Malice in Mexico

by Gayle Wigglesworth

  He nodded. “I know. That’s why I stopped you. It would have been too complicated. Blood, injury, bruises, no one cares. It’s just the end of a night of too much drinking. But a body? Ah, that causes problems. Questions have to be asked. Forms have to be filled out. It was best to stop it.”

  “And if I had been losing? Would you have stopped it then?”

  “Not much chance of that. I know you. I see how you’ve changed. No, that pig was stupid. He didn’t have a chance. If he had more brains in that thick head he would have noticed the respect your colleagues accorded you. He would have realized how dangerous it was to try to have his way with you. You are a beautiful woman Kathleen, but I’m afraid there is a dangerous aura hovering about you. You will find less and less that men will try to force their will on you. They will just understand it will be too dangerous.”

  She stared at him, her eyes wide with surprise.

  “Yes, I’m afraid that in order for you to be successful, you are now going to have to work at disguising your competence to fool your opponents. That will be the next skill for you to master. Remember what I say.” This time his smile was wide, and his face reflected his admiration.

  When they rolled into camp and he cut the motor, he said, “Pack up your gear, Kathleen. You’ll be moving in with me. Your stint as a recruit is over. Now we will work on subtler skills.”

  She felt a shiver go all the way to her toes, and she eagerly headed for the tent she shared with the other men in her unit. She packed up her gear silently; no one asked where she was going.

  She walked across the dirt parade grounds and up the wooden stairs into the hut which belonged to Captain Ramosa. He looked up from the papers he was reading at his desk and nodded to the bedroom. She put down her things, noticing the neat, large size bed and went into the bathroom. She went immediately to the large claw foot tub and turned on the faucets. She hadn’t had the luxury of a bath for months. She was going to enjoy this perk immediately.

  When she finally emerged, clad in a thick towel, she found Reynald was waiting for her.

  * * *

  The priest somberly giving the eulogy in Spanish got Kathleen’s attention and she listened a moment. She didn’t believe any of what he was saying, but she supposed his words of hope, of promise of a better life for Raphael, might be comforting to his family, who were now left behind to struggle without the income Raphael brought to the family. She settled back thinking instead of that time she spent with Reynald. Now she realized in spite of the hardships of the jungle, the difficulty in training, that had been the happiest time of her life since her family had been destroyed.

  Reynald began her real training that day he accepted her into his hut and his bed. He taught her all he knew about planning and executing terrorist attacks. He took her with him on missions so she actually was able to plan, execute and then critique the jobs they took for hire. Reynald was for hire; he was expensive and he was good. And it didn’t matter to Reynald what politics were involved. They attacked a newspaper whose editorials were annoying the government of a small country, killing the publisher and destroying the presses. They were hired by a large United States corporation, desperate to get their people back safely, to liberate hostages held deep in the jungle by a drug lord. They assassinated an up and coming dictator before he could launch his coup to take control of a Central American country. They destroyed a factory in the industrial section of Caracas at the request of the company’s struggling competitor. And the entire time Reynald was honing her skill as a terrorist, he was teaching her about the pleasures of her body. Together in their hut, he wooed her. He loved her and led her to expect it would continue.

  * * *

  Claire was struggling to pay attention, but the Spanish words the priest droned on meant nothing to her. She really couldn’t tell if he was talking in Spanish or Latin. Finally, the priest was finished, and Steve Carter went up to the pulpit to say a few words in English on behalf of Raphael’s English speaking friends. Steve did an excellent job of portraying how Raphael was regarded by the members of the community and how much he would be missed. Then the rituals of the mass began again, and she was left to her thoughts.

  And what she was thinking was how capricious and fickle life was. It scared her to think she and Jack could have been in the car with Raphael. In fact, they would have been if Kaye hadn’t invited them to the Mondot sisters’ concert. They would never know if Raphael had waited for them and driven them back to San Miguel, whether or not he would be alive today. Or, would all three of them be dead?

  She wondered if fate could ever be fooled. Were she and Jack spared only because it wasn’t their time? Was that why they weren’t in the car; why they escaped death? She shook her head. It was all too much. She told herself the one thing she should learn from this was she needed to live her life as best she could because she didn’t know how long she had to live. That was a scary thought and it sent chills up her spine.

  The mass was over and Claire stood with the others as the pallbearers picked up the casket, and burdened again, trudged back down the aisle, followed by the priest, altar boys and family. Then the other people in the pews started spilling out into the aisle, filing quietly out of the church.

  “Claire, Jack, it was good of you come,” Steve Carter said, nodding somberly. “Will you be going out to the cemetery?”

  Jack shook Steve’s hand at the same time his head shook no. “We’re not planning on it.”

  Kaye leaned around her husband. “I’m so glad you two stayed to see the concert with me. I shudder when I think it could have been three in that car instead of only poor Raphael.”

  They nodded, watching the coffin being loaded in the hearse.

  Teddy and Jeff joined them. Teddy hugged Claire, his eyes still wet from the tears he shed. “It was so sad. I can’t believe he’s gone. Steve, it was all I could do not to burst out in sobs at your words. You did a wonderful job. Somehow you said everything I felt.”

  Steve just gave a brief nod of acknowledgement then put out his hand for Kaye. “We need to leave now. We’re going to the cemetery and then to the house. See you all soon.”

  “You’re not going to the cemetery?” Claire asked Teddy.

  He shook his head. “Can’t. I’m leaving for Boston in a couple of hours.” He smiled, appearing a little embarrassed. “Once or twice a year I go home to meet with the trustees, see my aunt, and take care of some legal details. This is one of those times. It’s annoying as hell, but ensures that I can continue living my carefree life down here, so I guess it’s worth it.”

  Jeff nodded. “And you’ll only be gone a week,” he said to Teddy with encouragement. Then he looked at Claire and Jack. “It will still be winter there, so he’ll really appreciate our climate when he returns.” He grinned evilly. “March, with the dirty snow, ice and cold winds, is not the best time to visit Boston.”

  Teddy shuddered as if a cold wind just struck him.

  “Oh, but then we won’t see you again before we leave, will we? Teddy, thank you so much for taking us under your wing. You made our stay here so much more enjoyable than we anticipated. And we really appreciated your hospitality, both at the party and Sunday night when we really needed friends.”

  “We were happy to do it, Claire. And if Vern and Mike couldn’t come, they sent wonderful replacements, and I’ll tell them in my next e-mail. And don’t forget, Jeff will still be here, and he’d be happy to host you again if you need it or just want company.”

  Jeff nodded.

  “I think we’re set now,” Jack said. “The Pruitts’ property agent came by this morning and brought us a coffee pot and a new blender. He said he would be bringing a new television on Friday, but thought we might need the two appliances before then. Thank God. I don’t know which one is more important to us, our morning coffee or our afternoon Margaritas.”

  They all laughed a bit and watched the people in front of the church as they started getting into cars which lined up beh
ind the hearse. After the cars were filled with mourners, several trucks pulled up and people climbed into the truck beds until all that wanted to go were accommodated. Then, one by one, the vehicles slowly pulled out onto the street to follow Raphael’s body.

  The bells started pealing, and before the echoes started bouncing back, the other church bells joined in. Here on the church steps the bells seemed even louder and more somber.

  When everyone had gone, Jack and Claire walked down the street, hands clutched tightly, toward the Biblioteca. They only had about an hour before it closed for siesta, but they thought that was enough time for Jack to return his book, select another and for Claire to check to make sure there were no urgent e-mails for her from Mrs. B at her bookshop. When they were done they agreed to have a quick lunch in the library café before meeting their driver, who was to take them to the pottery to replace the pieces they had bought last Friday.

  * * *

  “How ya’ doing, Manny?” the Mayor gave his shoulder a friendly slap as he passed.

  Manny smiled hugely, conscious that the group around him noticed the Mayor’s greeting. He nodded encouragingly to the man who was telling a story, urging him to get to the punch line and then laughed uproariously with the others when he did. He waved to a couple he knew across the room and got ready to move to another group, he was making the most of this party to raise money for the Houston Symphony. He donated generously to the arts, as he had learned it got him entry to the society parties and people he wanted to associate with. And when he was included in one of these gatherings, he made the most of his time to mingle with the other patrons and meet people who were part of the movers and shakers of the city. Just as he excused himself to move on he caught a glimpse of Phil near the door and changed direction.

  “What’s happening?” He knew it was important or Phil wouldn’t have risked disturbing him. They walked out into the hotel vestibule where it was quieter and more private.

  “I thought you needed to know right away.”

  Manny looked at him impatiently.

  “There was a terrible incident this afternoon over on the west side. Five people were gunned down in broad daylight; three young men and two girls. The police are still trying to figure out what happened, but they’re pretty sure it’s gang-related. It seems the young men were members of a local gang called the Tigers.”

  Manny frowned. “Terrible,” he muttered. “In broad daylight? What’s Houston coming to?”

  “Apparently, they stopped at a service station mini-mart for drinks, when they came out, a car drove by and let loose with an automatic. There were bullets everywhere. There was quite a bit of damage to the store, but fortunately no one other than those five was hurt.”

  “Did they all die?” Manny asked with concern.

  “One of the girls is in critical condition, but her prognosis isn’t good.”

  Manny nodded thoughtfully, a sober expression on his face. “I see.” He glanced at his watch. “I think I’ll just leave now. This affair seems rather superfluous compared to this tragedy. Did you drive?”

  Phil shook his head. “Roberto brought me. He’s waiting outside.”

  Manny nodded briskly. “Okay, let’s go. I think we’ll pay Dr. Nose a visit and discuss that new shipment. It would be prudent to make sure the west end gets a lion’s share of the new product. It will help fill the gap that will be caused by this tragic event.” He headed for the lobby of the posh hotel, Phil right on his heels. “And Phil, have flowers sent, will you? Make sure it’s a nice arrangement, one which will demonstrate the depth of my sympathy to the family.”

  CHAPTER 12

  The ride to the pottery was much shorter, because this time they didn’t stop in Delores Hidalgo. Claire and Jack emerged from the car, grateful for their driver’s skill on the twisty roads. Since Raphael’s accident they were very much aware of how treacherous these roads could be. Their driver preceded them into the pottery and spoke briefly to the woman behind the register before leaving to wait outside by the car.

  Claire took her time examining the wares, selecting pieces she thought were similar to the ones she had purchased before. However, this time she bought a couple of additional pieces, deciding she could use them as gifts. But she didn’t see anything to replace the frog she had bought for Lucy.

  When Claire described what she was looking for, the clerk, a different person than was there before, only looked puzzled and then she gave an elaborate shrug. “I don’t have anything like that. Are you sure you saw it here? We have some lovely pieces over there.” She pointed to the collection of turtles, snails and bird feeders sitting in a corner.

  “No, it was nothing like those, and yes, I’m positive it was here, in this pottery. I went back to use the restroom and found it on a table back there. It was just the perfect gift for my friend. Unfortunately, our house was vandalized the other day and we lost it along with everything else.”

  The woman shook her head, pity on her face. “I’m sorry, but as you can see there is nothing here like you describe. Perhaps it was part of a special order. Sometimes when the pottery does a special order, we don’t even see the pieces here in the showroom because they ship everything out.”

  “Perhaps you could find another piece for Lucy,” Jack suggested, looking around. “Maybe she would like a serving dish instead of something for her garden?”

  “No, that was the perfect gift. It would appeal to Lucy’s zany sense of humor as well as look terrific in her garden.” She was disappointed and then she brightened with an idea. “Wait a minute, maybe I could talk Jeff into selling me one of his prototypes. That would be even better. It would be an original.” She smiled at Jack, waiting to see what he thought of that idea.

  “Well if anyone could talk him into it, you could. We can ask him.”

  Claire insisted on using her credit card to pay for the purchases, and then they chatted with the woman while she carefully wrapped each piece and packed it all in a sturdy box.

  “Is the pottery in operation now?” Claire asked, and then realizing she confused the woman, “Are they working back there now?” she gestured at the door to the back.

  “Si,” she nodded. “It is very busy just now.”

  “I was hoping we could see them making the pottery. Could we walk through and watch what they are doing?”

  The woman thought a moment, obviously weighing this harmless request against the amount of money they had just spent. She held up a finger, “One minute, please,” and she ducked through the door behind her.

  She returned with another woman. “This is Carmelita; she is the supervisor of the glazing room. She will show you around for a few minutes. All right? And while you’re gone I will finish packing this box and have it loaded in your car.”

  “Thank you very much. You are very kind. Come on Jack; let’s see how they do this beautiful work.” Claire happily followed Carmelita through the door and into the labyrinth she had seen on her journey to the restroom on her last visit.

  Carmelita’s English was rudimentary, but since Claire was fascinated just watching the activity, she didn’t need a lot of explanation. Carmelita led them to a large room near the back of the structure where potters magically turned lumps of clay into functional pieces on the spinning wheels in front of them. In one part of the room artisans were deftly adding handles, fitting lids, even changing the shapes of some of the pots from circular to oval and squares before putting them on racks to dry. After watching a few minutes Carmelita led them to a roofed, outside area where several ovens, kilns, Carmelita called them, sat. One man was taking pieces from a set of shelves on wheels and stacking them in a kiln. Two large kilns at the other end were closed up, glowing red with heat through the edges of brick. It was impossible to even get close to them. They were obviously cooking the pots. Carmelita explained the pieces were fired, then glazed, and then fired again in the big kilns at the back.

  “Very hot!” She used her hands to emphasize her description
.

  They could see it was so.

  Jack and Claire were relieved to follow Carmelita back into the relative coolness of the interior where about ten or twelve woman were painting pottery pieces.

  Claire watched one of the girls nearest her. She sat in a chair, with a table beside her, holding a variety of small containers of colored glazes and several brushes. In front of her, a plate she was painting rested on a turntable and she confidently turned the plate to add a color to a piece of design at intervals around the perimeter of the plate. Claire watched intrigued as an intricate design emerged in front of her eyes. A woman next to her worked on a large urn, painting fruit all over the surface. Carmelita explained it would take the woman about three days to complete the design on this one piece. She was one of the senior decorators used for the large and very expensive pieces.

  Carmelita beckoned to them and they followed her out of the glazing room and across the packing room. Here racks of finished pottery pieces were being wrapped and boxed in preparation for shipping. While they paused to watch, a door at the side opened and two men emerged talking and gesturing. The opened door gave Claire a glimpse of another large area which looked very interesting. The men stopped abruptly when they noticed them standing there. Then one of the men hastily pulled the door shut behind them while the other started shouting angrily in Spanish at Carmelita, gesturing wildly with his hands.

  Carmelita’s skin turned pasty white and her eyes widened with fear. Finally she was able to answer in a quivering voice and the man hesitated before turning to Claire and Jack, saying in English, “I’m sorry. I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Customers or visitors are not allowed in the working area.” He was visibly working at arranging his face in a more pleasant expression. “The insurance you know? They always worry about accidents happening.” He waved his arm towards the other door, making shooing motions and they meekly followed Carmelita into the shop.