by Keene, Susan
He hugged me. “We had better get started. It is forty-one miles and I hear the last eight or nine are hazardous.”
CHAPTER 11
W e stowed our gear in the rented SUV. When we filled up with gas, the attendant was full of information. He handed Ryan an air gauge and a battery powered air pump. “Have you been to San Ignacio Lagoon before, Senor?”
“No.”
“Okay. Bien. When you get off the paved road, you need to let five pounds of air out of each tire. The road is like a washboard. This will make the ride more tolerable and keep from ruining your tires. I doubt you will need the car once you get there. When you get back to the paved road, use this pump to air the tires up.”
“Thanks for the help. See you in three days.” We paid the bill and left.
The first leg of the trip to the lagoon was uneventful. We got to the unpaved road in about a half-an-hour. Then the fun began.
Ryan pulled over. “I guess this is where we let some air out of the tires.”
From the looks of the road ahead of us, I didn’t hold out much help it would do any good. It took over four hours to get to the camp, only eight miles away. We didn’t talk on the way. I relished the time to go over the events of the past days. Ryan spent the time with a tight grip on the steering wheel. Every time our speed went over four miles an hour, the car bucked and bumped.
Our original reservation didn’t appear to be valid. We missed our arrival day by twenty-four hours. The clerk relayed the news. “I’m sorry, sir. We are booked solid from December to June. This being the last week in May, everyone is trying to get in one more boat ride. I did take the liberty to call around and there is a cabin available at the Kuyima Eco-Lodge. The accommodations are a little primitive, but the food is superb, and they are famous for their friendly staff.”
We thanked him and headed to the Eco-Lodge. They expected us and greeted us with friendly smiles, led us to our cabin and informed us the first whale watching tour we could take would be in ninety minutes.
The cabin was near the water, sat on stilts, and had a composting toilet attached. There were instructions in the bathroom as to how to take a bucket bath with the three gallons of water we were allowed to have daily for that purpose.
We locked everything in the car and proceeded to the shore where a panga awaited. It held eight people. As soon as everyone settled in their seat, we were on our way. “Ryan, have you whale watched before?”
“Yes, once off the coast of California. Nothing as exotic as this.”
The panganero called for our attention. The boat went silent. “If you make a commotion, you will attract the friendlies. Most of them will be babies. They like to have their tongues rubbed. Please stay seated. If the animal is on one side, it will soon either move to the other or another whale will come up.”
Everyone on the boat clapped their hands in the water or ran their arms from the water to the side of the boat.
A few minutes later, a baby gray whale surfaced. It was huge. “Ryan, won’t a big one turn us over?”
“No, they are friendly and not aggressive. You can actually kiss one if you want.”
“I’ll pass.”
Eleven whale graced us with their presence on our ninety-minute ride. We were told the next excursion would be at nine o'clock the next morning. I hung back to talk to the guide. “Have you heard or do you remember a time ten years ago when a family anchored off the lagoon and watched the whales for a few days. They were later lost at sea?”
He made a quick glance from me to Ryan and back to me. “That was a long time ago, Miss. Are you family?”
“No, I am an author and I’m writing a book on the tragedy. Can you add anything to my story?”
He looked around as if to see if anyone was close enough to hear. “Manuel Ortiz took them in his pango for several days. I know he was sad to hear of their deaths. He has often spoken of the children over the years and how smart they were.”
“Do you know where he is? Maybe I could interview him.”
Ryan helped the man pull the boat out of the water and held it while the guide secured it so it would not break loose at high tide. “We transport the guests, eat supper with all of you in the palapa, and then we are free to visit. I will tell him what you are doing. If he is interested, he will find you.” He smiled and walked off.
I took a little of my three gallons of water to wash my hands and face, brush my teeth, and wet my hair to try to get some of the tangles out of it from the windy boat ride. The effects of the salt water were palpable on my skin.
Ryan stood at the bathroom door. “I’ll bring in the luggage.”
By the time I finished, the bags were on the bed and Ryan stood and stared out the window to the Lagoon. “I had no idea it would be so gorgeous here. Let me wash up and we’ll head for dinner.”
I counted twelve cottages. Two were marked, staff. The rest were numbered, uno, dos, tres, and so on. We were in Ocho. The third cabin in the second row with a panoramic view of the entire camp.
We didn’t have to worry about what to order. They didn’t offer a menu. We sat at long tables with ten people on each side and were served by friendly men and women in street clothes. The meal was prepared with care. Chicken and spicy stewed tomatoes sprinkled with cheese and tortilla chips followed by chili lobster tacos, and Churros for dessert. We had a choice of beer, wine, or a margarita.
Ryan patted his belly. “If they feed us this way at every meal, I’ll have to buy bigger clothes.”
A man across the table laughed and introduced himself as Jerry Donnelson and his wife, Anna. “We have been here once before. If you take a walk on the beach a couple of times a day, it all evens out.”
I offered the same courtesy. “I’m Kate, this is my husband, Ryan.”
Ryan smiled and pushed his leg against mine. “I didn’t see you on the pango. What cabin are you staying in?” He didn’t pause long enough for either of us to answer. “There's a ride every couple of hours. You can go once a day included with your stay or pay extra to go a second time. If we get someone besides Captain Oztiz, we go a second time.”
Ryan pointed toward the other people at the table. “Which one is he and what is so special about him?”
Jerry nodded at a man seated in the middle of the other side of the dinner table. “That’s him. The man in the red shirt. They're all good, but there's something about him. I can’t put my finger on it.”
I kept the conversation going. “Can’t you just get him for your first trip of the day?”
Anna had remained quiet until then. “It goes by cabin number. They want you to form a bond with your panganero. It’s good business.”
Everyone began to leave the table and find seats in a large common area. They were set in a circle around a fire. We joined them as did Jerry and Anna. I asked the couple, “So you’ve been here before?”
Anna looked down. “Several times. Once there was a family here from Chicago. They were traveling in a huge schooner anchored out to sea. The kids came in every day and went on tours with us. They always waited for Captain Ortiz. We decided to find out what was so special about him.”
My heart pounded loudly in my chest. I wondered if anyone else could hear it. How odd of all the people who had been through the camp, they remembered and mentioned the Tuckers. “Have they been here since? I’m writing a book about a family from Chicago. They were lost at sea.”
Jerry took a drink of his beer. “They're one in the same. It's an odd subject for a book isn’t it?”
Anna put her hand on her husband’s. “Oh, I don’t think so. After they didn’t show up at any of the ports they were scheduled to see along the way, I guess they questioned everyone who was here at the same time they were. That’s how we know about it. The FBI came to our house.”
I leaned toward Ryan. “We had better turn in if we want to be able to go site-seeing again tomorrow. It has been a long day.”
Ryan agreed. We told them we looked forward to v
isiting again and went to our bungalow.
Once we were inside and safe I asked Ryan, “Don’t you think it is strange the first and only people we met and bothered to talk to us knew Captain Ortiz and knew about the Tuckers? With the incidents we have encountered so far, I think we need to be cautious.”
“If I can get a signal, I’ll call Jacob and have him run a background check on the Donnelsons.”
“They didn’t say where they were from.”
“Neither did we. Jacob can start with their reservation here and work backward. Background checks have become his specialty.” We laughed.
There were dozens of people in chairs by the water enjoying the evening. Instead of going to bed as we planned, we walked back outside to join them.
One of the captains talked to the group about the Lagoon. “It stretches sixteen miles into the desert and is five miles across at its widest point.” An antelope stood on the other side to get a drink. “That is a Berrendo, known commonly as a pronghorn.”
He had my attention. Ryan stood, took his phone from his pocket, and walked away from the group. I wanted to stay and hear more, yet our safety could have been in jeopardy, so I followed him.
“Jacob says the Donnelsons were indeed here the same time as the Tucker family. This Captain Ortiz is the one who took the children out to see the whales on several occasions. Since the case is so old, the records are open to the public, if one knows where to look.”
A sudden wind came off the water and I stood closer to Ryan who put both arms around me and held me close. “I still don’t want to get too friendly with them. We could get into a casual conversation with the wrong person.”
Ryan kissed the back of my neck. “They could be the wrong people,” I said.
He held me tighter. “I agree. Let’s go back to the cabin. Whale watching begins early. I would like to take a walk on the beach tomorrow and try to speak to Captain Ortiz alone.”
The next morning Jerry and Anna were at the table and saved us seats across from them. Anna leaned toward us as though she didn’t want anyone to know. “There is a legend that a child washed up on shore a few weeks after the Tuckers left here. According to the story, the kid was so sunburned and dehydrated, it was unknown if it was a boy or a girl.”
I didn’t want to sound too excited about the information. “You didn’t mention it last night.”
Jerry took a drink of his orange juice and took a concha off a plate being passed around. “We hadn’t thought about it much in years. Our conversation with you last night brought up some buried memories.”
Ryan asked, “Does anyone know who found the body, or if the child lived or died?”
“No. It was all hush-hush. I do know it turned out to be a girl and someone hid her in the village. As the story goes, no one saw her outside of those who tended her. I’ve tried for years to find out more.” Anna reached my way to get the butter. She saw the look I gave her and tried to explain. “We are just nosey. It’s an unnerving story. The ship they were in was huge. The kids were a dream. None of us saw the rest of the family, but I don’t think anything was wrong. They were too happy to be hiding anything.”
I took a chance and pushed her a little in hopes I could get more information. “According to my notes and research, there were two more people on the boat along with the family. One was Michael Mannes, the captain, and the other was his wife. Did you hear anything about them?”
They looked at one another then Jerry said, “No. I had no idea there was anyone on the boat besides the Tuckers.”
Anna scooted her chair away from the table. “A pango with Ortiz at the helm will leave in about ten minutes. We are on our way there now. You might want to come along.”
We followed.
Miguel Ortiz looked to be a man in his fifties. His skin was that of one who had spent a lifetime in the sun. He smiled at each person as they stepped into the boat. His teeth shined vividly white against his dark skin. I finally knew what Anna meant when she described the man as ruggedly handsome.
Six people were on the boat, not including us or the Donnelsens. The wind blew from the North. I covered my head as best I could with the hood of my sweatshirt. Ryan wore a St. Louis Cardinal's baseball cap backward so the wind couldn’t catch it.
A mother whale pushed her baby near the boat to show her off. She dived and rolled. The little whale opened its mouth and the captain lightly rubbed its tongue. They hung near the boat the entire ninety-minutes we were out. The immense size of the animals was a sight to behold. I wanted to spend the ride observing the panganero, yet the whales were so amazing, they commanded my entire attention until we were once again on dry land. Ryan and I hung back and stayed out of the way while Ortiz answered questions and chatted with the others as they stepped out of the pango.
When the last person left the area, he looked up to us and asked, “Is there something I am able to help you with?”
He spoke English with a thick Spanish accent I could have listened to all night.
I took a step toward him and looked around to make sure no one stood within hearing distance. “My name is Kate Nash. I am an author. I am researching and writing a book about the heartbreaking story of the Tucker family.”
He glanced at Ryan and then back to me. “What could you say? The family drowned or burned up in the boat. No one seems to know what happened. Why is it important to you after all these years?”
I took a deep breath. “Ivy Tucker was found dead in the United States about a month ago. It changes the dynamic of the story. Someone had to know she was alive all those years.”
He took his hat off and wiped his forehead. It had to have been a nervous gesture, the wind killed any heat of the day. “Do you think the authorities will reopen the case and return here to try to find out how she lived and who hid her?”
Ryan had stayed back but now stepped up. “Why do you think they would come here? What do you know? Is it true someone found a person afloat on the ocean and brought him ashore? Before you answer, I will tell you, the authorities are not going to do anything. The people were all declared dead three years ago. The estate is settled and the insurance money paid. To open the case now would be a house of cards. It would change everything. They don’t want to do that. After all this time, their family home has been sold, their belongings disposed of and were it not for the stories in the U.S. papers, I believe they would be forgotten by most.”
He held his hat in his hands and moved them around the band. “How did she die?”
Ryan told him. “She was murdered. Someone injected her with snake venom. The worse thing that could happen, if we track down the truth, is a killer could be brought to justice.”
“Or get yourselves killed.” He stopped talking and looked around. No one openly watched us so he went on. “Go for a walk on the beach tonight. I will meet you in the break of the hills. You will see it when you come to it. Be careful. There are coyotes and they are aggressive. They won’t hurt you if you are aware and speak harshly to them.”
“Oh. We'll be careful. You can count on it.”
CHAPTER 12
W e explored the camp for the rest of the day. The scenery was all the entertainment we needed to keep our attention until the dinner horn blew. As usual Jerry and Anna were close. The seats they saved were between them. Jerry sat beside Ryan then Anna, and me on the end.
Dinner tasted outrageously delicious. There were warming dishes filled with handmade tortillas. Along the tables were large bowls of chopped chicken, pieces of tender beef, tomatoes, onion, avocado, and lettuce. If you were adventurous bowls of orange-avocado and red pepper sauce. For people like me who didn’t want to test their stomach there was salsa, Pico de gallo, and sour cream.
Dessert, for those who were not too stuffed after the meal they served large slices of Mexican Dump Cake with almond slivers and optional caramel sauce no one passed up.
It was twilight when we finished dinner. We casually walked to the beach toward the hills
until we came to a deep separation with a high mound on each side. Miguel Ortiz stood in the shadows at the back where the two came together. Ryan and I looked several times in each direction before we stepped off the shoreline and into the darkness.
He began to talk as soon as we reached him. “Almost eleven years ago a schooner pulled up and anchored just outside the entrance to the lagoon. The mouth of the lagoon is much too narrow for anything bigger than a pango to navigate. Three kids came through the narrow straights and into the upper waters in a small vessel I thought was a lifeboat.
“One of the children was a young girl about ten or twelve. She was a beautiful child, bright red hair, freckles, and a perpetual smile. They stayed four days. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I had a bad feeling something was wrong.
“On the fourth day, the kids left, the whalers said they sailed off the next day. I never saw an adult anywhere, but then I didn’t go outside the straights.
“I can’t tell you exactly how long it was, but well over a week, before Samuel Garcia, one of the old-timers, came to me late one evening and wanted to show me something.”
He stopped talking. I hoped he didn’t intend to stop telling his story, instead, he sat down cross-legged on the sand. Ryan did the same. He picked up a stick and began to doodle on the soft sand in front of him. “What I am about to tell you could get many people in trouble, maybe so much trouble they could spend the rest of their lives in prison.
“I need your word, when you write this book, you pick a different town and different names.”
I held my hand up as people do when they are sworn into court. “I promise. My intent is not to ruin anyone’s life.”
“Samual was old and worn out from years on the water. I followed him to his ship and he showed me a body. It was difficult to tell if it was a boy or a girl. But I knew it was Ivy. I could tell by her hair. She laid on a play board, the kind they have on ships and boats for you to relax in the water. It was blue and had a white mesh bottom.
