We ordered wine, then Harry went over the menu, skipping an item I’d never heard of.
“Wait. What’s cuy? A local specialty?”
He grinned. “Well, I’ve never eaten it any other place. Cuy is guinea pig. Tried it once after three or four too many beers. Tastes like chicken.”
Mr. Reeces Cup, Lesroy’s chocolate and beige pet guinea pig, squealed in the back of my mind. The plump little creature danced in delight whenever we ran up to his cage.
“Okay, then. I’ll have the shrimp and coconut sauce.”
They each ordered steak cut in thin strips, served over rice and beans. We shared orders of yucca bread, fried in rounded pieces with warm, chewy centers, along with meat and cheese empanadas. Despite the memory of Lesroy’s beloved Mr. Reeces, my appetite returned, and I cleaned my plate.
Harry suggested we try aguardiente, a local favorite distilled from sugar cane and fruit juice. “Sounds harmless, but it packs a real punch,” he warned.
I took a sip, gasped for air, downed half a glass of bottled water, and coughed uncontrollably. Justin patted me on the back. The choking sensation subsided just as Harry’s phone sounded. He looked at caller ID and then at me. “Ben,” he said and left the table.
I pushed up from my chair to go with him, but Justin took my hand and shook his head. “It’s better if he handles it without you there.”
As infuriating as it was, he was right. Ben didn’t need to know I was there. And there was a good chance I’d start screaming and yelling obscenities at the sound of his voice. He paid the check, and we waited on the sidewalk. It was after eight and cooler, but the humidity seeped into my hair, frizzing it into a giant puffball.
“Why is it taking so long?” I paced beside him.
Before he replied, Harry came from the side of the building.
“What a jackass. He said you’re the only one he’ll talk to. I told him you got in late and were exhausted. He wants to see you as soon as possible. We set it up for tomorrow afternoon at his house in Montañita.”
“I’m not comfortable with that.” Justin faced me and held my shoulders. “He’s a complete asshole, and when assholes get desperate, they’re unpredictable.”
“He won’t hurt me,” I asserted. “If he did, he’d be the bad guy, and he always has to believe he’s a good guy.”
They continued to insist on accompanying me. Although their protective attitude was comforting, I resented the implication I was incapable of handling the situation. Whether it came from the need to prove something or from the perverse desire to confront my ex alone, I was determined to go on my own.
After a heated debate, I agreed to let them drop me off and stay as close as possible to the house. Neither was happy until Harry suggested I wear a wire in case I got in trouble. The prospect of being wired up excited me more than I cared to admit.
On our return trip, I remembered the folder. Several times I intended to ask what about my sister’s death warranted further investigation. But there had been no suitable moment for such a terrible revelation. With the evening almost over, we couldn’t afford to delay.
“I’m guessing you both examined Stella’s file. What was in it that made Luis so uncomfortable?”
Justin cleared his throat before explaining there were marks on the body, around the neck specifically. “I don’t see how drowning could have caused them.”
“Are you saying she was strangled?” It surprised me how easy it was for me to say the words, as if I were talking about someone else’s sister.
“We shouldn’t jump to conclusions. And without the pictures, there’s no way we could prove it.”
Normally, I would have demanded to read the report myself, but for once I was willing to accept Justin’s word.
When we reached the hotel, Harry dropped us at the front entrance, explaining he had things to do before morning. It was less than a two-hour drive to Montañita, and he wanted to leave me at the villa while he and Justin checked out Ben’s house. We would meet at 7:30 for a quick breakfast and an early check-out.
“Are you up for a drink?” he asked after Harry left.
I discovered grief has a dual effect. One minute, getting out of bed was an insurmountable task. The next, you’re filled with an erratic energy like tiny bolts of electricity shooting through your body. Ever since Harry confirmed my meeting with Ben, I sizzled with that current.
“I’m not in the mood for another drink. What if we just took a walk?” I hoped to learn if what I observed from my window was happiness or freneticism.
He liked the idea. We crossed through the lobby to the river walkway and strolled in silence. Not a comfortable one like people who’ve been married for over fifty years enjoy but not awkward either. Streetlights reflected off the black water, sending silver ribbons over the surface. We passed graceful structures of metalwork topped with airy sails. Abstract periscope pieces built into walls along the path blended with statues of famous Ecuadorians. Overhead, slashes of crimson, violet, and emerald flooded the sky, trailed by strains of classical music.
“Come on,” Justin said, taking my arm. “I read about this on the plane. It’s the Fuente del Agua Danzantes.”
The growing crescendo guided us to a crowd gathered by a large fountain where distant flashes streaked through the clouds. Bursts of color rose like the breath of some exotic creature. The pounding of my heart echoed the rhythm.
My knees weakened and I leaned against him. Without speaking, he took my arm and steadied me. We remained close for the rest of the show.
As the lights dimmed to a faint glow, a sense of
