Exotic #02 - The Hieroglyphic Staircase (16 page)

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open wide. She glanced toward the lavatory door. Closed. The stain on the floor gone. The police must have finished their investigation quickly. She breathed easier, walked around the desk and took a seat on the chair. After all she was the acting director.

She studied the pictures on the walls. One held the director’s diploma from the National University in Tegucigalpa. On another wall was the photo of a soccer team. She rose to read the label at the bottom. It was the Honduran team from a long time ago. Maybe he had played on the team. She studied each face individually but she couldn’t make out one that resembled him, even in youth. So he was a soccer fan. She had never noticed the photo before. But then each time she had come here, things were so tense she hadn’t lingered.

The bookshelf behind the desk groaned with books. She had never taken time to read the titles before.
Honduran Archeology
,
Life in Mesoamerica – the First Thousand Years
,
Copan Art and Drawings
, and so on. Each had something to do with Honduran archaeology or the Mayans or Mesoamerican history and archaeology. Most of the books appeared brand new. One, though, had a frayed spine and looked like it had seen prodigious usage. The title was
The Mayan Rulers
. She took it down. Leafing through the dog-eared pages, she came to a bookmarked page. On it was a drawing of the head stela of Smoke Shell, the one who built the Hieroglyphic Staircase. She had never seen this drawing before, and she took time to study it.

The artist’s style was reminiscent of Frederick Catherwood, who originally explored Copan with John Lloyd Stephens in 1839. She had studied his drawings many times and thought she knew them all. But this one she had never seen. Catherwood made accurate and elegant drawings of what he had seen. She looked for a credit for the drawing but there was none. She started reading and got lost in the text, oblivious to time and place.

A noise from the entrance way interrupted her study. She thought she heard footsteps.

Who could that be?

She faced the door, but the angle of the door blocked her view. She looked around the room for anything that would serve as a weapon. Of course, nothing cluttered the desktop. She stealthily pulled open the top drawer of the desk. Pens, paper clips, pencils. The next drawer was locked. The third held a stack of file folders which looked intriguing but for which she had no time under the circumstances.

The footsteps stopped.

Where was something, anything heavy that she could use to hurl at or clobber the owner of the footsteps?

Nothing. There was nothing.

Heart pounding so hard she was sure it echoed through the Museum, she stood and inched her way toward the open door to see who the intruder was. With one eye she peeked around the edge of the doorway.

The figure of a man turned this way and that like he was searching for something … or someone. The light from the open skylight reflected on soft brown hair, and she recognized that perfect profile. Dominic. Praise all the Mayan gods.

“Dominic,” she called to him and waved. “I’m back here in the director’s office.”

He turned, saw her and waved back. She hurried from the office to meet him.

“You okay? I came out on lunch break to make sure you were all right.”

“Is it lunch time already?” she said. “It hardly seems possible.”

“I worried that you might run into problems. The tourists in town can’t leave fast enough. The bus station is jammed, and they’ve brought in two special charter buses. You’d think we were expecting a nuclear explosion.”

“Goodness, I didn’t think the reaction would be that bad. I had problems with the keys, and Diego, the guy in the gift shop, helped me. I’ve been checking around and was studying a drawing in a book in the director’s collection.”

She led the way back to the office. “Look. Someone, I’m assuming it was the director, bookmarked the page of this drawing of Smoke Shell.”

When he looked at her with a question in his eyes, she said, “He’s the one who built the Hieroglyphic Staircase.”

“I see,” he said and took time to study the drawing. “What do you make of it?”

“I’m not sure yet. It may be a clue to what’s been happening here. I don’t know. But someone has drawn pencil lines projecting from the eyes at different angles. Isn’t that curious?”

“Yes, do you know what that means?”

“Not yet. I’ll have to think about it.”

“You haven’t been bothered by any ghosts, have you?” The smile in his eyes made her laugh.

“No, as far as I know it’s just me. But you had me scared for a few moments.”

“I’m sorry, but I had to see if you were okay. Don’t expect any visitors today. The guards have the Park entrance blocked. I had to talk my way in. It seems that the new inspector, who’s expected soon, has forbidden entrance to anyone.”

“Then I wonder why the minister wanted me to start this morning. The situation is confusing. Luckily, the news people weren’t around when I left the house.”

“They won’t make it past the guards. But they’re all over town, photographing the tourists leaving, making a big deal about all this.”

“I’m glad you came. It’s creepy here.”

“I’m glad I came, too.” He smiled. “How’s your mother? I enjoyed dinner with her.”

“I spoke to her this morning. She wants me to leave now.”

“Of course, she wouldn’t want her daughter in any kind of danger.”

“But I’m not in danger.” She paused. “At least I don’t think I am.”

“I don’t like this set up.”

“And I don’t like the feeling I have. Not like I’m in danger, but just, well, just creepy, is the only way I know to describe it, edgy, looking over my shoulder.”

“Have you seen the boys?”

“No, have you?”

He shook his head. “I checked under the bridge, but no sign.”

“
Doña
Carolita will have lunch ready. Let’s go back. We can check the bridge again.”

* * * * *

Getting out of the Archaeological Park was no problem but getting into town was. The crowd at the bus station spilled over into the main street into town. People stood in lines in the heat, mopping their faces, their luggage clustered around them.

“They don’t look happy,” Elena said, as they inched by.

“What a mess,” said Dominic. “The media is fanning this into a huge wildfire.”

They drove a few short blocks and turned onto
doña
Carolita’s street. A news van was parked outside the house.

“Oh dear,” said Elena. “This doesn’t look good. We should turn around. We could park on the next street over and walk into the back of her house. Let’s try that.”

Dominic swung a tight U-turn.

“I don’t think they saw us,” she said, looking back over her shoulder. “Turn at the next street and see if the coast is clear.”

No news vehicle was in sight on the next street. Dominic slowed, found a space and parked parallel. Elena pointed to an opening between two houses. “A private walkway goes to the back of
doña
Carolita’s house.”

He helped her out of the Jeep and followed her through the narrow path, just big enough for one person to walk. Elena stopped by the rear gate to
doña
Carolita’s house. It was locked. A tiny patio adjoined the open kitchen door.

Elena called, “
Doña
Carolita.” She repeated it several times, each time a little louder. At last, the short, plump woman appeared at the kitchen window.

“You made it, clever girl,” she said, clapping her hands. “Good thing to think of coming in the back way. The news people arrived after you left.”

She opened the gate, and they went inside to the kitchen.

“What a morning,”
doña
Carolita said. “Those people have knocked every few minutes, asking when you’d return. I told them you would be gone all day, but they are very insistent and wanted to know where you had gone. I wouldn’t tell them. I watched the news on TV. They are showing photos of the tourists leaving town from the bus station. This is terrible.”

Elena gave
doña
Carolita a hug. “I’m sorry for all the trouble. I could find another place, maybe move to a hotel, if you’d like.”

“No, no. It is nothing. No, you stay here. I insist. It is no problem. Now, I have made a nice meal. You two sit, and I will serve.”

She patted Dominic on the arm, and he hugged her. She was round and soft and smelled of fresh tortillas. He was thankful Elena was staying with her.

Elena set the table, and
doña
Carolita served a meal of plantains, chicken with rice, tortillas and avocado salad. She sat down to eat with them. When they finished, she served coffee and moved a bowl of fresh papaya slices onto the table.

“
Ay
, I almost forgot,” said
doña
Carolita, tapping her temple. “Your mother called to see if you had returned and asks that you call her. I think she is worried about you. She is such a nice lady.”

“Thank you, I’ll call her right now.”

Dominic kept
doña
Carolita company in the kitchen while she washed dishes. All of a sudden, she threw up soapy hands into the air, scattering soap suds as far as his seat at the table.

“
Ay, padre
, I forgot something else.
Dios mío
, I don’t know what is wrong with my memory. Those news people have me upset. That little boy who was here yesterday, the one I named Miguel, came by this morning to inquire for Elena.”

Dominic straightened from a hunch over his coffee cup. “What time was that? What did you tell him? Where did he go?”

“He came to the kitchen door. It was after Elena left. I made him a breakfast of scrambled eggs. He has a fine appetite, that boy does. I told him the
doctora
had gone to the Museum, he could find her there. I asked him to stay, that the
doctora
would be back later, but he said he could not. That he had to find Elena.”

“We didn’t see him at the Museum nor on the road.”

“He said he has been in hiding. Probably he did not take the main road. He must know other paths to the Park.”

“Thank heaven he’s still alive. I fear for his safety.”

“Yes, this is most unfortunate.”

“What is unfortunate?” asked Elena, returning to the kitchen. She had changed into her field uniform of shorts, tank top and vest. Her field hat was in hand.

Dominic told her of Miguel’s visit.

“That’s great news. I am so relieved he’s still alive,” she said. “Did he say where he’s been?”

“No, he did not. He was not forthcoming with information. But he did eat well, I am happy to say.”

“Good, I’m glad. Poor little guy. He’s been so elusive.”

“If he comes back,” said Dominic, “insist that he stay here so we can help him.”

“Did you talk to your mother?” he asked Elena.

“I did. She is going shopping at the tourist stores in town this afternoon. She invited us to have dinner with her again. I said we’d be in touch since I was going back to the Park.”

“Shall I give you lift?” asked Dominic.

“If it isn’t too much trouble.”

He smiled. “Not at all.”

They thanked
doña
Carolita and slipped out the back door, Elena carrying her computer under one arm. They hurried to the Jeep and made a quick getaway to the open highway.

On the road to the Park, Dominic said, “Elena, why don’t I stay with you this afternoon? I would feel better knowing that you’re not alone.”

She smiled over at him. “I appreciate your offer, but I know they need you at the clinic. I’ll be okay. I’ll work at the Staircase since no one will be at the Museum.”

His frustration level ratcheted up another notch. What was it going to take to make her see she was in danger? He didn’t like the feeling of fear that had taken up residence in the pit of his stomach. She must be in denial. He relented because short of tying her up, there seemed to be no stopping her. “All right, but I’ll come pick you up this evening after the clinic closes at seven.”

“Thanks,” she said, “I appreciate the lift. That will give me time in the Museum to do a little investigating of my own.”

The guard at the entrance put up his hand to stop them. He nodded a greeting when he saw Elena.

“Are you letting any tourists in?” she asked.

“No,” the guard said. “Our orders are no tourists allowed.”

“Has the new inspector arrived?”

“No. We expect him today.”

“All right,” she said. “I’ll be working at the Staircase and then the Museum, if anyone is looking for me.”

The guard nodded and allowed them to pass. Dominic stopped the Jeep in the visitor parking lot, the closest he could get without driving onto the archaeological site itself. Elena jumped down and came around to his side of the Jeep.

“Thanks,” she said with a smile. “I’ll see you later, and don’t worry, I’ll be all right.”

Dominic watched her walk into the ruins. His fears hadn’t eased up in the least. If anything, they were worse.

Thirteen

After an hour of intense concentration, Elena took a break for water and banana chips. As she sat on one of the hieroglyphic stairs halfway up the pyramid and munched on the chips, she gazed about the huge plaza that formed the north section of the ruins. The stillness of the place took off some of the edge she’d been feeling. A movement caught her attention, a flurry almost, perhaps a bird. She turned her head, focusing on a point near the opening at structure six, one of the many low, step structures around the great plaza. The opening led to the visitor center and Museum.

An image formed and grew into the shape of a lone figure walking across the great plaza. She stood, craning her neck like a bird to see who it was. The figure walked like a female, but a rather small one. Who would it be at this time of day, under these circumstances? It wasn’t Miguel or Gordo. The figure walked too deliberately for a child.

Elena took a sip of water, still watching the figure. It was a female. She was wearing a skirt and taking determined strides in Elena’s direction. She packed up her gear and started down the pyramid. Since she was acting director, she wanted to know who this was since the Park was closed. She hoped the person wasn’t a media type. That would be unfortunate.