Effigy

by Theresa Danley

  “So you think some clown is running around out there acting like Quetzalcoatl’s twin?” Derek asked.

  “In a sense.” John cleared his throat. “Perhaps Tezcatlipoca is still feuding with Quetzalcoatl, continuing their epic battle of good versus evil.”

  Eva nodded grimly. “In this case it looks like the Smoking Mirror has the upper hand.”

  Gaspar’s Riddle

  The street outside the restaurant was glistening with the bright sunlight exploding off the windows of passing cars. The grandeur of Mexico City could be glimpsed here, John noted, with all its paved necessities and modern excesses flowing between embankments of erodible progress and corruption. It was a blinding vision of what Mexico could be and a grim example of what it shouldn’t be.

  A bank of clouds had gathered over the obscured mountains with a promise of a preseason rain centralizing in their midst. Dusk would come early, sulling the day’s heat with as much relief as a warm shot of Scotch down a parched throat.

  There was something about Mexico that had always stirred a deeply suppressed contentment within John. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Perhaps it was the heavy air, a curious anomaly in an atmosphere only Mexico could produce at an elevation nearing seven thousand feet. It might have had something to do with the latitude where the sun was highest in the sky and his shadow was always squarely beneath his feet. Perhaps it was the warm colors surrounding him, or the animated moods that seemed to linger between fiestas. Whatever it was, it felt good. John felt whole.

  His toothpick was little more than a spongy splinter between his teeth by the time Eva slipped out of the restaurant. She stepped past him, looking glumly contemplative. John supposed that went with the territory. Death had a way of magnifying a person’s life, whether it be that of the deceased or that of the one mourning them.

  He understood Eva’s mental preoccupation. He’d lost his father to diabetes nearly seven years ago, but he’d had time to prepare for his death. Eva, on the other hand, was bluntly forced to accept her father’s murder. It must have been a shock but she appeared to be handling it surprisingly well. After all, considering the situation, John would have expected her to be a basket case by now.

  “I suppose you’ll need time to make funeral arrangements?” he asked. He didn’t mean to pry. He just thought a little conversation might be in order.

  Eva smiled, the first time John had seen her smile since they’d met. “Here?” she said a bit surprised. “No. Not here.”

  “I beg your pardon? Was your father not from Mexico?”

  “No, we’re not Mexican,” she said somewhat bitterly. “I grew up in Utah but my family is descended from the Yaqui tribe in Arizona.”

  “Oh,” John said, a bit surprised himself. “I hope you will forgive me then.”

  Eva grinned again. “Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time.”

  “Arizona,” he said, thoughtfully chewing on his soggy splinter. “What brought your family to Utah, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  Eva folded her arms as though a chill had just come over her. “My father never considered himself a true Yaqui,” she said. “He believed he was the last of the pure Toltec bloodline, or something like that. I guess that’s why he was so fascinated with Quetzalcoatl and this whole New Age nonsense.”

  “That’s odd that your father would live so far north when he’d surely find everything he wanted to know about Quetzalcoatl down south.”

  Eva shrugged. “That’s my father for you. I couldn’t figure him out either.”

  Lori stepped out of the restaurant with Derek yawning contentedly at her side. John glanced over his shoulder to find Peet still standing on the other side of the restaurant window, picking up the tab.

  “I suppose we’ll be going back to the morgue then?” John suggested. “I’m sure it’ll take some time making arrangements to send your father back to the states.”

  Derek suddenly snapped to attention. “We can’t go home yet,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  Eva dodged John’s inquiring gaze.

  “You have to help us with something first,” Derek insisted.

  “Oh?”

  “There’s a chance Shaman Gaspar hid the effigy here.”

  John was taken aback, almost humored by the ridiculous suggestion. “There’s nearly ten million people in Mexico City. Where do you suggest we start looking?”

  “That’s why I called you down here.”

  “It seems everyone is looking for my help these days,” John said bitterly, catching Peet off guard as he finally joined them.

  Truth be known, John was flattered by so many people looking for his expertise. But he knew this esteemed impulse of feeling necessary was born from a default of desperation. Everyone needed his help because they were all in trouble. John, it seemed, was their only lifeline in this mess and they were relying on him to pull them out.

  “Shaman Gaspar told us to come to Mexico City, no matter what happened,” Derek persisted.

  “Do you think he knew his murderer was following him?” Lori asked.

  “Maybe,” Eva said. “I think he knew something bad was about to happen.”

  “But there’s more,” Derek added. “He told her to find the smoke in the snake’s mouth.”

  “Snake’s mouth?” Lori asked. “Was he talking about Quetzalcoatl?”

  “We think so,” Eva said. “His exact words were, ‘in the place behind the sun stone, find the smoke in the serpent’s mouth.’”

  Derek looked at John. “Ring any bells?”

  John shook his head, perplexed by the vague clue. “Sounds like a riddle.”

  “That’s what doesn’t make sense,” Eva said. “My father might have told a lot of crazy stories, but he wasn’t clever enough to concoct a riddle.”

  Peet looked suddenly alert, like a detective hot on the trail of a clue. “Sounds like he was afraid to speak directly,” he said. “In case someone overheard him.”

  Derek’s eyes brightened. “He didn’t want his killer to know where he hid the effigy!”

  John snapped his toothpick in two and shoved the pieces into his pocket. “Maybe,” he said. “But I think he was talking straight.”

  Derek looked at him quizzically. “Why?”

  “Where is the safest place in Mexico City to deposit a rare and priceless artifact?”

  Peet snapped his fingers. “The same place that holds the Aztec sunstone.”

  John nodded. “I believe it’s time we visit the National Museum of Anthropology.”

  * * * *

  A flock of pigeons fluttered out of the street and dissolved into the sunlight as Derek Riesling and his friends returned to their car. Agent Armando Diego lowered his binoculars. Acatzalan—just the man he’d been searching for. Who would have guessed that the Equinox Killer would land right in his lap?

  He couldn’t help but wonder what Derek’s relationship with Eva Gaspar really was. There was no doubt the woman was Juan Joaquin Gaspar’s daughter. She’d provided enough proof of that. But just because the couple flew in on the same morning Gaspar’s body had been discovered—confirmed by a record check on the rental car and airline bookings—Diego wasn’t naive enough to believe Eva couldn’t have had a hand in her father’s death. There had been little emotion on her behalf in the morgue. In fact, to Diego’s observation, the less than distraught daughter appeared to have simply entered the morgue to satisfy a job to its end.

  He’d seen families turn on each other before. Whether it be over drugs or money or straying spouses, family was never exempt from suspicion. But what about this Acatzalan, this Derek Riesling, rather? If he and Eva weren’t family or friends, then what were they? Secret lovers?

  Perhaps Derek was just the hit man to do Eva’s dirty work. But even if the two were simply lovers, was their affair reason enough to off her father and three other seemingly random people? No. That didn’t sound quite right. The combined homicides were sacrificial, not revengeful.
But how did Eva and Derek tie into the mix?

  That’s exactly what Diego intended to find out. He was having a hard time swallowing the information they’d given at the morgue. First of all, Eva lied to them about not knowing about her father’s cell phone. Diego checked the phone as soon as they returned to headquarters and discovered that the last number Gaspar dialed came up under Eva’s name.

  Secondly, Diego doubted an old man like Juan Joaquin Gaspar was capable enough to handle, let alone steal, the beast of a pickup that was found parked at the far end of Teotihuacan. The nervous tick of an owner whom they tracked down was quick to thank the officers for finding his stolen pickup. The way he explained it, he absent-mindedly left the keys in the ignition and it drove off in the middle of the night. He had no idea it had been used to ram through Teotihuacan’s entrance gate.

  Finally, not only had Eva lied about the cell phone, Derek had lied about being a New Ager. As Citlalpol and all the New Agers arrested in Teotihuacan had explained, Gaspar awarded aliases to New Age members only. So why would he name a mere employee Acatzalan? On the other hand, if Derek really was a New Ager, why wasn’t he among the fifty-three arrested in March?

  The question had plagued Diego through the night until the answer came to him early this morning. The strangely familiar boy finally connected to a face he’d often wondered about since the investigation in Teotihuacan. Derek’s face matched that of the American gringo who’d driven the silver rental car up to the road blockade in Teotihuacan. He was the one who first mentioned the equinox that day. He hadn’t been among the New Agers who were arrested because Diego had turned him away from the road blockade.

  The Equinox Killer had driven right into his hands and Diego let him go!

  The very thought was aggravating. To compensate, Diego formulated scenarios to make sense of Gaspar’s murder. Slowly, the pieces began to fall in place. Derek had the build of a killer and Eva lacked the remorse of a suffering family member. Derek must have driven Gaspar to Teotihuacan, murdered him on the spot and then abandoned him and the pickup with Eva behind the wheel of their getaway car.

  But the timing of the murder conflicted with their airline tickets. Another missing piece until…

  Enter three newcomers to the group: an older gentleman, a healthy middle-aged man who could also pass for a killer, and a nice-looking young woman. Who in the hell are these people?

  Diego had followed Eva and her partner to the airport where he half-expected them to catch a flight out of the country. He was preparing to arrest them at the ticket counter but to his surprise, the couple parked in the short-term parking where Derek left for the terminal, leaving Eva alone in the car.

  The pair had split up, making his plans for arrest that much more difficult. But as he debated over who to snag first, Diego looked up to find Derek running from another man and by the end of the chase, the two were joined by the old fart and the girl. The entire scene had been noteworthy if not completely baffling.

  The three newcomers didn’t appear to be any sort of relation to the Gaspars—they were too white for that. Perhaps they were Derek’s accomplices. That made sense. Considering the ruthless and elusive manner in which the four murder victims had been sacrificed, Derek must have had accomplices, especially while he was accompanying Eva Gaspar from the states. If that was the case, given the scene at the airport, there were apparent tensions within his ranks.

  The whole group was a curious mix of characters, but it was still Derek who held Diego’s focus. He’d been the consistent factor in all of this, and now that Diego knew who Acatzalan was, he was willing to sit back and let the pieces fall into place. He was going to prove that Derek Riesling aka Acatzalan was the Equinox Killer, and finally rid himself of this case. Any accomplices he took down with him would be mere notches in Diego’s belt.

  Sunstone

  A monolithic statue of the rain god, Tlaloc—as Dr. Friedman was quick to explain—greeted Lori and the group near the entrance of the Museo Nacional de Antropología. After a brief inquiry inside, they were directed to curator, Frederico de Gala Espanoza, who genuinely welcomed them into his office, obviously curious about the five Americans who’d requested his assistance.

  Espanoza cautiously regarded them as he explained that the only donation made to the museum within the last week had been monetary in nature, of an undisclosed amount. That was before he laughed in a polite, almost apologetic, way when Derek asked about hiding an artifact behind the Aztec sunstone.

  “It is impossible to hide anything of such size you are describing behind the sunstone,” the curator said, pressing the tips of his discreetly manicured fingers together. Then, as if to dispel all doubts, he added, “See for yourselves.”

  Dr. Friedman obliged, but instead of cutting through galleries where terra cotta figurines, stone-encrusted funerary masks and mystical Mayan stellas might distract them, he whisked them through an outdoor patio covered by a large concrete canopy, past decorative flora adorning bronze statues and a concrete pond, and finally entered straight into the Aztec hall of the museum. He didn’t stop until they came to a massive basalt disk illuminated beneath the golden beams of the museum’s track lighting.

  Lori had seen the weathered stone with its intricate mosaic-style glyphwork before, from textbook photographs of course. But its incredible twelve-foot diameter was even more impressive from only five feet away. The circular pattern of glyphs within glyphs was almost mesmerizing, like a psychedelic dream. It was a busy work of art focusing the eye on the only thing that seemed recognizable—an eerie round face at the heart of the overlapping rings of glyphs.

  It was easy to see why the curator had laughed. Mere inches stood between the giant sunstone and the back wall it was displayed against. The effigy couldn’t possibly have fit within the space, and even if it had, it would have been easily viewed by the public passing into the adjoining room. The other side of the wall didn’t produce anything either—that was the first place Derek looked.

  “I don’t get it,” Eva said, glancing around the surrounding exhibits. “The sunstone is Aztec, not Toltec. Why would my father send us here?”

  “The Aztecs were a Nahuatl-speaking culture,” Dr. Friedman explained, “as were the Toltecs. In fact, the Aztecs considered themselves to be descendants of the great Toltecs.”

  “Yeah, but Shaman Gaspar never referred to the Aztecs before,” Derek said. “There must be a different Toltec sunstone somewhere.”

  “I don’t believe such a thing exists,” Dr. Peet said. “If memory serves me correctly, the Aztec sunstones were adaptations of the turquoise mirrors, or disks, of the Toltecs.”

  “Precisely,” Dr. Friedman said. “The turquoise disks and the sunstone were often used as a base for fire drills which started ceremonial fires.”

  “Hold on,” Derek said. “I don’t recall Shaman Gaspar mentioning anything about ceremonial fire disks.”

  “I’m sure in this day and age, he had no use for them.”

  “C’mon. The sunstone was used to start fires? That sounds pretty far-fetched.”

  To Lori, the concept wasn’t far-fetched at all. In fact, it reminded her of a Navajo creation myth. According to the legend, a turquoise disk was used to generate a fire which ultimately gave rise to the sun. The similarities between the Navajo and the Toltec turquoise disks didn’t escape her either, nor might it escape mention among the trade theories explored by her dissertation.

  Dr. Friedman smiled. “You must give heed to the Mesoamerican mind, Derek. The Aztec sunstone emphasizes the creation of the fifth sun, the last age if you will, which is depicted by the Four Ollin glyph in the center of the stone. Considering this fifth age was believed to have been born through fire, it’s easy to understand why sunstones, or the Toltec turquoise disks, were used for ceremonial fires. Four Ollin also refers to quakes, or earth movement, which might indicate the current age will be destroyed by earthquakes.”

  “I don’t know how you read anything out of that
mess,” Eva said.

  “Don’t look at the sunstone as a whole,” Dr. Peet explained. “Just focus on the different parts of it.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as the four glyphs surrounding Four Ollin,” Dr. Friedman said. He lifted an arm to point at four boxed glyphs clinging to the outside quarters of the innermost glyph. “They represent the four previous ages.”

  “I see six glyphs surrounding Four Ollin,” Eva said. “What are the other two?”

  “Those aren’t glyphs. Those are Four Ollin’s claws, each clutching a human heart.”

  Eva scowled. “Sorry I asked.”

  Dr. Friedman continued, unflinching. “Moving even further outward along the sunstone you’ll notice that the five ages are circled by the twenty day signs of the Calendar Round.”

  Lori held her breath as she scanned over the familiar ring of day signs. She’d seen them all in the Calendar Round Dr. Friedman had printed off. Just as she expected, the serpentine sign for Coatl was there, just as it looked on the piece of newsletter Derek had taped to the effigy’s storage container.

  “How were the earlier ages destroyed?” she asked.

  Dr. Friedman smiled. “Interestingly enough, by Tezcatlipoca and Quetzalcoatl.”

  “What?”

  He cleared his throat and when he continued, he took on the tone of a museum tour guide. “According to Aztec mythology, the first age was ruled by Tezcatlipoca, who had assumed his throne in the sun. However, Quetzalcoatl couldn’t bear to allow his rival to rule the world, so he struck down his twin. Enraged, Tezcatlipoca transformed into a jaguar and destroyed the earth. Thus, the first age is said to have been destroyed by jaguars.