Luna Tango

by Alli Sinclair

  The popularity of tango throughout the world’s upper classes saw it filter back to Buenos Aires. This time, Argentina’s elite accepted the dance but only in the new, Parisian version, which didn’t involve the ‘vulgar movements’ that originated in the slums of Buenos Aires.

  Interesting but not compelling. If she handed in anything along these lines to Adam she could kiss her features career goodbye. She needed something brilliant, but every attempt ended in a spectacular mess of letters scrawled across the page.

  The door to the bathroom clicked open and Carlos stepped out, hair wet, colour in his face, and shirt tucked in. Leaning against the doorframe, his eyes connecting with hers.

  ‘I am—’

  ‘My amazing powers of deduction tell me you are about to say you’re sorry.’ She gave him a wink. ‘Do you want to share why you’re late by eight hours and why you turned up in a state?’

  Taking a seat on the bed’s edge, Carlos heaved a sigh and stared at the ground. Eventually, he fixed his eyes on her. ‘It is Cecilia.’

  ‘Your ex-fiancée?’ Dani’s head spun with the possibilities that lay within his words but rather than let her imagination run away with itself, she stilled her mind and asked, ‘Did you see her?’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head vehemently. ‘The men, the ones you saw me with today. They were not from UNESCO.’

  ‘I figured as much. Remember my amazing powers of deduction?’ Her lips twitched into a small smile. ‘By the way, did you know you suck at lying?’

  He nodded. ‘The men are detectives.’

  ‘Police or private?’

  ‘Private. I have been looking since she left me months ago.’

  ‘Have they found her?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh.’ A pang of sympathy tugged at her. His relationship with his ex still had an effect and he was dealing with it as best he could. Much like how she’d been trying to cope with her feelings for Adam, although her emotional tie with her ex was now one of anger. ‘Is this what you needed the money for?’

  ‘What money?’

  ‘Your consulting fee.’

  ‘Yes. All I want to do is find her so I can meet my baby.’

  Her stomach hollowed and it took a moment before she could form words in her head, let alone mouth. ‘You have a baby?’

  ‘Yes.’ His glassy eyes locked on hers and a solitary tear slid down his cheek. ‘After the accident we tried to repair our relationship but the media poisoned her.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘They told untruths.’

  ‘Like?’ She was wary of pushing too far.

  ‘The media told her stories against me. She ...’ He twisted his lips. ‘The accident disfigured her face.’

  ‘Yes, I’d heard. Is that why she gave up dancing?’

  ‘You must understand, Cecilia believes her looks are what gives her value. After the crash she became a recluse, much like Iris. Then Cecilia moved out one day, leaving a note that said we were finished and she was pregnant and I should not contact her again.’

  Irritation flared at Cecilia’s cruelty. What kind of woman leaves a note declaring she’s pregnant with her lover’s child then buggers off? Leaning over, she placed her hand on the side of his face and used her thumb to wipe away a tear. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘You do not need to be sorry, I will be all right. It is frustrating to know my child may not meet me. That is the tragedy. I feel nothing for her.’ His jaw tensed. ‘She is a disgrace, but my baby,’ he sighed, ‘it is for my baby I mourn.’

  ‘How old is the baby?’

  ‘He or she is not born yet. This is why I wish to find Cecilia. I want to be there for the birth of my child.’

  ‘What can I do to help?’

  He shrugged and bit his lip. Dani opened her arms and Carlos collapsed into them. The bond between them strengthened as he lay on her lap and she gently stroked his hair. It felt like the most natural thing on earth.

  * * *

  The aeroplane banked to the right and Dani glimpsed the Andes for the first time. Beneath them lay vast farmland dotted with patches of arid desert.

  ‘You are looking for the wineries?’ Carlos asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, resting her head against the cold window.

  ‘They are in the other direction, not far from Mendoza.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘I am sure you will find the place on your mother’s photo board.’

  She gave a half-hearted smile and stared at the expanse below.

  Turning to him, she asked, ‘Are you doing okay?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I am fine. Do not worry about me. If the detectives have news they will call. Or if they find nothing, they will also call.’ After a restless night, he’d woken with a hangover but in a more positive mood. ‘Let’s concentrate on this job, yes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  From the moment they’d booked the flights that morning, Dani’s emotions had run rampant. Ironically, thoughts of her mother invariably resembled the negative moods of tango—sadness, anger, apprehensiveness—yet when she thought of Carlos, passion, happiness and fulfilment drowned everything else.

  ‘If we find Iris she might tell you where Cecilia is,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, it had crossed my mind.’

  ‘Is this why you’re coming with me?’

  ‘No. I am here to offer you support and assist with your articles. I told you I would help, and I will.’

  ‘But if you get the chance to ask Iris about Cecilia you will, right?’

  ‘Yes, I will ask Iris.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ The engine slowed and the plane started its descent. Dani’s stomach swirled with nerves although she wasn’t sure which kind.

  ‘You are not angry?’ he asked.

  ‘Why would I be angry? Your child is about to be born and if I were you, I wouldn’t leave any stone unturned.’

  Carlos smiled for the first time in twenty-four hours. ‘You are amazing.’

  ‘No, I’m not. I could never deny a parent the chance to be with their child.’ It made sense for her to help Carlos find his baby because until he did, he would remain a broken man. She believed him when he said it was over with Cecilia and her heart ached that he’d had to suffer her cruel actions. There was every chance Iris could help, which meant any thoughts of bailing now were nixed.

  The wheels hit the runway with a skid and the plane taxied to the terminal. As other passengers grabbed their bags and made a dash for the door, Carlos leant over and cupped his hand under her chin. His dark eyes searched hers, his intimate smile inviting her to lean forwards and kiss him.

  After a few luscious moments, he pulled away gently and said, ‘Our honesty makes us an excellent team.’

  This was the perfect moment to tell Carlos the new reason she wanted to find Iris: to ask about the fight she had with Diego Alonso. Iris could have chosen any other tango composer to argue about, so why Eduardo Canziani? Dani’s inner sleuth would have remained asleep had she heard about the fight and not seen the photo of Louisa Gilchrist, but the similarities between Louisa and Stella were incredible. She wondered if Iris had discovered a connection. There was only one way to find out.

  Once again, guilt swept over her at keeping something from Carlos, especially after what he’d just said. His pleas for her to leave the Canziani case alone echoed in her head and didn’t encourage her to make an admission. Carlos collected the bags from the overhead locker and the opportunity to reveal her truth melted away. She hoped their blossoming relationship didn’t suffer the same fate.

  * * *

  Dani sipped ice-cold Jerome beer as she sat at an outdoor table in a restaurant on Mendoza’s main pedestrian mall, Avenida Sarmiento. Families, couples, friends and tourists wandered, alone or in clusters, glancing at menus shoved in their faces by eager restaurateurs. Even though it was ten at night, the day’s heat clung to her body. The lights of the boutiques shone brightly, enticing shoppers to buy one more item before collapsing and dining under the large, leafy branch
es of the trees of downtown Mendoza.

  ‘The beer is good, yes?’ Since arriving, Carlos’s demeanour had lightened.

  ‘Yes, it’s excellent.’

  ‘They make this beer in the Andes. It is one of a kind.’

  Taking a long sip, Dani let the amber liquid slide down her throat and cool her body from the inside out. They’d arrived in Mendoza late, so they planned to set out early the next day with refreshed bodies and minds. Also, Dani needed more time to process the whole Iris thing. Her emotions needed to catch up, although more time to think about it might be to her detriment.

  Her stomach rumbled and just as she was about to comment on her hunger, the waiter opened the door and delivered their meal on a large platter. He efficiently placed the brasero de mesa in the table’s centre.

  ‘Yum.’ She eyed the dish, not entirely sure what lay before her. ‘This is a typical Argentine asado, right?’

  ‘Sí. This is morcillas—black pudding, mollejas—sweetbread, and chorizo.’ He pointed to each piece proudly.

  ‘Most of this is innards, right?’ Surprisingly, she hadn’t dry retched—her usual reaction.

  ‘Yes, yes. And this is ensalada rusa, salad of the potatoes.’ He heaped a serving of meat on her plate before she had a chance to say she’d just go with the salad. She didn’t want to offend an Argentine by not eating one of their national dishes.

  ‘This is vacío—steak, and of course, this is chicken.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, eyeing off the ridiculous amount of food sitting on the table. ‘I don’t know where to begin.’

  ‘Begin with the mojellas, they are delicious.’

  Dani looked at the white sweetbread glistening in the streetlight. She felt like vomit was pooling at the back of her throat. You can do this, you’ve eaten worse. Remember the crickets in Vietnam? Pasting on a smile, Dani cut into the meat, trying to imagine it was chicken. She slid a small amount on her fork, put it in her mouth, chewed for a moment and quickly swallowed. The breadcrumbs made it palatable but not enough to warrant tucking into a plateful of the stuff.

  She stuck her fork into the potato salad and set to work while Carlos concentrated on devouring his portion. Swigging more beer and emptying the glass, Dani motioned to the waiter for another. He promptly returned, silently placing a large, frosty bottle on the table.

  ‘Daniela, you do not like these things you call innards?’

  ‘No. Sorry.’

  ‘May I?’ He motioned to her plate and she nodded, thankful the revolting things would soon disappear. The grease made her stomach turn.

  ‘Do you always eat this much?’ she asked.

  ‘Sí. Gualberto, he is always laughing and telling me I will get fat.’ He patted his six pack and an image of running her tongue across his stomach made her almost drop the fork. ‘But it has not happened yet. If it does, I will eat the lettuce leaves like the Argentine women.’

  ‘They don’t eat much, do they?’ Dani glanced at the women seated nearby. They did more talking than eating.

  ‘No. They do not. It is a shame, because excellent food and wine is the secret to a happy life.’

  ‘Do you think it’s so easy?’

  ‘In the reality, no. But it would be nice if this was the case, yes?’

  Dani reached for a breadstick and chewed on it, her thoughts meandering. ‘Life would be boring if it were easy. How could we build our character if we didn’t make mistakes? And how could we appreciate our blessings and happiness if we didn’t experience ugliness and sadness?’

  ‘It is like tango, no? A good tango dancer or musician uses every emotion they have lived through to tell the complete story, even if it causes great pain. This is the beauty of tango. This is the beauty of life.’ Slapping more food on his plate, he said, ‘Unfortunately, my country possesses much sadness. Thousands starve and the rich dine on gold plates. Yes, I understand we are the lucky ones.’ He pointed at his plate. ‘The people, they get away with murder, so what example does it set for the citizens of Argentina? Look at the Canziani case you are fascinated by. Argentina’s greatest legend was murdered and no one has ever been punished for it.’

  The breadstick hovered near Dani’s mouth as she observed Carlos’s passion. His hands flailed about more than usual and a fire burned in his eyes.

  ‘Why does this case get you so agitated?’ she asked.

  ‘You cannot understand.’

  ‘You’ve said this before.’ She crossed her arms. ‘Try me.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘On the plane you said honesty makes us an excellent team.’ She didn’t like to use his words against him, but if she wanted to get to the bottom of this, she had to do it. That way, if she understood his point of view, she could decide whether or not she should reveal her desire to speak to her mother about Canziani and Louisa.

  ‘Yes, I did say this.’ Carlos pushed the food around the plate with his fork. ‘I cannot guarantee you will like what I have to say and I ask you not to take it personally.’

  ‘I can’t guarantee anything but I’ll try.’

  ‘This is all I ask.’ He shifted in his seat and poured them more beer. ‘I have a problem with outsiders because every time a foreigner has interfered with the Argentines it has ended in disaster. Look at what happened with Stanley Wyler in the 1950s. It is widely known he and Eduardo Canziani were friends, and Wyler told Canziani about the affair between Louisa Gilchrist and Roberto Vega. Maybe if Wyler had remained silent there wouldn’t have been a confrontation between Canziani and his protégé and Canziani would have lived longer.’

  ‘It wasn’t like Louisa and Roberto had a real affair. From what I’ve read, Louisa had made it abundantly clear to Eduardo their relationship wasn’t a romantic one.’

  ‘He loved her.’

  ‘But she didn’t love him romantically.’

  ‘She took his money.’

  ‘No, he gave her food and shelter in return for being his muse. That’s how he paid for her services. In a way, it was a business transaction.’ Dani prided herself on retaining the information she’d gleaned from the books she’d studied.

  A sigh came all the way from Carlos’s bootlaces. ‘You are not an artist, you do not understand.’

  ‘I understand matters of the heart.’

  ‘Yes, I think you do. But we are getting off the tracks. What I want to say is, foreigners like Wyler and Louisa Gilchrist have interfered with my people and as a result, we have lost some of our most influential Argentines before their time. The foreigners have gotten away with a lot, including murder.’

  ‘I doubt Wyler committed murder and no one knows if Louisa Gilchrist really killed Eduardo Canziani.’

  ‘All the evidence points to her. She left the country the night of the murder. A boat captain came forward days after he realised she was in disguise when he shipped her to Uruguay.’

  ‘Just because she left doesn’t mean she was guilty. If I were her, I would have fled as well. You can’t tell me she wouldn’t be top of the hit list, especially if no one saw the murder happen. Roberto Vega and Héctor Sosa also had motivation to kill Canziani.’

  ‘Do you always do so much research?’ He replaced his intense frown with a crooked smile.

  ‘It’s part of the job, plus I’m naturally inclined. But back to you and your weirdness about this case—why is it important for an Argentine to solve it?’

  ‘Because we don’t have much in this country. We are rich in culture and our relationships with family and friends, but this is all. We like to complain about our country’s failings but we still love our land, our people, our heritage. The last thing we want is a foreigner to come in and solve our problems, including what you call cold cases.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Carlos, but I still don’t get it. Wouldn’t your people be happy to find the murderer and see them brought to justice? If they’re still alive, that is.’

  ‘Yes, we would, but it dents our pride if we don’t do it ourselves. It would show the world we are
incapable of bringing justice for our dead. Daniela.’ He placed his hand on hers. ‘You have heard of the atrocities of the seventies, what is called the Dirty War, yes?’

  She nodded, remembering the mothers in Plaza de Mayo.

  ‘The way our people treated the citizens is a national disgrace. It is time we looked at our failures and made them successes.’

  ‘So this means finding Eduardo Canziani’s murderer?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What are the chances of finding Louisa or Roberto? If they’ve remained hidden this long, there’s little likelihood anyone could track them down.’ Hope hovered with her words then she dived into despair. If, by a crazy twist of fate, Louisa and Stella were one and the same, Dani didn’t want this case cracked. She nibbled on a breadstick, unable to look Carlos in the eye. ‘Who’s to say Louisa or Roberto would get a fair trial if they were found?’

  ‘They would.’ His naïve confidence surprised her.

  ‘You can’t tell me that, after all these years, the Argentines wouldn’t chuck them in jail and throw away the key. People want someone to blame, even if the party is blameless. This is human nature: guilty before proven innocent.’

  ‘This may have been so in the past with my country, but the people are working hard to change this system.’

  She didn’t want to get sucked into the whole political thing. Scooping some chimichurri onto her plate, Dani dipped the bread-stick into it and took a bite. Her taste buds danced with parsley, garlic and coriander.

  ‘You’re familiar with the term kangaroo court, right?’ she asked and Carlos nodded. ‘So when a national figure is murdered the people will blame anyone as long as the case can be closed and someone is punished.’

  ‘We need closure.’

  ‘But you can’t condemn an innocent person!’ Dani suppressed her urge to shout across the table.

  ‘Why do you have this obsession with the case?’