A Dangerous Harbor (13 page)

They stepped through the entry and were greeted by a beautiful young woman whose dark liquid eyes smiled warmly at the chief and widened when she saw Katy. Even so, she graciously indicated that their table was ready and that they should follow her.

The foyer opened into a garden setting with huge old trees, their thick limbs forming a high, leafy green canopy. Hanging from the limbs were lighted round woven baskets in a variety of sizes. Tables were scattered throughout the garden between plantings of flowers and hedges, giving the atmosphere of privacy.

"Do you approve?" he asked.

"It's incredible." As they were led to a table set apart from the rest she added, "This is a beautiful setting. And from the cars outside, I'd say very popular. Not that I've ever heard about it."

"The marina hotel offers it to their guests. Otherwise, it's word of mouth, and every night all the reservations are filled."

A waiter rushed up and pulled out her chair, set her white linen napkin on her lap, laid two menus on the table and asked if they would like a cocktail.

Raul leaned towards her and whispered conspiratorially, "It is my one vice, once a week, one margarita. Say you will have one, too. I can promise you they are very good."

She smiled and nodded. One drink. And some food because everything smelled so good, she thought as another waiter passed by with something colorful and tasty looking.

When the waiter left with their drink order, she took it all in, the lush, yet quiet setting, the sigh of the breeze gently nudging the lighted baskets into motion. "This is an unexpected treasure. Do you come here often?"

"Not nearly enough."

Remembering the surprised look on the hostess's face she guessed that his presence here with a woman other than his wife was unusual.
 
Now, why would a married man come here alone? She leaned back in her chair, and then because she was also a cop, said, "We could have brought your wife with us tonight, you know. It might have pleased her to be with her husband, even if you are here on business."

His earlier good humor was gone in a flash. He looked around the lighted patio garden, as if seeing it for the first time. "My wife," he said quietly, "would forgive me for coming without her."

Something he said, or the way he said it, touched her. She knew she was prying, but she couldn't seem to help herself. Just as she opened her mouth to apologize, a small man with a white starched chef's coat spread across his round middle rushed up to them. He stood beaming with arms extended wide, crooking his fingers in a proprietary signal, no dispute allowed.

Raul sighed, scraped back his chair and gave the little man a hug. In Italian, the two conversed amiably, then the chief turned to Katy and said, "This is my uncle, Blake."

Katy flashed the short round man a wide smile and held out her hand. Who wouldn't love this amiable Chef-Boyardee character named after an English poet?

Saying something in Italian, the little man grabbed her hand and gave it a feather-light kiss. Then with a wink and a waggle of his forefinger at his nephew, he said, "Forgive me,
señorita
, but I am so very pleased to see my nephew has honored us with your presence tonight."

When he left, Raul sat down again, put his napkin back onto his lap and smiled, his good mood now reinstated. Katy, unable to wait another minute, said, "Blake? Not too many
Blakes
in Italy, I'll bet."

The light was back in his deep gold eyes. "You think that's funny? My father's name is Byron and my aunt is Emily Bronte
Vignaroli
. She never married, poor thing, and she still blames our grandmother for that mistake. Of course it didn't help that my aunt looks like a horse."

Katy giggled. That got her funny bone, as he must've known it would.

He toyed with his spoon and continued, "My grandmother thought emulating the upper-class English would bring some sort of civilized deportment to our squabbling dinner table. Then my grandfather moved the entire family to Ensenada to start the cannery and my grandmother's dreams were dashed."

"Your family sounds good to me. All of you are educated, gainfully employed, successful. I hear a bit of southern American in your accent. Where'd you get that?"

"I went to law school in Louisiana. Fell in love with the south there and almost stayed."

She sipped a taste of her margarita, wondering if he also had stayed in the States long enough to meet and marry and move back to Ensenada. They probably had five kids. She gave up the useless mental beating and took a sip of her margarita.

"You're right about the margarita, though I think putting this fine tequila into a cocktail is a waste. What is the brand?"

"It's my Uncle Blake's. Named after his daughter, who fortunately has a very nice Spanish name…
Angelita
."

"It's also very strong.
 
Perhaps we should order some food to dilute it."

"May I make a suggestion?"

When she nodded he ordered the food: veal saltimbocca and spaghetti with meatballs.

Katy noticed a guitarist had taken up a spot on a stool, close enough for the music to drift their way.

Raul considered the musician. "Shall I ask him to leave?"

"No, please. I think it's nice," she said, reaching for a breadstick.

"I'm sorry," Raul said, watching her take the breadstick out of the basket and bring it to her lips.

"Why? I'm not bored. We'll eat then discuss the case."

He traced a forefinger over the checkered pattern of the tablecloth. "You are anxious to get back to your life in San Francisco, are you not?"

"If you're asking whether I still have a job in the SFPD, the answer is yes. I'm expected to report for duty in two weeks and I still have to have my boat trucked back to California."

"I wish I didn't have to involve you, but I have many cases on my desk with all of them crying out for my attention."

"What could be more important than the death of one of your own citizens?"

"That is exactly why I am so grateful for your help in this matter. Your record with the SFPD is exemplary."

"You mean it was until I shot my sister's stalker."

He shook his head sadly. "If it had happened in Mexico, there would have been no paid leave of absence for one who comes to the defense of a potential victim."

"Well, that may be so in Mexico, but not the States."

"My sources tell me that you have the makings of a good homicide detective but you work in vice."

Her job and that promotion from vice to homicide hung in a decision of her department's internal investigation. She pushed the margarita glass away. "Let's concentrate on this job, shall we?"

He pursed his lips as if trying to keep something inside but nodded to indicate she should start.

 
"Your ruse to fool the American boaters lasted less than the time it took me to sail from one marina to the next.
 
Word is out on who I am and why I'm there. You're surprised? Along with the weather report, rumor is spread throughout the entire American fleet over a cruiser's radio net. I can tell you right now that every boater from here to Acapulco knows about the floater, that my boat was chained to the dock by the police, and after a late night visit from the investigating detective, I'm motoring for Marina Mar, where the main suspect is docked." At his deep frown, she added, "Look, it's not all bad. For now, your witnesses are more interested in covering their own butts than to care about any connection I have with you."

"I'm sorry."

"Please don't apologize again. If you're really sorry you can release me from this job."

When he didn't jump to that idea she continued, "It wasn't a coincidence that I was invited to Spencer's party the first night I got there. I was, however, impressed at the number of Americans who showed up. I think it was his way to thumb his nose at your investigation and to size me up. So, I guess my question is who spilled the beans?"

"Beans?"

"You know what I'm talking about. Spencer knew I was coming."

He started to say something, but a young waiter shuffled over with two hot plates, thrust them onto the table, sighed loudly and shuffled away.

Katy couldn't help but smile. "New waiter?"

"That is my nephew,
Alphonso
, who is supposed to be in college in the States, but because he was caught drinking on campus, he's doing penance here at his father's restaurant.
 
He hates manual labor, so we expect to see the back of him soon. I can only hope his good behavior lasts until he graduates.

"Please,
manga, manga
. Enjoy your meal and we'll talk on the ride back."

She was only too happy to dig into the savory saltimbocca; veal layered with prosciutto and cheese in a wine sauce over polenta. When she was finished, she wiped up the last of the sauce with her bread. "That was beyond yummy."

Raul said, "Saltimbocca means
jumps in the mouth
and it's one of my uncle's best dishes." Then he stood and lifted her shawl off the back of her chair, and in an intimate gesture that caused her breath to stop, lightly lifted her hair away from her neck to gently lay the shawl across her shoulders.

For a moment, the music from the guitar player, conversation of nearby diners, waiters delivering and retrieving plates of food… it all faded into the background and she was standing there alone with him. Their eyes locked and only with great difficulty was she able to break the connection.

At the door, Katy looked back and gave one last look at the garden with its hanging lighted baskets. "It's like a secret garden. From the outside the walls are simple and plain. One would never know all of this is inside."

He was standing close to her, his voice warm in her ear. "I'm glad you liked it. Shall we go?"

Replete from the very good food and charmed by this magical night, she got into the car, belted up, and sat back to enjoy the moonlit night. At her contented sigh, Raul broke in on her quiet thoughts.

"I think Spencer Bobbitt will attempt to bribe you. You're a beautiful young American, a skillful sailor and you will be a sympathetic ear to many of the people on the list. He will want to have you on his side to make sure your investigation clears his name."

"Now it's my investigation?" The spell was broken. "Booth said he was going to get me an audience with the great man today, but either Spencer has changed his mind, or he's avoiding me. Which only looks bad for Spencer. Now, I have a question for you. Why isn't Booth on the list?"

When Raul didn't say anything, she said, "Booth is too smart, too cagey, to be anything less than Spencer's
consigliere
. Is he also perhaps working for you?"

Instead of answering her question, he asked, "What do you think of Spencer Bobbitt as a suspect?"

 
She rolled her lips under as she wondered why he wasn't willing to answer and decided to leave it, for now. "He's a ruthless and cunning barbarian who has lived by his wits for so long I doubt he'd know human kindness if it hit him in the face. Slimy business practices aside, I can't say yet. He checked me out at his party, and I suppose he'll be offering me that bribe soon. I'll let you know. But as for murdering the girl, I don't have enough information yet."

"No one has spoken to you about the dead girl, or Spencer's interrogation at the police station?"

"Spoken? They're all waiting for me to ask the questions. Astrid, Booth, Spencer and Jeff all know I'm a cop. That leaves Fred McGee, Ida and Wally and
Myne
, but that's only because I haven't cornered them yet." She wasn't ready to mention her conversation with Ida. She'd talk to Bruce first then see what he could dig up on Wally.