Make No Bones About It ( a Dig Site Mystery--Book 2)

by Ann Charles

  “And if it’s someone else? Someone who isn’t working here?” Quint asked.

  Her eyes flashed a warning after a glance in her father’s direction. “Who else could it be?”

  Quint shrugged. “An outsider looking to make a quick buck on the black market with some Maya treasures.”

  “Or a ghost,” Juan supplied.

  She rolled her eyes at her father. “I thought ghosts floated, Dad. Or are they wearing hiking boots now?”

  “Have you ever seen a ghost?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then you don’t know what traces they leave behind, do you, Miss Know-It-All.”

  “Ectoplasmic goo seems to be a popular theory on the big screen,” Quint threw out.

  She reached across the table and slapped his forearm. “You’re not helping, Parker.”

  Catching her fingers, he squeezed them lightly before letting go with a wink.

  “Why do you think whoever it was turned back?” she asked them. “Was someone waiting for them at the wall, a partner in crime, and called them back? Or was the trespasser working alone?”

  “Maybe your hiking boot–wearing ghost chickened out,” Quint offered. “It gets a little cramped back in there.” At least for his comfort level. A sarcophagus seemed roomier in retrospect.

  “That’s because your muscles are so big,” Juan said.

  “You should see how huge and green they become when something pisses me off.”

  “Angélica’s favorite color is green. It’s no wonder she scribbles your name in her notebook over and over.”

  “Boys,” she said, a small smile tilting the corners of her lips. “Stay focused, please.”

  “I can’t help it, gatita. Quint’s muscles fluster me.”

  “Me, too,” she played along, “but we can admire his big guns some other time when someone’s life isn’t in danger.”

  Quint hit her with a raised brow. Had she forgotten that they weren’t going to discuss Marianne’s murder or anything regarding her own potential danger in front of her father?

  She winced at her own slip of the lip. Keeping secrets from her father was obviously not a usual practice for her.

  “Have you considered, gatita, that you are making more out of these boot prints than necessary? Maybe one of the college kids got curious and decided to try a little spelunking on their own. That’s all. Nothing malevolent or greed-inspired, just a kid being a kid.”

  She chewed on her lower lip. “Maybe.” Her gaze locked with Quint’s. “We’ll keep that in mind tonight when we sneak in there after everyone retires to their tents.”

  “I don’t like you two going alone through the wall.” Juan’s voice was stern all of a sudden.

  “Pedro can go with us and wait on the other side,” she offered.

  Juan’s reluctance was apparent from the lines on his face, but he nodded anyway. “You will check in with me as soon as you return.”

  She nodded.

  “And you will take my air quality meter just to be safe.”

  She nodded again.

  “And a pickax and hard hats.”

  “Of course.”

  “And—”

  “Dad, Quint and I will be extra careful, I promise.”

  Juan’s brown eyes moved to Quint. “Keep her out of trouble.”

  “I’ll carry her out kicking and screaming, if needed.”

  “Excellent. Pedro says she fights dirty, so you might want to wear a cup.”

  “Dammit, Dad, quit giving away my secret moves.”

  Quint laughed at the mock glares they exchanged.

  “I have an idea,” Quint told Angélica when she turned back to him. “How about I take a stroll around camp this afternoon, check in with everyone and try to get a look at their boots.” When she began to object, he held up his hand. “It makes more sense for me to do it than you since I saw the boot prints first hand. Tell her, Juan.”

  “What the muscle-head said.”

  “You might raise suspicions.”

  “Give me a little credit, boss lady. I’ll carry that clipboard of yours and explain that you’re busy and asked me to make notes on everyone’s progress in your place.”

  “And if you see a print match?”

  “I wait for your instructions before making a move.”

  She nodded, but her lips were pinched.

  Juan knocked on the table. “I still don’t like the idea of you two going in that mine tonight. How about you wait until tomorrow?”

  “Why tomorrow?” Angélica asked.

  “Because it’s dark at night.”

  “He has a point.” Quint shared Juan’s feelings and then some. “Or how about the day after that?”

  She crossed her arms, readying for battle. “The outside world doesn’t matter if we’re in a cave.”

  “It does to me,” her father said. “Have you forgotten that the Maya Underworld gods are active in the dark?”

  “Another good reason not to go in there tonight.” Quint raised his empty glass, seconding the motion.

  “That’s all superstition and hoopla,” she dismissed.

  “Is it, gatita? Are you certain?”

  She sighed, squeezing the bridge of her nose. “He’s been like this all of my life,” she told Quint.

  “And she’s been like this since she stopped wearing diapers.” Her father stood with a grunt. “If you’re not going to listen to me, darling daughter, I’m going to go find someone who will. If you need me, I’ll be with Daisy and Esteban.”

  “Why them?” Angélica asked. “I thought you wanted to do some more measuring in the temples this afternoon.”

  “I do, but Esteban told me before lunch that Fernando needs his help this afternoon. That leaves Daisy alone in the ballcourt.”

  “I could send Jane over to work with her.”

  “Is there a problem with me working with Daisy?”

  “I was hoping you’d come with me to the Chakmo’ol Temple.”

  “You mean Snakeville? I’d rather not.”

  “What if I promise to protect you from the evil, dastardly snakes, princess?” she jested.

  “You always were the mouthiest of my offspring.” Juan reached down and tweaked her nose.

  “I’m your only offspring, remember? Unless you have a skeleton to drag out of some closet.”

  “There are plenty in that old mine if you need one,” Quint said.

  “No. Your mother and I decided that one mouthy, obstinate child was all we could handle.”

  “I thought my lack of siblings had more to do with Mom’s career taking off than my charming personality.”

  “That too.” Juan frowned down at his daughter. “Why do you need to go in that temple again so soon? I thought you wanted to analyze your notes before returning for more snake dancing.”

  She shrugged. “I was thinking about something Daisy traced on one of her rubbings when we were in there a few days ago. I’m having trouble reading the surrounding glyphs clearly, and I think it’s because there is an Olmec reference mixed in with them. I want to see it all again first hand. Since you know more about the Olmec than I do, I need your eyes in there with me.”

  “Okay, but give me a few hours. I’ll meet you over there after Esteban finishes helping Fernando and returns to the ballcourt.” After dropping a kiss on the top of her head, he left the tent.

  Quint watched him go. When he turned back, Angélica was staring at him with open admiration.

  She lowered her elbows onto the table, leaning toward him. Her gaze traveled over his features. “Quint.” When she spoke, her voice was husky. “I don’t know how I’ll possibly be able to sleep tonight without seeing first hand what’s in that mine chamber.”

  He leaned forward, matching her pose. His fingers snagged hers. “I have a surefire fix for your insomnia.”

  “Me, too.” She took his hand in hers and circled her finger around his palm, tickling while teasing. “And I know the perfect place where we
could find a little privacy.”

  “The showers?” he flirted back.

  “A little dryer.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “The helicopter?”

  “A little darker.”

  “One of the temples?”

  “A little deeper.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You have a one-track mind, boss lady.”

  “We could finish what you started earlier at the Baatz’ Temple.”

  “That’s not the track I’m talking about.”

  She lifted his hand to her mouth, grazing her soft, wet lips across his knuckles. Chills snaked up his arm. “If you go with me into the mine tonight and take a few pictures, I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “I won’t be manipulated that easily.”

  “What if I offer to throw in a bonus?”

  “Then I’d be curious about what this bonus is.”

  She wiggled her eyebrows like Groucho Marx.

  He grinned. “What’s that mean? You’re going to stick a cigar in your mouth and crack jokes?”

  “Not a cigar. And only one or two jokes.”

  That sobered him. He stared at her mouth. “Okay, but I draw the line at another rubber chicken. That damned squeaky bird almost made my ticker pop last time.”

  “Ah, and here I thought you liked Dad’s rubber chicken.” Her eyes sparkled. “If memory serves me right, you were able to finish the show, rubber chicken included.”

  “Well, you were naked, and I didn’t want to let you down after all of the work you put into that encore performance.” He leaned forward, sliding his hand along her jaw and urging her closer. “If we figure out this mess, Dr. García,” he whispered against her lips, “do you promise to take me home to Cancun and reward me properly? No cigars, no rubber chickens, no clothes?”

  “I’d rather reward you improperly,” she whispered in return and stole a kiss. “You taste sweet, heartbreaker.”

  “Come back here.” He cupped her face and zeroed in for more. “I wasn’t done yet.” He kissed her thoroughly this time.

  “Angélica!” Pedro called from the other side of the tent wall.

  She broke away from Quint with a string of curses.

  “To be continued,” he promised, his pulse zooming.

  “I’ll hold you to that, Mr. Love ‘Em and Leave ‘Em.” She settled back into her seat before hollering, “I’m in the mess tent with Quint.”

  Pedro joined them seconds later. “I made the call.”

  “What call?” Quint asked.

  Angélica quickly filled him in about her idea to have Pedro look into the last crew at the site via the previous pilot’s logbook.

  “What do you think the chances are of this logbook actually getting us anywhere?” he asked Pedro.

  “A few names may be listed, so it’s worth a shot.”

  Angélica squeezed Quint’s arm, her fingers lingering. “Stop over at the Chakmo’ol Temple after you’ve made your rounds.”

  He nodded. “I’ll start at the ballcourt with Daisy.”

  “While you’re there, remind my father to take a few breaks this afternoon. I don’t think he’s resting that leg enough.”

  “Will do.” He stood to leave.

  “And let me know if you notice anything odd about Jane.”

  “Is she still having reactions to the snakebite?”

  She worried her lip. “Not the bite. Maybe it’s just me, but she was acting oddly this morning, asking me peculiar questions about my personal life.”

  Quint rubbed his jaw. “She asked me a few questions about our dating life the other evening at supper.”

  “Dating?” Her brow rose. “Is that what we’re doing?”

  No. They’d skipped that phase and moved straight to something much more intense.

  He met her stare head-on. “Do you really want to have this conversation right now?”

  Nodding with enthusiasm, Pedro grinned. “Yes, we do.”

  She aimed a squint his way. “No comment from you or you’ll be leaving here bruised.” Her focus returned to Quint, her expression guarded now. “We’ll finish this discussion some other time. Alone,” she added, lightly punching Pedro in the shoulder.

  Alone in that damned mine.

  It was a high price to pay for some one-on-one time with the boss lady.

  Quint stopped by their tent to grab her clipboard before heading out to search for Cinderella’s boot under the scorching afternoon sunshine. He followed the worn path through the shin-high grass to the ballcourt. Judging from the heat raining down, the Earth was spinning about six inches from the damned sun today.

  He looked around, trying to imagine what it must have been like to grow up around the ruins as Angélica had. Childhood would have been full of adventures abundant with treasures, but lonely without siblings.

  He’d been fortunate enough to have two sisters to give him hell, although his younger sister was seven years his junior, too far behind in age to have much of an effect on his youth. Susan had come along after his parents had separated and didn’t share the same father, but his dad had adopted her later when he’d mended the marriage with their mom. Unfortunately, she’d learned the truth of her parentage and still suffered with a sharp-edged inferiority complex directed mainly at his other sister.

  Only three years his junior, Violet had followed him around like a lost puppy for the first ten years of her life. His childhood memories were filled with her crazy blond curls and tomboy tricks. His heart panged a little with homesickness at the thought of her and her two kids. The next time he flew back to South Dakota, he was going to stay up in Deadwood where they were living with his favorite aunt so he could spend more time with them. Those kids were growing up too fast.

  Maybe he could convince Angélica to fly home with him after this dig was over and meet his family. Or would that be moving too fast for her? Hell, he’d not only met her dad, but was now sleeping next to him each night.

  Speaking of the old devil, Juan waved at Quint as he entered the narrow playing field at the ballcourt. Dr. Diablo was sitting on the ground under an umbrella with his bad leg stretched out in front of him, his cane resting parallel to it on the ground. Daisy was on her knees next to him, working in the dirt. All around them were squares cut into the weeds, outlined with twine.

  Quint looked for Esteban, but came up empty. Juan must have relieved the boy from his ballcourt duties already.

  Stopping just outside of the umbrella’s shade, he glanced down at Daisy’s footwear. Quint doubted the tiny woman could climb up and through that hole in the wall, but he’d wanted to double-check before marking her off the suspect list.

  “Nice high-tops,” he said, pretending to admire her dusty red canvas tennis shoes. “How’s the support in those?” The tread was nothing even close to what he’d seen in the mine, and her foot was smaller.

  “I wear inserts to help with that. Otherwise, they are like slippers, light and comfortable. Hiking boots like what Dr. García wears make my weak ankles ache.”

  “You should try a boot like this,” Juan jested, pointing at his fiberglass cast. “It’ll make your whole leg ache.”

  “I’ll stick with my old red tires here.”

  “Angélica’s going to be happy when she hears what Daisy found in the weeds on her way back from lunch.” Juan smiled over at his digging partner.

  Quint watched Juan, noticing how his gaze lingered on Daisy’s profile as she worked. Was that just a casual interest or was something more going on here under the Mexican sunshine? She was close to his age and single, not to mention in great shape and almost always cheery. Her name suited her to a T.

  “What did you find now, Daisy?” he asked. “The hood ornament from a 1956 Chevy Bel Air?”

  Daisy shielded her eyes, peering up at him from under her hand. “I wish! That’s a sweet piece of steel. My uncle had one years ago.”

  “You like old cars?” Juan asked.

  “The old muscle cars are more my flavor, but I
wouldn’t turn down a ride in a souped-up old ‘51 Pontiac Streamliner or ‘48 Chevrolet Fleetline.”

  Dr. Diablo’s mouth fell open. “Where did you learn about old cars?”

  She hit him with a wide smile, her own brand of sunshine. Quint could feel the warmth from where he stood. “My daddy was a mechanic. We grew up hearing about cars at the dinner table each night.”

  “You’re just full of surprises.” Juan dragged his gaze away from her, holding out his open palm toward Quint. “Daisy found Angélica’s locket.”

  Taking the necklace, Quint opened the locket. On one side was a picture of a very young version of Angélica, probably in her young teens. The other side had an older version of Angélica, with redder hair, less-pronounced cheekbones, and a narrower face. Marianne. Quint had seen pictures of Angélica’s mother at her house in Cancun, displayed on the walls and her desk.

  “They had matching lockets,” Juan explained. “Angélica must have dropped hers.”

  Quint looked up. The older man’s smile had grown melancholy while he stared off across the ballcourt.

  It must have been hell to lose his wife. Quint couldn’t imagine the pain, the loneliness, or the constant ache left in her place. He’d watched the wife of another archaeologist go through something similar after her husband disappeared down in this damned jungle without a trace. She’d died decades later still alone, trying to find the missing puzzle pieces that would explain the mystery behind his death.

  There was no way in hell Quint was going to let history repeat itself with Angélica.

  Closing the locket, he handed it back to Juan. “I’m sure she’ll be glad to have it back.” He turned toward the temple where Angélica was planning to spend the afternoon. “Your daughter wanted me to remind you to rest your leg plenty this afternoon.”

  “She’s as bossy as her mother was.”

  “Her mother wasn’t bossy,” Daisy said, cutting a long piece of twine. “She just had better ideas than you.”