by Becca Bloom
"Who was sitting with her?" I asked.
"Miss Matty, as well as some other faculty members of the school."
Though I tended to excuse Miss Matty from any involvement in Sophia's death, I had to open my mind to the possibility that she might somehow be involved. Señora Cuesta was sure convinced of it.
"How long ago was this?"
"About thirty minutes ago. The police were called, and everyone present has been asked to stay until they sort things out. They sent her to a private clinic instead of the local hospital. There's more security there."
"Probably best under the circumstances. Is Agent Vasquez there?" I asked.
"He is. I know he won't be happy that I called you, but if this gives you any clue as to who might have killed Sophia, you need to know. If I hang up suddenly, it's because he caught me on my phone."
Knowing that our call could be cut short at any moment added an urgency that jumbled the questions on the tip of my tongue.
"Wait," Luis said, his voice dropping. "An officer just came into the dining room. He walked straight to Agent Vasquez. There’s something in his hand." He whispered so low, I held my breath to hear him.
Luis continued. "It looks like a glass bottle, small enough to fit in the palm of the hand. Agent Vasquez is holding it up to the light. It’s a liquid."
Adi's ice cream spoon dripped into the tub at her feet, forgotten. I motioned for her to be patient. I didn't dare flinch and risk missing something.
Luis gasped. "He went over to Antonio's table. They’re showing him the bottle. Antonio looks flustered. Oh no. Oh no."
"What?" I was on the edge of my seat in every sense, and had held my breath so long, it now came in pants.
"Agent Vasquez just arrested Antonio. He's leading him out of the room in handcuffs."
"There will be no living with Abuelita once we tell her that she was right all along," Adi said once I had filled her in on Luis’ side of the conversation. He'd had to hang up right after the startling news of Antonio's arrest, one of the policemen having spotted him on his cell phone.
"Do you know what clinic they would have taken Shirley to?" I asked Adi.
She thought for a moment. "The nicest is Clínica Tungurahua."
"Does Dr. Montalvo work there?"
"I imagine so."
"When I got my tetanus shot earlier, he was called away. Before he left, he said someone had been poisoned. It must've been Shirley."
"Makes sense. He worked with the police until his wife made him quit a few years ago. If anyone could think of a worst-case scenario, it’s Dr. Montalvo."
Too true.
We couldn't keep the news of the arrest to ourselves.
There was great rejoicing in the kitchen and Abuelita did more than her fair share of gloating. Vindication totally went to her head. She even planned a celebratory breakfast with Agent Vasquez and Luis as our honored guests.
All that remained was to ask Agent Vasquez if Antonio had confessed to his crimes. I didn't like the guy at all, but I had difficulty accepting that he had killed three people. I couldn't shake the sensation that he was being set up. He didn't strike me as the conniving sort.
I tried to go to sleep, but I ended up tossing and turning all night. Did Agent Vasquez have the wrong man? Or was I absolutely wrong in thinking Antonio might be innocent? What made me think I could solve a thirty-year-old cold case anyway? Just because I had devoured Agatha Christie's works and every single Perry Mason novel written did not make me an expert. Wrapping myself in self-doubt and insecurity, I slept restlessly and woke up in a bad mood the following day.
Lady greeted me with doggy smile and a wagging tail. She leaned into me as I patted her head and flopped her ears. Why couldn't people be as cool as her? By the time I had brushed my teeth, I had decided that dogs were far superior to humans. They didn't go around poisoning each other or lying to cover their secrets.
Trudging downstairs to the kitchen for my first cup of coffee, I tried to blend in with the kitchen decor by sitting as still as I could on my stool while I calmly and very quietly sipped on my morning nectar.
Sylvia took one look at me and immediately refilled the coffee maker.
Tia Rosa washed breakfast dishes. The normal spring in her step was gone and, even though I didn't care for the tropical music playing over the radio, I missed her humming along with it.
I was on my second cup of coffee and she had rinsed her last dish when she climbed onto the stool beside me. "Police arrest the killer, but I still no have my building. Is sad injustice." She looked at the corners of the room where boxes were piled to the ceiling with the contents of my dream doughnut shop inside.
Abuelita said, "Cry no help. What you do?"
Tia Rosa’s face scrunched up. "I no cry. I complain. Is different."
Abuelita blew a raspberry, saying, "You want building or no? You fight. You find the way."
Tia Rosa looked at me, nudging her thumb at her sister. "She right about who is the murderer, and now she think she know everything." Making a face at Abuelita, she leaned into me. "They many geese at the bad people house. Is too bad they no have gold eggs. I need one."
"How long do you have to pay for the truck load?" I asked.
"I convince him to give me more time."
I breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh good."
"I have to send money in two day. On Monday, no later."
Tensing back up again, I repeated, "Two days." How could we raise twenty thousand dollars in two days? And then, what would we do with all the remodeling material if Tia Rosa was unable to buy the building?
"We could try to sell some of the decorations you bought," I suggested.
Tia Rosa patted my hand. "No yet, Jessica. I no give up yet."
A waitress burst through the door, and the sounds of friendly chatter and cutlery against plates reached me, leaving me to wonder what it would be like to enjoy a real vacation. I had been in Ecuador for a month now, and at this rate, I would need a vacation to recover from the trip once I returned home. But I couldn't complain. I had dozens of ideas for cartoons to draw and stories to tell my family. I’d forever treasure my memories from here.
The waitress made her way to me. Pointing out to the dining room, she spoke to me slowly in Spanish. "El Christian está aquí. Quiere conversar."
I repeated what I thought she said aloud for confirmation, though I could tell by the way Abuelita grabbed a broom, wielding it like a sword in front of her, that I had understood correctly. "Christian is here, and he wants to talk?"
Sylvia placed a plate of scrambled eggs with diced tomatoes, bell peppers, and onions along with two pieces of bacon in front of me. "Very good. Ma, put the broom down before you poke someone." To the waitress, she suggested that Christian join us in the kitchen.
Sylvia served up another plate and placed it opposite to me at the island — a safe distance away should Christian forget the truce he had established recently. "He will behave himself more with all of us here," Sylvia explained.
Begrudgingly, Abuelita put the broom down (but kept it within reach). "If he try anything, I pour the juice over his head," she said, grabbing a pitcher of juice from the refrigerator.
I shouldn't have laughed. It would only encourage her. I knew Abuelita would carry through on her threat (she'd done it before), and it was all I could do to get myself under control when Christian came into the kitchen, saw her, and raised his hands up like a hostage in a bank robbery.
"I come with good news," he said rapidly.
Sylvia invited him to sit in front of the plate she had set out for him. He stepped toward it hesitantly. Abuelita stood beside it, the broom in one hand and the pitcher of juice in the other.
Looking at Sylvia, Christian said, "I will behave if she will behave, yes?"
As if anyone could make Abuelita do what she didn't want to do.
Abuelita set down the pitcher of juice. "You sit and eat. What the good news?"
I could smell Christ
ian's breath spray from across the counter as he spoke. "The people in the house were arrested."
"And the dogs?" I asked. Even though the German shepherd had tried to take off my arm, I couldn't fault him for being so grumpy locked in the small cage as he was with his tail buried in mud.
"It took some doing, but all the neighbors dancing in the street helped. They were taken to the animal shelter where they'll be taken care of until they’re adopted."
Tia Rosa said, "Miss Patty volunteer at the animal shelter. They treat good with the animals there."
Christian nodded, swallowing his mouthful of eggs. "Lady is safe now. Those people won't return here. I saw someone packing their stuff into a pickup when I left for here."
"That is good news. Thank you for your help, Christian." I looked over to the screen door to see Lady sitting in front of it with her ears perked up. She knew we were talking about her.
Christian filled up his fork. "You know what I said last night?"
The kitchen fell silent as he continued, "I was thinking, if you got a tattoo or something, we still might have a chance." He looked at me hopefully.
"I'm not getting a tattoo," I answered.
"It's too bad," he said. His disappointment lasted a split second before he asked, "Do you have any hot friends who can handle this?" He flexed his biceps and pointed both fingers at himself.
"No," I said simply.
"Their loss. A guy like me doesn't stay single for long, yes?"
For all of his tough talk, I couldn't wipe the image of his mother licking her finger to smooth his hair from my mind. He could pretend all he wanted; Christian was a mama's boy.
He stood up, pushing his plate away, and thanked Sylvia.
"Say ‘hi’ to your mom for me, okay?" I said.
Christian reached for his breath spray and smoothed back his hair.
As soon as he left, I grabbed Lady’s leash. We were going for a walk, and I had the perfect destination in mind. First, we would swing by the flower market to get a cheerful floral arrangement for Shirley, then I would sweet talk the guard at the clinic to hold Lady for me while I asked Shirley a few questions.
I had just rounded the corner of our block, when I saw Agent Vasquez.
He greeted me with a smile. "It looks like things are going to work out for Tia Rosa and Adi after all. Antonio hasn't confessed yet, but every bit of evidence points at him. I can't wait to see the expression on General Bolivar’s face when we tell him that we don't need his precious team after all."
I wish I could share in his excitement, but it had all happened too easily. Like he said, all of the evidence pointed at Antonio. It's not like I had a ton of experience in these things, but I did know enough about life to know that it was never that tidy. Something in me suspected that Washo knew it as well with the way his observant eyes watched my face for a reaction.
"All that matters is that the killer is caught and Sophia's family can finally let go," I said.
Ever the curious detective, he asked, "Where are you going?"
"I thought it would be nice to take some flowers to Shirley."
"You won't be able to get in. Her room is guarded."
That wouldn't stop me from trying. "If that's the case, then I'll just leave the flowers with the guard to give to her later."
The clinic was just as Washo said it would be. There was no other option left for me but to leave the flowers with the guard and trust those more experienced to ask Shirley all the questions I wanted to ask her.
Lady's tail whacked against my leg. She looked excitedly up and down the streets. Like me, she wasn't ready to go home yet. There would be celebration in the kitchen with Antonio's arrest, but it just didn't sit right with me. It bugged me that I was the only one who didn't think Antonio was guilty. What was I missing? Were my instincts trustworthy enough to defy the police's findings? Unless Antonio confessed, there would always be a tiny grain of doubt driving me crazy.
Taking advantage of the freedom to walk Lady down the streets, we turned away from the restaurant.
I walked with no particular destination in mind to find myself standing in front of the pharmacy and Dr. Montalvo's office. The blinds covering his windows were closed. Even if he had been there, he probably would have told me the same thing Washo had said — that Shirley nearly died from the same poison that had killed Alex.
The pharmacist ran around behind the counter, busily attending to the customers lined up waiting for them. Would it be as easy to get poison here than it was to walk into a pharmacy and get whatever drug you requested?
Continuing down the street to the happy tune of salsa music beckoning tourists from speakers in front of shop windows, I felt my spirits lift. It was difficult to remain stressed for very long in such an environment bursting with rhythm, laughter and chatter. The earthy smells of cut grass mingled with freshly baked bread from the bakery on the corner and the relaxed smiles of people enjoying their vacation in an exotic destination lightened my heart.
Soon, we had run out of shops and people milling about the commercial streets to a residential neighborhood. Concrete walls adorned with iron bars twisted in decorative shapes surrounded every house, but the bright flowers of bougainvillea and delicate blooms of climbing roses softened the harsh exterior and lent their sweet perfume to the air.
I smiled and greeted the woman outside sweeping the sidewalk in front of her home. She grinned at me, then pulled a lemon the size of a grapefruit out of her pocket and handed it to me. Pushing it into my hands, she resumed sweeping. Thanking her as best as I could, I continue down the street, enchanted with the charm of Baños and the kind people who inhabited the small town.
Choosing a different route to return to the restaurant, Lady and I wound down a street cluttered with cement trucks and rebar laying down the middle of the sidewalk. Shovels scraped against gravel and loud merengue music echoed through the shell of the home being built. A yellow sign proclaimed proudly in large letters the name of the architect in charge of the construction, as well as his contact information. A clean, white pickup with the same name and phone numbers was parked in front of the house.
I couldn't get the image of that sign out of my head as we continued back to the restaurant. Something about it seemed relevant, but it wasn’t until I stood in front of Tia Rosa’s building that it occurred to me. We had a major piece of the puzzle that had prevented the detectives from solving Sophia's case before. They could never find her, and so she had been dismissed. But we knew where she had been killed and buried. In a concrete construction, there had to be someone who noticed the extra work done to cover the body.
My body hummed with excitement as I returned to the kitchen for an entirely different reason than for what the others celebrated. Abuelita, Tia Rosa, Sylvia, Washo, and Adi talked loudly and drank coffee around the island.
I said to Adi, "You came up for air, huh?"
She ran her fingers through her hair. "I seriously needed a break. Abuelita’s ancient sewing machine is slow and clunky, but it's getting the job done. I can’t take on any new customers, but at least I can keep the ones I have happy. I should be able to finish the gown by tonight."
I set Lady’s leash down on the table under the phone, poured myself a cup of coffee, and joined them around the counter.
Settling by Tia Rosa, I asked her, "Out of curiosity, who built your building?" I kept my voice down to prevent raining on anyone's parade by hinting my doubt that they had caught the real killer aloud.
Tia Rosa puffed out her chest. "Is first construction of very famous architect, Marcelo Mendez." Just in case I hadn't heard the first time, she repeated, "He very famous."
Excellent. He would be easy to find in an Internet search. Most likely, he would have his own web page.
Slipping out of the kitchen, I did a quick search on my laptop. I jotted down his cell phone number and held my breath in the hopes that he spoke English as I punched in the number and waited.
Señor Mendez�
�s missed calls for the day would include an embarrassing number of calls from me, but I persisted until it got late and I had to go to sleep. I had three hundred doughnuts to make in the morning.
Chapter 28
I wanted to hurt my alarm clock in the morning, but there was something therapeutic about rolling dough and by the time Tia Rosa and Abuelita helped me flip the last doughnut in the frying oil and pour glaze over the top, my mood had improved drastically.
I delivered the doughnuts to the hotel, receiving more praise than I was comfortable accepting. Leaving Tia Rosa with the manager and receptionist, I went out to the lobby where Miss Matty stood in front of the poster announcing the gala to be held later that morning in her honor.
Trying to think of something pleasant to say, I stood beside her. "Well, they still want you to take the job."
She looked up at me, and I saw the dark circles surrounding her puffy eyes. "The sooner we can move on, the better." She shook her head and pinched her lips together. "I trust the investigators to bring the correct person to justice, but I still don't understand Antonio's motive. Not for Sophia anyway." She looked at the poster again, her eyes settling on Antonio's picture.
A hiss from across the lobby caught my attention. Leaving Miss Matty with a young teacher who hovered around in the hopes of speaking with her idol, I made my way over to Señora Cuesta.
"All these years, I knew it was Miss Matty,” she said with more regret in her tone than accusation or relief.
I had to ask her, "Do you really think Antonio was capable of hurting your daughter? Of killing her?"
She sniffed and shrugged her shoulders, but I could see the desperation in her watery eyes. Her tough shell was gone, leaving her vulnerable. "I have to believe it. I’ve lived with uncertainty for far too long, and it's taken its toll on me."
Señora Cuesta reached out and squeezed my arm. "You would've liked my Sophia."
I tried to smile at her through the melancholy engulfing me. Sadness gripped my throat, but I managed to whisper, "I'm sure you're right."
