The Laughing Falcon Read Online Free PDF Page B

breaks into ‘Guah-co! Guah-co!’ ”
    His mimicry caused her to smile. The full
guaco –
that strident voice might even cause the hairs of intrepid Fiona Wardell to stand on end.
Alone in the jungle, the sun dying, she sought to close her ears to its jeering call …
    “May I suggest a pina colada?”
    “Let me at least pay for the drinks.”
    “I would not dream of it.”
    She ordered a pina colada, he a vodka. She did not want to burden Pablo with a costly bill, so when the waiter returned, she asked for the local cuisine: refried beans, baked plantains, a salad with papaya and palm hearts. Pablo chose a steak.
    After the menus were removed she barraged him with questions about Costa Rican food, customs, politics, history, but was unsure how to direct their conversation toward the crucial subject. Should she be blunt or subtle? I’
m always getting propositioned by married men — isn’t that ridiculous?
She would not be able to digest her
plato típico
if he delivered the usual worn-out line: “We’ve been unhappy for years.”
    The pina colada disappeared all too quickly, and soon there was another in front of her. In the meantime, she was learning that Costa Ricans loved salsa music, were obsessed with politics no less than
fútbol
, and that the custom at bullfights in this warm-hearted nation was not to injure the bull but tease it.
    There was no subject, with the possible exception of himself, with which Pablo did not seem at ease. Maggie’s male protagonists tended to be academics like her imaginary Jacques, and Pablo, too, was a professor — but with a Latin beat. He was even courtlier than Jacques, whose portrait seemed to blur in the presence of this urbane reality.
    Pablo waited until the dinner plates were taken before lighting a cigarette. (“Forgive my minor addiction.”) Maggie had become tipsy: three pina coladas, and now liqueurs, Café Ricas, heavy and sweet. As the blush faded from the western clouds and the Laughing Falcon stilled its voice, crickets made cheerful night music; the air was fragrant with citrus blossom. This was the Costa Rica she had imagined.
    Pablo still seemed reticent to talk about himself; preferring to carry on proudly about his
contry
.
    “When people think of Central America they think of revolution, of armed guerrillas and bandits, but we have escaped that. There are paramilitary groups; however, these are merely a nuisance. But unhappily, with tourism has come street crime. It is not so safe for a woman alone; you must be careful.”
    Caressed by a warm breeze, dazzled by the sparkling panoply of stars, Maggie drifted off again.
“The city, too, is a jungle; stay close to me.” Fiona feared only what was in her heart
.
    “I think you have disappeared on me.”
    She returned to find Pablo looking at her quizzically. “I’m sorry?”
    “I was saying that maybe you will find room in your book for a lonely history professor.”
    She had been granted the right to make inquiries. “Why is he lonely?”
    “I will not sadden you with the story, but two years ago my wife died of cancer. Let us go on to something else. I think for a moment you were in another world?”
    “I was wandering.” Lonely, he said – not just alone, but lonely. She felt guilty relief at his loss.
    “To wander. This is what I had in mind: a wander through the grounds. There is a pretty waterfall.”
    As he held her chair, the toe of one of her sandals struck a table leg, and she rose awkwardly. “Sorry, I seem to be all feet.”
    Leading her down tiled stairs to the gardens, Pablo continued to talk about Costa Rica. “It is a little republic with a littlehistory, but interesting to know nonetheless. Tomorrow, after my classes, I will take you to the National Museum.”
    “Tomorrow … No, I can’t. I’m expected at that jungle lodge for four days.” Quickly, she added, “But I’ll be back by Friday. I’d love to go to the museum with you then.”
    He did not respond. They had