Murder on the Equator Box Set

by Becca Bloom

  Sylvia pulled another batch of empanadas out of the oven, then with an exaggerated turn of the temperature dial, she turned it off. "That's the last of them," she exclaimed in triumph. "My work in here is done."

  I didn't know how she juggled so much. It was admirable to see how much preparation she'd done yesterday to simplify her work. Most of the empanadas had been filled and formed, only needing the egg wash brushed over them before sticking them inside the oven until the timer buzzed. I wished I could be so organized, but I was still awfully proud of how well the doughnuts turned out and how much easier their production was getting.

  Fernanda and Martha came back, looking much more chipper than when they'd left.

  "You have got to go outside and see what Tia Rosa is doing. She's awesome!" said Fernanda, the emotion in her usually subdued monotone adding to my impatience to see what Tia Rosa was up to.

  Pulling the basket of fried doughnuts out of the fryer, I shook the oil off and added them to the growing pile of plain doughnuts needing glaze. "I'll be back in half an hour," I said, pulling off my apron. "Are you coming too, Sylvia?" I asked.

  She had the last batch of empanadas arranged neatly on napkins.

  "I wouldn't miss it for the world. Let's go."

  “Perfect, I just need to get something from the apartment really quick.” Leaving Sylvia in the kitchen, I ran upstairs to my room, ruffled through my stuff for my money stash, and shoved the bills … Where should I put them? I hadn’t had any problems so far, but I’d heard too many stories of thievery to be content with a couple hundred dollars in my pocket. My sock? Abuelita had made me throw away my money belt, declaring it estúpido and the first place a skilled thief looked. It was too obvious anyway. Left with few options, I tucked the bills away in the most secure location I could think of at the moment. If it worked for Ecuadorian women, it was good enough for me.

  Chapter 20

  Before we'd even left the dining room, we could hear the upbeat dance music playing on speakers in the park. There were so many people walking around, the cars drove by at a snail's pace on the narrow, one-way street separating the restaurant from the food fair.

  The breeze cooled my skin and the aromas it carried teased my senses, making my mouth water. I'd have to walk around the park to see what other delights awaited.

  We crossed the crowded street and a car gunned its engine just as I stepped out. Startled, I jumped onto the curb and into the middle of a pack of dudes who looked like they had just escaped from a bar fight. The cologne was strong with them and they were all dressed like the kind of guy I usually avoided. Good thing my money was safe.

  "Sorry," I mumbled, trying to get around them without drawing any more attention to myself than I already had.

  Finally freeing myself from the middle of the pack, Sylvia grabbed my arm and looped it through hers. "Stay with me before you get mugged."

  I didn't argue with her. I clung to her side until the crowd thinned enough for us to walk normally.

  There was a line in front of Tia Rosa's booth. She had three large bowls filled with candy. As I got closer, I saw one was full of mints, another full of chocolates, and the other with assorted fruit flavors. A large sign in front of the bowls offered the painting of a portrait with the purchase of a piece of candy. Behind the bowls, but close enough to the front of the tent to offer better lighting, sat Tia Rosa with a sketching pad. She had pencils tucked behind each ear and she squinted her eyes through her glasses at the little girl sitting in front of her, crunching on her candy.

  “She’s selling candy at a dollar a-piece?” remarked Sylvia.

  “With a free portrait included in the purchase. While a piece of candy is severely overpriced at a dollar, it’s dirt cheap for a portrait drawing.”

  I was about to comment on Tia Rosa's inventiveness when Abuelita's stern voice said from behind us, "Is estúpido. Ridiculous. Is food section and she sell little candy and art. She no belong here."

  Abuelita joined us, standing at my elbow.

  "Did the mayor have any objections?" I asked. He had to have seen her table. If he hadn’t said anything, then who were we to make any objections? It was, after all, his event. And Tia Rosa obviously featured the candy, not her artwork.

  "He no say nothing. He laugh."

  Looking at the line of people waiting to buy their overpriced candy and "free" portrait, I could only deduct that Tia Rosa was on to something. "Perhaps people want a mint or a piece of chocolate after their meal," I suggested in Tia's defense.

  Abuelita glared. "Is no food. Candy no food."

  Tia Rosa shouted, "You too loud, Bertha. I hear you. You no have people wait for empanadas. You complain because you jealous."

  I looked down two booths and it was true. Nobody else had a line of people waiting to patiently receive their … candy.

  "You no draw good," said Abuelita, shaking her head.

  "I get much practice today and I sell much candy for mineral pools. I no have competition. Is wonderful!" Tia Rosa smiled widely and continued coloring in a section of the little girl’s hair with her charcoal pencil. One ponytail was longer than the other, but there was a certain Picasso-like quality to Tia Rosa's artwork which no doubt appealed to people.

  Finishing her drawing, she took great care to sign the bottom. "In case I be famous," she said to the little girl with a wink, who looked at her picture with a furrowed brow.

  "I try capture tilt of eye. You very pretty girl. Too pretty for to draw," Tia Rosa added with a smile and an extra mint, charming the girl with her compliment and extra candy.

  The parents, seeing how happy their little girl was, smiled and nodded in agreement at the genius of Tia Rosa's artwork. If I ever fulfilled my dream to open up my own bakery, I'd hire her as my PR manager on the spot.

  Abuelita wasn't impressed. She huffed back to her booth.

  "Jessica, I draw you?" Tia Rosa asked.

  I looked behind me at the line of people waiting. "I'll return later. I don't want to cut in front of these people when they've been waiting a while."

  She grinned, gave Sylvia and me a chocolate, and returned to her work. We were on our way to my booth when I saw Doménica arrive with more boxes of candy to fill the bowls, holding out her hand for payment. Tia Rosa was doing much more than raise funds for the mineral pools. I was proud to see how she helped the candy girl.

  Sylvia bought a doughnut before continuing to her booth, leaving me to join Adi, who shoved two napkins with coconut doughnuts on them at me. "Can you give these to that guy with the fanny pack and the woman with the visor and frizzy hair?"

  "Where's Edgar?" I asked, giving the couple their treats.

  "We ran out of napkins. I sent him to the store for another package," she said, greeting a cluster of tourists in the same breath.

  She fidgeted a lot. So much I had to ask, "Are you okay?"

  "I've been doing the potty dance for at least five minutes and I need to get going to Ambato for dress fittings. As soon as Edgar gets back, I need to run to the bathroom. Do you have your keys? I think I left mine inside. That's what I get for leaving the apartment before coffee."

  I patted my pockets, determined to man the booth single-handedly until Edgar returned rather than allow her to suffer a moment longer. Digging through my pockets, I patted them again. They were empty.

  "Oh no. I could have sworn I had them earlier." I dug through each pocket again, trying to think when I'd last had them.

  "It's no matter. I'll just go to the restaurant. Mom has a spare set of keys to my place, so we're only locked out until I can get the extra key from her." She squirmed in place, looking out over the crowd.

  I saw Edgar before she did. He crossed the street in front of us, kneeling down to pick something off the ground and looking at it with a frown on his face.

  He rushed behind the table to us, holding up my key-chain. Adi grabbed them and took off before he could say anything.

  "Thank you for finding my keys! Where were
they?" I asked.

  "They were on the side of the road, by the curb. How did you manage to lose them there?" He finally retracted the hand Adi had snatched my keys from.

  "I ran into a group of people right there. I don't know how my keys fell though. I didn't have them in my hand."

  Edgar's eyes widened. "They must have picked them from your pocket. You'll have to be more careful. You didn't lose anything else valuable, did you?"

  I patted my pockets again, but I knew I didn't have anything valuable there. Thank goodness I’d hid the money for Diego elsewhere. I was tempted to check, but couldn’t figure out how to do so without being seen.

  Edgar took charge of the customers and I did my best to keep out of his way. When it became obvious I was more of a hindrance than a help, I moved out from behind the table to the large sidewalk.

  Mayor Guerra was there, schmoozing the people and reminding everyone how he had arranged this wonderful event for the benefit of the community. I tried to duck out of his sight before he saw me, but I was too late.

  "Miss James!" he exclaimed, his arms open wide and his voice loud enough to cause several people to turn around to look at me. He had an entourage following him around, and I almost swallowed my tongue when I saw that one of them held a news camera and a microphone.

  Trying to shrink into myself, I tried to hide as Mayor Guerra introduced me to his people. "Miss James, though she insists she is only here for a brief vacation, has formed an important part of our society here in Baños. Did you know she put a murderer behind bars, solving a double homicide within a week of her arrival?"

  They gasped. As did I when I saw the cameraman prop his camera on his shoulder and point it at me.

  Waving my hand in front of my face, I said, "It was nothing. I'd better get back to my doughnuts." I took a step back, but the mayor was having none of it. Served me right for leaving the apartment without mascara, I supposed.

  "That's another point in Miss James' favor. After her heroic acts involved in the murders of the Guzmáns, she has generously given of her time and energy to add her contribution of these delectable doughnuts to our fundraiser. Don't be surprised if she raises more funds for our pools than anyone else in the entire fair." He placed his hands on my shoulders, flashed his brilliant smile at the camera, and said, "Remember this face, ladies and gentlemen. It won't be the first time Miss James does something newsworthy. I am happy to call her my friend."

  He leaned forward, kissing me on each cheek and shaking my hand enthusiastically. "Smile, Miss James," he whispered.

  My smile must have looked more like a grimace. I felt like I needed a shower after having so much insincere praise poured over me, and I didn't take kindly to his presumption. Friends were earned. It wasn't a term I used as loosely as Mayor Guerra did. If he were such a good friend, he wouldn’t put my makeup-less face anywhere near a camera.

  The mayor and his media pack continued down the sidewalk and I took off in the opposite direction, stopping once I got to Abuelita's tent. She was grumbling about something. It turns out, that something was me.

  Sylvia rolled her eyes at her mother. "Ignore her, Jess. She's just jealous because you'll probably be on television for the evening news."

  "I don't want to be on television." I ran my fingers over my face in the vain hope I might have remembered to put something on my face that morning. My eyelashes glided smoothly over my fingers without the benefit of clumpy mascara to reassure me I'd remembered to put some makeup on.

  "You look lovely," Sylvia said.

  "I'll be on national news without a stitch of makeup on." Jessamyn would be horrified. I was tempted to march after the mayor and suggest that he feature Tia Rosa and her creative set-up. That had to be more newsworthy than me and my blotchy skin and non-existent eyebrows and lashes. I looked like a ghost without a little paint on the barn!

  "You won't help yourself by worrying about it. Maybe they'll find something or someone else to feature," said Sylvia, the voice of reason. She was so much like my own, level-headed mom, I wondered if Mom could pick a lock as well as Sylvia had last night. She’d probably know how to extricate a couple Benjamins from her hiding place without looking ridiculous. From the feel of things, they hadn’t stayed put.

  Of course, there was a simple solution. I nearly face palmed my own forehead when it dawned on me that all I needed to do was return to the restaurant. I could slip into the bathroom and get the bill out without causing a scene at all. Nobody would ever need to know and I will have learned a valuable lesson. Never hide money in your lingerie.

  I excused myself from Abuelita's booth and pondered where else to hide money other than in the obvious places when I heard my name.

  Straight in front of me, in the middle of my path to the restaurant, stood Diego. I'd just ask him to come to the restaurant with me.

  "Hey, Jessica, I have your receipt.” He shoved it in front of me. “My sister is fuming at me because the till didn't balance last night. I hate to be pushy, but can you please pay me for the piece right now?" He glanced at his watch and looked over his shoulder.

  So much for avoiding humiliation.

  I looked around, trying to time it just right. The mayor and his camera crew were on the other side of the park. I was safe from them, although in my mind, I could already see me on the evening news digging through my bra in the middle of a crowded park. I slouched my shoulders forward and tried to look like the complicated dames I'd seen pull a bill out of their bra elegantly in the movies. Why had I thought I could do that?

  Reaching up to the edge of my t-shirt, I froze in place when Jake walked up behind Diego.

  "Hey, man, I just saw your sister. You'd better get back there pronto or Jessica will have another murder investigation on her hands."

  Diego looked at me pleadingly, holding the receipt out for me to exchange with the cash poking me at the bottom of my bra.

  Great. Just great.

  Chapter 21

  Diego's pleading eyes shifted from me to something behind me. I heard shouts, shuffling feet, and Abuelita's eardrum-puncturing voice. "You, go away!"

  I turned around in time to see her crash a broom over Christian's head, shouting the whole time, "You go! You bother the girls and they leave. You pest!"

  Jake groaned. "We'd better pull her off of him before the cameras catch her and the mayor boots her out of her own booth."

  Abuelita's scene was just the opportunity I needed. With a quick look around to make sure no eyes were on me, I reached down into the depths of my bra, pulling out the hidden bills with a relieved sense of triumph and determination to hide money nowhere else than in the front pocket of my snug blue jeans.

  My problem solved, I turned in the direction of the spectators as Jake and Diego struggled to pry Abuelita off Christian. She managed another jab with her broom before they succeeded.

  Exchanging the cash for my receipt, I thanked Diego once again and he ran back to his shop.

  Jake stayed glued to Abuelita's side as he coaxed her back inside her booth.

  I needed to get back to the kitchen. A half an hour hadn't passed, but I needed to work every bit as hard as Martha and Fernanda.

  Filling my lungs with fresh air, I enjoyed the breeze before heading back inside the stifling heat of the kitchen.

  I crossed the street in front of the ice cream shop. Vanessa stood facing the closed doors. She looked so sad.

  "The view is much nicer in the other direction," I said, pointing to the park. "Have you come to check out the food fair?"

  She smoothed back her hair and redid her ponytail. "Actually, I came to see you. The wedding is tomorrow and I'm so worried that they'll arrest Roberto before we can get married."

  What was she more concerned about: Roberto or the wedding? I couldn't tell. I wanted to believe she cared more for her fiancé than in securing the big diamond and all the property she stood to benefit from as Roberto's wife.

  "It must be stressful for both of you," I said, hopi
ng her next comment would express more empathy for her groom.

  "It is! And this whole mess with my bridesmaids … Thank goodness for Adi. She promised she'd be back tomorrow morning in time to help me with my dress. Good thing we moved the wedding to the evening. I don't think the police would make an arrest on a Sunday, do you? I mean, not the day of my wedding, right?"

  "Not if they are able to confirm that Roberto is innocent. I know you're worried about him, but if he didn't murder his brother, then you shouldn't stress about what may never happen." How often my mom had said those same words to me! I'd always had an excuse for them, and Vanessa was no different.

  "But it could happen. I don't trust the police not to throw the blame on Roberto just to make an easy arrest and wash their hands of the whole mess. Have you found out anything?"

  I debated whether or not to tell her about the email Abuelita had found on Victor's computer, when Hugo showed up.

  "Vanessa, how good to see you. How are you?" he asked, standing so close beside me, his arm brushed against mine. I shuffled away slightly, and he followed me.

  Vanessa frowned. "I'm doing as well as can be expected, thank you. I'd better get back to the office. Please excuse me." She took off down the street in the direction of Dr. Montalvo's office at a fast clip.

  "Be careful of her, Jessica. I think she knows much more than what she lets on about Victor's death," said Hugo, his voice sincere and his eyes brimming with fatherly concern.

  Knowing what I knew and curious about why he would cast suspicion on Vanessa, I asked, "Why do you say that?"

  "She's a gold digger. She dated Victor for years, and when he didn't amount to anything, she cast her net over Roberto. It must have really ground her gears when Victor inherited everything just a few months after she'd dumped him."

  "But that doesn't prove anything. And you can hardly blame a woman for wanting some measure of security with the man she chooses to marry." Nobody thought badly of Elizabeth Bennet for her practical views of marriage in her time, nor of her union to Mr. Darcy — a man of fortune. Did Mr. Darcy have bright green eyes? I'd always pictured him with Colin Firth's warm, brown eyes, but though I'd poured through the pages of Pride & Prejudice, Jane Austen never revealed his true eye color. I guessed some things were better left to the imagination.