“He says he’s got something to tell me. Like bad news, the way he said it… I don’t have any Seven-Up. I knew I didn’t have any, I don’t know why I’m looking.”

Mary said, “Should I come out?”

Moran brought two Cokes and a bowl of ice from the refrigerator and closed the door. “Whatever you think.”

“Aren’t you a little surprised to see him?”

“I’m very surprised. He says, ‘And how is your buddy, Mary?’ and gives me a wink. I said you’re fine.”

“You didn’t tell him I’m here?”

“No.” Moran was at the counter now mixing a rum and Coke for Rafi. “I’ve still got a funny feeling about him. In fact I’ve got more of a funny feeling than ever.”

“Do you think he knows who I am?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Should I come out? I’ve got to go home pretty soon.”

“Shit,” Moran said. “The one time I don’t have anybody here. Maybe I can get rid of them.”

“No, you can’t do that,” Mary said. “Assume he’s straight, but keep your eyes open. I think I’d better just slip out.”

“You can go around the other side to the street.”

“I’d better. Unless you want me to help you entertain.” Mary smiled. She walked over to him, raising her arms. “Our time will come, George. Hang in.”

Rafi said, very quietly, “I like Loret to tell you if she can. She has trouble not only with the words but”-he gestured, touching his chest-”because of the way it makes her feel.”

She didn’t seem too troubled to Moran: leaning over to slip her sandals off, the bodice of the dress opening to give Moran a peek at her full breasts. She sat back wiggling her toes. They looked dirty.

“But let’s see,” Rafi said, his sad eyes moving to the girl. “Loret? Tell him who you are.”

The girl looked at Rafi and immediately her expression clouded, her lower lip came out and her chin seemed to tremble. Rafi gave a small nod toward Moran. The girl turned to him, raising her head proudly.

“I am the sister of Luci Palma.”

Moran said, “Well, I’ll be.” The girl looked nothing like the Luci Palma he remembered. He said, “You’re a lot younger.”

“Yes, twelve years,” the girl said.

“Well, how is Luci these days? Where does she live?”

“She’s dead,” the girl said. She seemed to glance at Rafi before placing her glass of Coca-Cola on the ground and covering her face with her hands.

Moran heard muffled sobs. He looked at Rafi.

“She’s dead?”

Rafi nodded. “I found it out the day you left. I spoke to someone who told me of Loret and I went to see her.”

“How did she die? Was she ill?”

Rafi looked at the girl. “Loret, tell him how she died.”

Her hands came away from her face; her eyes seemed glazed now, red with sorrow.

“She was kill.”

“She was killed,” Rafi said. “Shot to death.”

Moran said, “During the war?”

“Loret,” Rafi said, “he asks when she was killed.”

“Four years ago,” the girl said, “but I think it was yesterday. She was so good to me. I live with her and she send me to school, but now I got nothing. I live in a terrible place by the Ozama River. It’s very terrible.”

“Loret,” Rafi said. “Tell him how she was killed.”

“Yes,” the girl said, “they took her from the house at night, beating her and put her in an automobile and took her away.”

“Tell him who did this,” Rafi said.

“The men of the government. Like soldiers.”

“Regular soldiers?”

“The bad ones, the det squad.”

“The death squad,” Rafi said. “Continue.”

“They took her out in the country and shot her twenty times. She was like my mother…”

“Someone found her and told you?” Rafi said.

“Yes, and then I went out there and she was dead. They rape her too. It was like I loss my mother. Now I’m alone.”

“Tell him why…” Rafi began.

“They kill her because she was, she belong to the New Revolutionary Party…”

“The NPR,” Rafi said.

“… which she join because she want to do something for the poor people, but they kill her and do terrible things to her.” Loret’s chin trembled. “She was my sister. I love her and miss her so much I don’t know what to do.”

Moran watched her cover her face again and begin to sob. He reached over to touch her shoulder. He wanted to say something, but felt Rafi watching him and wondered what he would say if Rafi-frowning, shaking his head in sympathy-wasn’t here.

“She misses Luci very much,” Rafi said. “Their mother died and Luci became the mother for her. But Luci”-Rafi sighed-”you know how she was, the spirit she had as well as kindness. When the revolution failed she began again, working for the new party… She wanted to go to Nicaragua.” Rafi shrugged, weary. “It’s a shame, a fine girl with spirit.”

“Was she married?” Moran asked.

“Loret,” Rafi said.

“No, she never get married,” the girl said.

“Do you know why?” Rafi asked.

Loret paused. Then looked at Moran. “She never marry because, well, I believe she was always in love with you.”

Moran said, “What? Come on-I hardly knew her.”

“She told me,” Loret said to Rafi, who gestured toward Moran with a quick movement of his head. “She told me,” Loret said, now to Moran, “she had a feeling for you in her heart. She want to write to you but was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” Moran asked.

“I think she didn’t want to bother you. You happy living in the United States with everything you want. You don’t need a poor girl to be crying to you.”

She began to sob and Rafi gave her the handkerchief from his breast pocket. He said to Moran, “She becomes very upset with the reminding of it.”

Moran was silent. He wanted to put his arm around the girl, comfort her, wipe the eye makeup smudged on her cheeks. She reminded him of a little girl playing dress-up in her mother’s clothes… Except for those breasts that seemed to have a life of their own. And except for Rafi sitting in his business suit prompting, making sure she told it all, holding his drink in his left hand, sipping, taking small hesitant sips in the presence of sorrow.

It gave Moran a strange feeling, to be moved by the girl’s performance while knowing it was part of Rafi’s scam. The two of them working so hard but so obvious about it; amateur night at the Coconut Palms.

He asked Rafi, “Where’re you staying?”

“We have no place yet. We came from the airport.”

“Well, you’ve got a place now.”

“No, I have friends in Miami if I can find them,” Rafi said. “I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

Moran said, “How can you inconvenience a motel? We’re not the Fontainebleu, but…”

“No, you’re not,” Rafi said.

Moran called Mary at 10:30. She answered and he said, “Can we talk?”

“The great stone face went out in his boat. He takes business people out, entertains them.”

“Do you ever go?”

“No, I think he entertains with girls. I’m hoping he falls in love with one of them… How did it go?”

He told her Loret’s story, the way Loret recited and Rafi prompted. “But I really felt sorry for her.”

“Do you cry in movies, George?”

“I choke up now and then.”

“Where are they now?”

“Well, I told them they might as well stay here. Rafi wants to look up some old friends in Miami. I still don’t know what he does for a living.”

“Are you charging them?”

“Well, the place’s empty anyway.”

“You already bought him dinner. But that was for shooting him, right?”

“If I shot him. I bought another dinner tonight and found out Loret doesn’t like Italian.”

“That’s a shame,” Mary said. “Has Rafi made a pitch yet?”

“He’s working up to it. But you know what?”

“You feel sorry for him.”

“In a way, yeah.”

“He’s gonna try to take you, George.”

“I know… but the poor guy, he’s working his ass off and you can see it coming a mile away.”

“Well, have fun. Are you gonna show them the sights tomorrow… while cute little Loret shows you hers?”