Heat Of Passion

by Alice Orr

  She bit her lip and looked around the room as he had done.

  “What exactly makes you think somebody was in here while you were out?” he asked.

  “Things have been moved, things only I might notice.” She pulled away from the door suddenly and hurried to the dresser. “I left these earrings on top of my jewelry box, not next to it, and the brush and comb aren’t where I remember setting them down, either.”

  “Maybe the maid moved them.”

  “Maid service is in the afternoon in this hotel, not early in the morning.”

  “Maybe you moved those things yourself and don’t remember doing it.”

  Phoenix shook her head. “There are other signs, too. Somebody went through my dresser drawers.” She looked at him in a way that insisted he take her seriously. “Especially the one with my underwear in it.”

  Something about the tone in which she said that made him a believer, and also told him the reason for the sharpness so close to terror in her words.

  “Anything else?” he asked, his ingrained cop instincts suddenly alert.

  “The closet,” she said. “Somebody’s been pushing the hangers around and pulling at the clothes, maybe touching them.”

  She was thinking pervert. He could hear it in her voice. He was thinking of that possibility also, but something else as well.

  “What about this Porfiro guy who was hounding you last night?” Slater asked.

  “The thought crossed my mind. He certainly has been paying a lot of attention to me, and he does give me the creeps.”

  “How long exactly did you say he’d been coming around?”

  “Only the past couple of days.” Phoenix slumped down onto the bed. “But the more I brush him off, the more persistent he gets.”

  A couple of days was just how long Slater had been in town here. When he put that two and two together with Porfiro’s coincidental interest in Phoenix and her claims of an intruder, Slater couldn’t help suspecting that Laurent might be involved somehow. He’d be just the type to put a tail on Slater. If that was the case, Laurent could know where Slater was and what he’d found out. Maybe a backup local had been hired, somebody like Porfiro. Or, maybe Slater was letting his imagination run out of control, just the way some other parts of him had done last night.

  “The bartender said this Porfiro is a tour car driver,” Slater said. “He hires himself out to guests at one of the big hotels on the road to the airport. Escarpadura is one of the regular spots on his tour. According to the bartender, the gringos love the view.”

  “Did he mention the name of the hotel Porfiro works from?”

  Slater thought for a moment. He usually remembered such details, but his head didn’t seem to be working at its usual efficiency this morning. He wondered if she might have something to do with that. “He told me which one it was.” Slater racked his brain. “I think it had something to do with royalty.”

  “The Princess?”

  “That’s it!” He didn’t like to admit it, but she seemed to be a better detective than he was at the moment. “Okay. You wait here. I’m going after him.”

  Phoenix stared at him.

  “If you think this Porfiro may have been poking around your room while you were out, I believe you could be right, and that’s not something to take lightly. It’s at least worth having a talk with the guy.”

  “I’m not sure it’s him.”

  “He’s the only possibility you’ve got right now. Like I said, I think it’s worth a talk with him.”

  She continued to stare. He could almost hear the wheels whirling between her pretty, slightly sunburned ears. He wished he knew exactly what was going on in there.

  “Why would you want to get involved in this?” she finally asked.

  “Because I don’t think you should be taking this guy on yourself when we don’t know how dangerous he might be. Besides, I had pretty good luck with him last night. The only other choice I can come up with is going to the police.”

  “No police,” she said quickly.

  Slater almost sighed out loud. Her rapid response confirmed what part of him still didn’t want to believe. She obviously had reasons for wanting the law kept out of this. Again, his cop instincts insisted on being paid attention to. She was acting as if she were guilty of something. Most of the time, when somebody did that, they turned out to be as guilty as they looked. On the other hand, everybody was leery of the Mexican police. Slater would have liked to latch on to that explanation, but he knew he mustn’t let himself. He had to resign himself to the truth about her whether he wanted to or not.

  “Well, if you don’t want the cops in on this, then I guess you’re stuck with me,” he said. “I’m going to check the hotel desk. If it’s true that Porfiro brings his tours through here on a regular basis, then they may be able to say for sure if the Princess is the hotel he works out of.”

  Slater turned to leave. He didn’t want to stay here any longer than he had to with the confused thoughts she brought to his mind. He had his hand on the doorknob and was about to tell her not to leave the room or let anybody in until he got back when she came up behind him and grabbed his arm.

  “I’m going with you,” she said.

  “I really think it would be better if I did this alone.”

  “I don’t let anybody do my talking for me,” she said with determination in her voice.

  He gazed down at her and couldn’t help thinking that if he let her get any closer to him he might not be able to refuse her anything.

  “But I’d prefer it if you would come with me,” she added more gently.

  Slater did sigh this time. He nodded, knowing part of him was already putty in her hands. He’d figure out how to get Porfiro on his own after they found him. Then the real questions would begin.

  THE YOUNG WOMAN at the hotel desk did turn out to be of help, especially after Slater slipped a fifty-peso note into her palm. According to her, Porfiro picked up most of his morning tour business from the Princess Hotel out on the strip at the opposite end of the bay from La Escarpadura, just as Slater had heard. On the way back from La Quebrada, where the famous Acapulco divers leapt from the high cliffs several times a day, Porfiro brought his customers here. Neither Slater nor Phoenix wanted to wait until that happened. They jumped into the Jeep he’d rented at the airport when he first arrived in town.

  The morning sun was heading toward white bright already and felt good on his face. He hated to admit that what felt even better was to be sitting next to Phoenix while the wind whipped her hair and the sun shimmered in the golden blond amidst the honey color there. She had on sunglasses, but he could see the look in her wide, blue eyes all the same. She gazed up at him in his mind’s image the same way she had last night as she stood outside the door to his room. No matter how many times Slater told himself to stick to business, he couldn’t seem to get that image out of his head.

  Fortunately, the tiered facade of the Princess Hotel, a modern version of an ancient temple, this time dedicated to the worship of leisure, reminded Slater that today was a workday after all. He wangled a parking spot in the hotel lot by telling the attendant they’d come to look at the place because they were thinking of changing hotels. The attendant looked skeptical until Phoenix beamed a smile on him and said “Por favor,” in a silky tone no man could resist. Slater appreciated the assistance, but it pained him to see how good she was at charming men into doing whatever she wanted. Successful criminals often had that kind of charm.

  Once they reached the front of the hotel, Porfiro was easy to spot. He was leaning against a dark blue town car with a slick polish that gleamed in the sun. Porfiro looked pretty slick himself. His silver-gray hair waved back from his deeply tanned brow, and he was smiling as he talked to two other tour drivers with cars parked nearby. They must have been waiting to pick up the first tourist load of the day, but it was still a little early for that.

  “How about giving me a shot at this guy on my own?” Slater suggested.
He anticipated Phoenix’s objection even before the frown shadowed her eyes.

  “I told you that I don’t let anybody do my talking for me.

  “That’s not what I’m asking you to do. I’m just saying that it’s not smart for a woman to challenge a man like this one in front of other men. That kind of approach could force him to make a fight of it. A fight isn’t what we’re after here, at least not yet.”

  “What is it we are after?”

  “We want him to leave you alone.”

  She studied Slater for a moment then sighed. “All right. Let’s see what you can do.”

  Slater nodded and turned to walk away before she could change her mind. He crossed the wide driveway and strode purposefully toward the trio of men, fixing each of Porfiro’s companions with a pointed stare until they couldn’t help but notice. Then Slater shifted his gaze back to Porfiro with a scowl. The other two appeared to get the message and faded backward toward their own cars. Under different circumstances, they might have stayed to support their compadre, but they worked out of this hotel. Slater had figured they wouldn’t want to involve themselves in any trouble that might jeopardize that employment. By the time Slater came face-to-face with Porfiro, he was standing on his own.

  “Buenos días, señor,” he said with a smile that showed lots of white teeth. “¿Cómo está?”

  Slater ignored the standard local greeting. “What’s your game, hombre?” he asked right off, peering straight into Porfiro’s suddenly startled eyes. “I thought you got my message last night. Now I have to be back here in your face. I don’t like that.”

  “¿Qué pasa, amigo? What’s going on?”

  “I’m not your amigo,” Slater growled, “and what’s going on is that you’ve been dogging the woman I’m with for going on a week now. I want to know who’s paying you to do that.”

  Porfiro looked toward the other side of the driveway where Phoenix was standing. She took a step off the curb when she saw him, but Slater lifted his hand for her to stay there. Much to his surprise, she nodded and remained where she was, at least for the moment.

  “Dogging? Yo no comprendo,” Porfiro replied.

  Slater took another step forward and towered there. “I think you comprendo just fine, and I want to know who hired you to watch that woman over there.”

  Porfiro stole another obviously nervous glance at Phoenix. “You must be mistaken, señor,” he said as he turned back to Slater.

  “I’m not mistaken. When I first saw you at the Escarpadura last night, you were watching her like a hawk, or maybe a vulture. When she told you to leave her alone, you wouldn’t do it. I finally had to get your sorry behind away from her myself.”

  “Oh, well, señor,” Porfiro lifted his arms in a placating gesture. “Your friend is very beautiful. Muy her-mosa.”

  Slater grabbed Porfiro’s wrists in a tight grip. “Don’t dance me around here,” Slater snarled, “or I’ll fix it so your next gig will be conducting tours of the Acapulco jail. Comprende that?”

  Porfiro looked up into Slater’s eyes for a moment then nodded slowly. “Sí, señor. I understand, but you’re wrong about one thing. I’m not working for anybody.”

  “Then why have you been tailing her so close?”

  Porfiro shrugged. “Mira, señor. Why do you think I follow her? She is beautiful. She is alone. To me, she looks like she needs company. I did not know she was your territory. I back off now.”

  “You’re not working for anybody? Nobody paid you to keep tabs on her?”

  “Nobody, señor. Now, why don’t you turn me loose.”

  Slater ignored the request and kept his grip on Porfiro’s wrists. ”Where were you early this morning?”

  “Why do you want to know?” Porfiro was beginning to get his macho up. Slater could see that.

  “Somebody searched my friend’s room, moved her things around. What do you know about that?”

  Porfiro opened his palms from the fists he’d made after Slater grabbed him. “Nada, señor. I know nothing about that at all, señor. I swear to you. Following a pretty woman around, maybe even bothering her a little is one thing. Breaking into her room is another. I don’t want that kind of trouble.”

  Slater had the feeling Porfiro was telling the truth about that. He might be a lecher, but he didn’t give the impression of being a fool. A breaking-and-entering charge would blow this cushy hotel gig for him for sure. He came across as too smart to let that happen.

  “You can account for your whereabouts last night?” Slater asked, reverting to lawman lingo.

  “I was with the dice and the cards till the sun come. You can ask my two amigos about that if you don’t believe me.”

  Slater hesitated another moment before letting go of Porfiro. “I’m going to take your word this time.” Slater leaned forward as if to pin Porfiro to the car. “But if you bother her again, I’ll make you very sorry.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that, señor. I’m not going to bother nobody.”

  “Make sure you don’t,” Slater said and backed off then.

  “And if I can be of service to you in any way while you are in Acapulco, señor, you know where to find me.”

  Slater had begun to walk away but turned back to look at Porfiro who was standing next to the town car now rubbing his wrists and smiling broadly once more. Slater almost smiled himself at the nerve of the guy. Slater nodded.

  “I know where to find you,” he said with a threat in his voice. “You remember that, too.”

  Slater sighed as he walked back across the driveway toward Phoenix, who was still standing there waiting, more patiently than he would have expected her to do.

  So, if Porfiro the tour driver didn’t sneak into her room this morning, who did?

  Chapter Five

  SideMan Sax waited until the Jeep left the entrance to the Princess Hotel grounds before pulling in himself. He’d rented a much fancier four-wheel drive than the one McCain settled for. It was bad enough that SideMan had to settle when he was used to a sleek sports car. Unfortunately, the bottom line was that if this mission took him out of town, he might need a workhorse on wheels to get him over the rough spots.

  He struck just that pose in his halfway wraparound, opaque black shades and tight fitted slacks. Nobody’d be likely to mistake him for one of these tourist bozos, not if they knew what was good for them anyway. He kept his jacket on when he got out of the car because his pants were too tight for carrying his piece in a pocket. He had it slipped down the back of his waistband. That might have put some guys at a disadvantage, but not SideMan. He’d practiced his draw from the back with a mirror so many times he was lightning fast by now. Lightning fast and lethal. The gunslinger hadn’t been born who could get the drop on SideMan Sax.

  “Loco gringo,” the one with the silver hair was saying to two other Mexicans as SideMan approached. “Trying to shake me down. I tell him nothing, but I don’t give him trouble. No percentage for me in doing that.” Silver Hair spread his arms to indicate the hotel and its grounds. “I’m not going to let some crazy gringo take away mi empleo.”

  His two buddies nodded. All three were leaning against a dark blue car with their backs to the driveway and didn’t see SideMan until he stepped around the hood of the car.

  “What would it be worth for you to take me on a tour right now?” he said to the guy Slater had come close to mixing it up with a while ago.

  The guy’s silver head shook slowly from side to side. “Sorry, señor. I got to wait for the scheduled group out of the hotel here. Starts in an hour or so. You can sign up for that one.”

  “I’m not interested in one of those group scenes. Maybe this could persuade you to find me a slot in your busy schedule.” SideMan slipped the guy a C-note with the numbers folded out so he could see them right off.

  The silver head dropped for a minute. When it came up again, the guy was wearing a smile full of storebought choppers white enough to light a room.

  “I am at
your service, señor,” he said.

  “Good.”

  SideMan knew that would be the answer. A hundred bucks American went a long way down here.

  “What will be your pleasure this morning?” Silver Hair asked as he held open the back door to the town car.

  “Let’s just ride around and have a chat first,” SideMan said. “What’s your name, anyway?”

  “Porfiro Sanchez” was the answer. “Your man in Acapulco.”

  “Good,” SideMan said. “I like the sound of that.”

  In the next hour, Porfiro would prove himself true to his word and then some. As soon as he found out SideMan was after whatever info he could get on the big gringo who called himself McCain and his troublemaking woman, Porfiro couldn’t wait to help out any way he could. McCain had made himself an enemy, and SideMan was quick to take advantage of that. He even found out about the guy the Farraday broad, who was now calling herself Phoenix, had been trying to look up because he was some friend of her grandfather’s from the bad old days. This guy’s name was Citrone Blue, and he lived on a side street on the nowhere end of town.

  That first C-note was all it took to get SideMan a first-class ride to that street he might have had some trouble finding on his own. Another fifty, and good old Porfiro guaranteed he would be there waiting when SideMan came back out. One look was all he needed to figure out that Mr. Citrone Blue wasn’t taking too many first-class rides himself these days. Even more important to know, the lowdown from Silver Hair was that Blue could most likely be bought whether he was down on his luck or not. It turned out this Blue was a well-known character in these parts. As Porfiro told it, Blue was always on the lookout for a buck wherever he could find it

  SideMan treated himself to a sneering chuckle. Laurent had sent him down here with plenty of buying power, and SideMan had used that bankroll well. He’d even bought himself a key to the Farraday chick’s room. He’d get one to McCain’s, too, when it was needed. Now, in addition to that other good stuff, SideMan had purchased enough information to give him an edge over McCain, including the fact that he thought Porfiro might have been hired to shadow Farraday. That meant McCain had clued himself in to how he wasn’t necessarily being told everything there was to know where Beldon Laurent was concerned. McCain couldn’t even be sure he’d been followed. Pretty stupid of him to think for a New York minute that Laurent wouldn’t protect his bets and his bucks, but McCain was turning out maybe not to be as smart in the head as he was in the mouth. SideMan chuckled again as Porfiro pulled the town car into the alleyway next to Citrone Blue’s building. SideMan liked it when the other guy didn’t know where he really stood in a deal. All kinds of mileage could come out of that. He squinted through the dark glass of the car window at the scruffy place where Citrone Blue lived. SideMan liked it even more when the other guy came with a price tag.