by Becca Bloom
Pulling my journal back and poising my pen over a new spread, I prepared to take notes.
Sylvia nervously tapped a sugar spoon against the top of the counter. “Right. First, I think we need to understand Tia Rosa’s situation completely. We know that Adi’s business has been cut off at the knees. It would be neither practical nor reasonable for her to replace all her machines and fabrics until the police release the building when she has everything she needs in the studio above the shop. However, she can continue to work here and live in the place above the restaurant until we can straighten things out.”
I could practically see the contradiction on the tip of Adi’s tongue, but Abuelita elbowed her and nodded at Tia Rosa, who was wiping her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief.
“The timing stinks, but I’m not ruined,” Adi said, squeezing Tia Rosa to her side.
“Not yet,” Sylvia added. “If we work together on this, we’ll get what the police need to release the building,” she said resolutely.
Really, there was no other option. It had to be done.
Abuelita, her voice as soft as I’d ever heard it, asked, “Why you cry, Rosa?”
Rosa blew her nose into her hankie. “I fail. I no good businesswoman. When I tell you what I have did, you call me ‘estúpida’.”
“I promise I no call you estúpida. I want help.”
Tia Rosa looked around the table, dabbing at her eyes and sniffing.
“Jess make you the doughnuts. They make you feel better,” Abuelita offered, as if I could just snap my fingers and summon a dozen doughnuts to magically appear. Still, for Tia Rosa, I’d make them.
“I like the strawberry with the sparkles,” Tia Rosa said, pushing her bedazzled horn-rimmed glasses up her button nose.
I smiled at her, happy that the mere mention of something I could give her eased her sorrow. “I’ll even fill some with cream for you.”
She closed her eyes and licked her lips. Then, taking a deep breath, she said, “I make deal.”
I knew that Tia Rosa had bought the building from Roberto, the brother of the guy who was murdered in his ice cream shop not too long ago. Roberto was a nice man who had known Tia Rosa since birth, but he was also recently married, starting up a new medical practice, and horribly strapped for cash.
I waited for Tia Rosa to continue, afraid to hear her explanation.
“I take my money from the bank and give it Roberto. He give me papers of the building. He say he trust me and he wait for the loan approve.”
“He estúpido. How much you give him?”
“Everything.”
Well, that was generous and foolhardy.
Tia Rosa’s shoulders sagged. “Roberto trust me. The bank say they approve the loan and I give it Roberto. No is problem — no yet.” She slapped her hands together.
It would be a very big problem if she couldn’t make her payments. She’d be the owner of a property she couldn’t use for who knew how long.
“Can you pay the construction workers for the two full days they’ve worked this week?” Sylvia asked.
Adi waved her hand. “We’ll chip in to help with that. They can’t work while the shop’s closed up anyway.”
Tia Rosa swallowed hard. Clearly, the workers weren’t her only concern. “Thank you, Adi. You nice girl,” she patted her hand, then sighed. “Today Wednesday, yes?” We nodded in unison as she squirmed on her seat, the tension in the room intensifying the longer she kept silent.
“What it is, Rosa? We nervous and you no speak,” said Abuelita.
“I so exciting, I buy the material for the shop,” Tia Rosa said, burying her face in her hands.
I recalled her plans for the shop. The new tile flooring, the foundation work, the wall additions, the glass display cases, the bathroom remodel, fryers, wire racks, tables, chairs, the chandelier … and all the other million little details a new shop required.
“What you buy?” Abuelita demanded.
“Everything,” answered Tia Rosa quietly, peeking through her fingers and breaking through our stunned silence to add, “And now I no earn money for to make pay. Is big problem.”
Sylvia tapped her spoon frantically against the counter. “Ay, Tia. That’s not the worst of it. Are you saying all this stuff is going to be delivered here? To the shop we no longer have access to?”
“Yes,” Tia Rosa squeaked.
“Where are we going to put it?” Adi asked, looking around the organized, but full, kitchen.
Where, indeed? I heard a collective groan from everyone around the island.
“Is there a storage unit to rent nearby?” I asked, not understanding the tense expressions surrounding me.
“What that?” asked Abuelita.
I guess that answered my question, as did the silence proceeding afterward as my friends worriedly chewed on their lips, tugged their hair, and tapped spoons against the counter.
“When do you expect everything to arrive?” asked Sylvia, straightening her shoulders and bracing her hands against the counter.
“Tomorrow.” Tia Rosa’s voice trembled.
“Caramba,” echoed around the table.
I looked down at the empty pages waiting to be filled with notes in my journal. Flipping the page back to my drawing, I narrowed my focus on the real problem. If we could solve this crime and present the police with irrefutable evidence, we might be able to salvage Tia Rosa’s dream and Adi’s fledgling business. But where to start?
“You said that Sophia had distanced herself from her friends just before graduation?” I asked Sylvia.
“Yes. I thought maybe she and her boyfriend were having problems.”
“And most of them are coming to Baños for the weekend to attend the gala for their teacher?”
“Yes. They’re hosting a special dinner on Friday night for members of their class at the Imperial Hotel and a celebration brunch for Miss Matty Sunday afternoon. I imagine many of the class will arrive today at the hotel.”
It was as good a place as any to start. “Someone in her class must have known something. We have until Sunday afternoon to figure out what happened to Sophia before everyone who might have seen or heard what happened leaves.”
Four days to solve a crime kept secret for three decades.
Abuelita slammed her hand against the top of the island. “We solve crime. To fail no is option.”
Exactly what I’d been thinking.
Chapter 7
So much for any plans of touring the country like a normal person on vacation, but I could think of no greater cause nor anywhere I’d rather be. I just hoped I’d be able to see Tia Rosa’s shop set up.
“What else can you tell us about this gala and the teacher they’re honoring?” I asked, ready to begin my list of suspects, and hoping the guilty party would be present at the ceremony.
Sylvia answered, “It’s to celebrate the career of Miss Matilda Mayorga. We all called her Miss Matty.”
“She wonderful teacher,” said Tia Rosa. “She help many childrens.”
“It’s true. You have to understand the culture here at the time, Jess. While it wasn’t uncommon for a woman to become a teacher, all of the authoritative positions were occupied by men. I wouldn’t describe her as a feminist, but she was ambitious and not easily intimidated. Our high school was her first teaching position after she graduated from the university and she had a lot to prove. Her energy was contagious, so when she told her students that her dream was to become the director of our school, we supported her. She made us believe anything was possible.” Sylvia’s admiration was evident in every syllable she uttered.
“She sounds amazing. Did she spend some time as the director before now?” I asked.
“No, it’s actually a step down for her. You see, she was so successful in getting her students scholarships into the best universities, she was offered a prestigious job in the Ministry of Education. She created programs to integrate children with handicaps into the schools as well as programs to
provide meals for students in need. She raised enough money to keep the music and art departments going when they were in danger of cuts. It’s been an uphill battle for her every step of the way, but she is loved and admired by all the students whose lives she’s touched.”
“If she’s been so successful, why is she coming back here?” asked Adi.
Sylvia shrugged her shoulders. “You’ll have to ask her. I daresay we’ll have the opportunity to do so during our investigation. Maybe she wanted to get back to her roots? Or maybe her life was too stressful and it was time to slow down? Anyway, to finally answer your question, Jess, the gala is organized by the graduates of her first class to celebrate her return to Baños and the accomplishment of her original goal as well as her many other achievements.”
“And Sophia was one of her students,” I pondered aloud, hoping for our sakes that there was a connection that would help us answer the questions left buried since 1986.
“She was. Miss Matty created a special study group for the senior class. Anybody willing to do the work was accepted. Sophia was one of them, as were the other popular kids in her circle.”
“Her circle?”
“They were all offered full scholarships to the country’s finest universities. Sophia was offered a scholarship abroad, which is probably why everyone assumed she had run away. I think most, if not all, of them will show up for the gala. They owe a lot to Miss Matty.”
Adi plucked a banana from the fruit bowl in the center of the square table. “Yeah, but surely the murderer, whoever he or she is, wouldn’t show up here.”
I countered, “But the body was only found this morning. As far as the murderer knows, the crime hasn’t even been discovered. They would raise more eyebrows by disappearing suddenly after the news got out.”
“If they bothered to show up in the first place,” she retorted.
Sylvia snorted. “As if they have a choice. I’m sure you heard about that class when you were in school. If the murderer is someone from Miss Matty’s infamous study group, they’d be obligated to show up here for her gala. Failure to do so would be worse than a snub to their beloved teacher and classmates.”
“And the gala is on Sunday,” I wrote it down along with any other detail I thought might be useful.
“Four days,” said Sylvia. I could hear the worry in her voice.
Refusing to be intimidated at the daunting task before us, I latched onto what I could do like a pitbull. I scanned down the dates and times mentioned, drawing lines between anything leading to Sophia.
“We’ll need to start with the people who were closest to her. Friends and family. Do you know how to contact her relatives?” I asked Sylvia.
“Her mother has remarried so many times, I wouldn’t know where to start to find her. However, she was the one who swore up and down that her daughter would never have run away.”
“How awful for her to live with that uncertainty for so long,” commented Adi, adding, “Do you think she’ll come here when she finds out? I mean, the building’s locked up. The police won’t even let her in to see if she can identify her daughter. Will they even bother to call her before the official investigation begins — whenever that may be?”
Sylvia said, “Oh, she’ll show up … if she finds out there’s a lead. Señora Cuesta was tireless in her search efforts and relentless with the police. She even put up a large reward, but nobody ever claimed it because Sophia was never found. Until now.” She quit tapping her spoon, and walked purposefully to the telephone. As she punched numbers, she leaned against the wall and said, “I don’t know how to contact her, but I know someone who can help us spread the word.”
I could only think of one person with access to the kind of exposure we needed. He had turned me into a viral star on YouTube (It’s a long story…) and it was because of his interview, I was plagued by bogus calls claiming to have information about my uncle. The same interview that had made Lady a public hero and led the Clingy Suits to me.
Sylvia bounced away from the wall. “Yes, I need to speak with Mayor Guerra, please. It’s a matter of extreme urgency.”
She paused while the mayor’s secretary, no doubt, explained how busy he was.
Sylvia smiled patiently, waiting for her opportunity. She had a strategy. I could see it plainly in her confident, calculating expression. I stood nearby, ready to pounce on the phone if the mayor gave her any trouble. He owed me big time.
With a shrug, she said, “Oh well. That is too bad. I thought Marlon would like to be mentioned in the papers as the man who finally laid to rest a thirty-year-old investigation in his hometown; a crime which no one else has been able to solve and which has hung like a black cloud over his graduating class.”
The mayor was in the same class Sophia had been in? I wrote his name in my journal for good measure.
“Mr. Mayor, thank you for taking my call.” Sylvia’s smile grew, and I could envision the secretary scrambling into Mayor Guerra’s office, practically shoving the phone at him lest he lose an opportunity to plaster his face across every news outlet in the country.
Our time being limited, we decided to divide up. Adi and Tia Rosa were in charge of research. They would search through old newspaper articles about Sophia Cuesta as well as any leads the police had pursued accessible to them.
Abuelita, sensing another chance to be on television, stuck to Sylvia and me like static on pantyhose. Our plan was to leverage the mayor’s position in the hopes of gaining more cooperation from the police. With the mayor and the media on our side, just maybe we could find out something important to add more urgency to Sophia’s case and rush the investigators to Baños.
Taking advantage of the lull between breakfast and lunch, we left the restaurant and crossed the street to stand in front of the police station. We wouldn’t go inside until Mayor Guerra had joined us.
The sun warmed me through, melting my bones and forcing me to relax even though I’d been wound up seconds ago. I closed my eyes as a soft breeze whispered past, licking my skin and carrying with it the exotic scents I’d grown to love. I would forever think of Baños when I smelled sugar cane and citrus fruit. Especially mandarins.
Abuelita elbowed me, putting a painful end to my peaceful reverie.
“They here. Those bad people, they here,” she hissed loudly enough for anyone within three hundred yards to hear.
Miniskirt Lady pulled something out of her blazer pocket. “You want proof, gringa. Here’s your proof.” She shoved a picture in front of my face.
Grabbing the photo to have a better look, it only took one glance to know it was completely bogus. “That’s not Lady,” I said, shoving the picture back to her.
She gasped. “Of course it is! See? She has the short hair of a terrier and the larger size of a German shepherd.”
Now, that sounded about right, but it didn’t change the fact that the dog in the picture was not my Lady. “The markings are all wrong. If this is the dog you’re looking for, I’ve never seen her. You must have my dog confused with yours.”
“Your dog? You mean, you claimed her?” asked Clingy Suit Man.
Oops.
My heart beat in my throat, and I did my best to feign calm confidence. Lifting my chin, I said, “Absolutely. I can’t imagine you would neglect your pet as much as she was when I found her. I could count her ribs, she was so malnourished. And she still flinches and cowers when anyone makes an abrupt movement near her, making me think her previous owners used to beat her. Now, surely, you wouldn’t take responsibility for that.”
I crossed my arms before they noticed how my hands trembled.
The man clenched his jaw and fumed. The woman pointed at me as she snapped, “As we told you earlier, our dear Cuddles ran away when she was just a puppy. She must have suffered a great deal while she was away from her loving home with us.”
“If it so loving, why she leave?” Abuelita asked.
The same question had been on the tip of my tongue.
“Cuddles is like a daughter to us,” the woman insisted.
Abuelita folded her arms and jutted her chin out to the side as she looked the couple up and down. “She look like you.”
I held my breath and bit my lips to keep from laughing at her jab. It wasn’t nice, but I couldn’t help it. They deserved it.
Suit Man recovered first. Narrowing his eyes and dropping his voice to a threatening baritone, he said, “We have tried to be nice. I would hate to drag you into a mess with the police and our lawyer, but you are leaving us no choice.”
Sylvia piped up, “If that’s your next step, why not take it up with the mayor.” She turned to greet Mayor Guerra with a customary kiss on the cheek before he continued to me. I got a full hug along with my cheek kiss. Normally, I didn’t care much for the invasion of my personal space, but I will admit to gloating a bit at the mayor’s visual expression of his favoritism toward me. I had, after all, gotten him a lot of air time on the news channels lately with Lady’s heroics and my involvement in bringing yet another killer to justice (oh, and for making the best doughnuts on the equator).
“What’s this?” Mayor Guerra asked, his teeth blinding me as the sun glinted off them.
He looked at the couple, but they seemed more inclined to leave than to divulge their woes against me to the mayor.
“They want to claim Lady as theirs,” I answered.
The mayor looked confused. “After you littered my town with fliers and posters for the last month, I had thought nobody would come forward to claim her.” He looked to the couple for an explanation.
The man mumbled, “We were away on business.”
“You didn’t take your pet with you?” Mayor Guerra asked.
“She ran away, and we couldn’t find her,” Miniskirt Woman answered.
The mayor shook his head. “So you left her? It seems to me that whoever found her and took her in would be a better owner than you two have been, but what do I know? Look, here is Officer Rivera. If you have a complaint, he is the one to assist you.”
