Everybody Loved Polly

Everybody loved Polly, although like all of us, she had her good and bad points. She'd been born here in the tropics, but her parents had not, of course. One was from the States, her father, I think although I can't say for sure, and the other from France. They were the Vanlandinghams, of course, till they passed on. Polly, when she married, became an Umana. It's a good name here. Polly had studied at a university in Canada, where they had some relatives. Like many offspring of foreigners who grow up here, she chose to return and bring up her kids here. You couldn't blame her, of course, since she had everything she could want.

In her younger years, heydey I guess you could say, Polly was a very active person. She was busy raising the 3 kids they had, being a wife, teaching some English classes here and there as well as staying active in the Women's Club.

She met Paul, her husband, at one of those bazaars the Club was always putting on. His real name was Pablo Umana, but as Polly used to call him Paul quite frequently”for kicks, I guess”everybody else got into the habit. It wasn't entirely strange because he did have bi-national children”or were they tri-national? Anyway, in their case, when the kids grew up they could request passports, in other words, citizenship, from their mother's or father's country. Their parents, of course, had gotten their dual citizenship because of their parents. I guess this is beginning to sound confusing.

Well, the 3 kids did grow up and one went to live abroad, they boy it was, and the 2 girls stayed here. The older girl married rather well so I guess you could say she more or less took the same route as Polly, her mother. The younger one did the opposite you might say. She was smart, at least academically, in my opinion, and got entrance to the national university, which, of course, you have to be quite smart to do. Polly and Paul were pleased at first. They were thinking of all that tuition they would save. They'd paid out a lot of money for the other two, who'd studied at private universities, so this was a relief for them, this national university business with Caitlin, their younger daughter.

The national, of course, is full of all kinds of students”you have poor ones, rich ones, ones in the middle, political conservatives and liberals, and, frankly, a lot of anarchists or revolutionary sympathizers maybe I could say. Caitlin, for some reason we still haven't figured out, got in with the latter bunch, the leftists. She found a boyfriend, Raoul his name was. Oh, I remember she was the happiest thing with that boyfriend. We all were happy for her, too. It was quite contagious, her happiness. Raoul was a handsome boy. Devil, they called him later. I say boy because I'm not young anymore, you know. Even then I was no spring chicken. Back to Raoul, though. He was tall and dark, just like in the romance novels. Just as Caitlin preferred her boyfriends. He had black hair, black mustache, black eyes and the most beautiful eyebrows I've ever seen on a man to this day. No wonder she fell for him. Who'd be able to resist?

One day Raoul found out Caitlin's parents were planning a big celebration on their 40th wedding anniversary. It was several months away so they had time to plan. Both groups, it turned out. At least 100 guests would be invited, many of those quite prominent citizens in our capital city. Raoul let his fellow insurgents know and they were very, very interested. They made their living by kidnapping and extortion, you know. They could see a field day ahead. Caitlin needed to know why Raoul had so many questions regarding the celebration so he told her they were really interested in abducting 3 or 4 of the guests. With Caitlin's approval, needless to say. He personally would guarantee their safety. As such, it basically would be only a "fund-raising operation, like going fishing you could say. It was a difficult decision for Caitlin since these were people she'd known her whole life”while growing up. If anyone ever found out she'd been even a small part of such a vile incident, why, they'd never forgive her; never speak to her again. Raoul, however, was persuasive, if anything, and Caitlin found herself giving in. She had no reason not to trust Raoul. As far as she knew, he'd been completely straight-forward with her since they'd met. Then Caitlin had asked Raoul if he'd arrive himself with the others. He'd said he wasn't sure, but not to be surprised if he did. He also told Caitlin that she mustn't mention a word to anyone about ANY of their plans. Not even to those closest to her. Especially not to them! Again, Caitlin promised.

It wasn't long before Caitlin broke that promise. She broke it only once, however. That was to confide in her best and lifelong friend, Julie. Basically, she told Julie everything. Julie, as usual, was neutral and non-interfering. But it forced her to do some heavy thinking.

Raoul could envision the raid on the party and happily so. Of course, they weren't going to kidnap just 4 or 5 of the richest attendees. They were going to kidnap those and murder the rest of the snooty rich suckers. Society would learn a lesson or two as a result. Raoul could see the bloody corpses scattered grotesquely all over the grounds of the open-air restaurant. It was typical in these tropics to patronize outdoor restaurants 40 to 60 minutes north of the city near the countryside. The raiders, as such, would have time to get away before the always-slow police arrived. Some of the terrorists would wear hoods. Most would dress as active-duty soldiers, a not uncommon deception.

As the days and weeks passed Julie knew she had to take some kind of action, but what kind? Should she talk to Senor and Senora Vanlandingham? Should she go to the police? Should she wait more time? She decided finally to go to the police. She took off from work one morning and told them everything she knew. They thanked her profusely and assured her she needn't talk to anyone else about the event. She was especially to give no signs to Caitlin that she'd as much as considered discussing the upcoming anniversary with a single soul.

After Julie's visit to the police, intelligence began piecing the puzzle together. They'd already known for quite some time that Caitlin and Raoul had become lovers. There was a lot of credibility to Julie's story. The certainty was that the planned high-society massacre had to be prevented at all costs. As the celebration date neared, police began 24-hour vigilance of the "restaurant zone," for there were quite a number of restaurants in that area. The family had chosen The Golden Horn, according to Julie and verification had proved her correct. Another thing was certain: The guest list would have to be increased so as to allow the necessary number of decoys which, as you know, are plainclothes police officers.

It was tough when Caitlin asked Julie if she'd told anyone but, surprising herself, Julie managed to lie undetected. Caitlin managed to do likewise when she told Raoul she hadn't breathed a syllable. Raoul believed Caitlin since he knew she was very much in love with him and she was, of course--it was true common knowledge. Nonetheless, she wasn't or hadn't become devoid totally of every thing decent. Maybe that was the true reason she'd told Julie early on. Maybe subconsciously she wanted something to deter such evil--something but she was too confused to know what it was.

The big day arrived sooner than everyone thought possible but, anyway, as far as the two parties were concerned, their plans and preparations had been completed. Guests would begin arriving at noon. At that time they could get seated, begin drinking and visiting each other's tables until cake, champagne followed by lunch at 2:00. The police calculated the arrival of Raoul's thugs to be after 2:30, a time when everyone would be in one general area eating, drinking, talking and laughing. The road leading to the driveway of the restaurant would be cut off, to say the least, but not cut off until the murderers were practically on top of the chosen cut-off site. Raoul's "men" had spotted plainclothes police officers as much as a day or two before the celebration. This sighting led him to believe that Caitlin had lied to him. For what it was worth, he'd also lied to Caitlin. She expected them to pop in, take the 4 or 5 hostages they wanted then split. Raoul had had in mind from the beginning something more permanent. You probably know the rest. It was and still is the worst bombing incident in the history of our capital city, probably in our country even. It's hard to believe that in a Roman Catholic country as ours is you'd be able to recruit, by that I mean convince and pay, a restaurant employee to act as a kamikaze bomber. Of course, they paid the bomber's family. Nobody knows how much for it was a cash payment, but it must've been considerable. But so what? Is there a material amount one accepts for participating in the slaughter of more than 135 innocent citizens? That's what happened to Polly, Caitlin, Senor Vanlandingham and too many other prominent citizen's names to mention. It was as bad as that airplane crash in France that claimed the lives of all those prominent Atlantans several decades ago. Boy, that was terrible! Raoul, of course, never showed up and today rots in prison I'm glad to say. The fact that he allowed some of his own loyal men to be murdered makes him about the worst kind of person that ever walked this earth.

I guess you're wondering why I wasn't there if I was such a close member of Polly's inner circle, which I was. Well, believe it or not, I had to have some wisdom teeth pulled at about that time so my face looked worse than a Halloween jack-o-lantern! In other words, swollen. But let me tell you, I certainly remember being upset for having to miss such a delightful occasion. But, as you know, there's that Somebody who moves in mysterious way. Yes, everybody loved Polly. She was really something else, but that's another story, isn't it? For what it's worth, I personally loved Caitlin, too, though I realize she took the wrong road in her life. I think now I'm getting too hoarse what with all this talking non-stop. I'm glad you asked about Polly, though.

THE END