CHAPTER FIVE

José Estrada was a bit thinner than he appeared in the photos, but otherwise, he cut the same figure. His father’s hazel eyes, to go with jet-black hair, gave him a striking look, a bit like a cat.

His girlfriend, Catalina Cordero, was a couple shades darker than José. Doña Carmen seemed like a decent woman, but given the racial and class lines that ran through most of Latin America, Catalina’s color might explain Doña Carmen’s doubts about her prospective daughter-in-law.

But that strain of Indian blood also made Catalina exotic to the eye. Her cheekbones were high and pronounced, creating dramatic planes on her face, and her deep-set eyes were almost black. Her gaze was wary, which maybe came from her heritage as well. People of Indian extraction had never had it easy in Latin America. She stood right in front of me but seemed to be watching me from a hiding place.

Both wore glistening white T-shirts and jeans, as if they had agreed on a uniform. The only difference was that Catalina sported a small sky blue kerchief tied around her neck. They were a striking couple, and it occurred to me that someone might want to kidnap them just to put them in a room and look at them.

Doña Carmen made the introductions, and we all sat down.

“Mr. Cuesta has agreed to provide us with extra protection. He is a former police officer and very experienced with matters here in Miami.”

A bemused look came over José.

“I’m sure Mr. Cuesta is extremely competent and qualified, Madre.” He turned to me. “But you should realize that my mother loves me very much and sometimes gets carried away with worry. She wants to treat me like some kind of precious artifact or a porcelain doll and put me in a china closet.”

His mother started to interrupt, but José held up a hand.

“I think we can agree, Mr. Cuesta, that the Colombian guerrillas have never kidnapped anyone in the United States. Isn’t that so?”

I shrugged. “Not that I know of.”

“It would be a very foolish thing for them to do, wouldn’t it? It might even be considered an act of war against this country. And the guerrillas are not so foolhardy as to provoke the most powerful nation in the world. They could end up with the American military hunting them through the Andes like scared rabbits. They wouldn’t risk that just to get their hands on little José again. Aren’t I right?”

“But it could happen,” Doña Carmen blurted out.

José kept his eyes on me.

“As I said, my mother is driven by her great love for me and blinded by it too. But we both know she would just be throwing her money away. You would be collecting your fee for defending us against a phantom enemy. We are, in reality, very far from any real danger here.”

He was still smiling. But there was more than a hint of censure in his voice. Part of him was accusing me of defrauding the family, and I didn’t like it. After all, I had been summoned there. I hadn’t come trawling the Key for bogus business.

“If you’d like, you can check my reputation with the chief of police right here in this town, Mr. Estrada. He knows me. I think he will assure you I am not a crook.”

I was thinking of my old friend Charlie Saban, who was once a patrol captain at Miami PD, and who a few years back had taken the top job on the Key.

José apparently realized he had insulted me and tried to make nice.

“I’m sure you have a great reputation and that your fellow officers will say fine things about you, Mr. Cuesta. That is not the issue. It is a question of what on earth you will do with yourself all day while you’re on duty, since you’ll have no real kidnappers to protect us from.”

He made a show of considering that issue for a moment and seemed to come up with an idea.

“I have it! Maybe we can have you dig a trench, a sort of moat, around the house. That will complete this fortress we live in.”

He smiled, and since I didn’t want to seem like a sourpuss, so did I. Catalina, meanwhile, remained mute. You got the sense she was a smart girl who was keeping score of the conversation between José and me. I understood now why Doña Carmen suspected she might be a gold digger. On the outside at least, she seemed much more cold-blooded than her banker boyfriend. Behind that watchful gaze you got the impression she was calculating, sizing everyone up—especially me.

I turned back to José. “You say your mother has no reason to be concerned, Mr. Estrada. But she tells me she overheard you and Ms. Catalina discussing the possible kidnapping of Colombians right here on Key Biscayne.”

José rolled his eyes. “We were discussing rumors, worthless rumors that we considered unfounded and ridiculous.”

His mother threw up her hands.

“Given the history of our family, my concerns are not ridiculous, José.”

José shrugged, and I saw an opening.

“And leftist guerrillas are not the only people who can kidnap you. If so much Colombian money has come here, it is just a matter of time before some of your homegrown criminals decide the Key might make an easy payday.”

Doña Carmen looked to Catalina and back to José.

“If you can’t think of your own safety José, think of the future of the family. You are my only child, your father’s only offspring. If anything happens to you, our bloodline will stop right here.”

She had told me how fervently she dreamed of grandchildren. But I noticed she didn’t even raise the possibility that Catalina might be the mother of such offspring.

José’s gaze became even more bemused. He glanced at Catalina and appeared as if he were about to say something saucy. But she was still taking it all in very seriously and she stared him down. She obviously didn’t want any risqué joking in front of Doña Carmen.

His mother wasn’t in the mood for levity either.

“You smile all you want, José, but what will happen is that I will worry myself to death. Your father is already dead. He left me a widow because he didn’t heed the warnings. Well, once I’m gone, you and Catalina will have all the precious privacy you please.”

She was playing the heart attack card, the universal gambit used by mothers everywhere. She knew how to take hostages too—emotional hostages.

At that point, Catalina finally piped up. Her high-cheek-boned face was very attractive but not expressive. I hadn’t been able to read her thoughts at all during the back and forth. Now she made them crystal clear.

“I think your mother is right, José. We shouldn’t take chances, and we shouldn’t make her worry. She has her fears and, after what she has endured in the past, she is entitled to them. All of us women in Colombia are entitled to our fears, our nightmares concerning our loved ones, no matter how extreme you men may find them. Remember, it is you men who have made that world. You should agree to what she’s asking.”

She didn’t look at him as she spoke. Instead, she stayed fixed on Doña Carmen. The older lady’s face lit up with surprise.

José turned to Catalina as if he’d been ambushed by a most trusted ally. Maybe Catalina was genuinely concerned about kidnappers. On the other hand, if she was a gold digger, she would want to solidify her position with her future mother-in-law, just as she had done when she had convinced José to move from Colombia. I couldn’t measure Catalina’s motives on such short acquaintance, but if Doña Carmen was right, I was watching one very sharp country girl making her way in the world of the wealthy.

José looked from her to his mother and back. He was trapped, sandwiched between the two. He threw up his hands. “Okay, I surrender. If you want to throw away your money, Madre, you do that. Catalina and I are leaving for Spain in about twenty days. Until then, Cuesta can ride next to Manuel in the front seat. And if Catalina and I go out on our own, he can ride in the back seat.”

I wondered if they would buy me a car seat and strap me in like a baby. But I didn’t wonder out loud. A job was a job was a job.