my boring day.”
Lina reminded herself that Mercurio was only being polite in the Mexican way, not actually flirting with her.
Too bad she knew better.
“I have a favor to ask, I’m afraid,” she said.
“For you? Everything. Tell me.”
“Could you check your incoming acquisitions for some pieces? I believe that they came out of Tulum, but Belize is a possibility.”
“Why are you calling me? You should be talking to your mother.”
“Because you know about every single legitimate dig that’s going on in Q Roo. And you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t know about some of the shady ones, too.”
“Ah, another sticking point with your dear father. Yes, I can tell you what has been dug on an unsanctioned basis. But that’s also common knowledge for anyone who has an ear to the ground.”
“Not for my mother. Not this time. I’ve seen pictures of these artifacts, but she hasn’t.”
Sounds of the sea wind, an undertone of traffic, the sharp call of birds. Then Mercurio’s toneless whistle.
He was thinking.
“You interest me, as always,” he said after a minute. “How would Cecilia let something truly splendid escape her delicate claws? What were the artifacts?”
Lina paused, rethinking her jump off the brink. There were only two known site groups of origin for Kawa’il cult artifacts. One of them was near Tulum, on Reyes Balam family land, and was investigated solely by Philip Taylor. The other was a smaller and much less significant site in Belize, which had been explored by de la Poole himself. Of course, ask Philip and he’d say that the Belize site was at best a misinterpretation of other worship practices, and at worst a fabrication that was meant to ride on Philip’s own coattails of discovery.
Lina had never known whether Philip’s opinion was based on Mercurio having discovered the Belize site or something less emotional, more scholarly.
“Where is the cat with your pink little tongue?” he asked.
She edged closer to the brink of trusting through necessity rather than true choice. “There was at least one sacrificial knife, a scepter with sharp inserts, a Chacmool, an incense burner and…” Her mouth dried.
“You need to be more specific,” Mercurio said. “We have hundreds of artifacts in the museum here that might fit such description.”
Lina went over the edge and hoped that something would break her fall. Hunter would be her first choice.
“They were all finely made. Obsidian, jade, intricate pottery. They might have been pieces from the Kawa’il cult,” she said. “The photo quality was too poor for me to be certain.”
Only the sea breeze whispered across the open line.
“Now where is that cat with the missing tongue?” Lina asked.
“Send me the photos,” Mercurio said, his tone businesslike.
“I don’t have them. The source is far from reputable and very wary.” It was only half a lie.
“Are you sure about this?”
“The photos or the lack of provenance?” she shot back.
“A moment.”
The sounds of a door shutting and windows being closed came over the phone. Mercurio was sealing up his office against possible eavesdroppers.
“I’ve heard rumors,” he said, coming back to the phone. “No photos, though. I’m swamped with departmental needs and directives that will keep me busy for the next month, but I will do what I can for my oldest friend.”
Lina winced. She really didn’t want to be in the position of owing Mercurio a handsome favor.
“Nothing elaborate, please,” she said. “I just hoped you could check your incoming storage or computer records. Despite the sharing agreement between our two museums, I can’t access what I need from here by computer.”
“Perhaps you should come down here. It is your winter break, no? I could go through the storage area with you.”
“Don’t you have a student or two you could throw at this? Just a quick search?”
“You know what it is like in the Yucatan leading up to