Exotic #02 - The Hieroglyphic Staircase (27 page)

Raul Oliveros. She was sure he was involved, that he was the connection to the thieves, that he was mixed up in all of this. But he had alibis to cover the night of the first murder – home with wife and children; and the night of the apparent suicide of the director – home with wife and children. The cops who worked for him hadn’t buckled under questioning about their former boss.

Taming a hurricane might be easier than cracking this case. But solve it she would.

Miguel had corroborated Elena’s story. The boy sat with his legs swinging over the edge of the chair before her desk at what was left of the police station. A side wall had collapsed when the building next door caved in. Their filing cabinets were under that wall. A secretary worked at salvaging the files. Connie had everyone on guard duty to prevent looting, which was becoming more of a concern now that the storm had moved on to spread its devastation elsewhere.

“Let’s go over again the part about the hiding place,” said Connie, “Jorge was very interested in that, you say.”

“Yes, he was,” said Elena. “But I was bluffing. I was desperate for some way to lead him on, buy some time so I could get Miguel to safety. I was playing a long shot. But I had studied that drawing, and I knew Smoke Shell was looking at something. When I bluffed, Jorge bit. That surprised me but kept us going.”

“
Sí
,” said Miguel. “
Señorita
Elena is very clever. That hiding place is where I have seen the ghost many times.”

Dead silence greeted Miguel’s pronouncement. Connie stared at Miguel’s innocent face. Not the ghost again.

Elena didn’t seem bothered that the ghost was back. She spoke first because Connie was still staring at the boy, trying to figure out if he was serious or not.

“Miguel,” Elena said, “do you mean the Mayan ghost is interested in the hiding place?”

“
Sí, señorita
. I have seen the ghost there, like he is standing guard with his axe. I don’t think he likes people digging around the ruins and the tourists who come to look.”

“I see,” said Connie, “a possessive ghost.” She wasn’t quite ready to accept that the ghost was again in the picture.

“What do you think he is guarding, Miguel?” Elena said.

The boy shrugged his shoulders almost to his ears. “I think maybe treasure.”

Connie drummed her fingers, a habit that annoyed her in other people, but an act she found of some comfort now, when she was feeling more than uncomfortable.

“I guess then,” she said, “we will need to do some poking around in those ruins. Maybe the ghost will come back with his axe.”

Miguel frowned. “I am serious. There is a ghost there.
Señorita
Elena saw him.”

Elena said, “I could excavate that section of the pyramid. Miguel, you can show me where the ghost hangs out. Since I’m the only qualified archaeologist around right now, I think I should do it.”

Connie thought over what Elena proposed. There wouldn’t be time to go today. The river was still up, and they wouldn’t be able to use the paved road to the Park. It would still be flooded. Anyway, Elena didn’t look like she could walk another step.

“All right,” Connie said. “We’ll try tomorrow. The municipal workers are clearing the main road out of town, and, if the river is down, we’ll go and have a look around.”

Twenty

When Elena told Dominic what they proposed to do, he frowned and put aside the wet papers he was laying out to dry. Soggy paper lay across every available space in the clinic. He had scrubbed mud off floors and walls and swept the water into the street to join the current of water flowing there. Mud streaked his clothes. Big, muddy rubber boots encased his feet.

She wanted to smooth away the tired lines in his face but held back. She could feel a lecture coming on.

“Elena, don’t you think you are pushing your luck?” he said. “You really, really need to rest, take care of yourself. You’ll heal much faster.”

“But I don’t feel that bad. I know my face looks ugly, but I feel much better, and I rested well last night. I didn’t get up until noon.” She tried to keep the whine from her voice.

“You don’t look ugly to me.”

“You have on your rose colored glasses.”

Dominic smiled. “I’m glad you are still alive.”

“Me, too. For a while there I had my doubts.”

His smile turned to a grimace. He was not going to let up.

“Do I have to strap you in bed and lock the house to keep you from overdoing it?” he asked.

“No, really, Dominic, I’m fine. I’ll be okay. Connie is going to drive me to the ruins. I’m going to help her solve this case.”

“You’ve helped too much already. You don’t need to involve yourself anymore. Why don’t you stay with your mother at the hotel?”

She wasn’t sure how to take that.

“You mean you don’t want me around?”

“I’m not saying that. What I mean is you’ll be safer with her.”

“I’m safe with you.”

“I have to help with clean up.”

“I’ll help you.”

“Elena. You aren’t listening to me.”

“You don’t have to raise your voice. There is nothing wrong with my hearing.”

He swiped his fingers back through his hair, lifting it from his perspiring forehead. “I don’t seem to be getting through to you.”

“You want to keep me caged up. I want to be involved.”

“All I’m saying is, give yourself a little time to recover. Connie hasn’t nailed everyone in this case. If the perpetrators still at large find out that you know where this hiding place is, they could come after you. Don’t you understand that?”

She fell silent. He was right, but she didn’t want to admit it. What was happening here? Was she too defensive? Was he too protective and demanding?

She acquiesced. “All right. I’ll stay with my mother. It’s probably better. Then you can get some rest. We’re both exhausted and strung out.”

He pulled her into a gentle embrace.

“It’s not that I don’t want you around. I want you safe and healthy. Please try to understand, Elena.” His lips brushed her wounded cheek as if trying to heal the ugly bruise and smooth the tension between them.

“I do, really. I don’t mean to be difficult.” She sighed in resignation and looked around. “Did you happen to find my backpack?”

“Yes. I’ll get it for you, and your vest, too. They got wet, but everything should dry out. I’m not sure about your computer though.”

“Oh, no,” Elena said. She hadn’t thought about her computer getting wet. Where would she be if it didn’t work? Well, that was minor compared to what she had just been through.

He brought the backpack and vest. “I tried to hang them up so they’d drip dry. They’re still a little wet.”

“Thanks.” She took the damp offerings, slung the backpack over her shoulder, and fished in several of the vest pockets to see what might be salvageable. Her fingers encountered a cool, metal disc, and she pulled it from its hiding place.

“Look, Dominic,” she said, “the Saint Jude medal I found near the murder site. I forgot all about it. I was going to give it to the inspector.”

Dominic studied the shiny medal. “Good idea. It might be important. Now,
doctora
Palomares, why don’t I walk you over to the hotel?”

* * * * *

Elena spent two uneventful days at the hotel with Susanna. The road out of town remained flooded. Connie remained tied up with hurricane policing and cleanup. Dominic stopped by each day to see how she was and say hello, but the visits were short because he was busy with community cleanup. Miguel was ever by his side.

No planes or buses ran. Supplies were running low. Looting was becoming a serious issue. Her computer wasn’t working even after she had taken it totally apart, dried it out and reassembled it. The darn thing wouldn’t boot. Land lines and cell phones were still dead. By the afternoon of the second day, she had had enough of eating, sleeping, and listening to Susanna. Not that her mother hadn’t been all kindness and concern. The attention was nice, but Elena needed action.

She pulled on her field vest, determined to find Connie and give her the medal before she forgot again. On the way she’d visit Dominic and Miguel at the clinic.

The sound of banging hammers filled the air. Ripping noises added to the cacophony as a man in uniform pulled plywood from the windows of the small regional museum fronting on the central plaza. Hot, humid weather was back in earnest. The palm trees in the plaza had weathered the storm. Their fronds sparkled brilliant green in the bright light.

Elena’s bare shoulders soaked in the sun’s delicious rays. She straightened her back. She was going to see Dominic and Miguel and that put a smile in her eyes and on half her face.

The smile disappeared when she walked into the clinic. Felicia was talking to Dominic, standing way too close in Elena’s opinion. Had that woman never heard of turtlenecks? She was forever falling out of her dresses. Dominic didn’t see Elena approach, engrossed as he was in conversation or was it Felicia’s cleavage that interested him?

Miguel came running over as soon as he saw her. “
Hola, señorita
Elena, it makes me happy to see you.”

She stooped to hug him. “It’s great to see you, little man. My, you look handsome. If my eyes don’t deceive me, I’d say you were gaining some weight, putting a little meat on those bones.”

He shrugged and smiled. “I have been helping Dominic. He says I am a good helper. I found my soccer ball here in the clinic, so I am very, very happy.”

She smiled and hugged him again. “I’m happy, too.”

“Guess what else?”

“What?”

“My friend Gordo, we found him. He is here.” He took her hand and pulled her along with him to the exam room in the back. “He spent the storm in a cement cellar. I am helping him clean up, and he will wear some of my clothes.”

Elena allowed herself to be tugged to the room. Standing to one side, clad in a pair of baggy shorts, was a boy, smaller than Miguel, sandy color hair, big brown eyes and the saddest face Elena had ever seen on a child. He was struggling to get a T-shirt open so he could pull it on.

Her heart went into meltdown. “Here, let me help you, Gordo.”

He stood still and allowed Elena to position the opening over his head, pull it down and push his arms through the sleeves. He had the fresh washed smell of pine soap. Dominic must have scrubbed him clean.

“There,” she said, straightening the shirt for him. “My, don’t you look good.”

The sandy haired boy didn’t look so sure. He turned away but gave a little smile, enough that Elena could see his decayed teeth.

“Gordo,” said Miguel, “this is
señorita
Elena. She is the nice lady I told you about. She will help us.”

Elena leaned against the edge of the exam table. “It’s nice to meet you, Gordo.” She wanted to gather the child in a big hug, but feared that’d be moving in on him a little too fast. When was the last time the little fellow had a hug?

“Help you with what?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Miguel pursed his lips, like he was gathering up courage. “Well, it is like this. Gordo and I, we thought, well really I thought, that I should tell you about the policemen. But Gordo knows, too.”

Elena’s radar moved to full alert. Did these boys know something about the police they hadn’t told anyone? “Go on. I’m listening.”

Gordo stood watching the wall, like he was afraid to look at Elena. Miguel glanced at him and took a deep breath.

“Well, Gordo and I, we used to watch happenings around town.” He hesitated.

Elena nodded encouragement.

“From the rooftops,” said Miguel.

Elena thought she saw where he was going with his story but waited for him to continue.

“And well, you know, we could see lots of things happening in people’s houses.” His cheeks reddened, and Elena could imagine some of the things he might see.

“So,” she said, “you sort of spied on people.”

“Well, yes. We didn’t have much to do at night, and sometimes we weren’t sleepy so we would climb on the rooftops and watch people in their houses.”

“Okay, and ….”

“There was one house we liked because it had one of those very big TVs, and we could see it real good from the neighbor’s roof and the guy always watched soccer, and we liked that.”

Gordo’s interest picked up at the part about the soccer. “
Sí
,” he said in a tiny voice.

Elena couldn’t figure out the next part. She was trying to be patient and hear him out.

“Well, one night the police inspector, he and José came to the house with the big TV. And they got into an argument with the guy and his brother. They lived there together.”

“Who was the guy who lived there and had the big TV?”

“His name is Diego and his brother they call Tito because he is big.”

A sick feeling oozed through her gut. Diego? Not the Diego she knew from the Museum. It couldn’t be.

“Do you know this Diego?” she asked. “Like where he works?”

“At the Museum shop. His brother travels a lot. He is not in town much.”

Elena covered her mouth. Diego and his brother. She couldn’t believe it. She had thought Diego a harmless flirt. What did the brother do? One of those worthless brothers Diego said he never saw. That never helped with his mother. The brother might be ferrying stolen goods with all his travelling. Boy, had she been naïve.

Another disquieting thought flashed across her mind. Had the Museum director known about Diego and the smuggling? Had he aided and abetted the smuggling ring? Had the thieves threatened to expose him and his role? Is that why he committed suicide?

It dawned on Elena that the Museum director’s anger with her might have had more to do with some nefarious role he played in the smuggling operation and his not wanting her to know. Diego may have threatened to expose him. Had blackmail driven him to suicide? They might never know.

“Is that the only time you saw the inspector and José in Diego’s house?”

“No, there were other times we saw them come. They didn’t stay very long. Only that one time they had the argument.”

“Can you remember when that was?”