Chocolate Cherry Cheater Read online

  If I didn’t know better, I’d think that Sanchez was goading me. Like she wanted me to continue just so she could catch me doing something stupid. She would love that.

  We walked back to the shop, and with every step closer to my home, to my dream doughnut shop, it became more and more important that I not fail. This affected too many people — people who had become like family to me. If I failed, not only would I be disappointed in myself, but I would feel like I had let them down. I couldn’t stomach that.

  Pausing before the door leading to my apartment, I said, “Sanchez says I think small. Maybe she’s right. All I’ve done so far is stay here in Baños making phone calls, watching video clips, and searching on the Internet. It’s not enough anymore. I need to be proactive. I need to go out and talk to people.”

  Tia Rosa’s eyes widened. She looped her arm through her sister’s. “Where we go?”

  It wasn’t lost on me how she’d included herself and Abuelita. “We need to go to Ambato. We’ve talked to Christina’s boyfriend, but we haven’t talked to her best friend or her favorite cameraman yet.”

  Abuelita latched onto the idea as if it had been hers. “Best friend work at the station — AmbatoVision. She the best friend. She know something. She help us to catch Daniel.”

  Tia Rosa added, “Jake no can leave the town, but Adi have the driver license. She drive us to Ambato. She happy to help for Jake.”

  United in purpose, like the three musketeers, we went up the stairwell to Adi’s apartment on the second floor.

  I knocked. Abuelita walked in.

  Jake sat on a stool at Adi’s large design table covered in shimmery satin. One eye squinted, he looked up at us as we walked in, poking his finger and dropping the crystal bead he’d been trying to thread.

  Shoving the fabric away, he reached for the box of Band-Aids open beside him. That’s when I noticed how many he wore. Poor guy. Obviously, sewing was not in Jake’s line of expertise.

  He said, “If I get blood on the satin, Adi will kill me.”

  I tried to control my smile. What was sweeter than a brother helping his sister sew a pretty dress? “Where is Adi?” I asked.

  “She had a fitting to do at a client's house.”

  Tia Rosa asked, “When she be back?”

  Jake looked at his watch. “I’m not sure, but it’ll be awhile yet. Her client lives in Ambato. She should be there by now.”

  Drat. I didn’t want to tell Jake what we were up to. It would only make him feel worse for not being able to drive us there. “No matter. We’ll catch her when she gets back.”

  We left Jake with the crystals and satin. Abuelita and Tia Rosa made sure Lady had enough water while I ran into my apartment to spruce up. After the embarrassment of the morning, I took a few minutes to swap my t-shirt for a nicer blouse; my jeans for a pair of slacks, and my Converse for a pair of ballet flats. Brushing my hair, I braided it, twisting the ends into a bun, and then slicking lip gloss over my lips.

  I met Abuelita and Tia Rosa up on the terrace where they threw one of Lady’s squeaky toys.

  Abuelita pointed between herself and Tia Rosa. “We discuss, and you need the car. You good driver, Jess. Why you no have car?”

  I was a terrible driver by US standards. Here in Ecuador, I probably could have opened a driving school.

  “I can’t buy a car right now. We’ll have to take the bus. You don’t have to come along if you don’t want to.”

  Abuelita waved her hand. “Shop no busy. I bored. We come.”

  Tia Rosa exhaled. “The bus.”

  The way she shook her head and sighed repeatedly didn’t make me want to take the public transportation any more than she did. But what choice did we have?

  “Oh, come on. It’ll be fine,” I said, putting on a brave face when I felt anything but brave at the thought of spending the next hour in a crowded bus with a crazy driver racing too fast on a windy road at a cliff’s edge.

  Chapter 18

  We bought three tickets to Ambato and got on the bus. I brought my e-reader along with me, aiming to distract myself from the trip with a book. We sat on the driver's side of the bus so we didn’t have to see how close he drove to the edge of the cliff.

  It was slow going on the way out of town as the driver stopped to pick up more passengers along. That was fine with me. I’d rather go slow and make it to Ambato in one piece.

  Abuelita wasn’t having any of it. If she was going to die on the way to Ambato, she’d rather do it fast. Repeatedly, she shouted “Písale!” at the driver.

  Tia Rosa made sure I knew what that meant. “Písale mean step on it!” she said.

  I waited for the driver to put the pedal to the metal, but when I looked up and saw a long caravan of cars ahead of us in our lane, I knew something was up. The other passengers inside the bus moved over to look out of the windows on our side.

  Abuelita elbowed her way to the front of the bus where she gave a good chewing out to the driver.

  As much traffic as crowded our lane out of Baños, there were absolutely no cars in the oncoming lane. Even I wondered why the driver didn’t just pull out and pass the speed ball holding up traffic.

  Abuelita came back with a big frown on her face.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Is a race. Is why they close one side of the road.”

  Tia Rosa clapped her hands. “I love the race! You remember, Bertha, the day we race the motorcycle?”

  Abuelita sneered, “We win.”

  Of course they had. A mental image of Abuelita and Tia Rosa riding a motorcycle bigger than both of them filled my mind. I could have entertained myself for quite a while with the images it provoked, but when the first soap box car whizzed past our window, I did like everyone else and watched.

  Some of the soapboxes were made out of recycled parts and patched together with wire and duct tape. Others were more sophisticated with nuts and bolts holding the brightly painted panels on the sturdy frames. Nobody wore helmets, but they all wore wide smiles.

  Tia Rosa and I pressed our noses against the bus window while Abuelita’s complaining intensified. In all fairness, we were crawling down the road slower than the soapboxes zooming past us. She grumbled, “Is the only road. Why they use the only road?”

  Tia Rosa tsked her. “Why you no sit down and enjoy?”

  Vendors, taking advantage of the cars stuck in traffic, lined the highway. They offered everything from fried fava beans to coconut milk, and ice cream to full lunches packed into plastic containers.

  I bought Abuelita a berry ice cream and a bag of flaky pastry sweetened with honey to placate her. It took us three times longer than normal to reach Ambato, but she was in a much better mood after inhaling her sugary treats.

  I had plenty of time to read and Tia Rosa was thrilled when the bus driver put a soap opera on the bus’ TV — The Yearning of Lola’s Heart.

  Ambato is famous for its delicious bread, and I was determined to see if the hype was justified. A woman sold fig sandwiches outside a bakery. The combination of fresh, yeasty bread and figs stewed in melted cane sugar and cinnamon sticks and cloves made my mouth water. The bread was as soft as a cloud and the salty cheese nestled between the freshly made roll and the crispiness of the stewed fig felt like a firework display of flavors bursting over my tongue. Ambato deserved its reputation for its bread. It was delicious.

  By the time we reached downtown, businesses were reopening after their lunch hour (which usually stretched out to two hours).

  AmbatoVision was housed in a six-story building that also advertised a dentist on the fourth floor, a lawyer on the fifth, and a karate school on the sixth. The television station occupied the first three floors.

  A large guard wearing a bullet vest and a baseball cap opened the glass door for us. He politely asked where we were going and escorted us to the receptionist’s desk in front of the elevators when I gave him Carolina Castro’s name.

  The receptionist sighed when sh
e saw us, appearing miffed because our presence meant more work for her.

  She picked up her phone and jabbed at the number keys, her fingernails clacking against the plastic. She asked, “What’s your name?”

  “Jessica James. Carolina doesn’t know me, but—”

  The receptionist held up her finger and talked on the phone. Almost immediately, she hung up, not even looking up to say, “I’m sorry. Carolina is busy and can’t talk to you.” She fiddled with her mouse and rapidly became engrossed with whatever was on her computer screen.

  I bet she was playing Spider Solitaire.

  I turned around to leave, irritated we’d come this far for nothing.

  A guy in a suit breezed by, leaving a trail of cologne in his wake and receiving a friendly wave from the receptionist. His slicked back hair and swagger reminded me of my main suspect.

  Spinning on my heel, I turned back to the desk. I wouldn’t give up so easily. “What about Daniel de la Calle? He gave me his card and told me to contact him,” I said to ensure she knew I had been invited there.

  The receptionist wrenched her eyes away from her computer screen to look me up and down, doubt etched on her disbelieving face.

  I’d been scrutinized with that same look so much over the past few days, I smiled at her.

  Finally, she said, “He’s out on assignment. He won’t be back until later.”

  I still had another name. “What about Hugo Tusa?”

  The receptionist tapped her fingernails against the glass top of her desk. “He’s with Daniel. Is there anyone else at the station you wish to speak to?” she asked saucily.

  “Anyone but you. You no help nothing,” Abuelita replied.

  The receptionist couldn’t take sarcasm as well as she gave it. She motioned toward the guard.

  “I’m sorry, ladies, but I’m going to have to escort you out of the building,” he said. At least he was nice.

  Abuelita eyed him, and I could tell she was sizing him up to see if we could take him. But he was rather large.

  Temporarily defeated, we followed the guard to the door. There had to be another way. At this point, I was willing to camp myself outside the news station doors until we saw Carolina and Hugo.

  Heels clapped over the marble behind us and I heard my name. “Jessica James! Wait!”

  Chapter 19

  It was Carolina Castro. I’d seen so many pictures of her, I’d recognize her anywhere. Plus, her makeup was perfect, as was her hair. Even the head-to-toe black she wore looked stylish. She was an expert at bringing out the best in others, and she represented her profession well.

  Carolina waved the guard away. “It’s okay. They’re with me.”

  She motioned for us to follow her past the receptionist to the elevators. On our way up to the third floor, she explained her change of heart. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognize your name at first. I saw you on the news this morning. You’re helping with Christina’s case, aren’t you? You’re like a private investigator or something?”

  “Or something,” I replied vaguely.

  The third floor was the set where they recorded the news. Off to the side was a large area dedicated to wardrobe and makeup. A counter with salon chairs and mirrors with trays of makeup covered the surfaces.

  Carolina pulled two folding chairs up to the salon chair and waved for us to sit. Pointing at me and patting the big, twirling chair, she said, “You sit here.”

  I was confused. “I’m not here to get my makeup done. I just have some questions about Christina.”

  She cast me a look full of pity. “Honey, nobody around here is going to talk to you unless we do something with that pretty face. It’s why you didn’t make it past the receptionist. Plus, I need to look busy or my boss will find something else for me to do before the reporters come in for makeup.”

  Tia Rosa exclaimed, “A makeover! How wonderful!”

  I tried to share her excitement, but when Carolina reclined the seat and put a cape over me, it was all I could do not to jump out of the chair and run to the elevator. It’s not that I have anything against makeup, but with a photographer for a mom and a model for a sister, I was well aware that a news station makeup artist would cake more product on my face than I was comfortable with. I wouldn’t recognize myself when she finished, startling myself every time I saw my reflection on shiny surfaces. Washing it off would be a nightmare that would take a whole jar of cold cream. It took a lot of work to look fake.

  Tia Rosa clapped. “Is so exciting! You know, I artist too,” she said to Carolina.

  “You’re a makeup artist? Well, have your friend sit in the other chair and feel free to use the products on the counter.”

  Abuelita flat out refused, but Tia Rosa looked so happy, her rebuttals fell on deaf ears. In the end, Abuelita climbed up onto the salon chair beside mine to shush her sister.

  Carolina prepped my face, saying, “I was hoping you’d come when I heard about you on the news. You seem way nicer than that Sanchez woman.”

  “What did she ask?” I was dying to know what Sanchez knew.

  “She asked about Christina: if she had any enemies, if she was in a relationship, what she was like to work with…. You know, the usual.” Her voice sounded strained.

  “What did you tell her?”

  “That I don’t think that guy in Baños did it like the other station is suggesting. They’re just in it for the ratings because ex boyfriends make for a more tantalizing storyline.”

  “Who do you think did it?”

  Carolina looked around and dropped her voice. “My money is on either Daniel de la Calle or Hugo Tusa.”

  She pushed down on my forehead when I started up. “Relax. I’m not done yet, and you don’t want to leave here until I’ve added a pop of color.”

  “I’m sorry. I forgot where I was for a minute. Why do you suspect Daniel or Hugo?”

  She dabbed something along my cheeks, talking quietly. “Daniel is a first-class jerk who’s been using Christina to advance his own career. He didn’t love her.” She stood up, running a tissue under her eyes and sniffing. Her voice was taut when she said, “Christina deserved so much better than him.”

  It was easy to forget that while Christina had treated Jake poorly, she had friends who loved her and would miss her. Carolina missed her.

  “I’m so sorry you lost your friend,” I said. My heart squeezed in my chest at the thought of losing one of my friends to a cold-blooded murderer.

  Carolina sniffed harder and returned her attention to my face, moving up to my eyebrows. “I want whoever killed her behind bars. I want him to pay for what he took away from Christina.”

  “I do too,” I said sincerely.

  “Good,” she said, picking through her brushes and drenching a narrower one in something shimmery.

  I cringed, hoping that our conversation would reveal a clue worth me walking around looking like a disco ball for the rest of the day.

  Carolina continued, “The day of her murder, Christina had asked Daniel to meet her at the lagoon. He thought she had invited him there to celebrate, but she was going to break up with him.”

  “Celebrate what?” I asked. I needed to know how many others knew about Christina’s promotion.

  Carolina paused, then shrugged and said, “I guess it doesn’t matter now. Christina snagged the senior reporter spot at UIO News in Quito. It was her dream — any ambitious reporter's dream, really. She didn’t want to leave for the city still attached to Daniel when there are bigger and better fish in the sea.”

  That explained why Christina was so affectionate to Jake at the lagoon. She was free … or soon to be. My hackles raised at the memory of her petting Jake like he was her puppy.

  “Who else knew about Christina’s promotion?” I asked, forcing my mind to the crime. I didn’t even want to think of how many more enemies Christina would have had if more people knew. Jealousy was a strong motive.

  Carolina didn’t need to think before she answered, �
��She told three people. Her mom, me, and Daniel. Nobody else. We were sworn to secrecy at the risk of her leaking something horrible about us.”

  “Christina threatened you?” I asked, trying hard not to flinch while Carolina held an eyeliner pencil at my eye.

  She shrugged. “Can you blame her? How would you like to know for two months that you had the dream job you’ve always wanted and not be able to tell a single soul about it at the risk of losing the job? She wasn’t going to take any chances. I’m honored she took me into her confidence.”

  “So, you didn’t tell anyone?”

  Carolina raised her hand like she was making an oath. “I swear on Sephora. And with what she could hold over Daniel’s head, I’m pretty sure he didn’t say anything either.”

  “What about her mom?” I asked.

  “Who would she tell? It’s not like she rubs elbows with the networks and their employees in Baños.”

  I was satisfied. Okay, what had we been talking about… Ah, meeting with Daniel. Christina had planned to break up with him. “Daniel didn’t know Christina wanted to break up with him when she asked him to meet her at Lake Quilotoa?”

  “Nope.”

  “Could he have been so upset about it, he killed her?”

  Carolina shrugged again. “It’s possible. Although, he’d be more upset about losing his meal ticket than in losing her. She got him his job here, you know?”

  She pressed down against my forehead while she applied mascara, and I tried to stop wiggling in my chair.

  She continued, “He was such a user. He’d do anything to get to the top.”

  Maybe even kill Christina and improve his chances of snagging the spot at UIO News, I thought.

  Aloud, I asked, “What about Hugo?”

  “He’s had a crush on Christina for forever. He’s one of those creepy, silent types that watches her and never really says anything. I could tell he hated Daniel.”

  “Was he at the lagoon with Christina?”

  Carolina nodded. “He was. We both were. Hugo came along to handle the equipment, and I went for touch-ups. We knew she planned to meet Daniel there. That’s why we didn’t know something was wrong until later. We left before she did.”