Chaos in Cuba (A Starling and Swift Cozy Mystery Book 4)

by M. J. Mandrake

  “Me, too.” Betty pulled a sheaf of papers from her purse. “I’ve got orders from half of Dubuque. I know we’re supposed to be doing educational things all day, but I’m glad we get a chance to do a little shopping.”

  Kitty was just about to say she would speak to Sabrina one more time when a flash of red caught her eye. Speak of the devil. Their tour guide, dressed in a bright red dress and matching high heels, was getting into an old green Ford just a few yards away. A man in a pale blue suit slid into the back side beside her and they started to argue. Kitty couldn’t see the man’s face but Sabrina was gesturing wildly. The car didn’t move and the driver stayed facing forward, as if he didn’t hear a word of what was happening in his back seat.

  Kitty sucked in a sharp breath as Sabrina slapped the man in the light blue suit, and he grabbed her hand.

  Chica sat up and made a low noise in the back of her throat. Kitty touched her gently, letting her know that Sabrina’s tiff with the man wasn’t their problem. Chica was very sensitive to conflict and often wanted Kitty to intervene. Of course she usually didn’t, and wouldn’t now. It was just another example of human beings being awful to each other.

  The man exited the car and, before slamming the door, yelled a few choice words into the vehicle. In response, Sabrina rolled down the window and tossed a fistful of paper money at the man.

  “Lovers’ quarrel,” Victor said with a shrug as the car drove away.

  “Not many lovers I know throw money at each other,” Penny said.

  Betty’s eyes went wide. “Oh! I thought her dresses were a little tight.”

  “We were told she was a government tour guide. Maybe that’s code for street walker.” Eldrick twisted in his seat to get another look at the car, but it had disappeared.

  “Now, remember we’re in a foreign culture and not everything may be as it seems,” Kitty said, hoping to stem the tide of speculation. Sure, Sabrina was probably the worst tour guide she’d ever encountered and seemed supremely uninterested in them as a group, but it wasn’t fair to impugn the young woman’s character.

  “I’d bet my last biscuit that she’s no tour guide,” Elaine said.

  “Back to your shopping plans,” Kitty said, turning to Betty. “How much time do you think you’ll need at the shopping center?”

  As Betty unfolded her papers and started to detail her complicated lists to the group, Kitty glanced down at Chica. She was still focused on the square, as if the green Ford and the man in the blue suit would make another appearance.

  “It’s okay,” Kitty whispered to her. “Don’t let it ruin your Christmas spirit.”

  But Chica didn’t bat an ear. As Kitty ran a hand through her German Shepherd’s fur, she felt the fine hairs on her own neck stand up straight. She had seen that look before. It was the look Chica got when she saw Death coming near. Chica always did her best to let Kitty know when a life was going to be taken by violence, and so far, she had never been wrong.

  Chapter Two

  “No one here gets out alive.”

  ― Jim Morrison

  The restaurant was far from Old Havana and the change of scenery reminded Kitty of how much more there was to see in the city. She sat back in her chair and admired the view of the little sailing boats on the water and the midday sunlight shining on the buildings across the river. Her group was just finishing their traditional Cuban dishes, including fried Campari and fresh tuna on red rice. Although the menu included lighter fare, her stomach seemed to have taken over the job of worrying, Kitty still hadn’t felt like ordering more than a simple appetizer of seared vegetables.

  Sabrina had escorted them to the restaurant and then disappeared within minutes, promising to be back in an hour. Kitty had already decided they would wait only an extra fifteen minutes before arranging their transport back to the historic center and the shopping mall. Everyone understood that some cultures had a very different idea of what it meant to be “on time” but Sabrina took it to an extreme. Waiting around a strange place for hours didn’t appeal to Kitty in any way, especially after Chica’s behavior that morning.

  The last time she’d acted that way, Kitty had ended up towing a dead body around the reefs of Cozumel. Something bad was going to happen, but for right now, Kitty didn’t know exactly what. She could only hope it was something small, and if they were very lucky, to someone none of them knew.

  She slipped on her light pink sweater. She felt chilled despite the warm breeze off the water. Glancing down, she was somewhat relieved to see Chica at ease under her chair. Whatever she had sensed, it wasn’t happening right at the moment. It was a small comfort.

  Brooke followed her gaze and checked on Jackie, her Golden Lab service dog who was resting a few feet from Chica. She signed, “Everything okay?”

  She smiled at her concern. Checking up on people was usually Kitty’s job. “Just tired. Early wake up call, you know.”

  Katie, sitting on her sister’s other side, laughed. “The first morning I was thinking ‘what in the tin-plated heck is this woman doing?’ but now I think she’s just trying to show us the Cuban Mima version of a good time.”

  “Mima?”

  “Grandma,” Katie said.

  “I hope you’re right. That would be a happy twist to the story,” Kitty said, and meant it. She was familiar with Mexican life, but she knew there were vast differences between the Caribbean cultures.

  “I still think she’s a ghost,” Penny said.

  “A poltergeist.” Elaine nodded. “Some come out at midnight or three in the morning. They live to make trouble. This one only shows up in the early morning when you’re on vacation. That’s why she’s taken up residence in La Casa Rosa.”

  “I just wish she’d knock,” Victor said. “I don’t care if she’s old enough to be my grandmother. I don’t want her to see me in my boxers.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s mutual,” Lola said.

  “Maybe I’ll test your theory tomorrow. I could be the one to finally break her bad habit, right?” Victor wiggled his eyebrows at his wife.

  “And if she’s a troublesome spirit, you might be more effective than Holy Water, amor,” she said. “You could offer your services to the Vatican.”

  Kitty joined the table in laughing at the idea of the overweight, middle-aged man parading around in his underpants just to keep poltergeists away. Not that Kitty believed in such things. Of course she had experienced her fair share of odd moments and strange coincidences. Chica was undoubtedly psychic but that had more to do with seeing events before they happened than sniffing out evil spirits.

  Her phone buzzed and she glanced at the others before checking it. She had a personal no cell phone rule at the table, but she’d texted Leander earlier. She felt more and more comfortable with him, but it had still been difficult to know what to say. Chica is acting weird. Or maybe Someone is going to die. In the end, she’d simply texted a simple Good afternoon.

  Good afternoon to you. Is Chica enjoying Havana? I miss her. Give her a big hug and a kiss from me.

  Kitty smiled. She knew Leander was asking simultaneously about Chica and Kitty herself. It was probably silly, at their age, to be using the dog to express their feelings for each other, but it made her strangely happy.

  She hugs you back a little too hard. She’s been enjoying the espresso and not getting enough sleep.

  Kitty paused, knowing what she needed to say, but still fighting the impulse to make light of it. Maybe it was the years of being alone, relying on no one but herself. Whatever it was, she gritted her teeth as she texted the next line.

  Also, she says she’s worried that something bad will happen.

  He didn’t immediately respond and Kitty set her phone beside her plate.

  Penny caught her eye. She casually plucked a bit of snapper from her dish and fed it to Toto. “Was that Starling?”

  “Who’s Starling?” Brooke asked.

  “Her boyfriend,” Elaine said.

  “I di
dn’t know you had a boyfriend.” Brooke seemed rather offended that Kitty had never mentioned it.

  “Does he live here?” Lola asked. “What’s his name? I bet we know his family.”

  “You’re dating a Cuban? I thought your boyfriend was that activities director with the nice hair.” Betty squinted at the thatched roof of the patio where they were eating. “What was his name? Jay?”

  “Jorge. No, no way. I mean… No, he’s just a friend.” Kitty tried hard not to make a face. Jorge was a nice person, if you liked overly groomed extroverts who could make conversation with a lamp post. He was so friendly that people tended to get the wrong idea. He’d also decided that Kitty needed to have more of a good time, and often pestered her to come with him to the luxury ship’s nightclub. Dancing wasn’t Kitty’s favorite pastime. She preferred to spend her off-hours reading in her cabin or on the deck. She wasn’t sure if Jorge didn’t appreciate books, or just thought Kitty didn’t need to spend that much time alone, but he had taken it as his personal mission to get Kitty to as many parties as he could find. On a luxury cruise ship catering to the wealthiest of wealthy passengers, that happened to be quite a few.

  “No, not Jorge. Her boyfriend is a very handsome American Embassy worker. If I were about forty years younger and had my original knees―” Penny said.

  “And hips,” Elaine interjected.

  Betty perked up. “Embassy? Does he live in your town?”

  “Mérida? No. His main office is in Playa Del Carmen.”

  “So, he travels all over?” Victor asked.

  “Yes, I suppose. He goes where he’s needed. And he’s not my―”

  “Have you ever met any of his family?” Eldrick leaned forward. “I’ve heard some of these Mexicans have wives in every port.”

  Kitty wanted to point out how it wasn’t the Wild West and Mexico had certainly joined the age of digital records, but she decided it was a silly point. “He’s not my boyfriend. Just a friend.”

  “How did you meet him?” Lola asked.

  There was an awkward pause and Kitty shot Penny and Elaine a glance. Do not say anything. If word got out that her tour groups were embroiled in a murder every time they left the ship, she’d be out of a job. And to be fair, the last victim wasn’t even part of the group.

  “He assists the local police in their investigations when Americans are involved. Oh, look at that lovely little boat.” So it wasn’t the smoothest transition but she’d rather talk about whether Señora Delores was a poltergeist than how she’d met Leander.

  As the group turned to gaze out at the fishing boat floating lazily past the restaurant, Kitty’s phone buzzed again.

  I’ve reached out to the embassy in Havana and pending any unforeseen bureaucracy, I can be there in six hours.

  Kitty resisted the urge to press the phone to her heart. Bless the man. No questions, no jokes. He trusted her completely. Or he trusted Chica completely. All she had to do was say the word, and he would be there.

  It was a twenty-five minute flight from the coast of Mexico and several weeks’ worth of red tape. He must have pulled strings to get approval that fast. What if it really was nothing? What if nobody met their earthly end, untimely or otherwise?

  As if in response to her doubts, he texted again. Don’t worry if everyone stays alive and well. There is a meeting at the embassy I can attend.

  Kitty let out a breath and texted back the address of their hotel.

  Thank you, she added.

  Slipping the phone back in her purse, she felt a wave of relief so strong she almost sagged in her chair. She’d spent the last few hours quietly watching her tour group members for signs of anger, jealousy, hidden motives, and violence. There were none to be found.

  Her relief was short lived as Sabrina stomped toward their table. Kitty couldn’t think of another word to describe the way the young dark-haired woman approached them. She was wearing the same bright red dress from earlier that morning and her long locks were brushed back in soft waves that framed her face. Her make-up was flawless, as usual, but her expression had morphed from boredom to barely concealed anger. As she stalked around the end of the table, Kitty had a passing concern for Sabrina’s ankles, but then figured she was well-practiced in the art of wearing stilettos while angry.

  “Atención,” she called out, clapping her hands. She didn’t look at Kitty and didn’t greet anyone personally. “In ten minutes we will continue on to the mall where you will be able to do your Christmas shopping. It is important that you listen to my instructions.”

  Kitty translated, trying not to feel irritation at how Sabrina always raised her voice at the group, as if being louder would somehow magically negate their deafness.

  “I encourage you to use the couriers provided to have your items brought back to the hotel. It is very safe, but there is always the possibility of pickpockets so be sure to use the couriers. I will introduce you to them when we arrive.” Her voice was stilted, as if she were reading from an informational sheet.

  Kitty finished signing for the group and wondered whether Sabrina would tolerate a question. It wasn’t too out of the ordinary to use gophers to send items from one place to another. Kitty herself ordered her groceries and household supplies the same way back in Mérida. But were the couriers related to the mall or the hotel? Kitty hadn’t seen anything about it on the official papers, and she had a much more detailed packet than the group.

  As if Sabrina sensed her question, she added, “Don’t be afraid that they will steal your goods. These are employees of La Casa Rosa. They are well-known to the family.”

  The group nodded in agreement and started to gather their things.

  “Please know―” Sabrina broke off mid-word. A man had stepped onto the patio. He crossed his arms and looked at her, as if waiting for some kind of response. Chica sat up and growled low in her throat.

  Sabrina went pale. Fumbling with her purse, she mumbled something about checking the schedule again. Kitty looked back at the man, trying her best to memorize his features. Heavy brows, balding, a paunch, about fifty years old. He wasn’t the young man in the light blue suit.

  Kitty glanced back at Sabrina. Many Latino cultures didn’t support women working outside the home, especially if they were young and unmarried. It was possible it was an older relative sent to watch over her. Or it could be a government official checking up on Sabrina’s performance. Someone could have complained about her lack of professionalism. Whoever it was had gotten Sabrina’s attention in a way that Kitty had not. And judging by Chica’s behavior, their young tour guide was scared to death of him.

  Sabrina held up a piece of paper, her hands shaking slightly. “I apologize. It says here that all purchases must be handed off to the couriers. They will be checked through customs and sent on to the ship. There is no other option for purchasing your goods if you want to bring them back to the United States.”

  Kitty tried not to frown as she translated from Spanish to American Sign Language. She could see how the potential for theft just multiplied exponentially. What kind of safeguard against theft could they have if they wouldn’t know until the next day, while the ship was already leaving the port?

  The man in the doorway seemed satisfied by Sabrina’s addendum and left the outside eating area. A few moments later, he reappeared near the dock. Kitty watched him speak to several men standing near a white sailboat before they all boarded the vessel and disappeared from view.

  Sabrina’s shoulders sagged and she looked visibly shaken. Betty looked concerned and Eldrick peered at where the boat was moored. Brooke and Katie exchanged glances, clearly alarmed by the strange man.

  “Are you okay?” Kitty asked quietly. She was taking a risk by even approaching Sabrina. Besides being a Cuban official, she had never once given the impression that she wanted to get to know any of them any better than in the most cursory way.

  Her large, dark eyes were wide with fear. “No, it’s fine. I am fine.”

  �
��Of course,” Kitty said. It clearly wasn’t fine, but she couldn’t force Sabrina to confide in her.

  As Sabrina turned away, her shoulders were back and she tossed her hair as if throwing off the fear and insecurity of the previous moments. Kitty glanced down at Chica, who had fixed Sabrina with an unblinking stare. She hadn’t growled at Sabrina, but she hadn’t rushed to protect her, either. Not like she had with Angelina, the young dive shop employee who had nearly died from deliberate poisoning during Kitty’s scuba trip.

  Something very odd was going on, and Kitty wasn’t sure who was the villain and who needed protecting. Actually, she wasn’t even sure there was a villain and a victim at all.

  “Starling is on his way,” she murmured to Chica. “Fingers crossed we’ll get to see him with no dead bodies to kill the mood.”

  As she helped her tour group pay their tabs and collect their belongings, Kitty tried to focus on the hours ahead. She wasn’t a big shopper, but she could still pick up a few Christmas gifts for her brother and her parents.

  Walking out into the bright sunshine to where they would wait for their private bus, Kitty a flash of optimism. Penny and Elaine were chatting with Brooke and Katie, while Toto and Jackie sat side by side, looking like reverse image Labrador twins. Victor had his arm around Lola’s shoulders, and Twinkle looked up at them, her tongue lolling from her mouth in a happy smile. Even Betty and Eldrick seemed to have recovered from their early morning exhaustion, and they stood on the curb, poised to take the first seats with Thor by their side.

  Everyone was fed, briefed, and ready to shop. They all seemed to be getting along, and despite Cuba’s international reputation for difficult government intrusion, they’d had no problems in that area at all. The only disturbing moment had been the fight she’d witnessed between Sabrina and the man in the light blue suit, and now the heavy-set man in the doorway. But that really had nothing to do with Kitty’s tour group at all.