Category Five, page 8
She was looking at him with a big smile on her face. He had to admit; the smile bugged him just a bit. He knew that she enjoyed finding clues, solving puzzles, but it bothered him that she was having fun with this. His phone buzzed again. This time it was work. They were looking for the big-ass tub of grout he was supposed to be picking up. As if the patio was the most important thing in the world. He put his phone away with a sigh. “Lupe, I have to get back to work.”
She looked up with a distracted expression. “Oh, right. Okay. I’m going to keep digging.”
“But how will you get back to the condo? Can your tío get you a ride?”
Just then the door swung open, the heavy morning air riding in on a wave. It was Sam, sans tennis whites this time, wearing a faded pair of expensive jeans and a polo shirt, his hair clearly wet from a shower. He noticed them and gave a small wave. “Hey. What are you two doing here?”
Javier didn’t even listen as Lupe explained in a quick, excited voice. He was too busy comparing himself—and losing—to Sam.
“Isn’t that great, Javier?”
“Hmm?” Wow, he really hadn’t been listening.
“Sam offered to help me with the research.”
Oh, great. So, he had to leave his girl with this rich boy digging through dusty files, thighs touching, because he had no choice but to go back to his super-shitty job.
Sam shrugged. “These murders are beginning to freak me out. I mean, those guys weren’t friends of mine, but it’s creepy. My father is not worried about it, only how it will affect attendance at the opening ceremonies and the bookings for the rest of the summer.”
Javier snorted. “Typical.”
Lupe gave him the side-eye. “Well, I’m glad for the help. Hey, Sam, do you think I could catch a ride back to my uncle’s condo when we’re done?”
Javier’s stomach dropped.
“Sure! Happy to.”
He looked way too happy for Javier’s taste.
Lupe turned to him. “See you tonight, Javier?”
Javier gave a noncommittal grunt, shoved his hands in his pockets, and left.
Lord, he was being an asshole. He knew it better than anyone, but he didn’t seem to have control over it. It was like he could hear a voice in his head telling him to be polite, that he should at least make an effort to be pleasant, supportive company for Lupe, but then he couldn’t make the right words come out of his mouth.
As he started up the truck, he remembered that he still had to pick up the supplies that he had offered to get in order to make this little trip.
The day was only getting worse as the minutes ticked on.
Chapter Twelve
Lupe
SAM SAT WITH Lupe for hours, poring over documents. When she was bracing herself to go up again and deal with the disgruntled clerk, she was relieved when he offered to go for her. When he approached the counter with his Crest-bright smile, the older woman beamed at him, called him Señor. Seemed rich-boy charm opened doors. Especially since then they were able to get access to information she was certain she would never have been able to see without his pull as the son of the developer. But there was still no bill of sale.
Lupe’s mind was drifting as Sam chatted up the woman behind the counter when a door to the back office opened. An older woman came through, shoe-horning a file into her worn tote bag. She had long gray hair held back in a ponytail, and loose cotton clothing in bright colors. She could have walked off the streets of Vermont. As if sensing the eyes on her, she looked up and smiled at Lupe, her lined face kind and sunbaked. Then Sam laughed at something, and the older woman appeared to notice him and stopped short, her eyes narrowing. She waited until Sam turned from the counter, then she stepped up to him.
“You have no right to be here! You and your family!” she yelled at him.
Sam looked stunned, the smile bleeding from his face.
Lupe was never one to sit quietly. She stepped up and stood between them. “And what right do you have to tell him that?” she said, folding her arms across her chest.
The woman pointed a finger at Lupe. “Young lady, I’ve lived on this island for thirty years, I am part of this community, and I don’t appreciate people coming in and taking advantage of my friends and neighbors!”
Lupe just stood there. Hard to argue with that. She was trying to come up with some kind of retort, but she had none.
Sam touched her arm and said, “It’s okay, Lupe.”
The woman glared at him, then stormed to the front door, yanking it so hard it banged on the inside wall.
As it swung closed, Lupe finally yelled out, “Well … who says he’s like his father?” But the words were too late and fell to the floor like deflated balloons.
Sam smiled at her and shrugged. “I’m afraid that’s something I’ve had to get used to, given who my father is.”
She was about to say something—she knew a lot about disappointing fathers—when Sam switched gears, his face lighting up. “Look at this.” He spread a surveyor’s map out on the coffee table in front of them, his manicured hands flattening out the rolling edges and placing their phones down to hold the corners. The map was browning at the edges and smelled like wet books, but she was fascinated by the concentric rows of elevation lines that encircled the hilltops like spiderwebs.
Sam pointed to the uppermost left corner of the area shaded as a natural reserve. “My father’s resort is here,” he said, indicating the land near Isabel Segunda.
“Right…” Lupe drew the word out, waiting for the punch line. And why did he feel the need to point this out? Everyone knew he was rich. The six-figure car and perfect teeth were a dead giveaway.
“But look at this. The property goes into this part here.” He ran his finger over into the shaded area.
“Wait, they’re building on the nature preserve?”
“Right.”
“So, that has got to be a violation.…”
“Right.” He glanced over his shoulder at the desk clerk, who looked about to doze off. Sam spoke in a low voice. “Yeah, but my father has all kinds of political connections. Something like this wouldn’t be hard to get ‘ignored.’” He glanced again at the clerk and dropped his voice even further. “We have to go about this carefully.”
Lupe stared at him for a bit. “Why?”
“Why? I just told you, he has politicians in his pocket—”
“No, I mean why are you doing this? He’s your father.” She thought of her own father. He had been a shitty parent, drunk for years, not there for her, but at least he was trying now. She loved him. And he was her father.
“I don’t know. He’s always put business before his family. And I hate that he gets to do whatever he wants and to hell with the environment, with the people … with what his family wants or needs.”
She examined him, the perfect boy with the perfect teeth and seemingly perfect life. It’s funny that how someone appears on the outside can be the complete opposite of their reality. “I take it you didn’t want to come down here?”
He shook his head. “No. I was so angry that they didn’t give me a say in the matter. I mean, I’m nineteen, you know? I should have a say in how I spend my summers. But then I … met someone. But I can only sneak out to the mainland a couple of times a month, and it’s even harder for my … friend to get away. And do you know what’s worse? Dad isn’t even here! He installs me and the family in a house on the hill, then takes off back to the mainland for meetings! It doesn’t make any difference to him where we are based.”
His blue eyes were so heavy with sadness Lupe’s heart broke. “Well, I’m glad you’re here now.” Lupe put her hand over his. “And I look forward to meeting your ‘friend.’”
He smiled and put his other hand over hers, then she put her second hand on his until they had a pile and the laughter rose to such a level that the counter lady gave them a chastising look. Sam pulled his hands away and coughed.
“Okay, so what’s our next step?” He smiled. He seemed to be enjoying this.
Lupe shrugged. “I don’t have a clue. You?”
Sam pointed to his chest with exaggerated movement. “Moi? Um, rich white boy here, remember? My family is the subject of protests, not the initiators.”
Lupe smiled. She liked this guy.
“But whatever we’re going to do, we’d better do it before the grand opening event.”
“What? Why?”
“Because my father has invited a group of possible investors to check out the property and to consider investing in some further projects on the mainland.”
“‘Further projects?’”
“Yeah.” He wiped his hands over his face and Lupe knew something bad was coming. “Lupe, he’s looking to privatize the beaches.”
“What? No. All beaches on the island are public. Access is the only thing that can be controlled.”
“Yes, now. But what he’s proposing would change that.”
“But they can’t do that. The Puerto Rican government would never allow it.”
“The island is broke! Has been since way before Maria. They don’t have a lot of options.”
“Jesus.” Her head was spinning. What other kinds of horrible things were being planned behind closed doors? “Who knows about this?”
Sam held his hands open as if in surrender. “I don’t know. The governor, he’d have to know. Someone in Washington. Pretty high up, I imagine. He has to have gotten those permits through somehow.”
“Okay, this is much bigger than I had imagined.” Ghosts and monsters she could deal with, but politics? Oh hell no. They needed to call in the big guns. “Okay, I know just who to call.” She pulled out her phone and pressed Marisol’s contact.
Chapter Thirteen
Marisol
MARISOL HAD PRETTY much painted herself into a corner of the roof while rolling on silver sealant when her cell phone rang. It startled her so much, she almost fell onto the newly applied asphalt coating. Who was calling her now? She looked at the screen and smiled. Lupe. Of course. She swiped her newly calloused finger across the phone. “Should have known it was you, nena. Your timing is terrible, as usual.” She smiled and stepped carefully over to settle down at the edge of the roof. Perhaps it was a good time for a break. Besides, the view from this perch on a mountainside was a sea of lush green. Shocking how quickly the plant life bounced back after Maria. The only break in the color was the bright blue of the FEMA tarps covering the still leaking—or even missing—roofs of the modest houses in this rural town.
“You in the middle of something, Mari?”
Marisol put her long-handled roller down and lay back on the only dry surface, which was surrounded by chemical-smelling sealant, her legs hanging off the edge of the flat roof. She stretched long, liking the way her body felt so strong now after the last few months of physical labor. She’d learned during the hurricane recovery that you needed strength to deal with times like these. “Not anymore. What’s going on? What are you doing on Vieques?”
“You know Tío. Something’s come up.”
“In Vieques? Nothing comes up in Vieques. It has only one speed, slooooow.”
“That’s what I hear, but not right now. Did you hear about the murders?”
Marisol sat up straight. “Wait? What murders?” Lord, she thought she’d put this shit behind her. Half the reason she was volunteering miles from San Juan was to take it slower after the insanity of last summer and the hurricane.
“Three sons of investors in a resort out here and an old gringo who we think sold them the land to build on after the hurricane.”
Marisol took a deep breath. Her counselor was always giving her tools and tricks to control her anger. She exhaled slowly. But none of them seemed to be working right then and there. She had to pick her battles, and they all weren’t her battles. Or so she told herself several times a day. “Okay, I’m still not sure why you’re calling me. I mean, your uncle—”
Lupe started whispering into the phone, and Marisol wondered where she was in that moment. “And then the developer who’s building this gargantuan resort here—the one that Javier’s working at—well it seems he’s planning to get some investors and buy up the beaches on the mainland and privatize them—”
“What?” No amount of slow breaths could stop the old familiar rage from welling up inside her skull at that. “I thought that was just an internet rumor.”
“Doesn’t seem to be. I’m calling you because we’re not sure what the next step is. I mean, it seems like there’s a connection, but it doesn’t explain the ghosts.”
“Ghosts?” The conversation had become totally surreal. Marisol considered for a moment that maybe she’d actually fallen off the roof and died and this was hell.
“Yeah, ghosts. We’re … I mean, people are seeing crowds of ghostlike figures walking around the island in vintage clothing.”
“You sure it’s not just a goth concert?”
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
“But you’re not certain they’re the ones killing people, are you?”
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Know what I’m thinking before I say it, even over the phone?”
Because in a scary way, we think alike, she thought but did not say aloud.
Lupe continued. “The answer is no; I’m not certain. But the locals seem to be, and they’re putting a lot of pressure on my uncle to solve it and get rid of the ghosts. And Sam says we have to figure this out before the grand opening event.”
“Wait, who is Sam?”
“Umm, a new friend. He’s right here with me.”
“A new friend, hmm? So how is this Sam wrapped up in all of this? There’s something you’re not telling me.”
“I promise I’ll fill you in when I see you. Do you have any idea for a next step?”
“I do, but you’re not going to like it.”
“I’m not liking much of anything about this trip so far.”
“Hmm. Okay, put a bookmark in that thought for when we see each other. But I think we should go see Professor Quiñones.”
“Ugh. Isn’t there someone else we can talk to? The man doesn’t care for me.”
“No. He’s the expert on folklore and stories of the island, and you know that.”
“I guess so.”
“Okay, so you want to meet tomorrow at the university?”
“Sure.”
“Don’t sound too excited, Lupe.”
“Sorry. Thank you for being willing to help. I’m just … struggling this time.”
“Yes, we’ll talk about that when we see each other.”
“Okay, hasta mañana.”
Marisol stood up on the roof and grabbed her roller. She was almost done, and then this new roof would be sealed, heat-reflective, and waterproof. Maybe after that there was some demolition that needed doing. After hearing all that she wanted to break something. She had felt so good, gotten several dozen more signatures on her petition from the volunteers before she started working, but now? If she was supposed to choose her battles, there wouldn’t be any more important than this one. And she had to admit, it had her name written all over it.
* * *
Marisol got to the campus early and sat down on the pink stone steps to wait for Lupe. The late morning sun was golden and warm, the stone of the steps cool and smooth. She leaned back against her favorite column, the one that featured a cameo carving of Lady Justice with her sword and scales. Marisol’s mother used to take her to this campus when she was little, and she always went straight for this image and ran her fingers over the carving and imagined herself as this Roman goddess of justice. She had even wanted to dress as her for Halloween one year, but her mother hadn’t liked the idea of her wandering around blindfolded. She never did get to have any fun.
“Mari!” And there was Lupe, with her Vermont-snow-white skin and bouncy walk. If you were going to go to central casting for “Marisol’s friend” this was not who you would pick. But somehow, they worked together. This Gringa-Rican was fierce, and Marisol liked that in a friend.
“What’s up, chica?” They hugged tightly. Marisol was not the hugging type, but for this girl she made an exception. Actually, she didn’t really have a choice. “Oh, that’s right, what’s up with you is the usual monsters and mayhem, right?”
Lupe smiled. “Yeah, but not by choice. One summer I’d like to come down here and have, like, a normal vacation.”
Marisol shook her head. “I’m sorry, I have no clue what that would look like.”
“Yeah, I can only guess from stereotypical hearsay, but I’m thinking sitting on the beach, drinking frozen concoctions, looking at cute boys … or did I just steal that from a teen novel?”
“You might have, but I gotta admit, it sounds appealing right now.”
After walking for a while in silence, Marisol realized Lupe was staring at her with a smile on her face.
“What?” she barked.
Lupe’s smile grew. “Nothing, you just look so … strong.”
Marisol was horrified to feel the heat behind her face. Truth was, she liked it. “Is that a compliment, or judgment?” she joked, though she knew it was a compliment.
“A compliment, you jerk!” Lupe pushed her gently, teasingly. “I’d kill for arms like those.”
They started walking into the main clocktower building of the University of Puerto Rico, and it struck Marisol that even though they hadn’t seen each other for months, she felt comfortable with Lupe. Something she didn’t often feel. They were early for their appointment, so they strolled down the walkway that led behind the building. The scrappy paths were lined by stunted palm trees, their trucks bent and chewed, all leaning in one direction as if listening, leaves and branches stolen in a hurricane’s breath.
Lupe tilted her head back, eyes closed, and not for the first time Marisol wondered what it was like to live in a place like Vermont with so little sun. As they walked, Lupe asked, “How is the rebuilding going?”
