Exotic #02 - The Hieroglyphic Staircase

by Marjorie Thelen

  “What happened?”

  “Someone shouted from the top of the Temple.”

  Yes, thought Elena, the reason the man on the ground was caught in a death stare, looking up.

  “When the man in the white shirt turned to look, the tall man, the skinny one, hit him from behind. It happened very fast.”

  “Did you see what he hit him with?”

  Miguel shook his head. “No.”

  “What happened then?” asked Connie.

  “The tall man bent over. It looked like he was searching the body.”

  “What did you do?”

  Miguel squirmed on his seat, and his short legs swung back and forth in over time.

  Connie leaned forward and placed a hand on his knee. His feet stopped swinging.

  “Miguel, what did you do then?” she said.

  He looked sideways at Connie, out of the corner of his eyes. “I sneezed. You see, when I wake up in the morning I sneeze sometimes, like three or four times. It is the morning air that makes me sneeze.”

  “Did the men hear you?” asked Connie.

  “Sí. They shouted, ‘who’s there?’”

  “And?”

  “I ran. And they ran after me, but I hid in a cave along the river. After a while they gave up looking for me and disappeared along the old forest trail back to town.”

  Connie leaned back and studied Miguel. She seemed to be digesting his story.

  “But,” she said, “Elena saw you running away from the site when she arrived early that morning. So you went back?”

  Miguel licked dry lips. “When the men didn’t return, I went to see if the man on the ground needed help.”

  “So you went to where he lay.”

  “Sí. I sneaked back very carefully because I was afraid the men would come back. I stood over the man, and his head was bloody. He didn’t move.”

  “So you ran to the clinic?”

  Miguel hesitated. “I didn’t go exactly then because something else happened.”

  Connie watched the boy with the patience of a mother waiting for her child to take his first steps.

  When no one else spoke, waiting for him, the little boy said, “Well, I saw the ghost. He was looking at the man on the ground. He was small like the old Mayans that are on the statues in the Park. He had an axe, and he shook it at me. I ran. I didn’t want him to hit me with that axe.”

  Connie had been absentmindedly clicking a ballpoint pen in and out while she listened. The clicking stopped when she heard the word ghost. “A ghost? Was it light by that time? Are you sure you saw a ghost? Maybe it was just some mist or a cloud or something.”

  “It was a ghost. I have seen him at the ruins before.”

  “I see,” said Connie. “A resident ghost. I’ve heard stories that ghosts haunt the ruins.”

  She glanced at Elena and Dominic who sat patiently in their role of moral support for the boy. Connie looked like she wasn’t sure what to believe.

  “I saw the ghost, too,” said Elena, deciding it was now or never. “He appeared when I was at the site searching the grounds for clues.”

  Connie nodded and kept nodding, maybe trying to assimilate a ghost into the murder investigation. “I must say I’ve never been up against a ghost before. Elena, you say you saw him, too?”

  “Yes.” She explained how she had seen the exact same figure at the same place, but at dusk.

  “The light wouldn’t be very good at either time he was spotted,” said Connie. “Maybe you just thought you saw something.” She looked back and forth between Miguel and Elena.

  Miguel said, “See, la doctora saw the ghost, too.” A big grin creased his face from ear to ear.

  Connie said, “Well, Miguel, I don’t think we can include him in the list of suspects, even though he was brandishing an axe. He would not hold up in a court of law. I think we’d better look for this tall, skinny man you saw. Do you have anything else to tell me?

  “The man is looking for me.”

  Connie sat up straighter. “You’ve seen him since?”

  “Sí, the same skinny one. I spotted him in the forest, looking around like he lost something. He hasn’t seen me because I keep changing where I hide, but it has been hard and I am scared.”

  “I guess so,” Connie said. She placed her hand on his arm. “Miguel, because you are our key witness in this crime, we may have to detain you for your own safety.”

  “He’s welcome to stay with me.” Dominic spoke up for the first time.

  Connie thought that one over. “Do you have a gun?”

  Dominic shook his head no.

  “I’ll issue you one and try to arrange for a plainclothes detail for Elena and Miguel as soon as I can find someone. We are short on manpower right now.”

  She turned to Elena. “You must be very careful. Stay within the confines of the town and within sight of someone at all times.”

  “I’ll be glad to look after her,” Dominic said, “if she will just listen to me.”

  Elena laughed. “I’m worried myself, so I’ll do as you say. What about the director’s death?”

  “We are ruling it a suicide until we find evidence to the contrary.”

  * * * * *

  Outside the station they stopped. The wind was picking up. The tops of the palms that towered above the central plaza bent in the wind, and the fronds danced around like crazy streamers. Ominous gray clouds crowded low on the horizon.

  Dominic asked, “Have you heard any more on the storm?”

  “It’s coming right for us,” Elena said. “They don’t expect it to veer.”

  “Why don’t you come to the clinic with me? We always need an extra hand, especially with a storm coming. We have to make preparations.”

  “I’ll be glad to help. But first I want to stop by the hotel and see my mother. I promised I would this morning. I’ll see you at the clinic.”

  “Elena.” He turned her head so that he could look directly into her eyes. “Don’t forget what Connie said. Stay in town, in sight of people at all times.”

  “I promise,” she said and meant it. Fear’s tendrils had taken root.

  They parted company, and Elena walked in the direction of the hotel.

  She heard the motorcycles before she saw them and ducked into a doorway behind a corner news stand with a crowd of people in front. Rolando and his buddies roared by, gunning motors to impress the crowd. She shrank down when one of the group looked over and for a moment she thought he had spotted her. But they kept going, and she watched until they were out of sight.

  Could they be involved in the thefts or the murder? They never seemed to have gainful employment. Maybe they maintained their flashy lifestyle by antiquities smuggling. She had not mentioned them to Connie. She would the next time she saw her.

  She waited in line at the newsstand to buy the daily paper. The talk was about the coming hurricane. She wondered what preparations they would make in Copan Ruinas and what she should do. She bought a newspaper and read the headlines. “Hurricane Bob Bears Down on Coast. Bay Islands Cut Off. San Pedro Sula Airport Closed”. That didn’t bode well for getting her mother out before the storm.

  She hurried to the Hotel Marina Copan. Her mother was in the dining room, having a late breakfast with a man Elena didn’t recognize. Leave it to Susanna to find yet another hapless soul to do her bidding. She was a magnet when it came to men.

  Susanna waved when she saw her. “Over here, darling.”

  Elena walked to the table and kissed her. She looked like she should be having tea with the queen, dressed to kill as usual with her signature scarf in bright green silk today, draped casually across her shoulders.

  “I’m sorry,” said Elena. “I’ve been neglecting you, but so much has been happening.”

  “Sit down, dear. Let me introduce you to this very nice man who’s having a cup of coffee with me.”

  The very nice man stood and extended his hand to Elena. “Jorge Gomez,” he said and sat back down
when Elena did.

  At least he had decent manners although he had a gaunt look about him, like it had been a while since his last good meal. He might not be Honduran because he was tallish, maybe Spanish blood because his complexion was pale. He wore an open collared shirt with dark jacket and khaki pants. She wondered where Susanna had found him. Where did she find any of them?

  “We were discussing the hurricane,” Susanna said. “It’s all anyone can talk about.”

  “Right,” said Elena. “What are your plans? I’m afraid the airport in San Pedro Sula is closed, according to the newspaper. Maybe you could get a bus to Guatemala City and get a flight out there. That would be farther inland.”

  “I’m not leaving, dear, unless you are.” She peered at Elena, eyebrows raised, as if to say, well are you?

  “I’m not leaving. Things are too unsettled here.” She didn’t elaborate because of the stranger at the table.

  “Then I stay, too. I’m not leaving you. But I thought, dear, that maybe you should move into the hotel with me. It is on higher ground than doña Carolita’s place, and it’s solidly built. The nice man at the front desk said that people hunker down here all the time during hurricanes. If I had to ride out a hurricane somewhere, it would be at the Marina Copan.”

  “That’s a thought,” said Elena. “I’ll take it under advisement.” She smiled at her mother to let her know she was half serious at least.

  The nice man at the table was lighting another cigarette. His fingers were stained with nicotine so he must have quite a habit. It made Elena want one, but she didn’t dare. She’d told her mother she’d quit.

  “Don’t you want some coffee, dear? Have you had breakfast?”

  “Actually, no I haven’t had breakfast and that might be a good idea, along with some coffee. I left in rather a hurry this morning and didn’t take the time.”

  Jorge motioned to the waiter who arrived with coffee server in hand. He upended Elena’s cup and poured, then refilled Susanna’s and Jorge’s.

  “Would you care for breakfast, señorita?”

  “Sí, por favor, huevos rancheros con tortilla.”

  “Gracias.” He left to place her order.

  “How is your analysis of the Hieroglyphic Staircase coming, dear?” Susanna asked. She leaned toward Jorge. “My daughter is an epigrapher. That’s like an archaeologist. She’s here working on deciphering hieroglyphs at the ruins.”

  “How interesting,” said Jorge. “I find the hieroglyphs intriguing.”

  “What do you do? Are you in archaeology also?” asked Elena, curious as to what the man did for a livelihood and why he had the time for a late breakfast with a beautiful woman.

  “No,” he said. “I deal in art and travel Latin America looking for exciting new artists. There is a small community of very good artists here that I like to check on from time to time. Sometimes I do shows for them.”

  “Yes, dear, he does all kinds of art, like ceramics and folk art and fine art. He knows Josephina Aguilar. You know, that Mexican artist that does all those wonderful clay statues I like so much.”

  “Yes,” said Elena. “Are you still collecting her?”

  “Absolutely,” Susanna said. “Jorge was saying he would like to see my collection.”

  Oh, brother, thought Elena. Who writes this guy’s material? She might have to move into the hotel with her mother to save her from herself.

  Jorge stubbed out his never ending smoke. “I must be going. I have an appointment with one of my artist friends.” He reached over and shook Susanna’s hand. “I’m sure we’ll see each other before I leave. Maybe we’ll all be riding out the storm together at the bar of the hotel.”

  Susanna smiled up at him and gave him a Scarlet O’Hara bat of the eyes. Elena wanted to roll her eyes, but restrained herself and exchanged the pleasantries necessary to see him off.

  “Such a sweet man, don’t you think, dear?” asked Susanna. “So cultured and knowledgeable about art.”

  “Really, Mother, wherever do you find these people?”

  “He happened to be in the lobby when I came down and, I don’t know, I guess I smiled at him or something, and we started chitchatting. I can’t help that people find me attractive.”

  She said it with a laugh, and Elena laughed along with her. She had to agree. People found her mother irresistible. That didn’t make it any easier being her daughter.

  Breakfast arrived, and Elena dug in. Her mother prattled on about all the lovely people she had been meeting and how much she was enjoying her stay.

  “Yesterday,” she said, “I went to the Macaw Bird Park. What a treasure. You wouldn’t believe all the birds. That was fascinating. I’m thinking I should get a macaw for a pet.”

  “You don’t need a pet macaw, Mother.”

  “Maybe not. I travel too much. I met a very nice woman who is here fundraising for the clinic, and she said she knows you and Dominic.”

  Elena nearly choked on her food. Felicia. She was like an amoeba, spreading out everywhere.

  Susanna continued. “She’s going to be riding out the hurricane here so we’ll probably see her. I can’t think of her name right now.”

  “How fortunate.”

  “She was with a very interesting man, Jack something. He’s in bananas.”

  Elena laughed.

  “That sounded funny, didn’t it,” Susanna said, laughing along. “He’s with one of the big fruit companies and comes here all the time. He’s some big wig. He seemed quite attached to her, and she to him, if you know what I mean.”

  Elena changed the subject, not interested in pursuing that topic any further. “There’s a new police inspector, much more competent than Oliveros, so I’m hoping the murder gets resolved soon. Meanwhile, I’m not supposed to work at the ruins or at the Museum. The police have closed the entire Archeological Park, so I’m going to help Dominic at the clinic for the rest of the day. They need help with this storm coming in.”

  “Yes, dear. Do help Dominic. Such a nice man.”

  Elena kissed her mother. “Please stay put in the hotel today. Lounge by the pool. I know you won’t be at loss for someone to talk to. Just stay out of trouble, okay?”

  “I should say the same thing for you.”

  Fifteen

  The clinic was a madhouse. People dropped in to discuss preparations for the storm. More than the usual number of ailments overwhelmed Corazón. The murder had taken a back burner with the new threat that affected everyone. Dominic prayed that the hurricane would weaken before it hit Copan Ruinas. He breathed a sigh of relief when Elena came waltzing into the clinic looking like she didn’t have a care in the world, hair flying in the breeze.

  “Need help?” she said by way of greeting.

  “I sure do. Nice to see you,” he said, smiling. “Could you keep an eye on Miguel for me? I think he’s getting bored. He’s sitting against the wall trying to work that Game Boy. We had a few donated for the kids that come in.”

  “Sure, though Game Boy is not my strong suit. What will you do with the storm coming?”

  “I’m afraid I’ll be working straight through. Do you think you can keep Miguel with you?”

  “Sure. I might stay with my mother at the hotel. It’s supposed to be a fortress. I think I’ll take doña Carolita there, too.”

  “Good idea.”

  “How about you?”

  “I’ll be fine at my house, or here at the clinic. We have cots to set up. I want to be available to help. Dr. Hidalgo said the Red Cross arrived this morning. They are setting up shop at schools that will be used for shelters. The bad part will be flooding. Fortunately, most of the villages are on high ground in the surrounding mountains. The town is on enough of a rise, and it drains pretty well, so if we all don’t get blown away, we should be fine.”

  A small man, a campesino, in white shirt and pants, came up while they were talking and stood humbly to the side of Dominic, who turned to see what he wanted. The man spoke in a low voice, and the
y exchanged a few words.

  Dominic turned back to Elena. “I’ve got to help with someone who’s been hurt by flying debris. Will you wait here for me?”

  “I’m going to take Miguel and walk to the police station. I need to talk to Connie. I’ll meet you back here.”

  “Right. Take care of yourself.” He squeezed her shoulder, hesitant about leaving her. But the man called to him again, and he hurried out the door into the gusty wind.

  * * * * *

  Elena walked to where Miguel sat. “Hi there. What’re you doing?”

  He shrugged, putting the Game Boy on the floor beside him.

  “Let’s take a walk.” She held out her hand, and Miguel took it. One stop on their walk would be the little shop around the corner to buy some extra clothes for him.

  Solid gray clouds plastered the sky, and drops of rain rode the wind. They hugged the buildings, trying to keep out of the wind and avoid other people doing the same. Shopkeepers were nailing plywood onto the doors of their establishments. The clothes shop was still doing business. Elena selected several pair of shorts, long pants, T-shirts and briefs that she held up to Miguel to see if they fit. He picked out colors he liked, blue being the favorite. The toy section caught Miguel’s attention, and he touched every toy on the shelf.

  “What would you like?” Elena asked him.

  He pointed to a soccer ball. “This one.”

  “So you like soccer?”

  He nodded enthusiastically.

  “You shall have it.”

  Elena paid for the purchases and handed the soccer ball to Miguel. The shopkeeper, an older woman with a salt and pepper braid, asked, “Is this your son?”

  The question took Elena unawares. She looked down at Miguel, and he gazed back at her. Something in his eyes hoped for a mother.

  “No,” Elena said, unable to give what was not hers to give, “this little man is my friend.”

  Miguel turned away but not before Elena saw the letdown in his eyes. A wave of guilt swept over her that she had not at least pretended to be his mother.

  “Where are we going?” asked Miguel, as he held tight to his new purchase. They walked in the direction of the police station, heads bent against the wind. Dark, ugly clouds hugged the lush, green mountains to the east of town.