Jack nodded his agreement before turning back to the stack of blueberry pancakes he was working on.
“What about your jewelry? Should we look for replacements?”
Claire shook her head. “No, I lost some of my special pieces, but I’ll just replace them as I find things I like. My favorite hoop earrings are gone. It will take a while to find something to replace them.”
Then she frowned. “Jack, let’s not forget we need to get some more pills for you. Do you want to get more pain pills just in case?”
“No, I’m hoping I’m past the need for them. I’ll call Dr. MacIntyre when we get back to the house, and then we can try that pharmacy Teddy recommended.”
* * *
“The funds have been wired. Where and when will the product be delivered?” Phil asked, approaching the table where Manny was lunching on the terrace.
“Good. I told her to deliver it directly to Dr. Nose. We should be getting the goods no later than tomorrow. We’ll see how reliable this KC is.” He saw the skepticism on Phil’s face. “What? You think I’ve lost my marbles?” He laughed. “This KC does have the best product we’ve seen in a long time, so I’m just going along with her for a while. But don’t worry, Phil, I have a plan.”
Phil looked relieved.
“Yes, I’m going to have the delivery guy followed and we’ll find out where he picks up the package. I want to know exactly where she’s processing this stuff. I need to know how she is processing it, where she’s getting her supply from and how she’s getting it into Houston. I’m going to find out about her business. Then I’ll decide if and when I’ll take it over.”
Phil grinned. This was the Manny he admired. This was the guy who was at the top of the heap. This was just the kind of stunt that got him there. Then Phil sobered, remembering. “Don’t forget the last time you tried to follow her.”
Manny glared at him. “Do you take me for a fool? Jerry was too full of himself. He shoulda’ been watching his back. And if he didn’t, then Pancho or Willie shoulda’.” Manny was still upset about that loss; it showed clearly in his lapse back into the language of the streets when he talked about Jerry. “No, this KC is smart, so I’ve decided to go upscale to track her. We’ll use one of those tracking gizmos. Slap it on the delivery van and then follow the signal, simple, clean and accurate. About time we upgraded, you think?”
Manny was obviously pleased with himself and Phil agreed it was a much better solution than a couple of guys in a car trying to track a van through Houston’s heavy traffic. Phil decided he could dare to offer one more cautionary word. “You don’t think that you want to just use her to supply us? You know, as an outsourced supplier?”
“Are you nuts? Do you know how much she’s charging us? Hell no! Whatever she’s doing, we can do it cheaper and keep all the profits. Why should she get rich on our labor? We own the distribution channels; we should get all the profits.” Manny, finished with his lunch, put his napkin on the table and got up, heading for his office. “Come on in, Phil. I want to go over last week’s sales figures. I noticed something in the southeast section I wanted to talk to you about.”
* * *
Claire stood on the sidewalk, outside the small pharmacy, watching the fruit lady set up her stand across the street. It took a lot of work, she noticed. And that wasn’t including the time and effort it must take the vendor to prepare her cart and stock it with fruit before she even could move it to her corner. But people were stopping to buy before she had even finished setting up. Claire hoped she was able to make a satisfactory living from her efforts. Of course, being a business woman herself, she was always very aware of the need to make a profit.
The little pharmacy, for instance, they had passed it several time during their stay here in San Miguel and never given it a second glance. Now, waiting for Jack to finish, she had plenty of time to study it. It stretched two shop lengths along Canal from the corner on Hernandez Macias, but it didn’t appear to be very deep. The two double doors were open to the street and each had two steps outside the threshold on the sidewalk itself. Inside, there was only a few feet of space for the customers to stand at the ell-shaped counter, serviced by several white-coat clad pharmacists. The counter was packed with a variety of products found in most drug stores, as was the wall behind the counters. One could only imagine what the back room looked like, jammed with medicines, beauty and health aids, floor-to-ceiling. On the one wall with no counter there were three wooden chairs in front of a wall covered with community notices and advertisements. One of the chairs was occupied now with a very old looking Indian woman. Her feet were dusty and gnarled in her sandals, her legs bowed, either from years of walking long miles or from rickets when she was a child. Her lined face was pleasant, and she exchanged comments with one of the ladies behind the counter, so she was obviously known to them. Claire thought she might be waiting for an order, but then it occurred to her she might only be taking a rest on her way to somewhere else.
Claire had started out waiting inside with Jack and while he waited his turn, she had scanned the wall of notices. But then she realized she was taking up space which would be appreciated by the numerous customers coming in, so she had moved outside. Jack was talking to Chelo, the owner Teddy told them about. She spoke English, but she and Jack were now conversing in Spanish. She had operated this pharmacy for years and, judging by the people Claire saw streaming through the doors, she was apparently a fixture in town. And, Claire concluded, she must be successful in spite of the appearance of the store, because she was doing a brisk business.
Chelo disappeared behind the wall and Jack turned, smiled at Claire and signaled he was almost done.
“Okay, all set.” Jack shook the little bottle before putting it in his pocket. “Sorry it took so long.”
Claire shrugged. “We’re on vacation, no hurry, remember? Anyway it was interesting watching the people. Do we need to go get a cup of coffee at the Bellas Artes so you can take today’s pill?”
“No, I swallowed it dry.”
Claire made a face. “I don’t know how you do that. I’d choke. In fact, just the thought makes my throat close up.”
“It’s not a problem. I find it’s easier to take pills when I’m traveling if I don’t have to find something to wash it down.” He reached out for her hand. “Now, what say we go over to Isobelle’s and look for a replacement for the necklace and earrings you lost?”
“Oh, Jack. That’s very nice, but we don’t need to do that. They’re gone. I wore them and enjoyed them, but it was so expensive...” Claire started.
Jack shook his head, pulling her toward the street. “No you don’t. That was my gift to you and I won’t be cheated. We’re going to find a replacement, no argument.”
Isobelle looked up from the customers she was helping when they entered her shop and nodded. Jack and Claire took their time looking at the pieces displayed.
“Look, Claire, here is a piece similar to the one you had.” Jack pointed to a lovely necklace in silver set with amber and black onyx stones.
Claire’s eye was caught by a silver set with carnelian stones. It was quite unusual and very appealing.
“Hello, you two. I heard about your disaster. I hope your housekeeper will be all right?” Isobelle was concerned. Everyone obviously knew of their loss.
“She was pretty banged up. The doctors had to put in a chest tube because of a fractured rib and punctured lung, so she’s in a lot of pain. But they say she will recover completely, and her family is over at the Pruitts’ now putting everything back together.”
Claire nodded. “It’s wonderful how they just take it on themselves to help her and protect her job. I know that’s what family is all about, but you don’t always see it happening, do you?”
Isobelle, nodded. “But she’s worked for the Pruitts’ since they built the house. She probably feels an ownership. And maybe she feels responsible. I understand she opened the door to them.”
“But that w
ould happen to anyone. Someone knocks and you open the door. You don’t expect someone to push in and beat you. I talked to her brother and he’s buying a peek hole for the door. I told him I would pay for it if he would install it. I don’t think Helen Marie will need to worry about this happening a second time.”
“Jack, that was sweet of you. I didn’t know you did that.” Claire was surprised. Jack was really very thoughtful.
Isobelle nodded her agreement. “We are very spoiled in this town. We have so little crime, we’ve become complacent. Sometimes it takes a tragedy like this to wake us up. We all need to be careful.”
Then assuming her shopkeepers’ role, “Did you want to look at that piece? It’s unusual, isn’t it?” She unlocked the showcase and spread the carnelian and silver necklace out for Claire to look at.
“I don’t know, I love them both. I just can’t decide.” Claire was in a quandary. The last time she was looking for something specific to wear with her outfit she was wearing to Teddy’s party. But now she was tempted by this other piece.
“I think you should consider getting both. They are stunning, why not?”
Claire looked at him. “Just because I can’t make up my mind? Then why not three or four? You’re very generous, but slightly foolish,” Claire chided him gently.
“Wait just a moment. I have something in the back I just finished. Perhaps you’d like to consider it.” Isobelle disappeared and returned with a piece with a totally different look. This one was also in silver, but was set with milky white stones which sometimes reflected the light in different colors.
”Oh, this is beautiful.” Claire picked it up and draped it around her neck. “Are they opals?”
“No, actually they’re called moonstones. I found these which all reflect the light and are the same color. I designed the piece around the stones. I have earrings to match if you want to see them.”
Claire nodded, admiring the view in the mirror of the necklace around her neck.
When Isobelle returned with the earrings Claire nodded her head. “I love them. They’re so different and so versatile. You are a wonderful artist Isobelle. I will tell everyone about you.”
Then she reminded Jack, “You wanted to get the carnelian set for Karen, didn’t you? Now’s the time.”
Jack nodded. “Right, we’ll take both sets.”
When Isobelle charged him only fifty percent of the marked prices he protested.
“No, I insist. You already spent enough in my store. It wasn’t your fault some swine stole your jewelry. It’s the least I can do to help soften your experience in San Miguel.”
“But it wasn’t you fault either, Isobelle. Why should you take a hit?” Jack was uncomfortable.
“Trust me, even with fifty percent I am making something besides my costs. Now don’t tell anybody or they will all want discounts.” She laughed as she carefully placed each set in a velvet box, wrapped them in tissue and placed them in a small bag.
Claire put the bag carefully in her tote bag. “Thank you, Isobelle. You are very kind in addition to be being very talented.”
“Okay, we’re off,” Jack said opening the door and waving one last time to Isobelle. They were all delighted with the transaction they had just completed.
CHAPTER 11
Kathleen stepped over the ancient wood threshold and into the dark cool interior. She slipped into a wood pew, dark with age, near the back of the church and studied the mourners already seated towards the front. She saw her uncle with a group of his friends and various members of the expatriate community scattered in clumps throughout the pews which were filling rapidly with locals and family members. The front two pews remained empty waiting for the immediate family to arrive and precede the casket down the aisle. Despite the number of people present, the church was silent, heavy with the feeling of sadness.
The altar boys came out on the alter carrying their tapers and lit the profusion of candles. Finally there was a rustling sound and the family was escorted down the center aisle and ushered carefully into the pews reserved for them. A woman, who was most likely Raphael’s mother, was weeping, half supported by a young man, who bore a remarkable resemblance to Raphael, and by another woman, who might have been her sister. When they were seated, the organ music filled the church with the notes of a somber dirge and the procession started up the church aisle from the vestibule with the altar boys leading. The first one carried a crucifix on a tall gold pole. The priest clad in ornate white vestments, swinging the smoking incense burner hanging from chains in front of him and chanting prayers, followed. Immediately behind him came eight men, dressed in black suits, a casket covered with flowers resting on their shoulders. When the procession reached the front of the church, the altar boys and priest ascended to the altar and another man discreetly placed a stand to hold the casket on the floor just in front of the steps up to the altar.
The entire congregation held their breath as they watched the men grab the casket handles, slide it off their shoulders and lower it onto the stand without dropping it.
Now the organ was silent, the priest turned to the congregation, spread his hands and started praying. The funeral mass had begun.
Kathleen felt no connection to this ceremony. She knew Raphael, even liked him, but felt no involvement in or responsibility for his death. It was just one of those things that happened. She only came because her absence might have been noticed. Her uncle was here, as were the others in the community, who knew Raphael and used his services. Many of them were visibly grieving his premature passing. She was content to sit in the back, letting the prayers and ritual flow past her as she watched the other attendees and let her mind roam. When the congregation stood up, she had a momentary view of Jack and Claire sitting in a pew toward the front of the church. She felt her lip curl in derision as she watched Jack lean solicitously over Claire, almost as if he was protecting her from the sadness hovering over them all.
Kathleen had to control herself; she wanted to snort with disgust at this display of affection. But she couldn’t prevent a wave of sadness from sweeping over her. Not sadness at the loss of Raphael, so young, so optimistic about his life. No, it was a sadness brought on from the memory of the love she had lost.
* * *
“Enough!”
Her wrist was caught in a vise and arms wrapped around her middle pulling her off him.
“I said enough!”
This time the words penetrated the fog in her head and she was aware of the taste of blood in her mouth, the grit in her throat, and the perspiration running down her face, burning her eyes, causing her vision to blur. She felt her toes touch the dirt and she set her feet, balancing, trying to shake off the hands which still held her. The man on the ground in front of her was bleeding copiously; as he scrabbled away on his back, frantically trying to distance himself from her. His eyes reflected his fear.
She stood there heaving as she tried to get her breath. She cleared her throat and then spit off to the side. She glanced down at the knife in her hand, then shrugged casually and inserted it in the leather sheath attached to her belt.
Three roughly dressed men dashed in and scooped up the wounded man, dragging him away, presumably to get medical attention. She looked around her and saw the members of her unit laughing and congratulating each other. She saw two of them pocketing money from some of the other on-lookers so she knew they had bet on the outcome of the fight. That disgusted her. She had tried to kill him; she would have if she hadn’t been pulled off, and they were treating it like a sport. She knew it could have gone the other way. For a moment she wondered if her comrades would have kept her opponent from killing her if she had given him the chance to do so. And then she saw Reynald. He looked at her appraisingly, nodded his approval and turned to leave. The hands restraining her dropped away and she followed. Suddenly she felt good. She knew she would have plenty of aches and pains later, but just now she felt great.
Reynald held the door to the cab of the t
ruck for her, so she scrambled in. The other men clamored over the tailgate into the back and soon they were heading out of town, toward their camp.
“So, you have learned your lessons well.” Reynald’s voice was low, meant only for her ears. “No more do you have to worry about being isolated and overcome by a stronger opponent, heh?”
She nodded, looking at him appraisingly. She wondered if he had engineered that confrontation between her and the brute in town. Suddenly she realized the incident was most likely his final exam, delivered to her specifically, so he could be assured she had learned everything he had taught her over the past several months. Since that incident in the jungle with Toro, Reynald had been relentless in his attention to her training. It was, as if, having almost lost her, he was determined to teach her how to excel in this world of war. Sometimes she felt as if she hated him. Sometimes, late at night, with tears of exhaustion flowing, she told herself she didn’t care, she wouldn’t do it. She couldn’t do it. But she did.
Slowly she felt her strength increase; she learned to exercise cunning when her strength put her at a disadvantage; her skills with her weapons were honed until the other men in her unit started treating her with respect, as if they were nervous around her. But most important, she realized she had changed. She had become a killer. One day she realized she no longer felt any hesitancy to curb her violence. In fact when the man grabbed her, she felt excitement at the knowledge she intended to kill him.
She glanced over at Reynald, and he took his attention from the road long enough to smile at her with approval.
She was right! It had been a test and she suspected they were all in on it. She smiled to herself with satisfaction.
“Are you hurt?” His gruff words still conveyed concern.
She shook her head. “I was going to kill him. If you hadn’t stopped me, I would have.”
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