Yucatan

Answers

Constantina Morrigan pulled up the road as if she owned the place. For the past quarter mile, the dirt road had been covered with pebbles, making the drive less dusty, granting a view of the jungle surrounding her. Another day, I’d pull over and take a good look at the flowers. The jungle smelled sweet and she wanted to know which plant emanated such wonderful odors.

The car’s AC was on high, blazing Connie’s hair around. Still, Connie’s tank top was soaked. The humidity was like taking a shower. I don’t think I could live in such a climate. She definitely was a cold-climate kind of gal.

It was early afternoon, the sun just beginning its descent westward, when she reached her destination. In a large clearing stood a Hacienda style house, painted beige with orange shutters, a porch encompassing the entire front side. Even before she got out of the car, she saw Regina Praeda sitting on the porch, under a large ceiling fan, drink in hand.

            Constantina pulled the car key and got out. She had no plan aside the idea that it was time to end this.

Regina got out of her chaise and leaned over the wood railings; eyes narrow. The white sleeveless shirt and shorts sticking to her body in the humid air. Her eyes flicked from Connie to the car, to the Mexican license plates Mark had installed on the boat. They flicked back to Connie, glaring.

“Where’s Mark?”

Connie looked around, turned, glanced behind, then back to Gina. “Dead.” Connie glanced at the Hacienda. “Nice place.” As if she had told Regina that her nephew was fine, just running late.

“Where’s Steve?” Connie said, worried that he might appear out of nowhere. Regina still hadn’t reacted to the news about her nephew, but Connie saw Gina’s face being a shade paler, her hands now clinching the wooden railings instead of just holding on. Gina’s knuckles turned white.

“How? What?” Gina mumbled. For the first time Connie asked herself how much, or how little, had Mark told his aunt. Gina should be furious right now, not asking questions. Connie pushed the car keys into her pocket and approached the porch, eyes keenly surveying everything, still expecting Steve to appear.

“Where’s Steve?” Connie repeated. She took the steps to the porch two at a time. Gina shook her head, sweat beats running down her face.

“I don’t’ know. He’s been ignoring me since Mark …” She mumbled.

“Since Mark ditched him in St. Louis?” Connie finished the sentence. That got Gina’s attention.

“How do you know this?” Gina hissed, running her hand over her face. “And why is Mark dead? Who did this to him?”

Connie smiled, all the while creeping closer to Regina until she stood in arm’s reach. “We’ll get to that.” Connie said, then hit Gina over the head.

Up until the moment when Regina fell, Connie did not think a simple blow to the head would render Regina unconscious.

It did.

***

Regina’s body, handcuffed to the kitchen chair, rose with a snap. Disoriented and angry, she struggled against the restraints.

“I used two of those plastic cuffs, so you might as well save your strength.” Connie leaned against the marble kitchen counter.

Regina winced, her pale blue eyes glaring at Connie, promising revenge. Connie nodded, put her feet on the table, her hand tapping.

Regina didn’t appreciate her casual seating habit. “Really? Feet on the table? Could you at least take those dirty shoes off my kitchen table?”

“Would you rather have stinky socks?”

Regina groaned at the impertinence. “Who do you think you are?”

Connie chuckled. “I’m the one that killed your precious nephew.” She leaned back. “So, you may want to be a bit nicer to me.”

Regina’s eyes widened and the corner of her lips pulled as far up her cheeks as possible. She looked like a mad clown. “You’re lying. There’s no way you get the drop on him. He’s experienced, you’re just a housewife.” She hissed.

Connie tapped her fingers on the table. After a minute, she decided to tell Regina everything. She began with Nena’s rape, how she found her, how Duane got killed. It was the longest she ever spoke to Regina.

Regina had grown quiet and by the time Connie was done explaining how she figured out that Mark was Duane’s partner, Regina had regained her composure. She sat in that chair as if it where a throne, regal posture, legs slightly angled, head held high. As if she weren’t tight to the chair.

Regina nodded when Connie retold the drive here and how she killed Mark. And she told Regina that, before he died, Mark had made it clear that Regina wasn’t innocent. A slight overstatement, but Connie figured there was no way Regina could verify it.

“Steve was right.” Regina sighed.

“How so?” Connie got up and filled two glasses with filtered water. The heat was bearable because of the air conditioning, but the humidity still had made its way into the house. She rummaged through the cabinets until she found a straw. She plucked one into Regina’s glass and planted it before her on the table.

Regina bent over, greedily drinking the water. After a minute, she leaned back, shaking her head. “He knew Mark would get into trouble, eventually.” She adjusted her posture, slumping a bit.

Connie narrowed her eyes. “You’re taking this well.”

Regina laughed, adjusting, moving her arms, or trying to. “Can’t we take these off?” She nodded toward her tied hands.

Connie nodded, understanding. Regina was trying to manipulate her by playing nice. “No.” She stood up, suddenly tired of the conversation, this family, all of it. It was time to end it. She turned, glanced around and walked toward the hallway. Before she left the kitchen, she glanced at Regina. “One thing; who’s your paid contact at the Minneapolis Police Department?”

“I’d be more cooperative if you’d meet me half way.” She nodded toward her tied hands again. Connie sighed, shaking her head. She turned, determined to find the bathroom. “Wait.” Regina called out to her. Connie turned, crossing her arms. Regina must have seen the impatience on Connie’s face and sighed. “We haven’t got anyone there, yet. The guy we moved from New York City had a heart attack, and the replacement had business to finish in another state.” Regina leaned toward the table again, finishing her drink.

The air left Connie’s body in one big exhale. She had accused Thomas Burrows falsely. Waves of shame ran down her spine.

Regina, pale blue eyes watching Connie, leaned back into the chair. “I’m surprised you’re not asking more questions. Don’t you want to know my role in all of this? Clearly, you think I had a part in it, otherwise …” She wiggled her hands, referencing the plastic hand cuffs.

Connie leaned against the door frame; arms still crossed. She thought for a moment. “I found your name on documents Lance had. It was on statements from foreign banks.” She sighed. “I guess somewhere along the way, I didn’t want to know more about you. How you’re involved with my husband. After I found out what you do for a living, how you use people.” She swallowed and corrected herself. “Ex-husband.”

Regina grinned. “You can’t believe everything you read on the DW.” She nodded toward the glass. “Any chance of more water? Maybe with ice this time?” She glanced toward a paneled cabinet behind her.

Connie frowned.

“The fridge and freezer are there. Built-ins, European style.” Regina exhaled. She stopped short of rolling her eyes.

Connie moved around Regina, carefully moving behind the chair. She opened the doors and found the icemaker. Connie kept one eye on Regina while getting the glasses and filling them with ice, then water.

“You’re tightly wound.” Regina observed as Connie sat the glass before her.

Connie laughed. “I’m alone in the middle of nowhere with a known human trafficker of global proportions. How the hell do you expect me to behave?”

“And that’s where you’re mistaken.” Regina adjusted her position. “Ask yourself; you’ve killed, do you feel any different? You don’t look like you’re guilt-ridden over killing two men.” She quizzically looked at Connie.

“That’s different …” Connie began.

Regina stomped her feet on the tiled floor. “Oh, come off it.” She yelled. “It’s not different. You just think so because it’s you who did it. Had I done it, you would ask me tons of questions, you’d asked why I didn’t get the police or some other garbage. You’d scrutinize my decision, wondering if there weren’t another way to solve this. But since you where the one, you think yourself a hero.” She violently thrashed in her chair. “And what I’ve done, how I earn my money, is the exact same thing. I provide a service. We don’t abduct women, or children, or men. They volunteer; families can’t be bothered with birth control and then they want to make money off their unwanted offspring and sell them to us. It’s called taking an opportunity; I took it, as did you. So shut up.” Regina inhaled, composing herself. “Human life is no different than cattle. Some are born to be free. Most are born to be harvested.”

Connie leaned against the wall opposite, hands running through her hair. She sighed. “All human beings are human, but not all humans are human beings.”

She nodded, pushed off the wall, made sure Regina’s cuffs where still in working order. Then she left the kitchen to roam the house. Regina called after her. Connie ignored her.

The kitchen led into a long, wide hallway, decorated with a row of masks, most looking native, Mayan, Inca perhaps. They looked very old. She probably stole those from the surrounding Native Tribes.

            She allowed her left hand to trail along the cool, rough surface of the walls until she reached the first door to her left. Connie opened the door and saw a small sofa, a table, nothing else.

            Three more doors revealed more guestrooms. Finally, she pushed open the last door. The terra-cotta tiled floor continued, and Connie stepped into the spacious room.

            The main bedroom had an oversized bed with dark-red curtains, tied to the bedposts and extending to the ceiling. The same curtains covered the entire length and breadth of the left wall.

            Connie lingered to gaze at statues displayed throughout the room in small alcoves. Some statues had grim faces, and others were smiling. All of them were naked, with remarkable details, including the statutes portraying couples in explicit sex acts. Connie stared at them curiously before continuing toward a second door in the room. “A bit sex obsessed, aren’t we?”

            “And a neat freak, what a combo.” Regina's private bathroom was spotless and spacious. The mirror above the sink was set into a large, bronzed frame. Connie ran her fingers behind the frame, looking for a latch that would move it. 

“Ah.” She sighed when the barely audible click released the lock, and she swung the mirror to the side. Connie's eyes widened as she looked upon dozens of medicine bottles, from prescription strength Tylenol to allergy relief. Most of the bottles, however, contained Oxycodone and Valium, all labeled with Regina's name.

“What a well-organized, decent psychopath - how nice.”

 She moved her finger along the labels until she found what she had been looking for.

Connie sighed. “Looks like Mark told the truth, for once.” The dead man that provided the map had also provided the one weakness that would kill Regina. She tipped the desired pill container until it fell into her hand: Digoxin.

She stared at the medicine bottle when a scrapping noise called her back into the present. Connie turned.

“My dear, you are not the brightest of the litter. Do you genuinely think this is the first time someone tied me up?” Regina spoke from behind Connie, plastic handcuffs cut in half, dangling from her wrists.

Connie turned, medicine bottle still in hand.

Regina's fist was already on its way toward Connie. By the time Connie turned, Regina had closed the short distance between them. Connie's head slammed into the tiled bathroom wall.

Connie remembered Regina's snarling face before the pain became unbearable, and she welcomed the darkness that came with blacking out.

 

***

Constantina felt warm flesh on her cheek, and a pungent, garlicky smell. She opened her eyes and recoiled. Regina's face was so close Constantina saw the black specks in her irises.

“Yes, my dear, this is the price you pay for not minding your own business.” Regina's clear voice whispered into her ear. She reached for Connie's arm and jerked her up to a standing position.

“Tell me, Constantina, or Connie, as you seem to enjoy being called, did it ever occur to you that you'd be dying in the jungles of the Yucatan Peninsula at the end of your journey?”

 Connie swayed and stumbled. “No. I've been too busy digging a hole to dump your asshole nephew into.”

Regina rewarded her honesty with a quick, hard, slap across the face. Connie's attempts to stay on her feet failed. Her knees buckled and she fell onto the green, lush, grass.

“Damn, that hurt.” She felt warmth running over her lips, and a faint smell of metal penetrated her nostrils. She wiped the back of her hand over her mouth, staring at the blood smear that was barely visible in the darkness of the night.

Don't worry, it'll all be over soon, one way or the other.

Regina stood over her, screaming, her face distorted with rage and grief. “Did you really think you’d get away with killing my nephew?” With each word, she beat Connie who curled up in fetal position, using her arms to protect her head.

“I took an opportunity.” Connie yelled in between beatings, desperate to get her opponent to stop, hoping for a reprieve. The beatings began slowing and Regina didn’t move to follow as Connie crawled away from her.

Panting and heaving, Connie kneeled. “Guess you’re seeing red now?”

Regina screamed and leapt toward her. Connie stood, planting her feet firmly on the grass-covered earth. She fisted her hands and, as Regina came closer, punched her, once on the left cheek, the second on the right. Regina reeled backwards. The full moon behind her throwing its light around the tall, well-shaped body, illuminating her. “He’s family, I had to protect him. I didn’t matter that it cost me money to cover his rapes, that my partner left me because I refused to cut Mark loose.”

Regina moved toward Connie. “When I’m done with you, I will find him, I will give him the burial he deserves. I will find a family of sparrows to take his soul to the next world.”

Constantina startled. “After all this, you still believe in that?” Her mind raced.

Regina smiled. “Yes. We will be a family, again. If not in this life, then in the next.”

The full moon and the bright stars illuminated the grassy field. Beyond that was nothing except darkness, only interrupted by an occasional moving shadow. The night air was filled with low growling and high-pitched squeals coming out of the nearby jungle. The warm air smelt of exotic flowers, some sweet, others like rotting fruit. The trees around them waited in silence as Constantina's fate unfolded.

Constantina stood up, wiped her hands on her pants. Her bloodlust had waned. She was exhausted. “How about we call this even? We both walk away?”

Regina laughed. “Seriously?” She shook her head. “And how do you see this playing out? Me paying you off for the rest of my life? Do you actually think I could forgive you for killing my nephew?”

Oh, yeah. Me killing him is an issue she can’t forgive.

Before Constantina could respond, Regina dashed toward her, push her. “You’ll pay for it.” She raged. Connie, surprised by the sudden anger outburst, stepped backward, lifted her hands in defense.

“Gina …” Connie lost her footing, falling on her ass. Regina kneeled next to her within a second, grabbed her hair and pulled her upward. “Do not abbreviate my name. I despise your lack of correct manners. You are an educated, wealthy woman. Behave accordingly.” She shook Connie like a rag doll.

Connie screamed. She used her fingernails to tear at Regina's hands. “Let me go. You bitch. How's that for manners?” She managed to kick Regina's legs. Connie felt relief as the tearing fingers released her hair. It was momentary because seconds later, Regina dug her hands, and nails, into Connie's bicep, shooting pain up into her shoulder. She felt herself pushed forward, stumbling, as Regina dragged her toward the darkness. All ideas of redemption, of forgiveness for either of them forgotten. There was only one way this would end.

“There's something I want you to see. I think it'll be a fitting end for you, seeing that you dumped my darling nephew into a hole.” Regina snorted. “I got a hole for you, and I bet this one is bigger than yours.” Regina stopped and extended her arm toward the sharp edge of a vast, dark emptiness that dug deep into the earth.

Connie squinted and leaned forward. Before her was the largest sinkhole she’s ever seen. Not that she’s seen many of them.

“Do you know what that is?”

Connie tried to nod, but the continued beatings at the hands of the older woman had left her face bruised, every movement setting off small explosions of pain.

“Cenote; the Maya believe it's the entry to the underworld.”

Connie stared into it, and she saw the water fifty feet below the surface glistening in the moonlight.

Regina released Connie's hair and stared at her with a cold smile, “and you're about to find out if that's true.”

Regina took hold of Connie's bicep and Connie's muscles tightened in anticipation of being pushed over the edge. She raised her hands, planted her feet into the ground and pushed Regina. Both women fell backward, away from the Cenote.

Regina released a furious scream. She lunged herself at Connie, who tried to crawl away. Regina was faster and fell onto her, crushing Connie's body beneath her. Sharp pain pierced through Connie's arms as she felt Regina's strong hands digging into her biceps and pulling her up.

Connie screamed, “oh, damn it ...”

Regina's hair hung over her face, the flawless skin rosy from the exertion, the blue eyes glaring at Connie. “You will pay for this. No one gets to mess with my life in this way - no one.” She yelled.

Regina pushed her forward, toward the cenote, the underworld that would be Connie's grave, if Regina had her way.

Constantina felt her chest expanding as her lungs sucked in the air. She noticed the warmth and the smell of the flowers. At the exhale, she turned her back to the watery abyss.

Regina, arms raised, her hands ready to choke Connie's neck the second they made contact, took one final step.

Once again, in one heartbeat, life turned. The familiar serenity, the feeling of oneness with everything around and within her and she knew; this is not my day to die.

The moment Regina's nails reached Connie's skin; Connie stepped sideways. Regina flew forward, powered by her own momentum. Her feet, unable to find solid ground, faltered.

Regina screamed, but only until her head hit the stonewall of the Cenote. Her skull cracked, the noise echoing off the ancient walls of the underworld.

The lifeless body fell silently until the impact with the watery surface created a distant splash sound, as if a coin dropped into a well. Water shot upward and fell back down.

Regina Praeda floated for a while before the underworld reached up and claimed her as its own.

***

Could Regina have seen through her dead eyes, she would have seen Constantina's oval-shaped face and the moonlight sparkling off the brilliant, blonde, highlights in her hair, green eyes staring down at her - smiling.

 

The End