Day of the Dead (10 page)

Just like he'd wanted her to do.

It hadn't been that hard.

She felt as though she'd crossed some sort of line, but it wasn't irrevocable. It had only been with Vicky.

Trying it with Daniel wouldn't be the same.

Michelle sat on the edge of the bed in her room at Hacienda Carmen and weighed her options.

Play along and call Daniel or try to run. Trust someone to help her.

Not the local authorities, that was for sure.

The consulate? Would they believe her? Protect her if she got hauled off to jail again?

Was there someone back home who could help?

Her own lawyer specialized in finance. Bankruptcy. Civil lawsuits. He'd know a good criminal attorney, certainly, but she couldn't afford to pay the lawyer she already had, let alone a new one.

Not her sister. It seemed to her that Maggie barely coped with her life as it was – and besides, what could Maggie really do?

Tom's friends?

The ones caught up in the scandal weren't in a position to help. His acquaintances who'd ridden out the storm, how many of them wanted to be associated with Tom? With Tom's widow? They were
his
friends anyway, not hers, and a lot of them weren't terribly good friends when it came down to it.

The people in their social circle, the charity friends, entertainment-industry lawyers, doctors, entrepreneurs – any of them?

Her own friends, her real friends, she could count them on her fingers. Friends from college. One was a costumer for TV and film. Another a Web editor. Her husband was a lawyer, albeit one who dealt with corporate mergers. Could he help?

Office manager. City planner. Interior designer.

What could she even say to them?

How had she ended up like this?

You can't think about that now, she told herself.

Just go along with it, then.

She tested that option, gingerly, as if she were putting weight on an injury, seeing how it felt.

It felt like giving up.

But was there a better choice?

It wasn't like Gary was asking her to be a drug mule or anything like that, she told herself. Just to hang out with Daniel, tell him what they did and who they saw – that is, if Daniel wanted to see her.

Danny's involved in some sketchy stuff.

If it starts feeling dangerous, if I think I'm not safe, I'll have to take my chances with the consulate, she thought. Or, better, get out of town somehow.

If she could, with the policeman watching.

She didn't think the story she'd used for Vicky would work on Daniel.

Vicky wanted to believe, loved Vallarta so much that she wouldn't question Michelle's decision to stay longer, even after all that had happened.

Daniel, however, had been there for some of the worst of it. Had caught Michelle in his apartment taking pictures of a rotting pig head. Even if he'd believed her explanation, what must he think of her, finding her doing something like that? She could hardly explain it to herself.

Say one thing for Gary: At least he liked her photos.

Add the disastrous first date (if she could even call it that), with her weeping in bed followed by masked gunmen and concussions – why would Daniel even consider spending time with her at this point?

Why had he asked her out to dinner?

She could hardly believe he was still interested. Maybe he was just being polite.

Or he was suspicious of her and had wanted a chance to find out more.

She stared at her phone, her heart pounding, thinking, He might be dangerous. He doesn't trust me. He's into sketchy stuff.

He might still want to know more.

That was how to play it.

Great, Michelle thought. I'm thinking like Gary. And it's James Bond as told by
Cosmo.

He didn't seem to recognize her when she called.

‘It's Michelle,' she said. ‘From Los Angeles.'

‘Hey.' He sounded surprised. She couldn't tell if he was pleased. ‘You back in L.A.?'

She laughed a little. ‘No. I missed my flight.'

She made the call from the bedroom, pacing out onto the balcony from pent-up nerves.

‘Oh, yeah? What happened? You get caught in cruise-ship traffic or something?'

‘It's … it's complicated.' She stood on the balcony staring into the courtyard, looking down at the guests sitting in their loungechairs, drinking margaritas, reading paperbacks.

This is a bad idea, she thought.

‘I'm here for a couple more days,' she said. ‘I was wondering if that dinner invitation was still open.'

There was a silence on the other end of the line. The calico cat stirred from its position between the terracotta pots, stretched, and padded over to sniff at her ankle.

Maybe he'd turn her down. If he did, then what? She'd tell Gary she tried? Would that be enough?

Yes or no. She wasn't sure which option was worse.

‘Yeah,' he said. ‘Yeah, it is. You free tonight?'

‘It's a great place,' Daniel told her. ‘The view's amazing, and the chef's from California.'

‘Sounds wonderful,' Michelle said. She hoped she sounded enthusiastic.

Daniel picked her up at Hacienda Carmen in a black Jeep, a tricked-out Wrangler with the slogan
RUBICON
painted above the front fender. Great, Michelle thought.

‘Something funny?'

She must have smiled. She was going to have to watch herself. ‘No, I … This looks like a nice Jeep.'

‘Yeah, it's really good for around here.'

He wore a white shirt and khaki pants, and she had to admit he looked good, with his tan and a shadow of beard. The bandage on his forehead was actually kind of rakish.

This is not your beach book, she reminded herself.

‘How's your head?' she asked.

‘It's okay. No big deal. I'll get the stitches out in a few days.'

‘Have you heard anything? Did they catch the guys, or … ?'

‘No,' he said shortly. ‘They probably won't. The police here …' He shrugged. ‘Some of them try.'

They drove most of the way in silence, across the river, toward downtown and the cathedral.

What am I supposed to do? she thought.
Spend some time with him
– and do what?

‘So what happened with your flight?' he finally asked.

‘My taxi hit a cop car.'

Daniel winced. ‘Oh, man. Seriously?'

‘Yep.'

‘Jesus, did somebody put a curse on you or something?'

He was smiling, acting like it was a joke, but she couldn't tell if he believed her.

‘Maybe.' She smiled back. ‘But the pig's head? That one's on you.'

‘Hah.' He focused on the road. ‘Yeah. I just need to find out who cursed me.' He glanced at her, smiling again, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. ‘Maybe we'll figure it out over drinks.'

Daniel was right. The view from the restaurant was amazing. The two of them sat at a table by the railing of a large balcony, sipping a decent Mexican chardonnay and watching the sun sink behind the cathedral tower.

‘There's the pirate ship,' Daniel said, pointing.

It looked like a pirate ship, Michelle thought, a Disneyland reproduction of one anyway, a Spanish galleon that ferried tourists around the bay.

‘Cannon'll start going off in about a half an hour,' Daniel said. ‘Then there's fireworks. I went on one of those pirate cruises once.' He poured them both more wine, not waiting for the server. ‘They make the women help raise the sails, but they'll give you a massage first. Then you sit around and learn about Mexican culture. And you can drink as much as you want.'

‘Sounds like fun,' Michelle said, though in fact she did not think that it did.

Daniel shrugged. ‘It's okay. Except after the big battle, the pirates all sing “We Are the World.”' He grinned. ‘Man, I hate that song.'

‘Especially sung by pirates.'

‘How about this?'

He meant the restaurant. It was a nice place, built around a series of terraces, simply but elegantly decorated. The menu reminded her more of Wolfgang Puck than Mexican; the service was attentive and professional.

‘I like it,' she said, which was the truth.

Daniel ordered another bottle of wine for the meal, a red this time, also from Baja. Surprisingly good. Who knew they made good wine in Baja?

Their main courses had just arrived when Daniel leaned back in his chair and stared at her, smiling slightly, sizing her up, the way he had when they'd first met.

‘So the thing with the cop … Did they want you to testify in court or anything like that?'

She flinched, thinking of the policeman who'd arrested her, of sitting in the back of the squad car with her hands cuffed, the pressure on her wrists, the smell of sour beer and vomit.

That wasn't what Daniel had meant, was it? He was asking about the lie she'd told him.

‘I hope not,' she said. ‘Basically we all went to the jail, and I told them what happened. They wanted my name and my number and contact information, and I gave it to them. I didn't really understand what was going on half the time, to be honest.'

‘Man, if I were you, I would've thought about getting out of town.' He was watching her carefully over the brim of his wineglass. ‘You don't want to get tangled up with the police here. There's a lot of corruption.'

‘Oh. I didn't even think about that. I thought … well, I wasn't driving, so it wasn't really my problem.'

She looked at him. Met his eyes. Pretend you mean it, she told herself. ‘Should I worry?'

‘Probably not,' he said, giving her that sidelong grin. ‘Sometimes I'm a little paranoid. But you don't always know who they're working for.'

She hesitated. ‘You mean they work for the
narcos
?'

She stumbled on the word.

Maybe he hadn't noticed.

‘Sometimes,' he said, almost casually. ‘Police don't get paid too well, for one thing. And sometimes they don't have much choice about it.
Plata o plomo,
' he pronounced.

‘What does that mean?'

‘Silver or lead. Get on the payroll or die.'

He poured her some wine, letting the wine splash against the side of her glass, deliberately casual, like he was a little drunk.

‘How long were you thinking about staying?' he asked.

She managed a chuckle. ‘After what you said, I'm really not sure.'

‘The last time I saw you, you seemed like you were in a hurry to get back.'

‘I was.' She toyed with her epazote-marinated shrimp. How to answer him? ‘I have a lot to deal with. My husband, when he died … he left me with some loose ends. None of them very pleasant. When I missed the plane, I just …' She put on a small smile. A properly tremulous one, she hoped. ‘Decided I'd rather stay on vacation a little longer.'

‘Yeah, I can see how that makes sense.'

The way he said it, his voice flat, she could tell that he didn't trust her. Why would he? The explanation sounded ridiculous to her own ears.

Fine, she thought. He doesn't trust me, we get the check, I go back to Hacienda Carmen, and tomorrow I tell Gary the whole thing was a bust.

And then what would Gary do?

I can't go back to that jail, she thought. I can't.

It was easy to let her eyes fill up with tears. It was hardly even acting.

‘Tom was in finance,' she said. ‘Real estate. He made some questionable deals. A lot of them, actually. I didn't know. I guess I should have paid more attention, but it was Tom's business. I thought it was okay. Or if it wasn't, he'd tell me. But he didn't. Then, when he died …'

‘You were sandbagged,' Daniel said, watching her.

‘Well, it was unexpected. Not like cancer, he just … It was his car. Totalled. They think he had a heart attack. He hadn't planned for it. I'm sure he didn't think that he'd …'

Hardly acting at all.

‘It wasn't his fault,' she managed.

Even though she knew that it was.

‘I should have paid more attention,' she repeated. Because that was true as well.

Daniel shook his head. ‘Man …' Then he did something unexpected – he reached out his hand and rested it on hers. His hand felt warm. Strong.

‘You've had a really rough time. It sucks you've had to go through all that on your own.'

‘I have friends. People have helped. It's just …' She had to stop for a moment. ‘Anyway, it is what it is. I just figured it could all wait a little longer.'

His thumb gently rubbed the back of her hand. ‘Sounds like a good plan.'

When they got back to Hacienda Carmen, Daniel parked the Jeep outside the gate, climbed down from the driver's seat, and opened the door for her.

‘Thanks for the dinner,' she said. ‘I really enjoyed it.'

‘Thanks for giving me another chance. I didn't think you would.'

She laughed. ‘Well, I could say the same thing. I haven't been a lot of fun to be around.'

He grinned. ‘I bet you're a lot of fun.'

They paused for a moment in the shadow of the wrought-iron gate. He leaned down and kissed her.

She kissed him back, tasting the tang of wine on his tongue, the slight saltiness of his lips. He responded, circling his arms around her, bringing her to him, and she could feel herself wanting to let go, wanting to lose herself in him.

You can't, she thought. It isn't safe.

‘So what do you think?' he asked, his breath warm against her ear.

It was what Gary wanted her to do, wasn't it?
Spend some time with him
– this was really what he had in mind.

‘Look, no pressure,' Daniel said. ‘I know things got off to a really bad start, and if you, you know …' He shrugged a little. ‘Whatever you want to do.'

Here was her out. She could say good-bye to him now, and that would be the end of it. There wouldn't be another date. You couldn't go backward, in her experience. It never worked.