Flamenco, Flan, and Fatalities (A Happy Hoofers Mystery)

by McHugh, Mary

  When we were all seated on the bus and almost asleep after that fabulous lunch, Rafaela picked up her microphone. How she stayed so thin eating such incredible food all the time, I’ll never know.

  “Are you ready for Covadonga?” she asked.

  “I think I’m ready for a nap,” Janice said.

  “Before you fall asleep,” Rafaela said, “let me tell you the story of Covadonga because it’s a fascinating one. Full of miracles and battles between the Muslims and the Catholic Spaniards in the seven hundreds. The Muslims pretty much took over Spain in the eighth century and considered it theirs, until a man from Covadonga named Don Pelayo led a revolt against them in the northern mountains of Asturias. He and his men were outnumbered by the Arabs, but they stationed themselves along the cliffs, hoping to be in a position to win back their territory. While they waited for the Muslims to attack, Don Pelayo went into the cave of Covadonga, which you will see today, where he had placed a statue of the Virgin Mary, and prayed to her for protection.

  “According to legend, Mary answered his prayer swiftly and effectively. The Moors attacked, shooting arrows at Don Pelayo’s forces. Incredibly, miraculously, Mary caused their arrows to turn back against them, killing the Muslims. The Spaniards attacked the fleeing Muslims and defeated them.

  “As the Muslims were retreating, the blessed Virgin intervened again. The story goes that she called up a violent thunder storm with heavy rain that caused mudslides, sending boulders and trees tumbling down the mountain, crushing the retreating troops, who drowned in the Deva River below. The Catholic Spaniards had won decisively.

  “Don Pelayo was crowned King of Asturias. King Alfonso had a monastery and chapel built on the site in honor of Our Lady of Covadonga. The bravery of this small band of Asturians led to other battles against the Arab invaders, and Spain eventually became a Christian land again.”

  Rafaela told the story so stirringly that we all gave a cheer at the end for the brave forces of Don Pelayo and the intervention of the Virgin Mary.

  The bus stopped and Rafaela led us to the grotto where the men had defended Covadonga. There was a small chapel inside with a wooden statue of the Virgin in an ornate robe, a large circle of gold on her head, holding an elaborately dressed child. She was surrounded by lit candles. The inside of her robe was decorated with pictures of the three men who won this battle for Christianity. Nearby were the tombs of Don Pelayo and King Alfonso.

  The others left to explore the rest of the town. I told Tina to go on ahead because I wanted to photograph this statue. It was difficult because the light was dim, but I thought my flash would be strong enough. I was circling the Virgin, looking at her from every angle, taking shots and experimenting to get just what I wanted. Absorbed in my photography, I didn’t realize that the others had left the grotto.

  I heard a small noise, like footsteps, in back of me. I assumed another tourist had entered.

  “I’ll be through in a minute,” I said, not looking around. “I just want one more shot here.”

  “Oh, don’t rush,” an all-too-familiar woman’s voice said. “Take your time.”

  Before I could react, I felt a scarf around my neck.

  “You’re not going to tell the inspector any more lies about me,” Dora’s gravelly voice said. “In fact, you’re not going to tell him anything at all anymore.”

  She tightened the scarf, her knee in the middle of my back. I dropped my camera and struggled with her. I tried to get the scarf away from her, but she was too strong for me. With one last effort, I shoved my elbow into her stomach. She almost let go of the scarf but quickly regained her hold. In the instant when she loosened her grip, I said, “Dora, I can help you.”

  She stopped for a second. “What can you do?”

  “There’s a lawyer on the train. He’s my friend. He’ll help you.”

  She laughed. “Right. They’ll have me declared insane and I’ll spend the rest of my life in a mental hospital. No, thank you.”

  She tightened the scarf again. I stopped fighting. I went limp and fell to the ground. She let go of the brilliantly red scarf as I fell. I had just enough strength to roll back against her and knock her to the ground. We were almost on top of the statue of Mary. I grabbed one of the burning candles on the altar in front of her and smashed it into Dora’s face. She screamed. I threw another candle at her, the flame catching her hair. She lost her grip on me. I managed to crawl to the entrance of the grotto and call for help.

  Within seconds Mark and Sam were there. They grabbed Dora, covered her hair with a jacket to put out the flames, and pulled her out into the plaza.

  They yelled to Rafaela to get the police.

  I could not speak. I looked at this pathetic creature, crazed because of what life had done to her, and wondered how I was still alive.

  I looked up at the statue of the Virgin in the grotto. “Thank you,” I said silently. “You’ve done it again.” I probably just imagined that she smiled.

  After the police took Dora off to jail, I started to cry, retching, gut-wrenching, sobs from deep inside me. My friends surrounded me, but I couldn’t stop. I was terrified. I had no faith at all that this woman would be shut up someplace for life. I knew she would get out of wherever they put her and come after me.

  When I could speak again, I said, “I want to go home. I’ve had enough. No more. Please get me out of here. Out of this train, out of this country, out of this planet.”

  “Gini, what happened?” Tina asked.

  “It was Dora,” I said. “She followed me into the grotto and almost killed me.”

  “Are you all right, honey?” Mary Louise asked.

  I looked at these dear friends and I couldn’t stop crying.

  “No, I’m not all right. I’ll never be all right again. I’m going back to my house in New Jersey and I’m never leaving it. But there’s no reason the rest of you can’t finish the trip. You don’t really need me. The four of you will be just fine.”

  “Do you really think we would go on without you?” Mary Louise said. “If you leave, we all leave.” She looked around at the rest of my friends and they nodded vigorously.

  “You’re our heart and soul, Gini,” Janice said. “Without you we lose the spark that makes us good. If you want to go home, we’re coming with you.”

  “Are you going to be all right?” Pat said, tears in her eyes.

  “I will be, sweetie. Don’t worry about me.”

  “What else do I have to do?” she said.

  Somehow I got on the bus and mercifully fell asleep.

  I climbed back on the train, still shaken. Javier was there in our cabin waiting for me.

  “Gini, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t get your message until this morning. I drove to Covadonga, but I was too late. What was it you were going to tell me?”

  “I finally figured it out,” I said. “The way Dora acted when I returned her ring kept nagging at me. I couldn’t understand why she was so frantic about getting it back. Then I remembered there was a kind of dust inside when I opened it. I remembered that she had the ring on when she asked Shambless for his autograph. I was sure she must have put the oleander powder in his wine when he looked down to sign her menu. Later, she was afraid Steve had filmed her when he took pictures in the restaurant, so she stole his camera and then killed him too.”

  “How did she know you knew all this?” the inspector asked.

  “She didn’t really know, but she was afraid I would find out after the tea party fiasco and my bringing you to question her. She wasn’t going to take any chances, so she waited for me in the cave and almost succeeded in getting rid of me for good.” I shuddered.

  “How did she think she would get away after she killed you?” the inspector asked.

  “I suppose she thought she’d just pick up her scarf and stroll out of the cave and join the other passengers. When they found my body, she’d act as horrified as everyone else and play the tourist until she had to kill the next person
. She’s totally insane, Inspector.”

  “I feel responsible,” he said. “The reason I didn’t take any calls last night was because I had an emergency at my home. One of my children was in the hospital and I was there with my wife.”

  “Your wife?” I said. How many more surprises did this day have in store? “You’re married?” I asked. “Does Janice know that?”

  “No,” the inspector said. “I will tell her today.” He saw the expression on my face. “Janice didn’t think we were going to get married.”

  “Even so,” I said. “How could you not tell her?”

  “That’s between Janice and me, Gini,” he said. “Let me tell her, please. Now let’s get back to you. Are you all right?”

  “I will be,” I said. “But tell me about your child. Is he or she all right?”

  “He will be,” Javier said. “My son suffered a concussion playing in a game at school, but they got him to the hospital right away. He’ll be home tomorrow. But what about you?”

  “I’ll be fine as soon as I get back home, as far away from Dora as I can get. I’m not at all sure she won’t turn up tomorrow or the next day.”

  “She’ll never be able to get to you again,” he said. “But you’ll have to help.”

  “If you mean I have to see her again, forget it.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to testify at her trial. If you don’t, we have no way to prove anything.”

  “But the bag of oleander leaves . . . her fingerprints. . . DNA . . . there have to be other things that will convict her.”

  “Without your testimony, a good lawyer could get her off, or at least get her a brief sentence and then . . .”

  “And then, she’ll try again? Is that what you’re telling me?”

  “Yes. Don’t forget, Gini, we’re talking about two murders and one attempted murder here, not just about Shambless.”

  “I knew she killed Steve, but I couldn’t figure out how,” I said.

  “She must have sneaked into his room and put oleander powder in the pitcher of water next to his bed. He wasn’t very good about locking his door. The poison worked right away.”

  “Javier, I’m getting out of here as soon as I can,” I said. “I’ve had enough.”

  “I need you to file a deposition and testify at the trial. That could be months from now. You can finish this trip. A week in San Sebastian would be lifesaving for you. Then you can return to America until the trial.”

  “I can’t, Javier,” I said. “I’m terrified that she will somehow escape and come after me again.”

  “That’s why it’s crucial that you testify against her and make sure she is put away for life and can never come after you.”

  “Do I have to decide this minute?”

  “No, of course not. Think about it. We’ll talk later.”

  “As if I could think about anything else,” I said.

  “I need to find Janice,” the inspector said. “As I mentioned before, I need to tell her about my wife. Do you know where she is?”

  “I think she said she was going to the bar,” I said. “Try there.”

  After Javier left, Tina sat down beside me on the bed and put her arm around me. I needed that hug.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Tina,” I said, holding on to her hand. “I never used to be afraid of anything and now—look at me—I’m afraid of my own shadow. I’m really scared of a little gray-haired woman who wants to kill me.”

  “Who wouldn’t be?” Tina asked. “You’ve been through a lot. Give yourself a break. You’ll be all right. I know you. But right now don’t beat yourself up.”

  “I don’t remember you turning into a frightened ninny during our Moscow cruise,” I said.

  “Are you kidding?” Tina said. “I woke up screaming, with horrible nightmares for months after that. Peter was always there, holding me, calming me, telling me I was safe, until finally I could sleep through the night. It does go away, but it takes a while.”

  “I think it will take the rest of my life,” I said.

  Gini’s photography tip: Say cheese

  everybody! (Especially Cabrales

  blue cheese from Asturias.)

  Chapter 16

  And Then What Happened?

  After dinner on our last night, Tina gathered us around a table in the lounge, full of comfortable chairs and passengers sipping drinks or coffee, and said, “Okay, guys, it’s travel tip time. I need to write a list of pointers for anyone who might be taking this train trip across Green Spain. Got any suggestions?”

  “If somebody loses a ring,” I said, “let it stay lost.”

  Laughter from my loyal fans.

  “We’ll all remember that one, Gini,” Tina said. “Now I need some from non-almost-murder victims.”

  “May and September are the best months to take this trip,” Denise said. “The summers can be really hot and part of the winter months freezing cold. I thought it was comfortable walking around this first week in September.”

  “I agree,” Tina said. “Eduardo, come join us, please. We’re trying to give the readers of my magazine some good advice if they plan to take this train. What do you think?”

  “Make sure the Happy Hoofers are going to be the entertainers when you go,” Eduardo said, smiling. “Especially if there is a murder that needs solving.” He looked at each of us, smiling. “One thing that is very important to tell your readers is that we have Internet access and phone service to the United States. Also, they don’t need a visa to come to Spain.”

  “What about clothes? What would you tell them to pack?” Pat asked.

  “You can live in jeans and sweaters on the train,” Eduardo said. “You might want to get a little more dressed up when we go to a restaurant. A skirt or really nice pants for the ladies, perhaps a jacket for the gentlemen.”

  “That will be a relief for the honeymooners who read my magazine,” Tina said. “Young people like to be casual.”

  “Don’t forget to tell them about wheelchairs, Eduardo,” a woman in the back called out. She was the mother of the boy with muscular dystrophy.

  “Thank you, señora,” Eduardo said. “We are very proud of the fact that our train is now equipped with ramps for people using wheelchairs and the bathrooms are wider.”

  “We could never have made this trip if you hadn’t done that,” she said. “It’s still hard getting in and out of restaurants here and pushing a chair over the cobblestone streets. There are very few curb cuts.”

  “I am sorry for that,” Eduardo said. “We were slow to make those improvements here in Spain. I hope they will expand the program to make it easier for you and your son.”

  “Well, this gives me a good start,” Tina said. “But I could still use some more if anything occurs to any of you.”

  We ordered some tea and cakes. While we were waiting, Cynthia, the lady whose son, Paul, was in a wheelchair, approached me shyly.

  “I hope you didn’t mind my interrupting you,” she said.

  “I’m so glad you did,” I said. “You made a very good point. An essential one, in fact.”

  “I really wanted to talk to you about that woman, that Dora. I couldn’t believe she was a murderer. When she spoke to me, she seemed like such a nice harmless person. Not crazy enough to poison people.”

  “You didn’t look at her eyes, Mom,” Paul said. “Sometimes she had this really wild look in them when she was talking about her little girl. She scared me.”

  “How come you never said anything about that, Paul?” his mother asked.

  “I just thought I was imagining it,” Paul said. “You know, her little girl died. That must have been terrible for her.”

  His mother was silent. He didn’t see the tears in her eyes, but I did.

  “How are you enjoying the trip, Paul?” I asked. “Is it interesting for someone your age?”

  “It’s great,” he said. “Especially the food. The only thing is . . .”

  “What?” I asked
.

  “Oh, it happens all the time. I should be used to it by this time.”

  “Tell me.”

  “It’s just that people don’t talk to you when you’re in a wheelchair. It’s as if they don’t think we have a mind or opinions. I shouldn’t complain. It’s just a fact of life. But I wish people knew that a disability is really a small part of who a person is.”

  “I can certainly see that in talking to you,” I said. “I think you have to start the conversations yourself. Just plow right in. You’ll be surprised at how quickly people respond.”

  “Maybe I’ll try it with that girl over there,” he said, aiming his wheelchair at Michele, who was flipping through her phone with a bored expression.

  I watched as he talked to her. Her face lit up and she put her phone back in her tote bag. They were soon absorbed in each other—probably talking about computers.

  “That’s a great guy you have there,” I said to his mother.

  “I’m glad he was loaned to me for a while,” she said.

  “Me too,” I said.

  I saw Janice standing by the bar and joined her.

  “Hi, Jan,” I said. “Where’s Javier?”

  “Probably home with his wife,” she said. She didn’t look at me.

  Ah, he told her.

  “What do you mean, his wife?” I said, feigning ignorance.

  “You heard me, Gini.” She put another spoonful of sugar in her coffee. “

  “Did you know all along that he was married? You’ve always said you’ll never go out with married men.” And she’s supposed to be the one who is an actress! I’m not so bad myself.

  Janice put a hand on my arm. “Take it easy, Gini. I didn’t know he was married. He never mentioned it until last night after we got back on the train. Right after he talked to you. He told me he cares for me a lot, but that he could never marry me because he already had a wife.”

  “What did you say?” I asked. I knew I was making her uncomfortable, but, as usual, I couldn’t stop. There’s something about me that always needs an answer.

  “Nothing, at first. I was stunned. I did ask him why he never mentioned her before. He said they weren’t in love anymore, but he’s a Catholic. Even if he got a divorce, he could never marry again. We could live together, but we couldn’t marry. Somehow, that just didn’t appeal to me.” I couldn’t read the expression on her face. Sometimes it’s hard with Jan. I didn’t really know if she was heartbroken or didn’t care. I settled on somewhere in between.