When she discovered Halloween in Montañita was little more than an excuse for heavy drinking, she decided to throw her own party. Her last October letter detailed the plans. She had pumpkins shipped in from the States and got Eva to help her put together a haunted house in the garage. Since people weren’t accustomed to dressing up for the occasion, Stella ordered costumes in all shapes and sizes. She chose her absolute favorite, Scarlett O’Hara in the famous green outfit made from curtains. She thought Ben would be super pissed when he saw the bill, but it would be too late by then. I highlighted only one line from her narrative: “But Ben’s super pissed most of the time anyway, so no big deal.”
I expected a detailed description of the party in Stella’s first November letter, but it was surprisingly stark. She said everyone loved her costume, but Ben had refused to don the Rhett Butler outfit she ordered for him. He went with Phantom of the Opera instead. Someone else had been Rhett, and he made a very interesting counterpart to her Scarlett, much better than Ben would have. After that, “Rhett” appeared frequently.
“I’ve got some Rhett guy showing up in just about every letter from December through March,” Justin said when we were ready to compare notes.
I explained how and when he had shown up, and we speculated who he might be. The obvious choice was Adelmo Balsuto, but he insisted we shouldn’t jump to that conclusion. He pointed out a place she had frequented, Olon. “It’s so much quieter and gentler than Montañita,” she wrote. She described houses built on top of cliffs dangerously close to disintegration and spoke of hiking to a waterfall and swimming in the cold, clear water. My sister mentioned hummingbirds hovering like jeweled clouds, creating a shimmering light across the entire sky. She never came out and said Rhett was with her, but there was no way she would have traipsed through the forest alone. Stella was athletic but had never been interested in being one with nature.
“I think we made some real progress.” He stood and stretched. His shirt slid up enough to give me a quick view of the bottom third of what appeared to be a very impressive six-pack.
“Me, too. But I won’t be able to sleep in the middle of an active investigation.” I pointed at the cluttered bedspread.
“It would be a shame to destroy our hard work. Let’s see if we can come up with some other place you might spend the night. Strictly in the interest of preserving research.” He smiled and wriggled his eyebrows up and down.
I felt a flutter south of my waistline but ignored it. “If we’re careful, we should be able to move the bedspread to the floor without messing up the cards.”
Justin laughed and took out his cell phone. “I’ll take some pictures. Then we can transfer our stacks to the table.”
After he snapped a few shots, I busied myself with organizing our work.
“Harry should be in the lobby in about thirty minutes. Meet you there.”
I walked with him to the door where he stopped and turned to me.
“And Grace.” He leaned close.
I held my breath and looked into his dark blue eyes. He grasped my chin in one hand, and I parted my lips. Then he said, “You’ve got highlighter on your face.”
Chapter 17
As usual, the men were already in the lobby when I arrived five minutes early. They were so engrossed in conversation, neither noticed me until I was in front of them.
“You look especially lovely tonight,” Harry said, as he pulled out my chair.
“Thanks for noticing.” After scrubbing the highlighter off my face, I spent extra time with my make-up and hair.
“You clean up good, but I kind of miss the highlighter,” Justin added.
I ignored him and asked Harry if he’d gotten in touch with Ben. I was second-guessing my decision to have him make the initial contact since I was the better choice for gauging Ben’s reactions first-hand and in person.
“I left two messages,” he answered. “Don’t worry. It’s only been a few hours.”
“Harry’s right,” Justin said. “Men like Ben always want the last word. And then there’s seeing you. No way he’ll let you leave the country before you talk to him.”
“Relax, Grace. There’s a great restaurant about fifteen minutes from here. It started as a curbside grill. Now it’s tucked in a nice little neighborhood. More locals than tourists.” Harry threaded his arm through mine and ushered me out the shiny chrome and glass doors.
Traffic thinned as we drove farther from the river. The streets narrowed, and harsh modern lighting dissolved into a softer glow from European-style streetlamps. A pastel haze glimmered over sidewalks in front of two-story buildings, painted in pale shades of pink, blue, and green. Intricately patterned wrought iron framed narrow balconies. He parked on a side street, and we walked a short block to the restaurant.
As soon as we entered, a man in a black jacket greeted Harry. They clapped each other’s backs and chattered in Spanish while Justin and I looked on. Round tables
