I’d been walking down a dirt road towards the main town when I heard a rustle, and Miguel stepped out from behind a bush where he’d apparently been hiding. He tried to play it nonchalant, but he’d clearly been waiting for me.
In broken English, he asked me, “Am I wrong, or is she...” He pointed at his head and made the “crazy” gesture with his finger. Scrambled brains.
“Paranoid,” I said, and Miguel snapped his fingers. “That is the word!”
“Yes,” I said. “I think so.”
“You are going into town?”
“Yes,” I said.
He offered me a ride in his BMW. While we drove, he explained that Ana Maria had found him on Airbnb and asked to rent the house for eight months. He agreed but insisted she pay up front. After three months there, she started behaving strangely. “She never leaves the house. Only to get groceries, that’s all. Before renting, she wanted only to be sure the house was next to the playa, but she never goes there.”
Miguel dropped me off at Aldi. As I walked past chocolate pizza (wtf?!) and other unfamiliar foods, I wondered what I’d gotten myself into and was very thankful Ana Maria would be leaving in the morning.