Cappuccino Twist (5 page)

I tried not to stare at him as I walked away, my plans for exploring the city abandoned.  The idea of walking around Barcelona by myself no longer seemed like much fun.  Hungry for companionship and conversation, I regretted not accepting Eduardo’s offer. 
Another day it is.
  I hoped with all my foolishly fluttering heart that he meant those words.

***

Speeding past the front desk inside the hotel, I grabbed a cup of coffee from the buffet on the way to my room.  One horrid sip and I wanted to spit it out like seeds at a summer watermelon contest.  Ugh.  The coffee must have been sitting in the pot since dawn.  Why hadn’t I grabbed a real cup on my way back to the hotel?  Grabbing a shortbread cookie from the buffet to wash out the horrendous taste, I opted to take the stairs to my room.  Walking a couple of blocks around the city wasn’t enough exercise for me.  Accustomed to intense kickboxing workouts to flush out my stress in New York, I settled for a race up the stairs and a sprint down the corridor.

The magnetic key card turned green as I slid the door open and slipped inside, just a little winded from my sprint.  Plunking my purse down on the armoire, I noticed a sheet of paper lying on the carpet a few inches away from the door.  Had I dropped something on my way out
earlier?

Picking up the paper, I almost
passed out as the words computed in my head:

STILL HERE? GLUTTON FOR PUNISHMENT?

Feeling like I was about to have a seizure, I tossed the paper away from me.  Just the sight and the touch of it made me frightened.  Had someone been in my room or was someone hiding in my room still?  Hastily, I yanked the door open and ran outside, my breath more ragged than it could ever get from the most strenuous kickboxing workout.  I raced towards the elevator, afraid to be alone in the stairwell.  As the elevator plunged down to the lobby, I contemplated how the passive-aggressive note had realistically gotten there.  Maybe someone hadn’t been in my room.  Maybe someone had just slipped the note under the door.  That seemed to be the more logical explanation, but it was little comfort to me.  The fact remained that someone was stalking me and trying to bully me out of Spain.  The first note at the front desk had already deeply disturbed me, but finding another mere steps away from where I slept was beyond alarming.

Rushing to the front desk, I tried to discern the face of the clerk, but it belonged to an employee I had never seen before.  “Call the police!” I
exclaimed as he peered at me oddly.  “Please!  You have to take me seriously!  Call the police, damn it!”

Chapter 6

“Okay, please calm down, s
eñorita,” the flustered desk clerk begged as he picked up the phone and presumably dialed the police.

“Give me the phone!” I yelled, grabbing the receiver out of his hands and explaining my predicament to the dispatcher.  “I was at the station the other day.  I spoke with Officer Calderon about a threatening note I received, but he didn’t take me seriously.  Now I’ve received another threatening note, and…”

“Hold one moment.  Officer Calderon is on duty.  I’ll see if I can get him on the phone,” the nasal voiced dispatcher announced as I clenched my hands into tight fists.

“No! I don’t want to talk to him again.  I want to talk to someone who will listen!” I protested, but the dispatcher had already put me on hold.

Shoving the phone in the desk clerk’s stunned face, I clipped, “Here.  Check me out.  I’m not staying at this hotel for another minute.”

Racing to the elevator, I punched the floor button aggressively, completely
clueless about where I would go next.  But all I knew was that I had to get out of that hotel of horrors while I still could…before I came face to face with the writer of those menacing notes.  And I didn’t have time to plead with some careless police dispatcher to connect me with an officer other than the one who had virtually laughed in my face.

Inside my hotel room, I haphazardly threw my clothing and personal items into my carry-on bag, not caring what a mess I was making.  The inside of the suitcase reflected how I felt inside: chaotic, scattered, wild. 
Disgustedly, I picked the note up off the floor and placed it in a zipper compartment of my purse.  Double checking that I had my passport and credit cards, I slammed the door and hurried back downstairs to settle my account.

The clerk took my credit card without uttering a single word.  Clearly, he perceived me as insane, but I didn’t care what he thought of me.  I just needed to transfer to a different hotel, someplace where I could be more anonymous and where my stalker hopefully wouldn’t follow. 
Dragging my suitcase out into the waning afternoon sun, I rolled it up the block in the opposite direction of Dario’s Cappuccino Boutique.  Maybe my walk to work would be a little longer, or maybe I’d even have to take a bus, but I would deal with the inconvenience as long as I felt safe.

“We meet again!
  So soon!” A cheerful deep voice exclaimed.  “Hey, are you okay?  Why are you racing down the street with your suitcase?”

I looked up into Eduardo’s concerned eyes, sorely tempted to spill my whole crazy story to him right there on the street.  More than anything, I needed someone to listen to me.  Someone who wouldn’t treat me like a mental patient. 

“Are you crying?” He asked softly as I dabbed my eyes in surprise, realizing that a few salty tears had found their way to my cheekbones.  “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but maybe there’s something I can do to help you?  It seems like you’re here in Barcelona all alone.”

“I am,” I replied. 
You have no idea how alone I am
, I wanted to add.  “Do you know of a quiet hotel around here?  The guests on my floor have been throwing parties every night and I haven’t slept at all,” I lied.

“Sure, I can get you to a quieter place.  There’s a
little place called the Flores Inn a few blocks away.  My buddy’s father owns it.  The place only has about a dozen rooms, and I’m sure they’ll give you a discount if I bring you there.” Eduardo guided me towards a more serene area of the Gothic Quarter as I gratefully followed him.  Tourist traffic faded away, replaced by quaint park benches and undulating palm trees.

“Thank you so much,” I said, already feeling my system begin to calm.  Sure, Eduardo was a stranger as much as everyone else around me, but my instincts whispered that he wouldn’t harm me.  And my instincts about men were usually spot-on
.

The Flores I
nn was situated only a few blocks away, but the limestone building felt like a sanctuary in paradise.  Shaded by a lush overgrowth of trees and decorated in Mediterranean pastels, the inn beckoned to me like a lantern in a window on a December night. 

“I hope they have rooms available,” I mused.  “You said there were only 12, right?”

“Yeah, but this place hasn’t been doing too well.  It’s a little off the beaten path for most people.  So it usually has at least half the rooms available,” Eduardo said, opening the front door for me and wheeling my suitcase like a gentleman.

In spitfire Spanish, he told the old man at the makeshift desk that he had a guest to check in.  “
Muy bien
,” the white bearded man said with a smile.  “How long will you be staying with us?”

Nervously, I shifted my weight between my feet.  Truthfully, I had no idea how long I’d be checking in for.  At the hotel of horrors a few blocks away, I had booked my room for 30 days, so I figured I would do the same at the i
nn.  “I’ll be staying for the rest of the month.  At least.”

Eduardo arched a curious eyebrow as the inn owner happily accepted my credit card and gave me an old fashioned brass key to my room.  “First floor.  Only floor,” he laughed.  “End of the hall.  Enjoy your stay in Barcelona, and let me know if I may be of any assistance at all.”

His paternal presence at once warmed me and made me conscious of how much I had missed out on growing up without a father.  “
Muchas gracias, Señor
,” I breathed, feeling for the first time since touching down at El-Prat Airport that I could exhale…even just a little bit.

Turning to Eduardo, who looked like he wanted to ask me about a million and one questions, I said, “Thanks for bringing me here.  I think I’m going to sleep very well tonight.”

“
De nada
.  But it’s nowhere near bedtime.  How about having an early dinner with me?  There’s an amazing tapas restaurant a couple of doors down.”

Eduardo
’s smoldering gaze melted my resolve and I heard myself say “yes.”

“Great! Let’s drop off your suitcase and go.”

Despite the abundance of trees surrounding the inn, plentiful sunlight streamed through the windows and everything around me was bright.  Including Eduardo’s sparkling pearl smile that I tried not to fixate on.  Depositing my cumbersome suitcase in the airy room, we headed out and strolled to Tapas de Pedro. 

The menu was mouth watering, and I wanted to
sneak a taste of everything in the kitchen.  Fortunately, tapas menus were designed for the hungry sampler, and together with Eduardo I chose five different appetizers.

“Okay, so we’re ordering the garlic and chili shrimp,
Manchego cheese quesadillas, wild mushrooms with sherry, olive sampler, and tuna tartare?  Did I get that all right?” Eduardo asked as I nodded enthusiastically.

“Sounds incredible,” I answered, trying not to drool onto the tablecloth.

“
Perfecto
.  And how about a pitcher of Sangria to wash it all down with?” Eduardo suggested as I nodded even more fervently.  As much as I loved coffee, I really needed a fruity glass of wine to savor and send me into oblivion.

A waitress took our order and brought out a pitcher of Sangria with wedges of herbed bread and olive oil for dipping.  Ravenously, I grabbed a thick triangle of bread and dunked it into the oil like it was a glazed donut in a piping mug of coffee.  We munched and sipped in comfortable silence until Eduardo posed the inevitable question.

“So what are you doing on your own in Barcelona?” He made his tone sound casual, but the intense expression on his face divulged a strong curiosity.

“I’m here o
n family business,” I said vaguely, already feeling the pleasant effects of the Sangria flow through my system.

“Private family business?” He asked politely
but pointedly.

“Kind of,” I hedged, taking a
gulp of ice water.

“Okay, I know it’s none of my business---and you obviously don’t want to tell me anything---but it’s just kind of unusual for a beautiful young woman to be checking into a hotel all by herself for a month,” Eduardo observed as I internally battled not to reveal the real reason for my sojourn.

“I guess it is unusual,” I conceded in a low murmur, shoving another piece of bread in my mouth.  Then the term ‘beautiful young woman’ clicked in my mind, causing me to blush and lower my gaze.  It wasn’t often that someone other than my grandmother had called me beautiful.  Pretty?  Occasionally.  Cute? Frequently.  But beautiful was a word that I wasn’t used to hearing.

As I
ingested another piece of bread, Eduardo grinned at me and commented, “Good, isn’t it?”

“Delicious,” I ag
reed, embarrassed for wolfing the bread down like a barnyard animal.

“And you’re just going to keep me guessing?  Not going to tell me why you’re in Spain?  Mysterious little lady you are,” he drawled, pouring us both a refill of Sangria.

“I’m not trying to be mysterious.  I just don’t want to burden anyone.  My business in Barcelona is pretty heavy,” I said with a sigh, feeling the urge to be honest and not dance around his questions.

“Heavy in what way?” Eduardo pursued as I
resolutely set my glass of wine on the table.

“I’m investigating a murder,” I informed gravely as he flinched in shock.

“A murder?” He repeated.  “Whose murder? Someone you know?”

“Not exactly.  Someone I never knew…but should have.” I sighed again, steeling myself against whatever reaction Eduardo would have to my intricate story.  If the tapas dinner turned out to be our first and last date, then I would have to
view it as an opportunity to devote more time to my investigation. 

“I’m sorry, I’m not following you,” Eduardo said, muscling his dark eyebrows towards each other.

Slowly, I unfolded the whole story for him, starting with my grandmother’s wrenching deathbed plea.  Eduardo listened compassionately to every nuance I revealed, tilting his head to one side in a clear gesture of sympathy as I explained how indebted I felt to my grandmother.  As I told him about how the police had reacted to the threatening notes, he became visibly agitated.

“That’s terrible!
  The police can be so useless.  Handing out parking tickets every minute of the day and then disappearing when there’s a real problem.” He shook his head furiously.  “I hope you kept those notes, Marlena.”

“I did.  But I don’t want to think about them right now,” I
said with a shudder, desperate to forget everything for a few hours and drown my worries in cold Sangria and spicy appetizers...and Eduardo’s hypnotizing brown eyes.