Twisted Lies

by Robin Patchen

  She seemed unaware as she watched her daughter. "Which brings us back to the question—what should Leslie do?"

  He forced his gaze back to Ana, who had met up with the girl from the pool the day before. They were building a sand castle. "I've been thinking about it, and Leslie has no choice. She needs to go to the police."

  "But the people said they'd kill her if she did."

  "They said they'd kill her if she didn't give them the money, too. And she doesn't have it."

  Marisa finished her legs and worked lotion into her arm. The scent of coconut surrounded them and reminded Nate of vacations with his parents when he was a small boy, before cancer had stolen his mother away.

  "But that's not really what they said," Marisa said. "They said they wanted her to give them the money or find out who stole it."

  "Well, but..." He paused. She was right. That's what Leslie had said. "Why would they care, as long as they get the money?"

  She held out the sunscreen, and he took it.

  A second application, and he'd probably still burn to a crisp, thanks to his Irish genes. He'd bought himself a baseball cap in town, so at least his face wouldn't char.

  "Maybe it's about justice, too," she said.

  "If that's the case, that should help us narrow down who it could be."

  "Meanwhile, though, my sister's life is in danger. We have to figure out how to protect her."

  "And keep you and Ana safe."

  "But if I keep us safe, Leslie will be in more danger." She looked at her daughter. "It's an impossible choice, Nate. How do I protect them both?"

  He knew exactly how she felt.

  AFTER A SHOWER AND shave, Nate went to the small lobby—the only place in the hotel with reliable WiFi. The old walls had been repainted bright white. The pink and aqua furnishings had faded to bland. The lobby was cool, and the faint scent of flowers wafted from the fresh centerpiece on the amoeba-shaped coffee table in front of him. A few women in sundresses and men in Bermuda shorts sat in the bar on the far side of the lobby, where a hand-written sign advertised happy hour specials. In the seating areas scattered around the lobby, more people sat, teens and children and adults alike, all looking at their electronic devices. So much for family vacations.

  While Nate waited for the ladies to join him for dinner, he used his iPhone to pull up the news stories he'd written that had been prompted by Marisa's information. Nearly eight years had passed since he'd penned the words. After re-reading the articles, Nate navigated to his cloud account and scrolled through the research he'd collected back then, which he'd thought to upload before they left New York.

  The door that led to the pool opened, and Leslie walked in, bringing the humid evening air with her. She spotted Nate, beelined toward him, and sat on the sofa catty-corner to him. "You look busy."

  Nate reluctantly lowered his phone. "I figured you were upstairs with Marisa and Ana."

  "I needed some fresh air after being cooped up in the room all day."

  She had a little color back in her cheeks, so in that respect she looked better. The humid air had done a number on her already frizzy hair, though. "Feeling better?"

  "Much. Thanks. What are you doing?"

  "Trying to see if I missed anything, trying to figure out who threatened you the other day."

  She leaned forward. "Any luck?"

  "Not yet, but hope springs eternal."

  "In my experience, it's trouble that's eternal. Hope is fleeting."

  No good answer to that.

  "I've never really understood what it was all about," Leslie said. "Charles and those guys were doing something, and Vinnie was involved somehow. He was no Boy Scout. So why did he get murdered? I mean, I sort of understand, but what did they do that was so bad that it was worth killing over? Charles went to prison for the murder, not the rest of it."

  "He was convicted of mortgage fraud, too. He'd have gone to prison for that, but the state's murder charges trumped the others. The stuff he and his cronies did led to a lot of people losing a lot of money, and not just when the housing bubble burst."

  "I remember that. My house lost like a quarter of its value."

  "Charles and his friends capitalized on the hopes and dreams of thousands of America's working class, sucking them into mortgages they couldn't afford, then turning around and tricking them out of the little equity they had in their homes when the people couldn't pay their mortgages."

  "That's just cruel."

  "It was more than that. When people were turned down for mortgages, G&K found a fresh way to pad their pocketbooks. They colluded with loan processors who were willing to overlook forged payment stubs and tax returns. They bribed property assessors to inflate the property values of homes. In doing so, they were able to secure inflated mortgages for borrowers—who had no idea what was going on, by the way—to put money in their own pockets. Over the course of about a decade, they took in hundreds of millions of dollars."

  Leslie shook her head slowly. "And you're saying Vinnie was involved in that?"

  "He was a small cog in a very big machine. He found and befriended a lot of the buyers. He earned their trust, then worked with the assessors and processors to get the deals done. From my research, it seemed that Jeremy Kinnison was the mastermind."

  "He wasn't even there, though. I remember cleaning the office after his going-away party."

  Nate had forgotten how well Leslie knew these people. She'd cleaned their building, and she'd hired Marisa to help her. That's how Marisa and Vinnie had met in the first place. "Right. Kinnison was smart and cashed out before Vinnie started working there. But Charles Gray carried on his practices and even expanded on them. The whole scheme was a series of felony on top of felony on top of felony that screwed thousands of buyers out of millions of dollars."

  "Wow. Charles seemed like such a nice guy. Vinnie, though, I was never sure."

  "Vinnie was going to do the right thing."

  "Or go to prison. I wouldn't call that noble."

  "Better than warning Charles. Or running. But your sister said he'd become disillusioned. One of the borrowers had tracked him down and threatened him. Told him how he'd lost his house, lost everything, because of what Vinnie had done."

  "So Vinnie grew a conscience," Leslie said. "That's good, I guess. Except probably why Charles had him killed. And at the end of the day, when it all hit the fan, the money was gone."

  "Apparently, at some point after Charles was arrested for Vinnie's murder, but before the feds searched the building, the money in both Charles's personal account and in the business's operating account was funneled out. Millions of dollars, and the feds never found it."

  "Why do they think Marisa took it?"

  He nodded to her. "Because of your business, of course. The money was stolen at night, and she had access because she cleaned the building."

  "But all the employees had access."

  "But as far as anyone knows," Nate said, "only Marisa knew the feds were coming."

  "How do they think she got access to it, though? She's not some super computer hacker."

  "That's a good question. I don't know."

  Leslie sat back and crossed her arms. "It doesn't make sense. I never believed she took it. Even now...I don't know what to think."

  "Obviously, somebody else knew what was going on. Because Marisa didn't take it."

  Leslie sighed, looked away. "The people who threatened me seemed pretty sure."

  "They are wrong, Leslie. Your sister wouldn't—"

  "Of course you believe her." Leslie laughed, but he wasn't sure of the joke.

  "Meaning what?"

  "Oh, come on." Her smile seemed forced. "You think I don't see how you look at her? How every man in the whole world looks at her?" Leslie looked away a moment. When she looked back, her expression had softened. "Did you know that when she was in high school, some modeling agency offered to represent her? I thought it was probably a scam and did some research."

  "That
was nice—"

  "No, it wasn't." She shook her head. "I think I was jealous. Okay, I know I was jealous. I wanted it to be a scam, because things always came easy for her. She acted like I was this awesome big sister, but really...I was always jealous."

  Nate wasn't sure how to respond, so he said nothing.

  "Anyway, the modeling agency was totally legitimate. A swanky upscale place in Manhattan. I got there, found it filled with tall, skinny girls, just like Marisa. She could have done it."

  Nate wasn't surprised, though maybe it wasn't nice to say so. "Why didn't she?"

  "She thought about it. And Mom was all for it—which is probably why she didn't do it. She was in a rebellious stage. That and her father didn't want her to."

  The way Leslie said father made Nate ask, "You didn't like her father?"

  Leslie looked at her hands. "He was my father for a few years, too. He and Mom married when I was about a year old. He was the only father I'd ever known. And he loved me, treated me really good. I knew they were trying to have a kid, and I was happy about it. I wanted a little brother or sister to play with. Marisa was born when I was seven, and it was like Daddy forgot I existed. They divorced a few years later, and to me, Daddy became Carlos, Marisa's father."

  "What about your own father?"

  She shrugged. "Never knew him. Mom never told me anything about him."

  "Your mother passed away, right?"

  "Yeah, I'm an orphan. Like Ana." Her smile was sad. "At least me and my niece have something in common."

  "Marisa, too, right? Didn't her father die?"

  "He was killed in a motorcycle accident a year before Mom died. But at least she had a dad all those years."

  He tried for a gentle tone. "None of that was your sister's fault, you know."

  "I know. I love Marisa. I'd do anything for her. But...well, everyone thinks she has the money. Except you. I'm just saying, just 'cause she looks like an angel doesn't mean she is one."

  Hadn't he had that very thought? "Point taken. But if she had millions of dollars, why would she be living in a tiny Mexican village?"

  "Well, we don't actually know where she lives." Her gaze scanned the lobby a moment before she turned back to him and smiled. "But I know you're right. Of course she didn't steal it. She was always so good. Not perfect, of course. I used to be so jealous of her, but now... Well, it's not like her life's been all roses and cream, right? The last few years with her gone, I've realized how much she means to me. I just want my sister back." Leslie blew out a long breath. "But I have to find that money, or they're going to kill me."

  "We're not going to let that happen, Leslie." His words carried a confidence he didn't feel. "We'll figure it out."

  Chapter 6

  MARISA WAS USED TO men looking at her and usually paid no attention to it. It wasn't as if she had anything to do with the way she looked. A gift of genes and luck. She hadn't done much to enhance her appearance in years. But tonight, she blew her hair dry with the dryer the hotel provided and left it down. She couldn't remember the last time she hadn't worn it in a braid. She even borrowed some of Leslie's makeup—not that her sister wore much. And with the new dress, she was pleased with the results.

  When she and Ana stepped off the elevator, the awe in Nate's expression woke up places Marisa had let lie fallow for years. She tried not to smile, failed, and gave in as she followed Ana across the tile floor to where Nate and Leslie were seated. They stood as Marisa and Ana neared.

  Nate stared at her until her cheeks warmed. Finally, he shifted his gaze to Ana. "You look so pretty."

  "Thank you for the dress, Uncle Nate. It's a little long, but Mama says I'll grow into it, and when I grow out of it, I can give it to anyone I want at the whole orphanage." She turned and looked at Marisa. "As long as it's someone littler than me, right, Mama? Like I can't give it to Abby, 'cause she's my size. Right?"

  "Right. Maybe little Julianna, though."

  "Si! Bueno! I'll give it to her." She held out the skirt and twirled, face to the ceiling. "I'm the prettiest girl in the room." She stopped. "Right, Uncle Nate?"

  He nodded solemnly. "Absolutely."

  Marisa had to agree. Ana had never looked so pretty. If they were in the States, Marisa would buy her daughter new clothes all the time. And take her to the zoo and the park, where she could run and play and feed the ducks and pigeons.

  She pushed away the thoughts. Their lives were fine. Better than Ana would have had if Marisa hadn't found her. Better than Marisa could have dreamed when she escaped New York. She couldn't focus on what they didn't have. With Nate so close, that was harder than usual.

  He met her eyes. "Wow. You look... Man, I don't even..."

  A moment passed. Finally, Marisa winked at Leslie. "He's a writer, you know."

  Leslie laughed, and Nate joined her. He banged on the side of his head as if trying to shake something loose and started over. "You look very nice, Marisa. Shall we go?"

  She took Ana's hand. "Where are we headed?"

  Leslie led the way to the glass doors. "I'd like to hit that shopping plaza you guys went to earlier, if you don't mind."

  Marisa shrugged. "Fine with me. There were a bunch of restaurants there. As long as we can go someplace where I can get a good old American hamburger."

  They walked along the sidewalk toward the plaza, Ana stopping to look at every flower and lizard and bird along the way.

  Nate walked slightly behind the girls on the narrow sidewalk. "Marisa," he said about halfway there. "Tell us how you ended up in this town you keep talking about."

  She turned to look at him. "It's a long story."

  "I'd like to hear it," Leslie said.

  Marisa sighed. "Okay. Well, I'd moved to Mexico City."

  "Why there?" Leslie asked.

  "That's another long story. Which one do you want to hear?"

  She shrugged, and Marisa continued. "I was teaching English at a private school. It was fine, but Mexico City isn't New York, and I was wishing I could go someplace less... I don't know. Less dangerous. Less ugly, maybe. Anyway, one day this man approached me and told me his sister's kids were in my class and learning a lot from me—a lot more than they'd learned before. He wanted to know if I'd consider moving to teach English elsewhere, so his own kids could learn. He promised me a clean house and a steady job and a decent salary.

  "Of course I asked for more information, and he told me where the place was. I'd hoped it was in the north where it's a little cooler." She smiled and wiped her brow. "No deal. But the pay was good, better than I was making, and with the promise of a house, I would have all the money I needed. Which is very little around here, you know?"

  Marisa looked back to Nate, who smiled, though it seemed forced.

  Leslie nodded. "So tell us about this guy."

  "I had no idea what he did for a living, but he seemed nice." She paused, knowing they wouldn't like it. "He's a drug lord. The biggest one in town. I traveled with him and his family back to our village, and they moved me into the house across the street from the orphanage. The orphanage runs the school in town. All the kids go there."

  "Did you have something going on with this guy?" Leslie asked. "I mean, surely he liked you for more than just your stellar English skills."

  "He was married. He wanted me to teach his kids."

  "It's not like it would be the first time a guy got a little something on the side."

  "I'd like to think you know me better than that, Leslie. He was a married drug lord. You really think I'd mess around with a guy like that?"

  Leslie shrugged. "Well, Vinnie wasn't exactly squeaky clean."

  "I didn't know about that. And he wasn't married. And Vinnie was a good guy. He was going to do the right thing."

  "Just seems like that drug dealer wouldn't give you a great job and a house for nothing."

  "What is wrong with you?" Marisa hissed the words so Ana wouldn't hear. "I'm a good English teacher, and I'm good with the kids, and he knew t
hat. I can't believe you think—"

  "I don't think anything. I'm just trying to figure out how you ended up here."

  Nate physically stepped between them, so the three were shoulder-to-shoulder on the narrow sidewalk. "I'm sure you didn't do anything wrong, Marisa." He looked at Leslie, and Marisa imagined the look he might have given her.

  "Of course." Leslie sighed. "I didn't mean anything by it."

  Nate turned to Marisa. "Are you and this drug lord still on good terms?"

  "I quit taking his money when I realized where it came from, but the orphanage pays me just fine. He understood, and nobody gives me a hard time. Everybody knows that Ramón is my...friend, I guess. At first people were a little scared of me. I think they thought what Leslie thought—that something was going on between us. But after a while, people accepted me. I have friends there." She looked past Nate to Leslie. "Friends who believe in me."

  "I never said I didn't."

  "Whatever."

  They walked in silence a few minutes. Nate broke it with, "Is that why you feel safe there?"

  "Nobody messes with me."

  "Good. That's good. Not that it's healthy to be friends with drug dealers, but if he can protect you..."

  "He appreciates how well his kids are learning English. He's hoping to send them to the States for college."

  "Oh, good," Leslie said. "Just what America needs, up-and-coming drug lords." She softened the jab with a wink. Typical Leslie. Incapable of saying anything encouraging.

  Marisa glared at her sister. "I'm hoping the kids choose a different profession than their father did."

  Nate chuckled. "You two are hilarious. Did you fight like this when you were kids?"

  Marisa said, "She started it."

  "Did not!"

  Their laughter filled the sidewalk as they continued to walk.

  THE RESTAURANT THEY chose was located near the center of the market overlooking the fountain. Like many places, it was open to the outside, just separated from the passersby by well-spaced pillars and oversized pots of flowers. Local music was piped through speakers, barely heard over the conversations of the diners and the clattering of dishes.