As she entered the Hotel del Paraíso, Melanie was struck again by the Old World charm of the lobby. A huge fountain, surrounded by tree ferns, bubbled in the middle of the stone floor while palm-leaf fans twirled lazily overhead.
She nodded to the clerk behind the desk as she made her way to the elevator and shoved home the wrought-iron gate. The elevator clanged its way to the third floor, where her room was located at the end of a long, dim corridor.
The room was large and airy, with a private bath and a view of the street that Melanie had requested. She was quite comfortable with the accommodations, but she knew if she planned to stay in Santa Elena for much longer, shed have to find a cheaper place.
When her mother had died a few months ago, shed left Melanie the bulk of her estate, but taxes had depleted a substantial portion of the inheritance. And Melanies most recent job as a cocktail waitress hadnt allowed her to contribute much to the nest egg. Still, it would last her for a while if she was careful. Luckily, she was not a person given to consumer excesses. The basics were really all she neededfood to eat, a roof over her head, clothes on her back.
Stripping, she took a quick showera difficult task with one hand that had to be kept drythen dressed in fresh jeans and a white cotton blouse shed picked up at a thrift store in Houston before shed caught a plane to Cartéga. Grabbing her bag, she left the hotel again, intent on finding a quiet place to have a drink and watch the sunset.
This time of day, the hotel terrace would be full of tourists, mostly Americans and Asians, who would have just gotten back from their trek to the cloud forest or the ruins. Their excited chatter could be entertaining at times, but today Melanies nerves were on edge. She needed peace and quiet, a chance to think.
Heading down the street to a tiny café shed discovered her first day in Santa Elena, she found a table on the patio, ordered a pineapple juice and then, settling in, let her mind wander.
You must be new here.
The Australian accent startled Melanie so thoroughly she realized she must have drifted off to sleep. Alarmed by the lapse, her gaze shot to the man who stood over her table.
He was older, mid-fifties at least, with a haggard face and thin, white hair that brushed the shoulders of his lightweight suit.
Melanie knew she had never seen him before, yet there was something oddly familiar about him. I beg your pardon?
I asked if you were new here. I come in often, and I dont believe Ive seen you in here before. He put out a hand. Bond. Angus Bond.
She couldnt help but smile at the way he introduced himself. She shook his hand. Melanie Stark.
He held up a frosted glass garnished with a wedge of lime. May I buy you a drink, Melanie?
She nodded to her juice. I already have one, thanks. Shed meant it as a polite brushoff, but something about him, that familiarity, made her say impulsively, But youre welcome to join me if you like. What the heck? He looked harmless, save for a nasty scratch down the left side of his face, and there was something irresistible about a man with an Australian accent, no matter his age.
Id like that very much. He drew out a chair and sat down, then took a long, thirsty pull from his gin and tonic.
Nectar of the gods, he said with a sigh.
I thought that was wine.
Not in my paradise. He grinned and took another swallow. So what brings you to Santa Elena, Melanie? The cloud forest or the ruins?
I intend to see both. How about you?
He shrugged. Ive lived off and on in Cartéga for quite some time now. Santa Elena has always been a favorite haunt of mine. I like the quaintness.
Melanie lifted a brow in surprise. You live here? Judging by your accent, I would have guessed youd just left Melbourne a few days ago.
Queensland, actually. Im a banana bender, as they say. He grinned and saluted her with his drink. As for the accent, old habits die hard.
I know what you mean, Melanie murmured. She realized then why he looked so familiar to her. The evidence was there in his face. The excesses and the abuses. But it was his eyes that were the true giveaway. They were flat, emotionless, empty. Shed seen those same dead eyes years ago, in rehab. And in the mirror.
So what do you do here? she asked him.
He toyed with his glass. Right now Im working for an American oil company that has a drilling site about thirty miles north of town. Kruger Petroleum. Ever heard of it?
Melanie almost choked on her drink. I dont think so.
Theyre a small, independent outfit, but they appear to be flush with cash. The owner, Hoyt Kruger, is a hands-on kind of guy. He supervises every aspect of the operation.
What kind of work do you do for him? Melanie tried to ask casually.
I run the infirmary. Im a doctor.
It was all she could do not to spew juice from her nose. He ran the infirmary? Then he had to know about the break-in last night. Was that why hed sought her out? Because he knew she was responsible? What was this? Some kind of fishing expedition? A trap?
Santa Elena is a small place to have two doctors, she said carefully.
He glanced down at the bandage on her wrist. I take it youve made the acquaintance of our illustrious Dr. Wilder. Nothing serious, I trust?
No. Just a careless accident.
I sympathize. His smile was rueful as he ran a finger down the scratch on the side of his face. What happened? If Im not being too forward by asking.
Melanie hesitated. Ibroke a mirror in my hotel room. Luckily, Im not the superstitious type.
Then you obviously havent been in Cartéga long enough.
What do you mean?
Its a very superstitious country. The Cartégans love their legends. Havent you heard about la Encantadora who lives in the cloud forest and uses the mist to lure men to their death? Or the ghosts of the Mayan priests who wander the ruins He broke off as his gaze went past Melanies shoulder to the street. Speak of the devil
Melanie turned to see what had drawn his attention. Her breath caught when she saw the man from the clinic climbing out of his jeep.
She whipped back around, trying not to show her distress. Do you know that man?
Bonds mouth tightened. He works for Kruger. Euphemistically speaking, hes in charge of security, but His voice trailed off and he glanced away.
Melanie, sensing something in his tone, leaned toward him slightly. But? What were you about to say?
Bond looked suddenly uneasy. Let me put it this way. He may be in charge of security for Kruger, but if I had a daughter, Jon Lassiter would be the last man on earth Id want her to be alone with.
Melanie nervously glanced over her shoulder. Lassiter was making his way down the street toward the café. She didnt know whether hed spotted them or not, but she wasnt about to wait around and find out.
She rose from the table. Im sorry, but I really have to go.
Bond gazed up at her in surprise. So soon?
Yes. Ijust remembered an appointment. It was a pleasure meeting you, though.
Oh, believe me, the pleasure was all mine, Melanie.
When she reached into her bag for money, he held up his hand. No, please. Allow me. I insist.
Melanie hesitated. In that case, thank you very much. Maybe Ill see you here again. The drinks will be on me next time.
Ill hold you to that.
She could feel his gaze on her as she walked away, but it wasnt the leer of an older man admiring a younger woman. It was more innocent than that. For all his obvious vices and hard living, there was something guileless about Angus Bond. Something a bit sad.
But Melanie didnt have time to dwell long on the Australian, because as she left the patio and headed down the street, she turned and saw that Jon Lassiter had entered the café. He glanced up suddenly, and when he saw her, he said something to Angus, then started toward her.
Melanie spun around and headed in the opposite direction. Halfway down the street, she spied him again. He was even closer now, gaining on her steadily, although they were both trying not to draw attention.
Up ahead, a group of tourists had disembarked from a decrepit bus. Melanie hurried to infiltrate them, hoping to disappear among the chattering, excited vacationers.
Turning a corner with the crowd, she grabbed a peasant blouse from an outdoor rack in the market and hurried inside the dim shop.
Up ahead, a group of tourists had disembarked from a decrepit bus. Melanie hurried to infiltrate them, hoping to disappear among the chattering, excited vacationers.
Turning a corner with the crowd, she grabbed a peasant blouse from an outdoor rack in the market and hurried inside the dim shop.
¿Me puedo probar esto, por favor?
The ancient shopkeeper lazily waved a palmetto leaf fan in front of her face as she pointed to a dressing area in the backa ragged blanket strung across one corner.
Gracias. Melanie dashed to the back and scurried behind the blanket. She fervently hoped that Lassiter would follow the tourists down the street, at least for a block or two. By the time he discovered she was no longer with them, hed have no idea where shed gone
Perdón.
Melanies legs trembled at the sound of his voice. She shrank back in the corner, hoping the shopkeeper wouldnt give her away.
Im looking for an American, he said in Spanish. A young, blond woman. Very attractive. Have you seen her?
I saw the Americanos go by here, the shopkeeper replied. They talk and laugh very loudly, but they dont spend their money in here. Her voice held a heavy note of regret. Something for you perhaps? she asked hopefully. A gift for su esposa? Su amiga?
Nothing today, he said curtly. Gracias.
When their voices fell silent, Melanie assumed hed left the shop, but she didnt want to press her luck. She remained behind the curtain for several minutes longer, then glancing around to make sure hed gone, she carried the blouse to the shopkeeper and pulled some bills from her bag.
The old lady gave her a toothless smile of gratitude.
Thank you for not giving me away, Melanie said. She glanced around. Could I ask another favor of you, por favor?
Sí.
Is there a back door I can use?
Sí, por aquí. She got up and Melanie followed her to the back of the shop and down a grim little corridor that opened into a foul-smelling alley.