“So, where’d the money come from?”
“I have no idea, really. Mack was always desperate to make some money because his law practice was a dead end and his wife had bigger dreams.”
“And he paid you?”
“Jake, son, I always get paid. Yes, Mack paid me five grand in cash. I didn’t ask questions.”
“And he’s been discharged in bankruptcy?”
“Correct. I handled that too. Not much in the way of assets and certainly no cash. Hell, the boy didn’t have a pot to piss in, at least nothin’ above the table. And she got everything. The bank foreclosed on his office. About a month after he left, the FBI came snoopin’ around but they were chasin’ their tails.”
“What did they want?”
“They didn’t know. They had nothin’， nobody was complainin’。 Somehow they’d heard the rumors that Mack had flown the coop with stolen money, but there were no witnesses. Got the impression they were just goin’ through the motions.”
“So there was no indictment, no outstanding warrants? No one is looking for Mack?”
“Not to my knowledge, which, as we know, is vast. Now, that’s not to say he’s off the hook. I wouldn’t worry about the divorce. Hell, the poor girl is probably dyin’， from what I hear. If he hid money, then bankruptcy fraud might be a problem. He could still be investigated for that.”
“Who would investigate him?”
“Exactly. Who cares? He’s been discharged. I can’t believe he wants to come back. Your turn.”
Jake walked to the bar and returned with two more drafts. He took a drink and started laughing. “Be honest, Harry Rex, how many times have you thought of Mack and secretly dreamed of chucking it all and heading for the beach?”
“At least a thousand. I thought about him last week.”
“I guess we’ve all had that dream, though I can never see myself leaving Carla and the kids.”
“Well, you got yourself a good girl. Me, that’s another story.”
“So, why does he want to come back?”
“That’s where you come in, Jake. You gotta go see him. Take the dream vacation, get the hell out of this place for a week. Go have some fun.”
“And you see no risk in doing so?”
“Hell no. Nobody’s gonna be watchin’ you. Take his cash, buy the round-trip tickets, get Carla off to the mountains of Costa Rica. I wish I could go.”
“I’ll send you a postcard.”
（8）
Postcards could never do justice to the Terra Lodge. It was tucked into the side of a mountain a thousand feet above the Pacific Ocean, and from their poolside lounge chairs Jake and Carla sat mesmerized, drinks in hand, as they tried to absorb the view. Without a single cloud above them, the sun beat down and soothed their frigid bones. It had been sleeting when they took off from Memphis. For the first time, Jake wondered why anyone would want to leave this paradise.
At checkin, they had been escorted to their bungalow, one of only thirty at the lodge. It was a private three-room suite with a thatched roof, outdoor shower, wading pool, plenty of air-conditioning that wasn’t needed, all set in the midst of lush tropical gardens. Ricardo, their new best friend, was only seconds away. A rate chart on the door of the bathroom listed the villa at $600 a night.
Jake said, “I don’t know how much clout Mack has around here, but it must be substantial.”
“This place is unbelievable,” Carla replied as she examined a deep tub that could hold three people. Her reluctance in taking the free trip had finally dissipated the moment she saw the ocean.
Ricardo took them to the pool, brought their drinks, and explained that dinner would be served at seven, at a private table, with a view of the sunset they would never forget. After the first drink, Jake jumped into the infinity pool, rested his arms on the ledge, soaked in the warm salt water, and gawked in amazement at the shimmering blue Pacific.
Their honeymoon had been a low-budget trip to the Caribbean eleven years earlier, Jake’s first and only trip abroad. Carla’s parents were more affluent and she had spent a month in Europe with a group of students. Nothing, though, could ever compare to this.
Late in the day, the other guests, all adults, gathered by the pool and watched a glorious sunset. Dinner was nearby on a patio—fresh-baked lobster with fresh organic vegetables, grown right down the road on the lodge’s own little farm. Afterward, they retired to the Sky Lounge, a hideaway flooded with stars, and danced to the beat of a local band.