by Becca Bloom
Washo walked right past me without pausing to catch his breath and clasped the handcuffs over Shirley's wrists.
Luis held it together so long as he had Shirley to glare at, but when she and her IV bags were wheeled out of the room surrounded by policemen and medical staff, he collapsed into a chair and buried his face in his hands.
Chapter 30
Hours later, I left the police station for the restaurant. I had repeated what I saw and heard so many times, I wasn't really looking forward to repeating it once again, but my friends deserved to know the rest of the story.
My curiosity had been satisfied on all accounts. I’d wondered why Shirley had bothered to miss one question on the exam when the scholarship was so important to her, and then there was that bit about the kitty litter.
It turns out, Shirley purposely missed one question to create doubt in her involvement in Alex’s scheme if they were caught. A sort of insurance.
And the kitty litter theft? Shirley had stolen it to mask any inconvenient odors a buried body would emit. I’d forever be suspicious of people who bought kitty litter in bulk, but at least Baños’ resident Cat Lady was in the clear.
Luis had called Miss Matty and arranged for all involved to go down to the police station. When I expressed my concern about the gala occurring without the honored guests, Luis reassured me, "This is Ecuador, Señorita Jessica. We use any excuse to have a party. And they won’t start on time anyway."
Sylvia had a full-on lunch waiting for me, complete with more of my favorite quinoa soup, a mound of rice topped with ripe tomato slices and a piece of chicken, and a tall glass of fresh juice. It was enough to feed a family of four.
Between bites, I filled them in on all the details. They rejoiced … well, all except for Abuelita who didn't like to be proven wrong yet again.
The phone rang and Sylvia picked it up. Holding it out to Tia Rosa, she said, "It's for you."
Tia Rosa listened before exclaiming, "Today Sunday. Is possible this?"
She looked stunned when she hung up the phone. "Is the bank. They want me go there now."
Sylvia took off her apron, hanging it on the hook by the swinging door. "Let’s not make them wait. I'll go with you."
I knew better than to hope that the loan denial had all been a mistake and that Antonio had set it right, but I hoped for it anyway. Looking at Adi and Abuelita, I could tell they thought it too.
The phone rang again, and Abuelita answered. Her expression darkened until she looked like a tea kettle about to explode into a whistle.
Adi came over to sit by me, keeping out of Abuelita’s arm range in case they went flying.
"Wait for it … Wait for it," she said under her breath.
Abuelita plunked her hands on her hips.
"And there it is," said Adi as we both watched Abuelita take a deep breath before she let loose.
Throwing one arm into the air, she said, "You no her uncle. What, you have ten years old? Where you mother? I want speak with her. I tell her she raise criminal." She set her hand back on her hip and tapped her toe against the floor.
When she burst into a rage of Spanish, I surmised that the kid on the phone claiming to be my uncle had been foolish enough to actually get his mom.
Adi said, "Now that you have experience investigating a cold case, maybe you'll have better success finding out what really happened to your uncle."
I'll admit, that had been one of my first thoughts when I started looking into Sophia’s murder.
"Not knowing is the worst, but what if I find out that the plane really did crash and he really was inside and that he really has been dead for all these years?" It seemed far-fetched that he could have survived. Wouldn’t he try to contact his family?
Adi squeezed my shoulder. "At least you'd know."
"It just seems that no matter what I find, we lose. If he did die, then we've tortured ourselves over nothing for years. If he did somehow survive, then why has he isolated himself for so long? I don't know if I would want to meet an uncle who would put his family through that. Abuelita’s request for help hasn't revealed anything. Maybe that's because there's nothing to find." Hope warred with logic in my mind, making me restless.
Abuelita hung up the phone just as Washo swung through the kitchen door.
Abuelita’s scowl turned into a sweet smile. "Sylvia no here," she said, adding, "You hungry? You eat?"
Washo took a piece of paper out of a file he held in his hands and pushed it toward me. I'd already given my statement. Had I forgotten to sign it?
He sat down across from me. "I have a friend on the force in Brazil. This was all he was able to find."
I felt numb as I looked down at the paper. My Spanish lessons had helped me enough that some of the Portuguese words made sense, but not all of it.
Washo translated word-for-word what sounded more like an accident report than the findings of an investigation. In summary, a charter plane had crashed and the only way they were able to identify who had been on the plane was by checking the log of passengers (where my uncle’s name unmistakably appeared). The explosion had destroyed everything.
I tried to hide my disappointment. It was silly of me to think there had been anything to find.
Washo said, "I shouldn't say this because there's nothing I would like more than for you to leave the country, but I find it odd that this was the only information to be found about that plane crash. Granted, it happened before the Brazilian police updated their data system, but my source could find no information about the investigation other than this piece of paper."
"That's not normal?"
"No. There should be a mountain of paperwork. And it's simply not there."
There that hope was again, growing stronger and leaving me desperate to know more.
I was glad Washo changed the subject. "Mayor Guerra and his secretary are at the police station. You're probably gonna be in the newspaper again," he said.
Great. Just what I needed.
He chuckled at me and dug into the plate Abuelita set before him.
"Have you called General Bolivar yet?" Washo asked.
I had been so wrapped up in the day, I had forgotten the most important call I had yet to make. I almost looked forward to it, although I wished I could see the general’s expression when I told him that the rookie tourist had busted the case with the help of her friends.
Washo rubbed his hands together. "That's why I came here when I did. I wouldn't miss that call for the world." He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his list of contacts. Shoving his phone across the table, he said, "Here. Use my phone. He'll answer if he thinks it's me."
I put the call on speaker phone, obliging my friends with the entertainment they craved and getting smiles of gratitude and approval for the gesture.
The general answered with a clipped, "Diga."
I didn't know that word, but it didn't sound friendly. Adi whispered to me, "That means 'tell' or 'talk to me’."
His curt manners only made me want to be all the more contrary and polite.
"Good afternoon, General Bolivar, this is Jessica James in Baños. We have completed our investigation. I hope you're having a good day. How is your crew doing?" That didn’t come out as smoothly as I’d planned.
He didn't answer for long enough I could imagine him trying to pick his jaw up from the floor. It was a very satisfying image.
"What do you mean, you 'have completed your investigation,’ Señorita James?" Skepticism laced his words.
"I'm not sure how to put it more plainly. I got a full confession and the murderer is sitting in the police station in handcuffs."
I heard the ego in his voice as he said, "You got a full confession? Who else witnessed it? It is a novice mistake to assume your word can be used as testimony when the criminal often lies on the stand and changes his story."
He thought he had me.
"That wouldn't work for me, as I leave the country soon and won't be here for the trial u
nless I absolutely have to be."
That earned a thumbs-up from Washo.
The general chuckled condescendingly, so it was with particular glee that I can continued, "That's why I recorded it. I have it on video and audio."
He was silent for a while, then said, "Well, as soon as my people can confirm that the DNA of the corpse matches the victim and accumulate sufficient evidence, we can close the case."
Sufficient evidence? What else do he want? Washo rolled his eyes.
General Bolivar added, "As someone with more experience than you would know, in a case this old, it is not a simple matter to get a DNA sample."
"Señora Cuesta, the victim’s mother, can help you with that. She saved an old retainer and the hairbrush in plastic bags in the hopes someone would take her seriously," I replied.
"Fine. I'll send someone as soon as I can." He sounded a bit testy.
"I hope it's soon because the family and friends are staying behind a few more days to give Sophia a proper burial. You wouldn't want to make them wait too long, would you?"
"I'll send someone tomorrow," he grumbled.
I was pretty sure I was his least favorite person on the planet right then, so I didn't feel too bad pushing more of his buttons. "General Bolivar, what about the property? When will it be released to the owner?"
"As soon as the body is removed."
"And when will that be?"
After a forbearing sigh, he said, "I'll instruct my agent to work efficiently."
"I really am sorry to be a bother, General, but I know I will be asked how soon the burial can take place … provided the agent you send finds everything in order," I pressed.
The longer I spoke, and the more questions I asked, the bigger Washo's grin grew. He was enjoying this all too much. Abuelita and Adi cheered me on, lending me a measure of their boldness.
"If my man finds everything in order as you imply it is, they may hold the burial as soon as next weekend. The building will be returned as soon as the body and all other evidence is removed. Now, Miss James, I am a busy man. I do not have all day to answer your questions."
I had no desire to continue that conversation either, now possessing all the information I needed anyway.
After a terse goodbye, I hung up and handed the phone back to Washo. He still grinned.
"It is every man's dream to see his boss humbled. It won't change him, or make him any easier to deal with, but I have a powerful tool in your name should he ever get too full of himself."
I returned his smile. "I'm happy to help."
Tia Rosa and Sylvia slipped into the kitchen, wearing stunned expressions. Then, clasping hands, they squealed in delight and danced in a circle, leaving those of us observing the spectacle as stunned as they had been when they first entered the room.
When they finally stopped, Tia Rosa pulled a paper out of her plastic bag. "They approve the loan. Antonio call and he make them fix."
Sylvia added, "It turns out, he had nothing to do with the denial in the first place. Shirley used to date one of the loan officers, and she called him to tell him that the property had been seized by the police and was most likely to be tied up for years to come and that the buyers would surely default on their loan. She's a real piece of work."
That was one thing to call her.
Tia Rosa tucked the paper back into her bag, growing serious again. "Everything turn good, but I no have the money for to send to the importer. I ruin the vacation for his children."
Abuelita nodded. "You need cash. Check take too long for to be good."
Adi suggested, "As cooperative as Antonio is being, do you think there's a way for him to make a portion of the loan available immediately? Then the bank could just transfer the cash directly into the importer's account."
"For twenty thousand dollars? Wouldn't that be above the limit they can transfer to another customer's account?" I asked.
Sylvia answered, "You forget where you are. Everything is possible here."
I laughed. I had forgotten that hard and fast rules were generally viewed more as guidelines here. Kind of like red lights and No Parking zones.
There was a knock on the door and Señora Cuesta peeked in, her eyes roving about the room until she found me. Crossing the room with her arms outstretched, I took a deep breath before her designer perfume could threaten to blow me over.
She squeezed me tightly — well past the stage where an embrace went from nice to awkward. By the time she finally let go, I had resigned myself to stand with my arms pinned to my sides for as long as it took. I couldn't imagine what she must be feeling, but I wouldn’t deny her something so simple as a hug.
She pulled a silk handkerchief out of her crocodile purse and dabbed at perfectly lined eyes. "Thank you. After all these years, I feel peace."
I told her what the general had said about Sophia's burial, which earned me another eyeball-popping hug. I close my eyes and patted her on the shoulder.
"Finally, my girl will be laid to rest as she deserves. And I will be able to say goodbye." She reached into her purse and pulled out a thick envelope, yellowed with age. Holding it out to me, she said, "When Sophia first disappeared, I offered a reward. You have earned it."
I hesitated long enough, Abuelita reached out to snatch the envelope from Señora Cuesta and smacked it against my stomach so that I had to make a grab before it fell to the ground.
I knew exactly what to do with that money. Before Señora Cuesta's perfume dissipated after the lady had left, I held the envelope out to Tia Rosa. "You'd better get back to the bank before they leave so they can send this to your importer." I waved the envelope containing the precise amount Tia Rosa needed in front of her, if the number written on the envelope was to be trusted.
She hesitated as I had done moments before, but thankfully, Abuelita was there to move things along. She grabbed the envelope out of my hands and shoved it at her sister, saying, "Act now. Think later. Go, go, go." Abuelita shooed Tia Rosa out of the kitchen, shoving Washo after her, saying, “You protect Rosa. She carry much money.”
Sylvia poured me a hot cup of coffee and Abuelita pulled out two of my strawberry glazed doughnuts with the sprinkles from a hiding place behind the refrigerator, sharing one with me.
Adi, the realist of the bunch, said, "Okay, I hate to state the obvious here, but do you realize what you just did, Jess?"
To be honest, I hadn't had to think about it. I felt good about my decision. "Money can be replaced. Good friends can’t."
I raised the doughnut to my mouth in mouthwatering anticipation. It was the perfect treat to top a perfect day.
Chapter 31
They buried Sophia a week later, and the case was officially closed. I felt like I was walking through a dream as we stood on the grassy mountainside surrounding the freshly dug grave where past generations of Cuestas had been lain to rest.
After years of bitter resentment, Señora Cuesta stood beside Miss Matty, their arms looped through each other’s. Maybe, now that they’d set their differences aside, they’d see how similar they were.
Luis had insisted that Sophia be buried with the class ring he had given her. She had kept his heart all of these years, and he saw no reason to change things now. Señora Cuesta shared his sentiment, leaving the gold necklace which had started everything draped around Sophia's neck.
Antonio and Diana held hands. Their whole demeanor had softened. Seeing them with their defenses down helped me to think more kindly of them. Antonio was still a bad driver, but he wasn't as big of a jerk as I had believed him to be.
I stood on the other side of the grave with Adi, Sylvia, Tia Rosa, Abuelita, and Washo. Jake hadn't returned from Mount Chimborazo yet, but he had called Sylvia the day before to reassure her that the climb was over and he’d be home the next day. She felt much better after his call, which reminded me that I hadn't called my family all week. I had so much to tell them.
Witnessing firsthand the inner tranquility emanating from Sophia's
family and friends made me crave it more. While I was happy for them, my heart squeezed in my chest at the loss I still felt. The loss that would never go away until my family got some concrete answers.
I sniffed and wiped my cheek, patting my coat pockets to find the tissue I’d stashed there earlier.
After the service, Sylvia invited everyone back to the restaurant for lunch, so the place was packed when we entered. I went to the kitchen to see if I could be of any help, but a waitress handed me a postcard before I reached the swinging door.
Adi stood at my elbow as I flipped it over to the picture of dense Amazon forest with bright yellow letters emblazoned across.
"Brazil," she read.
I flipped it to the other side and read aloud, "Stop asking questions."
My heart raced and I asked the waitress, "Who left this?"
Adi interpreted her answer. "She said she found it shoved under the door. Since the writing was in English, she assumed it was for you."
I looked around me, knowing that whoever had shoved the note under the door was long gone. "She didn't see anybody?"
The waitress shook her head sadly, then scurried about serving the tables.
I read the postcard again. "Stop asking questions."
Somebody knew something. And I was going to stay until I found out what that was.
Thank you!
Thank you for spending your precious time reading the first three Murder on the Equator mysteries. I hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are a great way for me to know if readers are interested in Jessica’s mysteries, so if you want more stories, please let me know by reviewing this book on Amazon.
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