Daisy was wearing a fabulous green dress, with a pattern of palm trees, and a matching green hat. Her sandals were white, the ones she normally wore when they went to the beach. Gregory was in his bright orange Hawaiian shirt. What might have been too gaudy on other men was perfect for him.
The bell rang. Neither Gregory nor Daisy moved a muscle. Viridiana knew this meant she ought to open the door.
As expected, it was Lawrence. He looked up sharply at her, and for a few seconds Viridiana did not know what to say.
“Hello,” she muttered. “They’re in the back.”
Simple, really. She was not required to say anything else, even if she felt the impulse to assure him she had prayed the rosary for Ambrose.
When they walked onto the patio Daisy and Gregory finally shifted their limbs and stood up. There were polite greetings.
“They said a lawyer would be visiting us,” Daisy told him, “but we didn’t realize they meant you. If you had sent a telegram ahead of time—”
“I didn’t think I could come until the last minute,” Lawrence said. He pulled a chair and sat down under the table with the umbrella. Gregory and Daisy joined him. Viridiana, not knowing if she should even be there, hovered by the big glass door which led back into the house.
Lawrence was again neatly dressed, hair parted and perfectly combed. His neatness contrasted with Gregory’s tousled hair, which was growing lighter from the salt and sun, and Daisy’s elegant face. There really wasn’t much elegance in Lawrence, merely a spotlessness that made her think of a Boy Scout. He wore jeans, yes, but also a pressed shirt and a suede jacket. She might almost swear that the jeans were an odd concession. An attempt to acclimatize himself. Or else, to seem more relaxed. But this man, she could tell, was not relaxed. Ever. He did not drink a couple of bottles of rum and smoke half a pack of cigarettes in one night, rolling out of bed around noon, like Gregory and Daisy did these days when they didn’t have to maintain pretenses.
These days, with Ambrose dead and buried.
By looking at him, she could tell Lawrence was lying about “last minute.” Perhaps he had been pressed for time, but he had always fully intended to come, himself. She could not be certain, but she was. Sixth sense, omens. Her grandmother said you can tell your future by looking at the path a snake leaves in the sand.
“I’m sorry you had to be dragged all the way here over what I’m sure is a trivial mistake,” Daisy said. “When I spoke to Ambrose’s lawyers, they mentioned there had been a change to his will, but I’m sure that’s wrong.”
“He had a new will made.”
“He never mentioned it. Do you have a copy?” Daisy asked. Her voice was calm.
“Not here. I can tell you the gist of it. You are to get a million dollars.”
“Then there is no change.”
“No, there is a change. I control Ambrose’s estate and the disbursement of any funds, including this amount. It will be at my discretion, whether I choose to provide you with the bequest, or whether nothing is provided at all.”
“What do you mean, nothing?” Daisy asked, but she said this leisurely, as though it hardly mattered.
“Exactly that. Ambrose was contemplating a divorce, wasn’t he?”
Daisy stretched her hand and reached for a dish filled with green grapes. Carelessly she grabbed one and popped it into her mouth.
“Your uncle and I had our fights, but there was no talk of divorce.”
“He mentioned it when he was in Mexico City,” Lawrence replied.
“With all due respect, you must be mistaken,” Gregory said. “Ambrose never spoke a word of divorce.”
“Were you his confidant?”
Gregory shook his head. “No. But when you share a house you get to know the people in it.”
“I don’t expect he’d talk about problems with his wife with his brother-in-law.”
“Are you here to tell us then, that we should vacate the premises? That I should pack my bags and head back to the States, a widow without a single cent?” Daisy asked. “Will you dare such a thing?”
She stared at Lawrence, her hard, lacquered stare. Gregory could never hold his gaze like that. Daisy did. Viridiana had seen her use that stare on her brother. On the occasions when she had looked at Viridiana with those determined eyes, Viridiana had hated the woman because those were the eyes of someone who knows she is the master.
But Lawrence was not cowed. He either did not see it or did not mind.
“I’ve come to investigate my uncle’s death,” he said simply.
“What is there to investigate?” Gregory asked. “He had an accident.”
“I’ll determine that.”
“The police have investigated already.”
Rather than reply to Gregory, Lawrence looked at Daisy when he spoke. “I’ve hired a translator to help me speak with the local authorities, and I’ve booked my stay at the only hotel in town. I’ll remain here for a few days, and then we’ll see.”
“Will we?” Daisy said.
“I don’t intend to cheat you out of money. If I find nothing, then it’ll be yours.”
Daisy stood up and gave her back to them.
“If you find nothing. That implies you expect to find something. What exactly are you accusing me of?”
Then she turned around, precisely, slowly, and blasted Lawrence again with her hard stare. This time he did seem affected by it and blinked.
“I don’t very much care what you are up to. Go around town, ask your questions and when you are done being silly, please do come back with a copy of the will and we will chat amicably,” Daisy said with finality. “I’d invite you to stay with us, but you’re probably safer at the hotel. After all, I’m a murderess.”
“I—”
“Shut up.”
The woman walked back into the house with quick steps and Viridiana moved aside, pressing her back against the wall, so that she could go past.
Lawrence looked uncomfortable, but the fight seemed to have perked up Gregory, who stood and smiled.
“Look, I’m sorry about that,” he said, “but this has been very stressful for her, and you really shouldn’t be… ah, forget it, I’ll go calm her down. You should come back some other time.”
With that he was gone and it was only Lawrence and Viridiana standing outside.
“I’ll walk you out,” Viridiana said, because she didn’t think there was anything else to say, and because he was making her nervous.
He followed her in silence. When she opened the front door she saw the old car parked outside.
“You have Reynier’s car,” she said, noticing for the first time.
“Yes,” Lawrence said. “He’s lent it to me. For the duration of my stay.”
“You really are staying in town?”
“That’s what I said,” he told her, sounding a little irritated.
Of course. He had not flown all the way to Baja California merely to jump on a bus again after five minutes. It had been an idiotic thing to ask, but she’d hoped he would take one look at the town and walk right out. Viridiana scratched her arm and glanced down at her feet.
“Sorry. I’ll see you around, all right?” he said, softening his tone.
She nodded. When she walked back into the living room, Daisy was coming leisurely down the stairs. Her anger evaporated. Had she even been upset or was it merely a performance?
“Is he gone?” Daisy asked.
“Yes.”
“Good. Get me a mineral water.”
Viridiana recalled how Ambrose had Daisy fetch him everything and she frowned, but she went to the kitchen, filled a glass with ice cubes and set it on a tray. When she returned to the living room, Daisy was sitting on the yellow egg-shaped chair, her head thrown back.
Sometimes she liked Daisy and other times she hated her. Like right now. And Daisy knew it. Viridiana suspected she delighted in causing this flipping of emotions.
“There’s only Alejandro Esparza,” Viridiana said, setting the tray down on the side table.
“Is he any good?”
“Not really.”
“Can’t compare to your brilliance? Miss I-Speak-Four-Languages,” Daisy said and she showed her teeth when she smiled at her this time. “Gregory thinks you’re a genius.”
“It doesn’t take a genius to speak several languages. You have to pay attention. And improvise.”
Daisy laughed at that, and leaned forward, the glass dangling between her fingers, blue eyes zeroing on Viridiana.
Who the hell are you? Viridiana thought. Who are both of you?
Chapter 14
Two days passed. Daisy and Gregory went down to the beach. Viridiana stayed behind. She had formed a plan to search inside Daisy and Gregory’s rooms for more clues about their identity. She took a quick look around Gregory’s room, but aside from the IDs she had already found, she did not notice anything else. It was hard to find anything at all due to the chaos Gregory maintained all around him. Rather than waste her time there, she went to Daisy’s bedroom.
She opened the closet and looked at the clothes on the hangers, unzipped a suitcase resting in a corner, and opened the drawers of the nightstand. No passports or driver licenses. Daisy was more careful with her documents than her brother, more careful with everything, as all of Daisy’s things seemed to be in order. She did not leave half empty glasses with cigarette stubs by the bed, nor did she abandon her clothes in a pile for the cleaning lady to pick up.
The nightstand yielded an address book and Viridiana flipped through it. Several names were crossed out. But there was nothing truly significant about it except that there was an entry labeled “Off Road Club,” and the name “Gehry” next to it was circled with a red pen. The card she’d found in Gregory’s room was from that club. And since that card had two phone numbers on the back, she decided to try her luck with those.
It’s not like she had anything else.
She rode her bicycle into town and mulled her options on the way there. She could place a call from the post office, but everyone would hear what she said since the telephone was a heavy, green thing which rested on a side of the counter. If she wanted more privacy, the answer was obvious: the hotel.
She went directly into one of the two solid mahogany booths in the lobby. They were worn and scratched, but proved La Sirena had once possessed great aspirations.
Like Viridiana.
She closed the door and asked the operator to connect her to the first of the two numbers. It was disconnected. The second one was a phone answering service. A woman promptly asked for her name.
“I’m getting my boss’s messages,” Viridiana said.
“What’s your boss’s name, then?”
Viridiana almost said Gregory, but she decided to go with James Haskins. She could always phone again and try the other two names if that one didn’t pan out. Or maybe she’d chicken out and forget about this. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing.
“What is his password?”
“Password,” Viridiana said.
“Yes. His password.”
Viridiana frowned. “Lucas,” she said, since that was the only other thing that had been written on the back of the card.
“Thank you. Let’s see. There’s only one message, from Mr. McDaniels, saying to call him urgently. Do you have pen and paper?”
“Yes,” Viridiana said, scrawling the name and number on a notepad.
She hung up and immediately tried Mr. McDaniels, before she lost her nerve. The phone rang six times before someone picked up.
“Who’s this?” asked a man.
Viridiana did not reply, the receiver pressed against her ear. All she had to do was gently set the receiver back in its cradle and walk out of the booth. She didn’t need to have this conversation. She could pretend she had never seen those two driver’s licenses.
Smart people did that. Smart people looked the other way.
“Hello?”
“Yes,” Viridiana said.
“Who’s this?” the man repeated.
“You left a message for James Haskins—”
“You’re not Lillian.”
“No,” Viridiana said.
“Where’s Lillian?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Fuck and damn it. Has he got a new girlfriend? Are you his new girlfriend?”
She held her breath. New girlfriend? Viridiana decided that the best thing to do was to provide as few details as possible and allow the man to do the talking.
“Uh-huh,” she said.
“Where the hell is James? It’s been weeks since I’ve heard one damn word from him. Frank Gehry is furious.”
Viridiana scribbled down the name in her notepad and circled it.
“Hello? Are you listening to me?”
“Yes, you said Gehry is furious.”
“Damn right he is. He’s been looking for him, asking everyone who knows James about his whereabouts. He’s hounding me, and if James has a fraction of a brain in that big head of his… what the fuck is James up to?”
“Why is Gehry mad?” she countered.
“Hasn’t he told you? That would be like him, wouldn’t it. And he’s rid himself of Lillian,” the man muttered.
Lillian. She wrote down that name down too and bit her lip, trying to figure what to say next.
“Gehry wants his money back. Look, please, tell me. Where the hell is he? Where are you phoning from?”
“How much money does he owe him?” she asked instead.
“Your accent… Mexico. Is he there with that old bastard in Mexico? Did he really do it?”
Viridiana pushed back her hair from her face.
The fucking accent. If she hadn’t been so nervous she would have gone for a more neutral English, though even then she might not have managed it. Her father had learned British English at school, and that’s the way Reynier spoke too. She tried to pick up things from movies but under pressure who knew how the hell she sounded. Mid-Atlantic accent. Far from it right now.
“Do you have a message for James?” she asked.
“A message. Yes. The message is that Gehry is mad as hell and I’m getting out of this fucking city. And James should put as much distance as he can between him and Gehry, if he knows what’s good for him. The bastard is probably going to send Henry looking for him. God help James if he does.”
“Henry?”
“Don’t phone again.”
He hung up. She placed the receiver back in its cradle and rested a hand against the rotary dial, her fingers brushing over the painted numbers. She thought about phoning the man back but could not think what to say. She shouldn’t have called in the first place.
Viridiana pushed the booth door open and stepped out back into the lobby. She felt odd. She was being deceived by Daisy and Gregory, but now she was doing the deceiving. Snooping in their rooms, phoning this man behind their backs.
I’m not to blame, she told herself, but her hands were shaking a bit.
Girlfriend, money, and trouble. None of those things were good.
She needed to sit down. Maybe have a coffee. She hadn’t had breakfast that morning. They’d gone over to the beach early, Daisy and Gregory, and instead of frying herself an egg, Viridiana had been busy quickly rummaging through drawers.
What she needed was a coffee, yes.
She marched into the restaurant of the hotel and almost as quickly she wished to march out. The place was almost empty. Three German tourists were sitting at a table, drinking orange juice and eating toast with butter and jam. Lawrence was the only other person there, and he saw her and waved to her.
Viridiana could not run out without looking suspicious. She did not relish this encounter.
“Hello,” she said, approach
ing his table and stuffing her notebook in her backpack.
“Hi,” he said. “Having brunch?”
“No. I wanted a quick coffee.”
“You should sit down.”
“I don’t want to be a bother.”
“It wouldn’t be a bother. You’d keep me company and help me order,” he said, putting away the book he had been reading. “Please.”
Viridiana knew the menu, but she pretended to be interested in it. When Lawrence asked her opinion on the bread, she said it was fine and fresh. Lawrence ordered eggs, coffee and the pan dulce basket. She did not alter her plan: a cup of coffee.
She unfolded a napkin and placed it on her lap.
“You’re getting along with Reynier’s car?” she asked. She had to ask something and figured that pushing the conversation away from Ambrose’s death was the best course.
“Yes. I’d rather walk any day, but it’s a fine car.”
“It can be a bit temperamental. It doesn’t always start. But it was quite the sight when he first moved into town, I’m told. He paid a pretty penny to have it brought here.”
“How long has he lived here?”
“Forever, it seems.”
“Then you must know him well.”
“All my life. He was my father’s friend,” Viridiana said. “And then, after my father was gone, he watched over me.”
Lawrence looked at her carefully. “Your father, he’s dead?”
“No,” Viridiana said, chuckling. “Divorced. He lives in Mexico City.”
She felt stupid for referring to her father in the past tense, for making Lawrence think about death when her aim was to keep herself entirely off the subject. Luckily, the waiter returned then with their coffee, the eggs and the bread basket, which he showed to Lawrence, inviting him to choose. Lawrence pointed to a pink-colored concha, which the waiter set on a plate with a pair of silver tongs.
Viridiana shook her head, refusing.
“I think the greatest culinary achievement of the Mexican people is this bread,” Lawrence said, tearing off a chunk of concha.
Untamed Shore Page 14