A Dangerous Harbor (15 page)

"Did you play it?"

"Who has a tape deck anymore?"

"I do. They're dirt cheap here." He took it out of her hand and slipped it into a player, sat down opposite her and pressed the play button.

At the distinct rumble of Inspector
Vignaroli's
voice, she sputtered, "That's…"

He shushed her. "Wait. Damn it—missed what he said. Let me run it again." There was Raul's voice again, in a preoccupied tone of a busy man answering a question.
 
Yes, it is possible, Booth, let me know as soon as you find out.

Katy pointed at the player. "He's responding to a question that's not on the tape. Is there no other voice on it but Raul's? Where'd you get this?"

 
"Your
Raul
is the only one on the tape. As for where I found it, I was outside my trailer getting a smoke. I heard angry voices coming from the marina and I worried you were in trouble so I came down to see what all the fuss was about. By the time I got here, it was all quiet again.
 
That's when I see this little cassette next to the gate. So where were you tonight?... Good God, you were on a date with Inspector Vinegar!"

Katy willed her rising anger back under her skin. "It wasn't a date. If you will remember,
I'm
helping his investigation, so we can both get out of here."

"You can't trust him, you know."

She snorted. "Yeah, Spencer's a
dirtbag
who's surviving on very shaky ground right now."

"Not him, I'm referring to your adorable chief inspector."

"Why? Because he's a cop? You keep forgetting I'm one of those, too."

"You should've turned me in when you had the chance."

"Too late for that. Gabe, a tape like this is used for blackmail. Do you swear that you found this next to the gate?"

 
"Of course I did. What're you saying?"

"You know these people, don't you? Booth, Spencer, right?"

"I didn't have anything to do with Booth's death and I've never seen this tape before tonight."

"It certainly looks suspicious."

"No, it doesn't," he snarled at her. "It looks bad for your chief inspector."

"Maybe you're right. But he's got the local police department on his side, and you're just another gringo hanging out in Mexico because you've got nowhere else to go."

"You should worry more about Inspector Vinegar, maybe he dropped it."

She shook her head. "Timing doesn't fit. You found the tape after he picked me up and before we got back. What was Booth asking?"

"Only Booth and your inspector know that."

She held out her hand for the tape and Gabe popped the tape out of the player and handed it to her.

"They all know you're a cop, right?"

She sighed. "Yeah, I got that pretty much from the moment I arrived."

"Katy, let me help you."

"How?"

"I don't know. Give me something to do."

"Antonio's, the place where the girl worked. Did you know her?"

His eyes skipped off and settled on a corner. "That's not a crime. I'm all alone down here. I've been alone since I left the States. I'd like to go home, clear my name, have a life, but all I hear from you is, 'No, Gabe, that won't do.'"

She held up a hand. "Stop it." She sat drumming her fingers on the table top then said, "I'm here under duress, too. If I don't help either prove Spencer's the
perp
or uncover the real killer, Inspector
Vignaroli
will send you home in chains and you'll never be able to clear your name."

Tears welled up in his eyes and he reached out to grab both her hands in his. "You still love me, don't you, Whisper?"

She jerked her hands out of his, slid out from behind the table and with one hand on the door knob, looked back; the silly moonstruck grin was still plastered across his face.

"If you think…. Good God! You're still an idiot!”

 
He stood up and reached for her, but the thunderous expression on her face stopped him. "Wait.
 
Don't go yet. I'm sorry, I got it wrong again. Look, I've been living in a time warp down here, dreaming of you and home and everything I left behind, and then you appear out of the blue and all I can think of is how can I make it right between us. I don't want to mess things up again, so let me help, okay?" When she didn't bolt, he said softly, "Will you sit down again… please?
 
I promise we'll only talk about the case."

She stood where she was, lips tight, her glare a tiny bit less than it was a minute before, except her hand was still on the door knob.

He watched for a sign that she might be weakening. "Come on, Katy, you name it, I'll do it."

"You want to help? Tell me about Antonio's and the girl."

He turned away to get cups out of the overhead cupboard, but not before she saw the relief spread across his face.

He said, "I knew her, but not in the biblical sense. Way too young for me. Girls there are supposed to be eighteen, but they all have fake IDs."

 
"Like the sixteen-year-old I found in the water."

"It's no secret. They sell the prettiest ones on their way up to the border. They're broke, uneducated and desperate. How're they going to get all the way back to Honduras or Guatemala? Did you think the Mexican government gives them a bus ride home? That's the U S of A, sweet-cheeks, not Mexico."

He handed her a mug full of steaming hot water and a tea bag. "Sugar's in that covered dish. Look, the two of us can knock out that list in half the time. Then you can go home."

She picked up the spoon he handed her and punched her tea bag down into the hot water. "I need the local gossip on the magician's assistant, Astrid Del Mar. See if you can find out her real name, any connections to Spencer Bobbitt."

"Sure, I can do that. She lives on his boat, right?"

"No," she said, "that's the other one,
Myne
. Astrid said she lives aboard at
Bandido's
next to Baja Naval."

"
Bandido's
, huh? Do you know if she's working tonight?"

At her intake of breath, he laughed. "You aren't going to go all moral on me now, are you, Whisper?"

"Don't call me that, and if you get caught…"

"What—they send me back to the States in chains?" He turned to rummage through a drawer. Pulling out a folded black leather case, he tugged on the string and unfolded a set of locksmith tools.

"Burglary tools—is this the way you've managed to get by all these years?"

"If I told you they came with the trailer, would you believe me?" At the hard set of her mouth, he snorted and said, "Then don't ask if you don't want to know."

"If Raul gets a hint of what you're doing…"

His head jerked up. "It's Raul now, is it? You're the one who should be careful. If that big Mercedes says anything, he's connected."

"Oh, for heaven's sake Gabe."

"Crooked cops in Mexico are as common as flies. None of '
em
make enough to live on, everyone knows that."

She tried to wave away the notion, but Gabe had a point; that big Mercedes, his nice suits and fancy dinner at his uncle's place didn't look like Raul was living on his policeman's salary.

Gabe saw her hesitation and struck. "Stick around for Christmas, why don't you? Then you'll see what I mean.
 
Every ex-pat knows to carry a second wallet for when they get stopped. They call it a traffic violation, but that's just another word for
mordida
. Cops pick up fifty, a hundred a day and consider it their Christmas bonus. They sure aren't going to get it in a paycheck."

He had her there. Raul
Vignaroli
drove a very expensive Mercedes and didn't even apologize for it. Was he connected?

She held up the cassette. "This might endear you to him in case you do get caught. Wait. Maybe I should keep it? I mean, what if he is connected? You could be getting yourself in trouble."

Gabe put down the tools and followed her out the door.

"We'll talk tomorrow night. Goodnight, Gabe," she said, stepping onto the wobbly stepstool and then onto solid ground again.

"Wait," he said, touching her shoulder. He was holding out a flashlight. "Take it. That rocky downhill path is treacherous at night."

She nodded and hefted the long heavy black tube. "This is police issue, Gabe. Where'd you get it?"

"Will you get over yourself? Not everything down here is illegal. You can buy most anything at the local flea market. The batteries aren't great, so you might have to shake it once or twice, but it should get you home."

"Alright, I'm sorry. Be careful tonight, will you?" she said, and turned away to follow the weak beam of light along the bluff.

Taking a moment she stopped to admire the moon as the low, gun-metal gray clouds swept across it and then a cool sea breeze lifted her hair. The fullness of the moon reminded her of her "date" with Raul
Vignaroli
. Did she like him as a man? The answer was yes, she did. He had a gentleness that peeked out from behind the gruff policeman's exterior, and there was sadness, too. Maybe from the heavy load he seemed to bear as Chief Inspector for Ensenada, or maybe she simply wanted to imagine his marriage was unhappy. At least he didn't try to lay
that
old story on her.

Tomorrow she would show him the tape and see how he reacted. That would be the final test she needed to determine if Gabe's suspicions about Raul
Vignaroli
were true, that he was in collusion with Tennessee Booth in a scheme to blackmail a killer. Though she was determined to withhold final judgment, there was a very strong part of her that fervently hoped that Gabe was wrong.

Patting the tape recording in her pocket, she adjusted her grip on the flashlight and found the rocky path that would lead her down for the marina parking lot.

Without any handholds she cautiously took her time, shuffling her feet and feeling her way over rocks for the next level spot. The full moon suddenly took a dive behind the clouds and waypoints became dark smudges she could no longer identify. Going by memory and Gabe's big black flashlight, she continued down the path.

Then she heard a noise and a few small rocks skittered down to land at her heels. She swung the flashlight up, following the trail of dust, but couldn't see anyone. A night animal or someone's dog out for a pee on a bush? Either way, it was time to make tracks. Shrugging off her growing apprehension, she moved the beam back to the path and picked up her pace.

A rock rolled downhill, then another, until one sharply bit into the back of her leg.

She turned, glaring up the hill. "Who's there!" she barked, panning the weak beam across the top. Nothing. She clicked off the flashlight then ducked down and waited. The seconds ticked off, and then she heard it. Footsteps making tentative, stealthy movements as someone cautiously followed the path down after her.

Now glad for the extra cloud cover, she kept her profile low and scuttled along, moving faster.

Behind her, someone clumsily stumbled over rocks trying to catch up. She heard a curse as they stubbed a toe.
 
As her eyes adjusted to the night without the flashlight she willed herself to move ever faster, knowing her life may depend on it if she didn't.