Take the Money: Romantic Suspense in Costa Rica (19 page)

The proprietors--a couple who looked to be in their twenties--came forward to embrace Bud.  A small boy with a runny nose rushed out and grabbed his leg.  Bud whooped and lifted the child, burying his face in a mass of dark curls.

The small wooden tables were grimy, with flies buzzing around on sticky spots.  Bud ordered bottles of Heineken for everyone. The beer warmed Julie’s stomach and she drank it quickly, aware that Bud was scrutinizing her every move.  “Okay,” he said, “let’s get serious.  What kind of trouble are you in?”

“What makes you think I’m in trouble?”

“First off, why did you tell me your name was Stephanie Talbot?”

“How do you know it isn’t?”

“Because that’s not the name on your passport and you told Nellie your name was Julie.”             

“You followed me from Indy,” she said.  “I should have known when they stopped the plane. You have to be someone important.”

“Well, I have an important job, I guess you’d say.”

“Why so?”

Bud frowned and peeled the label off his beer.  In the back room, Julie could hear the boy crying and women trying to soothe him.  This wasn’t just a restaurant, it was a family home--a family that Bud seemed to know well.  She ached with loneliness and nostalgia at the memory of her own lost childhood.

  The late afternoon sun cast a yellow glow upon Bud’s face, outlining the hook of his nose, the determined thrust of his jaw.  In his almond-shaped eyes Julie saw a wariness she hadn’t noticed before. His usual slumping shoulders were now square and rigid; something about him had changed.   He looked up at the mountains, pressing the tips of his fingers together. 

“I work for a government agency,” he said.

”I thought you were some kind of salesman.  I mean, you talked about playing golf at the Cariari.”

Bud set his bottle down and fixed his eyes on her.  “Let’s quit fooling around, he said. “Tell me why you’re headed for the border.”

There was a roaring in Julie’s ears, like the distant pounding of the surf. “The border?  You think I’m going to Nicaragua?  That I’m a smuggler?”

Bud jabbed a thumb toward the door.  “What do you have in that jeep?”

“Wait just a minute,” she said.  “Assuming you really
ar
e some kind of government agent, this isn’t the U.S. and you have no reason to be questioning me.”

“You’re right,” he said. “This isn’t the US.  The rules are up in the air.  But it will be better for you if you co-operate.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”  Julie was floating in a sea of unreality.  She’d thought of Bud as a lightweight without much ambition beyond golf and drinking beer.  Before her now sat a stern judge who seemed ready to convict.

Bud’s grim expression didn’t change. “Take it whatever way you like. I’d like you to tell me what’s in that car and where you’re going with it.”

Julie reached for a drink, knocking over a half-f bottle in the process.  Beer dribbled down between her legs, and she wiped it with a small paper napkin before springing to her feet. “Come with me this minute,” she said, “I suppose you think I’ve got shiploads of dope or something.”

“You said it, I didn’t.” Bud shrugged, following her to the car.

She yanked open the hatch and pulled the blankets off the boxes. “Help yourself,” she said, with a wave of her hand.

Bud opened the boxes and picked up several pairs of tennis shoes. “Where are you headed with these?” he asked. 

“Up to Santa Clara.  I know a doctor there who has some poor patients.”

Bud didn’t respond. With the deftness of a customs inspector, he pulled out a pocketknife and began slashing at the sole of a pink tennis shoe decorated with pictures of Minnie Mouse.

Julie tugged at his arm.  “Why are you cutting up these shoes?”

“Just checking.” He picked up another shoe--this one black, with thick white soles and ties.

“Please,” Julie said.  “Don’t ruin everything in the hope of finding that I’m a drug dealer.  Just come with me and see where these things are going.”

Bud let the pocketknife fall to his side and stepped back, shaking his head slowly.  “Julie,” he said. “If you are what you say what you are, you’ll be one of a kind.”

“I don’t know about that.  But I want you to see a way that certain money might actually help some needy people, instead of getting swallowed up by bureaucracies.”

Bud plucked a pink hibiscus blossom, rubbing it back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. He looked up at the sky where a mauve twilight was settling down over the mountains and the cicadas had begun their vibrant chorus. “I’m willing to listen,” he said.  “But I’m warning you that others know where I am.”

Julie said, “This isn’t a trap.  You won’t need that assault rifle.”

“I want to believe you.  Really I do.  But I think I’ll send my friend back to his family. Just in case.”

“Then you will come?” 

“I’m probably going to be sorry, but yes.”  Bud climbed into the seat beside her after asking his friends in the restaurant to look after his motorcycle.

On the way to Santa Clara, Julie explained to Bud about the baby.  How Oscar had been born to a young girl from a poverty-stricken family.  “These little things,” she explained, “These simple clothes and tennis shoes could change their lives for the better.  Don’t you understand that?”

“I might.” 

“You’ve told me you’re bi-lingual.  Dual citizenship.  Surely, you have some sympathy.  How can you work against your own people?” Julie asked.

“I am what I have to be.” 

“So you don’t love anyone, care for anyone.  Have no loyalties whatsoever to any country or anyone but yourself?”

“Are you trying to tell me you’re any different?  Cut it out Julie, you still haven’t told me why you left Lewiston in the middle of the night. And now you’re running around all over Costa Rica with a car full of shoes.”

“For your information, I was witness to a murder.”

Bud kept his eyes straight ahead.  “Which murder are you talking about?”

“What do you mean, which murder?”  Julie felt herself breaking out in a cold sweat.

“The one up at Guanacaste or the one in Lewiston.” His voice was flat, emotionless. 

Her foot went slack on the accelerator, but they were going downhill, so their speed didn’t change. “Are you talking about David?” she gasped. “Are you telling me he didn’t drown?”

“Maybe.  Maybe not.”

“Oh, God!”  Julie stepped on the brake, jerking the jeep to a halt.   “How do you know about David?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Rage surged through her body.  “So you had him following me, pretending he had a crush on me, and I was dumb enough to believe it.”  She pressed her forehead against the steering wheel.  “Is it my fault that he drowned?

Bud’s tone softened.  “David was attracted to you, right from the first, and I’m not blaming you for what happened. Someone may have found out about our connection. We’ll never know whether or not it was truly an accident. But this other murder—this guy in Lewiston.”

“Don’t tell me you know all about that?”

“Yeah, I know.” 

“I suppose you’re accusing me of having a hand in that one, too.”

“No, I’m not. But you’ve made it worse for yourself by coming down here.  You should go back home and get this whole thing straightened out.”

Julie shifted uncomfortably, aware of the sticky beer between her legs. “I’d like to know just exactly who you’re working for. CIA? FBI?”

“None of the above. 

“What, then?”

“I’m a consultant. That’s all I can tell you.  Officially, I’m in the import-export business.”

“Out of Indy?”

“Yes.  I go back and forth a lot.  I told you, my mother lives there.  Besides, I enjoy the relative sanity and civility of the Midwest.”

“There’s nothing for me back home,” she said. 

“What about your mother? You must have been close.”

“Yeah, but I was supposed to live up to my potential.  Instead, as of last month, I was a part time waitress living in my step-father’s house.”

“Aren’t you getting a little old for that sort of thing?”

Instead of answering Bud’s question, Julie re-started the engine. They twisted around hairpin curves on rough dirt roads surrounded by tangles of verdant foliage. Between the deep V of two mountain slopes, the sun was disappearing below the horizon. A soft breeze stirred the branches of the great orange-blossomed trees, and the plumes of giant palm leaves fluttered in the wind.  Lights twinkled in the distance, signaling the fact that they were getting close.  Close to what? Julie’s chest tightened with a strange yearning.  She was anxious to see the baby again, and the doctor.  Would he be happy to see her?  Maybe Bud was right. She should have headed back to Indiana to face the music.

What if Enrique was offended by all the gifts?  How could she have imagined he’d be pleased to see her?  Having Bud along only increased her jitters.  If she was making a fool out of herself, she’d rather not have any witnesses. But it was too late to turn back.

* * *

The lights were still on when they arrived at the clinic.  Enrique was probably finishing up paperwork, thinking about a late dinner up on the hill.  Julie knocked lightly, her icy fingers so stiff she could barely make a fist. The only sounds were the rustling of trees in the wind and the footfalls of a security guard coming out of the shadows.

“Julie.  You’ve come back.”  Enrique’s voice cracked as he opened the door.  Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him, aware of nothing but his warm cheek next to hers, the smell of his skin, the pounding of his heart. She closed her eyes, lost in the currents of emotion running through her body.

Bud coughed loudly. Reluctantly, Julie withdrew from the delicious circle of Enrique’s embrace and spoke.

“I’ve brought some shoes and clothes and baby things for some of the families here.  I hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind?  Why would I not be happy for such generosity?  And I see you’ve brought a friend.”  He looked quizzically at Bud, then back at her, as if trying to establish the relationship.

“He came to help me bring this stuff up though the mountains.”  She turned to Bud. “Let’s go ahead and unload.”

“Mind if I look around first?”  Bud strode into the clinic without waiting for an answer.

Enrique followed him. “What are you looking for?”  he asked, a sharp edge to his voice.

“Just checking out your credentials,” Julie said.  “He wasn’t quite sure I was taking him to see a real doctor.  By the way, how is Oscar?”

“He went home yesterday.”

“Oh.”  Julie couldn’t hide her disappointment.  “Do you think I could see him?”

“Of course, but it’s a bit late. The mother gets up at four in the morning to go to work in the rice fields.  They’re probably all in bed by now.”

“We need to find a place to stay,” Julie said. “Some rooms at the hotel.”

“I can arrange it for you. I was just getting ready to go for dinner. Would you care to join me?”

Julie looked at Bud.  “Is it all right if we stay?”

He shrugged. “Why not.”

“How many rooms will you need?”  Enrique looked from Bud to Julie, a muscle quivering in his jaw.

Julie sensed he was wondering if she and Bud were lovers. Well, she’d dispel that notion as quickly as possible. “Two rooms,” she said firmly.

Bud lifted his head, as if picking up a high-frequency signal. “Yes, two,” he agreed.

Enrique’s face softened and his lips stretched into a broad smile.  “That should be easily arranged,” he said. 

Julie said: “I was hoping to stay for a least a few days.”

Enrique ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes unfocused for a moment.  Julie’s stomach ached with the fear that she’d misread his feelings.  He turned to Bud. “Have you heard about the earthquake in El Salvador?”

“Of course.”  Bud said.

Enrique took Julie’s hands and drew her close, his voice low and tender.”I’m sorry, but I have to leave.  I must go and provide medical help.”

“Leave?  When?”

“As soon as I can catch a plane.  The situation is urgent, every minute counts.  The people are desperate, homeless, without food, sick, injured.  Unfortunately, my car has broken down, or I’d have left by now.”

“We can drive you back in the morning, or even tonight, if you’d like.” Julie said, ignoring the look of dismay on Bud’s face. She’d observed the way he relished food and drink at the Gran Hotel, and knew that a late dinner and a good night’s sleep in the mountain air were things he’d been looking forward to. 

“No, you must be tired from the long drive. But if you could take me to San Jose in the morning?”  Enrique looked expectantly at Bud, who made no effort to hide his relief and nod in agreement.

Enrique put his arm around Julie’s shoulder, drawing her close. “You can stop and bring Oscar’s family their presents before we leave,” he promised.

Candlelight flickered on the tables in the small crowded restaurant. Bud and Julie drew curious looks from the other customers. This wasn’t a tourist hangout; gringos were a rare sight.