by David Keith
“I’m feeling like a burger, how about you guys?”
The campaign rally at Butterfield Park had run long and it was getting dark. Mick talked with the few remaining supporters while Chuck, Mia, and the others cleaned up and packed everything away. By nightfall, the candidate, Mia, and Chuck were alone in the parking lot under a beautiful full moon. They had all been so busy they hadn’t had time to eat. All three were famished.
“Burgers? I thought you were trying to eat healthy, Dad.”
“Ah, come on, Mia. YOLO. Let’s go to Crave.” Crave was a popular new burger bistro not far from the park.
“YOLO? What the hell is that, Dad?”
“Come on, Mia, get with it. YOLO. You only live once.”
“And where, may I ask, did you pick that up?”
“I know a lot more than you think I do, young lady.”
Mick laughed. “He did work his tail off today, Mia. And so did you. I’m with Chuck on this one, let’s splurge.”
Mia looked at the two men in her life and realized she had little choice but to go along.
“All right, but I’m hitting the gym tomorrow. And I’m counting on you, Dad, to make sure I go.”
The dinner rush at Crave was long past and they were able to get a table and order right away.
“I think the rally went well today, what do you guys think?” asked Mick.
“We had a good turnout,” Chuck said. “And we handed out every last flyer. People seemed to have a good time, and your speech, short and sweet, seemed to click with people. I would call the day a success.”
“Do we have the team of people set up to make calls on election day reminding folks to get out and vote?” asked Mick.
“Yep, we’ve got nearly a hundred people signed up,” responded Chuck. “I think I got at least twenty signed up just today.”
“We need to hit our social media efforts really hard. We’ve only got ten days until the election,” Mia added.
“I’ve been really pleased with the Facebook and Twitter efforts. I knew this social media stuff would be big, but I had no idea how effective it could be,” said Mick.
“I will touch base with Andy—he’s been coordinating all that stuff,” Mia said.
The waitress soon arrived with the food. The booth was filled with the scent of burgers, fries, and onion rings.
“Chuck, there’s one more thing I need you to do for me.”
“What’s that, Sheriff?” Chuck asked.
“Pass the ketchup.”
“These scallops are simply amazing. Best I’ve ever had,” Jack said.
“Glad you like them, Jack. We buy them from a guy who catches them off the shore just south of here.”
The tapas style feast consisted of one exceptional dish after another, and Peter, Natalie, and Jack enjoyed it all from the private patio at the top of the Marbella. The views of the Sea of Cortez were spectacular, with stars lighting up the sky and a full moon glistening off the water.
“So Peter, what initially brought you to Puerto Peñasco?” Jack asked.
“Probably the same things that brought you here,” Peter said. “The sea, the beach, a relaxed lifestyle you don’t find in many places. It’s a perfect place to escape, don’t you think?”
Jack and Natalie shared an unsure glance.
“After all, isn’t everyone really running from something? Could be a dead-end job, some stressful situation, a bad relationship… I look at Puerto Peñasco as a refuge.”
“If you boys will excuse me for a moment, I have some freshening up to do.”
Both gentlemen stood as Natalie rose from the table.
“Natalie tells me you have many business interests here.”
“Yes, that’s true. I’ve been very fortunate and have enjoyed some success here. It all started with a restaurant down in the port. We really catered to the tourists, providing authentic local cuisine with an emphasis on fresh seafood, and the concept worked. I opened a second restaurant, then a third, and so on. From there, my company moved into the charter fishing business. It became clear to me that people were willing to spend large amounts of money for a high-end experience. Clean boats with friendly crews, great food, comfortable accommodations, you get the picture. From there we got into real estate, then hotels—first the Bonita, the small place just down the row.”
“And then this place, the Marbella?”
“This was my dream. Several years back I went down to Cabo, and while I was there I took notice of the many beautiful high-end hotels along the beach. Puerto Peñasco was missing that kind of luxury, so I made it my mission to build one here.”
“Marbella—is that Spanish for something?’
“No, actually it was my wife’s name. She died of cancer several years ago and I wanted to honor her memory.”
“Oh, Peter, I am so sorry. I didn’t know about your wife.”
“Thank you, Jack. It was a very difficult time. She was only 35 when she passed.”
“The place is certainly beautiful. You should be proud of what you’ve created here to honor her memory.”
“Thank you, Jack.”
The two men looked out onto the dark sea until Natalie returned. Peter stood, pulling out the chair for her.
“Your father was just asking me about my time here in Puerto Peñasco.”
Jack offered, “I have to say, what you’ve built here is pretty impressive, Peter. Not many people could pull this off.”
“Well, thanks, Jack. You are too kind.”
“Do you mind if I ask you a personal question, Peter?”
“Not at all Jack, what is it?”
“I couldn’t help but notice that the car you sent today for Natalie and me—am I correct in saying that it was an armored car?”
“Armored car?” Natalie asked. “What are you talking about?”
“Your father is very observant, Natalie. And yes, the car that brought you here tonight, the one you’re in most of the time, Natalie, is designed for security. We have three such vehicles. Remember, this is Mexico. We are a hotel that is frequented by government officials, movie stars, musical artists, professional athletes…”
“Any organized crime figures?” Jack asked.
“Well, I really have no way of knowing about that. We don’t ask for a resume when we take reservations. But keep in mind, security is a constant concern in everything we do.”
“Peter is a bit overprotective of me,” Natalie added with a trace of embarrassment.
“I was just curious, and I apologize if I came off a bit nosy,” Jack said.
“Not a problem, Jack. And if Natalie were my daughter, I would want to know as well. But now, Natalie, I think it’s time to show Jack his surprise.”
“Oh, yes! You’re going to love it.”
“What surprise?”
“You’re staying here, tonight,” Natalie told him. “Peter wants to give you the Marbella experience.”
“But—”
“We brought your bag. I sneaked it out while you were getting ready, so you have no excuses.”
“Yes, Jack,” Peter told him. “Please, I’d like you to be our guest. You’ll love the Marbella.”
“I’m sure I will. Thank you for dinner, by the way. It was fantastic.”
“It was my pleasure. Natalie, shall we show your father his room?”
Jack had been in a few penthouse apartments and high-priced homes before but nothing prepared him for the extravagance of the Viejo Suite at the Marbella.
“What do you think?” asked Natalie.
“Oh my God, it’s amazing,” stammered Jack.
“Jack, welcome to our finest suite here at the Marbella. I hope you enjoy your time here.”
“Wow. That’s about all I can say. It’s unbelievable.”
The suite was enormous. There were floor to ceiling windows throughout, all providing panoramic views of the Sea of Cortez. The furnishings were modern Mediterranean, and the entire suite had a comfortable yet elegant fe
el. A huge balcony featured a large dining area and an outdoor master suite complete with a king size bed and television for relaxing under the stars. Inside, there was another master suite, with an en suite bath nearly as large as Jack’s apartment. It had a Jacuzzi tub, steam room, and sauna. Off the main parlor was a large kitchen and a wine cellar the size of a large bedroom.
“I don’t know much about wine,” Jack said, taking a bottle from one of the racks, “but if I decide to fall off the wagon tonight, what would this one cost me?”
“You have good taste, Jack. I’m not exactly sure, but I believe a bottle of a 1990 Chateau Margaux runs $4,000 here in the suite.”
Jack shook his head as they walked back into the main parlor where Natalie was waiting.
“Beautiful, huh?”
“It’s certainly impressive. I don’t know what to say. What does a room like this run, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Peter responded, “Fifteen thousand a night, twenty on weekends. But the room comes with lots of extras, anything from golf at our private club to sports fishing, as well as complete spa privileges and private in-room treatments. Anything our guests desire, we provide. The rate is actually quite competitive, Jack. A comparable suite in Cabo would run twenty-five to thirty thousand per night.”
“Well, on my cop’s salary, I could afford about fifteen minutes in here,” Jack added.
Peter and Natalie smiled, pleased they could provide Jack with something special.
“Well, the suite isn’t being used right now, so we want you to enjoy it. Relax. Play some golf, get a massage, or just enjoy the view.”
“My God, are you sure you don’t have anyone wanting to stay here? I mean, if Brad and what’s-her-name show up—I mean, I can go back to the condo. I wouldn’t want you to lose any business, Peter.”
“That’s a deal, Jack. If they drop by we’ll boot you out of here.”
Natalie jumped in, “You deserve this. You’ve done so much for me. So please accept Peter’s hospitality and stay in the suite, okay?”
Jack looked at Natalie and then Peter.
“All right, but if some hot shot celebrity shows up, seriously, I’ll just sneak out. There has to be a back door in this place, right? I mean, it might take me half an hour to find it…”
“Very good, enjoy it,” Peter said. “We’ll let you get some rest after your long trip.”
Natalie hugged Jack. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ll call you in the morning.”
Before Peter left, he turned to Jack and asked, “Tomorrow, if you have time, I’d like it if you and Natalie could join me again for dinner.”
“Sure, Peter, that sounds great.”
Out of earshot from Natalie, Peter asked quietly, “And I’d like to talk with you privately beforehand, if you don’t mind.”
“If Brad and his wife don’t show up, I’m sure I can fit you in.”
FORTY-TWO
Exasperated, Mark Archer sat across the large wooden desk from Sheriff Cole Connelly. He had asked for a meeting to plan the sheriff’s retirement ceremony. Connelly was a very popular figure with the rank and file of the RCSO, and Archer knew it would be an emotional time for many. But the sheriff was having none of it and instead was focused on organizing the piles of paperwork that covered his desk.
“Look, how about I just quietly clean out my office, shake some hands, and get the hell out of here?”
Archer tried to convince him there were certain things expected from their leader on such an occasion.
“If you really want help with my retirement, you can persuade my wife to go to Scottsdale so I can play a little golf in the sun. But she wants to go to Florida and see the grandkids. Can you find me some numbers that show it rains too much down in Florida this time of year? I gotta convince her…”
“I’ll see what I can do, Sheriff. So do you want input in planning this ceremony or should I just plan it myself?”
“Lieutenant Archer, we’ve worked together for what? Ten, twelve years?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So you know when I don’t give a rat’s ass?”
“Yes sir, I do. I’ll put things together and just tell you what time to be there.”
“Perfect.”
“And because you’re such a good boss, I’ll see if I can’t find a great fare to Arizona. Mrs. Connelly loves a good deal.”
“Good thinking, Mark. I like that.”
“I’ll get on it, sir,” Archer said, smiling as he got up to leave. He was going to miss the old man.
“One other thing,” Connelly said, pushing a piece of paper toward Archer. “See if you can get this in tomorrow’s paper.”
Intrigued, Archer scanned the handwritten statement.
“You’re endorsing Mick McCallister?”
“He’s a good man. Now let me know if you find a deal on those Scottsdale tickets. No luggage fees, either—I don’t want to pay $200 to get my clubs there.”
Father Jon was surprised to hear back from his friend so quickly.
“Hello, Jon. I’ve got some information for you.”
“Wow, Diego, that was fast.”
“My friend made some inquiries and learned that someone named Jack Keller purchased a condo in Puerto Peñasco eight years ago. The U.S. address he gave was in St. Louis, so that seems to match up.”
Father Jon grabbed a pen and began scratching down the details. “Puerto Peñasco? Where is that and how do you get there?”
“It’s on the Sea of Cortez, an hour or so south of the Arizona border. Closest big U.S. city would be Tucson. There aren’t many direct flights into Puerto Peñasco, so you can get there by car or by shuttle bus. Catching one of those shuttles in Tucson is probably your best bet.”
“So, that means a border stop for people coming from the U.S. down to this town, correct?”
“Yes, you will need your passport.”
“Have you got an address for the condo?”
“Sure, it’s 1030 Portofino Way in Puerto Peñasco.”
“Diego, I can’t thank you enough for doing this for me.”
“You’re welcome, but I have to tell you, I’m a bit intrigued.”
“Look, I’ll tell you all about it once things come together. Is that fair?”
“Sure, that’s fine.”
“I’ll be in contact. Thank you, my friend.”
Father Jon hung up and immediately dialed his friend Monsignor Thomas Sutton. Sutton was retired but lived in a neighboring parish, and was still happy to provide backup when needed. As he waited, he typed in the URL of a discount travel site on his computer.
“Hi, Monsignor. It’s Father Jon. How are you doing? Good… Hey, I was wondering if you would be kind enough to fill in for me here at St. Joe’s for a few days. I need to leave town…”
It was mid-morning by the time Jack Keller woke from his deep sleep. He slowly sat up and took in the pristine view from the Marbella.
He shuffled to the master bath and splashed his face with cool water. In the parlor, a breakfast tray had been set out on the table with fresh fruit, an assortment of Mexican breads, and a pot of fresh coffee. Jack poured himself a cup and sat down at the table, taking in the enormity of the room in the sunlight. The coffee was piping hot. It must have been delivered just minutes ago, he thought.
Jack then remembered that Natalie had promised to call in the morning, and he realized that he may not have heard the call. He went to his suitcase and dug out the burner phone. Sure enough, he had one missed call and one message.
“Hey, I hope you’re still sleeping. I’m at the mission school and just wanted to invite you here so I can introduce you to the kids. If you don’t sleep too late, maybe we can grab a quick lunch. Maybe tamales? I can get away during lunch period from 12:15 to 1:00. If not, I’ll see you tonight for dinner.”
Jack smiled at the thought of seeing Natalie in action with her kids. He looked at his watch and saw that it was just after 9:30. He had plenty of time to get to the scho
ol, he thought. Jack called down to the front desk.
“Buenos dias, señor Keller, how can I help you?”
“I was wondering if I could get a cab to the mission school, maybe around 10:15 this morning.”
“We have a driver for you, and he’s standing by to take you anywhere you’d like to go.”
“Well, thank you very much,” he said, glancing out at the sea. A fishing boat caught his eye.
“You’re quite welcome. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Come to think of it, Mr. Donnelly mentioned there might be an opportunity to do some fishing.”
“Certainly, I can have the captain ready for you at your convenience.”
Jack thought about it. Donnelly had offered and it might be rude if he didn’t accept.
“Would it be okay if I brought a friend?”
The Pueblo, Colorado Young at Heart seniors group had been planning their bus trip to Puerto Peñasco for more than a year. The week long trip, billed as the “Run to the Sun,” would allow the seniors an opportunity to stock up on low-cost Mexican drugs that ordinarily required a written doctor’s prescription in the states. As an added bonus, organizers had planned a couple of stopovers at Indian casinos along the way known for loose slots and generous buffets.
After the bus pulled up to the modest beachside motel in Puerto Peñasco, Nick Fetzer, Sergeant-at-Arms for the group, began coordinating the offloading of luggage, as his wife Carol went in to fetch the room keys. As the men sorted through the luggage piled alongside the coach, they eyed the slick, black SUV cruising by.
“Next time, we go in one of those, Fetzer,” Nate chided him. “That’s traveling in style.”
Jack chuckled at the sight of the pasty senior citizens unloading luggage from a tour bus. He realized he was nearing the age where he’d qualify to go on a trip like that but vowed to himself to never wear socks with sandals.
A few minutes later, the SUV arrived at the mission School where Jack asked Miguel the driver to wait with the car. As Jack walked into the modest two-story brick building he could hear the sounds of the children’s voices echoing from inside.
“Buenos días, señor. I am Father Fidel, and you must be Jack. Natalie has told us much about you. Please come in, welcome to our school.”
