Miranda Sparks’ wonderful life. Danny Osipenko
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alone. And that would have been all right, but after half an hour of jolting on the bus, he got twisted right on Miss Blanc.
2. Ms. Blanc, in turn, launched into the kind of profanity that even in a South American port, not only would not have been uttered, but their ears would have been covered.
3. When we were in the ancient town of Kasbu, our guide, Miss Frances Gilmore, apparently did not look where she was going and the result was several abrasions on her knees and a dislocated finger on her right hand.
4. And finally, one last thing. Ms. Hughes became dizzy as she and her husband strolled for several hours through the local market. She made a dramatic gesture with her hand, first throwing it up and then placing it against her forehead, shiny with sweat in the sun. Her oohs and gasps sounded so theatrical that I let out a chuckle every now and then.
The result: a great time and an uplifted mood from either the fucking jinx or the curse of our group. Specifically thanks to the current start of the day, I was ready for the evening. Yesterday, Senor Salido del Pozo called me at eight o’clock in the evening because I hadn’t done it myself. I had to report back to him, even describing the room I woke up in. I don’t know why, but the fact that the detective was somewhere near where I’d met Mike made me feel uncomfortable. I was somehow terrified and uncertain about the next day.
Right after the bus brought the group back to the hotel, I texted the detective as I made my way up to my room. A few minutes later, the phone rang.
– Hello?
– I’ll be with you in a few10 minutes.
– Great.
This was not a meeting of two not bad acquaintances, or of unfortunate friends; it was a well-planned plan between accomplices in a common cause. Señor del Pozo, with deft hand movements, fastened a wiretap device to my light blue sundress, as if I were being sent on a mission of special difficulty, in which, quite possibly, I might have died as a fighter in the process. Ugh, I was very worried. It seemed to me that I was going to be found out, that the wire was visible, and that I would somehow give myself away, either by word or deed, and it would be all over.
– Don’t worry.
The detective looked so reassuringly confident in my eyes that I involuntarily gave in to it.
– What if I never find out where these papers that Mr. Moreau needs are located?
– I’ll answer honestly for you, senora. No one expects that from you. We simply do not exclude the possibility of using your help, so try to get him to talk, but without affecting Monsieur’s activities or your cooperation with him.
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