The Corpse with the Emerald Thumb by Cathy Ace

with modern technology —then she pushed a few buttons and said, “Yes, it’s the same as ours. Let me show you.”
    A few minutes later I was happily surfing the net. It was a relief: I was a big step closer to retrieving Jack’s email.
    Ada made sure I understood how to switch from TV to internet, and I turned everything off. “I’ll start when you guys have gone,” I said, as kindly as possible.
    â€œShe wants us to leave now, Frank. Put that cigar out, and she can get on with her investigating,” called Ada to her husband.
    I felt badly. I didn’t mean to kick them out, but I was desperate to get to that email. I looked at my watch. I only had five minutes before I was due to meet Al. Damn and blast!
    â€œDon’t worry, you’ve got plenty of time, dear.” Ada’s voice was pitched to soothe, but I heard annoyance as an undertone. “When people around here say that something will happen at a certain time, it’s just a vague suggestion. You’ll get used to it. Most things happen eventually, just not when you thought they would. Like I say, you’ll get used to it. In the end, it won’t even annoy you, though you’ve just arrived, so you’re still thinking like a Canadian rather than a Mexican.”
    â€œThere aren’t really a lot of Mexicans here, are there?” I ventured. “Considering we’re in Mexico, that is.” I wondered how Ada would react.
    She smiled. “You mean that the Hacienda Soleado is a bit like a theme-park version of the country, right?” I nodded. “We’re all imports here, dear, and we’ve decided how we want it to be, and we’ve made it that way. When we bought into the place and started building our houses, we all made an agreement that this would be our own vision of the world as it should be. All the best bits of Mexico, without any of the horrible things, you know. That’s how we like it. We’re a bit of a mixed bag, I suppose. We’re Canadian; Greg is from Australia originally, though he hasn’t lived there for a very long time; Dorothea, Henry, and Dean and Jean are all American—oh, you haven’t met them either, have you? Nice couple. African American. Three grown sons, all in the service. He had some sort of job with the government, something to do with supplies. Dean’s always very vague about exactly what he did—maybe it was a very boring job. They moved around a lot over the years with his job. Funny life, I should think. He says he enjoys being away from a desk. He helps Greg with the logistics for the FOGTT , you know, the Friends of Good Tequila Trust. He’s very . . .” she searched for the right word, “effusive. Always telling jokes. Big man. Big character. Big laugh. She’s not so talkative, but very nice. Keeps herself to herself a lot. They only moved here last Christmas. They bought out a nice couple from Seattle who said they wanted to move back there to be closer to the grandchildren, but, I don’t know, there was something fishy about all that. I think they needed the money so sold up fast. Anyway, when Dean and Jean arrived he threw himself into the tequila business, didn’t he, Frank?” Frank nodded dutifully. “Frank isn’t involved that much, really, just enough to stop his brain from frying in the heat, but Dean seems to love it. Taken to it like a duck to water. And Jean? She goes into PV to do that tae kwon do boxing thing. Volunteers at the American hospital in PV too. Like I say, very nice. Their house is called Casa Nova. Dean thinks that’s hilarious.” She raised her eyebrows as she spoke. “So, yes, Hacienda Soleado is a bit, well, fake , if you like. If you go down to the seafront, you’ll find that the village there is a little more authentic. It’s small, of course, and dwarfed by the new resort. I suppose these days you really have to go way