Diamonds & Donuts: A Jessica James Cozy Mystery (Murder on the Equator Book 4)

by Jennifer Joy

  In my mind, I’d still think of Angel Flores as Angry Art Man. “Which one did he buy?” I asked.

  Miss Patty pointed to the picture with a sapphire and diamond necklace surrounded by orange marigolds. The color contrast was stunning and exotic.

  “Do you remember who else bought paintings?” I asked, hoping her success in remembering Angel’s last name would help her recall more particulars. It amazed me how much detail she remembered from Eduardo’s paintings when she suffered to remember one buyer’s last name.

  With a deep frown, Miss Patty said, “I only remember the name of a man in Quito because he shares the name of a popular singer. Enrique Iglesias. And, of course, you, Jess. I’m afraid that until I find my ledger, I won’t be much more help.”

  Three out of ten purchasers. It was a start.

  I looked at my watch. Mammy had said not to worry about her, but I’d been gone a long time. “I should get back home. Don’t forget to call Gus about Angel Flores.”

  She held the receiver of her corded phone up. “This is one phone I can’t lose,” she said, flicking the spiral cord. “Thank goodness someone still makes these. I’m on it, Jess. Thank you.”

  I hadn’t done anything yet, nor was I confident there was anything I could do with the little information we had.

  Mammy wasn’t home when I got there.

  She wasn’t at Adi’s studio or at Sylvia’s restaurant either.

  That only left the hardware store, though I couldn’t imagine her spending half of a day there. It’s not like it was a library or a stationery store.

  The owner of the hardware store winced when I asked where Mammy, Abuelita, and Tia Rosa might be.

  He’d overheard them talk of going to a welder, and there had been mention of the paint store.

  “You’d better be careful of those three. They’re trouble,” he said.

  “Don’t I know it.”

  I was beginning to think it wasn’t such a brilliant idea to let Mammy be the one to keep Abuelita occupied.

  Chapter 12

  Abuelita and Tia Rosa came over for breakfast the following morning. I made stuffed French toast and a fruit salad to make any citrus lover drool in delight.

  Mammy whipped up some cream, leaning over the salad and inhaling its aroma every now and again. “I’m determined to eat as much fruit as I can while I’m in Ecuador. Did you know that I saw a pineapple on sale for six dollars back home?”

  I’d been away long enough, I’d forgotten how expensive certain things were. “I got this one for a dollar,” I said, wiping the last of the juice from the counter and setting the salad on the table.

  Abuelita grimaced. “Is too much. I buy pineapple sixty centavos.”

  I’d repeated “cents” for Abuelita until I was blue in the face, but the best she had managed was “sins.” Deciding our time had better uses than arguing over pronunciation, we’d agreed it best for certain words to go unchanged.

  Tia Rosa, who was able pronounce it correctly, quietly gloated. She fiddled with her glasses and smiled to herself.

  “I’m not going to argue over forty cents when it’s already so cheap.” Haggling was practically a basic survival skill here since most of the food was purchased at farmers’ markets. I knew I needed to practice, but I refused to turn into a penny-pinching miser. Not when I had an idea how hard the farmers worked to cultivate their fields and sell their produce.

  “You too nice,” Abuelita said with a scowl, like being nice was a bad thing.

  Tia Rosa took off her glasses, cleaning the lenses with the bottom of her blouse. “Is why I like Jessica. She nice. She not like you, Bertha. You mean.”

  “I no mean. I do good business. Jess need to be more firm. I help,” Abuelita countered.

  “You’re quite the philanthropist,” Mammy said with a straight face.

  I swallowed my laughter down, nearly choking on it, when Abuelita said seriously, “Already, she improve. Before…” she blew a raspberry and looked heavenward “… I think she have no hope. She very too nice.”

  Abuelita didn’t look at me, speaking in a low, confidential tone like I wasn’t standing right there to hear. Part of me couldn’t believe it possible for anyone to find criticism in being nice. The other part of me was amazed at Abuelita’s keen ability of finding fault in anything.

  Well, she was hardly perfect, as I was quick to point out. “You’ve gotten us this close,” I pinched my fingers together, “to getting arrested on several occasions.”

  Tia Rosa put her glasses back on. “Is true. You bad company, Bertha.”

  Abuelita’s jaw dropped, and she spread her hand over her heart. She reminded me of Miss Piggy when she was called to task for something she’d done. I fully expected Abuelita to say, “Moi?” Now that I thought about it, Abuelita and Miss Piggy had a lot in common.

  I nearly sprayed coffee out of my nose when she said, “Me?”

  Setting down my mug before I dumped coffee everywhere, I grabbed a napkin.

  Abuelita continued to justify herself. “You with us too, Rosa!” As if the blame diminished if we spread it out enough.

  The innocence Abuelita tried to portray gave way to a satisfied smirk that suited her much better. “We no get caught. No is problem if we no get caught.”

  The coast was clear to take another sip of coffee, then I said, “And we need to make sure it stays that way. No more wild escapades for me. I need to take the running of my business seriously. I have employees who depend on me for paychecks and a scared artist who needs help.” I was a business owner now, and I didn’t take the responsibility lightly. I couldn’t run my doughnut shop from a jail cell.

  This was the reason I’d called the Tenacious Trio over for breakfast. They had an incredible knack for getting into trouble, but they had helped solve too many crimes to not ask for their help now.

  I spread Miss Patty’s sketches of Eduardo’s paintings over the table. “I recognize some of these flowers, but not all of them. Do you see anything else in common that might help us discern why these pieces are being stolen? Any pattern or clue?”

  After piling fruit salad with generous portions of cream and French toast on their plates (because nobody thinks clearly on an empty stomach), we sat around the table to inspect the drawings.

  My eyes lingered on my sketch: the diamond and amethyst tiara with hydrangeas. There were emerald earrings with calla lilies, opals surrounded by purple orchids, pearls nestled between velvety rose petals of the softest pink.

  Mammy whispered in awe, “These are beautiful.”

  Abuelita scowled at the drawings. “I tell you what they have in common. Nada. Absolutamente nada. Is only flowers and expensive jewel. Is all.”

  Tia Rosa pulled one of the drawings back from the tip of her nose. “They beautiful, but I no see nothing too. I sorry.”

  It was as I’d suspected, but I still couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Perhaps the change of scenery and the plans I’d made for the day would help. Adi had already spoken with Gus the night before, so I knew Eduardo was okay.

  I couldn’t let Mammy come to visit without showing her some of the sights, and I knew that once my shop opened, I wouldn’t have as much time to play tourist.

  “Are you rested up enough to go on an adventure?” I asked Mammy, including Tia Rosa and Abuelita if they wanted to tag along.

  Tia Rosa clapped her hands together. “Is perfect! I call Jake. He take you.” She winked at Abuelita, adding, “We stay here. We have the thing to do.”

  Abuelita grumbled, “What thing we do?”

  Tia Rosa winked again.

  Abuelita leaned toward her, lifting her chin and squinting her eyes. “What you have in eye? Why you do that?”

  Tia Rosa huffed, winking again and more exaggeratedly. Between clenched teeth, she said, “You know, the thing.” She pinched her lips into a thin, ruby-red line and glared at Abuelita.

  They were as subtle as jackhammers, those two.

  I was mortif
ied. It was as plain as day to see that Tia Rosa was trying to set me up with Jake. Before Abuelita understood what the winks were about and they had a chance to join forces against me, I said, “I don’t want to be a bother. Jake’s busy. It’s midweek and he must be working. I’d rather not impose.”

  Mammy licked a dollop of cream off her finger. “If you won’t, I will. Call him, Rosa.”

  My face burned, and I knew they plainly saw the embarrassment on my flushed skin.

  Mammy stroked my cheek with her cold fingers. “You inherited my Danish complexion, Sugar.”

  “It doesn’t let me hide anything … unless I’m sunburned,” I complained.

  “Until you reach a point in your life where not much embarrasses you, you’re stuck with smooth, porcelain skin. You poor thing,” she pinched my chin, adding, “Just think of this, though. If Jake takes us in his Jeep, then Lady can come with us. It’ll be good for her to get out too.”

  Fifteen minutes later, slathered in sunscreen and bug spray, dressed in every quick-dry polyester piece in my possession, I crawled into the backseat of Jake’s Jeep. We listened to Soda Stereo (my favorite Argentine rock band) while he pointed out his favorite spots to Mammy, and I tried not to overheat every time he flashed a dimple.

  Chapter 13

  There wasn’t much traffic on the curvy road midweek, and we hardly met any people at all on the twenty-minute hike down to the waterfall.

  Lady chased butterflies and barked at the parrots hiding in the dense foliage of the trees. I tried to find them but had to content myself with hearing their unique calls. How could something so bright hide itself so well?

  Liquid sunshine sprinkled on us halfway down the gravel trail, and I was grateful for the polyester blend shirt and yoga pants I wore. Everything got damp in the jungle.

  Mammy stopped at a lookout to snap some pictures.

  Jake turned to me, speaking low, “So what are Abuelita and Tia Rosa up to that they arranged for you to be out of the house most of the day? I’m guessing Mammy’s in on it, too.”

  I smacked my forehead as comprehension lit the light bulb in my brain. The thing Tia Rosa had insisted on didn’t have anything to do with Jake and me.

  It was a setup.

  Jake looked at me in confusion, and I realized how stupid I must look. “Mosquito,” I mumbled, rubbing my hands against my yoga pants.

  He was gracious enough to smile and ask no further questions.

  Mammy turned around. The sweet expression of innocence in her smile and wide eyes convinced me that she’d overheard Jake. Also, whatever Abuelita and Tia Rosa were up to, she played a role in it.

  With a sigh, I said, “Just promise me I’ll have a home to go back to?”

  Mammy nodded gravely. “Oh, yes. They’re just making it safer for you until Jake’s friend can install the alarm.”

  Jake chuckled. “This should be interesting.”

  “I don’t feel safer,” I muttered, still feeling stupid for not seeing what Tia Rosa had so blatantly tried to communicate this morning. Abuelita wasn’t the only one who couldn’t take a hint.

  We continued down the path, stepping over the springs of water streaming over the gravel.

  Jake held his arms out at a patch of steeper incline. Mammy accepted with gusto, wrapping her arm around his and tapping her fingers against his bicep.

  “Nice!” she said with a wink.

  Jake laughed and shook his head while I tried to figure out how I could accept his help without actually touching him.

  He made it easier when he grabbed my hand. The callouses on his fingers scratching my nerves into a frenzy. On a positive note, I didn’t melt or light on fire. I just had a harder time breathing.

  “This should be interesting,” he said, talking to both of us as we proceeded down the path. “When I was in high school, Abuelita encouraged me to take a class on electricity.”

  “Encouraged?” I asked in disbelief.

  “Encouraged … demanded … I choose to remember my memories with Abuelita in a positive light,” he said.

  I couldn’t help myself. “Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure,” I quoted.

  He looked down at me, his eyebrow raised. “Very well, Lizzy Bennet.”

  We’d discussed literature before, but my heart melted just a little bit more at his knowledge of my all-time favorite classic, Pride & Prejudice. Most guys had no clue who Mr. Darcy was, let alone recognize a quote from my favorite book heroine.

  He continued, “She wanted me to rig her windows with copper wires connected to batteries without shocking either of us.”

  “Did you do it?” I asked, momentarily forgetting I was supposed to be nervous around him.

  “Of course, I did. I earned extra credit for it, too. The only downside was that she forgot to tell my dad what she’d done, and he got a good shock when he cleaned her windows.”

  I found comfort in not being the only one to get roped into Abuelita’s schemes.

  Mammy said, “I doubt it was an accident. Bertha never did like your father.”

  “Yeah, well, the feeling was mutual. But he stayed around another year after the incident. Washo is made of tougher stuff. I almost think Abuelita’s a little scared of him. She behaves herself more now that he’s around.”

  I raised my eyebrows, trying to think of anything Abuelita was scared of. Respected, maybe. But scared? Nah.

  “What do you think of Washo?” I asked.

  Jake shrugged. “He’s a good guy. He helps Mom in the kitchen after he’s had a long day. He brings her lunch on his days off just so he can talk to her. She appreciates the break from the kitchen and loves eating food she hasn’t cooked.”

  Mammy said, “That’s the way to any woman’s heart.”

  Jake craned his neck to look at her. “Really? It’s that easy?”

  Mammy grinned. “Not quite, but it’s a promising start.”

  I did my best to shrink and be quiet, feeling like an intruder eavesdropping on their conversation.

  Jake dropped my hand and pointed to a rock stairwell going back up the side of the mountain. “We’re here,” he said.

  I looked at the stairwell, thinking how unfair it was to have to climb up it when we’d spent the last twenty minutes hiking downhill. Someone’s calculations had faltered.

  The view from the top, however, silenced my inner grumblings. Ferns sprouted out of the rock face. The waterfall pounded into the river below with such a force, it vibrated in my chest and surrounded us with mist.

  We continued forward and down another rock stairwell so close to the waterfall, it enveloped us in spray and roared in my ears. Whoever had carved the steps out of the mountainside were intrepid souls bent on sharing this natural beauty with others. And I was eternally grateful to them for going to the trouble.

  The sun reflected off the spray, shooting dozens of little rainbows everywhere I looked.

  Lady bit at the spray. To her, it must’ve looked like a giant hose nozzle. It sure felt like one.

  We were sopping wet within seconds, but I was too full of awe to care.

  I gripped the edge of the stone wall — the only barrier separating us from the roaring cauldron. I understood the waterfall’s name now. Pailón del Diablo. Devil’s Cauldron.

  It was too wet for pictures, not that the mystic beauty of such a place could ever be properly captured (although I’d love to see my mom try).

  We climbed back up the stairs to the trail that took us to a swinging bridge facing the giant cascade. It was perfect for pictures and to dry off in the sun. The wooden planks were sturdy under our feet, so I only cringed a little when the bridge trembled and shook as we crossed.

  Mammy, aka “Grandma Flash”, took pictures of everything while I continued gazing at the falls, the equatorial sun warming my back and melting the stress out of my muscles. I couldn’t look away. The rumble of the water, the power of it, reminded me of a good ol’ Pacific Northwest windstorm. The kind that clos
ed the schools and encouraged folks to stay home and drink hot chocolate and watch movies until the power went out. Only here, we were out in the open, surrounded by lazy breezes, delicate flowers growing out of rocks, and birds chirping without a care in the world. A contrast of thrilling power and absolute serenity.

  “Thank you for letting me bring you out here,” Jake said, leaning against the wire cable holding up the bridge.

  I swept my arm over our spectacular view. “Are you kidding? I should be thanking you. You come here all the time. Do you ever get tired of it?” I asked, regretting how few times I’d gone out to the Oregon beaches despite living close to them.

  He paused so long, I looked at him.

  “I never get tired of beautiful things,” he said, his glance never wavering from mine.

  Surely, he didn’t mean me? I felt my whole body blush under his gaze, wanting to believe what he plainly said, but too self-conscious to allow myself to.

  Grandma Flash came to the rescue, calling for us when she’d taken her fill of pictures. Of course, she snapped one of Jake, Lady, and me before we departed from the swaying bridge.

  We started the hike up. Gravity worked in reverse in the mountains. What comes down must also hoof it back up. I might have floated part of the way. Only my crippling self-doubt and tendency to overthink absolutely everything kept my feet on the ground.

  We stopped at every opportunity to snap pictures and catch our breath. I was impressed with Mammy. Her dance classes kept her fit.

  She checked her watch once we reached the top. “It’s too early, and I’m under strict orders not to let you home before three o’clock.”

  “How about the tarabita? It’s not far, and it doesn’t involve more hiking. I think you’ll love it,” I suggested for her good as much as mine. My legs wobbled.

  “What’s a tarabita?” she asked.

  Jake wrung the water off the bottom of his shirt. “It’s a cable car that spans Rio Pastaza at the height of the waterfall — about one hundred forty feet.”