please, I have a great deal of work to do.” As he stepped around her chair, in a slight whisper, he added, “Behind you…be careful…” Benilo entered the cafeteria and disappeared.
Qui rose and casually turned. Putting her dishes on her tray, she glanced around the patio.
Oh no, it’s Montoya! Damn! Forgot he was coming! And he’s only here because I bullied him into it! Now what?
Montoya had been sitting nearby in the crowded patio area when he heard Benilo call out her title. The moment he realized the old ME was speaking to Qui, Montoya approached her, saying, “What is this, a scavenger hunt? I come to help you out, and I can’t even find you! Don’t you think my time is valuable?”
Her sense of guilt slowly retreated as her frustration with his behavior rose. “Oh…gee…sweetheart, I meant to call you but Dr. Benilo is so…slow, you know, and he kept me.”
“I’m not surprised. I’ve heard he’s slowed down. However, a simple call would’ve have saved me the trip. Who suffers from this? My patients, that’s who.”
“But you have to admit, it’s nice to meet like this at mid-day. Have you had lunch yet? Can I buy you-”
“Never mind that. Take me to the dead woman and let’s get this over with.”
“Ahhh…as it happens, I don’t need you anymore.”
“What? Whataya mean you don’t need me anymore?”
She thought hard about what her reply to this should be. “Some time this morning, Dr. Benilo learned the identity of all three victims, thanks to a missing persons report filed by Pena.”
“See…I told you…Pena is the man for this case.”
“Montoya, why are you being mean when all I’m trying to do is be nice? To make up for not calling you.”
“Oh…well, I guess it couldn’t be helped, but you really did pull me away from important matters.” He pulled out his cell phone and began punching numbers. “I’ll just call my clinic, let them know I’m on my way back.”
She stopped his hand and smiled suggestively. “If lunch doesn’t interest you, Estaban…perhaps I can?”
Back in his office, Dr. Arturo Benilo listened to his favorite Maurice Jarre composition. He stared into a folder at the stapled photo of the mangled remains of the dead Canadian girl-photos he’d taken aboard the Sanabela. She looked so slight, so small, so sad, and so innocent here on the computer monitor. In the missing persons photo, the open smile and animation in her face reminded him of Quiana. He’d already placed her age near Quiana’s, and he wondered what else the two might have in common when a knock at his open door announced Qui Aguilera’s return.
“Ahhh…you’re back! Come take a look,” he said from his desk, as he swiveled the monitor.
She leaned in over his desk, facing the computer monitor, taking in the sounds of Jarre as she studied the images taken with his digital camera. Benilo clicked through image after image of the dead. As the photo array continued, Qui considered the depth of grief awaiting Denise’s parents. “The parents’ll want details, you know. The kind of mischief that brought Denise to this end.”
“Yes, one of my hardest duties…dealing with the loved ones.”
With the music still wafting through the office, the two sat lost in private thought.
Qui had earlier left the hotel where she and Montoya had made an attempt at a passionate afternoon tryst that turned rather languorous instead. In fact, Montoya, worn out by her exuberance from the night before, had fallen into what seemed a coma right about the time he’d climaxed. She’d left him back at the hotel slumbering like some Iguana in the sun. As usual, he’d come first, leaving her wondering if this man would ever satisfy her needs before his own. The disappointing afternoon rendezvous created a desire to rush back and bury herself in her work. Naturally, she’d returned to Benilo’s morgue.
The ME sat watching her sad features. “I saw you go off with Montoya. So are you seeing him, you know, personally?”
“Well actually…Estaban thinks we ought to be married.”
“Really…he thinks so, heh? What do you think?”
“I think I really should call him and maybe talk,” she muttered.
“But why? You just left him, no?”
“Well…ahhh…you see, ahhh it’s like, you know, I left him asleep and maybe I shouldn’t’ve.”
“Shouldn’t’ve left him asleep…or shouldn’t’ve left him? Which is it?”
“He’s bound to be angry, just leaving him that way. He spoke of dinner tonight and mentioned something special, a gift. Perhaps a ring…”
“He has a steady income, position. He’s reasonably attractive. A woman could do far worse than to marry him.”
“You couldn’t possibly understand-you’re a man.”
Benilo laughed at this. “I think the real question here, Quiana, is do love him?”
She immediately and emphatically replied, “Short answer? No.”
“And the long answer?”
“We’re good friends, but right now, that’s all we are.”
“Hmmm…I myself…I was never able to settle for friendship either. From an outsider’s viewpoint, I can only say, time is often the best path to follow.”
She began walking in a small circle, reminding him once again of her mother, Rafaela, muttering to herself, “I don’t want to hurt him, but…I don’t want to be anyone’s little woman or even a doctor’s wife. I’m a detective. I have a right to my own career.”
Benilo stood, put his coffee cup aside, and walked to where she paced. He stretched out a hand to her and softly patted her shoulder. “Just call him, cancel dinner. Give yourself all the time you need.”
“Sure and while I’m at it, I’ll say I solved the whole damn case, so he can stop worrying,” she joked.
“How can such a retiring woman as you be so worrisome to Dr. Montoya?” he teased. “In the meantime, we do have a case to solve.”
She gritted her teeth in response as she pulled out her cell phone. The Jarre composition ended, replaced by Hans Zimmer’s score for the film Blackhawk Down. The title amused Qui as it reminded her of the spluttering relationship with the black-haired Montoya still asleep at the hotel. The title also recalled her father’s latest photography project, black and white images of the hawks of Cuba.
“Oh…by the way…I want you to come tomorrow to our Miramar house.”
“Really…and why?”
“We’re celebrating my father’s birthday.”
He stared noncommittally at her, and then raised his shoulders and eyebrows at once. “After so many years? Would I be welcome?”
“Absolutely, yes! My father has never spoken ill of you.”
“All right…perhaps it is time, after all.”
“Yes! Time for you two old friends to reunite,” she effusively said. “Besides, Doctor, I want you there.”
He smiled at this.
“Besides…if you are there, maybe he won’t press me about dropping the case.”
“Perhaps, I can make him understand that this case needs us both.”
The sounds of Zimmer rose and fell in the background. She attempted getting Montoya on the phone, but he wasn’t answering. She left a message that she wouldn’t be seeing him tonight, explaining that she’d promised to spend time with her girlfriend Liliana instead. It was as good an excuse to gain some time away from Estaban as any.
16
Saturday night at the Palacio
She moves like a professional dancer far more than she does a cop, Julio Roberto Zayas thought again as he watched the woman on the Palacio’s dance floor. He recalled her from that moment their eyes had met at the Capitol Police Headquarters the first time he’d gone there.
The music, fast and loud, pulsated with a tempo that made it hard to resist moving. The rhythms invited everyone onto the floor, making it impossible not to move. She had partnered with two loud guys, each wearing a
