Only to hurt what they are supposed to 1 страница

CONSERVE! UNLESS YOU WANT MORE ANIMALS

TO SUFFER LIKE THIS, FIND THE TRUTH!!

The paper and writing seemed identical to several similar notes that had appeared at Casa Verde since our arrival. Now that I remembered this latest note, I started walking over to see if I could take another look. But it was gone.

“I think Frankie grabbed it,” George said, guessing what I was thinking. “But I got a pretty good look before she did. The writing style matches the earlier notes. The stationery, too. So that looks like a big duh to me — it had to be Juliana.”

“But isn’t she supposed to be in school all day today?” Bess said.

Just then there was a murmur from the employees and guests around the lobby. Glancing up, I saw that Enrique Arrojo had just entered carrying a tray of food and drinks. Judging by the expressions on most of the other faces, it seemed my friends and I weren’t the only ones thinking his daughter might be responsible for this latest mischief.

“Listen, I think I’d better talk to Juliana,” I said, hurrying toward a courtesy phone on a bamboo end table nearby. George was right — Juliana did seem like a slam dunk as the culprit for this incident too. But something about the whole situation was bugging me. “If she’s supposed to be in school today, it should be easy enough to check her alibi for the time when this was done.”

“Want me to talk to her?” Bess offered. “I know we were all there when you busted her, but…”

“That’s a good idea.” I dialed Juliana’s cell phone number, then handed the phone to Bess. “She might be more likely to talk to you.”

Bess is probably the most diplomatic person I know. She greeted Juliana kindly, asking how she was doing. Within moments the two of them were chatting like old friends.

Unfortunately, George and I could only hear Bess’s side of the conversation, which was kind of frustrating. Bess didn’t mention the turtle, but she did ask if Juliana was in school that day. Actually, she said, “I hope I’m not interrupting one of your classes or anything.”

She paused to listen to whatever Juliana said in response. Her eyebrows lifted a little.

“Oh, really?” she said, glancing at us.

“What?” George muttered.

“Shh!” I warned.

Bess was listening again. She didn’t say much else except for a couple more “Oh, really’s” and some “hmm’s” and “I see’s.” Then she added, “Would you mind if I spoke to her for a second?”

George and I traded a look. Who was “her”? A teacher?

Soon Bess was introducing herself to whomever was on the other end of the line as “a friend of Juliana’s.” “I just wanted to thank you for being so kind,” she added. After listening for another moment, she added, “Well, it certainly sounds like you two made a lot of progress today.”

I tapped my foot impatiently. Luckily, Bess seemed to be winding things down. After a little more small talk she hung up and turned to us.

“That was interesting,” she said.

“What?” George demanded. “Who was that? Was Juliana in school today?”

“Not exactly.” Bess glanced over at Enrique and Cristobal, who were doing their best to shoo the others out of the lobby. “You know how she and her father and uncle have started family counseling over what happened?”

I nodded. “Of course.”

“Well, I guess the counselor got permission to take Juliana out of school to go to some workshop for troubled teens or something like that today.” Bess shrugged. “The workshop started at eight this morning, and just finished up a few minutes ago. Oh, and it was in San Jose.”

My eyes widened. San Jose was over three hours’ drive from Casa Verde.

“Given that the turtle wasn’t here yet when we left the resort at nine,” I said slowly, “I guess that means there’s no way Juliana could have done it.”

NO ANSWERS

Before my friends could say anything else, Cristobal came bustling toward us. “Please, friends,” he said in his charming way, “would it be possible for you to go out and enjoy the pool or other amenities? The staff and I would really love to have things cleaned up in here before dinnertime.”

“Sure, no problem.” I glanced at the turtle, now more curious than ever about how it had ended up there. But any possible clues were probably long gone, thanks to the clean-up crew, so I allowed myself to be swept out the lobby’s side door along with the other guests.

“Well, that was upsetting,” Poppy commented as we all wandered along the manicured, flower-lined path toward the pool area.

Frankie nodded and looked at me. “Looks like the problems at Casa Verde aren’t over after all, despite all my work to expose that Juliana troublemaker.”

I just smiled blandly in response. Even though my friends and I were the ones who’d figured out most of the mystery, Frankie had managed to take almost full credit for it. She’d even published an article about it already in the Globe. I didn’t care too much about that sort of thing, but she’d also come close to messing things up with her aggressive, impulsive interview style. I didn’t want that to happen again.

“I think I got a little too much sun today,” I announced to the group at large. “I’d better go back to the room and put on some aloe or something before dinner.”

I shot my friends a meaningful look. They both caught on right away.

“I’ll come too,” Bess said. “I want to change shoes.”

“Uh, me too.” George hurried along after us as we left the pool area.

But we didn’t bother going all the way back to our room. As soon as we were out of sight and earshot of the others, we stopped to talk.

“So?” George asked me. “Any theories yet?”

I shook my head. “I suppose it’s still possible Juliana is involved,” I said. “She could be working with an accomplice. Maybe another resort employee, or someone from town…”

“That’s true,” Bess agreed. “It could even be the reason the turtle thing happened today. They could have planned it that way, because it would mean she had a built-in alibi for the time it was planted in the lobby.”

“But not for the time it was stolen,” George pointed out. “At least if Frankie was right about it being taken in the dead of night.”

“Maybe we should follow up on that angle,” I said, already looking around for a phone.

I started walking toward an information hut, where guests could pick up maps of the nature trails. Maybe there was a phone in there. But just then we heard the sound of voices from somewhere just around the corner. Loud, complaining voices.

A moment later, Deirdre and her cousin appeared. Kat was carrying Pretty Boy, as usual.

“Oh! There you are, Nancy.” Kat rushed up to me. She was close enough that Pretty Boy seemed to be eyeing me hungrily.

“Hello,” I said, taking a step backward out of nipping range. “What’s up?”

“Deirdre has been telling me all about how you’re this superfabulous detective back home,” Kat began eagerly.

Deirdre frowned. “That’s not what I said,” she put in. “I said she’s always nosing around in stuff that’s none of her business. And once in a while she actually stumbles upon a mystery or something.”

Kat waved away her cousin’s correction. “Whatever. My point is, Nancy, you just have to figure out who did this horrible thing!” she exclaimed. “It’s just soooo upsetting. Who knows what else someone like that might do? They might even dognap Pretty Boy again!” She hugged the little dog to her chest. He growled, looking annoyed.

“It was probably the chef-owner guy’s daughter.” Deirdre examined her manicure. “She did the other stuff, right? Frankie figured it all out.”

“Frankie?” George put in, sounding annoyed.

Kat was still hugging Pretty Boy. “Whoever did it, I just know that Pretty Boy and I won’t sleep well until he or she is behind bars!” she shrieked. “Not after what happened last time!”

She was being pretty melodramatic, but I suppose you couldn’t blame her. After having her beloved dog go missing for a couple of days, she was probably still suffering from PTDS — post-traumatic dognapping syndrome. Although from the looks of Pretty Boy’s expression, it seemed he wouldn’t mind a little more separation at the moment. He finally let out a yip and snapped at Kat’s finger, missing by a fraction of an inch.

Just then we heard the sound of Cristobal’s voice calling the guests to dinner. “Come on,” I said. “We’d better head in.”

Halfway back to the dining room, we ran into Frankie and Sarene. “Hello, girls,” Frankie greeted us, her gaze fixed on me. “Talking about what happened in there?”

You didn’t have to be a detective to see that she was fishing for information. Even if she’d taken all the credit for outing Juliana, it seemed she might actually have some clue that I’d done most of the work.

Once again, tactful Bess came to the rescue. “Oh no, we just want to forget all about that,” she said with a chuckle. “We were trying to remember how many different kinds of fish we saw while we were snorkeling today.”

Sarene looked sour. “Did you also count up how much of the irreplaceable coral reef you destroyed by floundering around out there for your own amusement?”

Deirdre rolled her eyes. “This one must be a blast at cocktail parties,” she muttered.

“What was that?” Sarene demanded, eyeing Deirdre suspiciously.

“Wow, I just realized how hungry I am,” I piped in loudly, not wanting to let any sniping start. “Snorkeling really builds up your appetite. Let’s get in there and eat!”

“Thanks for the ride, Violeta,” I said as I hopped out of the cramped car belonging to Casa Verde’s staff nurse. Bess and George climbed out as well.

“You are most welcome, girls.” Violeta nodded at us. “It should take me about an hour to finish my errands here in town. Will that be enough time?”

“That’s fine,” Bess told her with a smile. “We just want to poke around San Isidro a little bit. We’ll meet you back here.”

Dinner had ended half an hour earlier. My friends and I had been lucky enough to overhear Violeta telling Cristobal that she had to run into town for a little while, and we had begged a ride with her. That way we could go in person to check out the restaurant where the turtle had been stolen, rather than relying on a phone call that might be hampered by the iffy lines or our weak grasp of Spanish.

“Do you have the address?” George asked as soon as Violeta was out of earshot.

I nodded and pulled a slip of paper out of my shorts pocket. “It shouldn’t be too far from here.”

As it turned out, the restaurant was easy to find — not least because one of Casa Verde’s service trucks had just pulled up in front of it. The stuffed sea turtle was visible through the slatted sides around the back.

“Wow, Cristobal doesn’t waste any time,” George commented as we stepped closer.

We weren’t the only ones who’d noted the truck’s arrival. People started pouring out of the restaurant, calling out to the resort employees in Spanish. In addition, passersby gathered curiously around, jostling one another and craning their necks for a better view. It seemed word traveled fast around town — within moments there was quite a crowd surrounding the place.

“Guess interviewing the restaurant owner will have to wait,” I told my friends with a sigh.

We watched as Pedro and several other resort employees wrestled the turtle to the edge of the truck bed. Half a dozen other men joined them to help lower it carefully to the ground.

Another man, older than the others, came forward to examine the turtle. His expression went dark as he pointed to something on its back and let loose with some angry-sounding Spanish.

“What’s that all about?” George asked.

I shrugged, glancing at Bess. She was leaning forward, listening carefully.

“It sounds like he’s saying the turtle is damaged?” she said uncertainly. “I don’t know some of the vocabulary, but something about a piece being missing?”

I took a step closer, peering between a couple of teenage girls who were watching and chattering excitedly in Spanish themselves. At first I couldn’t see anything wrong with the turtle — in fact, I was impressed by how well Alicia and Sara had cleaned it up, leaving no trace of all that blood.

But then one of the men who’d lifted it down stepped aside, and I saw what the other man must be talking about. “There!” I told my friends, pointing. “It looks like part of the shell is missing. Maybe it got broken off by whoever stole it.”

“More like ripped off,” Bess corrected. “That’s a leatherback, right? That means its shell is softer than most turtles.”

“Broken, ripped, whatever.” George shrugged and watched the older man gesture wildly as he yelled at Pedro and the others. “Seems like they’re pretty upset about it.”

Just then I noticed one of the restaurant workers, a wiry man in his twenties, wandering closer. “Habla Ingles?” I asked him.

He stopped and looked at me. “Yes, a little bit,” he said. “How can I help you? Are you young ladies looking for a fine place to enjoy a meal this evening?”

“I’m afraid not — we already ate.” I smiled at him, glad to hear that his English actually seemed pretty good. “We were just wondering if you know who might have stolen that turtle from the restaurant last night.”

The young man’s face darkened. “I do not,” he said. “It happened late last night when we had all gone home. The only traces left of the terrible crime were some tire tracks in the mud.” He gestured to the area in front of the restaurant’s doors.

“Are you sure there wasn’t anything else?” I asked. “Did the police —”

Before I could finish, someone over at the truck called out sharply. The young man excused himself and hurried back to the group.

“Tire tracks, eh?” George glanced around at the ground, which was muddy and soft. “Think we should take a look?”

I nodded. “We’ll have to wait, though.”

The group over by the Casa Verde truck was gathering around the sea turtle again. We watched as they hoisted it up and carried it toward the restaurant. Judging by the sweat pouring off their brows and the expressions on their faces, the turtle was just as heavy as I’d guessed. But finally, after much grunting and what sounded like quite a few Spanish curses and complaints, they got it safely inside.

“Come on,” I said as Pedro and most of the other Casa Verde workers disappeared into the restaurant. “Let’s look for those tracks.”

We hurried over. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to see. Whatever marks had been there must have been covered by the tracks of the Casa Verde truck, since those were the only tracks we could see.

There were still plenty of onlookers gathered around. I tried to question a few of them, but most didn’t speak much or any English. Finally I spotted the young man from earlier emerging from the restaurant.

“Excuse me,” I said, rushing over to him. “Is everything okay now? Did you guys get the turtle safely back into place?”

The young man nodded, mopping his brow with a handkerchief. “Yes, it is back where it belongs,” he said, shooting a dark look at the Casa Verde truck. “No thanks to Señor Arrojo.”

“You mean Cristobal?” I traded a quick look with my friends. “You don’t think he had anything to do with the theft, do you?”

The man shrugged. “All I know is that he tried to buy the turtle from my boss a month or two ago,” he said. “My boss, he said no.”

“You mean Cristobal wanted to buy the sea turtle from this restaurant?” George put in. “What happened, he didn’t offer enough money?”

“Oh, he offered plenty,” the man said. “But the turtle is not for sale. There is not enough money to replace its value to us.” He shrugged again. “Though some would disagree, of course.”

“What do you mean? Who would disagree?” I asked.

The young man shot a slightly guilty look around him. “Pay no attention to me,” he said with a forced-sounding laugh. “It is only the boss’s wife, she thought the extra money could be useful to expand the restaurant. You know — to allow for the extra tourists that Casa Verde will bring to our town.” He shook his head. “Then again, she is not from San Isidro by birth, so she does not understand that some of us do not care for having such a resort changing our town.”

Interesting. As the young man excused himself and hurried away, I pondered what he’d just said.

“Wow,” Bess said. “Sounds like Casa Verde might be a little controversial with the locals.”

Before George or I could respond, a woman came rushing up to the group, yelling and pumping her fist. She really stood out among the mostly lean, dark-haired locals. Her overprocessed blond hair stood out around her round, sunburned face like a clown wig, and her pudgy body was stuffed into a polyester sundress that was dotted with pins proclaiming her membership in various environmental groups.

“This just proves that Casa not-so-Verde can’t be trusted!” she shouted in an accent straight out of the American Midwest. “Stealing already-dead endangered turtles is the least of that place’s abuses!”

Pedro and the others were still inside, but the two Casa Verde employees who’d been left behind lounging against the truck stood up straight when they saw her. As the woman continued shouting, the employees muttered to each other. Then the older of the pair stepped forward.

“You stay away!” he ordered in heavily accented English. “We do not need your sort here. Casa Verde, it is a good place.”

“Good?” The woman let out a loud snort. “Good at making money, maybe. Being environmentally conscious? Not hardly!”

“Wow, she seems pretty worked up,” Bess murmured. “Wonder who she is?”

“One way to find out.” I started toward the woman. But I was too late. The Casa Verde employees chased her off, still yelling at her to stay away from the resort.

By the time I reached them, they were muttering under their breath in Spanish. “Everything all right?” I asked.

The older one blinked as he recognized me. “Buenas tardes, señorita,” he said with a polite little nod. “Sí, everything it is fine. It is only a troublemaker.”

I tried to ask who the woman was and why they’d looked so angry about seeing her. But I didn’t get any answers. I wasn’t sure if the employees were pretending not to understand English to avoid my questions or if they really didn’t understand me.

Either way, I soon gave up. “Come on,” I told my friends. “Let’s see if we can find that woman.”

“Do you really think she knows anything?” George looked dubious. “Seemed kind of like the rabble-rousing type to me.”

I shrugged. “Can’t hurt to talk to her and find out.”

We wandered around that part of San Isidro for the next few minutes. But there was no sign of the wild-haired American woman anywhere. When we returned to the restaurant, the Casa Verde truck had disappeared as well.

“It’s almost time to meet Violeta,” Bess said, checking her watch.

I sighed. “Let’s go. We’re not getting any useful leads here, anyway.”

During the bumpy ride back to Casa Verde on the rutted, curvy local roads, I thought over what we’d just witnessed. Who was that woman? Did she really know anything about Casa Verde, or was she just a nut? Then there was what that local man had said. Could there be people in town who were holding a grudge against the resort? If so, how were my friends and I ever going to track them down — especially since we were only going to be in Costa Rica for another couple of days?

Deciding not to worry about that at the moment, I turned my thoughts next to the suspects at Casa Verde itself. It seemed suspicious that Cristobal had tried to purchase that very turtle, though I couldn’t imagine what he’d stand to gain by stealing it in such a public way. Enrique was another potential suspect. Could he be trying to frame his brother or something like that? And, of course, there was still the possibility that Juliana was involved somehow, despite her alibi.

Speaking of alibis, there were a couple of guests who didn’t have one. Poppy’s boyfriend, Adam, and Sarene had been at the resort when the turtle had appeared in the lobby. They weren’t the only ones, though. As far as I knew, Enrique didn’t have an alibi either. For that matter, the only resort employees who did were Cristobal, Pedro, and Alicia — and all three of them had accompanied us on the snorkeling trip.

By the time we pulled in through Casa Verde’s front gates, I hadn’t reached any useful conclusions. My friends and I thanked Violeta as she dropped us off in front of the lobby. While we were climbing out of the car, a monkey screeched somewhere in the darkening jungle nearby.

A moment later, an ear-shattering and much louder scream came from just inside the lobby. And the second scream was definitely human!

HAVING WORDS

"What was that?” George exclaimed.

I was already running for the door. “Come on!”

But when my friends and I skidded to a stop inside the lobby, there was no sign of any murder or mayhem — or even any more bloody turtles. All we saw was Kat and Deirdre shrieking with excitement and dancing around like idiots. Pretty Boy was prancing at his mistress’s feet, clearly picking up on her mood.

“What’s going on?” Bess called out, hurrying toward them.

Deirdre waved one of the resort phones around as she responded. “This is so awesome!” she cried gleefully. “And just when I thought nothing on this stupid trip was going to go right!”

“I know, right?” Kat squealed, scooping up Pretty Boy and spinning around with him. “It’s soooo amazing!”

I exchanged a mystified look with my friends. Usually the only thing that got Deirdre this excited was a big sale at the mall. Or maybe getting in a good zinger against George.

“So what’s the amazing news?” I asked loudly.

It took a few more tries, but finally Kat heard us. She stopped dancing and shrieking long enough to answer.

“We just found out that Green Solutions is sending a crew to Casa Verde to film an ad spot for their website!” she exclaimed, setting Pretty Boy down on the floor at her feet.

“Green Solutions?” George echoed. “You mean the environmental consulting company that helped design and build this place?”

“Aren’t they an American company?” I asked. George had done some research on Green Solutions before our trip. It was a fairly new company that specialized in helping other businesses “go green.” Its headquarters was in Chicago, not terribly far from our own hometown of River Heights, though I had to admit I’d never heard of the company before Bess had won the trip.

“Who cares where they’re from?” Deirdre rolled her eyes. “The point is, when they found out Kat has extensive acting experience, they naturally insisted she star in the ads.”

“Along with my beautiful cousin, of course,” Kat added, hugging Deirdre. When Pretty Boy yapped and nipped at her ankle, she giggled and swept him up again into the hug. “And my gorgeous baby boy will surely get a featured role as soon as they see him!”

Deirdre waved away the little dog, who had started chewing on her curly dark hair. “We’re just lucky they’re getting here before we leave,” she added.

“Yeah.” Kat’s face fell slightly. “I hope they can get the footage they need in just two days. Otherwise, maybe we should think about extending our stay....”

As the two of them kept chattering, I glanced at my friends. George rolled her eyes, and Bess looked amused. I knew how they felt. As far as we could tell, Kat’s “extensive acting experience” mostly consisted of walk-on nonspeaking roles in minor films and low-rated sitcoms. Still, I had to admit she talked a pretty good game. It was no wonder she’d convinced the Green Solutions people that she was a pro.

But I didn’t waste much time thinking about that. I was more worried about what the arrival of a film crew would do to our investigation. I’d learned during a recent case involving a hastily planned wedding and an out-of-control reality show that having a bunch of cameras following your every move could really get in the way.

“So the crew is coming tomorrow?” I asked, interrupting Kat and Deirdre’s breathless discussion, which by now had shifted to the topic of what they were going to wear for their big debut.

Kat nodded. “Bright and early,” she sang out. “That reminds me, I’d better get ready to turn in. Pretty Boy and I want to be sure we get plenty of beauty sleep!”

She, Deirdre, and Pretty Boy hurried off in the direction of their room. “She’s going to bed now?” Bess checked her watch. “It’s barely eight o’clock.”

George shrugged. “It probably takes a while to sand off all that makeup she wears,” she said. “Not to mention Deirdre needing to fluff up the pillows in her coffin and check for wooden stakes around the room.”

“Never mind,” I said. “Film crew or no film crew, we don’t have any time to waste. Let’s go see if we can find Cristobal. I have a few questions for him.”

• • •

“Finally!” I muttered, spotting Cristobal on the far side of the pool near the tumbling waterfall. I’d been looking all over for him. My friends and I had started out by checking his office, which was empty, along with the rest of the lobby.

Then we had been peeking into the kitchen when Hildy and Robin had walked up. They had been on their way to the lounge just off the lobby for the evening’s entertainment, a brief film and talk about the local wildlife, hosted by Alicia and Sara. Robin had been so excited about the presentation that Bess hadn’t been able to resist agreeing when the little girl had invited us to sit with them, and George had been dragged along as well. I’d only escaped by using the aloe excuse again.

For a while I’d regretted the decision to miss the show. The film had sounded interesting, and I never got tired of learning about the region’s flora and fauna. But I felt better when I finally spotted Cristobal. It was starting to get dark by now, and the solar-powered lights in the pool area illuminated his familiar figure.

He wasn’t alone. Enrique was with him, and the two of them were involved in what appeared to be an intense conversation. Both men were frowning, and Cristobal was waving his arms around expressively.

What’s that all about? I wondered, taking a step forward.

Unfortunately, the rain forest’s nighttime sounds — calling birds, chirping and whirring insects, screeching monkeys — were getting louder as the light faded. Between that and the sound of the pool’s waterfall, I couldn’t hear the men at all.

But after a moment I did hear another pair of voices. It was Poppy and Adam. The two of them had just stepped out of the spa building together, though they looked anything but relaxed.

“Are you kidding me?” Adam spit out as they came closer. “You’ve made it pretty clear that you have your own separate agenda here, babe. Trust me.”

Poppy opened her mouth to answer, but just then she spotted me. Her face went blank.

“Forget it, Adam,” she muttered.

“What?” Adam exclaimed. “But I —”

Poppy elbowed him sharply, and he finally noticed me standing there. He pasted a rather weak-looking smile on his face.

“Good evening, Nancy,” he called out. “Nice night, isn’t it?”

Then the two of them turned and hurried off down a side trail. I shrugged as I watched them go. That had been a little weird. Then again, the two of them seemed a little weird. For a couple on a romantic getaway, they sure didn’t seem like they were having much fun together.

Once again, I remembered that Adam didn’t have an alibi for the turtle incident. Could he be sabotaging the resort for some reason, either with Poppy’s help or behind her back? Could that be what they had been fighting about?

I filed the idea away for further thought, though I had to admit it was a weak theory at best. It seemed much more likely that this was still tied in somehow to the whole Arrojo family drama.

That reminded me why I was there. I turned to glance across the pool. Enrique had disappeared while I had been distracted by Poppy and Adam, but Cristobal was still standing there, staring into the clear water.

I hurried around the edge of the pool to join him. “Buenas noches,” I said. “Do you have a moment? I have a few questions.”

His somber expression immediately disappeared, replaced by his usual jovial smile. “Certainly, señorita,” he said. “I am always glad to be of service.”

Despite his polite and attentive words, I couldn’t help but notice that his gaze was already wandering. I wanted to come out and ask him what he and his brother had been discussing, since the conversation had clearly left him distracted and upset. But I figured that wasn’t the most tactful way to start off.

Instead I asked about his alleged offer to buy the sea turtle. He nodded immediately.

“Yes, I made Señor Vargas what I believed to be a very fair offer,” he confirmed. “I thought the stuffed turtle would make a beautiful and fitting centerpiece for the lobby.”