“Oh, yes, I remember the photograph. It was taken when I was eighteen and went on an expedition with my father.”
“Have you come to Puerto Nuevo to join your dad on his search for the lost island?” Tam asked, a hint of humor in her voice.
Gwen sighed. “I’ve come to find out who his backers are and if they’re on the up and up.”
“Taking care of the old man, huh? Good for you. He seems like a nice enough old guy, if a little odd. Sorry, but that’s the truth.”
“No apologies necessary. My father is a bit odd.”
“Why didn’t he come to dinner with you tonight?”
“I don’t know where he is,” Gwen admitted. “When I arrived at his hotel, he’d already checked out, and I have no idea where to start looking for him.”
“Hmm. “ Tam frowned. “Have you checked out the Yellow Parrot? I know The Professor’s girlfriend especially likes that place.”
Girlfriend? What girlfriend? “What’s the Yellow Parrot, another bar and grill?”
Tam chuckled. “It’s a bar all right, but they don’t serve any food. Just loud music, liquor, street whores and your choice of drugs.”
“This woman you refer to as my father’s girlfriend—”
“He didn’t tell you about her, did he? Can’t say I blame him. She’s a lot younger than he is, and my guess is that she’s after your old man for his money.”
Her father’s money? That was a laugh. “Do you think someone at this Yellow Parrot might know where my father is?”
“They might, but if you go there, be careful. It’s no place for a lady.”
Will checked into his hotel, a local Day’s Inn, then set up his computer and contacted Sawyer McNamara with an update.
“There’s a possibility the Kress girl and her friend aren’t missing,” Will said. “It seems the Boyd girl has been chasing after some young guy, and it could be the girls hooked up with him. If that’s the case, then it’s just a matter of tracking them down.”
“I don’t think I’ll tell Mr. Kress that his daughter might be part of a ménage à trois and just lost track of time.”
Will chuckled. “Cheryl Kress’s friends staying at the villa don’t seem concerned. They think her father overreacted when he found out she wasn’t there and they let it slip that she’d been gone all night.”
“Kress is a wealthy man. His first thought was probably that someone kidnapped his only child, but when he didn’t get a ransom note or call, he came up with other equally frightening scenarios.”
“Kidnapping, rape or murder aren’t necessarily illogical thoughts,” Will said. “Look, Cheryl’s friends told me that this guy hangs out at a place called the Fiesta Bar and Grill. I’m heading over there after I freshen up. Maybe someone saw Cheryl and Tori last night and can give me an idea where to find them.”
Fifteen minutes later, after shaving, combing his hair and scrubbing his hands, Will headed out of the hotel. He asked the desk clerk for directions to the Fiesta Bar and Grill, which turned out to be less than a five-minute drive from where he was staying.
The exterior of the old building was painted brick red and the front door a bright turquoise. He could hear blaring music and loud voices coming from inside. He went in and headed straight for the bar. If anybody in a place like this knew something useful, it would be the bartender. After ordering a beer, Will flashed a hundred-dollar bill and recent photographs of Cheryl and Tori.
“Have you seen either of these girls recently? Like last night?”
The bartender snatched the hundred bucks from Will’s hand, then turned and filled up a tankard of beer and set it on the bar in front of him. “Pretty American girls. The blonde was laughing and talking to a young guy last night and later both girls left with him.”
“What time?”
“I do not know.”
“Before or after midnight?”
“Before.”
“Do you have any idea where they went when they left here?”
The bartender hesitated. Will took a fifty from his pocket. The bartender eyed the bill greedily. When he reached for it, Will jerked it back and shook his head.
“Information first,” Will told him.
“I heard the guy say he needed to meet up with somebody at the Yellow Parrot.”
“And where can I find this Yellow Parrot?”
“Four blocks from here, closer to the wharves, on the corner of Poc Na and Kukulcan.”
Will handed the bartender the fifty, then took a hefty swig from the tankard and walked out of the bar and grill. If luck was on his side, he might have the case of the missing heiress wrapped up by the end of the night.
Gwen took a taxi to the Yellow Parrot. With each passing block, she grew more tense. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that this dive was in the worst part of town. But living alone and occasionally working late hours, Gwen had learned to take care of herself. She’d attended several self-defense classes, but luckily had never faced a situation where she had needed to put any of the moves she’d learned into practice.
The minute she entered the bar, she realized that a smart woman would have brought a gun with her. The interior was hot, smelly and dirty. If that wasn’t bad enough, the air was so smoky that it looked as if a pea soup fog had settled inside the building. In comparison, the Fiesta Bar and Grill was upscale. Before she had gone three feet, an old drunk came up to her and asked for money. Sidestepping him, she searched for someone who looked as if he or she might actually work here, someone other than the prostitutes who were trolling for customers.
After fending off a couple of grasping young men and ignoring several vulgar propositions—all spoken in an odd mixture of Spanish and English—Gwen found the bar. She ordered a beer from the burly, bearded bartender. When he set the beer in front of her, she took the opportunity to speak to him.
“I’m looking for a man. An older American man, in his seventies. He was probably with a younger woman. This man is my father and—”
“Yo no hablo Ingles.”
“Oh.” He didn’t speak English and she didn’t speak Spanish. Now what?
While she was considering her options, Gwen noticed a young man in skin-tight black pants and a black shirt open all the way down the front, easing closer and closer to her as he made his way past the other patrons at the bar.
Great! This was all she needed, some horny young guy mistaking her for a prostitute. Although she had dark hair and eyes, she certainly didn’t look like one of the native girls, not with her distinct Anglo-Saxon facial features.
“Señorita.” His voice was softly accented and slightly slurred. His breath smelled of liquor. “You are all alone, sí?”
“Please, go away,” Gwen said. “I’m not interested.”
He laughed as if he found her attitude amusing. “Then it is for me to make you interested. I am Marco. And you are … ?”
“Leaving,” Gwen said.
She realized it had been a mistake to come here alone tonight. She’d do better to come back tomorrow and try to speak to the owner. But when Gwen tried to move past her ardent young suitor, he reached out and grabbed her arm. She went rigid.
Looking him right in the eyes, she told him, “Let go of me. Right now.”
“But you cannot leave.” He got right up in her face. “The night is young.”
Gwen tugged on her arm, trying to break free. He tightened his hold, his fingers biting into her flesh. With her heart beating rapidly as her basic fight or flight instinct kicked in, she glared at the man.
“I’m going to ask you one more time to let me go.”
Grinning smugly, he grabbed her other arm, holding her in place.
Suddenly, seemingly from out of nowhere a big hand clamped down on Marco’s shoulder, jerked him back and spun him around, freeing Gwen. She staggered slightly, but managed to hold her balance as the tall, lanky man in jeans and cowboy boots shoved her would-be suitor up against the bar.
“I b
elieve the lady asked you real nice to let her go,” the man said in a deep Texas drawl. “Where I come from, a gentleman respects a lady’s wishes.”
Marco grumbled something unintelligible in Spanish. Probably cursing, Gwen thought. Or maybe praying. If she were Marco, she’d be praying that the big, rugged American wouldn’t beat her to a pulp.
When the Texan released Marco, the young man made a poor decision. He came at the other man, intending to fight him. Gwen’s rescuer took Marco out with two swift punches, sending the younger man to the floor. Gwen glanced down at where Marco lay sprawled flat on his back.
Her hero turned to her. “Ma’am, are you all right?”
She nodded. This man was about six-two, with a sunburned tan, sun-streaked brown hair and azure-blue eyes.
“What’s a lady like you doing in a place like this?” he asked.
“Um … searching for my father,” she managed to say.
“Come on, I’d better get you out of here. Our friend—” he hitched his thumb downward at Marco “—might have some buddies itching for a fight.”
“Actually, I was just leaving. I just need to call a taxi.”
When a rumble arose from several men nearby, her rescuer grasped Gwen’s arm and led her through the filthy, smoky bar and out onto the sidewalk. Once in the fresh air, Gwen took a deep breath.
“My name is Will Pierce,” he said. “I’m a private investigator for Dundee’s in Atlanta, Georgia.” He pulled out his wallet and showed her his driver’s license and an ID card. “If you’ll allow me, I’d be glad to take you back to your hotel.”
“Thank you. I … I’d appreciate that.” Gwen knew she was taking a chance by trusting this man, but instinct told her she was safe with him. “I’m Gwen Arnell.” Only in business situations did she introduce herself as Dr. Arnell.
“Look, Gwen, would you mind waiting in my rental car?” he asked. “I’ll give you the keys and you can lock yourself in. I really need to go back inside and speak to the bartender.”
“He doesn’t speak English.”
“That’s okay. I speak enough Spanish to get by.”
“You said you’re an investigator. Are you here in Puerto Nuevo on a case?”
“Yeah, it seems some rich man’s spoiled daughter didn’t come home to her papa’s villa last night and he’s worried about her. More than likely she spent the night with a guy, but I got a tip that they were headed here last night. I need to check it out.”
Without conscious thought of what she was doing, Gwen grabbed Will’s arm. “When you ask him about this girl and her boyfriend, would you also ask him if he’s seen an elderly American man, around seventy, with a younger woman. The old man would have been talking about a great adventure he was going on.”
“The old man, I assume he’s your father?”
“Yes.” Gwen nodded.
“By any chance do people refer to him as The Professor?”
Gwen gasped. “Yes, but how did you—”
“Your father has a young research assistant named Jordan?”
“Yes, Jordan Elders. He is one of my father’s former students. My father was a botany professor before he retired a few years ago.”
“Ms. Arnell, it would seem that your search and mine overlap,” Will said. “The young man who my client’s daughter might be with is your father’s assistant, Jordan Elders.”
Realizing she was holding fiercely to this stranger’s arm, Gwen released him and leaned her body away from his. “I was told my father checked out of his hotel this afternoon, before I arrived, but I have no idea where he’s gone.”
“I’d say when we find Jordan Elders, I’ll find my client’s daughter and your father.”
Thank you, God! Gwen said a hurried, silent prayer. Just when she thought it might be impossible to find her father and help him, a higher power had sent Will Pierce to her, an honest-to-goodness private detective.
“Where’s your car?” she asked, suddenly feeling more confident. “I’ll wait for you while you go inside and speak to the bartender.”
Will grinned. Gwen’s stomach flip-flopped. Not a good sign. She seldom reacted to a man’s sexual charm. Burned once. Twice shy. A brief marriage that had ended in a heartbreaking divorce when she was twenty-two had taught her to steer clear of sexual entanglements. When she dated, which wasn’t that often these days, she chose stable, reliable, boring men.
“It’s the blue hatchback.” He pointed to the small car parked on the street about forty yards from where they stood, then he tossed her the keys. “Lock yourself in. Put the keys in the ignition. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
A few minutes turned into half an hour. After fifteen minutes she’d lowered the car’s windows several inches to let in cooler air. After twenty minutes she started to worry. What was taking him so long? Was he all right?
Finally, just as she reached for the door handle intending to get out of the car and go back inside the Yellow Parrot to search for Will, he came out of the bar and straight to the car. She leaned across the driver’s seat and unlocked the door. He got in, slid under the steering wheel and shut the door. Without saying a word, he started the engine.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “I was beginning to worry.”
He turned to face her. She gasped. He had a cut on his cheek, a bloody mouth and bruised eye.
“What happened to you?”
“After I spoke to the bartender, I got in a little altercation with a couple of your buddy Marco’s pals.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Gwen lifted her hand, but stopped herself short of touching his face. “You fought off two men all by yourself?”
Will chuckled, then grunted. He wiped his bloody mouth with the back of his hand, then shifted gears and pulled the rental car out into the street. Gwen rummaged in her purse until she found her minibox of tissues. She pulled one out, reached over and wiped the blood from Will’s mouth and then his hand. He tensed at her touch, but didn’t withdraw.
“Do you need a doctor?” she asked.
“Nope.”
“I’m so sorry about—”
“You’ve already said that once. Stop apologizing. It’s not your fault.”
Gwen sat quietly for a few minutes, then realized that he wasn’t taking her back to her hotel. Oh, my God, she hadn’t even told him where she was staying.
“I’m staying at the Pasada El Paso,” Gwen told him.
“And I’m staying at the Puerto Nuevo Day’s Inn. If you don’t mind, we need to go by my hotel first so I can make some phone calls, send out a couple of e-mails and clean my cuts and bruises.”
Gwen sat there silent and uncertain.
“Look, I’m not trying to pull anything,” he said. “Before Marco’s pals wanted to play rough, the bartender identified my client’s daughter and her girlfriend from photos I showed him. They were there at the Yellow Parrot last night, with this Jordan Elders guy, or at least I’m pretty sure that’s who he was. The bartender said that the young guy and the two girls kept calling this old guy The Professor.”
“Then my father was there last night?”
“Yeah, and he was with a younger woman. The bartender said he knew her, that she’d been here in Puerto Nuevo for about six months and was a regular. Her name’s Molly Esteban. It seems he thinks the woman’s bad news.”
“Poor Daddy. He’s such a damn fool.”
“The bartender overheard the young guy—Jordan—saying something about their heading out tomorrow, which is now today, leaving the island.”
“Where were they going?”
“The bartender didn’t know, didn’t hear them mention where.”
“Well, if it helps any, sooner or later, my father will have to charter a boat to take him where he wants to go. If he didn’t charter a boat here, then—”
“When we get to my hotel, I’ll call Dundee’s and have them get us the info on all flights out of Puerto Nuevo today, plus any boat or yacht rentals today.”
“
Your agency can get all that information for us tonight?”
“They can probably get me the info on plane reservations tonight, but it could take a bit longer to check out all the boat and yacht rentals, because my guess is that there are a few dozen rental places.”
“Mr. Pierce … Will?”
“Huh?”
“I know you’re already assigned to a case, and I probably can’t afford to hire you, but I was wondering if there might be some way I could persuade you to help me find my father and save him from himself. After all, there is a chance that your client’s daughter went off with Jordan, and Jordan is with my father, and … well, what do you think?”
Will zoomed the rental car along, darting in and out of nighttime traffic, never taking his eyes off the road. “As far as I’m concerned, brown eyes, you and I are in this together all the way.”
Chapter 3
Expect the unexpected. Be prepared for anything. Never take a person or a situation at face value. Trust no one. During his years as a CIA operative, Will had learned some valuable lessons. Some of them the hard way and others by observation.
After brewing a small pot of coffee for him and his guest, he settled her in a chair in the corner of his hotel room, then he went back into the bathroom, closed the door and washed the blood off his face. He checked his bruised eye and the cut on his cheek. Minor wounds. No big deal. He swiped the washcloth over his cheek, removing the dried blood, and tossed the cloth into the nearby shower stall.
Keeping the water running in the sink to mask his voice, he used his cell phone to call Sawyer’s private number. With a few well-chosen words, he explained what was going on and asked that Dundee’s run a quick check on a woman named Gwen Arnell.
“From her accent, I’d say she’s from the South,” Will said. “Deep South. Alabama, Georgia, Mississippi.”
“She claims this man known as The Professor is her father and he’s in some kind of trouble?” Sawyer asked. “And our client’s daughter could be with this man’s assistant, right?”
Ready for Anything, Anywhere! Page 3
