Thunder in the Night (Crimson Romance) (8 page)

“Level with me. What’s going on?”

“I wish I could tell you — ”

“You’d better tell me!”

“But I don’t really know myself,” Mart finished his sentence and I bit my lip into silence. “You see, there was that bit of shake-up at the zoo recently. I don’t know if you remember?”

“I just came to Rochester,” I reminded him.

“Okay, then you don’t know. Tommy Mendoza, the man who previously held my position as assistant to the director, he was the man killed on the last zoo trek.”

Ah ha
, I thought. I was about to hear the real story Jen had hinted at. I leaned forward. “How?”

“Let’s start with where. Right here. In the rain forest. He didn’t show up one morning to lead a tour as scheduled. His body was discovered later that day, tangled up in a zipline in the jungle.” Mart paused to let that information penetrate.

Goosebumps rose all over my body at the stark words and the image they brought to mind. I shivered to drive them away.

Mart, noticing, asked quickly, “Do you want to hear the rest?”

“Yes, yes. Go on.” I lifted my glass of mineral water and drained it.

Mart continued the story. “I never met Tommy Mendoza. I’ve heard some rumors and innuendo from staff, of course, but no one ever seemed to have any facts. None they’ve shared with me anyway. From what I can gather, the zoo was quick to play it down when he was killed. Emphasized it was an accident.”

That would explain Elaine’s remark about the incident being “unfortunate,” I thought.

Mart fell silent, picking absently at a fingernail.

“But it wasn’t an accident,” I made it a statement.

“No,” Mart said, shaking his head. “No.”

My fingers itched for my pen. “Clark said there were drugs involved.”

“That could very well be true. Drugs are big business. Trafficking into the States is huge.”

“Trafficking into the States,” I thought out loud. “Bringing drugs in.” The penny dropped. “Zoo treks?”

Mart looked up at the last, a sharp point to his gaze.

“Ah.”

Lifting his shoulders, Mart said, “It’s a possible explanation. Mendoza may have been using zoo treks to smuggle drugs into the States. Had a falling out with one of his cohorts.”

“This is all speculation,” I said, sitting back in my chair. “How do you know Mendoza’s death wasn’t an accident? Who says he was involved in the drug trade? Where does Clark fit into any of this?” I fired off questions. “Do the local authorities have anything to say? They haven’t found the murderer?”

Mart held up a hand. He answered my last question first. “It’s hardly likely they will. Criminals of the drug trade are difficult to pin down anywhere. But here, where the jungle is filled with places to hide … .” He let the sentence trail off and I nodded.

Mart poured more water into my glass then refilled his own.

He furrowed his brow. “As for Clark, I’ve heard he and Tommy were kind of close, although I have a hard time picturing him being close to anyone, really. Anyway, I suspect he’s trying to trace Tommy’s actions on his own.” He shook his head and sighed.

“That doesn’t sound helpful.”

“I think it sounds dangerous,” Mart said. “I mean, these are criminals. This lone wolf act,” he broke off to shake his head again. “I don’t know.”

Remembering all the big plans Clark had outlined for the zoo on our way to Tikal, his larger than life persona, his air of importance, I thought I did know. “It would be great publicity for the zoo if Clark caught a murderer,” I suggested, lifting an eyebrow.

“Next stop, his own TV show,” Mart said. “Fame and fortune.”

“Well, it could be a motivation.”

“It could be,” Mart granted me the point in an unconvincing way.

“That man I saw in the jungle with Clark, he didn’t seem like a good guy to me.”

Mart was already shaking his head. “Since you got shoved off the steps after you took his picture, I doubt he’s a good guy.”

I said, “But I didn’t really see who bumped into me. Not in a way I could positively identify, anyhow. So, I don’t know if it was that guy.” My voice trailed off. Had it been? It could have been … or not.

“Look, I’ve probably said too much already. And I don’t mean to scare you,” Mart said, pushing his hand through his hair. “Just … be careful. Don’t put any of your Tikal pictures up on the blog. I’m sure everyone on the trek took some shots. Borrow those. It’ll be good public relations and the thief won’t know your pictures are safe. And don’t leave the tour group or anything. Stick around others. But,” he reached out, put his hand over mine, “don’t mention any of this to them, either. No need to put a damper on their trip for no reason.”

“You be careful, too.” I warned. “It wouldn’t look good to have two zoo assistants killed.”

Mart gave a careful laugh. “No, that would be difficult to hide.”

“Especially now that I’ve heard the theory.” I looked off into the distance. “Oh, what a story it could make! Just the sort of thing I’ve been waiting for, actually. Something with some teeth in it. No fluff. Nothing cute. Just a real story!”

“Wait a minute!” Mart broke into my daydream as I’d thought he would. “You have to promise me you won’t go poking around in this. You said yourself it’s all based on speculation, anyway. Allison, please don’t write about this.” His eyes were wide with pleading. Deep horizontal lines split his brow.

“I won’t — yet,” I conceded. “That’s not the job I was sent here to do.”

He didn’t like my answer, I could tell.

“Now, then,” I said, changing the subject, “I’m heading off to the marketplace in search of a smaller backpack.” I pointed at my old one, sitting on the chair beside me. “Think I’ll find one?”

“You’ll find something to fit the bill,” he told me. “I’ll just tag along.”

I’d been in the process of rising, gathering my pack onto my shoulder, when he made the offer. It took me by surprise. We’d been getting along so well and now he was choosing to spend time with me. I wanted to be flattered. But did he want to stay close to keep me away from trouble or keep me away from a telephone and my editor? To cover my confusion, I shrugged and looked down, rummaging with the contents of my pack. “If you’d like to, I’d be glad to have the company. But you don’t have to, you know.”

“Stay around other people,” he reminded me, not quite wagging a finger. “People like me.”

I made a sweeping gesture with my hand indicating the door. “Since you’ve been here so many times, you lead the way. Take me to the bargains!”

We emerged from the hotel into the hot and brilliant sunshine. My heart lifted even though I’d suddenly found myself in the middle of intrigue, and danger seemed an all too real possibility.

Chapter Ten

The colorful sights of the crowded marketplace dazzled my eyes. I adjusted the brim of my hat and flicked my ponytail over my shoulder. Striding beside me, Mart squinted in the sun, bringing to life the creases at the corners of his eyes.

“Where do we start?” I asked.

The square was filled with merchants plying their wares. Haphazard rows of stalls covered the area and the space not filled by merchandise was taken up by shoppers. Natives and tourists mingled, bartering and haggling. Adding to the noise were the squawks and screeches of caged birds offered for sale.

Looking at the flimsy wooden cages the birds pecked with their powerful beaks, I imagined them busting out and flapping away overhead. Then, their calls would be laughter, mocking their earthbound captors.

Mart’s hand fell to my shoulder and my nightmarish vision evaporated. He looked sadly at the birds and shook his head.

“These birds aren’t endangered, but they could be soon if this keeps up.”

“Poaching?” I questioned and he nodded.

“Happens all the time. Appalling. But, hey, let’s not turn this into a depressing day. Come see what I found.”

He crouched down beside a display of vibrant textiles. His bright red shirt and tan shorts blended well with the stacks of fabric and goods around him.

As I got closer, I could see huipils in splendid color combinations, plus belts and shawls and blankets strewn upon the ground.

“Look here,” Mart directed. “How about this for a new pack?”

He held up a long-handled boxy tote bag woven with birds and flowers in primary colors against a black background. The geometric patterns surrounding the motifs were ones I had seen in the ruins and knew were typical of the area. The craftsmanship was exquisite.

“It’s wonderful,” I said, thanking him with a smile. “I’ll take it. Where do I pay?” I rummaged in my tattered old pack for my wallet and signaled to the girl running the stall.

“You have to bargain,” Mart scolded as I counted out the amount in the unfamiliar money. “It’s expected, local custom,” he told me, watching as the money changed hands.

“But it’s so beautiful, and the price is already too low for all the work that went into it,” I told him, transferring my belongings from old bag to new. “She deserves more than what she asked.” I tilted my head, my hands full of pens and lipstick and tissues. “I put more money into the local economy.”

He shrugged, his shoulders lifting beneath the bright red shirt. “Good point.” For a long moment, I could feel his eyes on me as I finished stowing my stuff.

We started walking down the row of stalls and my eyes eagerly scanned the displays. Mart wasn’t shopping anymore, however. He was fishing, instead. Fishing for information.

“How did you end up in journalism, anyway?” he wanted to know. “Is this what you’ve always wanted to do?”

Walking beside him under the sun on a relaxed and peaceful day, I wanted to answer: Yes! Yes! This is what I’ve always hoped for! But that wouldn’t answer his question.

“Like I said yesterday, I’ve always wanted to be a journalist like my dad,” I told him. “The magazine is wonderful and it’s a great place for now.”

“But — ” Mart led me on and I grinned.

“But it’s not my goal. It’s not what I really want to do with my life.” I stopped at a display of carved wooden figurines modeled after the stelae of the ruins. “I’d like to cover important things. Issues rather than events, you know. With no sugar coating or deception.”

“Ah, yes. The investigative reporting,” he said.

“Exactly,” I agreed. “But, in the mean time, I’ll cover fashion shows and open houses, I guess.”

“And go on zoo treks deep into the jungle.”

“Of course!” I laughed, then sobered. “And, who knows, maybe this will be my springboard.”

The light went out of those deep, dark eyes and his mouth set in a firm line of disapproval. “You said you would keep out of this. It was just a quirk that got you involved in the first place.”

“And nearly killed me!”

“It could have been serious, that’s true. All the more reason to stay as uninvolved as possible. You did promise me.” He reached for my hand, pulling me to a standstill and searching my face. Gently, so gently, he reached up, his fingers resting on my cheek as our eyes met.

I held my breath, not moving. When his hands captured mine again, I took his willingly, enjoying the feel of his skin against mine.

He gave my hand a squeeze, crunching my fingers together in a no-nonsense way. “Keep your promise, Allison,” he said, his voice making the request a demand. “I might not always be around to rescue you.”

The night before I’d wondered why he had been so close both times I’d needed him. My overtired brain hadn’t wanted to assign scary motives, though. Today, in the bright sunlight, my fears lost some power.

I blinked slowly, and squeezed back. “I’m a woman of my word. I keep all my promises.” The tingle I felt where our hands met spread like a trail of fire up my arms, then down my spine. Fighting the urge to shrug my shoulders and dispel the lovely bit of tension, I stood rooted in place.

All around us, the life of the marketplace went on. Bargains were reached and money changed hands.

What kind of bargain were we making? I wondered. It seemed to go beyond the matter at hand, if I was reading the situation correctly.
And, oh,
I thought,
I hope I am!

“It’s awfully warm, Allison. How about something cool to drink?” Mart’s welcome suggestion changed the subject, defusing a potentially intense moment.

Side by side, we walked a few blocks down a narrow dirt street. It appeared to be the business district and, as we passed intriguing shop windows, I promised myself I’d explore them later.

Mart caught my wandering eye. “Thinking of adding even more to the local economy?”

“Maybe,” I hedged. “And I still don’t see why you object.”

“To tourism in this country?” he clarified.

“Yes.” I told him about how I’d felt in the jungle the day before. How, after seeing it and actually being a part of it, I was more concerned and aware than I’d been when the rain forest was just a faraway place on a map.

“That’s good, Allison. I’m glad you’re concerned now. But does that mean until you see African elephants on the continent you won’t care about ivory poaching? What about whales? If you’ve never seen one swimming free in the ocean, you’re not bothered by their slaughter?”

“Well — ” I interrupted with a sputter.

He kept right on going without pausing for breath, gaining momentum as he went. “What about oil drilling in the Arctic? You don’t have to personally experience these things, Allison. Just knowing the facts — seeing the pictures — should strike a responsive chord in you. In everyone!” As he lectured, his hands flashed in constant motion. His voice wasn’t angry, just animated and fired with the strength of his convictions.

I wouldn’t want to debate him
, I thought, tuning out for a moment or two. In the end, I know I frustrated him enormously. Tactfully, I said, “I think both positions have merit. Tourism may do some damage, but it brings attention. Staying noncommercial may keep things pure and untainted, but it also keeps them unknown. You’ve heard that old saying. Out of sight … .”

He nodded, his head bobbing forlornly. “Out of mind,” he finished, adding reluctantly, “Point taken.”

He stopped at the entrance of a tiny building. Mart pulled open the carved wooden door and gestured me inside.