Paige MacKenzie Mysteries Box Set

by Deborah Garner

  “As you know, the guest casitas are over there.” Miguel waved his arm toward Paige’s little house. In addition to several cottages that sat on either side of hers, two more rows of lodging ran behind her building. Some units were attached to others, while some stood alone. All had a porch or patio by the front door with one or two chairs for sitting.

  “How many casitas altogether?” Paige asked, taking in the layout of the various buildings.

  “Seventeen,” Miguel said. “Some are larger than others.”

  “Do many families visit?”

  “Some, but most of the guests are here alone or in couples. We allow children, but the facilities are limited. The pool hours are restricted to adults during mornings and evenings. Young children do not have many options here. Older kids enjoy it if they like reading or other quiet activities.”

  “That leaves out a lot of kids these days. Unless they can play video games or hang out online,” Paige said.

  “Exactly,” Miguel said. “We do have wifi here, but this is not the right environment for them if that is what they are looking for.”

  “I can see that,” Paige said, following Miguel as he switched directions and walked away from the lodgings.

  “This is our spa area.” Miguel indicated the adobe building and a gated area that Paige already knew too well. Landscaped by nature, boulders and cacti surrounded outdoor pools. Rustic lounge chairs offered resting areas or tanning spots for those wishing to soak up the sun. “Our waters are very famous. People come from far away to enjoy their healing properties. Iron, arsenic and soda all offer different benefits. My sister will explain more about that when you meet her.”

  “Your sister?”

  “Yes, Ana, my younger sister, works in the spa part time and spends the rest of her time making jewelry. She is a wonderful artist. You will see some of her pieces in the gift store.”

  “Oh, I saw some of her work when I checked in. It’s fabulous. You must be proud of her, your parents, too.”

  “Yes, I am. She is my heart, my only family. We lost our parents to a bad accident when we were in our teens. I was nineteen; she was only thirteen. You could say that I raised her, though it may be the other way around. I want her to succeed. I would do anything to help her.”

  Turning, Miguel pointed to a set of rustic buildings set apart from the main spa area. Paige saw four circular adobe walls, spaced a good thirty feet apart. A pathway led toward them, breaking into four individual paths about halfway to the structures.

  “Are those private accommodations?”

  “Private, yes, but accommodations, no,” Miguel said. “Those are individual mineral pools that guests can reserve. Each has walls for privacy, but no roof, so guests can soak in the pools and see the sky during the daytime or the stars at night. There is a kiva fireplace in each one, too.”

  “It sounds wonderful,” Paige sighed. “Romantic for couples who come to visit.”

  “Yes, the private soaking pools are very popular. Along with towels, we offer beverages for guests using those – chilled water and tea, I think. Ana will be able to tell you exactly.”

  “So there are no roofs? What about rain?”

  Miguel laughed. “Many guests soak, even in the rain. And, if we need to, we can roll out a tarp across the top of the building. Each private complex has one, rigged up to a pulley.”

  Paige hesitated and then followed as Miguel changed directions again and headed down a trail that led away from the resort. All she could see from where they stood was a barn with surrounding fencing and an old pick-up truck parked nearby. She glanced back, torn between playing it safe by returning to her room and trying not to insult Miguel by behaving as if she didn’t trust him completely. In the end, she stuck with the tour and continued down the trail until they arrived at the barn.

  “I want you to meet some friends of mine,” Miguel said, a hint of mischief in his tone. “Especially Josie, one of the hottest chicks I have ever known.”

  Now that’s just plain rude, Paige thought as she watched Miguel disappear around the corner of the barn. Didn’t this man have any class? Couldn’t he see that the respect he clearly had for his sister should extend to other women, as well? Paige was still bristling when Miguel reappeared, one arm trailing behind, holding a thick rope. In a few seconds, a tall leggy creature with baby doll eyes and soft, curly hair appeared.

  “Paige, meet Josie,” Miguel said. He broke into a wide grin as Paige took in the elegant llama on the end of the rope.

  “Well, aren’t you just the funny guy, Miguel.” Paige stood back as she and Josie sized each other up.

  “I do my best, Sonrisa. Now come say hello. Josie does not bite.”

  “But she might spit, or so I’ve always thought.”

  Miguel shook his head. “That is a misconception. All animals have behaviors they can exhibit when they feel threatened or nervous. It does not mean they always will. Josie is comfortable now. She trusts me, so she trusts you.”

  Paige sighed. “You’re giving that llama credit for a lot of reasoning, you know.”

  “Well, she is a smart one,” Miguel answered, patting Josie on the head and running his hand down the back of her long neck. “Now, Rico is another story. He is just your everyday goofball.”

  “I’m afraid to ask, but who’s Rico?”

  Another llama, this one darker, with sleepy eyes and an awkward, comical gait, emerged from the barn and peered over the fence. Paige could swear he looked her up and down the same way Miguel had earlier. Miguel read her thoughts and laughed, slapping Rico playfully on the back. “That is my boy. You see how he likes you?”

  Paige tilted her head sideways and took a good look at Rico. “What I see is a smirk on his face that is starting to look mighty familiar. Do llamas pick up expressions from their caretakers?”

  “Now, now, Sonrisa. I have given you this perfect tour and you choose to insult me,” Miguel said. Only the gleam in his eyes told Paige he was kidding.

  “You’re right,” she admitted. “You’ve given me an excellent introduction to Agua Encantada. And I appreciate it. I should get back now and jot some notes down, if you won’t mind me leaving you here.”

  “That is fine. I need to fill Josie and Rico’s water trough and set up their food for the day. Anything else you need, you just come find me.” Leading Josie with the rope, Miguel took her back into the barn, returning quickly for Rico when he refused to follow.

  “I am telling you, Sonrisa, Rico is quite taken with you.”

  “Really, I don’t think so,” Paige countered.

  “I do not think so, either. I know so.” Miguel gave Rico a light swat and sent him back into the barn. He waved to Paige and disappeared into the barn, as well.

  Paige turned back toward the resort, retracing her way up the trail. So far Agua Encantada was proving to be full of surprises. And she had a feeling more were in store.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Paige picked up one of the small pottery pieces, inspecting it more closely. Though displayed between larger items and only a few inches high, the figure of a woman had caught her attention. The black lines and burnt red blended into the natural coloring of the clay. Something about the petite figurine was both solid and delicate. It was just one of many fascinating pieces that made Paige glad she’d chosen Luz’s store as her first in-town destination.

  “Tell me about this piece, Luz,” Paige said, turning toward the shopkeeper.

  “Intriguing, isn’t it?” Luz stepped around the counter and moved closer to Paige. “This is a storyteller doll. Note the open mouth and the small children seated on and around the central figure.”

  “A storyteller,” Paige echoed. “Yes, I can see it. A traditional piece of pottery, I suppose?”

  “Well, yes and no,” Luz replied. “Traditional in the sense that oral history has always played an important role in Native American culture. This is how stories have been passed down from generation to generation. But storyteller dolls d
on’t go back far. The first was made by Helen Cordero in 1964.”

  “That recently?” Paige raised her eyebrows and set the small figure back on the shelf.

  “Yes,” Luz said. “Helen Cordero was an artist from the Cochiti pueblo, not far from here. She spent many years doing beadwork and leatherwork with her husband’s cousin, Juanita Arquero, but switched to pottery in the 1950s. When the bowls she made turned out crooked, she became discouraged until her cousin suggested she switch to figures. She has been quoted as saying that the process of making the figures was ‘…like a flower blooming.’ They were an immediate success. Folk art collector Alexander Girard of Santa Fe bought all of her small figurines and asked her to make more. Inspired by memories of her grandfather, Santiago Quintana, telling stories to his grandchildren, she made the first storyteller doll, a male figure with five small listeners gathered around.”

  Paige leaned forward and looked at the figure again. “They are all children, the smaller figures, aren’t they?”

  “True,” Luz replied. “But Helen Cordero didn’t call them children. She called them ‘little listeners.’ She felt stories were passed on because they were heard, not because they were told.”

  “Is she still alive?” Paige asked.

  “No,” Luz smiled. “She was born in 1915 and died in 1994. She didn’t start making the storyteller dolls until her children were grown. But many artists are making the dolls these days, hundreds.”

  “They’re amazing, these figures.”

  “You might want to hear some actual storytelling while you’re here, too.” Luz tilted her head to the side and paused before continuing. “The tradition has continued from generation to generation. An old woman in this town gathers people around her every week to tell tales passed down from her own elders.”

  “Right here in Tres Palomas?”

  “Yes.” Luz nodded. “Every Sunday after la Misa, she waits, sitting on the edge of the tile fountain in the church courtyard. She doesn’t speak until a small crowd has gathered and settled around her.”

  “Like a storyteller doll.”

  “Yes, like that.” Luz paused, a slight frown crossing her face. “She’s always very quiet, very serious, while talking. Most of the stories are legends that we’ve all heard since we were ‘little listeners’ ourselves. A few stories are not familiar, though. I don’t know where she gets them.”

  “She could be making them up,” Paige suggested.

  “Maybe,” Luz said. “She loves the children who come to hear her, so I’m sure she uses her imagination. But some stories seem to upset her. She gets emotional and raises her voice. Once I saw her stare above the heads of the children, gather her shawl around her and leave without a word of goodbye. Many of her stories are about animals, which is common for legends. But she will never tell a story about a snake. She lost a son to a snakebite many years ago. It was terrible. But the rattlers out here are dangerous, especially the babies.”

  “How awful,” Paige exclaimed. “Does she have other family alive?”

  “Only one much younger brother,” Luz said. “She lives alone, in a small room behind the church. Cleans and helps with chores in exchange for a place to live. Her stories entertain others, but they aren’t enough to lighten the sadness inside her.”

  “What is her name?”

  “People just call her Abuela. Grandmother.” Luz said. “We all love her; the whole town does. Most of us grew up listening to her stories every week.”

  The bells on the door jangled, and a young woman entered. Luz excused herself to greet the new customer. Paige turned back toward the display case, looking at the clay figurines again and then moving on to admire a flat, glass case of jewelry. Necklaces and rings, bracelets and earrings caught the glow of a bright display light above. Turquoise and coral added life to sleek silver settings. One slender chain caught her attention, a pendant in the shape of a rabbit dangling from the end. She leaned forward, twisting her head sideways in an attempt to see the price tag buried halfway under a wire stand that displayed the piece. Luz reappeared at her side.

  “Muy hermoso,” Luz said. “A beautiful piece. These necklaces are good sellers. Not as expensive as the bulky pieces, more affordable for visitors. Still, they bring in a good price, since they are handcrafted. You can take the necklace out of the case. The top of the display lifts up. A local artist named Ana makes them. I’m sure you’ll meet her since she manages the spa at our resort.”

  “Ah, yes, Miguel’s sister. He mentioned her when he showed me around the property earlier.” Paige reached inside the case and carefully lifted the necklace off the stand, checking the price tag at the same time. It was expensive, fifty dollars, but reasonable for the quality. Raising it up, she watched the light hit the silver rabbit as it moved freely below the chain. Tiny inlaid stones of turquoise, coral and malachite enhanced the already beautiful design. “Does she make many different designs?”

  “Not too many,” Luz replied. “Her pieces are usually rabbits, turtles and horses. She also has a beautiful design with three doves that is very unique, both in a pin and in earrings, like you see in the case. She only makes a few of those. That design represents our village, Tres Palomas.”

  Luz reached out for the necklace, offering to replace it in the display, but Paige shook her head. “I’d like to buy this. I don’t have anything like it, and I love to support local artists when I travel. In fact, I’ll take the earrings with the silver doves, too.”

  “Wonderful choices,” Luz said as she moved behind the cash register. She pulled tissue paper from below the counter, wrapping the jewelry in it before ringing up the purchase. “You travel a lot, don’t you? For your job?”

  Paige nodded as she handed over a credit card. “I have been this past year. We’ve been running a series on the Old West, so every couple of months I head somewhere new. The last two assignments were farther north, in Wyoming and Montana.”

  “Ah, cowboy country,” Luz smiled.

  “Yes,” Paige laughed. “Cowboy country, indeed.” A soft blush crept up her neck, something Luz caught.

  “I sense a non-work related story here,” Luz prodded lightly. “Something to be continued, maybe?” She slipped the necklace and earrings into a small brown bag.

  Paige sighed as she signed the credit card receipt and handed it back. Her phone call with Jake earlier emphasized just how far away she was from him this time with slim chance of seeing him. The distance between Wyoming and New Mexico was just too great.

  “Maybe,” Paige said, more to avoid an answer than anything else. It was a question she asked herself often. As much as she yearned to see Jake, the long-distance relationship was proving hard. With two thousand miles between them most of the time and nearly one thousand on this particular assignment, meeting up was a long shot at best. “Thank you, Luz,” Paige added quickly, taking the bag from the shopkeeper. “I’d better get back. What time is dinner again?”

  “Anytime between 6 and 8 o’clock,” Luz said. “We may have more guests checking in later today. No reservations, but we’ve had some phone calls. So you may have company. And Miguel will be there, since he knows I’m fixing Pollo con Mole. He never misses that.”

  “Pollo con Mole?” Paige repeated, attempting the correct pronunciation.

  Luz laughed. “Chicken with a delicious sauce of tomatoes, chiles and chocolate. Delicioso. You’ll see.”

  “Sounds perfect, Luz,” Paige laughed. “Anything with chocolate in it gets my stamp of approval. I’ll see you at dinner.”

  Paige left the store and drove through town, slowing down to gather initial impressions. Most of the architecture was short and squat, some wood, but most adobe, painted in earthy tan and pale peach. They blended in with the dusty streets seamlessly. A few structures boasted door or window frames in brilliant turquoise or red, setting them apart from the other, generally drab buildings. One house featured window boxes with bright flowers, but more stood behind gardens of cactus and sage
.

  Two barefoot children ran out into the street after a ball, causing Paige to brake quickly. Not looking, they laughed, gathered the ball and ran back to an unfenced front yard that was littered with play equipment – a tricycle on its side, a metal swing set with one working, and one broken, seat. In the yard next door, shirts, pants and dresses dangled from a clothesline. A plump woman pulled a pair of denim jeans off the line, dropping them into a plastic basket on the ground below.

  The harsh reality of daily life in Tres Palomas was apparent to Paige. Only a few miles from the resort, luxury played no part in the average lifestyle of the town’s residents. The focus was on survival, on feeding children, on keeping a roof over each family’s heads.

  The peal of bells drew Paige’s attention to the opposite side of the road, where a side street headed off at an angle, dead-ending a block later in front of a church. The whitewashed adobe structure sat behind a walled courtyard, its rounded silhouette topped off with a bell tower. A tile fountain like the one Luz had described filled the center of the courtyard.

  Paige turned the car into the side street and pulled up in front of the church. A rustic sign announced times for Mass on Sunday. La Misa, as Luz had phrased it. So this was where the old woman they called Abuela told her stories. The courtyard was deserted now, but she could imagine crowds surrounding the woman on Sundays. It was something she wanted to see and hear for herself. She would make a point of it.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Miguel pulled the old Ford into an empty space in front of the Coyote Cantina. He set the parking brake, twisted his keys in the ignition, and listened to the engine die. As he stepped out of the truck, dust and gravel flew up around his feet. He glanced at the deserted lot. Charlie Whitehorse should’ve been there by then. It was a rare day that the old guy wasn’t into his fourth beer by late afternoon. For that matter, a few locals often closed up their businesses for the afternoon to settle in for coffee and jalapeño poppers, a combination of flavors that Miguel could never understand.