Spoils of the Game (25 page)

“Value?” Austin was now on guard.

“By value I mean old books, or art treasures, or gold.”

“He did not say anything to me that I remember.” It was a safe answer, but Austin remained on guard. “Madeline knew he had some old books, but we never went inside. I don’t know if they were there or not, and I don’t know what they even looked like.”

“What about treasure or gold?”

“Feret told me about a myth of a lost treasure and some artist that died five hundred years ago, but he told me that he had given up looking years ago. I do not think he had any gold or treasure. He appeared to live like a hermit on his professor’s income.”

Austin prayed that this would be the end of the questions regarding gold. What he’d said was the truth, but if he were as honest as he should have been, he could have said more.

“Monsieur Clay … we have carefully gone through the contents of Monsieur Feret’s apartment. We have found limited evidence at this time, but we have noted that there were several empty file folders that had the name Maetan on them. Did you and Monsieur Feret talk specifically about a Maetan?”

Austin knew that it was common knowledge that he and Feret had discussed the artist. “Yes, sir, we did. The Louvre recently acquired a painting by Maetan, and it was through Feret that I learned of the artist’s history.”

“Monsieur Clay, I have taken a special interest in this case because of the method used in the murder. We have bits of data that may lead to an arrest, but I am trying to establish a motive. I am sure you remember the knife that was plunged into the professor’s head.”

“Yes.”

“The knife was a large folding knife with a brass and wooden handle. In the handle was a Basque cross.”

“Basque cross?” asked Austin, not knowing what that meant.

“I have seen a similar knife in a murder of a criminal about four years ago. That knife was left in the heart of the criminal, almost as if it were a calling card. I am suspecting that the same individual may have been involved in this case.”

“Detective, I still do not know what you mean by a Basque cross,” said Austin. He reached into his pocket and inspected the knife he’d taken from Simon.

“The Basque cross is a four-armed cross with each arm curved to the right. It represents the Basque culture that exists in Southern France and in a large area of Northern Spain. I traced the knife we found a few years ago to a shop in Saint-Jean-de-Luz, which is on the Atlantic coast, and I suspect that the knife found in Feret’s skull was from the same source.”

Austin already suspected that Simon was the killer of Feret, and his accent and the matching geography were strong evidence. The knife was real proof, at least for Austin. He was in a state of confusion. He would love to tell the detective about the man with a single name, but how would he explain how he knew him? And now, how would he handle the knife he’d liberated from Simon’s pocket? The knife had to disappear.

“Detective Blanc, I am afraid that the only connection we have with the murder is that we found the body.”

“Monsieur Clay, I may have to talk with you again, so if I call you early or late, let me apologize now.”

“Call me if you need me.”

“Oh, one last question, Monsieur Clay. Have you been approached by anyone that, in your opinion, might have underworld connections? I mean, have you been approached by anyone that might have made you an offer, or might have an interest in your activities?”

Shit,
thought Austin. This detective guy knew too much or suspected too much. He must know about Simon.

“No, sir,” was his simple and short answer.

The phone discussion was over, but Austin did not like what the detective had said, or his questions. Too many topics in some way involved him. He also did not like the realization that Feret had died because of the renewed interest in the search for gold, and Austin knew he was partly responsible. But most of all, it was becoming clear that Simon was the threat that he suspected.

His mind deep in thought, he saw Madeline arrive, and with her a new issue to think about. Austin looked her over. “You look great, including your hair.” The words exited his mouth automatically, because his mind was still on Simon. It was a threat that he could not share with Madeline.

“Well, that is nice, because I did not take the time to wash it. So if it looks bad later, it is your fault.”

“Here, have some coffee,” said Austin as he poured her a cup from the pot on the table.

“I’m hungry,” said Madeline as she looked at the menu.

“Well, why don’t you order, and I will take your bags out to the car.”

“Okay.”

Austin checked out and then carried the bags out to the car, which was parked on a side street about a block from the hotel. Austin realized then that if Simon was following them, it was good that their car was not by the hotel, or they might have been killed in their sleep. But then again, why would he kill them before they found the gold? As he closed the lid of the trunk, he spotted another white van.
Well, at least it will be easy to spot if they are trying to follow us.
There must be some Italian law, he thought, that all vans must be white.

Austin walked back into the hotel, wondering if he should tell Madeline about the call from Blanc, or about Simon Basset’s knife and license that he had in his pocket. If he waited, he could tell Blanc later and apologize. If he told the cop what he had now, it would derail Austin’s search, and he only needed a couple of days. Was he involving Madeline in a conspiracy and a possible legal hassle? He rejoined Madeline, who was busy eating.

“You know, for a little person, you sure can eat a lot,” he said.

“I will not be long. I will be done in three minutes, and we can go.”

“You know, I don’t know what to expect when we finally find the church or monastery or whatever it is, but I must admit I am a little disappointed by what the professor said yesterday. I am afraid we will find a pile of rocks, and then I will not know what to do. I am not a frickin’ archeologist. I mean, what I want is a sign that says T
HIS WAY TO THE GOLD
, and now I am afraid that a pile of stones might be the end of the road.”

“Well let me make your life more miserable,” said Madeline who was looking somewhat disturbed.

Austin looked at Madeline while his mind scrambled looking for the reason behind her comment. “What are you talking about.”

“I was laying awake in bed last night about three when a thought entered my head.”

“Okay,” he said waiting for the next shoe to fall.

“Who was one of the richest men you have met while you were in Paris?”

Austin thought for a minute. “I don’t know…one of your prince or duke friends we met at the party the Louve sponsored at that hotel. I don’t know.”

“Who’s house did you visit?”

“You mean Phillips?” Austin had just heard the name only minutes ago from the detective who told him that the man was in hiding.

“Who is into art and who knew about Matean and who knew Feret and who never had a job and who is very rich and who had a passing interest in your investigations?”

“No, his family made money selling a steel business or something to the Japanese,” stated Austin with conviction.

“Did you see a bill of sale?”

“So you think Phillips found the gold?” asked Austin trying to show repect for Madeline’s opinion.

“Maybe.”

“Is this just a plot to just get back to the beach?” asked Austin with a smile.

“Mr. Clay, lets go to the monastery and find your dam gold. “In an hour we will know more. I still think that your story about the Nazis getting the gold may be the truth and if not that then maybe Phillips did. It is just too much money to sit under a rock for five hundred years.”

“Come on, let’s go. If we get this out of our systems, then we can go back to the beach.”

As Austin and Madeline got into the car, he remembered wondering how Simon had followed them. He got out of the car, layed down on the ground, and slowly checked every possible location where someone might hide a tracking device.

“What are you doing on the ground?” exclaimed Madeline.

“Ah … I thought I heard a strange sound under the car.”

Just under the rear fender Austin found a small black plastic box with a wire sticking out of one side, held in place by double-sided tape. In seconds he removed the device, rolled over to his left, and attached the device under the car next to him. As he picked himself off the ground, he laughed to himself.
We’ll let Simon follow the poor soul that owns this car.
Austin removed the knife from his pocket and tossed it into a pond that was part of a city park across the street. Walking around with a clone of the actual murder weapon that had killed Feret was perhaps not a good idea, especially if someone thought he might be the killer.

It took a few minutes to find the sign for route S591 toward Crema and about another twenty minutes to find the crossroads that the professor mentioned in his instructions. From this point forward, Austin and Madeline kept looking for the group of trees on the top of the hill. Within three minutes, there it was. The road was narrow, but Austin found a place to pull the car over onto a small area set aside for a roadside table.

The sun was higher in the sky, and the surrounding landscape was beautiful. To get to the top of the hill, Austin and Madeline had to chart their own course through a field of flowers followed by a thicker wooded area. As they moved up the hill, there was little indication that there was anything manmade ahead. Going through the woods, they came across a dirt road that made its way down the hill to their right.

“Well, that is good news. I would hate to carry all that gold down to the car through the woods,” said Austin with a sarcastic smile.

“Look at my shoes! They are a mess,” said Madeline.

“When we find the gold, I will buy you a new pair of shoes.”

Suddenly they saw an arch. And then there was another, with the stone frame of a window still in place. Fire, war, and time had not been kind to the old building, and the stained-glass window that had surely been within the arch was gone. Austin walked around the broken walls and pointed out to Madeline areas where perhaps she should not walk.

“I do not want to have to carry you down to the car if you break an ankle,” he said. “Please be careful.”

“Who is going to carry your butt when you break something?” Madeline replied.

The last five or six hundred years had dissolved much of the identity of the old monastery. Stone walkways could be seen, and a row of pillars remained that might have surrounded a courtyard. Over the years many people had visited the ruins; there was clear evidence that some had made campfires, and litter was thrown about. But on this particular day, it was only Austin and Madeline, and Austin was confused. At the edge of one wall was a little meadow with some tall grass. It was the perfect place to lie back and enjoy the sunshine. Austin lay down first, and Madeline followed.

“So what are you thinking?” said Madeline.

“I wish I knew. I still think there is a good chance that the gold is here, but I never wanted to make a federal case out of it.”

“Federal case?”

“For sixteen million dollars it would make sense to bring in earthmoving equipment and take this hilltop off until you find it. But by the time you got the Italian government to agree and settled the taxes, you and I would get about twenty bucks and a firm handshake. Looking at this pile of rubble, I have no idea where to even start. The gold might be here, but I don’t think I am the one to find it. Are you mad at me for dragging you up here?”

“Well, you owe me new shoes, and twenty American dollars won’t do it. You know that the Italians have strict rules about antiquities.”

“That makes sense. Give me something else to worry about. So what are the rules? Do I have to give them half?”

“No,” said Madeline. “I think they want it all. They are tired about getting ripped off and have actually put a bunch of people in jail. I think they even went after some people at the Getty Museum in California for some of the items in their collection.”

“Hey, treasure or no treasure, I will buy you new shoes, and I will not let the Italians stop me. In fact, I owe you a bunch of stuff. But I think as long as you are well-fed and have some wine, you will be happy.”

“Will you still love me if I gain weight and look like a big balloon?”

“Sure, just don’t roll on me and squash me.”

Madeline rolled on top of Austin and said, “Am I squashing you now?”

Austin kissed Madeline, who returned the kiss and then rolled off and placed her head on Austin’s shoulder.

Austin looked up at the clouds in the sky. The sky was blue, but the clouds were beginning to darken.

“Madeline, why do you love me? I mean, we come from different worlds and backgrounds. Am I just a novelty? Or—excuse me if I say it—am I just some rich guy that looks good in a tux?”

Madeline rolled back on top of Austin and looked down into his eyes. “Austin, I think I began to fall for you when I first met you a couple of years ago, when you visited Paris with your wife. Our meeting was brief, but you impressed me. I was very impressed by the way you loved your wife through simple things. You supported her interest and her projects, and you even went out of your way to get her coffee. I remember that you made a special effort to get her an umbrella one afternoon, not because she asked for it, but because you knew she would need it. I envied your wife’s happiness and the strength she obtained from a man that was her friend and partner. When your wife died, I felt sorry for you, and at the same time I was sure that I would never see you again. When I learned that you were coming back to the Louvre to continue your wife’s projects, I was thrilled. I wanted the chance to at least get to know you more. When Vassar volunteered me to be your assistant, I was very happy. I wanted to do what you call stacking the deck. The first night we had dinner, I was an emotional wreck because of Badeau and the trouble he was causing, and at the same time I wanted that night to go so well. You were so interested in me and my problems and offered to be my friend. I fell for you that night, but I promised myself I would go slowly. That night I talked about you with my sister for three hours. You look at me as an equal and a friend first, and later as a lover. I think we support each other, and yes, you do look so good in a tux, and you look good in jeans, too. Now I am concerned that eventually you will go back to the United States, and I will be just another notch on your belt. I guess I will just have to take my chances.”