by Phoebe Conn
His eyes narrowed, and he swore under his breath. “Did you say yes?”
She brushed sugar from her hands and reached for a napkin. “Of course not. I don’t want to be near him ever again.”
He took a cake and chewed it slowly. “I should have thanked you Sunday morning for having a new toothbrush out for me in the bathroom. Are you always so considerate?”
She swallowed a sip from her mug. “You have an amazing gift for saying the wrong thing. I don’t have a parade of men spending the night here. I have toiletries handy in case an occasional guest needs them. Don’t feel bad. Women think of these things; men don’t.”
“I’ll think of them now. Do you want to put on your Goth disguise and get out of here? The paparazzi wouldn’t recognize you, and we wouldn’t have to come back until late tonight.”
He was looking at the rug rather than her. She found his shyness touching, but she needed to make a point. “I don’t believe I heard an apology for the way you treated me last week.”
He brushed his hair off his forehead. “Can’t we just forget it?”
“Not without an apology.”
He looked up. “All right. I’m sorry.”
“Alejandro, you don’t sound sincere.”
His voice deepened. “Should I get down on my knees and beg your forgiveness?”
A fiery light shone in his silver eyes, and she knew when to stop. “Not this time, but if you make a habit of questioning my motives, I’ll demand one in writing.”
He stood and went to the door of the kitchen. “Is she usually this hard on men?”
Fatima leaned against the counter. “She’s being very generous with you, and I wouldn’t advise you to push it.”
He turned back toward the living room, but Ana had disappeared. He hoped she’d gone to put on her black wig rather than lock herself in her bedroom. “Fatima, does this condo have a back entrance?”
“No, but in case of a fire there are stairs at both ends of the corridor. Are you expecting an emergency?”
“I think we already have one.”
Chapter Seven
Ana took the time to put on the dramatic black eyeliner and changed into her baggy black clothes. Alejandro was sitting on the living room floor playing with the kittens when she returned ready to go. “They’d make good pets for you,” she offered.
“Not when they have such a great home here.” He rose with an easy stretch and stopped to stare. “Do you ever forget who you’re pretending to be?”
“Sometimes, but I always know who I really am. I should warn you, the paparazzi can smell news from clear across town. If they discover you’re Orland Ortiz’s heir, they’ll stick closer than the hair on your chest.”
He laughed and shook his head. “I’m tougher than I look. I studied karate when I was a kid so I wouldn’t get roughed up on the docks.”
Fatima glanced out from the kitchen. “You may need it.”
Ana reached for his hand before he could respond. “You need to go out as the deliveryman. Just brush by everyone as though you were positive they’d have no interest in you. If anyone speaks to you, ignore them. If they ask whose order you brought, shake your head. Don’t give them any opening to talk to you, because they’ll twist anything you say into an insulting weapon. I’ll go out through the garage and meet you in back. I hope you have your SUV rather than your bike.”
“I do.” He picked up his cap and pulled it low. “It was nice to meet you, Fatima.”
The housekeeper wished him good-bye and closed the door behind him. “He’s almost too good-looking. Have you ever dated a homely man?”
Ana picked up Juliet and gave the inky-black kitten a loving squeeze. “Few people are truly homely, but unattractive men don’t approach me. If Henry buzzes for anything else, please use your own judgment, but absolutely no more live pets.”
“I understand, no puppies, no geckos, no fish, nor birds in fancy cages.”
“No pet snakes either,” Ana added. She handed Juliet to the housekeeper and slipped out the door. She went down the stairs rather than use the elevator and left the building by the workman’s entrance in the garage. She found Alejandro waiting for her at the corner.
“I walked out looking as dull as a door and no one noticed me,” he greeted her. “Won’t the paparazzi give up soon and chase someone else?”
“It depends on whether there’s someone more interesting to chase, but a murder involving high-fashion models makes compelling news. Let’s continue to avoid them. Do you want to go down to the port?”
“It’s a good place to be lost in the crowd. I’ll give you a tour of the Mediterranean Goddess if you’d like.”
“Will your father be on board?”
“No, his office building overlooks the port, but he’s seldom on board one of the cruise liners. I worked as a steward in the summers while I attended university the first time. It was supposed to give me a feel for the business from the water up, but what I liked best was touring our ports of call. I came home with sketchbooks filled with drawings of classical buildings rather than a love for the cruise business. Naturally my father wasn’t pleased with how I’d spent my free time. A college degree in business didn’t inspire me either, so now I’m studying what I should have been studying all along.”
Embarrassed by her own lack of formal education, Ana glanced at the passing scene. “I read a lot, and no one has ever called me stupid, but I’ve not spent much time in school. Unlike most careers, there’s a time factor to modeling. An experienced architect would be sought after; an experienced model is often regarded as too familiar a face. God forbid there should be an early sign of a wrinkle.”
“You’re a long way from being wrinkled, and you don’t need a college degree to prove you’re intelligent. It’s obvious from the sparkle in your eyes.”
“Thank you.” When they reached the port, he pulled his SUV into a slot marked for the Ortiz Line and took her hand. “Cruise ships are huge floating hotels, a thousand feet long, with room for nearly four-thousand passengers plus the crew to serve them. I love the sea, but I’d rather vacation on Tahiti and watch the waves roll in than cruise from port to port.”
“I haven’t been to Tahiti, but it sounds magical. Could we just walk and lose ourselves among the tourists for a while?”
“Sure. This is a good place to watch people.”
They were near the end of Las Ramblas and often had to turn sideways to slip by other couples. Laughing, Ana looked over her shoulder and caught the bald man walking twenty feet behind them. She jerked on Alejandro’s hand and pulled him into a shop selling Barcelona curios. “The man who’s been following me is tracking us again today. He must have been following you, because he wouldn’t have seen me leave the condo.” She described him briefly. “Does he sound like someone your father employs?”
Alejandro glanced out the shop’s door and saw the bald man at a nearby news kiosk. He gestured for Ana to come close. “Is he standing there?”
“Yes, that’s him.”
“Stay here.” Alejandro walked down the sidewalk to greet him. “You’ve begun to annoy me. Follow someone else.”
“I’ve no idea who you are and don’t care where you’re going. I’m buying a magazine for my wife.”
“Fine, because I’m going to stand here and watch you walk away as quickly as you can.”
“If I don’t feel like moving?” Widening his stance, he took up more of the sidewalk.
Alejandro’s voice was low and utterly convincing. “You’ll swiftly regret it.”
The owner of the kiosk came out to offer his opinion. “I don’t need anyone disrupting my business. Both of you move along.”
Alejandro tipped the kiosk owner and stayed put while the bald man paid for his magazine and walked away with a hurried step. The newsman straightened the stacks of tabloids. He pointed to the one with the pseudo Ana. “What do you think of this? Beautiful women are as deadly as cobras, but would a model kill a man over a bad
photo?”
“No,” Alejandro assured him. “Ana Santillan doesn’t know a thing about the photographer’s murder. The tabloids are smearing her name to sell papers.”
“You know her?” the man asked skeptically.
Alejandro nodded and returned to the shop where Ana had bought a glass-domed paperweight containing shells from a Barcelona beach. “I don’t have nearly enough souvenirs from Barcelona. What do you think?”
He picked it up and found it surprisingly heavy. “It will definitely hold papers on your desk.”
“That’s what I thought.” She dropped it into her bag. “What did you say to the detective?”
“I growled at him, and he walked away. I’ll have my father fire him. You have enough trouble without being followed by some idiot who’s so easy to spot. Are you hungry?”
Ana suggested the place he’d taken her earlier. Alejandro took her hand and led the way. He knew the port better than any other part of the beautiful city, and they were there in minutes. The hostess smiled at him as they entered but looked surprised when she saw Ana in her Goth disguise. Alejandro pretended not to notice.
When they’d made themselves comfortable in a booth by the windows, Ana leaned close. “Did you see the way the hostess looked at you? She must think you’re cheating on the blonde you were with the other night.”
“She can think whatever she wants. If you own a red wig, we could confuse her even more the next time we’re here.”
“I do have a red wig.” Ana looked for something new on the menu. “One of the detectives who came to see me had strange, fishy blue eyes, and even if I don’t usually order fish, I won’t order it today because of him.”
“I wish you’d stop worrying about them. Campos must have photographed hundreds of models. Maybe his death had nothing to do with any of you. He could have been killed by someone he owed money.”
She rubbed her toe up his calf and watched him jump. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
He grinned and shook his head. “Do it again.”
“It has to be done when you’re not expecting it.” She ordered a raw vegetable salad and limeade and leaned back to study the view of the busy port in daylight. “I wonder how many people are murdered a day in Barcelona.”
“I hope it’s not many. Rather than look at the ship, let’s find a movie after we eat, something funny.”
The waiter returned with her limeade and his beer. She took a long drink. “I might have a part in an Almodóvar film. It’s just a few lines, but I don’t want you to be surprised if you see me on the screen.”
“He’s a remarkable director, but you don’t sound excited. Why not?”
She described the audition with Gian Carlo. “Models usually aren’t that good on the screen. Thank goodness it’s such a small part I won’t be mentioned in the reviews.”
He studied her expression a long moment. “You don’t smile often in your Goth outfit; you seem to sink into her. You should do fine with a scripted part.”
The buttons on her black shirt were silver skulls. She polished one with her napkin. “I’m sorry, I’m sort of unfocused today. I often work long hours, and when I’m free, I like to go out to lunch and to movies, but I have a very bad feeling about that bogus photo. It just keeps whipping through my mind. I need to buy a notebook and write down where I am every minute of the day.”
He reached across the table to take her hand. “I’d also be alarmed if detectives had come to my studio. It doesn’t matter what they’ve been told to ask, or what ludicrous suspicions they might have. You didn’t murder anyone.”
“Innocence ought to be a strong defense,” she replied. “But I feel the floor tipping under me, and I can’t get my balance.”
“Listen to me.” His glance was as dark as she’d ever seen it. “You’re not the only model who worked with Campos. All of you are probably on edge, and justifiably so, but while it might be a good idea not to be seen laughing as though we had no concerns, there’s no reason to hide as though we’re guilty.”
His remark brought a smile. “I’m the one they’ve questioned, Alejandro, not you.”
He leaned back as the waiter served their lunch, and waited for him to leave. “It could have been a model’s boyfriend who didn’t like Campos’s photos.”
She raised her fingertip to her lips. “Don’t give the police any ideas they don’t already have and implicate yourself.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the others in the restaurant. No one seemed out of place. “We aren’t being watched.”
She shrugged. Just because they didn’t see anyone, didn’t mean someone wasn’t there.
Alejandro took Ana to an American comedy that was so silly they laughed until tears rolled down their cheeks. She had to use the restroom to refresh her eyeliner and fluffed her black wig. She smiled as she rejoined him. “Thank you. That was so much fun, and I’d never have chosen it myself.”
He hugged her close. “I don’t laugh enough either. Let’s buy your notebook for your timeline and use it to make a list of things we ought to do.”
“Like ride a tandem bike?”
“Exactly.”
They found a stationery store and bought a small notebook to fit in Ana’s purse. Ready for a snack, they stopped at an outdoor café, and she doodled in the notebook’s margins. “We should learn to cook.”
“Both of us,” he agreed.
Ana’s cell phone chimed, and she checked the text message. “It’s my agent.” She frowned and dropped her phone into her purse. “My job for tomorrow has been cancelled. I’ve worked with the designer for years, but she gave Paul no reason why. Now I can add loss of work to the lawsuit. I’m afraid this is only the beginning.”
“Won’t there be other designers who’d want to hire you because of the controversy?”
“Probably, but they’re not the ones I usually work with.” Thoroughly depressed, she reached for his hand. “This has been a great day, but I need to go home. Just drop me off a block away, and I’ll go in the front door. No one saw me leave, so if any of the paparazzi are still lurking, they won’t notice me.”
He stood and helped her to her feet. Even in the Goth outfit, she had her usual grace. “I’ll help you any way I can.”
She kissed his cheek. “I’ll handle it.” She sounded as tough as she looked. When he dropped her off, she strolled through the front door of her condo with a lazy swagger and drew curious glances from the three remaining paparazzi, but none raised his camera to photograph her.
Alejandro went straight back to the port. His father’s office was in a high-rise building and had windows from floor to ceiling to provide a dazzling view of the harbor. “I’ve never understood your thinking. Why would you want me to stop seeing Ana Santillan and then try to hire her?”
Orlando leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers over his chest. “It’s always a pleasure to have you pay a surprise visit. Do sit down and stay awhile, but you needn’t concern yourself with promotions for the cruise line.”
“We’re talking about Ana. I care about her, and you need to leave her alone. Stop having us followed. I spoke to your detective today. Did he tell you? The brute would stand out in any crowd, and it’s easy to spot him.”
Orlando sat up. “Other than her looks, what about the woman appeals to you? You weren’t pleased to discover she’s a model, and you’re dating her again?”
It wasn’t her modeling career that had appalled him, but his sickening suspicion she’d used him for her own fun. He’d gotten over it. “Yes, and I’ll keep seeing her. Pay the detective for what little work he’s done and let him go.”
Orlando shrugged off the matter as unimportant. “He’s served his purpose.”
“In the future, if you want to know where I’m going or where I’ve been, call and ask.”
“Fine. Were you with Ana last Saturday night?”
Alejandro could see right where his father was going, but he wouldn’t lie. “Didn’t y
our detective provide a report? I was home studying.”
“Good. We can keep the Ortiz name out of the murder investigation, even if Ana Santillan is involved up to her beautiful neck.”
Alejandro stared at his father. He’d never struck the man, but he’d never been so sorely provoked. “She won’t be. On the remote chance she’s called in for questioning, I’ll go with her and pass out cruise brochures.”
Orlando laughed. “Your loyalty is touching. She was just playing with you until she learned who you are. You needn’t bother to wear cologne. Nothing smells better than wealth.”
Alejandro left without describing how he’d always thought his father smelled.
Fatima was hanging up her apron when Ana arrived home. “How was your day?”
Ana leaned against the kitchen counter and folded her arms over her chest. “Alejandro did wonders at distracting me, but my job for tomorrow was cancelled, and I’m worried I’ll lose other work.”
“Eggs stay fresh longer than most scandals last, and this will blow over soon. Your veggies are ready to steam, and the salad is in the bowl. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Night.” She noted the time she’d arrived home in her new notebook and took a quick shower rather than soak in a bubble bath. As she ate dinner, she began a list of reasons why Jaime Campos might have been murdered. All she succeeded in doing was frightening herself silly, and she called Alejandro.
“I never heard Jaime mention a wife or girlfriend or boyfriend, but aren’t most people murdered by someone they know?”
“I’ve heard it, but a lot of provocations could push someone to murder. Are you trying to outthink the detectives?”
She’d barely tasted the vegetables on her plate and hadn’t touched the salad. “It wouldn’t be difficult, but I can’t concentrate on anything else.”
“You should have come home with me.”