by Jerold Last
Vincente Aleman savored the last of his cup of coffee, turning to look directly at Bruce with a smile. “The base commander authorized a full tank of fuel for our trip, courtesy of the USA taxpayers. He’s an excellent, and smart, officer. Even if he hadn’t figured it all out in advance from Eduardo’s downloading the security photos I think he smelled something a little off in our emergency. He bent over backwards to avoid any confrontations, which made things easy for us. It wouldn’t surprise me if he didn’t put the Smart’s honeymoon together with my Ecuadorian Air Force credentials and smell a large rat.
“Now, I want to see the tortoises before we get on the radio to Eduardo and fill him in. And I think I’m going to suggest he shares our story with Detective Obregon while we fly back. That way Juan can start the paperwork for the U.S. government to make a couple of felony arrests and begin discussing deportation of the Smarts back to Ecuador. It would surprise me if the U.S. government didn’t cooperate fully. I have a strong impression the Navy is looking for a way to get rid of both of them.”
The general got up, walked to the galley, and took a large paper bag out of the storage area. He handed the bag to Bruce saying, “While we were in Papeete refueling on the way to Diego Garcia, I bought a little present for any tortoises we might find. Please give it to them with my complements.”
Bruce looked into the bag. It contained a dozen apples and three large bunches of bananas. “I guess you know your Galapagos Tortoises, General Aleman. They told us at the breeding farm these were their favorite treats. Come with me. I’ll show you where we have them stored and let you play Santa Claus with the fresh fruit.”
Bruce showed the general the two storage compartments. Both men finished their coffee before walking up front to the pilot’s cabin and the radio. The co-pilot took a break to make room for Bruce.
The general sat in the pilot’s chair, checked several instruments on the console, tweaked a few controls to adjust the plane’s trim, and turned to Bruce. “Why don’t you take the controls while I radio Eduardo? You said you wanted to fly this toy. I assume you know what the wheel and foot pedals do. It prefers a light hand and to fly itself in smooth air like this. It’s all yours.”
The plane started to head downwards until Bruce gently pulled back on the wheel. There were a few more bumps and jerks as he got the feel of the plane, then it resumed its smooth flight under its new pilot.
General Aleman did something with the dials on the radio, keyed in the switch, and was shortly talking to Eduardo. Both sides of the conversation were clear in Bruce’s headphones. “Mission accomplished. We’re on the way home, about 500 miles east of our original destination. Can you send our best regards to Detective Obregon and apologize for all of the paperwork he has to do now? And please tell Suzanne she was right about everything. Over.”
Eduardo’s familiar voice came over the radio. “Message received and understood. I should be on my way to meet my wife in a few hours. I’ll deliver your message to Suzanne. Over.”
The General turned back to Bruce. “If you get tired of your current job, consider enlisting as an officer in the Ecuadorian Air Force. You have a nice light touch on the controls. Feel free to fly us until you get bored, then wake me up and change places with the co-pilot. I’m going to take a nap now. We have a long and boring flight to Papeete then another long and boring leg to Baltra still ahead of us.”
Chapter19.Friday---Club Med redux
Darwin: The universe we observe has precisely the properties we should expect if there is, at bottom, no design, no purpose, no evil, no good, nothing but blind, pitiless indifference.
Our flight from Baltra to Mexico was uneventful, even boring. There was no in-flight movie, and no gourmet lunch served. On the other hand, it was free and got us to the airport in Guaymas, Mexico before 7 PM. It was perceptibly hotter here than it had been in Baltra, especially inside the cabin of the airplane in the early evening. Nobody seemed to care that we hadn’t shown any passports or done any paperwork between Ecuador and Mexico. I assumed Eduardo had cut all the red tape by proxy.
We taxied to the end of the runway and exited with our suitcases and Robert’s infant gear via a flight of portable steps. We stepped directly from the uncomfortably warm cabin of the airplane into a sauna. Or, more correctly given the humidity, we stepped into a steam bath. It was over 90 degrees with 100% relative humidity. And this was early evening in the Sonoran desert! It was ridiculously hot and humid. As I recalled from my previous visit, proximity to the Sea of Cortez didn’t matter. It had been just as hot and humid at the Club Med on the bay several miles to the west of the airport.
The pilot said “adios,” revved his engines, and took off to the south and east. There were a couple of taxicabs waiting to pick us up and deliver us courtesy of the hotel. The Paradiso Resort itself sprawled over 62 acres of bay, beaches, sand, grass, and mini-forest. It occupied the grounds of the old Club Med and had seen better days, especially since suffering severe damage in a tropical storm several years ago. As we passed through a big metal gate and entered the grounds of the Hotel Paradiso Resort and Beach Club, I checked the security from habit. Several armed guards and strategically placed fences and gates reminded me we were in Mexican drug cartel country, but the security was unobtrusive and looked to be competent. Everything was brightly lit with strategically placed floodlights, and there was undoubtedly 24/7 TV surveillance of the entire property. Most of the property and its immediate surroundings couldn’t really be seen in the darkness beyond the floodlights.
While the buildings and grounds were badly in need of renovation and better maintenance, the core hotel featured a mixture of the old and the renovated new, and we got a couple of the newly renovated larger rooms, which were quite nice. The hotel itself is a sprawling four-story adobe brick building that curves around facing two separate beaches on the bay. One large wing is separated from the beach by a wide grassy expanse covered with tropical trees. The other wing features an overlarge swimming pool and patio filled with lounge chairs between the hotel and beach. Colorful mountains loom tall behind the hotel buildings. The literature on the hotel desk proudly informed us about a new fitness center, the oversized swimming pool, a nightclub, and a theater. Meanwhile, beautiful sandy beaches, fishing, sailing, horseback riding, golf, and tennis were still available from the old Club Med days for the hotel guests.
We were checked-in and eating dinner in the hotel’s lobby dining room with a beautiful view of Algodones Beach and the Bay shortly after our arrival. Robert’s long nap on the flight north from Ecuador was a blessing; he was full of energy and well behaved despite the late hour.
The dining room itself was delightful, with high ceilings, arched windows and glass doorways looking out on the pool area and the bay, a tiled floor, and elegant pottery with bushes and plants scattered along the walls. The arched ceilings were probably 8 feet high at the walls and 12 feet high at the center, with large old beams supporting the ceiling in the classic Spanish style. Large circular wooden tables were arranged along the three interior walls, with lots of space between each one. There were typically eight chairs around each table. Individual tables were lit by large electric lamps suspended directly above them. The restaurant had already arranged for a high chair for Robert at one of the settings without our requesting it.
The food was good, fresh fish and seafood emphasized, but with a choice of most of the standard Mexican dishes we knew from Southern California. It was simply prepared and not highly spiced. We were offered a choice of grilled, baked, or steamed fresh locally caught fish, shrimp, lobster, or a mixed seafood salad. The cooked fish came with cooked vegetables, fresh salad, and the inevitable salsa and chips. We were guaranteed the water was triple purified and wouldn’t cause episodes of Montezuma’s Revenge, but beer was highly recommended as an alternative. The beer was ice-cold and most welcome in the hot, humid climate of Guaymas. Mercifully, all of the enclosed space at the resort including our rooms and the lobby was air-condi
tioned to 70-something degrees and a reasonable relative humidity. This was essential, given that even at 8:15 PM it was still very hot and humid, especially coming from the coolness and low relative humidity of the Galapagos Islands.
Suzanne asked me, “how much can you remember from your previous visit here several years ago, while it was still functioning as a Club Med venue, Roger?”
“I remember the hotel building we’re in now, a couple of the other buildings you can barely see around the curve with hotel or college dormitory-type rooms in them, and the huge swimming pool and beach. We stayed in one of the dormitory rooms, which were much smaller than the rooms here in the current hotel. Except for being run down and in even lousier condition than they were then, the outsides of the buildings haven’t changed much since my first visit here. The other buildings are all adobe brick and a few stories high. They weren’t air-conditioned and I remember how hot and humid they were at night. We’d decided to take an all-inclusive vacation package and not have to think about anything but sun, sand, water, and being fed while we both relaxed and had a stress-free week. This location was less than half of the price they were charging for any of the other Club Med venues for pretty much the same package, so we jumped at the deal. I remember the weather like it was last week---it was summer in the Sonora Desert, so hot and humid every day. And I mean temperatures in the high 90s and over 100, with relative humidity in the high 90s too.
“The facilities were much better maintained than they are now, but they were far from new and looked like they needed major upkeep they weren’t getting. Somewhere or other I read about a hurricane or tropical storm pretty much wiping this place out. Club Med had pulled out of this property just before the storm or just after, and the hotel and surrounding area went even more to seed. Someone is investing a lot of money trying to resurrect the tourist industry here. I think you’re going to like this place.”
I sipped from my beer and asked Sophia whether she’d be interested in hearing some ancient history. She smiled and said yes. “It was 12 or 13 years ago. I don’t remember much about the girl I came here with. She was just a girl I dated for a few months. We both had vacations coming and this seemed like an exotic place to visit and a superb deal. They were having trouble filling the available spaces, so we got the all-inclusive Club Med package at half price or maybe even less than that. There was a direct charter flight to Guaymas from the Los Angeles International airport, LAX. The entire contingent of tourists from the west coast gathered there and got to meet each other while we waited for the flight, which was, of course, late. I remember one of the Hollywood types we spent that week with better than my girlfriend, which probably tells us all we need to know about the depth of that relationship.
“The Hollywood type was a very good looking young lady named Doris something or other, in her early or mid-twenties who was quite an extrovert and loved to talk. She was short--maybe 5’4” or 5’5”, blond, great body, looked like she had just crawled out of bed, and still looked great. No make-up, hair all over the place. Doris was traveling alone and obviously looking for possible male companions who were more or less her age and would be able to keep up with her during a week of partying. She told us she was employed as a secretary and publicist, as well as eye candy for social events, for a big-name entertainer who was old enough to be her father, or maybe even her grandfather. This was going to be a week to unwind and not be on call for her employer’s social needs and wants.”
Suzanne looked askance at me. “You’re making this up as you go along, aren’t you? Or was this a fantasy you had when you were a teenager?”
I drank some more beer. “No, all of this is really true. No exaggeration. For some reason, she didn’t seem to want to make any moves on me. She just wanted to talk to someone and we were there. She told us about all kinds of exotic travel she took with her elderly sugar daddy and seemed quite happy with her life style. Once the plane boarded she didn’t have much more to say to us, but she kept popping up at the afternoon activities and meals all week so we got a blow-by-blow description of her week at Club Med. My girlfriend, whose name was Janet if I remember correctly, and I tended to do activities all day, most of which were part of the standard package. We swam, sailed, played tennis and volleyball, and for a few extra dollars went exploring off the grounds on horseback. We got up early in the morning when it was relatively cool and tended to go to sleep at a reasonable hour. Doris was part of a totally different group who spent most of the night at the nightclub, dancing and drinking and probably drugging. Doris slept in every morning and didn’t appear in public until mid-afternoon. She paired off with one of the activity leaders for the club. He was French, about her age, very good looking, and seemed to have done tourist entertainment as part of his job description before.”
The waiter appeared at our table, bringing my tale to an end. Dinner began with shrimp cocktails and a locally made ceviche, featuring fish and seafood from the bay in front of the hotel beach. All of the ice used in the drinks and all of the fresh salad ingredients, we were assured, were made from or washed in triple purified water and could be eaten by tourists without any ill effects. We all opted for main courses featuring various styles of fish, charcoal broiled to order over a wood fire on the beach a dozen feet from the dining room. Robert, on the other hand, opted for baby food, spooned over to him by a more than willing Sophia. Over fish with side orders of corn on the cob and fresh salad, we began to discuss what our plans would be for the uncertain number of days we’d spend here in Guaymas.
Sophia made the first significant contribution to our discussion. “Are we sure the two sisters and the DEA agent are actually coming here? Or is that one of those annoying little details that needs to be checked?”
“An excellent suggestion,” I replied. “I can see where Eduardo gets his best ideas from. I’ll take care of that little detail on the way back to the room. In the meantime, let’s assume the answer will be yes. How do we figure out whether any or all of them are directly involved in the murders? Do either of you have any ideas about the best approach for us to take?”
Suzanne nodded thoughtfully. “I think we can do better, but the default would be just to talk about anything and everything with them and listen carefully for one of them to say anything incriminating.”
I chewed some fish, sipped some beer, and thought through the problem. “Is there anything we know about Barbara, Gretchen, or Raul that we can use to pry them apart? I think we’ll learn a lot more if we can get some time with them separately than if we’re doing everything with the whole group.”
Suzanne cut some of the lettuce in her salad into small pieces and ate a dainty forkful before she replied. “We certainly know that Raul doesn’t like you, Roger. Can we take advantage of that in some way?”
Sophia had been eating herself, feeding Robert, and listening. She put down her fork, gave Robert a hug, and sipped some beer. “You’ve got a bigger problem to solve. Don’t you think they’ll believe it’s a heck of a coincidence, and a very improbable one, that of all the places you might have gone after the Galapagos Islands, you chose an obscure hotel, in an obscure region of Mexico with a lousy climate, whose only major attraction seems to be the Kaufman sisters and Raul being here at the same time? Maybe you can solve both problems at the same time by playing a variant of the old police game of ‘good cop, bad cop’. Can I make a suggestion?”
“Of course you can, Sophia. Suzanne and I can use all the help we can get at this point.”
Sophia looked up from entertaining Robert. “Suzanne, how would you feel and react if Roger suggested to you that you spend several days or a week reliving an experience he had a decade ago with a former girlfriend you’ve never met?”
Suzanne thought a bit before answering. “I don’t know. I’d probably think it was a little kinky, but if it meant something to Roger I think I’d say let’s go ahead and do it.”
Sophia laughed. “That’s the answer I was looking for. But I’ve go
t to say you’re a lot more forgiving than I’d be,” she declared. “If Eduardo ever tried that stunt with me, I’d be pretty upset.”
Suzanne idly twirled a dangling section of blond hair. “I can see that. It just isn’t in me to get upset if Roger’s being honest about his feelings.”
Sophia finished her glass of beer, pushed away her plate, and offered Robert some pureed fruit from a jar remaining on his high chair’s built-in table, which he politely refused. “My suggestion is simple. I even believe it might work. If you think you could fake it, you could try telling Barbara and Gretchen you’re really upset with Roger, who just wants to do all the things he did on his Club Med vacation with someone else---tennis, sailing, other stuff you don’t care about. In the meantime you’d like to do some of the other athletic stuff---horseback riding, beach volleyball, and pool volleyball---and Roger’s saying no.
“I think Raul would jump at the opportunity to take advantage of you being available so he could stick it to Roger. And, of course, in that scenario it leaves the Kaufman sisters looking for a male companion, and guess who’s available and willing, especially if they like tennis and sailing.”