The Sometime Sister Katherine Nichols (reading in the dark txt) 📖

guessing Franco is a front for Balsuto, and I don’t want to spook him.”

If Prez’s plans included putting Justin in danger, he wouldn’t leave an incriminating note. But what if he was too stupid to know better? Should I play it safe and fill Justin in what was going on, or let him go on what would, hopefully, be a harmless wild-goose chase?

He seemed to take my silence as anger. “I promise I’ll go over everything he says.”

I felt guilty at his desire to please me.

“Besides, you could use some relaxation. Shop a little or go on a nice long walk on the beach.”

“A nice, long walk on the beach?” I wanted to tell him what he could do with his long walk. And, seriously, did he think I’d enjoy a shopping trip knowing the man who probably killed my sister was lounging around drinking gin and tonic? Then I realized he had given me the perfect out.

“That sounds lovely,” I said, smiling sweetly. “You go on and see what you can find out. I’ll just relax.

He tilted his head as if he misheard me.

“Well, then.” He took his cup to the counter. “It’s after eight and Prez’s directions say I’m an hour out. I want to get there early to scout out the area. Are you sure you’ll be all right by yourself?”

The genuine concern in his voice gave me another pang of guilt. I remembered the way his lips felt when he kissed me. But I was determined to follow through.

“I’ll be fine. I need to take a shower before I head out. Promise to call and let me know you’re okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Well, because the whole thing is a set-up, and I’m a terrible person for letting you walk into what might be a really, really dangerous situation. “I’m sure you will, but stay in touch anyway, please.”

I darted for the bathroom to avoid more questions. Showering in Montañita was quite the challenge. The water had to be brought in, and the pressure was almost nonexistent. I danced under a lukewarm trickle, trying to lather and rinse. I took my time to make sure Justin had gone before I came out of my room. Lukewarm turned to cold, but I was well-rinsed. I wore the same skirt with a modest short-sleeve blouse. No need to distract Prez with cleavage.

At ten on the dot, he knocked; we were in his Jeep Renegade and on our way in less than five minutes. My escort looked as if he had taken time with his appearance—fresh shave, combed hair, a clean shirt, and pressed shorts. Was he trying to impress me, or was Eva much younger and hotter than I imagined?

We rode to the highway in silence while I planned how to ask about Luis Cordoza and how he’d gotten him to request Harry’s presence. I decided on a direct approach.

“So, how did you pull it off, Prez?”

He kept his eyes on the road. “Pull what off?”

“Getting Harry to go back to Guayaquil, that’s what. Who do you know at the government office? And who is Franco?”

“I’m not the one who took care of Harry. The plan was for Justin to go alone and have Harry follow another lead. That Cordova fellow really did send for the old dude. And Franco’s a buddy of mine. He knows how things work here.”

“How do they work here? Can you get away with murder in beautiful Montañita?”

He turned to me with wild eyes. “Be careful what you say, Grace. I mean murder, wow. That’s harsh. And I can’t tell you anymore. You’ll have to wait until we’re there.”

Prez took a narrow road near the ocean. After about fifteen minutes, I began to worry.

“Where does Eva live?” Or should I ask how many miles from town do we have to be for you to bury my body? And how foolish had I been not to tell anyone where I was going?

“She had a change of plans and won’t be home until later. We’re taking a side trip, a place your sister liked. But don’t worry. It’s not that far and we’ll have plenty of time for both.”

When the crazed killer tells you not to worry, you know you’re done for. I took out my phone, but who would I call? I could text Mike and tell him Prez Allen was the last person to see me alive. Of course, that would scare the hell out of him. But I needn’t have been concerned. There was no cell reception.

“Service is sketchy out here. We’re almost there.”

I wondered if he and Stella had spent more time together than he indicated. Maybe I had misunderstood his relationship with my sister.

“Did you and Stella go here a lot?”

He ignored my question and posed one of his own. “Have you ever seen a blue-footed booby?” Prez glanced at me and grinned.

“I’m sorry. Did you say blue-footed booby?”

“Funny, right?” He giggled like a middle-school boy. “Booby.” He laughed again. “It’s not what you think.” He paused. “It’s a bird.”

My lack of response must have seemed an insult to the booby, and he repeated emphatically, “A bird. A seagull with big blue feet. You can’t get this close to Los Piqueros Patas Azules without checking out the boobies of Puerto Lopez.” He chuckled again.

“Look, Prez. I don’t see what looking at some blue-footed birds has to do with finding out the truth about Stella. And is that where we’re going? Los Piqueros whatever? How far is it anyway?”

“Chill, Grace. Get in touch with the universe. Trust me, the booby is the way to go.” Thankfully, he managed not to crack himself up. “And don’t be so hung up on time. We have all we need.” He smiled at me, took a CD from the visor, inserted it, and began singing along with Jerry Garcia and The Dead, “A Friend of the Devil is a Friend of Mine.”

I didn’t read too much into his choice of music and surrendered to the universe.