Bird Brained (16 page)

But the crowning moment was when we tramped up to the second floor, passing a bedroom whose door was flung wide open. I stopped and stared in open-mouthed wonder as my attendant continued to sway down the hall.

An enormous bed lay nestled in a frame shaped like a huge pink conch shell, a leopard-skin fur tossed across its length. But even more bizarre was the lifelike leopard that sat guarding the room. The cat gazed dreamily off into space, its neck encased in a jewel-studded collar that Cartier would have killed for. But there was something odd about the feline. I moved in closer for a better look, only to realize the cat was no fake but the real thing, taxidermied into a lifeless figurine.

I felt a tug on my elbow and turned to find the Speedo stud by my side.

“Forget it, nature girl. You’re definitely not Elena’s type.”

That was just fine with me. My guide led me toward a room with a hot salsa beat pumping out the door, into a photographic wonderland. Lights popped and flashed in a series of miniexplosions, the eruptions originating from silver umbrellas locked on stands that reached for the sky. The whir of an angry hornet turned into a camera, its click a succession of rapid-fire bursts.

“That’s it, darling. Give me the bad-boy look this time, just the way I like!” purred a voice as smoky as a five-alarm fire.

Elena stood center stage in a clingy, one-piece leopard-print jumpsuit. Its plunging décolletage was capped by two heaving mounds of flesh, compliments of one industrial-strength bra. An electric mane of hair, bright as the yellow brick road, tumbled down her back. But her face was the main attraction. More precisely, a pair of full lips pursed in a perpetual pout that could easily have been X-rated. This entire package was precariously held up on a pair of fiery red, four-and-one-half-inch stiletto heels.

I was torn between paying homage to sensible Nikes, and taking a flying leap to tackle the woman for her shoes. There was no doubt that high heels did what no sneakers could. I watched Elena move with attitude, balanced on a pair of stilts which threw out her butt and emphasized her breasts, while giving her the calves of an Olympic sprinter. She was the kind of woman I’d always sworn I never wanted to be. At the moment, I would have given almost anything to look something like her.

“Ooh! That’s so hot, Ricardo. Now give me a little more smolder,” she growled. Elena emphasized the point with a slow gyration of her hips.

I shifted my attention to the muscled Adonis whose expression hadn’t changed one iota since I’d walked in.

“Yes! That’s it! Perfect!” exulted the crushed-velvet voice. “Now break loose, darling. Give me 100 percent undisguised lust.” Elena wriggled and pouted like an unsatisfied lover.

Adonis remained 100 percent undisguised stone. A subtle shift of the hips and tilt of the head was about as far as Ricardo seemed willing to go.

“That was wonderful!” Elena raved. “Take a two-minute break. You’ve earned it.”

Elena’s expression instantly changed to one of annoyance as she turned and grabbed a look at me.

“You call this a model? What are you, cuckoo?” she seethed. “Get someone else out here and tell them they’d better make it fast!”

Speedo hopped to it, running out of the room on the double.

Elena’s critique topped off an already prize-winning morning. I couldn’t decide which was worse—dealing with a slug like Carrera, facing off against a military psychotic, or duking it out with a high-heeled, unmitigated bitch.

“I’m not a model,” I said, my secret fantasy totally shot and my ego badly bruised.

“Good. At least we’re both in agreement on that,” she snapped.

Elena tossed her mane and began to swish away as my self-esteem clicked in. Checking my mental mirror to reaffirm that I looked damned good, I brought Elena’s exit to a halt by stepping in front of her, pushing out my own chest, and giving my Nikes some bad-girl, kick-ass attitude.

“I’m a federal agent here on official business. I have some questions, and I’m going to need a few minutes of your time.” I purposefully left out the key words, “U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.”

Elena’s eyes narrowed, zooming in on me like a telescopic lens. “Official business? What do you possibly want with me?”

I rolled the dice, hoping to hit a pair of sixes. “I understand you were a friend of Alberto Dominguez.”

The phrase hung in the air like the crackle of fire. Adonis sauntered back onto the set, ready for more hard-core emoting. But Elena hadn’t noticed, her brow furrowed as she contemplated her next move. I didn’t want to allow her too much time to think.

“This is important, or I wouldn’t be out here wasting my time,” I said, pressing the point home.

Elena removed the camera from around her neck and thrust it into the hands of a waiting assistant.

“We’re taking a fifteen-minute break. Then it’s everyone back to work with no more screwing around,” she barked at her coterie of workers.

Adonis checked out a series of subliminal poses in front of a full-length mirror as Elena stormed out of the room without another word. I followed hot on her sky-high heels down the steps, along the hall, and out the back door, into a tropical jungle showcasing the most ostentatious pool this side of Beverly Hills.

The pool floor was a multihued mosaic, its tiles portraying a nude Elena in all her toned glory. Equally impressive was the patio which boasted plaster replicas of Michelangelo’s David and the Venus de Milo, along with other classical nudes of both persuasions. Scarlet bougainvillea teased the senses, as did large white and pink blossoms of angels trumpet. The jungle atmosphere was made complete by banana plants, their luxurious leaves looking like a runaway herd of giant, green elephant ears.

A cottage stood at the rear corner of the property, partially hidden by a flotilla of palms, with an old man sitting outside its door.

“That’s Miguel, the caretaker for the grounds,” Elena said airily. “He’s been with my family ever since I was a little girl in Cuba. He can no longer keep up with all the work by himself, but we allow him to live on here.”

Elena headed over to a wrought-iron table which held a delicate gold and black tin, along with a lighter. She flipped open the tin’s lid, her fingers hesitating as they floated above a row of diminutive cigars, studying each as carefully as if she were choosing from an array of tiny torpedoes. Having made her decision, Elena plucked one out and placed it between pursed lips. A perfectly manicured red nail flicked the wheel of the lighter, and a spark of fire seared the air. The flame rose up and caressed the tiny smoke, which she enthusiastically sucked on with the abandon of a porn star.

I followed Elena to a group of lounge chairs. I had just begun to sit down when I caught sight of the leopard posed by her side. I jumped back up, wondering if everyone in the neighborhood was stark raving mad, only to realize this was yet another taxidermied cat. The feline was a near perfect twin to the one that guarded her bedroom, down to its collar of jewels.

Elena sniffed, as if able to smell the tail end of my fear. “This is Geraldo. He likes being kept out in the sun.”

I was tempted to ask if his twin’s name was “Rivera,” and inquire as to why he preferred the shade, when a tickling sensation started between my shoulder blades.

I turned around and saw a man slowly walking toward us, his stride exuding power and feline grace that filled the very air with electricity. The man’s jet black hair, pulled back into a ponytail, was the type I’d always dreamed of having. Long, silky, and perfectly straight. I’d gone through my formative years with frizzy red hair that had made me feel like a cousin to Bozo the clown. An elegant mustache brushed his upper lip, but it was the dark, smoldering eyes that were the clincher, their gaze capable of melting the steel lock on the strongest of chastity belts.

Elena’s voice broke the high beam of tension that pinned me against the lounge with the force of a straitjacket. “This is my brother, Ramon. Sorry, but I seem to have forgotten your name.”

“Rachel Porter,” I managed to croak.

Ramon bent over and picked up my hand, never allowing his eyes to leave mine. I had to work hard to wrench my gaze away, focusing instead on the cigar lightly gripped between his teeth. Big mistake. I now found myself mesmerized as Ramon parted his lips, so that the cigar lay perfectly balanced, as if offering itself up in total surrender.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Raquel.” His voice rolled over me like a pool of warm caramel drenching my senses, and his lips grazed the back of my hand.

This guy was
soooo
good.

“My name’s Rachel,” I corrected him. My guess was that the man was practicing his own form of mind control, with me as the latest guinea pig.

“Raquel suits you better. You don’t mind if I call you that, do you?” he murmured.

The warmth of his breath tangoed across my skin, his fingers seducing my hand with a slow, sensual release. He lightly stroked the length of my palm, my fingers, and finally my very fingertips, sending my entire body soaring into a radioactive tingle.

The guy was oozing charm like an oil slick, and I could feel myself heading for a full frontal fall. I made a supreme effort to gather my wits, and the sight of Elena rolling her eyes careened me back into hard-core reality. This guy was a master of the old hook, line, and sinker routine. I decided to get down to business before I forgot why I’d barged in here to begin with.

“I understand that Alberto Dominguez was a friend of yours,” I began. “I’m sorry to have to tell you that he was found murdered on Sunday night.”

“We’ve already heard,” Ramon replied. He took a seat on the end of Elena’s lounge chair and lifted her feet, placing them on his lap. Then he carefully removed each of her shoes and tossed them next to Geraldo. “Do you have any leads yet as to who the killer could be?” His hands slowly massaged her toes.

“Not yet. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you,” I said, beginning to feel uncomfortable.

“Feel free to ask us anything you need to know.” Ramon’s voice was as soothing as a scoop of soft ice cream on a hot summer’s day. “We’re both very upset over what has happened and will do whatever we can to help find whoever did such a horrible thing to Alberto.”

Elena was silent as a sphinx.

“Why don’t you start by telling me how you knew him,” I suggested coolly.

Ramon’s face glowed as if a match had been struck from inside. “The Cuban community is very tight here in Florida. We’re all like one big family, with our weddings and births, baptisms and deaths. Even our feuds flow naturally, tying together our lives. But with Alberto it went even deeper than that. We’d known him since we were small children together in Cuba.”

Elena’s expression was a portrait of sadness.

“In 1960, a year after Castro took over, both our fathers fled the homeland together, taking their families with them.” Ramon’s eyes burned as bright as twin shooting stars. “As children, we looked upon our escape as a game, an adventure in which we were the heroes who would one day return to set Cuba free. Though that hasn’t yet happened, it creates a bond for all exiles that can never be broken. That’s what we had with Alberto.” He finished, giving Elena’s foot a final slow rub.

The stillness was shattered by raucous bird cries. I looked up to see a pair of Quaker parrots perusing the scene from a nearby tree.

“Were you and Alberto involved in any kind of business together?” I asked.

Elena skewered me with her eyes. “Federal agents don’t usually work with the local police. What agency did you say you were with?” she asked suspiciously.

I took a deep breath, aware that the jig was up. “I work with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.”

“What?” Elena exploded. She jumped to her feet, knocking Geraldo over in the process. “What the hell are we doing wasting our time talking to you?”

Ramon picked up the leopard and positioned him so that the cat now sat facing me. I could have almost sworn I heard the animal growl. Then he reached up and grabbed his sister’s hand, gently pulling her back down to his side.

“Raquel, let me ask. If you’re not with the police, why are you involved in this case?” All the while, he stroked his sister’s hand.

“I knew Alberto because of the nature of his business,” I carefully replied. “I went to his house on the night he was murdered to discuss something he was helping me with. When I walked inside, the first thing I saw was that all his birds were missing. After that, I found Alberto’s body.”

“So, you’re the one.” Ramon solemnly nodded, as though I’d just passed some sort of secret test.

Elena held tightly on to her brother, unwilling to let me into their club. “That still doesn’t explain what right you have to come here and question us. If you’re not with the police, then what happened is none of your business.” Elena and Geraldo glared at me in perfect stereovision. “Or are animal officers after bigger game these days than chasing stray cats and dogs?”

I smiled, determined not to let a woman dressed like an overgrown feline get the better of me. “You must have me confused with your local animal control. Alberto was involved with smuggling endangered birds into the country. Those birds are missing, along with his others, which leads me to believe that a business rival could be responsible. I’m investigating his death from that standpoint.” I shot Elena a pointed look. “And don’t worry; I have every right to be here,” I lied.

“As I said, we’ll be glad to help in any way that we can,” Ramon warmly reassured me.

Dressed in cream-colored linen pants, a loose, pale yellow shirt, and tasseled loafers made from the very softest leather on his sockless feet, he looked as casually confident as only someone with plenty of money could be.

“Are you a photographer, as well?” I inquired.

Ramon gave a dazzling smile. “Oh, no. There is only one great artist in this family. I’m merely a simple businessman.”

“That’s not true at all,” Elena intervened, her voice set on slow burn. “My brother is every inch an artist. He’s known throughout the world for producing the best cigars anywhere outside of Havana.”