Down Among the Dead Men

68

By the time they reached Playa Azul, she could feel a headache coming on.

Nothing to be alarmed about just yet, but her episodes usually began and ended with a migraine, and there was no point in taking chances.

“I’m gonna need to lie down soon,” she said.

“You okay?”

“Just a headache. I’ll be fine when I’m horizontal.”

This may or may not have been true. She had no way to predict what might happen in the next hour-or minutes, for that matter-but she saw no reason to alarm Nick.

“I know a hotel that has decent rooms,” he said, “and even better rates.”

“Thanks.”

As they pulled into the city, caught up in another traffic jam, Beth looked out her window and couldn’t help feeling as if she’d never left this place-and in a way, she hadn’t.

A cruise liner sat in the harbor, probably the very same ship she and Jen had taken down from Long Beach almost a year ago.

Playa Azul’s streets were bustling as usual, but there seemed to be an extra current of excitement in the air. Everywhere you looked there were flowers and multicolored banners, storefronts filled with candles and full-sized skeletons, wrapped in garlands and gold satin.

It occurred to Beth that today was Halloween in the states, but this didn’t look like any Halloween she’d ever seen and she wasn’t quite sure that that was what was going on here. All she could think about was Nick’s talk of religious cults and the world of brujas and La Santisima.

Then, as they turned a corner, they drove past a storefront that featured a grinning skull atop an ornate, flower-laden altar, bright red roses poking out of each eye socket.

Nick glanced at the display. “All this time I’ve been spending in Mexico and I forgot all about the festival.”

“Festival?”

“ El Dia de los Muertos. The Day of the Dead.”

“How appropriate. I don’t suppose this has anything to do with El Santo and company?”

“Hardly. El Dia de los Muertos is a celebration that dates all the way back to the Aztecs. It’s about families coming together to honor their lost loved ones.”

Nick turned the wheel and rounded another corner, pulling up in front of a small, boxy-looking hotel that couldn’t have held more than ten rooms.

The sign out front read: CORONA POSADA.

Climbing out of the car, they grabbed their things and went inside to the front desk only to be told that because of the festival there were no vacancies. But when Nick explained that they were only here for the night-slipping the deskman a fifty in the process-two adjoining rooms miraculously became available.

Ten minutes later Nick opened the door to Beth’s room and ushered her inside, dropping her suitcase near the closet. The place was tiny but clean and well maintained, with a view overlooking a beautifully manicured garden.

Beth was impressed. But then anything looked better than a hospital room.

“What did I tell you?” Nick said.

“Very nice. But I don’t expect you to pay for this.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I may have been out of commission for the last couple months, but I’ve still got money in the bank and I’m good for it.”

“Just get some rest, okay? We’ll talk about this later.”

Beth smiled. Was he really this good of a guy?

Yes, she thought. Maybe he was.

Nick crossed to the door, looking back at her, and she was surprised to find herself suddenly understanding Mary/Marion’s unbridled enthusiasm this morning.

“I’ve gotta run an errand,” he said. “But I should be back in about an hour or so. I’ll be next door if you need me.”

“Would you mind leaving your computer? I’d like to look at those photos again.”

He nodded, then reached into his backpack, pulled out the netbook, and set it on the table by the door.

“If you’re up to it after I get back, we can start retracing your steps in town, see if it jars anything loose.”

Then he was gone.

Beth stared down at the garden for a moment, then retrieved the netbook and took it to the bed. But her head was really pounding now, so she set the computer aside and lay back, trying to get her bearings, thinking how strange it felt not to be staring up at the ceiling of her hospital room.

Sleep. That’s what she needed.

She hadn’t had any since her episode last night.

So she closed her eyes, hoping the headache would go away without incident.

But when she opened them again, she was back on the deck of the cruise liner, looking out at the rolling ocean.