Exotic #02 - The Hieroglyphic Staircase (8 page)

Gordo didn’t seem convinced, but he had no other choice.

At the relief house, the nun, Sister Rita, looked the boy over, asked about lice and fleas. Her tone of voice was without humor. She wore no habit other than a scarf on her head. Deep lines etched a thin face.

She sighed and said, “We are full, but I can fix him a pallet for the night.”

Dominic would have wished her demeanor less stern in dealing with a frightened child, but perhaps her task was too overwhelming to understand. He thanked her, and she blessed him.

“I will check on you in the morning, Gordo. You better be here when I return.” He ruffled the boy’s hair.

Gordo looked up with solemn black eyes and said nothing. The nun took the boy’s hand and led him away. Gordo shuffled beside her without looking back.

Watching him go, Dominic felt like he had abandoned the little guy. Confound it, he couldn’t help there were so many homeless children in the world, now could he? He couldn’t very well take every orphan he encountered home with him.

He got in the Jeep and shoved it into gear. He’d take one last pass at the bridge to see if Flaco had by some miracle returned for the night. By this time it was dark. A waxing moon hung in a sky painted with a thousand stars. As he approached the bridge he saw a bobbing spot of light in the distance. Someone walking, no, more like running with a light of some kind, judging by the way the beam jumped around.

He slowed down to see if there was trouble. The figure of a woman appeared in the high beams. At this time of night? Alone? Dominic peered harder into the gloom. His eyes did not deceive him. It was Elena, running like the devil himself were in pursuit.

She put her hand over her eyes to shield against the glare of the headlights, and he switched them off. He pulled alongside, and she kept running.

“Elena,” he shouted.

She stopped past the Jeep.

“Who is it?” she said between gasps.

“Dominic. It’s me, Dominic. Why are you out for a run at this time of night?”

Her slim outline drew closer to the driver’s side.

“Give me a minute.” She bent over, trying to catch her breath.

“You okay? Want a ride?”

“I ran from the Park,” she said and leaned against the side of the vehicle. “I guess I’m a little out of shape.”

Not that he could see, thought Dominic.

He fumbled behind his seat for a bottle of water. “Here, you look like you could use this.”

“Thanks,” she said and took a few sips. She fanned her face with her hat. “Boy, that was some run.”

“I’d say, by the look of you. I’ll pull off so you can get in. I came to check under the bridge for Flaco. He wasn’t here this morning, so I wanted to check tonight.”

She moved away. He pulled to the side of the road, found his flashlight and got out. “Jump in. This will only take a minute.”

He returned before long and climbed in beside her. “Not a soul. This morning there was a sick boy, and I took him back to the clinic to get some help.”

“I looked for Flaco today, too, out among the ruins, but I found not a trace. I hope nothing has happened to him.”

“Me, either. He could be lying in a ditch somewhere hurt, and we’d never find him. No one would care if he’s gone.”

He started the engine and backed around, heading toward town.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked. “I thought you were supposed to be resting.”

“I was at the ruins, trying to see what I could discover.”

“Anything interesting?”

“Yes, something real interesting.”

She didn’t continue at first, and he sensed reluctance on her part. He waited, wondering whether it had to do with the boy.

Then she said, “Do you believe in ghosts?”

Dominic laughed. “Maybe. There certainly are enough haunted places around. I’ve never seen one myself. Why? Have you? You were running like you had.”

“I think I did. Out by the site where the man was murdered. I was looking for clues, trying to see if there may have been anything overlooked. I heard a noise and out of nowhere a weird sort of gray thing materialized in the form of a Mayan warrior like you see on the stellae. He was real small and he had an axe in hand, like he was going to use it.”

They approached the outskirts of Copan Ruinas where the first block with sidewalks appeared. Dominic pulled over.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

She nodded. “I’m a scientist, and I don’t believe in this sort of thing. But I can’t refute what I saw with my own two eyes.” She poked at her eyes for emphasis. “It unnerved me so badly I took off running and didn’t stop till I met up with you.”

Dominic considered the distance she had run. That was scared, to run all the way back from the ruins in the dark.

“Add to that,” said Elena, “the medical assistant at the morgue said the murder weapon was an axe, but a dull one, not a steel one with a sharp blade, but a duller blade like one of stone.”

Dominic switched off the motor and studied her in the light from the street lamps. She wasn’t joking. Her eyes shifted left and right, like she was searching for the sense of what she had just seen.

She looked at him. “You think I’m crazy.”

“No, you don’t look crazy. I’m just trying to take in what you said. You’re saying that a ghost might have committed murder. A ninth century warrior might have come from the past to murder a twenty first century drug lord or whatever.”

She nodded and laughed for the first time. “Put like that it does sound crazy.” She pulled back her hair and repositioned it in a knot on top her head, securing it with a clip she dug from one of her many vest pockets. “Lord, it’s warm. I need a drink of something strong.”

“Let’s stop by the Tunkul Bar. You can get a bite to eat, too. Seeing a ghost is thirsty business, and you must be hungry after a hard day at the ruins.”

She looked at him as if to judge whether he was kidding or not and burst out laughing. “Yeah, I’ve worked up a thirst, and I haven’t had anything substantial to eat all day. But I may scare everyone away with how I look.”

He laughed with her. “You look just fine. The place is casual and dark.”

The Tunkul Bar was crowded with ex-pats and tourists, what was left of them. They found a table for two in the back and ordered a couple of bottles of Port Royal beer. Dominic added an appetizer of meat-stuffed tortillas called pupusas.

“Now about that ghost,” Dominic said. “Describe the scene again.”

Elena not only recounted the unbelievable experience but also told him about finding the medal of St. Jude and about encountering the disheveled director who ordered her to leave.

“He told you to leave?” asked Dominic.

“Yes, but I’m not going to. Too much doesn’t add up, so I’m doing a little sleuthing of my own.” She looked at him. “Want to help?”

“Sure,” he said with no hesitation. Things were getting more and more bizarre, and he didn’t feel the police had Elena’s best interest at heart. Even though he had enough to do with the clinic, he was concerned about her. And, he had to admit, his motives weren’t entirely altruistic.

The waiter arrived with a plate of pupusas, and Elena selected one. The plate was patterned with Mayan hieroglyphs, and she studied them.

“Can you read that?” he asked.

“Sure. The writing has to do with eating in good health and with good friends.”

She gave him a dazzling smile, and Dominic knew he was spending much too much time on how good she looked.

They were discussing the difficulties of pursuing a suspect ghost when they couldn’t find a mere child when he saw Felicia walk into the bar. She circled the small room, like she was searching for someone, spied him and, unfortunately, came over.

“Hi, Nicky. I was looking for a friend I’m meeting here. You don’t mind if I join you, do you?” She slid into the chair next to Dominic, ignoring Elena, like he wasn’t sharing a table with someone.

When had he become Nicky?

“We were just about to leave,” he said, taking a last sip of beer.

“Don’t go yet. I just got here,” said Felicia, placing her hand on his arm. She signaled for the waiter. “Please bring another round and a martini straight up for me, no olive.”

Not stopping to catch her breath, she leaned close to Dominic. “You know, the murder in the ruins is the talk of the town. Everywhere I went today, people were talking about it.”

She turned a cocktail party smile on Elena. “I don’t believe we met. I’m Nicky’s friend, Felicia.”

Without stopping for a reply from Elena, Felicia bumbled on. “I heard the girl that found the man was horribly inept and bungled the site before the police could get there. The police are suspicious of her. She’s some young thing, terribly green.”

“Where did you hear that?” Dominic asked, sending an uneasy glance Elena’s way. He could feel a storm brewing but knew there wasn’t a cloud in the night sky.

“Inspector Oliveros. I was lunching with some friends, and he stopped by our table to say hello on the way out of the restaurant. One of the men in our party knew him. We ate at Llama del Bosque. I had the most delicious chicken in orange sauce, and a decent white chardonnay, all for pennies what it would cost in the States. This is a great little town, don’t you think, Nicky?”

“Excuse me, but I think I should be going,” said Elena, rising. “It’s been a long day. Thanks for the drink, Dominic.”

“I need to be going, too.” He jumped up and threw a bill on the table large enough to cover the check. “I’ll give you a ride.”

“But Nicky,” Felicia called after him, as he hurried to catch up with Elena.

“Elena, wait.”

Her field hat bouncing against her back, she banged out the door and headed down the street. He caught up and grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop.

“Wait, don’t run off. You have to consider the source.”

“Source? What about what the inspector said?”

“It’s downright horrible. You’re being set up. That’s what I’d say.”

“Me, too. Now if you will excuse me, I am perfectly capable of walking to
doña
Carolita’s on my own. Thanks again … Nicky.”

Dominic shook his head as he watched her go. Felicia was a bumbling idiot, but inspector Oliveros was downright dangerous. Someone had to stop the man before he caused permanent damage.

He was going to have to don his armor.

Six

Elena threw her hat on the bed, stripped off her clothes, and flipped on the electric hot water switch to the shower. Thankfully,
doña
Carolita was out for the evening. She didn’t feel like having to explain herself, her whereabouts, her appearance.

She let the hot water stream over her, wanting to wash away all the insanity of what her life in Copan Ruinas had become. How had the situation ignited so quickly? How could Oliveros have the balls to say that to a lunch table crowd? How could he have the nerve to say anything at all about the investigation while it was in progress? And what hole had Felicia crawled out of?

She scrubbed her hair ferociously with shampoo, lathered soap over her skin, and rinsed for a long time in the soft stream of hot water, feeling her tense muscles gradually relax. She dried with a fresh white towel, fuming over the inspector’s conversation that abominable woman had repeated.

So Mr. Medical Clinic had a girl friend. She couldn’t say much for his taste.

The laptop computer sat mutely on her small writing desk. She powered up and checked email, looking for something from Dr. Roulade. Nothing. It was time for a phone call. She tried to bring up Skype.

“URL unable to be found. Try ….”

What a time for the site to be down. She’d try in a bit. Maybe it would be back up. She lay on the bed and closed her eyes. The exhaustion that had followed her in the door overcame every other consideration.

The sound of scratching woke her. She lay still, trying to get her bearings. The lamp by the bed was on. She lay in her robe, her hair dry on the pillow. The scratching started again, more insistent. She didn’t remember seeing any rats here. But that was what it sounded like, a big rat scratching, magnified a hundred times by the stillness of the night. She turned off the lamp and lay in darkness, listening. Maybe the Mayan ghost had come for her. Gathering her courage, she sat up on the bed, her ears straining to identify the sound, but all she could hear was her rising anxiety. She had to get a grip. This was ridiculous.

The scratching stopped. The digital clock read 3:20 A.M. Beating back a rising wave of fear, she cinched the belt tighter on her robe to boost her courage. At this time of night when fear and doubt loomed large and overpowering, leaving Copan seemed the right decision. The first bus left around 5:00 A.M. She could pack and be on it.

But Elena Palomares was suspect in a crime. If she left now, it would look worse. But hadn’t the Museum director ordered her to leave? She needed to talk to Dr. Roulade to get her counsel.

The scratching started again. The hollow sound seemed to come from the patio. She tiptoed in bare feet to the patio door. The night was calm, no breeze. Some small animal must have gotten trapped in the enclosed space. Light from the street lamp fell across the center of the patio where the fountain was silent for the night.

“
Cheet.
”

Elena stifled a yelp. That was no animal. That was a human voice.

“
Señorita.
”

A child’s voice.

“I need your help. Can you help me?”

She put a hand to her pounding heart.

“Who is it?” she said in a hoarse whisper. “Where are you?”

“It is me, Flaco.” He stepped out of the shadows right in front of her.

“
Madre mia
,” she said at his sudden appearance. “How did you get in here?” She pulled her robe tight around her throat like that would help quell her jangling nerves.

“Over the wall,
señorita
.”

“Where have you been?”

“I have been hiding, because the man is looking for me.”

“What man?”

“The tall man who killed the guy at the pyramid.”

“Come.” Elena took the child’s arm and tugged him into the room. “Sit here with me on the bed. What happened at the pyramid? Did you see the murder?”