car.” He grinned at her. “First things first.”
[CHAPTER SEVEN]
“The consulate called me.”
“I don’t understand,” Michelle repeated. “I didn’t call them.”
They rode in Gary’s car, a black Land Cruiser with tinted windows, looping around the airport on the highway, heading north. Leather seats. Gary seemed to do pretty well with his consulting, whatever it was.
“Mexican authorities are supposed to contact the consulate when they take an American citizen into custody,” Gary explained. “That doesn’t happen a lot of places, but Puerto Vallarta’s better than most.”
“And the consulate called you?”
“I help them out now and again. I’ve got some experience with Mexican law.”
“I see.”
She must have sounded skeptical. Hell, she was skeptical.
“Well, their staffing’s not what it should be,” Gary said. “Not always enough to help out Americans in trouble. And when they mentioned your name, of course I wanted to do what I could.”
The sign on the two-lane highway said they were headingtoward Tepic, wherever that was. The surrounding landscape was flat, green splotched with brown, broken up by the occasional gas station, cinder-block building and cluster of scrubby palms. There was a lot of traffic, and the Land Cruiser’s air-conditioning could not entirely filter out the raw diesel fumes from the buses in front of them.
“Where are we going?”
“Thought you might want to shower and change your clothes.” He tilted his head over his shoulder. “Your stuff’s in the trunk.”
They drove awhile in silence, the air conditioner drying the sweat on her skin to salt. Dirt from the jail powdered her arms and legs. Probably the rest of her as well.
“What’s my situation?” she finally asked. “Am I out on bail or … or what?”
“Looks like they won’t be filing charges. At least not yet.”
“What does that mean, ‘not yet’? Do I need to get a lawyer?”
“Well, you got me,” he said, turning to smile at her. “And right now that’s enough to keep you out of jail.”
“I don’t understand.”
He turned back to watch the road, left hand on the wheel, right arm resting on the center console, hand drifting close to her thigh. “You know, in Mexico you’re guilty till proven innocent. If they’d charged you, the bail would’ve been pretty substantial. Or maybe they wouldn’t have granted bail at all. Depends on the charges and the judge. Then the trial … well, it can take a while for the trial to even begin. A year’s not unusual. You know the percentage of folks in Mexican prisons who haven’t been convicted of anything? Then the sentences …” His plump lips parted slightly as his smile broadened. “Not a nice situation, especially not for a woman like you.”
“As opposed to a woman like someone else?” The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them.
Gary chuckled. “You’re a cool customer, Michelle. I sussed that out about you right away.”
They turned off the main highway and took a sudden turn tothe left, toward the coast. Now they traveled on a two-lane road landscaped with evenly spaced palm trees. Michelle glimpsed tennis courts, swimming pools, brightly painted townhouses shaped like honeycombs.
“Here’s what I don’t understand: What was someone like you doing with cocaine? I’d of thought you’d know better.”
“It wasn’t mine.” She didn’t know if Gary would believe her or not, and she honestly didn’t care. “Somebody planted it. Probably the policeman.”
“A shakedown? Then how’d you end up in jail?” He shook his head. “Maybe you ought to think about how else those drugs might’ve gotten into your purse.”
Michelle remained silent. She didn’t have an explanation. Nothing made sense, no matter how she looked at it.
Gary sighed. “You gotta be careful, hanging out with guys like Danny. Not that you had any way of knowing that.”
Daniel could have done it.
She felt
[CHAPTER SEVEN]
“The consulate called me.”
“I don’t understand,” Michelle repeated. “I didn’t call them.”
They rode in Gary’s car, a black Land Cruiser with tinted windows, looping around the airport on the highway, heading north. Leather seats. Gary seemed to do pretty well with his consulting, whatever it was.
“Mexican authorities are supposed to contact the consulate when they take an American citizen into custody,” Gary explained. “That doesn’t happen a lot of places, but Puerto Vallarta’s better than most.”
“And the consulate called you?”
“I help them out now and again. I’ve got some experience with Mexican law.”
“I see.”
She must have sounded skeptical. Hell, she was skeptical.
“Well, their staffing’s not what it should be,” Gary said. “Not always enough to help out Americans in trouble. And when they mentioned your name, of course I wanted to do what I could.”
The sign on the two-lane highway said they were headingtoward Tepic, wherever that was. The surrounding landscape was flat, green splotched with brown, broken up by the occasional gas station, cinder-block building and cluster of scrubby palms. There was a lot of traffic, and the Land Cruiser’s air-conditioning could not entirely filter out the raw diesel fumes from the buses in front of them.
“Where are we going?”
“Thought you might want to shower and change your clothes.” He tilted his head over his shoulder. “Your stuff’s in the trunk.”
They drove awhile in silence, the air conditioner drying the sweat on her skin to salt. Dirt from the jail powdered her arms and legs. Probably the rest of her as well.
“What’s my situation?” she finally asked. “Am I out on bail or … or what?”
“Looks like they won’t be filing charges. At least not yet.”
“What does that mean, ‘not yet’? Do I need to get a lawyer?”
“Well, you got me,” he said, turning to smile at her. “And right now that’s enough to keep you out of jail.”
“I don’t understand.”
He turned back to watch the road, left hand on the wheel, right arm resting on the center console, hand drifting close to her thigh. “You know, in Mexico you’re guilty till proven innocent. If they’d charged you, the bail would’ve been pretty substantial. Or maybe they wouldn’t have granted bail at all. Depends on the charges and the judge. Then the trial … well, it can take a while for the trial to even begin. A year’s not unusual. You know the percentage of folks in Mexican prisons who haven’t been convicted of anything? Then the sentences …” His plump lips parted slightly as his smile broadened. “Not a nice situation, especially not for a woman like you.”
“As opposed to a woman like someone else?” The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them.
Gary chuckled. “You’re a cool customer, Michelle. I sussed that out about you right away.”
They turned off the main highway and took a sudden turn tothe left, toward the coast. Now they traveled on a two-lane road landscaped with evenly spaced palm trees. Michelle glimpsed tennis courts, swimming pools, brightly painted townhouses shaped like honeycombs.
“Here’s what I don’t understand: What was someone like you doing with cocaine? I’d of thought you’d know better.”
“It wasn’t mine.” She didn’t know if Gary would believe her or not, and she honestly didn’t care. “Somebody planted it. Probably the policeman.”
“A shakedown? Then how’d you end up in jail?” He shook his head. “Maybe you ought to think about how else those drugs might’ve gotten into your purse.”
Michelle remained silent. She didn’t have an explanation. Nothing made sense, no matter how she looked at it.
Gary sighed. “You gotta be careful, hanging out with guys like Danny. Not that you had any way of knowing that.”
Daniel could have done it.
She felt
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