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

by M. J. Mandrake

  “Maybe a love triangle?”

  She’d been almost positive that was what he was going to say, so she didn’t bother with being embarrassed. “If you could only see Jorge,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “I looked him up.”

  “You did?”

  “That’s what I do. I take pictures, ask questions, and look things up. He’s a good-looking guy. Young, too. And plenty of people saw Jorge and Jace vying for your attention.”

  She snorted. “Vying for my attention? I suppose that’s one way of putting it.”

  “How would you describe it? I’m sure it didn’t make your boyfriend very happy.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” she said hastily. “He’s just the―”

  “Activities assistant,” he finished for her. “Who leaves you love notes.”

  “Not love notes. Invitations. It really doesn’t mean anything.” She stopped, hearing how dismissive she sounded. He probably thought she was one of those women who treated men like dirt, tossing their feelings into the trash with their love notes. “It’s hard to explain. It’s not that he’s not attractive or a good person. I’m just not interested. In anyone. I’m happy with Chica and my cats and my bookstore. I don’t even have friends. I know it sounds weird, but it’s just the way I am.”

  Bringing the car to a stop in front of a large three story brick house, he sat for a moment, both hands on the wheel. “I’ve always believed names are powerful, that naming a child could be a violent act, or a blessing. And that people tend to live up to their names.”

  She was glad he wasn’t going to pry into the fact she wasn’t looking for love or friendship, but she wasn’t sure where he was headed, either. Maybe he was the one who’d suffered the concussion. Her real name was Katherine, which meant ‘pure’ but she wasn’t even sure why her parents had picked the name. Kitty seemed more her speed. Or maybe she’d grown into the nickname, like people do.

  The rain was pounding down onto the windshield but she could see the big house glowing with light. That was a good sign she’d be getting a hot shower before bed.

  “Swifts. They’re fascinating birds,” he said.

  “Usually people say ‘like Taylor’, but yes.”

  “Agile, strong, the greyhound of the sky. They even eat while flying. The record for non-stop flight is held by the swift, you know. Scientists have proof that they can spend up to ten months in flight. They sleep in the air, flying high on an updraft and napping on the way down.”

  Kitty knew a little about swifts, of course. It was hard not to look into the meaning of your own name at least once. She loved how they were the fastest birds, because she certainly wasn’t very graceful or athletic. “Are you saying I’m flighty?” she said, trying for amusing, but sounding annoyed.

  He turned off the car and steeled himself to open the door. “I’m saying we might be birds of a feather, Miss Swift.”

  She followed him into the driving rain, still confused about what he’d been trying to say, but it sounded like he wasn’t preparing to book her for murder. She had to coax Chica out into the storm with a treat from her purse. Smart dog. She knew it was better to stay in the car where it was safe. A hurricane wasn’t as worrisome as the threat lurking inside the house.

  Reaching the front door together, they stood under the porch and waited for someone to answer Leander’s knock. Kitty noted the dried blood at the edge of Leander’s mouth and a large bruise on his cheek. Besides the missing shoe and the shredded shirt, he had long scratches down his left arm, probably left by Chica’s rescue.

  “We’re going to cause a riot, showing up like this,” she murmured.

  “No doubt about it,” he said, just as the door opened.

  Elaine stood framed in the doorway, eyes going wide at the sight of them. Then she let out a piercing scream and crumpled from the shock.

  Leander managed to catch her right before she hit the ground. As the others came running down the hallway, he looked up at Kitty and said drily, “About as good as we could have hoped for, I suppose.”

  She was unable to keep from smiling despite her aching body, pounding headache, and all the sand in every crack and crevice.

  It was official: the mysterious Detective Estornell had been hiding a personality under that suit all along.

  Chapter Eight

  “Mostly it is loss which teaches us about the worth of things.”

  ― Arthur Schopenhauer

  Kitty didn’t want to get out of the shower. Ever. She wanted to stand under the hot water, letting it soothe her aching bones and bruised muscles until the Chief Baltazar showed up and arrested someone. As soon as it was safe to come out, she’d happily take over her tour group again. Until then, she’d just hang out in the shower.

  Finding food might be an issue, but maybe Elaine or Penny would pass her a taco through the crack in the door. Of course, Chica would need to be walked, and Kitty had a feeling her German Shepherd wouldn’t take to a brand new life in a cramped, steamy bathroom.

  Sighing, she shut off the water and rested her forehead against the shower wall. Without the soothing hot water, she realized her head was starting to pound. In fact, everything hurt. She didn’t remember hitting any rocks, but her legs and arms were covered with bruises. One knee had a scrape the size of her palm, and when she’d washed her hair, the water had run red for several minutes. Feeling around the base of her skull, she felt a large goose egg.

  She’d come very close to dying and the only person she’d worried about was Chica. Kitty didn’t know whether she felt okay about that, or not. Maybe it was okay to wander through life without loving another human being. Or maybe, as much as she denied being unhappy, she wasn’t as content as she’d insisted.

  Watching water drops slide down the shower wall, Kitty thought about those first months after her heart had been shattered. She didn’t remember much about it except for the pain and the animal-like desperation to find someplace that didn’t remind her of everything she had lost. In her mind, there wasn’t a spot in her little apartment, at work, or in her town that hadn’t been corrupted by his betrayal. Even her sleep was fitful, with flashes of her happiest moments that would suddenly turn dark and terrifying.

  She was better now. Moving to the Yucatan was like a reset button. Everything was new, fresh, unsullied. And now, whole days would pass where she never thought about the loss of the two people closest to her. Grief didn’t sneak up on her and strangle her with tears when she saw a man whose hair curled around his ears just so. She didn’t feel rage when she passed two women laughing together with the easy companionship born of hundreds of shared secrets. She didn’t burst into tears at odd moments any more.

  Those days were gone, the pain had receded. But was she really happy?

  A knock on the door startled her and she nearly ripped the plastic curtain from the rod as she whirled around.

  “Yes?”

  “Are you okay? I can bring you anything, if you need it.” Ashley’s voice came softly through the door.

  She briefly considered asking for bandages but then wondered if the embassy house had anything more than band-aids. “Thank you. I don’t need anything. I’ll be right out.”

  Kitty heard Ashley’s footsteps retreating down the tiled hallway. Grabbing a towel, she quickly dried off and slipped into her knee-length knit dress that she kept for overnight trips. It was comfortable, soft, and didn’t wrinkle. Glancing down at her scraped and bruised body, she decided slacks would be better. Most of her clothing was back on the ship now headed for Miami, but she had a pair of black slacks and a soft sweater she’d thrown in at the last minute.

  Wiping the steam from the mirror, Kitty grimaced. One eye was starting to blacken and there was a long red mark along her neck. It looked like she’d survived an attempted murder. Glancing down at Chica where the dog lay on the tiled floor, she said, “Girl, you’ve got to work on your water rescue.” The next moment she felt bad even joking about Chica’s hero antics.
She owed the dog her life.

  After trying her best to cover up her bruises with make-up, Kitty steeled herself to leave the bathroom. Gathering up her sodden, sandy clothes, she hoped there was enough warm water left to do a load of laundry. As soon as she reached the others, she knew there would be questions, but answering them might expose a murderer and she hadn’t even had lunch yet. First things first.

  Stepping into the hallway, Kitty looked toward the kitchen. She could hear the howl of the wind outside and, under that, the sound of voices coming from downstairs. The house was large, three stories and plenty of room to escape the others, but she was the tour leader. She was expected to keep them all company, heaven help her.

  “Kitty.”

  She whirled around, throwing her arms out in an instinctual position, ready to defend herself. Her shirt went to the left, her pants dropped to the right, and her bright red underwear flew through the air in graceful arc, landing just a few inches in front of him.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you―” Leander said contritely, starting to bend down. Her underwear lay cheerily at his feet, the little German Shepherd puppy pattern looking absurd in the harsh light of the hallway. He straightened up with a snap.

  Kitty darted over, gathering up pants, shirt, socks, and finally scooped up the offending scrap of red fabric, tucking it into the rest. Her face was on fire.

  “I’m really sorry,” he said again. He was wearing a button up shirt and jeans, his hair was still wet from the shower. Kitty could still see the scrapes on his knuckles and the bruise on his cheek had turned dark purple.

  “No, it’s okay. I’m jumpy.” She noticed they were both whispering. She glared at Chica who hadn’t given her any indication anyone was sneaking up on them. Just because Chica liked him didn’t mean she shouldn’t at least give her a heads up.

  “I wanted to show you something.” He motioned to an open door farther down the hallway.

  The bedroom had a small desk and a comfortable looking bed. Kitty hoped that her room was similar, since Mexico wasn’t known for its fluffy mattresses. At home in Mérida she had the most comfortable bed that money could buy. She figured that life was too short for cheap, thin mattresses.

  Two large windows looked out on the front drive. Kitty could see Leander’s embassy car parked to the side, and a large palm branch fluttered on the roof. He motioned her toward the desk, where a laptop was open.

  “Because Americans were involved, the police agreed to start the autopsy as soon as the body was moved to the morgue. Usually it takes weeks for anyone to take action here.”

  She nodded. She was familiar with Mexican bureaucracy. Thankfully, she’d never had to deal with the red tape that happened with a crime committed by Americans, but she’d dealt with enough stolen wallets and con artists to know how hard it was to get satisfaction.

  He clicked a file and a picture popped up. It was a crumpled note. “This was in the victim’s pocket.”

  Row through the secret entrance and meet me inside the ruins at two a.m. We can’t risk meeting where Eric can catch us.

  I can’t wait!!

  xoxoxox Ashley

  P.S. I’ll leave a rowboat on the beach for you. I’ll be there inside, waiting.

  Kitty read it twice and then leaned back. “That doesn’t seem right.”

  He blew out a breath. “That’s what I thought. I don’t know her very well, but she seems to be about the last person who would…”

  “Row a canoe at high tide into a Mayan ruin in the middle of the night so she could meet up with the creepy guy she’s been avoiding her whole honeymoon? The honeymoon she’s sharing with a man she clearly adores? Yeah. Probably not.”

  “That’s it.” Leander brushed back his hair. “I hate to say it, but Eric looks like our prime suspect.

  “Our suspect? I thought you weren’t supposed to be telling me anything about it? I thought Chica and I were still in the pool of possibilities.”

  He looked slightly defensive and said, “You can provide valuable insight into the group, and as far as I can tell, you have no motivation.”

  “Not even a love triangle?” She knew she was pushing it, but the idea still rankled that she had pitted Jace, a married man, against Jorge, a young co-worker.

  “I don’t think that’s so far-fetched.” He crossed his arms.

  “Really? You think I’m some floozy who entices and discards men on a whim? Or that I enjoy pitting men against each other?”

  “It doesn’t have to be about you, or anything you did, exactly. Perhaps they were consumed with jealousy. It happens.”

  “Yes, but not over me,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Come on.”

  He started to say something, then seemed to change his mind. Turning back to his laptop, he said, “We still have cell service for the moment. If the electricity goes out, as long as laptop battery holds a charge, I can receive notices from the coroner’s office. He said he would be sending other files as he works through the day, but this is all I’ve received so far.”

  As if to punctuate his words, the lights flickered. “Are they coming to take any more statements?” she asked, after a tense pause.

  “I haven’t heard anything from the chief. I’m going to proceed with the investigation alone until I hear otherwise.”

  She nodded. It was for the best. If they could find the killer, they might not have to spend the night worrying who was creeping around with murder on their conscience.

  Chica nudged Kitty’s hand and turned to the door.

  “Leander,” she whispered. “There’s someone outside the door.”

  He closed the laptop gently and said in a slightly louder than normal voice, “Thanks for the extra socks. I’ll get them back to you as soon as I can.”

  “No problem. I have lots,” she said in a cheerful tone.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “Come in,” he called.

  The door didn’t open. Kitty crossed the room to open it and smiled to see Elaine and Penny standing there with Toto. They hadn’t heard Leander’s response, or maybe Toto had alerted them and they’d decided to wait for the all clear.

  “All better?” Kitty signed, gently touching Elaine’s arm.

  “Oh, I’m just a big ninny. Doesn’t take much to give me a scare.” She still seemed pale. “What about you? You promised to tell us all about it when you were done getting cleaned up.”

  Kitty glanced back at Leander and he smiled, but there was the faintest warning in his look. Seems she’d be walking the fine line between half-truths and lies by omission in the near future. “Sure will. I was just…” This wasn’t her room and Kitty couldn’t think fast enough to find an excuse for being there.

  Penny winked. “Nobody’s blaming you, dear. He’s handsome, no doubt about it. Take the opportunity when it―”

  “No, no. I was just…” Still now words occurred to her. She looked around, frantically searching for something, anything to explain their situation.

  Elaine wiggled her eyebrows.

  “See you downstairs,” Penny signed, grinning.

  Unbelievable. Maybe this was why Leander didn’t suspect her. She clearly couldn’t lie for beans.

  “I’m coming,” she signed, thankful that Leander hadn’t caught much of that conversation. “Chica, let’s go.”

  Without a backward glance, she headed toward the kitchen with Penny and Elaine.

  A moment later, she realized her mistake. They needed to get their stories straight, or it would be obvious to the killer that they’d found important clues.

  Chapter Nine

  “Sleep, those little slices of death — how I loathe them.”

  ― Edgar Allan Poe

  As they walked into the large, open kitchen area, Kitty looked at each familiar face, wondering if they were plotting something more gruesome than what they’d done to Jace just hours before.

  Daniel Van Horn was slumped in a chair at the table, his dog at his feet. He looked
exhausted and deep lines were etched into his forehead. June sat beside him, silent and pale. Their sons were close by, phones in hand, not looking at anything else in the room.

  “Have you heard from the captain?” Ashley asked. Eric’s arm was wrapped around her shoulders and she looked like she’d been crying. “I want to go home. Please.”

  Kitty shook her head. “Not since I called him in the police station. The ship returned to Miami to get ahead of the storm. They’ll book us on another liner as soon as it’s safe to travel.”

  “And when will that be?” Liliana asked. “We’ve got to be back at the university on Monday. We can fly out as soon as the storm clears. No problem.” She looked at her husband who sat silently beside her. “We just thought the luxury cruise would be fun.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible until you’re all given permission by the local police to leave the country,” Leander said.

  “We’ve got school,” one of the teens signed.

  “You just want to get back to your girlfriends,” June responded, a sneer on her face. She seemed at the end of her proverbial rope. Maybe that was natural for people traveling with teens, but Kitty wondered if she knew her husband was right behind Eric on the list of most likely suspects.

  One shrugged and went back to his phone. The other signed, “It would be easier if we could actually talk to them.”

  “Don’t act like you’re not!” June signed at the boys. “I know you snuck out last night. I heard Tyler talking outside the window.”

  As Kitty translated, she saw Leander’s eyes slide toward the teens as if re-evaluating. She remembered the sunflower seeds scattered on the steps inside the ruins. She’d seen one of the boys stow it in his pocket, but there they were the next day. Maybe they were left as he―or both of them― waited for Jace.

  “Is that true?” Leander asked.