My Love Betrayed

by April Lynn Kihlstrom

  Greg nodded. “Excellent. Well, then, I shall see you tonight, or rather, I suspect, tomorrow morning. Here, let me give you a key. Don’t want you locked out again, my dear.”

  I smiled and thanked him as I took the key. Mr. Iveson nodded and started to leave. At the doorway, he paused. “Oh, by the way, what nightclub is it?”

  I looked at Carlos, who shrugged his shoulders and said, “Perhaps several small ones.”

  Greg seemed satisfied. When he was gone, I turned to Carlos. “Well, how was that last run?”

  There were a great many questions I wanted to ask Carlos, but it was obvious I would have no chance to then. When we finally left the office, all five of us, it was late. We were still caught up in the day’s work. Somehow, I found myself in the center of the group, almost hidden from view. And either my Spanish was rapidly improving, or their English was, because I seemed to find it easy to follow what was said. Everyone seemed to take my presence as a matter of course.

  After a few blocks, we hopped a bus, Eduardo paying the fare for all of us. It was crowded but fun. After a while, we changed buses. It was a long ride, but eventually we were in a portion of the city I had never seen before. I noted a few small shops and restaurants, but most of the buildings seemed to be private homes. The sidewalks were full of people and it was apparent that this was a favorite time for families to take a walk. We entered one of the small restaurants. Luiz obviously knew the owner. Or, perhaps I should say, the owner knew Luiz. He was a portly man, in his mid-fifties, and he greeted Luiz like a son. “Actually, a nephew,” Carlos explained when I whispered a comment.

  At that moment, the Spanish slowed, and the owner turned to greet the rest of us. I gathered he had met all the men before. Me, he greeted with a sort of half bow, but I had the feeling he wasn’t altogether pleased to see me. Neither was his wife, though after a brief glance at me, she was clucking over Luiz.

  We were the only customers in the place that early, and the owners shepherded us to the best table. It was large and in the corner and had an excellent view of the rest of the room. Best of all, it wasn’t in the path to the kitchen. After a few minutes of fussing, we were left alone. Without menus. I glanced at Luiz quizzically, but Eduardo explained, “The food, it will be very good, very plentiful, very reasonable. You will see.”

  Carlos added, with a smile, “They always fix a special meal for us.”

  At that point, I noticed Luiz was grinning. So did the others. When he had our attention, he said, “My aunt and uncle, they are” he hesitated over the word he wanted “scandalized the young senorita dines alone with so many men! I tell them, Ellen, that you are Americano and they warn me we must comport ourselves well with you!”

  I grinned with the men. It hadn’t occurred to me before, but I could imagine how the strict older couple might see things. “Ah, you are such dangerous men, then?” I teased.

  Jaime lightly cuffed the back of Luiz’s head and laughed. Then, he said to me, “No worry, Ellen. He is dangerous only when he has too much wine, and we are here to restrain him.”

  “I think,” Carlos put in mildly, “they are more concerned about our fiancees than the senoritas honor.”

  Eduardo nodded gloomily. “Si. And how will our girls feel when they see Ellen?”

  Carlos grinned and said something in rapid Spanish. There was a shout of laughter from the men, but none of them would translate. Fortunately, the food arrived, and nothing else was important. There were a good many dishes, none of whom I recognized, except the salad.

  A nice wine accompanied the meal. I even won the grudging approval of Luiz’s aunt with my appetite. We were just finishing some sort of pastry, and the couple was hovering over our table, when the aunt nodded at me and said something to Luiz. He flashed a grin at me and translated. “My aunt, she says you eat well for one so thin. She offers to fatten you up if you will only come here often!”

  I smiled back. “Tell her how can I not eat when the food is so good?”

  Luiz translated and his aunt smiled at me. Then she seemed to lecture Luiz and the others. Finally, she left for the kitchen.

  Ruefully Eduardo told me, “She says we must take good care of you, or she will be most angry!”

  We lingered over coffee, and the check, when it came, was as reasonable as Eduardo had promised. Once that was settled, the men held a conference in Spanish. Carlos seemed to be telling them something they weren’t altogether pleased to hear. But, finally, they seemed to agree.

  There were a number of people in the restaurant by then, and a young couple rose to leave. So did Eduardo, Luiz, and Jaime. I started to, but Carlos placed a hand on my arm. Puzzled, I watched the others go, then turned to Carlos. “Why?” I asked.

  He glanced around, seemed satisfied, and said, “We will join them later. If you have a shadow, he will follow them. Now, we must talk. There will not be much time until my fiancee, Dora, arrives. And I am sure you must have questions. It is not that I do not trust Dora, or the others, it is just best not to take the chances. The company grapevine can be very efficient, si?”

  I nodded. “Yes, of course. But when did you see Charles Whitford? And why you?”

  “Sunday. He was very tired. He said he had tried to talk with the police, but without success. Senor Whitford was very concerned about you. He believes there is still danger, perhaps because of Rick Kemmler. He asked me to keep an eye on you until he returns from Chicago.”

  “But why go to Chicago? And why see you?” I persisted.

  Carlos shrugged. “I don’t know. Senor Whit ford only said that the trip was necessary, and that he would return as soon as possible. He also said that he believed you would be safe with the police, the Ivesons, and with me watching you. I am happy to oblige, of course, but I would be happier if I understood.”

  “Me too!” I said emphatically. “I only know I’ve been attacked and drugged and I haven’t the faintest idea why!”

  Carlos nodded sympathetically. “I was not told you had been drugged, but it explains Senor Whitford’s concern. Don’t worry, Ellen. We will be careful and you will be safe.”

  I was still smiling at Carlos gratefully when a tall, attractive, dark-haired woman walked up to the table. “Carlos Zapora!” she began in an angry voice that went on in rapid Spanish.

  I watched, amused and chagrined, as Carlos clearly tried to explain. Finally, she seemed convinced and, with a slight sniff, sat down. Carlos introduced us. “Ellen, this is my fiancee, Dora Pahio. Dora, this is Ellen Steffee, my boss.”

  She ignored his grin and said coolly, “Buenas tardes.”

  I murmured something about being pleased to meet her. Carlos asked Dora if she wanted anything to eat or drink. She shook her head. “Then perhaps,” he said, rising, “we should leave.”

  We left, one on each side of Carlos. “Dora,” he explained to me, “has brought my car, so we will ride in comfort to the cabaret.”

  Comfort was not exactly the right word. Carlos owned an old Volkswagen (minus springs) and I found myself squeezed into the back. However, Dora was gradually thawing. To me, she said, “Ellen, it is true you have Senor Kemmler’s job?”

  “Temporarily,” I assured her. “But I expect to be returning to Chicago very soon, where I have a less important position. Do you work?” I asked her.

  “Si. I teach English. I speak Spanish, French, English, and Hebrew, but I am only asked to teach English.”

  She was not, I gathered, pleased with her job. “Why do you stay then?” Carlos asked her.

  It was obviously an old question. “And what am I supposed to do?” Dora demanded. “Stay home with my parents? Wait for someone to marry me? So tell me why you stay at your job, then?”

  Carlos was quiet a moment, then answered her in soft, rapid Spanish. Dora retorted, in a rather louder manner. As I said, it sounded like an old argument. Finally, Carlos shrugged, and Dora softened. She stroked his arm gently as she said something in Spanish. Whatever it was, it pleased Carlos, and
he grinned at her.

  Over his shoulder, he said to me, “Eh. You see, Ellen, what a pretty girl I have?”

  I could only nod. Watching them together, a wave of loneliness swept over me. I, too, wanted someone to tease and laugh with me. Someone whose arm I could stroke, who would smile at me like that. No, not someone. Charles. I wanted Charles. He had said, in his note, that he loved me. But then why the blazes wasn’t he here? With me? Why had he gone to Chicago?

  But loneliness, like fear, is too intense to be felt constantly. Especially when one is surrounded by friends. And, as Carlos parked on a small side street, Eduardo, Jaime, and Luiz stepped out of the darkness to help us out of the car. With the men were three young women, all of whom seemed to be looking at me with suspicion. Carlos solved that problem by putting one arm around my waist, and one arm around Dora’s. Of course, that didn’t exactly thrill Dora, but at least the other three women, Maria, Rosa, and Angelina, stopped glaring at me. Overhead, a neon sign flickered on: El Gato. The Cat.

  The place was quiet. No one rushed to greet us, and we made our way to two adjacent empty tables. The lighting was low, the tables and chairs plain wood. A bare space nearby was clearly the stage. A bar ran along one wall and looked rather sparsely stocked. There was no one at the bar, neither customer nor employee. But then, it was only nine o’clock, a good hour and a half before the usual crowd would arrive.

  After a few minutes, Carlos excused himself and disappeared into one of the dark corners of the room. Meanwhile, the conversation flowed on around me in Spanish. Several more people drifted in before Carlos returned, bringing the owner of the nightclub and a waiter. Both stopped to take orders from other tables before coming to ours. We ordered wine. While everyone was being served, a young man began setting up the stage area. “My brother,” Carlos said softly.

  I looked again. Yes, I could see the resemblance, though the brother was obviously several years younger. He was soon joined by a second young man. He carried two guitars, one of which he handed to Carlos’s brother. There was also a young woman. There’s no point in describing her. She had the figure, flowing hair, and peasant dress one would expect. And, of course, she was beautiful. Apparently, Carlos was the only one who had seen her before, because Luiz, Eduardo, and Jaime all stared, mouths open. A few nudges from Maria, Angelina, and Rosa, however, and they recovered, switching to appreciative grins.

  The three formed a group, and they were quite good. At least, I thought so. Certainly, in the United States, they would have been very popular. Between songs, the three took turns talking with the audience, usually evoking good-natured laughter. As for the songs, they were, Jaime told me, more traditional than usual for a nightclub. The set lasted an hour, followed by a brief encore. Then the three joined us, and Carlos performed introductions. “Jaime, Maria, Luiz, Angelina, Eduardo, Rosa, Dora, Ellen. Jose, Miguel, Terracita.”

  We all told the trio how much we enjoyed them. Eventually, the greetings and congratulations died down, and I found Miguel, Carlos’s brother, beside me. “Good evening,” he said, with a friendly grin. “You are the Senor Whitford’s girl, Si?”

  “Huh?” I said brilliantly.

  Carlos broke in. “Ah, Ellen. This is my lazy brother, Miguel. He also has a degree from Berkeley. In engineering. But he wastes his time singing.”

  Miguel only laughed, knowing that Carlos was just teasing him. “Eh! My brother is jealous!”

  “I will be jealous only when this brings you much money!” Carlos countered.

  Miguel shrugged, with a grin. “My job as an engineer, that brings me money. What do I need this to pay me money for, when it brings me Terracita?”

  As he said it, he grinned and patted the woman’s bottom. Immediately, she whirled around and started berating Miguel in Spanish. He answered back, and one could see they didn’t take each other seriously.

  We stayed for a while longer, long enough to watch the regular performers do a couple of numbers. Then we left. Once outside, we split up. Dora, Carlos, and I waited for Miguel to get his guitar. Jaime, Luiz, Eduardo, Rosa, Angelina, and Maria left. Jose and Terracita said good-bye, then went back into the nightclub.

  Somehow, the four of us, plus Miguel’s guitar, squeezed into the Volkswagen. Miguel was in back with me. “Don’t worry,” he informed me, gallantly, “I am a gentleman.”

  In the front seat, there was a brief consultation, apparently over how to get to the Ivesons’ home. I wasn’t much help but, surprisingly, Miguel was. “I have played at many parties near there,” he confided. “Even this year, New Year’s Eve. Si, I know the way.”

  And he did. In fact, I could have sworn his route was shorter than Greg’s. But, since I wasn’t sure where in the city we had started out, it may not have been. At any rate, the company was so pleasant that I was sorry to get there.

  I had the door key that Mr. Iveson had given me, but it turned out to be superfluous. As I stood beside the slightly battered Volkswagen, saying good night, Edna opened the front door. Startled, we watched as she came over to greet us. “How are you? Did you have a good evening?”

  Carlos was the first to recover. “Si, senora. And now, it is very late and we must go. Buenas noches, Ellen!”

  “Buenas noches,” I replied.

  With a slight ache, I watched them drive away. It had been a pleasant evening. But I had no time to daydream. Edna was starting toward the house, saying, “What an excellent idea, Ellen. When Greg told me, I said you needed to have fun with young people your own age.” Inside, she paused to close the door, then went on, in a slower, more concerned tone. “He also told me, Ellen, about the police. You have had a rough time, haven’t you, dear? Especially with this business with Rick Kemmler still up in the air.”

  I nodded. “I wish it were over.”

  She was sympathetic. “What you need is a vacation. A real one! I’d love to show you Xochicalco sometime. It’s my favorite dig.”

  Her voice was somewhat wistful. Impulsively I said, “And I would love to see it.”

  Edna smiled then and chuckled. “Well, then, I’ll just have to work on Greg to get someone to replace you, won’t I? Good night, dear. Sleep well.”

  “Good night,” I answered, thinking how lucky I was to be staying with such nice people.

  Again, I woke when the maid tapped on my door. And, again, I had to hurry to get to breakfast on time. Both of the Ivesons were already seated, drinking coffee, when I reached the patio. Both abruptly stopped talking when they saw me. Edna recovered first. “Good morning, dear. How did you sleep?”

  “Good morning. Fine.”

  “Did you enjoy your evening out?” Greg asked, nodding to the maid to bring more coffee.

  I sighed. “It was really nice. I feel as if it’s the first time I’ve been able to have fun since I got here.”

  Greg cleared his throat, and Edna said, “Well, I for one think the police have been harassing you needlessly!”

  Bitterly I retorted, “It’s not the police I mind. It’s this darn terror that’s getting to me! Not knowing what’s going to happen next, or even why it’s happening at all.”

  My voice broke then, and Edna patted my shoulder. Again, Greg cleared his throat. “Ahem. Yes, well, this only confirms my decision. Ellen, I’m going to try to arrange for Carlos Zapora to be placed in charge of the computer project. Today. I’ve spoken with the police, and they still won’t let you leave the country, but at least you’ll be able to relax and try to enjoy yourself.”

  I sat there, stunned. Not work anymore? Try to relax? Rest? Not see Carlos or Jaime or Eduardo or Luiz? Not see Charles, when he got back? (No, of course I would see Charles.) Some of the dismay must have shown on my face, because I suddenly realized Greg was saying, “…was supposed to be temporary. And it’s essential to move someone permanent in there as soon as possible.”

  Hastily, I tried to pull myself together. “Yes, yes, of course I understand.”

  He seemed relieved. “Good. Payroll and accou
nting is still in the process of arranging with Chicago about crediting your salary. I hope that isn’t a problem for you?”

  I shook my head. “No, I brought more than enough, in traveler’s checks, for a two-week stay. And since I’m not paying for a hotel, it will stretch quite a bit longer.”

  He nodded, satisfied, and started to rise. Obviously, breakfast was going to be very short this morning. As Edna put it, “You wouldn’t want to be late, your last day on the job!”

  We weren’t. In fact, when I reached the office, I found I was the first one there. Quietly, I sat at my desk, sorting the papers and programs. When Carlos walked in and saw that, for once, the top of my desk looked neat, he looked startled. Then he grinned and pretended to check the number on the door. In mock dismay, he said, “Si, this is the right room. The senorita must be sick today!”

  I burst out laughing. “Come off it, Carlos! It’s not that bad.”

  But he still looked concerned. “Has something happened?”

  I hesitated uneasily. Was it okay to tell him, or was I still bound to my promise to Greg Iveson to keep quiet? Fortunately, before I had to decide, the other men walked in. Right away, they started teasing Carlos about his brother. And, it seemed, Carlos forgot his concern.

  Greg, however, did not forget his promise. Shortly before lunchtime, Concepcion knocked at the door to our office. “Si?” Carlos asked impatiently.

  There was a short conversation in Spanish. Then Carlos shrugged and turned to me. “We are asked to come to the conference room. But not, this time, to see the police.”

  I swallowed and nodded. If Carlos found my silence odd, he didn’t say so. We just followed Concepcion.

  Carlos was right: it wasn’t the police. Instead, we found five men, one of them Mr. Iveson, in the conference room. They were seated; Carlos and I remained standing. The oldest one performed the introductions. “Mr. Zapora. Miss Steffee. How do you do? This is Mr. Padgett, Mr. Lynn, Mr. Iveson, Mr. Burgess, and myself, Mr. Thayer. I understand that the two of you have, more or less, been running the computer project this past week. I also understand, Miss Steffee, that you are from the Chicago branch, and that you interrupted your vacation to give us a hand. That was very good of you. I’m pleased to say, however, that that will no longer be necessary. We’ve decided to give Mr. Zapora a chance to take over and show us what he can do.”