gonna get much of a story.”
Point taken. Vargas had heard his share of unrepentant bigotry over the course of his life, especially growing up around the fields of Southern California, where the term “berry picker” was not an endearment. His father had worked those fields for hours so long, at wages so low it would make you weep. But he’d never complained, despite the animosity he’d encountered on a regular basis. Much of it from the very families who bought those berries at prices his cheap labor allowed them to afford.
But this trip to Chihuahua wasn’t about old wounds. When it came to work, Vargas had always tried to keep his emotions in check. No reason that should change now.
He gestured to the house.
“Show me where you found the rest of the bodies.”
Robert Gregory Browne
Down Among the Dead Men (A Thriller)
4
“ I don’t know about you,” Jen said, holding the black cocktail dress against her chest and admiring herself in the mirror, “but I plan on getting laid tonight.”
Beth knew she shouldn’t be shocked by this pronouncement. Jen was painfully matter-of-fact about such things. About most things, if you wanted the God’s honest truth.
But Beth was shocked nonetheless, and could only guess that this was because she’d been playing surrogate mom to the girl for nearly half their lives and felt some knee-jerk moral obligation to express disapproval.
“Do we really have to talk about this?”
“Little sissy’s got a crush,” Jen said, blissfully ignoring the question as she laid the dress across her bunk. “Did you see that boy’s derriere?”
“Boy? I don’t remember any boys.”
“They’re all boys. You, of all people, should know that. Just look at Peter.”
This was another area of conversation that Beth would just as soon avoid. She was still smarting from the divorce and felt no need to go down that ruinous path. She was here to have fun. Maybe not as much fun as Jen was planning, but enough to help her forget what a mess her life had become.
The cruise to the Mexican Riviera had been Jen’s idea. After her best friend, Debbie, had dropped out at the last minute, Jen had offered the vacant slot to Beth, and Beth had jumped at the chance to get away for a long weekend. She just hoped she wouldn’t have to spend their entire vacation keeping tally of Jen’s conquests.
The aforementioned Julio was a bartender they’d met up on the pool deck, where they’d gone to get some sun before dinner. He wasn’t tall, but he was definitely dark and handsome, and yes, Beth had noticed how nicely his derriere had filled out his tight white shorts, and she could fully appreciate Jen’s enthusiasm.
“From what I can tell,” Beth said, “Julio’s no boy. Has hair on his chin and everything.”
Jen grinned. “It’s the everything that I’m interested in.”
“Doesn’t the cruise line have some rule against the help fraternizing with guests?”
“Calm down, girl, you’re not in court. We’re on vacation here, remember? There are no rules.”
“You sleep with him, you could get him fired.”
Jen’s grin widened. “Trust me, I’m worth the risk.”
“Oh, brother.” Beth rolled her eyes.
“Why are you always such a prude?”
“I’m not a prude, it’s just-”
“I know, I know, only when it comes to me.” Heaving a sigh, Jen pulled off her T-shirt, then reached back and untied her bikini top. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Sis, but I’m all grown up now. You don’t have to protect me anymore. If anything, I’m the one who should be doing the protecting.” She paused. “Speaking of which, how’s your head?”
“Pounding, thanks to you.”
“Hey, I can’t help it if you’ve got a stick up your butt about anything remotely provocative. If you were smart, you’d find a Julio all your own.”
“Not likely.”
Jen flung the top aside and Beth instinctively averted her gaze. She’d seen her sister naked plenty of times over the years but suddenly felt as if she were invading Jen’s privacy.
Maybe it was the boob job, which Jen didn’t hesitate to flaunt at every possible opportunity. Or maybe it was the close confines of this budget traveler’s stateroom they’d been stuck in. They didn’t even have a window-or porthole, to be nautically correct-and the light in here was weak and depressing. They were practically on top of each other, and seeing Jen’s newly acquired attributes waving hello from less than two feet away did not exactly warm and comfort Beth.
“I’m no doctor,” Jen said, slipping off her suit bottom now, “but a couple hours with the right guy and I’ll bet those headaches of yours will clear up real quick.”
“That’s your solution to everything, isn’t it?”
Jen shrugged. “More or less.”
“Just do me a favor and take your shower,” Beth said. “They’re seating us in less than fifteen minutes.”
5
Dining on a cruise ship is an elaborate affair.
Long, intricately set tables crowded with your shipmates, some of whom are dressed to the nines. Two or more waiters. A five-course gourmet meal that has the potential to be mediocre but is actually quite good considering the amount of food being pumped out of the ship’s kitchen.
Beth ordered an escargot appetizer, a Caesar salad, seafood chowder, medallions of beef, a plate of cheeses, and a scoop of green tea ice cream. A definite case of eyes bigger than stomach.
They’d been surrounded by food from the moment they’d first stepped foot onto the ship that afternoon, but Beth had passed on the burgers and greasy fries and pizza slices and soft-serve ice cream offered upstairs on the pool deck. And by the time dinner came around, she was famished.
Jen, on the other hand, had opted for a liquid diet and was drunk before the meal was half-over. Ordering only an appetizer and a small salad, she washed it all down with a couple of colorful rum drinks that came in tall glasses carrying the cruise line’s logo. Add that to the three Dos Equis good old Julio had served her by the pool, and it wasn’t long before she was a candidate for the Long Beach drunk tank.
Of course, they were quite a distance from port at that point, so Beth figured it didn’t much matter. Still, she tried more than once to get Jen to slow down, but Jen wouldn’t have it.
“Loosen up, Aunt Martha, I’m just getting started.”
The problem was that she was wildly unpredictable when she got drunk. Or just plain wild. Once the liquid started flowing, you never knew which Jen would surface, and while all were quite beautiful, few of them were pretty.
By the time dessert was served, she was well into an unapologetic flirt session with the newlywed husband sitting next to her. Much to the chagrin of his sadly mousy wife.
Maybe “flirt” was too mild of a word. This was an all-out, full-frontal assault.
“Let’s go dancing. You wanna go dancing?”
“I–I don’t really dance,” the man said, shooting his wife an awkward glance.
“Oh? You look like a dancer to me.” Jen reached over and squeezed his bicep. “There’s a lot of muscle under that fancy jacket.”
