CHAPTER VII

Gay Curaçao

Biff scanned the lobby of the hotel carefully as he emerged from the elevator. No sign of Derek, no sign of Dietz. They had left only minutes before Biff reached the lobby.

The stairway Uncle Charlie would be coming down, Biff noticed, led into the lobby just to the right, and slightly behind the elevator bank. Biff decided that behind the stairway would be the best place for him to watch for Specks. There was a large potted plant at the foot of the stairway. Biff got behind it. From here, he couldn’t be seen, yet he had a good view of the elevators and the stairs. Specks in his frightened haste might take the stairway. He might not want to wait for an elevator, scared as he must be after Uncle Charlie had given him a verbal working-over.

The elevator must have been waiting on the fourth floor, for Specks came out of it into the lobby just after Biff had taken up his position. He saw the little man glance nervously around the lobby. Probably, Biff guessed, he was looking for boss Dietz. He needed his support, needed it badly.

Specks then headed for the exit. He moved at a pace so rapid that he bumped into several people who were entering.

“Where’s Uncle Charlie?” Biff asked himself. “If he doesn’t get here right now, we’ll lose Specks.” Biff stepped out from behind the huge plant and glanced up the curving stairs. No Uncle Charlie. Biff did think that he heard someone coming down, coming fast, taking two or more steps at a time. “That must be he,” Biff thought. He decided to go after Specks, hoping his uncle would be right behind.

In the curved driveway outside the hotel, Biff looked right and left. Specks must have pulled out of there at a rapid clip. He wasn’t in sight. Uncle Charlie came out of the hotel, taking the three steps at a leap.

“Where is he? Which way did he go?”

“I don’t know,” Biff replied. “He was gone by the time I got out here.”

“Come on, then.” Uncle Charlie, on the run, headed for the street. Biff was at his heels.

On the sidewalk, they tried to spot Specks.

It seemed to Biff he had never seen so many people crowding the streets, all of them in a gay, holiday mood.

“It’s no use, Biff,” Charles Keene said. “We’d never catch Specks in this crowd, even if we knew which way he went.”

“Guess you’re right,” Biff replied. “But I hate to give up. I want to find Derek. Don’t like the idea of his thinking you and I are against him.”

“I know how you feel, Biff. Tell you what. Let’s just wander around, circulate among the crowds. Who knows, we might bump into him. If we don’t, locating him is going to take time and organization.”

Biff felt there would be little chance of that happening. He knew that his uncle was just trying to cheer him up. So, thought Biff, why not? See some of the town at the same time.

“Okay, Uncle Charlie, lead on.”

The man and boy joined in the thronging crowd of tourists, sight-seers, and bargain hunters.

“Four big cruise ships in, Biff,” Uncle Charlie said. “That’s why Curaçao is really hopping today.”

They stopped at several shops. Both kept an eye out for Derek, and Biff’s uncle made several inquiries of shopkeepers. No luck. “Let’s acquaint you with this fabulous city first, Biff,” he said. “Then back to the hotel for a powwow on our next move.”

Biff looked over some German cameras in El Globo on Heerenstraat. He was delighted with the store run by Juluis Penha on Breedestraat. This store sold dolls from all over. He bought a Dutch doll for Monica. It was dressed in traditional Dutch clothes—wooden shoes, a gaily colored frock, and a stiff winged hat. He found a Swiss watch at Spritzer and Fuhrmann, and was surprised at how inexpensive it was. He bought it for his brother Ted and smiled as he thought of Ted’s face when he saw it.

As they walked along, Uncle Charlie kept up a running fire of conversation, giving Biff a good picture of life in Curaçao.

“All the houses are different colors, Uncle Charlie. Why is that?” Biff asked.

Each house was distinct from the other, even if its color varied by only a shade. Some were light pink, others darker pink. There were bright green-painted houses, and light green ones. Others were different shades of blue and yellow.

Uncle Charlie chuckled before replying.

“Don’t know how true this story is, Biff, but here’s the natives’ explanation of why the houses here are so gaily colored. Many years ago, all the houses here were whitewashed. It seems the unrelieved glare of all the white houses hurt the governor’s eyes. So, being a powerful man who knew what he wanted, he ordered the houses to be painted the colors of their owners’ choices. Simple as that.”

“If you’re a governor,” Biff replied, laughing.

“And you see that large building over there?” Uncle Charlie pointed to a magnificent structure standing on top of a hill.

“Big enough to be a palace,” Biff commented.

“It’s Franklin D. Roosevelt House, the United States consulate. The Dutch built it up there on Ararat Hill to express their thanks for our protection of these Dutch islands during World War II.”

“That was really nice of them.”

“Good neighbors, the Dutch.”

Biff stopped in front of a store displaying beautiful English china and Swedish crystal. He pretended to be inspecting these beautiful wares. Actually he was listening intently to a rapid-fire conversation between two native clerks.

“I don’t get it,” Biff said, shaking his head.

“What don’t you get?”

“The language they’re speaking. I thought at first it was Spanish. I know I caught some Spanish words. And some English words. And I could pick out some Portuguese, too. But it’s all so mixed up.”

Uncle Charlie laughed. “No wonder you’re puzzled. They’re speaking a language made up of more different languages than any other in the world. It’s called Papiamento. The jargon is a combination of Dutch, English, Spanish, Portuguese, African, and Indian words. Carib Indians. A few French words thrown in, too.”

“Just like Curaçao itself.”

“That’s right, Biff. This island is filled with many races although the Dutch are predominant.”

Uncle Charlie looked at his watch, then glanced up at the sun. “Aren’t you getting hungry? It’s after noon,” he said.

“Now that you remind me,” Biff replied with a grin, “I’m starving.”

“Like to go back to the hotel, or how about some real Dutch-Javanese food? Dutch cooking is good. Heavy, though.”

“Lead me to it.”

Uncle Charlie took his nephew to Koreman’s Old Dutch Tavern on Columbusstraat. They started out with a delicious Dutch pea soup, for which the restaurant is famous, and followed it with a Javanese dish of pork and vegetables with a thick curry sauce.

“Like it, Biff?”

“Delicious. But, as you said—heavy. I’m so full now, I don’t think I’ll ever want to eat again.”

“This stuff really sticks to your ribs. But if I know you, you’ll be starving again in a few hours. Come on, we’ll go back to the hotel. You must have some questions buzzing in your brain.”