Songs for Perri (22 page)

"He wasn't anywhere around when Crystal was killed. Joe checked."

"How does Joe know?"

"Hotel registers...plane tickets, people that saw him."

"Oh good!" Her relief was evident and he smiled knowingly.

"I take it you like Hugo?"

"Yes. I didn't at first...but, now, well...."

His eyes twinkled as he stroked his mustache. "How about Joe? Do you like him?"

"Yes. Although I really haven't had much time to get to know him."

"He's quite impressed with you. He's a good lad." He seemed to be enjoying a secret joke at her expense, but Perri couldn't fathom it. "Was that all?"

"Yes. I'm sorry; it seemed so important...." she said, letting her voice slack off lamely; her eyes expressing her apology.

"It could have been. Our business is made up of little things, Perri. We can't neglect even the smallest clue. So don't feel badly about checking it out."

"Oh, no. I'm glad you could tell me Hugo's in the clear."

"Absolutely. But somebody else may not be. Who else have you seen...casually?"

She thought for a moment, then realized the obvious. "A man named Carl Freedman. He's a used car salesman from Phoenix. And someone called Vic. Hugo calls him `Junior.'" She went on to describe each man and Walt wrote the details down.

"Anyone else?"

"No. Just Anna."

"Anna who?"

"Anna Meyers. She's a redhead in her mid-thirties. But she couldn't be the Scorpion."

"How do you know? No one's seen him. It could be a her. It happens, you know."

"We exchanged addresses." Perri opened her purse. "Here's hers. But she didn't come down on my flight."

"Then she's probably in the clear. Luke's here. He's doing the passports for me; he'll be leaving this evening. I'll have him check these three out when he gets back."

"Luke Rogers?"

"Yes. He said you had called him. Thinks you're stubborn."

"I'm sorry, Papa. But he wouldn't tell me anything."

"He didn't know."

"Then how did he find you?"

"Joe called him. We figure somebody on the inside is causing all our problems. Luke came down to see if he could recognize anyone. I'm too easy to spot." Raising his voice, he called, "Luke. Come on out."

The bathroom door opened and Luke Rogers entered the room. He had dyed his light hair a dark brown and restyled it, making a dramatic change in his appearance. "What's she doing here?" he demanded. "I thought you were keeping her away."

"I was. Perri wanted to tell me who she thinks followed her down."

"Why didn't you just tell Joe?" Luke growled. "It's dangerous for you to be connected with any of us." He turned to Walt. "I told you you should send her home. You've plenty of men to call on."

"My best man's with her," Walt assured him.

"Like right now?"

"That's a point. Where is Joe?"

"I've no way to reach him," Perri said. "I don't know where he is. I came over here early, with a suitcase...checked into the hotel at five and waited until I thought you were up—”

"Which means," Luke emphasized, "that no one was protecting you. Stop going off on your own...or else we'll move Joe in with you."

"He's right," Walt agreed. "Go back to your hotel while we get the passports."

"Just like that?"

He nodded. "Just like that."

"And then we can go home?"

"You go. I'll wait till Owen is clear, then leave."

"I still need to introduce Owen and Joe."

"Do that tonight, when you take Owen the passports. Joe can take it from there."

"Fine," she said, giving him a good-bye hug. "Take care of yourself, Papa."

"You, too. See you shortly, my dear." He stopped her when she went to leave. "You said you'd brought a suitcase along?"

"Yes."

"Then leave it here. It'll look odd if you carry it back to your room this morning. Pick it up tonight when Joe comes to get the passports."

“Good-bye then, Papa."

"Bye, Perri. Be careful."

"I will."

"I'll follow you until you reach your hotel," Luke said, picking up the sheet of paper she'd slipped under the door. "We can't lose you, too." He folded the paper into neat quarters and stuck it in his pocket.

Back on the beach, Perri almost skipped over the sand, but refrained from doing so by the thought of Luke, walking sedately ten yards behind her, trying to keep the sand out of his shoes.

The little niggling touch of doubt was gone. Hugo was in the clear. Owen was located.

As if to match her mood, everything looked bright and happy. The long-legged shore birds were darting in and out of the surf, the pelicans flying in formation low over the waves, the gulls checking out both beach and sea. The street vendors were congregating around the hotel beach areas, setting up their display cases. It was a wonderful morning.

Upon reaching her hotel, Perri was glad Walt had stopped her from taking her suitcase. Hugo was in the lobby when she walked in and he saw her immediately. This way she could claim she had gone for an early morning stroll along the beach. Since she entered from the ocean side with sand on her shoes, he didn't question her.

"Are you ready to eat?" he asked, kindly enough.

"Starved. I didn't realize I was working up such an appetite."

"Do you want to go upstairs and freshen up first?"

"No." This was the only blouse she had that would cover her grazed elbow. And she should be safe, in the daylight, with Hugo.

They caught the bus, getting off at the first restaurant they had visited, and ordered a breakfast of eggs and burritos. The waiter was pleased to see them again, having coupled them together from the first. He praised Hugo's intelligence in pursuing Perri.

Although again distanced by his dark glasses, Perri felt herself growing more and more in love. He had a sense of humor that endeared him to her, able to joke about himself.

"What do you want to do today?" he asked.

With the silver bracelet he had given her shining proudly on her arm, Perri pulled out her map. "The central market first," she said, naming the collection of shops in downtown Mazatlan. "Then I think I'll go see the shrimp fleet. Anna said it was in port, and worth looking at."

"Sounds good. I take it you'll be leaving soon?"

"Yes."

"Good. My show will be over and I'll be going back to Kingman... that's not far from you."

"Not far as westerners judge it," she teased.

"Not far at all."

Laughing, he reached for some
tostados
to dip in the hot sauce and she noticed that his knuckles were badly skinned. All four of them. Left hand.

Her stomach did a complete flip and the random thoughts that had been nagging at her subconscious for so long snapped together.

Joe! Joe was Hugo.

Or Hugo was Joe. For that matter, they might all be disguises. She had fallen in love with an illusion.

Again Perri looked at his left hand. He had forgotten about the graze. It wasn't very deep, but because she loved him, she had noticed the marks. Her eyes shifted to his face.

He was wearing his dark glasses again, but Perri knew too much to be fooled anymore. That kick-back grin was unique, however much he tried to alter it.

Joe and Hugo. Same chin, same ears; same sense of humor.

And he had made a few mistakes that had bothered her subconsciously.

Perri looked down at her breakfast while she thought this one out. She could feel the anger building in her at being lied to again. She didn't need Hugo reading her thoughts.

Who did she have to thank for this deception...Hugo or Walt? She wouldn't put it past her father-in-law; especially remembering Joe's complaint about his being overly secretive.

Walt's orders, she finally decided, remembering how he'd acted at the hotel. That was his secret joke. Without her knowing it, Walt had had her guarded from the moment she got to Mazatlan. If Joe wasn't with her, Hugo was. Or Donegal.

No wonder Joe had been able to "follow" her all day without her spotting him. And she thought he was just good at blending in. No wonder everything he did reminded her of Hugo.

She took a sharp rein on her temper, struggling to cool it down. Well, if that was the way they wanted it, that was the way she'd play it. For some strange reason they wanted to keep her in the dark. So...she'd let them think their secret was safe. But next time Joe asked about Hugo, she would sure give him something to worry about.

Eating with a sullen briskness, Perri decided she was glad she had figured things out. Now she understood the feelings she had had for Joe. They hadn't been out of place. They were in harmony with her growing love for Hugo...not against it.

Even while her conscious mind had fought against the possibility of being attracted to two men at the same time, her sub-conscious must have felt the similarity between them and argued for the sanity of it. Reason had not gone astray—it was in accord with her feelings.

It relieved Perri to know she could trust her feelings after all. Now she was free to allow her emotions to grow for "both" men. If she wanted to. Yet which was the real man? Or was neither one real?

She didn't like being tricked and her temper abruptly rose again. What was Joe/Hugo really like?

Walt and his secretiveness. Why hadn't he let Hugo tell her? It was unfair. She'd just have to remind herself that he didn't really exist. This was a stage character she had fallen for, an actor playing a part. She just happened to be in this play too; that was all. And acting the part of a tourist. Did the CIA force everyone to lie?

After that, Perri was able to look at Hugo again without revealing her simmering anger. She didn't want to make him suspicious. But she could soon see he was puzzled, and a trifle hesitant...it affected his act of overconfidence.

Good. Let him wonder for a change.

Spurred by her lack of emotion, intent on wooing her, Hugo bought her ices, an ice cream cone, some corn on the cob and other goodies from the street vendors. Not wanting to seem ungrateful, she bought him a hardwood carving of a pelican.

The shops all had their metal, garage-type doors open, at least until dark, when the doors were closed and locked. Anyone arriving then would have thought the city nothing but a row of garages.

She always enjoyed Old Mazatlan, with its narrow, one way streets and some curbs two to three feet high, requiring steps to descend to street level. It was hard not to act constantly elated and after a while the edge of her temper left, leaving a hurt disappointment in its wake.

They could at least have told her. She wouldn't have told anyone. It made her feel untrusted. Her search would have been much easier if she had known she could trust Hugo. What made Walt put her through such agony?

She hadn't been around Owen half her life for nothing. She was going to make Hugo sweat...just a little...for asking those questions about himself while he was Joe.

She did. They parted right after an early supper and by the time Hugo left her, he was pretty vexed. He had a show to do that night and said he needed to talk to his manager about one of the show's amplifiers.

He asked her to come, but she said she was going to try to get an early morning seat on a plane to Los Angeles, and from there to Phoenix. She wondered if he would come as Joe or Hugo.

She'd ask Joe if she should actually take the plane out.

"See you; if not soon, then later." He didn't give her any long speech before he left. Why should he?

Soon after Hugo left, Joe came over...probably only taking time to change. Without making it noticeable, she glanced at his left hand. Four skinned knuckles, partially healed.

"You must have built-in radar," she commented dryly.

He almost snapped his answer. "I watched Hugo leave. You're to come along to pick up a suitcase. Let's go."

They walked separately to the El Mirador, meeting again in the elevator. He didn't ask why she'd taken a room there so Walt must have told him; just told her to wait in it until he returned.

In her room, Perri debated changing into the white dress. She had worn her jeans and dark top all day. She felt defeated, even though things seemed to be going well.

It had been foolish of her to visit Walt when he'd told her not to. She should have stayed away this morning; she could have jeopardized Walt’s whole operation.

It had been a mistake to come to the El Mirador. A sense of foreboding struck her as she heard Joe come running back.

His message was grim. "Walt's gone. They got him."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Hauling Perri after him, Joe sprinted for the elevator. "Can't have been long!" he shouted. "Maybe someone saw them."

As they flung themselves inside the elevator, Perri observed, "Maybe Papa just stepped out for an minute."

"No. We have a signal. He puts a green sheet of paper on top of a white one whenever he leaves. He knew I was coming. White was still on top."

Perri's last hope shattered. Intense grief overwhelmed her, drawing her into a dark whirlwind of despair. First her mother and now Walt. Was she going to lose Owen also?

The elevator door opened to the lobby and Joe sprinted outside and around the back, checking cars as he went.

Perri stepped out of the elevator and stood there a second, trying to bring her emotions under control. Why was this all happening? She had no answer. But she had to find Walt.

With renewed resolution, she walked over to the desk and asked the clerk if he'd seen Walt leave. Her description was vivid enough the clerk knew who she was referring to.

He was shaking his head when the stairway door opened and three men came out, with Walt held closely between two of them. One was the taxi driver who had asked to be her guide. Another was the young Mexican she had seen standing in the lobby her first night in Mazatlan. He had probably been following her around, blending in so well, neither she nor Joe had spotted him. She had never seen the third one before, a big man who appeared to be in charge.

Walt's startled glance landed on Perri, even though a potted fern between them partially hid her. He formed the word, "Joe?" and Perri, who could lip read very well, said, "Outside."