Spellbound: a Tale of Magic, Mystery & Murder

by Louise Ann Barton

CHAPTER 27 - THE LOUNGE

  "Here we are," announced Raven as the sprawling, two-story, wooden structure came into view. "Our little home-away-from-home is located just five minutes of easy-strolling time from the outdoor market."

  "I fear it doesn't compare to one of our Big Apple hotels. And we can't speak for the cocktail lounge as we haven't tried it yet," apologized Catherine as they trudged up the hotel's broad, front steps. Susan exchanged greetings with the uniformed, young man as they entered the lobby.

  "My dears," their new friend replied, "our Las Naranjas may be a trifle simplistic for your tastes. It is, however, clean and comfortable. The service is quite good and the staff is honest. The dining room has an excellent, international cuisine and a surprising wine cellar. Believe me, the local people consider you very lucky to be so rich as to be able to afford all this." The women stared at Susan in disbelief.

  "Ladies, I'm serious," she insisted. "Look, you're traveling in the interior of a developing country. You're fortunate to have found a hotel this decent."

  "Actually, it was Raven's fault," said the fiery-haired Samantha. "She was the one who insisted we not stay at the big hotels or frequent all the tourist traps." She paused and rolled her green eyes at Raven. "She's the one who wanted to know how the local people really lived. She's the one who dug up this tiny village."

  "If you really want to know how the local people live, you would have to live with the local people, not stay at the hotel," laughed Susan. She stopped and peered over the enormous wall of potted, sour orange trees at the left of the lobby entrance.

  The lounge was located just beyond the plants in a dimly lit area, which contained more plants, in baskets, suspended from the ceiling. There was a small, darkly gleaming, wooden bar with its inevitable rows of bottles and polished glassware. The area was decorated with wicker furniture, a number of small, round tables and high-backed chairs sprinkled about. Ceiling fans revolved slowly overhead, casting their moving shadows onto the floor and walls.

  "There's no bartender on duty," observed Catherine.

  "He'll be along presently," said Susan gaily as she led the way around the wall of plants and entered the lounge. "Where would you like to sit?" asked Samantha.

  "I don't think it matters," answered Robin, "as we're the only ones here."

  "How about this table, Ladies?" asked Raven, gesturing to a round table near the window.

  "A gorgeous view of the garden! It's got my vote," Susan exclaimed.

  Catherine plunked the bananas down in the center of the table and wearily sat herself in one of the high-backed chairs. "I claim this table in the name of tired, thirsty tourists."

  "Have we introduced ourselves properly, Susan?" asked the tall woman with the tawny mane and gray eyes. "I'm Catherine Elizabeth Williams," she said, striking a pose, the better to show off her well-tailored, yellow blouse and slacks. "Call me Cat. You might have seen me in some TV productions if you didn't blink at the wrong moment. The rest of the time, I'm an aerobics instructor. It pays the rent," she declared, apologetically.

  Cat turned to the petite, blue-eyed, blonde on her left. "This is Robin Richards, an adjunct professor at Compton U. And a very decent healer of sorts."

  "And this," smiled Robin, indicating the green-eyed, redhead to her right, "is Samantha Woodward. She's about to wrap up a law degree, plus she runs a sort of boutique." Samantha smiled, extending her hand. "Call me Sam." She turned to the dark-haired, dark-eyed woman on her right.

  "This is Raven Somers. She works for an investment firm. We designate her as our leader for two reasons. Not only is she very wise, but this gives us someone to blame when things go wrong."

  The four tourists laughed at what was obviously a long-standing joke. Their laughter was infectious and Susan found herself caught up in the merriment.

  "It's a pleasure to meet all of you," smiled Susan. "And now it's my turn," she said, pointing to herself. "I'm Canadian and I'm in the Dominican Republic with a group that’s somewhat like your Peace Corps. We've just been instrumental in getting a bathroom constructed in a community south of Cristo. That bathroom serves 100 families. Our next project is to start a medical clinic there."

  There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation and the tourists simply sat and stared at their new friend. "Most Dominicans don't live the way you do at home," Susan began gently. "You'd be very enlightened if you visited one of the local homes."

  Susan paused, but the women made no response.

  "You'll find the Dominican people to be the friendliest people on earth," she continued. "However, this country has just now developed to an economic and social status comparable to the European, medieval-feudal stage, while most of the world is verging on the 21st century. It makes for a tremendous cultural shock for them as well as for us."

  "Amazingly," she continued, "even the most isolated Dominicans from the campo, the rural areas, are aware of current events. There's always at least one TV set in an area that neighbors may view. They may not be able to understand those events, but they are certainly aware that they're happening."

  "And," Susan informed her amazed audience, "there's only one official electrical generator for the entire country, so 55 percent of the population is hooked into it illegally at any given time. This means the government doesn't realize enough revenue from the sale of this utility to buy oil to keep the generator running. Surely, you must have noticed the chronic power failures each day."

  "What a relief!" sighed Cat. "I've been blaming my poor, old hair drier."

  The conversation stopped as Joseph, the desk clerk, limped into the lounge wearing a crisp, red jacket with brass buttons.

  Samantha asked, "Didn't I just see him behind the desk in the lobby?"

  Robin queried, "And wasn't he just wearing a yellow jacket with brass buttons?"

  "Yes, definitely," whispered Susan, "but a little hotel set out in the middle of nowhere with so few guests can hardly maintain a large staff. So Joseph wears many hats."

  "Of course, he's very slow," said Catherine, "and I speak from personal experience. Heaven forbid the maid should forget to leave enough towels and one must contact Joseph at the desk to rectify the matter. Our vacation could be over by the time he responds."

  Raven jumped in with, "Yes, he's absolutely maddening! He knows we're here, but he doesn't make a move to take our order. He just limps in and starts polishing glasses. With his back to us."

  "Please try to relax," Susan said. "Life here in the Dominican Republic is not ‘hurry up and wait’ as it often is in The States. How can I explain it?" she mused. "It's the difference in the perception of time."

  Robin nodded in agreement. "I realize that if you're an astronaut, the pressure is really on! Precise timing is essential. Not only to the mission, but, also, if you're ever planning to splash back down on Planet Earth. On the other hand, if you've ever had the flu, you know this same portion of time may be perceived in vague distortion."

  "Yes," agreed Sam. "When I was a child, a week seemed like eternity and Christmas never seemed to get here. As I grew older, the same time span became shorter and shorter."

  "And, even though Christmas comes, without fail, every year, I can't think of anyone who finishes gift buying and holiday preparations in good time," added Raven.

  Cat laughed, "Yes, it's as if we didn't know Christmas was coming. As if we didn't have a whole year in which to prepare," she joked. "Is that what you mean, Susan?"

  Susan nodded. "I worked in a hospital for a while and there were some patients, stroke victims, addicts, and alcoholics, who seemed to lose whole chunks out of their lives without realizing it. On the other hand, we have someone like our friend, Cat. She finds waiting for Joseph to serve us to be the equivalent of being suspended over a cobra pit by her thumbs, each passing moment of exquisite and painful length!" The women laughed at this example and nodded in agreement.

  "But Joseph is different," Samantha insisted. "He likes to make us wait for service. He does
it on purpose."

  "Not for long," smirked Cat. She winked at Raven. Raven winked back.

  Susan looked nervously at her new friends. "Is something wrong?"

  Cat stared intently at Joseph, while Raven patted Susan's hand. "It's all right, Susan," she whispered reassuringly. "Cat is simply engaging in a little battle of wills with Joseph."

  Raven also turned her attention to Joseph.

  Robin leaned forward and whispered, "You see, he's trying to see how long he can take without attending to us. We, on the other hand, are trying to see how uncomfortable we can make him during that time." She, too, turned her gaze to Joseph.

  "People can feel when someone is watching them," Samantha explained.

  Susan stared at her questioningly, then added, haltingly, "I read about this somewhere."

  "Try it with us, Susan," Samantha urged. "Stare at Joseph. Visualize in your mind what you want to happen." And her voice droned on, hypnotically. "Concentrate. Concentrate."

  Susan found herself staring at the back of Joseph's head, willing him to turn, to acknowledge their presence. She concentrated with all her being and, to her amazement, Joseph froze.

  He knew!

  Unable to ignore the five piercing pairs of eyes, he fought against turning to acknowledge their presence. He would take their orders in his own good time, he told himself, but he couldn't resist their collective will. Joseph turned and stared straight at Cat with such burning hatred that Susan caught her breath. And then, almost immediately, the expressionless mask returned to his face. It was the old, servile Joseph who limped his way to their table.

  "Five piña coladas, Joseph," Raven told him.

  Joseph just stared at her. No one spoke and the tension at the table was intense.

  "My treat, girls, if that's all right with everyone," chirped Robin. Forcing a smile, she turned to Joseph. "Oh, Joseph, we're terribly thirsty. If you could possibly bring us those drinks right away, and some nibbles, there's a very nice tip in it for you."

  Joseph stared at Robin for a moment, then muttered, "Yes, Miss." To everyone's great relief, he turned and limped away. The blood had drained from Susan's face during the encounter and she peered fearfully at Joseph as he worked behind the bar.

  "There's something radically wrong with that man!" she declared in a whisper.

  Raven shot Samantha a warning glance, then said, "Well, everything seems to be all right now."

  As Susan settled down, Cat begged her, "Won't you tell us more about our vacation paradise?"

  Robin whispered breathlessly, "Oh, yes, Susan, please do."

  "Well," began Susan, "these people have a very unique history. In 1492, this island was populated with the Paeleoindio."

  Cat leaned forward, frowning. "The what?"

  Susan laughed and said, "Indian people living in the Stone Age. Columbus discovered them on one of his voyages. He came crashing in on them, bringing the 15th century and a horde of plundering Spaniards with him."

  Joseph looked up from mixing the drinks. "Columbus did not find those Indians, Miss. They were not lost," he insisted.

  The women looked up in surprise. Joseph placed the drinks and a fruit platter on a tray and limped over to their table. His head was bowed.

  "Yes, Joseph," Raven agreed. "Many people are beginning to view Columbus as a man with a vision who was hopelessly lost. Although there are just as many who steadfastly insist he was a great discoverer. In this country, Cristo Colon is greatly revered." Without another word, Joseph set the drinks and fruit on the table and limped from the room. Susan sighed with relief and continued her story.

  "The conquerors tortured and murdered many of the local people. They enslaved the rest. But the Indians were unable to live in slavery and the population diminished rapidly."

  Susan leaned out of her seat, the better to stare at Joseph. "He's back behind the reception desk," she whispered with relief and nibbled nervously on a chunk of pineapple.

  "One group of Indians escaped," Robin said. "I remember reading that when they were faced with certain recapture, they committed mass suicide. Just like the Jews at Masada." She stirred her drink with the straw.

  "Yes," agreed Susan, "and all of today's Dominicans insist that the Paleoindio blood line became extinct. But," she added with a twinkle in her eye, "this is not necessarily true. Visitors to this country can see the obviously Indian facial features of many Dominicans."

  The others nodded in agreement.

  "But what about those who look like Joseph?" asked Sam. "He looks more African than Indian to me. And just look at his great size and square jaw."

  Susan nodded, "Joseph is Haitian. You see, the Spaniards needed a ready supply of slaves on the island as the Indians were obviously not working out."

  "So, they imported Africans because they were physically and emotionally hardier than their Indian predecessors," Robin added, "and the Africans brought their religion with them. These new slaves fervently believed Voodoo would free them from their tormentors."

  Susan smiled, "Ah, but they were also more imaginative than the Paleoindio. Believing their religion protected them, a number of these new slaves escaped to the West. They managed to cross the mountain range to avoid recapture and formed their own country, Haiti."

  "So," Cat interjected, "the Haitians are the heroes!"

  "One would certainly think so," agreed Susan, "but for some reason, the local people seem to revere the Spaniards."

  "Well," sniffed Robin, "there's no accounting for taste."

  The women sat for awhile, sipping their drinks. Susan broke the silence. "May I give you some good advice?"

  Raven nodded, "You may certainly try."

  "I want your vacation in paradise to be just that and not turn into a nightmare," Susan said. She raised her glass and shook it until the ice tinkled. "This ice is safe here in the lounge, and inside the hotel, but don't drink the local water. In fact, don't eat raw vegetables, salad, or fruit outside the hotel. Your innocent American intestinal tracts are no match for the local bacteria."

  "I noticed that, in our hotel suite, there's a sign stating only one sink has drinkable water," Robin said. "Yes," agreed Susan, "be sure to drink from the designated tap. Use bottled water when motoring about and don't order anything with ice outside the hotel."

  "We could pick up some bottled water tomorrow," murmured Cat.

  "Absolutely!" agreed Sam.

  "Also," cautioned Susan, "don't bathe in any slow-running streams or rivers in your travels. Occasionally, members of the Peace Corps or the clergy come down with serious, lifelong, parasitic infections that defy the best medical efforts." The tourists stared at her in horror.

  "I'm sorry, my dears, but a warning is better than finding out firsthand," Susan apologized. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "There's someone watching us!" she whispered.