“Killing, jealousy, and greed are hateful crimes. Still, there is much generosity and goodness in our history. To a fault. Even the worst ones provide for each other. It comes from the power of the mother. She gives birth and new beginnings at the worst of times. But she is also the snake, the viper. Deadly and diverse, and a cunning survivor. Coatlicue is all of that.”
“Why are you telling us this, María?” Blanche frowned. “Sounds like a warning.”
Maria’s expression was like stone. “Be aware,” she said, “of the goodness, the giving side. It can save you.” She got up and poured more jamaica into their glasses. “And be aware of the snake.”
Chapter Five
THE GUY AS BIG AS A DOOR
The three women sat, each with her own thoughts: María in an armchair, Blanche and Haasi at the small table in the window. But the moment didn’t last long.
The curtain waved like a ghost at their backs. Blanche had absentmindedly braided the fringe on the tablecloth as she listened to María talk about a goddess with four hundred and one babies, and now she glanced around the room. Woven rugs criss-crossed each other on the polished, dark red concrete floor. The sepia photos of stiffly dressed men and women, small votives and mums, were neatly arranged on an altar with a two-foot-high statue of the Virgin of Guadalupe, the gold rays radiating from her blue robe. Blanche wanted to ask about the photos, but there seemed to be sadness in the room, as if it were a private place that strangers shouldn’t touch. Yet, she felt welcome here. It was hard for her to hold back, but she determined to keep her mouth shut. For once.
María slipped off to the kitchen again and now she offered them empanadas. Their host was definitely an earth mother, warm and encouraging, but a mystery. Their savior? Maybe, and maybe not. Blanche did not want to dwell on the negative aspects of this visit. She was glad for the invite, to get safely off the street and calm down, for the moment. But it was definitely time to go.
They’d only sat quietly for a minute or two when the banging started up. Blanche jumped. She’d been lulled by the snacks and María’s voice, carried away on the story of the earth mother. Blanche’s imagination was like a boat; once she climbed into it, she sailed away. But now she was back and disturbed plenty by the constant beating on the door that echoed up the stairwell. She shot Haasi a look. Sister-cousin had an implacable expression, but her eyes squinted in alarm.
The hammering was steady, and it seemed whoever was at it had no intention of giving up. Haasi leapt to her feet. María stopped moving about the room with the tray. She signaled them to be quiet. “You stay. I go.”
She dropped the tray on the table with a clatter. Her footsteps creaked down the stairs. “Momento, momento, por favor.”
“¡Señora!” A loud male voice boomed.
Blanche stood up, but Haasi didn’t move. She put a finger to her lips. “We may need to bolt out the back. Or out a window,” said Haasi.
“What is up with you? I’m not jumping out a window.” Blanche looked dubious, considering all possibilities.
“I’m just saying. You know, the guy who was following us. It might be him. Someone did not like your little discovery among the Mayans. I’m sure of it.”
Blanche didn’t want to believe it, but she knew Haasi might be right.
María’s voice rose and fell with a sing-song quality. “She could soothe any beast,” Blanche said. She gave Haasi a thumbs-up. “Maybe she’s getting rid of him.”
Haasi looked unconvinced. “Maybe she’s in cahoots with him. You hear him? Pretty gruff.”
“Yeah. Don’t like the sound of that.”
Heavy shoes pounded the stair treads along with María’s light steps. She didn’t stop talking, and it was impossible to understand her rapid-fire Spanish. They stopped, the two lingering in the stairwell, talking over each other. Haasi and Blanche both spoke a little Spanish, but the idiom and the pace were hardly a match for their ability.
Haasi grabbed Blanche. “I don’t want to jump out a window, Haas,” she said. “Really…”
“Come on. Back here.” Haasi headed down the hallway. “Let’s go. Must be a way out of here. I’ve had enough of snakes and earth mothers.”
They were almost to the back of the flat when María called after them. “¡Señoritas! Ven acá. Come. Quickly.”
Haasi had seized the doorknob. María stood at the entrance to the living room, the light shining behind her. It also illuminated an enormous figure standing next to her. María was a big woman, but this man towered over her.
“¡Señoritas!” The man’s greeting sent an icy shiver through Blanche.
Haasi and Blanche tentatively retraced their steps down the hallway. “This better be good,” Blanche mumbled.
“Be ready to get. I mean it,” Haasi whispered.
María said, “Señoritas Blanche and Haasi, let me introduce Felix Sono Cardenal, detective for the Mexico City police.”
The señoritas didn’t move. Haasi spoke under her breath. “That’s the guy. The one I saw.” Blanche bristled.
Señor Cardenal cleared his throat and straightened the string tie that hung from the neck of his impossibly white shirt. His teeth were as brilliant, and his face looked like it had been carved out of rock, dark and angular, well-worn. A don’t-mess-with-me face and a chin the size of a melon. He had great brown eyes—that crinkled in a smile?
He grasped Blanche’s hand, then Haasi’s. His grip was not something one would want to meet in a fight. “Bienvenido a DF. Mucho gusto.” He pronounced it “day-effay.”
“DF? Is that where we are?”
He laughed heartily, and for some reason Blanche liked him instantly. “That is what we call Mexico City. You are not chilanga. Yet.”
“Well, no I’m not chilanga.” It sounded like something good to eat.
“That is a person belonging to Mexico City. You will soon want to belong here. It is a wonderful place.”
Blanche had an urge to get her notebook out and quote him for her stories. Focus, Blanche.
“Mucho gusto, Señor Detective,” Blanche said, hesitantly. “This city is indeed wonderful. I think.”
He laughed again. “You must wonder why I am here.”
María was already bustling about with more jamaica and the delectable empanadas. She gestured for them all to sit.
“Why were you following us?” Haasi’s question was frosty. It dispensed with the last of the conviviality in the detective’s expression.
“We don’t appreciate being chased down the street,” said Blanche, chiming in.
A look of surprise crossed his face. “I did not mean to chase you. I do need to speak with you. With both of you. Por favor.”
María finished filling their glasses and hurried away to the back of the house. Blanche and Haasi sat on the edge of the blue cushions, and Cardenal perched on a ladder-back.
“I am here because of you,” he said.
“What did we do?” What could they have possibly done that would interest the police? Except for that body in the floor. Shit… Why can’t I keep my mouth shut? She had no desire to sit in a Mexican police station, but she felt plenty antsy about that body. He had to know. They needed to investigate.
Detective Cardenal was still smiling. Clearly, he was not going to arrest them. Not for a second. Not with such an engaging smile. And Blanche and Haasi hadn’t done anything wrong! But this was, after all, another country, and they might as well have landed on another planet. They needed to adjust. Quickly. Everything was happening too fast. It hit Blanche at once. She was almost giddy with fatigue and apprehension, like she was spinning toward a situation out of her control. She needed a break. She wanted another one of those excellent beers and a nap. And the chance to start this whole writing and photographing vacation over again. Without finding a dead person in the floor.
“I think we need to go,” she said. “Thank you for everything, but ...”
Haasi jumped to her feet.
The detective did n
ot seem to hear Blanche. “You did something very good. In the Palacio exhibit,” he said. Both hands were in the air waving them to be seated, but gently.
“We did?” Blanche’s voice squeaked.
“You, and your friend.” He bowed his head to Haasi. “You saw something unusual.”
Blanche could feel her heart racing. She hoped it didn’t give her away, the palpitation, the nervousness. “Yes. The hair clip, or something like that.”
Haasi shot her a look.
Detective Cardenal nodded. He leaned in, his eyes like headlights. “What exactly did you see? Please, try to remember.”
He could read her thoughts. Blanche closed her eyes and braced herself.
“Nada.” Haasi could be as stony as the best of them. “We saw nothing. Just the clip.” Cool and calm.
But Blanche couldn’t help herself. Now she was drawn to the mystery of it, and Señor Cardenal’s smile did not diminish her anxiety and curiosity. He knit his gargantuan fingers into a human boulder of a fist.
“Señorita Blanche? Tell me.”
She caught Haasi’s eye, and that eye said, Shut the hell up. But Blanche plowed ahead. “I saw something pink. In the hair. And the skin. It just wasn’t ancient. It was shriveled dark, like leather, but the texture was not the same as the others. And the hair…”
“You announced to the crowd that the body was new dead. No?”
“Yes, No. I mean, I’m not so sure.”
“Not sure? Not sure, what?”
“Well, I’m not a forensic specialist. I’m nothing, really. Just a part-time journalist. My cousin, Haasi, and I are on a little vacation. Just to do a bit of sightseeing, writing, eating, that sort of thing.”
Señor Cardenal leaned back. He nodded. “That’s good. No better place to do that than Mexico. We have the best of everything.” His eyes were suddenly merry. He looked like he was about to burst into song. “We should go to Zingo, listen to Maríachi, take a Centenario or two.”
Haasi ignored the invite. “Señor Cardenal, how did you find us? Before María invited us in?” The steel in her tone made the smile on his face droop.
“You disappeared into that restaurant, and I did not want to interrupt the comida. Bad luck to do that. But then I spotted you, and thanks to my friend in the kiosk, here we are,” he said, a bit defensively. “I happen to know María. A coincidence. I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”
“Yes, you disturbed us,” said Haasi. “If you have a problem over there in the exhibit, it is not an affair of ours.”
“I don’t mean to imply that it is a problem for you,” he said. “But it is a very big problem for us.”
Blanche leaned in. “Is the mummy really a corpse?”
“Well, I might say that of all mummies. But the situation is under wraps now, so to speak.”
“Hmmm,” said Blanche. “What do you mean, you have a big problem? Is there more?”
The detective shifted side to side in the ladder-back. It creaked. He seemed unconcerned that momentarily he might be sitting on a bunch of twigs. “Yes, that is correct. You have fine-tuned our focus, shall we say? This business with the corpse. It may be part of a very bad business.”
Blanche began pacing. “Something fishy about the whole situation. What else is going on?” Now she was raising her voice. Haasi put a hand on her arm.
“Tranquila, tranquila,” said Cardenal. “The body. Yes, it needs investigation. But besides the business of this so-called mummy, many art objects are missing at the cultural center and in other museums in DF. Especially since the turn of the millennium. The black market all over the world seems to have exploded with demand for ancient artifacts. Missing here are travertine and turquoise and greenstone. An obsidian sword from the ninth century. Carved jade beads from tombs, clay figures and masks that are irreplaceable.” He stopped and patted the top of his head. Blanche had noticed this tic only minutes before. It was strange, and…endearing? “We can’t seem to get traction on this thievery. And now this. These questions concerning the mummy exhibit.”
Haasi said, “Señor, I really don’t see how we can help. We saw very little, after all, and if you have a wider problem, I just don’t see how we fit.”
Blanche studied the detective, warily. They’d only been at the Palacio a half hour—in the country for five hours. Surely, he didn’t want to involve two young Florida tourists. Yet she was pulled in Cardenal’s direction. His charm had something to do with it but it hardly matched her curiosity.
“True,” said the detective. “It has nothing to do with you.” He seemed to be grasping for ways to make sense of it all. “On the surface of things.”
Blanche hunched her shoulders. “What do you mean?”
“My emphasis has been to find the thieves and recover the artifacts. Clearly, this is a sophisticated ring. The plan is well-thought-out, and we haven’t a clue.” He appraised the señoritas with a hard look.
Blanche squirmed. “I still don’t know what you want with us. Specifically.”
“The thefts have picked up. But we’re no closer to finding the thieves.”
“And?” Blanche pressed him. Haasi folded her arms.
“The body you saw in the floor. You have a good eye, señorita, and we need all the help we can get.”
“I suggested to Señor López, you know, the thin administrator dressed in black, that the mummy with the pink hair clip might be, er, freshly dead. He immediately hustled us out of there. Pronto. No discussion.”
“Something strange there. But I ask you now. You may have seen something. Or heard something during your visit to the exhibit. However small.” Señor Cardenal pulled at a bushy sideburn, his attention riveted on the women. “There may be a connection.”
“A connection? Between the mummy and the missing art?” Blanche felt the circle widening. Haasi shifted uneasily in the chair. Blanche began pacing again. An idea never settled quietly with her; it bounced around until it exploded.
He was still tapping his head. “If you can remember anything you overheard from Señor López or from anyone in the crowd. Any detail?”
“We’d be glad to help,” said Blanche. “You want us to stick around and see what we can find out?”
Haasi’s sigh was like a small tornado. “We are not detectives.”
“Oh, of course not. You are not even witnesses to a crime, officially,” he said. “I do not want to trouble you now. Please, go rest and enjoy. I have taken too much of your time.” He jumped up from his seat with surprising grace. “Where will you señoritas be staying?”
Haasi remained tight-lipped, but Blanche volunteered. “At the Hotel Rosarita on the Calle Donceles near the Zocalo.”
He offered a card, and Blanche took it. “You are part of this strange scenario, and you have certain impressions. No doubt about that. I don’t know what that can mean, but something may come of your visit. It is important you think about it,” he said with a slight bow. “Your assistance is much appreciated. And, after you rest, and when we have more information, we will find you. Just routine. I hope that will be amenable.”
He was warm and official, at once, and almost gallant. Blanche nearly curtsied. Haasi glanced at her, on the verge of an eye-roll. María appeared from the back of the house and pressed another empanada on the detective, but he raised one hand and thanked her before he turned to leave. He glanced at Haasi, then Blanche, and smiled.
“I don’t know how we can help, but, please, call on us,” Blanche said, a mix of curiosity and dread roiling in her stomach. She went from the roiling to disbelief to determination. Might as well go with it. What can we lose? Someone has lost her life!
The detective clambered down the stairs. Blanche’s gaze skipped over Haasi and María. “Wow! What do you think?”
“This Detective Cardenal, he is good,” said María. “Others I do not trust so much, but he is good. You are safe with him.”
“Haas? Should we get involved?”
María cocked her head. “�
�Cómo?”
Haasi said, quickly, in that level tone of hers: “Blanche, we’re already involved. And we’ve taken enough of María’s day, don’t you think? We should go.” She smiled at María.
Blanche took María’s hand. “Thank you. You have been so kind…” Feather balls and snakes, police and mummies jumbled around in her brain. “And, gracias, for the most delicious empanadas!”
“Muchas gracias, señora,” Haasi said.
“You will return?”
“To say hello, and, at last, goodbye,” said Blanche.
“We do not say goodbye. We say: Go with God. Adiós.”
“Then, that is what it is.”
María hugged them both. “Remember Coatlicue.”
Blanche leaned into Haasi as they hurried down the stairs. “Let that be a lesson. Watch out for the one wearing snakes.”
“Or acting like one.”
Chapter Six
THE PILLOW MAN AND THE ANGELS
“Jeez, it’s only our second day,” said Blanche. “That was a creepy start!”
“Yeah, but Mexico City is looking good,” said Haasi. “And it smells great!”
They meandered through the vast La Ideal bakery, their senses feasting on all the delicious ways to make a fresh start. With sugar on top. They’d gotten a good night’s sleep after their day with the mummy, María, and the detective, and for now Haasi wanted to put it behind them. Blanche wasn’t convinced. They needed to go back to the Palacio. A rehash of the whole incident with the mummy was sure to come around, but at the moment, they were hungry. Their mouths watered, their eyes scanned the glass cases and table displays of cakes, cookies, and rolls. Then there were the refrigerated cases of stuffed creamy things and yogurts with fruit and grains on top. The fragrance of the baked treats was overpowering, and they couldn’t decide. They selected shiny buns and crunchy pastries sprinkled with sugar, a cone filled with chocolate cream, two fruit tarts, and, for good measure, Blanche reached for a spongy cake-roll with raspberry swirls. They dodged young bakers gliding past with metal trays fresh from the ovens, and Blanche felt her eyes grow bigger than her stomach. They carried their box of goodies to Alameda Park and sat on the grass.
Trouble Down Mexico Way Page 3