Take the Money: Romantic Suspense in Costa Rica

by Lucia Sinn

  “She headed for Costa Rica,” he said. “I just confirmed it with the ticket agent.”

  “Where is she right now?”

  “On her way to the departure gate.”

  “How long before the flight leaves?”

  “About an hour. Shall I pick her up and bring her in?”

  “No. She wasn’t at the crime scene and we don’t have anything on her. Anyway, we need to know what she’s doing and why she’s headed for Central America. I’ll get in touch with the Task Force in Indy and have someone tail her. This may be bigger than we think.”

  Ed Corey called his contact at the DEA and reported what was happening. When they took him seriously and said they’d take it from there, he was exhilarated. He was in the major leagues now. An international drug ring. To hell with the editors at the Lewiston Star and his enemies in the party.

  THREE

  “Come back! Tell me where you’re going.” Maggie screamed at the fleeting Honda as Julie revved the motor and turned right toward the highway. Although Maggie was shivering in the cold rain, her face was hot as she tried to play back Julie’s words in her mind. Kevin killed. Some kind of trouble. Don’t call the police. What in God’s name had Julie gotten herself into? Maggie fought the impulse to run out onto the road and down the highway behind the car.

  Maggie stumbled up the porch, let herself into the house and raced for the bathroom. Her stomach contracted violently but nothing came up. Overhead, the stairs creaked with the sound of heavy footsteps, and she heard Jed’s voice, thick with sleep.

  “What’s wrong? Why were you outside?” Jed hadn’t bothered to throw on a robe, and he used his bare butt to close the door Maggie had left hanging open. The lace curtains fluttered as a gust of damp air swept through the house, but Maggie wasn’t feeling the cold. She was numb with fear. “Julie’s in some kind of trouble. Oh, Jed, I’m so scared.”

  Jed put an arm around her waist. “Here, let me help you to the living room.”

  Her legs watery, Maggie leaned against her husband’s sturdy body and hung on while he guided her to the couch. “She’s run off again.”

  “But why?” Jed turned on the ceiling light and squinted at her while his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. His thinning white hair was tousled above the deep furrows of his forehead, and his well-trimmed white beard set off his tanned skin.

  “It has nothing to do with you or me,” she said, knowing what he was probably thinking.

  “Well, that’s a relief. I was trying to remember what I might have said today—or yesterday. I don’t think we’d had a disagreement, but of course you never know, where Julie is concerned.”

  “She said there’d been an accident and that Kevin was killed.”

  Jed frowned. “It wouldn’t be like her to run if the accident was her fault.”

  “She didn’t explain, but she didn’t want to call the police, either. Oh, God, what can I do?” Maggie jumped to her feet and began to pace back and forth.

  “Well, the first thing we can do is try and find out about this accident. We’ll have to call the police, there’s no other way.”

  “No. Let’s wait and see if it’s on the eleven o’clock news.”

  “Then why don’t you come to bed and watch? I think you should lie down.”

  Maggie folded her arms and clenched them to her waist as if trying to hold herself together. “That would be impossible, I’m too nervous.” She continued pacing in front of the window, her eyes on the road.

  “The news won’t be on for a few minutes. I think you need something to calm you down.” Jed went into the dining room and opened the liquor cabinet in the walnut buffet that lined the far wall.

  “Don’t bother with whiskey,” Maggie said. “I don’t want to knock myself out. Just pour me a small glass of Chardonnay.”

  Jed took out two long-stemmed crystal wine glasses. Maggie would have been satisfied with a paper cup or a juice glass, but Jed had an instinct for doing things correctly. He uncorked the bottle he’d put in the refrigerator after dinner and poured the pale liquid almost to the rim.

  Maggie sat down and took several long drinks without bothering to savor the nutty flavor. When she finished the wine, her hands stopped shaking but there was a buzzing in her head and she began muttering, hardly aware of Jed’s presence. “I haven’t been the right mother for Julie,” she said, twirling the glass in her fingers.

  Jed walked over to where she sat moving her lips and bent down so that his eyes met hers. “Stop it, Maggie!” He was almost shouting in an effort to pull her out of her frantic ruminations. “You are a good mother. Julie may have been a top student, but she sometimes lacks common sense.”

  “But I just didn’t know what to do with someone that bright.”

  “You loved her and nurtured her, didn’t you? Did you ever starve or abuse her in any way?”

  “Good Lord, no, but she’s never forgiven me for the divorce. Her father was so proud of her, and he didn’t mistreat her the way he did me; he never laid a finger on her.”

  “We’ve been over this before. You couldn’t stay married to a man who abused you, and Julie is smart enough to understand.”

  “Then what is she running from? Why is she so determined to throw away her talents? She has to be punishing me.” Maggie slammed the empty wineglass on the coffee table and continued to stare out the window in the wild hope that Julie’s car might turn into the driveway.

  “I think you’re taking it too personally, and you can’t rid yourself of all that Catholic guilt. There’s no doubt that Julie had to be hurt when you got a divorce, but it’s happened to other children, and they didn’t let it ruin their lives.” Jed stood up and took Maggie’s hand in his. “Now come on. Let’s go upstairs and watch the news in bed. Maybe it’s not as bad as she said. She may have been in shock, not remembered things clearly.”

  The newscaster, an animated young man with a perpetual smile on his face, seemed thrilled to have a local disaster to report:

  “A fatal accident occurred tonight on US 140, west of Lewiston. Apparently, the driver lost control of his late-model Porsche and it went off the road, tumbling down a hill where a fiery explosion took place. Police were called to the scene about ten o’clock. The name of the victim is being withheld pending notification of relatives.”

  The charred crumpled car was spotlighted, and ambulance drivers were shown carting away what appeared to be a corpse. Maggie sat up, stunned to think that Julie had been in such an accident and survived. The newscaster’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Apparently, the victim was alone and there were no other cars involved.”

  “Alone?” Maggie echoed his words and turned to look at Jed. “Why did she run away? Do you think she was driving and panicked?”

  “Not Julie. If she was to blame, and there was something she could have done to help, she would have done it. That is, unless she was in shock.”

  “But I saw her, she was sane and lucid. Where did she go?”

  Jed shook his head. “You’re probably going to have to make some kind of a decision here. You’ll have to call the police if Julie doesn’t come home by tomorrow.”

  “Doesn’t come home?” Maggie felt the panic rising in her chest. She was too frightened even to cry. “What do you mean? Of course she’ll come home. Why wouldn’t she?”

  Jed said, “Let’s turn off this TV and try to get some rest.” He had an incredible ability to fall asleep when the world around him was falling apart. Was it strength, or simple denial? On the other hand, Julie’s father was a man whose manic energy often kept him up all night. Maggie knew she had consciously chosen a second husband who was a total opposite of her first—which could be why Julie found him so hard to accept.

  But sleep was not an option for Maggie. She lay in the darkness, watching as the wind and moonlight sent leafy shadows dancing across the bedroom walls. Hope surged each time a car passed on the road outside, then faded as it failed to stop. As soon as she was sure Je
d was asleep, Maggie got up and went downstairs to sit on the sofa.

  Hours went by. The rain finally stopped, and there was only the slow drip of water coming from the gutters along the porch. The moon and the stars were hidden, but Maggie kept her eyes on the wet pavement that glistened under the streetlight, longing for Julie’s car to appear. Finally, she saw the gray light of dawn and lay down. She awakened to see Jed standing over her, holding out a cup of steaming coffee.

  “Careful,” Maggie said. “You might burn yourself.” As always, she was aware of his virility and lack of self-consciousness. Jed’s farm upbringing had given him heavy arms corded with muscles and the firm body of a man much younger than his fifty-five years. The fact that his chest was covered with silvery black hairs was not something he tried to conceal; he was totally comfortable with his body. At the moment his dark brown eyes were studying her intently and were full of compassion.

  “I suppose you’ve been up all night watching for her.”

  “Not all night. Last time I looked it was four o’clock.”

  “Surely you won’t try and go to work.”

  “I have to. We’re short already.” The nursing unit at the hospital to which Maggie was assigned was chronically understaffed. Working in the transitional care unit wasn’t exactly a plum assignment. Watching old people fade away wasn’t as uplifting as working on the floor below where beautiful babies were introduced to the world every day.

  “You’re entitled to an occasional sick day.”

  “But I’m not sick.”

  “Yes, you are, you’re totally stressed out. You don’t have to keep pushing yourself, Maggie, you have me to fall back on now.”

  “Maybe you’re right about calling in. If I go to work, I won’t be able to do anything all day about finding her.” Maggie had finished half of her coffee, and the caffeine was clearing her mind.

  “Find her? How do you propose to do that? You and I both know that if Julie wants to disappear, she will. From what you told me last night, she was dead set on getting away and she didn’t want the police involved.”

  Maggie drained the last dregs of coffee from her cup and stood up. “I’m going up to her room,” she said, “there might be some clue there.”

  She walked into Julie’s room and faced a kaleidoscope of shifting emotions: tenderness, panic, fear and anger. The room still smelled of Julie’s shampoo and the fragrance of her soft skin. Her rumpled bed looked like it might still be warm, as if Julie had just arisen. Books and magazines were stacked on the dresser, piles of papers and notebooks littered the floor. Julie was always studying, reading, writing—what, Maggie was never quite sure. But she had always respected her daughter’s privacy and never given into the temptation to go through her things.

  Now, she might have to violate that policy.

  Maggie looked for the tiny cloth purse that Julie carried. It was small enough to shove into most pockets and usually contained only lipstick, driver’s license, and a meager supply of cash. The purse was not in its usual spot on top of the night table. Maggie turned on the table lamp. Beside it were stacks of Julie’s favorite magazines: National Geographic, The New Yorker, and Science. On top of the magazines Maggie noticed a torn envelope with Julie’s small cryptic handwriting with a goodbye note. Cursing the fact that her glasses were downstairs, she squinted and held it under the lamp. For one exhilarating nanosecond she imagined that the answers to all her questions would be in these few penciled sentences. But her optimism was short lived. Julie had told her nothing at all.

  She yanked open the drawer of the night table where Julie kept a journal with a swirl of bright colors on its cover, and her passport. Both gone. There was no use investigating any further. Julie had taken whatever secrets she carried in her heart, along with her passport.

  Jed came to the door. “Find anything?”

  Maggie held up the envelope. “Just this, a note saying she’s leaving and not to worry. And her passport’s gone.”

  “That should be a relief; at least you know she had some sort of plan.”

  “A plan that involves leaving the country.”

  “So what? She’s lived all over Europe. The girl’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself, she’s proven that.”

  “But she was broke when she came back. She had thought she might get a scholarship or some financial aid if she got into med school, but I don’t think she had more than a couple of hundred dollars in the bank. That’s why she was working for Kevin. Something’s terribly wrong, and yet I’m afraid to go to the police right now.”

  “Then you’ll have to resign yourself to just sitting tight and waiting to hear something.”

  “No, I don’t have to, there’s something else I can do.”

  “Like what?”

  “I’ve thought about this all night. I can hire a private detective to look for Julie and find out about Kevin. I never thought much of him, and he certainly wasn’t Julie’s type.”

  “A private detective? I’m not sure they even have one in Lewiston.”

  Maggie went into the bedroom for a phone book. “Look here.” She pointed to a small advertisement in the yellow pages: Basinki Investigations. Licensed. Bonded. Insured. Confidential Consultations. “See,” Maggie pressed her finger on the advertisement and looked at Jed. “There’s one right here in town, and believe it or not, I went to elementary school with this guy.”

  “I always thought private investigators were something you read about in detective novels that take place in L.A. or New York. Even when Connie was running around with her mysterious lover, it never occurred to me to hire one.” Jed turned away from Maggie and watched a squirrel nibbling at a piece of corn on the feeder he’d placed on the deck.

  Maggie said, “It does seem a bit melodramatic for ordinary people like us.”

  Jed tilted his head and grinned. “I guess you’re right. A college professor and a nurse. We’re not exactly the types to be involved in nefarious schemes, and the thought of hiring someone to find my wife in bed with another man would have seemed tawdry.”

  “Maybe you should have, it could have affected your divorce settlement.”

  “No.” Jed’s voice took on a sharp edge. “Connie had a right to half of whatever we’d accumulated together. She was a good mother to our children and a fair wife. We married too young; it wasn’t her fault that our marriage fell apart.”

  “Talk about Catholic guilt, sounds like you’re carrying some around, yourself.”

  “Maybe. I’m not one to show my emotions and talk things to death, and I know I can seem unfeeling at times.”

  Maggie thought of him sleeping peacefully upstairs while she sat on the sofa all night fretting about Julie. In truth, she had wished he’d been more sympathetic and shared some of her worry. And yet his coolness was one of his attractions, a refreshing respite from her first husband’s raging temper and uncontrollable outbursts. But now she couldn’t buy into Jed’s passive wait-and-see approach to problem solving. She had to do something, and fast. She said, “I’m going to call the Mike Basinki Agency this morning and try to make an appointment today.”

  “Want me to go with you?”

  “No. You have classes.” Maggie thought that maybe she should go alone. She’d never been to a PI before, and she supposed they pried into people’s personal affairs. Basinki might want to know about Julie’s feelings for Jed, and whether they might have influenced her to run away.

  FOUR

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we are approaching Juan Santamaria airport. Prepare for landing.”

  Julie heard the crunch of the landing gear and looked into the velvety blackness outside her window. The city was spread out below with lights twinkling up and down the mountains.

  She looked for the sparkle of moonlight on water, then realized that there would be none. They were far from the ocean, descending deep into the heart of Costa Rica. The tension in her neck relaxed as the plane shuddered and swooped down for a landing along a runwa
y lined with palm trees that undulated in the wind. Away from the icy Midwestern winter, the sharp images of Kevin’s bloody face and orange flames lighting up the sky became a blur in her mind. The waves of anxiety churning in her stomach began to subside. There was an illusion of safety.

  Suddenly, it was summer. In the small room where hundreds of passengers waited to go through customs, the air reeked of mildew and body odor. The long line curled back and forth between rows of iron railing. Julie pulled off her sweatshirt, but her jeans were heavy and damp, and her T-shirt stuck to her skin. The airport waiting area, with its dirty yellow cement walls and littered tile floors, was decidedly seedy in comparison to the luxury of the one she’d just left—but lack of sophistication had its own charm.

  It was going to be a long wait, but no one seemed to mind. There was a festive, holiday feeling of escape from the uptight American scene. Several people swigged openly from bottles of beer as they chatted with fellow travelers. A slightly overweight man of about thirty stood beside her. She studied his face, oddly mismatched with his sandy hair and ruddy Nordic complexion.

  His eyes were dark brown, nose slightly bent at the tip, cheekbones flat. When he smiled, deep dimples formed in his pudgy cheeks. He wore a faded green golf shirt hanging out over a pair of wrinkled khakis, no doubt to disguise a less-than-flat mid-section. Perspiration ran down the sides of his face while he took long deep drinks from his beer. He turned to look at Julie.

  “Where are you stayin’?” he drawled.

  “I…I’m not sure.” Julie turned toward the glassed-in area at the front of the terminal. On the sidewalk outside, hordes of cabbies and drivers waving tour company placards stood shouting at the tourists temporarily trapped inside. Behind them a crescent moon shone brightly against the darkened sky. Julie realized that daylight was several hours away, and she didn’t even have a tour book to help her decide where to go.