Part 19 (2/2)
Lucia, dressed in a long floral jumpsuit and sandals, stood to greet me when we reached the upper level. ”So glad you could join us again, Daphne.”
”The thrill is mine, Lucia. It's such a lovely night, and I couldn't be in better company.” I smiled formally at Diaz. ”Nice to see you again, Elena. You're in for a wonderful treat tonight. The Padillas are such gracious hosts.”
She should be ashamed of herself for taking advantage of their hospitality to set them up.
As we pulled out of the marina, I caught sight of Henry creeping along in the SUV on the overpa.s.s from the port. By the time we pa.s.sed under the MacArthur Causeway, he had circled around to Watson Island, only a couple hundred feet away.
I nudged Mari and gestured toward my building. ”I wonder if Mordy and Edith are out on their balcony. We should ride by there and wave.”
”Are those the ones with the cat who jumped off the balcony? Mari told us all about that,” Lucia asked.
”That was so amazing,” Mari said. ”Call them, Daphne. Tell them to come outside.” She ducked below to tell the captain to swing close to the sh.o.r.e.
Diaz was practically grinding her teeth as she joined us in waving up at my neighbors on their balcony, all the while looking over her shoulder for Henry. When she ran a hand through her hair, I noticed the same bracelet she had worn the night before. ”Where is this Star Island I've heard so much about? Is that the one with the celebrity mansions?”
”We'll go there now,” Pepe said, nodding toward Mari to signal the captain.
”So we're turning around, I guess. It must be back near...what's that? The MacArthur? I haven't learned all my bridges yet.”
Pepe named all the landmarks as we floated past, and I soon spotted Henry again driving parallel to us on the Venetian Causeway.
Diaz settled back with her gla.s.s of wine, which she'd barely touched. ”So tell me about Padilla Financial. Have either of you had a chance to think about what type of investments you'd recommend for someone like me?”
I immediately tapped the hockey icon on my phone, which I'd been holding ever since my call to Edith. As I tucked it back into my pocket, I also turned on my bug emitter.
Mari took the lead in answering, leaning forward and gesturing with her hands as she spoke. ”We've developed an international investment instrument called the Iberican Fund. Its main feature is-”
”Oh, my gos.h.!.+ I just saw a dolphin.” I scooted to the edge of the sundeck, only a couple of feet from Diaz. ”At least I think it was a dolphin. Hard to tell at night. It might have been a shark.”
”Probably a dolphin,” Lucia said, peering over the side. ”They love to run alongside the boat. They're so cute.”
”Aren't they?” While everyone was looking into the water, I managed to activate my Bluetooth earpiece and iPod.
Diaz turned back around and leaned toward Mari, as if pus.h.i.+ng the microphone necklace into her face. ”So, you were saying something about a fund?”
”The Iberican Fund. It's a collection of manufacturing and distribution companies throughout Latin America that we believe are poised to experience exponential growth within the next couple of years, not because they're serving any particular industry, but because they're well managed and on the verge of taking off. We're capitalizing on that growth window by...”
As Mari talked, I began to hum. Not a tune, just a low monotone that I hoped would blend in with the yacht's purring engines. White noise, Henry had called it.
Diaz smoothed her hair for the hundredth time after Mari finished her explanation, and squinted with what I thought was overly dramatic confusion. ”I'm not sure I caught all that. Would you mind terribly starting over at the beginning?”
What's the matter, Diaz? Are you finding out you're not as good at your job as you thought?
Pepe took over the presentation, and I realized with alarm his deep, booming voice might have a different effect on the recorder. I hummed louder, not so anyone else could hear, but enough to cause Diaz to frown in my direction.
Eddie suddenly appeared on the steps. ”Dinner is prepared.”
Lucia clapped her hands. ”Wonderful! Let's see what surprise Benito has for us.”
Diaz was frustrated. I could see it in her face, and when she grabbed my wrist before I started down the stairs, I expected the worst. ”Watch out for dinner. Henry thinks our cook's preoccupied with a hockey game.”
That was so perfect I wanted to clap.
Not so perfect were the seating arrangements at dinner. Pepe sat at the head of the table with Lucia on one side and Diaz on the other. Mari sat beside Diaz, while I sat across from Mari, as far from Diaz as I could be. I wasn't sure my electronics could cover that range, and humming was out of the question.
Pepe unknowingly saved the day with his p.r.o.nouncement. ”Lucia forbids talk of business at dinner, so we'll table our discussion of Iberican for now. Will you join us in saying grace?”
While heads were bowed, I managed to turn off my various devices to save power.
As a general rule, I have a lot of respect for people in law enforcement. Sure, there are guys like Delores's brother who get off on being macho jerks, but by and large, cops and other official government investigative types are the good guys. Even IRS agents, whom we all fear because our honest mistakes might turn out to be crimes, are necessary for justice and equality. I admire pretty much anyone who dedicates their life to public service, especially righting wrongs.
But I was having a lot of trouble with Diaz, not only because she was h.e.l.l-bent on bringing charges against my friends, but also because she had used me to do it.
Mostly I hated that Pepe had put himself and Mari in this position. I was only buying him time. Even if Diaz went home tonight empty-handed, she wouldn't give up on her case. The only way out of this was for him to put everyone's money back so she couldn't make her case.
How many more times could Diaz put them through a drawn-out explanation of the Iberican Fund before they got suspicious? She'd done it twice already and still had nothing but spurts of a fifteen-year-old hockey game. Bless Rosa!
Dinner conversation began with small talk about where everyone was from, as Eddie served something called Camarones Benito, shrimp sauteed with tomatoes and peppers over saffron rice.
Pepe seemed especially interested in Diaz's Puerto Rican heritage. ”Elena, do you think of yourself as an American?”
”Of course, but I was born in Was.h.i.+ngton, DC. My mother thinks of herself as Puerto Rican first, American second. I guess I'm like Mari. I grew up in a Spanish-speaking household, but my only taste of Puerto Rico is what my mother remembers, and what I've seen when I've visited.”
”Except I've never visited Cuba,” Mari said. ”My only taste of Cuba is what I get when I go to Calle Ocho in Little Havana.”
”Or from the stories Mima tells,” Lucia added.
”And that's all that's left of the real Cuba,” Pepe said. ”This place, Miami”-he jabbed his finger on the table-”holds the true Cuban heart. But we are no longer Cubans. We are Americans. Cuban-Americans, yes, but Americans. I love this country. I may have been born in Havana, but America is my homeland.”
I wondered if Diaz respected what it meant to be a Cuban exile. Thousands of people like Pepe rebuilt their lives here, nearly all of them starting over from the bottom of the heap. It wouldn't surprise me if she took special satisfaction from bringing down people like Pepe and Mari because it brought the whole Cuban community down a notch.
The Herald would run the story on the front page, and folks like Mordy would rail against the corrupt Cubans. One week later, all would be forgotten for everyone except Mari, Pepe and their family.
And me. I'd never forget I was the one who set them up.
”Benito makes the most delicious flan,” I exclaimed as Eddie cleared the last of our dinner dishes.
Pepe gestured to the sundeck. ”Please, let's go back upstairs and enjoy the view of our beautiful city lights. Eddie will serve dessert and cafe con leche there.” He pulled out Lucia's chair and then hustled around the table to do the same for Diaz.
As they climbed the steps, I began the ritual of activating my electronics.
”Okay, who keeps calling you?” Mari suddenly asked. ”I've seen you check that phone half a dozen times tonight. Should I be worried?”
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