by Cindy L Hull
“You dated? Did you…?”
“Absolutely not…but it was wrong. When I met Aaron toward the end of the internship, I knew he was special. Then, I understood why the university rules existed. I eased away from Roberto. We both knew I’d be leaving soon. I thought he understood, but his feelings were stronger than mine. I left Merida without saying goodbye. I didn’t write him, and he didn’t have my address—this was long before email. I never thought I’d see him again.”
Madge said, “There’s a song about this…the Doobie Brothers, I think. The guy goes through life with a crush on a girl and when they meet later, she doesn’t even remember him…!” She stumbled through the lyrics, ending with, “…what a fool believes.”
“The Doobie Brothers?”
“Hey, look at me…. Do I look like the Lawrence Welk type?”
“But I did remember him,” Claire admitted.
“Have you talked to him?”
“Can I plead the fifth on this?”
“I expect a full accounting later.”
“I promise.” Claire looked at her watch. “It’s seven o’clock. We’re late.”
“Party won’t start until at least eight o’clock, Mexican time.”
“But we’re Americans,” Claire said. “And Brad will notice.”
“Why is everyone afraid of Brad?” Madge said, taking Claire’s arm as they crossed the boulevard toward the Casa Montejo.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Madge and Claire studied the façade of the Casa Montejo before entering. Built by the Montejo family as a tribute to their success in conquering the Maya in the 1500s, the architecture represented an odd blending of medieval gargoyles and Renaissance statues.
“This building is spectacular and creepy at the same time,” Madge said as they entered through immense wooden doors into a large courtyard. Twenty-foot-high walls separated the conquerors from the conquered. Surrounding the courtyard, grand rooms opened onto a hallway of black and white marble floors.
Tonight, descendants of conquered Maya mingled with the descendants of European conquerors. Indigenous scholars formed vibrant clusters of traditional clothing representing diverse Mayan cultures: brightly woven skirts and colorful blouses depicting important symbols and designs that identified the wearer’s region of origin, from Mexico to Guatemala. The American scholars, dressed in pastel dresses or casual slacks, paled in comparison.
A bar had been set up at the far end of the courtyard. To the left of the bar, double doors opened into the dining room. Behind the bar, staff entered the courtyard from a rear door, carrying trays of food and setting up an elegant buffet table.
A door along the walkway to the right of the bar opened into a parlor. A sitting room and museum took up the hallway to Claire’s right. She knew from an earlier tour of the building that the parlor and the sitting room both opened into a large bedchamber located in the corner connecting the two perpendicular wings.
The fourth wing of the building, where they stood, was now taken up by the bank that owned and managed the mansion, and a souvenir store. A staircase led to the upper level, where former bedchambers had been converted to meeting rooms, a small museum, and restrooms. Above them tiny lightbulbs had been strung from wires draped across the courtyard, casting the trees and the garden area in shadows that flickered with the slight evening breeze.
“Well, look who snuck in,” Madge said, pointing to Cody, who had already snagged a beer from the bar and was heading in their direction.
“Professor Claire! Professor Madge,” Cody said in a soft-but-urgent tone. He approached them warily. “I’ve been looking for you. I need to show you something.” He pulled a black-and-white composition notebook from his backpack.
“What is it?” Madge asked, her curiosity piqued.
“It’s Paul’s journal. It has notes in it, and information about professors.”
“It sounds like he was preparing for the interview,” Madge stated, holding her hand out for the book.
Cody pressed it into Claire’s hand instead. “But it’s more…you know, with the other…?” He looked askance at Madge. “Please, read it and give it to the detective.”
“You should take it to him,” Claire said. “If you think it is important, he should see it first.”
Cody’s tone was conspiratorial. “You should read it first. You’ll know what to do.”
“This is a police matter,” Claire said. “I don’t want to be a go-between.”
Claire tried to give the book back to him. He pulled his hands away, refusing to take it.
Resigned, Claire placed the notebook in her purse. “I’m not sure you should be here,” she said.
“I’m leaving,” he said, then turned away from the entrance and into the party.
Madge wandered off to visit friends, and Claire made her way toward the bar. To her right, Brad had just joined George and Eduardo who stood near the parlor, a huge mural of the three Montejo conquistadores looming behind them. George and Eduardo moved apart to allow Brad into their space. The tone of the conversation changed as Eduardo patted Brad on the back, and the three men held up their glasses in a toast. It seemed whatever conflict Tanya had observed between Brad and Eduardo had been resolved.
She watched Jamal approach Tanya, who stood awkwardly near the bar, her eyes darting around the room to settle on the group of men toasting each other. Jamal said something, and she turned toward him, accepting a margarita he offered her. Her hand shook as she reached for the glass, but she took a large gulp, licking salt from the rim. She looked unsteady, and, as Claire watched, Tanya became animated, her eyes widening. She started to speak, but Jamal silenced her by touching her mouth with his finger. She brushed his hand away and spoke, her words drowned out by the cacophony of conversations in the open space.
There is something wrong with Tanya, Claire thought again. Her eyes seemed unfocused and her hands shook, nearly tipping her glass. Claire took a glass of white wine from the bar and moved in their direction.
“Ah, Claire,” Jamal said, “Tanya and I are discussing George’s lecture.” Tanya, who normally expounded at length on any academic topic, stared blankly at Claire. Jamal, noticing Claire’s look of concern, asked her, “What did you think of Eduardo’s defense of private collections?”
“I think it was very brave of George to give that lecture knowing Eduardo would be here, offering us part of his private collection.”
“Brave?” Jamal asked. “Brad said it was inappropriate at best, perhaps even foolish.”
Claire shrugged. “I’m sure Eduardo is aware of the academic perspective on private collecting. He’s not stupid. In fact, his gift to Keane College is a stroke of brilliance—he can show appreciation to a friend, demonstrate philanthropy, and stifle criticism about the business side of collecting all at the same time.”
“Claire, always the cynic.” Jamal laughed uneasily, but they both focused on Tanya, who had staggered away from them. Claire followed Tanya to an iron bench near the center of the garden. A small Flamboyan tree provided a brilliant umbrella over her.
“Are you okay?” Claire asked.
“I have a headache.”
Claire steadied her as they sat together on the bench. Tanya smoothed her sundress over her thin legs and took a sip of her drink. Her eyes met Claire’s, and then flitted away, back to the trio of men still standing near the parlor.
“Actually, I’m fine,” Tanya said, turning back toward Claire. She gave a wry smile and took a sip of her margarita. Her demeanor suddenly changed, and she looked directly at Claire, who saw that her eyes were dilated. “I think things are looking up for me.” She took a gulp of her margarita, spilling some on her dress. She wiped it with her hand. “I’ve been thinking. I’ve been wrong about Paul’s death.”
“What do you mean?”
Tanya spoke softly, glanci
ng over her shoulder. “I think it was an accident…what I said before…you know…I didn’t mean to accuse anyone from our group.” She wiped perspiration from her hairline with the fingers of one well-manicured hand. She paused, as if remembering something. “There’s really nothing suspicious about the backpacks.”
“Backpacks?” Claire wondered if Tanya knew about the missing backpack and computer.
“Oh, nothing.” Tanya looked over at Jamal, who, Claire noticed, was staring in their direction.
Claire put her hand on Tanya’s forehead. “Let me take you back to the hotel.”
Tanya shook her head. “It might be over for us,” she said.
“What?”
“Me and Jamal,” she said impatiently. She looked over her shoulder again. “What is he doing here?” Claire turned to see Cody hovering in the corner of the courtyard.
Tanya wiped her brow again, as if trying to remember something. “There’s something amiss with that guy.” She looked at Claire, as if trying to focus. “Oh, never mind.”
Claire stood. “Let’s talk later, when you feel better.”
“Yes, please go ahead…I’m fine.”
Claire wandered toward the group of faculty and students from the University of Yucatán. She had seen these students from time to time in the hotel lobby as they attended the various meetings and lectures. One of them, a young woman with large dark eyes and shoulder-length hair, addressed her.
“Doctor Aguila,” she said, reaching into her shoulder bag. She pulled out a copy of Claire’s most recent book. “Would you sign your book for me?” she asked.
“I would be honored,” Claire said. “What is your name?”
“Marta.”
“What do you hope to study?”
“I want to study Mayan women, like you.” She paused. “I’m studying Yucatec Maya to prepare.”
Claire opened the book and wrote: “Estimada Marta, Jach ki’imak in wóol in wilikech y Ka xi’ik teech utsil,” and signed her name.
Marta beamed as she read it aloud: Dear Marta, I am pleased to meet you and good luck. “Thank you,” she said.
“Mixba’al,” Claire said. “You’re welcome.”
Claire returned to the bar for another glass of wine and visited with colleagues she had not seen for several years. Surprised, she saw that Cody had not left the party. He sat on the bench with Tanya, who held her margarita glass in one hand while her other hand fluttered around her head, like she was trying to catch an idea escaping her mind. She spoke in short muddled bursts. Cody was trying to explain something to her, and then her voice rose in anger.
“I don’t believe you!”
Cody jumped up from the bench, and Jamal looked over from his place at the bar. He put his drink down and pushed past the guests toward Tanya.
He took Tanya’s arm and lifted her from the bench, taking the empty glass from her hand. He turned to Cody. “What are you doing here?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The room grew silent as the anthropologists stared at the intruder. Cody blinked and moved away without answering.
Jamal spoke softly to Tanya, but the guests were alert and listening. “Let me take you to the hotel.”
“This is my night. Leave me alone.”
Jamal looked at her closely. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Tanya smiled and walked away. Jamal placed the margarita glass on a serving tray, filled with empty glasses and plates, and retreated toward the buffet table, pulling his hands through his braids. The onlookers exchanged glances with each other but resumed their conversations as the room took on a less vibrant, more subdued tone.
Claire watched Tanya sway as she made her way to the bar. A tall middle-aged man with a chiseled face and gray hair approached Tanya from behind. He caught her by her bare arm as she nearly lost her balance. She turned to thank him, but her smile disappeared as she pulled her arm away. She said something to him, and he turned away from her, his jaw set, his eyes angry.
Tanya continued to the bar, but Laura intercepted her before she could take another drink from the counter. Laura spoke to the waiter, who handed her a glass of water. She took Tanya’s arm with her other hand. Tanya resisted at first, squirming from Laura’s light touch, but finally she allowed Laura to lead her out of the courtyard, to the parlor.
Thank you, Laura, thought Claire.
Claire joined Evelyn Nielander at the buffet table and succumbed to a small plate of cheese and tropical fruits.
“What happened?” Evelyn asked.
“I’m not sure,” Claire admitted. “I think Tanya has had too much to drink, sorry to say.”
Evelyn leaned over the table, placing several wedges of quesadilla on her plate, speaking softly. “My sister has a dependency on prescription drugs. I know what that looks like.”
Claire looked at Evelyn. “Are you thinking…?”
“I don’t want to disparage Tanya any further than I already have. I feel badly enough telling you about her research in Palenque.” She paused again. “I just think you should watch her closely…perhaps talk to her when you get back to Michigan.”
Claire looked back toward the parlor. “I’d better check on her now.” She put her plate and wine glass down at the end of the buffet table. “Thank you for the warning, Evelyn.”
Claire entered the parlor as Madge and George were leaving the room with a group of students, whispering among themselves. Madge paused as Claire stood at the door.
“It’s not good, Claire,” Madge whispered. She tilted her head back toward the parlor.
Inside, Laura was pacing. “Where’s Tanya?” Claire asked.
“In the bedchamber. Jamal went in to check on her.”
“Why is she there?” Claire asked.
“I asked the docent…a very nervous man…he allowed her to lie down on the bed.” She pressed her lips together. “He wasn’t happy, but I think he saw how sick she was. He put a blanket down to protect the bed.”
Jamal came out from the bedchamber, his eyes dark. “Brad was in there with her,” he said, and slumped into a chair. “He left so we could talk.”
“How is she?” Claire asked.
“Determined to stay. I don’t know why,” Jamal said, shaking his head.
Claire walked past him and into the bedchamber. Heavy velvet curtains blocked the windows, and muted wall tapestries further darkened the room. A narrow band of light from the open door behind her highlighted a set of red velvet chairs positioned at either side of a gold gilt dressing table, and beyond that a tall four-poster bed. Tanya lay on the bed, her eyes closed. She opened them when she heard Claire enter.
“I’m very tired,” Tanya said.
“Let me take you to the hotel.”
“Why does everyone want me to leave? I just need a short nap.”
Claire looked at the water glass. “Have you taken any pills?”
“Pills?”
“Anything?” Claire said.
“No…well, just something for migraine at the hotel. Please let me sleep.”
Claire frowned at her. “I’ll check on you later.”
“It’s cold in here,” Tanya said, and Claire could see that she was shivering.
Claire saw a large wooden quilt display stand next to the massive dresser. She removed a Mexican blanket from the rack and placed it over Tanya.
“Thanks,” Tanya murmured, nearly asleep already. She turned away from Claire and pulled the blanket up to her face.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Exhausted and worried, Claire returned to the atrium. She rested on the bench where Tanya had sat earlier. In a shadowed corner of the courtyard, she saw Brad and Eduardo conversing. They separated; Brad walked past her toward the stairs to the bathrooms and Eduardo turned toward the kitchen behind the bar. Neither acknowledged her. She
watched as George and his archaeology friends exited the mansion, engaged in conversation.
“Professor Claire?”
Claire turned to see Cody, staggering slightly behind her.
“I’m sorry I crashed the party,” he said, slurring his words.
“But since you did, you should take this with you.” Claire motioned to her purse.
He swayed slightly, and Claire thought she might have to catch him. “No. You need to read it.” He looked around the courtyard. “Have you seen Doctor Kingsford?”
“Upstairs. Are you sure you want to talk to him? Perhaps tomorrow would be better.” She doubted this, but she knew that Brad would not look kindly on an intoxicated party crasher. Cody gave her a wave and staggered toward the stairs. She looked at her watch. Ten minutes had passed. She stood and returned to the parlor where Jamal still sat, his eyes wary, a half-empty beer glass at his feet.
“How’s Tanya?” she asked.
“Still sleeping,” he said. “I’m trying to stay away until she wakes up so I can take her to the hotel.”
Claire opened the bedchamber door to peek in on her colleague. She heard a click and thought she saw the sitting room door close on the other side of the room. Tanya lay still on her back.
“Where was George going with his friends?” she asked Jamal when she returned to the parlor.
“Don’t know. They came in to check on Tanya. One of them got a phone call, and they all left the room…The Three Musketeers. I haven’t seen Madge.”
Claire left Jamal at his vigil and returned to the atrium where she met Madge, who also had come to check on their colleague.
“Have you seen Tanya?” Madge asked.
“She’s sleeping.”
Madge looked toward the parlor door. “I’m looking for Brad. I need to tell him about that dagger.”
“I saw him go upstairs. You’ll have to get in line behind Cody.”
