by Rayna Morgan
At the edge of the farthest dune, they parked in front of a two-story house steps from the beach.
“Nice digs,” Warren commented.
“It doesn’t belong to Lyle. Holly told me he house-sits.”
They knocked on the door, hoping Mario would answer. The only response came from a yapping dog in the neighbor’s yard.
Lea turned the doorknob. Finding it locked, they walked to the back. The patio door was locked as well so they paused to admire the ocean view.
Lea looked for a place to sit but the chairs were covered with swimsuits. “Dad, do you see—”
A dog snarled inches from where she stood.
She spun around to face a man holding a Chihuahua with pointed ears. He tapped the dog’s nose to stop the barking.
“If you’re looking for Lyle, he’s not here. He doesn’t get home from the docks ‘til after three.”
“We’ll come back later,” Lea blurted.
“Are you friends or looking to rent the place?”
“You said someone named Lyle lives here,” Warren pointed out.
“He does, but he rents the top floor to weekend visitors.” The man snickered. “I’m not sure the owner knows, but it’s none of my business.”
Lea rolled her eyes, certain this man made everything his business. She decided to take advantage of his curiosity.
“I’m the one scouting for a rental. My husband is coming this weekend to take our son fishing.”
“You can’t beat surf fishing here on the spit. Far superior to the States.”
“I’m concerned about stories of wild parties and drug use. That wouldn’t be a suitable environment for our son.”
“You don’t need to worry about wild parties. The neighbors get together for weekend barbecues and sometimes bring in a local band, but the parties are far from wild. We’re all home in bed by midnight.”
He hesitated before continuing. “As far as drugs, I can’t say for certain. It depends on where you stay.”
“What about this house?” Warren asked. “This Lyle fellow you mentioned. Does he use drugs?”
“Again, I try to keep my nose out of other people’s business. However, I’ve seen activity that left little doubt about what was going on.”
“Does Lyle live here alone?”
“Usually. His friend from San Diego visits frequently, but Mario’s no bother when he comes. He’s a nice guy. Outgoing and pleasant.”
“Any other visitors?”
“One guy in particular stops by when Mario is in town.”
Lea’s ears perked up. “A friend of Mario’s?”
“It hardly seems likely. He’s older than Mario and shows no interest in surfing.”
“Do you know the reason for his visits?”
“As I recall, Mario said something about import-export.”
After the man left, Warren turned to Lea. “I’d say we have reason to talk with Lyle when he gets off work, wouldn’t you?”
“We have more than one reason. Look at what I started to show you before the neighbor came.”
She walked to a chair and picked up a pair of men’s swim trunks.
“These trunks are too small to fit someone of Lyle’s build and there’s dried sand on the surfboard. It hasn’t been long since Mario’s last visit.”
Chapter 23
They waited on a bench at the malecon beside small, busy stands with steaming pots on the stove, music playing, and conversations thrown back and forth across the aisles. Fishermen brought their catch to be weighed on the scales before quibbling with the vendors over price.
Distracted by the scene, Warren and Lea nearly missed their target when he walked away from the dock shortly after three o’clock.
Getting in step beside Lyle, Warren grabbed the man’s elbow and steered him toward the car park.
“We’d like to buy you a drink to show appreciation for your cooperation.” He tightened his grip on Lyle’s arm. “Even though you were less than honest.”
A look of alarm crossed Lyle’s face. “Look, man. I can’t help you, honestly.”
“We’ll decide that,” Lea said.
“How about Hussong’s?” Warren suggested, flashing a smile in her direction. “I wouldn’t want you to miss a visit to the oldest and best known cantina in town.”
• • •
The interior walls of Hussong’s were dark green. Sawdust covered the wooden floors and funky art hung on the walls.
A waiter came for their order and Warren turned to his daughter. “Have a Margarita. This is the place where the drink was invented.”
“Should I make it three?” the waiter asked Lyle.
The big man shook his head. “Dos Equis for me. Bring two while you’re at it. I’ve worked up a thirst.”
When the waiter left, Lyle placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward.
“So, what’s the problem? I told you what I know.”
“The surf gear on your patio suggests a recent visit from Mario.”
“You were at my house?” Lyle growled.
“Keep your voice down. If you were more believable, we wouldn’t have felt a need to check things out. As it happened, I’m glad we did. We learned interesting things from your neighbor.”
Lyle raised his voice again. “You had no right to talk to my neighbor.”
“Calm down. We didn’t seek him out. He came snooping with his yappy dog. But he was more than willing to offer information.”
“He’s a gossip. You shouldn’t believe anything he told you.”
“We’ll decide what to believe,” Lea said. “Now tell us the truth about the last time you saw Mario.”
He took a big swallow of the beer the waiter delivered. “He came down after his girl’s accident. Poor guy didn’t say a word when he got here. Just put on his wet suit, grabbed his board, and paddled out so far I could barely see him. For what seemed like an eternity, he sat on his board starin’ at the horizon. He finally caught a wave and rode back to shore.”
“What did he say about the accident?”
“He refused to talk about it. In fact, we never spoke her name during the two days he stayed.”
Lyle drained his first beer and reached for the second.
“By the next morning, I knew there was more than Cate’s death botherin’ him.”
“What do you mean?” Warren asked.
“The dude was on edge. Almost spooked. Kept lookin’ over his shoulder.”
“Did you figure out what was wrong?”
“I finally got him to tell me.”
When they both stared in his direction, he spread his hands and shrugged. “I swear I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t know what?” Warren demanded.
“Mario is runnin’ drugs. That’s the reason he got back in touch when I moved to Ensenada. He needed a place to stay while hookin’ up with his supplier during overnight stays on his cruises.”
“Somehow I don’t see you in the role of an unknowing patsy,” Warren said.
Lea moved past her father’s sarcasm. “Is that what was making him jumpy?”
“He admitted he’d done something stupid. He didn’t deliver the payment from his last drop. He kept it so he and his girl could get married and move out of the country. I told him he was crazy. You don’t double cross the cartel and live to tell about it.”
“What was his response?”
“He paid no attention.” His nose wrinkled in disgust. “People in love. You can’t tell ‘em anything.”
“Does he think those men had something to do with Cate’s death?”
“He worried they went after her lookin’ for him. He was torn up believin’ he caused her death. I told him to stop thinkin’ of her and worry about himself or he’d be next.”
“We need to find him,” Lea said in an urgent voice. “His life could be in danger. Tell us where he went.”
“He talked about goin’ to Chapala for a fake passport before he left the country. His
cousin drives a taxi haulin’ tourists around the area. Mario would stay with him.”
“Give us the cousin’s name and address.”
“I only know the name of the taxi service. Ricardo’s Rides.”
“We’ll check it out,” Warren said. “You better be telling the truth this time.
“Or what?” Lyle sneered.
“Or you may end up with your friend’s blood on your hands.”
• • •
After dropping Lyle back at the malecon, Lea left her father in front of Three Heads Plaza.
“I’m returning to the ship instead of riding home with you. It will give me a chance to talk to the man in the casino now that I’m armed with new information.”
“Please be careful. Your mother would never forgive me if anything happened to you.”
“Likewise, watch your back. Mom will be no less forgiving of me if you get in trouble.”
She was gripped with momentary panic as her father disappeared in the crowd. Taking a deep breath, she turned toward the harbor.
Halfway to the ship, her arm was grabbed. She spun to face Lyle.
“You frightened me. I thought you were a mugger.”
“I just heard from Mario.” His face was flushed. “He’s with his cousin in Chapala.”
Lea tapped a number on her phone.
“Dad’s not answering my call. Can you take me to find Mario?”
“I’ll lose my job if I leave. Besides, I want nothing more to do with Mario. I’ll drive you to the airport in Tijuana. You can take a plane to Guadalajara and a taxi to Chapala.”
“You’re deserting a friend in trouble?”
“He may be my friend, but I can’t handle the trouble he’s in. It’s up to him to sort it out.”
Lea considered her options. By the time she got to the airport, her father would be home in San Diego. She couldn't ask him to pack up and leave again. If she pursued Mario, she would be on her own. On the other hand, if Mario was innocent, he was running away from his only chance to prove it.
She called her sister. “Contact Dad and tell him my plans have changed. I’ll fill him in when I get back.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Maddy said. “What are you up to?”
Lea shared her plans to go to Chapala.
“Are you crazy? You can’t just fly off to the middle of nowhere like that.”
“Chapala is forty miles from Guadalajara, hardly the middle of nowhere. I’ll be staying at a place where Paul and I vacationed.”
“That’s the problem. Paul’s not with you.”
“Just do it, please.”
“And have Dad yell at me?”
“He won’t be mad.”
“If you believed that, you would call him yourself. We aren’t kids anymore, Lea. He won't laugh it off because you don’t know better.”
“Coming from you, he won’t be able to do much about it. Besides, you owe me.”
“How do I owe you?”
“For all the trouble you caused growing up. I had to be good to make up for the worry you inflicted on our parents.”
“I wasn’t the cause for your need to be perfect. That’s a burden you placed on yourself.”
“Then do it for the times I covered for you when you snuck out.”
“Wait a minute. What about the time you—”
Lea hung up before her sister objected further.
PART THREE
LAKESIDE
Chapter 24
When the wheels touched down on the runway at the Guadalajara Airport, Lea released her grip on the arms of the seat in the cramped coach section.
She followed the stream of departing passengers into the baggage area where she retrieved her bag and walked toward the exit.
The lobby was a scene of noisy activity filled with fragments of conversation she barely understood. Families clustered together waiting for loved ones to deplane. Vendors hawked tours and sightseeing packages. Baggage handlers pushed carts filled with suitcases and taxi drivers held signs with passenger names printed in large, black letters.
She read her name but was disappointed when she saw Tito imprinted on the shirt of the man holding the sign.
“I was expecting Ricardo to pick me up.”
“He’s attending his great-grandfather’s birthday,” Tito explained as he took her bag. “The old man is ninety-seven years old. A big occasion.”
He noticed his passenger’s look of disappointment. “Don’t worry. I’ll take you where you want to go.”
“I must speak with Ricardo. Please ask him to call as soon as possible.”
She gave Tito her number and the address of a bed-and-breakfast within walking distance of the lake.
“Of course, señora. Now, relax and enjoy the ride to Chapala.”
• • •
A short time later, she entered the wood-carved gate of a walled-in home surrounded by beautiful gardens.
The host escorted her past a pond with a bubbling fountain to one of six charming guest rooms.
The room was painted in vibrant shades of orange and yellow and accessorized with decorative pillows, a woven rug on the floor, and a large mirror with an ornate frame.
By the time she settled in, it was getting late and she was famished. With an hour of daylight remaining, she could grab a bite and still have time for a stroll to stretch her legs.
After satisfying her hunger at a roadside taco stand, she entered the harbor. Artisans sold handcrafted items from booths along the malecon. Fishermen sitting on the pier exchanged good-natured banter. Mothers talked and laughed while toddlers played in the sand and dogs barked excitedly.
She took a seat beside an old woman on a bench. Together, they watched the sun fade over the distant hills.
As on other visits, Lea was impressed by the simple grace of these people. With little in the way of material possessions, they appeared happy and content. A quality worth emulating, she reminded herself.
The old woman wrapped a shawl around her shoulders making Lea aware of the cool night air. She looked at her watch and was surprised to see how much time had passed.
The promenade was becoming rapidly deserted reminding Lea it was time to return to her room. Although reports of violence were greatly exaggerated, she was careful to avoid displaying large amounts of money or wearing expensive jewelry. She knew being alone at night was also inadvisable.
Her phone buzzed as she started to walk back to her lodgings. To her surprise, the caller was Tom Elliot. Her mind raced for a reason for Maddy’s boyfriend to be in touch.
“Is everything all right on the home front?” she asked.
“Don’t worry. Everyone’s fine, although Paul complains about gaining weight from the fast food he and Jon are eating.”
Lea groaned. “I’m sure Spirit and Gracie love the leftovers.”
“How’s the weather at the lake?”
“You know where I am?”
“Your sister told me.”
“I asked her not to alarm people.”
“She’s your sister; you can’t expect her not to worry. Especially with you trekking to a foreign country in search of a potential killer.”
“I’m only a few hours from San Diego,” Lea protested. “Hardly the other side of the world.”
“All the same, you shouldn’t be there on your own. Vacationing, yes. Doing what you’re doing, no.”
“Tell my sister to stop worrying. I’m fine.”
“Do you need help? I could take a couple days off. Might even talk Maddy into coming.”
Lea tried to sound more confident than she felt.
“Don't bother. I’ll be back in San Diego before you could get here.”
“How is your case going?”
“I’m convinced Mario didn’t kill Cate but I can’t explain his strange behavior. He was head over heels in love, his friend speaks highly of him, and he’s the most popular staff member on the boat. Yet for inexplicable reasons, he appears to be brea
king the law.”
“Sounds like your opinion of Mario’s innocence is based more on feeling than on fact.”
“Call it intuition.”
“Relying on intuition can get you in trouble.”
“If you recall, intuition saved my life on more than one occasion.”
“Perhaps you need a different perspective,” Tom suggested.
“What do you mean?”
“Instead of focusing on your suspect, examine reasons for his transgression. Whatever you do—”
Distracted by sounds behind her, Lea’s fingers tightened on her purse. She recalled a move her father taught her if a person tried to snatch her purse. Turn toward the assailant, bend down sideways, and deliver a kick to the attacker’s knee. They called it the twist.
“Sorry, Tom. What were you saying?”
“I was telling you to stay out of trouble. As usual, you weren’t listening to that advice.”
“I’ll be careful. Thanks for checking on me. Tell Maddy I’ll call her tomorrow.”
The minute the call ended, she wondered if she’d been foolish to refuse Tom’s offer of help.
She looked over her shoulder. Shadows appeared behind every tree and she imagined each shadow to be an attacker.
Her legs felt shaky as she picked up her pace.
A short distance ahead, two Hispanic men leaned against a lamppost. She didn’t know whether to ask for help or run from them. Maintaining her composure, she hurried past without making eye contact.
A taxi stand on the corner appeared as a godsend. She breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted Tito.
Running to him, she gasped, “I think I’m being followed.”
“Don’t worry, señora. I’ve had my eye on you since I dropped you off, watching out for you like Ricardo told me.”
She looked over her shoulder. There wasn’t a soul in sight.
Suddenly feeling foolish, she asked, “Is someone following me or is it my imagination?”
“There was, indeed, a man whose interest you attracted.”
He pointed to another taxi driver. “I went to say hello to my friend. Carlos and I sat on the hood of his cab and watched the hombre follow you.”