Jim turned away, thought of Juan rousing his anger. What does Kathy see in him? he asked himself, starting for the hall that led to the lobby. There he found the Canasta players at their tables but not Kathy. Gone to the room, he thought, and he walked through the open lobby, then down the front steps.
Palms shadowed the driveway. A night-bird cried out. About to light a cigarette, Jim turned and saw a white-clad figure jump from the small balcony of his own room and quickly disappear. In the next second he turned round, mounted the steps and hurried through the lobby.
“Kathy?” The door was locked. He rattled the knob. Footsteps, and the door swung open. No light in the room. He flipped the switch and stared at Kathy.
“Thought you were going to play cards?” he said, watching her eyes.
“I changed my mind and decided to lie down for a while.”
Yes, with Juan, he thought. But when she stared innocently at him he went out to the balcony, dropped in a chair and lit a cigarette.
“What are you going to do out there?” Kathy asked.
“Sleep. I’ve a big day ahead tomorrow. Wish you’d come along.”
No answer from Kathy.
“What are you going to do?”
“Nothing, I suppose.”
“Perhaps I better not go.”
“Don’t spoil your fun because of me.”
“Thanks.” That said as if he meant it. Then: “Look, why not meet me at the beach with the camera just in case I hook a big one.”
“What time?”
“Noon.”
“I’ll be there.”
Hearing the door open, he turned and saw her smiling at him. “Now where are you going?” he asked.
“Canasta, dear. Bye!”
The door closed. He shot his cigarette away. Kathy had lied. He didn’t want to believe it, the two of them together. A wild thought entered his mind. Capable of murder. He knew that now, but it was insane. Get away, he told himself. The plane to Mexico City tomorrow, anything to escape the precipice lying near in the dark.
A night-bird cried out in the palms, a wind from the sea. He closed his eyes, slept and woke again to that same mournful cry. Now stillness, everything dead, asleep. Turning, he saw a figure in white vanish behind a palm; he tried to rise and his tired eyes closed.
3.
He opened them again to the clear tropic light and profound stillness of morning, looked at his watch, stood up, passed through the shadowed room, empty lobby and hurried down the hill toward the beach. Halfway there and he met the Indian cook; a mirrored light flashed from a machete that hung from her waist. She smiled. He smiled in turn, passed on, hurrying.
No one at the beach. He lit a cigarette. Ask for Rodriquez? As if provoked by this thought, the quiet beach came to life. A group of beach-boys arrived. One approached Jim and he said, “Are you Rodriquez?”
“Si. You are ready?”
Jim nodded. Rodriquez barked an order. One of the boys plunged into the water and swam out to a boat at anchor. Rodriquez himself took off barefooted and returned with two fishing poles. Meanwhile the boat had been brought in close to the beach. Jim and Rodriquez climbed aboard. The motor started, the boat backed away, turned and headed for the open sea.
Under other circumstances, the trip alone would have been worthwhile, but Jim was preoccupied. Himself out here, Juan didn’t have to climb the balcony. Knock on the door, walk in and strip for action, he thought.
A strike and his line went taut, the pole bent. Excited, the beach-boys rose to their feet. Far astern the placid surface of the sea broke as the fish that had struck jumped clear and flashed in the brilliant sunlight. Minutes later the fish was boated.
“A durado,” one of the beach-boys pronounced it and with a blow from a club stilled it forever.
One more strike, and thereafter the sea gave up nothing. Only the scenery now, great cliffs with the sea battering them, then miles of beach and white surf wild and booming like cannon. Jim barely took notice, his mind on Kathy and Juan. He had been tricked and couldn’t wait to get back.
At noon the boat nosed against the beach. Jim came ashore, eyes searching for Kathy. Rodriquez handed him his catch. Fifty yards away he saw Juan squatting on the back of his legs and Kathy lying on the sand. He dropped the fish, started forward, fists clenched. The sun was blinding, he began to run, caught himself.
I’m going mad, he thought, and he was gasping when he stood over Kathy. Juan was standing now. Kathy smiled at him. “Ah, your husband is back,” said Juan.
“Didn’t you catch anything?” Kathy asked.
“No luck.”
“As I said, you must leave early for the big ones,” Juan put in and, excusing himself, he walked off toward the hotel.
Kathy lay back on the sand again, aware that Jim was staring at her. “Angry that you caught nothing?”
“Not about that.”
“What then? My boy friend? There, you are jealous?” She laughed, pleased with herself.
“It’s nothing to laugh about.”
“Oh, come now, you’re old enough to know better.”
“I wonder,” he said casually. And to himself: I wonder how long it’s gone on?
4.
Evening on the balcony with Juan serving, and a new air about him that smacked of amused assurance which Jim found aggravating. He showed it, too, but to no avail. Juan’s usual argument with the cook ensued. But back he came to the table in the same high mood — and with a new suggestion — a trip into the jungle. “Not quite for a lady,” he added. “But I am sure you would enjoy it,” he said to Jim.
It was obvious enough now that they wanted him out of the way, Jim realized, but he wondered if they took him for a fool. This time there would be no trip. But suddenly he changed his mind. It was insane, yet he made the decision quickly, saying, “I suppose it would be interesting.”
“Something to remember after you leave,” said Juan. “You won’t regret it.”
Jim looked at Kathy. “Oh, go along,” she urged. “I wouldn’t have you miss it for the world.”
“But what will you do?”
“Occupy myself.” This as she looked directly at him, as if deliberately flaunting him.
“Your wife is very obliging. An admirable quality,” Juan smiled. Jim was afraid to look up, wanting to bash the fellow.
“It’s an all-day trip,” said Juan. “A man named Varga will pick you up at nine.”
“Good. Bring me a Bohemia,” said Jim, this to get rid of Juan. Then he looked at Kathy. She was lighting a cigarette, poised and cool-looking while he soaked in his own sweat.
What am I doing? he thought. Giving her to him. Trying to torture myself? The trip was a foolish idea, and yet behind the madness — method.
“Anything wrong?” Kathy asked.
“Just thinking.”
“You’re not going to change your mind about the jungle trip?”
“Does it matter if I do?”
“Of course. Don’t let me spoil your fun. I’ll be perfectly content here — and no one will steal me.”
He felt she was laughing at him and almost exploded. Tomorrow will tell, he thought. Things are beginning to square. That made him smile, and Kathy asked why.
“It won’t be long now.”
“Meaning?”
“All sorts of things, mostly that we’ll be flying home.”
“I hate the thought of it. Aren’t you going to miss all this?”
“A bit. What particularly will you miss?” he asked, feeling almost malicious now.
“Oh, everything. When are we coming back?”
“That all depends.”