He elbowed the truck door and let its own weight swing it shut, oddly annoyed by the sound of metal against metal as it closed. He was rattled, though he couldn’t pinpoint a reason. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, aside from the excess of empty parking spaces. But, call it instinct: call it premonition – something didn’t feel right.
As with any other afternoon, Juanita stood behind the bar, leaning forward against the counter, alternating her attention between the door and a local paper. Her wrinkled, weathered skin gave away every one of her seventy-something years. Her toughness revealed decades of harsh living.
“Where is everyone, Juanita?” Miguel took a seat at the bar.
“How the hell should I know?” Juanita grabbed a Corona from a low refrigerator and popped off the cap. She slid it in front of Miguel and smacked her hand against the countertop. “Four bucks, youngster, cough it up.”
“C’mon, Juanita, you know everything that goes on in these parts. How long have you been running this place? Ten, fifteen years?” Miguel winked at her before lifting the bottle to his lips and taking a long draw. He set the bottle back on the bar and exhaled, then repeated the action. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he pulled out a stack of crumpled bills and tossed them on the counter.
The old bartender laughed, her voice scratchy and sharp. “Twenty-seven years and not one day short of that. And maybe most days I do know what’s going on around here, but not today, amigo. Today I’m minding my own business.” She pulled four single dollar bills from the tangled cluster of money, flattened them and stuck them in the cash register.
“It does not look like you have much business to mind,” Miguel said. “Not unless you are hiding customers in the back room.”
“It’s not the busiest day I’ve had. Not sure what this town’s coming to when it’s four in the afternoon and no one’s drinking yet.” Juanita rinsed out a bar rag and wiped down the counter. Tossing the rag aside, she ran her hands along her jeans to dry them. “What kind of trouble are you into today?”
“My hands are clean,” Miguel said, releasing the beer bottle long enough to raise both hands in the air.
Juanita shook her head. “I don’t believe everything I see.” She grabbed a bucket from below the counter and headed to the back, her voice trailing behind her. “Your hands might look squeaky clean when you wave them around like that, but there’s not a day I’ve known you that you weren’t in trouble or at least looking for it.”
Miguel watched her leave the room, listened to the sound of ice being shoveled into the bucket. She was right, of course. He often managed to fall on the wrong side of the law, or at least the wrong side of common sense. And he was pretty sure what he was wrapped up in now was taking him down one of those paths.
He took another slug of beer, then swiveled around on the stool to look out the window. The lot was as deserted as it had been when he walked in. He tilted the bottle up again, finishing the beer.
“I was hoping to find Whitehorse here. He owes me money”
“You and everybody else.”
The sound of ice filling a bucket continued, drowning out Juanita’s comments, but Miguel didn’t need to hear them to know what she was saying. Charlie Whitehorse owed just about everyone in the town money, except for those who were smart enough to not fall for his sob stories.
As if on cue, Charlie Whitehorse walked in, taking his usual spot at the end of the bar. He was a creature of habit when it came to that sort of thing. Just as he was about other aspects of his life – like not paying money back on time.
Juanita emerged from the back with a full bucket of ice. She emptied it into a bin behind the bar and pulled out a bottle of beer, setting it in front of Whitehorse.
Miguel slid over onto the next bar stool and motioned to Juanita for another beer. She tipped a glass at an angle and filled it with draft. Setting it down in front of Miguel, she caught his eye and raised her eyebrows, then moved away. She’d heard plenty of discussions between Whitehorse and Miguel. Their voices always went up a few notches during disagreements.
“I came by earlier looking for you, Whitehorse. It is not like you to wait until evening to hit Juanita up for a beer.”
“So? I don’t live my life by your time schedule, Miguel. Besides, why not just stick around, then? You know I’ll end up here at some point.”
“And miss Luz’s Pollo con Mole? Even tracking you down is not worth that.”
“For once we agree.” Whitehorse let out a grunt that halfway resembled a laugh.
“Listen, you need to get me that money,” Miguel said, lowering his voice. He lifted the beer to his mouth and chugged half of it without pausing. Setting the glass down, he cleared his throat. “You said there would not be any more delays.”
The older man mumbled something into his drink.
“What did you say?” Miguel swirled the beer around in his glass, staring down into the foamy liquid.
“I said your sister should be grateful for the sales,” Whitehorse said. “Tell her to be patient. You know how rich people can be – taking their time paying things because they have no idea what it’s like to wait for money. Ana should just be thankful I found her some customers. This town isn’t exactly a tourist destination, aside from the spa. She can only sell so much around here.” He slid the empty beer bottle in Juanita’s direction and motioned for another. Juanita brought one over, along with another draft for Miguel, and returned to the other end of the bar.
Miguel said nothing, set his empty glass aside. Whitehorse cast a curious glance at him and then raised his eyebrows. “Wait…don’t tell me. You took them without telling her?”
Miguel remained quiet.
Whitehorse slapped his hand down on the counter and laughed. “Well, there you go. You steal your own sister’s jewelry and then blame me for not paying for it.”
“That is not what happened and you know it!” Miguel caught his voice rising and lowered it quickly. “I would never steal from her. You said you had buyers for some of her pieces and I wanted to get her the money before telling her, as a surprise. You needed to deliver the jewelry in order to get the money. The whole thing should have taken a couple days at most.”
“You can’t tell me you weren’t planning on skimming a bit off the top of those sales yourself. Stop trying to act like you’re only doing your sister a favor. I still remember you stealing oranges from Madre’s Mercado and selling them on the highway, telling people they were from your own backyard. We don’t even grow oranges here.”
“I was fourteen, Whitehorse. And this is about business, not favors. What I do with the money for selling the pieces does not concern you. I will give Ana what she always gets for her work.”
“You’re blowing this out of proportion, amigo. We’re only talking about eight pieces of jewelry. By the way, did you manage to get more? I can get you a payment faster if we rack up their bill.” Whitehorse nodded his head, pleased with himself for thinking of this angle.
“You can forget about getting your hands on any other pieces. You already have one each of Ana’s best designs, and I never should have gotten you those. It takes her time to make each piece. And she needs to buy new supplies as they sell. She deserves to be paid right away.”
“Maybe you should’ve thought of all that when you gave them to me to begin with,” Whitehorse said. He stood up, finished his beer. “I’m doing you and your sister a favor by selling her jewelry. You don’t have the same connections I have. Without me, your sister would just be selling one piece here and one piece there instead of eight pieces at once. Relax. I’ll have your money to you by the end of the week.”
“See that you do,” Miguel said, watching Whitehorse saunter out of the cantina.
Miguel kept his eyes on the retreating figure.
Behind him, Juanita said, “You should know better than to try to do business with Charlie Whitehorse, Miguel.”
“And you should know better than to tell me that, Juanita.”
/> Juanita ignored the last remark as she wiped the bar countertop down with a rag. “I still hold out hope for you, Miguel. One of these days you’ll wake up and decide to walk a straight line.”
Miguel smiled. He stood up and tossed a handful of crumpled dollar bills on the counter.
“Just try to stay out of trouble for a change,” Juanita cautioned.
“Do not hold your breath,” Miguel laughed.
“Trust me,” Juanita said. “I won’t.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
When Paige stepped inside the spa, the cool scent of eucalyptus and flowing tones of panpipes wrapped around her like morning mist. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the soft interior lighting after the bright sun. Within seconds, her stress began to ease. This was what she’d anticipated since first hearing about the assignment. As much as she loved her work, she was long overdue for some personal time.
“Are you here for a treatment?” the receptionist asked. She smiled at Paige before looking down at an appointment book. Her dark hair flowed loose around her shoulders, one side pinned back behind her ear with a yellow raffia flower. A silver and turquoise necklace sat above the gathered neckline of her white blouse. Paige recognized the design as a simple variation of a squash-blossom pattern.
“A massage or facial? Or maybe a lavender herbal wrap or salt glow scrub?”
“No, though that all sounds tempting,” Paige admitted. “Maybe another day, but I’m just here to soak in the mineral waters. I understand the pools are known for their different health benefits.”
“Yes, they are,” the young woman said as she pulled a bundle with a robe and gel slippers from a shelf behind the desk along with a locker key and handed them to Paige. “We have three different types of pools here that you can soak in: iron, soda and arsenic. The iron pool helps your immune system and blood flow. The arsenic and soda pools will help relieve stiffness in your joints. They are also good for your digestive system and skin. I suggest trying them all.”
“I imagine you get this question a lot, but isn’t arsenic poisonous? How is that pool safe?” Paige said.
A light smile crossed the receptionist’s face. Yes, the question had been asked many times.
“There are only trace amounts in the water. Arsenic is only dangerous at certain levels. Smaller amounts have healing qualities.”
“I see.” Attempting a non-skeptical attitude, Paige leaned forward to read the young woman’s nametag.
“You’re Ana, Miguel’s sister,” she said. “You’re the one who makes the jewelry.”
“Yes.”
“Your designs are beautiful,” Paige said. “I bought a necklace at Luz’s shop, as well as the earrings with the three birds. I’ve never seen anything quite like them before, so beautiful.”
“Thank you. Those are the doves of our town, Tres Palomas,” Ana said, smiling. “It is a favorite design of mine.”
Paige wrapped her arms around the bathrobe and slippers and headed for the dressing room, which Ana pointed out with a soft sway of her arm. The hallway through the spa building was narrow and cool, with sparse artwork along the walls. The minimalism gave Paige the feeling of leaving the sensory overload of the outside world behind. She’d entered a new, soothing territory.
A row of lockers lined one wall in the changing area, and wooden benches ran the middle length of the room. Paige set her belongings on a bench and opened a nearby locker. She took her time removing her outer clothing and hanging it neatly on hooks. Leaving on her swimsuit, she pulled the soft bathrobe around her and slipped her feet into the gel slippers. She gathered her hair and twisted it up into a clip, leaving her neck and shoulders free.
The spa ambiance encouraged reverence. Paige found herself paying attention to details she normally wouldn’t have noticed: the cool sensation of her bare feet sliding into the molded form of the slippers, the click of the locker door as she closed it. Each sound and movement felt deliberate.
Paige left the dressing room and continued down the hall until she reached the entrance to the back courtyard. Stepping outside, she paused momentarily in the brighter light to adjust her senses once again. A peace surpassed the energy of the direct sunlight. Sculpted works dotted the outdoor space, separated by stone pathways and desert gardens. A labyrinth filled the center of the courtyard, its entrance beckoning guests to walk the circular paths.
The iron pool rested against a solid rock wall, surrounded by smaller rock formations. Paige slipped off the robe and draped it over a ceramic bench, removing the slippers and sliding them underneath. Dipping one toe over the side of the pool, she pulled back as the water’s heat registered. What had the brochure said? The temperature was something like 104 degrees? She would need to ease her way in.
Sitting on the edge of the pool, Paige slipped one foot in, then the other, lowering her legs slowly as her skin adjusted to the hot water. Once the temperature became tolerable, she eased the rest of her body in, catching her breath several times as waves of heat encircled new sections of skin. Finally, the warmth of the pool reached her neck. She leaned back against the edge of the pool and closed her eyes.
The mood of Agua Encantada inspired a wider contemplation of the world than Manhattan did. Between the warmth of the mineral water against her skin, the hot mist around her face and the lack of distracting noise, her mind ventured off on a trip of its own. As Paige gave into the calming effect of the water, she opened her eyes and took in the spa grounds – the blue salvia swaying in the wind, the terra cotta tones of the buildings and the blooming cactus that lined the edge of the property. She let go of schedules, assignments and itineraries and relaxed into the moment. She felt liberated.
Her job as a reporter didn’t allow for much flexibility, though when she traveled, she got a respite from some of the daily deadlines and demands. Most trips were just long enough for her to want more time. Although she’d managed to extend assignments once or twice, she’d planned the visit to Agua Encantada specifically to allow her to do more than work. The assignment was simple, a quick write-up about the mineral springs and their history. It left room for personal time.
A flush of heat crept across Paige’s face, reminding her she’d been soaking for a while. She opened her eyes and brought her legs in underneath her, standing up to allow cool air to pass across her upper torso. Lifting herself out of the water with her arms, she swung her legs around onto the edge of the pool. As she leaned back against the concrete, a light wind passed through the courtyard. The mixture of solitude, warm skin and soft breeze felt luxurious. When had she been this relaxed? She couldn’t remember.
“Lookin’ good, Sonrisa.”
Paige tensed. She turned her head to find Miguel a few feet away, both his hands and chin balanced on the end of a broom. She cupped one hand over her eyes.
“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that, Miguel,” Paige said, quickly fighting her annoyance at the disruption. She wasn’t about to let him chase away the benefit of her relaxing soak.
“I did not mean to,” Miguel said. “I usually sweep the area this time of day. I did not expect anyone to be here.”
“Well, here I am.” Paige sighed, easing her head back down on the pavement and dropping her arm back by her side. “Go right ahead. Sweep away. Sweep around me. Sweep anywhere you’d like. Just don’t make me move. I think that water melted my bones.”
Miguel laughed. “Yes, it does that. It is one of the reasons people have been coming here for centuries – first the Tewa Indians, then the Spaniards and now reporters from New York.”
Paige smiled in spite of herself. Even though annoying, Miguel had a sense of humor.
“We have lounge chairs back against the spa building,” he said as he started to sweep. “You do not have to lie on the concrete.”
“I know, I saw them,” Paige replied. “But it was all I could do to pull myself out of the pool. I doubt my muscles have the strength to move over there. Besides, the pavement feels warm. I never would hav
e thought of concrete as soothing, but it is.”
“The sun shares its warmth with the ground, which then shares it with you. Wait until you try the mud bath treatment here.”
“I’m not so sure that’s going to happen,” Paige laughed. “I understand soaking in hot water, but mud?”
“It is good for the skin, city girl. You should read the brochures.” Miguel moved to another section of the spa courtyard and resumed sweeping. “Cleans your pores or something like that.”
“Something like that?” Paige repeated. “That’s a weak sales pitch if I ever heard one. Have you tried the mud bath yourself?”
“No time. Always something that needs tending to around here. If not around the casitas and spa, then out by the llama barn and storage buildings.”
A radio clipped to Miguel’s belt crackled.
“There, you see? That will be Marisol,” Miguel said. “Which means I will leave you in peace. Do not fall asleep on that pavement. It will get cooler as the afternoon moves on.”
Paige listened to Miguel’s footsteps as he disappeared inside the spa building. She drew her knees up, placed the soles of her feet flat on the ground and pressed the small of her back into the warm concrete. Leaves skittered across the pool area as the wind picked up, scratching the ground lightly. She inhaled deeply, exhaling at a slow, steady rhythm. It was a rare, perfect moment, the kind that crept up without warning and washed over a person like a sudden breeze.
Getting to know other people had not been part of her plan for this trip. She did that often enough on assignments. This time she had intended to observe from a distance, picking up information from personal exploration and adding to it from printed information in brochures and online. But she could already feel herself getting pulled into the stories of Tres Palomas’ residents – the jewelry artist, the woman who told stories in the church courtyard, and the mother/daughter team of Luz and Marisol. Maybe it wasn’t the different locations she visited that intrigued her. Maybe it was the people and their individual stories. And secrets…there were always secrets behind the façades of the places she visited.
Paige MacKenzie Mysteries Box Set Page 44
