Human Sacrifice

by Cindy L Hull

  “Oh, my God,” Jamal said. “I don’t remember it at all, but what about the wine? She didn’t drink it with me.”

  “Brad poured the wine, but she refused to drink, so he poured it into the sink,” Salinas said. “He had brought a few sleeping pills with him and small airplane-sized liquor and tonic bottles, but she refused all alcohol, claiming she wanted to wait until the reception to drink.”

  Jamal said, “What information did she have on Brad?”

  Salinas said, “I don’t think she knew about the smuggling at that time. She was fishing…is that what you say? Her interrogation at breakfast sent Jamal to Paul’s room looking for a computer and Brad to Motul. But Eduardo, having been alerted by Don Benito, got there first.”

  Madge said, “So what did Tanya know?”

  Salinas described Tanya’s computer journal. “She was devious, your Tanya. But unwise, with no sense of her danger.”

  “I remember that she took my binoculars when she joined us in the bleachers,” Madge said.

  Salinas nodded. “She saw Brad at the foot of the pyramid with Eduardo, and Jamal talking to Laura in the bleachers above them.”

  Claire thought back to that night. “Then Brad and Eduardo rushed to the seats behind us, laughing about how Eduardo had to rescue Brad from Laura. Tanya knew they were lying.”

  “And she noticed that when Brad put his backpack on the step next to his feet, it looked bulky,” Salinas added. “He laid it down carefully instead of dropping it at his feet. She wrote about it in her notes.”

  “She suspected that Eduardo saw what happened and provided Brad with an alibi?” Madge asked. “When did she steal the dagger?”

  “Tanya heard Brad and Eduardo argue about the statue after the presentation,” Salinas said. “From her vantage point just outside the door, she not only heard enough to guess there was tension between them that might involve the museum, she also saw where the key to the display was kept. Later, she simply found a time when the exhibit room was empty and used the key to steal the dagger, probably sometime between the Tuesday morning meeting and George’s presentation.”

  Salinas continued, “Once stolen, she put the dagger in an envelope, wrapped it in a note, and gave it to Brad surreptitiously after George’s talk. Evidently, Tanya couldn’t resist the symbolism.”

  “Did you find the note?” Jamal asked.

  “We found the envelope at the reception, ripped up in a waste basket. We never found the note. We don’t know what it said, but we suspect it merely set the time and place for the meeting.”

  “So, she had two accusations against Brad: the suggestion that he had caused Paul’s death and a suggestion of some sort of professional impropriety,” George summarized.

  “Yes,” Salinas said. “She told Brad that for her silence, he needed to give her the position of curator.” Salinas gave an apologetic nod to Madge. “And she demanded that he make the announcement at the reception. Brad panicked. He had no intention of naming her curator at a public event. So, when she refused to stay behind, he took the pill bottle with him.”

  “He was probably relieved when he learned that Laura had taken her to the bedchamber,” George added.

  Salinas agreed. “Yes, but then he had to do something about the pill bottle and the dagger. He entered the bedchamber several times. The first time, Jamal interrupted him. The second time she was unconscious, and he placed the pill bottle in her purse.”

  “And the water glass?” asked Claire.

  “Ah, Brad saw the water glass and thought himself lucky. It would show that she took the pills herself. Unfortunately for him, the docent took the glass away.”

  “How did Eduardo get the dagger?” Claire asked.

  “Brad gave the dagger to Eduardo to get rid of it,” Salinas said. “Eduardo denies the stabbing, but I’m quite certain that he did it. Even though Eduardo denied knowing Tanya was in the bedchamber, the docent saw Eduardo entering just before he asked Claire outside for a chat.”

  “I was his alibi?” Claire said miserably.

  “You still want that job?” Madge smiled.

  Tears came to Jamal’s eyes. “I’ve been foolish. She acted so strangely in the market. She told me there was something wrong with the backpacks at the pyramid. I accused her of using drugs again, because she was rambling, almost incoherent. I shouldn’t have dismissed her accusations. She was so fragile,” he insisted.

  Salinas said, “She was fragile, but manipulative. She usually got what she wanted, but when thwarted, she kept everyone on edge—Jamal, Brad, and Cody.” He looked at Cody, who was on his third beer and staring into space until he heard his name. “You weren’t her first victim, Jamal. She also used Thomas Freeman to further her career.”

  Laura interjected, “We thought at first Tanya might be involved with Eduardo, and that she might have had a hand in the Palenque case, but it seems that Freeman’s other graduate student had a connection with Eduardo.”

  “But Tanya took advantage of Freeman’s situation to request that he serve on her dissertation committee and support her candidacy,” Salinas said.

  “Perhaps she started as a victim,” Claire argued. “She was beautiful, and perhaps the relationships with professors and others started as flirtations, before she realized that she held power over these men as well.”

  Madge said, “There she goes again. Claire the naïve.”

  George turned to the detective who sat pensively, twirling his beer bottle between two hands. “What will happen to Brad in the Mexican legal system? We hear horrible stories, sorry to say,” he added to lessen the accusatory tone.

  “He is being charged with a felony misdemeanor in Paul’s death, and attempted murder of Tanya,” Salinas said. “He is lucky because of new laws that give defendants the opportunity to provide witnesses, but it is still the judge who decides guilt or innocence. There are no juries. Since Eduardo’s crimes are under federal statute, he will be treated according to federal laws.”

  Claire asked, “Might we be called back as witnesses?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “What are Brad’s chances?” asked Madge.

  Salinas said, “In his case, he will need to convince a judge that he did not push Paul from the pyramid or administer a lethal dose of a powerful drug to Tanya with the intent to kill her. Since both defenses depend on his word against a dead victim, he may have difficulty doing that.”

  Salinas looked at his watch and turned to Cody. “Dios, we’re late. Tanya’s parents are arriving from Detroit in less than an hour, and Cody has a plane to catch.”

  Cody stood and grabbed his suitcase. Claire rose to give him a hug. “Good luck with your writing career,” she said.

  Cody smiled, “Maybe someday I’ll write about what happened here…but not yet.”

  “If it becomes a movie, I get to play Claire,” Madge said laughing.

  Jamal turned toward the detective. “Can I come? I want to speak to Tanya’s parents.”

  “Will they want to see you?” Salinas asked.

  “I need to see them. Please?”

  Salinas nodded, and Jamal jumped up to follow them.

  Madge stared after them. “Do you think Jamal and Salinas should meet the parents with beer on their breath?”

  George said, “I think that might be the only way to do it.”

  Laura, who sat quietly during the conversation, stood to leave. Madge said, “Are you sure you don’t want this job? You are still qualified.”

  Laura smiled as she pulled a wad of pesos from her purse. “Are you kidding? At an assistant professor’s salary?” She smiled. “Besides, your jobs are too dangerous.” She giggled and waved as she walked away.

  Todd came to clear the table. Everyone reached into wallets and purses, but Todd waved them away. “Bill’s paid, my friends.”

  They emerged into
the hot Merida afternoon.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  Saturday Afternoon/Evening

  Madge, George, and Claire walked together back to the hotel to collect their bags and leave for the airport, clutching their precious blue passports. Madge and George arranged to take Jamal’s luggage to the airport and meet him there later. Claire’s flight to Madison, Wisconsin, wouldn’t depart until early evening. She hoped that Cristina could forgive her “mother hen” behavior. Her daughter was determined to go to Africa, and to Africa she would go, regardless of Claire’s fears and concerns.

  Madge interrupted Claire’s thoughts. “Did Salinas ever suspect Cody?”

  Claire said, “He did at first, because of his strange behavior. Cody tried to hide the fact that he and Paul were having difficulties, and he realized that if Paul was murdered, he would be the primary suspect. No one else knew Paul well enough to kill him, at least that was his fear, and his actions with the notebook drew Roberto’s attention.”

  Madge shook her head. “He wanted to conduct his own investigation. But, once inside, no one wanted to talk to him, except Tanya, and her outburst drew attention to him.”

  “But Cody also talked to Brad,” George said. “Remember, he wanted Brad to give him an alibi for Paul’s death. That could have killed him.”

  They reached the hotel and stood together in the lobby, reluctant to say goodbye after all that had happened that week. All signs of the conference had already disappeared: the daily schedule board, the multicultural crowd, and the familiar faces at the bar.

  “What’s going to happen to us?” moaned Madge.

  George cleared his throat. “I talked to the dean. She knows the entire saga and has apprised the provost of our situation. I’ll meet with them when we return, but for the time being, they have advised that we continue with our program development.”

  “Who will be interim director?” asked Claire.

  “Well,” admitted George, “the dean suggested that I be the director, since I started in that role before we hired Brad and,” he paused, looking at Claire, “she wants Claire to replace me as anthropology chair.”

  Claire protested. “Me? I don’t want to be chair. Don’t I have a say?”

  “Tell that to the dean. She thinks you are the best suited to take over in a crisis. I just happened to recommend you on those grounds. You did a great job here, mediating between the police and the anthropologists.”

  “Is that what they call it?” Madge chided, and cast a knowing glance at Claire, who blushed and turned to look at George.

  Claire asked, “And Madge? Will she continue as curator? Or is the museum defunct?”

  “Madge will be curator and will compile an inventory of our holdings. It will be an awesome chore.”

  “And she gets to seek legitimate gifts to our museum.”

  Madge turned to Claire. “By the way, Claire, what was your sin?”

  “Sin?”

  “What did Paul find out about you?”

  Claire told them about how a younger Benito Suarez had approached her and Aaron during their field work year, trying to sell them artifacts. “Paul wrote my initials on a page set aside for Benito. Laura even investigated me, but they decided I was harmless.”

  “Did you buy artifacts?” asked Madge.

  “Of course not. That was rule number two for anthropologists in the field, right behind ‘never loan money to villagers.’ We failed on numero uno but obeyed el secundo.” She paused. “I never heard about you two.” She pointed to George and Madge. “Tell me your secrets.”

  Madge smiled and said, “I had no secrets.”

  Claire guffawed. “Come on, Madge. No one believes that…look at you. You look like you got caught in a time warp at Woodstock. A little too much sex, drugs, and rock and roll—the Weather Underground?”

  “You give me too much credit,” Madge said, blushing.

  George smiled, a once-in-a-month smile. “Madge and I were married.”

  “What!?” Claire exclaimed. “That’s incredible!” She looked from Madge to George. “But it’s not a crime. It’s kind of cute. And it explains why you seem so comfortable together.” She looked at them again, to see if they were joking. “Why didn’t you want anyone to know?”

  Madge said, “Back then a husband and wife wouldn’t be hired together, so we lied about our status to get our first jobs. I was a true feminist—I kept my maiden name—and we pretended that we met at the university. It was no big deal—nothing that would give us a reason to kill Paul. He had nothing on us—that’s why Salinas brought us into his investigation so readily.”

  “But you divorced?” Claire asked, incredulous.

  “Oh, yes,” Madge laughed. “Long ago.”

  “I was Husband Number One,” George said, smiling.

  “No man can handle me, not even George. The marriage ended, but the friendship continued.” Madge and George smiled at each other as Claire looked on in amazement.

  In the lobby, Claire hugged her colleagues farewell. Even George allowed for a brief hug before he hailed a taxi for himself and Madge.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  Claire’s flight didn’t leave until evening. She had several hours before her dinner date. She had stored her luggage at the hotel guest storage room, and her Volkswagen had been hauled back to the car rental to be repaired at U.S. Government expense. The damp heat accosted her as she left the air-conditioning at the hotel. It was the hottest part of the day, but at least the crowds and traffic would be lighter. She walked slowly toward the central plaza, perspiration seeping down the back of her sleeveless blouse. She would have to retrieve her suitcase and change her clothes before she met Roberto for dinner.

  She had calculated the space available in her suitcase for gifts. Instead of a long walk to the market, she decided to shop in the small stores near the central plaza. She found colorful silver and gold earrings for her daughter, mother, and sister, and, in a corner liquor store, she purchased bottles of Kahlua for her brother and father.

  Next, she crossed the plaza and sought out the hammock salesman she had talked with on her first day in Merida. She found him in his usual location, on the edge of the plaza. She purchased the largest, most colorful hammock he had. Now, she had to find a way to get it to Lake Odawa, Michigan.

  Her arms heavy with gifts, she made her way back to the hotel. She retrieved her suitcase from the hotel storage room, packed up the gifts, changed her clothes in the lobby restroom, and returned the suitcase to storage. Thus refreshed, she left the hotel, took deep breaths and absorbed as much of her surroundings as she could, for she had no idea when she would return. She entered her favorite restaurant, La Chaya, and requested a table for three near the window.

  She ordered a Corona with lime and settled herself in, reflecting on this past week—and what might be in her future. She was unprepared to take on the role of department chair, and she hoped she might talk the dean out of her decision. But, in a sense, she felt new, fresh. Her life had been stagnant, her emotions flat. Her daughter sensed it—thus her insistence that she spend Mother’s Day in Wisconsin. It was more than an attempt to appease her mother’s fears.

  A knock on the window pulled her out of her thoughts. Roberto stood outside the restaurant with a young woman whom Claire recognized from the conference—his daughter.

  Roberto introduced Claire to Marta Salinas, and they joined her at the table. Marta, tall like her father with dark skin and thick dark hair held in place with two barrettes, dominated the conversation for the first fifteen minutes, from their drink orders, through the toast of beer bottles, and into the ordering of dinner. Marta was ebullient, passionate about anthropology and her dream to study Mexican women and economics.

  As they spoke, Claire noticed that Roberto sat quietly at the table, listening. During dinner, the conversation shifted to the even
ts of the past week and the conference. Marta hoped to finish her degree at the University of Yucatán but pursue graduate school in the United States. To Marta’s glee, Claire invited her to Michigan to look at universities there. “I would love to show you around,” Claire said. Marta looked at her father. Her face flushed.

  Claire didn’t mention the murders. She didn’t know how much Roberto wanted Marta to know about his job, especially this past week, but eventually, after the dinner plates had been cleared, the conversation turned in that direction. Marta had been watching closely as she attended the sessions and the reception. She had talked to her father about the Keane College group, a fact that disconcerted Claire somewhat; she was observant, like her father.

  Marta had watched Tanya as she rambled about backpacks and pyramids at the reception. She had watched Jamal talk to Tanya and saw the look of concern on his face when Laura took Tanya into the parlor. She had seen Jamal pacing while the reception guests waited to talk to her father and had told Roberto that the black man could not have killed her.

  “There was too much love and concern in his eyes,” Marta said.

  “But he was breaking up with her,” Claire protested mildly.

  Roberto finally spoke. “I think he was…how do you say…in conflict?”

  “Conflicted,” his daughter corrected him, and smiled.

  “But I think Marta is right,” he conceded. “Jamal loved Tanya, probably much more than she loved him.”

  Claire thought about this. The truth of it made her very sad. She looked at her watch. “I have to go,” she said. “It may take a few minutes to find a taxi.”

  Roberto said, “I’ll take you.”

  Claire looked at Marta. “How will you get home?” she asked.

  Marta stood to leave. “I’m going to the library. I have a ride home. And thank you for signing your book,” she said.

  “Thank you for buying it.” Claire stood and hugged her.

  Roberto kissed his daughter on the cheek and led Claire to his car.