The Chalupa Conundrum

by Lyle Christie

  “I can’t believe these assholes told you my nickname.”

  “There are worse nicknames than Professor Hot Sauce. Back in college I had a Professor that everyone used to call Mr. Stains, because he always left the bathroom with a drop or two of pee soaked into the front of his pants.”

  “I suppose you’re right, and I should probably embrace my nickname.”

  “Yes indeed, so let us raise our glasses to Professor Hot Sauce and her sister! May your spicy good looks and plentiful bosoms bring joy to many a lonely grad student,” I said.

  “Yeah, and let’s not forget their smoking hot booties!” Julio added, apparently caught up in the candor of the moment.

  Everyone suddenly got quiet and stared at Julio, as he had somehow unintentionally crossed the metaphorical line of appropriate graduate dinner toast subject matter. I felt bad for him, however, as it was a pretty vague line considering I had already mentioned boobs and timing dumps, but sometimes it might even come down to the person who was speaking—in this instance—poor Julio. I therefore decided to intercede and throw him a lifeline.

  “Good point, Julio! How could we forget either their bosom or the foundation on which they—quite literally—firmly reside. To the Hot Sauce Sisters’ formidable assets!” I said.

  We all clinked bottles and drank under the warm flickering light of the candles, and I decided it was a good time to bring up a new conversation topic.

  “So, who wants to tell me what the big deal is with this fucking Chalupa place? There’s got to be a reason why an entire group of scientists disappeared.”

  Everyone turned their gazes to their fearless leader and graduate advisor Professor Hitzig.

  “Well, Alessandra?” I asked.

  She took a sip of her beer to wet her palate before she spoke.

  “The Chalupa people have lived in this area for thousands of years and claimed that the ruins of the city are the remains of Chalupa, named for King Chalupa I, who was supposedly its founder.”

  “OK, but how does that all lead to our current situation?”

  “Well, there wasn’t a lot of interest in Chalupa until Lars Ortega Von Träger decided to try to acquire the ruins and surrounding area in hopes of creating a national heritage site.”

  “So, who is this joker?”

  “He’s one of Costa Rica’s wealthiest and most esteemed businessmen.”

  “And he basically wants to create a park?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is the land valuable?”

  “Not really.”

  “So, what’s the problem?”

  “Mostly it’s a bureaucratic issue.”

  “Isn’t it always.”

  “Generally, but in this case it’s kind of similar to the process that the Native Americans face in the United States when they want to acquire a piece of property and have it officially designated tribal land.”

  “So, is this national heritage site just a front so that he can use the land to build a casino and resort?”

  “No, it’s being done purely as a philanthropic endeavor, but he still has to prove that the Chalupans were the primary occupants of the main city and surrounding area. It’s always been taken for granted, but, when the time came, the Department of the Interior pressured the Board of Antiquities to see that Von Träger showed some kind of actual archaeological evidence before allowing the sale and subsequent transfer of ownership. As part of the arrangement, Von Träger and the Board both agreed on a neutral unbiased group of experts to make the final judgement.”

  “Is there any possibility that the ruins belong to a different people?”

  “It’s certainly possible—other cultures such as the Nahuatl, Chibchah, and even the Mayans are potential, although unlikely, contenders.”

  “Mayans? Seriously?”

  “Yeah, as they were known for leaving behind a lot of structures such as pyramids, water systems, markets, and dwellings, and Chalupa has all of that.”

  “I thought the Mayans didn’t get this far south.”

  “Generally that’s thought to be true, but the problem is that we know they traded with people in this area, but we aren’t sure if they actually inhabited it in any kind of permanent manner.”

  “So, that means the Chalupans are the front runners, because they lived here and were also pretty serious builders?”

  “Yeah, and while other indigenous peoples in this area also had cities, they didn’t leave behind much in the way of large scale structures.”

  “Interesting—so, what’s the deal with this Von Träger character? Is he of Chalupan descent?”

  “According to the DNA tests, he’s fifty percent on his mother’s side, which is enough to make him legitimately Chalupan.”

  Stephania, who had been quiet thus far, suddenly chimed in.

  “Chalupans are an interesting people, and, like many native populations, they are incredibly superstitious,” she said.

  “How so?” I asked.

  “Many of them believe that the ghost of King Chalupa still dwells in the ruins, and the really superstitious ones even leave gifts of sacrifice at the altar atop the pyramid at certain times of the year.”

  “No shit?”

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “So, it stands to reason these Chalupans would not be thrilled to have a group of foreign scientists traipsing all around their veritable holy land.”

  “Perhaps,” Alessandra said.

  “Nor would they be too thrilled to see me I imagine.”

  “Again, perhaps.”

  “So, assuming it’s not actually King Chalupa’s ghost, could we be dealing with a secret Chalupan society that’s perhaps guarding the ruins? Kind of a Chalupan Knights Templar? It would certainly explain the assholes in the alley tonight.”

  “It’s certainly a possibility, but the land deal would officially give them their land, so they’d be crazy to have anything to do with sabotaging it.”

  “Yeah, but the alternative theory would be that good ol’ King Chalupa is still around, and he’s apparently kidnapped a bunch of scientists.”

  The table went quiet for a moment as everyone used the break to take a sip of their beer.

  “I’ve spent a fair amount of time in and around that area, and I can tell you, even as a scientist, that the place can be a bit spooky at times,” Alessandra said.

  The bookish girl Carina cleared her throat, and all eyes turned in her direction.

  “I grew up in a small town just to the north of Chalupa, and, when I was a little girl, my parents used to tell me stories of the ghost king—especially when I did something bad. They would say that if I didn’t make amends, he would come for me in the middle of the night,” she said.

  “So, he’s like the Costa Rican boogeyman and a much bigger asshole than the one I grew up with,” I said.

  “He’s much more than that. Legend says he commands an army of half-man, half-beast demon creatures, and every night they go out and roam the countryside to vanquish his enemies and enslave all who challenge his rule.”

  I thought back to Estelle’s frantic phone call and remembered the ominous roaring sound I’d heard in the background, and it instantly made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I’d never really experienced supernatural beings like Bigfoot or otherwise, and generally found humans to be the most dangerous animals on the planet. Still, the world was a big fucking place with a lot of strange things left unexplained.

  “So, creatures?” I asked.

  “Yes, they have bodies like men but the fur and claws of animals. Worst of all are their faces, which look like demons and have glowing red eyes, and the legends say they can see in the dark as clearly as we do in the day,” Carina said.

  “You sound as though you’ve seen one.”

  “No, only stories from those who have.”

  “Do you actually believe in the Chalupa legend?”

  Everyone patiently waited and listened for her response.

  “Well, as a sci
entist, my rational mind would say no, but as a child, I never once stayed outside after sunset.”

  “And now as an adult?”

  “When I visit home, I still follow the same rule.”

  Everyone was afraid of the dark at some point in their life, but rarely would you hear that from an adult, let alone a scientist, and it wasn’t exactly making the hairs on the back of my neck relax.

  “So, why exactly are you here, Tag?” Isabella, the lithe, pretty one asked, making her first official foray into the conversation.

  “I’m only here to oversee the search for the missing people.”

  “Oh, are you a fellow professor at UCLA?” she asked.

  “No, Finn is a private investigator working for the University,” Alessandra said.

  “Do you live in Los Angeles?” Stephania asked.

  “God no, I’m a devout Northern Californian.”

  “Then how is it you came to have this job? Do you specialize in missing persons?” Isabella asked.

  “Sometimes, though I do all kinds of investigative work. In this case, however, I ended up with the job because I knew one of the people at the camp.”

  “Really, which one?” Stephania asked.

  “Yeah, which one?” Alessandra added, sounding intrigued.

  “Estelle Connor.”

  “Oh, I know her,” Alessandra said.

  “Apparently, it’s a small world.”

  “Even more so in academia.”

  “Oh, have you two worked together?”

  “I guess you could say that, as I met her when I last visited the Chalupa dig site. So, how do you two know each other?” she asked.

  Excellent question, though I kind of didn’t want to answer, but I decided to once again man-up and tell it straight.

  “We used to date.”

  “You’re a lucky man. She’s very bright—and very beautiful.”

  “If I were a lucky man, we’d still be together.”

  “Yeah, but it shows how much you cared if you were still willing to come here and find her. I think it’s very romantic,” Stephania said.

  “So, how is it that UCLA chose you for the job?” Alessandra asked.

  “That’s the weird part. Estelle actually called me the night that she and her colleagues disappeared. In fact, we were on the phone when it all went down.”

  “What happened? What did she say?” Carina asked, as she leaned forward and listened intently for my answer.

  “She said that she was in trouble and needed my help because they had lost power and there were things in the camp.”

  “What kind of things?” Stephania asked.

  “To quote her—scary fucking things, and, to make matters worse, I also heard a horrible roaring noise in the background.”

  “And you don’t have any idea what it was?” Alessandra asked.

  “No, and at the end of our brief exchange, she screamed, and the line went dead.”

  “Do you think it could have been one of King Chalupa’s creatures?” Isabella asked.

  “Hard to say, and, honestly, I thought it was a joke and she was just drunk dialing me for the hell of it. That is, until the next morning when I called the UCLA Archaeology Department and found out that she and the entire team had all disappeared without a trace. That’s when Dean Donald Delaney hired me to come down here and oversee the search operation.”

  Suddenly, a man appeared at our table, and I looked up expecting it to be our waiter but instead saw John Greaves—the Embassy official I’d met at the airport.

  “Sorry I’m late, but I got held up at the Embassy,” he said.

  “No problem, I got held up at the university—at gun point,” I responded.

  “Seriously?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Wait, why didn’t you tell us about this?” Julio asked.

  “Yeah, why not?” Carina added.

  “It wasn’t a big deal.”

  “Yes it was! Two assholes cornered us in a back alley, and tried to kidnap Tag,” Stephania said.

  “And, interestingly, one of the guys was also on both of my flights—San Francisco to Los Angeles and Los Angeles to Costa Rica, and I have to wonder how he could have managed to be on them, considering that UCLA only bought my tickets that morning.”

  “That would hint at some pretty serious resources,” Greaves said.

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

  “So, what the hell did you do about the guys in the alley?” Isabella asked.

  “He did some crazy karate moves and took both guys out. It was totally awesome,” Stephania said.

  “Did you file a police report?” Greaves asked.

  “No, we just left the scene.”

  “Jesus, this Chalupa affair is getting more interesting by the moment,” Greaves said.

  “No doubt, and I suppose you might as well get me up to speed on how the search is coming along. Dean Donald Delaney told me a bit at the airport, but I imagine there’s more,” I said.

  “Honestly, it’s the weirdest incident I’ve encountered since being here. We get reports all the time about missing persons, though it’s usually from someone back in the States saying they haven’t heard a word from a friend or family member. We always find the person or persons a couple days later at some obscure yoga retreat or surfing camp.”

  “I take it you’ve checked all the surfing camps and yoga retreats?”

  “We have, and not one has had sixteen new arrivals, so it would appear that our missing scientists literally disappeared from the face of the earth.”

  “What did you find at the camp?”

  “That’s where it gets really strange. We’ve sent our own experts up there, and they couldn’t find shit.”

  By experts, he was referring to government people, generally with a military or law enforcement background, and they would be able to figure out what kind of attack took place and who the likely aggressors might be. If they came up empty, then something was truly rotten in the state of Costa Rica.

  “So, no tracks, shell casings, or any signs of a struggle?”

  “That’s where it gets interesting and a bit alarming. We have footprints and some blood droplets, but it all belongs to the scientist’s. There’s no physical evidence of our aggressors. No clothing fibers, shoe prints, blood, or even semen for that matter.”

  “It sounds like it was the ghost of King Chalupa and his demon creatures, after all,” Carina said.

  “King Chalupa and his demon creatures?” Greaves asked, sounding incredulous.

  “The professor and her students were just telling me about some of the local legends—specifically King Chalupa. Apparently, his ghost haunts the ruins, and, as if that weren’t already bad enough, he has an army of half-man, half-beast demon creatures.”

  “Wonderful. Perhaps we should bring in Mystery Inc. to help solve our problem.”

  Only Greaves and I laughed, which made me suspect that Coast Ricans hadn’t grown up watching the Scooby Doo cartoons.

  “Which, of course, brings it all back to why in the hell Chalupa is suddenly such a hot spot,” I said.

  “I suppose we could blame Lars Ortega Von Träger. He’s the reason, after all, that anyone is even out there,” Greaves said.

  “I honestly can’t imagine going to so much trouble to create a park.”

  “Von Träger is very dedicated to Chalupan culture and has done a lot to preserve their way of life,” Alessandra said.

  “You sound as though you like the guy.”

  “I do, but, more than that, I respect him and the work he’s done. There aren’t any billionaires I know of who would do as much for their people. ”

  “I suppose I should try and have a meeting with him. You can tell a lot more about a person when you’re face to face. Is it possible to arrange that?” I asked Greaves.

  “Yeah, but he’s a pretty busy and important man, so it might take a few days. In the meanwhile, I imagine you want to go and inspect the
camp personally.”

  “I do, though I hope I don’t run into King Chalupa or any of his minions.”

  Everyone laughed nervously, which I took as a bad omen.

  “So, what exactly are the Costa Rican authorities doing to find our people?” I asked.

  “Aside from the preliminary investigation, not much. They’ve put out an all points bulletins, alerted the rangers, and done aerial sweeps of the entire area, but, with no viable leads to follow, they’re kind of stuck in limbo. ”

  “So, I’m going to be the only one actively trying to find the missing people?”

  “For the moment—yeah.”

  “Lovely. No pressure on me. Well, shit. On that note, I say we order another round of beers, as, starting tomorrow, I’m going to be a bit busy,” I said.

  “Well, I’d love to stay, but the wife is waiting for me, and, if I come home smelling of beer, I’ll have hell to pay.”

  “No problem, I’ll be sure to have one for you,” I said, holding up my beer to toast.

  Greaves stood, and we shook hands.

  “OK, give me a call in the morning before you head out, and hopefully I’ll have a time and day for the Von Träger meeting. Oh, and I almost forgot. Here’s a satellite phone. Dean Donald Delaney’s number is already programmed into it,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Have fun tonight.”

  “I will, and tomorrow morning, I’ll tell you about all the fun you missed.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  Greaves turned and exited the restaurant, leaving me, the grad students, and the hot sauce sisters to continue our conversation.

  “I can’t say that the news from Greaves is making me feel any better about all this. In fact, it’s starting to feel more like the second Indiana Jones Movie,” I said.

  “Temple of Doom,” Ricardo interjected.

  “Exactly! Goddamn, I love those movies,” I responded.

  “Totally! It’s why I became an archaeologist. It’s just too bad it’s not as exciting as the movies,” he said.

  “Most of the work is done in libraries, and X never marks the spot,” Ricardo and I said, together, roughly paraphrasing one of the lines from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.

  We laughed and clinked our beers to celebrate our little shared moment of movie trivia, but, after we each took a sip, his look turned slightly serious.