by Cindy L Hull
“Paul said he wanted to be alone, and that he would come back for me,” Cody said. “I wrote in my journal until Jamal rushed in after the program.”
“What did you and Paul argue about?”
Beads of sweat popped up on Cody’s hairline and dripped down his forehead. He raised a hand to wipe the perspiration off his face. Salinas nodded to Garza, who rose and turned the room fan so that it vacillated between Cody and Salinas. “I can order you to give me your journal,” Salinas warned.
Cody shifted his feet again. “I thought he wanted this job as an excuse to break up with me.” Cody’s face, burnt from his day at the archaeological site, blanched as he reconsidered his words. “But I would never hurt him!” he blurted. “I…loved him.”
“Did you see anyone near the pyramid while you and Paul argued?”
Cody considered this. “I think I saw Brad and Laura near the far side of the pyramid…and Jamal ran by me when I returned to the Cultural Center. I think he might have been late for the show.”
Salinas pulled a sheet of paper from a stack on his desk and placed it in front of Cody. “This picture is blurred because the photographer was taking a photo of the sun setting over the site. It is also a copy, but it will serve our purpose.”
The photo depicted a male, in deep shadow, about half-way up the steep stairs of the back side of the pyramid. He wore a hat and a large backpack that hid his shirt. Cody picked up the photo and looked closely.
“It’s not Paul,” he said.
“You’re right. The photographer saw Paul on the ledge of the pyramid. He seemed to be waiting for someone.”
Cody’s eyes got wide. “It’s not me!” he protested. “I’m afraid of heights!”
Salinas nodded. “Do you recognize the backpack or the person?”
Cody shook his head. “Nearly everyone had a backpack and a hat.”
“The next morning the police picked you up and brought you here. You told the same story you told just now, except on Monday, you left out the fact that you had argued at the pyramid before the program.”
Cody’s eyes widened and he slouched back in his chair. “I’m sorry. I—I was scared.”
“I understand,” Salinas said. “On Monday, you realized that the computer was missing, and you told Doctor Aguila. Why did you choose her?”
“She was the first person I saw when I got off the elevator, but I was glad it was her. She seemed the friendliest of all those people. Some of them seemed a little hostile.”
Salinas tented his fingers. “There’s evidence that leads us to believe Paul’s death was not accidental, and, in fact, you were the obvious suspect. But when you reported the computer, I thought differently. If you had been guilty, and if the computer held damaging information, you could easily have disposed of it. We didn’t even ask about a computer. But then you did something else that puzzled me.”
Salinas pulled the composition notebook out from his desk drawer, and Cody stiffened, perspiration once again forming at his hairline. “You recognize this, I see,” Salinas said as he ruffled through the pages. “You found this notebook on Tuesday?” He paused, and Cody nodded. “And once again you seek out Doctor Aguila, entering a reception uninvited. Why not bring it to me? It’s important evidence.”
“I wanted her to see it first. I thought it might provide motives for Paul’s death.”
“What made you think that?”
Cody sat back in his chair, wiping his face once again with his sleeve. “When I read through the notebook, I realized Paul had been collecting information on the Keane College faculty. I wanted her to read it and then pass it on to you.”
Salinas located a gap in the notebook. “It seems that several pages are missing. There’s a page for all Keane College faculty except Doctor Aguila.”
Cody swallowed. “I tore out two pages.”
“Why?”
Tears welled in Cody’s eyes. “Because the back side of her page and the front side of the other had some notes he made about me, like a pro/con list for deciding to leave me. I don’t know why he wrote that in his field notebook, but I was afraid you would see it as a motive.”
“As we could have,” Salinas said. “Do you remember what he wrote about Doctor Aguila?”
“Something about religion and artifacts.”
“Was there anything else in the notebook?”
“On the back side of that second page, he had written a few notes on Laura Lorenzo, something like she wasn’t who she said she was.”
Salinas leaned forward. “Did you realize that by giving the journal to Doctor Aguila, you compromised her? It appeared to me that she might have torn those pages out.”
Cody’s mouth dropped. “No! I didn’t mean that. I…”
Salinas interrupted him. “Let me tell you what I think.” He leaned toward Cody. “You wanted Doctor Aguila to know that one of her group might be involved, and you trusted that she would pass the notebook on to me. You entered the reception uninvited to play detective and question those named in the notebook who might have motives, before I got the notes.”
“I just wanted to talk to them, but only Tanya would talk to me, and she acted drunk.”
“I understand that you two argued about something, and Jamal rescued her.”
“Nonsense!” Cody protested. “She was acting crazy. She had it in her head that I had pushed him or caused him to fall. She said she saw us by the pyramid—I don’t know how she got that idea. I told her I didn’t climb the pyramid, but she yelled that she didn’t believe me.”
“You talked to no one else?”
“Just Claire and Professor Madge. Jamal yelled at me. I tried to talk to Brad but he blew me off, so I left.”
“You didn’t go into the bedchamber to talk to Tanya?”
“No.”
“You didn’t know that Tanya had died?”
“No, I didn’t see her again.”
Salinas turned to the drawings at the back of the notebook, indicating the drawing of the jade corn god statue. He sat it next to the crude replica Cody had brought him. “Where did you get these replicas?”
“In Motul.” Cody paused, thinking. “We visited several shopkeepers, and Paul questioned them all about pots and statues, and if they knew Doctor Kingsford or Jamal Kennedy. The man he bought the corn god statue from acted miffed when Paul asked to take his picture.”
“Did you see the slide presentation Paul prepared for the faculty?”
“Yes.”
“Was that photograph part of the presentation?”
“Yes, that was the man.”
“That man, Señor Benito Suarez, is also dead—murdered.” He paused and looked at Cody. “It’s possible that Paul caused his death.”
Cody lurched forward in his chair. “No! He wouldn’t kill anyone!” He paused, as if fearing a trap. “When was he killed?”
“Sit down, Mr. Detwyler,” Salinas warned. “He died sometime between late Sunday night and early Monday morning.”
Cody sat down, confused. “Paul was already dead.”
“True, but after Paul talked to Señor Suarez, the vendor called someone, and that person might have killed him.”
Cody sat back. His hands went to his face. “That’s not possible!”
Salinas spoke softly, “But let’s continue.” Cody had turned pale and clenched his hands in his lap. “Did Paul make the drawings while you were here in Merida, or had he done them earlier?”
“Earlier, I think. He wanted to purchase some statues, and he had drawings of those he was looking for. He seemed happy when he found them.”
“Did Señor Suarez see the drawings in the notebook?”
“He might have. He had other customers and moved around the store. He certainly took the correct statue off the shelf for Paul to view.”
“Did
he seem happy to have his photo taken?”
Cody frowned. “Not really. He acted like he didn’t want to be bothered.”
Salinas gazed at the young man and furrowed his brow. “You didn’t by chance return to Motul early Monday morning, before you met the anthropologists at the hotel restaurant?”
“No! I had no reason to return there, and I wouldn’t know how to get there if I wanted to.”
Salinas squinted as he stared at the young man. “Deputy Chan will take you back now.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Jamal stood at the podium, outlined by the large screen displaying the final slide of his presentation. In the back of the room, someone turned on the lights, illuminating the room. Jamal was accustomed to large audiences. The topic of shamanism and ethno-botany appealed to those interested in ethno-pharmacology, as well as new-age spiritualism. However, he feared the crowd here today was more interested in Tanya’s murder.
As his eyes adjusted to the light, he scanned the audience. “Thank you for attending today. Are there any questions or comments?”
After several questions, the one he feared came from a young woman. “Do the police have any leads on Doctor Petersen’s death?”
Jamal sighed, resigned. “Tanya was a close friend to all of us at Keane College, and we are saddened by her death. However, I cannot discuss the investigation.”
Jamal thanked the audience, and people rose to leave. Several students approached the podium to talk to Jamal as he sorted his notes. He tried to concentrate on their questions, but his eyes followed Claire as she moved along her row to the aisle. As if reading his thoughts, Claire looked at him from the aisle, and he motioned her to wait. They walked to the lobby and sat together on a sofa.
“I have a meeting with Detective Salinas,” Jamal said, stuffing his papers in his satchel.
“When?” Claire asked.
“In a few minutes. What does he want?”
“I’m sure it’s just follow-up questions.”
“You can’t tell me more?” His eyes narrowed. “I heard that you’ve spent time with him.”
Claire understood his concern. She would feel the same if the situation were reversed. “There is nothing between us,” she said, “but we do know each other from many years ago. Detective Salinas was in Motul on business, and I met up with him there. That’s all.” Claire avoided his accusatory stare.
“Motul?” Jamal said.
Claire watched the changes in Jamal’s face as his emotions shifted from surprise to fear to resignation.
“Claire,” he pleaded. “What’s going on?”
“I can’t say any more. I don’t know what he will ask you.”
Claire, facing the front entrance, saw Salinas and Sergeant Garza enter the hotel. Jamal caught the look of caution in her eyes and turned to watch them approach.
Jamal asked, “Will you sit in with me?”
“If Detective Salinas approves, I will.”
Salinas and Garza led Jamal and Claire to a small conference room assigned to them by the hotel management. Jamal tried to look inconspicuous as they made their way back through the lobby. All he needed was a coat over his head to finish the image, he thought. It’s always the black man, he also thought unpleasantly.
After settling into leather chairs, Garza opened her notebook and Detective Salinas looked from Jamal to Claire. His tone was cool and controlled. “Has Doctor Aguila discussed the reason for this talk?”
Jamal looked at Claire, and his hand moved to finger his earring. “No.”
“I asked Claire to accompany me to Dzab and Tixbe today, not to accuse you or Brad of any crime, but to learn if Paul had a connection with your villages. We wanted to know if there was any reason for Paul to blackmail either of you.”
Jamal glared at Claire, then turned to Salinas. “You went to our villages looking for evidence of blackmail…and Claire is helping you?” Jamal stood and moved toward the door.
“I’m sorry, Jamal,” Claire whispered.
“Sit, Doctor Kennedy.” Jamal returned to the chair, his eyes dark.
“Our investigation seems to be moving toward blackmail,” Salinas said. “I asked Claire to go with me, as I trust her judgment and her knowledge of Mayan culture. She will correct any of my statements today if they are unfair.”
He turned to Claire and she nodded.
“Don Pedro, the village president, told us that you had been to Dzab and delivered books for their library. That’s very generous.”
Jamal relaxed and put his hands in his lap. “It is my way of paying the village back for their hospitality.”
“That is commendable,” the detective said. “Why did you go to Dzab on Monday instead of the Wednesday free day?”
Jamal licked his lips. “I wanted to use Wednesday to work on my presentation.”
“Did you visit Motul on Monday?”
Jamal stiffened, and he pulled his hair back from his face. “I… no…yes, I did. I went to see a man I know.”
“Señor Benito Suarez?”
Jamal looked confused. “Yes. How do you know?”
“A black man was seen at Señor Suarez’s home Monday morning.”
“Why is this important?”
“Because he’s dead,” Salinas said.
Jamal pulled at his hair. “Señor Suarez is dead? It’s not possible!”
Salinas asked the sergeant to get some water, and she left the room. Salinas turned to Jamal. “He was murdered sometime very early Monday morning.”
Jamal visibly relaxed. He sat back in his chair and his shoulders released their tension. “I stopped there much later, almost noon.”
“After you entered Paul’s hotel room to look for the computer?”
Jamal looked at Claire, who did not react. She already knows about the computer. “Yes,” he said softly. “But Don Benito wasn’t home, so I went on to Dzab to deliver the books.”
“But you could have gone to Motul very early and returned before breakfast.”
“But I didn’t,” he pleaded. Jamal squirmed in his chair.
“Why did you visit Benito?”
Jamal sighed and looked at Claire again. “I wanted to know if he had told anyone about my visits to his store during my fieldwork year.”
“And why was that? Did you buy souvenirs or gifts?”
This question startled him. “Well, yes, I did.”
“Anything else?”
Jamal sat quietly, except for his hand continuously clenching and re-clenching. Rosa entered the room with four water bottles. Salinas summarized the interview in Spanish for her notes. The pause to open water bottles and resettle gave Jamal a few minutes to collect his thoughts.
Salinas continued, “Personally, I don’t care what you purchased, Doctor Kennedy. I’m trying to solve a murder.”
“I’m an ethnobotanist and anthropologist,” he started by way of explanation. “I’m interested in the use of medicinal plants and hallucinogens in ritual contexts.”
“But Mayan shamans don’t use hallucinogens. Why research here?”
“Yucatán is one of my research sites. I have also worked in northern Mexico and in South America. Here, I am mainly interested in medicinal herbs and the use of copal, incense, in ancient and modern healing.”
“So, how does this relate to Don Benito?”
Jamal looked to Claire. “Don Benito sold marijuana,” he finally confessed, “and I had studied its use elsewhere as a medicinal plant, and…”
“And liked to smoke it—how do you say—recreationally?” Salinas finished for him.
Jamal sighed. “Yes.”
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Salinas smiled. “You bought pots and pot.”
Salinas smiled at his own joke, then turned serious. “Why did you think that Don Benit
o might have passed this information to Paul, and what made you think Paul would use it against you?”
Jamal slouched in his chair. “During his presentation to our faculty, Paul included a photograph of Don Benito as one of his informants. Paul asked Brad if he knew Don Benito. Brad said he knew of his store, or something like that. But I knew Don Benito.”
“And Paul knew this.”
Jamal nodded. “That day, at Uxmal, Paul asked me if I had purchased anything special from Don Benito. It seemed odd that he would make innuendos like this when he was applying for a job. We all laughed, thinking it was a strange way to interview, but I worried about it. The information wouldn’t destroy my career, but it could be embarrassing. Later, we learned he had done similar things to others.”
Jamal drank from his water bottle. “I told the truth about seeing Cody running away from the pyramid before the program. But Tanya’s accusation that she saw me with Paul at the Governor’s Palace wasn’t true. When I objected, she admitted that it had probably been someone else.”
Salinas pulled a packet of photographs from his briefcase. “These photographs were taken by a tourist Sunday at Uxmal. Some of them are quite informative.” Claire watched as Salinas ruffled through the stack, and Jamal leaned forward to look at them. Salinas drew them back toward himself.
“We know that Doctor Sturgess was not on the pyramid alone,” Salinas said as he pulled a photograph from the stack. “We have a blurry photograph of someone climbing, or descending, the pyramid from the back side. We can’t see a face or head, but we can see a backpack.”
Jamal glanced briefly at the photograph. “It could be Paul.”
“Alas, we have no photograph of Paul on the pyramid,” Salinas said, “but we have two eye-witness accounts of him walking along the base of the second level at about the same time.”
Jamal glanced at the photo again. “Lots of people bought those stupid hats, and nearly everyone uses backpacks. It wasn’t me, anyway,” he protested. “I didn’t climb the pyramid to meet with him.”