give Safety the benefit of the doubt and if I showed my hand, let him know I suspected him, he might throw me off the cliff.
On the other hand, I had given Safety ample opportunity to say something like, "Yeah, I saw Rosario that night he disappeared and he was drunk, so I left him to sleep it off on the boat." Nope, instead his response was iffy at best, and in my mind, Safety's own omission threw suspicion in his corner.
No dog languished on the hillside on the way to work, and thereby no opportunity to shove Safety to his just deserts.
By midmorning I was fighting some seriously lazy eyelids, but at least I hadn't harmed anyone.
I was also starving. I'd forgotten to bring lunch and I'd already raided the communal fridge the day before and didn't want to push my luck. Mexicans are very generous, but getting caught heisting their burritos for the second time in two days might test their generosity. I didn't feel like going to the mess hall, where I'd probably do a face-plant in my refrieds anyway. Remembering the bag Jan gave me, I pulled it out of a drawer. It was labeled, Po Thang, and since I was feeling poorly, I figured I qualified.
Inside was a perfectly fine leftover ham and cheese sandwich. I justified eating Po Thang's food by telling myself I could use a little practice at being a bag lady, which, according to Oprah, a large percentage of women evidently fear becoming.
Eating the trash somehow lightened my mood, but working under the influence of Nyquil proved beyond my ability. Even with the calming benefit of Benadryl, I was slightly on edge, waiting to hear more from Jan and Rosario.
The plan for the day was for Jan to pass herself off as Rosario's sister and retrieve his stuff from a room he'd secretly rented in town. Although he officially lived at the mine's man camp, he'd figured early on that he needed a place of his own, with his personal stuff safe from prying eyes. Our Rosario, it seems, is a very clever and secretive dude who did his best to conceal that cleverness from his fellow office workers. Too bad he can't keep his mouth shut after too many beers, but who am I to talk?
The old lady who rented him the room in Santa Rosalia had no idea he worked at the mine. He'd told her he was an American tourist studying Baja's wildlife. Rosario knew his landlady had never entered his room, because he'd installed cameras and motion detectors, which Jan also retrieved. Since he was gone almost all the time anyway, the nice lady certainly had no idea he and a missing Mexican from the mine were one and the same. Especially since his disappearance was only a word of mouth occurrence in a town with no newspaper.
I had a feeling Rosario wasn't sharing all his secrets with us as yet, but who can blame him? I wouldn't trust me, either.
Chapter 13
WHISTLE FOR IT/WHISTLE FOR THE WIND (Nautical term) : From the tradition of superstitiously whistling to summon the wind (hope for the impossible). Why didn't I think of that?
"You about ready to head for home, Hetta?" Safety's voice torpedoed me from my flu med torpor.
After I'd raided Po Thang's doggy bag, I'd swiveled my desk chair to the back wall and tried to pose myself as though studying some papers in my lap. I promptly fell asleep. That Nyquil is magnificent stuff.
"Uh, yeah, sure." I swiped drool from my chin before swiveling to face him. Judging from his amused smile, I doubt I'd fooled him with that studying the papers in my lap ploy. Probably because I was snoring? And if you think you are really important at work, take a three-hour nap and see if anyone at all notices.
I excused myself for a trip to the Mujeres , where I bolstered myself with even more Nyquil, then gathered my backpack and jacket and shuffled out behind Safety. We were almost out of the office when I spotted a big poster festooned with fake flowers. Several candles were lit in front of it, illuminating Rosario's photo. I stopped dead in my tracks, studying the face I now
On the other hand, I had given Safety ample opportunity to say something like, "Yeah, I saw Rosario that night he disappeared and he was drunk, so I left him to sleep it off on the boat." Nope, instead his response was iffy at best, and in my mind, Safety's own omission threw suspicion in his corner.
No dog languished on the hillside on the way to work, and thereby no opportunity to shove Safety to his just deserts.
By midmorning I was fighting some seriously lazy eyelids, but at least I hadn't harmed anyone.
I was also starving. I'd forgotten to bring lunch and I'd already raided the communal fridge the day before and didn't want to push my luck. Mexicans are very generous, but getting caught heisting their burritos for the second time in two days might test their generosity. I didn't feel like going to the mess hall, where I'd probably do a face-plant in my refrieds anyway. Remembering the bag Jan gave me, I pulled it out of a drawer. It was labeled, Po Thang, and since I was feeling poorly, I figured I qualified.
Inside was a perfectly fine leftover ham and cheese sandwich. I justified eating Po Thang's food by telling myself I could use a little practice at being a bag lady, which, according to Oprah, a large percentage of women evidently fear becoming.
Eating the trash somehow lightened my mood, but working under the influence of Nyquil proved beyond my ability. Even with the calming benefit of Benadryl, I was slightly on edge, waiting to hear more from Jan and Rosario.
The plan for the day was for Jan to pass herself off as Rosario's sister and retrieve his stuff from a room he'd secretly rented in town. Although he officially lived at the mine's man camp, he'd figured early on that he needed a place of his own, with his personal stuff safe from prying eyes. Our Rosario, it seems, is a very clever and secretive dude who did his best to conceal that cleverness from his fellow office workers. Too bad he can't keep his mouth shut after too many beers, but who am I to talk?
The old lady who rented him the room in Santa Rosalia had no idea he worked at the mine. He'd told her he was an American tourist studying Baja's wildlife. Rosario knew his landlady had never entered his room, because he'd installed cameras and motion detectors, which Jan also retrieved. Since he was gone almost all the time anyway, the nice lady certainly had no idea he and a missing Mexican from the mine were one and the same. Especially since his disappearance was only a word of mouth occurrence in a town with no newspaper.
I had a feeling Rosario wasn't sharing all his secrets with us as yet, but who can blame him? I wouldn't trust me, either.
Chapter 13
WHISTLE FOR IT/WHISTLE FOR THE WIND (Nautical term) : From the tradition of superstitiously whistling to summon the wind (hope for the impossible). Why didn't I think of that?
"You about ready to head for home, Hetta?" Safety's voice torpedoed me from my flu med torpor.
After I'd raided Po Thang's doggy bag, I'd swiveled my desk chair to the back wall and tried to pose myself as though studying some papers in my lap. I promptly fell asleep. That Nyquil is magnificent stuff.
"Uh, yeah, sure." I swiped drool from my chin before swiveling to face him. Judging from his amused smile, I doubt I'd fooled him with that studying the papers in my lap ploy. Probably because I was snoring? And if you think you are really important at work, take a three-hour nap and see if anyone at all notices.
I excused myself for a trip to the Mujeres , where I bolstered myself with even more Nyquil, then gathered my backpack and jacket and shuffled out behind Safety. We were almost out of the office when I spotted a big poster festooned with fake flowers. Several candles were lit in front of it, illuminating Rosario's photo. I stopped dead in my tracks, studying the face I now
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