Read Online Down Among the Dead Men (A Thriller) by Robert Gregory Browne - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robert Gregory Browne
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night.”
“Oh, brother.” Beth rose again, moved to the dresser, and started pulling out her underwear.
“I’m trying to tell you something here, Beth. Can you at least give me the courtesy of listening?”
“I have absolutely no interest in anything remotely related to those two.”
“Just listen, okay?”
Beth sighed, threw a fistful of bras and panties into the suitcase, and sat again.
“Okay, I’m listening.”
“Promise not to laugh?”
“I promise,” Beth said, and waited for Jen to tell her story.
21
J EN TOOK A breath.
“By the time Marta showed up, Rafael was pretty much passed out, so she and I spent a lot of time talking. She told me she’s what they call a bruja. ”
“A what?”
“A bruja. A witch.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
Jen shook her head. “She says she has powers, including the ability to communicate with the dead.”
“I’ll bet that comes in handy.”
Jen frowned. “It’s not a joke, Beth. After last night I’m convinced it’s true. She’s psychic. Knows things that are impossible for her to know.”
“Like what?”
“Stuff about my love life. About Mom and Dad. About me being…” She paused. “About a lot of things. Like she was inside my head.”
Beth stared at her. It took everything she had to keep from rolling her eyes. Over the years she’d run across more than a few so-called psychics. Every one of them had been a con artist.
“Have you ever heard of a cold reading?”
Jen shook her head again.
“It’s a technique used by people who claim to be psychic,” Beth said. “They extract information from you without you realizing it. Ask leading questions. Study your body language. It’s all designed to make you think they have special powers. But the only real power they have is the ability to extract money from your wallet.”
“That’s not true. Marta didn’t ask me for a cent.”
“Not yet. But if you keep hanging around with her, it’ll happen. Believe me.”
“Why are you always such a cynic?”
“Not a cynic,” Beth said. “A realist.” She reached across and took Jen’s hands in hers. “I know you miss them. Mom and Dad. I do, too. But Marta can no more communicate with them than we can. And if you let her convince you that she has some supernatural power, you’re only gonna be dis—”
A bell rang over the loudspeaker in the hallway.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen; this is your purser speaking. We have now docked in Playa Azul, Mexico, and will begin debarking in five minutes.”
Beth released Jen’s hands and stood. “That’s my cue.”
Jen grabbed her arm. “Don’t go, Beth. Please don’t go.”
“I have to,” Beth said. “I’m sorry. But I can’t deal with—”
“I promise to be good. No more me, me, me. From now on this vacation is all about you.”
“We both know that won’t happen.”
“I promise. I swear to God. And if I step out of line, you can kick my ass.”
“Punching, kicking—what’s gotten into you?”
“I just want you to stay, okay? Leave your suitcase here and we’ll go into town and do some shopping. You love to shop.”
Beth sighed. “I also hate it when you beg.”
“Does that mean you’ll stay?”
Beth thought it over and, against her better judgment, nodded. “All right. One last chance.”
“Hooray!” Jen said, pulling her into a hug. “And when we’re done shopping, let’s go to Armando’s for some Jell-O and tequila shots.”
Beth pulled away abruptly, glared at her.
Jen grinned. “I’m kidding, ” she said. “Just kidding.”
22
Vargas
A CCORDING TO THE placard on his chest, the Border Patrol agent’s name was S. Harmon.
Sam? Steven? Stan?
It didn’t much matter. He was a fastidious-looking guy in a crisp army green uniform, with neatly trimmed graying hair and a pleasant but cautious smile.
He was hard to read, and Vargas got the impression that he was the type of guy who liked to play his cards close and would
“Oh, brother.” Beth rose again, moved to the dresser, and started pulling out her underwear.
“I’m trying to tell you something here, Beth. Can you at least give me the courtesy of listening?”
“I have absolutely no interest in anything remotely related to those two.”
“Just listen, okay?”
Beth sighed, threw a fistful of bras and panties into the suitcase, and sat again.
“Okay, I’m listening.”
“Promise not to laugh?”
“I promise,” Beth said, and waited for Jen to tell her story.
21
J EN TOOK A breath.
“By the time Marta showed up, Rafael was pretty much passed out, so she and I spent a lot of time talking. She told me she’s what they call a bruja. ”
“A what?”
“A bruja. A witch.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
Jen shook her head. “She says she has powers, including the ability to communicate with the dead.”
“I’ll bet that comes in handy.”
Jen frowned. “It’s not a joke, Beth. After last night I’m convinced it’s true. She’s psychic. Knows things that are impossible for her to know.”
“Like what?”
“Stuff about my love life. About Mom and Dad. About me being…” She paused. “About a lot of things. Like she was inside my head.”
Beth stared at her. It took everything she had to keep from rolling her eyes. Over the years she’d run across more than a few so-called psychics. Every one of them had been a con artist.
“Have you ever heard of a cold reading?”
Jen shook her head again.
“It’s a technique used by people who claim to be psychic,” Beth said. “They extract information from you without you realizing it. Ask leading questions. Study your body language. It’s all designed to make you think they have special powers. But the only real power they have is the ability to extract money from your wallet.”
“That’s not true. Marta didn’t ask me for a cent.”
“Not yet. But if you keep hanging around with her, it’ll happen. Believe me.”
“Why are you always such a cynic?”
“Not a cynic,” Beth said. “A realist.” She reached across and took Jen’s hands in hers. “I know you miss them. Mom and Dad. I do, too. But Marta can no more communicate with them than we can. And if you let her convince you that she has some supernatural power, you’re only gonna be dis—”
A bell rang over the loudspeaker in the hallway.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen; this is your purser speaking. We have now docked in Playa Azul, Mexico, and will begin debarking in five minutes.”
Beth released Jen’s hands and stood. “That’s my cue.”
Jen grabbed her arm. “Don’t go, Beth. Please don’t go.”
“I have to,” Beth said. “I’m sorry. But I can’t deal with—”
“I promise to be good. No more me, me, me. From now on this vacation is all about you.”
“We both know that won’t happen.”
“I promise. I swear to God. And if I step out of line, you can kick my ass.”
“Punching, kicking—what’s gotten into you?”
“I just want you to stay, okay? Leave your suitcase here and we’ll go into town and do some shopping. You love to shop.”
Beth sighed. “I also hate it when you beg.”
“Does that mean you’ll stay?”
Beth thought it over and, against her better judgment, nodded. “All right. One last chance.”
“Hooray!” Jen said, pulling her into a hug. “And when we’re done shopping, let’s go to Armando’s for some Jell-O and tequila shots.”
Beth pulled away abruptly, glared at her.
Jen grinned. “I’m kidding, ” she said. “Just kidding.”
22
Vargas
A CCORDING TO THE placard on his chest, the Border Patrol agent’s name was S. Harmon.
Sam? Steven? Stan?
It didn’t much matter. He was a fastidious-looking guy in a crisp army green uniform, with neatly trimmed graying hair and a pleasant but cautious smile.
He was hard to read, and Vargas got the impression that he was the type of guy who liked to play his cards close and would
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