What could be inside? She ran her finger around the rim. The seal had not decayed meaning the contents might be viable.
Footsteps sounded in the adjacent lab. Unsure why, she took the precaution of hiding the pitcher in the cabinet. Just as she closed the door, Remy entered wheeling a huge leafy plant on a cart.
He waved his hand. “Wait. Don’t yell. At lunch Rogers remarked she’d stuck you in this room again. I labeled that grossly unfair. So here, this ought to cheer you.”
“She sent it?”
“Cross my heart.”
“You have one?”
He opened a bag that had been hidden among the leaves. “And I took the liberty of bringing an iced tea.” He placed it on the desk. “Only one. I’m not staying.” His gaze wandered over the table. “More unexceptional ceramics.”
“What did you expect, gold?”
His eyes glittered. “It’s what I live for.”
“Well, I don’t have any.”
“Looks like you won’t need any.”
She wouldn’t let the wormy comment pass. “Explain yourself.”
He settled the plant closer to the workspace. “I saw how you behaved with Castilla.”
Her heart jumped into her throat. Did he mean last night? She had to make sure. “What’re you talking about?”
“Castilla and you so cozy. Arriving, lunching, and leaving together.” Remy looked at her chest long enough to be offensive then into her eyes. “You know how to play the game.”
Almost too late she realized his gaze had refocused from her to the unlocked cabinet.
“What’s in there?” he asked.
She extracted a can of pepper spray from her lab coat pocket. “I’m sure women have used this on you before. Leave. Now.”
“Don’t wet your panties.” He pointed a finger at her. “Castilla’s dirty. You’ll come off dirty too.” He grabbed the iced tea, took a deliberate mouthful and turned toward the door.
“Hey! You forgot the cart.”
“Call maintenance.”
Mercedes sat on a stool and played with the pepper spray container. “How’d that slime bucket get down here?” She took a deep breath, distracted herself by re-examining the pitcher. Finally, she locked the vessels away, removed her lab coat and gloves and rode the elevator into daylight.
The curator’s secretary glanced up from a desk covered in documents. “May I help you?”
“I’m interning here. This is my second day. You gave me the key to the storage cabinet this morning.”
“Oh, of course, you’re. . .”
“Mercedes Thomas. I need to speak with Ms. Rogers.”
“Might not be a good idea. She’s following the staff around making sure the displays are perfect. And she’s freaking about additions to the collection. We’ve got that big opening Saturday night.”
“Where can I find her?”
“Third floor. They’re all up there.”
Mercedes didn’t know what the curator’s reaction might be, but even a newbie intern shouldn’t have to put up with surprise visits from a snake. Her high school Spanish surfaced. “Culebra .”
The curator stood in front of a display case, nodding approval. Today her suit was gray with a navy pinstripe. Workmen on ladders adjusted lights and assistants wheeling carts filled with supplies chatted and referred to diagrams.
She waited until the curator looked in her direction.
“What do you need?” she asked.
Mercedes didn’t want to explain in front of an audience. She moved closer but a woman cut in front and reached for three Inca pins, tupus made from silver and used for fastening shawls. The woman flicked a friendly glance at Mercedes.
“Wish I had a fabulous Inca wrap to keep me warm.”
Mercedes nodded. “Let’s hope for one made from vicuna. It’d be great. Let’s go to Peru.”
“The cities sure, the jungle, no way.”
The curator had traveled halfway down the hall. Mercedes darted after her. “Ms. Rogers, excuse me, but I need to speak with you.”
“Okay. The exhibit doesn’t look it, but it’s on schedule. Let’s walk. I haven’t been in my office all morning.”
Mercedes kept pace. “Remy Procteur delivered the plant. Thanks for thinking of me, but I’m not comfortable around him and I don’t want any more visits.”
Ms. Rogers stopped. “What’re you talking about?”
Mercedes explained.
“Never sent it, but I know where it came from.”
“Where?”
“The florist left forty minutes ago. We’re lining the gallery walls with plants for opening night. What do you bet one’s missing?”
Mercedes didn’t know if Remy and the curator shared a friendship. Regardless, she spoke her mind. “Why’s he allowed to run around the building?”
“I’ll cancel his card. It’s not the first time he’s done something like this. Problem is people know him. He’s delivered the goods on more than one occasion. My cancellation might not hold.”
Mercedes read something else in the woman’s eyes. “And?”
“Rumor has it he needs a mother lode fast. His last expedition came up dry. And, if the gossips have it right, he’s in debt to some nasty boys.”
“Is the guy with him a gangster?”
“That wouldn’t surprise me.”
“Doesn’t explain why Remy’s skulking around.”
“It’s obvious.”
“Not to me.”
“He needs a backer, somebody with a good name. Somebody rich.”
“Diego.”
“Probably thinks you’re his passport.”
“He doesn’t have a chance. And after this morning, he knows where I stand.” Mercedes showed her the pepper spray.
“Look, I’ll make certain he doesn’t get down there again, but be careful. He’s not a nice guy.”
“I have another problem.”
“Okay, but my office isn’t getting any closer.”
“Can I change my hours?”
“We’ve already been quite liberal. What kind of hours are we talking about?”
“I could start at ten, eleven the latest.”
“How many days?”
“No more than two. I’ll work through lunch.”
“I’m assuming you have a valid reason.”
When Mercedes explained, the curator’s expression softened. “All right. I’ve got a similar situation. Monday we’ll address the schedule.”
“Thank you. What should I do about the plant?”
“I’ll speak with maintenance.”
Ms. Rogers left her in the hall and Mercedes set out for the café on the next corner. The receptionist found an outside table and a server took her order. After a couple of sips of cold soda, she relaxed against the back of the chair. In a few days her life had taken so many turns, good and bad.
She flipped her cell phone and dialed Dr. Mendez’s office. She asked if they’d found a nurse to stay with her sister.
“Yes, Mrs. Joyce comes highly recommended.”
“She lives in town?”
“Yes. Here’s her contact number.”
After a conversation filled with details about her sister’s condition, the location of their house, and cost per diem, Mercedes ended the conversation. Mrs. Joyce would start tomorrow at noon.
Mercedes breathed a sigh of relief. The roast beef on rye arrived, as ordered, with Russian dressing on the side.
She took a bite and didn’t stop until she wiped her mouth with a napkin. Dessert felt like a necessity and chocolate cake the solution. She licked chocolate from her finger and thought of Diego. When had she become so wild? And what must he think, really. At least he hadn’t jettisoned himself into the ocean when she hit him with direct questions.
She sucked on an ice cube. What would happen tonight?
As she reached for the bill, the hair on her neck rose. She scanned the café and the neighboring streets. Someone watched her, but whom
?
On the museum steps she turned unexpectedly trying to catch unfriendly eyes. Remy’s evil-looking luncheon companion met her gaze. For a moment he paused, deliberate in his rudeness, then he climbed into a waiting limo and slammed the door. Mercedes shivered. What did he want?
* * *
The minute Diego stepped on the exhibit floor the curator hurried to his side. “Mr. Castilla, take a look. We lit the ceramics as you suggested. The larger pieces steal my breath. You must have scoured the length of the Andes.”
“I did.”
“The Pascuas Segundo is anxious to receive them. They will be forever grateful.” She led him away from a hodgepodge of wires crossing the floor. “You’ll be pleased with the number of guests confirmed for opening night. Most are regular supporters.”
“I trust your decisions.”
Her answering smile meant that he had said the right thing. Luz had lectured him on giving compliments. He followed her advice and dispensed them in the twenty-first century, but only when the statements were true.
“I reviewed the items Mercedes entered on the computer and I got the fax. Truth is, Mr. Castilla, we’re only going to need the beakers and two of the coastal pieces.”
“I thought along those lines myself. Tomorrow I will send my crew to repack. Luz will ship the remaining pieces to Lima from my home.”
“Perfect.”
Her secretary called her away and he left to find Mercedes. The laboratory suited him. In the artificial light so far below ground his muscles relaxed. His pass card accepted, he hurried, like a knight eager to see his princess and claim her colors.
She stood at the work table. “Why so perturbed?” he asked. Her face brightened when she saw him and he wanted to kiss her until his lips ached.
“Ms. Rogers phoned. These are the objects she wants.” She pointed to the table. “I’d hoped she’d use more. What do you think?”
“I spoke with her and I agree with the selection. They are lovely. I had forgotten.”
She extracted the pitcher from the cabinet. “You were supposed to take care of this mystery guest.” Mercedes gave it a slight shake. “Listen.”
He heard the sound.
“Aren’t you curious?”
“No.”
He wrapped Mercedes in his arms, but she proved relentless.
“I can’t believe you never opened it. It’s not normal. You shouldn’t leave it here. If anyone else sees it, they’re going to want an x-ray at least. Me? I want to open it and film the process.”
His expression must have worried her for she took a breath.
“Something’s wrong. What is it?”
“Seeing the vessel has reminded me of how it came into my possession. I lived another life then.”
“That’s an explanation?”
The truth read like fiction: a captive woman stole her mummified ancestor from the Centro de Momias. His brother loved the woman. They escorted both to her jungle village. His brother was slain. The sorcerer of her tribe offered him to their vampire deity. He killed the villagers, but spared the sorcerer’s pregnant daughter. She gifted him with the pitcher. Horrific.
Mercedes stared waiting for an explanation, one he could not give. “It is a long story and not very interesting.”
“I’m having a hard time believing that. Do you want to take it home now?”
“No.” Not ever. “Lock the pieces in the cabinet. Tomorrow all will be settled.”
“But you will open it, right?”
“If it will please you.”
He watched how delicately Mercedes handled the pottery. How many had he and his brother crushed looking for gold? When she finished their placement on the shelves and locked the cabinet doors, they hurried home to the night that lay before them. While in traffic, she phoned the doctor’s office to verify a time for the transfusion.
Diego asked a question but he knew the answer from the way she held him in her gaze. “Would you like to go sailing tonight?”
“Yes. What time?”
“Eight?”
“See you soon. I’ll walk over.”
“Let us keep social tradition. I will call for you.”
* * *
Mercedes looked at her sister. Guilt might as well have been stamped on Annie’s forehead. “What’d you do today?”
“Not much. I lounged around.” Annie began setting the table. “I ate small meals and watched television.”
Mercedes persisted. “Have any visitors?”
“Dave didn’t come here, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Mercedes chopped cucumber for the salad. “Good. I don’t want him in the house.”
Sarcasm reigned in her sister’s voice. “But he could come on the deck?”
“I suppose in an emergency.” Mercedes rested the knife and sighed. “I don’t enjoy being the ball and chain, but someone has to.”
“He’s thinking about giving blood.”
“Got to have it, to give it.”
Spots of color appeared on Annie’s cheeks. “He’s human. He’s made mistakes, but he’s trying to change.”
Mercedes softened her approach. “If you must see him, I’ve got to be home.”
Annie smiled. “Yes, Momma.”
Before her sister went to bed, this time choosing the bedroom on the first floor, Mercedes told her about Mrs. Joyce.
“Sounds like I’ll have two mothers. And the transfusion?”
“Both happen tomorrow.”
She tucked Annie into bed like their mother used to do. “This is a battle we’re going to win. All you have to do is rest. There’s a chance it will go into remission. “
“That’s the same chorus Dr. Mendez sings. But pep talks are good. Thanks.”
“I’d like to spend a few hours with Diego tonight. Think you’ll be okay?”
“Again we’re going through this? Gee, I’m already in bed and I know how to sleep. Take a chance.”
* * *
Hundreds of tiny white lights sparkled around the deck.
“A new addition,” explained Diego. “I enjoy looking into your eyes. They make it possible.”
“The windows of my soul.”
“I like what I see.”
“Want me to tell you what I see in yours?” Diego pulled away. Had she been too forward? After last night, she didn’t think that was possible.
He drew closer. “All right.”
“I see a mystery.” Again, his gaze flicked away. His arm slipped around her waist almost as if he wanted to distract her.
“The humidity is building. It is going to rain. We can go below.”
“Even if it doesn’t, let’s go below.”
Music played from an unseen source. Violins mixed with sensual beats set the mood as much as the fresh scent Diego wore. Tonight, he’d dressed more formally in dark slacks, a button-down cream shirt of polished cotton that caught the glow of freshly lit candles, black leather loafers, no socks. If he was trying to seduce her, he needn’t have made such an effort.
He invited her to dance, moving slowly. White shorts were a bit too casual, but now the absence of extra fabric added to her growing excitement. And she reminded herself that it was summer. They turned out to be a great wardrobe choice under the present conditions. When the music stopped, he kissed her.
They relocated to the queen-sized bed. She remembered the feel of his powerful arms and the electricity of his hands on the backs of her knees. And she liked being carried.
“Scented candles. Sandalwood. A good choice. But we need something else. Wait.” She pulled a condom from the pocket of her shorts.
“What are you doing?”
“Here.” She handed him the package.
“What is it?”
“Protection. You know a condom.”
“I don’t need. . .”
“Yes, you do.”
“Of course.”
He wore the condom and she treasured him for it. Together they found what they needed b
y giving of themselves. With Diego she discovered what she had been missing: acceptance in a loving gaze, tenderness in a touch, and honesty in endearments.
When she returned to awareness, she stayed still and discovered that he was cool. Quickly she pulled the blankets up to their necks. “This will keep us cozy. Remember what I said about this room being claustrophobic?”
An easy smile crinkled his cheeks.
“I take it back.”
A tray appeared outside the stateroom door. He offered champagne and exotic cheeses with sliced fruit. “Your crew’s too quiet. I hope they aren’t spying.”
“They are not. Your suspicious nature has not been subdued by intimacy.”
“My suspicious nature will come in handy someday.”
* * *
Diego was in love.
What had begun as joy in a shell of a man had grown into affection and attraction that poets wrote about. Even to himself he sounded corny. Luz would call him a loser. Until now he had been...
Upon parting at her door, comforted by their growing closeness, he and Mercedes made plans for the next day. They would leave for the museum together after Annie’s transfusion. Ever present with Diego? The knowledge that his ugly truth must surface and soon. What would he read in her eyes when she learned that her lover had been dead for centuries?
He flew away aware that Dave huddled in the dunes. But his thoughts lost their shape and he did not halt his flight.
Chapter 6
The curator met them at the museum helipad. The tight movements of her body indicated tension. Diego eased her into the revelation. “Please. It will be all right. Tell me now.”
“We’ve had a break-in. They went after your collection in the lab.”
“What did they take?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Any damage?” She nodded. He kept his tone level for the woman trembled from stress.
The elevator arrived. She pushed the floor for the workshop level. “The police say it’s an inside job and that’s another worry.”
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