Then she saw the white lily lying on the untouched pillow beside hers and her blood turned to ice water.
It hadn’t been there when she had gone to bed.
Chapter Six
“Another party?” Calli said, wrinkling her nose.
“No, this one’s a real party,” Minnie explained, sliding onto the table top next to Calli’s coffee and breakfast plate. “Not like that stuffy thing for the general. Duardo says proper Vistarian parties are not even like American parties—”
“How would he know what an American party is like?”
“They have TV here.” Minnie rolled her eyes. “Half the shows they get here are American. Anyway, it’s today. Sunday.”
“Tonight?”
“No, today. Soon.”
“Now?” Calli rubbed her temple. “Hell, they’ve just finished with Fiesta...isn’t that enough?”
“Are you always this grumpy on Sundays?” Minnie asked, crossing her arms and tilting her head to one side.
“When I’m short on sleep I am,” Calli muttered.
“You slept in late yesterday and you came home disgustingly early on Friday night. Last night you went to bed early again and it’s now about nine. That’s gotta be enough sleep for anyone.”
“It would, if I actually slept.” She thought again of the white lily in the vase on her bedside table. She hadn’t been able to throw it away, even though its very presence made her deeply uneasy. That discomfort had robbed her of sleep last night and when she had managed to doze, lurid dreams of men stealing into the house had woken her.
“Well, if you’re not sleeping anyway, don’t bother trying. Come to the party.”
Calli wrinkled her nose again. “I haven’t got the energy,” she confessed. “All that dressing up—”
“You can wear jeans,” Minnie said instantly. “Come on, Calli. Please.”
“Why do I have to go?”
“Because I won’t go without you and I want to see Duardo. He’s going back home tonight.”
“He doesn’t live in the city?”
“God, no. He lives up in Pascuallita. That’s where he’s posted, at the base there.”
All the way from Pascuallita... She recalled Nick’s words when he had been shaking Duardo’s hand.
“Okay,” Calli said, understanding.
“Cool. They’re picking us up at ten,” Minnie said, sliding off the table and heading for her room. “I’m going to get dressed.”
“No, wait—” Calli began, but the bedroom door had already closed.
With a sigh, she got up from the table and went to change.
* * * * *
A little less than an hour later, they heard a horn beep and went outside to find Duardo standing on the back of a beat-up, rusty and faded truck with an enormous engine cowling.
“Hell, it looks like Ford’s first model,” Calli muttered.
“Good morning, ladies!” Duardo waved them over. He wore jeans and a white shirt, which contrasted well with his tanned skin.
Minnie ran over to the back of the truck and Calli followed more slowly. The high walls of timber planking provided back support for seven more people sitting on the floor of the truck. One of the women, Elvira, Calli recognized from the general’s party. Elvira looked very much younger now in her pretty printed floral skirt and white cotton sweater with her hair down. Calli nodded to her. “Hola,” she murmured. She realized she knew all but two of the soldiers, too.
Duardo bent over and held out his hand. “Put your foot there and I will lift you up,” he told Minnie, pointing to the edge of the platform.
Minnie looked down at her tight, mid-thigh length denim skirt. “I’m not hitching my leg up there,” she said firmly, shaking her head. The others in the truck laughed. Her expression spoke clearly enough even if they didn’t follow the English.
Duardo grinned. “No problem,” he said. He twisted a little and said something quickly. Two other men got to their feet and moved to the edge of the truck bed, while Duardo jumped to the ground. He grasped Minnie’s waist in both hands. “Lift your arms up,” he instructed.
She lifted her arms and the two men took an arm each. Then, with apparently no effort, Duardo lifted her straight up in the air, high enough for her to take a decorous step up onto the platform.
Duardo motioned Calli towards him.
“No, thank you,” she said. “I can manage this.” She stepped up to the truck bed and waved the two men away. They stepped back, grinning, and she could sense Duardo hovering behind her. But long legs and stretch jeans gave her an advantage. She tucked her knee to her chest and planted her sandaled foot on the wooden flooring. It wasn’t even much of a stretch, especially after years of flexibility training for her karate. Pausing for a moment to balance herself with a hand on either side, she flexed her leg, pouring power into it. Straightening the leg, she raised herself up onto the floor. She ended up standing on the edge.
Duardo clapped and the men gave little whistles of appreciation, laughing and making comments. “Bravo!” she heard and realized that these men, all soldiers, would understand the physical agility and strength she had just displayed. Smiling, she gave a little curtsey and sat in the vacant space they made for her, between Minnie and a man in a black AC/DC tee-shirt. He smiled at her, gave her a thumbs up. She smiled back.
Duardo settled down beside Minnie at the edge of the flat bed. They sat on the driver’s side, so he leaned around the end and patted the side of the truck. “Vayamos!”
The truck jerked into gear and with a belching roar, slowly moved off up the road.
Duardo leaned around Minnie and indicated the man on Calli’s left. “This is Pietro,” he said.
“Sí,” Pietro agreed with a grin.
“Hi Pietro.”
Duardo indicated the others in the truck and they, in turn, all waved or said hello in English or Spanish, including Elvira, who attempted a shaky, thick ‘how are you?’ in English. In civilian clothes, without rank or title, they seemed very young, amiable people.
They made their way out of the city, climbing up and down foothills, moving onto a poorly maintained ribbon of tarmac with the thick vegetation that covered the island creeping close to the verge. Traffic kept the road clear of growth, but trees leaned in overhead, struggling for light at the edges of the canopy. The road became a shadowed, narrow tunnel, lit here and there by patches of dazzling sunlight. Above the canopy, she glimpsed pale blue, cloudless sky.
The people in the back paid no notice to their surroundings. They laughed and chatted amongst themselves and Calli found herself relaxing. The roar of the engine and the vibrations had a soothing effect. She grew sleepy.
Pietro gave her arm a gentle nudge and she opened her eyes. He offered an open bottle of Mezcal.
“It’s watered down with lime juice and mineral water,” Minnie said. “Very nice.”
“It’s too hot. You need water,” Duardo explained. “Drink.”
She took a sip and enjoyed the tang of the juice. It had been watered down a lot, and seemed very refreshing. The Mezcal merely added flavor. She took a longer drink and gave the bottle back.
The man with the incongruous name of Harry stood up and leaned over the boards at the side of the truck, calling down into the cab. Then he reached over and lifted up a guitar. He sat and settled it against his thigh and strummed some fast chords. This appeared to please everyone. The energy picked up around the truck. Harry laughed and began to play—intricate Latin-style music with a compulsive beat. The others picked up the beat, hands on thighs, feet tapping, clapping. There didn’t appear to be any lyrics, but Calli heard Pietro next to her humming and slapping his thigh. After a while the music changed into a different melody, but the beat stayed the same. It seemed that Harry was doodling, trying out different themes before moving onto something new.
When Harry tired of it, another man picked up the guitar and a new lilt emerged.
Calli took sips from the Mezcal bottle whe
n it was offered to her. Time passed pleasantly.
The truck began climbing up sheer mountainside, the road switching back on itself time and time again. The pavement here, most especially the verges, was well maintained, consisting mostly of poured concrete and iron reinforcements. It seemed Vistaria had wisely chosen its priorities for road maintenance.
They travelled in full sunshine now. At this elevation, the sun beat down very direct and bright. Callie fished her sunglasses out of her shoulder bag and put them on. As they turned another hairpin bend she got a breath-catching view of the countryside. They’d climbed about a thousand feet and the Pacific sparkled deep blue to the east. In between lay a carpet of green, rimmed by white beach. To the north lay Lozano Colinas, las colinas thick with buildings and roads, lapping up against the mountain chain that ran north and south along the spine of the main island. They climbed that same chain now and the altitude made the engine of the elderly truck groan and work.
“This truck...this road...many. Many,” Pietro said, with a big smile, lifting his voice above the music. He moved his hand in a flat sideways motion. “No worry.”
Calli gave him a small answering smile. Had her concern been so apparent?
But Pietro’s confidence seemed well placed, for despite some alarming noises and the driver dropping down into such a low gear that Calli could have walked and made better time, the engine of the truck kept running. As the road flattened out and headed into a deep crevasse of the mountains, the truck slowly picked up speed.
The valley they were in tucked into a fold of the mountains, thick with trees. Surprisingly, a number of houses hugged the steep valley walls, dotted on either side of the road, some of them large, expensive-looking establishments, others barely more than two-room cottages with the traditional Vistarian gate and courtyard tacked onto the front.
“What is this place?” Calli asked Duardo.
“Dominio de Leo.” He pointed back towards the Pacific, hidden by the sheer mountain beside them. “The army base is down there. Many senior officers up here. It is very...rich.”
“Expensive,” Calli said.
“Yes, so.”
“But some houses here don’t look that expensive.”
“They were here before. Before the army base was built and the officers found the valley.”
“Dominio de Leo,” Calli pronounced experimentally.
“No,” Harry said from his corner. “El dominio de Leo de príncipe is right name. But not used.”
“El dominio de Leo de...” Calli shook her head. “What does it mean?”
Duardo frowned. He seemed to be struggling to translate the name.
“It means the domain of Prince Leo,” Minnie said unexpectedly. “Some Spanish prince probably took a fancy to the place. It’s pretty nice.”
“Yes,” Duardo said, nodding. “Prince Leopold. He sailed here, long ago. Built a big house.” He pointed further into the valley. “Gone now, but it was over there, they say.”
The truck lurched to the left as it turned into a rutted, bumpy side road and came to a slow halt, with a squeal of brakes. The engine quit with what sounded like a heavy sigh of relief.
The silence that fell seemed almost profound.
Everyone got to their feet, stretching, wriggling, rubbing their legs and butts. The wooden floor was not the most forgiving surface in the world.
“Hola!” The shout came from the other side of the boards Calli leaned against.
She got to her feet and saw over the sides of the truck that they had pulled up beside a modest house—more extensive than the two-room cottages she had seen, but not palatial by any stretch of the imagination. A bungalow like most houses here, with adobe walls, it had an elegant arch over the gate into the front courtyard. People emerged from the gate, shouting greetings at the new arrivals, including one very pregnant woman, who walked slowly but wore a very large smile. They waved, calling to each other as they spilled out of the truck and moved toward the house.
Calli looked around from her vantage point on the back of the truck. The trees crowded close here and the ground dipped sharply from the nose of the truck forward. The truck stood at the end of a narrow, rutted path clearly used as a driveway. In another driveway on the far side of the house, three sedans had been parked behind the tail end of a fourth just visible behind the corner of the house.
“Come.”
Calli turned around. Pietro stood at the end of the truck. With a smile he beckoned her towards him. “You come. We eat, no?”
“Sure,” she agreed and moved to the edge of the truck. He stepped back and let her jump down by herself, then motioned that she should precede him toward the house.
Nearly everyone else had walked inside and the noise level already spiraled, even from out here. The party had begun.
The front courtyard was paved in terracotta tiles. The front door, a massive wooden thing decorated with metal studs and a wrought iron grill, stood open, revealing a passage that ran through the middle of the house. Calli looked up as they moved into the passage and saw a roof of exposed tiles resting on timber framing. On either side of her, rooms stood open to her sight, the fourth wall that would have lined the passage was simply not there. It made a charming and intriguing open style of house.
At the end of the passage, more daylight beckoned. A kitchen area on the right gave her a startling glimpse of an extremely modern-looking stainless steel stove top and range hood, a wide wall-oven and a double-doored fridge behind an island counter. On the counter sat a wooden chopping board, surrounded by tantalizing fresh produce. Out beyond the passage, she stopped to draw a second surprised breath.
Another courtyard, but with knee-high walls surrounding this one. They had been clearly built so low to take full advantage of the view, which took in the trees carpeting the valley. The land dropped nearly the full thousand feet to sea level before climbing up again to the other side. The courtyard extended twenty feet from house to wall and easily twice that from wall to wall—running the width of the house. Deep reddish-brown colored terracotta tiles paved the whole area. Colored and patterned tiles in deep blues, olive greens and yellows were embedded in odd places throughout the paving.
Trees that had had been trimmed and trained to provide shade leaned over the walls. One of them stood at the far corner of the courtyard, its gnarled trunk made up of numerous thick cables. Most of the trunk easily measured fifteen feet across. The base of the tree flared even wider. The thick strands spread, burrowing into the earth. It looked like it had been there forever and the wall had been built right up to the trunk, incorporating the tree into the walls. Calli had seen many trees like this in the city. Uncle Josh had called them Banyan trees. They had been imported to the island from African territories by the Spanish. But none of them had been this big or this old.
While Calli paused to admire the view, three men helped the pregnant woman sink into an armchair sitting in the kitchen corner of the courtyard. Chairs and stools surrounded three low round tables, grouped across the courtyard and everyone settled into them, chatting like long-lost friends. Clearly, everyone knew each other.
Movement to her right made her turn and check over her shoulder. Three men stood in the kitchen, one of them at the island, chopping a handful of herbs, while another one dug through the interior of the refrigerator. The third set out glasses.
The wall of the kitchen looking out onto the courtyard was made up of three big glass panels. Two of them had been pushed along tracks to slide behind the third, leaving the kitchen open to the courtyard.
She checked over her left shoulder. The wall there was the same, pushed back to reveal an indoor lounge area, furnished with overstuffed sofas and spice-colored cushions.
People put plates and bowls of food out upon the tables. Colorful salsas, rolled tortillas, and many more dishes she could not name, made her mouth water just looking at them, with their sprinkling of fresh herbs and garnishes of hibiscus and cucumbers.
Mi
nnie came across to her, carrying two glasses. “It’s some sort of punch. Alcoholic,” she told Calli, offering her one.
Calli shrugged and sipped. The sweet-and-sour tang held a pleasant, rum-like flavor. “And strong.”
“It’s good,” Minnie declared. “Come and sit with us.” She led Calli over to the table closest to the edge of the courtyard. Beyond the knee-high wall, the ground plunged.
Elvira sat at the table and Pietro had just set down another steaming dish.
“Eat,” Elvira said, handing Calli a large, bright napkin as she sat down.
Duardo brought the short man who had just been standing at the chopping block in the kitchen over to their table. “Calli, Minnie, this is Hernandez Mendosa, whose house this is. Hernandez is marshal at Lozano base.”
Hernandez bowed to them, the hand gripping a tea towel held to his chest. “I welcome you to my home,” he said formally. “I regret, my wife Menaka, she cannot stand with me. She is being comfortable.” He waved to the armchair in the corner by the kitchen window, where Menaka sat rubbing her swollen stomach. “She is very tired.”
“I’m sure,” Minnie agreed. “It’s very nice to meet you, Hernandez. You have a lovely home and thank you for welcoming us into it. We appreciate your hospitality.”
“Thank you,” he said and bowed again. “Will you excuse me, please? I must go back. These soldiers...they eat much.”
Pietro chuckled and Hernandez waved a hand at him, before heading back to his kitchen. Duardo dropped into a chair and reached for a plate.
“Is everyone here a soldier?” Calli asked, looking around.
“Yes, all,” Pietro agreed. He ate busily. Elvira had risen from her chair and wandered over to the other table to select food from dishes there, talking and laughing with the people on that table.
A very fat man came to their table and selected one of the tortillas.
“And this is Pav,” Duardo said.
The man laughed and nodded at them.
“‘Pavarotti,’” Pietro explained and patted the man’s distended stomach.
Red Leopard (The Vistaria Affair Series) Page 9