Path of the Jaguar (3 page)

"Joseph forgets that I am a respectable man," Sid bowed low. "A gentleman who is constantly at your service."

"How many young girls must buy that line," Joseph remarked. "Your friend is getting offensive," Sid countered. "If he's had no sleep tonight, I must forgive him. If he is still offensive in the morning, I will be forced to evict him."

"He understands." Despite her exhaustion, Lennea tried to catch the mood of their banter.

As Sid stepped away to summon a porter, Joseph said, "I'll meet you here at the desk for lunch at twelve o'clock. Surely by then we'll have heard from Delores." The porter struggled with Lennea and Delores' heavy luggage. In the dim light of the elevator, his features looked exactly like the Mayan heads she had seen painted on the hanging flower pots in the lobby, exactly like the man who had been following her at the airport. She had not thought of him for hours and now his face, so intensely watchful, once again frightened her.

Weariness increased. She could not fully appreciate the true luxury of the room Sid had selected for her. She only noted that the interior was plush and green, like a tropical forest. Lennea felt lonely and a little frightened. She thought about the strange phone call at the airport. Why hadn't Delores insisted on talking to her directly? She thought about contacting Wesley again.

But Delores was safe or she would not have called at all. And Joseph was certain that she would show up here at the Hotel Guerrero by morning. He seemed to know her habits much better than Lennea did. The most sensible thing to do was wait.

Lennea had just slipped out of her dress and hung it in the closet when a light knock sounded upon the door. Hastily digging the yellow robe from her suitcase, she called, "Just a minute."

She approached the door. Her hand delayed, rested uncertainly upon the doorknob. It must be Delores. "Who's there?" "Joseph."

She opened the door a crack. "It can't be morning yet."

Joseph smiled, teeth white against olive skin in the semi-darkness. "Just wanted to make sure everything is OK. Did you get your luggage?" As he spoke, his gaze shifted from her opened suitcase upon the bed, to Delores' maroon one lying near the closet door. As she stepped back, he walked into the room. She hadn't expected him to enter. Now that he had, she felt slightly uncomfortable. For a moment he seemed to take in the details of the room. His eyes drifted to the window, back to Delores' suitcase, then settled upon the dresser where a container of sparkling water waited by two crystal glasses. "Oh, I wanted to remind you to drink only the bottled water."

"Thank you." she replied as a dismissal. He made no move to leave. She got the eerie sensation that he was stalling, searching for an excuse to prolong his stay. What did he want?

She watched as he picked up the crystal, handing her one long-stemmed glass. "Shall we have a toast? To adventure!" Carefully, he poured the water, as if it were the most precious of wine.

Obviously, he was accustomed to such romantic behavior. It increased her uneasiness. She stepped away from him. Lennea was conscious of his gaze, neither bold nor intruding, upon her. She felt a little flutter in her heart as he joined her at the window. He braced his arm against the sill and looked out at the night. Stealing a glance at him, she noticed that a slight breeze had rumpled his hair. She caught the clean scent of his aftershave, exotic, like musk, in the warm air.

"What a splendid view. Like something out of the Arabian Nights," he said.

She couldn't help but respond to his words, to the sound of his voice. Her hands tightened around the stem of the glass. She was aware that his eyes were now upon her, and not on the panoramic night view. She forced herself to study the breathtaking scene. "So old. Like Palestine must look. I never thought Merida would be like this. When I think of Mexico, I think of all those border towns." She gave a nervous laugh. "Dust and heat, guitars and burros—"

"It's the mixture of Spanish and Maya that makes Merida so unique." She looked down at the clean, narrow streets, then toward the distant domes. "You can see several landmarks," he said. "See that tall spire in the distance? That old cathedral was built on top of one of the ancient Mayan structures. In fact, Merida in Spanish means "over ruins". The whole town was built over the ancient city of Tho."

Now, he indicated a tall building nearby with an uneven decorative top which made jagged shadows against the still-dark sky. "Universidad de Yucatan," he said, "founded in 1618." She sensed the smooth old stucco of the building, probably faded, but white and glowing in the darkness.

"That's where I'll be teaching," she said in awe, "with Dr. Hern." Hern's name caused a quick narrowing of Joseph's eyes, a slight tensing of his jaw muscles. He stared out of the window as he said, "It will soon be daylight."

Joseph turned and took the crystal glass from her, pressing his hand slightly into hers. She watched him place the glasses carefully back down upon the nightstand. "Try to get some rest," he said.

She was surprised by his abrupt departing, and a little sorry. "You didn't finish your drink."

He walked back to the glass, lifted it and drank again. "Sweeter than wine!" he said as he replaced the empty glass. Suddenly, he caught her shoulders and drew her to him. His lips touched her own ever so briefly, ever so gently. Then he was gone.

Lennea tried not to think of his lips, but again and again the feel of them intruded into her thoughts. A whisper of a kiss—it couldn't be a betrayal of her love for Wesley. She kept remembering Joseph's eyes upon her, so hot and dark, his mouth so warm and teasing. She tossed and turned and could not relax.

When sleep finally came, it was restless, disturbed by real or imagined voices, stealthy footsteps in the hallway outside, the sounds of an unfamiliar place. She sat up startled several times. She didn't like being alone at this hotel.

When morning came, Lennea remembered that Delores and she were to have contacted a couple of Delores' friends who owned a hacienda near the excavation site. This couple, Frank and Goldie, Delores had called them, were to drive Delores and Lennea out to their hacienda that afternoon, where they would be boarding for the rest of the summer. Lennea tried to think of their last names. LaVilla? LaTilla? After breakfast, if Delores did not show up, she would give them a call.

Delores had been carrying only a small purse and no flight bag. If she had an address book, it was probably inside her suitcase. Lennea set Delores' maroon case before her on the bed. It wasn't locked. Lennea began quickly unpacking the brilliant fabrics which made up Delores' wardrobe. No stationary, no address book. Her eyes caught the slight bulge in the bottom of the case. A brand new case like this shouldn't be warped. Unless it had been damaged through careless handling. Lennea examined the bottom of the luggage, ran her hand around it until her fingers caught against a small, metal protrusion. Immediately, a door sprang open.

Lennea stared at six, thick rows of American money. She lifted one stack, then another; they were all one-hundred-dollar bills. She had to be looking at close to sixty thousand dollars!

* * * * *

Chapter Three

The only sound in the shadowy room was the rapid pounding of Lennea's heart. Where could the money have come from? Horrible thoughts raced through her mind—Delores involved with shady characters, Delores a part of some illegal drug deal.

She thought about Delores' frequent trips back and forth into Mexico with Wesley Hern. A sick feeling rose to her throat as she wondered if Delores had been slipping money and narcotics across the border on these trips all along.

Delores and she had one real tie— Delores shared her admiration for Wesley Hern. That, alone, had thrown them together, had caused Lennea to obtain the job of her dreams. Other than this, Delores and Lennea had little common ground for friendship. At times Lennea did admire Delores' boldness, her sharp wit, her vitality, yet experience had made her painfully aware of the girl's faults, her unreliability, her self-indulgence, her tendency to live beyond her means. Delores seemed to have an uncanny knack of getting into trouble.

Lennea's mind rehearsed the way Delores had disappeared at the airport and the knot inside of her stomach grew. It appeared almost as if Delores had planned this! The thought made her dizzy, almost ill. Delores intended to make a dupe of Lennea by letting her take the risk of going through customs with thousands of dollars of undeclared money!

Lennea was shaking now, with delayed fear as well as apprehension. If the customs official had discovered this concealed money, she might, at this very moment, be sitting in some Mexican jail!

The money! She was almost afraid to look down at the rows of crisp, green bills. Her first thought was to immediately turn it over to the Mexican police—but in case Delores was innocent, that would be a disastrous betrayal. She must at least wait until she talked with Delores, until she was certain whether or not Delores was involved.

Telling Joseph about the money tempted her. He could help her decide what to do. Again she hesitated, remembering how he had been so conveniently on hand at the airport. And tonight, when he had come into her room to politely inquire about the luggage—. She had foolishly believed that he had been so charmed by her that he could not wait until morning to see her. Instead, he was more likely to have been attracted to the contents of Delores' suitcase! The thought hurt her more than she cared to admit. She had wanted to believe in Joseph. Yet her instinct warned her that he must be involved in this, he, and his accomplice, the Mayan man. It was very likely Delores knew no more about the contents of the suitcase than she herself had.

What would Wesley do? Beyond any doubt, he would not want her to involve the police. Wesley would despise the idea of a scandal and would want to handle things himself. She would tell him everything as soon as she could. Lennea clung to the thought that Delores knew no more about the money than she, and to the hope that Delores would be downstairs waiting for her. But what would she do with the money in the mean time? She could not leave it in the room unguarded; she would have to take it with her to meet Joseph. Her eyes drifted to the bulky navy flight bag. Quickly, she took out Wesley's heavy books and all of the extra last-minute items she had packed. Then, a row at a time, she stuffed the money inside.

Lennea stopped before the full-length mirror to see if the bag appeared too bulky. The navy color stood out against the white cotton of her dress. But almost all tourists carried oversized totes stuffed with cameras and valuables. Satisfied that the bag wouldn't look conspicuous, her eyes rose to her own image.

Her shoulder-length blonde hair had retained its usual healthy glow, though her face looked slightly pale. She studied her hazel eyes critically, glad that they were bright and clear despite a sleepless night.

Sid Guerrero came up to greet her the moment she stepped from the elevator. "Joseph has been delayed, he explained, gallantly taking her arm. "He's left careful instructions for me to keep you entertained until he arrives."

Before she could say a word, the dark-eyed man in the slim, tailored suit began to guide her ahead of him into the large, private room behind his office. Lennea felt a slight tug of apprehension. His grip, gentle, yet firm upon her arm, gave her a threatened feeling, as if she was being ever so subtly kidnapped.

Sid smiled, "I'd like to introduce you to the family," he said. Something about the room Sid led her into struck a familiar chord within her, which put her immediately at ease. Perhaps it was the fruit upon the table, the candy in fragile dishes that put her slightly in mind of the comfortable family room back home. Or maybe it was just the pleasant smell of freshly-brewed coffee in the air that reminded her of Dad and his Swedish hospitality.

A small, plump woman with eyes like Sid's, bright and full of interest, smiled up at her from the sofa. The man beside her rose. Great dignity made him an impressive figure. Immaculate snow-white hair and eyes of a fragile China blue—except for these two differences, he looked exactly like Sid. "Mother, Father," Sid introduced, "this is Lennea Andrews."

"I'm Lucas. " Lennea shook hands with Mr. Guerrero, who had stepped forward to greet her. She felt the sharp tension between shoulder blades begin to ease. She moved toward the woman, who had remained seated. "So nice to meet you, Mrs.—"

The pleasant, dark-skinned woman stopped her with a wave of the hand. "Nobody dares to call me Mrs. Guerrero," she laughed. "Just Neysa."

"Or Mother Neysa," Sid put in. "She likes that. Don't you, Mother?" His brown eyes seemed to seek hers for approval. "I'm flattered when people consider me to have those qualities of a mother. There's no higher praise that a woman can receive."

No women's liberation here. Val would adore her. In fact, her sister would like the entire family, she decided, her eyes returning to the white-haired, aristocratic father.

With a wink so similar to Sid's, Lucas added, "My wife often gets carried away on the subject of motherhood." He gave an appreciative chuckle. "She wanted many children. Nature provided us with only one."

"One, but to make up for it, the very best."

Sid turned away with embarrassment, from which he quickly recovered, saying, "Lennea arrived last night with Joseph."

Was it her association with Joseph which made them feel so friendly toward her—or was it something else? How could she be suspicious of such kindly people?

"Any friend of Joseph's is a friend of ours," observed Lucas.

"We've just met," Lennea explained, anxious that they not jump to mistaken conclusions about her relationship with Joseph. "Though I guess we'll both be working at the excavation site this summer." She shifted uncomfortably, aware of the feel of the navy bag at her side. Something inside of her wanted to scream or to laugh. Here she was, making chit-chat with polite strangers while a fortune in money lay hidden inside her purse.

"The whole town's buzzing about the new excavations around Chichen Itza. Imagine, you both working there with Professor Hern!" Neysa said enthusiastically. "You must have so much in common."