My Love Betrayed (14 page)

“Gracias, Senor Iveson, but that will not be
necessary,” Inspector Ramirez said, with a gesture
toward his companion.

Greg nodded, then left, Concepcion at his heels.

When they were gone, Ramirez motioned me
toward a chair. “If you will please be seated,
Senorita Steffee.”

As I sat down, I said eagerly, “Have you found
the men who attacked me?”

He frowned. “Perhaps we have a-how do you
say it?-a lead.” He indicated a folder on the table.
“We have some photographs we wish you to
consider. But first I have some questions concerning Senor Kemmler.”

“Rick?” It was my turn to frown.

“Si. I must ask you a delicate question, senorita.
Did Senor Kemmler give you anything to deliver to anyone in the United States? Or even here?” I
shook my head, and he went on. “Are you sure?”

“The only thing Rick Kemmler gave me,” I said
tartly, “was a pair of sapphire earrings and I’ve
already given them back to him!”

Ramirez said something in Spanish to the other
policeman. There was an answer, and more
discussion. Finally, Ramirez turned back to me.
“Did Senor Kemmler have perhaps access to your
room?”

“I didn’t give him a key, if that’s what you mean.
And he wasn’t there that often with me. What he
did, when I wasn’t around, I haven’t the faintest
idea. Why? What is the problem?”

“I’m sorry, senorita, but 1 am not permitted to
explain,” Ramirez said tersely. “Never mind.
Perhaps you will be so good as to consider these
photographs.”

He passed me the folder and I began looking
through it, taking my time, studying each face
carefully. Time passed and someone brought us
coffee and sandwiches. I kept on looking as I ate.
Eventually, I found him. Pepe. There was no
mistaking that arrogant face. I tapped the picture,
saying, “That’s him. The one who called himself
Pepe.”

Ramirez came over to me and took the folder,
turning it to face him. He studied the photograph
grimly for a moment. Then he sighed. “Si. We
know Pepe. That is not his name. He is fond of the
Americano senoras and senoritas. Sometimes a
ransom; sometimes a robbery. You are not the
first.”

“But they knew my name!” I said angrily.

Ramirez sighed again. “Si. We believe he bribes
perhaps the desk clerks in the better hotels for the
names of Americano women.”

I leaned back in my chair, stunned. “So it had
nothing to do with Rick?” I murmured.

Apparently Ramirez heard me. “It would seem
so, Senorita Steffee. Unless we are dealing with
very clever men, of course.”

Clever men, I thought. Then, coming to a
decision, I said, “There’s something I have to tell
you about. You know, of course, that I’m staying
with the Ivesons?”

“Of course.”

“Well, Saturday night, New Year’s Eve, they
took me to a party.”

“Si, we know,” Ramirez interrupted.

Impatiently, I demanded, “And do you know
someone tried to drug me?”

“What?” both policemen exclaimed.

I had their attention now, and I flushed. “At
least, I think someone tried to drug me.”

I explained everything. Everything except the
fight with Charles. When I finished, the inspector
looked very grave. “I think,” he said slowly, “it
would be best to speak with Senor Iveson. Perhaps
he knows this Ralph Carden.” Ramirez looked at
the other policeman and said curtly, “Senor
Iveson.”

The man nodded and left the room. When he
was gone, Ramirez said to me in measured tones,
“You will please, senorita, say only what I ask you
to say.”

“You suspect everyone, don’t you?” I asked,
amused.

“Si!” He nodded. “I suspect everyone.”

Impatiently, I looked away. Did he mean me?
Or Mr. Iveson? Personally, I suspected that
Ramirez enjoyed keeping everyone in the dark.

A few minutes later, the policeman returned
with Mr. Iveson. Greg smiled at me, then turned to
the inspector. “Yes, how can I help you?” he asked
briskly.

“Do you know a Senor”-he hesitated over the
name, then deliberately mispronounced it
“Ralph Carding?”

Greg frowned. “Carding? Oh, you mean Carden! Why, yes, I do. He works here.” Greg
stopped, looking from Ramirez to me and back
again. “Is there a problem? Shall I have Concepcion get Ralph? I’m sure there must be some
mistake. It’s unthinkable that Ralph could be
mixed up in Miss Steffee’s problems.”

I barely heard Greg. Ralph? Working here? As if
at a distance, I heard the inspector agree to Greg’s
suggestion. Then I heard Mr. Iveson’s firm voice
call down the hall, “Concepcion!” And, a few
moments later, “Concepcion, please request Mr.
Carden to come to the conference room.”

There was a murmur of Spanish, then Ramirez
said smoothly, “Fernando will accompany the
senorita.”

So again we waited. Twenty minutes, at the
least. Then Concepcion, the policeman, and a
third man entered the room. Instantly, I was on my
feet. “But that’s not Ralph!” I protested.

For a moment, there was absolute silence, and
my voice seemed to echo through the room. Then,
suddenly, there was a great deal of noise. The
stranger’s voice rose above the others, clear and
angry. “Who is this young woman? Of course my
name is Ralph Carden. Mr. Iveson can vouch for
that. I’d like to know what’s going on! Why should
the police wish to speak with me? I’m a respectable
businessman and whatever accusations this hysterical young woman may have made, they have
nothing to do with me! I refuse to waste my
time-”

Greg’s calm voice broke in now. “I’m sorry
about this, Ralph. I’m the one who sent Concepcion for you. I don’t know what this is all about
either, but I’m sure we will soon find out. Of
course, we realize you’re very busy, Ralph, but you
wouldn’t have been bothered if this weren’t
important.”

Here, Greg glanced at the inspector, who
remained impassive. With a shrug, Greg went on.
“Please have a seat, Ralph. Concepcion, for
heaven’s sake, shut that door!” As she hastily
complied, Greg turned again to Ramirez. “Senor
Carden is a personal friend and a respected
employee of this company. We both would like an
explanation.”

Grimly Ramirez turned to me. “Senorita, is this
the man, Ralph Carden, you saw the other night?”

Everyone was watching me, and tempers were
clearly short. Slowly I sat back down and tried to
answer carefully. “This is not the man I saw New
Year’s Eve.”

Carden muttered a loud, “Thank heaven for
that!”

I tried to ignore him and went on. “In fact, I’ve
never seen him before in my life, so I don’t know
whether his name is Ralph Carden or not.”

“It is!” the same voice retorted.

I looked at him and tried to explain, “I’m sorry.
It’s just that someone told me his name was Ralph
Carden. It must have been another Ralph
Carden.”

“Obviously!”

“Or someone using Ralph’s name,” Greg
suggested reasonably.

“Why?” Ramirez demanded.

Mr. Iveson shrugged. “Since you haven’t
explained what happened, I can hardly be
expected to guess what the man was thinking.”

Ramirez glared at Greg. Then he turned back to
Ralph Carden. “Senor, have you a son perhaps?
Or nephew?”

Mr. Carden snapped out his answers. “I’m not
married. And so far as I know I am the only Ralph
in my family over age five. And certainly the only
one in Mexico. Now may I please return to my
office? I do have work to do.”

“In a moment, senor. Senorita, please describe
the young man you met.”

“Now what good will that do?” Mr. Iveson
demanded.

The inspector was elaborately polite. “Perhaps
it was another man with the same name, and this is
a coincidence. Then the description will do no
good, as you say it. But perhaps the man borrowed Senor Carden’s name. In that case, it is probable
he may know the senor.”

“Or,” growled Carden, “he may have picked the
name at random out of the telephone book!”

Ramirez nodded. “As you say, he may have
done this. In any event, it can do no harm to hear
the senoritas description, si?”

I took a deep breath. “He was thirty, maybe.
Tall. Six feet, I think, with a medium build. Dark
brown hair and brown eyes. Small nose and
mouth. His hair was just a little longer than ear
length, and it was curly. Oh, and he was from the
United States, I’m sure of it.”

“I see.” Ramirez sighed. “So there was nothing
to distinguish him?”

I shook my head regretfully.

Calmer now, Carden asked, “Just what is this
young man supposed to have done to you?”

I looked at the inspector, who answered for me.
“Drugged the senorita.”

For a moment, there was a stunned silence, then
Greg started laughing. We all looked at him as if he
were crazy. Finding a new target for his anger,
Carden voiced our thoughts. “What the devil is
wrong with you, Greg? Have you gone crazy?”

Mr. Iveson straightened up and the laughter
faded to a wry smile. With a meaningful look, he
asked the inspector, “Must we detain Mr. Carden
any longer?”

Ramirez ignored him. “Senor Carden, do you
know any young men such as the senorita has
described?”

Carden snorted, “Dozens, undoubtedly! But I haven’t the slightest idea who she could mean, if
that’s what you’re asking.”

Ramirez nodded, with a sigh. “Very well, senor.
You may go. And my apologies for disturbing
you.”

“Yes, well, that’s all right. Doing your job, I
suppose. Can’t blame you. Good day.”

We all waited until Carden was gone. Then
Ramirez turned to Greg, eyebrows raised. “Well,
Senor Iveson?”

Greg looked at me, took out a handkerchief,
and began polishing his glasses before he
answered. “This is rather difficult,” he said, with a
frown, “since you haven’t explained yet what
occurred. However, my own feeling is that Miss
Steffee has been under a great deal of strain lately
and may have misinterpreted certain things. I
gather this business about being drugged refers to
Saturday night?” He waited, watching me, until I
bit my lower lip and nodded.

Then he went on self-consciously. “Forgive me,
Ellen, I don’t want to embarrass you, but I also
don’t want unnecessary trouble for anyone.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re not really
accustomed to drinking, are you, Ellen?”

I hesitated, then shook my head.

“In fact, I’m willing to bet you’ve never had a
hangover before, right?” Again I nodded, and this
time he sighed. “Yes, well, I can imagine that if
you’ve never had a hangover before, the effects
could well feel like the effects of having been
drugged. Especially when there has been so much
trouble and you were attacked so recently.”

Mr. Iveson turned to the inspector. “It’s a
common problem, I’m afraid, among our people
when they first arrive in Mexico City. It’s very
deceptive, but the altitude makes quite a difference
in how the body reacts to alcohol.”

Ramirez nodded sympathetically, but said
relentlessly, “We still wish to speak with the young
man who called himself Senor Carden.”

“Yes,” I said eagerly to Greg, “how do you
account for him lying about that?”

Greg was silent for a moment, obviously
uncomfortable. Then he said, slowly, “Yes, I see,
of course, that you must check out this young man.
Certainly, one mustn’t take any chances. Still, you
may find his name really is Ralph Carden. Not, of
course, related to our Ralph Carden,” he added
hastily. “There is another possibility, however.
Senor Ramirez, I ask you. When you were
younger, didn’t you ever give a senorita a false
name?”

The man hesitated, then nodded grudgingly.
“Si. If I wished a good time, but no-how do you
say it-no complications. It is possible. Still, we
must see. Do you know any such young man,
Senor Iveson?”

Greg frowned. “Well, as Ralph said, the
description could fit dozens of young men. I really
don’t know. After all, I didn’t see him-”

“Edna did!” I broke in excitedly.

The three men turned to stare at me, waiting.
“Mrs. Iveson saw him follow me into the room.”

“The room?” Greg’s tone seemed ominous.

“A study,” I explained hastily. “I could be wrong, but I think she was nearby.”

Now we all stared at Greg. After a moment, the
inspector gestured toward the phone. Immediately, Greg nodded and said with decision, “Of
course. She’s far more familiar with the U.S.
community here than I am. If anyone could
recognize the fellow, she could. If,” he added
cautiously, “Edna saw him. Even if she was
nearby, she may not have.”

We waited while Mr. Iveson arranged for an
outside line. After several minutes, he said,
“Senora Iveson, por favor.” There was a pause,
then, “Edna? Greg. Yes, fine, fine. What? Oh, of
course. Listen, Edna, I’m calling about the party at
Doug’s place Saturday night. Yes, that’s right,
New Year’s Eve. There are some questions I want
to ask you. Hold on a second.” He covered the
mouthpiece with his palm and turned to me. “Now
when was it that Edna might have seen your young
man, Ellen?”

“Ask her if she remembers the fight I had with
Mr. Whitford,” I said, carefully not looking at the
inspector.

“Edna? Yes. Do you remember Ellen having a
fight with Charles Whitford? I see. No, I can’t
explain now. Hold on.” Again Greg turned to me
expectantly.

“Ask her if she remembers a young man entering
the room, either right before or right after she did,”
I said.

Greg frowned but repeated the message and
waited. Then, “I see. Do you, by any chance, know
who he is? No. Well, can you describe him? I see. Tall. Brown hair. Well dressed. Slender. Hold on.”
He turned to us. “She saw him, but she doesn’t
know who he is.”

Ramirez sighed. “Please ask the senora if she
has ever seen him before.”

Greg nodded. “Hello, Edna? Do you remember
ever seeing the young man before? Anywhere? You
did?” We all leaned forward eagerly as he went on.
“Where? Oh. Yes, I see.” Greg turned to us again.
“She’s seen him a few times with friends. All young
kids from the U.S.College age. Mostly hippies. At
least, that’s what we would have called them ten
years ago. Edna thinks he must have crashed the
party.”