“So, you just happened to run into the woman who worked for the man who extorted money from your family? But you never once mentioned your connection? ” Detective Solis sounded disbelieving.
They both nodded after Kitty translated. “You can ask the tour company. We didn’t ask to stay at La Casa Rosa. We just booked the luxury cruise with a hearing impaired group.”
Mr. Martinez leaned over and whispered something to Detective Solid. He shrugged and made a note in his little book. Standing up, he told them the same thing he’d told the others. They’d be escorted back to the hotel and they were not allowed to leave the city, or board the ship.
Brooke looked like she might cry. “I don’t want to stay in Cuba,” she said, standing up to face the detectives. “Please. I was born in America. I’m American. I want to go home.”
Detective Larindo smiled and Kitty heard the contempt in his voice as he said, “You said you were Cuban. You should be grateful to be hosted in our beautiful country as long as we require it.”
Leander lifted a hand to get Brooke’s attention. “This is a very temporary situation. It’s best to return to La Casa Rosa for now. As soon as Kitty and I are done here, we’ll let you know what the next step is and what we’ve heard from the captain.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. Either of you.”
The detectives looked like they’d rather Leander not comfort the suspects, but there was nothing they could do about it.
“Señor Estornell and Señorita Swift, we must move on to the next group.” Detective Solis left the room without looking behind him. Detective Larindo and Mr. Martinez followed.
Kitty frowned. “Next group? I don’t have to be present, do I? It must be other witnesses from the monastery.” She really wasn’t asking Leander his opinion. They followed the others down the hallway.
Leaning close to her, Leander whispered, “Anything from Chica?”
She shook her head. The very worst part of all of these interviews was the lack of any evidence at all from Chica. She hadn’t reacted to anyone, not even Mr. Martinez. The only person she’d ever seemed to mind was Sabrina herself, and the woman was dead.
“I understand,” she muttered. “She tried and tried to tell me there was danger, but now she doesn’t seem to feel threatened at all.”
“Maybe she’ll show us something new in this next room,” he said. He gave Chica a good scratch behind the ears. “We trust you. Lead the way.”
As they walked into the next room, Kitty tried to hold on to the warm feeling that had spread through her at the sight of Leander’s confidence in Chica. But try as she might, the warmth faded as quickly as it had come. A persistent chill enveloped her and sank bone-deep. They were stumbling around in the dark yet again, chasing after a killer who always seemed two steps ahead.
By the pricking of my thumbs. Kitty couldn’t shake the feeling that there was much more to Sabrina’s murder, and that mystery was putting them all in danger.
Chapter Eight
“There is no escape—we pay for the violence of our ancestors.”
― Frank Herbert
Kitty had her third major shock of the day when she saw who was sitting at the next interview table. Admittedly, it was a much smaller shock than Sabrina’s murder or Mr. Martinez’s appearance, but it was still large enough that Kitty took several seconds to process what she was seeing.
Eldrick and Betty Hereford were sitting at the table looking as normal as when Kitty had last seen them in the foyer of La Casa Rosa, but now they were handcuffed. For a moment, Kitty tried to fit the two retired Iowans into a murder scheme, and failed. She looked at Chica. Maybe her psychic dog was not so psychic after all because she was sitting politely by Kitty’s side, not showing any alarm whatsoever.
“What’s going on?” Kitty asked.
Betty started to cry and Eldrick tried to answer, but he was having trouble signing with the handcuffs. Thor whined beside them, clearly distressed and unable to assist his owners.
“Just a moment,” Leander said to them. He was still calm but his voice had dropped an octave. Kitty had the feeling he was very unhappy at seeing Americans handcuffed without being given any explanation or advance warning. Turning to Detective Solis, he said, “Please remove these handcuffs so they are able to speak freely.”
“They are dangerous criminals. It is too bad they speak with their hands. You will have to listen harder,” Detective Solis said. He was almost laughing and Kitty had the urge to slap the man’s face. Luckily, she wasn’t prone to violence and Detective Solis escaped with just a withering glare.
Leander said nothing. As the seconds stretched, Kitty could see Detective Solis trying not to react. The smile slowly slid from his face and he walked across the room to remove the handcuffs from the Herefords.
Kitty had never considered Leander particularly threatening but she could see how an angry exchange would be unsettling. He looked a little otherworldly at the best of times.
Wiping tears from her face, Betty took a deep breath. “We were just trying to make a little money.”
“There are strict rules about importing goods. Personal use only,” Detective Larindo barked.
Kitty felt herself let out a long breath of relief. Their arrest had nothing to do with Sabrina’s death. Twice before she had been forced to confront a member of her tour group and witness their confession of murder. It was two times too many.
“Do you have proof they were going to resell the goods?” Leander asked.
“They have admitted it,” Detective Larindo said.
Eldrick looked panicked. “They knocked at the door and I couldn’t tell what they were saying. I thought they’d figured it out somehow. They kept shouting at me, so finally I showed them the cigars and my orders from people back home.”
Kitty didn’t translate as Eldrick spoke. She and Leander had entered the room as tentative partners with the Havana police. Now they were firmly on opposite sides of the men in uniform.
“There was no translator present for either English or American Sign Language. They could not tell what you wanted. You could not tell what they were showing you, exactly,” Leander said. “This is all a big misunderstanding.”
Detective Solis narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe you are using the correct word, Señor Estornell. Perhaps you are the one who is confused. Perhaps you should check your Spanish dictionary.”
Kitty felt her eyebrows go up but Leander’s expression didn’t change. Maybe he’d heard the snide comments too many times to be affected by them. His first language was Catalan and there were moments when he used the wrong word or his pronunciation was decidedly more European, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a competent Spanish speaker. It seemed the detective was making a dig at Leander’s Catalonian background, but the joke was on him. The people of Catalan had preserved their culture and language for hundreds of years despite pressure from other nations.
“I think we understand each other quite clearly,” Leander said.
He clearly wasn’t going to take the bait but Detective Solis had irritated Kitty from the start. Leander might keep his cool, but Kitty suspected that the longer she stayed in a room with the man, the higher the chances she might end up cuffed along with the Herefords.
“They will be released into my care,” Leander said, “or the embassy will involve itself in the unlawful detention of these American citizens. I’m sure you don’t want to be the man responsible for the first international incident between our countries in many years. Not now, when tourism has just opened up.”
Detective Solis said nothing but his face had gone red.
“These two are not connected to the murder,” Mr. Martinez said. “For simplicity’s sake, they will be released.”
Detective Larindo stood up and motioned for the Herefords to follow him, and Kitty realized that despite Mr. Martinez’s civilian attire, he was the detectives’ superior.
“We’re agreed that they won’t face any further cha
rges?” Leander asked.
“Sí, sí.” Detective Solis looked furious but he was clearly unable to disobey. “But their visit in Havana is over. They will return to the ship immediately.”
Leander looked at Kitty and she nodded. “I’ll take them back to the hotel to retrieve their belongings, and make sure they get back on board.”
“You, Señorita, are not allowed to leave, of course.” Detective Solis smiled again, as if reminding Kitty that she was under suspicion took the sting out of losing the Herefords as prisoners.
“Of course,” she agreed. Kitty had lived in Mérida, on the Yucatan Peninsula of Mexico, for ten years. She was no bumbling American tourist who would insist on her right to a phone call or to a lawyer. She understood that the best way to help the situation was to comply with whatever she could. Perhaps knowing Leander was in her corner gave her extra confidence, but Kitty was certainly not going to squawk over being asked to stay in the city until the investigation was complete. There was a process, and she could only hope it didn’t move as slowly as police matters in Mexico.
Taking Betty’s hand, she guided her toward the door. Eldrick seemed too shocked to question their sudden release.
Passing Leander, she met his gaze. His eyes flicked toward Chica. Be careful. Watch Chica. It couldn’t have been clearer if he’d signed it. She nodded, and quickly shepherded the older couple out the door. Thor looked relieved to be on the way out of the tiny room. His tail slapped Kitty’s bare legs as she held the door for the group, Chica taking up the rear.
Minutes later, they were on their way back to the hotel. Betty and Eldrick took turns filling Kitty in on the events of the afternoon, including the unexpected visit by the Cuban police. Kitty hated that she hadn’t been there to help them and when she asked why they hadn’t texted her immediately, they told her how the officers had confiscated their phones. The more they shared, the more Kitty knew that being arrested in Cuba was a much more serious business than being arrested in Mexico. Cuba was a wild card. All rules were fluid. It made her even more thankful that Leander had flown over to visit on nothing more than her suspicions.
***
“You must stay, amor. Do not go back.” For the tenth time, Jorge did his best to convince Kitty to not only abandon her tour group, but to disobey the Cuban authorities. He didn’t go so far as to block her way back down the gangplank to the dock, but he looked like he would if he thought he could get away with it.
“I’ll be okay.” Kitty smiled and patted his hand. They’d been on more than a dozen cruises together and Kitty was always perplexed at Jorge’s attentions. He was a nice guy, but they had nothing in common, and probably never would. He’d managed to get her to go clubbing with him a few times, and every now and then he’d go with her to Bingo, but otherwise, they were completely mismatched. The overly-gelled assistant activities director was attractive in a way only a Latin American man could be: dark, handsome, and attentive to the point of smothering.
His appearance always made her feel a little frumpy, which was probably accurate despite trying to tame her hair and cover the perpetual sunburn. But it was his unflagging optimism and enthusiasm that made Kitty feel so much older than he. Jorge lived a charmed life and believed the world was more good than bad. Kitty had seen too much of human behavior. Dogs were okay, but everyone else on the planet was suspect until proven otherwise.
“Leander’s here, making sure we don’t get thrown into a Cuban prison and forgotten about for a few decades,” she said.
Jorge’s expression was almost comical. He looked shocked, then intrigued, then excited. “Is he coming on board? He is invited to dinner. You stay, and make him come here. We will go to Bingo. I think he enjoyed your dance routine and I am sure he will want to see it again.” He clapped his hands. “There, it is solved.”
Kitty grimaced. Leander had once spent a few days on board and Kitty had invited him to play Bingo with her. She wasn’t sure what she’d been thinking, but as usual, she indulged her secret addiction with the intensity and passion of an Olympic athlete. She played to win, and when she won, she had a celebratory dance that included some coordinated tail-wagging and ended with Chica playing dead. It was silly, and she hoped against hope Leander had forgotten all about it.
“No, really. I’d better get back.”
A smile spread over Jorge’s face. “It is love,” he said.
“What? No!” Kitty reared back in surprise. “How ridiculous. We’re just…” They were more than friends, but Kitty didn’t know quite what they were.
“You give up Bingo for him. It is love.” He sighed dramatically and put a hand on his heart. “He has stolen you from me. I knew it would happen.”
Kitty rolled her eyes. “I was never yours and you know it.”
“It is because he is so exotic. The hair, those eyes. And he is Catalán, one of an ancient people, while I am simply…” He shrugged. “Un pobre Mexicano.”
“You’re not a poor anything. You look like a movie star and half the women on the ship watch your every move.”
He looked slightly mollified by her compliments. She put a hand on Chica’s collar and moved toward the gangplank. “Thank you for taking care of the Herefords. They’ve had a really bad experience.”
“Of course. Anything for you.”
Jorge had enough on his plate without babysitting some of her tour members. She appreciated his help. “And maybe next time they won’t try to smuggle hundreds of cigars back to the states.”
Jorge paused. “Strange, no? There is no limit now, and yet they still were hiding cigars.”
“I know. People do strange things. I think they learned their lesson, though. Declare everything.”
Jorge grabbed her hand and looked very serious for a moment. “Be careful, amor. Death follows you.”
She wanted to pull away from him, angry at the idea that her mere presence invited murder and mayhem, but she couldn’t argue. It certainly seemed like she and Chica were a magnet for evil.
“But it’s no match for the two of us,” she said lightly, squeezing his fingers.
“You mean the three of you,” he corrected, letting go and rubbed Chica’s ears. “Es verdad. The three of you will solve the murder. You always do.”
Kitty waved goodbye and walked down the gangplank toward the cruise ship station. She didn’t want to solve the murder. What happened to Sabrina had nothing to do with her or her tour group. They would give all the information they could give, then they would return to their ship and sail back to Miami. In a few months, it would all fade to a distant nightmare.
Just as they stepped back onto the boardwalk, Chica stopped dead. Her ears were up, her body tense, and she pointed with her nose. Kitty stared at the pedestrians passing by. They all seemed so normal and non-threatening, but clearly Chica had seen something that Kitty missed.
The St. Francis of Assis monastery was across the road and she could see the yellow police tape from where she stood, but otherwise it all seemed normal. If Chica had been reacting to the murder, then she would have signaled to Kitty as they came on board. But she had seemed at ease until that moment.
“What is it, girl? Tell me where to do.”
Chica pointed again at the bustling groups just feet away from them.
Kitty’s heart was pounding as she walked slowly toward the square where they had been earlier that day. Scanning the tourists, she tried to see any connection to the people in front of her and Sabrina’s murder. It all looked so normal. Maybe the young man in the light blue suit was near. Maybe Artemio Flores was only feet away but she didn’t know it. Kitty felt her body turn cold despite the early evening heat. She should have asked for a picture of the man. Now she was wandering blind, hoping to avoid someone dangerous enough to kill a young woman who had barely started to live.
Kitty started toward the Old Town, letting Chica lead her. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. A young couple sat on a bench, holding hands and smiling shyly at each other as she
passed. A group of Americans settled at an outdoor café, their laughter echoing across the street. A young woman in red high heels walked ahead of her and Kitty thought about how many miles she herself had walked that day. Her feet were sore, but they would have been aching if she hadn’t changed out of her fancy sandals earlier in the day. Kitty loved heels, but spending a whole day in them was always a recipe for regret. Sabrina had never seemed to mind. Maybe she’d worn them so much that it was second nature.
Sabrina. Kitty’s gaze snapped from the bright red heels, to the woman herself.
She’d heard of the phenomena. After a loss or a sudden death, a person would see their loved one in a crowd or walking down a street. They’d be convinced of it until they came close enough to see clearly. That was what was happening here.
The woman wore a flowered scarf over her hair. It that matched the blue pattern of her dress, and when she turned her head slightly, Kitty could see large sunglasses covering most of her face. Definitely not anything that Sabrina would wear.
And yet.
Kitty walked faster, letting Chica take the lead. Her fur was standing up now, and there was an intermittent, low growl issuing from her. A few pedestrians moved quickly to the side as they passed, casting worried glances at Chica. Kitty tried to smile reassuringly but she knew it looked as if she was struggling to keep a dangerous dog under control.
After what seemed like hours, they were almost beside the mystery woman. Kitty could see La Casa Rosa in the row of hotels in the block ahead. Was it possible it was Sabrina’s sister or another relative? Kitty had no information at all about her family. She’d only met the other staff at the hotel and she didn’t even know everyone’s full name.
These were the thoughts running through Kitty’s mind as she finally pulled abreast of the young woman. Chica was growling loudly now and had forced herself between Kitty and the woman.
“Sabrina?” Kitty asked. Her voice sounded high and breathless.
The woman turned to her and her mouth opened in shock.
Chaos in Cuba Page 7