Treasure of the Mayan King (2012) (22 page)

Miranda sat on the bed next to her husband and waited a few moments before speaking. “Too bad things didn’t work out with Barrios. Still empty-handed after all the work locating that dog!” she said.

Gustavo shoveled another forkful of eggs into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully before putting his fork down. He held his thumb and index finger barely apart. “I was this close; this close! But once I find Martinez, I’ll have it all wrapped up.”

“Well, let’s hope. The good news is that we found Mr. Barrios. Mr. Mendoza now owes us a check.” Miranda replied with an optimistic smile. “I need to go shopping.”

Gustavo brightened. “Yes, yes that is good. I forgot all about that. Remind me to give him a call today so we can get our second payment.”

“Have you heard from Mr. Rollock?” Miranda asked.

Gustavo wiped his mouth with his napkin as he quickly put the tray aside and jumped off the bed. “Let’s find out.”

They entered Gustavo’s study and he sat at the computer.

“There is his answer!” They both leaned forward to read it.

To: Gustavo De Leon, Private Investigator

From: Chauncy Rollock

Dear Mr. De Leon,

First, I would like to convey my heartfelt congratulations on your new endeavor as a private investigator! I wish you success.

I am currently working on a project near Jerusalem where I am assisting another Bible archeologist. We are unearthing an ancient wall from the time of King Solomon. Now in reference to the Mayan case, I have kept silent concerning the treasure of the Mayan king for a long time. Like you, I feel that the treasure of King Chac should either be left untouched or be transferred to the Mexican authorities, not plundered for personal gain.

I have information which I believe will help you. Experience has shown that the only safe course is to give it to you in person, face-to-face. Just give the word and I will book a flight out of Jerusalem.”

Gustavo took a deep breath as he finished reading. “Well, well. It looks like we’ll be having a guest.” He proceeded to type the following:

To: Chauncy Rollock

From: Gustavo De Leon

Thank you for your prompt response! We would be highly honored to have you come visit and assist us in solving this case. I would have preferred your visit to be under more pleasant circumstances. I am confident that whatever information you have will expedite justice. Please let me know when you will arrive at the International Airport in Mexico City so I can meet you.

Thank you so very much!

Gustavo smiled contentedly as he clicked the “Send” button.

“Excellent! We’ll have this wrapped up in no - ” He was interrupted by his cell phone ringing.

Miranda handed it to him.

“Hello? Yes, I’m De Leon. What? You’re joking, right? Are you sure? What happened? Yes, yes I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

Gustavo ended the call and stared at the wall.

“What’s wrong?” Miranda asked as she saw the look on her husband’s face.

Gustavo slowly turned to her, a look of disbelief on his face. “Antonio Barrios is dead.”

Chapter Six

“What? How?” Miranda asked in shock.

“From a heart attack of all things. The two undercover officers that I had trailing him said that this morning he had driven to a restaurant for breakfast. When he got out of his car, he grabbed his chest and fell to the ground. By the time they got to him, he was dead.”

Miranda shook her head. “How sad. Something is very strange about this.”

“I know. It’s not a good sign when your primary suspect dies right in the middle of the investigation. I’m going over to the morgue to talk to the police and look at the body. And you are going to find Raul Martinez for me, since that seems to be your specialty.”

The morgue, a nondescript white building with few windows, lay hidden among many other government buildings in Mexico City. Ironically it teemed with life. Police officers, private investigators, reporters, medical students, doctors, lawyers, government workers and surviving family members filled the lobbies, hallways and offices.

As a military captain, Gustavo De Leon had been no stranger to the morgue. Now, as a private investigator, he knew he would visit just as frequently. He walked briskly up a series of stone steps, passing the street vendors and newspaper sellers. The throng waiting to identify their dead loved ones spilled out onto the street. Despite his years of experience, De Leon had never fully come to terms with the sadness of the place.

Inside he performed the ritual of showing his identification to a guard who knew him well but knew procedure just as well. Passing through the security doors, Gustavo entered a large room that contained only a table, a few chairs, three of them occupied.

“Good morning gentlemen,” he greeted the three police officers. Nothing ever changes…the same furniture and the same echoes for the last twenty years, he thought.

“Thank you for joining me; I realize that you’re busy and that I have no official status.” He opened a file that was sitting on the table and perused it. “According to this police report, and the report I received earlier, Antonio Barrios left his house at three minutes after seven this morning. He was then followed to a restaurant. As he got out of the vehicle he grabbed his chest, cried out something about being shot, and collapsed to the sidewalk. He was dead by the time anybody got to him.” He looked up at the policemen. “Does that sound right?”

The three nodded in unison.

Gustavo rubbed his forehead. “Well, gentlemen, which is it? The report says that he died of a heart attack, but he thought he’d been shot.”

The officer who had been directing traffic at the scene spoke up. “The report is correct. There were no bullet wounds, no evidence of his being shot. Perhaps the pain was so severe he only thought he’d been shot.”

“Perhaps, perhaps. Tell me anything you can remember that’s not in the report.”

“Other than a cyclist in a big hurry, it was just business as usual.”

Gustavo raised an eyebrow. “What cyclist?”

“Just a man riding really fast on a bicycle - he came pretty close to Barrios. With his jacket fluttering, it’s hard to say anything about his size. But he was obviously athletic. I was startled by how fast he was moving.”

“Did he interact in any way with Barrios?”

“No, he did not.”

“Is there anything else you men would like to add?” Gustavo asked.

The response was a series of shrugs.

Gustavo sighed and stood, as did the others. He raised his voice over the echoes of the sliding chairs. “Thank you. I’ll let you get back to work now.”

Gustavo tucked his files under his arm and instead of following the officers to the exit, he went the other direction. He walked down a long flight of stairs. At the bottom, he opened a steel door and was greeted by a blast of cold air. Gustavo shivered and wrinkled his nose at the smell of formaldehyde.

Starting down the long hallway he shouted, “Hey, Hernandez!” to a stout figure in a white smock sitting at a table.

Dr. Emilio Hernandez answered without turning. “My, my, it’s Captain, I mean Investigator De Leon!”

He finished the notes he was writing, stood up and turned and embraced De Leon heartily. “How are you doing, Gustavo? It’s been a while.”

“Busier than I’d like. How have you been?”

“I can’t complain,” he said, adjusting his glasses. “Business is good. Everybody is just dying to get in here.”

Gustavo groaned theatrically. “At least, when your time is up, you won’t have far to go; you’ll already be here.”

They both laughed. As they walked down the corridor toward the “crypt” as Hernandez called it, Gustavo couldn’t help but marvel at his friend. Throughout the years, Dr. Hernandez had maintained a cheerful attitude even though he was surrounded by so much death. Gustavo knew that the constant joking was how he coped.

“So how is business, Gustavo?”

“Well, it was going all right until my prime suspect checked into your hotel.”

“Yes, yes, that’s what I heard. I suppose you came to visit him? I can assure you that he is getting proper rest.” They stopped in front of another door. “You know the procedure; gloves and mask.”

When both were ready, the doctor opened the door and they entered an even colder room.

“So how is Miranda?”

“She’s well. She’s helping me with my business, actually.”

“Ah! So she is your partner in crime, then?”

“If it wasn’t for crime, I would be working as a street performer.”

“Thank God for crime, then.”

Dr. Hernandez stopped and turned to study the names on the metal doors that were built into the walls of the large room. “Let’s see - B, B, Barrios, Antonio Barrios, here he is.”

Pulling the drawer out, the two men saw that Antonio’s body was encased in a white bag. Hernandez unzipped the bag down to the navel.

Gustavo came close and stared at the frozen and contorted face. Despite thirty years in the military, the sight of a corpse always gave Gustavo the same strange feeling. He remembered how full of life and vibrant the victims had once been, and now there was a body, so lifeless, so still.

Dr. Hernandez adjusted his glasses again and pulled out a small file from the foot of the drawer. “Here is my initial report. ‘Cause of death: cardiac arrest.’ I see this every day, nothing out of the ordinary.” He returned the file to its plastic holder and turned nonchalantly to De Leon.

“What are the scratch marks on his chest?” De Leon asked.

The doctor casually took a glance. “Those, my friend, are the marks of his fingernails as he clutched his chest. The pain must have been intense.”

“So there were no knife marks, no bullet holes, no other wounds?”

“None whatsoever. I’ll bet his life the autopsy shows just another heart attack. It might take a few days before we get to him. If I discover anything unusual in the preliminary tests, I will inform you. However, if you find anything in your investigation, let me know. I can expedite the process for the autopsy - just call and say the word.”

Gustavo nodded. “Thank you. Witnesses said that they heard him shout that he had been shot; any ideas?”

“You have no idea of the pain. It is not the first time someone who has experienced a heart attack thought they had been shot.”

De Leon nodded as the doctor rolled the drawer back into its niche. They left the room and disposed of their latex gloves and masks.

Before Gustavo left the basement, however, he turned to his friend. “I need a special favor from you.”

“For you Gustavo, I have one hundred. What do you need?”

“Was Mr. Barrios carrying any keys?”

Doctor Hernandez smiled. “Of course, follow me.”

The security booth at Barrio’s hacienda was empty but the gate wasn’t locked. He got out of his car, pushed it open and drove through.

Five hours later Gustavo collapsed on the sofa. He shook his head in disgust - at himself, at Barrios, at the house, at the case. There was no map here.

The cell phone rang, Octavio answered it. “Hello?”

“Yes, Mr. Mendoza, this is Mr. De Leon. Did you hear about Mr. Barrios?”

“Yes, yes, I was delivering the second check to your office and your wife told me. Well, that is too bad for him. I would rather have seen him rot in prison! But the good news is that one scoundrel is out of the way. But what about the scroll, did you find it?”

“Unfortunately not. If it’s in Barrios’ house, I can’t find it.”

“What? How can that be?”

“I’m sorry Mr. Mendoza, I looked everywhere.”

“Raul must have it! You must find him, I know he has it!”

“Yes, of course, but he’s going to be hard to find.”

“Oh, I am so frustrated! Martinez was so close to deciphering the Mayan inscriptions. He must know how to find the treasure by now. He must be making preparations to locate it. You must stop him - Mexico will suffer because of this!”

“Calm down, Mr. Mendoza. I didn’t say it would be impossible to find him.”

“Let me tell you something, if you find that map, I will give you a check for five times the amount of the others!”

“Thank you. I will call when I have any more news.”

“God bless you, Mr. De Leon. Thank you. Goodbye.”

It was late once again when Gustavo arrived home. Miranda was up in bed reading.

She closed her book and got up. “Well?”

Gustavo took off his jacket before throwing his keys on the nightstand. “I went over to Barrios’ place and found nothing, absolutely nothing. There is no trace of the map. It just disappeared into thin air.” He looked at her with tired eyes. “It’s not as easy as I thought it would be.”

Miranda had a concerned expression. “And it’s not getting any easier; the scroll isn’t the only thing that has disappeared. Raul Martinez is gone too. No trace at all. Nothing! What are we going to do now?”

Chapter Seven

The wind was blowing softly on another warm day in Cozumel, Quintana Roo. The traffic sped past pedestrians, beggars, street vendors, taxis, and donkeys. The city was abuzz with activity.

Dressed like every other tourist, and reading a copy of Archaeology Today, he was essentially invisible to everyone but the attractive woman seated next to him.

Her long hair fluttered in the wind as she giggled.

“What’s so funny?” Raul asked, without taking his eyes off his magazine.

“Oh Rooly, the comics are really funny today.”

“I told you to stop calling me that, Claudia.”

“How much longer are we staying in Cozumel? I love it here!”

“Not long,” he snapped. “It’s expensive.” Shuffling his magazine a bit as he adjusted his position, he continued reading.

“What are we going to do Rooly? Can we ask your daddy for money?”

Plopping his magazine down on the table, he looked at Claudia with an angry expression. “I don’t know yet, but we are not asking my father for money.”

As he picked up the magazine, an advertisement on the back cover caught his eye. “Hello, what’s this?” he asked no one in particular as he straightened up.

“What is it?” Claudia asked eagerly.

“Shhh!” He waved his hand at her as he read:

ESTATE SALE