Grave Phantoms (Roaring Twenties #3)(28)

Or maybe she was being irrational. Lowe might be making small talk.

But then, why would Bo react like that?

Like that, and like this, now, which was to ask a question instead of answering Lowe. “Can you identify what sort of culture the idol comes from?”

“Aztec, I’d say. And it looks genuine. Hadley?”

“Aztec,” she confirmed. “Not solid turquoise. It’s a mosaic. Small chips of turquoise carefully fitted together and polished.”

“Really? I thought it was just cracked,” Bo said. “Except on the back, see?”

“Yes, now that is a solid piece,” Hadley said. “Someone has altered the engraving. What a shame.”

Lowe carried it to a nearby table. They all crowded behind him as he sat down and studied it more carefully under magnification. “The gold inlay on the eyes and the disk is real, though it looks odd. Times like this, I wish Adam was still around,” he mumbled. His best friend, and Stella’s father. Adam died almost a year ago.

Hadley squeezed his shoulder. He patted her hand. And Astrid was once again envious of their bond. She glanced at Bo, but quickly lowered her eyes when she found him already looking at her. Stars, there were too many emotions floating around. Or maybe she was overly sensitive. She did her best to brush it all aside and concentrate on the idol.

“Definitely altered,” Lowe said when he looked closer. “The flat space has been chiseled down and the word ‘NANCE’ engraved with modern tools. I can see traces of another engraving beneath it. Another word, perhaps. But it’s too fragmented to be able to tell what it was.”

“Is it a replica?” Astrid asked.

“Your brother would know nothing at all about treasure forgery,” Hadley said with heavy sarcasm.

Lowe let out a nervous laugh and scratched his chin. “Yes, well. That’s all in the past. Much like this idol, which seems to be genuine, if I had to guess.”

“My straight-and-narrow husband is correct. It does appear to be authentic,” Hadley said, giving Lowe the barest of smiles.

“And now the million-dollar question,” Bo said. “What purpose does it serve?”

Lowe sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Hell if I know. It’s not fertility, and I have no idea about this symbol on the front. I know turquoise was prized by the Aztecs and often used in ritual items. They traded with the Pueblo people, who mined it in the Southwest states. But beyond that, I’ve got no clue.”

Astrid and Bo looked at Hadley. “Hate to say it, but I don’t know, either. This isn’t inside our wheelhouse. I can identify some of the major Aztec gods, like Quetzalcoatl, the feathered serpent, for example. But this—”

Bo stopped her. “Hold on a second. Did you say feathered serpent? Would that be the same as a plumed serpent?”

“Why, yes.”

Bo looked at Astrid. “The yacht’s name. That’s a mighty big coincidence.”

“Too big. I’d wager that yacht owner, Mrs. Cushing, knows something about the ritual,” Astrid said. “What in heaven’s name is going on?”

“Whatever it is, stay out of it,” Lowe said, handing Bo the idol back. “I’m speaking from experience. Tell them, Hadley.”

She nodded. “It’s true. You should probably just put this back where you found it. But, in the meantime, if you want to find out more about the symbolism and design—”

Lowe sighed heavily.

Hadley ignored him. “—then the person in town you need to talk to is Dr. Maria Navarro.”

“Ah yes. One half of the Wicked Wenches,” Lowe said and gave Hadley an innocent look. “What? They love that moniker.”

Hadley ignored him. “Both Dr. Navarro and her colleague, Miss King, are experts on Aztec and Mayan culture. Retired anthropologists and friends of my father. Have written several books together.”

“How do we get in touch with these anthropologists?” Bo asked.

Hadley smiled. “I can contact Dr. Navarro and see if they’d be willing to meet with you.”

“As soon as possible,” Bo said, and then smiled back. “If you don’t mind.”

—

After lodging his arguments against pursuing more information on the idol, Lowe began probing Bo for mechanical advice about his motorcycle engine. That was Astrid’s chance to speak to Hadley alone, and she took it, urging her aside for a private conversation.

Hadley was the single most intelligent woman Astrid knew. The most educated and influential. Hadley was also very rational and had on a couple of occasions backed Astrid’s pleas for independence when the rest of the family was busy telling her “no.” The two of them weren’t what Astrid would call close. Astrid felt a stronger emotional sisterly bond to Aida. But Astrid needed someone who wouldn’t let emotions color her advice. Someone who treated Astrid fairly and logically.

Someone who could be trusted not to blab to Winter.

“So,” Hadley said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I got your telegram, obviously, and you got mine.”

“Thank you for helping me.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I’m not sure what I can do to help.” She pulled out an envelope from the pocket of her skirt and unfolded the letter inside. “The university seems to have successfully changed your address to my office at the museum, so you’re safe from Winter finding out. At least for the time being. I received this two days ago.”