One Grave Less

by Beverly Connor

  “I think one night. Maybe two. We are meeting friends who are not here yet. Should I pay for two?”

  “Let us know before checkout time. You can pay then,” she said.

  Maria signed her name in a backward slant, unlike her own signature. She felt like someone was going to catch her at any moment. The trouble with telling lies was that they had a cascade effect—one led to another and then another. She couldn’t imagine how some people could make a life-style of this. The woman gave her a key for a room on the third floor. Maria took Rosetta’s hand and walked to the stairs, backpack and new purchases in her other hand.

  They climbed the stairs and found the room at the other end of a long hall. She unlocked the door and closed it behind them once inside. The room was simply decorated—bed with no headboard, brightly colored bedspread on one Hollywood-sized bed, a table and a chair, a lamp, and a painting of a parrot and junglelike leaves over the bed. And, of all things, an air conditioner in the window. It was off. She decided not to turn it on unless the temperature started getting uncomfortably hot. There was a small bathroom with a shower and a tub.

  “We’ve come a long way,” said Maria.

  “This is nice,” said Rosetta. “It’s a good thing we found money along the way. I thought we would be sleeping in the jungle most of the time. That’s kind of hard. I have small mosquito nets stuffed in the backpack, but I didn’t know how we were going to get off the ground. Hammocks are too big for me to get in the backpack.”

  “We did fine, didn’t we? We’ve been lucky, all things considered,” said Maria. “So, let’s get clean. Do you like baths or showers?”

  Rosetta took a bath first. Maria helped wash her hair and scrubbed her back, and Rosetta played in the water and laughed.

  Maria combed Rosetta’s wet hair straight down her back, parted on one side. She laid out fresh clothes on the bed for the two of them. Not the most stylish, but clean.

  “I’m going to try to get my hair clean and untangled. When I finish, we need to talk about our story. I’ve got to tell you things about John and his family. Give you some names to toss around if anyone asks. Okay?”

  Rosetta nodded and grinned. “We’re good at making up stories.”

  “Yeah, we’re a pair, aren’t we?” said Maria.

  Maria first washed her hair in Rosetta’s bathwater. She figured it would take several washings to get it clean and decided not to let the water go to waste. The bathwater was a light brown when she finished. Damn, her hair was dirty.

  She washed it again in the shower and covered it with conditioner she had bought, hoping it was good enough to help with the tangles. She piled her hair on her head while she washed her body. Maria scrubbed her skin until it was almost raw. She ran out of hot water but she didn’t mind. All she could think of was clean. She rinsed her hair last, using her fingers to help the conditioner do its job. It took quite a while. She was expecting the hotel management to come knock on the door and ask why she was using so much water.

  Finally her hair was clean and mostly untangled. Maria rubbed some of the last of the whiskey into her scalp and felt the sting. She hoped the alcohol would make her hair shine. She was tired of dull mud. And she really wanted to look different from the drawing on the Wanted poster.

  She dried off and dressed in the new clothes. The underwear felt rough against her skin, but she really didn’t mind. While Rosetta had been playing in the bath, Maria had washed her bra in the sink and wrung it out almost dry. It had been hanging on a chair while she showered. It was still damp, but it was clean.

  She had found a sack of tube socks at the market. She brushed off both their boots. They put on the socks and boots. She put Rosetta’s hair and her own in ponytails and stuck the tails through the openings in the backs of their baseball caps. Then they put on their sunglasses and looked in the mirror.

  “Well, we look different. Almost respectable,” said Maria.

  Rosetta was about to cry. Maria knelt down and took off their glasses.

  “What’s the matter, sweetie?”

  “Mama bought us some clothes that looked just alike.” Rosetta put her arms around Maria’s neck. “Can we call her? I really miss her.”

  “We’ll go down to the desk and ask. But first, we really need to talk about what our story is. I know it looks like we are home free, but we still have to be careful. Okay?”

  Rosetta nodded. She and Maria sat down on the bed and Maria began to tell her things, like John’s father’s name, and his sister’s, his address, Maria’s parents’ first names. She was using her mother’s maiden name as her own maiden name and she told Rosetta what that was. Rosetta was a quick study. She remembered everything Maria told her. Together they added details.

  “Tonight at the restaurant will be a good time to practice our story in conversation. We may have to answer questions from authorities along the way. It needs to sound automatic. Tonight, however, don’t volunteer any information. But don’t sound evasive if they ask questions. People like to ask kids questions. The best way to deflect questions about us will be to ask them about themselves. People like to talk about what they are doing. It will also be good to make friends. We may need friends.”

  “You should do this for a living,” said Rosetta, and Maria laughed.

  “Okay, now, for the backpack,” said Maria when she felt she had prepped Rosetta all she could. “Let’s leave all but necessary things in the hotel room. I’ll have to take the gun with us. I’ll wrap it in our clothes. If I leave it in the room, someone might find it if they search the room.”

  “We need to take our money,” said Rosetta.

  Maria nodded. “Most of it is still sewn up in the skirt. I’ll take some more out and put it down my bra. We’ll carry the rest of it in the skirt with us in the backpack.”

  They worked until about six o’clock rearranging the backpack so they could have the things they needed with them, but at the same time, make it look touristy. Maria put Rosetta’s new doll on top and buckled the flap shut. They walked down the stairs toward the lobby so they could ask about a phone. As soon as Maria looked out the window of the door leading from the stairs into the lobby she saw the man. He looked official and he was talking to someone at the check-in desk. He was holding the flyer.

  Chapter 47

  The sound sent Diane and everyone in the room to the floor. It rattled the windows and jarred Diane’s teeth and sent a sharp pain through her ears.

  “What the hell was that?” shouted the policeman.

  His voice sounded muffled to Diane. She shook her head and massaged her ringing ears, trying to clear her hearing.

  “Stun grenade,” shouted Gregory.

  “Is everyone all right?” said Frank.

  “I’m fine,” said Diane.

  “Fine,” said Garnett, though the way he was shaking his head, he didn’t look fine.

  “Does being scared witless, totally confused, and mad as hell count as all right?” said Star. “Do I need to Tweet nine-one-one? They haven’t heard from me in at least fifteen minutes.”

  “I have men out there,” said Garnett. “The coroner’s people probably already arrived to collect the body.”

  “Damn,” said Diane. “That’s it. It’s those guys. It’s the same thing as the museum. They are collecting the body, and willing to use whatever severe measures necessary to do it.”

  Star hadn’t waited to hear if they wanted her to call 911; she was on her cell phone with them again.

  “The police are here, and Detective Garnett, too. There may be policemen outside hurt. We probably need backup. I think, actually, we need Delta Force.”

  Diane managed to get up. She stumbled to the safe and retrieved the guns.

  “Hollis and I will go out there,” said Garnett. He motioned to the policeman to follow him. “The rest of you stay here. That includes you, Frank.”

  “You need more manpower,” said Frank. “If Diane is right, and I think she is, there are some vicious men
out there and some of your people may need help.”

  Garnett hesitated only a moment, then nodded.“The rest of you stay. Star, did I hear you on the phone to dispatch?”

  “Nine-one-one,” said Star. “They’re sending people. I hope that’s all right.”

  “That’s good. You, Diane, and Gregory Lincoln stay here,” he said.

  “People may be hurt,” said Diane.

  “It will only be the effects of the noise, right?” said Garnett.

  “And eyes,” said Gregory. “There would have been a very bright light when the thing went off. The idea is to overwhelm the senses. But if someone were close, they could be burned. Or the bloody bastards may have used other weapons against your people outside.”

  “We’re wasting time,” said Frank.

  Frank led Garnett and Hollis, the young policeman, out the back door. Diane took a gun and followed.

  “Gregory, if you would, stay with Star,” she said.

  Diane announced her presence as Frank started to open the back door.

  “Don’t argue,” she said. “I’ll stay close to the house and venture out only if you say it is clear. But people need help. I can be a lookout.”

  Frank and Garnett nodded.

  Diane stepped out with them and hugged the side of the house as she made her way to the front. Frank led the others down a route with trees and bush for cover, toward a copse of trees where the dead man was supposed to be sprawled on the ground.

  Diane watched them until they faded into the shadows. Frank’s house was set back from the road fifty yards, give or take, which made his front yard long and wide.

  In the distance, almost to the road, Diane spotted movement among the policemen who were guarding the body. Some were on their hands and knees. One looked like he might be heaving. Another managed to make it to his feet. Her gaze scanned the ground looking for someone still down. She didn’t see the guy Frank had shot, but it was hard to see.

  She scanned among the trees for the bad guys in hiding, waiting for another ambush. She had a feeling they were gone, that their goal was to take the body, probably so that it wouldn’t be identified. But they were so brutal she couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t come back for the hell of it—or for the terror of it. Their method of attack appeared to be the use of overwhelming force, even if it meant killing bystanders. What kind of people would do that?

  This was all about producing so much disorientation in her and the police that their investigative efforts would be ineffective. And the bullet across her shoulder said it was also about killing her. Who had she pissed off that much?

  She watched the road, listened for sirens. Where was backup? But only a couple of minutes had passed.

  She could see that Frank, Garnett, and Hollis had met up with the disoriented policemen.

  What were the thugs after? Something in the house or something they thought was in the house that they wanted. They were determined. And they had no conscience. Determined, no conscience.

  Diane watched the road with the detailed concentration she normally put into examining a bone—which was probably why she saw the black van with the dull matte finish moving slowly down the road across the end of the driveway.

  She cupped her hands to her mouth.

  “Duck. Road. Van.” She shouted twice before she saw them dive for cover.

  She sprinted to the side of the house, out of the line of fire that she knew was coming. The night suddenly crackled and popped like fireworks.

  “Dear God,” she whispered.

  “Not listening, lady.”

  An arm snaked around her waist as a gun was thrust under her chin.

  “Drop the fucking gun.” The voice was a raspy whisper.

  Diane hesitated a second, then dropped the gun.

  “Where the hell is it?” he said.

  “The package?” said Diane.

  “Good girl. If you had asked what package, I would have hurt you bad. I’m tired of messing around. I want the package.”

  “It’s at the museum,” said Diane.

  “No, it’s not.” He dug his fingers in one of the pain points in her arm and covered her mouth with the forearm of his gun hand. A burning pain shot through her arm. She thought she was going to throw up.

  “See how serious I am?” He rammed the gun back under her chin.

  “I’ve been seeing all night how serious you are. I can’t help it if you don’t like the answer. It’s at the museum.”

  Excruciating pain. Only his arm around her kept her from doubling over to the ground.

  “We have looked in the museum. It’s here.”

  “With all due respect—and please believe that I respect what you can and are willing to do—but you missed it in the museum because there is no way you could have gotten in the vaults.”

  “Vaults?”

  Gotcha . . . More or less.

  “Five vaults in the museum, plus two in the crime lab. All of them protected by high security—way more security than this house. You’re telling me you didn’t know about the vaults? I would say something sarcastic about your intel, but I know you would hurt me.”

  “We didn’t know about the vaults. That’s true.”

  “I would never bring something of great importance here to the house,” she said.

  Diane was curious to know why they didn’t know about the vaults, but she wasn’t going to ask.

  “We are going to the museum. You are going to get the package. Or we will kill everyone here, including any nosy neighbors. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I understand,” said Diane.

  Diane knew he intended to kill her—unless she could think of a plan. She had absolutely no idea what she was going to do to avoid her fate. She did know she was going to get these men away from Frank’s house and away from Star.

  When they discovered she had no idea what package they wanted, and had just made a wild guess that they were looking for something Simone had mailed to her, then they would be furious, and her death would not be pleasant.

  She desperately needed a plan.

  Chapter 48

  “What?” asked Rosetta when Maria backed her deeper into the stairwell.

  “There’s a man looking for us, I think,” said Maria.

  Rosetta put her hands to her mouth and inhaled sharply. “Oh no. How did he find us?”

  “He has one of those flyers. I imagine he’s going from hotel to hotel. I don’t think he knows we’re here. I think he’s asking questions. Let’s find a back door.” And ditch the gun, she thought.

  They went back up to the second floor and walked down the hall to another stairway. Maria hoped it led to a different door. She walked down to the first landing again. This door didn’t have a window. She eased it open and was startled when someone rushed in.

  “Oh, Olá.” A young girl rushed up the stairs, ignoring Maria and Rosetta, after saying a surprised hello.

  The two of them walked out onto the street. Maria scanned the building facade looking for a broken cement block or any nook to hide a gun. She didn’t linger, but examined the places as she went. She stopped abruptly at a small building beside the hotel. It was older looking and not in as good repair. One of the blocks was cracked.

  “I want to check this out. Stand here so it will look like I’m tying your shoe,” said Maria.

  Rosetta hurried around and stood blocking the view of Maria’s examination of the brick. Maria pulled on the small piece of the broken block. As she hoped, it came loose. She had to tug at it, but she managed to pull it out. There was a small space behind it, between the block and the wood wall, perhaps big enough for the gun. She pulled the gun out of her tote bag, wiped it off, and wrapped it in one of the pieces of fabric that they’d used for just about everything. The gun just fit in the space. She shoved the broken piece back and stood up. She felt a good deal of relief. If she were questioned by the authorities, she didn’t want to have a gun on her. She and Rosetta walked across the street into a
grassy park area and stood under some trees so they could watch the entrance to the hotel. It didn’t take long for the man with the flyer to come out. They watched him hurry down the street.

  Rosetta grabbed Maria around the leg and clung to her. “That’s the bad man,” said Rosetta, “the one with the English accent. The one who was at the mission that day.”

  Maria didn’t ask if she was sure. She believed Rosetta. Maria watched the man as he walked down the street toward another hotel. He didn’t glance in their direction, but Maria saw his profile. He wore a straw fedoralike hat, which Maria thought made him look quaint. It definitely made him stand out. He had a clean-cut profile and looked to be in his late thirties or early forties. He had light brown hair. She committed his features, what she could see of them, to memory. They didn’t move from their spot, but watched him come out of the hotel and continue on across the street and get into a VW Beetle parked in front of a church. Clearly he was visiting all the hotels.

  “Are we in trouble?” asked Rosetta.

  “I don’t think so. The clerk on duty was not the same one that checked us in. That’s in our favor. I didn’t put you down when I signed the book.”

  Maria thought for a moment where she had said she was from. She had given the name of a small town on the map she had. It wasn’t far from where she had been held. That may have been a mistake.

  “You said he was from an embassy?” said Maria.

  “Yeah, I think,” said Rosetta.

  So what is he doing here? wondered Maria. Why was he looking for them, and why here? She never mentioned Benjamin Constant to Kyle or anyone. But it is a sizable port city on the Amazon. It would be logical they would flee here. After all, they did.

  Maria watched the car drive away toward the docks.

  They stayed in the grassy area, walking around, looking at the plants, pretending to play. Maria had taken the doll from the backpack and given it to Rosetta to hold.

  “We need to wait to make the call,” said Maria. “I know you are anxious, but let’s not go back to the hotel just yet.”