Mystery Man. Diana Palmer

some exquisite work with gold and precious jewels. What if there’s a king’s ransom located at the dig and someone knows about it?”

      Kurt leaned against the railing. “They know it can happen. It did last time they found a site deep in the jungle, over near Chichñaen Itzñaa. But they had militia guarding them and the pothunters were caught.”

      “Yes, but Mexico is hurting for money, and it’s hard to keep militia on a site all the time to guard a few archaeologists.”

      “Dad has a gun.”

      “And he can shoot it. Sure he can. But they can’t stay awake twenty-four hours a day, and even militia can be bribed.”

      “You’re a whale of a comfort,” Kurt groaned.

      “I’m sorry. I just think we should be on our guard. It could have been someone trying to kidnap Karie, but they’ve just as much incentive to kidnap us or at least keep a careful eye on us.”

      “In other words, we’d better watch our backs.”

      Janine smiled. “Exactly.”

      “Suits me.” He sighed. “What a shame your alien hero can’t beam down here and help us out. I’ll bet he’d have the bad guys for breakfast.”

      “Oh, they don’t eat humans,” she assured him.

      “They might make an exception for pothunters.”

      “You do have a point there. Come on. You can help me do the dishes.”

      “Tell you what,” he said irrepressibly. “You do the dishes, and I’ll write your next chapter for you!”

      “Be my guest.”

      He gave her a wary look. “You’re kidding, right?”

      “Wrong. Go for it.”

      He was excited, elated. He took her at her word and went straight to the computer. He loaded her word processing program, pulled up the file where she’d left off, scanned the plot.

      He sat and he sat and he sat. By the time she finished cleaning up the kitchen, he was still sitting.

      “Nothing yet?” she asked.

      He gave her a plaintive stare. “How do you do this?” he groaned. “I can’t even think of a single word to put on paper!”

      “Thinking is the one thing I don’t do,” she told him. “Move.”

      He got up and she sat down. She stared at the screen for just a minute, checked her place in the plot, put her fingers on the keyboard and just started typing. She was two pages into the new scene when Kurt let out a long sigh and walked away.

      “Writers,” he said, “are strange.”

      She chuckled to herself. “You don’t know the half of it,” she assured him, and kept right on typing.

      Chapter Three

      Janine was well into the book two days later when Karie came flying up the steps and in through the sliding glass doors.

      “We’re having a party!” she announced breathlessly. “And you’re both invited.”

      Janine’s mind was still in limbo, in the middle of a scene. She gave Karie a vacant stare.

      “Oops! Sorry!” Karie said, having already learned in a space of days that writers can’t withdraw immediately when they’re deep into a scene. She backed out and went to find Kurt.

      “What sort of party?” he asked when she joined him at the bottom of the steps at the beach.

      “Just for a few of Dad’s friends, but I persuaded him to invite you and Janie, too. He feels guilty since he’s had to leave me alone so much for the past few years. So he lets me have my way a lot, to try and make it up to me.” She grinned at Kurt. “It’s sort of like having my own genie.”

      “You’re blackmailing him.”

      She laughed. “Exactly!”

      His thin shoulders rose and fell. “I wouldn’t mind coming to the party, if you’re having something nice to eat. But Janie won’t,” he added with certainty. “She hates parties and socializing. And she doesn’t like your dad at all, can’t you tell?”

      “He doesn’t like her much, either, but that’s no reason why they can’t be civil to each other at a party.”

      “I don’t know about that.”

      “I do. He’ll be on his best behavior. Did you know that he reads her books? He doesn’t know who she really is, of course, because I haven’t told him. But he’s got every book she’s ever written.”

      “Good grief, didn’t he look at her picture on the book jacket?” Kurt burst out.

      “I didn’t recognize her from it. Neither will he. It doesn’t really look like her, does it?”

      He had to admit it didn’t. “She doesn’t like being recognized,” he confided. “It embarrasses her. She likes to write books, but she’s not much on publicity.”

      “Why?”

      “She’s shy, can you believe it?” he chuckled. “She runs the other way from interviews and conventions and publicity. It drove the publishing house nuts at first, but they finally found a way to capitalize on her eccentricity. They’ve made her into the original mystery woman. Nobody knows much about her, so she fascinates her reading public.”

      “I love her books.”

      “So do I,” Kurt said, “but don’t ever tell her I said so. We wouldn’t want her to get conceited.”

      She folded her arms on her knees and stared out to sea. “Does she have a, like, boyfriend?”

      He groaned. “Yes, if you could call him that. He’s a college professor. He teaches ancient history.” He made a gagging gesture.

      “Is he nice?”

      “He’s indescribable,” he said after thinking about it for a minute.

      “Are they going to get married?”

      He shrugged. “I hope not. He’s really nice, but he thinks Janie should be less flaky. I don’t. I like her just the way she is, without any changes. He thinks she’s not dignified enough.”

      “Why?”

      “He’s very conservative. Nice, but conservative. I don’t think he really approves of our parents, either. They’re eccentric, too.”

      She turned to look at him. “What do they do?”

      “They’re archaeologists,” he said. “Both of them teach at Indiana University, where they got their doctorates. We live in Bloomington, Indiana, but Janie lives in Chicago.”

       “They’re both doctors?”

      He nodded and made a face. “Yes. Even Janie has a degree, although hers is in history and it’s a bachelor of arts. I guess I’ll be gang-pressed into going to college. I don’t want to.”

      “What do you want to do?”

      He sighed. “I want to fly,” he said, looking skyward as a bird, probably a tern, dipped and swept in the wind currents, paying no attention to the odd creatures sitting on the steps below him.

      “We could glue some feathers together,” she suggested.

      “No! I want to fly,” he emphasized. “Airplanes, helicopters, anything, with or without wings. It’s in my blood. I can’t get enough of airplane movies. Even space shows. Now, that’s really flying, when you do it in space!”

      “So that’s why you like that science fiction show Janie’s so crazy about.”