Chocolate Cherry Cheater Page 4

  “What do they say about Jake?” I asked, not nearly as confident in my ability to help as Fernanda was.

  She shrugged. “Stuff.”

  Sometimes I forgot Fernanda was a teenager. I wondered if her clipped answers were as helpful as my one-word retorts had been to my parents years ago.

  Martha nodded. “Christina mean girl. She always make trouble for Jake.” She shooed us out of her kitchen, and Fernanda filled eight coffee mugs while I raided the display case for our favorite pastries. Chocolate-stuffed eclair for Abuelita, strawberry sprinkles for Tia Rosa, Boston cream for Sylvia, raspberry jelly for Jake, pumpkin spice for Adi, vanilla glaze for Gus, caramel cocoa crispy for Fernanda, and for me… Asking me to choose a favorite pastry was like asking me to choose a favorite book or song. Impossible. So, I went with another chocolate-stuffed eclair. You can’t go wrong with chocolate and whipped cream.

  We sat around the tables, and after a bite of melt-in-your-mouth pastry bursting with sweetened, frothy cream and topped with silky chocolate decadence, I was ready to face the fallout. I was also eyeing Sylvia’s Boston cream doughnut. Lord knows I’d burned enough calories to justify a second doughnut. Especially when it practically winked at me.

  Sylvia began the inquest. “Okay. Tell us everything that happened.”

  Gus wiped the glaze off his fingers to pull out a tape recorder and notepad. “Sorry. Official business,” he said.

  “Fair enough,” said Sylvia, adding, “We have nothing to hide.”

  Jake detailed everything he had done from the time he’d woken up that morning until we started down the trail at Lake Quilotoa.

  Adi’s knuckles were white where she gripped her coffee mug when Jake talked about our encounter with Christina. “What an infeliz!”

  When Adi’s hackles were up, her feisty Latina came out. Infeliz was a good word to describe Christina. She was unhappy, and she made all of us unhappy too.

  Adi continued, “She was a pro at making herself look better by putting others down. She’s a wicked, malvada cabra infeliz.”

  “Wicked, unhappy goat” sounded so much worse in Spanish than it translated to in English.

  Gus asked, “It appears that whatever went down happened at the lagoon, then. Were you together the entire time?”

  In unison, Abuelita, Tia Rosa, and I said, “Yes!”

  At least Jake had that going for him.

  Gus visibly relaxed, only to tense again when Jake said, “No, we weren’t.”

  I broke the stunned silence that fell around the table. “Yes, we were. We walked down the entire trail together, ate Sylvia’s picnic — which was delicious, by the way — and took pictures until Abuelita’s donkey ran away with Lady on its heels, and we chased after them. I sat beside Lady at the top of the trail until you opened up the Jeep to air it out, but I was there the entire time.”

  Abuelita jutted out her chin. “See? Jess remember.”

  Jake ran his hand through his wavy hair. “It’s true we were together most of the time. But remember? I went to buy something to drink while you waited on the trail.”

  My stomach dropped. I didn’t want a second doughnut anymore. If only I’d have gone with him to the store. It hadn’t been that much farther to walk.

  Gus tapped his pencil against his notepad. “How long were you gone?”

  Jake scrubbed his hand over his face. “Probably ten to fifteen minutes.”

  As quick as a hummingbird dive-bombing a flower, Abuelita reached over the table for the recorder.

  But Gus was faster.

  “You erase that,” she demanded.

  Gus pulled the recorder away from Abuelita’s reach. “Look, I respect Jake’s honesty. It will go a long way in establishing his credibility, and it just might help us find out what really happened.”

  My heart sank along with Jake’s airtight alibi.

  Chapter 6

  I didn’t need my alarm clock to wake up the next morning. (Shocking, I know, but hardly surprising given the circumstances.)

  I stayed up way too late scanning family pictures for Abuelita. She had decided she wanted digital copies of her albums, and she needed them now. I suspected an ulterior motive, but she blamed Facebook for her urgency. Her kids’ and grandkids’ baby pictures were way cuter than the ones her peers posted, and she intended to make sure everyone agreed with her. Looking at pictures of Jake when he was little only made me feel worse for him.

  I started my work day early, turning up the music on the radio to drown out my thoughts and taking my frustration out on the dough. By the time Martha showed up at the shop, I already had several batches raised and ready to fry.

  She understood me at a glance. “Work is good when sleep no come,” she said, glancing at the blaring radio but kindly keeping the volume up.

  By opening time, the cases were full, and we had several dozen backup doughnuts to decorate as needed.

  Singing to myself, I went out to the front of the shop and rolled up the security door to open for business, my phone ringing at the same time my jaw dropped.

  Martha came out and froze beside the counter.

  I held my phone up to my ear but couldn’t utter a word.

  Fortunately, I didn’t need to. It was Sylvia.

  “Can you believe this?” she asked.

  I peeked down the street to Sylvia’s restaurant. She opened her doors the same time I did, in time for the breakfast crowd. Instead of our usual mix of intrepid tourists and local regulars, a street full of protesters held up signs that said “Justice for Christina.” Some of the posters had pictures of Jake surrounded by a red circle slashed through the middle.

  Finally getting my tongue to work, I said, “All we need to do is hold tight until Washo gets here.”

  “You’re right. He’ll take care of everything. I’d better call my mom before she attacks them with her paint gun and makes more trouble. And I need to talk to Jake. Make sure he’s okay. Oh, Washo just got here. Talk to you later,” Sylvia said in one breath.

  “I’m on my way,” I said, hanging up and slumping in relief until I realized I had to brave the wrath of the angry marchers to get to the restaurant.

  I charged outside before I lost my nerve, bumping into Adi on my way. Looping our arms together and ducking our heads down, we bolted through the crowd and into her family’s restaurant. It was empty inside — much like my shop — except for Washo, Jake, and Sylvia.

  Sylvia ran into the kitchen, coming back with a feast which she spread over our table.

  “I’m a stress cooker,” she explained, taking a seat beside Washo.

  I thought of all the dough I’d kneaded that morning and empathized.

  Adi smiled weakly. “I designed a gown last night. If she approves the drawing, I have hours and hours of hand sewing in my near future. It’ll give me something to do when I can’t sleep.”

  I sighed, the restless night catching up with me. “I spent all night scanning pictures for Abuelita, and I’ve made enough doughnuts to last all day.” With the crowd marching outside, I doubted I’d sell any of them. But I didn’t say so aloud. Jake didn’t need me to make him feel worse than he did.

  He pressed his hands against his temples. As long as my night had been, his had been longer.

  Focusing on the positive side, I said, “Look at us being productive.” My comment sounded lame, and I regretted it the moment it came out.

  Washo patted Jake on the shoulder. “I’ve already gone over everything Gus sent me. I’ll be honest, it doesn’t look good, but that doesn’t mean the truth will stay hidden. I called the store at Lake Quilotoa hoping to confirm your presence in the store with their security cameras.”

  I sat forward in my chair, cheering Washo’s cleverness. I hadn’t even thought of security cameras.

  As soon as the silver lining shone a rosy glow around the cloud looming over us, Washo rained on my parade. “Except, they don’t have security cameras. It’s frustrating, but I still have a few other angles to
explore. We’ll sort this out and clear your name so fast, you’ll forget this ever happened. Eventually.”

  That was almost as lame as my productivity comment. I looked at Adi. She looked as incredulous as I felt.

  Sylvia sat back in her chair. “I knew we could count on you. I can’t thank you enough, Washo. It means the world to have true friends right now. Friends who know Jake would never hurt that girl.”

  Washo’s phone rang, and he looked at the screen with a scowl. “Please excuse me. I have to take this. It’s the boss.”

  The hair on my arms stood on end. I knew who Washo’s boss was. General Bolivar. He and I had butted heads before, and it made me nervous he had chosen that moment to call.

  “Agent Vasquez, report on your current location,” General Bolivar boomed loudly enough to overhear.

  Washo closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against his forehead like he’d suddenly developed a pounding headache. “I’m in Baños, sir.”

  “What are you doing there?”

  “Eating breakfast.”

  I grinned at Washo’s cheeky retort.

  The general didn’t sound like he was in a good mood when he said, “I received a phone call from Señora Cabrera late last night. I normally don’t take personal calls or stoop to the whims of civilians, but her daughter was a respected public figure with the backing of a large channel in a major city. She can do our department a lot of damage if we don’t handle this case with the utmost delicacy.”

  That was an awful lot of words to say that the general was afraid the news would make him look bad.

  Washo answered, “That’s why I drove over to Baños first thing this morning. I’ve already read over the initial reports—”

  “I’m sending in Sanchez,” General Bolivar interrupted. “I won't expose our department to criticism when you’re too close to the main suspect.”

  “I’ll find the real killer quicker than Sanchez.”

  “You're already biased. Do you have any proof to eliminate Jake Jimenez as the primary suspect?”

  Washo didn’t answer.

  “I didn’t think so. You’re off the case, Agent Vasquez.”

  Washo didn’t give up so easily. “Let me stay on with Sanchez. I have more contacts in the area because of past cases I’ve worked.” His eyes flickered over to me.

  He could just as easily have said because of me. It’s not that I looked for trouble. It just seemed to find me.

  General Bolivar shot him down. “Unacceptable. I have an assignment for you in Esmeraldas.”

  Esmeraldas was on the coast — about as far away from Baños as you could get without crossing a border.

  “Sir, I—”

  “Agent Vasquez, let me put this to you clearly. If you value your career — your life’s work — at all, you will accept this assignment immediately and leave Sanchez to sort this mess in Baños out. Now, I am a busy man, and I will not put up with insubordination. Are we understood?”

  “I understand,” Washo said through gritted teeth.

  I understood, too. General Bolivar was a power-tripping jerk who loved to boss people around. Words could not describe the intensity of my dislike for him. No free doughnuts for the general. Ever.

  “Good. They expect you at the military base tonight.” His final order given, the general hung up.

  Washo looked at his watch and groaned.

  Sylvia snapped, “He can’t do that.”

  Jake said, “He just did, Mom. I won’t have Washo lose his job over me.” Looking at Washo, Jake said, “You have to go. It’ll take you all day to get to Esmeraldas from here.”

  Washo reached over and held Sylvia’s hand between his. “I would be no use at all if I pit General Bolivar against you and lose my influence. Agent Sanchez is highly … capable. And I’ll do my best to find out what I can through the channels still available to me.”

  Of all the words he could have used to describe the agent, he had used capable? I narrowed my eyes at him. “What else can you tell us about this Sanchez guy?” I felt like he was leaving something important out on purpose.

  Washo chuckled, a reaction that didn’t exactly fill me with confidence in his replacement.

  Washo thought for a few seconds before replying, “Look, Sanchez is the biggest jerk I know. Don’t expect to make friends, but you couldn’t ask for a better agent to handle this case. I mean that.”

  I still sensed there was a lot Washo wasn’t telling us, but Sylvia looked like she was about to cry, so I kept my questions to myself.

  Kissing Sylvia’s hand, Washo said, “I’d better leave now if I’m going to make it to the base before tonight. It’s a long drive.”

  Sylvia pulled her hand away and crossed her arms. “I hate this.”

  I did too. What were we going to do without Washo?

  Washo stood, speaking softly and giving her an apologetic look. “You know how to reach me. Give Sanchez a chance.”

  He left, and I felt like some meanie had pulled my safety blanket out from under me.

  Chapter 7

  Jake squeezed Sylvia to his side. “Don’t be angry at Washo, Mom.”

  Sylvia pressed her hands against her eyes. “I wanted him to choose us over his job. It would be nice to be first choice for a change.”

  Adi wrapped her arm around her mom’s waist. “You would feel horrible if you were the reason Washo lost his job. Just because he’s not here doesn’t mean he’s abandoned us.”

  Sylvia lowered her hands to cross her arms. “It did with your father.”

  Jake scowled. “Washo is nothing like our father.”

  I tried to make myself as small as I could amid this family discussion. I knew Sylvia and her ex had divorced many years ago, but I didn’t know what had caused the rift between them.

  Sylvia looked at me. “I’m sorry, Jess. I don’t mean to burden you with our family drama. My ex didn’t like the slow pace of small-town life. He didn’t like kids. Of course, he didn’t think to tell me this until after we married. He thought that if he settled down, he could learn to enjoy family life. He just never did. Me and the kids became a symbol of everything he thought he was missing out on. As soon as he considered the kids big enough not to need him, he left.”

  “In all his self-righteous glory. It would have been a kindness for him to leave sooner,” hissed Adi.

  Jake stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked down at the ground, his jaw twitching and his lips pressed into a thin line.

  I couldn’t imagine having a parent who didn’t want me and made me feel like a hindrance. My parents included me and my sisters in everything. There wasn’t one business trip or exposition we didn’t go to together. The school district had a fit with all the schooling we missed to travel with them, but my mom used the budget cuts to the arts programs in her favor and made sure we never fell behind in classes, so it worked. Never did I doubt that they wanted me around because they went out of their way to include me.

  Sylvia motioned for Jake and Adi to sit back down. Rubbing her arms, she said, “I was competing with his career, and he didn’t choose me. I won’t let it happen again.”

  “His stupidest decision ever,” Adi said, reaching up to squeeze her mom’s hand.

  Jake’s phone rang just then. He peeked at the screen.

  Sylvia said, “You’d better take that. We have to continue on as best as we can.”

  Jake ran his hands through his hair as he held the phone up to his ear and turned away to talk. I had a sense whoever it was bore bad news.

  I glanced back outside and was happy to see Gus trying to calm the crowd outside. I nudged Adi and pointed to him.

  She smiled. “He’s a good guy. If only he’d ask me out already…”

  Her smile faded when Jake hung up the phone.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  Jake’s bright green eyes flashed up at her. “I’ve been asked not to come into work today. I have been temporarily relieved.”

  Adi’s jaw
dropped. “You were fired?”

  Jake answered, “It’s not as bad as that. There were a bunch of people protesting in front of the office. It was putting the tourists off. I’m bad for business right now.”

  Adi bolted up, slamming her fist into her hand. “I’m going over there to give your boss a piece of my mind. After everything you’ve done for him…”

  Jake shook his head. “Don’t bother, Adi. I don’t want you to get into trouble because of me. Things will calm down eventually like they always do.”

  A ruckus in the kitchen which silenced us out in the dining room. It sounded like pots and pans falling all over the floor. Just as we stood in mass to see what was going on, Abuelita charged through the swinging door wearing fishing waders and holding a duct-taped garden hose with rubber gloves.

  Jake mumbled, “I’ve been looking for those boots,” as if seeing his grandma wearing them was an everyday occurrence.

  Abuelita ran through the dining room. “No worry! I help!”

  Planting her feet wide at the front door, Abuelita shouted behind her, “I ready, Rosa! I aim! Fire!”

  She braced herself … and waited.

  Abuelita provided such a spectacular sight, she caught the attention of several of the protesters. They pointed at her and laughed.

  Irritated, Abuelita shouted louder than she had before, “Fire, Rosa, fire!”

  Again, nothing.

  Sylvia relaxed her shoulders and sighed with her hand over her heart. “That was a close one. Can you imagine how they might retaliate if Abuelita hosed them down? We’d come out looking like the unfeeling, bad guys.”

  She stacked empty dishes on top of each other and had made her way to the swinging door when the water came.

  Abuelita drenched the protesters, who screamed and ran in circles.

  Adi, Jake, and I bumped into each other, not really knowing where to go or what to do when the noise in the kitchen was louder than the protesters’ screams and Abuelita’s laughter outside.

  Sylvia stepped inside the kitchen as Tia Rosa came out, wearing a raincoat and hat and waving a roll of duct tape. “I fix it, Bertha! I use the miracle tape!”