. I pasted one on each of her biceps, and one beneath her collarbone.
“Now for the pièce de résistance.” I got the bat wing necklace from the room safe and clasped the skeleton hands behind Julissa’s neck.
I stood back and examined her. Calixto’s oversized shirt and my too-short stretch pants didn’t do much for the look. I doubted she wanted to arrive in New York City wearing that stuff, no matter how relieved she was to be escaping Onandi. She was, after all, a poster girl for style and femininity.
“Tell me,” I asked, “did Onandi open any other accounts for you in Saratoga—besides Violet’s?”
“He did, but why … oh,” she said, as a gleam of mischief lit her eyes, “I see. Yes, Saratoga Saddlery. I bought a beautiful pair of cowgirl boots there and they have terrific casual clothes.”
“I’ll ride with you in the limo, keep watch while you charge everything you could ever want or don’t want to Onandi, and then the limo will whisk you straight to the Big Apple.” I was beginning to feel like I was weaving a Cinderella story. I hoped Onandi hadn’t thought to close the account when Julissa disappeared. But Calixto had given her enough cash to get the essentials.
As my thoughts spun, Julissa glanced at her image in the mirror and touched the bat wing necklace.
“This is dreadful. But I see why you have plans for the diamond. It is a magnificent stone. But why would he give you such a tacky setting?”
“Long story. And Calixto has an odd sense of humor.”
“True,” Julissa said. “But he is a man as rare and beautiful as this diamond. Hold on to him.”
I didn’t want to go there. “Let me check the street, see if your limo has arrived.” I hurried through the French doors onto the balcony and took a deep breath of cool morning air. Could I hold on to him? Think about it later, Fia.
I focused on the traffic below, and a few moments later, a Lincoln Town Car arrived at the curb before the hotel’s entrance. It remained there idling, waiting for its passenger. I went back to Julissa. She stood in the bedroom, rocking from one foot to the other, one hand worrying with the necklace around her neck. I didn’t blame her for being nervous.
“Time to go,” I said.
Instead of taking the elevator we walked down the stairs, hurrying into the lobby, just as Onandi stepped off the elevator. Julissa froze, but I laughed.
“Can you believe she said that to me? I mean I just about died!”
Onandi’s gaze passed over us with no sign of recognition.
“Come on, Patty,” I said, clasping Julissa’s wrist. “Let’s go see her. You won’t believe where she lives. I mean, wait until you see this place.”
We walked quickly through the lobby, out the entrance, and climbed into the limo, where we were immediately hidden behind the darkened windows.
“Worked like a charm,” I said.
She didn’t answer, but I could feel the trembling that was radiating from her across the Lincoln’s leather seat. We made it to the shop without further incident, and it turned out Onandi hadn’t closed the account.
The Saratoga Saddlery’s manager thought she’d died and gone to heaven when Julissa bought a suede vest, a leather vest, two pairs of Frye cowgirl boots, a tweed riding jacket, a leather coat, and … I finally lost count.
I picked up a huge, gorgeous tooled leather tote, then grabbed another one for good measure. After Julissa got dressed in some of her new purchases, we stuffed everything else into the totes and her driver stowed them in the trunk.
We stood on the street next to the waiting limo, both of us in tears as we said good-bye.
“Go on,” I finally said. “Get out of here.”
She did, and I felt strangely bereft as I watched her car disappear down Broadway. But I had helped another human in need, and a warm satisfaction overpowered my feeling of loss. Instead of taking a cab, I walked along Broadway to reach the Adelphi. People smiled a
t me, probably responding to the irrepressible grin on my face.
Then my phone rang. I stared at the caller ID, answered, and said, “Joan, is everything okay?”
“No. Rich is behaving even more oddly. He seems consumed by dread. I don’t want to leave him here alone. Can you come?”
If I’d believed she was simply overreacting, I would have told her no. I did not want my feeling of contentment ruined by Joan. But with Onandi and his thugs in town, and an unidentified murderer on the loose, I sucked it up.
“I’ll come now.”
“Can you bring a gun?”
“I told you, I don’t have a gun,” I said through clenched teeth. “Don’t ask me again. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I walked on toward the Adelphi to retrieve my Mini, suddenly wishing I’d kept Calixto’s Glock.
34
I drove the Mini north past the signs for Skidmore College, until I reached the heavily wooded lane leading across the bridge to Joan’s development.
Outside the stone mansion, her perfectly manicured roses bloomed profusely. I parked on the flagstone drive next to Rich’s large black Mercedes, and climbed from my car. No one would suspect a brutal slaying had occurred here only days ago.
A cool draft worked its way to me from the woods beside the house. It, or memories of the murder brought a sudden chill to my arms. The windows I’d found so tall and elegant on my first visit to this house, seemed blank, like eyes with no soul. I forced myself to exhale slowly.
Joan must have heard me drive up, because the front door opened, and she stood there pale and somehow shrunken.
“Thank you for coming.”
I nodded and followed her inside to the living room. The huge vase of red roses was absent, but the statue of the horse, Behold the King, reared defiantly on the credenza. I didn’t see Rich.
“Where is he?” I asked.
“In the library. Whatever has him so worried, he goes in there and just dwells on it. When I try to talk to him, he snaps at me. Tells me to leave him alone.”