“Ms. Haskamp,” a woman said. “Your legal counsel is here.”
“Is she all right?” my knight asked, a tinge of anger in his voice.
Yes, dammit, I am. Why are you waki…
“She’s fine,” a woman said, “just exhausted.”
“No wonder. She’s been here over eighteen hours.”
I sat up and blinked. “Eighteen hours?”
Jeff and a female officer stood behind a metal mesh door to my room, peering in at me. With a clank, they slid it open and entered as I jumped to my feet. Bucketing toward Jeff, I threw my arms around his waist, buried my head in his chest, and sobbed. He deflected my tackle, keeping his balance, but didn’t respond; he just stood there, arms pinned inside my bearhug.
The agent helped him disengage from me and steered me to a desk.
Looking back over my shoulder I asked, “Wait? Lawyer?”
“Yes, Miss Haskamp, you asked to see an attorney, right?
He tilted his head and gave me a stern look. Was he just saying shut up, or was that a signal of disdain? Confused, I plopped into the plastic chair and grabbed the bottle of water the agent handed me.
She backed away and stood with her arms crossed as Jeff sat, laid a folder on the desk between us, and rifled through some papers.
“Je—”
He cut me off. “Miss Haskamp, I have to go over a few things with you so we can straighten out this situation and get you out of here.”
“Situation?”
He ignored me. “Your passport was flagged five years ago, when you allegedly failed to appear in order to ascertain the legality of your marriage to Mister,” he checked his paperwork, “Devereaux Gautier.”
I winced at his pronunciation and he gave me an under-the-brow warning that I interpreted as a signal to keep my yap shut.
“When it was discovered you had moved from the State of Texas, an arrest warrant was issued, but since you could not be located, the marriage was eventually annulled, and Mr. Gautier was deported.”
“He’s gone?”
“Yes, a month ago. He’s back in France. It was determined that, without your testimony to the contrary, Mister uh—”
“Goot-yay,” I interjected.
“—entered into your marriage under false pretenses. At any rate, it was ruled that you were hoodwinked.”
Is hoodwinked a legal term? And if it was over, why didn’t my parents let me know so I could come home?
As though reading my thoughts, Jeff added, “Paperwork is slow in these cases, and a letter of the final decision was sent to your last known address only a few days ago.”
Good gawd. If it weren’t for bad timing, I’d have no timing at all. If my parents had known I was off the hook, they would have alerted me, and I’d have been on a plane home instead of being dumped by Barry and getting embroiled in a murder case.
I sighed. “I tried to tell anyone who would listen that I married Devereaux thinking we were all in love. The bâtard swore he adored me, and if he had to leave the country, and me, when his temporary visa ran out, he’d simply die of a broken heart. Then he upped and disappeared about the same time we ran out of champagne at the reception. He’d begged me for a solid year to marry him, then POOF! Il a disparu!”
The agent covered her mouth, but her eyes twinkled.
For the first time since Jeff arrived, a small smile lifted the corners of his lips. “So, at least the French lessons you took from Goot-yay were not wasted?”
Sensing he was messing with me, I stuck my nose in the air and pinched it, “But, of curse,” using my best Peter Sellers’ accent from the Pink Panther movies. Jeff sucked in his lips to keep from laughing but the agent actually tittered.
“When that French a-hole sent me a text message threatening to kill me if I showed up for the hearing, I turned tail and ran for the border. Cowardly and stupid, but I did it, so arrest me.”
“I’m your lawyer.”
“Well then, counselor, tell these nice folks to either fish or cut bait.”
“Done deal.”
“Sooo, Dev is, like, fini and drop-kicked back into that Parisien pissoir he swam out of? Well, yay!”
“I believe we’re fini here, as well.” He shot a questioning look at the agent, and she nodded. “Well then, we just have to sign some papers and you’ll be released back into your own country,” Jeff said, sounding all official. “Is that all right with you?”
“Is there a longhorn in Texas? A tortilla in Mexico? Hell, yes, I’m ready.”
Jeff stood and pulled me up by my hand and leaned in close. “I’ve missed you, Red,” he whispered, “and so has your dog. He says it’s been ruff.”
I started to answer, but he shook his head. Evidently the walls have ears in these facilities, and I had the distinct feeling Jeff had broken several laws to come get me.
If I’d had any doubts about falling in love with him, they were long gone.
As the realization set in that I was no longer in danger of going to jail for entering into a false marriage, a huge weight lifted and I felt like I could fly.
So long as I didn’t fly south.
Chapter Fifteen
“Are you really a lawyer?” I asked Jeff, as we drove up I-5.
“Actually, I am by degree, but not practicing. In your case I pulled in a few favors and greased the bureaucratic wheels before they turned you over to some agency I don’t have friends in. Sorry you were stuck there so long. What is your first desire as a free woman?”
“Food.” I said.
Jeff grinned at me from the driver’s side of his rental car. “Sounds reasonable. From what I’ve seen on television shows, that is the first request of those who have been incarcerated. Grab a bottle of water from the cooler while we find something to eat.”
“I wasn’t incar—never mind. What did you do with or to the van?”
“I unloaded everything needed, then parked it near the car rental agency, and left the keys in the ignition. I estimate it lasted about five minutes .”
“How quickly you learn. Think Ruth’s Chris is open? I could eat an entire cow.”
“Sorry, Red. Too early. We can order room service.”
“Great. Wait, room service? Where?”
“As promised, ocean view room. Hotel Del.”
“They take pets? Who knew? The Del Coronado is one of my all-time favorite hotels.”
“Unfortunately, I had to enroll Scruffy in a Fido farm. He couldn’t pass the hotel’s height and weight requirements.”
I had to laugh, remembering when I was little and longed to ride a rollercoaster at some theme park. They wouldn’t let me because I couldn’t touch a bar with my head. “Aw, poor baby. Where is he?”
“The best dog spa in San Diego. Someone once told me there is nothing more expensive than a free dog.”
“Some truth there. Okay, then, the first thing I want to do is see him. Homeland Security gave me a sandwich not all that long ago, so I’m not starving. Close, though.”
“I figured you’d want to see Scruffy and we’re almost there. Here.” He handed me an opened bag of what looked like oatmeal cookies from the door pocket.
Popping one into my mouth, I complained, “Ack. How old are these? They don’t have much taste.”
Jeff guffawed. “Red, those are for Scruffy.”
I washed the mealy biscuit down with bottled water and we both broke into much-needed belly laughs, then I yelled, “Jeff, pull off. Now.”
He cut across three lanes of traffic, earning honks and finger waves, and took the first exit. Skidding into a filling station’s parking lot, he slammed on the brakes. “What? Are you going to hurl or something?”
“I wasn’t going to, but after that maneuver, maybe so.” I grabbed him and planted a lip lock. When we came up for air, I murmured, “That’s why. I just had to kiss you for being such a great guy. I couldn’t have pulled any of this off without you.”
“Aww, shucks, ma’am, ‘tweren’t nuthin’.
By the way, you taste like dog biscuits.”
“Flatterer.”
***
Jeff pulled off I-5 into what looked like a worse for the wear residential area. Devine Doggie Digs probably started life as a private home in the 1960’s, which worried me until we went inside. It was upgraded, immaculate, and didn’t smell like a kennel.
“It passes the sniff test,” I whispered. “Good job so far.”
“Only the best for our Scruffy.”
“Oh, hi. Mr. Scruffy is at play time right now,” the young woman behind the desk told us. “I’ll go get him.”
“No, don’t do that,” I told her. “Just take us so we can see how he’s doing. I don’t want to upset him by just popping in and then leaving. We can’t stay for long right now.”
***
We watched Scruffy carousing with other dogs on a large screen television for a few minutes. “He looks so happy! And clean. One thing for sure,” I added dryly, “he certainly isn’t suffering from separation anxiety.”
“Definitely plays well with others. You can get your hands on him tomorrow.”
“And then what?”
Jeff shrugged. “To be decided later. Are you tired?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“A walk and talk on the beach.”
Uh-oh. I watch Hallmark Channel romcoms, so I know what that means.
***
We went straight to the beach in front of the hotel, and chose a place on the sand well away from others. Was I just overly tired, or was Jeff acting strangely? Even the fact that he had towels in the car for us to sit on had me on edge. He’d prepared for this…whatever this was.
“You called this meeting, Jeff, so you have the floor,” I said, trying not to relay the dread I was feeling. “You talk, I’ll listen.”
“Wow, what did they do to you at the border?”
His attempted tease fell a little flat, and he let out a long sigh. “Okay, I’ll start with the good news.”
My stomach clenched. There’s bad news?
“Barry’s murderer has been apprehended. Evidently, he took a woman he’d been seeing home with him after you stormed out of the restaurant, and her jealous boyfriend followed them. The woman is singing like a canary.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Maybe. Victoria Friend.”
“You’re kidding. Victoria just arrived in Cabo a few weeks ago. The rumor mill had it that she was either a spy from corporate, or sent in to maybe take over Barry’s job. Obviously, she was working undercover.”
He smiled. “Well, looks like her pissed-off ex went the extra mile to get her the job. I wonder why he didn’t off her too?”
“Poor Barry. This is really strange. Victoria was, if you ask me, way too pretty and smart to fall for him.”
Jeff tilted his head and gave me an under-the-brow look.
“I was desperate, okay? Victoria didn’t come off as needing any help, just the opposite. People were starting to dislike her for being too…non-Cabo. She was…efficient.”
“Opposites attract? There is never any accounting for love. Anyway, whatever went down, you’re done with that part of your life. However, I don’t think you should head south any time soon.”
“Trust me. Furthest thing from my mind. Too bad Barry made such a fatal mistake. I mean, he was a jerk, but he didn’t deserve getting murdered in his own bed.”
“Yes, he probably did.”
“Whaa…”
He grinned. “Just pulling your leg. At any rate, you are totally exonerated in his death.”
So, I was no longer under suspicion on both sides of the border. Yay, that, but I wanted to know more. How did Jeff get all this information? Hugging him instead of asking, I managed to hold back my curiosity for the moment. Not-talking does not come easily to me.
He didn’t hug me back, but instead held my hand and looked into my eyes. “Becky, as you already know, you are also cleared of any potential charges up here. You will have to apologize to a judge in Texas, in person, but you are officially a free woman.”
“Oh, just go ahead and shoot me. A Texas judge? I’d rather eat spiders.”
“Could be worse, you know. It could be a Texas jury. You did, after all, marry a foreigner.”
We both had a good belly laugh. Absorbing this sudden turn of fate lifted the huge black cloud that had been hanging over me for years, and as it began to dissipate, I let loose with a cascade of tears.
Jeff finally gave me that hug, then held me at arm’s length.
“Thank you,” I told him. “You have no idea how grateful I am for all you’ve done.”
He smiled. “No big deal. Now, let’s go get you that hot shower and a decent meal, okay?”
I nodded and he pulled me to standing, then led me toward a set of beachfront cottages named the Beach Village at The Del. I’d salivated over the white, Victorian-style cottage cluster every time I visited San Diego, and wanted to live there. Like forever. As soon as I could afford the grand-a-day rent.
He opened a gate into the enclave with a key card, and steered me to a cottage. As he was pushing the door open, I asked, “You hit the lottery while I was in the hoosegow?”
He gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Enjoy it while you can, Red. I used up a whole slew of Hilton points.”
“I guess.”
The one-bedroom cottage, with a fireplace and beachfront location was overwhelmingly gorgeous. “OMG, Jeff. It is fantastic. Thank you, thank you.”
“You deserve a break, Red. Now, your stuff from the van is already in the closet, so take a long soak, and I’ll rustle up the grub, okay?”
“Better than okay. I think I love you.”
He kissed me on the forehead and gently nudged me toward the bathroom. “Take your time. I’m not hungry yet, but I’ll get you something.”
Dumping every available packet of good-smelling stuff into the tub, I luxuriated in hot water until it started to cool, then moved to the shower and washed my hair. Swaddled in a cushy bathrobe, I finally left the steamy bathroom to find a dinner cart waiting.
Picking up the heavy cover on the entrée, I breathed in the heavenly aroma of a grilled fillet minion and baked potato. A dark fog bank that had been hanging off the coast was moving in, chilling the air outside, but inside the fireplace warmed the room.
“Jeff, where are you?” I called out, but didn’t get an answer.
I was too hungry to go search for him, so I inhaled the meal, washing it down with a rich merlot. I was finishing off a flourless chocolate torte topped with fresh raspberries and dusted with powdered sugar, when there was a discreet tap on the door.
Pulling my robe tighter, I opened it to find our concierge. “Miss Haskamp, this is for you,” she said, handing me an envelope. “Is there anything you need?”
“Not right now, thank you. Maybe later. Just a moment…” I turned to go find tip money, but she anticipated my move.
“Gratuities are all taken care of. Mr. Smith was very generous.”
Mr. Smith? Sensing impending doom and gloom, I fell into an overstuffed chair in front of the fireplace, took a large gulp of that great Merlot, and tore open the envelope.
Chapter Sixteen
My Dear Red,
I know it sounds corny, but you have changed any previous perceptions I had of what it means to be happy with someone. Even though we faced serious threats together, I never once doubted your innocence, or intentions. I can’t say that about anyone else in my adult life. I have fallen in love with you, but our time is not right.
Given the past five years of your life, I admire your resilience, but also realize that you need time to pick up the pieces. You have been through a great deal for a long time, and I sense and appreciate your reluctance to jump right into another relationship.
I’ve been too wrapped up in work to consider what I really want in life, which I’m now certain is to meet someone like you. Timing sometimes stinks. Thank you for the past few days, and our
great adventure together.
The rental car is yours, paid for as long as you need it. Just turn it in wherever you settle. Scruffy’s spa bill is paid, as well. That dog’s digs cost almost as much as the Hotel Del, but he’s worth it. He’s a great dog and I know you’ll take good care of him, and him you. You need him right now as much as he needs you, so it’s a win-win.
You’re surely wondering how I managed to get inside to see you at the border, and how I found out about everything concerning your legal status both here and in Mexico, but it will have to suffice that I called in some favors.
I won’t lie to you, I am going back to work for Muffin’s dad. They know nothing of our run for the border and I will make certain it stays that way.
All the best to you and Scruffy. I wish things were different, but like you always say, it is what it is. Love, Jeff
I stared at the letter in disbelief for a few seconds, shook it violently and hollered, “All the best to you and Scruffy? Jeff, you sorry SOB! Even Barry had the cojones to say goodbye in person.”
Balling up the note I launched it at the fireplace, which I luckily missed since it was gas fired.
I was stung dumb, mainly because he dumped me by letter, because I knew he was spot on about the timing part. It really wasn’t right.
To be perfectly honest with myself, I wasn’t all that ready to jump out of the fire and into an unseasoned frying pan, myself. And the adult part of my shell-shocked brain told me I had simply over-reacted to danger-based hot passion fired by close proximity and no small amount of alcohol. In a romantic setting, to boot.
Real life had started again when I crossed the border. It was time to pull on my big-girl panties and get back to reality.
However, my jejune side dissolved into angry tears, and a Texas-sized lust for revenge. It was she who summoned the concierge and ordered a hundred-dollar bottle of red wine, Chateaubriand, the largest lobster in the kitchen, and an entire chocolate torte. Blowing Jeff’s money was the only payback within my limited power at the moment.
Baja Get Away Page 10
