Heat Of Passion Page 7

  Phoenix couldn’t help but laugh. “He must have been talking about somebody else. I hadn’t been born yet when my grandfather was here in Mexico.”

  “Oh, no.” His courtly manner turned flustered for a moment “My memory has betrayed me yet again. I find that happening more often than I care to say these days. I fear that confusion can too often be the companion of advancing years.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Phoenix wished she hadn’t said anything to make him feel so obviously embarrassed. “That was more than forty years ago. I wouldn’t expect you to remember what the two of you talked about back then.” Of course, she had hoped for exactly that. She understood now that maybe those hopes hadn’t been very realistic.

  “Forty years,” he said and gazed out over the bay as if looking backward to another time. He sat like that for a moment before returning his attention to Phoenix. “Forty years ago must seem like ancient history to one as young as you, my dear.”

  “I’m not all that young.” She thought of thirty as past that designation though she realized it wouldn’t seem so to him. “Besides, my grandfather brought his memories so clearly to life for me they felt like they might have happened yesterday.”

  “Did he tell you many stories of our times together? I would be very pleased to hear…”

  The waiter had arrived to take their order. Mr. Blue interrupted what he’d been saying while Phoenix asked for iced tea and he did the same.

  “Yes, my grandfather told me many, many stories of his experiences in Acapulco,” Phoenix said after the waiter moved on. “He loved it here, but I’m sure you know that.”

  “Ah, yes. Acapulco is a special place. I have to hear what your grandfather told you. I am curious to know whether we remembered the old days the same, he and I.”

  “Well, he, talked a lot about how much fun the two of you had.” Phoenix searched her mind for specific anecdotes. “I got the impression that you partied long into the night quite often.”

  “This was an exciting city then, even more so than it is today. Or perhaps it is only the habit of older men to remember the exploits of their youth as if nothing had ever been quite so daring before or since.”

  He smiled in a wistful, beguiling way that touched her heart.

  “That’s certainly the way my grandfather remembered things. He did describe this place pretty accurately, though.”

  “By this place do you mean this hotel in particular?”

  Phoenix nodded. “He remembered La Escarpadura most of all and the many nights he spent here.”

  “Looking out over exactly this same beauty.”

  Mr. Blue turned toward the bay again. The sun was still fairly high. What seemed like its rapid descent toward sunset hadn’t yet begun.

  “From what he told me, the two of you didn’t generally get started here until quite a bit later in the evening in those days.”

  “Young men tend to prefer the nighttime for their adventures, especially here in Mexico. That is when the magic happens.”

  “My grandfather said the same thing. He told me how even Hollywood movie stars came here. John Wayne, Alan Ladd, even Tarzan.”

  “Oh, yes, Johnny Weissmuller. This was one of his favorite places. He lived in Acapulco part of the year, you know.”

  “My grandfather told me that.” Weissmuller had a cliff house not far from here as she recalled.

  The waiter had returned to set two tall, glistening glasses on the bamboo table next to the terrace rail.

  “There are not so many famous faces here now,” Mr. Blue said, “but I am not disappointed by that. I would prefer to drink with my friend’s beautiful grandchild any day.”

  He lifted his iced tea high, and she did the same. They were about to make the traditional clink of glasses when a startlingly familiar voice shattered Phoenix’s pleasant moment.

  “May I join the toast?” Slater McCain stood over them wearing what she had to describe as a self-satisfied grin. “What are we drinking to, anyway?” he asked as if his arrival were completely expected, and she shouldn’t feel unsettled by it at all. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

  Chapter Seven

  Slater could see in Phoenix’s eyes how much she didn’t want to see him. He swallowed that and stood his ground with a wide smile on his face. He made a couple of remarks about the way they were raising their glasses. The ice didn’t break, especially not the ice in Phoenix’s eyes, so he tried a different approach.

  “Ms. Farraday,” he said so enthusiastically he even surprised himself. “How great it is to run into you again. I was afraid we might miss each other.”

  She covered her frown with a thin smile that didn’t look even a little bit sincere. “I was afraid of that too, terrified in fact.”

  The old guy with her couldn’t possibly have missed the sarcasm in her tone. He glanced from her face to Slater’s before rising straight up out of his chair as if he had a poker for a spine. Slater had seen the type before, all that blue blood aristocrat stuff on the surface and not two nickels to rub together in the pocket. These guys preyed on anybody naive enough to fall for their Euro-trash line. Slater was surprised Phoenix couldn’t see through such phoniness. She was smarter than this.

  “Citrone Blue at your service, sir,” the old dude said, extending his hand, flashy ring and all.

  Slater would have bet big money that if the stone in this bauble ever was a real diamond it had, number one, been a gift from some American woman with too many dollars and not enough sense. Number two, the real rock in question had long since taken up residence with either a pawnbroker or a fence. He took the old guy’s hand and gripped it firmly.

  “Slater McCain’s the name. What particular service did you have in mind?”

  Slater felt the guy hesitate after he’d begun to loosen his hand from Slater’s. A question passed for just an instant through the old man’s eyes. Slater had seen that look before when one man met another and they sized each other up as potential enemies. A slight narrowing of Blue’s dark eyes said he spotted Slater for an adversary in the making. They released their grasp on each other at the same moment so neither could think of the other as pulling away. The old guy made a welcoming gesture toward the chair next to Phoenix, as if he were the host of the table and Slater an invited guest instead of the intruder he actually was.

  “American humor,” Blue observed as Slater nodded and took the seat he’d been offered. “I have always found it so refreshing.”

  “I’m refreshing all right,” Slater declared, assuming the role of gringo big mouth as if it were a favorite pair of shoes. “By the way, what kind of name is Citrone Blue anyway? That is what you called yourself, isn’t it?”

  Slater knew the name perfectly well, of course. Phoenix had mentioned the guy and that he’d supposedly hung out around here with her grandfather in the old days. Slater could spot a phony handle a mile away, and this one was as fake as the guy’s glass ring. Slater had already called his Washington, D.C. contact and had him feed Citrone Blue’s name into the official checkup system. Chances were it would be coming back with a sheet attached that might more accurately be called Citrone Yellow. Phoenix had been watching the exchange between Slater and Blue with first curiosity then concern on her face, but she hadn’t said anything until now. “Mr. Blue is a family friend,” she stated. “I’d rather you didn’t put him through an interrogation.”

  “Well, you know me,” Slater returned, still putting on the over-jovial act. “Just a natural-born busybody.”

  “Why don’t you try being natural-born polite instead?” Phoenix all but snapped.

  “No, no, my dear,” Blue said in a tone as soothing as it was slick. “This is a question I am often asked, especially by people like Mr. McCain who take such a delightful interest in the details of the lives of those around them.”

  The way Blue looked at Slater just then made him wonder if he’d been spotted for a cop underneath the ugly American pretense. He didn’t want that. He was suppos
ed to be an ordinary citizen, nothing more, and definitely not a lawman undercover as a bad guy undercover as a turista. He’d have to ease up a little no matter how much his first instinct was to lean on this guy until the truth squeezed out. That might be the best way to get Phoenix to see him for what he was and keep herself from being burned by whatever scam he had in mind. It wasn’t the best way for Slater to keep from blowing his cover and maybe burning this whole operation in the bargain. He reminded himself one more time that he had to get his head straight and make sure it stayed straight even while the smell of Phoenix’s perfume threatened to twist him so far offtrack he might never find his way back on.

  “Phoenix is right,” he said. “Sometimes I forget my manners. I’m sorry about that.”

  “You need not apologize, Mr. Slater,” Blue said. “I freely admit to having taken an assumed name. I did so many years ago, even before I knew this lovely young woman’s grandfather. It was a family situation which prompted me to do so. Politics in the country of my father’s birth. All long past now and no longer of any importance. In the meantime, I have become Citrone Blue, and Citrone Blue has become me. I see no reason to change that at this late date.”

  Slater nodded. It was a good story all right, with just enough mystery to turn on the ladies. He’d be willing to wager a genuine diamond ring that Blue had told this same tall tale many times before, and with great success.

  “I think it’s a wonderful name,” Phoenix said as if right on the old guy’s cue.

  “Thank you, my dear,” Blue said. “It has come to suit me, if I may say so.”

  Slater felt as if he were watching a performance onstage, or maybe a soap opera. If this Blue character happened to be a few decades younger right now, this line would probably be his way of seducing Phoenix into his bed. Slater didn’t believe that was the game being acted out here today. He also doubted Blue was after Phoenix for her money.

  Of course, Slater was aware that she actually did have enough loot to afford a room in the grandest hotel here or anywhere. What she ripped off from Beldon Laurent could set her up in high style anywhere she wanted to be. She was simply too smart to tip her hand in such an obvious way. Was it possible Blue could have a line on how much Phoenix was really worth right now? That didn’t seem likely, except that, in Slater’s experience, guys like Blue had a talent for sniffing out dough however deep it might be buried. That possibility made Slater wonder if Blue could have had anything to do with the once-over of Phoenix’s room that morning. Meanwhile, Blue had signaled the waiter with a single raise of the hand. He arrived just in time to interrupt, quite conveniently, the discussion of the old guy’s name.

  “What is your pleasure, Mr. McCain?” Blue asked as if inviting yet another smart-mouthed reply.

  Slater resisted the temptation to declare that his pleasure would be to pitch this aging con artist out onto the patio.

  “Tequila straight up,” he said to the waiter instead, “and one for my new friend here, too.”

  Blue raised his hand again, in a motion that meant halt this time. “Thank you, Mr. McCain, but I must refuse your generous hospitality. My tequila days are past, I’m sorry to say. I must confine myself to less adventurous libations.”

  Blue indicated the glass of iced tea in front of him and smiled. The savvy glint in his eyes suggested he might have guessed that the tequila had been intended to loosen his tongue. Whether he’d figured that out or not, he wasn’t about to fall for the ruse. He might be on the aged side, but he definitely hadn’t outgrown his brain power. That would be Slater’s assessment at least.

  “You say you knew Phoenix’s grandfather?” He’d decided to try a different tack. “Just when was that?”

  “Back in the fifties,” Blue answered. “Acapulco was the place to be in those days.”

  “Was that the early fifties or later on?” Slater asked.

  “I blush to admit I cannot name the exact year,” Blue said with believable humility. “I’m afraid that the longer I am alive, the more those details seem to escape me. In fact, I was lamenting that very same thing to Miss Farraday before you arrived.”

  Phoenix leapt to his rescue. “It was the early fifties. I remember my grandfather telling me so.”

  Unlike Phoenix, Slater wasn’t about to fall for the fading memory excuse. The smart money said this old guy hadn’t forgotten much in his time. If he was playing like he had, maybe that meant he either never knew Phoenix’s grandfather at all or at least not anywhere near as well as she wanted to believe. Slater’s cop sense told him that was exactly what was going on here. This Blue character was using the pretense of being a dear old buddy to her long lost grandpa in order to get next to Phoenix. What Slater’s cop sense couldn’t tell him, at least not yet, was how to show Blue up for the sham he was without spooking him in the process. He was a pretty sharp old bird despite his claim of having dulled over the years. Slater decided to lay off for a while and see what happened.

  “What was my grandfather like back then?” Phoenix asked.

  Slater settled against the seat cushion as if he were only casually interested in the conversation. He wasn’t about to let anybody know how hard he was hoping for Blue to slip up here.

  “Your grandfather was a wonderful man,” Blue said with just the right degree of nostalgic edge to his voice. “I have not had the privilege to know many like him in my time.”

  “Yes, he was a wonderful man,” Phoenix said. “I miss him very much.”

  Blue leaned across the table and put the hand with the ring on Phoenix’s arm. “Missing your grandfather will be something we can share.”

  Slater saw the shine in Phoenix’s eyes and wished he could tear Blue’s hand away from her and knock the guy over the balcony for playing on her most vulnerable feelings the way he was so obviously doing. Slater gripped the arms of his chair to stop himself from committing an action he would regret He wasn’t quite as successful at keeping his mouth shut.

  “You must have lots of stories about the two of you back then. How about telling us a few? I’m sure Phoenix would love that.”

  “Ah, yes.” Blue patted Phoenix’s arm before easing backward into his chair. “There are so many stories of our times together, Harold and myself.”

  He knew her grandfather’s first name. That was a point in favor of credibility, but Slater guessed Blue could have picked that information up any number of ways, and probably even from Phoenix herself.

  “He told me about some of the things you two did together,” Phoenix said. “I’d really like to hear your version, too.”

  “There is nothing I would enjoy more,” Blue said. “Those were some of the best times of my life. We were so young then and, I might add, full of mischief.” His eyes twinkled as if he might be remembering those escapades right now.

  “My grandfather hinted that you got yourselves into trouble on occasion, but he never gave me any details.”

  “Harold was always the soul of discretion, and you may be assured that I shall not betray him.”

  Blue smiled so smoothly Slater could hardly stand to look at him. He’d bet his badge this guy was dirty.

  “You can tell me,” Phoenix said. There could be no doubt that she was deeply hooked on Blue’s line.

  “I will have to think about that,” Blue said. “I am a gentleman after all.”

  You’re a slimeball if I ever saw one, Slater would have loved to shout. He took a swig from the glass the waiter had left on the table. The fiery liquid burned down Slater’s throat. Unfortunately, not even tequila was powerful enough to scorch away his disgust with Blue and what he was trying to get away with here. Slater clutched the glass to keep from leaping on this old liar and throt-tling the truth out of him.

  “We will talk more another time,” Blue was saying. He’d already begun to rise from his chair.

  “You have to leave so soon?”

  Phoenix’s pleading tone made Slater want to take her in his arms. She’d bought this guy’s line
of baloney all the way, and she was wearing her heart on her sleeve to prove it. Meanwhile, Citrone Blue was about to make his escape, smooth as silk. Slater’s guess was that the seat Blue found himself on had started to heat up once Phoenix began asking questions about the past. Now, he was hustling his behind out of here as fast as he could go. Slater couldn’t do anything about it, either, without tipping his hand way more than he had better do.

  “I am expected elsewhere,” Blue said to Phoenix. “I cannot keep a charming hostess waiting. I will call you in a day or two.”

  As he spoke, Blue walked around Slater’s chair without so much as glancing at him. Blue took Phoenix’s hand.

  “I will look forward to our next meeting, just the two of us.”

  Blue’s implication that Slater should not be included in that rendezvous could hardly have been more clear. Blue bent to kiss Phoenix’s hand.

  “Yes,” she said. “Just the two of us.”

  Blue stepped back and nodded before letting go of her hand with what anybody but Slater would have interpreted as great reluctance.

  “Till then,” Blue said.

  He resumed his ramrod straight posture. As he turned to leave, he favored Slater with a much cooler version of the smile he’d beamed on Phoenix.

  “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Slater,” Blue said.

  He didn’t go on to suggest that they should also meet again. Before Slater could decide whether or not to bait Blue further by proposing such a get-together, he was making his swift, straight-backed exit through the crowd of new customers. They were arriving for the cocktail hour followed by the daily ritual of waiting for yet another magnificent Acapulco sunset. Citrone Blue was already out of sight when Phoenix bolted up from her chair.

  “Why did you have to come along and ruin that for me?” she cried loudly enough to cause some of the new arrivals to turn around and listen. “I’ve been waiting to meet that man ever since I came to Mexico. This was my chance to find out more about my grandfather, and you spoiled everything.”