Undercover Vows

by Judi Lind

  Keeping her voice hushed as they walked toward the stairs, Keely said, “What about Florence?”

  “Or whatever her real name is.”

  “What do you think has happened to her?”

  He cupped her elbow as they started descending the broad tile staircase. “She might be waiting around to see if we show up, but I doubt it. My guess is that she’s hightailing it out of town before her so-called husband is found.”

  Keely gasped. “You think she did it?”

  “She’s certainly a prime suspect. Otherwise, why hasn’t she raised a ruckus about her dear spouse missing all night? Since we’re supposedly the only people she knows in the city, wouldn’t she have come to us for help?”

  “But why? What possible motive could she have for shooting her husband? Someone else could be on the trail of those plates,” Keely insisted. “Who wants them bad enough to kill?”

  Lowering his voice even more as they approached the registration desk, Noah nodded to the clerk, who was on the telephone. “I’d bet a month’s pay that old Flo’s our killer,” he said. “Who else could it be?”

  Maybe one other suspect, Keely thought, as a painful shaft of suspicion sliced through her.

  There was one other person who knew about the plates, who knew Willie Hebert was in their hotel room, who possibly had access to Willie’s gun last night. Noah was alone with Willie Hebert for several long minutes during the course of their altercation. She’d accepted his version of the facts without question. But…what if things hadn’t gone the way Noah had described them? What if he’d overpowered Willie Hebert and killed him with his own gun?

  Noah was always to quick to place the blame on someone else—Rosie, her father, someone in the San Diego PD. What if all his accusations were deliberate efforts to direct suspicion away from himself?

  Why hadn’t Willie Hebert put more effort into pursuing them when they’d fled the hotel last night? Maybe because Willie was already dead.

  No, it just couldn’t be—not Noah. She was letting her imagination run away. Still, she’d already remarked on how different Noah was from the boy she remembered. Did she really know this man enough to trust him with her life?

  The clerk hung up the phone and came over to help them. Noah settled their bill and handed him the claim check. They waited anxiously while he went into the back office to retrieve their package.

  Noah drummed his fingers on the tile countertop while Keely’s mind beat out a horrifying rhythm of its own. Could Noah really have killed Willie Hebert? How could she even think it?

  She didn’t want to accept the possibility of his guilt, especially not after the way he’d held her last night. But all the strange happenings of the past few days were starting to mount up.

  And everything was connected to Noah Bannister.

  After she signed for the package, they stepped away from the counter. Pausing near the cooling waterfall, she said hesitantly, “You know, I feel funny about running away and leaving Willie’s death unreported. I’ve been a police officer too long, I guess.”

  He snorted. “You’re not a cop here. If Suarez finds out we’ve been involved in the murder of another tourist, we could spend the rest of our lives in a Mexican jail.”

  “Oh, come on, Noah. You’re a cop—sort of. If Suarez finds out that we went into that room and didn’t report the body, we’ll never convince him of our innocence.”

  They stepped out of the cool lobby into the dazzling, hot sunlight. Noah turned to face her. “You do what you like. I’m not getting involved with the local authorities until I have these plates safely back across the border.”

  “Ah, yes, the precious plates!” she snapped. “I’d forgotten that nothing else in life is important to you except those plates.”

  He whistled for a taxi and stared at her blankly. “What’s gotten into you this morning? You know perfectly well these plates are why we came to Mexico in the first place. Of course they’re important to me.”

  A battered cab pulled up to the curb beside them and Noah opened the rear door. When they settled gingerly onto the hot vinyl seat, he faced her and added sharply, “Since we have every reason to believe Rosie’s death was connected to those plates, I’d think nailing this counterfeit gang would be equally important to you.”

  Turning away from the brutal honesty of his words, she pushed down the ugly thought roiling in her subconscious and said, “So what do we do now?”

  “Head for the border.”

  AN HOUR LATER, a typical young Mexican couple from the country stepped off the city bus at the central station and approached the ticket window. The man was wearing the dusty white garments and faded straw hat of a farmer. The woman with him wore a dark maroon shawl draped over her head and shoulders and carried a heavily packed straw bag.

  A beleaguered-looking piñata peeking out of the bag was the only note of incongruity.

  They’d talked about taking the bus directly to Tijuana, the sprawling industrial city across the border from San Diego. Noah had argued that Willie’s killer would be watching the border crossings, but he would also be looking for a couple, so they decided to go part of the distance, then spend the night in a hotel, and in the morning they’d split up and make their way north to Tijuana and across to San Diego. Without a weapon or any way to obtain one, it was the only plan they felt had a chance of working.

  They inched up to the ticket counter and Noah pulled the brim of his battered hat lower over his face. He slid a handful of pesos under the steel grid and mumbled, “Dos para Rosarito.” Rosarito Beach was a small tourist town only a scant twenty miles from the California border.

  The clerk took no particular note of the pair. He slid two tickets under the grid with a sprinkling of coins. Then he fired off a stream of Spanish and pointed at a rickety-looking bus a few yards away.

  “Gracias.” Noah pocketed the change and held the tickets in his hand.

  As soon as they were out of earshot of the vendor, Noah whispered in Keely’s ear, “So far so good. I think he said that’s our bus over there.”

  “I hope so.” Keely tugged on his sleeve and bobbed her head toward the station. “Looks like we have company.”

  Two khaki-uniformed policemen, fully armed with assault rifles, were slowly walking along the sidewalk in front of the station. They seemed to be scanning the crowd carefully, as if they were on the lookout for someone in particular. Perhaps a pair of Americans who had fled the scene of a murder? Keely thought with a shudder of apprehension.

  Picking up their pace slightly, Noah and Keely followed a straggly line moving toward the bus. A man in a blue uniform, too tight for his ample belly, was collecting tickets.

  Out of the corner of her eye Keely saw the policemen heading their way. She prodded Noah in the side, and he nodded to show that he, too, had seen the men approaching.

  Only a half-dozen people were left between them and the bus. “Come on, hurry!” Keely urged under her breath. But the slow-moving farmers continued their snail’s pace.

  Finally they were next.

  Noah handed their tickets to the heavy man in the blue uniform. He tore them in half and handed the stubs back. He stared at them for a long, breathless moment. “¡Pasale!” he growled, waving a hand up the steps.

  She didn’t need to be bilingual to understand he was telling them to board.

  They had just settled in on a ratty bench seat near the rear of the bus when the policemen boarded. The men slowly made their way down the center aisle, gazing intently at each occupant. In a few seconds they would reach Keely and Noah.

  What could they do to deflect attention?

  If they’d been in the States, Keely would have kissed Noah or argued with him. But she knew public displays of affection were frowned upon below the border and, with the bare minimum of Spanish words in her vocabulary, she couldn’t make an argument look convincing.

  Noah had leaned back in the seat and flipped his straw hat over his face as if sleeping. But t
he ruse apparently wasn’t going to work. One of the policemen nudged the other and nodded at Noah.

  She had to do something.

  Suddenly she recalled a single word she’d learned from a Latina girlfriend in high school. There was a dance and one of the boys had spiked the punch. Keely’s friend, Delia, was furious with her boyfriend because he’d imbibed too much punch and was staggering on the dance floor.

  Remembering Delia’s embarrassed epithet, Keely wound her shawl tighter across her face, doubled her fist and socked Noah on the arm.

  “Ow!”

  Flapping the straw bag in front of his face, she chastised, “¡Borracho!” the Spanish word for drunkard. Turning away from him as if in a tiff, she glared out the window.

  The two policemen laughed aloud, heckled Noah good-naturedly and left the bus.

  IT SEEMED as if they’d stopped at every wide patch in the road, Keely reflected as she wearily climbed off the bus late that afternoon. The driver had taken the access road instead of the new highway, and they’d jostled over potholes and ruts for mile after rugged mile. After their scare at the station in Ensenada, however, there had been no further brushes with the authorities.

  Keely was bone weary and wanted nothing more than a cool soothing drink and to flop into bed.

  The bus dropped them off in front of the Rosarito Beach Hotel, a lovely old dowager slightly past her prime. Still, the bright murals decorating the walls and the paddle fans whooshing above the lobby spoke of the genteel elegance of a time gone by.

  Before they’d left the bus, Keely had given Noah half of the money she was carrying, because they’d decided not to use their credit cards unless absolutely necessary. By using cash they could check in under an assumed name. In honor of the kind farmer who’d taken them in, they presented themselves to the desk clerk as Mr. and Mrs. Dorado.

  While Noah had their parcel placed in the hotel safe, Keely wandered into the gift shop just off the lobby.

  She strolled the aisles, admiring the Mexican handicrafts, papier-mâché birds on gilded swings, gaudy crepe-paper flowers, gaily painted pots and a multitude of onyx chess sets.

  Finally choosing one of the large chess sets because it came in a box similar in size to the one that held the engraving plates, she carried it to the front counter and asked that it be wrapped in plain brown paper.

  The clerk offered a bright floral gift wrap, but she shook her head firmly. “No. Brown paper,” she pointed to the clerk’s camel-colored shirt.

  He shrugged and pulled an empty grocery bag out from behind the counter. “¿Bien?”

  “Yes, that’ll do just fine.”

  By the time he finished wrapping the parcel, Noah was waiting by the elevators. Silently they rode up to the next floor.

  Their room was in the rear of the hotel, overlooking the Olympic-size pool and with a far off view of the Pacific Ocean, ringed by royal palms. The scene was both energizing and idyllic, but the charms of the sleepy little town were wasted on Keely.

  Upstairs, Noah gave the room a cursory security check, then wrapped an arm around Keely’s sagging shoulders. “I’m going downstairs and scout around. Make sure Florence Hebert isn’t lurking in the lobby. Why don’t you take a nap, then I’ll try to catch one when I get back. Until we’re safely across the border, I think we should take turns staying on guard.”

  “Mmm. Good idea. I hope there’s a tub and not just a shower. I want to soak for at least an hour.”

  He laughed. “I bet a change of clothes would feel pretty good. I’ll see what I can rustle up.”

  “You’re a saint, Noah Bannister.”

  He cupped her face in both hands and dropped a kiss onto her forehead. “You’re pretty incredible yourself, Keely Travers. Now go lock yourself in the bathroom before I change my mind and join you.”

  He started out the door and paused. “I’ll take the key in case you’re sleeping when I get back.” For an endless moment he stared into her eyes, his own filled with an unfathomable softness.

  “See you in a bit,” he whispered and closed the door behind him.

  AFTER HIS FOOTSTEPS faded down the hallway, she headed for the bathroom and once again was delighted by the sumptuous fixtures. If there was one thing that Mexican builders did well, in Keely’s opinion, it was bathrooms.

  A huge sunken tub took up an entire corner of the spacious room. A tub she intended to soak in for the next hour. She turned the spigot and a stream of clean, hot water splashed into the tiled bathtub.

  She stripped off the clothes that bore little resemblance to the fresh white ensemble she’d first donned yesterday. Grabbing a tiny container of shampoo and conditioner from a straw basket on the vanity, she eased into the steaming water.

  Oh, heaven, she mused as she sank back, enjoying the cool tile behind her neck and the hot water swallowing her shoulders.

  But her overwrought mind wouldn’t allow her to relax totally. They had the plates, that was the good news. But Keely felt more uncertain, more confused than ever. Although he was careful not to say so, she knew Noah still believed her father was involved in the counterfeiting operation. And even though her body still trembled at the memory of Noah’s caresses last night, she still harbored a few doubts about him.

  The only certain thing was that the Heberts hadn’t been operating alone. Someone had leaked their true identities to the couriers. Why else would Willie Hebert—if that was his real name—have tried to kill them?

  Despite the hot water splashing around her body, Keely shivered. Noah had been right about one thing—there was a leak in the department. Only a few people knew, or could guess, their whereabouts.

  The truly horrible thought was that the informant almost certainly had to be someone she knew.

  She closed her eyes and mentally ticked off anyone who knew or might have suspected that Keely and Noah were on assignment. The police chief himself, of course, although it was ludicrous to suspect Lyle Kapinski. She’d known him her entire life; he was her and Rosie’s godfather.

  Then there was his secretary, Erma Rodriguez. Even though she’d complained to Keely that the chief had kept mum about why Keely and Noah were in his office for so long, Keely guessed the wily woman would know all the details by now. But Erma was no international smuggler.

  Still, Keely was forced to admit that Erma would have no trouble blending into the background in Mexico. Her family was from this part of Baja; she could easily obtain help if she needed it.

  Besides, with those five kids to raise, Erma was always in need of money. Could her jolly demeanor be a facade?

  Suddenly she heard a tap at the bathroom door. “Keely? Did you drown?”

  She’d been so lost in her own thoughts she hadn’t heard Noah return. Pulling the plug, she wrapped herself in a thick, thirsty towel and stepped out of the bathtub.

  “Did you find some clothes?” she shouted through the bathroom door.

  “Yeah, you decent?”

  Once the towel was snug across her bosom, she called, “Come on in.”

  He walked into the steamy room and dropped a bright shopping bag on the vanity. “Lucky you look good as a Mexican peasant, since that’s the only kind of clothes they sell in these hotels. Of course, you look even better in nothing.” His eyebrows waggled as he stared blatantly at the shadowy V between her breasts.

  “And you’re a lech.” With a forced smile she put her hand in the small of his back and pushed him out the door. Despite their evening of romantic ecstasy, she was feeling vulnerable and unsure. She couldn’t let herself fall prey to Noah’s sexy charm again; it messed up her thinking.

  When she came out of the bathroom ten minutes later, dressed in another white skirt and ruffled blouse, Noah was sitting at the desk scribbling on a sheet of hotel paper.

  “What are you doing?” she asked as she peeked over his shoulder.

  “Still trying to figure out the most likely person to be the informant.”

  She laughed. “‘Like minds’ and
all that. I was doing the same thing while I was soaking in the tub.”

  “Yeah? Come up with anybody interesting?”

  Briefly she sketched her feelings about Chief Kapinski and Erma Rodriguez.

  Noah nodded and pointed to his list. “They were numbers one and two for me, as well. I met several of your co-workers at Rosie’s funeral. How about that lieutenant from vice? He was a strange bird.”

  She pulled up another chair. Taking his pencil, she began a mindless doodle on a hotel envelope. “Dale Cabot? He’s okay, I think.”

  Noah shrugged. “He seemed kind of…intense to me.”

  Unsure of how much she wanted to tell him, she said simply, “We had been dating. I broke it off, he was upset. Nothing sinister.”

  Noah stared at her for a long time. “I’ll forgo my natural male inclination to pound my chest and shout. Any particular reason you dumped him? Anything that might have bearing on this case? Other than his fancy suits, I mean.”

  She shook her head. “I wouldn’t exactly call it ‘dumping.’ We weren’t dating exclusively or anything. And, no, no real reason except he didn’t…”

  “Make your bells chime?”

  Keely laughed wryly. “Yeah. I guess you could say that.”

  “Do I make your bells chime, Keely Travers?”

  She wasn’t about to admit that she’d never felt the rush of pure pleasure she experienced when she was with Noah.

  Her mind drifted backward in time, to their younger days and the sweet sizzle of their young love.

  How many times had she scrawled his name on her brown paper book covers? It was Noah who’d first taken her hand as they stood in line, waiting to go into the movies. Noah who’d given her that first tentative kiss. Noah who’d taught her to dance and to love.

  It was also Noah Bannister who’d left town without a word shortly after graduation. And she couldn’t allow herself to forget that hurt. Ever.

  Wiping a bead of perspiration from her brow, she tried to banish the onslaught of painful recollections, but the memories had taken hold and were out of control.