A DEAD SNAKE. Exactly what Las Serpientes would choose if they wanted to send Ben a message. But for what reason? Did he renege on a deal, shortchange them on a payment?
I can’t see it. Ben is a big lumbering guy when you meet him, built for fighting. But he’s really a coward in bully’s clothing. Not the kind of guy who’d play fast and loose with the cartel. Maybe he’s been laundering their money too quickly or dragging his heels. Did he do something to make the cartel angry, pissed off, jealous? Did they find out he was seeing another cartel behind their back?
All these thoughts are rolling around my brain the nextafternoon as I walk to the Harrison mailbox. When I open the box, I see twice the mail they usually get. Half must be there from yesterday, the Day of the Snake. It’s the usual assortment of bills, CVS flyers, offerings for Viking Cruises and Caribbean condo time-shares, and one small pink envelope addressed toALL THE HARRISONSin sweet, flowery handwriting. But the envelope seems a little puffy on the bottom. I shake it. Sure enough, there’s something inside. It sounds like sand.
My first thought:Ricin!A poison that will paralyze, then slowly kill someone from the inside out, one cell at a time. Just from touching or inhaling!
Holding the envelope by the edges, in case I need to have it dusted for fingerprints, I go inside and show it to Amber. “Do you recognize this handwriting?” I ask.
“No. Why?”
I don’t want to alarm her. “Well, when I shake the envelope, there’s some sort of powder or something inside.”
She’s seen the same true crime shows I have.
“We’ve got to call the police!” she says as she takes a step back.
“Let me open it,” I say. Amber doesn’t protest. (Yes, she likes me, but when all is said and done, I’m still just the help.) She follows me into the kitchen. I grab scissors, snip off the tiniest corner of the envelope, and cautiously tip it onto the counter. Out pours a mixture of gold glitter and pink confetti.
Amber opens the envelope. It’s an invitation to a party for Bella Velasquez’s third birthday. She breathes a sigh ofrelief. Hailey, standing there with a can of seltzer in her hand, frowns.
“Don’t expect me to go,” she says. I didn’t, but I guess Amber did.
“I’m sure it’ll be a lovely party,” Amber says. Her words carry the weight of dandelion fluff in the wind.
“Yeah. For toddlers.”
“No. It’s a catered event that’s meant for all of us. Am I right?” Amber hands me the invitation. A little note at the bottom in what must be Felicia’s handwriting says,Hailey and Carol too!I’m trying to contain my enthusiasm. What luck! A chance to snoop around the Velasquez house at their invitation.
“There will be lots of adults there,” Amber says.
“Yeah. All idiots,” Hailey says. “The perfect place for you and the baby.”
Ben walks in. He overheard Hailey’s comment.
“Now, hold on a minute, young lady,” he says. His booming voice fills the room and bounces off the walls.
“I’m not a kid, Dad.”
“And you’re certainly not a lady,” he says. “I want you to apologize to Amber.”
“I won’t!”
“Ben, really, it’s okay. She didn’t mean it. She just—”
“Apologize!” Ben yells.
“Make me!” Hailey yells back.
A few other choice words are tossed back and forth, then Hailey runs upstairs to her bedroom and slams the door. Out of spite, she then reopens it and slams it asecond time. It’s the physical equivalent of two exclamation points.
I feel uncomfortable witnessing a scene like this, but the Harrisons don’t seem to care. Amber, who’s now nursing Lily on the couch, is in tears. Ben’s face is as red as the Tickle Me Elmo propped in the corner. This can’t be good for his blood pressure or his marriage.
“That’s it,” he says to Amber. “I’m not having her treat you—us—like that.”
Amber, ever the kind one, says, “Maybe if we give her a little time—”
“She’shadtime, damn it. Over a year, and she’s worse than ever. Totally out of control.”
