She untied her bikini top and threw it over her shoulder at Luis. He was at her side by the time she shed her bikini bottom. He kicked off his trunks and picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and they plunged into cool water.
Luis held on to Elia as they sank to the bottom, but he immediately pushed to the surface. “I promised you, no more diving.” He swam to the shallow end with her legs still around him. They kissed and sank beneath the water. They were laughing when they surfaced.
“Yum.” Luis said, licking the water from her face. They stopped moving suddenly at the same moment, and their heads turned toward the far end of the pool. Elia disentangled her legs, but kept her arms around Luis.
“Somebody's here,” she whispered in his ear. “Canyou see anything?”
Luis rotated so his body covered his wife. He looked over his shoulder in the direction of the noise.
A quiet moment, then they heard footfalls hitting the steps. “Were they in the water?” Elia whispered.
“I didn't hear anyone in the pool. No, I don't think so,” he said into her ear.
“Damn.” Elia swam to the ladder and climbed out of the pool. She grabbed her T-shirt, slipped it over her head, stepped into her shorts, and ran up the steps. She reached the top and crouched, and tried to see. She was still, and listened. A sound behind her made her turn suddenly, her hands out in front of her, a Karate Kid.
“It's me. Don't hit me.” Luis had his shorts on and handed her their bathing suits.
She left them on the steps. When she started across the lawn, he grabbed her hand. “What are you doing?”
“Don'tyou want to know who was watching us in the pool?”
“Frankly, no. I don't even want to think about it. Some kid getting his jollies at our expense.”
“Maybe. But let's look around before we go in. Where'd we drop our shoes?”
“Here.” Luis swooped them up. They slipped them on and did a slow jog around the grounds.
Fifteen minutes later, they were back where they started. “You're probably right, Luis. Some kid.” She was looking down the steps. “Did you bring my suit up?”
“Yes. And mine too. You dropped them on the steps.” Luis ran down to the pool looking behind bushes. He stood on the bottom step and looked up at Elia. “They're not here.”
Elia glanced over her shoulder.
They walked slowly to their cottage. “Crazy kids,” Luis muttered. He pulled the house key out of a zipped pocket in his shorts and had it in his hand by the time they reached their door.
They stopped abruptly. On display on a low hedge beside their door, were Elia's bikini and Luis's trunks.
“Kids, huh? How do you suppose they knew where we were staying?”
“They followed us,” Luis said.
She took the key from Luis, opened the door and walked through the cottage opening closets, looking under the bed and behind the sofa. Then she closed the front door and locked it.
“They followed us all right. But they didn't follow us from the cottage, because we didn't stop at the cottage. We came straight to the pool.” She stomped around the living room. “I'm pissed. First, I almost drown in the ocean, then some peeping tom steals our bathing suits and tries to spook us by putting them at our front door.”
Luis leaned against the closed door, his arms folded, a smile playing at his lips.
“And why are you laughing?”
“It's laugh or yell. You're doing enough for both of us.”
She dropped onto the sofa. “I am, aren't I? I hope this was just a cheap prank.” She looked up at Luis. “But I have a strange feeling.”
“I hope you're wrong. But let's move out in the morning and check into a hotel. With security.”
She nodded.
“You know, I don't think I've ever seen you so upset. Even when you got knocked on your head in Perú,” Luis said.
“I am upset. With myself. Let's face it, I was vulnerable. We both were, without a stitch on.”
“Don't get me started. I told you, I don't want to think about someone watching us in the pool. And I certainly don't want to think of someone seeing you nude.” His frown turned to a grin. “Except me, of course.”
“You'll get your chance, I'm taking a shower.” She walked toward the bathroom, then turned in his direction. In slow motion she stepped out of her shorts and peeled off her T-shirt.
“It's ringing.” Elia sat at the kitchen table in a fresh oversized T-shirt, her hair still wet from the shower. She had Frank Hanssen's business card in front of her and had just placed a call to his cell phone.
Luis padded to the refrigerator in bare feet and pulled out some lunchmeat.
“Hello? Frank? It's Elia Christie. Fine, thank you. We're both fine. I'm calling about the hose I ripped. I'd like to pick it up tomorrow. To replace it.” Elia listened to Hanssen on the other end.
“Would it still be in the trash? Thanks, I'll wait.”
Elia covered the phone with her hand. “He threw it away, but he's looking in the trash to see if it's still there.”
“Is he on the boat?”
“Yes. He and Aaron are staying there.” Elia stopped speaking as Hanssen spoke. She looked disappointed. “Thank you anyway, Frank. I'll buy you another one. Good night.”
“Trash picked up?”
“Yes.” She sighed, then took a bite of the sandwich Luis had made for her. “Any beer in there?” She nodded toward the refrigerator.
“Coming up, ma'am.” He handed Elia a cold beer and opened one for himself, then sat at the table.
“Let's see Burnside tomorrow morning.” She held Hanssen's card in her hand. “Did Frank say what he did for a living?”
“You've got his card. What's it say?”
“Wealth Management Consultant, whatever that means.”
“Sounds impressive.” Luis took a swig of his beer and reached for Hanssen's card.
Elia dug in her purse for her notebook and pen and began sketching her slashed hose. “Here.” She turned the paper for Luis to see. “We'll show this to Burnside. He can think what he wants.”
“Andyou'll let him worry about the investigation, right?”
“We have no choice. We're leaving soon.”
His dark eyes seemed pensive as he looked across the table at Elia. He reached for her hand and stood and gently pulled her to her feet. “I'm ready to leave; it's getting a little spooky here.” He wrapped his arms around her. “We'll see Burnside in the morning, then enough of this cloak and dagger business.”
Chapter 15
“That's about it.” Elia stood with her hands on her hips and looked around the bedroom. She knelt and looked under the bed. “There, we've got everything. I guess we're ready.” The ringing phone brought her to her feet. Luis answered it.
“Raf?” What is it?” Luis listened, then nodded reassuringly to Elia. “Of course,” he said, “we'll take care of it this morning. Tell Vicente's parents Elia will bring them with her to Lima. She and I will meet in Charleston on her way home from Perú to arrange packing Vicente's house.” Luis said goodbye with a simple, “We'll be in touch.”
“What are we taking care of?” Elia asked.
“Vicente's bags. They're still at his hotel. Raf just talked with someone there; they packed them and stored them for pickup. We'll get them later.”
“I hadn't given his things a thought. I'm glad Raf caught us. What about our suitcases?”
“Leave them here. We'll be back before we have to catch the plane. Right now, let's catch the ferry.”
They turned the key in the lock and walked down the path that led out of their vacation complex and emerged into a narrow lane with stucco homes edging the curb. They turned at the first corner. A half-block walk and they veered onto a wider street lined by tiny shops, a straight shot to the ferry.
Luis looked at his watch. “Should pull up in about five minutes.” They still had two blocks to cover to reach the ferry. It was a quiet morning; a roa
r of a moped startled them. When they turned to see the bike, it was racing straight at them. For a split second they stared at it, then Luis grabbed Elia's arm and yanked her into a doorway. The bike roared past, but came to a screeching halt a hundred and fifty feet away. The rider put his foot to the ground, swung the bike around, and shoved off toward Elia and Luis.
The two left their sanctuary and ran for a narrow alley, but not narrow enough to keep the bike out. As the biker turned into the alley, Luis and Elia ran around the corner. A shopkeeper had just stepped outside his back door. Luis and Elia raced past him into the shop. Elia flew through the door and Luis followed. He grabbed the man's arm and pulled him back inside as the moped roared past inches from the door.
“Which way's the ferry?” Luis shouted the question. They could hear the moped rev up.
The shopkeeper pointed to the front door. Luis and Elia ran out the door and down the hill toward the water. In the near distance, they heard a bike. They turned off the main street and ran down a side street toward the ferry.
Luis glanced at his watch. “Come on. It's time.” He held tight to Elia's hand. They were above the ferry station and looked down on its roof as the moped flew over the crest of the hill toward them. They scrambled onto the roof as the ferry began to pull away from the dock.
“Let's do it,” Elia yelled. Roll when you hit the deck.”
They took running jumps and landed ten feet below. They both did as Elia said and rolled on the ferry's deck, which saved them from injury. They looked up to see the biker stare at them; he seemed to be rubbing his right elbow with his left hand. Then he turned and roared off.
They lay on the deck catching their breath and watched the shore as they drew away from land. Several passengers came forward to help them to their feet. They looked themselves up and down.
“One piece,” Elia said.
An official-looking man approached wearing a starched white shirt with an insignia over a breast pocket.
“Sorry, sir,” Elia said, “an old boyfriend was following us. Pay the man, honey.”
Luis handed over a couple of dollars and waited until the man went up the stairs to the bridge. “Old boyfriend? Original.”
“The real story is too bizarre.” Elia was silent for a moment. “Maybe we should get off at the next stop and catch a taxi to Hamilton. I don't want to be on this ferry when it docks in town.”
Chapter 16
Inspector Burnside listened to their story. When it was over, he rose slowly from his chair and left the room. He returned five minutes later. “I'm sending people to the dock with your biker's description — what there is of it. That ferry's due into Hamilton soon. Let's see if he's waiting for you.”
“Inspector, there's something else.” Elia leaned toward Burnside's desk. “Yesterday we went scuba diving, and my hose ripped during a wreck dive. When I looked at the rip when we surfaced, it was a clean slice.” Elia told Burnside about the dive, and finished up with the experience at the swimming pool.
Burnside took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You haven't had an entirely pleasant stay on our island, have you? Maybe it's time to say goodbye to Bermuda.”
“We're leaving today,” Luis said. He looked at his watch. “In about four hours.”
“I'll have a car drive you to the airport. Where are your bags?”
“At our cottage,” Luis said. “We're packed and ready to go.”
Burnside reached for his phone. “Someone will take you to pick them up then take you directly to the airport.” He dialed a number and gave his directives to a subordinate.
“Anything else you have to share before you leave?” Burnside asked.
“Nothing, except, well — about the hose. There were only a few people on the boat.” Elia shrugged and raised her eyebrows in question.
Burnside nodded. “I'll look into it.” He strode to the door and held it open for them and beckoned to a uniformed policeman who hovered nearby. “Take good care of them.”
“My brother left so suddenly he didn't have time to pick up his bags. Would you swing by his hotel so we can get them for him?”
Luis glanced at his wife, but she wouldn't meet his gaze.
The driver stopped in front of the hotel and Luis jumped out. “I'll get them.” He returned shortly with a small suitcase and a garment bag. The cop popped the trunk and Luis dropped the items inside.
The next stop was their cottage. “Can we have a few minutes to get cleaned up before the flight?” Elia asked.
She and Luis disappeared down the path to their cottage, while their driver sat in his car.
When they were out of earshot, Luis stopped and faced his wife. “Your brother's bags?”
“Burnside dropped the ball. He should have looked for them. I'm glad we're leaving before it dawns on him that Vicente's luggage might still be here.”
“Maybe he thought Raf took the bags home to Perú.”
“Maybe.”
Inside the cottage, Elia dug in her suitcase for a sweater that she wrapped around her shoulders. She splashed cold water on her face, fingered curls through her hair, applied lipstick and a spray of perfume. “Ready.”
They hurried to the patrol car and loaded their bags in the trunk. “
Thirty minutes later they pulled up at the Civil Air Terminal. “Inspector Burnside expects me to see you through security, so bear with me while I park.” The cop drove into a nearby lot and maneuvered into a small space. He and Luis carried the suitcases, while Elia took the garment bag.
Tight security and diligent immigration authorities ate up two hours. Finally, Luis and Elia said goodbye to their escort.
The flight to Atlanta took two hours. Luis walked with Elia to the international terminal.
“Goodbye, honey.” Luis hugged Elia then watched as she boarded her flight to Lima. He started to walk away then stopped. He turned back and stood at the window until the flight took off. He frowned, took a deep breath, and walked slowly to his gate to catch the connection to Augusta.
Chapter 17
It was almost midnight when Elia landed in Lima. It didn't take long to get through immigration, collect her luggage, and maneuver to the lobby. She smiled when she saw her brother. But his face looked pinched, tired.
“It's always nice to come to Lima, but not for a funeral,” she said, as she gave her brother a hug.
“It's nice of you to come, Elia, but no one expected you to cut short your honeymoon.”
“Something made me come. I don't know. Maybe because—” she stopped, then said with a shrug, “I don't know.”
“Don't know what?”
“Maybe we could have done something?”
“Don't start. It'll never end.” Raf hailed a taxi and carted the bags to the car. “Come on, the grandparents are waiting up for you. The funeral's tomorrow and then we'll get you back home where you belong.”
The next morning Elia was dressed and ready to leave the house when Raf came through the front door.
“Where were you?” Elia asked as she hugged her brother.
“I'm a priest. Where do you think?”
Elia stepped back and looked quizzically at her brother. “Is that an attitude I'm getting?”
He ignored her question and headed for the kitchen with Elia following.
“What are you up to?”
“I'm seeing Vicente's parents this morning.” She picked up Vicente's suitcase and garment bag to take to the Peredas.
“Hold it. I'll carry that for you.” Raf took the luggage and walked with his sister. The Peredas lived three houses down from Elia and Raf's grandparents. The street was quiet, with gated courtyards of eight-foot wrought-iron fences bordering the walks.
“Here you go, Sis.” Raf put the suitcase at the door and handed Elia the garment bag.
“You're not coming in?”
“No, I've seen them already, and I'm saying the funeral Mass. You go and have your cry with them.”
Elia nodded. Raf
kissed his sister on the cheek and left before the maid answered the door.
Elia sipped coffee with Vicente's parents. His mother, dressed in black, was the same age as Elia's mother would have been, if she had lived. Just that thought saddened her. She couldn't help comparing the two of them. Señora Peredas eyes were red and swollen. She held a tangled mass of wrinkled tissues that she switched from hand to hand as they talked.
Elia remembered her grandmother telling her that Señora Pereda was one of those mothers who couldn't bear to be present when her children got their childhood shots. But her own mother never let on if she was suffering when her children were hurting. As she thought about it now, Elia realized her mother must have been quite the actress. How many times had her mother taken her or Raf to the emergency room for stitches. She always seemed calm. Of course, her mother never had to endure the death of a child, as Señora Pereda was doing now.
And maybe her mother had to be tough living so far from her family. Elia's dad was an American from Pittsburgh, and he took his bride there to live. A promise he made to his wife, and a promise kept, was to spend vacations in Lima.
Her dad was gentle and kind and always seemed able to handle any crisis that occurred; Raf was his clone. But Elia learned that it was her mother who had exhibited serenity at the time of her and her husband's deaths in a plane crash. A young college student had been sitting beside her mother when the plane began experiencing trouble.
Her mother took the young man's hand and said a prayer, a one word prayer — “ Jesus.” She said it with quiet dignity and seemingly without fear. Her parents perished, but this young man was one of four survivors, and he shared her mother's last minutes. He said she gave him strength and courage with her short prayer.
Elia felt a warmth, a peace, a comfort when she had heard the story. She knew her mother so well, and knew her mother felt safe with Jesus in those last moments.
Señora Pereda sat weeping as they talked of Vicente. Her husband was quiet at first, appearing lost in his own thoughts before he spoke. “Elia, I can't figure it out. My son was a doctor. Why would someone want him dead?”
Die Before Your Time (Elia Christie / Luis Echevarria medical mysteries) Page 6
