Murder at the Mayan Temple (A Starling and Swift Cozy Mystery Book One)

by M. J. Mandrake

  “I don’t know.” She fell apart, hands over her face. Her sobs turned into one long keening noise, half-terror, half-grief.

  Kitty looked at Daniel, and he nodded. They moved through the doorway, Chica in the lead. Quietly, they descended the steps into the main area. White sunflower seeds were scattered in the dirt. As they reached the bottom, Kitty saw Toto’s tiny straw hat resting at the base of the steps. She stooped to pick it up, thinking that Elaine and Penny would want it back.

  Without a word, they both turned toward the small chamber that held the sacrificial altar. The rounded walls were black in the dim light. Kitty found herself holding her breath as she stepped inside. Chica growled low and deep in her throat, pressing her body back against Kitty’s legs, as if to push her away from danger.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered, but her voice was unsteady.

  Daniel pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight function. The room was illuminated in a cold blue sheen and in the center, bent over backward on the sacrificial altar, was Jace.

  It was clear from the color of his skin and the way his eyes were fixed on the ceiling that he was dead. Kitty moved forward, feeling an urgent need to do something, anything. She pressed a finger to his neck, unsure if she was even close to an artery. He was cold to the touch. His arms were outstretched like he was falling from a great height. He was wearing the polo shirt and shorts from the night before, and he was missing one flip flop. There was a wound on his left calf and Kitty felt her scalp crawl. It was a dog bite, and if the wound was any indication, it was from a very large dog. The size of a German Shepherd, perhaps.

  Daniel pointed to Jace’s chest. There was a small circle of red on his shirt, but it didn’t seem enough to kill someone. Kitty leaned closer, and realized that there was an object protruding from the area above his heart.

  A gasp behind them had Kitty whirling around, arms out, as if to shield the viewer from the body. She thought of Mrs. Van Horn, the boys, Ashley, Penny and Elaine. If only she could rewind the day and keep all of this from happening. She felt a crushing responsibility, not just to save Jace, but to keep the others from experiencing the terrible shock and grief that lay ahead.

  Liliana stood there, her arms wrapped around the black duffle bag she’d brought for the curator. Ron was behind her, eyes fixed on Jace’s body. He pushed past her and walked slowly toward the stone. He seemed half-asleep, clearly shocked and unable to process what he was seeing.

  “He broke it.” Ron pointed at a glittering object near the bottom of the altar. Kitty crouched down to see, her eyes taking a moment to recognize the handle of the missing ceremonial knife. Beside it lay the other flip flop, the bottom of its sole smeared with blood. Standing up, all the pieces of the scene rushed together and Kitty closed her eyes for a moment.

  Jace had not stolen the knife after all.

  He’d been murdered by it.

  Chapter Five

  “Madame, all stories, if continued far enough, end in death,

  and he is no true-story teller who would keep that from you.”

  ― Ernest Hemingway

  Kitty checked her phone for the twentieth time and stared around the small, windowless interrogation room. The wooden chair was terribly uncomfortable and the blinking red light on the security camera seemed to mock her with every passing minute. She’d tried to read, but had given up and set the book on the table. Running her fingers over the polished leather gave her some comfort, even if she wasn’t calm enough to concentrate on Dickens’ paragraph-long sentences.

  The police had arrived within minutes of the museum curator’s call. Using prisoner transport vans, they’d brought in every member of the tour group for questioning, and demanded they not communicate with anyone outside the rooms. The Miranda warning wasn’t a thing in Mexico, and the pot-bellied police sergeant didn’t seem too anxious about their rights in general.

  Mrs. Van Horn was so distraught that she was taken to a clinic and sedated. A policewoman accompanied her, along with one of the Van Horn boys. Daniel had wanted to go with her, but since he had been one of the first to find Jace’s body, he was required to be interviewed as soon as possible.

  Kitty had tried her best to keep the group together but they had been separated as soon as they arrived at the station. Kitty insisted that they would need an interpreter for the hearing impaired, but the officers hadn’t responded, simply pushing her into a chair and closing the door behind them. They had tried to take Chica to another area, but Kitty had refused, letting Chica growl her loudest at two young men. It wasn’t something she made a habit of doing, but for both of their sakes’, Kitty needed Chica with her.

  Letting out a soft breath, she rested her head on her arms. She was grateful she’d had the presence of mind to call Tavish and text Jorge just before the police arrived. Tavish would be working hard on his end, no doubt about it. Jorge would be doing… whatever Jorge could do. He seemed to know everything and everyone, so Kitty assumed he would be able to get food delivered, at least. It had been hours since the coffee and pan dulce she’d had at breakfast, and she felt her stomach was as hollow as a deflated balloon. Surely they’d be released by dinner time. They had to be back on the ship before eight that evening. The idea of spending the night in a Mexican prison struck fear into her heart.

  The door opened at that moment and she sat up straight. The pot-bellied sergeant was back. He wiped his mustache on a napkin and burped loudly.

  “Tacos,” he mumbled.

  Kitty figured he was explaining what he’d had for lunch rather than offering some to her. She forced a smile. “I would like to request to be reunited with my group, please.”

  He smiled. “Your Spanish is very good.”

  She held onto her pleasant expression. “They’re hearing impaired and will need me to translate your questions.”

  Waving a hand, he said, “No questions yet.”

  Kitty felt a stab of alarm. If they hadn’t even started the questioning, spending the night in the Tulum jail was a real possibility. No soft bed, no mosquito netting, no fresh breeze from the window. The idea of sleeping where countless spring breakers had slept off one too many margaritas filled her with dread. Cockroaches would be the least of her worries.

  “May I use my phone?” she asked, hating herself for not calling the embassy before leaving a message for Tavish. If the message had gotten lost and she didn’t get another phone call, no one would know what had happened. When they didn’t return from the port of call, it would spark a search, to be sure, but it could be hours before the crew tracked them down.

  “Why?” His eyes narrowed.

  “I need to call the American Embassy. We have to return to the ship by eight o’clock.”

  He smiled in a fatherly way. “No.”

  “N―No American embassy? Or…” She couldn’t say the words.

  “No one will be returning to the ship tonight.”

  Kitty stared at him for several seconds before she realized she had stopped breathing. “You don’t understand. The ship will leave and―”

  “There are other ships.” He headed for the door. “The American Embassy has sent someone to be present at the interrogations.”

  She stood up. She was not going to spend the night on a cement floor covered in heaven-knew-what kind of dried nastiness. “I must be present also. To translate.”

  He considered it for a moment and then nodded. “We’re going to the next room on the right.”

  Kitty grabbed her book, phone, purse, and stepped through the doorway, Chica directly behind her. She heard a growl and turned to see the chief shying away. He’d tried to get between Chica and Kitty, clearly. Usually Chica would flick her ears in an annoyed way, then nudge herself back to Kitty’s side. Not now. She was letting her displeasure at the entire situation be known.

  “Your dog is very badly trained,” he huffed.

  On the contrary, my dear. Kitty walked down the long, dimly light hallway to the next room w
ith Chica trotting beside her, feeling as if she were walking to the gallows.

  “Here,” the sergeant said, and opened the door. There, at a small table, sat Penny and Elaine. Toto was laying quietly behind them, looking forlorn. She raised her head at the sight of Chica and the two dogs greeted each other with some subdued tail-wagging.

  “The chief will be in soon,” he said, and shut the door behind him.

  Elaine jumped up and threw her arms around Kitty. Leaning back, she signed, “This is terrible! We’re going to die in a Mexican prison! We’ll have to tunnel our way out!”

  “We can’t tunnel out if we’re dead. Let’s just take it one step at a time.”

  Sitting her pile of belongings at the table and settling into the hard chair, Kitty realized she felt relieved just to be in another room with familiar people. Penny wiped her eyes. “This is punishment for all the mean things I said about Jace. I’m the one with soul rot.”

  “Of course he’s not,” Kitty reassured her. “And I’m sure your soul is as fresh as a daisy.”

  “No,” Elaine said, shaking her head. “She’s right. We’re awful. We brought this upon the group. All our gossip and pettiness. I saw a picture yesterday in the ship gallery, and I said I could smell whiskey and failure just looking at the woman. How mean is that?”

  Kitty started to respond when Penny chimed in. “I said that skinny Mrs. Nelson looked like death eating a soda cracker.”

  Swallowing back a laugh, Kitty said, “I’m sure your insults didn’t cause Jace’s murder. His own behavior was bad enough.”

  “No.” Elaine wasn’t convinced. “We’re proud and vain. We love clothes too much, and spend too much on jewelry. And then we mock people for being ugly. Just this morning, we were gossiping about the man across the street. He was glaring at us and I told Penny that he looked like he’d sold his soul to Satan, and it was time to pay up, but he was just using spackle and shellac to keep up appearances.”

  Kitty burst out laughing. Penny started to smile, and then Elaine chuckled. “That’s pretty good,” she managed through her laughter.

  “Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” Elaine seemed proud of herself, which was better than crying.

  They were all laughing when the door opened. There was an awkward pause as an older man with a large mustache took stock of the situation. “I am Chief Baltazar. Good to see you’re enjoying your time here,” he said.

  Sobering up, Kitty cleared her throat. “We would like to speak to an embassy representative,” she said.

  “Bueno. You are in luck.” He moved forward and a man stepped into the room. The sergeant pointed at each of them, giving their name and age.

  Kitty’s first impression was of forties-era detective: black overcoat, tie and fedora. Then she realized it was a rain hat with a brim, not a fedora. The man took stock of the room, and then came closer, looking at the dogs.

  “And the dogs?” he asked.

  “Yes?” Kitty glanced over where they both sat at attention. She knew their rights. They wouldn’t be able to separate them from their service animals, no matter what kind of trouble they were in.

  “What are their names?”

  “Oh. Chica is mine,” she managed. “And this is Toto.”

  He placed a notepad, a pen, and a folder on the table. “My name is Leander Estornell, an attaché to the American embassy. I’ll be assisting this investigation on behalf of the American citizen who was murdered, and to protect the interests of the Americans being investigated,” he said in unaccented English.

  Kitty was just turning to translate for Elaine and Penny, when he removed his hat. She did a classic double take at the bright white locks brushed over his brow, a shocking contrast to the rest of his dark hair. It might have turned into a triple take when he met her gaze. His eyes were different colors, one pale green and one bright blue.

  Waardenburg’s syndrome. She wouldn’t have known what it was except for its connection to the deaf community. It could cause partial or profound congenital hearing loss, passing from generation to generation. She wondered about his parents, whether he had any hearing loss, whether he’d inherited the condition from his mother or his father…

  He smiled, just a little, and Kitty realized she hadn’t moved for several seconds. She blushed at her rudeness. He would be used to the stares, but she was ashamed that she’d somehow had forgotten how to behave. For a person who worked with the alternately-abled for a living, Kitty knew better than to gape at anyone.

  Translating quickly for Elaine and Penny, she kept her eyes on the table.

  “I’m sorry you’ve had to wait so long in the room. We’ll be bringing you something to eat in just a few minutes.” His voice was businesslike, but not unkind.

  “Our dogs need to take a walk,” Penny signed.

  Kitty translated and he nodded. “Yes, of course. Breaks for the dogs, too. They just have some preliminary questions―”

  “Can we go back to the ship soon? We have to board by eight,” Elaine said.

  In the split-second pause before he answered, Kitty knew what he would say. “No. I’m afraid you’ll be released to secure embassy accommodations until the police have finished their investigation.”

  As the words sank in, Kitty realized it had been foolish to think they would return to the luxury liner that night. Tavish would hold the ship as long as he could, but she knew every hour counted in a ship’s schedule. At least they wouldn’t be spending the night crammed in the drunk tank.

  “May I call our captain?” she asked.

  “He’s been informed,” the sergeant broke in, frowning at her as if she were planning a jail break.

  “You can all make your phone calls as soon as we take preliminary statements.”

  Maybe because she was tired, or maybe it was because all she’d had to eat was coffee and some sweet bread, but Kitty held up a hand. “I’m confused. What are you?”

  He cocked an eyebrow. It was a striking look. She wondered if she could pull it off if she practiced. Probably not.

  “How do you mean?”

  “Are you here to help us? Or are you on their side?” That hadn’t been exactly what she’d wanted to say. She needed some lunch if she was going to be able to get through the next few hours without sounding crazy.

  “You can call me Leander. I’m an American, sent from the American embassy, here to help you on the behalf of your government. But I also assist the police. I have degrees in psychology, criminology, and forensics.” His voice was neutral but the half-smile had disappeared. “As far as I understand the situation, you need to be here to translate for them. Otherwise you, Miss Swift, would be questioned separately.”

  Kitty swallowed hard at the implication. She was under suspicion. They all were.

  “You were the first to reach the body?” the chief asked.

  “Yes. Myself and Daniel Van Horn.” She signed as she spoke.

  “Did you remove anything from the scene of the crime?”

  “Of course not. I was very careful not to touch anything. I knew that there were clues and I couldn’t disturb the… Oh.” Kitty glanced at her purse. “I saw Toto’s straw hat at the base of the stairs and picked it up.”

  “Toto?” Chief Baltazar asked.

  “The black lab,” Leander answered.

  Kitty removed the little hat from her purse and handed it to Elaine. The sergeant held out his hand. “I’ll need to keep that for evidence.”

  “I’m sure it was lost the day before. It was very windy,” Penny protested.

  “You’re sure? It was not on the dog when you returned to the Gomez home?”

  Kitty looked at the two older women. She couldn’t remember whether Toto was wearing the hat. Eric had chased after Elaine’s. That was all she could recall. Perhaps one of the two old ladies had come back in the night and killed Jace. Maybe the bite was from Toto. But why?

  Leander was looking at the other items Kitty had placed on the table. “Did you take pictures of the crime
scene?”

  “Me?” Kitty asked. “No. Of course not.”

  “Not even with your ipad?”

  “I only have my phone.”

  “And this?” He pointed out her book on the table, the gold lettering glinting dimly in the overhead light.

  She started to laugh. “That’s a book. An old book. I have a whole store of them in Mérida.”

  Instead of being embarrassed at his gaffe, he smiled. “A book? How shocking. May I?”

  “Of course.” She passed it to him.

  Examining it gently, he turned the pages, peering at the lithograph illustrations, and then held it upside down. Jorge’s note fluttered out.

  “Oh, I forgot about that.” Kitty reached for it, but Leander picked it up first.

  He read it without expression, and then set it on the table between them.

  Kitty deciphered the upside down words. Come dance with me, mi sirenita. Of course Jorge couldn’t have called her something normal like ‘honey’. No, he had to ramp up the cheese and say ‘little mermaid’. If Kitty was anything, she was not a beguiling, rebellious young girl looking for love.

  “That’s― that’s from the activities assistant. He plans the ship’s… activities.”

  The chief leaned forward. “How long did you know Jace,” he asked Penny and Elaine.

  “Just a few days,” Penny said. Her face was pale. “I need to use the restroom.”

  Kitty translated for her and Leander leaned over to whisper something to the chief. The man nodded.

  “I’ll escort you.”

  “I need to go, too,” Elaine said, standing up. “And Toto needs to go outside.”

  The chief shrugged and opened the door. “Better bring your coats. The hurricane has changed course.”

  Kitty felt her stomach drop. “Changed course?”

  He nodded as Elaine and Penny filed past. “They thought it would pass us by, but it’s going to make landfall sometime tomorrow.”

  She turned to Leander. “Could I call our ship? Please?”

  “Of course.”

  Her fingers trembled as she found hit the button beside a smiling photo of the jovial captain. As it rang and rang, she sat on the edge of her seat, body tense with anxiety.