Filled with anger, Matthew forced himself to put one foot in front of the other as they marched down the side of the mountain. He didn't know where they were going, and it no longer mattered. At that moment he vowed that wherever they ended up, he'd seize the first opportunity. He'd kill JoaquAn first, Cerdo second.
Whoever else he could take with him would just be gravy.
Chapter 53
I'd wanted to sleep on things, but that night was fitful. I needed three million dollars. Time was short and options were limited. I could go the legal route and be stonewalled by the insurance company. Or I could ply quick and dirty money from Guillermo and worry about the consequences later. Problem was, Guillermo, too, had stonewalled me on my visit to Nicaragua.
By morning I'd settled on a new angle.
I knew from my visit to Nicaragua that Guillermo's wife spent six months a year in Palm Beach. According to Lindsey, that was the reason she hadn't known Guillermo was married. I wasn't sure I completely believed her on that, but he certainly could have led her to believe that he wasn't happily married. The important thing was that with just an introductory phone call from me that morning, ViviEn Cruz had agreed to a noon meeting at the historic Breakers Hotel in Palm Beach.
Mrs. Cruz? I said, approaching her at poolside.
She was reclining in a chaise longue, wearing a bright yellow bathing suit that set off her dark suntan. The suit was cut high at the hips, giving her shapely legs the illusion of even greater length. She sat up and removed her designer sunglasses, revealing a face much younger than I'd expected. There were a few telltale lines at the eyes, but it was still clear that Guillermo had not married his high-school sweetheart.
My, don't you look like your father, she said, smiling. You must be Nick.
We shook hands, and she settled back into her chaise. I sat in the deck chair facing her, the hotel in the background. The Breakers was a beautiful old hotel that evoked the grandeur and style of the Italian Renaissance, its impressive towers, ornamental stonework, and iron balconies inspired by the Villa Medici in Rome. The manicured croquet grounds were adjacent to the pool, and the ocean was just a short walk east, beyond the seawall. Aside from the usual old money, it catered to a wealthy international clientele - Arabs, Germans, and, evidently, pretty wives of rich Nicaraguans.
Something to drink? she asked.
No, I'm fine.
I'd say you're extremely fine, but you still must be thirsty. She signaled to the waitress, who headed off to the bar for two of whatever ViviEn had been drinking.
The extremely fine remark seemed calculated to rattle me, but I let it go. I visited your husband in Managua a couple of weeks ago.
Oh, how's he doing?
You haven't talked to him in two weeks?
She drew a deep breath, thinking. Let me see no. We've played message tag, but I don't think we've actually caught each other. She sipped the last of her drink. Has he helped with your father?
At first he was a big help, especially on site in Cartagena right after the kidnapping. Less so as of late.
I would have expected Guillermo to be right in the hunt.
Honestly, I haven't asked him to do much.
Don't be shy. I'm sure he'd be happy to do whatever you asked.
I'm a little nervous about asking.
Why?
I paused, measuring my words. I've had some discussions with the FBI. Seems the bureau doesn't have a very high opinion of your husband.
No kidding.
The flip response took me by surprise. Would you like to hear what they told me?
Why not? I suspect that's the reason you're here.
They think he's sitting on a fortune in illegal money. From the looks of where you hang around on a typical weekday afternoon, I'm almost inclined to believe them.
Don't be fooled. Guillermo's a cheapskate. I don't even have a membership here.
Then how do you get in?
She glanced at the muscular young lifeguard posted at the entrance to the pool area, then looked back at me. Let's just say I give a great back rub.
That's probably more information than I needed.
She smiled, as if enjoying the shock value. I'm not bragging. Just being honest.
Being totally honest, what if I were to tell you that the FBI thinks your husband is hiding drug money to the tune of about ten million dollars?
She laughed, as if it were ridiculous. He's been dodging those accusations for years.
I'm hoping they're just accusations.
Guillermo came into a lot of land after the revolution. He also found himself in a nasty divorce with his first wife. Every time he sells a piece of real estate, she's supposed to get half. It's a game they play. He makes a sale, he won't give her the money, she calls her lawyer. Then the race is on. He starts moving the money around from company to company, from bank to bank, trying to hide it like well, like a drug dealer. It usually ends with her going to the DEA or FBI, threatening him with trumped-up drug charges that never pan out.
The waitress brought our drinks. Gin and tonic with lemon. I sipped mine lightly, since it was a bit too early in the day for me.
I'm surprised my dad would let him move that kind of money through the fishing company.
Between you and me, he does it without your dad even knowing it. The plain fact is, your father is a minority shareholder. Guillermo can do whatever he wants.
Just so long as whatever he wants doesn't include drug dealing.
No way. He would never.
But he would try to cheat his ex-wife out of the money she's legally entitled to.
The woman's a bitch.
She's also the mother of his eight-year-old son and six-year-old daughter, right?
What's your point?
I'm simply trying to get a feel for what he would or wouldn't do for money.
Specifically, what?
The question stuck in my throat, but at this stage of the game I couldn't be subtle. Did you know that it was Guillermo who sent my father to Colombia?
No. But I don't see how that matters.
This wasn't a random crime. The kidnappers knew that my father had kidnap-and-ransom insurance, and we think he was targeted for that reason.
Are you asking me if my husband set up your father?
I'd love you to convince me that he didn't.
She took another one of those deep breaths that seemed to help her think. Seems to me that the issue isn't whether Guillermo sent your father to Colombia. The key question is: Who knew that your father had insurance?
Are you saying that Guillermo didn't know?
Her expression turned serious. I'm telling you that he did know.
How can you be sure?
I was sitting at the same table the day they discussed it.
Where?
Right here in Palm Beach. Back in August we met here for a Sunday brunch. Your poor mother had the worst morning sickness I've ever seen. On her third sprint to the bathroom I guessed she was pregnant. Your dad confirmed it but swore us to secrecy, since they hadn't even told you or Lindsey yet. Anyway, that's when Guillermo suggested he should look into kidnap-and-ransom insurance. A bit of friendly advice. A good thing for a new family man to have.
You mean he bought insurance on Guillermo's recommendation?
Actually, your father said he already had it.
I did a double take. Technically, my father's telling anyone was enough to void the policy, but as a practical matter it seemed reasonable for Dad to have shared that information with his own partner. Did he mention the amount of coverage?
A lot. Like three million.
I looked toward the pool, sorting things out in my own mind. This doesn't exactly lower my suspicions about your husband.
Did you expect me to lie for him, stand by my man?
Maybe.
I'm through coming to his defense. I know he was sleeping with your sister.
My eyes shifted toward the lifeguard she'd pointed out earlier, the one who got the great back rubs.
She said, He's a symptom of my marital problems, not the cause. I was faithful to Guillermo.
I sensed genuine anger in her tone. I hadn't planned to be so blunt, but I saw an opportunity. Do you think Guillermo set up my father?
We all have our theories about what happened.
What's yours?
A married, fifty-year-old Casanova's obsession with his business partner's twenty-something-year-old daughter. Two people were standing in the way of their getting together. Guillermo sends me to Palm Beach and sends your father to Colombia. So long as the shops are open on Worth Avenue, he knows I won't be headed back to Nicaragua anytime soon. Getting rid of your father was a little more complicated.
I've talked to Lindsey. I think you're reading way too much into her and Guillermo.
Are you sure? she said, challenging me.
I looked her in the eye but didn't answer. She smiled thinly, seemingly satisfied that she'd made her point.
Neither of us can be sure of anything, can we, Nick? We weren't there.
I was staring blankly, not really watching as she applied more suntan lotion to her thighs. I suppose not, I replied.
She capped the tube of lotion and said, Anything else I can help you with, honey?
Not unless you have three million dollars you can loan me.
She leaned back and closed her eyes to the burning sun. You're so funny.
Yeah, I said with a sardonic smile. I kill myself.
Chapter 54
You and Alex shared the same apartment? asked Jenna. We were having dinner together, our first opportunity to regroup since my return from Colombia. Over a glass of red wine and an appetizer of steamed mussels, I'd told her all about the trip, and she'd asked intelligent questions. This last one had seemed to leap from her lips, as if she'd finally figured out the sleeping arrangements.
It's a big place, owned by one of her friends, I said. Alex had one room, I had another.
You don't have to explain.
I feel like I do. You asked.
I'm sorry, I shouldn't have. I'm your co-counsel, not your whatever.
The waitress brought us more baguettes, then smiled and said something in French as she left. Le Bouchon in Coconut Grove was one of my favorite bistros. It was a cozy place with wooden tables and chairs, Tour de France posters on the walls, and tasty French food at prices that even a guy who was hard up for three million dollars could afford.
Does she ever ask about me? asked Jenna.
Who, Alex?
Yes. She must think it's strange, your ex-fiancEe helping you.
Mmm. She's never really said anything.
Jenna smiled knowingly. You're such a bad liar.
I smiled back. Okay, it might have come up.
What's her take on it?
I sipped my wine, tore off a piece of bread, brushed the crumbs away. Basically I was stalling, wondering how she'd feel if I were to tell her that Alex's first take on Jenna and me was that I'd never really loved her.
She definitely had the wrong idea about us at first, I said vaguely, knowing how completely wrong Alex had been. But she has a much better understanding now.
What does that mean?
She thinks it takes a pretty special person to step up and help me the way you have. And so do I.
Our eyes locked for a moment, then a moment longer. It had been months since I'd looked so deeply inside her. It could have been awkward, but it wasn't.
The waitress politely interrupted and took our plates. Jenna looked away, and by the time the waitress had left, so had the moment.
Tell me about Guillermo's wife, she said.
Uh, sure, I said, stumbling as I shifted gears. Once I'd refocused, it took only a few minutes to fill her in.
When I'd finished, she asked, Are you going to go after him?
How do you mean?
You were suspicious of Guillermo before you met his wife. The only missing piece in the puzzle was whether Guillermo knew for a fact that your father had kidnap-and-ransom insurance when he sent him on that trip to Colombia. Now you know.
It still bothers me that in court the insurance company pointed the finger at Lindsey, not Guillermo.
Maybe they suspect a lovers' pact. Daddy didn't approve of the May-December romance, so they got rid of Daddy. While they were at it, they split a three-million-dollar insurance policy with the thugs they hired to kidnap him.
There's no way Lindsey did that.
She took a little more wine, then said, If you're sure of that, then maybe you'll like my new idea.
What is it?
First you have to tell me that you're sure about Lindsey. Because if we go this route and it turns out your sister isn't squeaky clean, you could end up sending her to jail for a very long time.