2 Crushed (18 page)

She looked down at the note and
shook her head. “I don’t know. But I think his sister does.”

“What if she won’t talk to you?”

Her eyes widened and she smiled.
“We have a secret weapon. Davy. I’m sure Pablo would want to see that his
friend is safe and sound.” She picked up the phone again.

“Are you calling Carlita Ortiz?”

“No. I’m calling Margaret. She can
set it up to appear like an innocent play date.”

“You’re pretty sneaky.”

She turned her swivel chair to face
away from him. “Margaret?”

*****

“This is it.” Margaret squinted at
the stenciled numbers on the beat up mailbox. It looked like someone had driven
over it and then set it back up in the hole again. The post leaned West like a
drunken cowboy.

Billie pulled the car over and
parked at the curb. An old Chevy pickup was parked in the driveway of a small
boxlike structure. The exterior of the little house was stucco, grey, and
crumbling. The windows were square and unimaginative, the door painted candy
apple red.

Davy released his seatbelt and leaned
forward. “This is where Pablo lives? Cool,” he said, when a giant black Lab
bounded out of the front door, followed closely by his friend and a woman who
looked surprised and a little unsure when all three of them climbed from the
car.

“Hello, Carlita,” Margaret greeted,
holding out her hand to the woman. “I’m Margaret Parker. Thanks for letting us
stop by. Davy was very worried about Pablo. He wanted to see for himself that
he was all right.”

“Si.”

Davy was immediately knocked down
by the wriggling black Labrador puppy. It licked his face and tried to crawl
onto his lap, to the chagrin of Pablo, who tried to pull him away. But Davy’s
laughter was contagious and soon Pablo was rolling on the grass with him,
wrestling with the overly exuberant puppy.

Carlita glanced worriedly at the
boys, but Margaret laughed and turned toward the house. “They’ll be fine. Davy
loves animals. Could we go in and talk for a minute while they play?” she
asked, her smile bright and carefree.

The woman hesitated, then gestured toward
the front door. “Si.”

She motioned for them to sit on the
small, flower-print sofa and went into the adjoining kitchen to make coffee.
Soon she was back, and sat in a little rocker across from them. She smiled and
clasped nervous hands in her lap. She was a short woman, even shorter than her
brother. Her hair was streaked with threads of grey but she didn’t appear any
older than forty.

Margaret was beginning to think the
woman spoke no English when she suddenly blurted out, “Pablo’s a good boy. He’s
sorry to cause so much trouble.”

“He didn’t cause any trouble. He
was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’m truly sorry he was caught up
in this horrible situation.” Margaret smiled and leaned back on the sofa, her
gaze straying to a photograph on the mantel above the television in the corner.
She nudged Billie and gestured with a nod of her head. Billie’s eyes opened
wide and she abruptly stood up and approached the mantel.

Carlita Ortiz stood up also and
tried to direct her away from the photograph, but Billie had already picked it
up. “This is the Sanchez family. They owned the winery before my uncle, Jack
Fredrickson.” If eyes were swords, Carlita would have been pierced through.
“Why do you have this picture?”

Carlita pressed her lips tightly together
and shook her head back and forth as though to make the question go away. “I
can’t speak with you anymore,” she said, waving toward the door.

“We’re not leaving until you tell
us what you and your brother have to do with Sean Parker and the plot to kidnap
Davy!”

Margaret hoped Billie didn’t shove
the woman back in her chair, but from the look on her face she was that close.
“Carlita,” she said, intervening, her voice soft and understanding, “it’s all
right. I know you wouldn’t do anything to hurt Davy.” She glanced out the front
window and saw the boys still playing with the dog. “You and Mario are part of
the Sanchez family, aren’t you?”

Carlita continued to wring her
hands, but she gave a small nod.

The admission clearly floored
Billie. “What?”

“Adam and I were looking at the
photographs last night and realized that Mario looks very much like this man.”
Margaret pointed at the elder Sanchez. “He’s your father, isn’t he?” she asked
Carlita.

“Si. There’s just me and Mario now.
He told me if Juan and I did what he asked we would all be able to stay in
America. He purchased papers for them. My husband and son are not legal,” she
blurted, unable to keep the secrets bottled up any longer. Her eyes were filled
with misery. “I didn’t want to help that man get out of prison, but Mario said
it was for the best. He’s never gotten over Martina’s death.”

“Martina?” The name was but a
breath from Billie’s lips.

“Si,” the woman nodded, “Tina was
our baby sister. She was only twelve when we lived at the winery. Papa found
out she was pregnant. He was furious, but she wouldn’t tell who the father was.
She just cried all the time.” Her eyes welled up and she sniffed. “Papa decided
we had to move. He couldn’t have everyone know that his daughter was a whore.
So we went back to Mexico.”

“And what happened to Tina?” Billie
asked, her voice gentled with understanding.

“Tina and the baby died. She was
just too small to give birth.” She drew a breath and slowly released it, her
face crumpling with the memories. “Mario found out that Sean Parker was the
father. That he had raped her.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “He swore he
would kill him someday.”

Margaret was baffled. “If he hated
my father so much, why would he help him get out of prison?” And then the
answer exploded in her mind. Mario wanted to kill Sean—personally. He
couldn’t wait for time or another inmate to do the job for him. Mario Sanchez
was playing the part of a vigilante.

“Mario and Sean were friends when
we lived at the winery. So he felt like he was stabbed in the heart twice,”
Carlita said, sitting back in the rocker. She looked down at her lap.

“Where did they go?” Billie asked.

“Mexico. My brother belongs to the
cartel now. He will make Sean Parker suffer many times over for what he did,”
she said, beginning to rock back and forth, the chair making a thumping sound
against the thin carpet.

Margaret saw fear in the woman’s
eyes, in her hunched shoulders. Her brother had turned into the monster he
sought. The sins of the fathers were far-reaching indeed. Billie touched her
arm, and inclined her head toward the door.

“Thank you, Carlita,” she said.

“You won’t turn us in?” the woman
pleaded, lifting her arms toward them. “If we go back they will take Pablo and
make him into a killer. That is why we left. Mario said it was the only way to
keep him safe.”

Margaret met the woman’s frightened
gaze and shook her head.

She followed Billie outside.

Davy wasn’t ready to leave yet, but
he reluctantly climbed in the backseat. Pablo stood in the yard, waving them
off. “Are we ever going to see Pablo again?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Davy.” Margaret
turned in the front seat and gave him a soft smile. “Sometimes we only have a
short time with people we care about, and then they’re gone.” Thoughts of
Agosto came to mind. Sometime soon she would have to have that conversation
with her son.

Billie drove out of the
neighborhood, keeping her thoughts to herself. But once they were cruising
along on the highway toward home, she glanced over. “Are you all right?” she
asked.

Margaret knew what she meant. She
didn’t have an answer. Finding out that a member of the Mexican cartel had a
vendetta against her father was mind boggling. Sean Parker was an evil man who
had destroyed many lives. He was also her father. She didn’t want to imagine
what his sins had finally wrought.

CHAPTER
SIXTEEN

“Welcome!” Antonio greeted them at
the door of the restaurant, his eyes straying toward Billie’s mother. His smile
stretched wide when he caught her eye. “Sabrina. You’ve come back to me.”

She took male attention like a
seasoned veteran. “If it wasn’t such a horribly long flight, I’d come back more
often—to see my daughter of course.” She let him kiss her on the cheek,
before sweeping past him into the dining room. Her sapphire blue knee-length
dress sparkled with the glint of sequins along the neckline, accentuating dark
hair and creamy skin. Margaret was amazed that she appeared so young.

The restaurant was closed to the
public, allowing Carl to throw Handel and Billie an elaborate engagement
celebration. In a white tuxedo Carl moved about the room greeting each guest,
the perfect host. He and his brother Antonio reminded Margaret just a bit too
much of their cousin Agosto in looks and manner. But unlike Agosto, their
suave, handsome looks were only frosting on their true personalities. Both of
them were teddy bears, lovers of women, but gentlemen through and through.

“Would you like a glass of
champagne?” Adam stood at her elbow in a black suit and emerald green silk tie,
a fluted glass in each hand. His auburn hair was parted on the side and combed
back.

“Thank you.” Her gaze strayed to
the happy couple. Handel and Billie were already on the dance floor, moving
together to the slow seductive strains of a Rumba.

“You look amazing,” Adam said,
clearly enjoying the sight of her in a dress after seeing her in nothing but
jeans and t-shirts for the past week. She’d taken special pains to pick just
the right one, something feminine, a bit alluring, and apparently his favorite
color. Emerald green. He did look pleased.

Carl made a “lets get this party
started” motion toward the D.J. he’d hired for the night, and the man pumped up
the music with a Brittany Spears heart-thumping dance tune. Handel glanced up
and shook his head. He grinned and pulled Billie laughing from the floor.

“Handel’s too chicken to try that
one,” Billie said, out of breath. Her dark hair swung around her face and he
gently pushed it away, then leaned in and kissed her.

“I’m not chicken. I just prefer
dancing close to the woman I love.”

 
Margaret glanced at Adam, and imagined he
felt as she did. They were the third and fourth wheels on a Tandem bicycle.
“Want to dance?” she asked, raising her voice to be heard over the music.

“Thought you’d never ask.” He took
her hand and they moved out to the dance floor.

She spotted Davy up on the stage,
watching the DJ and asking questions. When she tucked him in bed tonight he’d
probably tell her he’d changed his mind about the wine vintner gig and now
wanted to be a DJ. She smiled when he looked up and saw them dancing together.
He grinned and waved.

Carl made his famous tortellini
with asparagus and garlic cream sauce and served Margaret’s Wine with dinner.
Everyone had to get up and give a toast, sharing thoughts or best wishes for
the happy couple.

Sabrina Fredrickson finally stood,
raised her glass, and smiled at everyone around the table. “If it weren’t for
Davy, I might not be here tonight. Sometimes it takes tragedy to bring families
together, and although we don’t enjoy going through those times, we end up
stronger in the end. My beautiful daughter, Wilhelmina, is a true example of
having been refined in the fire. Now Margaret has been tested and proven as
well.” She glanced toward Adam and raised her brows. “I don’t think I have to
tell one young man here tonight what a prize she would make.”

Everybody laughed, except Adam, who
turned apologetic eyes toward Margaret. She smiled and reached for his hand
under the edge of the tablecloth.

Sabrina continued. “To Handel and
Billie. May your love burn as bright as the California sun, be strong enough to
pull you through any rough patches and fertile enough to give me many
grandchildren.”

She took her seat amid loud and
raucous applause. Antonio, sitting on her right, leaned in brushing his fingers
along her neck and whispered something in her ear. Margaret wondered if Sabrina
might be the next Fredrickson to fall for a California lover.

The DJ started up the music again
with Neil Diamond’s classic
September
Morn.
It seemed appropriate. It was late September and half past midnight
already. Margaret looked at Adam and inclined her head toward the dance floor.
He pulled out her chair and took her hand.

Sally and Loren were already
swaying together. Sally’s head only came up to his chest but he didn’t seem to
mind. He playfully spun her around and pulled her back in close, his chin
resting atop her head. She wrapped her arms around him and held on for the
ride.

“Look at them. Complete opposites,
but totally meant for each other.”

Adam smiled. “Sounds like what you
told me about winemaking. It takes just the right amount of acidity and sugar
content to make the perfect wine.” His gaze was relentless. “How do you think
we fare? Too sweet? Too acidic? Or just right?”

“Time will tell. A few more months
to go through clarification and fermentation and if we’re lucky we might just
have a lovely, complex, but well-balanced relationship.”

“Is that how it’s going to be?
Everything relating to wine?”

She shrugged. “It’s my life.”

“Well music is my life and I just
made up a song for you.”

“Just now?”

“Well, we were sitting at the table
a really long time,” he said, his voice teasing.

He started to sing in a soft
gravelly whisper, getting a little louder as he really got into it.

“I
fell in love with a West coast girl,

In
the southern California world

She
turned my northern mind awhirl,

Made
me say some things and I acted the fool

Yeah,
I’m a little bit drunk on Margaret’s wine,

Margaret’s
wine, Margaret’s wine

Cause
she crushed my heart, but it turned out fine

Margaret’s
Wine, Margaret’s wine

Yeah,
I’m a little bit drunk on Margaret’s wine”

He dragged the last word out and
looked surprised when he got a ripple of applause from those on the dance floor
near enough to overhear him. Margaret felt the color rise in her face and she
pressed it against his chest, laughing.

He pulled her to a quiet corner
away from the others. “So what do you think?”

She shook her head, a soft smile on
her lips. “I think you’re more than a little bit drunk on Margaret’s wine.”

He leaned close enough to kiss her
but stopped a breath away. “Yet I still crave more.” He pressed his lips to
hers and drank deep.

*****

There was a package on Billie’s
desk when she returned from lunch Monday afternoon. She picked it up. No return
address, but it was postmarked, Juarez, Mexico. She bit her bottom lip and
ripped open the seal.

Inside was the bundle of
Polaroids–minus one. Martina Sanchez.