Sweetheart Deal (15 page)

eighteen

The first thing I
did when we got back to our suite (after bolting the door, of course) was run into my room, open the bureau drawer, and check the other bathing suit I'd brought for loose seams, tiny rips, or any point of potential malfunction.

Nothing.

The second thing I did was open the
leather-bound
welcome binder from the Hacienda de la Fortuna and begin to scan for names, starting with the general welcome letter.

It was signed:
Enrique Espinoza Garcia.

Meaning Enrique and Alejandro Espinoza were, in fact, related? I continued to leaf through the binder:

Assistant Manager of Resort Sales: Antonio
Espinoza Lopez

Bell Captain: Jorge Lopez

Head Chef: Benito Flores Olveras

Wedding Planner: Elena Flores Espinoza

The various combinations of the last names Espinoza, Olveras, Garcia, Flores, and Lopez repeated on from
Head Groundskeeper: Ricardo Flores
to
CFO of De la Fortuna LLC: Esteban Garcia Cortez.

I unlocked the safe, grabbed my laptop, booted it up, and Googled “Spanish last names.”

The first website I clicked on seemed to explain the commonality between names: In Spanish, a last name is not called a last name but an
apellidos
, which translates into “surnames” because there are often two of them. The two surnames are referred to as the first
apellido
and the second
apellido
.

Take, for example, a man named Luis Valdez Molina. Valdez would be the first surname of his father. His second surname, Molina, would be the first surname of his mother (in US terms—his mother's maiden name).

His father: Jose Valdez Rivas


His mother: Josephina Molina Salas


Him: Luis Valdez Molina

When Luis gets married, he keeps his name as is. His wife (let's say Rosa) keeps her first surname (her father's first) and often takes husband's name as her second surname. Sometimes the word ‘de' is added between the two surnames to show that the second surname is her husband's.

So, if her dad is Juan Barrera Rivera
and her mom is Juanita Leon Pérez, Rosa's birth name would be Rosa Barrera Leon. After marriage, Rosa becomes Rosa Barrera de Valdez or Rosa Barrera Valdez.

As in, Luis Valdez Molina and his lovely wife Rosa Barrera Valdez.

Whether she changes her second surname to Valdez or retains Leon, Rosa becomes Mrs. Barrera. This is very different from the United States, where if the change occurs at marriage, the woman assumes the husband's last name. Luis is Mr. Valdez, while his wife Rosa is Mrs. Barrera.

Luis and Rosa's children's
apellidos
will be Valdez Barrera.

In the United States, the family as a group is usually addressed by the last name of the husband. In Hispanic circles, the family is addressed by the combination of the first surname of each of the partners in the marriage, which is the same as the surnames of the children of the marriage. So the family would be referred to as the Valdez Barreras. This makes it clear that it is the family formed by the union of a Valdez and a Barrera, and it also differentiates this family from their parents' households (the Valdez Molinas and the Barrera Leons).

I logged off the Internet, opened my spreadsheet, and attempted something of a family tree by
cross-referencing
the members of the various clans.

Espinoza = Enrique, Alejandro, Antonio, Elena (marriage)

Lopez = Antonio, Jorge, Alejandro, Esteban (CFO)

Flores= Benito, Elena

Garcia = Enrique, Esteban (CFO)

The director of pool safety was a Cortez and the manager of the salon was a Lopez. As I looked for, but couldn't find, any mention of our driver Felipe or his last name, I had to wonder why so many of the
higher-level
employees seemed to be close relatives. While the fact that they were related might explain why they were unaware of the pervasive hatred toward their sibling/cousin/uncle/whatever Alejandro was to them, how was it that no one seemed eager to question the unusual circumstances surrounding the drinking and drowning death of a family member?

I opened the SUSPICIOUS BEHAVIOR spreadsheet that I'd hidden under the heading SHOPPING TIPS 101 and glanced through all the entries, starting with Alejandro's sudden and prominent appearance at the beginning of the shoot on down to the shooting schedule extension and budget increase with a single phone call to execs about an “accidental” death. Seeing as almost every entry pointed to someone associated with
The Family Frugalicious
, I added an entirely new subsection below it entitled FAMILY CONNECTION. I managed to type in only one word (
W
hy)
before there was a knock on the bedroom door.

“Maddie,” Frank said, popping his head in, “there's a police officer out here to talk to us.”

“I see,” I said, quickly closing the spreadsheet file.

I put the computer back in the safe, reset the combination, and ventured out in the living room to see the same police officer who'd first responded to the scene of the crime on Friday night. The very same officer who'd also been at Alejandro's funeral on Sunday.

While he questioned us about the incident at the water park, detailed the extra attention that would be given to the resort and all of its guests while they were getting to the bottom of what was going on, and gave us his assurance we could rest easy knowing that no stones would remain unturned where the incident with Geo was concerned, all I could see was his nametag, which I'd paid absolutely no attention to during either of our last meetings.

Garcia Lopez.

nineteen

Despite starting the day
thinking I had everything figured out and ending the day full of questions about everything but the fact that something was rotten in the state of
Dinamarca
, I was out cold the moment my head hit the pillow Monday night. I woke Tuesday morning from a dreamless, saturation-point sleep to the smell of coffee and stumbled out toward the kitchenette. Frank was standing in the living room.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he said, without any trace of a fairy tale lilt, and certainly not for my benefit given that Anastasia
Chastain-Stone
stood beside him.

“What are you doing here?” I blurted, not yet awake enough for proper decorum.

She pointed at plate filled with assorted baked goods. “Brought you breakfast.”

“Aren't you're supposed to be honeymooning?”

She glanced at her sparkling engagement ring/wedding band combo for the briefest of seconds. “It looks like it's gonna be a bit more of a working honeymoon than I'd anticipated.”

My blood pressure went into instant hyperdrive. “You're here because Geo—”

“Is going to be okay,” she said quickly. “And sooner rather than later. At least I hope.”

“Meaning what?”

“They're moving him out of intensive care as soon as possible.”

“He's in intensive care?”

“They put him on a respirator last night, but they've got him stabilized now.”

“Dear God,” I said, beelining for the coffee, where I filled a mug and helped myself to a big gulp without bothering with cream or sugar. “Please tell me you've been called in to expedite the process of getting us the hell out of here.”

“In a manner of speaking,” she said.

“Which means?”

“Well, we can't just pack up and leave without Geo.”

“Not all of us, of course,” I said, over the flush of a toilet in the kids' bathroom. “But, seeing as he's on the road to recovery, and my children's safety is of a certain amount of concern to me …”

“Maddie, we're absolutely safe,” Frank said. “You heard the police officer last night.”

“By police officer, don't you mean Alejandro's cousin?” I said.

Anastasia nodded.

“Wait. So you already know they're all related?”

“The Hacienda de la Fortuna is a
family-run
corporation,” she said. “And this is apparently a small town, particularly where the more prominent families are concerned.”

“Then you don't find it suspicious and more than a little scary how quickly Alejandro's death was swept under the rug?” I asked, borrowing heavily from Ivan. “Particularly by his relative or relatives in the police department?”

“We seem to have a real mystery on our hands,” she said. “And seeing as the first flight we could get anyone on isn't until Thursday morning—”

“You've got to be kidding,” I said.

Anastasia flashed a smile fraught with possibility and that telltale
reporter-on
-
the-trail
-
of-a
-
hot-story
glow I knew only too well.

Frank's smile was no less luminous. “Great TV is not about shying away from danger.”

“By pretending to investigate like we did all day yesterday?” I asked, almost as annoyed by Frank's devotion to the party line as I was worried about being in the thick of yet another murder.

“The setups and shots were planned in advance,” Anastasia said, “not your investigation into what happened to Alejandro.”

“Not according to what I heard,” I said. “Geo planned to have things wrapped up, with a suspect in tow, by tonight.”

“Wouldn't that be great,” she said wistfully. “An episode in the can and back on my honeymoon by tomorrow …”

“Assuming no one else gets—”

“They won't,” Anastasia said, cutting me off.

I looked into her calculating cobalt blue eyes. “And how can you make a promise like that?”

“Philip has agreed to head up our security detail,” she said.

“And we'll have an officer and the camera crew watching the kids at all times,” Frank added.

I looked from Stasia to Frank and back again. “Level with me,” I said.

“Maddie!” said Frank, giving me the don't
say-anything
-
that-might
-
compromise-our
-
career-come
-
hell-or
-
high-water
glare.

“Shoot,” she said.

“What did Geo know that he wasn't telling us?” I asked.

Frank looked immensely relieved that I'd refrained (for the moment, anyway) from voicing any of my more sinister suspicions where cast and crew were concerned.

Stasia shook her head. “I tried to find that out myself, but until he's off the ventilator, back in a regular room, and fully lucid, we're not going to know.”

“Then what exactly is it you plan to have us do in the meantime?”

“Keep looking into everything and everyone who could possibly be involved.”

“Which could be anyone, given that Alejandro wasn't exactly Mr. Popularity.”

“Yes, that is a problem. So is the fact that the suspects Geo had originally listed all had alibis during the time of the water park incident.”

“So those people are no longer suspects?”

She looked unsure for the first time. “They're worth requestioning before we spread out from there.”

“Just like we did yesterday with Geo?”

“No cue cards this time,” she said. “You ask whatever you need
to ask.”

“So the Espinoza/Lopez/Garcia clan has agreed to ad lib as necessary?”

“They want to find whoever is behind this as badly as we do,” she said. “Which is why Philip himself is headed back to the police station to try and find out whatever else there is to know.”

“His buddies didn't get much response the first time they tried to get involved,” I said, doubtfully.

“Things have changed,” she said.

“How so?”

“I'm back on set again,” Anastasia said, reaching into her purse and handing us copies of the day's call sheet.

I looked over the schedule, which was admittedly much less regimented than Geo's, but still had us locating and interviewing the same people. After which, our investigation was to continue on as part of a Mayan ruins trip. Frank simply read the sheet, folded it, and tucked it into his pocket. Apparently he was
a-okay
with Stasia's plans.

“You really think we're going to come up with anything?” I said.

“Who knows? I'll settle for an Emmy,” she said.

At least I knew she was being honest about one thing.

twenty

“Murder is deadly for
business,” Enrique admitted, looking nervous to even utter the words. “First it scares the guests away, then it gets around, and the next thing you know, we're running a loss-leader sale and praying we'll fill rooms.”

“So you're admitting there was a
cover-up
?” I asked, uncued, just as Anastasia promised, but hardly impromptu. In fact, instead of seeking out various persons of interest and interviewing them on the fly, Frank had been sent to round everyone up and bring them to me where I was to
ask them anything
in the safety of a closed conference room.

“You must understand that nothing like this has ever happened here,” Enrique said. “Given the circumstances and the fact there are TV cameras everywhere, we simply decided it was best for all concerned not to question the findings of the authorities.”

“By
authorities
, don't you mean your cousin, Officer Garcia Lopez?”

“Third cousin.”

“Close enough to suggest to me that he'd lie about a cause of death for the sake of the family enterprise.”

“He didn't have to.”

“Why's that?”

“The coroner made the final determination.”

“Another cousin?”

Enrique looked down at his shoes. “Even more distant,” he finally said. “The truth is, we really wanted to believe they were right. That was, until the incident at the water park.”

“And now?”

He sighed. “Now, we can't ignore the facts.”

“It certainly looks like someone finally had as much as they could take of Alejandro,” Benito said, picking a dried piece of something off his otherwise immaculate chef's jacket.

“Which doesn't surprise you.”

“No,” he said.

“I understand a lot of people disliked the man.”

Benito nodded. “Including me.”

I was surprised to hear someone finally admit what I suspected just about all of them felt. “Because?”

“He was always up to something he shouldn't have been,” Benito said. “You have no idea what he put my sister through.”

Unfortunately, I had a bad feeling I just might. A piece clicked into place. “Elena is your sister.”

“Ah, Benito,” Elena said, looking somehow pale despite her beautiful, naturally bronze skin. “Such a good brother.”

I nodded. “He seems to love you very much.”

“And Alejandro was …” She paused. “Alejandro was many things.”

“That's what I hear,” I said, hoping to draw her out.

“He was just trying to fulfill expectations, make his family proud …” She put her head in her hands. “That's all either of us were ever trying to do.”

“The truth about Alejandro?” Jorge said, as a sobbing Elena was escorted away by the ever-patient and understanding Enrique so she could collect herself enough for further conversation.

“Please,” I said. “And I think we can all agree that
tragic accident
doesn't hold water at this point.”

“Forgive me,” he said. “I was simply doing my job as concierge to make sure your stay was as
worry-free
as possible.”

“Of course,” I said. “But you do think he was murdered?”

“I think he had some serious vices that made him susceptible to that sort of thing.”

“Like?”

“He loved gambling and beautiful women,” Jorge said with the hint of a knowing smile.

“And tequila,” I said, fighting a flush in my cheeks.

“That's the thing,” Jorge said. “He always kept his wits about him when he drank.”

“But you implied …”

“Once again, I was trying not to alarm anyone—especially the esteemed Mrs. Frugalicious and her family.”

“I'm more alarmed that so many people disliked him and no one would tell me.”

Jorge's posture stiffened.

“Why exactly did people hate Alejandro?”

“I'll admit I've overheard a choice comment or three,” he finally said. “Mostly it was because he was so ambitious—in all things.”

“Perhaps you'd be so kind as to make a list for us of everyone you've heard complain about him and the various complaints you've heard?”

“Of course,” he said, with practiced concierge agreement. “I'll get it to you ASAP.”

“Thank you,” I said. “And while you're at it, how about narrowing down a few key
sharks
that might also have been to the water park yesterday.”

“I've already been thinking about that,” Jorge said.

“And?”

“I always figured the most likely culprit would end up being a disgruntled guest. Like your husband, for example,” he said, confirming that he was aware of the contents of the note he'd passed along.

And Frank would have been a good bet—were he were actually still my husband and as concerned about the sanctity of his marriage and the safety of his family as he was about his precious relationship with the TV network.

“That was, until whoever it was went after Geo,” Jorge said before I could.

“And now?”

“Now I can only think there was an entirely different motive.”

“Which is?”

“I know it's my job to have all the answers,” he said, “but this time, we're all looking to you to solve this mystery.”

“I said to be careful,” Zelda, head of housekeeping, said through a translator. She shook her head. “No one listens to me.”

“We're listening now,” I said, waiting for the translator to repeat my words for her in Spanish. “Why did you think we needed to be careful?”

Fear filled the woman's face. “I can't say.”

“Because?”

“Because it's bad luck to speak ill of the dead.”

“Not if it keeps more people from ending up that way.”

Zelda listened to the translator and seemed to consider my words for a moment.

“He no good,” she finally said in English, crossing her arms across her chest. “He bad seed.”

“How so?”

The translator took over once more. “Things always happened around him that shouldn't.”

“Like?”

Zelda looked at me like I was exceptionally slow on the uptake. “One dead person. One almost dead person. Isn't that enough?”

“More than enough,” I said. “But—”

She fired off something in rapid Spanish. “But bad news comes in threes,” the translator provided. Zelda crossed herself. “Two down, one to go.”

I wasn't superstitious. I also liked to think I wasn't stupid, but after the off-the-cuff soundbites I'd just gotten from the staff of Hacienda de la Fortuna, I had to wonder just how gullible everyone else thought I was.

Specifically, Anastasia.

While it was true that I'd been free to
ask
whatever I was compelled to ask
, the answers all followed a similar theme. Everyone that was related, admitted they were related. Everyone knew Alejandro had enemies. They all finally agreed that despite the findings of their cousins in law enforcement, he'd been murdered. Most important, no one seemed to have any idea how or why Geo had been dragged, nearly fatally, into the fray.

Maybe I was a newbie in reality TV, but I'd been around long enough to know Geo would do almost anything for a shot—short of offing himself, that was. Which left me looking for the murderer of a
less-than
-wonderful man for a variety of vague reasons. Not to mention the attack on Geo for seemingly no reason at all. My suspect and ally list had suddenly merged into a conglomeration of relatives who seemed to have the means and motive, if not the opportunity, to want to kill Alejandro and have his death put to rest as quickly as possible:

Enrique wanted and now had Elena to himself.

Benito freely admitted that he hated Alejandro.

Elena could have wanted to be free of an unhappy and possibly arranged marriage.

And Jorge did what he was told; did his job description include killing the bad seed, Alejandro?

Or maybe it was all of them working together.

“That would explain why everyone was so eager to rule the death an accident,” Frank added with the smirk that had been plastered on his face since it became clear that his theory about whatever was happening was more accurate than mine.

A conspiracy was consistent with the death being immediately classified an accident. What it didn't answer was something that had been bugging me since I first began questioning members of the Hacienda de la Fortuna staff:

Why would a bunch of people be so willing to be interviewed like potential suspects from the
get-go
if they were actually guilty?

As Frank and I approached the kids, who were chilling by the pool with one of Philip's officer buddies for safety and the camera crew that was setting up for an unscripted update during our poolside lunch, I realized that not one of the staff members I'd just interviewed was anywhere near the water park during Geo's attack.

Meaning there were even more family members involved?

“I mean, it's certainly possible,” Trent said as we were placed in the most favorable ocean view positions, the food was arranged around us, and Anastasia gave us the
go-ahead
to eat and confer.

“Maybe someone in the family works at the water park,” FJ said. “Or was there for the day.”

“It doesn't explain why they all claim to be happy that we're down here helping them figure out who did it though,” I said, eyeing the various
wood-fired
pizzas set out for our lunch, but not terribly interested in eating much of anything.

“True,” Eloise added from a nearby deck chair where she'd been camped all morning sunning herself, and, I presumed, hoping Ivan might turn up even though he'd been given the day off. “And why would they send someone to go after Geo if they wanted to keep the murder looking like an accident?”

“Especially if the resort is all worried about bad press,” FJ said.

“I mean, why would anyone go after Geo at all?” Trent added, grabbing a slice of pizza.

“I think that's the big question,” I said.

With Anastasia's approving smile and signal to cut, I knew I was between a rock and a hard place. Given what we knew, it made little sense that Alejandro's family had done him in. And while I could believe someone in the upper ranks of
The Family Frugalicious
might be willing to sacrifice a seemingly innocent bystander for the sake of TV verité, why would they double their own jeopardy by arranging to do in the show's director while they were at it?

As the next camera shot focused in on the boys eating and discussing the results of their informal survey as to
who might have hated Alejandro
(potentially every rank and file staff member) and why (he was demanding and difficult, for starters), I found myself zoning out of the “official” conversation and eavesdropping on the
exhausted-looking
couple who'd just settled into a nearby pair of partially submerged cement lounge chairs.

“No strings attached?” the woman said. “I didn't think we were ever going to get out of the timeshare offices.”

“I'm sorry, honey, but I really wanted those free golf passes.”

“The
ninety-minute
presentation was almost four hours long! You could have golfed and been back by now if you'd just paid for the tee time.”

“I'll admit it was kind of intense.”

“Kind of? Three sales people, all that personal information they kept demanding from us, and that one guy who kept saying,
What's your price? What's your price? What's your
—”

“At least we got a week in paradise every year from now on,” the husband said.

“Are you sure about that?” The wife turned to her tote at the side of the pool and pulled out some paperwork. “I mean, what exactly is this Sampler Package you agreed to? That manager guy was talking so fast, I have no idea what we even bought …”

With the word
manager
, I glanced over at the vacation sales office. Two things seemed suddenly clear: First, I had experienced a very different version of the timeshare presentation than they had; and second, Frank had tracked down every single person on my persons of interest list, save Felipe, who was scheduled for a chat while he drove us to the ruins that afternoon.

All except Antonio, the newest manager of the vacation sales department.

“May I help you?” Beti the receptionist asked without looking up from her computer.

“I'd like to speak to Antonio, please,” I said, glancing out the window behind her desk. While the boys were doing a retake, I'd excused myself to the bathrooms, veered off as soon as I was out of sight of the two officers assigned to keep an eye on us, and slipped into the vacation sales office for what I hoped would be an actual impromptu conversation with Antonio. “Quickly, if that's possible.”

“Write down your name and what you want to see him for,” she said, still not looking up, nor batting so much as a fake eyelash in my direction as she pointed to a clipboard labeled MANAGER REQUEST LIST.

“Okay …” I said as I wrote down
Maddie Michaels
in the box for my name and
Alejandro
as my reason for meeting.

I left the clipboard on the counter and took a seat on a couch that faced the sales floor. In the back corner of the room, I spotted Antonio in the
glass-walled
manager's office. He seemed to be staring at his desk.

“I see he's in,” I said. And he certainly didn't look otherwise occupied.

“Yes,” Beti said, finally reaching for the clipboard.

Her
put-upon
expression completely changed the moment she deigned to read my name.