Take the Money: Romantic Suspense in Costa Rica (15 page)

He shrugged. “The buses are fine for Ticos.”

“If they’re fine for Ticos, then they’re fine for me,” she insisted.  Why did he think she seemed too spoiled or fragile to put up with minor inconveniences? 

He told her where to catch a bus, and she had only waited half an hour until one came along. She climbed to the back of the bus, aware of all the nut-colored faces staring curiously at this tall, light-skinned woman.  The roads were deeply rutted and clouds of dust scratched at her throat.  Each bump in the road sent a stab of pain through her tailbone.

And yet, the majestic beauty of the countryside overwhelmed her with its deep green valleys, cascading waterfalls and brooding volcanoes.   They passed farmers working the fields with ox-carts and men using machetes to cut sugarcane.  Here, the country seemed to be in a time warp, far away from a 21st century world of uncertainty and terrorism. 

* * *

Julie checked back into the La Casa Verde, then started down Avenida Central.  She was determined not to attract attention, so bought only a few pairs of shoes and children’s clothes at each store, making the trek back to her hotel when her arms were full of packages.  By one o’clock, she was hungry enough for lunch at the Gran Hotel.  She ordered a cheese omelet and it came back accompanied, as always, by beans, rice, and corn muffins spiced with green chilies. Afterwards she sat sipping iced tea with lime, looking out across the square where a busload of tourists was stopping for a tour of the National Theater.

“Well, if it isn’t the lady from Lewiston.”  She heard a familiar, husky voice that could only belong to one person.  He stood before her in a pair of shorts, sandals, and an Izod shirt hanging out over his waistline, a lopsided grin on his face.

“Bud.  What are you doing still here in San Jose?”

“ I guess I’d have the same question for you.”

“I told you I wanted to explore a bit before going back.”

“Must be nice, not having to work for a living.”  He gave her a long look, and stood in front of her, his body blocking her view of the square and the sunlight.

“Care to join me?” she said, reluctantly.

“Sure, why not.” He plopped down at her table and signaled the waiter for a beer. Julie hoped he wouldn’t light up one of those vile Cuban cigars. The thing to do was engage in some superficial conversation then ditch him.

“Been playing some golf?” she asked, not caring in the least what he’d been doing at the Cariari.  From the color on his face and chest at the open V of his shirt, it was obvious he’d been spending some time outside.  It seemed strange that someone with the name of Jiminez would have a problem with sunburn.

“What happened at Memphis South?” he said abruptly.  “I thought you were working for Nellie.”

“I was working there, for awhile.  I decided I wanted to do some sightseeing.”

“Oh, really? Where’ve you been?”

“Up to Liberia.  Playa Hermosa.”

He gave her a speculative look. “Up near the Nicaraguan border, right?  How long were you there?”

“Not long. There wasn’t much to do.”

“You should have gone to Flamingo.  That’s where all the action is.”

Julie thought of Rosita and the German father of her baby. “I’m not looking for nightlife,” she said.

Bud’s eyes drifted down to the brochure she’d been studying when he approached. “You planning to rent a car?”

Julie flushed and covered the rest of her travel leaflets with her hand.  Bud was just a little bit too interested in what she was doing.

“I was thinking about it.”

“Driving’s fairly hazardous in San Jose.”

“I’m thinking of getting out of the city.” 

“Where to?”

Julie thought fast.  “Arenal.  I’m going up to see the famous volcano that spits red lava every night.”

“It spits red lava
some
nights. Don’t believe everything they tell you in the brochures. If there’s a cloud cover, you’ll have wasted your time.”

“I think I’ll give it a try, anyway.  I can always find a place to stay over.”

“You’re driving up there alone?”  His eyes opened wide in an expression of mock horror.

“Look.  I’ve read the guidebooks, I think I’ll be safe during the day.”

“Safe from what?”

“From thieves.  Isn’t that what you’re talking about?”

“I was thinking more about the hazards of driving through the mountains.”

“What could be hazardous about country roads in broad daylight?”

He smiled. “Have you ever driven through a herd of cattle?”

“I grew up in Indiana, remember?” I used to help my country cousins round up cows from the woods every night. I’m not afraid of cattle, although I have a healthy respect for a bull.”

“How are you at going around a narrow mountain road with a truck coming at you, and no guard rails?”

“I guess I’d slam on my brakes.”

“Do you know how to change a tire?”

“Of course I do.  It sounds like you’re trying to talk me out of renting a car. Are you suggesting I go up there on a bus full of noisy tourists?”

“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just trying to warn you.  The roads are for shit, and the Ticos’ driving borders on insanity.  You don’t know where you’re going, and the roads aren’t well marked.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a negative attitude?”

“There’s such a thing as common sense.”  Bud said.  “Look, you want me to drive up there with you?”

Julie leaned back in her chair, not knowing exactly how to respond.  Was he coming on to her?  She scanned his face, trying to see what was written there about his character.  Sometimes she could tell about a person by the ways the lines were formed and where. A deep furrowed brow, crows’ feet, weathered skin, a clenched jaw, even a twitch under the eyelids were all clues to a man’s past.  But Bud’s round cheeks were smooth and unblemished, his forehead serene.  Only his dark, Spanish eyes and flat cheekbones combined with fair skin and sandy blonde hair indicated some complexity in his nature.  And what did he really do for a living, that he would be able to go on a jaunt with her up to Arenal at the drop of a hat?

“Thanks for the offer,” she said.  “But I’d prefer to go alone.  I need some time to myself.”

His lips formed on O, his eyes sparkling with what looked like amusement.  “What is it?  Are you searching for the true meaning of life or something?”

“Maybe.”   He’d struck a nerve. Her pulse throbbed in her neck.  She looked out toward the street where the noonday heat and diesel fumes were creating a blue haze in the air.

Bud took a pull of beer and jammed the bottle on the table. “Well, let me tell you something.  You won’t find it down here.”

“How do you know?  Maybe there’s something to be learned from people who aren’t surfeited with material goods.  It seems to me, from what little I’ve seen, that the Ticos have a better value system.”

“How’s that?”

“Just that they’re more family oriented, from what I’ve observed.  They are warmer, more sensitive, more caring.  And there’s an almost childish naiveté about the way they imagine things are so much better in the States.”

“Aren’t they?”

Julie swallowed her last bit of tea, savoring the faint taste of lime as she chewed on the ice.  “I’m not so sure,” she said.  “That’s what I’m trying to decide. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot to do.”

“
Hasta Luego
.” Bud reached for a cigar and signaled for the waiter.  Julie supposed he was going to sit there and get sloshed for the rest of the day, and yet, there was something endearing about his apparent indolence.  She wondered why she had ever suspected his motives.  He really was just a nice, friendly guy from home.

Julie tried to tell herself Bud was one of those macho types who underestimate women.  Why else would he try and discourage her from renting a car and taking a simple four-hour drive up to Arenal?  But when she saw the rental fee of $750 for the Jeep, she knew that at least one of his gloomy portents had been well founded.  It would cost half as much to rent a little Ford, but it wouldn’t hold the bedding and clothing she’d bought.  Reluctantly, she used her Visa, even though her limit was $2,000 and she wasn’t sure how soon she’d be back in Lewiston to receive the bill. But she had no choice. No credit card, no car.  This was one place that didn’t want cash.

She arranged to pick up the car after she’d stopped to see Nellie, and began walking along the street toward the Memphis South. On the corner, a small family band was performing. Whether they came from Costa Rica or some other Central American country wasn’t discernible.  But it was obvious from their thick straight black hair, kava colored skin, and Asiatic features that they were not Spanish or
Mestizos
, but indigenous people.

The husband pounded a xylophone while his wife pushed and pulled an accordion.  Two thin children with dirty faces and stringy hair accompanied them: a boy strummed a small guitar and a tiny girl shook a tambourine, her sad eyes gazing out across the crowd as if she’d rather be playing in a mountain stream.  Why weren’t the children in school? 

There was an air of desperation about their frenetic attack on their instruments.  A few people tossed coins, but most pedestrians merely stood and gaped or listened a few moments and continued on their way. The heat of the day pressed down; the blazing noonday sun on Julie’s neck was making her dizzy.  The musician’s brightly colored woven garments grew damp as they doggedly played on.  How could these people stand and perform for hours without stopping even for a glass of water?  

All at once there was a rustling in the trees and a strong northwest wind swept across the street.  The children stopped playing, lifting their elfin faces toward the sky, letting the cool breezes caress their skin and play with their hair. Their trembling fingers and fragile limbs reminded Julie of sandpipers skittering along the beach in the ominous shadows of seagulls.

Any nagging doubts about the sensibility of Julie’s trip drifted away. No, of course she couldn’t save the whole country.   But if she could help just one family such as this, it would be the most important achievement of her life, certainly better than academic honors or corporate success.  She pressed several bills into the children’s cups and made up her mind to head for Santa Clara immediately. In case something happened, she’d leave her mother’s name and phone number with Nellie.

Just to please Nellie, Julie had bought a cheap black and white striped halter-top and some jeans that actually fit. The spiked heels Nellie had suggested would have been stretching things too far, but with a pair of sandals and her new dangling silver earrings, Julie felt she was coming closer to the look her friend had in mind.  She went home and put on the new clothes, laughing to herself about how surprised Nellie would be with her new persona. 

Why was it she wanted to please Nellie, but had stubbornly resisted her own mother’s pleas that she wear more flattering clothes?

Even though it was mid-afternoon, the Memphis South was full of customers and noise.  When Nellie spotted Julie, she dropped a tray full of food onto a counter and rushed forward with open arms. Back home, Julie would have found such effusiveness embarrassing, but here in Costa Rica, it seemed so normal that no one even seemed to notice.

“Let me see,” Nellie said, holding her at arm’s length.  “Looks like you didn’t get much of a sunburn.  What did you do?  Sit in your room and read a book all day?”

“No, I sat under a mango tree and drank pina colodas.”

“Somehow, I find that hard to believe,” Nellie said. “You look a little peaked.  What happened?  You get the trots from too much gallo pinto and steamed bananas?”

“I did get a little airsick.”

Nellie prattled on. “I should have warned you about flying through the mountains. You gotta have a stomach like a sailor to make it to the beach without barfing.”

“Well, I’m no exception.”  She nodded toward Nellie’s tray and said, “Go ahead and serve your customers.  I'll wait until you have a lull, I need to talk awhile.”

Julie sought out a corner table, hoping to hide in the shadows.  Next to her, a group of men were talking about another earthquake--400 people dead in El Salvador--thousands sick, injured and homeless.  It was a cataclysmic event for the people in that small country; recovery might take twenty years. But there would be no headlines blazoned across every newspaper in the world. This disaster would only merit a few inches at the bottom of the fifth page of the Lewiston Star.

It all came down to money.  In the US, everyone in such a situation would qualify for disaster funds, energy assistance, housing assistance, food stamps, unemployment insurance, you name it.  But such generous programs were unheard of in Central America. 

Kevin’s drug money sitting in the bank here in San Jose could relieve the wretched lives of hundreds of these people and why shouldn’t it?  Julie had faced the reality of the source of her windfall.  She had figured out, too, who Kevin’s customers had been: not the low income people who lived in the deteriorating neighborhoods full of run down houses, but lawyers and doctors who frequented the Kensington house.  So rich and bored they were willing to jeopardize their health and reputations in exchange for the temporary euphoria illegal drugs could bring.