Emily Kimelman - Sydney Rye 03 - Insatiable (6 page)

I dropped to the sand and started doing pushups, feeling the sweat dripping down my face. The burn in my arms makes it easier not to cry. It’s not that I’m so desperate to find somebody to love or that I’m so lonely I’ll start crying on the beach. It’s that prison cell he talks about. Mine is filled with images of my murdered brother and although I spend most of my time out of the cell, it still owns me and no matter how far I run or how many pushups I do, I can’t ever seem to escape.

I rolled onto my back and started doing crunches. The sun was bright and I could feel its heat on my face. My abdominal muscles burned as I brought my chest and knees together over and over again. When I could not stand it one second longer, I ripped my headphones out of my ears, and standing up, raced toward the sea. Blue followed, his tail high with excitement. I ran through the shallows, my feet splashing water up into the air. Reaching the breakers, I dove headfirst into a wave.

The cold water felt amazing on my hot face. I rose back to the surface and filled my lungs with air. Another wave came and I jumped up, letting my natural buoyancy carry me to the top of it. Blue swam around me, his legs pumping underneath him, his tail swishing from side to side.

Back at the cabana, Blane was eating a breakfast of egg whites, toast and tea. He smiled when I came in. I showered and then joined him. “I ordered for you, I hope that’s OK.”

“Sure.” He lifted a silver top off my plate to reveal egg whites and toast. I smiled. “Thanks, looks great,” I lied. Blane’s breakfast was bland but I cleaned my plate.

“So,” he said, “what happened last night?”

I cleared my throat and was about to tell him everything when an instinct told me not to. It was a weird feeling, but I suddenly didn’t want to give him everything I had. Looking across the table at Blane, at the look on his face, I just didn’t trust him. “I think,” I started, “that she came to him because she was so upset.” I was lying. I actually thought, based on Alejandro’s cryptic drunk-talk, that she might have made up the whole fight with her family so they wouldn’t know her real reason for leaving. I was hoping he would reveal said reason this evening. “I think she’s just a confused girl. We need to convince Alejandro to tell her to go back to her parents and I think she will.”

Blane was looking at me with no expression in his eyes and I started to sweat despite the cool breeze from the fan above my head. “Really?” he asked.

“She’s just pissed at her parents. She’s probably going through that phase when you realize that your parents aren’t perfect and it makes it you angry. She’ll come home with us if we make it clear that her parents want her to.”

“It’s that simple?”

“Don’t you think?” What was going on, I thought. Why are we talking to each other like this? Why do I feel like we are on different sides?

The fan spun, the curtains swayed, the sea lapped at the shore and we watched each other. Blane turned away first, he picked up the newspaper that lay sprawled on the couch and pretended to be reading when he asked, “So what time are we going out on the boat?”

“Alejandro invited me for sunset drinks.”

“I assume he meant for your husband to come as well.” He didn’t look out from behind the paper.

“I think he knows we’re not really married.”

“You told him?”

I bristled at the accusation. “He’s not an idiot. I didn’t have to tell him we are detectives, I’m pretty sure that Pedro did, or Ana Maria, or maybe he figured it out on his own, but I really don’t think he fell for it. Besides, is he not supposed to know? Isn’t this,” I waved my hand around the cabana to encompass our fake matrimony, “just for show anyway?”

Blane brought the paper down and looked at me. “So you didn’t tell him?”

“No, I didn’t.” I stood up and walked over to the closet but had nothing to do there so turned back to him. “What is going on?”

Blane raised the paper, covering his face and said, “What?”

“Seriously, what is going on? What is this really about? Something is not right.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“I know there is something besides a missing girl going on here I just don’t know what.”

He lowered the paper again, a smile on his face. “You have a reputation for going on your instincts; it appears that they have let you down this time.” I stared at him. “Should we go to the beach today, dear, keep up appearances as the happy vacationing couple?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Don’t you think we should be looking for Ana Maria?”

“I think she’ll be on the boat this evening. Besides,” he laughed, “apparently she is so strong we have no chance of forcing her home. We won’t be able to find her unless she wants to be found. I’ll be sure to put that in my report.” He laughed again as he raised the paper back over his face. I suddenly wondered if this was what real marriage was like.

A SURPRISE GUEST

We spent the day on the beach. It was weird. Blane played Frisbee with Blue, and I sat under an umbrella pretending to read a paperback about a woman who happens to be a virgin who meets a bull rider on a farm and they fall in love but he loses a leg, and well, I couldn’t really follow the rest because I was too busy thinking.

Several things were bothering me as I watched Blane flick the Frisbee through the air. I suspected that there was something else going on here. Alejandro talked about Ana Maria as though she was much more than just a young girl angry at her parents, but I didn’t know what he meant. And the whole pretending to be married thing was so ridiculous. I knew so little about Mexican politics that it made the book in my hand that much more frustrating. It was a part of my cover. Apparently Melanie Franks liked bad books. Maybe her husband wasn’t satisfying her sexually. I smiled at that thought as I watched Blane run into the ocean, Blue on his heels. They jumped through the waves together until they were on the other side swimming casually through the swells.

Another thing that kept tickling the back of my brain was the feeling in my gut that Blane was hiding something from me. I knew it was impossible to trust Bobby Maxim or any of his employees, but what did they want from me? There was a perfect little picture in front of me that showed an angry girl, a handsome detective, a devoted cousin, and a simple solution. Convince the girl to go home. Why couldn’t I just believe it?

Blane and Blue came out of the water. Blue raced passed Blane and barreled toward me, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, his ears flat to his head. His limp was no longer pronounced, but I could tell that his left shoulder didn’t take quite as much weight as his right. Blue stopped and shook, sending water and sand all over me. I laughed and yelled for him to stop in the same breath.

Blane came up laughing and flopped onto a chaise lounge. He smiled up at me, his eyes squinting against the sun. He looked so handsome and nice that I wondered if I was paranoid. Maybe we were just here to bring home a missing girl.

The day passed and we returned to the cabana to get ready for our sail. “I think you should go alone,” Blane called to me from the bathroom. I was in a robe freshly showered and looking at all the silk in my closet.

“What?” I called back.

“You should go alone. He trusts you and I think you’ll have better luck without me.” I walked to the bathroom door. Blane was shaving, his chin in the air and his cheeks covered in foamy white cream. He brought a straight razor from the top of his neck to the point of his chin then dipped it into the water-filled sink.

“Really?” I said. I was suspicious of his motives, but maybe the day on the beach had built some trust between us.

“Sure.” He left it at that. I watched him for a moment as he carved the shaving cream off his face and then I turned back to my closet. I didn’t know what was going to happen on the boat and I wanted to be prepared. I ended up with a pair of very low heels designed by Chanel that looked like they would be easy to kick off if nothing else. I chose a pair of light cotton white pants. I put on a lacy bra (the only kind Melanie wore) and buttoned a silk top over it. I decided against earrings and wore a simple gold chain instead.

“You look nice,” Blane told me, as I rummaged around in my purse making sure I had everything I needed. I looked up at him and decided I really wanted a weapon.

“I want to take a gun,” I said.

Blane laughed. “That’s not very friendly; you’re just going for a cocktail cruise. What could you possibly need a gun for?”

“You never know,” I said, a smile creeping onto my lips.

“I don’t think it’s appropriate.” He turned away from me, ending the conversation. I went into the bathroom and put his straight razor in my purse. Then again, maybe our day on the beach together didn’t mean shit.

When the golf cart arrived, I climbed into it and Blue jumped up next to me. Blane waved from the patio as we drove away. The marina was a 15 minute ride through lush gardens. We drove through the gates and down the first dock. We passed yachts bobbing gently in their slips. A couple waved from their deck, I waved back. The sounds of water slapping against hulls and the wind jingling rigging filled the air.

Alejandro’s boat was the last one and it was the biggest. I’d never seen a sailboat like his before. The sides of the boat were black and sleek; it reflected the glinting of the sea in bright star-like dots of light.
 
He waved to me from the deck and held out his hand as I crossed over the gang plank. The floor beneath my feet was a light wood. Two computer consoles flanked a large wheel. The mast towered above our heads.

“This boat is amazing,” I said, craning my neck to look up the length of it.

“I would say the same thing about your dog,” Alejandro said. I looked over to see Blue sitting on Alejandro’s foot.

I laughed. “He likes you.”

“And I like him.” Alejandro pet the top of Blue’s head which came up past the man’s waist.

“Alejandro!” a woman’s voice called from the dock.

He leaned over the rail, smiled and waved. “Hola,” he called. I stepped to the edge and saw a very tan, very beautiful woman standing beneath us.

“Alejandro, you must come and see,” she called up. “Antonio has caught the biggest fish.” She laughed.

Alejandro turned to me, “What do you say?”

“I love a big fish,” I answered.

The woman’s husband, Antonio, was standing next to a giant fish. Antonio was wearing white shorts and a collared shirt. His legs were skinny and his belly huge. His wife, Isabella, looked at him with such pride that it was hard for me to think she was just in it for the money. Even though her thin frame was weighted down with gold, it looked like she really loved this guy. This Fisherman king.

Antonio made us both touch the giant creature. It was wet, cold, and slippery. The fish hung next to his boat. It was as tall as him. Antonio shook our hands after we touched the fish. We walked back to Alejandro’s ship after refusing a drink from the enthusiastic Italians.

We motored out of the harbor and as we cleared the last buoy, Alejandro’s fingers worked over one of the computer screens and the sails raised. I smiled, amazed at the technology allowing one man to control such a large vessel. The wind filled the sails and the boat cut through the crystal clear water with barely a sound.

“I’ll make us some drinks,” Alejandro said, as he headed toward the interior.

“What? You’re just going to leave it?” I asked.

He laughed. “Don’t worry. It’s on autopilot.” He disappeared into the cabin. I looked back at the shore. Lights were starting to blink on in the hotel rooms that lined the coast. I turned to the sun and watched its color intensify as it neared the horizon.

Alejandro returned with our drinks. I sipped at mine and smiled. “This is a great mojito,” I said.

Alejandro sat across from me. “I thought you would like it.”

We were silent for awhile enjoying Mother Nature’s light show. “I have to tell you,” I said, “Ana Maria’s got to go home.”

Alejandro looked over at me and sighed. “I’m afraid she is far too important.”

“Where is she?”

“I’m right here.” I turned to see her standing in the doorway leading to the cabin. Blue stood.

“You do that a lot?” I asked.

She smiled. Ana Maria looked her age this evening. She was wearing white boat shoes, blue jeans and a white cotton long sleeved shirt. Her long, brown hair was pulled back into a pony tail that danced in the wind. “Recently,” she answered me. Ana Maria crossed the deck to join us. She sat next to her cousin and he looked over at her. She nodded.

“Do you know anything about the Zapatista?” Alejandro asked me.

“A little,” I answered. “They are a revolutionary group of indigenous people, right?”

Alejandro smiled without humor and leaned towards me. “You are right that the Zapatista represent indigenous people but also more than that. You see the Zapatista want justice and equality. We have been fighting the corruption of the Mexican government for years and we are slowly winning.” There was a light in his eyes that wasn’t coming from the setting sun.

“I don’t see what that has to do with me or Ana Maria.” I turned to her.

She frowned. “I don’t think you understand how important this is. How corrupt our government is. How desperately we need to change things.”