Operation Tropical Affair: A Poppy McVie Adventure (Poppy McVie Series Book 1) by Kimberli Bindschatel Page A

propped up in the sand, I tried my best to chitchat. Not my specialty. But I wanted to have a good sense of who these people were.  
    Claudia and her fiancé, Matt, guided rafting tours on the Grand Canyon in the summers and spent about three months a year in Costa Rica. “It’s affordable and gorgeous. What more could a couple of river rats want?” Matt said.
    Dan and Sierra guided kayakers in Alaska for four months, then helped run a zip-line tour here in the winter.  
    Doug was an actor/part-time bartender. “Between jobs,” he grumbled.
    Amanda and Colette were a lesbian couple who sold hand-crafted jewelry in the summer art show circuit. Amanda did freelance computer work, so they would travel with an RV chock full of jewelry, then park it at her parents’ place in Silver Springs, Florida to take two months off in Costa Rica every year.  
    Jack cleaned windows on skyscrapers in New York City and made enough cash to hang the rest of the year “surfin’ the CR, livin’ the pura vida.”
    “What’s your story?” Jack asked, then promptly shoved an entire red potato into his mouth.
    “I’m kinda between semesters,” I said. “Trying to find my way, you know.”
    This brought a lot of sympathetic nodding around the fire.  
    From the darkness, a monkey came scampering across the sand, leaped onto the table, grabbed a potato, and ran off, chittering with glee, the potato tucked under his arm like he’d been trained by the Green Bay Packers offensive coach.
    “Clyde!” someone yelled.
    “Hey Isabella,” Noah called. Coming up the path was the waitress from the palapa bar. Crap. What was she doing here? What was their connection?
    “Hola de nuevo,” she said and went right for a plate. Clyde followed on her heels. She plopped down, cross-legged in the sand next to the fire and stabbed an onion with her fork. Clyde cowered behind her. Apparently he wasn’t fond of fire.
    “C’mon.” Sierra slapped her thighs and Clyde leaped into her lap. She stroked his head and he cuddled against her.  
    Isabella swallowed her onion and looked at Claudia. “Did you get anything?”
    Claudia glanced at me and shook her head.  
    Isabella looked at me and in a moment, recognition showed in her eyes. I had a choice. Claim a coincidence and hope they weren’t too skeptical, or hit the thing head on, making them believe I’m one of them. Easy enough, but I had to have an explanation for being at the shed. A good one. Now.  
    “You must be wondering why I’m here. Hell, I’m wondering why I am here.” I turned to Noah. “I wasn’t birding today.” I clenched my teeth together in a please-don’t-be-mad-at me grin. “I was snooping. I think something illegal is going on up at that coffee shed.” I turned to Isabella. “And I think your boss has something to do with it.”
    Next to me, Noah set down his fork. “What do you mean?”
    “Well, I was out birding, a few weeks ago, and I saw these men. They had a bunch of animals in cages. Not chickens, but monkeys and other birds.” I shook my head. “That’s not right. So, I know it was a fool-hardy thing to do but—” I shrugged “—I found out who owns the property and that he also owns The Toucan. I’m not sure what I thought I was going to do when I found out the truth. I just couldn’t stand to see animals being hurt like that, you know.” I leaned forward and raised my eyebrows to show how scared I’d been. “I wasn’t expecting to get shot at!”
    It was subtle, but I could see nods around the group. They were accepting me. Noah finally said, “You’re right. Something is going on. Those men are poachers. The worse kind. They capture live animals, snatch ‘em right out of the forest, enslave ‘em and sell ‘em like plastic toys.”
    “No way,” I said. “I knew it. That’s awful.” Interesting.  
    “It’s big money. Right under our eyes, wildlife is being plundered and sold on the black market.”
    “How do you know all this?