Songs for Perri Read Online Free Page B

next to her. Carl Freedman. He'd won a trip to Mazatlan for selling the most cars during a three month period. A voluble, jolly individual, he walked down the aisle, introducing himself to all, passing out his business cards, urging people to come see him when they were ready to buy a new car.
    He promised Perri he would get her the lowest price available; any car, any time. “A favor for a traveling companion," he called it; but Perri figured it was just good business.
    He was thin and tall, loud in dress and talk...but then he was on vacation, so maybe he didn't always wear such ugly shirts. He had offered her the window seat which Perri declined. Heights made her feel sick, although it didn't affect her in an airplane.
    She had barely made the flight; only a couple of people got on after her. With little time to change clothes, she had scrambled into light cotton slacks and a lime-colored top with a shell neck. Around her neck was the ivory pendant. Why Owen had told his friend about it, Perri couldn't fathom.
    The pendant had been her mother's favorite piece of jewelry, a gift from a man both Walt and Crystal respected highly. It was all Perri had to start with. That and the Hotel San Juan. A large, luxurious place. She had walked past it, but never stayed there.
    Would Owen's friend be at the airport? No...it was pure luck she had caught this plane. He wouldn't expect her so soon. But if she could contact him right away, she might set things up with Owen before Walt arrived.
    This was no pleasure trip she was taking. Walt would need her feet and ears. Although he spoke fluent Spanish, he was like most lip readers, unable to read the lips of a person who spoke English with an accent. Also, several operations had left him with a normal-looking gait, but any long walk caused him severe pain.
    Whatever trouble Owen was in, it would take both of them to get him out of it. She swallowed hard, trying to overcome her anxiety. A passing stewardess stopped.
    "All you all right? Can I get you anything?"
    "No. Thank you." As the stewardess walked on, Perri stretched out her legs and tried to unwind by breathing deeply, willing her mind to relax. A veteran traveler, she could normally rest on a plane and arrive refreshed. But this could have been her maiden trip, for she was as tense as any first-time flier; her stomach tied into a tight, hard ball which sickly refused to consider airline food.
    She had to help Owen. Yet she felt so unprepared.
    The plane banked, and she clenched her hands. After what had seemed an eternity, they were finally circling to land.
    Mazatlan's dry heat hit her as she stepped onto the ramp, feeling drained of energy and dehydrated. She knew it was from nervousness, and stopped to get a long drink of water in the waiting room before joining the queue to hand over her tourist card.
    "What's the hotel like where you're staying?" a fair-haired young man in blue jeans asked the lady next to her. Since that woman hadn't been to Mexico before and couldn't give him any information, he tried Perri.
    "It's very nice," Perri said. “A little more expensive than where I usually stay.”
    "Is it next to the ocean?" he asked, holding his rucksack by one shoulder strap. "I came in from Frisco. I don't want to be any further from the water than I have to."
    "It's right on the beach...but lots of the hotels are."
    Her suitcase retrieved, she pushed through the crowd of people trying to interest her in attending a tour of their time-share facilities, asked for a taxi to the Hotel San Juan, and was led to one of the many yellow cabs being loaded.
    Seven other people joined her, all headed for the same hotel. A honeymoon couple took a taxi by themselves, and Carl Freedman and another single man shared a cab, barely getting in all their luggage.
    Perri took the third cab in line and was instantly joined by a tall man who looked like he had swaggered out of a biker's movie. Dressed entirely in black, with dark glasses and