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When Lucia Hernandez’s son was rewarded with a scholarship to attend college in the capital, she had no choice but to start looking for suitable lodgings. She bought a national circulation newspaper and searched in the classified ads. She found good places, both middle and middle-high class; however, they were ostensibly expensive designed for executives -they demanded six months in advance plus a deposit. Despite her son’s objections, she opted for a more popular newspaper where, as expected, she found more popular addresses; though, according to common sense, more suited to her budget. She picked the best ads up and settled herself on the kitchen table, phone in hand. It was nine in the morning.
“Good morning. I call for the ad.”
“OK. If you want to see the apartment you must do a transfer of X… bolivars.”
“Why! That’s a lot just to take a look.”
“That’s how it’s done now. But don’t worry, if you’re not interested, we send the money back.”
“Well. Right now I don’t have that sum. Sorry to bother you.”
“No problem.”
“Goodbye.”
That was one of the many calls she made. Almost every time, she stumbled with the same roadblock. The amount could change, although under any circumstance she would humor them, not just because it was true she didn't have the money they wanted, but because of the lack of guarantee they would return the money if she didn't like the place.
At a quarter past ten, hopes had already grown thin, though she made a last try.
"Hello? Good morning. I call for the ad."
"You're Lucia Helnade', right?" a male voice spoke with a very aggressive tone.
"Yeeesss...?" she answered, puzzled.
"Look, bitch, I got you. You call and promise money and don't pay. But you're gonna..."
"So that's the thing," thought Lucia.
She knew what she was dealing with: extortion. Some friends had suffered that terrible situation. When they went to the police, they were given contradictory suggestions. While one of the officers told them to speak as the perpetrators, another advised them to do the exact opposite: "Speak in a low voice, beg, pray if you can", he had said. The only point they agreed was that they shouldn't pay, otherwise they would keep doing it for the rest of their lives. Lucia believed the second officer was right; it would be really difficult for her, even impossible, to low herself to the level of her aggressor.
Logic dictated to cut the communication off. However, that wouldn't be the end of the problem, they would keep insisting until they got what they wanted. Then, as on some occasions, the best defense was to attack, she figured out how to use the second officer's suggestion, albeit with a very particular method.
Phone in hand, she ran towards the living room, where was her bookshelf. The Divine Comedy tempted her with its sinister beginning, but she chose instead another book, thinner and as good as effective (at least she believed so). Feeling like a little girl about to do something naughty, Lucia activated the speaker, cleared her throat, and started reading, so sure of herself that she would make any experienced broadcaster envious.
"The Canterville Ghost, by Oscar Wilde..."
"You live in Las Lomas avenue, in Los Cocuyos building, you got a son..."
"Chapter one: "When Mr. Hiram B. Otis, the American Minister, bought Canterville Chase, every one..."
"Fucking hell! You work in... are you listening...", the man rose his voice and aggressiveness. "The bitch is reading," he told someone, a partner in crime for sure.
"... who was a man of the most punctilious honour, had felt it his duty...," Lucia went on, without even stuttering.
"You gonna gimme my money...," the man cut the communication off abruptly, just after he cursed her.
Lucia 1 - Extortionist 0.
Despite her victory, she was sure it wasn't the end of it; it was just round one. However, contrary to her friends, she was going to lure them toward her territory. It would be just another patience test, one more of the many she had endured after her twenty-something years of practice with spoiled children and unconsidered parents, at her work as a primary school teacher. Plus, since her retirement, she was bored; she had a lot of time and little to do.
After an hour without novelties, when Lucia was about to prepare lunch before her son came back from his English course, the phone started ringing. She knew at the instant it was the extortionist thanks to the identifier. She took the book, activated the speaker, and answered as if nothing wrong went with the call:
"Good morning. Hernandez family."
"Look Lucia, your son's name...," said the man, attacking at the moment a soft spot. This time, his tone was a little more reasonable.
"... not cared to live in the place ourselves,' said Lord Canterville, 'since my grand-aunt, the Dowager Duchess of Bolton...," she started just where she had stopped.
"Whatta fu...? Don't play the fool..." The voice began to rise. "Your son's name is Jai... "
"... from which she never really recovered, by two skeleton hands being placed on her shoulders as she..."
"YOU GONNA TRANSFER TO..."
"... and I feel bound to tell you, Mr. Otis, that the ghost has been seen by several living members...," she kept on, immovable. However, a smirk graced her lips.
Lucia didn't get to know the name of the bank. Even though, she could picture the punk; in her mind, the man was throwing the phone against a wall and then jumping on it, like a cartoon character.
As expected, the scene was repeated. Lucia was alone in the kitchen, washing the lunch dishes, while her son was taking a nap before going to his afternoon job.
"Hello? Good afternoon."
"Don't play the dumb, Lucia. Hear me out..."
"... several living members of my family, as well as by the rector of the parish, the Reverend..."
"Damn bitch!"
"... unfortunate accident to the Duchess, none of our younger servants would stay with us, and Lady Canterville often got very..."
"You gonna pay me! You hear me? Don't play the fool... You gonna..."
"... take the furniture and the ghost at a valuation. I come from a modern country, where we have everything that..."
A third time, the extremely frustrated man cut the communication off.
Jaime, Lucia's son, came home at about eight o'clock. When he entered the living room he found a strange scene. His mother, lied down on the sofa, was reading aloud. However, besides her, the place was empty.
"... to see if there were any traces left of the bloodstain, suddenly there leaped out on him from a dark corner two figures, who waved their arms wildly above their heads..."
"Shit! Those fucking kids!"
The cry made the young man jump.
"If you keep interrupting I won't continue," Lucia said, leaving Jaime no time to react, in her well known "teacher in class" voice. This made his jaw drop.
"Sorry. But it's like I wanna kick their fucking asses."
"I also would be grateful if you keep your colorful comments at a minimum."
"W... what...?"
"Please, don't say so many obscenities... curses."
"Oh! Okay. Keep going."
"Let’s continue: above their heads, and shrieked out 'BOO!' in his ear. Seized with a panic, which, under the circumstances, was only natural, he..."
During the extent of such a singular conversation, Jaime checked the room, looking anxious for the source of the peculiar voice. Then, he saw the phone on the coffee table, next to her mother's head. At that moment, she winked an eye to him without interrupting the reading. The young man knew her very well, thus he walked by to his bedroom, trying not to make a sound.