Authors: Phoebe Conn
She’d not asked for details and shuddered. “I’ve never been to his studio, so you won’t find my fingerprints. Don’t you rely on clues?”
“The murderer would have wiped the place clean, Miss Santillan,” Robles stated. “Here’s my card. If you think of something we should know, call me.”
Ana took the card and walked out the door ahead of them. She waited by the security desk while they passed through the front doors. “Did they sign in, Henry?”
“Yes, right here, Robles and Mesa. I’m sorry if they upset you, but if I’d said you weren’t here, they would have kept coming back.”
“You needn’t lie for me. A photographer I worked with was murdered, and they’re probably questioning everyone he knew. At least I hope they are.”
Tuesday morning, the doctored photo of Ana appeared on the front page of the most popular tabloid in Barcelona. Her agent called to warn her before she left her building and walked straight into a swarm of paparazzi unprepared. “That’s only my head, Paul, but I won’t pose nude to prove it. Two police detectives showed it to me yesterday. One of them must have leaked it. I need an attorney to stop this before it gets any worse.”
“How could it get worse?” Paul asked.
She had an easy answer for that. “They could arrest me for murder.”
“Don’t even think that, Ana. You don’t have any work today; stay home and screen your calls. The agency has an attorney, Elena Covarrubias, and I’ll ask her about suing the tabloid for harassment.”
“How about defaming my image?”
“Perfect. I’ll get her right on it.”
Ana called Henry and asked him to find a copy of the tabloid. “It isn’t my body, and I’m going to sue over it, so I’d like to have a copy.”
“Right away, Miss Santillan.”
Orlando Ortiz called Alejandro as soon as he heard about the photo. “I’ve sent you an email. Open it and tell me what you think.”
Alejandro found the front-page photo and wouldn’t give his father the satisfaction of sounding alarmed. “That isn’t Ana’s body.”
“You know her that well? I’m impressed.”
“Anyone could tell the proportions are wrong. She’s all legs, and this photo shows a woman with an average height. Why would they publish something like this?”
“Read the article. She’s a suspect in a murder.”
He couldn’t stand his father’s gloating tone. “Nothing in the tabloids is true. You ought to know that.”
“Perhaps not, but a man is dead. I’ll talk to you later.”
Alejandro sat down and read the accompanying article and then went out to buy a copy of a reputable newspaper. The bogus photo of Ana wasn’t included, but her name was mentioned as one of the models who’d worked with Jaime Campos. There was no mention of her being a suspect, and relieved, he sat back and debated what to do. Doing nothing seemed completely wrong, however.
Henry buzzed Ana’s condo. “There’s a deliveryman here from El Gato Café. Did you order something?”
She looked at Fatima and rolled her eyes. “Please ask him his name.”
There was a momentary pause. “He says he’s Alejandro Vasquez, and you know him.”
She did, and had liked him enormously, until he’d turned on her. Maybe he’d come to his senses. She turned to the helpful housekeeper. “Looks as though you were right. Alejandro’s here.” She made him wait a minute. “We’re acquainted, Henry.” She opened her door when he knocked. In a navy-blue windbreaker and a blue cap, he did look like a deliveryman. He handed her the bag.
“I know, I should have called, but I thought you’d probably tell me go to hell. I got past the half-dozen paparazzi out front without a second glance.” He removed the cap and swiped his fingers through his hair. “You must be Fatima. How do you do?”
The housekeeper swept him with an appreciative glance. “You better be nice to Ana while you’re here, or I’ll toss you out myself.”
He raised his hand. “I promise. I brought you some of the cakes you like.”
Ana peeked into the bag. “A bribe?”
“It’s part of the disguise. I needed to deliver something.”
Fatima took the bag and went into the kitchen. “I’ll make fresh coffee.”
“Thank you,” he said. The kittens came running by, and Romeo went right up his leg but his jeans protected him from sharp little claws. He caught the kitten and held him up. “He’s grown.”
“The real question is, have you?” Ana walked into the living room, and he put down the kitten and followed her.
“I knew that wasn’t you in the paper, and you wouldn’t have killed a photographer over a doctored photo. That’s ridiculous. If you need a character reference, I’ll be glad to give one.”
She sat on the sofa and crossed her legs. “Wait a minute. You didn’t think much of my character the last time we spoke.”
He walked over to the window and looked out at the tree-lined street below. “I deserve that, but I thought you might need some help. There are corporate attorneys working for the Ortiz Lines, and they’d be able to recommend someone practicing criminal law, if you need one.”
Fatima brought in two mugs of coffee, napkins and the sugary nut cakes on a fancy plate. “Would you like anything more?”
“Thank you, no.” Ana reached for a cake. “The situation is simply bizarre, Alejandro. I had no reason to kill Jaime, and there’s no evidence to even suggest I did, but the detectives who questioned me yesterday were creepy. I’d rather not see them again. They showed me the bogus photo, and today it’s hit the tabloids. It can’t be a coincidence.”
He took the wing chair and reached for a mug of coffee. “Do you think you’re being framed?”
“There are some models who’d like to earn as much as I do, but I don’t think they’d resort to murder to boost their earnings. By the way, did your father tell you he called my agent to ask about my doing some promotion for your cruise ships?”
His eyes narrowed, and he swore under his breath. “Did you say yes?”
She brushed sugar from her hands and reached for a napkin. “Of course not. I don’t want to be near him ever again.”
He took a cake and chewed it slowly. “I should have thanked you Sunday morning for having a new toothbrush out for me in the bathroom. Are you always so considerate?”
She swallowed a sip from her mug. “You have an amazing gift for saying the wrong thing. I don’t have a parade of men spending the night here. I have toiletries handy in case an occasional guest needs them. Don’t feel bad. Women think of these things; men don’t.”
“I’ll think of them now. Do you want to put on your Goth disguise and get out of here? The paparazzi wouldn’t recognize you, and we wouldn’t have to come back until late tonight.”
He was looking at the rug rather than her. She found his shyness touching, but she needed to make a point. “I don’t believe I heard an apology for the way you treated me last week.”
He brushed his hair off his forehead. “Can’t we just forget it?”
“Not without an apology.”
He looked up. “All right. I’m sorry.”
“Alejandro, you don’t sound sincere.”
His voice deepened. “Should I get down on my knees and beg your forgiveness?”
A fiery light shone in his silver eyes, and she knew when to stop. “Not this time, but if you make a habit of questioning my motives, I’ll demand one in writing.”
He stood and went to the door of the kitchen. “Is she usually this hard on men?”
Fatima leaned against the counter. “She’s being very generous with you, and I wouldn’t advise you to push it.”
He turned back toward the living room, but Ana had disappeared. He hoped she’d gone to put on her black wig rather than lock herself in her bedroom. “Fatima, does this condo have a back entrance?”
“No, but in case of a fire there are stairs at both ends of the corridor. Are you expecting an emergency?”
“I think we already have one.”
Chapter Seven
Ana took the time to put on the dramatic black eyeliner and changed into her baggy black clothes. Alejandro was sitting on the living room floor playing with the kittens when she returned ready to go. “They’d make good pets for you,” she offered.
“Not when they have such a great home here.” He rose with an easy stretch and stopped to stare. “Do you ever forget who you’re pretending to be?”
“Sometimes, but I always know who I really am. I should warn you, the paparazzi can smell news from clear across town. If they discover you’re Orland Ortiz’s heir, they’ll stick closer than the hair on your chest.”
He laughed and shook his head. “I’m tougher than I look. I studied karate when I was a kid so I wouldn’t get roughed up on the docks.”
Fatima glanced out from the kitchen. “You may need it.”
Ana reached for his hand before he could respond. “You need to go out as the deliveryman. Just brush by everyone as though you were positive they’d have no interest in you. If anyone speaks to you, ignore them. If they ask whose order you brought, shake your head. Don’t give them any opening to talk to you, because they’ll twist anything you say into an insulting weapon. I’ll go out through the garage and meet you in back. I hope you have your SUV rather than your bike.”
“I do.” He picked up his cap and pulled it low. “It was nice to meet you, Fatima.”
The housekeeper wished him good-bye and closed the door behind him. “He’s almost too good-looking. Have you ever dated a homely man?”
Ana picked up Juliet and gave the inky-black kitten a loving squeeze. “Few people are truly homely, but unattractive men don’t approach me. If Henry buzzes for anything else, please use your own judgment, but absolutely no more live pets.”
“I understand, no puppies, no geckos, no fish, nor birds in fancy cages.”
“No pet snakes either,” Ana added. She handed Juliet to the housekeeper and slipped out the door. She went down the stairs rather than use the elevator and left the building by the workman’s entrance in the garage. She found Alejandro waiting for her at the corner.
“I walked out looking as dull as a door and no one noticed me,” he greeted her. “Won’t the paparazzi give up soon and chase someone else?”
“It depends on whether there’s someone more interesting to chase, but a murder involving high-fashion models makes compelling news. Let’s continue to avoid them. Do you want to go down to the port?”
“It’s a good place to be lost in the crowd. I’ll give you a tour of the
Mediterranean Goddess
if you’d like.”
“Will your father be on board?”
“No, his office building overlooks the port, but he’s seldom on board one of the cruise liners. I worked as a steward in the summers while I attended university the first time. It was supposed to give me a feel for the business from the water up, but what I liked best was touring our ports of call. I came home with sketchbooks filled with drawings of classical buildings rather than a love for the cruise business. Naturally my father wasn’t pleased with how I’d spent my free time. A college degree in business didn’t inspire me either, so now I’m studying what I should have been studying all along.”
Embarrassed by her own lack of formal education, Ana glanced at the passing scene. “I read a lot, and no one has ever called me stupid, but I’ve not spent much time in school. Unlike most careers, there’s a time factor to modeling. An experienced architect would be sought after; an experienced model is often regarded as too familiar a face. God forbid there should be an early sign of a wrinkle.”
“You’re a long way from being wrinkled, and you don’t need a college degree to prove you’re intelligent. It’s obvious from the sparkle in your eyes.”
“Thank you.” When they reached the port, he pulled his SUV into a slot marked for the Ortiz Line and took her hand. “Cruise ships are huge floating hotels, a thousand feet long, with room for nearly four-thousand passengers plus the crew to serve them. I love the sea, but I’d rather vacation on Tahiti and watch the waves roll in than cruise from port to port.”
“I haven’t been to Tahiti, but it sounds magical. Could we just walk and lose ourselves among the tourists for a while?”
“Sure. This is a good place to watch people.”
They were near the end of Las Ramblas and often had to turn sideways to slip by other couples. Laughing, Ana looked over her shoulder and caught the bald man walking twenty feet behind them. She jerked on Alejandro’s hand and pulled him into a shop selling Barcelona curios. “The man who’s been following me is tracking us again today. He must have been following you, because he wouldn’t have seen me leave the condo.” She described him briefly. “Does he sound like someone your father employs?”
Alejandro glanced out the shop’s door and saw the bald man at a nearby news kiosk. He gestured for Ana to come close. “Is he standing there?”
“Yes, that’s him.”
“Stay here.” Alejandro walked down the sidewalk to greet him. “You’ve begun to annoy me. Follow someone else.”
“I’ve no idea who you are and don’t care where you’re going. I’m buying a magazine for my wife.”
“Fine, because I’m going to stand here and watch you walk away as quickly as you can.”