Cappuccino Twist (10 page)

“And what about the girl?” He continued in a booming decibel.  “Do you have her cornered? Oh, so she’s cooperating?” A lengthy pause followed his question.  A minute later, Detective Mendez drawled, “Well good, it’s about damn time.”

Slipping the phone into his pants pocket, he said triumphantly, “We’ve got a confession.”

“From Jorge?” I probed.

“No, from his daughter, Jacinta,” he replied with satisfaction.

“Jacinta? But she’s too young to have been involved with any of this!” I had only gotten a glimpse of the woman when she wouldn’t let me into her
mansion, but just from that one look I knew she couldn’t be more than my age.

“Not too young to have written and delivered those threatening notes.  Of course, all at the urging of her father,” Detective Mendez explained.

“It was Jacinta who wrote those notes?” I marveled, sitting back in my chair.

“Yes, she confessed to it about an hour ago.  The cops had her surrounded at her palace,” he sneered.  “But Jorge got away.  For now.”

“What else did she tell the cops?”

The detective’s face morphed into somberness and compassion again. 
“She told them who murdered your aunt.  And your mother.”

“Who?” I whispered, although I felt almost 100% sure that Jorge, Sr. had killed my aunt and Jorge, Jr. had murdered my mother.

“Not surprisingly, Jorge, Jr. murdered your mother.  But, according to Jacinta, it was Mrs. Canton who murdered your aunt Silvia.”

“Mrs. Canton?”

“Yes, the wife of Jorge, Sr.  Jacinta’s grandmother.”

“So Jorge, Sr. was married at the time that he was dating my aunt?” I asked doubtfully, recalling how my grandmother had specifically designated him as Aunt Silvia’s boyfriend.

“He was indeed married.  And running around with several women.  Your aunt Silvia was the unlucky one who the jealous wife found out about and subsequently murdered.” Detective Mendez poured himself another cup of coffee.

“And he probably lied to my aunt Silvia, telling her he was single,” I surmised.  “What made Jacinta reveal all this now?”

“Who knows? A guilty conscience for keeping these filthy family secrets all these years.  Or maybe fear.  It’s not every day that a spoiled rich girl encounters a pair of police officers in her castle.” Detective Mendez shrugged, clearly unconcerned with
how
the information had been obtained.  To him, and to me, the crucial detail was the fact that the information had been secured at all. 

“But what about Jorge, Jr? Do you think he could make it out of Barcelona?” I asked wearily.  Nothing would gratify me more than to visit the reptile in prison and stare him down like hunted prey…the way he had made me feel.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” the detective seethed.

“And will
Jacinta be going to jail?”

“Of course,”
he replied, triumph creeping back into his voice.  “She won’t serve a whole lot of time, most likely, if she cooperates with the prosecutor’s office once this mess goes to trial.  But she committed more than one crime.  Harassment, terrorist threats, and conspiracy for starters.”

“Good.  Let the whole family rot in jail.  Except for Mrs. Canton, right? I mean, is she dead?”

“She is dead.  Unfortunately, we can’t bring her to justice, but I’ll bring her son to justice if it’s the last thing I do,” Detective Mendez swore.

His cell phone rang again as he hastened to answer it.  “Yeah? What now?”

I sucked in a nervous breath as Detective Mendez went silent and listened to the caller.  An irregular heartbeat later he murmured in a tone of pure astonishment, “Are you sure? That can’t be possible!”

Chapter 12

Outrage rocked the detective’s frame as he compressed his jaw and listened to whatever shocking news the caller was conveying.  I looked at him, trying to read his expression like tea leaves and coming up empty.  All I could discern was that he looked to be on the edge of a violent outburst.

Still reeling from the knowledge about what happened to my mother, I wanted to curl up into a ball and cry until my tears evaporated.  I felt doubly betrayed regarding my mother: first because she had been physically robbed from me and second because my memories of her had always been tainted.  I had spent all of my teen years despising her and thinking she had consciously left me.  If only I had known that in reality my sweet mother had been lured to her death by Reptile Eyes.

Finally, Detective Mendez set his cell phone on the table, bolting out of his chair and pacing the room.  “I can’t believe I have to give you more bad news!” he fumed.

“Nothing could be worse than the news you’ve already given me,” I said honestly.

Taking a seat across from me, he sighed roughly before speaking.  “Jorge Canton, Jr. has just committed suicide.  He drove his car into the Besós River a short while ago.” Before I had a chance to react, the detective’s phone was ringing again.  Practically foaming at the mouth, he answered the call.  “Yeah? What now?” He punched the table with his fist.  “All I know is that there better be a body.  Make sure you recover a body! I don’t want that bastard playing magician and trying to escape prosecution.  Either he’s dead or he’s in prison.  But he’s not going to walk the earth as a free man anymore!” Detective Mendez slammed the phone down on the table, swearing under his breath. 

“What a coward,” I whispered in disgust.  “He couldn’t stand the thought of leaving his palace and going to prison, so he killed himself.  What a pathetic coward.”

“Scum of the earth,” Detective Mendez added. 

“And they haven’t recovered his body yet?”

“They’re working on fishing his car out of the river.  But his body will be in a morgue by sundown.  I’ll make sure of it.” Detective Mendez jumped out of his chair and retrieved a chain of car keys from his pocket.

“Are you going down to the river?”

“Yes.  I’m going to make sure this thing gets done right.” Shelving his fury for a moment, he put a gentle hand on my shoulder and said, “Go back to your hotel room.  Like I said before, you need rest.  You’re a very courageous young woman.  If you hadn’t come to Barcelona, these crimes never would have been solved.”

“I guess that’s true,” I said softly.

“It is true.  And you put your own life on the line to do it.  I don’t even want to think what would have happened if Canton had gotten to you.”

“Neither do I.” A shudder
afflicted my bones.

“Now there’s nothing else for you to do…
except move on with your life.  But that may be even harder than anything else you’ve done so far,” he predicted wisely.

“That’s for sure,” I replied, standing up and strapping my purse around my shoulder.  “These murders never would have been solved without you either, Detective
Mendez.  I’m very grateful for your help.”

Shaking my hand warmly, he promised in an ice cold tone, “I’ll notify you when they recover the body.”

***

Back at the Flores Inn, I crashed for a few mindless hours, watching TV without paying attention and nibbling on a small sandwich without really tasting it.  Detective Mendez had called me shortly after I got back to my room to announce that the body had indeed been recovered and was on its way to the medical examiner for positive identification via dental records.  I had thanked him again for his tenacity in the case before hanging up and trying my best to push all this morbid stuff out of my head.

Thoughts of having breakfast with Eduardo helped to ward off my melancholy as I finally got up from the bed to pick out my clothes for the next morning.  Since arriving in Barcelona, my wardrobe had consisted of nothing but drab tee-shirts and pants.  For my date with Eduardo, I wanted to sparkle from the inside out, so I selected a strapless yellow sundress
with a white floral pattern.  Holding the dress against my body in front of the mirror, I already felt happier.  Grabbing a bottle of nail polish out of my make up bag, I painted my nails peony pink. 

As soon as the sun set, I was ready for sleep.  Closing my eyes, I imagined the faces of the three women in my family smiling down on me. 
Vividly, I could see Nana’s sage, wrinkled visage and the smooth, forever young faces of Aunt Silvia and mama Angelita.  Intuitively, I felt like they were telling me to let go.  To accept that their murderers would never spend a day behind bars and find justice for them in some other way.  As I drifted off to sleep, I silently promised all three beautiful ladies that I would find a way to honor their memories.  Every day of my life.

***

As I slipped my feet into a pair of high heel beige sandals, a knock sounded at the door.  Checking the peephole just to make sure it was Eduardo, I flung the door open, ecstatic to see his handsome face in the morning. 

“Wow. You look amazing,” he marveled, looking me up and down in my yellow sundress.

“Thank you,” I said with just the tiniest hint of shyness. 

“Hope you’re hungry for a big breakfast.” He smiled weakly at me as I knew he was under my spell.  I silently vowed to permanently ditch the ugly shapeless garb and wear svelte sundresses on every future date with Eduardo.

He clasped my hand in his as we strolled out of the Flores Inn. 
Rays of sunlight kissed our faces as we crossed the street to an intimate bistro on the corner.  I longed to tell Eduardo everything I had learned, but I didn’t want to ruin the romantic atmosphere.  Biting my lower lip, I contemplated just revealing a little bit of what had transpired.  The news about my mother was far too heavy for a breakfast conversation and deserved the respect of waiting until a more appropriate time.

“Reptile Eyes is dead,” I announced casually, shocked at myself for how much I enjoyed uttering the words.

“What?” He exclaimed, pausing outside the door of the bistro and giving me his full attention.

“It’s too complicated to get into right now, so let’s just say that the world---and
my
world---is a much safer place without him.”

“So it
was
him who was stalking you and writing those notes?” Eduardo asked protectively.

“Yes and no,” I evaded.  “He also had his daughter helping him to terrorize me, but like I said, it’s a complex story.  Let’s just enjoy our breakfast.” I grabbed the handle to the bistro door, but Eduardo placed his hand over my wrist so I couldn’t open it.

“Are you okay?  I feel like there’s a lot you’re not saying right now.”

“There is.  And I’m not okay right now.  But I will be,” I said, trying to wriggle my wrist out of his strong grip.

“Well, I’m here anytime you feel ready to tell me that complicated story,” Eduardo reassured, lifting my hand off the door and squeezing it inside of his.

“I will tell you.  But not right now.  Right now, I’m starved.  And I really need a cup of coffee!” I suddenly felt
faint in my state of caffeine deprivation.

“Coffee coming right up.  They make awesome cappuccinos here,” Eduardo said, releasing my hand and finally letting me open the door.  “And now you don’t have to worry about anyone staring at you.  Well, except for me that is,” he said with a crooked grin.  “If it’s okay with you, I’m not going to stop staring at you, Marlena.”

“It’s more than okay with me,” I said huskily, gliding into the bistro ahead of him and feeling brighter than a shooting star as my dress sparkled in the sunlight.

Epilogue

8
Months Later

Madrid, Spain

Since that first shared sip of cappuccino, Eduardo and I had been out on countless coffee dates---none of which had taken place at Dario’s oppressive shop. Cups of rich coffee, glasses of smooth wine, and bowls of sweet flan had formed the cornerstones of our foodie relationship.  Now officially a couple, we made the move from Barcelona to Madrid where I had initially applied for a work visa and launched a search for a sales job at an international company.  I went on over a dozen interviews and was flattered with two job offers---neither of which I accepted.  Why should I hand over my business skills to a company that has a glass ceiling?  Why shouldn’t I just work for myself and let my earnings be limitless?

The answers to those two questions were simple: I shouldn’t work for someone else; I should work for myself.  My ordeal in Barcelona had set into motion reservoirs of strength that I never knew I possessed.  I felt like for the rest of my life, I would be working to make my mother, grandmother, and aunt proud.  I would live the kind of life that none of them ever had the chance to.  My mother and aunt because they were silenced far too soon, and my grandmother because she had
sacrificed her own dreams to single handedly raise me.  Fortunately, I had the perfect business partner who was more than willing to jump on board…

“Did the shipment of porcelain coffee mugs arrive yet?” Eduardo inquired, slipping his arms around my waist and greeting me with a kiss.

“Not yet.  But the espresso machine is here.  Direct from Italy.  Tah-dah!” I pointed to the gorgeous silver contraption that had cost a good chunk of our investment funds.  But it was a top-of-the-line Italian model, and I knew the designer machine would multiply our investment many times over.