Of Dolphins and Desires

Chapter 4

4

The Senator opened the French doors where Logan was stunned by what Courtney had just shared. How did she know the General was crooked? Which researchers at the university in Mexico City were on his payroll? And why was it so important to her that they not get their hands on her dolphins?

“There you two are. The General has just left, and the Mayor and his wife wanted to speak with you before they returned home. Come inside.” The Senator swung the door wide, and Logan placed his hand at Courtney’s back as he urged her into the game room.

“Señorita Swanson, thank you for a wonderful evening. I’m glad you will be in town for a while. The niños are so excited that you will be attending the library tomorrow.” Mrs. Rodriguez gripped Courtney’s hand in both of hers, her genuine smile contagious.

Courtney smiled back. “I miss los niños. I’ll see you tomorrow at three.”

She released Mrs. Rodriguez’s hand, smiled at the Mayor, and walked them to the front door. Closing it behind them, she leaned her back up against the heavy oak and blew a tendril of hair out of her face.

Professor Perkins, it seemed, would be staying awhile longer. She watched her father pour him another seltzer water and add a fresh slice of lime. Doing her best to ignore the grains of sand inside her shoes, she adjusted her dress slightly as she returned to hear what kept the Professor so late.

“… a great benefit. Graduated at the top of her class. Didn’t want to stay and use the U.S. waters. Remarkable, really, what she proposes.” Senator Swanson sipped from his glass.

“So, how did you come to invite Professor Perkins to tonight’s gathering?” Courtney asked her father. She wasn’t convinced that the Englishman was all he proclaimed to be.

“My colleague in Washington State, Senator Tim Flannery, knew of Professor Perkins and his work with UW in Seattle. Of course, they were lucky to snatch him away from the London school. Since the two of you are in the same field, I thought he might be able to offer some assistance with the final stages of your research. Help you finish in a reasonable amount of time.” He finished the golden liquid in his glass.

“The research is mine. There is no exact time schedule working with animals.” She narrowed her eyes at her father. “The more you rush me, the longer it will take.” Tipping her head to the side, she asked, “Why is it so important to you that I finish quickly?”

The Senator poured another two fingers of the liquid into his glass. “I’d just like to see you earn your Ph.D. Plus, I know your findings can have far-reaching effects,” he sipped. She would never know how much he had riding on her published dissertation.

“Perhaps, if it is o’right with you, Ms. Swanson, I could take a look at what you have, and since I’ll be in town for a few days, offer whatever assistance I can.” Logan set his water on the wet bar, then glanced at Courtney, an eyebrow raised. Would she take the bait? He wondered.

Courtney curved up one corner of her mouth clasping her hands behind her. “I believe we’ve established your diving certificate. How about you join me and meet the pod?” She would see for herself if he was what he claimed.

“That sounds fantastic.” Logan beamed a smile.

“Day after tomorrow. Pier three at the harbor in town. Noon.” She quirked an eyebrow and added, “And they do love to play with new toys,” hoping he’d get the message.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Logan said as he made his way to the front door. “Thank you for the engaging conversation, Ms. Swanson. I’ll see you at the pier.”

Courtney followed him to the door, her father a few steps behind them.

“Goodnight, Senator. Thank you for a wonderful evening,” he offered his hand to the Senator, who shook it with a false smile on his face.

Logan wondered if that was something Swanson was born with or practiced when he ran for office. He nodded to Courtney and stepped through the door.

Logan ignored the vibrating of his cell phone until he heard the click of the lock behind him. Fishing it out from his jacket pocket, he flipped it open as he climbed into the front of his Tahoe. “Phelps.”

“What’s the status,” came the disembodied female request.

“Day after tomorrow, we go for a swim.” Logan eased the vehicle down the long drive to the road that led to his hotel in town.

“And the local fish?”

“Dirty. I don’t know how much. As is the big fish.” How he hated not having a secure phone, but after his last assignment, HQ didn’t want to take any chances that the leak would know where he was or what he was doing there by tapping into his phone frequency.

“Stay on it.”

“Just one thing,” he slipped in before the silence of disconnection. “I need a prop.”

“What?”

“A prop. For authentication of the final stages.” He hoped he was getting through. Molly was usually good about figuring out what he was saying when he couldn’t come right out and ask.

“Deliver some flowers,” was the response.

“You’re the best, Mols.” Logan flipped the phone closed, and fifteen minutes later he pulled into the parking lot of the hotel where he was staying for this assignment.

He retrieved his duffel from the back, set the alarm on the SUV, and made his way up the stairs to his room that overlooked the parking lot and the road from La Casa. Stretching the chain across the door, then taking one of the chairs and placing it under the doorknob, he felt relatively relaxed. Walking to the bedside table, he placed the automatic and its belt holster on the top, along with his fake glasses, then bent over to remove his ankle holster, which joined the rest of his gear next to the bed. He shed the coat, the tie, and unbuttoned the collar and first few buttons of his shirt. Logan pulled his laptop from his duffel, powered it on, then waited while it searched for the hotel’s Internet system. Rolling up his sleeves and kicking off his shoes, he knew he would get very little sleep tonight. Positioning himself on the remaining chair pulled up to the small table that sat in front of the tiny wall air conditioner just under the window, Logan settled in for a marathon session of dolphin behavior, and reviewing and updating the files on the key players he’d met at La Casa.

Courtney turned to her father. “That went well. If you consider the grilling of your daughter by a crooked military man ‘well’.”

“You can’t be making statements like that. The General has a legitimate concern for this part of the Coast.”

She placed her hands on her hips. “Maybe because he gets a piece of the action.”

“You will cease these accusations. Your mother and I did not raise you to make generalizations about people. The General and I are both eager for the completion of your project.” He finished what was in his glass, keeping his eyes on his daughter. “I’m glad that you decided to take Professor Perkins up on his offer of assistance.” He glanced at the Grandfather clock, saying, “I have a phone call to make,” then turned and left Courtney standing at the base of the stairs.

The fight had gone out of her at the mention of her mother. He knew what effect it would have on her, and he used it whenever he wanted to end a disagreement. She turned toward the stairs and climbed slowly to her room.

She was an only child and loved completely by her mother. When she was nine, her mother became ill. There were countless trips to hospitals and doctors. Tests were given and results were discussed. Each medical doctor shook their head when a question of prognosis was raised. Experimental drugs and therapies were tried, and some even helped for a while. Her mother, once so vibrant and alive, had a gentle laugh that crinkled the corners of her blue eyes. She never tired of answering her curious daughter’s numerous questions about everything.

Eventually, Lillian, her mother, could no longer walk on her own, her muscles atrophying as the disease ate away at her. She came to La Casa because she loved the beach and the warm air. Her husband, busy with his budding political career, stayed in the States and only flew down when Maria called to say she needed a walker, a wheelchair, and then a medical bed.

Courtney refused to leave her mother’s side. Screaming and clinging to the bed rails, her eyes, so like her mother’s, wide and tear-filled at the thought that if she left, her mother would die. She stayed, as Maria couldn’t bring herself to separate the girl from her mother, and Lillian died anyway.

Looking in the bathroom mirror, blinking at the bright light, Courtney saw the tears on her cheeks. For two years, she watched her mother’s spirit shrivel as fast as her body, and all these years later, it could still bring out the hollowness that was created at her mother’s grave.

She kicked out of the offending shoes and stripped off the dress. Grabbing the soap, she scrubbed at the make-up and tears that stained her face, then crawled, exhausted, into bed. Her fitful sleep was filled with images of a laughing blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman, a stoic, power-driven man, and crashing waves.