Cappuccino Twist Read Online Free PDF

harassment from Dario or Luz as I trudged back to the hotel for an afternoon siesta.  Cautiously, I looked around me on the street, afraid that the man with soulless eyes would appear at any moment and unnerve me with another frigid glare.  My gut told me that he was the one who had penned the threatening note.  But I had no explanation as to why he would do it, who he was, or how he could possibly know who I was. 
    Talisa waved to me as I walked past the front desk, but I ignored her, still angry from how callously she had treated me the day before.  Inside my room, I clamored for the Queen size bed and threw myself onto the lumpy mattress.  Instead of shutting my eyes and catching some sorely needed zzz’s, I reached for my grandmother’s envelope and reinspected the contents, hoping I would notice something I had overlooked.
    There was nothing new to be found on the list, just the name of a miserable old man and the monikers of two dead men whose families I still had to track down.  The idea of employing Señora Marquez’s help again was less than appealing, but so far she was the only person in Barcelona who had shown any interest in assisting me.  So I couldn’t rule her out just yet, as irritating and overbearing as the woman was.
    The newspaper clipping practically disintegrated in my hands as I strained to read the faded words.  May 2, 1962.  Mere days after my aunt had been murdered.  Squinting until I was sure I would give myself cataracts, I read the vague words of the article.  Then, I jumped in surprise, noting two sentences in the article that had been underlined in fresh blue ink.
     

    Chapter 5
    The ink color was an exact match with the handwritten list my grandmother had provided.  And the underline was squiggly as if someone with a shaky hand had struggled to trace a straight line.  In my jetlagged haze, I must not have noticed the key information that Nana had highlighted for me:
    Silvia Falcon was found murdered late Saturday night in her home.  At this time, the investigation is ongoing and police are not revealing any further details about the manner of death.
    I let the words marinate in my mind for a few moments as I tried to conjecture why my grandmother had underlined those two particular sentences.  It didn’t take me long to deduce that she had wanted to emphasize how no further information had been revealed, which meant that the general public didn’t know if my aunt had been stabbed or strangled…or smothered, which is the scenario that I knew to be true.  So if one of the suspects let it slip during my interrogation that he had smothered Silvia to death, that would be the equivalent of a confession because only the immediate family like my grandmother had been not ified about the manner of death!
    Furious with myself for diving into the investigation without a life vest, I wished that I could erase my meeting with Marcelo Sanchez and do it all over again.  The right way. Organized, methodical, patient…not like some overeager amateur who just hopped off a plane and was still operating on East Coast time.  I contemplated returning to the man’s house to try to extract more information, but his threat of calling the police was like a Beware of Dog sign warning me not to tangle with the Doberman Pinscher beyond the fence. 
    I blew out a frustrated breath, brainstorming how I would get Marcelo Sanchez to talk to me again.  Undeniably, it would be foolhardy to go back to his apartment today with the disastrous meeting still fresh in his mind.  But maybe if I waited a week or so, his short-term memory would fail him and it would be like he was meeting me for the first time.  Tucking this idea away, I turned to the second name on my list: Jorge Canton.  Although he was no longer living, perhaps his family would talk to me.  I glanced at the address that Señora Marquez had printed for me.  The residence belonged to a woman named Jacinta Canton, presumably Jorge’s