1934. Competing factions wage a cold war in the streets and marketplaces, vying for dominance of Mexico City. When a series of murders threatens to turn the cold war hot, only Helen Young, drawn to Mexico to complete her late husband’s archaeological work, can put the pieces together and avert disaster…
“Do you have a car?” Helen asked as the taxi pulled away from the curb.
“I have a car, well a truck really, but I never drive in the city. Only when I go out to the dig site,” he said, looking out the window, “I find driving in this city too hazardous for my health, they don’t know how to drive in this country.”
“How often do you go out to the dig site?” she tried to keep her tone casual; aware she was dancing around a touchy subject.
“Several times a week to check up on the progress. I have an on-site foreman, he’s quite good for a local.”
“What do you do with your time when you are not at the site?”
“Mostly cataloguing artifacts that have been unearthed,” he turned and looked at her, “Your husband was more hands on, spent most of his time at the site itself.”
“Yes, that sounds like Harold,” she replied with a smile, “he always liked to dig around in the dirt.”
“Indeed. He was a man to get into his work,” he said. “Here is our stop.”
The taxi pulled to a stop in front of a two-story brick building. The green window shutters were open, welcoming in the morning light. Thick layers of ivy with red flowers dangled lazily from planters outside of the windows.
“This is a lovely building,” Helen said, glad to have a change of conversation, “the flowers are beautiful.”
“Oh, yes,” Hayden replied, sounding as if he were noticing the plants for the first time, “we have Erendira to thank for that.”
“Erendira?” she asked as he reached in his vest pocket for the front door key.
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