The Watcher (A Miranda and Parker Mystery Book 4) Read online

  Really?

  Didi got to her feet. She seemed upset.

  “She’s telling him she has to get back to the resort.”

  At least she wasn’t leaving her mother alone for long.

  Joca shook his head and leaned back in his seat, sipping his beer. He flipped his blond curls over his shoulder with a shrug.

  “I believe he said the equivalent of ‘suit yourself.’”

  Nice guy. “Who is this dude, Parker? Do you think Tia knows that Didi’s seeing him?”

  “We’ll have to ask her.”

  If Tia didn’t know, hearing it from two detectives Didi didn’t care for would really go over big, Miranda thought, as the older daughter glided out the door.

  She and Parker sat there, watching the self-absorbed guy nurse his beer for awhile. Probably thinking about how wonderful he was. Then he took out his cell phone and began thumbing it. After a while a big grin spread over his athlete’s face. He slid out of the booth and headed for the door.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Miranda asked.

  Parker nodded and rose. “Follow him.”

  Chapter Ten

  The sidewalks were crowded, making it easy to blend but hard to keep up with the ueber fit soccer player.

  That long stride must serve him well on the field, Miranda thought as she scooted around tables of chess players and texting youths and old men arguing over something or other.

  Managing to look like lost tourists, she and Parker trekked after him, following him across the street and down another lane. At the far corner, he dipped into another pub.

  “Gretchen’s” read the fanciful sign over the door. Another example of the Bavarian-Brazilian design.

  They waited a couple beats to catch their breath, then Parker held the door open for her and Miranda stepped inside.

  This establishment was decorated with colorful Tiffany style lamps and flower boxes on the walls under fake windows. The music was soft and the bar polished.

  Not many folks in here and Miranda was sure Joca would notice them. But no, his attention was already focused on one of the barmaids.

  A chesty woman with thick blonde hair piled atop her head caught his eye and gave the athlete a wink. She had on an Oktoberfest costume. Apron, tight-waisted vest with the laces tight enough to make her boobs almost fall out of the gathered blouse.

  Joca was getting an eyeful all right and the woman didn’t seem to mind.

  She grabbed a stein and pulled a lever to fill it before setting it down in front of him. As she did he grabbed her hand and pulled her close. Before she could get away he planted a kiss on her cheek.

  She laughed and batted him away with her washcloth.

  Miranda heard the word clientes and thought she was telling him she had to get back to her other customers. But instead the barmaid lingered, staring into his alluring, soccer player eyes.

  Miranda waited for Parker to make a move and was impressed when he boldly took a seat at the bar just a few down from Joca.

  Why not? Joca didn’t know who they were. She slid onto the stool next to him and he ordered two beers from another waiter, a guy dressed in lederhosen and a green felt cap with a yellow feather.

  They had a consistent theme, she thought, sneaking a peek over Parker’s shoulder at the couple who were still making goo-goo eyes at each other.

  Anger clawed at her stomach lining. She caught the irritation in Parker’s tight jaw. They both hated cheaters. Especially the ones who cheated on people they knew. Poor Didi.

  Parker made idle conversation about some local museum while they sipped the beers neither of them wanted and listened to Joca and “Gretchen” or whatever her name was giggle and flirt.

  Parker couldn’t translate here but he didn’t need to. It was pretty obvious what they were up to. Miranda felt like she was watching one of those foreign language soap operas on cable. The pair chatted away happily for several long minutes until Gretchen leaned in close and Joca whispered something in her ear that made her break out in a big grin.

  “Abundante,” he said.

  “Abundante, abundante,” the barmaid echoed, giggling.

  Parker’s eyes went to flame. He glanced at his watch. “Look at the time. If we don’t hurry we’ll miss the exhibition.” He tossed some coins on the bar and escorted her toward the exit.

  “Wait a minute,” she whispered, digging her phone out of her pocket. “Pose for me.”

  Instantly catching her drift Parker stepped back, leaned against an Alpine style beam and folded his arms over his chest. His face said “get on with it,” but she didn’t need to capture that.

  She steadied the camera, focused the lens on the flirting couple and snapped the shot just as their lips locked.

  Would have been perfect if the flash hadn’t caught Joca’s attention. He turned his head and glared at her.

  She spun around and grabbed Parker’s arm. “We’ll have to email that one to Mama,” she laughed as they exited the pub.

  Out on the street, Miranda stared at him. “What was all that ‘abundante’ stuff about?” she asked.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  Parker waited until they were across the street and halfway down the next walkway to answer her question. “Joca and the woman at the bar apparently have some scheme to use Didi to get rich.”

  She pulled up short. “What?”

  His gaze scanned the sidewalk, the loungers at the myriad of tables. “We can’t talk here. Let’s get to the car.”

  ###

  Safe inside the BWM, Miranda turned to him. “Okay, I got the general gist of the shenanigans back there, but what specifics did you hear? Out with it, Parker.”

  Sitting in the lot, Parker gripped the steering wheel, his face still hard as iron. “Joca said, ‘I already have her eating out of the palm of my hand.’”

  “Her? Didi?”

  He nodded. “Apparently.”

  “What about that last part? Abudante.”

  “Abudante means rich.”

  “Rich?”

  “He and the barmaid seemed to be planning some way to get rich.”

  That involved having Didi eating out of the palm of his hand. “He’s planning to use her, Parker.”

  “So it appears.”

  She thought about that. “It sounds like he’s trying to get control of the resort property.”

  “That could very well be.”

  Miranda felt her brows fly up. “What’s he going to do? Marry Didi for her money and siphon profits from the resort to the girlfriend?”

  “That could be his plan. Until he gets tired of her.” Parker knew that type as well as she did.

  Her mind started to race. “Do you think that’s motivation? For the letters?”

  Parker was silent a long while, his gray eyes turning dark as he stared out the windshield, contemplating the possibility.

  Unnerved Miranda started to grasp at straws. “Maybe he doesn’t intend to kill Tia. Just get her out of the way. Maybe he’s using the threats to scare her. Make her leave Campos do Flores and put the resort in Didi’s hands.”

  Parker rubbed his chin. “Possibly. Or simply to see whether Tia can be intimidated.”

  “So he can step in and act as their protector and eventually she’ll give him control of the place.”

  Parker seemed to check himself. “This is all conjecture. All we know is he has what appears to be a side relationship with the barmaid and a scheme with her to get rich.”

  “That involves Didi ‘eating out of the palm of his hand.’” This wasn’t an internet business they were planning.

  “Yes.” Parker suddenly looked weary.

  Her mind went back to the thin young woman working away at the resort. “Now the question is…”

  Parker frowned. “What?”

  “Do we tell Didi what we’ve overheard?”

  He let out a long sigh. “I suppose we must.”

  “She probably won’t listen. Seemed l
ike the headstrong type to me.” Miranda could imagine her cussing them out in Portuguese for half an hour.

  She watched a pack of young people strolling across the pavement on their way to visit the colorful shops or a pub for a very late lunch.

  “Okay. What’s next on the agenda?”

  They could find Didi and confront her or let that simmer a while and pursue whatever other leads they could dig up. If Joca wasn’t responsible for the death threats, someone else was.

  She knew what she thought they ought to do but she waited for him to decide. This was his case and he was supposed to be in charge. So she held back the way he did for her when it was her turn. It was a good arrangement. It worked for them.

  After a moment Parker’s calm veneer returned. “We ought to talk to some of the staff and find out what we can about this Geninho Didi mentioned.

  The groundskeeper Tia fired more than a month ago. Just what she would have suggested. It wouldn’t be smart to put all their eggs in the soccer basket.

  “Good call,” she grinned, trying to brighten his mood a bit. “And we need to check on Tia.”

  “Yes.” Parker pressed the button to start the car and the engine came to life. “That will be our first stop.”

  Chapter Eleven

  They found Tia in the reception area, busier than a one-armed paperhanger with a resort to run. There was a line of guests so long at the front desk, it took Tia, Didi and two other staff members over an hour to get them checked in and settled.

  Miranda sat in a fancy chair in a corner twiddling her thumbs while Parker scrutinized each guest. He was being careful, but none of these folks seemed to be who they were looking for.

  When the last guest was taken care of, Tia made her way over to them. “Sinto muito. I am so sorry, Wade, Miranda. I simply could not get away.”

  “We understand,” Parker said, rising.

  “Let’s go to the back.” She began to escort them down the hall to her office.

  Tia still looked classy in her sapphire blue sheath but a strand of her rich ebony hair had fallen from its place. She smoothed it back with her hand, her exotic eyes beseeching them. “Have you been able to make any progress?”

  Evading the question, Parker said, “We’d like to speak to some of your staff. Preferably anyone who knew your groundskeeper, Geninho. The man Didi mentioned earlier?”

  Stopping in the corridor, she seemed surprised at that. “Do you suspect him?”

  “We’re simply checking out all possible leads.”

  Her dark brows knit together. “Very well. Let me think.”

  “How long had he worked here before you let him go?” Miranda asked.

  “Oh, a long time. Fifteen years. Rico hired him. He was a favorite of his. He let him get away with far too much in my opinion. And when Rico left, Geninho’s work ethic sank to new lows.”

  “What kind of lows?”

  “The grass was uncut, the bushes were overgrown.” She shook her head, lines creasing her elegant brow. “There are several on the housekeeping staff who knew him well. Carlota best of all. She is the head chef of our restaurant. Shall I call some of them here?”

  “Is there somewhere nearer the restaurant to speak to them?” Parker asked.

  He wanted them relaxed and trusting to get the most out of them.

  “There’s a break room in the back you can use. I will take you there.”

  ###

  They followed Tia out a side door and down a winding walkway past several of the guest cottages to a lovely circular building with same delicate ivory trim as the office. Here the blue lettering on the sign read Boteco do Sabor. Like the shops in town, it had a covered spot for outdoor dining but there were only a few customers lingering here now.

  Tia led them up the steps and down a hall to a plain white break room with standard looking chairs and several small tables.

  “Will this do?”

  “Yes,” Parker said, strolling to a table. “Can you bring these staff members you mentioned to us one by one?”

  “The ones who knew Geninho? Certainly.” She turned and disappeared down the hall.

  Miranda pulled a chair over next to him to observe and caught a glimpse of the weariness on Parker’s face as he seated himself.

  “You know, if we’re on the right track, we could wrap this case up in a couple of hours.”

  He gave her a sad smile. “That’s unusually optimistic for you.”

  He knew her too well. And that she was only trying to cheer him up. “Okay,” she shrugged. “But maybe we’ll find something.”

  “That’s why we go through the process.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Tia brought them four employees. A housekeeper, another groundskeeper, a bellhop, and a busboy from the restaurant.

  Each one reported how long and how well they had known Geninho, the boring details of his typical workday, and funny stories about how he used to chase imaginary birds out of the flower bushes when he was tipsy. But nothing they said related to either the death threats or the skeleton in the woods.

  Miranda was hoping Parker would call it quits so they could get back to their cottage and decide what to do about Didi’s philandering boyfriend when Tia brought the last interviewee through the door.

  “This is Carlota,” she told her and Parker. “She is the best cook we have here at Boteco do Sabor.”

  The woman nodded humbly. “Obrigado, Senhora Portia.”

  “She refuses to call me Tia like everyone else.” Tia patted the woman on her arm.

  “You know I am old school, Senhora Portia.”

  “Yes, I do. Carlota, Wade and Miranda are here to help me sort out a matter for the resort. You may feel free to tell them anything you can to help them.”

  “Yes, Senhora Portia. I will do my best.”

  “I’m sure you will.” Tia left, closing the door behind her.

  “Have a seat, Carlota.” Parker gestured to the empty chair on the opposite side of the table.

  “Thank you, senhor.”

  “Would you like something to drink?”

  There was a coffee pot and a vending machine with strange looking drinks in the room.

  “No, thank you, senhor.”

  Carlota slid quietly into the chair. She was a short hefty woman of about forty or so. Plain black dress, white apron, dark hair pulled back in a bun. She kept her hands folded in her lap, her eyes on the table before her.

  “How long have you worked here at Esquecer?” Parker began.

  “Oh, twenty years now. I started as a dishwasher in the kitchen.”

  “And you worked your way up to head chef? That’s very admirable.”

  “Thank you, senhor. Food is my passion.” Her eyes were still on the table, her face expressionless.

  Miranda couldn’t believe a woman who managed a kitchen staff that prepared meals for a steady stream of guests would be so meek. She had to know something.

  “How well did you know Geninho?”

  “Very well. We were friends.”

  “Close friends?” Miranda asked.

  “Yes.” She half smiled. “He asked me to marry him once.”

  That was interesting. “And you refused?”

  Without looking up, she gave her head a shake. “I do not believe in mixing work and romance, if you know what I mean. I am not the marrying type. My work, my food, that is what I live for. Geninho understood that. He loved my cooking.”

  “I see,” Parker said. He gave her a sympathetic smile. “Can you tell us anything about the time before Geninho left Esquecer?”

  She laid her hands on the table and stared off into the corner. Her knuckles were thick and red from too many years of scrubbing pots and pans. She began to rub them as if they ached.

  “Geninho always drank,” she said at last with a sad sigh. “When Senhor Rico left, it got worse.”

  Parker was silent, waiting for her to say more.

  “He never liked working for Senhora Portia.”
>
  Miranda had to ask. “Because she was a woman?”

  “That was part of it. But mostly because she was not Senhor Rico. She ran things differently. More...tightly.”

  She wouldn’t let him get away with the things Rico did, apparently.

  “One day Senhora Portia found Geninho asleep under the rose bushes. Right where guests could see him. She got very angry. They were shouting at each other, she accusing him of shoddy work, he saying she was a tyrant. And Senhora Portia fired him. Told him to get his things, leave Esquecer and never come back.”

  Tears forming in her eyes Carlota took a shakey breath.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t like some water?” Parker asked.

  She shook her head. “No, thank you, senhor. It was just such a terrible time.”

  “What happened then?”

  “Then?” She lifted a shoulder. “He did as she said. He packed all his things and took off. He did not even say goodbye.”

  She’d obviously been hurt.

  “You haven’t heard from him since?” Parker asked.

  “Not a word.”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “He was from a small town in Campinas. I suppose he went back there.”

  Silence hung in the room underscoring the poor woman’s sense of loss over her friend.

  After giving her a moment, Parker said. “Carlota, please think carefully before answering.”

  “Very well, senhor.”

  “Did you ever hear Geninho threaten Senhora Portia?”

  Her eyes opened wide with shock. “No, senhor. Never.”

  “Not even when they were arguing?”

  She shook her head emphatically. “Geninho did some foolish things but threatening Senhora Portia was not one of them.”

  Had Didi embellished the story?

  “He never told you about some secret desire to harm her or get even with her for the way she was running things?”

  “No. We did not speak of Senhora Portia. And as I said after she fired him, I did not speak to him at all.” Her chest heaved with insult as she stared off into the corner for a long moment. Then slowly, a frown formed on her brow. “There was one time...”