Matanzas

by Garry Ryan

  Deylis asked, “Mr. Colin Anderson, could we talk with your son, Jamey?”

  The father frowned. Concern sharpened the focus of his brown eyes when he recognized Deylis’s uniform. He looked to see where his son was. “How do you know my name?”

  Lane kept his tone even and low. “We were hoping to ask Jamey if we could look at his pictures.”

  “My son has done nothing wrong.” Anderson’s response hung somewhere between a statement and a question. He stared at Lane. “Where are you from?”

  “Calgary. You’re from Toronto?” Lane glanced at Deylis, who watched Jamey.

  “You know a lot about me and my son.”

  Just level with him. He will respect that. “We were hoping that Jamey’s camera might hold the answer to a question. It’s about what happened on the Havana tour. You and your son are not suspects, but his pictures may hold some answers for us.”

  “You work down here?” Anderson asked.

  “I’m here for my niece’s wedding.”

  Anderson shook his head. “So do you work down here or not?”

  Lane shrugged. “Yes.” And no.

  “Jamey, will you talk to the police?”

  Jamey was focused on scrolling through his pictures. His father touched his son on the shoulder. Jamey looked up in surprise. “You gotta see this shot, Dad.”

  “The police are asking if they can look at your pictures.”

  Jamey held his camera close to his chest.

  Lane said. “We just want to look.” He glanced at Deylis. “We might ask you to download a photo or two if we find what we’re looking for. That’s all.”

  Jamey looked at his father, who shrugged as if to say Okay with me if it’s okay with you.

  “There are some tables around back. We could sit there while you show us the pictures from Havana,” Lane suggested.

  “Sure.” Jamey followed Deylis as she led the way to a table under an umbrella.

  Jamey sat down with Lane and Deylis on either side. The boy began to scroll through the images on the screen at the back of his camera.

  “Do you know what a moto volqueta is?” Lane asked.

  Jamey looked at Lane and smiled. “You mean that little dump truck that made so much noise?”

  “That’s the one.”

  Jamey stared intently at the screen, stopped at a series of images, leaned over to show the camera to Lane, then said, “Just press this button.”

  Lane looked carefully at the images of the moto volqueta, the woman in white, the street; then he stopped. “Is it possible to magnify this one?”

  “Sure,” Jamey said in a way only a young person with intimate knowledge of technology could while barely masking his disdain for the ignorance of his elders. He pressed a button. Lane moved the image around until he could see a hand and a woman’s shoulder. He looked at Deylis. “You need to see this.”

  “What do you see?” Deylis leaned close to see what Lane was pointing at.

  Deylis got a call just before reaching the traffic circle out front of Playa Alameda Resort. “Si?”

  Lane saw her sit up straighter in her seat. “Matanzas.” She pressed end then pointed for Hector to park.

  She waited until they stopped. Lane got out and she asked, “Could we get a cup of coffee?”

  “Vivian makes a great cappuccino over here.” He pointed to the right of the lobby and led the way. They sat down at a table with a round granite top and cast-iron frame.

  “What about Hector? Does he want a coffee?” Lane held out a chair for her.

  Deylis smiled. “You don’t need to worry about Hector. He will find someone to amuse himself.”

  “Casanova?”

  She nodded.

  Vivian arrived in her blue and yellow uniform. She smiled. “Cappuccino?”

  “Please.” Lane smiled, held up two fingers, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a peso.

  “I should be putting the money down.” Deylis reached into her pocket.

  Lane shook his head. “Not on your salary.”

  Deylis smiled. “That is why Cubans like Canadians. You understand.” She frowned, then continued. “The body of Robert North was discovered in Matanzas. It appears he died two days ago.”

  “Camille Mara’s friend?”

  Deylis looked at him closely before she nodded.

  “Cause of death?”

  “It will take an autopsy to confirm, but he was beaten first.”

  The coffees arrived. Lane stirred in a packet of sugar. “Is there any connection to Brett Mara?”

  “They were seen together the night before North’s body was discovered. They were drinking at a bar. They left after midnight. North wasn’t seen alive after that.” She sipped her coffee.

  “Any idea where Mara is now?”

  “I have an educated guess.”

  Lane sipped his coffee and waited.

  “In the waters between Florida and Cuba it is easy for two ships to find each other and trade cargo. There is a black market in Cuba. I think Mara found someone in Matanzas who would take him to a ship bound for the US in exchange for money.”

  “Do your navy and the American navy patrol these waters?”

  “We have a small navy. They have a large one. Still, the ocean is bigger than both and the coastline very long.” She smiled and took a sip.

  “The driver of the moto volqueta is going home?”

  She nodded and tapped her breast pocket where she kept a memory stick. “I will show these to my boss.”

  “Do you have an address for Brett Mara in Calgary?”

  “What does RR mean on an address?”

  Lane smiled. “He probably lives on an acreage. You will send me his address and his passport number?”

  She nodded. “You will go after this man when you get back to Canada?”

  Lane nodded in turn.

  “And you will let me know if you find him so that he can be brought back here?”

  “I will.”

  She stood up and handed him her card. “It is time for you to get ready for your niece’s wedding.” She picked up her cup and drained her coffee.

  Lane sat, watched Deylis leave, then finished his coffee. The door to the bar opened and Gloria walked in with a young woman who looked to be fifteen or sixteen. The women turned. Gloria spotted Lane and smiled. She walked over.

  “How are you?” Lane asked.

  “You remember me now?” Gloria gripped her bottom lip between her teeth.

  “I always remember you as you were. It took me some time to see you as you are. This is your daughter?”

  A whisper of pain flashed across her eyes. “My niece, Ella. This is Paul Lane.”

  “He lived next door to you in the old house?” Ella looked at her aunt. The resemblance between the two was in the eyes and the chin. The niece had dark black hair, was taller than her aunt and weighed about the same.

  Lane smiled.

  “We should talk,” Gloria said.

  “Do you have any idea what they did to her?” Ella asked. Lane saw the rage in Ella’s eyes.

  Gloria took hold of Ella’s elbow. Ella shook her off. “You lived next door. You must have seen something. Known something.”

  “He was a child. Maybe five or six.”

  My mother took a belt to me for asking about Gloria. After that I knew I couldn’t trust anyone in my family. Lane watched Ella, then Gloria.

  “Nobody helped her. Nobody cared what her mother did to her and the baby!” Ella was red in the face. She stepped closer to him.

  Lane took a breath before he looked at Gloria. “Your mother killed the baby?”

  The words came choking out of Gloria as she nodded. “She said it was for my own good, then told everyone it was crib death. What we now call sudden infant death syndrome.”

  “And she made your brothers bury the baby in the backyard?” Gloria nodded.

  Ella pounced. “Why did you do nothing?”

  Lane kept watching Gloria, and
when he spoke, his voice was as dead as the baby who was buried so many years ago. “I was six years old. I told my mother. She took a belt to me. The cries of the baby have haunted me ever since.” And the smell of death. I’ve been haunted by that, too.

  Gloria swiped her nose with a tissue. “They were good friends, our mothers.”

  Lane looked back at her but could think of nothing else to say.

  “Her mother made it so she couldn’t ever have children again!” Ella shouted. The women behind the bar turned to watch.

  “What are you doing to him?” All heads turned to the woman in the doorway. Christine stood with her feet apart. Her hair was long and loose, her toes and fingernails were shiny blue and white tipped, and she wore white shorts and white blouse. She scanned the room as she moved closer. Her eyes locked on Ella and Gloria. “What are you doing to him?”

  Lane stood up and put himself in front of Ella and Gloria. “Gloria is from my old neighbourhood.”

  “Why is that one yelling at you?” Christine’s voice was low, dangerously slow.

  Lane smiled. “Protecting her aunt, just like you are protecting your uncle.”

  Gloria asked, “Alison’s daughter?”

  “Yes. Christine, this is Gloria and her niece Ella. Gloria and I —”

  “— had similar experiences growing up.” Gloria shook Christine’s hand. “Do you have time to sit down and talk with us?”

  Christine looked at Lane. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Lane looked at the women behind the bar, who were suddenly occupied in polishing the espresso machine. There were the sounds of the clinking of glass on ceramic and the low chatter of Spanish.

  “You don’t look fine.” Christine looked sideways at Ella.

  “We were catching up. They weren’t exactly the good old days for either of us.” Lane pulled out a chair and indicated Christine could sit if she liked. He sat down and Gloria sat down across from him. Christine remained standing across from Ella.

  Gloria looked at Lane. “You are a homicide detective?”

  Lane nodded. “How about you?”

  Gloria looked at Ella. “It’s okay. You can sit.” She turned back to Lane. “I work at a bank.”

  “She’s a manager.” Ella sat down and looked up at Christine.

  Gloria looked at Christine. “What is your mother up to?”

  “She’s locked up. It’s where she belongs right now. My uncle and Arthur took me in when I got excommunicated from Paradise.” Christine sat down.

  Gloria leaned back as if to get a better look at Christine. “That’s that polygamist community in the south of the province. Seems I read something a while ago in the newspaper about a woman from Paradise trying to abduct her daughter’s baby. That was your mother?”

  Christine raised her eyebrows. “That’s her. Good ol’ mom.”

  Ella sat up straight. “And I thought our family —” she pointed at her chest “— was fucked up.”

  Lane rolled his eyes and smiled. “Lots of people call them the good old days.” He pointed at Gloria. “Not me, and I suspect not you.”

  Christine turned to Ella. “What happened in your family?”

  “My grandmother killed my Aunt Gloria’s baby, called it SIDS, made her brothers bury the body in the backyard and then had a doctor sterilize my aunt.”

  Gloria shook her head. “This isn’t a contest to see who has the most messed-up childhood.”

  “I burnt down a house to escape Paradise.” Christine gave Ella a look that said I can match you at any game if you’re going to mess with my uncle.

  “Okay if we dial down the estrogen just a bit?” Lane held his thumb and forefinger a millimetre apart.

  Gloria smiled. “It appears you and I have been fortunate with our nieces. They are very protective and fiercely loving.”

  Change the subject. “Christine is getting married tomorrow.”

  Christine turned to face her uncle. “Are you going to be there?”

  Lane found himself the focus of attention in the room. All sounds from the bar stopped and the three women at the table waited for his answer. He held up his hands. “By now the entire resort will be making sure I will be there. So chances of my not being there are remote.”

  Ella asked, “So, will you be there?” and laughed.

  THURSDAY, JUNE 20

  chapter 6

  “Is Lola still saying the kids have to pay for the wedding?” Arthur stood in front of the mirror and did up the collar of his mauve shirt.

  “I told the kids we would pay for it.”

  Arthur turned and looked at him. “When were you going to tell me this?”

  “Now.” Lane stepped into the closet to get his dress pants, which were hanging next to his blue shirt.

  “Sure we can pay for it. I’d just like to be involved in the decision.” Arthur flipped one end of his tie over the left shoulder.

  “My apologies.” Lane pulled on his grey pants.

  “All will be forgiven as long as you are here for the entire day, don’t get called away, do exactly what Christine asks you to do and pay one hundred percent of your attention to her.” Arthur checked the knot of his tie in the mirror.

  “What’s your job?” Lane looked sideways at Arthur, then pointed. “To charm Lola and appeal to her vanities?” Lane fed his belt through the loops.

  Arthur turned and smiled. “Actually, she was the one who went to charm school.”

  Lane laughed.

  There was a knock at the door. Arthur reached over and opened it. Matt stepped inside with one hand holding his pants up. “You guys got an extra belt?”

  Lane cocked his head to the left toward the closet. “I think so. It’s hanging up in there.”

  “Any emergencies yet?” Arthur sat down to put his dress shoes on.

  Matt shook his head. “Not yet. Okay if I come back in a few minutes with Indiana?”

  “Has the surprise arrived yet?” Arthur asked.

  “Nope.” Matt left.

  “The surprise was supposed to be here by now.” Lane grabbed his shirt.

  “This is Cuba, remember. Things seem to take the time they take.” Arthur grabbed his jacket and hung it over the back of the chair.

  They could hear the sound of footsteps pounding back and forth across the floor upstairs as Christine rushed to get ready.

  Dan, Matt and Indy arrived at Lane and Arthur’s room five minutes later. Indy was fast asleep in his tuxedo T-shirt, black onesie and black shoes. Dan, in his black suit, white shirt and black shoes, set Indie down in slow motion on the couch.

  Matt hung his black jacket on a doorknob. “These clothes are gonna get real hot real quick.”

  Lane turned to Daniel. “How’s Christine?”

  Dan looked worried. “Running late. She wanted to feed Indy first and that took longer than planned. Did the surprise get here?”

  Arthur and Lane shook their heads.

  They heard the sound of high heels on the tiled floor above their heads.

  Outside they heard a golf cart pull up.

  Arthur peeked through the curtains. Dan looked over his shoulder. “The surprise made it.”

  They heard high heels climbing the stairs to the second floor. The second pair of heels stopped. The four men looked up at the ceiling.

  Another pair of high heels tapped across the floor of the room above.

  An instant of quiet, then a scream that reached out through the open sliding door to the room below.

  Arthur said, “Now that is what I call timing.”

  “Alex always did know how to make an entrance,” Lane said.

  The wedding took place on a platform overlooking the beach at dusk. Christine wore a white form-fitting, mid-calf dress with a slit up the side to accentuate her long legs. The look was finished off with a pair of white stilettos and a black onyx pendant on a silver chain. With Christine between them, Lane and Arthur walked up the stairs to where Dan waited on one side of the Cuban equivalent
of a justice of the peace named Laura. Matt, the best man, stood on the other side. He held the still-sleeping Indy. Alexandra stood on the right side of Laura. Alex wore the same dress as her sister, but in yellow, the same pendant, the same shoes and a smile that brightened the evening.

  Christine reached the top of the stairs.

  Lola looked back at the bride but did not smile. Her husband turned, saw Christine and did a double take.

  When they arrived in front of Laura, Arthur sat down. Lane took Indy from Matt and sat down next to Arthur. Indy slept with the serenity only a child can manage at events minor and major. They watched as Laura raised her white-turbaned head, which matched her white flowing top and skirt, and began to speak. Her skin was almost the colour of the onyx the sisters wore. Lane began to smile as he thought, I wonder what she would do if I told her about Lola’s attempt to make Christine white? He looked over at Lola and realized she must be thinking the same thing. Lola did something completely unexpected. She smiled nervously at Lane.

  Later, at the dinner table in the Italian restaurant on the resort, Lane saw Christine was still smiling as she bent to kiss her son. She stood tall to kiss her sister’s cheek, then leaned over to stroke Dan’s cheek.

  Deylis showed up thirty minutes later wearing a red dress, white pumps and a silver chain around her neck. She carried an acoustic guitar and was followed by a man with a cello. A woman trailed them with a pair of African drums.

  Christine spotted the trio, frowned and looked at Lane.

  Deylis smiled at the three and began to strum her guitar. It took a moment for the cellist and drummer to find chairs. They joined in and began to play a rumba.

  Alexandra grabbed Arthur and they danced around the tables. Christine smiled and took Daniel’s hand.

  John stood up and tried to get Lola to do the same.

  Lane got up with Indiana. The baby lifted one eyelid, then closed it again. Lane sat back down and watched. Dan and Christine danced as Deylis sang a Spanish love song. Alex and Arthur danced ballroom. Matt smiled, sat back and sipped a margarita.

  Lola lifted her chin and marched away with her notice-me heels. As far as Lane could see, he was the only one who noticed.