Luna Tango (24 page)

‘
Sí
. Gualberto, he is always laughing and telling me I will get fat.' He patted his six pack and an image of running her tongue across his stomach made her almost drop the fork. ‘But it has not happened yet. If it does, I will eat the lettuce leaves like the Argentine women.'

‘They don't eat much, do they?' Dani glanced at the women seated nearby. They did more talking than eating.

‘No. They do not. It is a shame, because excellent food and wine is the secret to a happy life.'

‘Do you think it's so easy?'

‘In the reality, no. But it would be nice if this was the case, yes?'

Dani reached for a breadstick and chewed on it, her thoughts meandering. ‘Life would be boring if it were easy. How could we build our character if we didn't make mistakes? And how could we appreciate our blessings and happiness if we didn't experience ugliness and sadness?'

‘It is like tango, no? A good tango dancer or musician uses every emotion they have lived through to tell the complete story, even if it causes great pain. This is the beauty of tango. This is the beauty of life.' Slapping more food on his plate, he said, ‘Unfortunately, my country possesses much sadness. Thousands starve and the rich dine on gold plates. Yes, I understand we are the lucky ones.' He pointed at his plate. ‘The people, they get away with murder, so what example does it set for the citizens of Argentina? Look at the Canziani case you are fascinated by. Argentina's greatest legend was murdered and no one has ever been punished for it.'

The breadstick hovered near Dani's mouth as she observed Carlos's passion. His hands flailed about more than usual and a fire burned in his eyes.

‘Why does this case get you so agitated?' she asked.

‘You cannot understand.'

‘You've said this before.' She crossed her arms. ‘Try me.'

‘No.'

‘On the plane you said honesty makes us an excellent team.' She didn't like to use his words against him, but if she wanted to get to the bottom of this, she had to do it. That way, if she understood his point of view, she could decide whether or not she should reveal her desire to speak to her mother about Canziani and Louisa.

‘Yes, I did say this.' Carlos pushed the food around the plate with his fork. ‘I cannot guarantee you will like what I have to say and I ask you not to take it personally.'

‘I can't guarantee anything but I'll try.'

‘This is all I ask.' He shifted in his seat and poured them more beer. ‘I have a problem with outsiders because every time a foreigner has interfered with the Argentines it has ended in disaster. Look at what happened with Stanley Wyler in the 1950s. It is widely known he and Eduardo Canziani were friends, and Wyler told Canziani about the affair between Louisa Gilchrist and Roberto Vega. Maybe if Wyler had remained silent there wouldn't have been a confrontation between Canziani and his protégé and Canziani would have lived longer.'

‘It wasn't like Louisa and Roberto had a real affair. From what I've read, Louisa had made it abundantly clear to Eduardo their relationship wasn't a romantic one.'

‘He loved her.'

‘But she didn't love him romantically.'

‘She took his money.'

‘No, he gave her food and shelter in return for being his muse. That's how he paid for her services. In a way, it was a business transaction.' Dani prided herself on retaining the information she'd gleaned from the books she'd studied.

A sigh came all the way from Carlos's bootlaces. ‘You are not an artist, you do not understand.'

‘I understand matters of the heart.'

‘Yes, I think you do. But we are getting off the tracks. What I want to say is, foreigners like Wyler and Louisa Gilchrist have interfered with my people and as a result, we have lost some of our most influential Argentines before their time. The foreigners have gotten away with a lot, including murder.'

‘I doubt Wyler committed murder and no one knows if Louisa Gilchrist really killed Eduardo Canziani.'

‘All the evidence points to her. She left the country the night of the murder. A boat captain came forward days after he realised she was in disguise when he shipped her to Uruguay.'

‘Just because she left doesn't mean she was guilty. If I were her, I would have fled as well. You can't tell me she wouldn't be top of the hit list, especially if no one saw the murder happen. Roberto Vega and Héctor Sosa also had motivation to kill Canziani.'

‘Do you always do so much research?' He replaced his intense frown with a crooked smile.

‘It's part of the job, plus I'm naturally inclined. But back to you and your weirdness about this case—why is it important for an Argentine to solve it?'

‘Because we don't have much in this country. We are rich in culture and our relationships with family and friends, but this is all. We like to complain about our country's failings but we still love our land, our people, our heritage. The last thing we want is a foreigner to come in and solve our problems, including what you call cold cases.'

‘I'm sorry, Carlos, but I still don't get it. Wouldn't your people be happy to find the murderer and see them brought to justice? If they're still alive, that is.'

‘Yes, we would, but it dents our pride if we don't do it ourselves. It would show the world we are incapable of bringing justice for our dead. Daniela.' He placed his hand on hers. ‘You have heard of the atrocities of the seventies, what is called the Dirty War, yes?'

She nodded, remembering the mothers in Plaza de Mayo.

‘The way our people treated the citizens is a national disgrace. It is time we looked at our failures and made them successes.'

‘So this means finding Eduardo Canziani's murderer?'

‘Yes.'

‘What are the chances of finding Louisa or Roberto? If they've remained hidden this long, there's little likelihood anyone could track them down.' Hope hovered with her words then she dived into despair. If, by a crazy twist of fate, Louisa and Stella were one and the same, Dani didn't want this case cracked. She nibbled on a breadstick, unable to look Carlos in the eye. ‘Who's to say Louisa or Roberto would get a fair trial if they were found?'

‘They would.' His naïve confidence surprised her.

‘You can't tell me that, after all these years, the Argentines wouldn't chuck them in jail and throw away the key. People want someone to blame, even if the party is blameless. This is human nature: guilty before proven innocent.'

‘This may have been so in the past with my country, but the people are working hard to change this system.'

She didn't want to get sucked into the whole political thing. Scooping some
chimichurri
onto her plate, Dani dipped the bread-stick into it and took a bite. Her taste buds danced with parsley, garlic and coriander.

‘You're familiar with the term kangaroo court, right?' she asked and Carlos nodded. ‘So when a national figure is murdered the people will blame anyone as long as the case can be closed and someone is punished.'

‘We need closure.'

‘But you can't condemn an innocent person!' Dani suppressed her urge to shout across the table.

‘Why do you have this obsession with the case?'

Dani's shrug ended up bigger than she'd planned.

‘Hmm.' He frowned and sipped his beer.

She leant forwards and wiped the froth from Carlos's upper lip, his stubble prickling her fingers. He held her hand, their eyes connected and the world melted away. Sliding her fingers down his palm, she wrapped them around his wrist and pulled him towards her.

‘Let's go to our room,' she whispered.

* * *

Dani held her hand over her eyes to protect them from the dipping sun as they sped down the highway, Carlos at the wheel of the hired car. He swung to the left and up the driveway of Bodega Luigi Bosca, a vineyard tucked in Luján de Cuyo's rural sector. In the car park, he slammed on the brakes at the last second before the car's bumper kissed the barrier. Dani opened the door and staggered into a dusty cloud.

‘Jesus, do you always drive like this?'

‘It has been a long time since I have done the driving. It is my bad leg—I do not feel much in it any more.'

‘Yet you insist on driving like a Juan Fangio.'

‘Yes,' he said with a boyish grin.

Wiping the grit from her eyes, she took a look at the whitewashed Dutch architecture of the homestead. Her heart sank. It didn't look anything like the images Dani had remembered on her mother's corkboard.

Carlos squeezed her hand. ‘Is this it?'

‘No.' The word stuck in her throat. This was the last winery on their list of possibilities. None of the owners or employees she'd spoken to had seen Iris Kennedy or anyone who looked remotely like her. ‘We've wasted so much time.'

‘I would not say it is wasted. How would you feel if you had not looked for her?'

She shrugged, not sure how to answer the question. ‘I didn't think I'd be this disappointed.'

Carlos wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulled her in and gently kissed her on the forehead.

‘Thanks, Carlos, I don't know what I'd do without your help.'

‘Bah!' He waved a hand in the air. ‘You would do fine but I like that you think you need my help.'

‘It appeals to your whole Latino macho thing, doesn't it?' she asked, grinning.

‘Maybe. Are you ready to finish for the day?'

She shook her head. ‘No, not yet.' She wandered to the other side of the dusty driveway and stared at the Andes towering above, the sky swirling with hues of blue and pink. Carlos remained a short distance away, giving her the space she needed.

Turning, she said, ‘The mountains and vineyard are familiar, but the building is all wrong.'

‘Daniela, it was a long time ago you saw this picture, yes? Perhaps the vineyard no longer exists or maybe it has been renovated. The things, they change.'

‘They do, but ... I can't explain it. It's like an invisible umbilical cord has pulled me to this region and all I have to do is follow it to find her.'

‘You do not give up easily, do you?'

‘Nope. Come on, we're here, we might as well ask.'

Gravel crunched beneath their shoes as they hurried to the main building and pushed through the double doors. With no one around, they wandered the rooms and came across concrete 3D murals. The relief work that depicted the history of the settlers that began winemaking in this region entranced her. A plaque explained they'd been made by local artist, Hugo Leytes.

‘May I help you?'

Lost in the art, Dani hadn't heard anyone approach. Turning, she found a woman in her twenties wearing a freshly pressed white linen suit and a cobalt blue sash wrapped around her waist.

‘Yes, I'm hoping you can.' Dani pulled out the photo Carlos had given her. It was one of the last pictures he'd taken before Iris disappeared. ‘Have you seen this woman?'

‘
La Gringa Magnifica
?' The woman's eyes widened and she stared at Dani. ‘You want to know if she has visited this winery?'

‘Yes. Or if you've seen her around Luján de Cuyo. Or Mendoza. Or anywhere, for that matter. I need to find her, it's urgent.'

‘Ah, but she is retired, no? No one knows where she is.'

‘You're right, but it's important I find her. Perhaps she's changed her hair.' Dani pointed to Iris's long, dark tresses that made her look more Argentine than Anglo-Saxon.

‘There is a woman who looks a little like
La Gringa Magnifica
but with the short hair,
rubia
—blonde. She lives in a small vineyard near Tupungato, an hour south from here.'

‘Do you think it could be her?' Dani asked, failing to quell her rising hopes.

‘It is the eyes. Look.' She pointed to the photo then studied Dani. ‘They are the same as yours.' After a brief pause, she asked, ‘You are a relation, yes? You also have the same ...' She pointed to her nose.

This question was bound to surface but Dani still wasn't sure how to answer.

The woman held up her hand, closed her eyes for a brief moment and said, ‘It is not my business. Please, follow me.'

They were led through a series of doors and rooms that grew smaller until they arrived at a tiny office, barely large enough for the desk and chair. Dani and Carlos waited in the hallway while the woman fussed around with a map and pen, frowning and scribbling at the same time. She folded the paper and handed it to Dani with a hopeful smile.

‘Maybe this is the woman you seek. She does not have an accent when she speaks the Spanish, she sounds Argentine. I imagine
La Gringa Magnifica
would have an accent, but who am I to know?' The woman wrapped her hands around Dani's. ‘I wish you much luck.'

‘Thank you.' Dani bid the young woman farewell and followed Carlos out to the car. Flopping onto the passenger seat, she blew her fringe off her forehead and took a swig from a water bottle.

‘What do you think?' she asked.

‘I think we should go now. It is only an hour away.' Carlos started the car and turned to face her.

‘But it's getting dark—'

‘And you won't sleep if you do not go. I may not have known you long, Daniela, but I understand you cannot relax if something is on your mind.'

‘But—'

‘But nothing. You are making the excuses. We go.' Carlos clunked the car into reverse and the engine screamed under his lead foot. Putting it into first gear, he sped off, leaving the winery behind as they zipped off into an unknown future.

* * *

From the moment they left the bodega in Luján de Cuyo, Dani and Carlos fell into silence. She clenched her jaw as he negotiated the hairpin turns with reckless abandon.

Darkness fell and it grew harder to read the road signs and, with the jiggling from Carlos's manic driving, Dani found it difficult to know where they were.