Authors: Phoebe Conn
“A crib, a stroller, what else?”
There were only crumbs left on his plate, and she was full with half an empanada. She placed the remaining half on his plate. “We had a big lunch, and I’m full.”
“Thank you. I forgot a highchair. What else does a baby need?”
“Toys.”
“We’ll buy a toy chest. I’ll take the little guy to work with me if he’ll be in your way here.”
“Fatima will take care of him, or her. It’s not that, Alejandro. I’m simply overwhelmed with the thought of caring for someone else.”
“Ice cream will make you feel better. Calcium is soothing.”
“It won’t make me feel any worse. There should be more of the meringue cookies. I’ll make coffee.”
He finished the empanada and got up. “I’ll handle it.”
She sat back and attempted to fold her napkin into a rabbit, but gave up. “You’ll make a wonderful husband.”
“Thank you,” he called from the kitchen. “You’ll make a wonderful wife. I brought butter pecan tonight. I hope you like it.” He returned with generous servings for both of them.
“I love it.” She hummed as she swallowed a spoonful.
“Back to making plans…”
She waved her spoon. “I don’t want to plan anything more than finishing this delicious ice cream. I thought you’d brought me too much. It’s so good, though, I may have a second bowl. There’s nothing that has to be decided tonight, is there?”
“Just the kittens’ residence.”
“Fine. Bring them with you the next time you’re here.”
He regarded her as closely as he would an exotic museum exhibit. “You make it sound as though I might not be invited back.”
She brushed a curl away from her face. “Did I? I’m sorry. I’m just tired, and maybe nothing is coming out right.”
That was a lie if he’d ever heard one, but he wouldn’t call her on it. “I understand. Maybe I should go back to my studio tonight. I’ll clean up the kitchen first.” She didn’t argue with him, and he left her seated on the sofa with a book. She looked more lost than tired to him, but clearly she didn’t crave his company as badly as he longed for hers.
When Alejandro got up the next morning, it hurt to stretch, and he hadn’t slept nearly as well alone as he did after spending hours making love to Ana. The overcast morning contributed to his dark mood, and the hot water and steam from the shower just made him wet. He rubbed his hair dry as he surveyed his closet. He had bespoke suits, monogrammed shirts and designer ties, so he looked the part of CEO of the Ortiz Line whenever he had to, and it was required for the reading of the will.
As he dressed, he replayed his last conversation with Ana, but no matter how he shuffled the exchange, she’d simply brushed off his suggestion they live together with a halfhearted concern they might feel crowded with a baby. Their baby wouldn’t be born for months, so it was a lame excuse and made him wonder if she cared for him at all. He thought she had to like him a little. Clearly she liked the sex as much as he did. Maybe he hadn’t given her enough time to get over his lie about their marriage. If that held her back, he hoped time would take care of the problem long before they became parents.
Carlotta was the last to enter the boardroom, and she’d brought her sons, Rodrigo and Francisco. They were ten and seven respectively, and while handsomely dressed, looked as though they’d prefer to be in school. They had neatly trimmed black hair and their father’s gray eyes. Alejandro had been aware of their existence but had never played the role of big brother. He supposed he really ought to own up to it now.
There were also half a dozen members of the Ortiz Corporation’s board present, men who’d admired Orlando and expected Alejandro to follow his lead. The corporate attorney, Jacob Tabladillo, had also handled Orlando’s personal affairs, and he had the will ready to read. He was a thin man with intense black eyes who looked as though no aspect of any maritime law had ever escaped his notice.
“I’m reading this will with great sorrow,” Jacob began. “If you have any questions, Mrs. Ortiz, I’ll be happy to explain in greater detail.”
Carlotta was dressed in a black long-sleeve dress and wore no jewelry other than her wedding ring. “Thank you. I’ll listen closely.”
The attorney made eye contact with all those seated around the table. “Orlando had a gift for seeing the future, and he planned thoroughly for every eventuality. He left explicit directions there is to be no funeral or memorial service. He requested cremation and wanted his ashes scattered at sea.”
Appearing shocked, Carlotta leaned forward. “Didn’t he realize the boys and I would need to say good-bye?”
Jacob squared his shoulders. “Mrs. Ortiz, you and your sons will certainly be able to ride in the boat and distribute Orlando’s ashes. Flowers are often thrown into the sea at such times, and you can bid your husband good-bye then.”
“It’s not right,” she maintained, her eyes filling with tears.
“Pray for his soul whenever you attend mass, but there is to be no funeral of any kind,” Jacob stressed. “Your late husband left a generous trust fund for you and his sons.” He passed her the appropriate papers for her review. “As for his share of the stock in the Ortiz Lines, it is to be divided between you three and Alejandro, his eldest son, with seventy-five percent going to Alejandro and twenty-five percent to be shared by you, Rodrigo and Francisco.”
“Twenty-five percent?” Carlotta nearly shrieked. “That’s not fair. There are three of us, and he’s only one person.”
Alejandro spoke softly. “The trust fund will provide more than you’ll ever need, Carlotta, so in every respect, the stock division is fair.”
“I believe I need my own attorney,” she countered. “Do I have to listen to anything more?”
“There’s just one additional item. Orlando had known you’d had two children before you met him. He regretted the loss of your daughter, but admired Rafael Mondragon’s courage and believed he’d inherited it from you.”
Carlotta’s complexion drained of all color. “How long had he known?”
Jacob concentrated on the will rather than the increasingly distraught widow. “For as long as he knew you, I believe. He was a man who kept a great deal to himself, for whatever his reason, and he allowed you to keep your secrets as well.”
Carlotta rose and, taking her sons by the hand, fled the room as quickly as she could herd the boys through the door.
“You should have spoken to her in private,” Alejandro admonished. “There was no need to embarrass her in front of us.”
Jacob nodded. “I agree, but it was what Orlando desired, and I’m following his wishes to the letter as I always have.”
Alejandro glanced around the table. The board members were as astonished as he. That his father had kept quiet about having a matador for a stepson amazed them all.
“I’m sorry Orlando didn’t discuss his will with his wife while he was alive to defend his choices,” Jacob stressed. “If any of you have made the same mistake, you ought to correct it immediately. Now let me continue.”
There were charitable donations his father had wished made, and Alejandro nodded as each was named. There were letters for each of the board members and one for him that outlined his hopes for the Ortiz Line, but no word of love or praise. Alejandro slipped his into his pocket and promptly forgot it.
Lucien Lamoreaux called Ana midmorning. “I’m fascinated by the prospect of your becoming a photographer. I have a project in mind that should intrigue you. Will you meet me for lunch at one?”
Ana sat back in her chair. She’d been working the crossword puzzle at the dining table. She hadn’t bothered to dress yet, but that scarcely mattered. She had a good idea what Lucien’s project was. Because there appeared to be no other way to obtain evidence linking him to Jaime’s death, she had to say yes but needed to appear reluctant. “I haven’t done any professional work as yet,” she stressed. “You might need someone with more experience.”
“You have a wealth of experience in front of a camera, and that’s what’s needed. Let’s meet at Can Culleretes in Old Town. Do you know it?”
“Yes, of course. It’s the city’s oldest restaurant and has wonderful food.”
“This will be only a preliminary conversation, so there’s no reason to include your agent as yet. Shall I send my chauffeur for you?”
“No, I’ll meet you there.” Alejandro would be busy with his father’s will, so she couldn’t call him, and she hated to bother Montoya over a lunch date that might fail to prove enlightening. “I’m meeting Lucien Lamoreaux at Can Culleretes for lunch, Fatima, so you needn’t prepare anything for me.”
“Any hope of samples?”
“I’ll try.” She couldn’t very well accuse a man of murder and ask for shoe samples in the same breath, but she wouldn’t let him guess she even suspected him.
Ana had been at Can Culleretes often and felt comfortable there, although she would have much preferred a different companion. As soon as they were seated at their table, she gave Lucien one of her prettiest smiles. “I’m so flattered you’d consider me as a photographer. Does the project involve your beautiful shoes?”
He laughed and shook his head. “No. You know I collect Robert Mapplethorpe’s work, and he’s my inspiration. Let’s order first, shall we? I’ve heard their calamares a la romana is good. Do they have a salad you’d like? If not, perhaps we could give the chef a special order.”
Ana surveyed the menu. “They have a wonderful fruit salad with delicious rosemary rolls, so I’ll be fine.” She requested iced tea rather than wine and offered no explanation for her choice. “Photography has changed completely from the time Mapplethorpe worked. Digital cameras make everything easier, although I’m sure the purists must miss their darkrooms.”
“I’m sure they do. Traditionalists slow the progress of every art, but creativity can’t be contained.”
“I agree. You have three of Mapplethorpe’s floral photos in your apartment. You sent me so many beautiful roses, were you thinking of doing something new with flowers?”
He had selected a fine white wine and waited while the waiter poured a sip into his glass. He tasted it and nodded, and the waiter filled his glass. “No, I prefer his studies of the human body. He had a way of highlighting the curve of a back or shoulder and made his models look as elegant as the finest Greek sculpture.”
“He did,” she agreed. “I never pose in the nude, so I’m not sure I’d be the right photographer for you.”
“The models can cover themselves with a robe until you’re sure of the shot. I’d like to give the impression of nudity without actually showing it. If a woman held a thin scarf over her breasts, there would be only a hint of her nipples. Do you understand what I mean? I want to produce tasteful photos, not create nude shots for cheap magazines.”
Ana nodded thoughtfully. “Do you have a publisher interested?”
“I don’t plan to produce a book, but instead a limited edition of stunning photographs that will appeal to men with, shall we say, discriminating tastes.”
Ana’s salad was served along with his meal, and she concentrated on the fresh melon. She was tempted to ask him if he’d approached Jaime Campos with the project, but although they were surrounded by people laughing and talking in the popular restaurant, she thought it would be too dangerous a question to ask. She smiled and nodded as though she were interested in producing the artful photography he described, but her heart beat much too fast, and she had to keep wiping her sweaty palms on her napkin.
Alejandro returned the kittens in their carrier with all their paraphernalia. “Did Ana tell you the kittens were coming back?”
Fatima held the door wide open for him. “She failed to mention it, but here they are, so it must be all right. Did they give you too much trouble?”
“No, but I’m not going to have much time to spend in my studio, and they need a real home. Isn’t Ana here?”
“No, she’s gone to lunch with Lamoreaux.”
Astonished Ana would go near the man alone, he searched Fatima’s expression for more. “Did she say where they were going?”
“She did, but you ought not to stalk her. If she wants to see you, she’ll be here when you call.”
He silently debated her advice only briefly. “Lamoreaux may know who killed Jaime Campos, and I don’t believe she’s safe with him.”
“
Dios mio
, you’re not serious.”
“Dead serious. Now where is she?”
The kittens were chasing each other around the living room, and she watched them while she caught her breath. “They’re at the Can Culleretes.”
“I know it.” He grabbed her shoulders and kissed her forehead on his way out.
Chapter Twenty
Alejandro joined Ana and Lucien at their table. He kissed her cheek and took a chair. “I wanted to make certain you had a ride home. Hello, Mr. Lamoreaux. I hope the photos Pierre took of us are what you needed.” He slid his hand under the table to squeeze Ana’s knee.
Lucien appeared only mildly disconcerted. “Indeed they did. Would you care to join us for lunch?”
“No, I’ll wait for dessert. They have an incredible crema catalana here, don’t they?”