Take the Money: Romantic Suspense in Costa Rica

by Lucia Sinn

  They found what they were looking for on a small end table in the living room. It appeared to be a senior graduation picture: a dark-haired girl with high cheekbones and a soft full mouth, wearing a prim high-necked blouse trimmed with lace.

  “She looks kinda prissy.” Carlos said. “Are you sure this is Julie?”

  “Yeah, I seen her working at the restaurant. That’s her. Only she’s thinner now. Kinda looks like that Angelina Jolie in the movies.” Cody rearranged several other framed pictures surrounding it. “If we’re lucky, they won’t notice it’s gone.” He looked over the small room furnished with white linen sofas and chairs, old fashioned tables, and worn oriental rugs. “Geez.” he said. “They can’t even afford a TV set. They probably couldn’t borrow much money even if they tried.”

  Carlos said. “ Now, let’s go upstairs and see if we can find anything else.”

  While Carlos went through Julie’s room, Cody surveyed the master bedroom. He opened a jewelry box and found a locket with a watch on one side, a painted picture of an old fashioned lady on the other. He slipped it into his pocket.

  “Come here,” Carlos called. “I’ve found some picture albums.”

  There was one of her in a pair of khaki shorts and a tank top, taken next to a tall monument that looked like an Egyptian pyramid. Everything in the picture was various shades of brown, except for a bright blue sky. The hair was long, and it bore a closer resemblance to the girl he’d seen working for DuFrain than the corny school picture downstairs. They took that, and a couple of others that seemed fairly recent.

  “Good,” Carlos said, rubbing his hands together. “It looks like we’re out of here and on our way.”

  *

  Cody shut his eyes and gripped the armrest as the plane lost altitude. He was relieved, then terrified when the pilot announced they were ready to land. Nearly blind with fright, he watched as the sparkling lights in the mountains grew brighter and the plane bucked against the wind.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Carlos’ chest heaving with suppressed laughter, but he was so sure they were about to crash he didn’t care what the asshole thought. A baby screamed as the plane hit the ground and jerked a couple of times before coming to a grinding halt.

  The minute they walked into the airport, they stopped for beer. Cody had downed three to Carlos’ one before they got through customs.

  “Hey man, better watch it. You’re liable to barf that up.”

  “Shit. Take more’n three beers to make me sick.” Cody gritted his teeth so hard his jaws ached. Goddamn Carlos thought he was a hotshot just because he was used to flying back and forth to Puerto Rico. Cody’s fingers itched. Without his switch-blade, he felt like he’d had his arm chopped off—weak and defenseless. Soon as they hit the streets in San Jose, he’d pick up what he needed and then they’d see who had the upper hand.

  Right now, he had to depend on Carlos to navigate their way through this bewildering maze of foreigners. When they finally got outside, they hit a wall of short dark men waving placards, jostling with each other for access to a fresh carload of tourists. Carlos bartered for the best offer and they followed a skinny old man with a face like a walnut to a battered taxi at the end of the parking lot.

  After Carlos asked the cab driver to find a cheap place, they ended up in a small pink stucco building with chipped paint and broken windows. Their room at the end of the hall had two narrow cots with dirty torn sheets and thin blankets but it didn’t matter, they wouldn’t be there long. A Nicaraguan street vendor sold them two turquoise handled knives.

  The neighborhood looked like it housed the same kind of low life’s that hung out along the Wabash River, except everyone had dark skin, black hair and brown eyes. Smelled different, too. Funky. Like rotten garbage and outhouses with their own peculiar mixture of shit. Hot moist air pressed down, and the rash on Cody’s face began to swell and itch. Damned meth did that. Having to sleep in the same place he cooked it. He had his eye on a big house in the country, but that took money—money that had been stolen from him and that he now intended to get back. There was no time to waste. He’d made up his mind to something else, too. Julie Lawson was never coming back to Indiana.

  Carlos asked around and found out the place where all the gringos hung out was in downtown San Jose. The Memphis South seemed like a good place to start. Both of them felt at home right away. With the country music, rowdy beer drinkers, and half-dressed women, they might just as well have been sitting at the Red Bandanna back in Lewiston. And best of all, the broad who ran the place knew what a boiler maker was.

  Cody felt like his old self. He fingered the new knife in his pocket and decided it was time to get down to business. “Let’s talk to some of these guys and show them those pictures,” he suggested.

  Carlos moved his palm back and forth in front of Cody’s face. “Calm down, man. What’s the hurry?”

  “The hurry is that this here trip is costing me money. Every minute. I’m the one that’s paying the bills here, not you.”

  Carlos placed his hands on the rough wooden tabletop and leaned forward, talking through clenched teeth. “You want information, it takes a little diplomacy. And you have to be willing to pay.”

  “How much?”

  “A couple of dollars and a free drink might do it. But we have to be careful. Somebody might tip her off that we’re looking for her.”

  Carlos signaled the waiter for more drinks. “We need to act like we’re just a couple of gringos on vacation. Get the burr out of your ass. I know this is going to be difficult, Amigo, but try to pretend you’re down here to have a good time. Then let me handle the rest.”

  Carlos saw group of men two tables away knew the names of the waitress and called across the room to some of the other customers. “Probably regulars,” he said. Carlos and Cody moved to the table next to them when it emptied. The men were talking college football.

  “You guys from Nebraska?” Carlos asked.

  “Nah,” one of the older ones with thin white hair hanging down his neck turned and gave them a quick glance, then returned to his conversation. No one else looked their way.

  Carlos waited a few minutes and tried a different approach. He scooted his chair back so that his head was inches away from another man who seemed to have consumed too many Cuba Libras, from the look in his bloodshot eyes. “Hey buddy, we’re looking for a little action. Any suggestions?”

  The man seemed more willing to talk than his friend did. “What kind of action? Whores or gambling? Plenty of both. Where you guys from?”

  “Indiana.”

  “Hoosiers.” The man slurred the word, dragging out the O’s and bobbing his head. “You’re a long way from home. What’s your business?”

  “We’re looking for a friend of ours from home, an American girl. We hear she’s hanging out down here.” Carlos said.

  “Alone?”

  “Well, she came alone.”

  “Why? She one of those missionaries?”

  Carlos gave the man a sly grin, his white teeth gleaming under the strobe lights in the darkened room. “Do we look like the kind who’d be looking for a missionary?” He signaled the waitress. “How about if I buy you guys a drink?”

  “Sure.”

  Carlos reached in his back pocket and produced the pictures of Julie they’d taken from her bedroom. “You know this chick?” he asked. The drunk picked up the pictures and held them to the light, capturing the attention of his companions. Conversation halted as the pictures were slowly passed around the table. One man squinted and mumbled something, and Carlos saw the guy next to him poke him in the ribs. The others didn’t open their mouths.

  “So, none of you have seen this lady,” Carlos said in English.

  The response to his question was an innocent chorus of “no’s.”

  Carlos pressed his fingertips together for a moment and shrugged. “No big deal. We’ll probably catch up with her somewhere.”

  Someone said, “If
she’s such a good friend, how come you don’t know where she’s staying?”

  Carlos ignored the question and stood up, signaling for Cody to finish his drink. “Hasta Luego,” he called over his shoulder. “We need some fresh air.”

  Cody gulped down the last of his drink and followed Carlos outside. “Why’d you leave like that?” he demanded. “ I think those guys did recognize her.”

  “I think so too, otherwise they wouldn’t have kept so quiet. But they weren’t about to tell us. It doesn’t matter, she’s around somewhere close. It won’t take long to find a hungry Tico who’s willing to sell some information.”

  “Like who?”

  Carlos lowered his head and snapped his fingers. “Think, my friend. Did you get a good look at the waiters?”

  “The waiters? Why would they tell us anything?”

  “How much money do you think they make?”

  Cody scratched his face, thinking. “Five bucks an hour?”

  “You kidding? How much was your drink?”

  “ I can’t figure out this foreign money. That’s what I’m paying you for.”

  “Okay, then you’ll have to trust me. I’m telling you those guys in there are going to pass the word that someone’s looking for Julie. We’ll wait around until that bunch of drunks leave. Then, we go back in and talk to the waiters and offer them a little dinero. Meanwhile, it looks like there’s plenty of action here on the streets.”

  Carlos nodded at two young girls strolling by. Their tank tops and skinny pants were so tight they could barely walk on their five inch spiked heels. Their glossy black hair was loosely knotted on top of their heads, with stray tendrils spilling down over their dewy cheeks. They smiled at Carlos, their eyes lingering for a meaningful moment.

  Carlos licked his lips. “Those putas are in cahoots with the waiters inside, trust me. We’re not just going to get laid, we’re going to find little Miss Julie.”

  SEVEN

  “Gimmie a great big juicy ole’ hamburger and a double order of fries.” Two burly Texans had gotten off the plane an hour ago and headed for the Memphis South to find some action. Julie was into her second week and just starting her shift, but could have predicted what these customers would order.

  “Why is it,” she asked Nellie during a momentary lull in the kitchen, “Americans travel all the way to Central America and immediately head for a place that’s exactly like home?”

  “Don’t know honey, but it’s fine with me, I can just pretend I’m back at the American Legion in Beaumont, Texas. Except we had air conditioning.” Nellie wiped the back of her neck with a tea towel, exposing damp patches under the arms of her white-fringed blouse

  “The American Legion?” Julie’s brain went static for a second, trying to see the connection between this feminine, adventurous lady and a bunch of aging warriors guzzling beer in a pine paneled room on a Saturday night. “Were you a veteran or something?”

  “I’m a veteran, all right. A veteran of slinging hash and going nowhere fast.” Nellie looked like she was about to cry.

  “So is that why you came down here? To make your fortune, at last?”

  “Something like that. I heard from an old friend that it was up for sale. I was managing the Legion in Beaumont, so figured I could handle it. So I sold my house and cashed in my chips. About everything I own is tied up in this place.”

  “You bought it sight unseen?”

  “Afraid so.”

  “You’d never even been to Costa Rica?” Julie tried to keep her voice from escalating. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to buy a place in the States?”

  Nellie stuck out her lower jaw and pulled her hair above one ear. “See that scar? That’s from my ex. He slashed my face and warned me that was just the beginning if I didn’t go back with him.”

  Julie stared at the shiny, pink seam that curved down the side of Nellie’s cheek. “But couldn’t you have gotten a restraining order? Isn’t that what the police are for?”

  “I had one, it didn’t matter, they couldn’t keep him away from me. I’d hear noises at night, look out and see shadows, and then he’d get in his car and drive away. I knew it was only a matter of time before he finished playing cat and mouse, and I’d be dead. The only thing I’m scared of now is that he’ll find me down here.”

  Julie felt a sudden bonding with Nellie. They were both on the run, like many of the regulars at the Memphis South: a motley bunch of expatriates who be-bopped and gyrated on the dance floor with sad, unfocused eyes like a scene out of Dante’s Inferno. What dark secrets had brought them to this point of no return? Abandon all hope all ye who enter here.

  Julie was at a loss for words of comfort. She headed for the dining room where the waiter she was replacing had just left without cleaning his tables. Back at the Kensington House, this would have caused a squabble, but she was becoming resigned to the lackadaisical Latin attitude about work. She picked up a wet sponge and attacked the debris. There had been a smoker here; the table top was covered with ashes, ketchup smears, and spilled salt. A couple of slobs, for sure.

  She dumped the dirty ashtray into a plastic container when her eyes fell on a small book of matches that looked familiar. Still navigating on autopilot Julie brushed them into the bucket along with the crumbs and dirty napkins when a switch went on in her head, like the feeble sputtering of a fluorescent light trying to connect. She looked again at the matches, a chill sweeping through her body as she snatched them out of the trash and held them in her trembling fingers. Black matte background, fine silver lettering:

  The Kensington House

  400 South Fourth Street

  Lewiston, Indiana

  Julie felt a jolt like an electric shock; she hadn’t expected him to find her so fast.

  “What is it?” Julie heard Nellie’s voice, but her face was blurred.

  Julie put a hand to her throat. “I’m in trouble.”

  Nellie moved closer, enveloping them in the warmth of her exotic perfume. “What kind of trouble?”

  Julie opened her hand and showed Nellie the matches.

  Nellie looked at the logo. “This is probably just a coincidence,” she said. “Aren’t Indiana restaurants smoke free now? These are probably from years ago.”

  “They are, but Kevin had a carton of them leftover from the old days. He kept them near the back door. Anyone who went out the back way could help themselves. So, whoever left these matches knew Kevin very well.”

  “You’re white as a ghost,” Nellie said.

  It was no use trying to keep it from Nellie now, she had to trust her. “There’s someone looking for me back in Lewiston. I witnessed a murder.”

  “A murder? And you didn’t call the police?”

  “Come on, we just talked about that. How much help did the police give you? Didn’t you tell me that’s why you had to get out of the country?”

  “Oh Jesus. You too, huh?”

  “Why are you surprised?”

  “You seem too classy for that kind of trouble. Or maybe classy isn’t the word.”

  “Stupid would work,” Julie said “I got involved with a man I knew was all wrong for me.”

  “But exciting, huh? Those kind always are.”

  “More excitement than I bargained for,” Julie agreed.

  “You think it would help if you got out of San Jose for awhile?”

  Julie threw her hands in the air. “I don’t know, but I feel like I have to do something. If they know I work here, they can probably find out where I’m staying. I can’t go back there tonight.”

  “Tell you what,” Nellie said. “There’s a pilot for Tico airlines comes in here sometimes. He runs a shuttle plane to the beach, up north in Guanacaste. I’ll call and ask him if he has an empty seat.”

  “Have you ever been to this place?” Julie asked.

  “Yes, it’s peaceful and beautiful. Tourists love it. I took a little trip when I first came down last month. Just one thing. I hope you don’t get airsick.”r />
  “Not normally.”

  “It can be a pretty wild. The wind in the mountains whips that flimsy sucker around like a model airplane.”

  “Is it a four seater?”

  “Six or eight, maybe.”

  “Do you mind, Nellie? I hate to walk out. I know you need help right now and you’ve been so good to me.”

  “Don’t worry. Just this week has helped me get my bearings. I’m learning some Spanish and you’ve helped train the staff. I really owe you, Julie.”

  Nellie wrapped her fingers tightly around Julie’s wrist. She waited until the other waitresses were out of earshot and lowered her voice to a whisper. “You’d better get going. No telling what they’ve heard from some of the people working here. I don’t have what you’d call a loyal staff.”

  Julie nodded. “I’ll call when I get to the beach. You can let me know if anyone’s been asking for me. Right now, I’m going to sneak out the back, pack a few things, and run to the bank.”

  She started to turn away, but a lump in her throat pulled her back. She wasn’t a hugger, never had been, but she knew she was going to miss her friend. Impulsively, she leaned forward and held Nellie so close she could feel the beating of her heart. Both their faces were hot and wet with tears.

  “You take care, now,” Nellie’s voice was husky with emotion.

  “I’ll be back,” Julie promised as she turned to leave. Once again, she was off on another adventure. They were coming close together now—too close. And the old thrill of going into uncharted territory had been replaced by a fear of what lay ahead.

  *

  The cab bounced up the mountain on a yellow dirt road, spewing diesel fumes and kicking up clouds of dust that swept through the open windows. Julie’s throat constricted as she breathed in the polluted air. At last they came to a low cinder block building that reminded her of the bus terminal in Lewiston.

  The cab skidded to a halt. “Is this it?” Julie asked.

  The driver gave her a quizzical look. “Si”