Free Songs for Perri by Nancy Radke Page A

to get some help from Uncle Sam, and they agreed."
    "Oh. Then I'm not needed?"
    "No. Come on back. We don't know what's going on there...but it's probably dangerous. You need to get out of that area."
    "Have you heard from Walt?"
    "Yes."
    "Could I have his phone number?"
    "No."
    "An address then?"
    "No. He didn't give me one."
    Frustrated, Perri said "Good bye," and abruptly hung up. Had her father told Luke Rogers to deny her information? Or was Luke doing it on his own?
    She would go home...but only after she had contacted Owen's friend. He'd need to know that the government had sent men down to help Owen. She could have him get in touch with Luke, who could in turn help him contact the two government men. Or Papa. Was he actually here, too? How maddening it was to be kept in the dark. If she left, Owen would have no way of contacting his father. If she stayed, Papa would surely contact her to see why she was still here.
    Shaking her head in doubt over the best course of action, she finally decided to remain in Mazatlan until she heard from Papa again.
    And as soon as her credit card arrived, she would pay Hugo back with money, nothing else. She would make it a point to tell him so, just in case he had any wild ideas inside that arrogant head of his. Dialing the front desk, she asked them to ring his room, but there was no answer.
    Hugo was a trusting soul, she thought in bewilderment, as she placed the money into her purse. Or else so rich that five hundred to him was like ten to her. He hadn't acted very rich yesterday—taking the bus and eating at that small cafe—nor dressed that way; but some truly wealthy men didn't.
    Still, he couldn't be poor and stay very long at this place. It was puzzling.
    Dressing quickly, Perri left the hotel, nodding a cheery good morning to "Junior" who was idling outside on the sidewalk, a map of Mazatlan in his hand.
    "Having fun?" he asked.
    "Yes." What else was she to say? That she had never felt so alone in her life?
    "I was wondering...I don't want to tour Mazatlan by myself. Care to go with me?"
    "Not today, thanks."
    "How about an early lunch?"
    "No. Thanks. I've other plans."
    "You have friends staying here? Someone you're meeting?"
    "Not really." Her impatience must have shown, for he shrugged, wished her luck and went on his way.
    Taking a taxi to the cafe Hugo had shown her, Perri had a late breakfast of an egg, burrito and hot Mexican chocolate. Then she walked slowly back, trying to relax as she pondered the events of the past days.
    Everything seemed to happen at the hotel. The letter, the money, the ticket. If Papa was there, he was staying out of her way.
    Impatient suddenly to get back, she stopped and looked back down the street for a cab. Junior was behind her, about half a block, and her heart raced in alarm. Was it a coincidence? Or was he following her? And if so, was he her contact, or one of the men out to kill Owen?
    A taxi pulled up at her wave and she climbed in, asking for the hotel. A quick glance back showed that Junior had stopped to check a vendor's merchandise. Perhaps she was reading too much into his presence. Over-reacting. She had seen too many spy movies.
    Re-entering the lobby, she asked the clerk if there was a deaf man staying in the hotel. He nodded, but when she described Walt, shook his head. "No, this man is very thin, very old."
    There were no messages for her and Hugo did not answer his phone. Carl Freedman passed by on the way to the beach, his towel slung over his arm, and Anna waved hello as she entered the small convenience store off the lobby. After a few minutes, Junior also came in, but joined Anna in the store, comparing postcards.
    Not knowing what else to do, Perri entered the store and bought a magazine filled with various types of puzzles, then returned to her room, prepared to wait. People seemed to know where she was, so she'd stay put.
    Hugo had had a busy morning, keeping tabs on Perri and trying to make sure Walt didn't overdo