Dragon Fruit Page 4

  I looked out over the harbor. A giant cruise ship, gleaming white and gold in the last light, was anchored not far out. From here it looked like a floating pleasure palace, an enchanted isle.

  The truth is, nothing lasts forever. And one fine day, when my father had made some mistake or other and failed to satisfy the queen, she’d screamed ‘off with your head.’ Doreen kicked Paul out and told him to go rent an apartment. I’m certain my mother never thought for a minute that he wouldn’t return.

  A laugh squeezed through my throat. Because I’d just realized my father probably also never imagined he wouldn’t go back. But there was a wild card neither of my parents could have foreseen: clever Glenda Barnes.

  Glenda, as it happened, rented an apartment in Paul’s complex. With impeccable timing, she cha-cha-ed in from the wings. Then she cemented the deal, in short order, by producing two kids, Stephanie and Paul Junior, both now grown. That was clever of Glenda, too: she’d given Paul one kid to replace me and another to replace my brother.

  A car sped up Loma Alta, and some smartass leaned out and shouted something. That was good, because I yelled back. My annoyance snapped me out of the funk I was in, and for the moment, broke the link to the past.

  Dexter hopped out through the dog door when I pedaled up the hill to the house. He half-barked, half-howled out a scolding. I climbed off my bike and knelt down to embrace the three-legged guy.

  ‘Missed me, huh? Sorry, bud, I had a long day.’

  Together we walked to the front door and entered my two-bedroom stucco abode. I fed the heeler, then grabbed a glass of wine and a packet of chips and went out to the narrow patio at the back.

  The channel was dark now, the lights on the oil rigs flashing an invitation – or a warning, hard to tell which. I sank down into the aluminum patio chair, then jumped up: the seat was wet with rainwater. I picked up the chair, tipped it over and banged it on the concrete before sitting down again. But my jeans were already soaked.

  I rubbed Dexter behind the ears and stared into the dark. As my eyes adjusted, the constellations took shape. High above, Orion climbed the wall of the sky.

  Patterns … the constellations were nothing more than patterns created by the human mind. But the pattern I was trying to grasp, the pattern of Rosie’s disappearance, was real. And the first thing I needed to understand was just how the panga boat fitted into the story.

  What did I know for certain? The boat had come to shore in the night, on the beach below More Mesa. It should have carried a little girl named Rosamar Robledo.

  What else had the boat carried? Marijuana bales. At least two, perhaps three or four pangeros. A silver cross hidden in a gap. And maybe – I smiled a little – maybe a load of dragon fruit.

  Of course, in spite of Chucha’s certainty, it was possible Rosie never made it to the boat in the first place. And even if she had, it was also possible she never made it to the beach below More Mesa. But to get anywhere, I had to step around those two possibilities and forge on.

  Dexter trotted off to inspect a noise or an odor in the night. Then a great horned owl sang a dirge from the hillside behind the house: hoo, hoo-hoo …

  I jumped up and walked the length of the wall. The wind blowing in off the water was cold, and I hugged my arms to my chest.

  My cell rang in my pocket. I glanced at it. Mike – his name glowed in the dark.

  ‘Hey.’ I dropped down on the low block wall. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Missing you, Jaymie. Should have got you to come over and spend the night.’

  I didn’t much like Mike’s apartment. The ceiling and the walls were thin. It felt like a cell in a beehive. ‘Come over here. What’s stopping you?’

  ‘Nothing. Let me pack up for the job tomorrow and make a phone call or two. I’ll be there in an hour. But – Jaymie? That’s not the only reason I phoned.’

  I was grinning into the dark at the thought of falling asleep in his arms. ‘Then what?’

  ‘I called in a favor with a guy downtown. If you can get out of bed at five a.m., we’ll go take a look at that panga boat in the morning.’

  Now I was alert, all the warm fuzziness gone. I jumped to my feet. ‘Absolutely. Thanks for sticking your neck out on this.’

  ‘Yeah, the SBPD wouldn’t like the idea of a deputy sheriff looking through their stuff. I could get my knuckles rapped, I suppose. Anything for you, though.’

  ‘Not just for me. It’s for a good cause.’

  ‘I know it is. Maybe you’ll get somewhere with it.’

  His faint optimism was damning. ‘Where’s your faith?’

  ‘You know me, I’m a realist. See you pretty quick – you better go warm up the sheets.’

  Mike switched off the overhead light and raised the bedroom window. Then he unzipped my sweatshirt, tugged it over my shoulders and tossed it on the bed. ‘Hold up your arms.’ He lifted my T-shirt over my head, snagging it on my elbow.

  ‘It’s like undressing a kid. Don’t you own anything with buttons?’

  ‘Complaining?’ I arched my back as he kissed my neck. His mouth moved down to my breasts.

  ‘Mmm. Never, not me.’

  ‘Kinda chilly, isn’t it?’ It was nice, though, having the window open. The cold air was fresh and clean, washed by the rain earlier in the day. It carried the smell of the ocean.

  ‘You won’t notice in a minute.’ He got to his knees.

  Later, I lay on the edge of my small double bed and listened to Mike snore. It was a gentle snore, a quiet noise coming from such a big guy. No doubt it would get worse as he aged.

  I smiled into the dark, thinking about Mike and I growing old together. He’d always wanted to get married, and now he was beginning to push me again on the subject. If I were honest, it was nice to be wanted. But deep down, I wasn’t so sure it was for the best.

  The truth was, I preferred things the way they were. Mike and I could get together when it suited us, and stay away when either of us needed space. What we had was good. If it ain’t broke surely applied.

  I heard Dexter scratch himself, then settle down on his blanket in the corner of the room. The little old house creaked in the salt-laden wind. I curled into Mike’s back, closed my eyes, and drifted away.

  Five a.m. Still black as the middle of the night. I staggered into the shower.

  The aroma of eggs, toast, and something fried and delicious reached me as I toweled off. It occurred to me that maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to keep the guy around.

  ‘Madam, take a seat.’ Mike slid a plate of scrambled eggs, fried hot dogs, and buttered toast along the tabletop. Then he poured a mug of black coffee and set it down in front of me, along with a knife and fork.

  I stared at the mound of food. ‘Hot dogs? I can’t put that in my stomach at this time of night.’

  ‘Not much to choose from in that fridge of yours.’ Mike chewed on his toast. ‘Anyway, it’s the top ‘o the morning, and breakfast is the most important meal of the day.’

  ‘If I married you, I’d get a mother and father, not just a husband.’

  He smiled back. ‘Speaking of mothers and fathers, I’ve been thinking. When do I get to meet your parents?’

  The smile slunk off my face. We’d been over this before. ‘What’s the hurry? You might turn tail and run.’

  He stopped chewing. ‘That’s bullshit. Is that what you think?’

  ‘Guess not.’ But in a way, I did. The truth was, when it came to my parents, the best thing was to just stay away.

  I’d never told Mike about the inner workings of my family. I’d never seen a good reason to discuss it. Big deal: I was adopted, my mother was a Class A narcissist, and to this day my dad enabled her, even though they were long-divorced. Who the fuck cared?

  I hated to whine about my family. Besides, I’d moved on. But if we traveled over to the San Joaquin Valley, the Zarlin clan was something I would have to explain.

  FOUR

  It was still as black as the inside of
a whale when we pulled up at the warehouse on Indio Muerto Street. I trained Mike’s flashlight on the lock while he opened the steel door with a key. The building was at least a hundred years old, but the door was new, fortified with steel bands.

  The switch just inside turned on floodlights set high in the rafters, under a corrugated iron roof. The warehouse was large, the size of a basketball court. Three vehicles, a van and two cars, were parked at the far end in front of a roll-up door. Closer to us was an aluminum boat on a trailer.

  ‘Let’s not take long, Jaymie. If somebody on patrol drives by and notices the lights, they might decide to investigate.’

  The fishing boat was about twenty-two feet long and shallow. The design was simple: cross boards for seats, oars, and a pair of outboard motors hanging off the back.

  ‘Panga boats all look pretty much the same,’ Mike explained as he circled the boat. ‘They were designed by Yamaha in the 1970s for a World Bank project, did you know that? Now they’re used by fishermen all over the world.’

  ‘Interesting.’ I peered down into the hull. ‘I figured the detectives would remove any evidence. Looks like they’ve vacuumed it clean.’

  ‘Yeah, somebody’s been thorough.’

  I bent down and looked under the trailer. ‘Mike? Here’ssomething.’

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out a latex glove and a plastic baggie. I snapped on the glove, dropped to one knee and retrieved two flattened greenish skins off the concrete floor. Dragon fruit.

  ‘Looks like the detectives thought this was trash. They must have tossed it out of the boat and forgotten about it.’

  Mike peered at the skins. ‘It is trash, isn’t it? From somebody’s lunch.’

  ‘Dragon fruit.’ I dropped the skins into the baggie and sealed it shut. ‘I found some whole ones on the beach. Not exactly what you’d choose to take along for sustenance on a sea voyage.’

  ‘Can’t see that it means much.’ Mike shrugged. ‘Anything else?’

  I leaned over and looked under the seats again. ‘I don’t really see anything. Give me your flashlight, would you?’ I walked around to the back of the trailer, boosted myself up, and climbed into the boat.

  The detectives had been thorough, all right. I examined the floor, inch by inch, and found nothing. Then I ran a hand under the seats, first one, then the other.

  ‘Mike? There is something here.’

  I lay down in the boat and flipped onto my back. ‘Here, take the flashlight. Shine it up under the seat for me.’ Crab-like, I scooted myself under, facing upward.

  ‘Have I got the right angle?’

  ‘To your left a shade. Hold it, that’s good.’

  Sure enough. The metal thwart was curled under, to ensure no one would run a hand under the seat and slice open a fingertip. But at one end, the flange was bent back. Something, a piece of fabric, maybe, had snagged on the sharp edge. I slipped partway out of the space, then managed to wedge my arm farther in. I gripped the fragment and jerked it back and forth till it came free.

  The scrap was maybe an inch by two inches, woven from beige-colored artificial fibers. It hadn’t been under the seat long – in fact, the plastic material looked brand new.

  ‘Can I see that?’ Mike took it in his hand and shined a light on the fabric. ‘I’ll tell you what this is.’

  I struggled to sit up in the boat. ‘You’ve seen it before?’

  ‘Yeah, and not so long ago. This is the same stuff that was wrapped around the marijuana bales we confiscated six weeks ago, up at Jalama Beach. Those were soaked – the bales fell off a boat in that big storm we had back in January.’

  ‘Doesn’t tell us much we didn’t already know. But it confirms Chucha’s story.’

  ‘Yep.’ He rubbed the scrap between his thumb and forefinger. ‘You know, Jaymie, you’re focusing on Chucha’s daughter. But don’t forget, the main business was the smuggling. The little girl was an afterthought – just hitching a ride.’

  I climbed onto the trailer frame and dropped to the ground. ‘Mike? There’s something I want to run by you.’

  ‘Let’s get out of here. We can talk in the truck.’

  ‘Uh oh. Don’t look now, but we’ve got company.’

  Naturally, my head snapped up and I looked. A Santa Barbara cop car, lights off, slinked by. I couldn’t make out the driver, but what did it matter who it was? We’d been observed.

  ‘Shit. Now what?’

  ‘Jaymie, just get in the truck.’

  For once, I did as I was told. I slammed my door shut and turned to Mike. ‘What do we do now?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Mike shrugged. ‘They know my vehicle. If they want to make a stink about it, fine, let them. When they find out where I got the key from, I bet you they won’t.’

  We drove over to Shoreline. The tide was high. Dawn was breaking, and weak light seeped into a sullen gray sky.

  Mike pulled the Silverado into the parking lot. I lowered the window so I could listen to the surf pounding the cliff face below.

  ‘I’m worried, Mike. I can’t see any good outcome for Chucha’s daughter, you know?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s one hell of a business.’ He switched off the engine. ‘Listen, Jaymie. You need to take care. If this involves the cartels, you know you’re asking for trouble.’

  ‘Let’s put that to one side for a moment.’ I stared out over the dark navy waters. ‘I want to run something by you. But please …’

  ‘What?’ Mike turned to look at me. ‘Come on, spit it out.’

  ‘Please quit telling me I need to be careful. You’re treating me like some little kid.’

  ‘Hey.’ He slipped his hand behind my head. ‘Sometimes you do sound like a girl.’

  I refused to bite like a fish at a baited hook. ‘I can take care of myself.’

  ‘I know you can. But you seem tense. What’s this about?’

  ‘I’m a little edgy, that’s all.’ I took a deep breath, let it out. ‘Frustrated, maybe that’s a better word for it. I don’t seem to be able to nail anything down.’

  Mike removed his hand from my neck, folded his arms, and stared out at the churning sea. ‘You don’t have enough information, that’s all. You know, what they used to call clues in the old days.’

  ‘Clues are good. But how about logic? That’s where I’m having a problem. See, if Rosie was in the boat when it landed, and if she was alive, then she was abducted. Correct?’

  ‘Plenty of “ifs”.’

  ‘Come on, play along.’

  ‘Yes. Go ahead.’

  ‘What if there was a second little girl, the one Gabi calls Millie? Maybe she was also being smuggled in to be reunited with family, just like Rosie. But maybe Millie died, and so somebody took Rosie instead – in Millie’s place.’

  ‘Jesus, Jaymie. Your imagination runs like a rabbit with a coyote tight on its tail.’ Mike turned to study me. ‘Look, you mentioned logic. A kid isn’t a pet dog. If my daughter died, I don’t think I’d—’ He stopped. ‘What do I know. Sure, it’s possible, I suppose.’

  ‘No. No, you’re right.’ Mike had just yanked the rug out from under me. ‘If a mother and father found out their daughter had died, the last thing they’d do would be to immediately accept another child in her place.’

  ‘Hold on.’ Mike tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘I can’t believe I’m stepping over to your side. But it is possible somebody didn’t think things through. You know, some kid piloting the boat?’

  ‘I can just about see that. It’s crazy and stupid, but one of the pangeros might have wanted to make up for their loss. Grabbed Rosie and taken off with her, thinking the parents would accept her.’ I looked eastward in time to catch the first golden gleam. ‘But it’s just a wild-ass guess.’

  ‘Yeah, it is that.’ Mike started the engine. ‘Listen, do me a favor. Think you can kind of lie low till I get back?’

  ‘There you go again.’ I snorted. ‘Do I need to have you right here in town watching over me while
I investigate a case?’

  ‘I don’t want you attracting attention while I’m away. Not if this involves the cartels. Odds are, it does.’

  I was quiet for a moment, thinking. Not about Mike and his mother-henning, but about what he’d just said, about the cartels. ‘So what happened to Rosie – in your opinion that was some kind of a sideline.’

  ‘Yeah, a very unfortunate sideline. Not the main show.’

  The guy was good looking, in a dark and romantic sort of way. He wore a nice-fitting pair of jeans and a suede jacket. I’d never seen him before, and it wasn’t till he stepped into the office that I smelled a cop.

  ‘Del Wasson.’ He smiled and stuck out a hand. The guy’s smile broadened as I hesitated. ‘Let me guess. You don’t like cops?’

  So Del was smart and observant too. I shook his hand. ‘I make exceptions.’

  He nodded a hello to Gabi, who was peeking around the side of the computer. ‘I get it. There are one or two cops I don’t like myself.’

  I was being played. I had to remind myself of this, as I was already warming to Del’s bedroom eyes. ‘Are you a police detective?’

  ‘You guessed it. That’s why I’m here.’ He glanced at the couch, to indicate, I supposed, that he wanted to sit down. But my intuition warned me not to let the guy make himself too comfortable.

  ‘So, Del. How can I help you?’

  He folded his arms across his chest and slouched in a cowboy kind of way, hips thrust forward. Gabi was also not immune to Del’s charms: I heard her clear her throat.

  ‘Well, it’s like this. You were observed entering a police facility down on Indio Muerto.’ He smiled. ‘Mind if I call you Jaymie?’

  ‘Don’t mind at all, Del.’

  ‘OK if I sit?’

  ‘Sure.’

  He again looked at the couch, but I indicated the hot seat for Officer Wasson.

  ‘Yeah, I went to the warehouse.’ I perched on the edge of the desk, which put me on higher ground than my smiling interrogator. ‘Is there a problem with that?’