Malice in Mexico

by Gayle Wigglesworth

  Malice in Mexico

  A Claire Gulliver Mystery

  Books by Gayle Wigglesworth

  GAYLE’S LEGACY,

  Recipes, Hints and Stories Culled from a Lifelong Relationship with Food

  THE CLAIRE GULLIVER MYSTERIES

  Tea Is For Terror

  Washington Weirdos

  Intrigue In Italics

  Cruisin’ For A Bruisin’

  Malice In Mexico

  A POTTERY MYSTERY

  Mud to Ashes

  MALICE IN MEXICO

  A Claire Gulliver Mystery

  by

  GAYLE WIGGLESWORTH

  Copyright © 2008 by Gayle Wigglesworth

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without prior written permission from Gayle Wigglesworth, except for the inclusion of quotations in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2008935846

  ISBN: 978-0-9825519-5-0

  Gayle Wigglesworth, publisher

  Email: gayle@gaylewigglesworth.com

  Web site: www.gaylewigglesworth.com

  Acknowledgements

  I started this book with confidence, having visited San Miguel on three separate occasions during the past five years, but very soon I realized I needed some help. One thing that really worried me was none of our visits coincided with the time of year when Claire and Jack visited. Fortunately, our friend, Jan O’Brien, decided to visit San Miguel in March of 2007. She very kindly sent back photos and reports which helped assure my accuracy. However, Dave and I did return to San Miguel this last March, before I sent the manuscript to the publisher, to make sure I got it right.

  I want to thank Larry Grill, brother of my brother-in-law, who has spent many years in various fire departments in the Southern California area. He reviewed some of the scenes in the book to make sure they were feasible. And I appreciate my nephew, Nick Coates, who is a member of the U.S. Border Patrol, confirming that my scenes about crossing the border could have happened as I described them.

  And I am extremely grateful to my friend, Dr. Martin Lorin for the meticulous care he took in reviewing my draft, for the valuable suggestions he made which tightened the suspense of the story, and especially for his constant policing of my comma’s, which I confess, I have my own unique way of using.

  And of course, I thank my husband, David, for his constant support as well as the numerous times he read the manuscript without complaint. And also my special appreciation to my daughter, Janet Hancock, who despite her busy schedule managed to finish her edit and get the comments back to me in time to meet my deadline.

  And to Archie Dean, author and publisher of The Insider’s Guide to San Miguel, for his permission for me to reproduce the maps from his book which I have put in the front of my book to help the readers understand where San Miguel is located and how the Central District is laid out. His book has been very helpful to me on my visits to San Miguel, helping me be comfortable while exploring San Miguel.

  This book is a work of fiction and the characters and events all happened in my head. If you think you recognize these people, names and situations, I assure you it can only be coincidence.

  I always try very hard to get everything right so I appreciate these “experts’” input. However, if I have missed any errors, they can only be my own responsibility.

  Dedication

  For David,

  my husband, partner, mentor, and my best friend.

  PROLOGUE

  Claire smiled when she read the email message from Vern Higbee and then opened the attachment. She clicked on “print,” reading the copy as it printed.

  Luxurious two bedroom house wrapped around delightful courtyard, walking distance from the Jardin in San Miguel de Allende. Fully furnished, all amenities, available for two weeks in March. Price negotiable. Call 415 555-7443.

  She didn’t know Vern and his partner, Mike, had a house in San Miguel de Allende. His email requested she post the ad on Gulliver’s bulletin board hoping one of the customers would want to rent the house. She flipped through her address file to find Vern’s phone number, thinking he should be home from the University by now.

  “Hi Claire. You got my email?” Vern obviously had Caller ID on his phone.

  “Yes, and I’m happy to post the ad. I didn’t know you and Mike had a place in San Miguel. Is this something new?”

  “No, it’s not ours. We leased it. We have friends in San Miguel who have been begging us to visit. We finally agreed, but Mike said we weren’t staying with them. They live a way more exciting life style than we do; we knew we couldn’t keep up with them. So they arranged for us to lease this place. Unfortunately, now Mike can’t get away.

  “I don’t know if you heard his company is being sold? And of course, Mike’s critical in providing the due diligence information. He’s stuck. Naturally, I’m not going without him. We can use our plane tickets another time, but the money for the house will be a total loss if we can’t sublease it. Mike thought your bulletin board might be our best bet. What do you think?”

  She nodded, and then remembering he couldn’t see her nod, “Well, we do have a lot of interest in that area, so it’s likely someone will want it. I’ll let the staff know about it so if they see anyone buying books about that area they can point it out. But actually, I was thinking I might like to rent it.”

  “You? Oh, you’d love it there Claire. It’s very artsy, you know. They have music festivals and art schools, and lots of people go there to study the language. And I understand a large contingent of retired Americans and Canadians live there, so it’s very gringo friendly. It’s high in the mountains and the temperature is mild; it never gets too hot or too cold. We were really looking forward to visiting it, but there will be another time.” Vern’s voice dropped an octave as he wheedled. “If you want it, Claire, we’ll make you a very good deal.”

  Claire laughed. “I’m still thinking about it. Meanwhile I’ll post the notice for you. What are the dates it’s available.” She noted the dates and then, after a few more words she hung up, thinking how nice it would be to escape from the cold and wet winter they had been having.

  Usually, the weather didn’t bother her, but this year she was worried about its effect on Jack. Jack Rallins had arrived at the shop a few weeks ago on a chilly, wet Sunday afternoon in January.

  She and Jack had a strange relationship. They had met two years ago while Claire was on a tour of England, and met again in early September the same year in Washington D.C. just before Nine-eleven. Then she didn’t see him or hear from him until they met in Venice the following May. While it’s hard to develop a relationship with a person who isn’t there, they both understood their strong attraction to each other meant something. And even when she didn’t see him or hear from him for long periods of time, thoughts of him haunted her at inopportune times. And the fact that she hadn’t heard from him worried her. She knew his work caused him to go undercover for periods of time, but he usually stayed in touch if only by mailing her an occasional unsigned postcard.

  One raining Sunday in January, responding to an intercom message from her assistant, Mrs. B, she hurried out to the front of the bookshop to find a pale, thin and shaky man standing hunched and wet by the front door. He looked old and only vaguely familiar. She was shocked when she realized it was Jack, but she didn’t waste time asking h
im questions; she just took him home and put him to bed.

  Later that evening when his fever spiked and he was flailing around, muttering disjointed words, she was close to panicking. Finally she called the local doctor whose card she found in Jack’s pocket. She was surprised and grateful when he came to the house; she didn’t know doctors still did that. But Dr. MacIntyre assured her he had instructions about this patient and would do whatever was necessary to see he recovered.

  It wasn’t until a later visit that Dr. MacIntyre told them both, rather crossly, he thought it was criminal how Jack had been allowed to check himself out of the hospital in the condition he was in. But Jack was adamant, insisting people die in hospitals; he said he’d rather take his chances outside.

  And Jack was getting better even though he was still only a shadow of his former self and he still had two jagged wounds that had not completely healed. He hadn’t told her what had happened to him, but she knew he had almost died and was just grateful to have him safe under her watchful eye.

  The last time Dr. MacIntyre visited, he had suggested Jack think about finding some sunshine. He actually suggested Hawaii or San Diego would be a good climate for him, but Jack said Claire’s bungalow seemed just fine.

  Now, Claire printed off a second copy of Vern’s notice and shut down the computer. She pinned one copy on the bulletin board before going to the shelves containing books on Mexico. She selected two on San Miguel and handed them to Mrs. B, who was manning the cash register.

  “Deduct those from the inventory, please. I’m taking them home.”

  “Oh, thinking about visiting Mexico?”

  “Maybe. Vern and Mike sent a notice for us to post on the bulletin board about subleasing a place in San Miguel de Allende. I thought it might be a good change of scene for Jack.”

  Mrs. B nodded briskly. “A little sunshine would do that man a world of good.”

  “Have you been there?”

  “No, I did spend some time near there, but never actually got to San Miguel. I hear it’s very nice.”

  Claire nodded absentmindedly, reviewing the list in her head of things she had planned to complete today. “I think I’m done, so I’m going home now, Mrs. B. Are you all right?”

  “Certainly dear. Tony is here and Billy said he’d stay until I’ve closed up. You go on and have a good evening.”

  When Claire returned with her coat on, Tuffy-Two, the West Highland Terrier, and Theroux, the bookstore cat were both waiting eagerly by the door. Theroux used to prefer to stay at the store, but since Jack’s arrival the cat had started going home each night with Claire and Tuffy-Two.

  Claire took the bag of books from Mrs. B and opened the door so the animals could scamper out and around the corner to the SUV she used for hauling books around.

  The gray sky was dark, not because the sun had set, but because of the thick clouds. The rain had stopped, but leaves and rooftops were still dripping and the saturated ground was refusing to absorb the remains of this last downpour. Claire shivered as she held the SUV door open so the animals could clamor into the back for the short ride home. She only lived six blocks away and usually she and Tuffy-Two enjoyed the walk, but lately the weather was so unpredictable she drove rather than risk being caught in the rain.

  “Hey, what’s cooking? The house smells great,” Claire exclaimed as she came through the front door. It was such a pleasure to come home when the house was warm, the lights were on and Jack was waiting for her.

  Jack stopped straightening up the pile of papers he had been reading to pat Tuffy-Two and scratch behind Theroux’s ears before wrapping his arms around Claire in a soul sustaining hug. “I’m heating up the soup your mother brought over. It smells like one good helping is going to cure what ails me, doesn’t it?”

  It didn’t take long to get the animals fed and the soup dished up. After her initial pangs of hunger had been satisfied, Claire broached the subject of a trip to San Miguel.

  “You want to take a trip?” Jack was clearly surprised.

  She nodded. “You know Dr. MacIntyre suggested you go somewhere where the weather is kinder, warmer, and more conducive to you getting outdoors. I’ve heard good things about San Miguel de Allende. It’s supposed to be a pleasant, picturesque town. I thought it would be a good place for us to relax, kick back and see something new.”

  He shook his head, his face contorted as he struggled to hold in his laughter.

  “What? What is so funny?” She couldn’t help feeling a little indignant.

  “Claire, your travel history doesn’t lead me to think taking any trip with you would likely be relaxing.”

  Her mouth dropped open and she sputtered a bit as she denied it. “What do you mean?” She glared at him for a moment, then nodded sheepishly admitting, “Well, it’s true I’ve had some scary experiences, but that is no reason to think this trip would be a disaster.”

  “I’m not saying it’s your fault, but somehow you do seem to attract more than your share of criminal activities. Now I grant you that your tour of England was just bad luck, a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And of course the trip to Washington D.C. was just an extension of that unfinished business. But Italy? How would you explain what happened on that trip?

  “Really Claire, you seem to be a disaster magnet. You just attract violence. And after the story you and your mother told me about your cruise to Alaska, I have to think it would be much safer for us just to stay here.”

  “Are you scared to travel with me? Do you think I’m going to get you into trouble? Jack, you make a living from trouble.” She shook her head in disbelief, more than a little irritated. “I’ll have you know that I don’t get into trouble every time I travel. I went to the book conference in Chicago last year and the most exciting thing that happened was my plane was delayed an hour coming home. That was neither dangerous nor scary. And just last fall Susanne Queensley, remember her? Anyway, Susanne came out to visit, and we went up to the Wine Country for four days. It was a wonderful trip with no hint of a disaster.”

  Jack pondered for a moment, and then drawled, “Well, Mexico is not exactly the Napa Valley, you know. There’s a lot of graft and crime in Mexico. Certainly some of the areas such as Mexico City and Nuevo Laredo are dangerous destinations. Even if you didn’t have a propensity for getting involved in sticky situations, I think it would be risky to go to either of those places. I think there have even been tourist alerts issued about them.”

  “But Jack, I don’t think San Miguel is anything like that,” Claire told him earnestly, explaining, “We had a lecturer at the shop last year, who talked about Americans retiring in San Miguel, and he said it was very safe. And other customers have said that too.” She paused, confused by his attitude, finally saying, “Wouldn’t you like to go away with me?”

  He looked startled. “Of course I would. I guess I’m just being ornery. Remember, Bayside is ‘away’ for me. I haven’t been stateside for a while, and I guess I’ve been imagining your town for so long I’m reluctant to leave yet.”

  “Oh, I didn’t think about that. I just thought now that you’re feeling a little stronger it would be nice to go somewhere where we can get outside. We could walk and explore and enjoy some time with each other without all my daily obligations distracting me.”

  He nodded, looking thoughtful. “You’re right. I think I’m being inconsiderate. It would be really nice to go somewhere new with you, just the two of us. But what about the store and what will you do about the boys?” His gesture swept around to include Tuffy-Two and Theroux.

  “That’s why I’m interested in this place Vern has for lease. The timing is right. Mrs. B will be available to take care of the store and the animals. They all love the arrangement so I don’t even have to feel guilty about being away.”

  Jack nodded again; clearly he was starting to consider the advantages of a visit to San Miguel.

  “I brought home some books about San Miguel so we can do some research. I�
��m guessing if we want Vern’s place we’d better decide soon.”

  He got up gathering a load of dishes. “Let’s get on it. You check out those books, and I’ll get on your computer and see what I can find.”

  CHAPTER 1

  There was a brief pause in conversation when she entered. It was as if the lights had flickered, but it was really just a flare of lust blossoming in the minds of the men and a green flash of jealousy in the eyes of the women.

  She glided purposefully through the filled tables, seemingly oblivious to the attention she was attracting. Her light gray business suit of fine worsted wool with the tiny vertical black stripe would have been suitable for any high powered business meeting, except the jacket, which buttoned primly at her waist, covered only her naked torso allowing tantalizing glimpses of generous breasts. Her cloud of dark hair fell around her shoulders, swaying with the movement of her stride, revealing occasional glimpses of sparkle at her earlobes. Her sensuous model’s walk made it seem as if she owned the room, but it might have only been the result of the incredibly high-heeled sandals strapped on her bare feet. Her eyes were dark, focused on her target. Everyone, in spite of their involvement in various conversations, watched her progress as she moved through the room, and when she stopped at the table on the far side, near the now empty bandstand, it seemed almost as if there was an audible sigh of disappointment from the men mingled with one of relief from the women.

  She stood in front of the table and watched an appreciative smile spread over the man’s face as he got to his feet and held out his hand.