Murder on the Equator Box Set Page 4

  "You get lost. I go with you," said Abuelita, pulling her apron over her head and putting an end to my entertaining thoughts.

  The room went quiet. I didn't know where Maria's house was, so I obviously needed someone to go with me. I just wasn't sure how I felt about Abuelita being the one to volunteer. She scared me a little.

  She charged out of the room, stopping at the swinging door. "You come or what?"

  Hastening over to her, I followed as she marched through the restaurant and out to the sidewalk.

  "Does Maria live close?" I asked.

  "She live on other side of town."

  "Should we get a taxi?"

  "We walk."

  “It is not far, then?” I hadn’t had time to change out of my flip flops and didn’t know if my toes could handle anything more than a few blocks.

  “Baños small town.”

  Okay then. Her curt answers didn't encourage conversation, but it felt awkward walking beside her as she marched down the road. People moved out of her way to bump into me as we passed.

  Without the distraction of conversation, I took the opportunity to look around. Baños really was a charming town, nestled between verdant mountains and a river at the bottom of the ravine. Every house had a garden, and the air smelled sweet with flower blossoms and something more potent. Not flower sweet. I looked around and found a man pulling taffy with his hands, stretching it out and slapping it against the wood door frame where he wrapped it around a peg to pull again. He ripped off a piece and offered it to me.

  "Toma," he said.

  “You take,” Abuelita translated, pausing only long enough to toss the words over her shoulder.

  "For you," he added, when I hesitated.

  "Gracias," I said to the man, then ran to catch up with Abuelita before I lost her.

  I popped the taffy into my mouth. It was warm and gooey, and so very good. I'd have to buy some to take home as gifts. Jayden would love it.

  Abuelita startled me when she spoke. “We have good candy, but I like cake. We no have good cake. Is too dry.”

  I remembered Adriana’s comment about the Twinkies. If Abuelita’s weakness was baked goods, I wasn’t ashamed to use it to stay on her good side. “I might be able to help you with that.”

  “You bake?” I could tell from her tone of voice that I had moved up in her estimation.

  “I love to bake, but I try to avoid it because of the calories.”

  Abuelita stopped, looking me up and down. She poked me in the stomach and pinched me in the arm before I could react. “You look like woman. You be proud. How I suffer with Adi…,” she clucked her tongue and resumed her march down the sidewalk. “She so skinny!” She threw her bony hands up toward the heavens as if being thin was some horrible sin.

  “Bertha!” called a gentle voice from the other side of the street.

  Abuelita grabbed my arm, pulling me. “Quick or she see us!”

  “Yoo hoo! Bertha!” repeated the voice.

  “I think she already did,” I said, looking over my shoulder to see a round, elderly woman with short, curly, gray hair poofing around full cheeks and pink horn-rimmed glasses that magnified her eyes. She looked like a cute, little barn owl with poodle hair and I instantly liked her.

  Abuelita glared at me. “You too slow. Now she come with us.”

  The sweet, older lady joined us. I was only five foot five inches, but she barely reached my shoulder. Stuffing the empty plastic bag she held in her pocket and clasping my hand between hers, she said, “My name Rosa. I first sister. You call me Tia Rosa, okay?”

  “You old,” grumbled Abuelita.

  “And more wise,” agreed Rosa without losing a beat. “I go with you. You Jessica, yes? You tell me about you, okay?” she patted my hand, and we continued walking as she asked me questions.

  The sidewalk opened up to a large park complete with basketball courts and a miniature soccer field. There were trees for shade with benches under them. Kids swirled around on a tire swing, screaming in delight. There was a line for the slide, and a cool-looking zip line that took off from the top of a castle and ended in a dirt pit. It looked like fun. If I was fifty pounds lighter and fifteen years younger, I would have been all over that. I wondered if the park would be empty early the next morning…

  Abuelita bumped into me as a pack of dogs burst past us, heading toward the crowded park. "Ay, caramba!" she exclaimed, wobbling to gain her balance and stepping on my sandaled feet with her thick heels. Ignoring the stabbing pain in my foot, I reached out to help her, grabbing her by the shoulders and holding them steady before she fell in the pea gravel surrounding the play area.

  "Stupid dogs," she complained.

  “It take one for to know one,” Tia Rosa mumbled.

  The pack of growling dogs circled around and lunged at a trembling puppy in the center of the group. A whimper escaped the poor animal.

  Abuelita tugged on my arm. "Come. We leave, they no harm anyone."

  But they meant harm to the scrawny dog trapped in the middle of the circle they’d formed. I guessed she was a female from the pink collar hanging loosely around her neck. She was just a puppy, her large feet and floppy ears dwarfing her emaciated body.

  A male dog three times her size lunged at her, nipping her on the ear.

  I filled my hand with tiny rocks. Hurling them at the dogs, I shouted, "Leave her alone!" Grabbing another handful, I pelted the mangy animals with gravel, scooping up more to have ready. The cowards ran away, leaving the poor, shaking dog alone.

  The little pup stood in place, too scared even to move. Dropping my voice, I said, "It's okay now, little lady. You'd best go home now." I waved my hands slowly in front of her to shoo her away without scaring her more than she already was, and my heart broke when she flinched. Wherever her home was, if indeed she still had one, they hadn’t been nice to her. They didn’t feed her well either. I could count the ribs beneath her fur. Had she not been wearing a collar, I would have assumed she was a stray.

  "That stupid," Abuelita said, bursting my humanitarian bubble.

  "Why? They were tormenting a defenseless dog. They were acting like bullies, and I couldn't not do something about it."

  She shrugged her shoulders, nudging her chin to something behind me. "You make friend. Now friend follow you and you have to feed it."

  Sure enough, the little pup sat in the shade of my shadow, her pink tongue hanging out of her mouth and her large, brown eyes looking up at me in adoration. It was hard not reach down to scratch behind her perky, black and brown ears, but I restrained myself. I was only visiting. It wouldn't be fair to get a pet only to leave her in a month.

  “You no heart, Bertha. She sweet puppy!” Tia Rosa reached down and the puppy gently placed a paw in her hand. “And she smart! She shake my hand like young lady.”

  "Let's go! Maybe she no follow,” said Abuelita.

  “You don't think she belongs to someone, do you?" I asked, doubting such a skinny dog could have a home — collar or not.

  Abuelita harrumphed. "I no like animals. They make mess in kitchen."

  Tia Rosa said, “I love animals, but I no have room.”

  Once we passed the park the neighborhood deteriorated. Paint chipped off the sides of the houses, the yards I could see through the tall fences weren't well-kept, and kids played barefoot in the middle of the street.

  Three men hovered around the hood of a yellow cab at a mechanic’s shop, sipping beer they poured from a giant, brown Pilsener bottle. I recognized one of them. Bad Tattoo Guy. He frowned when his two buddies whistled at us as we passed, but their harassing calls were drowned out when two police cars with sirens blaring and lights flashing sped past us, their tires screeching as they made a hard left up a narrow alleyway between a store advertising beer and ice cream and a place offering massages.

  Abuelita and Tia Rosa looked at each other.

  "Maria live up little street." Abuelita pointed at the alley the police cars had disappeared into.<
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  We walked slowly to the end of the alley, the little dog trotting behind us. The lane opened up wide enough for a car to turn around in, and at the end of it were two houses with the police cars parked on either side of a black Audi SUV. I couldn’t tell which house the police had gone into. They must have been in a hurry.

  I, of course, chose the wrong house — the one that looked like it had people in it.

  "No, not that one. That is where Martha, sister of Maria, live."

  “Really? Do they have a brother named Lazarus?” I couldn’t help myself.

  Tia Rosa giggled. “Martha has son name Jesus.” She leaned into me and we both laughed.

  Abuelita didn’t share in our biblical joke. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot.

  Trying to be serious, I commented, "It’s admirable they live so close to each other. They must be a tight-knit family."

  As much as I loved my sisters, I would not like to be their neighbor. Jessamyn was way more social than I was and didn't understand how I could possibly prefer to spend a night in with a good book and a cup of tea when I could go out and party with her. And Jessenia would drive me nuts with her attempts to impose her demanding housecleaning routine on me. She believed in dusting and vacuuming every single day, while I sometimes went all day without making my bed. The shame!

  "Pshaw! They fight always. Is bad live too close with family," said Abuelita.

  I looked at her askance, wondering if I dared mention that she lived with her daughter, near her grandkids and, most likely, very near her sister.

  She beat me to it. Pointing her finger at me, she said, "I know what you thinking. Children are different. Brothers and sisters," she waved her finger back and forth while clucking her tongue, "they no should live so close."

  Tia Rosa puffed out her chest. “If you no like to live next to me, you can move.”

  “I no move. I bought house first.”

  Breaking them up before we drew the police’s attention, I suggested we ring the buzzer at the gate. Tia Rosa pressed the button and Abuelita shoved her aside to lean into the intercom.

  When the door buzzed loudly, I jumped back. A policeman with a machine gun like I’d only seen in the movies opened the gate and shouted at us.

  "Let me do talk," Abuelita said, as if I was capable of doing anything other than listen.

  Abuelita stretched herself up to all of her five feet in heels and lit into the man with the gun, slapping the barrel away from us as she did.

  "Abuelita!" I exclaimed.

  "It no dangerous. They no have bullets … most of time."

  Oh great! I was staying in a town where the police carried guns with no bullets? Not that I would feel much better if they did. However, if Abuelita knew his gun wasn't loaded, surely criminals knew it too.

  Abuelita seemed to have everything under control, but when she went silent and turned to me, I felt the blood drain from my face.

  "What happened?" I asked.

  Tia Rosa answered. “Maria dead.”

  Abuelita nodded her head gravely. “Murder.”

  Chapter 5

  I felt like I’d had the wind knocked out of me. Maria was murdered? Sinking my hands down to my knees, I tried to calm the spinning in my head.

  Abuelita jumped away from me. "I polish shoes this morning," she explained. They were shiny.

  "I'm not going to throw up. I just don't feel very well and I'm a bit dizzy. It's not every day someone I know is murdered in their own house. I mean, I just saw her an hour and a half ago. I listened to her and José fight most of the way from Ambato to Baños, and it’s shocking to know she’s gone." I looked up at her through the hair falling over my face, puffing it away to see her better.

  A cell phone beeped and the officer guarding the door answered it. When he tucked his phone back in the holder looped around his belt, he widened his stance, thus communicating his resolve not to let us in. I didn’t need to know Spanish to understand his body language.

  Using his gun to point to me (which decidedly did not help calm my frazzled nerves and roiling stomach), he said something to Abuelita of which she nodded in approval. Turning back to me, she translated, "He no permit us inside. Is violent crime, and they call Dinased agent.”

  “Violent? Dinased?” I tried to focus on her words instead of the bile stinging my throat.

  “Dinased special…” she wiggled her fingers and looked up to the sky.

  “Detective,” supplied Tia Rosa. “Dinased special detective division of police. They investigate crimes very violent.” She looked down her nose at her sister, an impressive feat considering she was an inch shorter than Abuelita (sans fluffy, gray hair).

  Abuelita grumbled. “Now you think you English more good.”

  “My English better,” replied Tia Rosa, growing in self-importance (if not in height) at her improved vocabulary.

  “Jessica tell us,” demanded Abuelita. Crossing her arms and tapping one of her polished heels, she asked, “Who speak better English?”

  The sisters looked at me to judge. That was a fight I was smart enough to stay out of. As the professional conflict manager in my family, I knew that if I took sides, the senseless bickering would never stop and I would come out the loser.

  “Please, I feel sick. Can we sit?”

  Abuelita smacked her sister across the arm. “She sick and you fight.”

  “You fight too!”

  “Please, ladies!” I begged, clutching my stomach as I let go of my knees to stand.

  Abuelita looped her arm through mine, jabbing me in the ribs with her bony elbow. “She like me more than she like you.”

  Really? Were we in kindergarten or something?

  Tia Rosa took my other arm, gently patting my hand. “We see about that.”

  Abuelita squinted her eyes at me, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. She looked back at the officer guarding the house and then back at me. Pinching her lips together and rubbing her chin, she was the picture of a woman deep in thought. It was disconcerting.

  I wished she would say something. Anything. All I wanted at that moment was to go home and forget all about Baños. Or travel in general really. So far, aside from meeting a few nice people, travel had not been kind to me. In fact, I rather thought it held something against me.

  "I have idea. Come," Abuelita said, already on the move and walking toward the metal door next to Maria's house. With a loud knock, she shouted, "Martha!"

  Tia Rosa explained in case I hadn’t remembered, "Martha is Maria's sister.”

  Abuelita added, “The police tell nothing. I ask Martha."

  A teenage girl with black and blue striped hair opened the rusty door.

  "My mom is in the kitchen," the girl said in a monotone, turning her back and leading us into the house.

  Oh good, someone else who spoke English. Not that I didn't trust Abuelita or Tia Rosa to translate well enough, but I had a growing suspicion that they left out what they didn't consider important enough to repeat. The officer hadn’t needed to point his gun at me only to inform us that a special detective was working the case.

  The girl took a seat in a living room full of people. She rolled her heavily Kohl-lined eyes at them before plunking down on the plastic covered couch.

  Abuelita said, “You stay with Fernanda. Rosa come with me.”

  When Tia Rosa didn’t follow her immediately, Abuelita added between pinched lips, “We give condolence to Martha and use bathroom.” Her eyes darted toward the back of the house.

  My fear that there was more going on than met the eye was confirmed when Tia Rosa lit up like a light bulb in understanding of her sister’s hidden agenda. “Ah! Yes, the bathroom. I drink tea and need bathroom. Bertha drink coffee and need bathroom. We go to bathroom.”

  Abuelita grimaced. I did too. It was a bit overkill. “They know where we go! Less talk, more walk.”

  They bickered all the way to the back of the living room and disappeared through the first open doorway.


  Not knowing what else to do, I sat down next to Martha’s daughter on the plastic-covered furniture. It squeaked and made all sorts of rude noises as I tried to get comfortable on the extra firm cushions. Seriously, I may as well have sat on the hardwood floor for all the coziness the couch offered. The plastic was the cherry on top.

  Feeling awkward and very much like an outsider, I asked the teen, "What’s your name?"

  "Fernanda." Without making any attempt at eye contact, she pulled out her smart phone and tapped her black fingernails against the screen.

  I tried not to stare at the crowd of assembled people, at second glance mostly kids younger than Fernanda, scattered on the other side of the room facing the TV on the back wall. Someone sitting in a chair with toddlers crawling along the cushions played a violent video game. Definitely not something I’d allow my nephew, Jayden, to watch. I cringed and looked away when blood splattered against the plasma screen. Ew. Kind of inappropriate under the circumstances…

  A few adults milled about the room, talking and drinking from plastic cups.

  I identified the owner of the fancy SUV parked outside. He was as out of place in the room as his car was outside. He wore white golf shorts and a Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned low enough to show off his chest hair. He held a Panama hat with a leather headband in his hands. Both of his little fingers had thick, gold rings with a sparkling jewel in the middle. His black hair was slicked back Grease-style.

  Fernanda heaved a bored sigh, pulling my attention away from the other people in the room. Why wasn't she crying? Why was nobody crying?

  I gave her a few minutes to say something, but when she showed no signs of engaging in any sort of conversation, my curiosity eventually won out. "Your English is very good. Where did you learn?"

  With a huff, she looked up from her cell phone. "They teach English at school here. In case you haven't noticed, Baños is full of tourists and it’s in our best interest to speak fluently."

  Smart Alec. Fine. I guess the direct approach was the way to go with her.

  "I had noticed. I understand you were not very close to Maria. She was your aunt, right?"