Third Half Read online

  There were also many new, modern facilities to be seen, each standing proof of the growth and progress the city had been making in more recent decades.

  There was so much to see, it was late when they finally returned to the Smith's home. "I hope they didn't hold dinner for us," Liane said as they approached the front door.

  Luke laughed, looking down at her. "I see you have a lot to learn about the customs of this country." He stepped aside for her to enter before him. "We're early."

  "Early!" She looked at her watch, "But . . ."

  "By most standards we are," Luke explained. "You see, in the Smith household they do things a bit differently. It's kind of a compromise. Paul was always used to an early dinner, like the ones we'd be accustomed to having. Carla, of course, having grown up in this country, followed their customs."

  "So when they married they found a happy medium."

  "Right," Luke said as Carla came down the long hallway toward them. Her smile was wide as she greeted them.

  "You won't believe this!" She said. "I called a very good friend of mine and mentioned your brother. She works at the Conquistador, where you said your brother works. It seems she may know him . . . Very well in fact." She paused, cheeks flaming as she looked down at Liane, as if uncertain she should say any more about the man who may be the brother of a nun.

  "If it is the same man," she continued. "The man Maria speaks of is named Spence Jackson."

  "Oh, I see. It could be a stage name," Liane said anxiously, stepping closer to the other woman. "Please tell me, has she seen this man lately?"

  The other woman's dark eyes clouded. "That's just it, she is also worried about him. He has not shown up for his last show. I don't know everything," Carla continued in a rush. "But Maria sounded worried. She promised to explain what she can when we go to the club tonight. I hope you don't mind if we join you. You see, Maria can be difficult sometimes. She's impulsive and excitable."

  "It must have something to do with her Latin blood," Luke teased, winking at Liane. "I seem to recall Paul using those same words to describe you."

  "We were going to have cheeseburgers and french fried potatoes tonight. In honor of your visit Luke. But if you are going to begin making fun with me, I can always change that to Ceviche."

  "Uck!" Luke pulled a face. "Carla, you have one of the most pleasant, mild-mannered personalities I have ever had the pleasure of knowing." He continued with his tongue in his cheek.

  "That is much more like it," Carla said as they both burst into laughter.

  "I better fill you in on the joke." Luke turned to face Liane. "You see . . .when I first arrived in Lima, I was anxious to learn all the traditions and experience all the native dishes. So when Paul and I renewed our old friendship he invited me here for dinner, to meet his lovely wife.

  "He had suggested a simple American meal, but I wouldn't hear of it. No, I wanted a traditional Peruvian dish. I suggested they have Carla's favorite."

  Third Half – P.R. Garlick

  "Very noble of you," Carla teased, her dark eyes alight with good humor. "Especially since he had no idea of what my favorite dish would be."

  "And this Ce . . ."

  "Ceviche," Carla continued. "It's delicious."

  "You may think so," Luke replied, looking suddenly ill. "It's raw fish. I hate raw fish! It was like eating in a Sushi bar."

  Liane joined their laughter, her bright smile coming naturally as she relaxed among these new friends, momentarily forgetting her problems.

  "But even so, he did eat quite a bit," Carla explained. "He didn't want to hurt my feelings."

  "It was Paul who finally rescued me."

  "Only because he thought he noticed a slight green tinge to your complexion." The woman laughed again at the memory.

  "I'm so glad we're having cheeseburgers tonight," Liane confessed. "I like them best, next to hot dogs."

  "We must eat soon if we want to go to the club and see Maria," Carla reminded them, breaking Liane's momentary reprieve from worry.

  I

  Carla, looking stunning in her black evening dress, waved as the young waitress headed toward their table. "Hello, Maria."

  Liane took a moment to look at the girl. She did seem young, but her eyes belied a hard life. She was obviously troubled and feeling awkward, as she fidgeted by their table.

  "This is Sister Mary Catherine," Carla introduced. "I told you about her on the telephone."

  "Hello Sister," the girl said in English, looking as though she was about to say more, then thought twice about it. She turned to Carla and said something in Spanish.

  "Excuse me for a moment," Carla said after the girl wrote down their orders and abruptly left their table. "I'm going to the powder room."

  "Not a very talkative girl, is she?" commented Luke after Carla, too, had gone.

  "There will be more," Paul told them as he casually sipped his drink. "She wouldn't talk out here. That's why Carla has gone to the ladies room."

  Third Half – P.R. Garlick

  "But I'd really like to know what's going on," Liane said as she attempted to get up from her chair.

  "Wait," Luke said softly, gently taking hold of her arm to stop her. "You can trust Carla."

  She forced a smile and waited.

  "Maria is very worried about your brother," Carla told Liane when she returned. "She said he was not originally scheduled to do the show Saturday evening. It came about very suddenly. Then, when he didn't show up, the manager became very angry." Carla looked around the room. "Over there in the corner. He is the manager."

  Liane looked to where Carla motioned, seeing a tall, expensively clad man deep in conversation with his female companion.

  "Maria said she's afraid for your brother's job. But I've known her a long time. There is more to it than that. I believe she cares very much for your brother, Mary Catherine. I believe the girl has fallen in love with him and she is afraid if he loses his job, she will never see him again."

  Liane was beginning to wonder if anyone would ever see Jack again. His actions seemed such a puzzle. "Maybe if I spoke to the Manager . . ."

  "Maybe . . .but expect to hear a tirade of expletives, unfit for a woman of the church. She also said he possesses a sharp tongue when he is angry."

  "Words can't hurt," Liane said boldly as she got up from her chair.

  "Liane, there is more . . ." Carla said, but her words went unheard as Liane set out in the direction of the man in the corner. Chin up and determined, she would confront him and see if he knew anything about her brother.

  I

  "You would what?" the tall man asked after hearing her request.

  "I'd like to speak to you alone," Liane repeated her initial request. "I have a few questions to ask you, and I'd prefer asking them in private."

  The man's dark eyebrows raised. "I hardly have time just now. If you are looking for a contribution, you will have to speak to the owner. I am only the manager. Unfortunately for you, he rarely comes into the city."

  There was a note of sarcasm in his voice as he spoke, then returned his attentions to his female companion.

  "I'm not here for a donation. I'm here for some answers," Liane said boldly.

  A slow smile spread across the manager's lips. "You are lucky I am a curious man. I believe I will give you a few moments to ask your questions. My office is right through there." He pointed to a doorway. Not waiting for her to leave he again turned to the woman beside him.

  "Now Cara Mia, I must handle the Sister's problem. I will be as prompt as I can, and return to you." He gently kissed his companion's brow before turning and nearly running into Liane who was still standing there waiting.

  "Could you not find your way alone?" he snapped, looking down at her with irritation. "Or were you that absorbed in what you were watching?"

  "I thought you were joining me!" Her temper flared as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

  "And I am." He laughed deeply, but to Liane it had an artifici
al sound. "I couldn't leave Barbara without a farewell. She is one of your countrymen, and you do seem to expect good manners from us Latins."

  "I'm sure manners aren't what interests your friend Barbara," Liane mumbled as she thought of the bright red, leather, mini skirt and halter top the woman was wearing.

  "What was that?" He asked as he opened the door for her to enter the office.

  "I said, I'm sure you're never lacking in manners."

  As the man slowly closed the door Liane glanced around the room, noting the casual, non-businesslike atmosphere. One full wall was covered with shelves containing many volumes of expensively bound books. A large collection of CDs and DVDs covered the top of a huge walnut cabinet which Liane noted held a big screen TV and other entertainment equipment.

  Suddenly her attention was drawn to a collection of statues, and her thoughts returned to her brother's secret room and the similar artifacts she had found there.

  "I see you are a patron of the arts," she said as she stepped forward for a closer inspection of the shelf's contents. "Beauty for the eye, music and movies for your entertainment and fine literature for the mind."

  "Ah, those . . ." The manager smiled down at her. "I am afraid they belong to the owner of this club."

  "You said he rarely comes here." She turned again and walked toward the man. "These things seem rather extravagant for mere room decorations."

  "I make good use of the room," the man said motioning to the sofa situated beneath a velvet-draped window. "We did not come in here to discuss this room's decor."

  Liane hesitated a moment before choosing to sit in the chair, avoiding the sofa where he now stood waiting for her to join him. When she did not, he smiled sardonically and took the chair across from her, leaning leisurely back against the soft cushions.

  "I've come to ask if you know anything about my brother Jack . . .I mean, Spence Jackson," she added, remembering Jack's stage name. "I was told he does a show in this club."

  "HA! Did a show!" The man straightened stiffly, his dark eyes narrowed. "He was engaged to do a special show and never showed up. If I have my way, he will never work here again."

  Liane bit her lip. This man was angry, as Maria had warned. "Are you saying he never contacted you or anything?"

  "Never!"

  "But there could have been a problem. Are you sure he knew about the show? You did say it was a special show." She thought again about the death of Jack's agent. If booked through him, it was entirely possible he never had a chance to give Jack the message.

  "His agent confirmed that he would be here." The manager continued, as if reading her thoughts. "Spence Jackson was in Mr. Devereaux's office when I spoke to him."

  "When was that?"

  "Saturday morning."

  "And you are certain he said he'd be down to do a show that same night? It's a long flight. Could he have arranged one that quickly?"

  "He must have made arrangements. His agent promised he'd be here in time for the show."

  "Can't you tell me more?"

  "There is no more. Except that he did not show up."

  "Something could have happened. Maybe his plane crashed . . . Anything!" Liane jerked to her feet and with a catlike grace began nervously pacing around the room. "You think he didn't show up because he didn't care. I know Ja . . .Spence, and he wouldn't do that. Couldn't you give him the benefit of a doubt?"

  "He'll have another chance this weekend."

  "This weekend." She looked up, a gleam of hope in her eyes. "Do you mean he's going to do a show?"

  "That remains to be seen." The manager got up from his seat and crossed the room to the door. "Now, if you do not mind, I would like to get back to . . .to my work." His look was grim as he spoke. "I do not believe there is anything else I can tell you."

  Liane's green eyes were troubled as she returned to her companions. Her problems weighed heavily on her, and it seemed they multiplied with each new fact she unfolded.

  "Why don't we make it an early evening," Luke suggested, with concern in his voice. "We have only tomorrow before going on to Pucallpa, and I still want to show you more of the city. I also hope you'll join me on my visit to the orphanage."

  "Yes, I would like that," she said wearily. "And I am tired," she admitted, wondering whether she should tell him now that she had made up her mind to stay in Lima until the weekend. She had to see if Jack showed up to do his act.

  Third Half – P.R. Garlick

  CHAPTER SIX

  "Come along outside to the playground," Luke said as he guided her from the main part of the building. "I think you'll enjoy watching the children play. It's always a lift to see these children laughing and happy. The Sisters here do their best to keep them that way, but considering the turmoil in their young lives, it's often a difficult task."

  She walked around a few moments before stooping down to look at the bruised knee of a little girl who had fallen. She was just about to get up when she felt a light tap on her shoulder.

  When she turned, the glare of the sunlight filled her eyes, but she could tell she was being examined closely by the child who had come up behind her. Shielding her eyes she saw that it was a little boy about nine or ten years old. His clothing was torn and dirty, unlike the neat appearance of the other children at the orphanage.

  The boy said something in his native language and Liane had to turn to Luke for a translation.

  "He seems fascinated by you. Especially your green eyes. He apparently has been watching you since we arrived. He'd like to see what color hair you have."

  "Ask him why?" She said, unsure whether she dared hope at his reason.

  Luke laughed when he heard the boy's reply. "He wants to see if you have hair that looks like fire. Red hair."

  "Jack!" she gasped. Although they were not identical, their eye-color and facial features were very much the same. It was the hair that made Jack different. His was red.

  "Luke, please tell him my hair is blonde, but find out if he's seen a man who looks very much like me. A man who has red hair. He'd be taller, but looks very much like me." Her blood raced as she waited.

  Luke repeated her words in the boy's native tongue. The boy replied, then when Luke said something else he suddenly frowned and ran away.

  "Wait!" Liane called, but it was too late. He had jumped the stone wall encircling the playground and was already out of sight.

  "What did he say?" She turned to face Luke.

  "He said you look like Father John who sometimes visits his village. I asked him where that was, and as you saw, he took off like a scared rabbit."

  "Damn!" She stopped and looked up at Luke with regret. "I'm sorry." She bowed her head and walked past him toward the building.

  "Sister Mary Catherine," he called after her. "I think it's time we talked. You can't keep all this to yourself. And I know there's more to your problem than you've told me."

  "All right . . ." A long tired sigh escaped her lips. "But first I have to find out about that boy. I want to know where he came from."

  "Anyone can see how upset you are right now. Go out to the car and I'll talk to the Sisters and find out what I can." Luke's firmly issued order left no room for debate.

  "And Mary Catherine," he added., "Remember what I said about being a friend to those kids on the beach. It goes for other lost persons, too."

  "Thanks," she said softly, forcing a smile before going through the gate and walking around the building toward the car. At the moment she did feel very lost. Very confused.

  I

  "Wow! What a mess," Luke said as they sat on a bench near the Smith home. Once he had heard part of Liane's story, he pulled off the road so they could talk more freely. "I suspected you weren't really a nun. But never all this."

  "How did you know?"

  "A clue or two." He laughed and lifted her arm. "May I see the time?" he asked. "Lovely watch, was it a gift?"

  "Oh no . . ." She sighed, remembering the glittering gold and diamond design of
the watch Jack had given her on their last birthday. It was hardly something a nun would wear. He had given Mary Catherine an exquisite leather-bound book of poetry.

  "A few other things gave you away too. But they really don't matter now. We have to decide what we'll do next."

  She hadn't told him about the money or her brother's secret room. But this time she withheld the information because she was afraid for his safety if he knew too much. She didn't want anyone else hurt, and the more she learned, the more she suspected they could be.

  "Luke, I don't think there is a we. I have to handle this alone. But you can help by not telling anyone what I've told you. At least not unless . . .well, unless you have to."

  He scratched his blond head. "As a priest I am bound to keep confessions confidential. I could consider this one."

  "It certainly was that! But what will happen when you return to the mission without Sister Mary Catherine?"

  "I thought I'd prolong my visit and send a message along that we were unavoidably delayed." He smiled. "That should give me time to think up a better story."

  "I can't involve you in this."

  "I'd say I am already involved."

  "No Luke, I mean it. There's been one murder already – and by the way – thank you for believing me when I told you I didn't do it."

  "I think I'm a pretty good judge of character." He got up and pulled her with him. "Come on, let's get back to Paul and Carla's. We'll decide what to do later."

  When they returned to the house, they found Maria waiting. The young waitress had been there since early in the morning. By now she could hardly contain herself as she saw Liane entering the house.

  "She won't tell me what's going on." Carla shrugged when she explained, obviously surprised that her friend, this time, would not confide in her. "She said it has to do with your brother. That was all. But she's very upset."

  Liane looked at Luke, not needing to ask as he smiled and turned to Carla. "Let's leave them alone for awhile."