Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 34, No. 13 & 14, Winter 1989

At this point, Paquette had changed the subject, asking Meding what had become of several of her classmates. Later they went around to the back of the house and Meding took Nick-Nick from his cage for feeding. The bird had made her proud, putting on a performance that had them all laughing. He ran around the yard bobbing his head and chortling, then dashing to them to snatch the pieces of fish they held out for him. When the heron’s stomach was full, he allowed the boy to hold him and stroke his feathers. The visit ended with Paquette asking Meding to attend her birthday party the following evening. Meding accepted.

Paquette’s birthday party had been memorable. All the villagers were there as well as many of Paquette’s relatives and former classmates who had traveled to the event from other villages and towns on the island. Roberto had killed a pig and several chickens for the occasion and roasted them on a spit over a huge fire built in the yard. To go with the meat, the women had prepared rice, adobo, and lumpia. For dessert there were sweet rolls, mango slices, and roasted bananas. After the meal, the men gathered by the fire, smoking cigarettes and drinking San Miguel beer bought by the American. The young children, including Paquette’s son, played tag among the trees, staying close to the light. Teenage girls danced with each other to American rock music from a transistor radio tuned to the station in Puerto Princesa. The girls giggled and pointed, trying to coax the boys their age to dance with them. The boys acted aloof, feigning uninterest to hide their shyness. The married women gathered on the porch to gossip.

“How was your trip to Arena Island today?” Meding asked Paquette.

“It was fun,” Paquette said. “We had a picnic; then my husband and I walked around the island on the beach. It was every bit as beautiful a place as I had imagined.” She leaned over and whispered in Meding’s ear: “We went skinny dipping.”

Meding laughed. “Then you had the island all to yourselves?”

“Yes. My husband and I liked Arena so much that we may be interested in buying the land and living there.”

“I don’t think there is an owner,” Meding said. “When I was on the island two years ago, there were no coconut trees. For someone to become the owner of the land, before petitioning the government, they must plant coconut trees and build a house.”

Paquette nodded. “You are probably right,” she said. “We didn’t see any coconut trees there today, and there was no house, at least not along the beach.”

In the yard, the teenage girls had succeeded in persuading two of the boys to dance. But the young men were embarrassed and shuffled to the music only half-heartedly.

“Let me show you how it’s done,” Tassig had said. He put down his San Miguel bottle and grabbed one of the girls by the hand. In the packed dirt by the fire, the two stepped and swayed skillfully to the beat of the music. Rosemary whirled and laughed, long hair streaming, while Tassig swung her around, then stepped aside to let her go it alone, clapping his hands in time with the music. Sweat glistened on his bare torso.

On the porch with the women, Tassig’s wife snorted. “If he had as much energy for work as he does for dancing with the young women, we would not be so poor,” she said. The women laughed.

“Now you try it,” Tassig told the boys. He returned to the gathering of men by the fire, and the teenagers paired off again, waiting for the next song to start.

Meding remembered that this had been the last time she had seen either Rosemary or Tassig. Two days after the party the young woman had disappeared — run away from home, her parents thought and hoped. The girl had been restless, not content to help her mother around the house. George did not have the money to send her to school in Puerto Princesa. And then, not long after, Tassig had gone fishing as usual and not returned. No sign of either him or his boat had been found.

As the evening went on and more beer was consumed, the men’s conversation became more animated. From her place on the porch with the women, Meding couldn’t tell what the men were talking about, but she noticed that the American was active in the discussion, speaking mostly in English and at times in rudimentary Tagalog. She would have to find out what the men had talked about. Perhaps there would be a clue.