Malice in Mexico

by Gayle Wigglesworth

  Claire nodded as she noted the grandeur of the Teatro Juarez. It was old, but still classy. There were four tiers of seats in the elaborate hall, and the upstairs lobby floor was made of glass bricks, allowing people to see through to the next floor down, distorted though the view was. She was very glad they had decided to attend as she just knew it was going to be an enjoyable experience.

  The usher led them to their seats in the first tier of the balcony and handed them each a program. It told the story of the girl for whose benefit the concert was being given, and it gave an impressive list of selections to be played. On the back there was an appeal for further donations and prayers.

  The lights dimmed and the audience quieted. The curtains rose to reveal the Mondot sisters on stage. Lucille, clad in a long black gown was primly seated at the huge piano, Margery, in dark blue satin, sat in a chair with her cello between her knees. Then with a crash of sound, seemingly impossible to come from Lucille’s delicate fingers, the concert began. Claire sat enthralled, as was the entire audience.

  The sisters played an eclectic selection including Bach, Handel, even a selection from the movie Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, before ending with Carnival of the Animals. Because it was a twilight concert, it was explained there would be no intermission, only a short break for the musicians while the organizers spoke about the girl who would be the recipient of tonight’s efforts. At the end the concert, the audience enthusiastically showed their approval of the sisters’ performance, holding them on stage for nearly ten minutes before allowing them to escape to the wings.

  “Can you imagine being that talented?” Claire asked, her eyes shining with pleasure. “It must take hours and hours of practice, and they make it look so effortless, so natural.”

  They joined the throng emerging from the theatre, pausing for a moment at the top of the steps to look over the crowd before heading down to the ground. Kaye led them around the building to the ticket booth of the funicular explaining. “I parked up at the top. I find it easy to get into town that way and easier to get out again. Do you mind?”

  They followed her on the waiting car and then watched as the Jardin Union and the theatre crowd receded as they climbed up the track. The funicular let them out a couple of flights of stairs from the top. Kaye proudly led them through the parking lot at the top to the street where her car was parked. It was a clever way to park close to the city center, but out of the crowd. Soon they were on the dark mountainous road heading back to San Miguel. Claire sat in the back seat dreamily letting the music replay itself in her head while Kaye and Jack continued their discussion of some of the towns in Italy they loved.

  CHAPTER 7

  It was hard to get out of bed in the morning. Although Claire heard the bells, today they weren’t any more annoying than the birds singing outside her window. She just buried her head deeper in the pillows, snuggled closer to Jack, glad to feel his arm wrapped around her. When they finally got up and dressed, they decided to cook breakfast in. Claire carefully fried the bacon to perfect crispness while Jack fried corn tortillas, mashed ripe avocado on top and then topped it with a fried egg.

  “Yummy, when did you learn how to make this?” Claire was trying to be dainty by cutting the tortilla into bite size pieces, but found it was impossible to get the bites in her mouth without dripping the egg yolk all down her blouse. Finally, giving up on the fork, she just scooped up the crispy tortilla and bit off chunks, holding her head out over her plate to catch the drips.

  “This morning while the bells were tolling. It seemed like a good idea and I think it worked, don’t you?”

  Claire nodded, licking yolk off her fingers. “It’s delicious. And the avocados are perfect. Maybe this afternoon I’ll make some guacamole for our little cocktail hour.” She smiled thinking about it, then she frowned. “You don’t think I’m getting hooked on Margaritas, do you? I mean, isn’t that how people become alcoholics? You know, first it’s just a few social drinks and then they’re looking forward to the cocktail hour all day and before you know it they’re alcoholics?”

  Jack looked at her strangely. “Is there a history of alcoholics in your family?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then why are you worrying about it?”

  She smiled sheepishly. “I guess I think I’m having too much fun. Something bad is bound to happen.”

  “Oh, the optimist? Well don’t worry; I don’t see that you’ll have the time to stop your work day for Margaritas and a siesta in the middle of the afternoon. Do you?”

  “No, you’re right.” She laughed, explaining, “After I came back from England I was determined to have tea every afternoon. It seemed so civilized. I thought I would serve it at the bookshop and it would be good for business and good for me. I think I did it once, maybe twice, before I forgot all about it. Once the day gets going, it’s hard to stop long enough to go to the bathroom say nothing about taking a break. Tea or Margaritas sound really good, but just aren’t practical.”

  “That’s what’s so good about vacations. You take the time for these things. I imagine you’d have to drink a lot more than you’ve been doing here to get started on a path spiraling down to alcoholism. Not that some people don’t fall into that trap, but since you don’t seem to have a weakness for the drink, I think you’re pretty safe.”

  He finished his coffee. “So, what should we do today?”

  “I thought we should go to the Bellas Artes. Kaye mentioned they were having an art fair today with lots of the local artists. That might be fun.”

  “Okay, sounds good. Leave the dishes, Claire. Helen Marie will be here any time now and you’re doing her job.”

  Claire looked guilty, drying her hands on a dish towel. “For sure I don’t want to take her job from her. Let me get my bag and my hat and I’ll be ready.

  “Should we walk through the park first and see what’s happening?”

  “No, let’s go the other way and see what’s down that way. We’ll get to the park later. I’m sure if anything is happening, it will wait until we get there.”

  They walked down the street, hand in hand, looking at the shops and businesses along the way. “I love just being able to wander and not have to be anywhere at any special time, don’t you?”

  Jack nodded, pausing to look at pictures of houses for sale in the window of a real estate office. “Look at this one, Claire, pretty reasonable, wouldn’t you say?”

  She looked at the picture with the description of the property. “No wonder people want to retire here. It certainly seems reasonably priced as compared to Bayside.”

  “Well, I hate to tell you this, Claire, but almost anywhere is going to be reasonable as compared to Bayside and all the towns in Northern California. Your house and your bookshop must be worth a fortune.”

  She looked at him surprised. “Do you think so?” Then reality struck. “I guess you’re right. I inherited them from my uncle and they were pretty rundown then so the appraisal was fairly low, thank God, because otherwise I probably couldn’t have afforded to pay the inheritance taxes. I confess I really haven’t been keeping up with the housing prices, but I know they’re going up. I hear people talking about it all the time. But somehow I don’t think of my property as a lump of cash, you know?”

  “Well, I’ve been reading the papers including the real estate section, and I know the prices. They’re high, very high. But I guess it’s the same in New York, Washington D.C., London and parts of Los Angeles. If you’ve got property in those places, it’s not so bad because you’ll get high prices for what you have, even though you pay higher prices for what you want. But if you are looking for a place to retire, like I am, Bayside is way too pricy.”

  She grinned. “Unless, you know someone who already has property.”

  He looked into her eyes, then nodded his head, a little smile on his lips. “Yes, unless you happen to have a girl who owns property.” His arm snaked out and wrapped around her waist, pulling her to him in a hug. H
e released her and they both turned to head up the street again.

  “So Jack, are you seriously considering retiring?”

  He nodded. “Yes, it’s not just my injury, that’s just one of the risks of the business. No, I’ve been thinking about retirement for a while. I told you that. I think I’ve been too many years in the business, with too many risks. Sometimes I wonder what I’m accomplishing. Each time I go after one of the bad guys and we stop the madness for a brief moment, it inevitably starts all over again. Even though it’s someone else, some other scheme, it just seems such a futile effort. Hell, let the younger guys do it.”

  She nodded. She could understand his view.

  “I’ve talked to my boss and I think I have a good chance of being assigned as a liaison officer in San Francisco. That’s a new position they developed after Nine-eleven to ensure the CIA interacts with the FBI and the local authorities. Because of my years of service I can have it if I want it.”

  Claire turned with a huge smile on her face. “Jack, that would be wonderful. Are you going to take it?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m considering it seriously. I’d like to live like a normal person.” He turned and looked at her intently. “I think I’d like to have a wife, be part of a family. I’d like to have more interaction with my daughter. It would be nice to have her visit, maybe meet you. I’d like you to get to know her. But it’s a little scary, you know? I always planned to leave the field work some time, but now that it’s looming in front of me, it seems so final. It’s like giving myself permission to become old and I think I’m still too young for that.”

  She nodded encouragingly.

  “Well, I don’t have to make up my mind until the doctor releases me as fit to work, and he said it was going to be at least another month, so I’m just mulling it over.” He smiled at her. “But your opinion counts, so feel free to lobby one way or the other.”

  They were now on the street catty-cornered from the Bellas Artes and directly across the street from the fruit lady they had seen before. She had an amazing array of fresh fruit on a wheeled cart and people were constantly stopping for her to peel them a mango, sell them a cup of fruit chunks or wrap a hunk of pineapple for them to eat as they walked.

  “That looks so good, but I’d never be brave enough to eat fresh fruit off a street vendor cart like that. Do you think that makes me a wimp?” Claire asked Jack, wistfully, taking the opportunity to change the subject. This was the first time they had come close to discussing their future together, and it was a little scary to her.

  “No, you’re probably just being a sensible tourist. It doesn’t seem to deter the locals, but they are probably immune to some of the bugs that could knock us off our feet.”

  Claire fished her little camera out of her bag. “Well even though I’m not eating her fruit, I think I’d like a picture. It’s so colorful and pleasant looking.” She found a good spot to focus and then waited patiently for a break in the traffic before snapping her picture. “Oh, that’s a good one, look Jack.” She held up the camera with the picture reflected on the little screen for his inspection.

  Then the traffic light flashed green and they headed across Canal Street. When they turned and crossed Calle Hernandez Macias, they found themselves in a crowd of people clustered around the entrance to the Bellas Artes. This building, Kaye had told them, was originally a convent, but now was a government cultural center. It was built around a courtyard and the four-sided, multi-floored building held an art gallery, a café, an art school, a bookstore, offices for several civic groups and it had several auditoriums which were used when the music festival was in session. Now, the courtyard and shaded arcades surrounding the courtyard were filled with local artisans displaying their works of art. The classrooms were open for inspection and the students were offering their pieces for sale in the rooms where they were made. The café was in the corner near the gallery and seemed to be doing a great business.

  Claire saw a display of local pottery and turned to Jack with dismay clearly on her face. “Jack, our pottery. Raphael didn’t bring it by this morning. Do you suppose he forgot?”

  Jack thought a minute, then shook his head. “No, he wouldn’t have forgotten. Something must have come up and he didn’t want to disturb us by calling too early on Saturday morning. Don’t worry, if he doesn’t drop it off this afternoon, I’ll give him a call. Things happen. I’m sure he didn’t steal your pots, Claire.”

  Then in a droll voice he admonished, “So you don’t have to buy replacement pieces today.”

  “Silly. Of course not, but I may have to buy a few things. Look at this stuff. It makes you feel like you need to take the opportunity to spend, spend, spend.”

  “Just remember, you have to carry it all home with you.”

  She nodded, soberly, that was always the problem. “Thank goodness for Vantage’s VIP status; they let me carry on as much as I can carry no matter what the rules say.”

  Jack laughed. “The operative words are ‘as much as you can carry.’ Remember that as you get your wallet out.”

  They had worked their way around two sides of the courtyard, examining the items on sale and ducking into the classrooms for papermaking, weaving and drawing. So far Claire had only bought a few things, a mirror in a frame hammered out of a variety of metals that she was certain would fit in her suitcase and an assortment of papers to use for notes and letters.

  “That mirror is going to be perfect in the hall outside the bathroom, you’ll see,” she assured Jack, who had it tucked under one arm.

  He nodded benignly; he hadn’t bought anything, but was enjoying looking at all the wares. They were just emerging from the sculptor classroom when they ran into Kathleen.

  Claire and Kathleen actually collided with such force they were both reeling. It was almost comical.

  Jack grabbed Claire to steady her while he put out his other hand to help steady Kathleen, somehow managing to keep the wrapped mirror tucked under his arm. “Are you both all right? I’m so sorry Kathleen, we should have been watching where we were going.”

  “No, no it wasn’t your fault. I was distracted by the display of jewelry and confess I was not watching. I think I ran into you.” Her eyes were wide in her pale face. She had obviously been startled.

  “Are you all right, Claire?” Jack was concerned.

  “I’m fine. I’m just glad you didn’t drop the mirror. Seven years of bad luck is more than we need.” Her smile included Kathleen. She was determined to be gracious even though Kathleen was right; she had been the one who had run into them.

  “Here, we’d better get out of the way. We’re holding up traffic.” Jack guided the two women to the edge of the courtyard where a bench sat near the fountain.

  Claire sat down a moment and Jack set the mirror beside her. “Have a seat a moment, Kathleen, and tell us what you’ve been up to.”

  Kathleen’s smile seemed jittery. “Not much. That’s what is so wonderful about a visit to San Miguel. It can be wickedly lazy.”

  Then glancing from Claire to Jack, “But you are the tourists. What have you been doing since Teddy’s wonderful party?”

  “We went to Delores Hidalgo and Guanajuato yesterday.”

  “Oh, how nice. Did you enjoy it?” Kathleen’s face was still very pale and she seemed a little spacey.

  Jack nodded. “Yes, I was very interested in seeing Delores Hidalgo as I’m reading a book about the revolution. So it was very appropriate to visit some of the sites where those historical events occurred. And we both found Guanajuato to be an exceptionally beautiful city, much like some of our favorites in Europe.”

  “And we ran into Kaye Carter there. She told us the Mondot sisters were giving a concert, so we ended up dismissing our driver and staying for the concert. It was wonderful. They are marvelous musicians. It was just one of those opportunities we didn’t want to miss,” Claire added, even now her pleasure was clear in her voice.

  Jack nodded. “True, an
d as we rode back with Kaye, it worked out very well.”

  “Today we’re just wandering around town, but tomorrow we’re going on the Home Tour the Biblioteca sponsors. It sounds like a lot of fun. Have you been?” Claire was trying to make conversation to give Kathleen a moment to recover from her collision. She was obviously rattled by their meeting.

  “Yes, many times. You’ll certainly enjoy it.” Kathleen blinked rapidly, then gave a faltering smile. “Well, it was so nice seeing you again. I hope we’ll run into each other again before you go. Only next time not physically.” She smiled tightly. “I’m afraid I have to leave now as I have an appointment.” She waved and abruptly disappeared into the crowd around the entrance.

  “That was a little strange, didn’t you think?” Claire asked, looking after Kathleen with a puzzled look on her face.

  “Why was it strange?” Jack responded.

  “Well, she seemed upset. Her face was very pale and she kept blinking so fast; then suddenly she had to leave.” She thought a moment. “I think she was acting strange, but then I don’t know her very well, so maybe not.”

  Jack shrugged. “I think we still have another side of the courtyard to examine before I can let you buy me a coffee and a sweet. Let’s get going, woman.”

  * * *

  “Well, they weren’t in that car.” She was practically hyperventilating, so the words were difficult to spit out.

  Her uncle looked up from the papers he was studying at his desk, a confused expression on his face. “What? Kathleen, what’s the matter?”

  “They – were – not – in – the – car!” She pronounced each word very carefully. “I know because I just ran into them at the Bellas Artes. Literally ran into them. I almost got knocked over. And when I saw who it was, I about fell over anyway.” She shook her head with frustration. “No matter what Ben told you, they weren’t in the car. It seems they ran into Kaye Carter in Guanajuato and she talked them into staying for a concert the Mondot sisters were giving. They rode home with her.”