Path of the Jaguar Page 9

  "There is something compelling about abandoned places," he called back to her. "Think of all the secrets these rocks hold!" His eyes swept ever so slowly around the ruins, upon the jaguar stone behind which the cash lay. At the same time he appeared to be watching her.

  Joseph was trying to find out from her the exact location of the cash! She forced her eyes to remain on his face. Lennea thought about the little Mayan man she had seen upon the trail the night she had hidden the money. Joseph must have hired him to follow her, to spy on her every move! He had informed Joseph of the general location of the hiding place, but neither of them knew the exact spot.

  Joseph moved closer to the jaguar head. The white of his jacket made his back and shoulders massive. He took a step or two, then abruptly turned. The speed was timed and menacing, like a threat. Yet, in the darkness he appeared to be smiling. She had an impression of white teeth as she backed away. She kept stepping backward until the chill, cutting rock of a damp wall grazed her back, stopping her.

  Joseph drew closer. She was aware of the muscular arms and chest, the well-toned hardness of his body. She remembered this afternoon when she had wanted him to hold her. Now she felt trapped against the ruined wall. Joseph raised his hand and she half-expected it to close about her throat. Instead, fingers gently lifted her chin. "Why are you afraid of me?

  She trembled as his mouth moved against hers. His demanding lips were more unsettling to her than the anticipated threat had been.

  "Joseph, don't!" Even as she spoke, she could feel her body weaken and melt against his.

  His hands moved to her face. She could feel his fingers against the silver earrings she had put on for Wesley. For Wesley! She tried to free herself, to push him away.

  "I've never felt this way about anyone," he said. In the darkness, he looked angry, as if the isolation of the jungle had changed him into another person. Hands gripped her shoulders and forced her closer.

  Lennea's struggling grew desperate. Able to break free, she whirled out of his reach.

  "Lennea, come back! I won't touch you again. Come back!"

  Her long hair, damp from the humid night, streamed from her shoulders like a thick, heavy net. The heels of her sandals sank into the earth, slowing her speed. The cry of an animal from the darkness terrorized her, but she did not once look back. She knew that she would rather meet a jaguar face to face than risk another moment in Joseph's arms!

  * * * * *

  Chapter Nine

  The crumpled note lay upon the tile floor as if someone had hastily shoved it under the door. The handwriting looked like Delores', but Lennea couldn't be certain. Anyone could have copied the style, her huge capital letters carelessly followed by excessive lines.

  I must see you at once! A boy will be waiting for you today behind the shed. Two o'clock. Delores.

  It was almost two now. Lennea had lingered with the LaTillas until a short time ago when they had left to spend Sunday afternoon in Cancun. They had almost persuaded her to join them, but at the last minute she had decided to stay and read through the notes Wesley had given her on his book.

  The boy waited in a dilapidated Ford truck. As Lennea approached, the idea flashed before her that she was a fool to trust anyone. After all, the note might not be from Delores.

  A quick look into the window revealed a thin boy, barely a teenager, with large, uneven teeth and long, lank hair. Not very dangerous, she decided.

  "Get in," he said, patting the torn leather of the seat beside him. "I'm Rico. I take you to Delores."

  Rico drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as he waited for her to climb in. He looked slightly familiar to her and she wondered if he worked at LaTilla's farm or at the henequin plant. He released the clutch with a careless, jerky motion, kicking up a cloud of dust behind them as they sped down the uneven dirt road that led to the village.

  When she tried to question him, he shook his head as if he didn't understand. Lennea finally remained silent, gripping the dashboard for support each time the Ford's wheels ran dangerously close to the edges of the narrow road. Rico gave no sign of slowing down as they approached the village.

  Chickens squawked, dashing away with a flutter of wings at the truck's invasion. Holding her breath, Lennea watched the small settlement whiz by in a blur of thatched roofs, goats, and orange flowers. Rico did not stop until they reached the gates of Chichen Itza.

  Lennea, slightly breathless from the rapid ride, asked shakily. "Delores is meeting me here?"

  Rico nodded, pointing beyond the gates. "She is at the Observatory." Leaning back lazily in the seat, he added, "I wait here, si?"

  "Thank you." On legs made of rubber, Lennea hurried away from the battered truck. Glad that she had brought her purse with her, she paid the small admission fee. A host of tourists with cameras, Mexicans selling pottery and blankets swarmed the entrance.

  She made her way through the congested gates, then stood off to the side, trying to get her bearings. To her left the great pyramid called the "Castle" jutted out against the gray sky. Nearby, she recognized the Temple of the Jaguars. Far in the distance, she spotted the rounded top of the Observatory.

  The crowd thinned out as she began to hurry down the long path that led to the huge, fortress-like building. Though the Observatory itself was one of Chichen Itza's featured attractions, the nearby area was isolated, surrounded on all sides by dense underbrush and unexcavated ruins.

  The rains had come and gone, and the sun now poked its head through the bulging clouds. The result of rain and sunshine produced a sticky humidity that made the heat almost unbearable. Soon, only a scattering of tourists remained upon the rough, uneven path. Only the hardy, she guessed, were able to take the walk to the Observatory in the afternoon heat.

  When she reached the imposing stone building, there was no sign of Delores. From the first level she scanned the area, but spotted no dark curls, no bright red blouse among the scattered handful of people below.

  She climbed to the next platform where spiral steps wound upward to the domed tower. The thick stone walls made the air cool, a welcome contrast to the steamy heat outside. On the uppermost level of the observatory, Lennea followed the circular pattern of the building, glancing out of each high stone window as she walked. The dizzying view reminded her of how far she had climbed. Again she searched for Delores.

  Slowly now Lennea descended the steps, emerging from the tower on the far side of the building. From out of the thick trees into the gray brightness, Delores appeared. No greeting. No apology. "Did anyone follow you?"

  Delores wore a tight cotton shift, dyed a deep pink, one she had no doubt purchased from a street hawker. Her black hair was as carefully-styled as ever, her lipstick fresh. Only Delores' eyes appeared different to Lennea. They were much too bright, even a little glazed.

  Lennea reacted to Delores' desperation with alarm. "What on earth has been going on?"

  Delores glanced nervously around, though no one was in sight. "Let's walk somewhere." She chose a path which led back into the dense trees.

  "What kind of trouble are you in? I've been worried sick!"

  "Serious trouble. God, I wish I had a cigarette. Do you have one?"

  "You know I don't."

  Delores retreated to her place of concealment, a badly crumbling ruin partially secluded by the trees. Lennea followed her inside the hollow arch of the doorway. The thin cotton shirt had grown wet against her body. The heat beneath the shade of the trees had stifled her: it was only slightly cooler under the shelter of stone. "Why didn't you contact me at the airport?"

  "Because he was there at the baggage claim."

  "Who was there?" Hadn't Wesley and all the rest warned her that it would be some wild romance? Lennea responded with anger. "The least you could have done is told me!"

  "I didn't know he was crazy! He just came out of nowhere all of a sudden, crazy as hell!"

  "What do you mean crazy?"

  "He was going to kill me!"


  "Kill you! Why?" She eyed Delores suspiciously. "What did you do to him?"

  "Nothing." Delores' sharp features hardened. With a nervous, jerky motion, she shook back her dark curls. "I just wanted to quit—you know—break it off. But he wouldn't accept the fact that I've found someone else!"

  Delores certainly wasn't talking about the man who had been following Lennea, the Mayan. He was much too solemn, too non-prosperous, to be Delores' jilted lover. "Who are you talking about?"

  "It doesn't matter. All that matters is that my life is in danger!"

  "You're probably overreacting. I can't really understand..."

  "It's simple," she snapped, "I jilted him and he won't be jilted. He tried to kill me! He was waiting for me down at the luggage ramp. He grabbed me as if there were no one around, tried to force me to kiss him! When I wouldn't, he tried to strangle me!"

  "In front of hundreds of people?" Lennea said with disbelief. Delores flushed and moved stiffly away. "By God, don't believe me then! I expected you of all people to help!"

  "You didn't seem to want my help when I found you in the church."

  The silver charm bracelet jingled against Delores' arm. "I've been so scared. Honestly, I don't know what I'm doing!"

  In the thick silence, Lennea pictured the scene at the airport that Delores claimed to be true—the incensed lover, one Delores was discarding like an old rag. Delores, cold and haughty; the man exploding in jealous rage. Delores had starred in this scene before. How many times Lennea had warned her that she would someday meet the wrong man! Lennea felt a sudden resentment over the stupid mess Delores had gotten herself into.

  "When they find me dead, then you'll believe me," Delores said sullenly.

  "Let's tell the police you're being threatened."

  "What good would that do? They're not going to be able to keep him from killing me! I can't even show up for work. That's what I'm faced with now."

  "Maybe he's cooled off."

  "You would say something like that. Crazy people remain crazy!" She paced away from Lennea, as if succumbing to morbid fear. "I should have seen the signs. He's always pretended to be interested in Wesley's projects so he can hang around me."

  Lennea felt her throat grow tight. She had difficulty asking for the second time, "Who is he?"

  "If you must know, Joseph Darrigo!"

  "Joseph!"

  "You must have met him."

  "He came up in answer to your page at the airport. He said he was supposed to meet you there." As Lennea spoke she recalled Joseph's brusque manner when he had first approached her at the airport, the way his lips had been tightened with anger.

  "I had already told him I wasn't going to see him again. Wesley probably told him I'd be on that plane."

  "You two have been going back and forth from Mexico to the U.S.?"

  "Joseph lives in Mexico City, but he travels to the States all the time. He was at the University of New Mexico two weeks ago. We had talked about our flying into Merida together then. But last time he called me, I told him I was through with him. For good."

  Either Joseph was using Delores to make some kind of illegal deliveries back and forth across the border, Lennea thought, or they were in on the scheme together. How much of what Delores was telling her was the truth? Lennea studied Delores a moment, undecided, watched her closely as she told her about the money she had found in the maroon suitcase.

  "Oh, that snake!" Delores cried. A dark, angry flush spread across her high cheekbones. "He's been using me! He gave me that suitcase as a present. I've been set up good!"

  "What do you mean?"

  "If there was money in that suitcase, then you can be damned sure that Joseph Darrigo put it there! What a jerk I've been! I wonder how many times he's used me to smuggle his dope and black money through customs! Did he get his hands on the money?"

  "No. I've got the money." Another scene at the airport flashed through Lennea's mind, how Joseph had aided her in getting the suitcase through customs, had intervened, preventing the inspector from finding that secret compartment. Even if the money had been found, the suitcase was definitely not his, so he had himself a fall guy! It had occurred to her before that the Mayan man and Joseph were working together. She now wondered which one of them had stolen the suitcase from her room.

  "What did you do with the money, Lennea?"

  "No one knows I have it. It's—safe."

  "Bring it to me," said Delores. "I'll go back to the States with it and turn it in over there. We'll nail him good!"

  Lennea could not even trust Delores' account of what had happened; she certainly wasn't going trust her with the money. "The money should be turned in here," she said.

  "The Mexican police would never believe someone planted money in my suitcase. They'd probably lock me up here forever!"

  Lennea thought about Carlos Alfonso, her instinctive distrust of him. "You're right about that. The only thing you can do is go back to the States immediately. Once you're safely back, I'll turn the money over to the Mexican police and tell them the whole story."

  "What if they don't believe you?" Lennea noted, was a question Delores did not bother to ask. Instead, she moaned, "But I just can't leave here! Wesley needs my help! With the book about ready for publication and all!"

  "I'll explain your absence so he'll understand. You must go to Kansas and stay with Val until I contact you. Maybe I can figure out something where you won't even have to be implicated."

  "I have fifty dollars in cash. That's not going to take me very far!"

  "I have money." Lennea dug into her purse and all the cash she found she pressed into Delores' hand. "Can you get a plane out right away? Today?"

  "Rico will take me to the airport."

  "I won't do anything at all until I hear from you. When you get back to the States, call. Right away. Promise me." "Sure. I knew you'd help me out," Delores said, stuffing the money into her pocket. "I just knew I could depend on you."

  Lennea watched Delores' escape through the thick trees. As she did, a feeling of fear possessed her. Delores was leaving her to face the Mexican authorities alone, to face Joseph! What a fool she was to risk her own safety for Delores'!

  * * * * *

  Chapter Ten

  "Take the jeep," said Frank, forcing the keys into Lennea's hand.

  "But we're going to begin excavation on the big temple south of Tikom this morning. Surely you don't want to miss that!"

  Frank considered a moment. "I've got to finish some carvings," he said a little sadly. "But you'd better hurry. Dr. Hern won't like it if you're late."

  Lennea, always anxious to please Wesley, checked her watch and noted that she could save time by taking the back road that cut from the LaTillas to Chichen Itza. The jeep jogged as wheels settled into accustomed ruts in the narrow dirt road. Dawn in the jungle. Solitude. Quietness. Yet peace seemed far away, a memory Lennea had left many years ago, somewhere back at the farm in Kansas.

  Her thoughts, with a renewed agony, kept returning to Joseph. She had trusted the sparkling dark eyes, the affection she had seen in them as he had sprung to the defense of her pies. She had often caught Delores in lies—wasn't her accusations about Joseph just another one?

  She forced her thoughts to today's work and the prospect of what the day might uncover lifted her spirits. Some design upon rock, some fragment of jade or clay, studied with sensitivity and knowledge, interpreted by Wesley Hern—always her world came back into focus around Wesley!

  The rutted gaps in the trail grew deeper, forcing her to slow down. Driving directly to the site from this back road was impossible. She pulled off the trail and began to hike the rest of the way up the rise.

  As Lennea reached the crest of the hill, she could see Wesley far in the distance. She could always tell his mood by the way he stood, today rigidly straight. A sudden change in his position caused her to realize that he was talking to someone. She stopped suddenly, her heart pounding heavily in her chest as the
woman close beside him came into full view. Delores!

  Lennea might have known Delores would never leave thinking Wesley angry and the job she valued so much, ended. Delores was dressed for traveling, high heels, bright, linen dress. With dark curls brushed carefully into place, she appeared once again the Delores of the University, sharp, confident. Delores' slender arm rose in a gesture of exasperation, sending glitters of light from the charm bracelet Lennea had given her for Christmas.

  "You're not ever going to work with me again." Wesley's words rang into the stillness. "Not here. Not anywhere!"

  "That stinks. It just stinks!"

  "If you think it stinks," Wesley snapped back, "give it some distance. I'm going to."

  "I've done more work on your damned book than you have! Don't you think you owe me something?"

  "If I gave you what I owed you, you wouldn't be able to leave here!"

  "How can you fire me when the book's almost done?" Delores persisted. "Why, I've practically written it!"

  Lennea detected a deeper hurt in Delores' voice that made her realize it wasn't just the book they were arguing over, but much more. A lover's quarrel! Lennea's heart became as frozen as her body. How could she believe it? She simply couldn't. She must be mistaken.

  "You could have been my wife," Wesley said coldly. "I would have married you, Delores. It's not my fault you're not to be trusted."

  "Did I ever say I wanted to marry you?" Delores asked with a prideful lift of voice and head. "You're so egotistical. God! I don't care about you! I just want my job back!"

  Lennea, relieved that she could not see Wesley's face, tensely waited for his answer. She wondered how Wesley could appear to straighten up when he was already standing so very tall. "I'll give you a good reference," he said cuttingly.

  "For the book or the bedroom?" Delores hurled back at him. Her voice had become shrill, a tone Lennea had never before heard her use. "To hell with you and every despicable thing you stand for!"