Six
Clarity stretched her arms and legs and felt Lanai´s elbow on her rib and the rising sun rays in her eyes. She grabbed her watch and let her eyes focus on the dial. It was nearly ten thirty and they had slept for over nine hours. She shook Lanai and watched LT on the second bed yawn as well. After taking a shower, they had a copious breakfast at a café nearby including fresh fruit, ham, cheese and tomato omelette and several whole wheat toasts with orange marmalade. Luckily, LT had received his latest pay on the ship the day before docking and he had money on his credit card.
“What do we now?” said Lanai, “police is probably looking for us by now.”
“We look for Ms. Avenworth, she´s our only lead and we need to know what she does here in Acapulco.”
“Let´s take a taxi to the Fiesta Americana, that´s where she´s staying, it´s only ten minutes from here on Costera Avenue. I have a friend who works at Señor Frog´s, he can probably house us for a few days, but he works the dinner shift, we´ll have to meet him tonight.”
They stepped into a local taxi, driven by an unshaved man in his sixties who proudly announced he had just written a letter to the editor of the Sol de Acapulco, a local newspaper, complaining about the rising delinquency in the area.
“All these thiefs, police should put them in jail for good,” he said. Clarity and Lanai gulped at the same time.
When pressed about their own undertakings in Acapulco, Clarity told him with a few Spanish words that they were tourists with friends at the lavish hotel, labelled Gran Turismo by the Mexican Tourist Authorities.
Minutes later, they reached the Fiesta Americana car entrance and the driver stopped behind a convention of mattress salespeople who were celebrating their record sales during the annual retreat. Clarity stepped out of the taxi and looked at the majestic hotel.
The Fiesta Americana Condesa Acapulco faced one of the most beautiful beaches at the center of the Bay, and offered a stunning view to the welcomed tourists from many of its five hundred air conditioned rooms. Rooms included balconies with cocktail tables, marble bathrooms and cable tv.
They started walking behind the convention pack of salespeople and entered the hotel´s open-air lobby, which included marble floor and a fountain pool. They skipped check-in and LT suggested they check the two pools to look for Ms. Avenworth instead. Hiding discretely under a large sunshade at the hotel´s largest pool, they shared a guava-guanabana fruit smoothie with three straws and watched the sunbathers walk by. After forty five minutes, Clarity saw Ms. Avenworth enter the pool in a swimsuit, talking enthusiastically with the waiter. An hour later, Ms. Avenworth left for lunch and Clarity approached the waiter.
“That lady you were talking to earlier, do you know what she does here, she looked so elegant.” The waiter seemed surprised at the question but Clarity held his stare.
“That woman, her name is June Avenworth, I know she stays here and she gives good tips. She always asks for a new cocktail, never the same. If you want to know more about her, you should talk to our concierge Maximiliano, he knows everybody here.”
Clarity thanked the waiter and they walked together to see Maximiliano at the concierge desk, a slightly overweight man who welcomed them immediately.
“Let me guess, you would like a nice activity plan for three people for the rest of the day, may I suggest a round of golf, followed by some parasailing, and a nice dinner at our Chulavista restaurant, or a private tour of Acapulco by me…”
“Thank you, we´re looking for somebody, and a waiter here told us you could help us, a certain Miss Avenworth, June Avenworth.”
Maximiliano winced at the request, pulling up his vest and placing the vest pocket on the counter in front of Clarity, who caught on and slipped five dollars inside.
“Ms. Avenworth, yes, I know her, she comes here often, in fact she lives here for about seven months a year. She has an odd profession.” The concierge stopped talking and his vest pocket moved forward, as if pushed by an invisible hand underneath. Clarity slipped a second five dollar bill.
“Gracias señorita, yes, an odd profession indeed, Ms. Avenworth is a professional taster, a super taster in fact.”
“A super taster,” said Clarity, surprised by the concept.
“Yes, she makes money by creating and tasting new drinks.”