Terror in Taffeta (23 page)

“So then tell us— I'm sorry, what was your name again?”

“You can call me … Leo.”

“So, Leo, if you're not Father Villarreal, and you're not a priest, how is it that you ended up performing a wedding ceremony last Saturday night?”

He shrugged. “It was just a job. It wasn't my idea.”

“A job?” I understood that it was a job, but since he wasn't a priest, he was horribly underqualified. “What do you mean?”

Leo tilted his head and smiled. “I am an actor. A man saw me, an American. He offered me six hundred dollars. Easy money, he said.”

“Wait, who?” said Brody. “Who paid you?”

“I don't know. He didn't tell me his name. Not his real one, anyway.”

“Okay,” Brody said. “Keep going. Why did he want you to perform the ceremony?”

“He said he'd give me a hundred dollars to do the ceremony, and another five hundred for information. He told me to get close to the family, find out some things. The wedding party, too.”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. “What were you supposed to find out?”

“He had a list of things he wanted to know. He wanted me to get them talking.”

“But why you?” I asked. “That doesn't make any sense.”

Leo shrugged. “Priests know things. People tell them things.”

I wondered what Dana had told him. Had it contributed to her death?

“Did he ask you to talk to the bridesmaid? The one who died?”

His eyes grew wide. “I had nothing to do with that!” He took a couple of steps back.

“But you did talk to her, right?”

“I've said too much.” He waved his hands at us to indicate the door was closing.

“Wait, please!” I took a couple of steps toward him. There was so much more we needed to know, but Leo was clamming up on us.

“I'm sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I'm sorry about the girl.”

What could we do? If he didn't want to talk, we couldn't hold him down and make him. We had no upper hand.

“Just tell us who hired you,” I asked, reaching out to touch his arm.

“It's too late,” Leo said, backing away. “He's already gone. You'll never find him.” And with that, he turned and bolted down the street.

“C'mon,” Brody yelled over his shoulder, as he took off after the man. “Let's see where he goes.” But we were no match for Leo. Within a couple of turns, he'd lost us. Turns out steak and margaritas are not a good way to prepare for a foot race. Winded and out of good ideas, we stood in the middle of the street. There was no use continuing our search. He could be anywhere.

My pocket buzzed and emitted a muffled ringtone. I pulled out my phone. Evan. I sent it straight to voice mail. Whatever he had to say could wait.

I turned to Brody. “What now?”

“I don't know. Want to go back to the bar and make out?”

Brody always knew how to make me laugh, even in a tense situation. “You wish. I guess let's head back home. Or whatever you want to call it.”

We didn't hurry. I wasn't anxious to deal with Evan, and besides, I was still a little amped up from the chase. I wasn't going to be able to sleep anytime soon.

My pocket buzzed again, and again I let it go to voice mail. Was he worried? Let him worry.

“Was that Evan?” Brody asked.

I nodded.

“You want to call him back?”

“Not particularly.” I set the phone to Silent and turned off Vibrate mode, too.

“C'mon, Kelsey, you can't blame the guy for being kind of freaked out.”

“You're supposed to be on my side!”

“I am on your side. But what's he supposed to think? I mean, you moved into his house and then you said you loved him.”

“It wasn't like that! You know me. I'm … affectionate. I tell you I love you all the time, but it doesn't
mean
anything.”

Pretending to sulk, Brody scrunched his face at me. “Thanks a lot.”

“Oh, stop.” I gave him a playful shove. “You're know you're my favorite. Anyway, this whole thing has been a good wake-up call. Evan and I weren't meant to be. There were lots of good reasons we broke up the first time around, and I don't need to go down that path again.”

Brody put his arm around me and squeezed. “Well, don't call it quits yet. Maybe he's calling to apologize.”

“Hmmph.” It would be great if Evan realized how silly the whole thing was, but I still wasn't sure I could forget the look on his face. Would it really be that awful if I had feelings for him?

“Anyway,
I
love you,” Brody said, drawing out the “I” for dramatic effect.

I laughed. “You know I'm not looking for anything serious, right?”

We circled the
jardín,
which was strangely quiet now that the mariachi bands had all gone home, and headed toward Evan's house. I couldn't tell if the lights were on inside, so I slipped the key quietly into the lock. No sooner had I stepped inside the door than Evan came rushing in from the kitchen. “Kelsey, thank God!”

I rolled my eyes. Look who was all serious now. “Oh, you're up,” I said breezily, handing him his flashlight.

He hugged me tightly to him. “I was so worried about you.”

I furrowed my brow, puzzled. “Really? Why? We were only gone just over an hour.” Even Brody looked surprised by Evan's sudden change of heart.

Evan walked to the door and slid the dead bolt closed. “You didn't answer your phone. I thought something had happened.”

“Something did. We found Father Villarreal. Well, not the real one, of course. We knew where he was.”

Evan looked exasperated. “But why didn't you call me back?”

Hadn't he heard me? I had really expected a little more reaction to my news. “What do you mean?”

“Didn't you even listen to your messages? Kelsey…”

“I was kind of busy chasing someone at the time. What's the big deal?”

“The big deal is this.” He walked over to his answering machine and pressed Play, and a man's muffled voice filled the room: “You need to back off and mind your own business, or you are going to end up like the dead girl.”

Beeeeeeeeep.

 

CHAPTER 23

If there was one way I definitely didn't want to end up, it was “like the dead girl.”

My stomach lurched as I pressed the Play button again. It was a man's voice, older, from the sound of it. Despite his heavy Mexican accent, his point was all too clear. He knew what we were up to, and he was more than mildly disgruntled.

But who was he? It couldn't have been Leo, whatever his real name was. If he were the bloodthirsty type, he wouldn't have run away from us like a scrawny third grader being chased by the class bully.

Goose bumps prickled my arms as I thought back on our evening. We'd been out traipsing around the empty streets of San Miguel in the dark. Had the man who left the voice mail been following us?

“First thing in the morning,” Evan said, “I want you to go to the police.”

Brody and I exchanged looks. “I'm not exactly in good standing down at the station,” I said sheepishly.

“I don't care,” Evan insisted, his voice emphatic. A vein in his temple throbbed as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. “Talk to someone different if you have to. I'll give you my friend's name, and you can ask for him. This is serious.”

Brody nodded in agreement. “He's right, Kelsey. This guy could be dangerous.”

I nodded my consent. Even if Ortiz and Nolasco weren't interested in hearing my theories about the case, they'd have to take a threat against my life seriously. I mean, wouldn't they?

We all headed off to our respective beds, pretending we'd be able to sleep. But sleep was hard to come by. The long, dark shadows in the guest bedroom took on ominous shapes, and every unfamiliar sound put my central nervous system on high alert.

I rolled over and punched my pillow into shape, trying yet again to get comfortable. This little sleepover was not at all what I'd hoped it would be. Brody was on the foldout, I was in the guest room by myself, and instead of a good-night kiss, I'd been sent off to bed with a death threat.

How serious was the man who'd left the message? Was he just trying to scare me, or was I actually in danger? My mind buzzed as I replayed the evening in my head again and again.

*   *   *

I must have drifted off eventually, because the shadows had dissipated and bright morning sunlight was streaming into my room.

In search of caffeine, I stumbled out to the kitchen, where I found Brody working on his laptop. “Morning, cupcake. You missed Evan, but there's coffee ready for you.”

I poured myself a cup, then dumped in some cream and sugar. Maybe it was the sunshine, maybe it was just a strong case of denial, but I felt a little better this morning. “I don't suppose the fact that Evan is gone means I can skip going to the police station?”

“Nope,” said Brody, closing his laptop and sliding it a few inches away. “I promised him I'd make you go first thing.”

“All right, all right.” I slurped the lukewarm brew and wrinkled my nose. How long had it been sitting in the pot? I stuck my cup in the microwave and pressed some buttons until it started to go. It still wouldn't be fresh, but at least it'd be hot. I slumped against the counter. “I just don't want to have to talk to those detectives again.”

Brody laughed. “Yeah, especially after you compared them to a bumbling sitcom deputy.”

“Yeah, I'll try to avoid that this time.”

After getting myself properly caffeinated, I threw on some clothes and hurried to the station. I insisted Brody stay and get his work done. I'd disrupted his life enough already, and besides, I didn't need an escort in broad daylight. That's not to say I didn't look suspiciously at every person I passed on the street.

No one was paying much attention to me, though, and by the time I got to the police station, I was starting to wonder if maybe we were getting ourselves all worked up over nothing. Nonetheless, I pushed through the double doors and approached the uniformed woman who was manning the front desk.

“
Hola
. Hi. I need to talk to Officer Castillo,” I said, slipping her the piece of paper on which Evan had scribbled his friend's name.

“Porqué?”

“
Habla inglés?
I got a death threat.
Cómo se dice ‘muerte'
 … threat?”

The desk clerk creased her forehead in disbelief and looked me up and down. “Really? Why?”

Now, why was it so hard to believe that someone wanted to kill me? “Could you just—?” I pointed at her phone to indicate that now would be a good time to use it.

She not-so-subtly rolled her eyes and picked up the receiver. “Okay,
momento.
”

I settled into a plastic chair as she rattled off some Spanish into the phone, then hung up. “Okay. Wait there. Someone will be with you eventually.”

“I'll wait,” I said, scrunching down in the seat to show my resolve.

After about ten minutes, my phone started ringing from inside my purse. The woman at the desk flashed me an annoyed look as I fished it out of the side pocket and checked the caller ID.

Tamara Richardson.

Again.

She had left me a couple of messages, but I hadn't had time to call her back. I gestured to the clerk to let her know I'd be right outside, then braced myself with a plastered-on smile I hoped would convey enthusiasm over the phone line.

“Hey, Tamara, what a coincidence. I was just about to call you.” Okay, so I wasn't, but I felt bad that I'd been ignoring her.

“Kelsey.
Finally
. I've been trying to reach you. I was worried you might be dead or something.”

“I'm so sorry, Tamara. I'm sure Laurel told you, but I'm dealing with … a family emergency.” I glanced in through the doors to make sure no one had come to retrieve me, but the lobby was empty and the clerk was absorbed with some paperwork on her desk. I really should have been waiting inside so they wouldn't have to hunt me down.

Tamara sucked in a breath. “I hope everything is okay…”

Feeling a little bad about my white lie, I waved one hand to dismiss her concern. “Thanks, it is. I just—”

“… because my wedding is next weekend, and frankly I'm kind of freaking out here.”

For a split second I'd actually let myself believe she was worried about my well-being, but her only concern was whether I'd be back in time for her wedding. I couldn't be too offended; I hadn't exactly been giving the bride-to-be my full attention. But at the moment, I had much bigger problems than her impending nuptials.

“Tamara, don't worry: I will be there next Saturday. Meanwhile, Laurel is doing a great job of getting everything ready. And if there's anything she can't handle, I'll make sure it gets done.”

“Really?” Tamara asked, her voice hopeful.

I had won her back over. Sometimes you just have to know the right things to say to make it all better, and I patted myself on the back for possessing such a skill. “You have my word.”

“I'm so glad to hear you say that,” she gushed, “because I had the greatest idea. I was watching some really fun wedding videos online, and I want to do a flash mob!”

“That's … great,” I lied. The last thing I wanted to do was plan a flash mob. Well, the last thing I wanted to do was be stuck in Mexico investigating a murder with someone leaving me threatening messages, but planning a flash mob was second on the list.

Did Tamara really not get that an emergency usually indicates something bad is happening? I fake-smiled again to cover my irritation. “Who's going to choreograph it?”

“That's why I called you! I want you to do it!” Tamara sounded as giddy with excitement over the news she'd just delivered as if she'd asked me to be her maid of honor.