“All right,” said Elena, swallowing her pride. She wanted to be a team player, though she wasn’t sure that concept had made it into the director’s vocabulary. She had a reputation to build. This man had already made his. They both knew she was not getting paid to guard a World Heritage Site. Her job was to decipher the jumbled mess of 2,500 hieroglyphics carved on a seventy-two step staircase built in 753 AD.
“Perhaps when you have time, you could look at some of my work with the deciphering.” She tried again to enlist his aid, to get him to collaborate, as was her expectation when she took on this summer project. Sometimes it was better not to have expectations. Then one wasn’t disappointed.
His contempt was worthy of a sultan, addressing the infidels. “
Doctora
, your skills are well known. Surely, I don’t have to help you. Now we both have work to do, I especially, since we have another theft.”
Foolishly, she had thought he had one kind bone in his skinny little body. Could the man be more rotten? She stared at him, feeling her temper threaten to escape the confines of reason. Only the slight flare of her nostrils gave her away. Calling on all the grace and dignity she could muster, she said, “
Sí, director
.”
Turning on her heel, she left before she erupted like a Central American volcano.
* * * * *
Dominic Harte studied the young American woman across the crowded room of party goers.
“A real looker, isn’t she?” said his friend, Bill, the big, ruddy, eco-adventure guy who knew everyone in town. “She’s some university professor doing work out at the ruins.”
“Not bad,” said Dominic. Since he had sworn off women, he wasn’t about to be pulled into an ogling contest. There should be a law against brains and beauty. His ex-wife had had both in abundance and look where he was.
He stared into his empty glass. “I need a refresher. Catch you later, Bill.”
Dominic threaded his way through the packed reception area toward the bar. While the room was big enough for the new medical clinic, the space could not accommodate all the well-wishers who had turned out, and the party had spilled into the street. The crowd was a mixture of half and half – half locals and half foreigners. The noise bouncing off the bare, cement block walls made Dominic’s ears ring. Some of the foreigners were Americans with the Episcopal mission that had helped build the new clinic. They were celebrating its completion with a party, big time, complete with martini bar.
The warm, humid air that permeated everything dictated tank tops in abundance with the Latina ladies tending to outfits that sparkled and glittered. Dominic liked the vivid colors the Latinas preferred. Like the spice they put in their food, it made the room tingle.
He slid his glass toward the bartender, one of his ex-pat friends with antiquated leftist leanings and a pony tail, who poured another gold martini for him.
“What’s in this, Gus?”
“My special recipe. Hint of mango.”
“Not bad. They go down easy and produce a nice buzz.”
“Yeah,” said Gus, “my favorite way of drinking.”
A rotund figure in red and ruffles flounced into Dominic’s line of vision.
Señora
Martinez, head of the medical clinic volunteers and social maven of Copan Ruinas, greeted him. “
Ay
,
señor
Harte, you look so handsome this evening,” she said. “You are not bored, are you? I hope that wasn’t a yawn I saw on your face. Tell me you are not thinking of leaving us already. The party has just begun. Soon the musicians will be here, and the dancing will start.”
He hated dancing. It reminded him of his ex-wife and having to watch her wiggle up close to every man at the party while he nursed his drink and smiled, making excuses for his beautiful wife’s excesses.
He turned on his cocktail party smile. “
Señora
Martinez, nice to see you. I’m afraid I’m beat. I was up early to help put the finishing touches on our celebration. I dropped by to see if everyone was enjoying themselves this evening.”
She tucked her arm into his. “We will not let you leave any time soon. Not the man responsible for the completion of our new medical clinic. Everyone knows we would not be standing here today in the completed clinic without you.”
Dominic hid a wince behind his smile. She was laying it on thick. He had the unpleasant feeling that she would make sure he stayed until the last guest left the room. He hated socializing. He had attended enough church socials to last several lifetimes. Had he known the clinic included a party at the end, he wouldn’t have come to help finish it. Then he felt guilty for such uncharitable thoughts about the people who had been so kind to him, who had helped him settle in, who had included him in their community and their lives.
“You flatter me,
señora
. The medical clinic was a community effort. I’m glad I could be a part of it.”
“I think you should lead the first dance. You should ask Elena to be your partner. She’s very beautiful, don’t you think?” She nodded toward the young woman Bill had pointed out to him.
Dominic coughed behind his fist. The last thing he wanted was to make a public spectacle of himself. But then his ex-wife had managed that. She had created transgression to end all transgressions. He turned his gaze toward Elena. She looked too unwrinkled, too fresh and bright eyed. At least that’s how she looked from across the room. He’d never seen her up close, never been interested. He’d had too much to do with getting the clinic built. He’d run around for months trying to keep the building of the modest one story structure on schedule, a foreign concept in this part of the world.
“You’re right, she’s very pretty, but I’m afraid I haven’t danced in years. Why don’t we ask Dr. Hidalgo to lead the dance with you? You have done so much for the clinic. It’s appropriate that you take the first dance. Go, dance, please. I’ll dance later.”
Señora
Martinez, red roses blooming in her round cheeks and hibiscus flower over one ear, was easily persuaded. “Well, if you insist. I see the musicians now. I will hurry them along.”
That was a close call. Thank heaven, he’d remembered how much she liked to be in the limelight, and he didn’t. Perfect. The musicians were surrounding her. She’d soon forget him. He’d slip out the side door unnoticed.
“Dominic, how wonderful to see you.”
He turned toward the vaguely familiar female voice. He had to think where he had seen her before. He didn’t want to ask the embarrassing “Do I know you?”
But it seems he did. Or she knew him, as she tucked her arm into his in a familiar way. He wondered why women did that. It was so proprietary.
She correctly read the confusion in his eyes. “The Dominican Republic. We both served on the board for building the school outside of Santo Domingo.”
He tried not to groan aloud. He did know her.
“Felicia?”
“You remembered,” she said, all red lipped smile and undulating charm. “I do hope you’re all right. I heard what your wife put you through, now ex-wife, isn’t it? How absolutely horrid, the little…. Well, I won’t say the word. How you must have suffered.”
He stared at her. The do-gooder world was entirely too small. He remembered this creature had tons of money, even more time, and excelled in gossip.
“That’s all behind me now,” he said, ending the matter as far as he was concerned. “Are you still fund raising?
“As a matter of fact, I helped raise the money for this clinic.”
Dominic cocked an eyebrow. He should have known. But then he had forgotten her after the last meeting in Santo Domingo.
“What brings you here?” she asked.
“Helping to build the clinic.”
“I heard you resigned from your parish.”
“You heard correctly.”
“Well, as you said, that’s all behind you now.”
Dominic searched the crowd for an excuse to move on and caught sight of Elena standing by herself.
“Felicia, if you’ll excuse me, I must catch up with someone before I call it a night.”
“I’ll be around and available, if you need me,” she said with a wink.
The suggestion in that statement was not hard to get.
He pushed his way through the crowd of revelers. The Americans were a good head taller than the Hondurans and muted in contrast. The Latinas were in full color, red dominant and lace in abundance. Local well-wishers saluted him, and he returned the greetings. It warmed his heart to know what a great benefit it would be for the community to have this free medical clinic. Now if they could find a physician willing to live and work in rural western Honduras for a modest salary. Maybe someone just out of medical school. Perhaps Elena would know of someone, a class mate or colleague or someone from her social set. She probably rubbed elbows with the educated elite.
He picked up a Coke at the bar, deciding to go easy on the gold martinis.
A girl, maybe someone from the community, was speaking with Elena. He took his time sipping the Coke to have a closer look. She stood in profile in animated conversation. Her Spanish sounded much better than his. Maybe she had some Latina blood in her from the looks of the dark hair she had attractively piled atop her head. She wasn’t as young as he thought, detecting sun lines around her eyes and smile lines framing her mouth. Whatever they were discussing involved a lot of giggling. Elena turned in his direction and caught him staring at her. Time to wade in. He sucked in his gut and eased into their space.
“Excuse me for interrupting. I’m Dominic Harte,” he said in Spanish in deference to the local girl. “I help with the clinic. I hear you are working out at the ruins.”
He looked into the brilliant green of her eyes. Up close she was striking, and her dress had a nice way of clinging to her figure. She didn’t look like a professor. Maybe he had made a mistake.
“Elena Palomares,” she said. “This is Lucila Hernandez. She speaks English, if you feel more comfortable using English.”
“Sorry, you don’t know when you first meet someone at an affair like this what language to speak.”
Elena laughed. “We were just talking about how many Spanglish conversations were going on. Sentences come out hilarious sometimes.”
“Excuse me,” Lucila said. “I see a friend waving. It was nice to meet you,
señor
Harte.”
Dominic raised his Coke in salute as Lucila walked away and then turned to give Elena his full attention.
“I have been working at the ruins,” she said, “I’m an epigrapher. My area of expertise is deciphering ancient Mayan hieroglyphs. I’m trying to make sense of the Hieroglyphic Staircase.”
Dominic smiled. “I’ve never met an epigrapher before.”
She smiled back. She had an electric smile that lit her whole face. “Most people haven’t. It’s a rather esoteric calling.”
“I thought they already had cracked the Mayan code.”
“Not all of it. The Staircase crumbled over the centuries and was reassembled without any thought to the correct order of the glyphs. I’m trying to figure out the correct order. Some days it’s a daunting task. Today was one. Unfortunately, I picked the hottest part of the year to come.”
“Fall, winter and spring are great. How long will you be here?”
“Until August, then I return to teaching. I’ve been here several weeks. So far it’s been quite an experience. Not at all what I had hoped.” The smile faded from her face.
“What do you mean?” he asked. His old pastoral instincts kicked in. Something was troubling Elena. In an instant her face had gone from sunny skies to dark clouds. Maybe it was his face everyone said they could trust that made her lean closer and lower her voice.
“Someone’s been stealing valuable stones from the Staircase.”
“That’s serious. Have you notified the police?”
Elena nodded. “The director has. This is a real scandal. You’ve lived here for a while, haven’t you? Is there a serious crime problem in this town? What about smuggling?”
Scandal he understood. He felt a sudden protectiveness toward her. “There’s the usual tourist crime, wallets stolen, cameras, stuff like that. I haven’t heard of any smuggling, but that doesn’t mean it’s not going on. Is there anything I can do to help?”
She shrugged a bare shoulder. The red shawl with shiny threads that she had draped over it, slid down her arm, and Dominic followed the sliding adornment, taking in the swell of her breast under the slinky black fabric of her dress. He hoped she didn’t notice where his eyes were wandering. Down boy, he thought. Let’s not get carried away. Compassion and lust were not a good combination.
“It’s kind of you to offer,” she said. “If you hear any rumors about the theft of the stones, let me know. I’m looking for any and all clues. But enough of my problems, tell me about the clinic. When will it open?”
“We’re open now,” he said. “There’s a nurse who’s already overwhelmed with the demand. She does what she can while we look for a full time doctor. Do you know any physician who’d like to work here? We had one lined up, but he was lured away to a more lucrative situation.”
She tilted her head, maybe thinking over possibilities. “I don’t know anyone off hand, but I’ll contact some of my friends and get back to you. Now I must be going. I start early in the morning. It was a pleasure talking to you.”
She held out her hand. He grasped it, feeling the warmth and slenderness of it, enjoying the contact with her youth and beauty. As she walked away, he watched the smooth sashay of her walk until she was out of sight, unwilling to take his eyes away until the night had swallowed her.
He slipped out the side door into the welcome darkness, smiling to himself. She was a knockout all right. Her damsel in distress appealed to his knight in shining armor. He had every intention of making some discreet inquiries about the disappearance of those valuable stones to help the damsel out of her predicament.
Dominic arrived at the clinic before seven the next morning. Outside the sun heated the cinder block walls with the promise of another scorcher. Inside the floors were newly swept. A wizened little man in dusty brown sandals was emptying the last of the trash into a beat up metal can.