He picked up his camera and returned to the hotel. Halfway across the bridge, he paused and looked towards the open-air restaurant, shaded under a canopy of straw. Nearly all the tables were occupied. The Mexican waiters, carrying trays of exotic food, were moving around the tables with the precision of oiled, well ordered machines. Fat American women, wearing grotesque flowered sun hats and in boned swimming suits bulged over in their chairs and across their tables. Hairy old men in swim trunks with bellies on their knees shouted cheerfully to one another from table to table.
Finally he saw her. She was at a table with a tall, lean Mexican: a man around sixty-five with a thin, aristocratic face, thick white hair and hard blue eyes. He wore an impeccable yachting blazer, white flannel trousers, a white silk shirt and a Club tie: an anachronism amongst the undressed flesh around him.
Cade stared at the man, then with a sudden feeling of depression, he continued across the bridge. He made a deliberate detour to avoid passing anywhere close to their table. He had planned to have a simple lunch, but now he was no longer hungry. Instead, he went up to his room.
On entering the room, he noticed for the first time that there was a communicating door between his room and the adjacent room. It was bolted on his side and he was sure it would be bolted on the other side.
She had told him she had moved into this adjacent room, so sometime tonight, they could have easy access if that was in her mind.
He lay on the bed, disturbed and excited.
Who was the man with her? Her father? Her husband? Her lover?
The telephone bell startled him. Frowning, he scooped up the receiver.
“Mr. Sam Wand of New York is calling you, sir,” the operator told him. “Shall I connect you?”
It could only be a new assignment, probably miles away from Acapulco. Cade looked across the room at the communicating door. He thought of her long rope of hair, her full breasts and the way she had smiled at him.
“No,” he said. “Please tell him I am away for a week. I have left no forwarding address. Would you do that for me?”
Because he was Cade and famous, the operator giggled excitedly. In a conspirator’s whisper she said she would take care of it and broke the connection.
That evening, Cade drove in his rented Jeep to La Gama restaurant which faced El Morror beach. He had arranged the previous day to have dinner with Ricardo Oroseo, the gossip columnist of the Acapulco News.
Oroseo had interviewed him on his arrival. Cade had liked him and had been happy to accept Oroseo’s invitation to dinner.
He found the columnist waiting for him: a small, wiry Mexican of uncertain age who wore his white tuxedo with considerable dash and whose dark complexioned face was constantly wreathed in smiles.
They had a sea-food meal. During the meal they chatted of this and that, and it wasn’t until coffee was being served that Cade decided to make use of Oroseo’s knowledge of the V.I.P. tourists.
“There’s a Mexican staying at the Hilton,” he said, stirring his coffee. “I was wondering if you know who he is. A tall, thin man of about sixty-five. He has thick white hair and blue eyes. When I saw him, he was wearing...”
“I know who he is,” Oroseo broke in, and he regarded Cade with an amused expression on his face. “So he interests you, amigo? Is that really true? Would it not be more honest and nearer the truth if you said his little companion is the one who has caught your eye?”
Cade grinned.
“You’re too sharp for me. Anyway, who is he?”
“His name is Manuel Barreda. He owns a shipping line and he operates from Veracruz. He is extremely wealthy. He has an invalid wife, three sons in business and a daughter who is married to the President of the Bank of Yucatan.”
Cade was a little startled. He sipped his coffee while he digested this information.
“Is that his daughter with him?” he asked finally.
This question convulsed Oroseo with silent laughter. While he beat his knee with his brown hand and mopped his eyes with a handkerchief, Cade waited patiently.
“Excuse me,” Oroseo said when he had recovered himself. “No, that is not his daughter. If you had seen his daughter, you would understand why I am so amused. Mr. Cade, his daughter is a very large woman; very respectable, you understand; but extremely large. They say she uses a melon net to support her bosom. Her derrière...”
“Never mind her derrière. Who is the girl with him?”
“Ah!” Oroseo shook his head. “If I were given a ten dollar bill for every time I have been asked this question I would be able to buy the Mercedes I long for. Every day, every hour, since she has been here, I am asked who she is.”
“That still doesn’t tell me,” Cade said.
“Her name is Juana Roca.”
“That’s something I have found out for myself. Who is she and what is she?”
“I know what she is,” Oroseo said and shook his head. “She is the present mistress of Senor Barreda. There can be no doubt about that, but who she is becomes more difficult. I have made inquiries. Before she met Senor Barreda, she was a dancer at the San Diego Club in Mexico City. She is known to have been very friendly with the bull fighters. Or perhaps it would be fairer to say that the bull fighters are known to have been very friendly with her.” He tapped his short nose as he smiled at Cade. “There is a subtle difference. It could mean that the bull fighters, although very friendly with her, did not get far with their intentions. I don’t have to tell you about the intentions of bull fighters when they see a woman as beautiful as Juana Roca, do I?”
“No.”
“Nor do I have to enlarge on the intentions of a brilliant, talented photographer who obviously is interested in her?”
Cade finished his coffee.
“Let’s have some more of this. Mexican coffee is really excellent.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Oroseo smiled happily. He snapped his fingers at a passing waiter. There was a pause while their cups were refilled.
Cade asked, “What is Senor Barreda doing here? I would have thought he would have been too occupied with his ships to be in Acapulco.”
“Yes, you would have thought so, wouldn’t you?” Oroseo looked reflective. “But no one should jump to conclusions. Actually, he is recovering from a heart attack. His doctors advised the sun of Acapulco. So he is here. His sons are dealing with the ships for the moment.”
“A heart attack?”
“Quite severe. There were distinct moments of acute danger.”
Cade turned this over in his mind. Oroseo anticipated his next question by saying, “You are wondering how it is that an old man with a bad heart is staying at the Hilton Hotel with a beautiful, vigorous young woman like Juana Roca. Isn’t that what you were wondering?”
“It did occur to me,” Cade said, smiling at Oroseo.
“But women as beautiful as this one inspire risks. It is really very simple and not unheroic. At home, Senor Barreda would be in difficulties. At Acapulco, no one pays attention to love affairs. It is obviously worth the risk to him.”
“I suppose it is,” Cade said and felt suddenly deflated.
If Barreda was prepared to risk his life for Juana Roca, Cade felt he had no right to intrude even though Juana had taken the trouble to change her room. He had a sudden admiration for the old man. He felt it would be in the worst possible taste to spoil such a dangerous honeymoon.
He shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, so much for Senor Barreda and his mistress. Let’s go. How about a drive up to the mountain?”
Oroseo called for the bill.
“It is impossible. I have to return to the office.” He signed the bill with a flourish. “Mr. Cade, may I give you some advice? I never give advice usually, but I like you. My advice is this: there are many women in Mexico, so be careful who you choose to amuse you. It is said in Mexico City that Juana Roca is fatal to men. She is our modern Carmen. Two bull fighters have already died because of her. You can’t fight a good bull successfully if your mind is preoccupied with a woman. It would be better for you to look elsewhere. With that suggestion, Mr. Cade, I leave you. Be careful. Not tomorrow nor the day after, but now. If you are careful now, you will avoid trouble. Remember that a woman’s beauty can often be the tempting bait that covers a barbed hook.” He shook hands with Cade. “I have the greatest admiration for your work. Let us meet again very soon.”