Day of the Dead Read Online Free PDF Page B

retaliation.
    Michelle felt dizzy. She closed her eyes. Clutched her drink. Took another long sip through the plastic straw. Like a pineapple milkshake.
    â€˜Fucking Sinaloa cowboys,’ someone said. ‘They ought to put an electric fence around that whole shithole state. Save us all a lot of trouble.’
    â€˜Guerrero,’ Michelle said. ‘They were from Guerrero.’
    â€˜It’s just really sad.’ Vicky’s eyes glistened. ‘I hate seeing this kind of thing happen in Vallarta.’
    â€˜If this were St Louis, or New Orleans, no one would even blink,’ Charlie said. ‘But here in paradise we expect everything to be perfect.’
    â€˜Oh, come on,’ the Asian man said – American, Michelle amended, from his accent. ‘Machine guns? Grenade launchers?’
    â€˜I’m talking about a few robberies, not
narcos
killing each other.’
    â€˜This town depends on tourists and foreign residents. If crime gets out of control and people stop coming here, everyone is fucked. Right down to your favorite Babaloo on the beach selling shrimp on a stick.’
    Michelle’s head hurt. Probably from all the cheap rum and sugar. She really wanted to go back to the hotel and sleep, even though the sun had barely set.
    â€˜Gary, Vicky tells me you might have Danny’s address,’ she said.
    â€˜I might.’
    Gary smiled, pushing his pillowy cheeks up to meet his puffy eyes. Like a debauched cherub, Michelle thought. ‘You want to check up on him? See how he’s doing?’
    â€˜No.’ She pushed down the urge to snap off some hostile response. ‘I mean yes, but mainly I have some of his things. His phone. And I think he has mine.’
    â€˜Ah.’ From his little smirk, she wondered if he believed her. He appeared to consider. ‘Well, I think I can help you out,’ he finally said. ‘Anybody have a pen?’
    Vicky did.
    He extracted a business card from his wallet and scribbled on its back. ‘This isn’t the exact address, but any cabdriver will be able to find it.’ He held it out to her, fingertips brushing hers when she took it. ‘I wouldn’t go there tonight, though. I don’t think he’s home right now. Try him tomorrow.’ The smirk again. ‘Not too early.’
    She glanced at the front of the card. Plain black letters on white linen – nice design and good-quality paper.
    Gary Wallace. Trinity Consulting. A cell-phone number. An e-mail address.
    â€˜Thanks.’ She stood up, unsteady from the rum. ‘I’d better get going,’ she said. ‘Thanks for the drinks.’
    Vicky rose with her and gave her a hug. ‘This is a good place,’ she said in Michelle’s ear. ‘Don’t let what happened spoil Vallarta for you.’

CHAPTER FOUR
    â€˜I think you will want to take a cab,’ the woman at the front desk told her after looking at the address written on Gary’s card. ‘It is a ways from here, and up the hill.’
    â€˜But close enough to walk?’
    â€˜If you like walking.’
    Between last night’s drinks and the margarita she’d just had at lunch, she could use the walk. ‘I do.’
    â€˜Maybe two miles.’
    I could take some pictures, she thought. Like she’d set out to do yesterday, before Daniel’s phone rang.
    She went back to her room, grabbed the Che bag with Daniel’s clothes, retrieved her Olympus E-3 from the hotel safe, and set off, heading south from the hotel, up a road that curved around the hill.
    The heat made it hard to keep walking. It felt like being smothered in a steaming-hot blanket. Sweat dripped into her eyes, smeared her sunglasses when she pushed them onto her head. And trying to take pictures while juggling her purse and the Che bag was awkward. The camera, which usually fit so comfortably in her hand, slipped in her grip.
    Nothing was going to go right today.
    She