January Justice Part 20

She looked up from the magazine. "You're awake."

"Not necessarily," I said. "You might be a dream."

She stood and leaned over and gave my cheek a gentle kiss. Maybe she meant it as a sympathetic gesture, but her lips on my skin felt foreign and unnatural.

"Proves nothing," I said. "Beautiful girls always kiss me in my dreams."

She smiled, then took my hand and said, "I'm so glad you're okay."

Teru muttered something in his sleep and adjusted his position in the recliner. I dropped my voice to a whisper. "What are you doing here?"

"Dona Elena asked me to convey her hope for your quick recovery. The congressman also wanted you to know he's concerned."

"How'd they know I was here?"

She shrugged. "The congressman has his ways."

"Well, it was nice of them to send you over. Please tell them I appreciate it."

"Okay, the thing is, they didn't exactly send me. Dona Elena just asked me to mail a card. But when I found out you were hurt, you know..." She stroked my hand a little.

I said, "It's just a little headache and a couple of scratches."

"Thank G.o.d for that." She gave my hand a squeeze, then released it and sat back down next to Teru. "Who did this to you?"

"I'm not sure."

"Do you think it had something to do with what you're doing, looking for Alejandra Delarosa?"

"Maybe."

Teru roused himself with a sudden shake, then stretched his arms toward the ceiling. "I'm hungry."

I said, "Olivia, have you met Teru?"

She nodded. "We talked awhile before he went to sleep. Simon was here too, but he left about an hour ago. He said something about painters coming over to the house."

"An hour ago? How long have you been here?"

"Just a few hours."

Terus said, "Olivia volunteered to keep an eye on you while I took a nap."

I looked at him. "You were here all night?"

"Sure," he said. "And now that you're awake, I'm thinking enchiladas."

A little later, I checked out of Hoag without waiting for the doctor's blessing. Simon had brought over a change of clothes for me earlier, so except for a small bandage over the st.i.tches on my forehead, I was fairly presentable when Olivia drove Teru and me about half a mile inland from the hospital. We ate at El Matador on Newport Boulevard. It was the finest Mexican food in south Orange County, except perhaps for La Siesta in San Clemente. My head was splitting, but I was used to that, and besides, greasy food has always seemed to help with headaches.

While we ate, Olivia said, "Are you going to drop the investigation?"

I covered my mouth when I answered, since it was full of refried beans. "Why would I do that?"

"Someone almost killed you. That would make most people stop."

I shook my head. "I won't stop."

"Yes. I had that feeling." She took a healthy bite of chili relleno. She seemed to ponder me as she chewed. She swallowed. "Does the money make you curious?"

"What money?"

"The two-hundred-thousand-dollar ransom. You do know Toledo was worth millions?"

"Some people think so."

"Some people? Everybody knows he stole millions from the people of Guatemala. So why did the kidnapper only ask for two hundred thousand?"

"That's exactly what we want to know," said Teru.

I looked at him. "We? What 'we'?"

"You and me of course. And Simon."

Olivia said, "You're working on this with Malcolm?"

I said no in the same moment Teru said yes.

Olivia looked back and forth at us, her lovely eyebrows arched. I stared at Teru's profile. He didn't return my look, but he did sort of stick his jaw out stubbornly.

"Well, it's good to know Malcolm has help," said Olivia. "Since he so clearly needs it."

"Simon is a butler, and Teru is a gardener," I said. "They are not personal protection specialists, and they don't have private investigation licenses."

"I am also an attorney," said Teru, turning to stare down his pug nose at me. "And a philosopher, as you well know. I defy you to ask me anything about Nietzsche. Or Oliver Wendell Holmes, for that matter. Junior or senior."

Ignoring him, I turned toward Olivia. "I don't need help. Everything is going exactly according to plan."

She said, "Getting knocked unconscious, shot three times, and rolled off a mountain? This is your plan?"

"It's called flus.h.i.+ng your quarry."

"Otherwise known," said Teru, "as getting your b.u.t.t kicked."

"Well, whatever your so-called plan is, what do you think about the two hundred thousand?" asked Olivia.

"The police say she asked for half a million initially, and Toledo talked her down."

"It's still not enough money, when she could have asked for millions."

"True," I said. "So I think maybe Delarosa didn't realize how much Toledo had. Or maybe she figured he wasn't liquid. Just because a man is worth a few million doesn't mean it's in a form that he can transfer. She was his administrative a.s.sistant, after all. She might have known his investment situation."

Terus said, "Maybe that two-hundred-thousand figure isn't accurate. It's common in kidnapping cases for the details to be reported incorrectly to the press. It helps the police weed out crank tipsters."

Olivia opened her mouth to reply, then closed it again and focused her attention on her lunch. Teru and I did the same. It really was top-notch Mexican food.

After a while, Olivia said, "Should we get something to go for Simon?"

Teru and I both laughed. Teru said it might be worth it to take back a taco, just to see the expression on Simon's face. But I said there wasn't much chance of a reaction one way or another, and Teru agreed it probably wouldn't be worth the money.

Olivia said, "I take it Simon doesn't like Mexican food?"

"He's more of a Cornish hen and escargot kind of guy," said Teru.

Teru paid the bill; then Olivia drove us to El Nido and dropped us off. She said she had to get back to the Montes's place in Beverly Hills.

As she drove down the driveway, Teru said, "Some people have all the luck."

"What do you mean?"

"That there is a gorgeous girl, and she obviously has a thing for you."

"That's not why she comes around," I said.

"No?"

Watching Olivia's car turn left at the gate and move out of sight, I said, "No."

We turned to cross the grounds. I was a bit light-headed. At one point I wobbled a little, and Teru gripped my elbow to steady me.

I said, "The old noggin's taken quite a pounding."

"You want to sit down here a minute? I could go get a golf cart."

"It hasn't come to that."

He held on to my arm as we walked slowly. I didn't object. I said, "Interesting that she asked about that two hundred thousand. I've been wondering about that all along."

"She seems like a smart girl."

"Woman, Teru. We try to call them women now."

"Not when you're my age, and they're her age."

We walked on.

I said, "It's time to look into Arturo Toledo's financial situation. See if he really did get out of Guatemala with all those millions."

"Hard to find that out, I would imagine."

"Probably. But Dona Elena's new husband is a congressman, so his finances are in the public record."

Teru said, "If Toledo had the money, and the Delarosa woman only got two hundred thousand of it, then Dona Elena might have all the rest."

"And if she does, there might be hints of it in the congressman's finances."

"Which would mean what, exactly?"

I paused a moment to consider the implications. "If Toledo didn't have the money, I'll know why Delarosa settled for two hundred. And if he did have the money, I'll know I need to focus more on why she settled."

Teru nodded. "You want help looking into that?"

"Nah. It'll give me something to do while I wait for my head to get back to normal."

"Define 'normal.'"

"Shut up."

"Okey-dokey."

With his usual sixth sense, Simon seemed to know we were coming. He stood waiting in the shade of the palms beside the guesthouse patio, looking very proper in his Savile Row bespoke suit. It was a relief to settle into a chair at the table beside him. On it were a pitcher of lemonade, three gla.s.ses, three slices of key-lime pie, and a SIG Sauer P228 in a tactical holster.

Simon remained standing as he poured the lemonade with one hand held behind his back. "I thought you might enjoy a citrus-flavored dessert after your Mexican meal. To cleanse the palate."

I decided not to bother asking how he knew where we had eaten and refused to dignify his remark about palate cleansing with a reply.

I said, "Where's the Tabasco sauce?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You know. Tabasco. Hot sauce, made from peppers."

"I am familiar with the condiment, but should not consider it desirable with key-lime pie."

"Oh well," I said, helping myself to a slice. "One should not expect an English butler to be familiar with American cuisine. Have a seat and pitch in on this pie before it melts."

Looking back and forth between Teru and me, Simon slowly sank into the chair on my left. Teru was already sitting across the table. He also took a slice of pie and dug in.

I pointed at the M11 on the table. "Is this for me?"

Simon said, "To replace the one they took."

"How'd you get your hands on it so quickly?"

"Respectfully, Mr. Cutter, it would be best if I did not answer."

"But it's legal? Registered?"

"Indeed it is."