Red Leopard (The Vistaria Affair Series)

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  “You are no worse than most tourists here,” he said.

  “But I’m usually much better prepared. I’m a college professor, for god’s sake, and you’re making me feel like a big ugly American blundering around and tripping over her own ignorance. I came in a hurry—that’s my only explanation.”

  “Just as I have asked you, I too, am making allowances.” He gave that same little lift to the corner of his mouth. “And you are not a college professor quite yet.”

  “How on earth do you know that?”

  “The internet is available in Vistaria, too, Miss Munro. I looked up your college website.”

  “Dry reading for a festival night.”

  “On the contrary.” He took his hand out of the pocket. “You may or may not get your belongings back. I will see what I can arrange. Count yourself lucky regardless of what is returned. Good night, Miss Munro.”

  She grabbed the bars. “Wait a minute,” she said quickly.

  He swiveled a little to look at her and one brow lifted in query.

  “Are you going to tell me who you are?”

  He barely paused. “No.”

  “No name? Nothing?”

  “No.”

  “No, wait!” she said, lifting her voice a little more.

  He turned back to face her, stoic patience in every line of his body.

  She swallowed dryly. “This is wildly inappropriate and I don’t know how to do this in a way that doesn’t sound totally forward...but...can we...can I...hell...” She cleared her throat again.

  Curiosity show on his face, then dawning understanding. She recognized it as clearly as if he had spoken, for her whole body took an internal leap and suddenly her heart really was in her throat, choking her. Throughout their short interview, the expression in his eyes had not changed from the cool assessing look. But now she saw heat flicker there, just for a moment.

  “You have not had your fill of Vistarian men?” he asked softly.

  The look in his eyes, the knowledge, made her heart hurt. Her whole body tingled in response and it killed any finesse she might have used under normal circumstances. She had run out of time, anyway. He wanted to leave. She shook her head. “Not you,” she said, just as softly.

  “Ahh...”

  An entire world of conversation lived in that breathed response and Calli knew she caught only part of it. She heard understanding, pleasure...and regret.

  His hand lifted to where hers clutched at the bars, the right hand hidden from the soldiers by his body. The long fingers rested against hers and the touch thrilled her. The tip of one finger slid against the very tender flesh at the side of hers and she shivered as a little ripple of pleasure swept through her.

  He watched her, recording every minute reaction. When she focused on his face again, he gave another of those little half smiles. The regret lingered in his eyes. Moving his head by only a fraction, he shook it.

  She let her hands fall away and this time when he turned to leave she did not stop him.

  Chapter Two

  An hour or so later Calli was escorted down the narrow steep stairs to the front office of the police station by a sullen soldier—one of those who had been chastised by him, as she had begun to think of the stranger who had churned up her insides so much that she still felt a lingering, throbbing need.

  The soldier led her to the desk in the corner and dug beneath it. Finally he lifted a single sheet of paper to the top of it and handed her a disposable pen, tapping the sheet.

  She turned the sheet around. “What’s it say?” she asked him, although she suspected the document was some sort of release or waiver.

  He shook his head a little. “No Ingles,” he muttered.

  “Callida! Thank god!”

  She turned toward the front door where the shout had come from. Her uncle Josh, his curly brown hair rumpled, strode toward her looking very sweaty despite his tropical weight suit. He hugged her, squeezing tight. “We’ve been worried sick!” he declared.

  “We?” she asked, looking behind him.

  “Minnie and I—” He looked behind, too, and frowned. “She was right there. Now where on earth did that girl get to? I swear she will be the death....” He started back to the door.

  “Uncle Josh, wait up. Can you tell me what this says? They want me to sign it.”

  He came back to the desk, muttering a little, clearly distracted by the absence of his daughter. He pulled reading glasses out of his breast pocket and slipped them on his nose, then lifted the sheet up and peered over the top of them to read it, dropping his chin down to his chest for a better view. “Hamm...doesn’t seem to be too intimidating. You’re attesting to the fact that you were treated well and given fair consideration during your incarceration.” He glanced at her, then leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I’d sign it,” he said. “They’re very big on due process here, even if it doesn’t match ours at home.”

  “That surprises the hell out of me,” Calli raged. “Do you know where they’ve been holding me?”

  He nodded his head vigorously. “Yes, yes. But you’d better sign it anyway. We don’t want them to get annoyed now you’re so close to the front door.”

  He had a good point. Calli sighed and signed on the blank line at the bottom. The soldier smiled broadly at her. “Gracias, muchas gracias,” he said, putting the sheet away again.

  Uncle Josh tucked his hand under her elbow. “Let’s go,” he said.

  “Hang on.” She looked at the soldier. “My bags,” she said flatly. “I want them back.”

  His big smile faded. “Qué?”

  “Uncle Josh, you tell him. My luggage, my stuff. They have it somewhere.”

  He cleared his throat and said something in Spanish that sounded distinctly English and awkward, even to Calli’s uneducated ears.

  The soldier shrugged and spoke briefly.

  “Okaaaay,” her uncle said, and blew his breath out. He pursed his lips, then tried another slow sentence in Spanish.

  This time the soldier threw him a dirty look and went back up the stairs, treading heavily.

  “Is he coming back?” Calli asked.

  “He might. Let’s give it a minute,” Uncle Josh said.

  After a few moments the soldier did return, this time with Calli’s shoulder bag in his hand. He put it on the desk and shoved it toward her.

  Calli took the bag. “Wow, what did you tell him?” she asked Uncle Josh.

  He shrugged a little. “I said I would call on the same people I called on last time if he didn’t give you your things. I think. My Spanish is pretty horrible.”

  “I gotta tell you about that too,” Calli said, looking through her bag. The wallet was missing. “And the rest of my stuff?” she asked the soldier.

  He looked her square in the eyes and crossed his arms. “No.”

  “Even I understand that one,” Calli murmured. She recalled what the red-headed man had said: Count yourself lucky no matter what is returned. But it was hard to give up a suitcase of clothes and personal items and just walk away.

  “You got your handbag, Calli. I’d say call it quits and let’s go,” Uncle Josh said. He took her arm again and tugged. “Come on, let’s get you home. Minnie will be able to dig up spare clothes from that monstrous great collection of hers. I’ll take you on a shopping trip tomorrow.”

  Calli studied the soldier a little longer, not breaking his stare, not willing to let him think he’d got the better of her by walking away with her tail between her legs. Even though he professed to speak no English, she knew he understood enough to get her intent, so she shook her head and said, “I wish you well of my clothes, soldier, and whatever else you took out of my bag. I know you have them. I’m only dropping it because you’ve got the advantage of home turf, but I will remember this.”

  Then she let Uncle Josh pull her back towards the front door and they stepped out into the busy, lantern-lit square. The night air refreshed her. She could smell the ocean. It was still nicel
y warm that she didn’t feel the need for a sweater, which was just as well, as she no longer had one to put on.

  Josh looked around, frowning again. “Where is she?” he sighed. “I tell you, Calli, I’m so glad you decided to come after all.”

  “You want me to play watchdog, Uncle Josh? Is that why you flew me here?”

  He pushed his hand through his hair and she realized then why it looked so rumpled. “I don’t know what else to do,” he confessed. “I’m worried about her in this place. Beryl’s not well and I’ve got my hands full with the setup of the mine—we’re starting from scratch, for god’s sake.” He swung his head from side to side, scanning the street for a sight of his daughter. “Where is she?”

  Calli looked around for a petite brunette and realized she might be hard to pick out from the thick swirls of people dancing and moving around the big square. Over in the far corner musicians with guitars, flutes and drums stood on a low platform. Their music was heady and infectious. The beat made Calli’s foot tap and her hips sway in time to the languorous melody. That was what most of the people in the square seemed to be doing. Many of the women had their hands up, weaving them in the air with incredibly graceful motions. Their hips swayed as they turned, dipping and whirling, helped here and there by men who would spin them, sometimes dance along with them for a few steps, their hands on the women’s hips, before the woman would move along to another man and dance beguilingly in front of him. Some couples, hips locked together, spun as a pair, their attention solely on each other.

  The men, in contrast to the glowing colors the women wore, dressed almost completely in black—tight black pants and short black jackets, with white shirts beneath. Some of them wore the very Spanish looking flat-brimmed black hat and nearly all of them wore well-heeled boots. Some had discarded their jackets while they danced.

  Calli could see a pair, not far away from her, dancing together in a shadowy corner created by the big statue in the middle of the square. She’d draped her arm around his neck and he had one arm tight around her waist.

  Calli watched him bend his partner over his arm; as she arched back, her head dropping low, his hand smoothed its way up her torso in a long, loving caress that ended at her breast. The woman smiled as he lifted her back up, his hand still at her breast, and they began turning slowly together again, looking deep into each other’s eyes. Then their mouths met, and their steps slowed even more. His hand lifted to her blouse, snagged the gathered top edge of it and slid the cotton even further down her arm, revealing the top of her breast.

  Calli licked her suddenly dry lips and looked away, which brought her gaze swinging around to the dark shadows on the edges of the square. The movement of something white caught her eye. It was a group, not far away, with a woman in the middle. Then her eyes adjusted to the dim light and she realized that one woman danced in the middle of a circle of perhaps five men, holding their rapt attention. As well she might, for she also held Calli’s attention. Calli’s mind hazed with astonishment as she watched the woman turn in languorous circles, hands on her thighs slowly raising her skirts, showing more and more long, slender leg with each gyration of her hips. Her blouse rode so low around her shoulders it revealed the start of the underside of her arms, along with most of her breasts. The elegant, sinuous curve of the breasts from the armpit down beneath the top of her blouse promised firm, full bounty beneath.

  As she moved, one of the men stepped up behind her, mirroring her moves. His hands slowly settled on her hips, as if he tested her response. She smiled and pushed back into him, encouraging him. His hand spread across her abdomen, possessive fingers spreading, laying claim to her. The other lifted to her blouse and pushed the fabric down, exposing first one breast, then the other. His big hand cupped the full, lush globes, while his mouth kissed her neck and bare shoulder. The couple’s lazy circles had almost ceased. The other men smiled. One slid his hands beneath the hem of her skirt. Each hand circled her ankle. He slid his palms up along her legs, bringing the silk skirt with them.

  The other men moved in closer and blocked Calli’s view.

  She blinked and cleared her throat. “They call this a fiesta?” she asked Uncle Josh. “This is more like...a carnival,” she remarked.

  Uncle Josh, still busy scanning the square, answered with a little shrug. “It’s a religious festival all right, but I don’t know what religion celebrates the moon except for the older pagan ones.”

  “Isn’t Vistaria Catholic?”

  “Nominally. There are pockets of this and that everywhere. Vistaria’s been invaded by a dozen different cultures throughout its history. Maybe that’s where the carnival atmosphere comes from. They’re certainly not inhibited, are they?”

  “No,” Calli murmured. Then she saw Minnie and realized why they had not seen her straight away.

  The wall of the police station building was in shadows. The light from the paper lanterns didn’t reach that far. Minnie leaned back against the wall, laughing up at a soldier who stood over her, his hand against the wall by her head.

  “There she is,” Calli said.

  The soldier’s head hovered close to Minnie’s and as Calli skipped down the steps, heading in her direction, his finger slid down the side of Minnie’s face. He was tall, as tall as Uncle Josh, with wide shoulders and small hips. He’d pulled his dark glossy hair back into a short ponytail, revealing the olive skin and dark features of a typical Vistarian. He was, frankly, gorgeous.

  Even as Calli made her way towards the pair she marveled over Minnie’s almost magical ability to find and draw the sexiest man in the area to her side. Minnie had a quality Calli had never been able to pin down precisely; attitude, walk, body—perhaps the whole damned package, who knew? But almost without exception, any warm-blooded male in her vicinity would respond to that mysterious element in her.

  In Vistaria, during Fiesta, it could cause trouble. Minnie didn’t always know when enough was enough. Calli had had a tiny taste of the different attitudes here and her gut clenched. No wonder Uncle Josh looked harried.

  She hurried over to her cousin. “Minnie, for heaven’s sake. There you are.”

  Minnie smiled up at the soldier before looking at Calli. “Just having a chat,” she said with another big smile. “Dad said it might take a while, so I stayed outside to listen to the music. Calli, this is Eduardo...right?” she asked the soldier. He had straightened up.

  “Friends call me Duardo. I insist. Eduardo, I like not,” he said, his voice low. His eyes almost twinkled, as if he laughed mentally. He held out his hand to Calli.

  Not one of the men that had been in the holding cell room. Good.

  She took the offered hand and disguised her surprise when he turned hers a little and brought the back of it up to his lips. They felt hot against her skin. He watched her over the back of her hand.

  “My pleasure to meet you, Miss Calli,” he purred. His slow smile showed off white teeth.

  “...er...thank you,” Calli murmured and pulled her hand away the moment he released it. His old-fashioned courtesy had completely bamboozled her, she realized with a touch of amusement. She couldn’t help feel a little more feminine and appreciated as a result. No wonder Minnie had succumbed so quickly.

  She grabbed Minnie’s arm. “Say goodnight, Minnie.”

  “Yeah, course. Okay. Duardo, it has been a blast.”

  “Most certainly, Minnie,” he replied, his smile widening.

  Calli yanked on her cousin’s arm, just as Uncle Josh reached them.

  “Minnie, when are you ever going to remember you just can’t go wandering off by yourself here?” he said.

  “Adios!” she called out to Duardo as he walked away, then looked at Josh. “Dad, I was just talking! I didn’t wander. I’m ten feet from the door.”

  He pushed his hand through his hair again. “Okay, can we please leave now?” he asked, sounding very tired. “The car is on a side street. No parking here tonight. Come on. I don’t know about you two, but
I need a good stiff belt of scotch.”

  “Me, too,” Calli agreed with feeling.

  * * * * *

  The scotch and soda slid down her throat, hissing all the way. Calli sighed. She put the heavy crystal glass down on the coffee table and sat back to look around the apartment the Bennings had rented in a very old but well-maintained building in the hilly section to the south-west of the city center.

  It had taken barely ten minutes to reach here by car, despite the slow drive through narrow, winding streets. Josh had ushered them inside, checked on her aunt, who dozed in their bedroom recovering from a bad migraine, while Minnie headed for her room to ‘scare up’ some clothes and essentials for Calli.

  When Josh reemerged from the bedroom he’d gone straight for the silver tray and decanters on the sideboard and poured them both the promised stiff belt of scotch, then dropped onto the sofa opposite Calli’s with a heavy sigh. In the quiet room, she could still hear music from the streets, filtered and distant.

  The apartment had white adobe walls, hung with Vistarian art and interesting textiles in the same jewel colors the women had been wearing tonight. Rooms led off from this central room, but the big kitchen area adjoined the central room at the back, separated only by a huge chopping block island. Terracotta tiles covered the floor throughout, including the big balcony beyond the sliding doors. Blue wisteria-like flowers hung in big clusters from the tangle of vines that climbed up the adobe walls arching over the balcony.

  “What are those flowers?” she asked as Josh gulped back half his glassful in two big swallows. “They almost look like wisteria. I’ve been seeing them everywhere.”

  “Yes, they’re wisteria,” he said, without looking.

  “They’re blue, though.”

  He nodded. “It’s some sort of tropical variant that grows wild here. It’s the national flower of Vistaria, of course.”

  That would be why so many women had been wearing it. “Why of course?” she asked.

  He rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger and let his arm drop across the back of the sofa. “Vistaria is Spanish for wisteria. That’s what this country is called. La Vistaria de Escobedo. The wisteria of Escobedo. Escobedo’s Wisteria. Escobedo’s country, for all the difference it makes, too.”