Ms. Castillo sat with her daughter on a richly embroidered sofa, gently holding the girl's hand. Morazan sat across from them, notebook in hand. The soft rays of twilight filtered through the living room window and cast ivy shadows on the walls. It was a large house built in the old colonial style with decor to match. Adobe walls accentuated with carmine edges, and a high ceiling supported by long thick beams. The scent of oak, perfume, and flowers permeated the atmosphere.
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It had been three days since Morazan had found Patricia at the curandero's property, and though the investigation was still ongoing, it was Morazan's last day in Santa Clarita. A new team was taking over the hunt for Don Miguel, who was still on the run. His dog had gone missing too. Damn animal was the reason why Morazan's right arm was in a sling.
"I still don't believe it was him," said Patricia. "The one who kidnapped me was El Duende, not Don Miguel. I am sure of it. He wore a pointy hat and was short, not tall like Don Miguel. He sang and danced and-" The girl stopped and cast a furtive glance at her mother, then blushing, she lowered her gaze.
Ms. Castillo leaned forward and whispered something in her daughter's ear.
Coyly, the girl looked up at Morazan and said, "El Duende told me many unchristian things. And he also spoke ill of the Lord. Don Miguel would never do that. He's a good man."
Morazan wasn't so sure. The investigation had turned up several pieces of evidence linking the old curandero to the kidnappings. The beads for instance, he found a pile of them in the shed, some of them had been strung into necklaces. Those beads were similar to the ones found in Patricia's and Rita's bedrooms. In addition, there were several plants and mushrooms with known narcotic properties, and Don Miguel had used them to brew potent hallucinogenic substances. Morazan was still waiting for the lab analysis, but he was sure that traces of these compounds would be found in the beads. The curandero appeared to have intoxicated his victims by chucking the beads through the window. Once under his control, he kidnapped them and enslaved them using the beaded necklaces, which he had smeared with the mind-altering substances.
"But what about the little girl who saw El Duende in her room?" asked Ms. Castillo. "I know that children have a lot of imagination, but it can't all be a coincidence."
Morazan shrugged. "Perhaps it was just a bad dream..."
The truth was, the detective had his own doubts about the curandero's role in all this. Some things didn't add up and his motivation was still a mystery. Besides drugging them, he didn't physically hurt any of the girls, so why go to all this trouble just to hold them in captivity and tell them a few 'unchristian' things. No doubt that the investigation had some loose ends, and he hated loose ends. But the rational man in him couldn't bring himself to believe that there was a mischievous spirit out there, running around kidnapping girls, clipping toenails, and telling naughty tales for his own amusement. In either case, innocent or not, Don Miguel needed to be found and hauled in for questioning.
"I'm just glad my baby is back," said Ms. Castillo kissing her daughter. "And we have you to thank for this miracle, detective. You're so brave!"
"I do what I can, Ms. Castillo" he said closing his notebook and standing up.
"Please call me Veronica," she said and adjusted her dress. "We were hoping you'd stay for dinner."
Unfortunately, Morazan had been assigned a couple of urgent cases, and he had to leave that same evening.
"Next time then," she said standing up. "Patricia and I would love to entertain you. Isn't that right, darling?"
The girl stood up and ran up to him. She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. "Thank you!"
Her figure was lithe but her embrace firm. When her breast pressed against his arm, he flinched.
"Careful girl," Ms. Castillo said joining them. "Can't you see the detective is injured. We must be gentle with him." She threw one arm around him and the other around her daughter. With her head resting on his shoulder, she gathered them unto herself and sighed with pleasure. Her breath was warm on his neck. Looking up, she searched his eyes. "Your wife will be so happy to have you back."
A brief careful silence. "I- I'm actually not married," he murmured.
"Oh, but where are my manners, pardon my intrusiveness," Ms. Castillo said and stroked his arm.
Submerged in their feminine warmth, he felt a wave of chivalry stir within him. A protectiveness and desire to keep harm at bay. They were vulnerable, quivering like morning dew drops on a leaf. For a moment, he felt suspended in a timeless space of fragrant intimacy. The gravity of his masculine force attracting them into his orbit and strengthening the bond of their union.
But there were more cases ahead in the night. Another town. Another mystery. Another set of clues.
Breaking the spell of their soft and aromatic embrace, he promised to return and took his leave.
Night fell as he drove down the highway; Santa Clarita lay behind him. A tinge of sadness. Parting is such sweet sorrow, the English bard had said. Rightly so. Morazan tried to occupy his mind with the details of his next investigation. Two more cases. One involved a little boy who had allegedly been kidnapped by La Sucia, and the other a missing gringo who had was last seen chasing after El Cadejo. Morazan shook his head. He was gaining quite the reputation as a ghost buster. He tried to remember some of the case details, but he couldn't concentrate. Not with the scent of Veronica and Patricia still clinging to his clothes.
He was jolted back to the present when something struck his windshield and shattered it to pieces. He slammed on the brakes and the screeching vehicle turned sideways, skidding along the road, swerving, then tipping over its side. It rolled over several times before it crashed into a ditch.
The world was upside down. Warm liquid poured down his cheek. Blood? The smell of gasoline and... He noticed a few beads glittering on the ground. In the distance, he saw a large dark tree bathed in moonlight. Vines swaying in the breeze. Lightheaded, he tried to unbuckle his seatbelt. It was no use.
A glow of shifting colors and incandescent moonlight illuminated the tree. A small figure appeared, wearing a long pointy hat and a cloak.
Laughter. The scent of something sweet like cotton candy.
Then darkness came.
Hello Hello!
Amazing story, I like the way you write, i loved it sooo muchhh!!!
Greetings from Venezuela
Hola @iamsaray! Thank you for reading the stories. I'm happy you enjoyed them! I appreciate your kind words. Saludos!
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Wonderful, thank you!
Hi litguru,
Visit curiesteem.com or join the Curie Discord community to learn more.
Thank you!
Hi. I liked the story a little but I loved the drawing! Can you tell me who did it? A cordial greeting @litguru
Hi @marcybetancourt, thank you for visiting and for your support. I painted the drawing using watercolours and other tools. I might put up some pictures later. This is my first real painting, so I'm happy you like it ;)
Cheers!
You do not need to place photos. I was just curious to know if you had done it. This painting is excellent! I send you a big congratulation!
Gracias!
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