Intimate Strangers Affair Page 16

  “Yes,” he said emphatically.

  “Then it must be something you don’t know about. Someone’s been slipping you a drug or poison. Yes!” Now that fit. It fit like a glove, as James always said. The right diagnosis always did. The answer hummed through me, making me feel alert all of a sudden. I knew this was right, but it was only a partial solution. My frown deepened. “So who would poison you, Miguel?”

  “Poison? Impossiblé.”

  “I’d say the impossible is possible. You know it is. Think of the alternatives. Are you telling me that you are going crazy?”

  “No.” He didn’t sound convinced, but the possibility brought a light to his eyes. The light of hope. “I’m not going mad like Ricardo. Cristo. If that were true…” He closed his eyes and sighed. “But if it’s poison, then who? Who would do this?”

  “Well, that’s the question. That’s the one-million dollar question.”

  “There’s only one answer.”

  “What’s that?” Had he figured it out already? The man was sharp. I was impressed.

  “You must cook for me.”

  “Oh, no,” I said horrified, remembering my few attempts. All carbonized disasters.

  “Who else can I trust?”

  “Not me. Just ask my brother. Believe me, you don’t want me to cook.” I bit my lip. “Not if you value your life.”

  “That bad?”

  “Worse. If the poison doesn’t kill you first, then my cooking might polish off the job.”

  He reached over and pulled me to him. The shawl slipped off my shoulders, slithering into a heap on to the floor. Miguel kissed me lightly.

  “Then my life is in your hands, doctora.”

  I gave a frustrated groan as I settled into him, placing my head on to his chest. It felt right. Looking up at him, I muttered, “Well, okay. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “All right.”

  We cuddled together. He stroked the small of my back, our legs tangling. I felt better. Much better. Maybe it was his touch, or maybe it was the possibility of a cure. I lay there, luxuriating in the feeling. “Miguel.”

  “Hmmm?”

  “I hope you like boiled eggs.”

  He sighed. “Yes.”

  “You better like them, it’s just about the only thing I can cook. That, and hot water. I’m really good at making hot water.” I looked up, startled. He was shaking all over, laughing silently at me again. “Hey, it’s not funny. Just because I can cut out a gallbladder, doesn’t mean I can whip up a cake, you know.”

  He suddenly stopped shaking, but his mouth was still twitching. “Whatever you say, querida. Whatever you say.”

  Chapter 6: Images of the Past

  I had sworn that I’d never do this again. I’d rather be waltzing in a hoop skirt and high heels. Anything, but cooking. My hot cereal had ended up scorched. The results of that lumpy disaster were at the bottom of the slop pail.

  And now, this. I stared down at the bowl I carried. The eggs looked dark brown like dirt balls, and they smelled sulfurous like spent matches. I didn’t think it was possible to burn hardboiled eggs, but somehow I had managed to. Vainly, I tried to fan away the smell. Didn’t work. The stench lingered. If worse came to worse, Miguel could always eat the toast if he scraped the charred parts first. Come to think of it, maybe he shouldn’t. Charcoal was supposed to be a good antidote. Maybe I should char more toast. It would certainly incinerate all the germs that way. Poisons, too, for that matter.

  Well, there was no time to try anything else. I just couldn’t hide in the kitchen all day. Lin-Mei had said nothing about my sudden cooking for the Capitán, but I could read the amusement in her curious gaze. Her helpful hints hadn’t been helpful. Nothing could help me. I was hopeless.

  Squaring my shoulders, I walked to the dining room. Through the open door came the sounds of silverware clanking, the sloshing of something liquid being poured. People were talking around the breakfast table. A young voice, an old familiar one. Too familiar.

  “Oh, willya look at that? A ten and a Jack. Your Jack’s worth ten. Ten plus ten, okay? Put them together. How much is that, darlin’?”

  Claude? What the hell was he doing here? Besides sitting at the table and freeloading another meal. He generously helped himself to a platter of huevos rancheros.

  Alicia looked at him with wide brown adoring eyes. “Twenty. It’s twenty.”

  “All right! You got it. Hit or stay?”

  “Stay?” she guessed, looking down at the cards by her plate.

  “Good, very good. That’s the way. Twenty for you. Dealer has to hold at sixteen. You win the hand. I’ll pay up this afternoon.” Claude picked up a silver pot. “Any coffee for you, Don Miguel? Señor Ricardo? It’s really good, the nectar of the gods. Why, I could drink this stuff all day, and never need a wink of sleep. Think of how much I’d get done. Sure you don’t want any? Come on.”

  Impassive, Miguel only shook his head.

  Ricardo pushed his cup forward. “I want some, I like it with milk. Lots of milk and sugar.”

  I stepped into the room. All eyes swiveled towards me. Swallowing hard, I walked to the table, and put down the bowl. The eggs rolled and clacked together like croquet balls. Dear God. Had they petrified? I sat down.

  “Good morning,” I said with false cheer. “Well, Claude, what brings you here?”

  “What do you think? A horse. As usual.” His nose wrinkled. “What’s that? Skunk meatballs?” He glanced at my apron, then up at me again. Striking his forehead, he sprawled backwards in his chair. “Don’t tell me. You’re not…cooking?! Praise the Lord, and pass the bicarbonate.”

  “Manners,” I hissed.

  Claude grinned cheerfully. “Don’t have any, they always get in the way. So much easier to do without them.” He pointed to the huevos. “You didn’t make these, did you?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Then I can eat them safely.” He smirked when Miguel took one of my eggs, cracked it, and started to peel off the shell. The dratted thing looked glued on. Miguel had to dig in and tug the shell off. A good hunk of the underlying egg came off with it, the rest bouncing like rubber in Miguel’s hand. Inside, the egg was a queer sandy brown color.

  Watching, Claude chuckled. “I heard you’re a brave man, Don Miguel. But now I know those stories were nothing compared to what you’re capable of. You’re even braver. Look at you, taking on an egg that Nathalie cooked. Did you know that our Nathalie once knocked off a crew of sailors with her cooking? Hardy iron-gut sailors, every one of them. Totally disabled. Poisoned, you could say. Mulligan stew, wasn’t it? We used it later to tar the whole hull of a ship.”

  “You’re exaggerating, as usual.” I sipped my coffee, trying to hide my face behind the mug.

  “Sorry, my mistake. Just half the hull. It worked good. Water tight, shipshape. Anyway, I wouldn’t want you to be deceived by my sister. She may look like an angel, but she’s really very diabolical. Devious even as a child. Got tired of doctoring her dollies, so she went out and made some of her own real live patients to practice on. Enterprising. And you got to hand it to her. No fatalities, not a single one. Everyone did recover from their dyspepsia…eventually.”

  “I never played with dolls.”

  “No, you did horrible things to them so you could wrap them up like mummies afterwards. Remember that one Papa got you in Paris? You chopped off all her hair because you said she had marsh fever or something. Then you painted her yellow. Poor little dolly, she looked pitiful. Alicia, honey, if you love your dolls, don’t let Nathalie anywhere near them. She’ll do things to them.”

  The child’s eyes bugged out, her lip beginning to tremble as she looked from Claude to me. Great. Now she probably thought I was an axe murderer or something. I was about to reassure Alicia, when she suddenly laughed out loud.

  “You’re teasing. Stop teasing me.” Giggling, she ate some more breakfast.

  I glared at my brother, who just smiled back at me. “What’
s the matter, darlin’? Coffee bitter? Maybe you need some sugar. Do have some more.”

  “Claude, don’t you have some place to be? Some business meeting you need to rush to? Like now?” I said.

  “Nope, I’m a man of leisure today. I have all the time in the world. Aren’t you lucky? Don Miguel, back off that egg real slow. You might not want to do that. Just a word to the wise. Try a small bite first. That way it won’t be too disabling when it hits your stomach. Even a man in love has to take precautions, you know.”

  Raising his eyebrows, Miguel bit half the egg. He chewed and chewed. Then he chewed some more. After a long time, he finally drank an entire glass of water.

  Claude watched, shaking his head sorrowfully. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Why don’t you try finishing your breakfast and moving on now?” I said, helping myself to some more coffee.

  “Aw, nothing like sisterly love. I’m so happy to see you too.”

  Alicia touched her mouth with a napkin. “I’m finished. May I be excused, Papa?”

  “Si.”

  “Thank you.” She pushed her chair backwards. “Goodbye, Papa, Nathalie. See you later, Tio Ricardo. Tio Claude.” She got down and carefully replaced her chair so it was aligned just so with the table. Then she calmly walked out of the room like an adult instead of scampering like a child.

  I turned to my brother. “Tio Claude? What’s this? You’re her uncle now?”

  Drinking his coffee, Claude shrugged. “Sure, yeah. Kinda’ true, isn’t it? If you’re her…well, whatever you are, and I’m your brother, then it just about makes me her uncle. That’s us. Just one big happy family. Anyway, she likes me. At least she acts like a real kid around me. No harm done.”

  “No harm? You were teaching her gambling. Blackjack. I heard you.”

  “Blackjack, schmackjack. Big deal, it’s just math,” Claude corrected me. “Just like Papa taught us. Remember? That’s how we learned adding, subtracting, how to count ahead. Good for the memory. Nothing wrong with that. I didn’t hear anyone object. Why should you?”

  “Miguel doesn’t mind,” Ricardo said with his mouth half-full. He chewed some more, then swallowed noisily and licked the jam off his fingers. “Counting is good. I’m learning about counting at the office. Miguel’s going to take me again today. Counting.”

  “Accounting,” Miguel said softly. “You’ve been a big help. Shall we?” He stood up. Ricardo did the same, only more stiffly as if something hurt. Wincing, he reached behind him and rubbed his upper back.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “Oh, I fell. Go boom. Ouch all over. Big ouch.”

  No kidding. He was limping to the door. It was painful to watch his slow progress across the room. “Do you want something?”

  “I’m fine,” he said in a strange parody of Miguel, then walked out of the room.

  Miguel came up to me. He took my hand, bowed over it and kissed it. “Later, querida.”

  “Trust no one,” I murmured into his ear.

  “Only you,” Miguel replied.

  As soon as Miguel left the room, Claude pretended to fan himself. “Only you. So continental, so intense. A little understated for me, but intense. Got to remember that line. It’s a damned good one.”

  “Oh, cut it out. It’s not a line, nothing’s a line with him.”

  “No offense, but maybe you’re not the best judge of that. Your eyes are so glued to your books that you haven’t seen a lot of life. You don’t know a thing about men. You may know what makes them sick, but you don’t know what makes them work. You would if you listened to Catherine, but you never do. You’re like this.” Claude clapped his hands over his ears and made a horrendous face like those gargoyles on Notre Dame: bulging eyes, twisted mouth, his tongue hanging out of one corner. He looked gruesome.

  Despite my annoyance, I started laughing a little. “Maybe, I am. I don’t know.”

  “Well, I do. And from what I’ve heard, I wouldn’t believe everything Don Miguel says. He’s a real smooth mover even if you only believe a quarter of those stories. Just be sure he doesn’t pull any moves on you. Like that one right there. How the hell did you get that bruise? And don’t tell me you walked into a door.”

  “All right, I won’t.”

  “Did he do it?”

  “It doesn’t hurt. Well, hardly.”

  It was the wrong thing to say. Claude’s eyes flared. “What?!”

  “It was an accident.”

  “By God, that’s it! That tears it! How can he treat you like that and then kiss you at the breakfast table like nothing ever happened? Now there’s a cool customer. Looks like I’ll have to cool him off a little more. Ice him, in fact. Yeah, that’s right. Murder him right now. I don’t care what they say about him, nobody treats you that way and gets away with it. Nobody!”

  “Hey, stop that. Sit down.” I leaned over the table and grabbed Claude’s arm. I jerked hard until he sat down again. “I mean it, you’re not killing anyone.”

  “Don’t humiliate me. What’s the matter? You don’t think I can do the job? I’m not the only one in this family who can deal it out if I have to. I can…” He broke off suddenly when he saw my face, jumped up from his chair and walked to me. He knelt down and put an arm around me. “Aw, darlin’. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. Me and my big mouth.” He tilted his head back and opened his mouth. Wide. He looked like a giant baby bird waiting for its meal. “Go ahead, pour something in. One of your nostrums. Dose me with something so I don’t run off like that anymore. How about some horse glue?”

  “As if that would cure anything,” I said wearily. I put my elbows on the table and rested my head on my hands. “Now, believe me. I’m fine. I’m telling you it was just a little accident. He doesn’t beat me, he makes me nuts, but he doesn’t hurt me. Miguel treats me…well, like I’m really someone special. Like I’m a lady. Anyway, it’s not me I’m worried about. It’s Miguel. He’s in trouble, and now there’s Ricardo too. I’m worried about Ricardo. How could he just fall like that?”

  Claude snorted. “Sick kidneys.”

  I looked up. “ How do you know that?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but that’s not what I meant. Someone sucker-punched Ricardo. Right in the old kidneys.” Claude winced. “I know how he feels. You piss red for a month. It’s not pretty.”

  “Well, that’s terrible. Why would anyone beat up someone like Ricardo? He’s harmless like a kid.”

  Claude rubbed his jaw. “The way I see it, big kids just get into bigger kinds of trouble. Anyway, you know that the innocent bit is one of the oldest jokes on the books. Suckers people right in. I used to play that one with you.”

  “Claude, I could kill you. So help me, I could forget that Hippocratic Oath and just kill you right now.”

  He only laughed long and loud. “Listen to you. First, you’re protecting me from the big bad Don, and now you want to kill me yourself. Just like a woman. Can’t make up your mind. Well, that’s all right. I won’t take it personally.” He batted his eyelashes at me.

  The clown. I couldn’t stay mad at him. “All right, but you’re not off the hook, mister. There’s something else more current. And you better tell me the truth about this one.”

  “Sure, sis. Sure. What’s got you so bent out of shape?” Claude pulled up a chair next to me.

  “Well, it’s about the gold. And prison.”

  “Frowning, he looked at me as if I’d suddenly grown another head. “What did you say?”

  “That’s okay, you can tell me. God knows Papa was in and out of the stir often enough when one of his little jobs didn’t work out right and he got caught.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t pretend, Claude. Not with me. I know the feds caught you. Where did they send you? Rockville? Was it very bad?”

  “Caught?” He threw back his head and laughed. “No one’s ever caught me at anything. I may be a lamentable son of
a bitch but I’m not stupid. I always land on my feet. You know that, or you should.”

  “Then you didn’t steal the gold?”

  “I wish. I’d love to get my hands on a pile of gold. Take a bath in it. Roll around in it.”

  My head flopped forward as if it was too heavy to hold up any longer. Too much thinking, and way, way too many assumptions. Realization was gradually sinking in. I had tripped myself up, thinking I was so smart. Instead, I’d been a fool. “Are you saying that you’ve been absolutely fine this whole time? One hundred percent fine?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say that exactly. Lost a little skin out in Virginia City, had to scoot out of there fast. The climate was getting kinda’…unhealthy, you might say.”

  “Major Moore let me think you were in trouble, that he owned you.”

  “Moore?” At the mention of the major’s name, Claude’s eyes darkened to near black, his wide mobile mouth twisting into a comical frown. “Jesus, darlin’, what did you get yourself tangled up in this time? Some no-brainer like the French Ministry gig?”

  “You don’t know anything about that,” I muttered. “I was only trying to help you out. Oh, Claude. You don’t know what I’ve done…you don’t know a thing.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “No, you don’t,” I said, sniffing. I ran the back of my hand across my eyes. Stupid. Stop that! Now wasn’t the time to act like a girly girl.

  “What can I do?”

  “Just like that, no questions asked? You don’t even know what you’re getting yourself into.”

  “Did you ask before you jumped right in? Now maybe you should have been more circumspect, but sounds like a mess you got yourself into because you thought you were helping me out. Well, that’s okay, sis. I’m here now.”

  “There’s nothing you can do.”