Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries Boxed Set: Books 1-3 (The Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries)

by Heather Haven

  “Welcome back, Lee.” She smiled at me. “Here for long?”

  “Just in and out,” I said, returning her smile. Many people are in and out of San Miguel, especially foreigners. She nodded her understanding. “How’s your red snapper today?”

  Now she shook her head. Arching her brows, she looked back toward the kitchen. “The shrimp is better, Lee,” she said, leaning down to me. “The chef is going through a phase. You can’t put peanut butter on everything. When it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. Move on.” She turned to Gurn, “What about you, Gurn?”

  “I think it’s going to be three shrimp plates, Ingrid,” Gurn said. She responded to his dazzling smile by pouring us water and straightening the tablecloth out, even though it didn’t need it.

  “What does Mrs. Hanson do?” Tex asked after Ingrid departed. I tried to kick her under the table but couldn’t find her leg.

  “My mother is retired and living in North Carolina with my father,” he answered. “But before that, she was a teacher. They both were.”

  “So you’re not married,” Tex drawled, smirking at me.

  “Nope,” he replied, smiling in my direction. “Thirty-six and never been married. Imagine that.”

  “Imagine.” I smiled back but deliberately looked at my watch to show him I wasn’t interested. Besides, I had to concentrate on other things. It was too early to check with Mom on how she was doing, but if I could find out when the flights for home were, I could make a few plans. I reached for my bag, saying, “I hope it won’t be too rude if I search for a flight home today during our lunch. I need to get back to Palo Alto.”

  “Here,” he offered, pulling his iPhone out of his pocket. I had my iPhone with me, too, but didn’t want to get into this ‘how much we have in common’ routine. I kept mine in my bag and let him go on.

  “I happen to have all the airlines and their schedules on here. I fly back and forth a lot. Let me get to them for you.” He pressed buttons on the little machine. “Here you go,” he said handing it to me, “Just scroll down.” I did.

  “Do you live in San Miguel?” asked Tex.

  “I do on and off.”

  “Funny, but I’ve never seen you around. Not that I’m here that much, but our rancho is about an hour and a half away. Maybe you’ve heard of it? Los Pocitos Minerales. I get into San Miguel once or twice a week.”

  “I discovered San Miguel fairly recently,” Gurn replied, “after a buddy of mine told me about it. I came here for the first time about a year ago and I’ve been coming back ever since. In fact, I recently bought a place two blocks off the Jardin.”

  Even though I had only been half listening to the conversation, while cursoring through the list of flights and times, I raised an eyebrow at his last comment and looked at him.

  “You must be doing pretty well in the accounting business. Most houses around the Jardin go for a couple of mil.”

  He winked at me and said, “I do okay.”

  The food came. I put the mini-computer down, and dug in. I was ravenous, not having had any breakfast.

  “I like a girl with a healthy appetite,” he commented, grinning at me. He grinned a lot.

  Embarrassed, I picked up the iPhone, perusing it again. “You know, Tex,” I said with a frown, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to get back today. The only plane leaving Leon is at three-thirty, but I’ll never make it. Especially, as we have to return to the police station first.”

  “The police station? What do you have going on there?” he quizzed.

  “Just a parking ticket,” I answered, taking a bite of food again.

  “Well, I could fly you to Leon, if you like,” Gurn said, buttering a piece of warm bread.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Sure. I’ve got my jet parked out at the private airport, and I was planning on flying to Leon this afternoon, anyway. I’ve got to pick up some supplies for the new house. They’re being flown in on United. The airport’s only about ten minutes from here. Then it’s about twenty minutes flying time from here to Leon. I could get you there by two, easy.”

  “You have your own jet?” Tex glowed and turned to me. “All that and a savior of women, as well?”

  “Well, I really wouldn’t want to impose on you that way,” I stammered.

  “No imposition at all,” he said, popping a piece of bread in his mouth. “Like I said, I’m going there anyway.”

  “That works out perfectly,” effused Tex. She turned to me. “You brought everything with you, didn’t you? Not that you have much. Whatever you’ve left at the house, I can bring to you today or tomorrow when I come to the Bay Area. I’ve decided to take a chance and put Paco in charge of the rancho. If he loses a few head of cattle, what the hell. I need to be near my son.”

  “Then that’s settled,” Gurn said. “Why don’t you call the airline and tell them to hold a seat for you?” He leaned over the table, pressed a button on the iPhone, and I could feel his breath on my face. “There! The number should be ringing.”

  And indeed, it was. I found out there was space, gave them my credit card number and promised to be there at around two-thirty for a three-thirty departure. Modern science.

  “That’s done,” I said, feeling vaguely like I’d been rushed into something. We hurriedly finished our lunch, and around one o’clock, Tex and I toddled back to the police station, having promised Gurn I would meet him in front of La Parroquia at one-twenty. The chief was a man of his word, and the passports were waiting by the front desk for us with a handwritten note in Spanish saying he expected to hear from me soon. So far, I’d felt railroaded by two strange men. Not a good day.

  Tex and I were heading back to where we were supposed to meet Gurn when I saw a man several yards ahead coming toward me on the narrow sidewalk. It took me a split second to place him, a case of not recognizing someone who’s where you don’t expect them to be. In the small amount of time I took to connect the dots, he hurried across the street and into a small antiquities shop. Whether or not he saw me, I couldn’t say, but when I saw the word “antiquities,” I was certain who it was. He looked just like his photograph. But what the hell was Douglas’ Estaban doing here in San Miguel?

  “Stay put,” I cried to Tex. “I’ll be right back.” I raced across the street and into the tienda, leaving Tex perplexed and standing on the sidewalk. Once inside, I searched for Estaban

  but saw no one, save a pudgy, middle-aged man behind the counter, staring at me with disdain.

  “Where did that man go?” I demanded, “The man who just came in here?” The shop owner looked at me puzzled and then shrugged. I repeated the question in Spanish but got the same shrug. I walked up to the counter, determined to make him answer me, when I saw the back door to the shop stood wide open. I was about to go through the door when I heard Tex’s voice.

  “Liana! What are you doing? What’s wrong?”

  “I’ll be right back,” I called, and quickly entered a small alleyway. I looked both ways, but there was nothing except a couple of mourning doves who flew away when they saw me. I only had a few minutes to get to the meeting place with Gurn. Of course, what was the hurry now? If Estaban was here, I didn’t have to worry so much about Douglas there. Or did I? I’d call my friend from the Leon Airport to make sure he was all right once I’d shaken Mr. Gorgeous Gin Guy. I’d call Mom then, too. Her lunch with the museum curator should be over about now, although I checked the laptop for a message a short time ago, and there was none. I wasn’t worried about her; Lila was famous for her three- and four-hour business lunches, and she had a lot of ground to cover.

  I hurried back inside, ignored the pudgy shopkeeper, and pulled a confused Tex out into the street. We just made it to the front of La Parroquia when we heard the sounds of a motorcycle coming our way. A Harley-Davidson roared up and stopped in front of us. Gurn removed his helmet and grinned at me. I was so surprised my jaw dropped low enough for me to have danced upon my tongue.

  “Sorry about this,” he sa
id. “My car needs a new carburetor and is laid up. This is the only other transportation I have.” He reached behind him. “Here’s a helmet.” He tossed it to me while I remained motionless on the sidewalk. I could

  tell he was enjoying this. “Well, come on. Do you want to get to Leon in time for your plane or not?”

  I found speech. “You know, you didn’t strike me as a Hell Angels type of guy. Can I drive?”

  “You know how to drive one of these things?” His eyes narrowed, studying me.

  “Had a Honda Gold Wing for five years.”

  “What happened? Did you crash it?”

  “Lost it in the divorce settlement. He got the bike, and I got the Christmas tree ornaments.”

  “Remind me not to hire your lawyer.” He pushed down the kickstand and got off, gesturing for me to get on in his place. “You know how to get there?”

  I nodded. I’d never flown in or out of the local airport, but I’d passed by it often enough.

  “You call me the minute you get to there, hon,” Tex said, grabbing my hand. I nodded and pulling my hand free, climbed onto the saddle. Gurn straddled the seat behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, a little too tightly for my liking. I put my left hand on the clutch, the right on the throttle, and my right foot under the gear. Popping it into first, I took off. It felt great. Right from the beginning, it was loud, fun, and fast. Good Golly, Miss Molly, I missed my bike.

  The trip to the airport went smoothly. Gurn’s jet was already on the runway waiting. After we stowed his bike, I followed him up the three steps into the plane, studying the back of his head.

  Everything about him struck me as too convenient and too attractive. As Dad once said, “If something seems too good to be true, then it probably is.” That was right after I bought the fake designer handbag on a Manhattan sidewalk for ten bucks. Gurn struck me as one big fake, too.

  Onboard, he showed me where to sit. Then, excusing himself, he went into the cockpit and shut the door separating it from the cabin. It was almost as if once he had me alone,

  Gurn didn’t want to talk to me any more than I wanted to talk to him. Was he really just a nice guy doing a favor and letting me hitch a ride?

  I sat down on the creamy leather couch and buckled up. Opening the laptop, I gave a reassuring call to Tex, who answered on the first ring. She wanted to talk about her plans for handing the rancho over to Paco, but the engines revved up, and we began to move. I cut it short and turned the computer off. I was really getting the hang of this laptop thing. I’d even found a headset secured in one of its compartments. This allowed me to speak and listen just as you would do with a telephone.

  I settled in, put my head back and fell asleep, only waking when we bumped to a landing. I looked out the window and saw the words Leon Airport in big, blue letters on the top of a building. We taxied for a moment. When we came to a complete stop, I undid my seatbelt and waited for Gurn to emerge from the cockpit.

  “How are you doing?” he said, as he opened the door and smiled at me. “Did you enjoy the flight?”

  “Oh, absolutely,” I said, glancing at my watch. Five minutes of two. Plenty of time.

  Just when I was wondering how to ditch Gurn, he said, “I hope you don’t mind if I drop you here. All you have to do is cross the tarmac to enter the main terminal. I’d go with you, but I need to taxi over to where my supplies are.”

  “That’s all right,” I said, a little too eagerly. “I’m fine. Thanks so much, Gurn.”

  He opened the door of the plane, dropped the small set of stairs and stood to the side of the door, allowing me to exit.

  “I really appreciate it,” I said, standing in the doorway and looking at him. He grabbed my arm, looking like he wanted to say something but changed his mind. “What?” I asked, searching his face.

  He shook his head and said, “Nothing. Just take care of yourself, okay?”

  “I always do,” I answered, smiling. I bounced down the stairs and ran across the tarmac, happy to be free and to be making the plane for home.

  Once inside, I checked in at the lone machine for e-tickets. Because I was doing carry-on only, I zipped through the process, including customs, in about fifteen minutes. While sitting at the gate waiting for the plane to load, I went into the laptop for any messages from Lila. Finding none, I called Richard, just in case he’d heard from her.

  “Lee!” he bubbled. “You’re on the laptop. I knew you could do it. Did you find the headset?”

  “I’m using it now,” I replied.

  “I am so proud.”

  “Richard, have you heard from Mom yet?”

  “Yes, about twenty minutes or so ago.”

  “Good,” I said, relieved. In our business, while we don’t like to think about it, you never know what could happen from moment to moment. “So what’s going on?”

  “Well…” he drew out the word while he thought. “She had a good conversation with this Lopez. After a couple of glasses of wine and her winning charms, he admitted that about a year ago two of his better Aztec pieces—that he knew to be genuine—suddenly showed up as copies during a routine inspection.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “He said that someone inside the Museo, someone he trusted, managed to switch two fakes for the real. He never found out who, but he’s heightened security and goes over all the work logs himself now. It hasn’t happened since, but it’s been a black mark on his career.”

  “Did he say how he thought it might have been done?”

  “It probably took place during one of their scheduled cleanings, an inside job, although he can’t prove it. He says someone high up in Customs is probably involved, too.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yes, it’s not easy to smuggle works of art out of the country. Inspectors are trained on what to look for, especially in older looking pieces. Replicas, by law, are supposed to be marked by the manufacturer, and if a piece isn’t marked, it’s held for further inspection. Dr. Lopez thinks someone high up in customs is pushing stolen pieces through. He says the authorities haven’t found out who it is yet.”

  “Covered too well? Bought off? What?”

  “All of the above, none of the above,” he replied. “I think we’ve only scratched the surface of this.”

  “So where’s Lila now?” I asked.

  “She went with Lopez to the Museo to run tests on the necklace, and then she’s heading for the airport. On the face of it, Lee, Lopez thinks it’s real, dating back to about eleven hundred A.D.”

  “What’s something like that worth?” I asked, thinking of how I dangled it in front of Tugger and let him bat at it with his paws.

  “I don’t know, but Lila says Lopez practically did back flips when he saw it.”

  “She didn’t say that, Richard, not our mother.”

  “No, I did. She made a more reserved comment, but I got the picture. Judging by what pieces similar to this have gone for on the rare occasion they’ve come to auction, I’d say a minimum of three-quarters of a million dollars.”

  “And that’s a legitimate piece. I’ll bet on the black market an unscrupulous collector would pay even more than that.”

  “There are buyers everywhere. There’s no way the Mexican government is staying out of this one, Lee. Not once they saw those pictures, which I had to give them once the homicides were discovered and the matching tire tracks.”

  “I know, Richard.”

  “I’d say the cave is swarming with cops looking for clues as to where this stuff has gone. They’re sure to find it.”

  “Not if I find it first.”

  “You be careful, Sister Mine. Remember what happened to the burglar, not to mention the foreman and his wife.”

  “I’ll be careful. I just need to put a few things together in my mind, and I think this will all be over soon.”

  “And you base this assumption on what, exactly?”

  “Don’t you feel like we’re watching a runaway horse or locomotive?�
��

  “Either way, don’t stand in front of it,” my brother said.

  “I won’t. Richard, I’ll be back in the Bay Area around eight o’clock tonight, but don’t tell anybody, not anyone. Okay?”

  “Okay,” he answered. “Do you want me to pick you up at the airport? I’ve got something to do with Victoria, but I can get away for a time.”

  “No, I’ll take a cab. I’ve got a stop to make before I go home.

  “What about Mom?” he asked.

  ”I’ll leave her a voice mail letting her know I’m on the plane. She shouldn’t be far behind me, if all goes as planned. I have a layover in Houston, but she’ll be on a direct flight. We should be landing within hours of each other.”

  “Okay, Lee, but be careful. Remember the best laid plans of mice and men,” he warned.

  “Thank you for that. But as I am neither, I’m not worried.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Back in the US Again

  I lied. I was worried. The only thing that could have calmed me down at this point was Valium, fed intravenously. As I boarded the plane, I didn’t think the skies were that friendly.

  Moving from left to right: there were the missing relics. My goal had been to free Carlos by tracking down the dog statue and its connection with the dead thief. Forget about not finding the statue; I wound up losing a cave full of Toltec artifacts. Then two more people turned up dead on top of the thief. The prosecuting attorney must have loved the job I was doing for him.

  Looming overhead was Douglas and his relationship with a man who was becoming more of a major suspect as the minutes ticked by. Once we arrived in Houston and I’d gone through customs, I decided to bite the bullet and call Douglas at home.

  As I dialed the number, I was confident it wouldn’t be Estaban answering the phone, having recently seen him vanish inside a store in San Miguel, nearly three thousand miles away. Douglas’ phone picked up on the third ring and his voice message caused me to jump like I’d been kissed by an electric eel.