Hit and Run

by Rayna Morgan

  “When did you last see him?”

  “During our last cruise, but not playing cards.”

  “Tell me what you saw.”

  “Mario and I finished our shift and decided to grab a bite before turning in. The man was leaning on the railing outside the casino. Mario told me to go ahead and he would catch up. I turned back before I walked in the burger place. They were yelling. The man looked angry and mean, different from the nice guy who plays cards.”

  “Did you ask Mario about their argument?”

  “He laughed and called the guy a sore loser. I didn’t understand what he meant since the man hadn’t played poker that night.”

  “Did you see him again?”

  “I thought you knew. He was at my table when you came in the casino.”

  • • •

  Anita’s break was over. Lea thanked her and left to explore the rest of the ship.

  She read an announcement posted on the window of a large room with a stage and a dance floor. Calypso-Mexican line dance. Demo and walk-through before the live music.

  Peering into a dining area on the next deck, she saw an easel with a hand-printed sign which would have excited her mother. It described a culinary experience which included cocktails, a tour through the galley, and a multi-course dinner hosted by the executive chef.

  A sign across the way for The Pizza Joint appealed more to Lea. She decided to pass a sit-down dinner and satisfy her hunger with vegetarian pizza.

  But first, she went in search of a treadmill. With time before her spa appointment, she needed to relieve nervous energy normally burned off in an evening run.

  The only person in the fitness center was the man from the casino she and Anita talked about.

  By the size of weights he was lifting, a vigorous workout was part of a daily routine. He smiled modestly and pulled a shirt over his head to hide well-toned abs.

  Lea blushed and looked away, taking ear buds and a portable listening device from her shoulder bag.

  Within moments of turning on her favorite music, she worked up a sweat of her own and didn’t notice him leave.

  • • •

  After being pampered at the spa, she headed to her cabin for a shower and a change of clothes.

  An instant before she swiped the keycard, she heard noise inside the room.

  Pressing her ear against the door, the relaxed state she experienced during her massage drained away.

  She swiped the card, held her breath, and entered.

  The moment he turned around, she recognized the uniformed man standing at the desk.

  “Sorry, madam,” the steward said. “We had reports the air conditioning units in the cabins on this deck aren’t working. You won’t want that to happen. These inside rooms don’t get the benefit of breezes through open portholes. The weather in Ensenada can be hot. You’ll want a cool room to come back to.”

  “Thanks for your concern but I’ve had no problem.”

  “All the same, I checked every room on the wing. Pardon the pun, but everything is shipshape.”

  When he brushed past her, the smell of aftershave made her wish again for a window.

  She stepped into the hall to watch him leave and the woman from the next cabin approached.

  “Someone reported problems with the air conditioning,” Lea informed her. “Don’t worry. The steward checked all the units. They’re working fine.”

  A man’s voice thundered from inside. “Is that you, Alice?”

  The woman inclined her head toward the interior of the cabin.

  “That’s my hubby. Poor thing is prone to seasickness. He’s been in the cabin all day with an upset tummy. I told him we didn’t need to come on this trip but he insisted.”

  “What are you gabbing about?” he yelled.

  “Archie’s hard of hearing, too.” She poked her head inside the room to holler a response. “The woman next door says the steward checked the air conditioning in her cabin. Did he stop to test ours?”

  “I’ve been here all day. No one’s come to check on me or anything else. I could have been dead for all anyone knew.”

  Suddenly, Lea felt shaky.

  When she returned to her room, she checked her computer. It appeared someone had tried to access a password-protected file.

  The cold air blowing from the ceiling vent made her shiver.

  Who was here and what were they looking for?

  After our conversation, did Anita extend her break to visit my room?

  What about the stranger? He knew I was exercising in the fitness center.

  The steward could have given either of them access.

  She looked in the mirror.

  I’m a woman traveling alone with an overactive imagination. Perhaps my frame of mind is coloring how I interpret things.

  She picked up the schedule of classes in her welcome packet.

  One thing is certain. To succeed as a detective, I should pursue my training in self defense.

  She made a decision to forgo line dancing for a kickboxing class.

  • • •

  Rattled by her encounter with the steward, Lea walked to the pool deck in search of a drink and found several options to choose from.

  She stopped in front of a rum bar.

  There's something about a cruise that screams rum, she thought.

  She entered the tiki-hut styled room and took a seat at the polished mahogany bar. A wall-mounted board displayed a wide choice of rum-based concoctions.

  “What’s your pleasure?” the bartender asked.

  “A piña colada would hit the spot.”

  “Make that two.”

  She spun her chair around and faced the man from the casino and fitness center.

  He slid onto a stool next to hers. “Since we keep running into each other, I feel I should introduce myself.”

  He reached out a hand. “I’m Jason.”

  She completed a simple exchange of names.

  Glancing across the pool to the tequila bar, she told him, “You seem more the tequila type.”

  His smile was as smooth as fine whiskey. “I favor any drink which gets me a seat beside an attractive woman.”

  She made a point of twisting the ring on her finger.

  Noting the gesture, he grinned. “I see the ring but I don’t see the spouse. Do you travel often on your lonesome?”

  Her mind raced as the waiter delivered drinks garnished with pineapple wedges and cherries. She hadn’t considered the need to provide a cover.

  “My husband and I take separate vacations from time to time.”

  She stirred the drink with a cocktail straw. “We have different interests when it comes to recreation. He’s an adventurer. I prefer a relaxing cruise.”

  She hated to lie. She and Paul never vacationed separately but she could hardly disclose she was tracking a potential murderer.

  “How about you?” she asked. “Do you cruise often?”

  “I’m in the import business which requires frequent trips to Baja. When my schedule allows, I combine the trip with a cruise.”

  “Wouldn’t it be faster to drive from San Diego?”

  “I find it invigorating to get out of myself occasionally. A person can’t do that staying in the same environment, surrounded by the same people, and doing the same things every day. Cruising gives me a chance to make new acquaintances, gamble a little, listen to good music, and relax.”

  “My sister tells me I should do more of this.”

  “Cruising?”

  “Relaxing.”

  “How did you do with the cards?” he asked. “Did Lady Luck smile on you?”

  “Oh, I didn’t play. I was asking about a dealer, Mario Torres.”

  She noticed an increased level of attention on his part.

  “I know Mario,” he said. “I was expecting to see him but as Anita probably told you, he won’t be making this trip. His girlfriend died recently.”

  “I attended her funeral,” she said, embarra
ssed when her eyes teared over the emotional events of the past week. “The young woman used to be my neighbor. Her death was terrible for my family as well as hers.”

  “Cate’s accident was, indeed, a tragedy.”

  “You knew Cate Palmer?” she asked in surprise.

  He waved a hand dismissively. “She came on one cruise Mario worked. She spent most of her time alone, but she enjoyed watching him at his job and meeting the people he worked with.”

  “Have you seen him since her accident?”

  “I tried to extend my condolences but he’s not on board.”

  They sat in silence, giving Lea a moment to collect her thoughts. He’s careful to let me know he and Mario have no dealings apart from the ship.

  She decided to bait his reaction at the risk of exposing her hand.

  “Her brother believes drugs were a source of contention in their relationship. Have you noticed anything to indicate Mario’s involvement with drugs?”

  His response was thoughtful. “Mario told me he overcame addictions to both drugs and women.”

  “It sounds as though you know him well.”

  He shrugged. “Not really. Our friendship began over a game of cards when he sought advice from an older man to sort his love life.”

  “Did you offer counsel on anything other than his love life?” Lea asked.

  For a heart-pounding moment, his cold gaze fixed on her. Then he rose and threw some bills on the bar.

  “I don’t want to be an alarmist,” he said, “but a woman traveling alone in Mexico…”

  His voice trailed off but the implication was clear.

  “I can take care of myself,” she said.

  “I don’t doubt that for a moment.”

  He bowed slightly and walked away.

  • • •

  She returned to her cabin hoping the rhythm of the boat would lull her to sleep.

  Tossing uncomfortably on the narrow bed, she was disturbed by the picture of Mario forming in her mind and rest eluded her again.

  She finally sat up, turned on her phone, and typed two texts.

  The first to Maddy.

  Your prediction of an adventure at sea came true. Not what we envisioned.

  The second to her father.

  I believe I met the man who is Mario’s dealer.

  Chapter 21

  The ship docked in Ensenada, the second most visited port-of-call in Mexico. Their boat shared the harbor with fishing fleets, cargo ships, and tankers.

  With her overnight bag in hand, Lea disembarked with other passengers and hurried along the malecon. The air was pungent with the smell of seaweed and filled with the sound of hawkers and seals attracting the attention of tourists.

  She stopped at the base of a giant pole, awed by the sight of the enormous red, white, and green flag flapping in the wind.

  Continuing past rows of horse-drawn carriages, she made her way to the plaza where she found her father gazing at giant gold heads of Mexican heroes.

  “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” she said.

  “Not at all. I arrived early to make discrete inquiries. I’ve located Mario’s friend unloading cargo on the freight dock.”

  He pointed to an area further down the boardwalk where huge cranes and crews of men unloaded ships carrying everything from steel pipes to merchandise containers.

  Her eyes grew round with excitement. “Lead the way.”

  Steps from the last dock, Warren stopped and nodded toward a barrel-chested man moving crates around like pieces on a chess board.

  “Lyle Thomas?” Warren called.

  The man turned and cast a suspicious glance in their direction. “Depends on who is askin’.”

  “San Diego chief of police,” Warren responded, omitting the word ‘retired’. “We’re looking for Mario Torres. We understand he’s a friend of yours.”

  Beads of perspiration dripped down the man’s face. He pulled a bandanna from his neck and wiped his forehead.

  Warren spoke in a louder voice, drawing some attention. “I didn’t hear an answer to my question.”

  Lea placed a hand on her father’s arm and took a step forward.

  “My name is Lea. This is my father, Warren Conley. May I call you Lyle?”

  Lyle started to speak, then took a second look at Warren.

  “Don’t let my father intimidate you,” Lea said. “He’s retired from the force. We’re here as friends of Cate Palmer.”

  The man dropped his defenses. “I heard what happened. Bad stuff. But why are you lookin’ for Mario?”

  Warren ignored his question. “Can you tell us where he is?”

  The man glanced over his shoulder toward a building at the end of the dock.

  “My boss is watchin’. He doesn’t like slackers. I take a lunch break in half an hour. Meet me in the Fish Market. I’ll be at the taco stand.”

  • • •

  After locking Lea’s suitcase in the car, she and her father strolled through the market where every kind of fish from tuna to octopus was displayed. They were surrounded by smells of seafood served in outdoor eateries and sold from carts.

  At the appointed time, they made their way to the designated vendor. Lyle Thomas stood at the counter shaking hot sauce on a plate of food.

  “This guy makes killer tuna tacos,” he said, stuffing one in his mouth.

  He pointed to a small man standing behind containers of chili sauce, pico de gallo, and mayonnaise. A toothless grin spread across the old man’s weather-beaten skin.

  “What you want?” he asked in broken English.

  Warren turned to Lea.

  The strong fishy smell and the sight of raw octopus on top of a rolling night at sea had her stomach churning. She declined.

  Her father ordered the special. After covering his tacos with sauce, he turned to Lyle.

  “How long have you known Mario?”

  “Since we were kids. We grew up in the same neighborhood and played sports.” His smile broadened. “We even spent a night together in jail.”

  “I’m aware of his history as a juvenile offender,” Warren said.

  “Luckily, we wised up after our arrest. In fact, Mario made a one-hundred-eighty degree turn and decided to get on the other side of the law.”

  Warren raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying Mario wanted to become a cop?”

  “He either flunked or dropped out during training. He didn’t talk much about it. Whatever happened made him change. We drifted apart until I moved to Ensenada.”

  “How long have you worked on the docks?”

  “When construction jobs dried up in San Diego, I came here to find work. I suggested Mario join me because livin’ is cheaper this side of the border. By that time, he had a job on one of those fancy cruise ships. Said he preferred hangin’ around rich people to unloadin’ freighters.”

  He shook his head. “That’s Mario. Thinkin’ a big spender on one of those trips might offer him a job where he would make a bundle. He’s a dreamer. Always was. Always will be.”

  “You said the two of you got back in touch,” Lea said.

  “Yeah. He tracked me down. I’m the closest thing to family he has left in these parts.”

  “I thought his family lived in Chula Vista.”

  “Not anymore. The recession chipped away at jobs in restaurants and hotels where his parents worked. As soon as the kids finished school, the family moved back to Chapala where his mother comes from. All except Mario. He stayed in San Diego.” He swiped a napkin across his mouth. “What’s your interest in my friend anyway?”

  Lea presented their cover story. “When Cate’s family cleared out her apartment, they found things of Mario’s they would like to return. They hoped to see him at the funeral but he didn’t show.”

  “Yeah, well, I can’t help you. Someone from the ship was lookin’ for him, too. I’ll tell you the same thing I told them. I haven’t heard from Mario since after his girlfriend died.”

  “How di
d you learn about her death?” Warren asked.

  “Mario called. Said Cate was killed in some freak car accident. He sounded real torn up. Told me he needed to get away for a while. That’s the last I heard.”

  He tossed his paper plate in a trash container. “I got to get back. Sorry I couldn’t help.”

  Lea stopped him. “Wait. We’ve been less than candid.”

  Her father objected but she waved him off.

  “We started out trying to locate Mario for Cate’s family as we explained. But now, we’re trying to help him. The police have questions about what happened to Cate.”

  Lyle frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “Mario’s record includes an assault against a woman,” Warren said. “Maybe it happened again with Cate.”

  “You got it all wrong. That girl attacked Mario. She thought he was cheatin’, got crazy jealous and went after him. My friend would never hurt a woman. That’s not the way he was raised. Besides, he was crazy about Cate. He was plannin’ to marry that chick.”

  “The police are also checking drug connections,” Warren said.

  Lyle scowled defiantly. “Like I said, I can’t help. I haven’t seen him.”

  He turned his back and retreated through the fish stalls.

  “Do you believe him?” Lea asked her father.

  “Nope.”

  “Me neither. I got his address from Holly. Let’s take a drive out to his place before we leave town.”

  “Good idea.”

  Chapter 22

  They left the city limits and drove through a valley of patchwork fields where roadside stands offered olives, honey, coconuts, and homemade tamales. On either side of the two-lane highway, plastic sheeting covered rows of the region’s finest produce. A thin layer of haze hovered on the horizon, the remains of fires set to burn dead crops for the next cycle of planting. Small trucks filled with workers bounced along rutted roads to farms dotting the hillsides.

  After passing through a village with a general store, a bar, a pharmacy, and an auto repair shop, they arrived at the turnoff to the sand spit. Dust from the unpaved, pothole-filled road swirled over the windshield causing Lea to roll up her window.