Human Sacrifice

by Cindy L Hull

  “Do you recognize the person in the photograph?”

  “No.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Jamal hesitated. “I think so.”

  Claire looked at the photograph again and thought she recognized him. She said nothing.

  Salinas tapped the photograph. “We know Paul wore a backpack that day, and that his computer was inside. However, no backpack was found on him or near him where he fell.”

  Jamal slumped back. “What does that mean?”

  “We think that whomever Paul met on the pyramid took his backpack, stuffed it inside his or her own backpack, or hid it somewhere.”

  Jamal sighed in relief. “So, that lets me off. If I had been there and taken the computer, I wouldn’t be searching his room for it the next day. I would already have it.”

  “But you might have been looking for something else?” Salinas put the photograph away. “You’re free to go, Doctor Kennedy.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Thursday Evening

  Jamal sat at the bar, nursing a beer, struggling to find meaning in the events of the past week—the death of Paul, Tanya, and Don Benito—they couldn’t possibly think he would kill any of these people, could they? What motives had they come up with? He had asked Claire to drink with him, but she had declined his offer, pleading exhaustion from her two days on the road. She was obviously involved with the investigation, if not with the investigator, and Jamal knew that she had information she wasn’t sharing with him. Does she suspect me too?

  He felt a slap on his shoulder and looked up to see George at his side. “Come join us,” he said, pointing to a table in the corner of the lounge where Madge sat, looking at a menu. Jamal took his beer and joined the elder anthropologist at her table.

  “Congratulations on a great paper, Jamal,” Madge said. “You always have the perfect balance between theory and ethnographic detail.”

  Jamal snorted. “Thank you, but I hardly remember what I said. It could have been gibberish, for all I know.”

  “Well, it wasn’t,” Madge said.

  Jamal shrugged. “But really, I can’t get my mind off Tanya. I keep expecting her to appear and hiss at me for something.” He blinked away tears. “Who could have killed her?”

  George returned to the table with a beer for himself and a margarita for Madge. “They’re bringing another beer for you, Jamal. I know you can use it.”

  Jamal nodded his thanks.

  “I heard Detective Salinas interviewed you again today,” George said. “How did it go?”

  “He grilled me pretty hard. They still don’t seem to have a handle on either death.” Jamal finished his beer as the waitress brought him another. He considered telling his colleagues about Don Benito but was interrupted.

  “Can I join you?”

  Jamal looked up from his beer to see Brad at his side. George pushed the extra chair out to him.

  Brad collapsed into the chair. “Have you heard? Cody’s gone.”

  “How do you know?” George asked.

  “I went to his room to apologize for brushing him off at the reception. I was hard on him. Did he go home?”

  “How could he?” Jamal asked. “We don’t have our passports.”

  Brad shrugged. “I have no idea. Does anyone know when we’ll get our passports? I planned to leave tomorrow after my talk.”

  “We should get them back by then,” Madge said, “but if Salinas doesn’t have a suspect in hand, we might have to change our travel plans.”

  “Damn,” Brad exclaimed. “Salinas hasn’t been hanging out at my door, so I guess I’m in the clear.” He laughed, but it was forced and didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Jamal had the pleasure of an interview today,” Madge said.

  “Oh?” Brad said. “Do tell. What is ‘el detectivo’ thinking?”

  Jamal shrugged. “Who knows?” Still stung from Claire’s deception, he clenched his bottle with both hands. “Claire visited our villages with him.”

  Brad’s head came up in surprise. “Our villages?”

  George gave Jamal a sharp look, his eyes narrowed. “Don’t forget, he interviewed all of us after Tanya’s death, and he has our written statements. We can’t blame Claire for what he knows.”

  Madge sipped her drink and said, “There is also the notebo…” She stopped mid-word, but it was too late. George gave her a warning look, and Madge took a quick gulp from her margarita. Both Jamal and Brad looked at Madge, their eyes a study in confusion.

  Brad spoke first. “Notebook? What notebook?”

  “I…I heard that Cody found a notebook…Paul’s journal,” Madge stammered. “The police have it.”

  “Why is that important?” Brad asked.

  “I don’t know,” Madge lied.

  “Have you seen it, Madge?” Jamal asked.

  Madge looked at George, who looked at her menacingly out of the corner of his eye. “I haven’t read it,” she lied again.

  “Has Claire seen it?” Brad demanded.

  George answered before Madge could say more. “I’m sure it’s just a field notebook…we all have one.”

  Brad studied his colleagues. “You’re probably right.”

  Jamal stared at Madge. “But it might have more,” he said. “Remember all the strange questions Paul asked us?”

  “What kind of information could there be?” Brad asked.

  “What worries you?” George said, addressing Brad. “Or any of us?”

  “Nothing,” Brad said. He looked around the room. “Where is Claire? I wonder if she knows where Cody is.”

  Jamal said, “She’s in her room, I think.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Claire showered and dressed in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. She uncorked a bottle of wine she had purchased in the market, climbed onto her bed, and opened her latest Elizabeth George novel at the bookmark. Although her eyes faced the printed page, her mind focused, not on DI Thomas Lynley, but rather Detective Roberto Salinas and more immediate murders. If she were writing this script, she would plot Cody as the murderer, but the evidence, as she knew it, did not allow for that more convenient solution. Rather, it looked more like the murderer might be someone she knew.

  Frustrated, she reached for her computer and reopened the email from the Odawa County supervisor. She clicked on the photographs one by one, seeking the photo of the man on the pyramid.

  A knock on the door startled her. She closed her computer and opened the door to see Brad smiling on the other side.

  “Jamal said you were avoiding us tonight. Can I come in?”

  Claire hesitated, silently cursing Jamal. Brad breezed into the room carrying two airline-sized bottles of gin and a small tonic water.

  “I’m really tired. I told Jamal I needed to be alone tonight.”

  “I promise I won’t stay long.” He saw the wine bottle on the dresser. “Ah, drinking alone, I see.”

  Claire ignored him. She took her wine glass off the bedside table and sat in the wingback chair. She motioned to him to take the other chair.

  “Can I talk you into a G&T?”

  “No, thanks, but help yourself. Glasses are in the bathroom.”

  Brad frowned and did not follow her instructions. He placed the bottles on the table and sat, fumbling with his ponytail.

  Claire waited for him to start the conversation. When he didn’t, she asked, “Are you ready for your keynote address tomorrow?”

  “I guess so. Are we ever really ready for public speaking?”

  “I’m not, but I have always felt that you had no fear.”

  “I’m just a good actor, I guess,” he said, looking around the room. “I’d feel a lot better if our passports had been returned so we know we can go home.” He looked at Claire expectantly.

  “I
changed my ticket to visit my daughter,” Claire said. “I would hate to cancel my trip.”

  “I heard you spent the last few days with Salinas. I thought you might have some information.”

  Claire cleared her throat. “That’s not true.”

  “I didn’t mean…”

  Claire crossed her arms, irritated at the insinuation, “He was investigating a murder in Motul and knew I was in Yaxpec. He asked me to go with him on a few interviews.”

  Brad frowned and pulled on his ponytail. “Who was murdered?”

  “Benito Suarez. The vendor in Paul’s presentation.”

  Claire watched Brad closely as he responded to the news. He blanched, and Claire thought, He didn’t know about this.

  “I remember Paul asking you if you knew him,” she mused.

  Brad stood and began to pace. “I recognized his face and his store. I had forgotten about him until I saw the photo. I didn’t know his name.”

  “Have you seen him recently?” Claire asked, and immediately regretted it.

  Brad’s demeanor changed. His face hardened, and his eyes pierced into Claire’s. “Listen,” he said, standing over her. “I don’t know what you have going with that detective, but you need to decide where your loyalties lie.”

  “It’s just a question.”

  “Be careful. I imagine he’s pumping you for information on your colleagues and you’re spewing all kinds of gossip.”

  Stunned, Claire stood, her five-foot-six frame dwarfed by his six-foot height, but she did not back down. “Three people have died—all of them have links to us. Detective Salinas is smart. He doesn’t need an anthropologist to make connections between these deaths.”

  Claire stepped to the dresser and refilled her glass of wine. She knew this wasn’t wise, but she needed alcohol-induced courage. She said, “Has Detective Salinas talked to you since Tanya’s death?”

  “Not since Casa Montejo.” Brad’s expression changed again, and his face softened. He sat down at the table and busied his hands by lining up the small liquor and tonic bottles on the table. “He wants to talk to Eduardo and me after my speech tomorrow. I didn’t know about a murder in Motul. I suppose I’ll find out more tomorrow.”

  “Yes, I suppose you will.”

  He tensed again. “I heard the police have a notebook, and that you might know something about it. The fact that you kept this information from me means your loyalties have shifted.”

  “There is nothing to tell.”

  His face hardened again. “You’ll be sorry, Claire. If our program is slashed because of scandal, we will all suffer, and it will be your fault for betraying your friends.”

  “Betraying, Brad? Are you serious? This isn’t who hit a baseball through a living room window. This is murder!” She lowered her voice as she felt it go up in register to a near-shrill.

  Brad moved away from her. “It had to be Cody. He had a motive, I’m sure.” He sat back down, the reasonable Brad returning. “And he was at the reception. He could have killed Tanya.” He paused and said, “Cody’s missing, by the way. Do you know where he is?”

  “I have no idea,” Claire said, “but if Cody killed Paul and Tanya, we should get our passports soon. But remember, there have been three deaths. These defy coincidence, don’t you think?”

  Brad picked up the bottles and walked to the door. “Be careful, Claire. Don’t sell us out. You’ll be sorry you trusted a Mexican cop.”

  He closed the door behind himself; Claire locked it and put the chain in place. Then she called Roberto Salinas.

  Ten minutes later, Claire heard another knock on her door. Roberto had told her to expect this visit, and she opened the door to George. Her hands still shook as she invited him in and offered him the last glass of wine from her bottle. He looked at her curiously as she emptied the wine bottle into a water glass and asked him to sit where Brad had sat minutes before.

  “Are you okay?” George asked.

  “Wine helps,” Claire quipped, too casually. She couldn’t fool George.

  George took a sip of the wine. “Roberto asked me to come. He told me Brad threatened you.”

  Claire sipped her wine. “I’m not sure he meant to threaten me, but it felt like a threat.”

  “You need to know that it is almost over.”

  “Salinas knows who did the killings?”

  “I think so, but he needs to talk to Brad and Eduardo tomorrow. In the meantime, Salinas asked that I give you some background on the other investigation.” He paused and sipped again. “He didn’t want to compromise your safety by telling you himself, in person.”

  “Other investigation?”

  “There have been two parallel investigations going on this week. They have crossed paths in a very complex way, and Salinas has given me permission to put you in the loop, so that you can watch out for yourself.”

  Claire leaned forward in her chair. “Tell me.”

  “Over the past few months, I have been indirectly involved with HSI.”

  “Homeland Security? Like immigration and terrorism?” Her eyes widened as she tried to fit her colleagues into the same category as Osama bin Laden.

  George cleared his throat impatiently. “No, Claire. The Cultural Property, Art and Antiquities Program, part of Homeland Security Investigations.”

  “Smuggling?” Claire asked. “Artifacts? Don Benito?”

  “Yes.”

  “How does this relate to us?” As Claire waited for George to speak, pieces of the puzzle began to coalesce in her own mind. “Your friends…Carlos Gonzalez and Pablo Perez?”

  “They are retired archaeologists who work for HSI.”

  “And you too?” asked Claire. “How could I not know this?”

  George laughed. “I’m a lowly anthropology department chair at a small university, but I have known Carlos and Pablo for many years, and they asked me to help with their investigation since I was here for the conference. That’s why this notebook is so important, and why I am upset with my colleagues who didn’t share it with me.”

  “How could I know?” Claire asked, then thought a moment while she sipped her wine. “Does Madge know?”

  “I just told her recently,” he raised his eyebrows. “I’m amazed it’s not on Facebook. That woman can’t keep a secret.”

  Claire smiled in agreement. “Who are they investigating?”

  “Eduardo is their major focus. So, you see the problem. Eduardo is loaning us part of his collection, and now we find that a dead anthropologist has a notebook that contains drawings of artifacts, some of which had suspicious provenance. And,” George reminded her, “a replica of one of these was presented to Brad publicly.”

  “Does this mean Brad is involved with smuggling?” This relieved Claire somewhat. However serious smuggling might be, murder was far worse.

  George answered, “We have no evidence that Brad is involved. Being a long-time friend with a suspected smuggler does not mean that he’s involved. But when HSI hears that they had a falling out, then they are interested. And when people around Eduardo start dying, Salinas is interested.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  Friday Morning

  “You can’t just leave me here, hanging!” Desperation flooded through Brad as he stood behind Eduardo, who was carefully wrapping a small piece of hieroglyph in bubble wrap. Brad recognized the collection of items on the bed as those that had been on display in the Exhibit Room.

  “You knew I had to leave early.”

  “But we’re meeting with Salinas,” Brad groaned.

  “I’m not waiting for that thrill,” Eduardo snorted. “If it hadn’t been for you, I’d have left two days ago.”

  “Why is that my fault?”

  “Because I had to clean up your mess. Now my contacts are skittish, and my delivery has been delayed.”
He placed the hieroglyph in a hard-covered case with several items already wrapped. Brad noticed that Eduardo’s suitcase was already packed and sitting open on the second bed. “As soon as I get confirmation on my destination and word that my shipment has been delivered, I’ll be gone.”

  “My mess? I just learned that Benito’s dead! If you had left things alone, nothing would have happened. Paul fell, pure and simple: everyone said so, even the cops.”

  “And then what? Wait for the old man to tell someone else? You don’t even understand how much trouble you were in. There’s nothing to link me to the old man. He was a smuggler and a dope pusher. He had lots of potential enemies.”

  “But the cops have already linked him to me, Paul, and even Jamal.” Brad’s voice fell as the seriousness of his situation settled in. “And what about Tanya?”

  “I took care of that too, you’re welcome.” Eduardo lifted the last statue from the bed, the jade corn god. “Take it.” He handed it to Brad who took it and stared at its beauty. “It’s yours now.”

  Eduardo’s smile was cruel, and Brad flinched, “I don’t want it.” He dropped it on the bed.

  His friend picked it up and handed it to him again, “You earned it. No one will know.”

  Brad gazed at the statue, then stuffed it into his suit pocket. “What about the future artifacts you send us? Are we legal?”

  “Legal?” Eduardo sneered. “You’re worried about legal now, after you begged me for the collection?” He closed the small case and went into his bathroom to collect his toiletries. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Brad sat on the bed, his hands shaking. “Where’s the shipment you’re waiting for?”

  “If I tell you, then you’re an accessory,” Eduardo said, his voice coming from the bathroom. “Leave it be and leave me alone.”

  “What am I going to do?” Brad fingered the statue in his pocket as Eduardo returned and placed his toiletry bag into his suitcase.

  “You could leave, if you have something to hide,” Eduardo chided.