Cappuccino Twist (8 page)

“Jorge Canton, Jr.  That makes perfect sense!” My thrill at making the connection was short-lived as deep dread circulated through my blood.  “If that Reptile Eyes really is Jorge Canton, Jr., then it hasn’t been my imagination that he’s been singling me out.  He must have a reason to be giving me those evil looks and he
must
be the one behind those notes.”

“I think so too, Marlena.  I got a very creepy feeling from the guy when I was talking to him. 
He was looking at me yet sort of looking through me.  I can’t explain it.  We need to go back to the police with those notes and see if they can trace any DNA evidence on them.” Eduardo pulled into the parking lot of the inn and regarded me gravely.

“But the notes have been exposed to all sorts of things that could have corrupted the DNA.  Probably the only DNA on them at this point belongs to me.”

“Well, we at least have to try.  In fact…” Before I could protest, Eduardo was jerking the car into gear and cruising out of the parking lot.

“Are you taking me to the police station?” I asked wearily, dreading another fruitless exchange with Officer Calderon or one of his uncaring colleagues.

“Yes.  Look, if the Jorge Canton who signed my petition really is the son of the man who dated your aunt, then we have a prime suspect on our hands.”

“Not a prime suspect for my aunt’s murder! Unless you’re trying to tell me that a baby committed the act!” I protested as Eduardo chuckled humorlessly.

“Of course not.  I meant that he’s a prime suspect for being the writer of those notes.  And his father may have been somehow linked to the crime.  What I don’t understand is how he knows who you are.  You’ve never spoken to him, right?”

“Never,” I confirmed as Maria Elena’s words rang in my head. 
You know you look like that whore Silvia.  Except she was prettier than you
.  “I’ve been told that I resemble my Aunt Silvia.  Maybe he’s seen pictures of her and put two and two together.  There were so many newspaper articles published about my aunt after her murder.  And there was an obituary.  And now some of the articles might be available online in news archives.” I thought of the images I had seen of Aunt Silvia in Nana’s photo albums and had to admit that there was a strong family resemblance. 

“Okay, you need to explain all this to the police.  From the beginning.  Come on, let’s go.” Eduardo parked the car in the police lot and gave my hand an affirming squeeze.  Our romantic tapas dinner seemed billions of miles away as I braced myself for another
exasperating session with law enforcement.

“Ah, didn’t I see you here the other day?” The dispatcher asked as I walked ahead of Eduardo into the station.

“Yes.  I need to speak with a police officer.  Anyone but Officer Calderon.  Please,” I entreated as she gave me an amused look and paged for an officer.

“I can’t promise you who will answer my page,” she said snootily.

To my relief, an older police officer came to the front of the station and immediately led us to a private room.  “I’m Detective Mendez.  What seems to be the trouble?”

Detective?  I wanted to leap up and give the man a huge bear hug. 
Glancing over at Eduardo for an infusion of strength and finding it in his gentle gaze, I cleared my throat and unloaded the whole complex story.  I wasn’t sure if it was because the officer was older or because I had a man with me, but he seemed to take me far more seriously than Calderon had.  There wasn’t a trace of humor in his features or sarcasm in his voice as he spoke.  “Do you have the notes with you?”

“Yes, I think they’re in my purse.” Against my will, my eyes began to water with gratitude for finally being taken seriously.  Trying to rein in my tears, I passed the note across the table, surprised when Detective Mendez refused to touch it.

“This is evidence, Señorita Falcon.  It can’t have my fingerprints on it.” Slipping on a pair of gloves, the detective grasped the papers in his hand before sliding them into individual plastic bags.  “There.  No one else’s hands will touch these.  They’re going straight to the crime lab.”

“So you’re actually going to help me and not turn me away?” I asked as some of the pressure released in my temples.

“Of course I’m going to help you.  That’s my job.  But besides, I’m very familiar with the murder of Silvia Falcon.  It’s a case that I’ve tried to get reopened over the years, but no one has been in my court.  This homicide needs to be solved once and for all.  If we let it go another 50 years, there won’t be anyone left to bring to justice.” The detective spoke passionately, stirring my emotions even more.

“But even right now, we might not be able to bring anyone to justice.  My aunt’s murderer may very well be deceased,” I pointed out.  “You still want to reopen this case even if there’s no one to prosecute?” I held my breath until the detective replied.

“Absolutely.  The actual perpetrator may indeed be deceased, but there could be people still alive who have kept secrets all these years when they were legally obligated to share information with the police.  If that’s the case, those people can be prosecuted for conspiracy,” Detective Mendez said confidently.

At that point, someone really should have restrained me because I was a heartbeat away from clobbering the detective with affection.  “Okay, so what do I need to do next?  How can I help?” I asked eagerly.

The detective gave me an avuncular look and said softly, “You don’t need to do anything now, Señorita Falcon.  Leave everything to me and my team of professionals.  What you did by knocking on people’s doors and basically accosting them for information was very dangerous.  Stay in the background now and let the police do all the heavy lifting.”

The detective’s advice was undeniably wise, but I’ve never been the type to sit still and be passive.  I couldn’t just go back to the inn and
wither away watching Spanish sitcoms until there was a break in the investigation.  I needed to play an active role in solving the crime.  With a rebellious upturn of my chin, I argued, “But I really want to help.  And I need to know if you think our theory is right…that the man who’s been staring me down is really Jorge Canton, Jr.”

“Oh he certainly is,” the detective confirmed as I flinched with surprise.

“How do you know for sure without researching it?” Eduardo interjected, equally surprised by the detective’s certitude.

“The Cantons are a wealthy and influential family in Barcelona.  Not only is there a Jorge Canton, Jr., but there’s also a Jorge the third.  That family practically has a dynasty running around Barcelona,” the detective revealed.

“But how do you know the man who signed my petition is part of that family?  Couldn’t he be somebody else?” Eduardo pressed.

“Not likely.  Jorge Canton, Jr. is known to troll around coffee shops in the city.  And not just coffee shops.  Bars too.  And movie theaters.  People usually assume he’s homeless.  We’ve gotten quite a few calls at the station about the ‘homeless guy who won’t go away.’  People have no idea how loaded he is.  The guy’s got nothing better to do than waste his days sipping espresso at Dario’s shop.” Detective Mendez rose from his chair, carrying the two plastic bags in his hand. 
“These are on their way to the crime lab,” he announced with satisfaction. 

“But you’re going to look into Canton’s history no matter what the lab results are, right?” Eduardo checked.

“Absolutely.  And I’m also going to look into the Falcon family history in Barcelona.  When the murder occurred, everyone assumed it was one of Silvia’s lovers who had committed the act.  No one ever looked into whether Silvia’s family had any enemies in Barcelona.”

“You mean that the murderer could have been someone with a vendetta against
my family and not Silvia personally?” I clarified.

“Perhaps.  I’m keeping all doors open right now.  But the door I’m going to open the widest is the one that leads to the Canton mansion,” Detective Mendez assured.

“I think I was at that mansion the other day when I tried to interview Jacinta Canton,” I said, recalling how she had refused to open the door to me.  Maybe she hadn’t been afraid of intruders.  Maybe she had recognized my face and didn’t want to be subject to my interrogation.

“Yes, Jacinta is the granddaughter of Jorge, Sr
.  And Jorge, Jr. is her father,” Detective Mendez explained the lineage that was becoming more complicated by the second.  In my mind, I sketched a family tree and saw the branches blowing wildly in the wind.

Chapter 10

“I guess we can go,” Eduardo said softly
to me as I was still mentally compiling a family tree.  “I think the case is in good hands now.”

“Thank you, young man,” Detective Mendez said with a modest bow of his head.  Yes, the investigation was in the best hands it had been in for half a century.  I felt sure of that.

“Thank you so much, Detective Mendez.” Taking a slip of paper out of my purse and scribbling some digits on it, I requested, “Please call me on my cell phone as soon as you find out anything.  Even the tiniest detail.  I want to know about it.”

“Keep that ringer on high.  I will definitely be getting in touch with you.  Even if I don’t have much to report, I’ll be in touch within 24 hours just to touch base,” the benevolent detective promised.

“I really can’t thank you enough,” I said solemnly.

“Well, I hope you’re going to have real reason to thank me soon.  I’m going to make it my business to get this case cracked once and for all.” He assumed a peacock stance, and I could tell that Detective Mendez’s male ego wouldn’t let him abandon the case until every detail
had been deciphered.  “By the way, don’t go back to work at the coffee shop right now.  Just lay low while I’m investigating Jorge Canton, Jr.’s connection to all this,” he advised firmly.

“Okay,
I was supposed to work tomorrow, but I won’t go…”

“Don’t go back there at all right now.  Just heed my warning on that,” the detective’s tone turned paternal as I softened and nodded.

“I won’t go back there,” I assured.  So what if I would have to dip into my savings to support myself? With a competent investigator on the case, I estimated that I might only need to spend about a month’s worth of savings until I could fly back home to New York.  Or at least that’s what I hoped.

The detective shook my hand and Eduardo’s as we turned to leave.  “Should I take you back to the inn now? Or did you have a change of heart about lunch?” Eduardo asked once we were out in the fresh air.

“You’re very sweet.  And persistent.” I grinned at him.  “But I’m beat.” It was true, although I didn’t know which type of exhaustion I felt more: mental or physical.

“No problem.  I should get back to the office and enter the new petition signatures into the computer,” Eduardo said with a groan.

“You have an office?” I joked.  “You mean you don’t just roam the streets of Barcelona like a nomad with a clipboard?”

Chuckling, he replied, “I wish I did.  Being at the office is such a drag.  What I’ve really always wanted to do is open a coffee shop.  Green, of course.  Solar powered.  With recyclable cups and the whole deal,” Eduardo
revealed as my eyes brightened with surprise.

“Wow, really? Do you make a good cup of coffee?”

“The best,” he bragged charmingly.  “I would just need a business partner to handle the financial end of things.”

“Then maybe we should go into business together,” I drawled.  “I was a sales VP back in New York, you know.”

Eduardo looked at me intently and said, “Then we would make a great team.”

“I was just joking, Eduardo! I love my coffee, but the last thing I want to do is run a business where I have to wake up every day while the moon is still out!” I laughed as Eduardo half-heartedly joined in.  Did he really think we would make a good team?  We hardly knew each other, although I did have that inexplicable d
éjà vu sensation with Eduardo that I had heard people talk about but had never personally experienced.  Wryly, I thought to myself how awful it would be if Eduardo turned out to be some long lost Spanish cousin. 

When we arrived at the inn, Eduardo seemed reluctant to let me go.  Slowly, he turned the engine off and unclicked his seatbelt.  “Let me walk you inside.”

“I’ll be okay.  It’s broad daylight…”

“I’m walking you inside,” he asserted as I shut my mouth and let him come around to the passenger side to open my door.

Passing by the reception area, we waved simultaneously to the owner who reciprocated with a wide, knowing smile.  He probably assumed that Eduardo and I were lovers, which was exactly what I wanted if I were being truthful with myself.  But it was much too soon for that kind of intimacy.  Besides, we could be cousins, right?

At the door to my room, Eduardo lingered, towering over me and drawing closer until his lips were hovering centimeters above mine.  Oh, how much sweeter it would be to kiss him now than after those potent garlic chili shrimp.  This was the perfect moment, and the chemistry crackled so fiercely that I knew there was no way he
could be anywhere in my bloodline.

“I guess I should go,” Eduardo whispered as his breath touched my face. 

“Not yet,” I ordered softly, standing on my toes in an open invitation for a kiss.