My Love Betrayed (16 page)

I grinned with the men. It hadn’t occurred to me
before, but I could imagine how the strict older
couple might see things. “Ah, you are such
dangerous men, then?” I teased.

Jaime lightly cuffed the back of Luiz’s head and
laughed. Then, he said to me, “No worry, Ellen.
He is dangerous only when he has too much wine,
and we are here to restrain him.”

“I think,” Carlos put in mildly, “they are more
concerned about our fiancees than the senoritas
honor.”

Eduardo nodded gloomily. “Si. And how will
our girls feel when they see Ellen?”

Carlos grinned and said something in rapid
Spanish. There was a shout of laughter from the
men, but none of them would translate. Fortunately, the food arrived, and nothing else was
important. There were a good many dishes, none
of whom I recognized, except the salad.

A nice wine accompanied the meal. I even won
the grudging approval of Luiz’s aunt with my
appetite. We were just finishing some sort of
pastry, and the couple was hovering over our
table, when the aunt nodded at me and said
something to Luiz. He flashed a grin at me and
translated. “My aunt, she says you eat well for one
so thin. She offers to fatten you up if you will only
come here often!”

I smiled back. “Tell her how can I not eat when
the food is so good?”

Luiz translated and his aunt smiled at me. Then she seemed to lecture Luiz and the others. Finally,
she left for the kitchen.

Ruefully Eduardo told me, “She says we must
take good care of you, or she will be most angry!”

We lingered over coffee, and the check, when it
came, was as reasonable as Eduardo had promised. Once that was settled, the men held a
conference in Spanish. Carlos seemed to be telling
them something they weren’t altogether pleased to
hear. But, finally, they seemed to agree.

There were a number of people in the restaurant
by then, and a young couple rose to leave. So did
Eduardo, Luiz, and Jaime. I started to, but Carlos
placed a hand on my arm. Puzzled, I watched the
others go, then turned to Carlos. “Why?” I asked.

He glanced around, seemed satisfied, and said,
“We will join them later. If you have a shadow, he
will follow them. Now, we must talk. There will
not be much time until my fiancee, Dora, arrives.
And I am sure you must have questions. It is not
that I do not trust Dora, or the others, it is just best
not to take the chances. The company grapevine
can be very efficient, si?”

I nodded. “Yes, of course. But when did you see
Charles Whitford? And why you?”

“Sunday. He was very tired. He said he had tried
to talk with the police, but without success. Senor
Whitford was very concerned about you. He
believes there is still danger, perhaps because of
Rick Kemmler. He asked me to keep an eye on you
until he returns from Chicago.”

“But why go to Chicago? And why see you?” I
persisted.

Carlos shrugged. “I don’t know. Senor Whit ford only said that the trip was necessary, and that
he would return as soon as possible. He also said
that he believed you would be safe with the police,
the Ivesons, and with me watching you. I am
happy to oblige, of course, but I would be happier
if I understood.”

“Me too!” I said emphatically. “I only know I’ve
been attacked and drugged and I haven’t the
faintest idea why!”

Carlos nodded sympathetically. “I was not told
you had been drugged, but it explains Senor
Whitford’s concern. Don’t worry, Ellen. We will
be careful and you will be safe.”

I was still smiling at Carlos gratefully when a
tall, attractive, dark-haired woman walked up to
the table. “Carlos Zapora!” she began in an angry
voice that went on in rapid Spanish.

I watched, amused and chagrined, as Carlos
clearly tried to explain. Finally, she seemed
convinced and, with a slight sniff, sat down. Carlos
introduced us. “Ellen, this is my fiancee, Dora
Pahio. Dora, this is Ellen Steffee, my boss.”

She ignored his grin and said coolly, “Buenas
tardes.”

I murmured something about being pleased to
meet her. Carlos asked Dora if she wanted
anything to eat or drink. She shook her head.
“Then perhaps,” he said, rising, “we should leave.”

We left, one on each side of Carlos. “Dora,” he
explained to me, “has brought my car, so we will
ride in comfort to the cabaret.”

Comfort was not exactly the right word. Carlos
owned an old Volkswagen (minus springs) and I
found myself squeezed into the back. However, Dora was gradually thawing. To me, she said,
“Ellen, it is true you have Senor Kemmler’s job?”

“Temporarily,” I assured her. “But I expect to
be returning to Chicago very soon, where I have a
less important position. Do you work?” I asked
her.

“Si. I teach English. I speak Spanish, French,
English, and Hebrew, but I am only asked to teach
English.”

She was not, I gathered, pleased with her job.
“Why do you stay then?” Carlos asked her.

It was obviously an old question. “And what am
I supposed to do?” Dora demanded. “Stay home
with my parents? Wait for someone to marry me?
So tell me why you stay at your job, then?”

Carlos was quiet a moment, then answered her
in soft, rapid Spanish. Dora retorted, in a rather
louder manner. As I said, it sounded like an old
argument. Finally, Carlos shrugged, and Dora
softened. She stroked his arm gently as she said
something in Spanish. Whatever it was, it pleased
Carlos, and he grinned at her.

Over his shoulder, he said to me, “Eh. You see,
Ellen, what a pretty girl I have?”

I could only nod. Watching them together, a
wave of loneliness swept over me. I, too, wanted
someone to tease and laugh with me. Someone
whose arm I could stroke, who would smile at me
like that. No, not someone. Charles. I wanted
Charles. He had said, in his note, that he loved me.
But then why the blazes wasn’t he here? With me?
Why had he gone to Chicago?

But loneliness, like fear, is too intense to be felt
constantly. Especially when one is surrounded by friends. And, as Carlos parked on a small side
street, Eduardo, Jaime, and Luiz stepped out of
the darkness to help us out of the car. With the
men were three young women, all of whom seemed
to be looking at me with suspicion. Carlos solved
that problem by putting one arm around my waist,
and one arm around Dora’s. Of course, that didn’t
exactly thrill Dora, but at least the other three
women, Maria, Rosa, and Angelina, stopped
glaring at me. Overhead, a neon sign flickered on:
El Gato. The Cat.

The place was quiet. No one rushed to greet us,
and we made our way to two adjacent empty
tables. The lighting was low, the tables and chairs
plain wood. A bare space nearby was clearly the
stage. A bar ran along one wall and looked rather
sparsely stocked. There was no one at the bar,
neither customer nor employee. But then, it was
only nine o’clock, a good hour and a half before
the usual crowd would arrive.

After a few minutes, Carlos excused himself and
disappeared into one of the dark corners of the
room. Meanwhile, the conversation flowed on
around me in Spanish. Several more people
drifted in before Carlos returned, bringing the
owner of the nightclub and a waiter. Both stopped
to take orders from other tables before coming to
ours. We ordered wine. While everyone was being
served, a young man began setting up the stage
area. “My brother,” Carlos said softly.

I looked again. Yes, I could see the resemblance,
though the brother was obviously several years
younger. He was soon joined by a second young man. He carried two guitars, one of which he
handed to Carlos’s brother. There was also a
young woman. There’s no point in describing her.
She had the figure, flowing hair, and peasant dress
one would expect. And, of course, she was
beautiful. Apparently, Carlos was the only one
who had seen her before, because Luiz, Eduardo,
and Jaime all stared, mouths open. A few nudges
from Maria, Angelina, and Rosa, however, and
they recovered, switching to appreciative grins.

The three formed a group, and they were quite
good. At least, I thought so. Certainly, in the
United States, they would have been very popular.
Between songs, the three took turns talking with
the audience, usually evoking good-natured
laughter. As for the songs, they were, Jaime told
me, more traditional than usual for a nightclub.
The set lasted an hour, followed by a brief encore.
Then the three joined us, and Carlos performed
introductions. “Jaime, Maria, Luiz, Angelina,
Eduardo, Rosa, Dora, Ellen. Jose, Miguel,
Terracita.”

We all told the trio how much we enjoyed them.
Eventually, the greetings and congratulations
died down, and I found Miguel, Carlos’s brother,
beside me. “Good evening,” he said, with a friendly
grin. “You are the Senor Whitford’s girl, Si?”

“Huh?” I said brilliantly.

Carlos broke in. “Ah, Ellen. This is my lazy
brother, Miguel. He also has a degree from
Berkeley. In engineering. But he wastes his time
singing.”

Miguel only laughed, knowing that Carlos was just teasing him. “Eh! My brother is jealous!”

“I will be jealous only when this brings you
much money!” Carlos countered.

Miguel shrugged, with a grin. “My job as an
engineer, that brings me money. What do I need
this to pay me money for, when it brings me
Terracita?”

As he said it, he grinned and patted the woman’s
bottom. Immediately, she whirled around and
started berating Miguel in Spanish. He answered
back, and one could see they didn’t take each other
seriously.

We stayed for a while longer, long enough to
watch the regular performers do a couple of
numbers. Then we left. Once outside, we split up.
Dora, Carlos, and I waited for Miguel to get his
guitar. Jaime, Luiz, Eduardo, Rosa, Angelina,
and Maria left. Jose and Terracita said good-bye,
then went back into the nightclub.

Somehow, the four of us, plus Miguel’s guitar,
squeezed into the Volkswagen. Miguel was in back
with me. “Don’t worry,” he informed me,
gallantly, “I am a gentleman.”

In the front seat, there was a brief consultation,
apparently over how to get to the Ivesons’ home. I
wasn’t much help but, surprisingly, Miguel was. “I
have played at many parties near there,” he
confided. “Even this year, New Year’s Eve. Si, I
know the way.”

And he did. In fact, I could have sworn his route
was shorter than Greg’s. But, since I wasn’t sure
where in the city we had started out, it may not
have been. At any rate, the company was so
pleasant that I was sorry to get there.

I had the door key that Mr. Iveson had given
me, but it turned out to be superfluous. As I stood
beside the slightly battered Volkswagen, saying
good night, Edna opened the front door. Startled,
we watched as she came over to greet us. “How are
you? Did you have a good evening?”

Carlos was the first to recover. “Si, senora. And
now, it is very late and we must go. Buenas
noches, Ellen!”

“Buenas noches,” I replied.

With a slight ache, I watched them drive away.
It had been a pleasant evening. But I had no time
to daydream. Edna was starting toward the house,
saying, “What an excellent idea, Ellen. When Greg
told me, I said you needed to have fun with young
people your own age.” Inside, she paused to close
the door, then went on, in a slower, more
concerned tone. “He also told me, Ellen, about the
police. You have had a rough time, haven’t you,
dear? Especially with this business with Rick
Kemmler still up in the air.”

I nodded. “I wish it were over.”

She was sympathetic. “What you need is a
vacation. A real one! I’d love to show you
Xochicalco sometime. It’s my favorite dig.”

Her voice was somewhat wistful. Impulsively I
said, “And I would love to see it.”

Edna smiled then and chuckled. “Well, then, I’ll
just have to work on Greg to get someone to
replace you, won’t I? Good night, dear. Sleep
well.”

“Good night,” I answered, thinking how lucky I
was to be staying with such nice people.

Again, I woke when the maid tapped on my
door. And, again, I had to hurry to get to breakfast
on time. Both of the Ivesons were already seated,
drinking coffee, when I reached the patio. Both
abruptly stopped talking when they saw me. Edna
recovered first. “Good morning, dear. How did
you sleep?”

“Good morning. Fine.”

“Did you enjoy your evening out?” Greg asked,
nodding to the maid to bring more coffee.

I sighed. “It was really nice. I feel as if it’s the
first time I’ve been able to have fun since I got
here.”

Greg cleared his throat, and Edna said, “Well, I for one think the police have been harassing you
needlessly!”

Bitterly I retorted, “It’s not the police I mind. It’s
this darn terror that’s getting to me! Not knowing
what’s going to happen next, or even why it’s
happening at all.”