by Phoebe Conn
“I’m reading this will with great sorrow,” Jacob began. “If you have any questions, Mrs. Ortiz, I’ll be happy to explain in greater detail.”
Carlotta was dressed in a black long-sleeve dress and wore no jewelry other than her wedding ring. “Thank you. I’ll listen closely.”
The attorney made eye contact with all those seated around the table. “Orlando had a gift for seeing the future, and he planned thoroughly for every eventuality. He left explicit directions there is to be no funeral or memorial service. He requested cremation and wanted his ashes scattered at sea.”
Appearing shocked, Carlotta leaned forward. “Didn’t he realize the boys and I would need to say good-bye?”
Jacob squared his shoulders. “Mrs. Ortiz, you and your sons will certainly be able to ride in the boat and distribute Orlando’s ashes. Flowers are often thrown into the sea at such times, and you can bid your husband good-bye then.”
“It’s not right,” she maintained, her eyes filling with tears.
“Pray for his soul whenever you attend mass, but there is to be no funeral of any kind,” Jacob stressed. “Your late husband left a generous trust fund for you and his sons.” He passed her the appropriate papers for her review. “As for his share of the stock in the Ortiz Lines, it is to be divided between you three and Alejandro, his eldest son, with seventy-five percent going to Alejandro and twenty-five percent to be shared by you, Rodrigo and Francisco.”
“Twenty-five percent?” Carlotta nearly shrieked. “That’s not fair. There are three of us, and he’s only one person.”
Alejandro spoke softly. “The trust fund will provide more than you’ll ever need, Carlotta, so in every respect, the stock division is fair.”
“I believe I need my own attorney,” she countered. “Do I have to listen to anything more?”
“There’s just one additional item. Orlando had known you’d had two children before you met him. He regretted the loss of your daughter, but admired Rafael Mondragon’s courage and believed he’d inherited it from you.”
Carlotta’s complexion drained of all color. “How long had he known?”
Jacob concentrated on the will rather than the increasingly distraught widow. “For as long as he knew you, I believe. He was a man who kept a great deal to himself, for whatever his reason, and he allowed you to keep your secrets as well.”
Carlotta rose and, taking her sons by the hand, fled the room as quickly as she could herd the boys through the door.
“You should have spoken to her in private,” Alejandro admonished. “There was no need to embarrass her in front of us.”
Jacob nodded. “I agree, but it was what Orlando desired, and I’m following his wishes to the letter as I always have.”
Alejandro glanced around the table. The board members were as astonished as he. That his father had kept quiet about having a matador for a stepson amazed them all.
“I’m sorry Orlando didn’t discuss his will with his wife while he was alive to defend his choices,” Jacob stressed. “If any of you have made the same mistake, you ought to correct it immediately. Now let me continue.”
There were charitable donations his father had wished made, and Alejandro nodded as each was named. There were letters for each of the board members and one for him that outlined his hopes for the Ortiz Line, but no word of love or praise. Alejandro slipped his into his pocket and promptly forgot it.
Lucien Lamoreaux called Ana midmorning. “I’m fascinated by the prospect of your becoming a photographer. I have a project in mind that should intrigue you. Will you meet me for lunch at one?”
Ana sat back in her chair. She’d been working the crossword puzzle at the dining table. She hadn’t bothered to dress yet, but that scarcely mattered. She had a good idea what Lucien’s project was. Because there appeared to be no other way to obtain evidence linking him to Jaime’s death, she had to say yes but needed to appear reluctant. “I haven’t done any professional work as yet,” she stressed. “You might need someone with more experience.”
“You have a wealth of experience in front of a camera, and that’s what’s needed. Let’s meet at Can Culleretes in Old Town. Do you know it?”
“Yes, of course. It’s the city’s oldest restaurant and has wonderful food.”
“This will be only a preliminary conversation, so there’s no reason to include your agent as yet. Shall I send my chauffeur for you?”
“No, I’ll meet you there.” Alejandro would be busy with his father’s will, so she couldn’t call him, and she hated to bother Montoya over a lunch date that might fail to prove enlightening. “I’m meeting Lucien Lamoreaux at Can Culleretes for lunch, Fatima, so you needn’t prepare anything for me.”
“Any hope of samples?”
“I’ll try.” She couldn’t very well accuse a man of murder and ask for shoe samples in the same breath, but she wouldn’t let him guess she even suspected him.
Ana had been at Can Culleretes often and felt comfortable there, although she would have much preferred a different companion. As soon as they were seated at their table, she gave Lucien one of her prettiest smiles. “I’m so flattered you’d consider me as a photographer. Does the project involve your beautiful shoes?”
He laughed and shook his head. “No. You know I collect Robert Mapplethorpe’s work, and he’s my inspiration. Let’s order first, shall we? I’ve heard their calamares a la romana is good. Do they have a salad you’d like? If not, perhaps we could give the chef a special order.”
Ana surveyed the menu. “They have a wonderful fruit salad with delicious rosemary rolls, so I’ll be fine.” She requested iced tea rather than wine and offered no explanation for her choice. “Photography has changed completely from the time Mapplethorpe worked. Digital cameras make everything easier, although I’m sure the purists must miss their darkrooms.”
“I’m sure they do. Traditionalists slow the progress of every art, but creativity can’t be contained.”
“I agree. You have three of Mapplethorpe’s floral photos in your apartment. You sent me so many beautiful roses, were you thinking of doing something new with flowers?”
He had selected a fine white wine and waited while the waiter poured a sip into his glass. He tasted it and nodded, and the waiter filled his glass. “No, I prefer his studies of the human body. He had a way of highlighting the curve of a back or shoulder and made his models look as elegant as the finest Greek sculpture.”
“He did,” she agreed. “I never pose in the nude, so I’m not sure I’d be the right photographer for you.”
“The models can cover themselves with a robe until you’re sure of the shot. I’d like to give the impression of nudity without actually showing it. If a woman held a thin scarf over her breasts, there would be only a hint of her nipples. Do you understand what I mean? I want to produce tasteful photos, not create nude shots for cheap magazines.”
Ana nodded thoughtfully. “Do you have a publisher interested?”
“I don’t plan to produce a book, but instead a limited edition of stunning photographs that will appeal to men with, shall we say, discriminating tastes.”
Ana’s salad was served along with his meal, and she concentrated on the fresh melon. She was tempted to ask him if he’d approached Jaime Campos with the project, but although they were surrounded by people laughing and talking in the popular restaurant, she thought it would be too dangerous a question to ask. She smiled and nodded as though she were interested in producing the artful photography he described, but her heart beat much too fast, and she had to keep wiping her sweaty palms on her napkin.
Alejandro returned the kittens in their carrier with all their paraphernalia. “Did Ana tell you the kittens were coming back?”
Fatima held the door wide open for him. “She failed to mention it, but here they are, so it must be all right. Did they give you too much trouble?”
“No, but I’m not going to have much time to spend in my studio, and they need a real home. Isn�
��t Ana here?”
“No, she’s gone to lunch with Lamoreaux.”
Astonished Ana would go near the man alone, he searched Fatima’s expression for more. “Did she say where they were going?”
“She did, but you ought not to stalk her. If she wants to see you, she’ll be here when you call.”
He silently debated her advice only briefly. “Lamoreaux may know who killed Jaime Campos, and I don’t believe she’s safe with him.”
“Dios mio, you’re not serious.”
“Dead serious. Now where is she?”
The kittens were chasing each other around the living room, and she watched them while she caught her breath. “They’re at the Can Culleretes.”
“I know it.” He grabbed her shoulders and kissed her forehead on his way out.
Chapter Twenty
Alejandro joined Ana and Lucien at their table. He kissed her cheek and took a chair. “I wanted to make certain you had a ride home. Hello, Mr. Lamoreaux. I hope the photos Pierre took of us are what you needed.” He slid his hand under the table to squeeze Ana’s knee.
Lucien appeared only mildly disconcerted. “Indeed they did. Would you care to join us for lunch?”
“No, I’ll wait for dessert. They have an incredible crema catalana here, don’t they?”
“Yes, it’s superb,” Ana replied. “Lucien believes I’d be the right photographer for a series of figure studies he’s envisioned, but I’m not sure I’m ready for such a big step.”
Alejandro responded with a wide grin. “Of course, you’re ready. Do you still have the photos of me on your camera?”
“I do. I always carry my camera so I don’t miss an opportunity to get something unique.” She hurried through the photos she’d taken on board the Mediterranean Siren and found the two of Alejandro. “I love this one of him curled over the table.”
Lucien nodded as he studied it. “This is a remarkable composition. Do you have more?”
“The one of me in bed is good. Go ahead and show him,” Alejandro urged.
Lucien’s face lit with a bright smile. “Yes, we could use this one. This is exactly what I want. You’d be handsome in any pose, Alejandro, but this candid photo is far more appealing than a posed nude would be.”
“You see.” Alejandro leaned over to hug Ana. “This would be a great opportunity to not only gain experience but to launch your new career. You should do it.”
She chewed her lip. “Your confidence is so flattering, Alejandro, but let me consider it, will you, Lucien?”
“Of course, and let’s meet again to discuss details when you decide to say yes.” He smiled as though she’d already agreed.
“I wish I had your confidence in my talent,” she remarked.
“Confidence is vital to any pursuit,” Lucien replied. “Wouldn’t you agree, Alejandro?”
“Indeed, I do.”
Alejandro finished his dessert first and watched as Ana licked her spoon. “I love desserts, so it’s a good thing I’m going to ride again this afternoon. It also takes my mind off the constant stress of running the Ortiz Line.”
“It must be a great burden,” Lucien offered. When they were ready to go, he offered his hand. “Thank you for your enthusiasm for my idea, Alejandro. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.”
As soon as they were seated in his SUV, Alejandro kissed Ana hard. “You played that so well, Lucien will never guess why you’re so reluctant to work with him.”
She looked at him askance. “You overdid it with the encouragement, or do you actually believe I’d care more about my career than catching a murderer?”
“You’re not going to do it, so I made it look as though I were on Lucien’s side. It was an act on both our parts.”
“Really? Didn’t you refuse to be bait for Montoya—and now you’re eager to go out and ride?”
“I did, but I’ve reconsidered. Working with Lucien really would build your photography career. Unfortunately, it’s far too dangerous to even consider. I want him caught before you’ve taken a single photo for him.”
“What about you? It’s too dangerous for you to ride hoping René Charles will pursue you again. What if he shot at you rather than attempt to crowd you off the road?”
Already on guard, he studied his rearview mirror. “It has to be difficult to shoot a cyclist.”
“Undoubtedly, unless he’s a good shot.”
He glanced toward her. “He used a knife on Jaime.”
“So what? Maybe he has a wealth of lethal weapons. He could blow poison darts at you.”
He reached over to give her hand a loving squeeze. “Have you always had such a lively imagination?”
She looked out at the people on the street. “I’m an only child and learned early to amuse myself.”
He laughed but reined it in when she scowled at him. “If you don’t count Carlotta’s boys, I’m also an only child, or I was brought up as one. Maybe that’s why I took to drawing and didn’t need anyone else.”
“Fascinating to hear, but what are you going to tell Montoya?”
“That I let Lamoreaux know I plan to go out for a ride, and if René Charles shows up again, they can catch him.”
“How is Montoya going to protect you? Will he take to a bicycle himself?”
Alejandro shrugged. “He looks fit. He might own one.”
“You told me I’d be well provided for if a crane toppled and crushed you. Do you already have the baby in your will?”
“Would it surprise you to learn I do?”
“Yes, I’d be shocked.”
“I updated my will this morning after our attorney finished reading my father’s. It’s signed and witnessed, so if I flip over the handlebars and break my neck this afternoon, you and the baby will still be able to lead very comfortable lives.”
She turned away, but he caught a gleam of tears in her eyes and wondered if she’d really miss him. He reached for her hand. “I missed you last night. Let’s not spend tonight apart.”
“We won’t have a choice if you’re in the morgue.”
He could almost see her mind work. She feared he’d die trying to catch René Charles, and she’d be left all alone. It hadn’t been quite a year since Miguel Aragon had died. Maybe she feared he’d also be taken from her. It was too painful a thought to consider.
When they reached her condo, he walked her up to her door. “I’d like to call Montoya from here so you’ll know the plan. Be careful opening the door—I brought the kittens home.”
She peeked around her door. There was no sign of the cats. “All right, come in, but don’t expect me to be part of this.”
Fatima rushed up to them. “Did Lamoreaux admit he knew anything about Jaime’s death?”
“No, but we believe it was his chauffeur who killed him,” Ana answered. The kittens were asleep on the sofa, and she sat down and gathered them into her lap. They yawned lazily, showing their pink mouths, and went back to sleep. “We don’t actually know anything for a fact, but Alejandro is determined to solve the crime on his own.”
Fatima swept him with an appreciative glance. “You look as though you could, but isn’t it the police’s job?”
“Thank you for reminding him of the obvious,” Ana offered. “He’s completely overlooked it.”
“That’s not good,” Fatima replied.
Alejandro dropped into the wing chair and called Montoya. He explained he’d had an opportunity to let Lucien Lamoreaux know he planned to go riding again that afternoon.
“Where did you begin yesterday, from the Ortiz building or from your apartment?” the Lieutenant asked.
“I keep my bike at my studio.” He gave Montoya the address, and they agreed upon a time.
“Begin there, but go a different route from yesterday. I’ll station men on bicycles nearby, and they’ll follow you at a distance. If René Charles appears and threatens to harm you in any way, they’ll arrest him. Leave everything to us.”
Alejandro ended the
call. “It should work. We’ll have a lot to talk about later. Do you want me to bring dinner tonight, or would you rather go out?”
Fatima returned to the kitchen, and Ana focused on the kittens. “This could get ugly, Alejandro.”
“It could, but it won’t. Charles may not show up, but if he does, he’ll be the one being tracked. I’ll call you later.”
“Please do—and it better not be from the hospital.”
He stood and wound his fingers in her beautiful hair to pull her close for a long, deep kiss. “I wouldn’t jeopardize what we have, Ana. Trust me on this.”
He left her with the cats and Fatima for company and hoped it wouldn’t be the last time he saw them all.
There was no parking garage for Alejandro’s studio. He parked on a side street and loosened his tie as he walked toward the corner. When he heard footsteps rapidly closing in behind him, he shot a glance over his shoulder. It was all he needed to recognize the burly man from the hospital. Rather than risk fighting such a muscular brute hand-to-hand, he had to move fast. While it had been years since he’d studied karate, he’d learned his lessons well. He jumped into a flying turn and sent a savage kick into the man’s knee.
The man howled as he fell and struck his head hard on the concrete walk. Knocked out, he lay sprawled where he’d fallen, and his knife slipped from his grasp. Alejandro took a moment to catch his breath, and then pulled off his tie to secure the fallen man’s hands behind his back. He picked up the knife with his handkerchief, surprised by its weight. Jungle Warrior was stamped on the nine inch black blade. The wicked weapon looked to be the perfect for a jungle’s hazards, if not a quiet Barcelona street. He’d relied on instinct and struck first. It had saved his life.