The Ortega Gambit: A classic crime thriller Read online

  "Is this for me?"

  Will smiled at her. "I was wondering when you would notice. Yes, that's for you."

  "Lucy, isn't the artwork magnificent,” Dot said. “Take a good look. This'll be your last time in this room. Perhaps now you understand why I insist that Charles is forbidden from stepping foot in here. This is no place for a child." Above the wainscoting, oversized oil paintings appointed the walls. Bronze busts of dead people on marble pedestals stood in the corners of the room.

  Lucina hesitated, her hands hovering over the gift wrapped in a crisp shiny metallic silver paper topped with a cream-colored silk ribbon. Finally, at Dot's insistence, she ripped opened the package. To her great surprise, inside was the latest iPhone. Lucina felt her body react with excitement and giggles.

  "Oh, that won't be necessary." But it was too late. Lucina sprung to her feet, kissed Dot and thanked her repeatedly. Dot squirmed under Lucina's touch. She thanked Will with a handshake.

  After Lucina returned to her seat, Dot said, "I've taken the liberty of updating the contacts with all our numbers. They're all in there. Now, Will and I will be leaving on a trip and I'm afraid at this time I do not have a return date. Albert will be traveling with us. But the driver and cook shall remain behind and available. I'll post their schedules in the kitchen later."

  Lucina powered on the phone.

  Dot asked, "Do you think you're ready?"

  "Yes, Signora. You do not have to worry. What about Charles?"

  "What about him? His opinion does not matter. He does not dictate what we do or don't do. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, Signora."

  "I do like when she calls me that. What do you think Will?"

  "I love it."

  "Now Lucy, you can imagine a house this grand must have rules. It must have decorum. What are we without rules? Savages. Do you agree? I have created a short list of thirteen items, the house rules we shall call them, and they must be followed at all times." She lifted a sheet of paper, what she was previously reading, cleared her throat and said, "I want you to take this document and memorize it. Can you do that for me?"

  "Yes, Signora."

  "Well? How are you going to do that from there?"

  Dot's presence was beginning to annoy Lucina. She rose from her seat, walked the length of the 16-seat table, recovered the list and turned to return to her seat. Dot said, "Please, read them aloud."

  "All of them?"

  "Yes, that's what I said. You'll do better here asking far less questions."

  Lucina faced the table, read the house rules, occasionally glancing over the sheet at the Howells.

  "Splendid. Will, didn't she do marvelously? Your English is almost as good as a native speaker. Almost."

  "Indeed,” Will said.

  "Will, maybe later you can show her how to use the house stereo speakers?"

  "That sounds like a fine idea."

  "But Lucina, I don't want you to use them when I'm here. Should I change number twelve? Can you remember that? Comprende?"

  "Dot that's Spanish. She's Italian."

  "I know that. I'm using an expression commonly used here." At the moment, the cook appeared, wheeling in a serving cart. Handsome in his all-white uniform, he had blonde hair and sharp features.

  Dinner was served and was a formal affair with the clink of silverware punctuating otherwise banal small talk. Disappointed, Lucina learned the Howells had zero understanding of Italian politics or its history, nor any interest to learn either. From time to time, Lucina was aware of Dot's critical stare, but thought nothing of it. Not until coffee was served did Lucina understand her new role. Hired to chaperone Charles in a grand gilded cage complete with thirteen rules governing her behavior and movement, the job was more prisoner than governess. But, what a cage! For someone who left Casa di Mora behind, a town with more funeral homes than churches, Larchmont was a welcomed improvement.

  Like any nanny, Lucina's most difficult task was shepherding her ward to bed in a timely fashion. But first, she had to find the child.

  Located on the second floor, the TV room showed signs of recent activity. Lucina looked at Charles as he slept in a leather recliner in the front row, a food tray on the floor before him, his belly hanging over his pajama bottoms. Behind him, an inclined floor and another two rows of recliner seats, and a vintage popcorn machine. She shook her head at the two half eaten hot dogs, the French fries, wrappers of two ice cream sandwiches, and an empty pudding container. She bent over and picked up a cold hot dog and took a bite, closing her eyes as she chewed. Still famished from her long journey and having only been fed vegetables at dinner, she took another, and another, until she finished.

  "Charles, time to get up." She shook him by his shoulder but he didn't budge.

  "Charles, time for bed."

  Sleeping, his face wrinkled into folds resembling a pig.

  "Charles, c'mon. Get up."

  This time, she pulled him by his right arm. He was heavy.

  "Charles!"

  Still, no movement. She grabbed him by both hands and pulled him up onto his feet and then bending at her knees, she carried him like an oversized infant. He put his head on her shoulder as she carried him into the elevator.

  Inside, she smashed the button for their floor with the flat of her hand, and steadied herself against the elevator wall. The elevator ascended and stopped. She fumbled with the latch and finally, flung the door open.

  She struggled with him down the hall and somehow avoided the minefield of toys in his dimly lit room. When she finally got him into his bed, he automatically pulled the sheets up to his chin. Sweat beaded her forehead. Her eyes strained discerning the size of the room. The question on her mind: “Is his room bigger than mine?” Catching her breath, she recalled slapping him earlier. Twice. Something she mostly regretted, but what bothered her was how easily her anger got the better of her.

  She felt a tug on her arm and turned. Awake, Charles rubbed his eyes and said, "Today was my birthday."

  "What? No one did anything?"

  "Darlene would have remembered."

  She sensed he was about to cry, and not sure what to say or do, told him, "Tomorrow, we'll go for ice cream ok? We'll make as big as an ice cream as you want."

  This calmed him down.

  "How does that sound? Go back to sleep, and tomorrow we have ice cream. We celebrate."

  His door was ajar, halving the room in darkness and light. As she left the room, she planted her barefoot firmly on something small and sharp and shrieked in pain. She hopped to the nearest seat—a chair at his built-in desk. Shaking her head, she checked the underside of her foot with both hands. A small cast iron dragon pressed into the soft underside of her foot. Surprised not to see blood, she removed the toy from her foot and dropped it on the desk. She watched Charles sleep, a child who had everything and nothing at the same time. In the brief time she had been with Charles, she learned he was forsaken and isolated and her first mature decision as a nanny would be to fix that.

  In the TV room she couldn't figure out how to work the remote. She remembered her new phone and set a passcode for the device. Indeed, listed in the contacts, as Dot promised, were numbers for the driver, cook, maintenance, housekeeping. Albert was the only servant listed by his name. Already configured for their Wi-Fi, the phone was connected to their home network.

  She read the house rules that she had shoved in her pocket and suppressed an urge to laugh with each rule. Unable to continue, she folded the sheet into quarters and put it back in her pocket.

  The other half-eaten hot dog sat on a plate on the floor, reminding her of her appetite. Just after ten o'clock, she decided to take Will up on his invitation. But first, she checked her pocket for the corkscrew. Earlier, if it wasn't for the boy bursting into her room, knocking over the wine and breaking her framed photograph, Will would have certainly tried something cheeky. The corkscrew gave her courage and she was so damn hungry, it was a risk she found worthy.

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sp; She passed through the kitchen, entered the terrace, passed the pool aglow with recessed lights in the bottom, and followed the aroma of grilled steak. Flames rose from an open fire pit at the far end. Will had just finished slicing the steak into thinner pieces. There was a half-consumed bottle of wine and two glasses. Her presence delighted Will.

  "Your timing is perfect."

  "Thanks again for the phone."

  "Of course. Not sure what we would do without you."

  She leaned against the terrace wall, crossed her legs, the smell of the grilled steak teasing her.

  He poured her a glass of wine.

  The view of the bay was inescapable, even at night. Green and amber colored lights from a constellation of moored boats, bobbed gently on the water. She finished her wine and Will refilled her glass without asking.

  Lost in thought, she contrasted her black and white world of Casa di Mora with her life now, a world full of color and beauty.

  In a fruitless effort to impress Lucina, Will had donned cologne for the occasion. A man, presumably in his early fifties sneaking around his house—though not his house exactly—hiding from his wife, like a skittish cat. Plates and silverware and linen napkins were stacked neatly on a table. When he spoke, his voice was almost a whisper.

  "You mind if I tell you something? You don't look like a nanny."

  She laughed. "And you don't look like a millionaire."

  "I never said I was a millionaire."

  "Where I come from," she said, her eyes cast across the landscaped grounds to the calm waters, "People believe you have to suffer before you enjoy such luxury."

  "What an odd thing to believe."

  She paused, her tone serious. "Why did you hire me?"

  "I mean, I'm just surprised. The last nanny was well, big, fat, old. She waddled when she walked. She wheezed when she played with the boy. You don't do any of those things. Don't misunderstand what I'm saying. She was sweet and had the patience of a saint. Besides, if Dot thinks you pass muster, then you're okay with me."

  She wrinkled her faced. "What does this mean? I do not know this saying."

  "In other words, she finds you adequate."

  Will divided the steak between two plates. It was a mountain of food. Both ate standing. He joined her at the wall.

  Though the meat was overcooked, she ate ravenously. When finished, she held the plate up to her face and licked the plate clean. Aware of how Will had positioned himself close to her, she moved to the table, put the empty plate down, and cleaned her mouth with the back of her hand. She picked up her wine glass and finished in a single gulp.

  "I've never met someone like you," Will said.

  She placed her glass down and he poured her the rest of the bottle.

  "Was the steak to your liking?"

  "Yes. Thank you." She drank half her glass.

  "You ever hear of Serrano ham? I'm sure you have. I have one hidden in the servant pantry. Aged fifteen months. I paid almost five hundred bucks for it. Dot would flip if she found out. I was told that particular variety of ham comes from a hog that has a diet of acorns from a certain hill in Spain. Think about that. Next time."

  She placed her glass down.

  "Should I get another?"

  "No thank you. I am very tired and I need to check on Charles before I pass out. "

  "Ah, the night terrors. Get to it. Until tomorrow."

  Before she reached the door to the house, she glanced over her shoulder and found Will staring at her backside. Still, she was relieved he had merely fed her and not groped her, or worse. Drunk, she found her way back to her room.

  CHAPTER NINE

  LUCINA'S NEW IPHONE buzzed alive beside her bed. She fumbled with the device and finally answered without checking the caller name. Her head pounded with a screaming headache.

  "Please be in the rose garden in fifteen minutes," Dot said flatly and hung up.

  She checked the clock on her phone. 6:45 a.m.

  Lucina considered herself lucky Dot elected to call. Had Dot made the arduous journey to the top floor and marched down the hallway to pound on Lucina's bedroom door, she would have found her new nanny hungover and half-dressed from the night before. With her jeans and boots spread on the floor and, somehow, still in her turtleneck, the room had more college dorm feel than an experienced European governess. And how would Lucina explain the corkscrew, still in her hand?

  Was the call, and specifically Dot's tone, worthy of worry? Christ, Lucina thought, it really couldn't get much worse. Scurrying about her room, she tidied her things, then dressed in shorts, a tank top, and sandals. She tied her hair into a ponytail and slipped on a black headband. She hadn’t realized she drank so much! She didn't remember taking her pants off or getting into bed either. And where the hell did the corkscrew come from? A dull pain pushed against her temples as she attempted recreating the previous night's events.

  When Lucina appeared in the garden, Dot stopped weeding. Beneath a wide brim sun hat protecting her fair complexion from the fiery sun, Dot frowned as she checked her watch, controlling herself. Lucina was late. Dot straightened, shucked off her gardening gloves and held them in both hands.

  As Lucina stood in the morning sun, Dot was displeased at Lucina's appearance. She looked haggard. No one would mistake her for a nanny with world-class credentials. She possessed typical Mediterranean looks with a prominent nose, sharp jawline and black hair that shimmered in the sun like oil. Above average in height, with wide hips and a generous bosom, her shorts seemed ready to burst at the seams containing her thighs and bulging abdomen. Her broad shoulders conveyed a sense of athleticism—and obstinacy.

  A look of anger passed over Dot's face but quickly disappeared. Dot said, "You're late by almost twenty minutes." She grinned mockingly, changing her tone. "Lucy, what do you like to eat?"

  Wincing in the sun, Lucina said, "I don't understand. For breakfast?"

  "Last night, you hardly touched your meal. A meal I had prepared thoughtfully in your honor."

  "Signora, I wasn't feeling well. Busy day. Still adjusting from the traveling. Very long flight. I apologize if you were offended."

  "I see. Going forward, you will be dining with the boy. I'll leave you to coordinate the logistics of each and every meal."

  Lucina nodded.

  "Lucy, please tell me, what is rule number eight?"

  "No going on the boats." Lucina gave her a guilty smile. The rule prohibiting watercraft usage was the only one she remembered from yesterday.

  "No dear. That's incorrect. You violated the moderation rule. Consider this a warning. I am fully aware of your late-night carousing. Outside. With Will. Mocking my cuisine. I have already spoken to Will about his transgression. What do you say to that? Obviously, you weren't that ill. You had at least three drinks and a plate full of steak."

  "You were counting?"

  "I could have you fired for this violation. But I'm willing to be the bigger person here and give you a new start. How does that sound? Would you like a new start?"

  Lucina sighed. Her headache amplified by the cloudless sky, the summer heat and Dot's intrusive questioning.

  "I find it unacceptable for a young woman, such as yourself, to socialize in private with a married man. Do I make myself clear?"

  "Yes, Signora." In the heat, Lucina allowed herself to be distracted. She inspected the garden with its waist-high hedges arranged into a series of connecting rectangular boxes. Foot paths followed the hedges, decorated with bronze woodland creatures. She counted a duck, a frog, and two swans. She wiped spit from the corners of her mouth with her fingertips, and her tongue grew slack and heavy with thirst.

  "How old are you?"

  "Twenty-seven."

  "I understand you're not from here, but on this side of the Atlantic it would be appropriate for you to dress more conservatively. Am I clear?"

  "You don't like my shorts? Or my top? I know I need to go the shopping with my first paycheck."

  "I think yo
u could make a burlap bag look lascivious. When you're in my house, I'd prefer if you dressed differently."

  "How, Signora?"

  "Hard to say exactly. Less you, I suppose. Do you understand the word modest?"

  "Yes, Signora."

  "How tall are you?"

  "Now there is a problem with my height?” Lucina said, exasperated. “You want to cut my feet off? Is that what you want?"

  "I didn't realize how tall you are. You're like a giant. Will and I had discussed a white uniform, like the others. But we had no idea you would be this big. The outfit we arranged will not fit. This will have to wait."

  "A giant? I don't think so." Lucina's eyes expressed anger.

  Dot squared off before Lucina with her hands on her hips, but barely reached Lucina's shoulder.

  "Now, bring me my coffee."

  Lucina looked as though she had no interest in answering Dot's whim and request. She mimicked Dot's posture with her hand on her hip, head cocked to the side before finding her reply. "Yes, Signora."

  Lucina stormed into the kitchen and slammed the door. The driver, the cook, and Albert were seated at a small kitchenette table and all jumped when the door banged against the jamb.

  She drank water from the tap cupping the palm of her hand under the water. When she finished, she said aloud, "She wants her coffee."

  Albert sprang to his feet. "Her morning coffee is ready. She's quite particular about the preparation. I'll explain later."

  "Mamma mia. It's coffee."

  "Take the tray to her."

  "With one cup?"

  "Did she invite you to have coffee with her?"

  "No. I don't think so."

  "Then bring only one." Albert shoved a serving tray in Lucina's hands. When Lucina reached the garden, disaster almost struck. The polished silver tray nearly blinded her with a reflected band of bright white light and she nearly lost her balance walking across the lawn. She expected the fine bone-white china cup and saucer and serving accouterments to crash to the ground.