No Harm (The Kate Teague Mysteries Book 1)

by Wendy Hornsby

  A double bed with a red-embroidered, fringed coverlet filled the end of the trailer beyond the door where Kate stood. The far end was partitioned by a curtain that had once hung in Grandpa Archie’s bedroom. In the seven feet of space between the bed and curtain were jammed a small sink, ice box, and stove on one side, and what looked like a cast-off coffee shop banquette and linoleum table on the other. There wasn’t space for anyone to move until Rosa finished her picking up and stepped to the far end by the curtain.

  With Oscar holding her elbow, Esperanza slid in behind the table and rested her head on her hands. A crucified Jesus, body twisted in agony, looked down sadly from the curtain rod above her.

  “What happened?” Rosa asked, accusation ripe in her whole posture.

  “I’m sorry,” Kate looked from Oscar to Rosa. “It hurts Esperanza to talk. She has some lye burns in her mouth.”

  “How in the name of thunder…” Oscar began.

  “Not now, Oscar. Sit down, Kate.” Rosa thumped her on the back. “It’s not your fault, I’m sure. I told my sister not to go back to that place.” She shook an accusing finger at Esperanza. “But you don’t listen to me and now here you are.”

  Esperanza smiled in response, sliding across the cracked plastic seat to make room for Kate. She wagged a scolding finger at Rosa’s back and Kate laughed softly, understanding her joke. Listening to Rosa was like hearing a good mimic imitate Esperanza.

  Rosa continued her tirade as she lit a fire under a cast-iron kettle. Once it was going, she turned and examined the burns on Esperanza’s face. Then she kissed her loudly on the forehead. “I’ll get your room ready, honey. You look tired.”

  Moving sideways in the cramped space, Rosa went to the curtain and drew it aside. The curtain made a sort of alcove across the end of the trailer. In the shadows Kate could see a narrow bunk and above it a shelf neatly stacked with boxes and folded clothes. All of the available wallspace was covered with framed photographs and mementoes. Kate realized with a little sadness that that tiny space was Esperanza’s real home, rather than the large, immaculate apartment off the kitchen of Kate’s house.

  Squeezing past Rosa, Esperanza went back and sat on her bed. Oscar followed and opened a collapsible canvas camp stool next to her. He lit a small kerosene lamp hanging from a corner hook above the bed and gestured for Kate to come and sit on the stool.

  “Cozy,” Kate said, alone with Esperanza inside the alcove with the curtain drawn. Kate helped her to undress, taking care as she pulled the stained dress past Esperanza’s burns. She folded the dress across the foot of the bed while Esperanza took a nightgown from under the pillow and slipped it on.

  “Just like old times, isn’t it?” Kate removed the hairpins from Esperanza’s bun and brushed the gray hair until it was smooth. “Except it’s in reverse. You always used to tuck me in.”

  Esperanza smiled, the soft light catching tears in her eyes. She pressed Kate’s hand against her cheek, then she held it up to see it better, concern darkening her face. Lye burns tattooed Kate’s fingers.

  “De nada.” Kate put the hand behind her. “It’s nothing. Get some sleep, my little hija.”

  Esperanza touched Kate’s cheek then reached up and touched a cracked frame that hung at the head of the bed.

  “Oh, my God. Did you save that from the trash?”

  Esperanza nodded, her eyes heavy from the sedative given to her at the hospital. Under the glass was the motto Kate had embroidered for her grandfather when she was a child: “Red sky at morning, sailors take warning. Red sky at night, sailors’ delight.” The border of crude little sailboats she had struggled so long to stitch now looked faded and tired and hardly seaworthy.

  Kate’s high school portrait hung next to the motto. She winced a little when she saw herself, lips closed resolutely over the bands on her teeth that were removed the following summer, before she went away to college. There was also a portrait of Nugie, cool and glamorous in black velvet. Kate peered through the soft, wavery light, studying each photograph on the wall. There were Reece, Kate, and Nugie on the beach. A younger, slimmer Esperanza wearing an improbable feathered hat.

  A hand-tinted picture of Kate as a one-year-old headed a long row of baby pictures, most of which she didn’t recognize. There was a sameness about them all because of the style of photography current at that time. All of them were tinted to a romantically healthy rosiness. The canvas stool creaked under her as she looked from one smooth baby face to the next.

  The fourth portrait stood out from the others because of the artificially blue eyes. It was a little boy smiling to show his two front teeth. His sparse blond hair was so fine and so fair it seemed transparent. Kate moved closer to see the photographer’s signature scrawled across one corner: “Fortunato. Mexico. D.F.”

  She was drawn back to the eyes. The tinter had had a heavy hand; no eyes could be that blue. But there was something else about them that didn’t seem possible. She held up her hands to frame out everything but the eyes. Then she moved her hands until all she could see were the eyes in her own baby portrait. The stool almost fell out from under her as she straightened up.

  “It’s him, isn’t it? Miles’s son, my cousin?”

  Esperanza smiled so sleepily, Kate wasn’t sure whether she had heard.

  “You knew all along,” Kate challenged with disbelief. “Where is he now?”

  But Esperanza closed her eyes and rolled over. Kate sat beside her, waiting, expecting something more, until the quiet breathing became a gentle snore. She felt betrayed and angry. How much easier everything would have been if only she had been told the truth when she needed it.

  If Esperanza knew the truth, others did, too. She picked up the stained dress and went out through the curtain.

  Oscar and Rosa sat close together at the table, like conspirators, drinking from steaming mugs. There was a wariness in their eyes when they looked up at her.

  “May I have some cold water and soap so I can wash this?” Kate asked, holding out the dress.

  “Let me do it.” Rosa took the dress from her. “You sit here and have some coffee.” She put a china cup and saucer on the table next to Oscar’s chipped mug.

  The coffee was thick and sweet and delicious, exactly like Esperanza’s coffee. Kate finished it quickly and Rosa refilled her cup. She remembered how hungry she was but realized that the coffee would probably have to suffice until breakfast.

  More than anything, she wanted to ask Rosa and Oscar about the boy with the blue eyes. But they seemed so suspicious of her, as if she had come to take something from them. And maybe she had.

  Not sure yet how to approach the subject of the boy, she opened her purse and took out Esperanza’s prescriptions and lined them up on the table. She held up the silver tube of antibiotic ointment.

  “This is for Esperanza’s face burns. There is a mouthwash here and some pain pills if she can swallow them. The doctor says she must have only water for twenty-four hours, then she can have Jell-O and ice cream until she feels like eating solid food. I’ll take her to our family doctor day after tomorrow for a checkup.”

  “Don’t worry.” Oscar swept the prescriptions to his side of the table. “We’ll take care of her.”

  Kate toyed with her cup, watching Rosa’s back as she stood at the sink scrubbing the dress. Oscar kept his eyes focused on the contents of his mug. Kate felt more than ever like an intruder, shut out from the past as well as from the unexpressed emotions that filled the small trailer.

  “When I was a little girl,” she began cautiously, “I remember Esperanza going to visit you in Mexico City. She brought me some marachas. When did you move up here?”

  Rosa gave Oscar a hard stare over her shoulder.

  “Long time ago,” he said.

  “There’s a picture of my cousin, my Uncle Miles’s son, in there.” She nodded toward the curtain, trying to sound as if she had known all along about the boy, as if they had no secret to keep from her. “The picture was taken in
Mexico City. Did you know him?”

  Tears filled Oscar’s eyes. “We knew lots of little boys.”

  Kate looked at the stubborn set of Rosa’s back, so much like Esperanza’s. “I want to talk to him. My uncle died this morning. I think his son should know.”

  The shoulders sagged a little.

  “Rosa?” Oscar seemed to need permission.

  Rosa didn’t respond. She wrung out the dress and turned away from the sink. She shook it out and laid it on the table, stretching the wet bodice to display the holes eaten through the fabric.

  “Don’t worry about staying here with us,” she said. “We always took care of the little chico, and we will take care of you.”

  SIXTEEN

  “YOU LOOK LIKE HELL, KATE.” Reece lounged on the lawn in front of her house, sunning his freckled chest. “Been out tomcatting?”

  “I feel like it.” Kate slammed the door of the Mercedes and stretched. “I slept on a camp stool last night, listening to Esperanza snore.”

  He turned serious. “She okay?”

  “I think she will be. She was still sleeping when I left. I’m going to change and pick up some things for her, then I’m going back. I have to talk to her. Alone.”

  “It’ll be tough getting away from here.” Reece inclined his head toward Miles’s house. “The troops have gathered. They’re talking about sending the cavalry after you. Carl’s pissed that he went along with Tejeda and let you go with Esperanza.”

  “He let me go?” she repeated, rankled. She looked toward Miles’s house and saw that all the drapes were open. “Carl’s still here?”

  “Yep.” Reece yawned and scratched some peeling flesh on his shoulder. “So is Old Tom Bodge. Thought I’d wait out here to warn you.”

  “Damn! I forgot about Old Tom and the will.” She started toward the house, then stopped. She needed a shower and a little time to sort things out before she could face any of them. “Tell them to go ahead without me, will you?”

  “You’re the pot at the end of the rainbow, sweetheart. They can’t do anything without you.”

  “Then hold them off for a while, please,” she begged him. “I need to get cleaned up.”

  “I’ll do what I can.” He rolled to his feet.

  “Thanks.” She twirled the car keys on her finger and headed for her house. “I won’t be long.”

  “For God’s sake,” Reece called after her, “do something with your hair.”

  “Why?” She reached up and touched it. Sticky from the morning fog, it lay in thick clumps along her neck. “Tina Turner pays a fortune for hair like this.”

  “But she can carry a tune,” he yelled after her as she ran inside.

  Upstairs, Kate undressed quickly, throwing Dolph’s car keys on her bed and making a mental note to remember to take them with her.

  The shower felt wonderful. She shampooed her hair and let the hot water run over her face, washing away the smells of cooking and Esperanza’s bitter ointment that hung thickly in the air of the tiny trailer.

  Not taking time to blow dry her hair, she toweled it and caught the sides up in big tortoise shell combs. In her dressing room she picked out a soft, gray silk skirt and blouse. With some reluctance she checked the results in the mirror. Cheeks still rosy from the shower, eyes the color of her blouse, the effect wasn’t bad, she decided… considering.

  Breakfast would help, but there wasn’t time. She had left before Rosa finished frying her eggs and chorizo because the pall of silence in the trailer had become unbearable, even threatening.

  Kate slipped into some low-heeled pumps and hurried toward the door, thinking about questions she would ask Esperanza. She picked up Dolph’s keys and dropped them into her pocket.

  They hung heavily in the light fabric of her skirt, bouncing against her thigh like noisy punctuation to the confusion of thoughts coursing through her head as she walked across the courtyard to Miles’s house. How many of the people waiting inside for her shared Esperanza’s secrets?

  Miles’s front door stood ajar. Kate took a big gulp of the hazy, smoggy air before she pushed the door open and crossed the silent foyer. She appreciated how bright it was; the brass wall sconces had been polished and fitted with new bulbs. Good for Reece, she thought, as she stepped into the living room. That step was like raising the lid of a tinny music box; Dolph, Mina, and Carl all began talking to her at once.

  Carl raised his hands. “Give her a chance,” he said, the man in charge. She veered away when he came toward her with his arms out. He backed off, but she saw the deep worry lines etched across his forehead.

  “After what happened last night,” he said, “we’re all a bit on edge. When you were late for our appointment with Mr. Bodge, we were concerned about you. We didn’t know when to expect you back.”

  “I didn’t have a watch.” Kate hesitated while everyone found a seat. As she looked around, she wondered if she had any real allies here, or, failing that, if there was a neutral zone. Tejeda had warned her she would need to be a good actor, but this would be a brutal test. When Mina patted the empty cushion beside her, Kate sat there.

  “How is Esperanza?” Mina asked.

  “Uncomfortable, but okay.”

  “Ghastly thing,” Mina clucked. “She’s lucky she wasn’t killed.”

  “Not much chance of that.” Carl moved from across the room to sit on Kate’s other side. “She wouldn’t accidentally eat enough lye to kill her.”

  “No,” Kate said, trying to look casually at each face in the room. “It was just enough to keep her quiet for a while.”

  “Did that lieutenant fellow warn the market?” Mina puckered her face with indignation. “It’s awful the way we can’t trust the food we buy, all these crazies putting poison in things. It’s just like that Tylenol scare.”

  “Food? Who mentioned food?” Reece marched in, balancing a grease-smeared pizza box in one hand and a steaming pot of coffee in the other. “Kate said she was hungry so I thought I would cater this little conclave.”

  “Thanks, Jeeves,” Kate said, relieved he had come. She took the box from him and opened it, finding half a cold pizza with all its pepperoni picked off. “Are you going to be the sacrificial taster?”

  “It’s all tested. I ate the rest of it for dinner last night.” He patted his flat middle. “So far, all systems are ‘go.’”

  “It looks gross.” Kate disengaged a thick slab of pizza. “But I’m so hungry I think I can choke this down if you pour me about a quart of coffee.” She smiled at him. “But no sugar, okay?”

  “There isn’t any sugar.” He glanced at Carl. “Lieutenant Hunk took it all away.”

  “Whenever you’re ready.” Dolph sounded vexed.

  “Yes.” A loud, hacking cough from the far side of the room froze all conversation. “Shall we proceed?” Old Tom Bodge, forgotten in the furor over Kate’s entry, turned on a table lamp at his side. The effect was theatrical.

  Kate looked at him, sitting deep in a high-backed chair, thin legs dangling from his fat belly. A web of red veins in his face gave the illusion of rosy good health, like Esperanza’s tinted baby portraits. Kate remembered him as a younger man, overweight, overbearing, always working hard to be funny. Dolph had told her that Bodge could hold his tongue after a few pink gins. Probably, she thought, because he’d had a lot of practice. At that moment, he looked like he needed a drink.

  Bodge covered his face with an immense linen handkerchief and coughed again while everyone waited. He wiped his rheumy eyes with pudgy knuckles, then examined his manicure.

  Kate put her half-eaten pizza slice back in the box and rested her elbows on her knees. “Whenever you’re ready, Mr. Bodge.”

  Bodge looked up at her, shrugged slightly, and after a deep, phlegmy breath, he pulled a long manila envelope from his inside coat pocket. Kate could see from the torn flap that the seal had already been broken, and by less than patient hands.

  Slowly, Bodge withdrew the single sheet of thick, creamy
paper. Kate recognized Miles’s personal stationery. Bodge looked at Kate again, then slowly removed and polished his thick bifocals.

  “Get on with it,” she whispered aside to Carl as Bodge put the glasses back on and read the page over to himself.

  Carl put his arm around her and pulled her closer. “Relax,” he said, smoothing her still-damp hair.

  Kate felt smothered in Carl’s embrace. She leaned forward and refilled her coffee cup to put space between them.

  There was another spell of coughing, another wiping of bifocals. A long sigh. “I find no funeral instructions,” Bodge said finally, folding the will along its creases. “Maybe the reading of the will should wait for another time.”

  “Kate?” Dolph said. “What do you want to do?”

  She looked at Bodge, all tucked into the folds of his stomach. She couldn’t stand another session like this one. “You might as well read the whole will, Mr. Bodge. Since we’re all here.”

  “As you wish.” Bodge shifted in his chair, stirring up his gelatinous middle. “It’s very brief, as you can see. There is an annuity for Esperanza Ruiz y Garcia. It’s very straightforward, and since she isn’t here we needn’t bother with the specifics. Miles writes it is given ‘for tender services rendered to a desperate man.’”

  “What can that mean?” Mina chirped. She looked ruffled and flushed and ready for battle.

  Kate patted her hand. “I’ll explain it to you later.”

  Bodge looked at them irritably over the top of his glasses. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  “Please,” Kate said. “Continue.”

  “Thank you.” He was like a prim schoolmaster. “Other than Miss Ruiz there is a single legatee. He cleared his throat and pulled out his handkerchief again and blew his nose.

  Everyone in the room except Bodge was looking at Kate and she wondered what they all expected. The pot at the end of the rainbow, Reece had said. She looked at every face in turn. Dolph was beaming at her as if he had given her a marvelous gift and was waiting for her to open it. Mina looked saccharine, a tea-party smile fixed on her face. Reece, true to form, stuck out his tongue at her to cover his feelings, or to make her laugh. She did laugh, a small, nervous chuckle. She felt like the contestant in a fixed game show, “And the winner is…”