Nick drew his eyebrows together. The whole incident with Jarrett was an unsavory one and a puzzler. Isla Calamar was not known for violence. Who the devil had been behind the attack this morning?
“Dr. Petrie,” said a woman’s voice, as rich and mellow as a thread of honey. Damn. It was her voice…Dana’s. A few hours earlier he’d left her in her room at the local hotel and he’d assumed he’d be free of her until tomorrow. But he’d been thinking about her, and it was almost as if he’d conjured her presence by the very insistence of his thoughts.
Reluctantly Nick glanced at Dana Morgan. She stood beside his table, looking both refreshed and determined. She still wore khaki pants, but she’d changed into a sleeveless denim shirt. Nick’s gaze lingered on the curves of her body. It was happening again, that unsettling awareness of everything about her: the silken waves of her hair, the faint flush on her cheeks, the creamy skin of her bare shoulders… He wished once more, futilely, for a stiff drink.
“Ms. Morgan,” he said. “I’m surprised you were able to find me in the teeming metropolis of La Ceiba.” It seemed he still knew how to joke, after all. The town was so small that you didn’t have to look very hard to find anyone.
Dana pulled out a chair and sat across from him without waiting for an invitation. “Jarrett’s sleeping again,” she announced. “I think he’s doing much better. The village doctor said you did a good job of treating Jarrett yourself. At least, that’s what I think the doctor said.”
Nick shrugged noncommittally. The village doctor was a seventy-eight-year-old man who’d retired to the island over a decade earlier, but his opinion was probably as good as anyone’s.
“I’m surprised you left Jarrett alone,” Nick remarked. “You seem to think the attacker will be back.”
“It’s a very strong possibility, isn’t it? But I managed to communicate with the lady at the hotel. She promised she’d keep the door to Jarrett’s room locked and that she’d watch out for him.”
Nick was impressed. The lofty proprietress of the village’s one hotel rarely did favors for anyone. “So you have everything under control, Ms. Morgan. You should try to get some rest.”
She didn’t take the hint, but simply went on gazing at him with earnest intensity. “I need to know more. Did you talk to the police yet?”
He stifled a groan. She was still gung ho, determined to crack the case herself. “Yes, Ms. Morgan, I spoke to the police. Correction–I spoke to Inspector Maciel, the one policeman on the island. He’s a rather elderly friend of the doctor’s, by the way, but he still takes his job seriously in spite of his gout and nearsightedness. He’s looking into the matter.”
Dana made a restless gesture. “Are you trying to be funny? But there must be something more we can do.”
“Not ’we,’ Ms. Morgan. I’m the one in charge.”
“I see.” She gave him a disdainful glance. “That’s why you’re sitting here…doing nothing.”
“I figured I’d start rounding up suspects any second now.”
Dana sighed and propped her elbows on the table. “Dr. Petrie, at least talk to me about what’s going on. Why would someone want to harm Jarrett Webster? Does he have any enemies?”
Against his better judgment, Nick eased back in his seat and answered her question. “Jarrett doesn’t have any enemies that I know of. He’s been working at the dig as long as I have–almost seven months. In that time, he seems to have charmed just about everyone on the island.” Nick couldn’t keep a little sarcasm out of his voice. In his opinion, Jarrett overdid the charm bit. Dana, however, didn’t seem to think so.
“He does seem like quite an affable person, even with a wound to the head,” she remarked.
Nick felt a distracting sensation, and it took a moment for him to identify the fact that he resented Dana’s approval of Jarrett. Lord, maybe he should have his own head examined.
“Okay, so we’ve established that Jarrett is a wonderful guy,” he said sardonically. “No enemies, just admirers. The next logical conclusion is that the attacker is angry about the dig itself.”
Dana looked interested and leaned toward him. “Why would anyone be angry?” she asked.
Nick wondered if she knew what a sexy voice she had. Here she was trying to sound professional and businesslike, and all the while her voice held a hint of natural huskiness. He rubbed the back of his neck. For one reason or another, he’d gone hot under the collar.
With an effort, he concentrated on the subject of Jarrett’s attacker. “Many people on the island don’t like the fact that we’re excavating. There are different reasons. Some islanders are afraid we’ll disturb the goddess Ixchel or the ghost who haunts the temple. They say the whole island is in danger of being cursed. Others just plain dislike outsiders prying into their heritage. And still others…” Nick paused, then went on. “Let’s just say that certain traders in the island’s black market might resent our dig.”
“Black market–what do you mean?”
Nick figured he might as well explain; it was something Dana would hear about sooner or later. “If you know where to look, this entire island is littered with Mayan artifacts–pottery, clay figurines, simple jewelry and the like. Over the years, the islanders have taken to selling these items illegally to tourists–who, for a few measly pesos, can sneak pieces of Mayan heritage out in their suitcases as souvenirs. Unfortunately, it’s all become part of the island economy.” Nick shook his head. “Once these antiquities get into private hands, they’re lost forever.”
“Can’t something be done?” Dana asked.
“Ms. Morgan, I don’t like it any more than you do. If I could stop the smuggling, I would. But I’m also realistic. I don’t have the power to stop it. And besides, if you took away the illegal trade from this island, the already fragile economy would be threatened. The place barely survives as it is.”
Dana glanced around the plaza. “It’s a shame people have to sell off their past to pay for their present….”
“I’d call it a tragedy. Still, I’ve done the best I can under the circumstances. I have an unspoken agreement with Inspector Maciel. He makes certain the illegal traders stay off my turf and I don’t raise a fuss about what they do elsewhere. At least, that’s the way it’s supposed to work. Perhaps this attack on Jarrett…” Nick stopped, preferring to keep the rest of his thoughts to himself.
“Well, there must be someone we can question about Jarrett–someone who knows something.”
“Ms. Morgan, think about it. No one is going to come out and admit they bashed Jarrett with a rock. Sure, I’ve spoken to people–and they all deny knowing anything about what happened.”
Dana tapped her fingers on the table. “I hate to feel useless like this. Are we just going to sit around and wait for it to happen again?”
“We’ll take precautions. Meanwhile, I’ll continue investigating…without the benefit of your own formidable sleuthing abilities.”
She seemed determined to ignore his sarcasm. She also seemed determined to stay here and needle him. “I’m afraid we might be missing something that’s right under our noses,” she declared. “Who else works at the dig?”
“Aside from the Montanos, other islanders pitch in at times. Then there’s Tim Reese, a university student getting summer credit for helping. He’s on the mainland right now, buying supplies.”
“Anyone else?”
“You’ve met the rest of them.