The Sooner the Better (5 page)

Azucena nodded, her expression sympathetic. “Introduce me as your housekeeper,” she advised with gentle wisdom. “Your daughter has had more than enough shocks.”

“I won't lie to her again. It's better if she knows.”

“We'll tell her together,” Azucena said. “Later. She's traveled a long way and must be exhausted.”

He hesitated, then agreed with a short nod.

“Ask her to sit down, and I'll serve you both dinner.”

“What about you and the boys?” It didn't seem right not to have them at the table with him. As he'd told Azucena, he didn't like the idea of lying to Raine, but he could see that his daughter was physically tired and emotionally distraught. He didn't want to burden her with still another difficult truth. But he also feared her anger. He couldn't bear to lose her when he'd only just found her again. Although it went against his better judgment, he agreed with Azucena that they would delay telling Raine about their relationship.

“Don't worry, we'll eat later,” Azucena said.

Thomas noticed Raine listening to the flow of words between them. Her eyes revealed her lack of comprehension. “This woman is someone special?” she asked, eyeing Azucena closely.

“My housekeeper,” he said, silently adding
and so much more.

“She's meticulous,” Raine said, glancing around the sparse but lovingly decorated home. Thomas tried to see the house through her eyes and knew it must be far less than she was used to, but he made no apologies. He'd earned his living by honest means.

“Dinner's ready if you'd like to eat now. Azucena's a wonderful cook. She's made a dish called
camarónes con ajo,
which is shrimp with garlic.”

“It smells delicious. Please thank her for me,” Lorraine said.

“I will.” Thomas showed his daughter to the bathroom, where she could wash up.

She returned a few minutes later. The table was set
with steaming ceramic bowls filled with rice, tomatoes and the delectable-smelling shrimp.

Lorraine took a seat. “When is…your housekeeper's baby due?”

“Any day now,” he answered as he passed her the rice, hoping to avoid further questions for the moment.

“Those were her children outside?”

Thomas nodded.

“Her name is lovely.”

“It means lily.”

The irony of the situation didn't escape him. At one time Azucena had, in fact, been his housekeeper. The school had hired her on his behalf, and for six months he'd hardly been aware of her. His house was kept spotless and his meals cooked every night. Beyond that, he was absorbed by the demands of teaching and enjoying his newfound profession. He'd never intended to take Azucena to his bed. He was married, although no one in El Mirador knew about his American wife. Nor did he wish to indulge in behavior that would be viewed with disfavor by the church-supported school.

To date, the headmaster had never mentioned Thomas's living arrangements. He'd eaten meals in this house, so he had to know what was going on. Nevertheless he always referred to Azucena as Thomas's housekeeper. And for those first six months that was exactly what she was. Thomas hadn't made so much as an untoward gesture, and in the end, Azucena, whose name was regarded as a symbol of purity and perfection, had been the one to seduce him.

The meal was excellent. Azucena had chosen his favorite. He could see that Raine was enjoying it, too.

“She really is a wonderful cook,” Raine said as Azucena carried a plate of hot tortillas to the table.

It was difficult for Thomas to disguise his fondness for his common-law wife. He knew Lorraine had seen the smile he'd given Azucena and might have commented, but their meal was interrupted by a loud demanding knock on the door. Both women looked at Thomas.

He set his napkin aside and hurried across the room, unsure what to expect. The knock was not that of a friend. He knew trouble when he heard it.

Two uniformed policemen stood on the other side of the threshold. He'd rarely seen armed police in this town; not only that, he didn't recognize either man, which was unusual in itself. He knew almost everyone in El Mirador, if not by name then by sight.

“Can I help you?” Thomas asked, taking care to pronounce each word distinctly and with authority.

“We're looking for Lorraine Dancy.”

“May I ask what this is about?”

“Dad?” Raine said from behind him. “I heard my name.”

He ignored her, refusing to break eye contact with the two officers. “Why are you looking for my daughter?”

“We need to ask her a few questions,” said the taller and more muscular of the two.

“Questions about what?”

“Jason Applebee,” the second policeman informed him. “We need to know what her relationship is to this man.”

“Dad?” Raine had joined him. “What's this about?”

“Do you know anyone by the name of Jason Applebee?” he asked in English.

She nodded. “He's an American I met in Mérida. He helped me buy my bus ticket. Is everything all right? Nothing's happened to him, has it?”

Thomas asked the two police officers those very
questions. Raine had said nothing previously about meeting this other man, but Thomas could see that she cared about his welfare.

They answered, and he turned back to Lorraine. “They're holding him at the police station. They won't tell me why.”

“Oh, no.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “Something's wrong. We've got to help him.”

Thomas had been in Mexico long enough to know how difficult situations with the police could get. If for no other reason than Raine's endorsement of her new friend, he felt obliged to do what he could to help the guy.

“They want you to go to the station with them,” Thomas explained next.

“Me?” Raine frowned uncertainly.

“I'll be with you.”

“Then I'll go,” she said. “I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding and everything will be cleared up in no time.”

Thomas wished he could believe that. But one thing he knew: he would do everything within his power to protect his daughter.

 

The minute Lorraine entered the small building, Jason leaped to his feet, relief at seeing her evident on his face. “Lorraine!” he cried as if she were the answer to his prayers.

“What's going on?” she asked.

Jason looked at the two officers standing near the door; they gazed back at him impassively.

With three policemen and Jason, plus Lorraine and Thomas, the station was crowded. For the first time Lorraine realized that only one of the men who'd come to the house had accompanied them here. She hadn't a clue
where the second man had gone. Not that it particularly concerned her.

“This is my wife,” Jason announced in English.

Lorraine barely managed to swallow her denial.

Her father glared at her, eyes narrowed. Both policemen immediately glanced at the ring finger on her left hand.

“Is this true?” the older man asked. He was tall and distinguished-looking with a crop of thick white hair.

Everyone present seemed to await confirmation. Jason's expression begged her to go along with him. She forced a smile and nodded.

The room erupted into shouts and denials from the officer who'd escorted Lorraine and her father to the station. She didn't know what anyone was saying, but it didn't take long for her father to become involved in the heated conversation.

“What's all this about?” Lorraine asked Jason under her breath.

“I don't know,” he said, looking as confused as she felt. “But from what I can make out, they think I've got some Mayan artifact, which is ridiculous.” He appeared frightened, baffled and apologetic. “I didn't mean to drag you into this,” he confessed in a low voice, “but I didn't know what else to do.”

“Why'd you say I was your wife?”

“I had to tell them something so I could convince them to contact you. I told them you were visiting your father, so you hadn't registered at the hotel yet.” He paused, lowering his eyes. “They wouldn't let me place a call or have an attorney present. I didn't know what to do or what's going on. I helped you and I was hoping you could help me.”

“Don't worry,” she told him, although she hated lying.
Still, she supposed there were times it was necessary; now seemed to be one such occasion.

The argument continued between the police and Lorraine's father.

“I still wish you'd told them the truth,” she murmured.

“You want me to tell them I was recently on a dig?” He stared at her with wide-eyed disbelief. “Lorraine, that's crazy! The minute they learn that, they'll be convinced I actually
have
the thing.”

The white-haired officer walked over to the other side of the room. Jason's backpack was open on a table and his clothes and personal effects littered the top. His bag had been thoroughly searched.

“Dad?” Lorraine stepped closer to her father. “Have you found anything out?”

“Sergeant Lopez is of the opinion that your…husband is guilty of stealing a national treasure. They think Jason stole the Kukulcan Star.” He went on to explain that the Star was an artifact associated with the god Kukulcan. It actually consisted of two separate parts, designed to fit together. One half of the Star had been discovered in the 1930s and kept in a Mexico City museum. That piece had gone missing a few days after the second half of the Star was found on a new archaeological dig. But it disappeared under mysterious circumstances before its authenticity could be verified. Even worse, one man—a guard at the museum—was hospitalized and not expected to live. Another man, an archaeologist named Raventos, hadn't been seen since the first theft. There was evidence of foul play. It was assumed that the same person was responsible for all these crimes. “And the police suspect Jason of being the culprit,” Thomas said, concluding his explanation.

“That's not true!” Jason shouted. “I swear that isn't true.”

“Fortunately for your friend,” Thomas said to Lorraine, “Lieutenant Jacinto is inclined to believe him.”

“Thank God,” Jason whispered, sagging against his chair. “They've searched everything I have. They tore my backpack inside out.”

Her father faced Jason and met his look squarely. “If you've taken this artifact, it would be best to own up now.”

“I didn't!” Jason said fervently. “I swear I don't know what these men are talking about. I'm just a part-time university instructor.”

Lorraine noticed that he conveniently forgot to mention that the subject he taught was archaeology or that he'd just been on a dig. Not that she blamed him—well, not entirely. She understood the reason he'd given her: just mentioning his background would make him instantly suspect in police eyes.

“They said they were looking for a long-haired blond American male with round glasses and a bad cut on his right hand,” Thomas said.

Jason shrugged. His own hair was dark and clipped short and he didn't wear glasses. “I don't know what to tell you. It isn't me.”

“I'm not sure I'd have made it to El Mirador without his help,” Lorraine told her father.

Thomas leveled his gaze on Jason. “Like I said, lucky for you Lieutenant Jacinto believes you.”

Jason sighed with relief.

“I've been able to convince them to let you go back to your hotel room for the night, but they might want to question you again in the morning.”

“Of course. I'll do anything I can to clear my name,” Jason said eagerly.

“I'll be here if you need me,” Thomas added.

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate your help more than I can say.”

“Jason won't disappoint you,” Lorraine said with confidence. “He'll do whatever he's supposed to do.”

“Well, for tonight you're free to go back to the hotel,” Thomas reminded him.

“Thank you again,” Jason said.

Jason, Lorraine and her father left the police station together. The police had repacked his bag and returned it. Her father insisted on walking Jason to his hotel and stopped to talk to the proprietor, an old man who greeted Thomas warmly.

Although Lorraine couldn't understand what was being said, the gist of the conversation was obvious. The man in the hotel was to keep an eye on Jason.

Thomas didn't refer to her role in this fiasco until they were almost back at the house. “Why'd you lie about being Jason's wife?” he asked her point-blank.

“I…I didn't know what else to do.” She knew she'd displeased him, but that couldn't be avoided. “I certainly hadn't planned on doing it,” she qualified. “But when he
said
I was his wife…” Lorraine gave a helpless shrug. “Anyway, I know Jason's innocent.”

“You're that sure?”

“Yes, positive,” she replied without further thought. “Yes,” she said again for emphasis.

Her father was about to say something else, then stopped abruptly. “Antonio,” he called as a youngster ran toward him with an older boy she didn't recognize.

Antonio had been one of the children playing in the yard at the house, she recalled. Something was clearly
wrong, because the boy burst into a torrent of Spanish almost as if he couldn't get the words out fast enough.

Her father listened and his body language confirmed her guess. He turned, gripping her arms tightly. “We have to get you out of here.”

“Get me out?” Lorraine was nearly too stunned to speak.

“One of the policemen searched your suitcase while we were at the station.”

“But that's not legal!” she cried in outrage.

“Raine,” he said, shaking her hard. “They found the artifact.”

J
ack sat on board
Scotch on Water
watching the sun sink into a friendly pink sky. This was his favorite time of day. Soon the moon would rise over the water, its reflection silver-bright. He propped his feet on the side of the boat and held a bottle of his favorite Mexican beer. A clear sky, a beer in his hand and his mind free of worries. Life didn't get any better than this.

With nothing more than the sunset to distract him, Jack let his thoughts wander back to his friend Thomas Dancy. When Thomas had learned of his daughter's visit, he'd raced back to the school, promising he'd see Jack later. Jack hadn't even known Dancy
had
a daughter. Her visit sure wasn't expected if Dancy's reaction was anything to go by. He hadn't heard from his friend since, but he would; Dancy was a man of his word. Jack had delayed having dinner, preferring to let Azucena spoil him with one of her specialties. Man, could she cook! His mouth watered just thinking about what she could do with a fresh fish, a couple of tomatoes, peppers and a few spices. Her tortillas hot from the grill were the best he'd ever tasted. If she was feeling up to it, he'd ask her for a haircut, too.
He should shave before dinner, he mused, rubbing his hand down his face. The stubble scraped his palm.

He'd enjoyed seeing Thomas again, even if their visit was cut short. He'd forgotten how much he liked Dancy's company. Jack had laughed more in the half hour he'd spent with Thomas than he had in weeks. He'd make a point of sticking around until the kid was born. He wanted to be sure he saw lots of Antonio and Hector, too. Those two were pure fun. It didn't hurt that they worshiped him, either.

His evening plans might have fallen through, but the afternoon hadn't been wasted. He'd filled the boat's 480-gallon fuel tanks with diesel and paid for his supplies. They'd be loaded on board first thing in the morning. Given the option of heading toward Florida or Belize, he'd decided to return to the Central American country and would set his course southward as soon as the mood struck him.

“Jack!”

The urgency of the voice caught him off guard. He dropped his feet and stood, tensing with sudden wariness. Then he leaned over the boat's side, peering toward the dock.

Thomas ran along the waterfront, tugging a blonde in a white pantsuit by the hand. Jack noticed that the woman was having trouble keeping up. Briefly he wondered if she was Dancy's daughter. Her purse swung wildly at her side and threatened to slip off her shoulder. Both were breathless and appeared to be arguing. As they drew closer, Jack was able to make out their words.

“Antonio's your son, isn't he?” She turned to Thomas and Jack could hear the anger in her voice.

“We don't have time to talk about that now,” Thomas said.

“He called you Papa. How many other children do you
have? How many wives?” Then, as if she should have realized it earlier, she added, “Azucena's your…lover, isn't she? Why, she can't be more than three or four years older than me!” Shock and outrage sounded in each word. She lapsed into silence as they approached Jack's slip.

Thomas's face was tight with frustration. “I'm here to ask a favor,” he said, looking up at Jack.

“It's yours,” Jack said, not waiting to hear what it was. Few people in this world warranted that kind of response, but Jack liked and trusted Thomas Dancy.

“Raine, this is Jack Keller.”

Jack nodded in her direction, choosing to disregard the fact that they'd been arguing. “Pleasure to meet you, Raine.”

She barely glanced at him. “I prefer to be called Lorraine,” she said with all the warmth of a rattlesnake.

La-di-da. “Lorraine,” he corrected, and resisted rolling his eyes.

Thomas didn't waste words. “I need you to get her back to the States without the authorities here finding out.”

Jack read the panic in his friend's voice and eyes. “In other words, you don't want me to take her through customs.”

“You got it.” And then Thomas said, “You need to leave now. Right away.”

“Trouble?” Jack asked, ignoring the woman.

“Big trouble.”

“You're overreacting,” Lorraine insisted. “Once I'm able to explain the situation, I'm sure—”

“We don't have time to discuss it,” Dancy said, cutting her off.

“The last thing I should be doing now is running,” she countered. “Taking off like this makes me look guilty. I'd
rather face the authorities than—” she paused and cast Jack a scornful look “—be stuck with him.”

Apparently Jack didn't meet her dress code. Truth be known, he wasn't exactly thrilled about being stuck with her, either.

“We've got to get you back to the States,” Thomas said forcefully. “If the police arrest you, I won't be able to help. They'll be here any minute. Now go! For the love of God, go!”

Police? Arrested?
Her?
Jack couldn't imagine what she'd done to fall into such disfavor with the authorities, but whatever it was had to be major.

“Take her!” Thomas practically propelled her in Jack's direction. “Get her out of here.”

“My suitcase…my clothes! I can't just leave like this! Besides, there are things you and I need to talk about.”

“The police have your suitcase! Anyway, do you think they'll let you keep it when Sergeant Lopez hauls you off to jail? Do you?” Thomas's composure slipped as his voice rose in fear and anger. “Trust me, you don't want to see the inside of a Mexican jail. Now go! Hurry. Get the hell out of here.” He was shouting, gesturing frantically for Jack to take her. Thomas untied the rope from the dock and tossed it onto the deck.

“The American Embassy will help me,” Lorraine said as she reluctantly climbed on board.
Scotch on Water
rocked slightly with her entry. “When I explain that I know nothing about the artifact,” she went on, “they'll square everything with the Mexican government.”

Even without knowing her circumstances, Jack could see the woman lived in a fantasy world. Once she was in the hands of the Mexican authorities, there was little anyone could do to help her. The willingness—and ability—of the American Embassy to assist her was a matter
best left to speculation. Thomas knew this as well as Jack did.

“Please—just go,” Thomas pleaded.

“But—”

The boat's engine fired to life with a roar. A burst of exhaust fumes polluted the air.

“But I only just arrived!” she shouted. The high-pitched plea in her voice could be heard over the noise of the engine. “I—there's things I need to know before I leave… This isn't right. None of this.”

Jack heard her distress but felt no real sympathy.

“This isn't what I want, either,” Thomas said. Slowly, as if it ripped his heart out, he stepped away from the slip. “I'll find a way to reach you,” he promised. “You have precious cargo, my friend,” he told Jack, his eyes filled with pain. “Get her safely back to the States for me.”

The situation was urgent; that much was obvious. Without waiting any longer, Jack climbed to the flybridge. Thomas remained at the far end of the dock and watched them pull out.

Looking over his shoulder, Jack noticed that Lorraine stood at the rear of the cabin cruiser. He pushed the lever forward, easing the craft out of the protected waters of the marina. Lorraine leaned against the gunwale, arms crossed. Even from the back, Jack could tell how furious she was. She might be tempted to leap overboard and swim back to land, but he wouldn't recommend it.

Not long afterward, the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach reminded Jack that he hadn't eaten yet. Furthermore, there was almost no food on board. The supplies he'd ordered and paid for were back in El Mirador on the storekeeper's porch. Not only was he out his supplies, but he was stuck with a woman who was sure to irritate him every time she opened her mouth.

No, this certainly wasn't how he'd thought his evening would go. No, sir. Not at all.

 

Lorraine stayed on the open deck of the boat and watched the lights of El Mirador gradually disappear. She stood there for some time, trying to make sense of what had happened in the past hour. It seemed that only minutes ago she'd been enjoying a wonderful meal with her father, becoming acquainted with the man she'd believed forever lost to her. Her face reddened as she recalled the way she'd complimented his “housekeeper.”

This business with the Kukulcan Star was a complete shock—and made her feel even more idiotic. It was entirely clear now that Jason Applebee—if that was his real name—had used her to corroborate his story. He'd tricked her into lying on his behalf, knowing that the authorities were looking for a man traveling alone. No wonder he'd wanted her to tell the police they were married. She groaned at her own stupidity. She'd believed in his innocence right to the bitter end—when she'd learned that the artifact had been found in
her
luggage. That certainly didn't say much for her ability to judge character. As for his appearance, he could easily have cut and dyed his hair. And as for placing the artifact inside her suitcase, he could have done that when she'd climbed on the bus and he'd loaded their bags onto the roof.

How convenient for Jason that he'd come across such a naive trusting American. If there was anything she should've learned from the past month, it was not to trust appearances. Now, because of him and her own naiveté, she was on a boat with this…this overgrown whatever he was. Jack Keller looked like an unkempt surfer who'd spent too much time in the sun. Apparently he lived on his boat. His hair was bleached blond, his body tanned
to a bronze hue. Even if she'd just reminded herself that there was no use in relying on appearances, she couldn't help it with this guy. He seemed so shiftless and irresponsible. Her father must've been desperate to have brought her to such a misfit.

They'd been at sea for more than an hour before either spoke.

“Find me something to eat, would you?” Jack called from the flybridge.

His tone of voice rankled—he sounded as if he expected her to be at his beck and call. She thought about setting him straight but stifled her irritation. He was, after all, doing her and her father a favor.

“Where would you like me to look?” she called back.

“Try the galley,” he said, as though she should have figured that out for herself.

The boat pitched and heaved with the swells as Lorraine made her way belowdecks, which was no easy task because the steps were incredibly steep. Once below, she was in the saddest, smallest excuse for a kitchen she could ever have imagined. She took a moment to glance around and found a toilet and shower, crammed into an impossibly tiny space. The only other room, if it could be considered that, was obviously where Jack slept. There was a narrow bunk, littered with clothes. Books lined the walls and he'd hung several firearms there, next to the light. Never having been around anyone who owned a gun, Lorraine had no idea what kind or caliber these were, but they didn't resemble any she'd seen in the movies.

Returning to the galley, she discovered a wrinkled orange in the tiny refrigerator, along with four or five beers. She pushed those aside—with a fleeting recollection
of Katharine Hepburn in
The African Queen
methodically dumping out Humphrey Bogart's booze. Further investigation netted her a dried-out tortilla and an open can of sardines, the smell of which disgusted her.

With no other choice, she peeled the orange. By the time she'd finished that small task, her stomach was queasy.

“I…seem to be getting seasick,” she said when she brought him the orange. “Do you have any suggestions?”

“When you vomit be sure you do it with your head over the side. If you get sick on this boat, you clean it up.”

“Thank you for that charming advice,” she muttered as she walked carefully back to the main deck. The ocean wasn't calm anymore, the way it'd been when they set out, and it tossed the boat viciously.
Scotch on Water
—ridiculous name for a boat—surged up and down with the waves, and with every bounce her stomach heaved. Determined not to throw up, Lorraine sat in the only chair on the deck, pressing her arms against her stomach. That didn't seem to be helping. She was shaking with chills and sweating, both at the same time.

It wasn't long before she vaulted out of the chair and dashed to the side of the boat. What little she'd eaten at her father's before the police arrived was soon gone. Still retching, she closed her eyes. Finally it seemed to be over. She straightened and moaned loudly, no longer caring if Jack heard her or not. She was too sick to maintain any pretenses.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“No. Worse.” She swore the man sounded amused. She would ignore him, she decided, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Go ahead and lie down, but I don't suggest you do it belowdecks.”

She had no intention of sleeping in that horrible bed and there didn't seem to be anyplace else. If she hadn't felt so deathly ill, she might have pointed that out.

Jack disappeared and came back a couple of minutes later with a blanket and pillow. He threw them to her in the chair.

“Thank you,” she managed to say, rolling her head from side to side, more miserable than she could ever remember being.

He hunkered down beside her, but in Lorraine's opinion didn't look too sympathetic.

“How long will it take to reach the States?” she asked in a weak voice.

He didn't answer immediately. “Longer than either of us is going to like,” he finally said.

Lorraine already knew he was right.

 

When Jason returned to the hotel—Dancys in tow—he'd recognized that time was of the essence. Thomas and Lorraine had eventually left after interminable cautions and goodbyes, and now he was back in his room, repacking the few things he'd taken out of his bag. He knew it wouldn't be long before the authorities discovered his lie, and when they did, no amount of smooth talk was going to stop them from arresting him. He needed to make his move, and soon.