An Equation For Murder

by Jayne Nichols

  “Have you forgotten my father?”

  It was as if Amanda hadn’t heard a word she’d said. “No, nor will I ever forget him, but he’s been dead for four years, and I think it’s time for both of us to let him go. We can’t live forever in the past. You have a husband and a daughter now.” And I have Sam, or at least the possibility of Sam. “They need your love, too.”

  Tears welled in Amanda’s eyes. “I do love them. But I won’t forget Daddy or quit loving him just because he’s dead.”

  “Sweetheart, Gregg isn’t asking you to do that, and neither am I. But it isn’t healthy for you to put that love before the rest of your family.”

  Lillian pulled Amanda into her arms, then held her as she had when her daughter was a little girl, hurting from Rusty’s many rejections. It was unfortunate that Amanda had only selective memories when it came to her father.

  “What should I do, Mother?”

  Lillian brushed several loose hairs behind Amanda’s left ear. “You always felt better after talking to Dr. Stevens. We could go see him together if you’d like.”

  “Do you still love Daddy?”

  It was a loaded question her daughter had asked many times, and it was finally time to quit deceiving both Amanda and herself. Her fingers caressed the locket. She hadn’t loved Rusty in a long, long time. “I’ve tucked that love away in a special place in my heart.”

  Now I’m ready to love again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sam knew that everyone had been waiting on pins and needles for him to hand back the tests, and he really hadn’t meant to keep them in suspense for two extra days. However, he and Ben had taken a much-needed, father-son motorcycle trip to the Colorado River for the weekend, so after returning late Sunday night, it had taken Monday and Tuesday to get all the tests graded. Now as he entered the classroom on Wednesday morning, the chatter of his nineteen remaining students ceased instantly, replaced by an anxious silence.

  Sam smiled, then opened his briefcase and extracted the tests. “Your waiting is at an end. May I say that I am both surprised and pleased with the number of high scores. That could only mean: one, I am an excellent teacher; two, you are all listening in class; three, most of you are doing the chapter assignments; or four, all of the above. Yes, Miss Peters.”

  Sylvia Peters had moved to the front seat opposite Sam’s desk which had been recently vacated by one of his three departing students. Her excuse had been that she couldn’t see the board well, but the fact that she tended to sit in rather provocative poses had him doubting her honesty. Or her interest in math. However, she had finally upped her grade from a D to a C, so he guessed that showed some initiative.

  “That has to be number one,” Sylvia announced, currently gazing at him through wide blue eyes while hugging her arms tightly across her chest to give him an unobstructed view of her cleavage. “You’re the best.”

  Sam smiled over the girl’s head in an effort to ignore her two most obvious assets. “Thank you, but I’m inclined to give credit for number four as the correct answer,” he said while he moved up one row and down another handing out the test papers. “Every one of you improved your score by at least one grade.” A loud chorus of “Yes” was accompanied by an equal number of pumping fists. “Just a reminder. The average of these test scores count toward one third of your final grade.” He heard a few groans. “So, as a little added incentive for you to keep these test scores up, I’ve decided to drop your lowest test grade.”

  That announcement elicited a round of applause. He was still chuckling when he stopped beside Lillian’s desk. Her hands were clasped tightly together in her lap, so he set the test paper on her desk and gave her a quick wink. Eyeing him cautiously, she peeked beneath the upper, right-hand corner of the paper and gasped silently. When she stared up at him, he simply nodded and continued down the row to the front of the classroom.

  It hadn’t been a perfect score. It wasn’t even an A, but the relieved look on Lillian’s face told him it was close enough. He had refused to allow his feelings for her to dictate her grade. She had worked hard for that B+ and had earned it all on her own.

  “Now where were we?” Sam flipped through his textbook.

  “You were going to give us the day off if we all improved our grades,” Wendell stated, holding up his test so the rest of the class could view the A on his paper.

  Sam looked up, resisting the urge to smile. “You know, Mr. Jones, I don’t recall offering that as a reward.” When the rest of the class echoed their agreement with Wendell, Sam shook his head and grinned, then glanced up at the clock. “Okay, we’ll split the difference. I’ll let you go at 10:30 provided we get through the next section.”

  Twenty minutes later, at exactly the appointed time, he dismissed the class. He waited while Lillian filed out through the door with the rest of the students, then followed at a discreet distance until she turned toward the visitor parking lot. He darted down the alley between the Math and Education buildings and was leaning against the trunk of her car when she arrived.

  “How did you get here so fast?”

  “I took a short cut.” Though he tried to remain nonchalant, his labored breathing gave him away. “Okay, I also ran most of the way.”

  “I’m flattered.” Lillian unlocked the car door, setting her books on the seat before turning toward him. “I’m really happy with my B plus.”

  “I was hoping you would be. I couldn’t quite stretch it to an A.”

  “Considering I failed the last two tests, I’d say a B plus is a definite improvement, and a sign that your tutoring has been a rousing success.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” He rocked from one foot to the other, shifted his textbook from hand to hand. “I don’t think we should stop the tutoring sessions though.” At her raised eyebrows, he smiled. “I want you to get an A on the rest of them.”

  “Oh, that’s quite a challenge. I thought I just needed a C to pass the course.”

  “True, but I can’t see you accepting the least you can do.”

  “You’re getting to know me too well.”

  Sam reached for her hand. “No, Lilly. I don’t know you well enough at all, but I want to. Have dinner with me Friday.” Her hesitation pushed him into a quick retreat. “Just to celebrate your B plus.”

  She nibbled cautiously at her lower lip. “I usually have dinner at my daughter’s on Friday evenings. She’s expecting me.”

  “I see.” Sam heard the disappointment in his own voice and mentally kicked himself. Of course she couldn’t invite him to a family gathering. From everything she’d said about Amanda, he knew he wouldn’t be welcomed. Not yet. Maybe not ever. And that was an obstacle he had no idea how to overcome. “It was just a thought.”

  At Lillian’s silent nod, he turned to leave.

  Her fingers grazed his arm. “How about Saturday? That is, if you haven’t any other plans.”

  Sam was sure the grin on his face registered the relief he felt but couldn’t hide. “Do you like Greek food?”

  “Very much.”

  When she smiled at him, it took all his willpower not to pull her into his arms and kiss her. “I know a great place in Solana Beach.”

  “Yanni’s Taverna.”

  “You know it?”

  “I’m practically a patron.”

  He laughed, uncertain how to proceed. Should he pick her up? Suggest they meet? It had been a very, very long time since he’d dated someone he liked as much as he liked Lillian. Actually, he wasn’t sure that had ever happened, and though the invitation had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, without thought, he didn’t want to blow it now. “Should I…”

  “Why don’t I meet you there? Say 7:00?”

  “Seven, it is. I’ll be the guy on the motorcycle.”

  * * *

  Both Amanda and Gregg had been quiet during dinner, allowing Jennifer’s non-stop chatter to fill the void in a setting that Lillian could only describe as strained.

  “Wha
t did you bring for dessert, Grandma?” Jennifer had left her chair to put one arm around Lillian’s neck. “I hope you brought ice cream. Kate has a sore throat, and the doctor ordered her to eat lots of chocolate ice cream.”

  “He did, did he?” Lillian laughed, ignoring Amanda’s frown of disapproval. “I want to meet this doctor.”

  “You already know him, Grandma,” Jennifer squealed. “It’s Daddy.”

  Gregg reached for the doll Jennifer clutched in her free arm. “Let me check her again. It might be contagious, and if that’s the case, we’ll all need a large dose of ice cream to make sure we don’t catch it.”

  “Luckily I brought plenty to stave off an epidemic.” Lillian released her granddaughter who ran into her father’s arms.

  “What’s an epi… epidem…”

  Gregg picked her up and held her on his lap. “An epidemic is when lots of people get the same kind of sickness at the same time.”

  “There is no epidemic in this house,” Amanda said, setting the filled ice cream goblets on the table. “Just a bunch of hypochondriacs.”

  “Daddy, what’s a hypo…”

  “Never mind.” Amanda took the doll from her and set it on an extra chair. “Just eat your ice cream. It’s almost time for your bath.”

  “But Kate needs the ice cream, Mommy. She has a sore throat.” The lower lip protruded on cue while her misty blue eyes pleaded. “Please let me feed it to her. She needs to get better.”

  “She’ll be okay,” Gregg assured his wife. “I’ll watch her.”

  Amanda sighed, then handed the doll back to a delighted Jennifer. “All right. But there better not be any chocolate in that doll’s hair.”

  “We’ll be very careful, won’t we Kate?” Jen scooped a large bite into her own mouth before sharing what was left on the tip of the spoon with her doll.

  “Speaking of hair… Lillian, I like the new do.” Gregg had polished off the two scoops in his dish and was leaning back in his chair. “It’s very becoming.”

  “Thank you.” The layering of her new medium length bob had exactly the right amount of volume to allow her hair to move freely. As a final touch, Marie had parted her hair off center which caused her hair to curve gently along the sides of her face, framing it in a perfect oval, the tips kissing each other under her chin. Lillian was still trying to get used to the woman in the mirror who gazed back at her with an awestruck, goofy smile.

  “Grandma says it makes her look younger.”

  “I don’t know what was wrong with your regular style,” Amanda stated, wiping Jennifer’s mouth with her napkin. “It suited you perfectly.”

  Lillian simply smiled. “It was time for a change.”

  Amanda cleared the table of empty goblets, then guided Jennifer toward the doorway. “Bed time.”

  “Sam liked it. He said Grandma looked really pretty.”

  Amanda turned to stare at her mother. “Sam? Who is Sam?”

  Oh, shit. Why was it that word and Sam always seemed to go together?

  “He’s just a friend from school.” Lillian hoped her reply had sounded calm and casual even though that was definitely not how she was feeling at the moment.

  “He drove Grandma’s car to the airport,” Jennifer volunteered. “He let me work the G.P.S. on his iPhone, too.”

  “Really?” The ice that had formed in Amanda’s eyes fairly crackled in her voice.

  “Uh huh. When we got to the airport, he put our bags on the sidewalk, and then he kissed Grandma.” Jennifer smiled brightly at Lillian. “Didn’t he Grandma?”

  Lillian just closed her eyes and prayed for the floor to open.

  * * *

  Jorgé left the Caravan Tap Room at precisely 12:30 Saturday morning, then sauntered toward his van. He didn’t see the black SUV parked on the other side until it was too late to return to the bar. His feet froze in place when Carlos exited from the driver’s side. He hadn’t heard anything from these two men for several weeks, and part of him had hoped they had forgotten him. It didn’t look like it from the determined way Carlos approached him. If he hadn’t already gone to the bathroom in the bar, he would have peed in his pants.

  “So nice to see you again, Jorgé. You remember us, don’t you?” Carlos’ smile had Jorgé’s whole body trembling. He nodded, unable to even swallow. “We understand that the Mayan artifacts will be delivered to your museum Monday afternoon. Several guards will accompany them, but they will leave once the display has been set up and protection of the artifacts falls to the museum.” Carlos handed Jorgé a piece of paper. “This mask is what you will get for us. It represents Ahau B’alam, the Jaguar God of Strength, Vitality, and Long Life. This piece was carved during the Maya classical period, sometime between 250 and 900 AD. It was discovered just recently at a Yucatan dig. A piece this large and in such good condition is extremely rare.”

  Because Carlos didn’t look like the historian type, his soft, almost reverent, voice had Jorgé paying close attention while he studied the picture. He was no expert, but old man Kessler had tried to make him understand the value of the artwork he cleaned around every night.

  Made of what appeared to be ceramic, the mask was small, about six inches in diameter, and featured the snarling face of a large, spotted cat, its nostrils flaring above long, pointed teeth. It rested against a foot-high black post which Jorgé recognized as a pressure sensitive device. All of this was surrounded by a locked glass case.

  “Stealing this mask isn’t possible.” When Carlos took a threatening step toward him, Jorgé moved out of the man’s reach and held up his hand. “Look how well it’s guarded. I can open the case. That part’s easy, but I can’t remove the mask without setting off the alarm. All that’s gonna happen is I get caught, and you don’t get your mask.”

  At that moment, Manual stepped out of the car with a small box in his hand. “Calm yourself, Jorgé. We have just what you need.”

  “Then why don’t you do it yourself?” The man’s smile was cold, and Jorgé felt its chill all the way to his toes.

  “You have unlimited access. The only thing you need is this.” Manuel opened the box. In it was a duplicate of the mask in the picture.

  “You want me to switch them?”

  “Si, and if you’re very careful, the alarm will not sound. You won’t get caught, and we will have the original.”

  “This must be worth a lot of money for you to risk stealing it.”

  Manuel smiled again, warmer this time. “Actually, it’s value is only sentimental, and the risk will be yours, not mine. If you think to betray me, you will be killed. If you fail in your task, you will be killed.”

  “You don’t give me much choice.”

  “None. However, I will give you this. A man must have incentive, no?” He nodded to Carlos who reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a bound packet of currency. “There is ten thousand U.S. dollars there. I will have another forty thousand waiting for you in Mexico when you deliver the mask to me.”

  “So, I not only have to steal the mask, I have to smuggle it across the border, too?”

  “Si, but we have faith in you, don’t we Carlos?”

  Carlos nodded, his gaze colder than the cash he held in his hand.

  Jorgé eyed the money hungrily. In his whole life, he had never possessed so much money at one time, yet when this was over, he could have four more stacks to match it. His gaze roamed between the picture, the box, and the money. Replacing the mask with a counterfeit just might work, but he had often helped the director set up other museum displays, so he wasn’t stupid about what was needed.

  Jorgé nodded toward the box. “Does this mask weigh the same as the one you want?”

  “Si, it is an exact copy in every way.”

  Getting it across the border was another matter. The border patrol might search more thoroughly once they had news of the theft, and Jorgé knew he could spend a long time in prison if he was caught. The trick was not to get caught because he didn’t doubt for a mom
ent that these two men would find him and kill him. Again his gaze strayed to the money while an idea began to form in his brain. One that just might work.

  Smiling, Jorgé held out his hand for the money. “Where in Mexico do I deliver this?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The waves crashing against the rocks drew Lillian across the road to the shoreline. She was early, and while she gazed out across the water, she considered that a good thing. She needed to relax. Never in her life had she been this nervous. Not even on her wedding day. Or night.

  Take deep breaths, Lillian. Try not to think about how handsome Sam is. Or how sexy. And above all, don’t think about sex. It’s only dinner. He’s your teacher, and he’s just being nice. Congratulating you on a job well done.

  Lillian closed her eyes, inhaled the salty scent of the ocean and in that instant, wished it could be more. Much more. Because no matter how many times she told herself to be realistic, a small part of her hoped…

  For what, she wasn’t quite sure.

  She heard the motorcycle before she saw it come over the top of the hill. Sam waved to her, then turned into the restaurant parking lot. While he parked the bike and removed his helmet, she watched from the other side of the road, the fingers of both hands clutching her small handbag behind her back. Before she could cross the road, he was running toward her, a wide grin on his face, his hair mussed and blowing in the breeze.

  “Have you been waiting long?”

  Forever. To be loved—as she had never been loved by Rusty. And to love—as she had never loved any man before Sam.

  “I’ve been enjoying the sea air. This is one of my favorite spots.” Her nervousness had already disappeared by the time he joined her. “I think if I had my life to do all over again, I’d be a beach bum.”