Take the Money: Romantic Suspense in Costa Rica (21 page)

Bud stared off into the distance, “I have to admit I do.”

“And you respect what he’s doing in Santa Clara?”

“Of course, who wouldn’t?  But you two are from entirely different cultures.  This may have seemed like a romantic adventure, but when the novelty wears off, you’ll want to head back home.”

“Maybe, maybe not.  I just need a little more time, that’s all.  Surely you understand?”

“Okay, agreed.  I can’t force you to get on a plane, you know.  But I’ll be around if you need me.”

“Great, now take me back to the city.”

Outside the terminal, the sky had darkened and raindrops sprinkled the parking lot.  Julie welcomed the water washing over her body, still warm and aching for Enrique.  She sensed that Bud was frustrated by his own conflicted feelings and still weighing things in his mind.  Happily, by the time they climbed back into the jeep, his mood had taken an upswing. He pursed his lips and whistled Yankee Doodle Dandy in short shrill spurts.

“Take me to the rental car agency,” she told him. “Then I’m going to Nellie’s.”

“You sure you want to go there? Those bums might still be hanging around.  This isn’t over, you know.”

“I’m hoping they’ve run out of money or gotten discouraged.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Julie’s hand flew to her face.  “You left your motorcycle up at Arenal, we forgot all about it.”

“I didn’t forget it.”

“Why didn’t we stop and pick it up on the way back?  I feel terrible now.”

“The doctor had a plane to catch   Somehow, that seemed pretty important.  Don’t worry about it, I’ll get a driver to take me up there.  No problem.”

Julie tried to match his accommodating mood. “Fine, where are you headed now?”

He grinned.  “Where do you think? The Gran Hotel.  I’m ready for some good German beer.”

After dropping off the jeep, Julie found herself walking past the Cathedral where long, heavy gongs announced the beginning of noon Mass.  The pungent fragrance of incense drifting from the sanctuary drew her inside; it had been a long time since she’d been in a Catholic Church. The familiar chants filled her with a sense of homecoming and peace.  She stood in the vestibule, listening to the solemn intonations of the priest and the chorus of responses from the faithful, trying to decide whether or not to take a place in one of the wooden pews at the back.  But somehow, it would seem hypocritical, as though she was pretending a devotion and belief she had long ago ceased to feel. 

Her eyes were drawn to the bulletin board.  A handwritten notice was posted prominently, asking for donations to the Bishops Relief fund for the earthquake victims in El Salvador.  She stared at the notice until the newsprint swam, picturing the orphaned children, starvation, illness, and homelessness.

Julie stepped under the votive lights bleeding out from a side altar to sort through her bag.  Using a blank check that Ortega had given her from Banco de San Jose and an orange plastic pen issued by the First National Bank in Lewiston, Indiana, she wrote a check to the Bishop’s Relief Fund for $25,000 dollars, American money. She dropped it in the collection box quickly, not giving herself a chance to change her mind.

She walked outside where flashes of lightening crackled in the thundering sky. The rain had intensified and become a tropical downpour, sending streams of water gushing across the pavement.  She had no umbrella, but whether or not she got drenched seemed unimportant. 

She clamped a hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle.  Euphoria bubbled in her chest as she walked the streets with hair and clothes soaked through.   She stuck out her tongue and lifted her face until warm raindrops ran down her throat. Pedestrians with umbrellas gave her curious looks, but all she could do was smile

ELEVEN

Maggie clocked out at three-thirty and threaded her way through the hospital lobby.  The worried faces of families awaiting news about their loved ones reminded her that God doesn’t play favorites when it comes to grief.  Although she hadn’t heard from Julie, at least she wasn’t watching her go through chemotherapy or rehabilitation.  The courage of patients facing serious illness was awesome and inspiring.  One couldn’t lose hope.  Julie would call soon--or better yet, walk in the front door.

Maggie’s car was in its usual spot at the front of the employee lot.  She was taking precautions these days, carrying a can of mace and coming in a few minutes early to assure herself of a highly visible parking place.  Northern winds had swept into the valley, accompanied by cold pellets of rain rapidly turning to sleet.  What a relief to reach the safety and shelter of the car, lock the doors, and head for home.

What would they have for dinner?  There were chicken breasts in the freezer, and Chicken Mole sounded good. Maggie ticked off the list of needed ingredients: tomatoes, peppers, onion, cocoa, peanut butter, garlic...uh oh, she was out of garlic.  She could change the menu, possibly, but now she had a taste for Mexican food.  Farmer’s Market was on the way, and she could park right in front. This would take less than a minute.  She pulled her hood over her head and made a run for the door when she felt a hand close around her throat.

She heard a nasty voice, saw a white vapor of breath.  “I’ll take them keys.”  Cody shoved her against the car.  Her mouth opened, but no sounds came out.  He yanked her arm and opened the door. “Get in,” he ordered, shoving her across the driver’s seat.  The steering wheel scraped her stomach and pain shot up her side as he got in beside her, snatched the keys, and started the car.

She clenched her hands into fists, trying to stay in control.  Cody held a gun in his right hand that she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to use if she tried to jump out.  “I told you last week,” she said.  “I don’t have your money.”

Her MP3 player kicked in and Placido Domingo’s tenor voice filled the car.
Toreador. Toreador. 
“What the fuck is that?” Cody banged the dashboard with his gun as Placido sang gaily on. 

“It’s Carmen.” Maggie couldn’t think how this beautiful sound could possibly trigger such rage. Opera was her private passion. Other people found it boring, she knew.  But inflammatory? Cody face was bulging and swollen, his blood pressure probably skyrocketing.  She reached over and turned down the volume.

Then the windshield wipers stuck. “Whatthefuck,” he yelled.

“Just give the button a couple of back and forth turns,” Maggie said, trying to keep her voice level so as to calm his anger. “My wipers are worn out, but you can get them going again that way.”

Cody did as she suggested, and the windshield cleared.  He leaned back in the seat, the tension going out of his shoulders. “I never did like these Pontiacs,” he muttered. 

They were almost out on highway 40 now, and Maggie knew this would diminish her chances for getting away.  Her stomach churned as Cody turned at the light and crossed the Wabash River bridge.  She looked out at the bilious ice-coated water, and felt her hopes fading fast.  They were out of the city.

Cody slowed down and made a left turn onto a muddy path through dirty shacks and dilapidated trailers.  They were in Frog Hop, the dismal little place next to the river.  Cody pulled to a stop in front of a lopsided white trailer parked in a pile of rubble, away from the others.

He raised the gun. “It’s time to get out, if you aim to live.”

Maggie’s eyes drifted down the road where a couple of grimy children were digging in the frozen dirt, their long straggly hair dripping with rainwater. “In front of them?”

He laughed.  “Them kids wouldn’t care if I killed you in broad daylight.  They’ve seen worse, and they know to mind their own business.”

Maggie asked “What do you want with me?”

Cody opened the door and motioned for her to get out on his side.  “It’s not you, exactly,” he told her. “ It’s your daughter.”

“Julie?  You know something about her?  Tell me, where is she?  Have you hurt her?”

“Hey, Cody” a little girl was running toward them.  “Got any dimes?”

“Sure, kid.”  He cocked his gun in the air with one hand, reached in his pocket and threw some change to the ground, laughing as the child scrambled in the dirt to retrieve a couple of nickels and a few pennies. 

The waif stood up, her eyes resting briefly on the gun, then going back to Maggie. For an instant, Maggie hoped that she might be of some help.  But when she lifted a red chapped hand to her nose and wiped away a stream of green discharge, her facial expression showed no emotion.  “Thanks Cody” she said as she ran away.

“Don’t spend it all in one place,” he called, then turned to Maggie.  “See?  I’m their buddy, so don’t get any wild ideas that they’ll call the police or nothing.”

In her anxiety to know about Julie, Maggie lost all concern for her own safety.  “What have you done with her,” she asked.  “Where is my daughter?”

Cody grabbed Maggie’s hair and pushed her inside, kneeing her back and forcing her up the rickety stairs.

The stench inside the trailer was overwhelming.  The walls were stained, and a table was filled with Mason jars, lighter fluid, gloves, hoses, a scale--all obvious drug making paraphernalia.  Maggie’s stomach lurched, but fortunately she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so nothing came up.

“You’d better take a pee.”  Cody jerked his head toward the back room.

“Why?”  Maggie tried to stand up straight, but her back was sore.

“Cause I’m gonna have to tie you up.” 

“Why?  You think I’m going to leave before I find out what’s happened to Julie?”

Cody came so close his rancid breath filled Maggie’s nostrils.  “Nothing’s happened to your precious Julie, that’s the problem.”

“You’ve seen her?  You know what’s happened to her?”

“I’ve seen her all right, she’s down in Costa Rica. She took off with my money and you’re staying right here with me until I get it back.”

“But if she’s down there, what good will it do to hold me?”

“Because I’ve sent her a message, told her she better hi-tail it up here pronto if she wants to see you again.”

“What if she doesn’t come?  What will you do?”

His cracked upper lip curled into a snide smirk.  “What do you think I’ll do?”

Maggie was so relieved to know Julie was safe that Cody’s threats lost their edge.  Her heart was beating steadily again. She went to the bathroom as she was told, then held her arms behind her back while Cody tied her to a kitchen chair, pulling a clothesline rope tight around her wrists, looping it up around her neck so that if she moved her arms or head even slightly, she felt like she was strangling.

Hog-tied to a chair.

It occurred to Maggie there was a very real possibility she might be killed, but if that’s what had to happen to keep this repulsive pig from ever touching her daughter, so be it.

Maggie closed her eyes, trying to think of a coping mechanism to get her through this ordeal, something to fix her mind on.  She and Jed played duplicate bridge once a week.  Not too good at it, since they’d only started recently.  But supposing you opened three diamonds, ten high, seven-card suit.  What if you got the bid and your partner had three points, no diamonds?  She tried to envision the other hands, the suit splits, the crossruffs. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the slam of the refrigerator door.  Cody used his dirty fingers to peel slices of baloney from a package and slap them between slabs of white bread doused with ketchup.  He ate rapidly, washing down his food by guzzling from a quart bottle of Classic Coke.  When he was finished, he belched and picked up Maggie’s car keys.  “I’m leaving you now,”  he said. “Gotta pick up some more beer and call your hubby.”

“Just tell him I’m all right,” she begged.

“I’m telling him Julie needs to get her ass home.”  He moved toward the door, but seemed to have second thoughts and returned to get another set of keys from the mess of bottles and cans on the kitchen table.

“I’d like to use your gas,” he told Maggie, “But I’ll take my truck.  Someone might spot me in your car.”  He raised his gun, opened the door, then swiveled his head from left to right as he checked outside.

After he’d gone, Maggie looked around at the debris.  Her eyes stung and her skin itched. No wonder Cody’s face and neck were broken out in a rash.  She wondered if he had any idea of the harm he was doing to himself by spending time in such an environment.  And how long would she be forced to stay here? 

Outside, a dog barked and she could see the naked branches of a spindly tree dripping with watery ice against the tin-colored sky.  The air inside the trailer was moist and heavy.  She thought of the soft Kleenex so tantalizingly close in her uniform pocket, and wished she could use it to wipe away her tears.  She shifted in her chair, but as the rope around her neck tightened, a sharp stab of pain shot up her thigh. 

Her nail file.  She carried it in her pocket because her nails were chewed ragged these days. Nurses were supposed to have clean, trim nails, and that had been hard to manage since Julie left. 

By moving her arms and head to one side, Maggie was able to touch the tip of the file and grasp it with two finger tips.  Her heart raced as she realized she might be able to do something with it. But Cody had just left to make a call.  What if he came back too soon? She’d have to bide her time, wait until he was asleep.  

Within half an hour, she heard the crunch of tires in the snow and the metallic slam of a heavy truck door. She hoped Jed hadn’t lashed out and fomented Cody’s anger.  If Julie was to be protected, it was important that they humor the man.  The door burst open and Maggie breathed in great gulps of cold fresh air.  Cody seemed hyped-up, almost exuberant.  Jed must have said the right thing.

“Did ya' miss me?” He rubbed his hands together with a smile that rounded his pink cheeks and slanted his eyes.

Maggie ignored his sarcasm.  “Did you talk to my husband?”

“Sure as hell did.”  Cody tossed his black leather jacket on the filthy, tattered couch. 

“What did he say?”

“Said Julie hadn’t called yet, but he figured she would pretty soon.”

“Would you mind giving me a drink of water?” she asked.  “My throat is so dry.”

“Sure, sure.”  His mood was expansive. “I’ll untie you for awhile.”

Maggie was thankful when he complied with her request and watched while she rubbed her wrists.

“Want a sandwich?”  he asked.

“Thanks, no.  I’m not hungry.  Just some water for now will do.”

“I don’t want you getting sick on me or nothing.”  Like a gracious host, he turned on a small television that sat on a spindly corner table.  Scott Pelly in his impeccable blue suit, white shirt, and tie was suddenly a vivid presence.

Cody brought her warm tap water in a greasy glass and sat down beside her while the two of them watched the evening news--an improbably domestic scene imbued with an eerie sense of unreality. Maggie was sure Jed had said something to Cody about treating her well, and he must have been very persuasive, otherwise, she would still be tied to the chair.

There had been an earthquake in El Salvador--one of those cataclysmic events that  seemed to occur in remote parts of the world that had no effect whatsoever on the lives of anyone living in Lewiston, Indiana.   Maggie took slow sips of water, savoring the warm liquid trickling down her throat.  It tasted brackish, but Cody’s manic high spirits were apt to be short-lived and she wasn’t sure how long she would have to wait for another drink