Just Follow the Money

by Jinx Schwartz

  I shook my head at the computer screen and said, “Oh, sure, go ahead and reward bad behavior.”

  Jan tittered. “It’s always worked for us, Chica.”

  I couldn’t argue with that.

  Roberto went back to work on the salvaged ham and asked Rhonda, “So, is there something I can do for you this morning? Any special requests for breakfast?”

  “Actually, I was hoping to learn something about cooking. I’ve never really gotten past microwave dinners. Would you mind if I hang around and watch? I can help with grunt work.”

  “I would be delighted. You shall be my sous-chef today.”

  “Oh goody. What’s a sous-chef?”

  “Literally, it means ‘under the chef.’ ”

  “Well, my goodness,” Rhonda cooed. “That sounds like fun.”

  Roberto laughed. “What it really means is you chop stuff up and scrub pots and pans.”

  “I can do that.”

  The chef reached into a locker and pulled out an apron. “Here, you’ll need this.”

  “Yes, I suppose I will. Can you help me put it on?”

  Jan and I exchanged appreciative looks and gave Rhonda a thumb’s up, even though she couldn’t see us. “Whoa, she is a quick learner,” Jan whispered. “I hope she’s not going to go overboard. Don’t want to scare him off.”

  Roberto looped the apron neck strap around Rhonda’s neck, lifting her hair in the process and hopefully getting a whiff of Ralph Lauren Seduction. I held my breath, hoping the mic wouldn’t dislodge, then breathed relief when he disappeared from view, probably to tie the back.

  “How’s that?” we heard him ask.

  “Gosh, if I knew how good putting on an apron could feel, I would have signed up for Culinary Arts.”

  We heard an ever-so-slight intake of breath, hoped it was Roberto’s, and then the camera went blank.

  “Crap, one of them adjusted the cowl and our turtleneck fabric collapsed over the lens.” I grabbed the phone, buzzed Rhonda once, hung up and then called back like we’d discussed.

  She answered immediately. “Hi, Hetta, watcha need?”

  Jan rolled her eyes at the ceiling in a you have to be kidding me gesture, and mouthed, “Some spy.”

  “Fix the turtleneck, the lens is covered.”

  “Yes, he’s being a very good boy.”

  Did she mean Po Thang or Roberto?

  “We’ll see you at breakfast. I’m learning to cook, how exciting is that?” She evidently tugged on the turtleneck and we saw Roberto’s back as he stirred something on the stove. My stomach rumbled.

  “Good, everything is working now. Rhonda, don’t come on too strong. You want him to come after you.”

  “Gotcha.”

  I hung up and Jan sighed. “So much for stealth calls. Hello Hetta? Classic.”

  “Yeah, but that apron thing? Her instincts are right.”

  We settled in to watch, but all they did was cook and talk about food.

  “At this rate it’ll be Christmas before she gets any info. Oh, well, let’s go eat.”

  We shut everything down and secured our laptops before leaving the cabin. You just can’t trust anyone these days.

  Rhonda, with her apron still on, was putting out coffee and tea when we arrived. I pulled her aside and whispered, “You need to talk about more than food.”

  “I’m buttering him up, just like you said.”

  “But—” the butteree carried food to a side table, and I clammed up.

  “Good morning, ladies. That dog of yours tried to steal an entire jamón, but Rhonda saved it. She’s volunteered to be my sous-chef, and I am delighted. She is a very fast learner.”

  My thoughts, exactly.

  “I have an excellent teacher,” Rhonda said, admiration in her voice. “I’ll earn my keep by washing dishes.”

  “Fine by me,” Jan said, “but remember we have to go out later this morning to troll for gigolos and other goldbrickers.”

  “Can’t wait. This trip just keeps getting better and better,” Rhonda gushed and gave the chef an adoring smile.

  Hmmm. Maybe info wasn’t all she wanted to squeeze out of Roberto, so to speak. I got a chance to talk with her for a moment after breakfast and whispered, “Rhonda, somehow find out how it is a seventeen-year-old was allowed to travel to France on her own. I was seventeen once; I know how letting me loose like that would have turned out.”

  “I’m on it.”

  “Good, just watch yourself. Do not get emotionally involved with Roberto. Not yet anyhow. Once this is over, go for it if you want to.”

  “He is very sweet, but I don’t think he’s interested in me.”

  “Well, you know what Mae West said?”

  “What?”

  “Love conquers all except poverty and toothache.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jan and I returned to our cabins to spiff up for our separate dirt-digging forays into the upper and under crusts of Cannes. I was piling on makeup when Rhonda and Po Thang rushed in.

  “Hey there, Agents Dawg and Rhonda.”

  Po Thang, with a goofy galoot grin only Goldens have, galloped at me, put on the brakes when he suddenly recalled his hard-earned manners, and skidded in for his kiss and hug. He smelled like Spanish prosciutto. “What did you and Aunty Rhonda find out for us today, boy? Besides how to con the chef out of exorbitantly priced ham? Jan and I got bored watching that little domestic scene, but we have everything on video if anything important happened.”

  “Well, then, you missed it,” Rhonda announced proudly.

  “What?” I blurted loud enough that Jan, who must have been on her way to my cabin, heard me.

  “Yeah, what?”

  Rhonda made sure the door was shut and whispered, “Juanita had a travel companion, evidently a cousin who is an old maid. Kinda like me.”

  “You hardly qualify as that,” I said kindly, thinking little white lies aren’t always so bad, not like the whoppers I’m capable of, at least. Plus, if Rhonda’s an old maid, what did that make me?

  Jan must have had similar thoughts. “We are not spinsters,” she declared. “Spinsters are elderly, and that is not us. Although there are some in Texas who secretly think of us as ‘not suitable for marriage’ age. ”

  “Well, Hetta may not be married, but she’s certainly a worldly unmarried female.”

  “More like world weary,” Jan just had to say.

  “Hey, you ever heard the term, ‘tired blonde?’” I asked, referring to a clever turn of phrase that’d stuck with me from a novel I’d read, but couldn’t recall which one.

  Rhonda held out her hands for a time-out. “Hey, do you two want to know what I learned, or just sit around insulting each other?”

  Jan, of course, had to have the last word in our little face-off. “What I was about to say is that in Mexico, any unmarried female over thirty is considered yesterday’s tortilla. Okay, tell us all.”

  “And,” I added, refusing Jan that last word. “Did you get a name? And where is she now?”

  “I have her first name, and that she’s holed up in the hotel room she shared with Juanita. She’s distraught and worried that the family will hold her accountable. And that she was finally given her one big chance to be something besides the family old maid, and she didn’t want to blow it.”

  I was impressed with what Rhonda had obtained in such a short time. “Roberto told you all this after breakfast?”

  “Uh, not exactly.”

  “How, exactly?”

  “Well, he went out to the farmer’s market to buy stuff for dinner while I cleaned up the galley, and he left without his phone. So, when it rang a few times and then went to voicemail, I sort of listened in.”

  “Good girl. He didn’t password protect his phone?” Jan asked. “What a ninny.”

  “Maybe,” Rhonda said, somewhat defensively, “he doesn’t have anything to hide?”

  “Bring his phone up here and we can clean out his bank account,” I sugg
ested. “Just kidding.” Sort of.

  Rhonda blew her bangs off her forehead in a perfect mimic of Jan when she’s frustrated. “Do you two want to hear what I have to say, or not?”

  “Go. We’ll shut up.”

  “It was a message from a woman, who said she missed her cousin—”

  Forgetting I’d just said we wouldn’t interrupt, I interrupted. “Wait a minute, you don’t speak Spanish. How do you know what she said?”

  “Because she was speaking English, that’s why.”

  “English? If she’s a Mexican talking to another Mexican, how is it she’s speaking English?”

  “I have no idea, but she spoke English most of the time. However, I picked up on a somewhat non-Hispanic accent.”

  Jan did her own time out. “We’ve jumped to a conclusion here. Who says she’s Mexican at all?”

  “I need an aspirin,” I said, and headed for the bathroom. After downing a couple of gelcaps, I returned as Rhonda was explaining how she figured the woman might even have had a Russian accent. Turns out our gal Friday not only collects flags, she and her other nerdy friends make it a habit to learn more about the country’s holidays, and the like. “She throws in a few words of Spanish, but then she used the term stary novy god at least once. Maybe twice.”

  “Well, hell, that explains everything,” I said, rubbing my temples.

  Jan stepped in, saving me from having to strangle Rhonda to get answers. “Rhonda, what does that mean? And in what language?”

  “Sort of Happy Old New Year, in Russian.”

  “I wish those pills would kick in. Back up and tell us the entire message, okay?”

  “I’ll try to tell you exactly what I got from the message.” Rhonda closed her eyes and scrunched up her face, trying to recall what she heard. “She said her name was Dueña, she missed her cousin terribly, she was lonely by herself at the hotel, and hoped Roberto would quickly accomplish his mission so they’d all be back in Mexico in time for the family stary novy god –New Year’s celebration—on January fourteenth. Oh, and that the family would someday forgive her for the disappearance of her young cousin.”

  “When did the New Year get moved to January fourteenth?”

  “Long ago. January fourteen is the old traditional Russian new year, ironically called Old New Year. It’s a family thing, and at least one of the great-grandparents was a Russian immigrant, so the tradition must have been passed down through the generations.”

  Jan took it all in, then said, “Her name isn’t Dueña. Dueña is a Spanish word for a kind of chaperone. Actually it really means an owner, but in Baja, it’s used to describe someone, usually an elderly female, who is given the job of accompanying young women to parties and even on walks. We really, really need to talk to this broad. If Juanita disappeared on her watch, she’s the key witness, and most likely knows details that these male chauvinist shipmates of ours are not willing to share with us. You didn’t, by any chance, get her phone number, did you?”

  “Sorry. I was worried Roberto would return and find me fiddling with his phone, plus I wanted to tell you guys about that call. Do you want me to go back to the galley and take a look at the incoming phone number?”

  “Yes!” Jan and I said at the same time.

  “Check my sound wire. I don’t think I’ll need Agent Critter or his cam this round. Besides, he keeps trying to filch everything off the counters, even spoons and spatulas. I can do without that distraction. If Roberto is back from the market by now, I’ll figure something out.”

  “I think it’s time we bugged the galley. I’ll rig it up and you can stick it somewhere. Because the place is so busy, our battery won’t last any time at all, so I won’t activate it until after you leave, since you’re wired.”

  After Rhonda’s wire was properly tested and she had instructions on planting the bug, we sent her on her way with an encouraging shoulder pat.

  I grabbed a bottle of water as Jan sat down at the computer. “So, to summarize, what do we have here? A seventeen-year-old Mexican-American girl from an influential family is allowed to go to France for her eighteenth birthday? Even with a dueña, does this strike you as unusual?”

  “Yes, but the chaperone is a cousin, after all.”

  “Still, would your mom, or my parents, have gone along with something like that?”

  “No way in hell. And from what we’ve learned in Mexico, girls in that economic status don’t go for ice cream without bodyguards these days.”

  Jan shrugged. “Maybe this dueña is some kind of old maid ninja warrior?”

  “Hey, enough with the old maid stuff, okay? Who knows, this gal might be built like a Cossack. However, as a bodyguard, she’s not a very good one, since her charge has vanished and is presumed kidnapped. Anyhow, the victim’s Russian-Mexican grandfather hires a bunch of Mexican cops and military types to get her back?”

  “Or perhaps the young lady disappeared on her own? Gave her dueña the slip and took a powder?”

  “There’s a thought. Maybe Juanita wangled the trip over here to meet up with someone, maybe some guy she met on the internet or something. It happens all the time.”

  Jan opened her mouth to comment, but we heard a beep. “Shhh. Rhonda just went live.” She hit RECORD just as we heard Rhonda say, “Hola, Roberto. How’d the shopping go? Get anything great for tonight?”

  “Better than great. Fantastique! Look!”

  We heard a rustling sound and Rhonda ooh-ing and ahh-ing over Roberto’s fantastic foraging finds of the day—although shopping for delicacies in French food markets can hardly qualify as scrounging.

  “Jeez, what did he find, a puppy or somethin’?” Jan drawled.

  “Shh.”

  “What is this?” Rhonda asked.

  “Agneau de pré-salé. Tonight we shall dine on the leg of a lamb that was fed on marsh grass and is, therefore, pre-salted.”

  Rhonda gulped, no doubt trying to wipe the picture of a furry baby lamb with chubby little legs happily munching on grass, and then said leg ending up in butcher paper. “Uh, great, I guess. I’m kinda sticking to veggies these days.”

  “It will be your loss.”

  “Well, maybe I’ll take a small bite, just for you.”

  Jan and I did a synchronized gag me.

  “In that case, mi dulce, I will be very careful in the preparation so it will be perfecto.”

  “I’m sure it will,” Rhonda simpered. I wondered if she even knew he’d just called her my sweetie. Okay, so we couldn’t see her, but it sure sounded like a simper. This was getting downright sickening, but the gal was doing her job, especially when she threw in this offhanded remark: “Oh, by the way, you had a phone call. Something about your cousin.”

  There was dead air long enough for me to think the wire went wonky, but then Roberto asked, “Which cousin? I have so many.”

  “I don’t know. You left your cell phone here and when it rang I hesitated to answer, but I thought maybe it was you calling from somewhere, trying to locate your phone. Which I have to do all the time. Anyhow, by the time I picked up, there was a message, so I listened, still thinking it was you. It was a woman who said something about missing her cousin. For some reason, I got the impression whoever it was is here in Cannes. You’d better listen for yourself.”

  “Yes. I will.”

  “I’ll get your phone for you,” Rhonda said.

  “Uh, no, that’s…”

  But we heard Rhonda on the move. “Here it is.”

  “Thank you,” he said. He didn’t listen to the message immediately, but Rhonda waited him out. We heard her walking away. Finally, he must have figured she’d already listened in once, and was far enough away so as not to overhear, and we heard a beep when he hit the playback key.

  The speaker was on, probably thanks to Rhonda, and we got to hear and record most of the message before Roberto recovered and squelched the sound, or just stopped the playback.

  Jan and I shared a high five.

  “
I’ll bet his bowels are in an uproar about now,” Jan whispered, even though no one could hear us. “You know danged well Nacho has warned him how sneaky we are, and Rhonda, after all, lives with the enemy.”

  “Everything alright, Roberto?” we heard Rhonda ask. “You look upset.”

  So, we were right about that bowel thing.

  “No. No, not really. Rhonda, please, you cannot tell anyone I told you this, but that message was from Juanita’s dueña. Her chaperone. She is a cousin to both Juanita and me, and feels terribly guilty and upset for the disappearance of our cousin. She refuses to leave the hotel in hopes Juanita will return. She is alone in their suite and I feel badly for her.”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  I smiled. Technically, Rhonda didn’t have to break her promise; we heard these bits of information directly from Roberto’s lips.

  “Oh, the poor woman,” Rhonda said with great sincerity in her voice. “Well, it’s none of my business, of course, but don’t you think she might be less lonely and distressed if she was here on the boat with the rest of us? I mean, what with it being almost Christmas and all?”

  Jan pumped her fist in the air. “Way to go, Rhonda! We may have to give that gal a raise.”

  After a pause, Roberto said, “Well, uh, perhaps. She is reluctant to leave the hotel, thinking Juanita might return, but perhaps you are right. However, you must promise not to tell Hetta and Jan that you know about her. At least until I can speak with Nacho.”

  “Cross my heart and hope to die. I won’t speak a word of what you just told me to anyone.”

  “Dang, she’s getting good at this. Sounds like something you’d do, Hetta. She’s telling the truth while lying through her newly bleached teeth.”

  Roberto started talking before I could protest. “Well, then, I will find a way to discuss her coming to the boat with the team.”

  Little did he know he was talking to the real team.

  Chapter Seventeen

  When Rhonda returned to my cabin after her mission to record that mysterious message left on Roberto’s cell phone, we played back her handiwork. We listened carefully, then Jan gave Rhonda a fist-bump, and I patted her on the back. “Success! Well and very cleverly done, Miz Rhonda!”