Marjorie Thelen - The Hieroglyphic Staircase

That was odd.

She pushed through the gate and walked into the house. “Dominic?” she called in a loud voice. “Miguel? Are you here?”

Dominic walked out of the kitchen. “Hi, I was cleaning up, and Leyla just arrived. Is the door open? She must have thought we were ready to leave. Sorry, we’re a little behind today. I hadn’t bargained with getting both of us out of the house in the same time it took me.”

His smiled faded when he saw her face.

“Where’s Miguel?” she asked.

“In the bathroom. What’s wrong?”

She pulled him through the open door to the patio outside and whispered. “A child has been found face down in the river. The new inspector wants Miguel brought to the police station for questioning immediately. I don’t want Miguel to know what happened. It will frighten him.”

Dominic’s eyes searched hers. “They don’t know who the child is?”

Elena shook her head.

“Miguel might be able to identify him.”

“Maybe later. Not now.” She paused. “Connie asked if I had an alibi for last evening. She said I’m not to go to the Staircase or the Museum because I might be the next target.”

“Let’s get going. I’ll get Miguel, and we’ll all go together to the police station.”

“I hope he hasn’t run off. The door was wide open when I arrived.”

She followed Dominic as he hurried down the corridor to the bathroom. Dominic knocked on the door. “Miguel, are you ready? It’s time to go.”

They heard the water running. “I told him to brush his teeth.”

He knocked again. “Miguel?”

The water stopped running. Miguel opened the door, face wet. He smoothed a towel over his mouth.

“I’m ready. Look at my teeth, see how clean they are.” He barred his teeth. For a street child he had good, straight teeth with a slight part in the middle.

“They’re very clean, Miguel. Good job,” said Dominic. His shoulders had relaxed when the boy opened the door. “Look who’s come to see us this morning.”

“ Buenas días, doctora ,” said Miguel.

“I hope you slept well,” said Elena. She felt like crying, she was so glad he hadn’t run off.

“ Sí, doctora .”

“He did sleep well,” said Dominic. “I had trouble waking him this morning. That’s why we’re running late.” He took Miguel’s hand. “Come, we’ll go in the Jeep. Elena has arranged for us to see the new inspector at the police station.”

Miguel halted. He looked from one to the other. “Must I go?”

They nodded their heads in unison.

Elena said, “The inspector’s most anxious to meet you. She’s very nice. You’ll see.”

Connie Lascano was waiting. She placed a chair beside hers and patted it, indicating to Miguel where he was to sit. She motioned Dominic and Elena to two chairs in front of the scarred wood desk that served as her office.

“Would you like some juice or a soft drink, Miguel?” Connie asked with a soft smile.

“Juice, por favor .”

The aide at the next desk over, a slim young man, smiled and rose to get the refreshment.

“Now, Miguel,” Connie said, “tell me how old you are.”

Miguel wrinkled up his nose and shrugged his narrow shoulders. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know. Can you guess?”

“Maybe I have this many years.” He held up six, then seven fingers.

“I see,” said Connie. “Where do you live?”

“Here in Copan Ruinas.”

“Do you have a house?”

“Not exactly. I sleep under the bridge or out in the forest.”

“I see.” The juice in a box arrived, and Connie handed the small container to Miguel who pulled on the straw like he hadn’t had anything to drink in days.

“Elena tells me you were in the Archaeological Park the day that unfortunate man was found.”

“ Sí, señorita .” He played with the straw and looked big eyed from Elena to Dominic.

Connie picked up on his fear. “We do not think you killed this man. We know it would be difficult for a six year old boy to hit a man with such force that it killed him, especially on the back of the head.”

“Maybe I am eight years old.”

“Okay,” said Connie, “you are eight years old.”

“I didn’t kill that man.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“But I saw who did.”

“Can you give a description of this man? It will help me find him.”

“ Sí ,” said Miguel. He finished his box of juice and sucked on the straw making loud slurping noises.

Connie held out her hand for the empty box, smiling, like she might have a little brother that did the same thing. “What did the man look like?”

“It was a little dark,” said Miguel.

“Think hard.”

The child stared off into the distance but couldn’t keep still. He banged his legs against the chair. “I sleep sometime in the trees by the Temple because it is cool there, and I get tired and don’t go back to the bridge to sleep.”

“ Lógico ,” said Connie.

“The sound of voices woke me up. There is never anyone but me and the animals out there. It scared me to hear voices. They were men, I could tell by the sound, and they were arguing.”

“How close were you?” asked Connie.

Miguel looked around then pointed out the door. “From here to the other side of the street. I was in some bushes where the leaves are soft. I was facing them. I did not move because I was afraid.”

“I can understand that,” said Connie. “How many men were there?”

“Maybe three, when it happened.”

“What happened?”

“Someone shouted from the top of the Temple.”

Yes, thought Elena, the reason the man on the ground was caught in a death stare, looking up.

“When the man in the white shirt turned to look, the tall man, the skinny one, hit him from behind. It happened very fast.”

“Did you see what he hit him with?”

Miguel shook his head. “No.”

“What happened then?” asked Connie.

“The tall man bent over. It looked like he was searching the body.”

“What did you do?”

Miguel squirmed on his seat, and his short legs swung back and forth in over time.

Connie leaned forward and placed a hand on his knee. His feet stopped swinging.

“Miguel, what did you do then?” she said.

He looked sideways at Connie, out of the corner of his eyes. “I sneezed. You see, when I wake up in the morning I sneeze sometimes, like three or four times. It is the morning air that makes me sneeze.”

“Did the men hear you?” asked Connie.

“ Sí . They shouted, ‘who’s there?’”

“And?”

“I ran. And they ran after me, but I hid in a cave along the river. After a while they gave up looking for me and disappeared along the old forest trail back to town.”

Connie leaned back and studied Miguel. She seemed to be digesting his story.

“But,” she said, “Elena saw you running away from the site when she arrived early that morning. So you went back?”

Miguel licked dry lips. “When the men didn’t return, I went to see if the man on the ground needed help.”

“So you went to where he lay.”

“ Sí . I sneaked back very carefully because I was afraid the men would come back. I stood over the man, and his head was bloody. He didn’t move.”

“So you ran to the clinic?”

Miguel hesitated. “I didn’t go exactly then because something else happened.”

Connie watched the boy with the patience of a mother waiting for her child to take his first steps.

When no one else spoke, waiting for him, the little boy said, “Well, I saw the ghost. He was looking at the man on the ground. He was small like the old Mayans that are on the statues in the Park. He had an axe, and he shook it at me. I ran. I didn’t want him to hit me with that axe.”