don't know how else to describe it. And the way it made me feel. At first I was really scared, but suddenly I felt so lost and alone.'
Andrea paused thoughtfully.
'What if it's true? It would be so tragic. The two lovers, so close to each other, but separated by the raging sea for eternity.'
Quinn could not think of a thing to say that wouldn't sound patronizing, so he was silent. He did not want to insult Andrea. He liked her. She was so different from Laura. Quinn thought of the way Laura would react to Andrea's ghost story and laughed.
'You don't believe me. I know. No one does.'
'I'm sorry. I wasn't laughing at you.'
'Oh, that's okay. No one takes my experience at the cove seriously. I'm used to it. Say, I just got an idea. You could hear the lost souls yourself. I could take you to the cove.'
'I don't know.'
It had been some time since he had spent a day alone with a woman other than Laura and the thought of it made him uncomfortable, especially with the way things were between them.
'Oh, come on. You'd love it. And it's not a place that the tourists get to see. They pretty much stay near the hotels. Freddy told me that the governor likes it that way. There's a lot of poverty away from The Palms and Bay Reef. Freddy said that poor people are bad for tourism, so Governor Alvarez only paved the road on one section of the island. You have to drive on a dirt road to get to the villa and the cove. It goes through these shantytowns.'
Quinn knew he was being foolish. He didn't believe for a moment in the lost lovers, but the cove and the reef with the tropical fish sounded fascinating, and he did have two days with no plans. Spending one of them in the company of an attractive woman suddenly sounded like a good idea.
'The invitation sounds tempting,' Quinn hedged.
Andrea turned slightly and put her hand on his arm.
'I insist. I'll even teach you how to snorkel. You'll love it. What do you say?'
ttj > >
'I'm not taking no for an answer. There's no way I'm going to let you leave St. Jerome without learning how to snorkel. I can pick you up at the hotel around four, tomorrow afternoon. That will give us both time to get over our jet lag and catch up on sleep. It takes about three-quarters of an hour to get to the cove from the hotel. I'll bring a picnic basket. We can swim for a while.
I have snorkeling equipment and Til give you a lesson. Then we'll eat and wait for the sun to go down.'
Andrea grinned mischievously. 'I just got a great idea. If we hear the sound of the lost souls and you can't explain it, you have to treat me to dinner. But it's my treat if you can come up with a rational explanation. What do you say?'
Quinn made a decision. He would go and have a good time. Maybe an evening with Andrea would help him get rid of his melancholy mood. But Quinn did not want anyone connected to the conference seeing him drive off with Andrea: judges had to avoid even the appearance of impropriety.
'Why don't you give me directions to the cove and I'll meet you there? I'll rent a car.'
Andrea's smile widened. 'So, you'll come?'
'I'll come. And, if you win, we can invite the ghosts along. I'll even spring for their dinners.'
Quinn's first glimpse of St. Jerome was filtered through gauzy white clouds. A patch of sugar-white sand, a strip of crystal-clear blue water, groves of swaying emerald-leafed palms. When the plane dropped beneath the clouds and Quinn had an unobstructed view of the island, he was certain he had found paradise. After the steady diet of gray and rain he had dined on in Portland, the sight of the sun, the palm trees and the clear blue water was exhilarating.
The exhilaration ended when the hatch of the airplane opened and Quinn was engulfed by a thick soup of hot, sticky air. He had rarely experienced such all-consuming heat. It bounced off the railings of the portable, metal steps that descended to the tarmac, melted the black asphalt and stirred the tar into a sucking mixture that threatened to wrench his shoes from his feet during the walk from the plane to the one-story terminal building that shimmered before him in the undulating waves of heat. Only the breeze from the sea made the heat bearable.
The lime-green paint on the exterior walls of the terminal had been savaged by the salt-heavy sea air. On one wall hung a huge poster of a smiling, mustachioed man in a military uniform. Quinn could not read the Spanish words on the poster. A large tear almost disconnected the top of the poster from the bottom. It looked to Quinn as if the damage had been done with a knife. Lounging against the wall next to the poster were two soldiers carrying automatic weapons. Quinn could not help noticing several other soldiers who were similarly armed.
'Why all the heavy artillery?'' Quinn asked.
Andrea lowered her voice.
'The soldiers are here to protect the tourists. Governor Alvarez lets drug smugglers use the island for a fee. About five years ago, he executed six dealers who tried to cheat him. They were members of a South American cartel. A few weeks later, six tourists were gunned down in an ambush in retaliation. The island's economy is dependent on tourism. The massacre had a disastrous impact.'
'You're making St. Jerome sound pretty dangerous.'
'Oh, you don't have to worry. There hasn't been any trouble since. Freddy told me that a lot of money changed hands and Alvarez worked out the problem.'
'This Alvarez sounds like a petty criminal.'
Andrea looked alarmed. She cast a quick look around to see if anyone had heard the judge's comment.
'You don't criticize Governor Alvarez here,' Andrea warned. 'Enjoy the beaches and forget politics. It's not a healthy subject for discussion on St. Jerome.'
Louvered windows let air into the terminal, but it was still hot. Quinn looked for the baggage carousel before noticing two black men in shorts and sweat-stained shirts taking luggage off a cart and stacking it near one of the interior walls. He found his bags and looked around for customs.
The dominant language on the signs inside the terminal was Spanish, the official language of the island, but there were translations in English, French, German and Japanese. Quinn heard most of these languages being spoken by the tourists who queued up in front of the customs officials. The heavyset, sleepy-eyed man who checked Quinn's passport spoke broken English. After a few perfunctory questions, he smiled at Quinn and welcomed him to St. Jerome.
'The Bay Reef Resort is supposed to provide a shuttle service between the airport and the hotel,' Quinn told Andrea.
'Don't worry about me. Freddy's driver will pick me up.'
A brand-new air-conditioned van with the Bay Reef logo was waiting at curbside.
'I'll see you at the cove at four tomorrow,' Quinn said before boarding it.
'At four.'
The air-conditioning in the van made Quinn forget about the debilitating heat. Two middle-aged couples were the only other passengers on the shuttle. From what Quinn could hear, they were Australian and they were on holiday together. Quinn turned his attention to the royal palms with their thick tan trunks and broad green leaves that shaded the highway. Beyond the palm trees, waves rushed across a white sand beach. Everywhere Quinn looked he saw the sea or lush tropical vegetation. St.
Jerome was every bit as beautiful as the brochure from the Bay Reef Resort had promised.
After a fifteen-minute ride, a high white stucco wall appeared on the ocean side of the highway. They drove alongside the wall for a mile. Then the van pulled up in front of a guardhouse and waited while a black man in a clean, white short-sleeved shirt and tan slacks opened a gate topped by black spikes. The bold black letters on a copper sign affixed to a column next to the gate identified the enclave as the Bay Reef Resort.
The van drove for a short distance down a wide road lined with pink bougainvillea and more palms, then stopped in front of a one-story white stucco building. To the left, Quinn could see the beginning of a line of elegant shops. To the right was a row of two-story suites. High hedges blocked Quinn's view in both directions.
Quinn got out of the van and identified his bags for a porter, who directed him through an arched portal toward the reception area. Quinn noticed that there were almost no doors in sight. The reason was soon obvious. As he stepped through the archway, the breeze that blew in from the ocean cooled him.
