Intimate Knowledge Read online

  “How was your meeting?”

  “Not so great,” Penelope said with a sigh, already dreading, for more reasons than one, the phone call she’d have to make to Avery. Bad enough that she would have to tell him the exhibit had just hit a gigantic snag, but how was she supposed to handle Tonio Vargas’s insinuation that Avery had been involved in a black-market scheme to buy and sell artifacts?

  The suspicions were unfounded. Penelope had no doubt of that. Still…questioning a man’s integrity, particularly a man as proud as Avery Bennett, would be tricky, to say the least.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Elena asked sympathetically.

  Penelope shrugged. “Not unless you know how I can get in touch with a man named Manuel Vargas.”

  “Manuel Vargas?” Elena glanced up. “You mean the man with the masks?”

  “You know him?”

  Elena nodded. “As it happens, my cousin works for him.”

  Penelope’s mouth dropped in astonishment. “You’re kidding.”

  “No, it’s true. Maya is his personal secretary. She’s been with him for years.”

  “You don’t think…” Penelope trailed off, reluctant to impose on a stranger.

  “What?” Elena pressed.

  “I need to see him,” Penelope said. “His son was supposed to deliver some important papers to him for the museum where I work, but he left them at the restaurant. I don’t suppose your cousin could arrange a meeting?” she asked doubtfully.

  “Perhaps. I can ask.” Elena glanced at her watch. “She’s probably gone for the day by now. I can call her first thing in the morning, though.”

  “That would be excellent.” Penelope let out a breath of relief. “You and your cousin just may end up saving my life. Or at any rate, my career.”

  Elena went back to her flowers. “I’m happy to help. In the meantime, I have some news that might cheer you up.”

  “Really?” Penelope selected one of the flower stalks and held it to her nose. “Hmm, this smells wonderful. What is it?”

  “Tuberose.” Elena gave her an enigmatic smile. “Its nectar is said by some to have special powers and its scent magical to all who experience it. Keep it,” she said, when Penelope started to return the stem to the table. “Wear some of the blossoms in your hair tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Alex has arranged for you to have dinner aboard his yacht this evening.”

  “What?” Penelope asked in alarm. “Alex is here?”

  “No, he called from Houston. He thought you might enjoy a sunset cruise in the bay.”

  “That was…thoughtful of him.” And strange, Penelope decided. She still couldn’t figure out Alex Salizar’s motive. She hardly knew the man. Why was he being so nice to her?

  Although now that she was here, she had to admit that Helen had been right. She would have been kicking herself if she’d turned down the opportunity to lounge in the lap of such luxury.

  Aloud she said, “It sounds like a lot of trouble for just one person.”

  “It’s no trouble. The crew and staff are already on board. All the arrangements have been made. You’re expected at seven.”

  “In that case, I’d better get dressed,” Penelope murmured.

  “The Diosa del mar is magnificent. You’re in for quite an evening.” Elena’s smile flashed again. “And don’t forget to wear the flowers,” she called softly as Penelope turned and started down the hallway.

  PENELOPE DECIDED to wear the white lace halter dress, which, for some unknown reason, she hadn’t removed from her suitcase after her sister had left her apartment the night before. Now she was glad that she’d brought it along, because neither jeans nor a business suit seemed appropriate for a dinner cruise aboard a yacht christened the Diosa del mar.

  She’d tucked several of the creamy blossoms in her hair, too, just as Elena had instructed, and the heady fragrance drifted through the car as she settled back against the leather seat for the ride into town.

  Manzanillo had once been little more than a sleepy fishing village, but with the influx of tourists to the Pacific coast, shops and restaurants had popped up around the square, and the narrow streets were clogged with traffic.

  The police had closed the main thoroughfare for a parade, and dozens of costumed revelers, wearing masks and trailing colorful streamers, poured into the streets behind the floats.

  “What’s going on?” Penelope asked Mateo as the car slowed to a crawl.

  “La Celebración de las Dos Lunas. Celebration of the Two Moons,” he translated in halting English.

  Penelope had never heard of the event, and she wondered if it was a local festival. She stared out her window, intrigued by the masks, as Mateo maneuvered the car through the heavy congestion.

  Once they neared the waterfront, the traffic thinned, and the smell of gasoline and motor oil mingled with the salty tang of the sea. A fleet of fishing boats was just coming in for the day while at the deepest point of the harbor, a cruise ship made ready to sail, its deep, plaintive horn sounding a warning to straggling passengers.

  Manzanillo was also home to the Mexican navy, and Penelope imagined that the docks could get pretty dicey after dark. The yacht marina, however, was like entering a different world. The gleaming white boats, many of them well over a hundred feet long, strained gently at their moorings as water lapped at the hulls.

  The captain of the Diosa del mar welcomed Penelope aboard and after a brief tour, they got underway. Penelope stood at the rail, sipping a cocktail as she watched the harbor recede in the distance.

  They headed north along the Bahía de Manzanillo, the older, tourist section of town, and the ship channel where the ocean liners entered the port. As they sailed past the Santiago Peninsula toward the Bahía de Santiago, Penelope tried to pick out Alex’s villa on the lush hillside using the binoculars the captain had provided her.

  She couldn’t pinpoint the house, lost as it was amidst a sea of glistening white homes, but she had no trouble at all spotting the Las Hadas resort. The setting sun gilded the spires and domes, making the place seem even more enchanted with the coming night.

  Dinner was served by candlelight even though the sun had not yet fully set. The sumptuous dishes just kept on coming, and Penelope, protected by a windscreen, found that she could do little more than sample each course, from the escargots swimming in butter and garlic to the pan-seared sea scallops paired with a delicate saffron pilaf. By the time she’d finished the passion fruit crème brûlée, they were gliding back into the harbor.

  Another yacht, even larger than the Diosa del mar, was just putting out to sea, and as the two boats passed, the sound of music and laughter carried across the water. Several couples were dancing on the main deck, but Penelope’s attention was drawn to the upper deck, where two men stood talking.

  The other yacht was perhaps fifty yards away, but even from that distance, the man facing Penelope seemed familiar somehow. Without thinking, she lifted the binoculars to have a closer look.

  She recognized him immediately. It was Tonio Vargas, and from the expression on his handsome face, Penelope decided that the conversation with his companion must have been far from friendly.

  The second man had his back to Penelope, but something he said caused Vargas’s features to contort in rage. When Vargas tried to step away, the other man grabbed him, and for one split second, something gleamed in his right hand.

  Then Vargas’s focus moved over the man’s shoulder, and when he saw Penelope watching them through the binoculars, he went dead still. He nodded in her direction, and the other man turned slowly to follow his gaze.

  Penelope wanted to lower the binoculars, but she couldn’t.

  She wanted to step away from the railing, but she was suddenly paralyzed.

  For the longest moment, she stood staring at the man on the yacht as the blood rushed from her face and her heart started to pound in excitement.

  The man staring back at her was Simon. />
  Chapter Eight

  It was over in a matter of seconds. The yachts glided past each other, the music faded, and the two men were soon lost to Penelope’s view.

  But she stood staring after the boat for a very long time.

  The second man wasn’t Simon, of course. Simon was in Dallas, still in a coma. There was no way he could have suddenly “awakened” and somehow been magically transported to Mexico, apparently no worse for wear.

  There had to be a logical explanation for what Penelope had witnessed. Simon had been on her mind so much lately that she was seeing things. Her eyes had deceived her, that’s all.

  Or…maybe she’d seen Simon’s double. A man who looked enough like Simon to be his twin and who just happened to be in the exact same location as Penelope, having a conversation with a man she, herself, had spoken to only a few hours earlier.

  The coincidence seemed a bit much, she had to admit, but then, she could have been mistaken about Vargas, too. Maybe her imagination had conjured up both men, Penelope kept telling herself, even as a little voice in the back of her mind argued, What if it really was Simon?

  There was only one thing to do. Somehow she had to find out for sure. Penelope knew herself too well. She would worry herself silly until she could conclude without a shadow of doubt that the man she’d seen wasn’t Simon.

  As soon as she and Mateo returned to the villa, she went straight to her room and called the Fairhaven Rehabilitation Center in Dallas.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, she nervously gnawed the end of her thumbnail until the front desk finally picked up.

  “Fairhaven. How may I help you?”

  “Uh…yes, this is Penelope Moon. I’m calling to inquire about a patient.”

  “What’s the patient’s name?” the woman asked briskly.

  “Simon Decker.”

  “Hold, please.”

  The recorded music was like fingernails on a chalkboard to Penelope as she waited for the woman to return. It seemed to be taking forever—

  “Ms. Moon?”

  Penelope jumped. “Yes. I’m still here.”

  “I’m afraid there’s been no change in Mr. Decker’s condition.”

  Penelope wasn’t sure if the emotion that stabbed through her heart was relief or bitter disappointment. She closed her eyes for a moment. “How do you know?”

  The woman paused. “I beg your pardon?”

  “How do you know there’s been no change in Simon’s condition? Did you speak to his doctor? Did you look in on him yourself?”

  “I’m…not sure I understand what you’re asking. I’m simply relaying the information that I’ve been authorized to release,” the woman said defensively.

  “I understand, but authorized by whom?” Maybe her imagination was still working overtime, but Penelope could have sworn the woman was being deliberately vague. Then again, she was probably just following procedure.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Moon, but if you have questions about Mr. Decker’s condition, you’ll have to speak with his doctor.”

  “I’d love to,” Penelope said quickly. “Is he there?”

  “No, I’m afraid not. You need to call back during regular business hours.”

  “What about Yvette Dickerson?” Penelope persisted. “Is she there?”

  “Who?”

  “Yvette Dickerson. She’s a nurse. Tall, blond, gorgeous—”

  “I’m sorry. If you need additional information, you’ll have to call back tomorrow. Goodbye.”

  Penelope hung up slowly, not exactly certain what to make of the conversation or her reaction to it. The woman had told her exactly what she’d expected to hear. There’d been no change in Simon’s condition. So that should be the end of it, right?

  But the uneasiness persisted. Penelope couldn’t get rid of that nagging feeling that information was being deliberately withheld from her. She’d experienced the same feeling when she visited Fairhaven in person. Something about the place always made her paranoid.

  She’d never given it much thought before, but now she wondered why Allen Decker had picked that particular facility. Fairhaven was located several miles from the city, in a rather remote area. Penelope had gotten hopelessly lost the first time she’d driven out there, so obviously convenience had not been a consideration.

  If given a choice, she would have kept Simon in Houston so that she could be near him, but his father hadn’t given her that option. Nor had Allen Decker asked for her opinion on rehabilitation facilities. By all indications, he seemed determined to cut Penelope out of Simon’s life, but she had no idea why. His animosity remained a complete mystery.

  Surely he realized by now that she wasn’t responsible for Simon’s condition. He had to know how much she cared for his son, how deeply committed she still was to Simon. Didn’t that mean anything to him?

  But in spite of his enmity, Penelope respected his devotion to his son. He’d spent hours on end at Simon’s bedside, and if there had been any change in Simon’s condition, Allen Decker would know about it.

  As luck would have it, Penelope had his home phone number with her. Early on, when Simon had still been at St. Mary’s, Allen had given her both his home and work numbers in case of emergency. She’d stored the information in her cell-phone directory, and, though she didn’t particularly relish a conversation with the man, she quickly pressed in his home phone number before she lost her nerve.

  He answered on the first ring, and his voice sounded so much like Simon’s that Penelope couldn’t speak for a moment.

  “Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?” he demanded impatiently.

  Penelope cleared her throat. “Mr. Decker, this is Penelope Moon. Simon’s…fiancée.”

  He hesitated for a long, telling moment. “I know who you are,” he said with a sigh. “Why are you calling?”

  Penelope moistened her lips. His irritated tone made her even more nervous. “This may sound a little strange, but I’m in Mexico and I thought…I thought I saw Simon,” she blurted.

  “You what?”

  “I know you must think I’m crazy,” she said in a rush. “I know it couldn’t have been Simon, but this man…looked exactly like Simon. He could have been his double.”

  “That’s ridiculous. It couldn’t have been Simon.” But instead of the scorn Penelope had expected to hear, the man’s voice was edged with something she couldn’t quite define.

  “I know it wasn’t him,” she agreed. “But it was such a shock, and now I can’t stop thinking about him. I had to call to make sure…” She trailed off, squeezing her eyes closed. Honestly, what had she hoped to accomplish by involving Simon’s father in her delusions? “Have you seen him today?”

  “Of course I’ve seen him,” Allen snapped. Now that the first shock of her words had worn off, his contempt had apparently rebounded. “I left him not more than two hours ago. I spent the whole afternoon reading to him.”

  That was that, then. Penelope had to battle the same mixture of emotions she’d experienced after her call to Fairhaven. Relief, disappointment, and an odd sense of foreboding.

  “Where did you say you’re calling from?” he asked suddenly.

  “Manzanillo. It’s on the Pacific coast.”

  He paused. “What are you doing down there?”

  “I’m here on business.” She pushed back her hair with a trembling hand. “Look, Mr. Decker, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to…check on Simon.”

  Both of them fell silent for a long, tense moment, as if not quite sure how to end the conversation. Then Allen Decker said abruptly, “Let’s get one thing straight before you hang up. I don’t know who you saw on that yacht, but it wasn’t my son. Do you understand? It wasn’t Simon. If I were you, I wouldn’t go around blabbing about it. People might start thinking you’ve gone over the edge.”

  Penelope almost gasped. His attitude toward her was nothing unusual, but the warning took her by surprise. “I wasn’t planning on telling anyone else. I just had to know for su
re—”

  She wasn’t certain what she’d been about to say, but it didn’t matter because the line was already dead. Simon’s father had hung up on her.

  THE CONVERSATION with Allen Decker crowned an al ready trying day. Penelope was exhausted, both emotionally and physically, but she didn’t bother going to bed, because she was too restless to sleep. Too certain now that there was something that both the Fairhaven Rehabilitation Center and Allen Decker had kept from her. She had no idea what that something was, but as soon as she returned home, Penelope was determined to find out.

  In the meantime, there was nothing she could do but let it go. Dwelling on the possibilities was only going to drive her crazy and distract her from her job—namely, making sure that Manuel Vargas didn’t renege on his agreement with the Morehart. But there was nothing she could do about that situation until morning, so what she needed now was something to take her mind off all her problems.

  She couldn’t find a phone book in her room, so she went in search of Elena. She found her in the kitchen having a glass of wine.

  Elena jumped when she saw Penelope in the door way, then mumbled something under her breath as her hand flew to her heart.

  “Sorry,” Penelope murmured. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Elena gave a shaky laugh. “That’s quite all right. I didn’t know you were back. I didn’t…hear the car.” She paused for a moment, her hand creeping to her neck. “How was the cruise?”

  Well, for starters, I thought I saw my comatose fiancé only…he wasn’t so comatose. Aloud, Penelope said, “The Diosa del mar is certainly a magnificent yacht.”

  “Yes, it is a beautiful boat, isn’t it? So you enjoyed yourself?”

  “Dinner was lovely.”

  “I’m glad you had a pleasant time.” Elena rose. “Is there something I can do for you?”

  “I’m looking for a phone directory,” Penelope said. “I couldn’t find one in my room. Is there one around here I can use?”

  “A phone directory?” Elena frowned. “Yes, of course, but…nothing is wrong, I hope. You’re not ill?”