I should have known that it had been too good to be true that my dealings with Mr. Hernando Gomez the Anguilla Customs Agent up to that point had been smooth. The very next morning after Iggy and I had supper on the courtyard behind Sydans, the Customs shit hit the fan. Iggy had been surprised when on his second day in the container Mr. Gomez gave the okay for us to begin taking electrical items out of the container to start work on the hotel as soon as he had cleared them. We had started some of the prep work in the kitchen before Mr. Gomez arrived that day. He stepped into the room as he had done all the other days, to say good morning and to let us know that he was working. Iggy and I were laughing over a tricky and slightly stubborn connection he was making when Mr. Gomez stormed in, his face deep red and his forehead looking like ten miles of bad road. “I can not believe it, Ignatius. I give you an inch, against government policy, I might add, and you take a mile. Two miles, by the looks of it. We stopped laughing and looked at each other like we were children caught being naughty. “What do you mean, Nando? I have not touched anything that you have not cleared,” Iggy said. “Call me Mr. Gomez, if you please.” I felt Iggy’s muscles tense and I heard him draw in a breath to fire back at him. I put a hand on his arm and whispered to him, “Remember he has the power to lock up all our building supplies, Iggy. Let him rant until we find out what the problem is.” Some of the tension went out of Iggy’s arm and I felt safe enough to let go and step toward the angry Customs man. “I am sorry you think Iggy or I overstepped your permissions, Mr. Gomez. Please tell us what has happened and perhaps we can help to fix it or make things right.” I took another step toward him. “Neither of us would ever knowingly do anything that would endanger your job, you must know that, especially about Mr. Solomon who has been your friend for years.” I was using the same voice I had used when Dane and Marie were on the verge of a hysterical tantrum, the one I have heard police use when trying to diffuse a situation on a television show. Gomez took several deep breaths and closed his eyes. I could see the effort that it took for him to get control of his anger. It was a few long minutes before he opened his eyes and his gaze bored into Iggy. “When I opened the container this morning all of the contents were in a jumble. The neat and tidy organization that I had so that I could see at a glance what had been checked and what still needed attention was destroyed.” Cold dread slammed into the pit of my stomach. Had someone broken in during the night and made off with some of my carefully chosen and desperately needed supplies? I watched carefully as Mr. Gomez pulled himself together, unclenching the hand that grasped his beloved clipboard in a stranglehold and smoothing down the pages of the bill of lading that he had been working from all week. He took another cleansing breath and started speaking. “When I left last night after you and Mr. Solomon had returned the wires, switches, and junction boxes to the container, I was very careful to arrange the boxes that I had moved out to go through onto the right side which is where I keep the cartons that have been cleared. I keep the items that I have not certified on the left side. As the work progressed and the items got bigger, like the pile of plywood and wall board, I had to call Silas and Edward to come and help me. Edward is especially good at organizing things, you know.” As he spoke I could see the tension rebuilding in his face and hands. I put a calming hand on his arm. “Why do we not all get a nice cool bottle of water and go sit on the front porch? I for one could really use something cold to drink and a breeze on my face.” Behind Mr. Gomez I could see Iggy nodding his agreement. He turned and fished three bottles of mineral water from the cooler that we refilled with water and ice every few days, wiped them dry on the towel that I hung on a nail above the cooler, and handed one to Mr. Gomez and one to me. Both Iggy and Mr. Gomez insisted that I precede them through the hotel and onto the porch. We pulled a third chair close to the other two and all sat, me first of course, these were gentlemen after all. “I do not believe that anyone would break into a container with an official Customs Department padlock on it,” he said shaking his head. I hid a smile at his naiveté with my hand. Did he really think that a flimsy padlock probably purchased in bulk at the local hardware store would deter a dedicated thief? “People have no respect for the rules, Nando, you know that,” Iggy said. “These days they just take what they want no matter who it belongs to.” “I thought that you had respect for the rules, though, Ignatius. You and I have been friends for our whole lives, and our mother’s have sat beside each other in church and sung in the choir together for decades. How could you betray my trust like that?” Iggy, who had moved from his chair to sit on the porch railing between Mr. Gomez and me, shook his head. “I do not know how you think that I got into the container. Was the padlock broken? Had someone jimmied the latch? Mrs. Rose and I were working with the few things that I had not returned to the container, waiting for you to arrive so that we could retrieve my tools and enough supplies for the day. “Mr. Gomez was shaking his head as Iggy spoke. “No, the padlock was on and the latch seemed secure. I do not know how the mess was made, but it was, there is no denying it.” He stood up and took a step toward the stairs that lead to the beach. “I need to go down to the police station and file a report. That is the procedure outlined in the Customs Department handbook.” As Mr. Gomez started down the steps, his body rigid with righteous indignation, Silas came toward us from the direction of Johnno’s. “Mister Gomez, I am glad to see you. Have you opened that container yet?” Mister Gomez stopped in his tracks so quickly that his shoes slid on the soft sand and a drift of sand covered them. “Why do you ask? Do you know who broke in last night?” Silas started laughing and it took a while for him to catch his breath so that he could speak. “Oh, no one broke into the container last night, Mr. Gomez. When you and Edward finished with your stacking and organizing of the cartons neither of you noticed that one of the local cats had been locked in. I got very little sleep all night listening to it yowl.” It was all Iggy and I could do not to burst out laughing but we both knew that to laugh at the situation would make Mr. Gomez think that we were laughing at him and that would be a big mistake. Silas cocked his head at the Customs man. “Did not the cat run out as soon as you opened the doors? I can not imagine that it would have stayed in there for one more minute, the racket it was making. I knew that it had to be racing around out there. I could hear cartons falling and metal hitting metal.” He turned to me. “I hope that it did not break anything, Mrs. Rose. We should probably go and check.” It was a very chastened Mr. Gomez who lead the parade of four back to the cargo container parked in the vacant lot next to the yellow house. It took us most of that day even with Edward’s excellent organizational skills to restore order to Mr. Gomez’ satisfaction.
Daily count: 1,425 words
Total count: 26,602 words
Happy Sunday!
--Barbara
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