Exotic #02 - The Hieroglyphic Staircase Read Online Free PDF Page A

straight ahead. She fumbled in her vest pocket, pulled out a cigarette and lit up.
    “I only do this when I’m really upset,” she said. She blew out a long plume of smoke to underscore her pronouncement.
    Dominic smiled. “Whatever it takes. I was surprised as you by the director’s sudden change of attitude. It might have something to do with his wife. She does volunteer work at the clinic. I know her pretty well. A nicer person you couldn’t find.”
    “You’re kidding?” Elena said, turning to look at him. “A nice person married to that horrid man?”
    Dominic shrugged. “It’s a mystery. Would a cup of coffee at the tourist center restaurant help?”
    Elena shook her head. “If you don’t mind, would you drop me at doña Carolita’s? I’m not feeling well at all.”
    “Sure. I’ll bring the doctor by later to give you something. You’ve had one helluva morning.”
    * * * * *
    Inspector Oliveros arrived while Elena was resting in the room that she rented for her summer stay in the town of Copan Ruinas. Doña Carolita, a widow who took in boarders, showed him to the small living room furnished with plastic covered chairs. Not a mote of dust was evident on the gleaming terrazzo floors. Pink and yellow plastic flowers bloomed on a wall table under a colorful picture of the Virgin of Suyapa, the patron saint of Honduras.
    Lying on her bed, Elena had been drifting in and out of a dream state filled with ghostly images twisting around pyramid shaped objects. The knock on the door startled her.
    “ Doctora ,” doña Carolita said in a hushed whisper, standing at the end of the bed. “It is the police inspector to see you. Do you feel well enough to see him or should I ask him to come back later?
    “No, I’ll see him. Will you bring us some coffee? Maybe it will help my headache.”
    “ Sí, cómo no, hijita ,” doña Carolita said, expressing her affection for Elena with the diminutive name of daughter.
    Elena ran a brush through her hair, downed a few aspirins she fished out of a vest pocket and slipped into a pair of sandals.
    The inspector rose when Elena entered the living room.
    “I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”
    “Not at all, doctora , it is I who am sorry to disturb you. This has been a trying day, but I have some important questions to ask.”
    “ Sí, sí . I will help in any way I can,” said Elena, sitting down across from him.
    The inspector hardly looked ruffled from a morning spent at the scene of a crime. His short sleeved uniform shirt was neatly pressed. His unlined face no doubt belied his age. People of Mayan descent often looked younger than they were.
    Doña Carolita arrived with two mugs of café con leche and a small plate of vanilla sandwich cookies on a tray, which she left on the carved Honduran coffee table between them.
    “ Gracias ,” said Elena. She helped herself to a mug.
    “Would you, doctora , go over finding the man in as much detail as possible?” The inspector settled back into the seat with his mug of coffee and a cookie to munch on.
    As Elena recounted her story, he interrupted with polite questions from time to time and made notes on a small, spiral ring pad he had pulled from his shirt pocket. He had a funny way of squinting one eye when he spoke that made her feel like he was skeptical of everything she said. Or maybe she was being paranoid.
    “Did the director mention the theft of the artifacts?” she asked.
    “ Sí, sí ,” said inspector Oliveros. “But, please, tell me what you know as you are the one who is studying the hieroglyphs, no?”
    “Yes. That’s right. Three have disappeared so far. The latest was yesterday. It was gone when I arrived at the site.”
    “What time was that, doctora ?”
    “I arrived about 7:00 A.M. my usual time.”
    “And this morning?”
    “I arrived about 6:00 A.M. I came earlier as the director asked me to watch the site until extra guards from Tegucigalpa could arrive. I wanted to be on site before the