The Kissed Corpse (20 page)

I don't know why it excited me. Modern Mexico is predominantly Catholic. There are crosses and shrines all over Mexico. But the idea of a cross
before
the advent of Catholicism stimulated my imagination. I supposed Prescott didn't mention a
double
cross, but …

I have a well-thumbed three volumes of Prescott's “Conquest of Mexico.” I dug them out and went to the index in Volume III.

On page 484 I found: “Cross, the common symbol of worship, i, 267
note
. See
Crosses.
”

The note on page 267, Vol. I, gave the following not particularly relevant information:

In the passages here referred to, the author has noticed various proofs of the existence of the cross as a symbol of worship among pagan nations both in the Old World and the New. The fact has been deemed a very puzzling one; yet the explanation, as traced by Dr. Brinton, is sufficiently simple: “the arms of the cross were designed to point to the cardinal points and represent the four winds—the rain-bringers.” Hence the name given to it in the Mexican language, signifying “Tree of our life”—a term well-calculated to increase the wonderment of the Spanish discoveries. “Myths of the New World,” p. 96
et al
.—E
D
.

That wasn't much help. Checking through the various other references in Prescott, I gathered that the presence of a cross as a symbol of worship superseding Christianity had been most prevalent on the Island of Cozumel (just off the coast of the Yucatan Peninsula) and in Yucatan itself.

I laid Prescott aside thoughtfully. There was a possible lead. Geographically, Yucatan is situated so as to be almost an island, set off from the rest of the continent by an almost impassable barrier of jungle, swamp, and low hill ranges. The home of the Maya Indians; the seat of one of the most astounding of ancient civilizations—the Mayan; Yucatan has been the object of intense archeological research during the last few decades … considered by scientists as an almost perfect “laboratory case” for such study because it is so isolated that outside influences have been reduced to a minimum.

And Mike O'Toole, renegade Irish adventurer, had settled in Yucatan, where Leslie Young had met him!

Not much of a tie-up. Far-fetched and fantastic, of course. But, a beginning. Something to start on.

Jerry Burke had told me I would know what to look for if I found something. Was this what he had in mind?

My next port of call was the public library. I hardly knew what I was looking for, nor how to go about finding it, but Yucatan was a lead that stuck in my mind.

The cross-reference filing cards of the library were peculiarly productive. Because of El Paso's proximity to Mexico, I suppose, the reference shelves of the library contained more than their share of scientific research into the ancient Mayan civilization.

Choosing at random, I took a crack at Cheese-borough's six volumes of “A Study of Mayan Antiquities.”

The numerous color plates fascinated me.… Tinted photographs, mostly, of reliefs sculptured God knows how many centuries ago on stone walls and the arches of ancient temples.

I flipped the pages rapidly, looking for a two-barred cross. I found crosses, dozens of them, but all were the conventional single traverse type.

I was half-way through the second volume before I thought to consult the index.

And … there it was! I had a crawling sensation in my belly as I stared at the words:

“Stone Crosses in Architecture: … Latin, Double
Patibula
, IV, p. 432.…”

My fingers trembled as I opened volume IV to page 432. There they were. Two of them. Flanking the entry of a
teocalli
near the fabled metropolis of Chichen Itza.

Stone crosses, rudely hewn from the solid rock by the copper instruments of a people unacquainted with iron.

Beneath the photograph of the two crosses was the caption:

One of the most curious and interesting archeological discoveries on the Yucatan Peninsula to date is the above entry to a ruined
teocalli
which is guarded by twin double-barred crosses of stone which appear to be exact duplicates of the
encolpia
worn only by Patriarchs or Archbishops during the Middle Ages.

Antedating such usage by centuries, an interesting field of conjecture is opened by asking ourselves what particular significance this symbol enjoyed in the Maya mythology … a question which is only partially answered by fragmentary hieroglyphics which indicate the existence of a secret cult which must have flourished about 200 B.C., dedicated to the worship of a strange God, Huexchipatlan, who is represented in two sculptured reliefs inside the above-pictured ruins as a squat Buddha-like creature, holding aloft a double-barred cross in his left hand and a rude sacrificial knife in his right. There are further inscriptions which indicate that Huexchipatlan may have been regarded as the God of Vengeance, and the sacrificial altar of this
teocalli
may have been used as a death tribunal for members of the cult convicted of traitorous acts. For further interesting conjectures, see: Martin Jenson: “Modern Mexican Mythology,” p. 341.

Back I went to the reference files, praying that the library would have a copy of Mr. Jenson's book.

A brown-eyed girl wearing a smock and a friendly smile was hovering around the filing cabinet when I reached it. She asked if she could help me, and I let her because she seemed so anxious to help somebody.

“I wonder if you have a copy of Martin Jenson's ‘Modern Mexican Mythology'?”

I noticed a little frown pucker her forehead, and was surprised by her prompt answer:

“Yes. I know there is a copy. But I'll have to look up the number. It's rarely asked for and I can't tell you exactly where to find it.”

She turned her back and drew out the “J” drawer of cards. As her fingers flipped through them, I asked curiously:

“How do you happen to remember the name of that particular book? Don't tell me you go in for Mexican mythology.”

She tossed me a professional smile over her shoulder. “I don't, as a matter of fact. It just happens that I had another inquiry for the same book a couple of days ago.”

I stiffened like a bird dog on a point. It couldn't be a coincidence. It
had
to mean something. Someone else running down the same dope.

“I wonder if you could recall who it was,” I said as casually as I could.

“She didn't tell me her name.” The girl was copying some numbers down from the file.

“I wonder if you could describe her to me,” I said desperately. “I'm doing a feature article on Mexican Mythology and I've an idea.…”

“Why, that's what she was doing, too. I remember she was particularly interested in the origin of a cross with two bars … and I helped her chase it down to this book you want to see. But I don't believe I can describe her at all. So many people are in and out all the time.”

“Can't you remember the color of her hair?” I asked. “Whether she was fat or thin? Young or old?”

“She wasn't old. Moderately tall and slender … I think.”

“When was this?” I asked her tensely. “It's … important.”

“Day before yesterday.” She was very positive about it. “Just before noon, day before yesterday. I was off yesterday, and I remember distinctly.”

I muttered my thanks and followed her to a shelf where she instantly found Mr. Jenson's book and handed it down to me.

I sat down with it at a table, my mind in a whirl. Day before yesterday at three o'clock, Leslie Young had been murdered. At noon of that day … three hours before the murder occurred … Some woman had looked up the symbol which was later found marked on Young's cheek with a woman's lipstick.

I tried to quit thinking, and opened the heavy volume to page 341. A section titled: “DO THE DEVOTEES OF HUEXCHIPATLAN STILL WORSHIP AT THE SHRINE OF THE DOUBLE-CROSS?” read:

In Mexico today (1936) there is a closely guarded inner group in the Young Nationalist movement which would appear to be a dominant factor in the future development of that party.

Their policy is one of force and of ruthless reprisals in high places rather than of peaceful penetration as is advocated by the ostensible leaders of the movement.

Banded into secret unity by certain vows and rites known only to the initiate, it is cautiously whispered that their identity may be discovered only by the tattooing upon the chest of each member of a symbol which may be conveniently identified as the “Double-Cross,” described as a conventional cross with an extra transverse bar.

In this connection it is interesting to note evidence of a similar organization which had its inception in Yucatan during the reign of Iturbe in about 1825 whose members were similarly marked and whose object was to effect a return of the government to the common people of Mexico.

Delving still further back into fabled antiquity, we find indisputable evidence of this self-same cult of the Double-Cross in the ancient Maya civilization, which also seems to have had as its object the violent eradication of traitors against the common weal.

It is an interesting commentary on the nature of the Mexican people and the peculiar national characteristic of …

I had read enough to know Jerry Burke should immediately see what I had found. Carrying the book under my arm, I went to the desk with my library card, waited impatiently until it was duly stamped to allow me to take the book out, then hurried to Burke's office with my find.

20

When I hurried into Jerry Burke's private office at police headquarters a few minutes later, I found him sitting at his desk loosing a lurid string of oaths that would have made an army mule-skinner blush.

He glanced at me and kept on cursing, paying no attention to my excited face nor to the heavy volume I slammed down in front of him.

I waited until he began repeating himself, then interrupted to ask what it was all about.

“These dumb flatfeet the city furnishes me and calls detectives,” he growled. “Can't even tail a woman a few hours without losing her.”

“Laura Yates?”

He nodded disgustedly. “Not that it makes a hell of a lot of difference, now, for it'll soon all be over. But it's the principle of it. That fool I had tailing her just telephoned that he lost her an hour ago in a downtown crowd.”

I had an empty sick feeling inside of me as I realized that what I was going to tell him might make him consider the disappearance of Laura Yates more serious than he thought. I pointed to the book and said:

“You haven't asked me what I dug up on the cross you were so curious about.”

He glanced at the book with a disinterested frown. “Oh, that. I'm sorry, Asa. I don't believe it's important after all. I tried to call you a while ago to tell you not to bother. You were out so I sent a man over to your place with a note.…” He paused gloomily.

“You don't know what I dug up.” I opened the book at page 341 and shoved it under his nose.

He began reading where I indicated. A flicker of interest lighted his face and he leaned closer. He nodded his head when he finished.

“This
is
something, sure enough. The cult of the double-cross.” He arose excitedly and paced up and down with blue smoke from his pipe swirling in the air behind him.

“Yucatan! That's where Leslie Young met Mike O'Toole years ago. Young must have learned about the cult … got hold of one of their crosses … remember, I told you he showed me one of them he brought back? From her father, Michaela knew about him and his sympathy with the objectives of the secret society. By tracing that symbol on her letter, she told him what the meeting at the
hacienda
was all about. Then: Why the hell did she kill him and mark that same symbol on his cheek? It doesn't make sense, Asa. It's more mixed up than ever, now. Just when I thought I had the whole case neatly solved. God help me if I
ever
trust a deduction again.”

I leaned back and wet my lips. “There's one other thing I haven't told you yet, Jerry.”

He didn't hear me. He was walking up and down, thinking aloud: “The Dwight death points directly at O'Toole. Leaving the cross on the body … everything.…” He paused, shaking his head.

“I'm trying to tell you, Jerry.…”

He still didn't hear me. He was striding up and down pounding his fist into his palm. “If you'll just listen to me!” I yelled.

“What's that? I have been listening to you, Asa.”

I gritted my teeth and said: “Does it mean anything to you that a young, medium-tall and slender woman looked up this same stuff at
noon
of the day Young was murdered?”

“At noon?” He sank down into his chair while he digested that information. He rubbed his chin and muttered, “
Before
Young was killed, eh?”

He stared at me, and I knew he must be thinking the same thing I was … about Laura Yates. There was a knock on the door before he could speak, and he lifted his head to bark, “Come.” A cop stuck his head in and said:

“I delivered that note, Chief. The feller wasn't there but I gave it to his wife and she said she'd see he got it.…”

“His
what?
You
what?
Come in here and say that again.”

The cop entered nervously. “That man, Baker, wife she said she'd take it and tell him.”

Burke glanced sharply at me. I had a sickish feeling deep in my belly. I said: “Describe Mrs. Baker.”

He described Laura Yates. “She was right there with the dogs,” he ended defensively. “I thought it'd be all right.…”

Burke snarled, “Get out,” and reached for the phone again. I sat there numbly while he asked for my number, waited a minute, then hung up savagely.

“She doesn't answer, Asa. That note I sent you.… Good God … if she reads that note and goes out there.…”