Twisted Dreams

by F J messina

  6

  At eight o’clock on Tuesday morning, earlier than she liked to be at work, Sonia found herself leaving her apartment, driving through town, and heading up Newtown Pike toward Ironworks Pike, horse farm country. In truth, the whole city was surrounded by horse farms of one type or another, but she was heading for Downstream Farm, one of the truly significant farms in the horse breeding business.

  Downstream Farm sits on a 180-acre parcel of prime horse-breeding property. Sonia’s initial access to the farm was on a winding, tree-covered road. The idyllic setting included a log cabin which she guessed might have been built in the seventeen-hundreds. Still driving, a passing glance through one of its windows told her the interior of the cabin had recently been refurbished and fitted to a more modern purpose, perhaps as the farm’s office. She passed one fenced paddock after another, maybe ten in all. There were several barns, each of which seemed recently modernized, yet in a style that was in keeping with the farm’s long and illustrious history.

  Eventually, Sonia found herself in front of the largest barn, the one she assumed was the center of the operation. Stepping out of her car, she immediately noticed a tall, sunbaked man approaching her.

  “Hi.” He touched the rim of his dark blue baseball cap. “James Racine.” The rugged-looking man with young Robert Redford looks extended his hand. “You must be Ms. Vitale.”

  Sonia smiled and nodded. “Yes. Thanks so much for letting me come out here today.” She took in the man─scuffed-up, real-life working western boots, tight-fitting jeans, a light blue oxford shirt with the farm’s logo embroidered over the pocket, and a warm, easy smile.

  Sonia had already explained the reason for her visit in an earlier phone call and was glad when she found Racine cooperative and comfortable answering all of her questions. Unfortunately, as Racine walked her around the most central part of the farm, he was unable to give her much in the way of significant new information about Mariana’s whereabouts.

  As they turned the corner of the main barn, Sonia saw a large man with bushy, red hair, much in need of a haircut, forty or forty-five years old. He was wearing what every worker wore on horse farms that time of year, a long-sleeved tee shirt, jeans, and work boots. She nudged Racine. “Who’s that?”

  “Oh, that’s Limey. He says he comes from some kind of royal bloodline back in England, but that’s probably a bunch of bull.”

  “Big man.”

  “Yeah, he’s big alright. He’s got to be close to six-seven.” Racine clapped some dust and dirt off his hands. “Sometimes, when we need something done that would usually require a small forklift, we just call for Limey. Look at the size of those hands. I swear he can pick up a bale of hay in each hand and toss them onto a truck without even breaking a sweat.”

  Sonia tried to imagine what it would be like to have that man angry with you. “Scary.”

  “Limey? No. He’s a gentle soul. I’ve never seen him get into a dust-up with any other guy. In fact, I think it’s the women that get most of his attention.”

  Sonia looked up at Racine, squinting into the sun behind him, shading her eyes with her hand. “Does he give them problems?”

  Racine smiled. They started walking again. “No, no. He’s no stalker or anything. It’s just that sometimes I see him watch a woman walk by; his attention to his task most definitely flags. It’s like he hits the PAUSE button for a moment. But then he’s right back to work.”

  Sonia tried to absorb the man─his size, his presence. “So, did you ever see him talking to Mariana?”

  “Of course.” Racine put his hand on Sonia’s shoulder, gently moving her in a new direction. "First, they both work here. She was all the time asking him to do this or that for one of the horses. Second, they’re friends. I’ve seen them sitting outside at lunchtime just talking, shooting the breeze, laughing. They’re both quiet people, nice people.” He looked down at her and smiled. “Now, they were no kind of couple. He’s too old for her and she’s, well, too good looking for him. But they made a nice pair . . . as friends.”

  Sonia and Racine walked along the center aisle of the barn, past empty stalls, the smell and essence of the great animals surrounding them nonetheless. They stepped out again into the bright chill. Sonia stopped and looked around the farm. “So, what exactly were Mariana’s responsibilities on the farm?”

  Racine’s smile was warm, and tiny lines crinkled around his eyes. “I’m telling you one thing. We’re very lucky to have the right ownership on this farm.” He began walking again. “You see, most farms wouldn’t invest the money necessary to keep someone with Mariana’s background on the payroll. But George Masson, he’s the owner here, he has a real sense of the value of someone who understands the true science of breeding . . . not just the history of husbandry in the development of great Thoroughbreds, but the actual science, on a molecular level.” He nodded to one of the farm hands as she walked by leading a beautiful mare. “And that’s not all. Mariana’s scientific background is incredibly useful in improving our disease prevention protocols.” He took a deep breath. “And the whole industry has had some challenges in that area lately.”

  Sonia stopped their progress once again. “So, having someone like her on staff is actually kind of unusual?”

  Racine grinned. “Yup. I’ve got to hand it to Masson. He’s kind of on the cutting edge of trying to take breeding to a whole new level.”

  The conversation fell into a lull as they began walking yet again. Eventually, Sonia posed a few more questions about the folks Mariana worked with, if Racine thought she might have a reason to leave town, or if he could think of anyone who might want to harm her. None of Racine’s answers gave Sonia much more to go on. She thanked him for his time, headed for her car, then drove slowly off the property. It was a pleasant day for early spring but there was a darkness to the image Sonia brought with her─the image of the large, powerful man they had left on the other side of the barn.

  7

  Just before one o’clock Tuesday afternoon, Sonia and Jet met in the parking lot outside of Magee’s. They got into Jet’s Camry, turned right out of the parking lot, and made another quick right, heading down Ashland Ave. They turned left onto Euclid and were lucky enough to catch a metered parking spot right in front of Papi’s.

  Together, they stepped through the door and up the stairs to Papi’s Mexican restaurant. It was everything Sonia had imagined. Directly in front of her, she saw a short bar with stools and a few tall bar tables. To their left was the cozy main room. From where they stood, Sonia could just barely make out the party room at the back of the restaurant.

  Sonia watched as Jet was greeted by the hostess, clearly someone who recognized her as a regular. “Buenos días,” Jet started, very upbeat.

  “Buenos días,” the hostess replied.

  “Cómo estás?” A bit of pride flashed across Jet’s face.

  “Bien, gracias. Dos?” the hostess asked, clearly aware of Jet’s desire to use as much of her limited Spanish as possible─and lifting two fingers just in case.

  “Si, dos.”

  Sonia enjoyed watching Jet strut her Spanish stuff, what little of it there was, but she was more interested in learning something else. As the hostess led the way and Jet followed, Sonia tapped Jet on the shoulder. “Ask her if Paco Castillo is working today.”

  Jet asked, in English, and when the hostess replied that he was, Sonia told the hostess she hoped they could be seated in his section.

  It was only a matter of moments before Paco Castillo showed up at their table. “Ms. Sonia, how nice to see you. And this must be Ms. Jet. Can I get you something to drink?”

  Jet smiled in acknowledgement. “Nice to meet you. Dos margaritas, por favor.”

  While they waited for their drinks to come, Sonia asked Jet, “So, what’s good for lunch?”

  “Everything,” she said enthusiastically. “This is my favorite Mexican restaurant.” Jet smiled and turned her attention to the menu.

  Son
ia’s eyes roamed the room─white walls, dark ceiling beams, colorful tables and chairs, festive lights hung throughout the room, beautiful framed pictures on the wall. Before she knew it, Paco was back with their margaritas, extra-large glasses rimmed with coarse salt. “And what can I get for you to eat today?”

  Without even asking Sonia, Jet jumped in. “Dos chimichangas, con carne, a la carta por favor.” She turned to Sonia. “Beef chimichangas à la carte.”

  Paco smiled directly at Jet. “Bien. En seguida, right away.” He turned and was gone.

  Jet took a long sip of her drink. “So, tell me about your morning.”

  Sonia told Jet all about her time at Downstream Farm, how beautiful it was and yet how frustrating. “It’s like she just vanished into thin air. Everybody seemed to like her─a lot. She was great with the horses and really knew what she was doing. But no one had any idea about what might have happened to her.” Sonia took a sip of her drink, the salt and the tartness drawing her lips inward. “What about you? How did your meeting go this morning? Who was it with again?”

  Jet shook her head slowly back and forth. “Bur-nett Saun-ders.” She’d said the name one syllable at a time and with a certain amount of disdain. “I called both of those accounting firms yesterday and asked them about using one of their folks to do some forensic accounting for us. The first firm I called said they didn’t work that way, but the second one said they’d be glad to send someone over this morning to discuss the project. Having met the guy, I think they were just trying to get him out of the office.”

  Sonia smiled, intrigued. “Why? Is there something wrong with him?”

  Jet snorted. “Nothing a time machine couldn’t help.”

  Sonia took another sip. Damn these are good. “What do you mean?”

  Jet squeezed her shoulders together, making herself strangely thinner. “Tall, lanky.” She released her shoulders. “Wearing a suit two sizes too big, one that his father must have bought in the 1950s. Honest to God, he was wearing a bowtie.”

  “No.” Sonia’s eyebrows were raised.

  “Honest to God.” Jet tugged at the ends of an invisible accessory. “Bowtie. And not one of those smaller ones the cool guys wear today. It was huge. Everything but the plastic pen protector.” She rubbed her chin. “Although he might have had that hidden in his suit jacket.”

  Sonia took her next sip, a long one. “An older man?”

  “No. He’s our age. Well, maybe more like Brad’s. But maybe not even forty.”

  Sonia smiled. “Now you’ve got me imagining all kinds of things.”

  Jet sat back in her chair. “I don’t blame you. But honestly, if you just looked at the guy, the man inside the ridiculous suit, he really wasn’t bad looking. In fact,” she seemed to come to a new realization, “he was kind of good looking─nice smile, attractive hazel eyes.” She took a tiny sip of her drink. “It’s just . . . it’s just almost impossible to look past the other stuff.”

  Sonia leaned in to take yet another sip of her margarita and realized it was almost gone. She sneaked a quick peek at Jet’s, only to find that Jet had barely made a dent in hers. Man, I’ve got to slow down. “So, besides being funny looking, what’s this Bernard like?”

  “No, Burnett.” Jet scrunched her face. “Burnett Saunders. I could swear he comes from old Lexington money, like he lives in one of those huge houses on Richmond Road, with the big lawns and the stone fronts. And stiff? He’s stiff as a dog’s tail.” Jet leaned in and took another quick sip of her margarita. “Probably smart as a whip though. I’m guessing if you put him on the trail of a financial impropriety he could sniff it out quicker than a hound dog following one of those portable barbeque smokers they pull around.”

  Sonia rolled her eyes, and before she could continue the conversation, Paco arrived with the meals. He laid them in front of the women and asked, “Algo más? Anything else?”

  “Uno más margarita,” Jet was quick to say, nodding her head toward Sonia. “I’m driving.”

  “Otra margarita más, verdad,” Paco corrected gently, then he smiled and walked quickly away.

  Sonia took a quick silent breath. This is not going to end well. “So, do you think this is our guy?”

  Jet poked her straw around in her drink. “Oh yeah, this is our guy. Or would be if I didn’t have a reputation to uphold.”

  “Why? Sounds like he’ll do exactly what we need him to do.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” Jet stroked her long blonde ponytail, pulling it down over her right shoulder. “What I’m trying to say is that I can’t be seen having meetings with a guy straight out of the 1950s. Hell, people will think it’s something right out of the X-files.” She wiggled quotation marks in the air with her fingers. “Beautiful woman from new millennium has lunch with 1950’s accountant, bears child seventy-five years old.”

  Sonia’s smile was getting broader and broader. Her eyes were slightly watery. “Oh, so you’re thinking of sleeping with this guy?” Sonia seemed unaware of the very slight slurring of her words and the fact that the volume of her voice had slipped up a notch.

  The second drink arrived just as Jet was explaining further how she had a reputation in town. She would probably never be asked out by another normal human being if she was seen in public with Burnett Saunders.

  “And when was the last time you were asked out by a normal human being?” Sonia was surprised to find she had apparently lost any ability to filter her thoughts before they came stumbling out of her mouth.

  “Well, there was Robbie Alvarez, wasn’t there?”

  “Ohhh. Now that you mention it, you never gave me the full, I mean complete, rundown on what happened with you and him.”

  “And I’m not going to.” Jet’s tone was quick and sharp. She softened and smiled demurely. “Some things a lady just doesn’t share.”

  “Yeah, right.” Sonia wondered if someone had turned up the heat in the room.

  Sonia and Jet began eating, and by the time Paco returned with the check, Sonia and Jet had finished off two chimichangas, along with three margaritas, and were thoroughly enjoying themselves. Before they left, however, Sonia was able to pull herself together enough to tell Paco that they were working hard on his case and doing their very best to locate his daughter as quickly as possible.

  “In fact,” Sonia said, trying to act as professional as she could, “I was out at Downstream Farm this morning asking lots of questions, just trying to get a feel for how things were going for her out there. I don’t know that I learned anything that will help me find her, but you’ll be glad to know that everyone out there liked her. They’re all praying that she’s okay.”

  Paco Castillo stood at the table, between both women. He looked back and forth from one to the other. “Thank you so, so much, Ms. Sonia, Ms. Jet. We, the whole family, we’re so grateful. Please, let me know if there is anything I can do to help─anything.”

  Sonia reached out and took his hand. “Actually, I’d appreciate it if you would stop by and bring me a photograph of Mariana. I just feel like it might help us, I don’t know, get more in touch with her.” She had spoken to Paco earlier on the phone, filling out a demographic intake form with Mariana’s address, phone number, type of car, list of friends, and so forth. Still, she felt the need to become more aware of Mariana the person.

  Paco’s hand swept around the room. “Everyone here knows her. You could talk to anyone. Wait,” He shook his finger. “Gabriela. You should talk to Gabriela.”

  “And who’s that?” asked Jet.

  “Gabriela is Mariana’s cousin. They’re muy unidas, very close.”

  Sonia had her phone out and was putting the girl’s name in her notes. “And how old is this cousin?”

  “A little older than Mariana. Twenty-eight or twenty-nine, I think. But still, they’re very close. You should talk to her.”

  “She’s not here now, is she?” asked Jet, putting aside the light spirit of the lunch and getting down to business.

/>   “No, but she works here on the weekends. I could get you her phone number. You can call her.”

  Sonia stood up, ready to go. “You do that Paco. You get us her number and we’ll be sure to get in touch with her as soon as possible.”

  “Gracias, gracias, thank you.” In a moment, he was off to another table.

  Sonia stood. Jet stood as well, looking down at the check. “Sonia, what about this check?”

  “Hey, it’s your favorite lunch spot. This one’s on you.” Her smile made obvious the pleasure she derived from having such a dear and close friend─one you could stick with the check. She was glad, as well, that the business arrangement she had worked out with Brad was not going to put that in jeopardy. That thought, however, led her to wonder what kind of jeopardy Mariana Castillo was in at that very moment.

  8

  Around ten the next morning, Sonia entered the BCI offices, croissant and coffee in hand. She could see that Jet was already at her desk. “Morning sunshine.”

  “And a hearty good morning to you, Ms. Vitale. How they hangin’?”

  Sonia shook her head broadly. “They’re hangin’ just fine. Have you been able to reach that Gabriela yet?” She walked into Jet’s office and took a seat in the red chair.

  Jet leaned back in her swivel chair, stretching her arms above her head. “No. I’ve been sitting at this desk since eight o’clock this morning. I’ve tried several times, but no luck. I’ve left several messages, but . . . .” She shrugged. “What’s that you’ve got in your hand?”

  “Exactly what do you think I have? Ten o’clock. Stopped in Magee’s. Saw Hildy. Walked out with an edible object and a cup of hot liquid. Any other questions? Or was that just a sly way of saying you’d like half of my morning treat?”

  “Ah, my precious,” said Jet in a distorted voice. “She sees the evil in our question. We must better hide our intentions next time.”