“The thief was wearing Zorro’s mask,” John continued. “And didn’t you say, Lori, that there was something at his waist? Something that reflected the street lights?”
“Yes.”
“Could it have been a makeup mirror?”
“Who would hang a mirror from their belt?” Peet asked.
“Perhaps the same person who wears Zorro’s mask. There is only one Mesoamerican deity I know that fits those descriptions.”
Derek smirked. “A vain cowboy hero who traded his sword for a mirror?”
“I’m talking about Tezcatlipoca,” John said sternly.
“Who the hell is that?”
“His name translates into Smoking Mirror and he’s often associated with jaguars. According to the
Florentine Codex
, he’s been called the enemy on both sides, a sort of dark child of Mesoamerican deities even though he sometimes bestowed riches. His face was banded across the eyes and chin, and he was often depicted missing a leg, walking instead on a large obsidian mirror.”
“And he’s a god of sacrifice?” Lori asked.
“Very much so. The Aztecs performed a number of annual feasts and sacrifices in his honor.”
“So what does this Tez god have to do with the effigy?” Derek asked.
John dabbed the corners of his mouth with his napkin and finally retired it to his plate. “According to Mesoamerican mythology, Tezcatlipoca is Quetzalcoatl’s twin. The two were associated with the planet, Venus—Quetzalcoatl was Venus as the morning star, Tezcatlipoca was Venus as the evening star. But these twins couldn’t be more different. Wherever good was seen in Quetzalcoatl, there was something equally evil in Tezcatlipoca. They were like Yin and Yang, and according to mythology, were often bitter rivals.”
“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?