The Baron Blasko Mysteries | Book 4 | Tentacles

by Howe, A. E.

  Blasko thought about the blood on Donavan’s shoe. “Did you follow Josephine when she went to the post office yesterday?”

  “No…” The way his voice trailed off suggested that he might have more to say.

  “But you know something about her attack?” Blasko pressed.

  “Not much. I…”

  “What do you know?” Josephine demanded.

  “I saw the dead body,” Donavan admitted. “I was coming up from the docks when I heard something. I saw Josephine come out of the alley, so I looked in and saw the body with the knife sticking out of its back. I ran to the man, confirmed that he was very dead and hurried back to the hotel.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I didn’t want to get involved. If I’d backed up your story with the sheriff, he might have started to ask questions and our attempts to find the gold might have been exposed. I couldn’t afford for that to happen. Once the body went missing and the sheriff dropped it, I figured there wasn’t any point.”

  Josephine glared at him.

  “That’s enough for now,” Blasko said quickly, not wanting to see a full-blown fight break out between Josephine and Donavan. “Captain Hume told us that you are all staying in his room tonight.”

  “Yep. Guess that will give Mrs. Lachlan something to talk about if she finds out.” He stood up, not meeting Josephine’s angry gaze. “I tell you, I don’t trust any of them. Especially not Zhao. I’ll be sleeping right next to him and, I promise you, I won’t be sleeping soundly.”

  “Send in Jamila,” Blasko told him as he left.

  He raised his hand in acknowledgement and staggered a little as he went out the door.

  “He’s being mostly honest. Which either means that he’s innocent or he knows how to lie,” Blasko said, neatly summing up Josephine’s own thoughts on Donavan.

  “He’s an ass,” she snarled, then relaxed a bit. “But I agree that he was being honest.”

  “Which blows up our one piece of solid evidence, the blood on his shoe,” Blasko sighed.

  “We’d already agreed that it wasn’t much of a clue,” Josephine reminded him.

  The door opened and Jamila walked in, giving Blasko and Josephine a wary look. “I don’t know what you two think you’re playing at. You are not the police.”

  “Humor us,” Blasko said, gesturing for her to have a seat.

  “Ha! I don’t even know what I’m playing at. Digging in the sand, looking for artifacts that probably aren’t there.”

  “You are from Spain?” Blasko confirmed.

  “Yes, though there are those who wouldn’t consider a Gitano really Spanish.”

  “You must have worked very hard to get where you are,” Blasko said with more than a little admiration in his voice.

  “I was fortunate to have received an opportunity to study at the University of Seville. Now I’m an academic and I should be digging through library stacks. I came to this country to do research into the great gold fleets of the 1500s. I was reviewing log books that a collector had donated to the library in Arkham, Massachusetts.”

  This caught Josephine’s attention. “Do you know a man named Franklin Carter?”

  Jamila’s eyes became hooded. “What do you know of Franklin?”

  “So you do know him.”

  “I’ve never met him, but I corresponded with him several times. He… helped me with my research. But what does he have to do with this?”

  Josephine weighed the pros and cons of telling the truth. Finally, she said, “He was the one who sent the letters to everyone.”

  “Ahhh, that makes sense. I wondered who would have known that I was in America. Is this all some sort of joke that he is playing on us?”

  “No. The information in the letters is real, or at least it came from an older source than Franklin Carter.”

  “How do you know Franklin?” Jamila asked again.

  “He’s my cousin,” Josephine said.

  “Is he here?” Jamila looked around the room as though she expected Carter to step out of the shadows.

  “That’s not important right now,” Blasko deflected. “Who do you think is the killer?”

  “Donavan. He is a disgusting man.” She turned her head as though she was looking for somewhere to spit.

  “Y’all had an affair?” Josephine asked and saw Jamila grit her teeth.

  “He is a pig!”

  “What happened?”

  “A real man can handle a real woman. We… met and there was an… attraction. Yes, I admit it. But he was jealous of me.”

  “You mean he was jealous of other men being around you?”

  Jamila made a face. “No! That would be what a real man does. No, no, he was jealous because I am a celebrated scholar and he is just an assistant professor at a provincial university.”

  Blasko looked puzzled. “Exactly how long have you all been on the island?”

  “Two veeeeery long weeks.”

  “So, in two weeks, you all met, had an affair, he became jealous of your scholarship and then you dropped him.” Blasko raised his eyebrows at the amount of drama packed into such a short time.

  “Exactly. I hate him.”

  “He didn’t mention you,” Blasko said and was rewarded with a furious Jamila, who stood up and kicked her chair away from the table.

  “How dare he! Ignore me? I should teach him a lesson he’ll never forget. First he belittles my manuscript on the voyages of Hernán Cortés and now he pretends that he wasn’t passionate for me.” This time she actually did spit.

  “Where were you yesterday morning around the time I was attacked?” Josephine asked, looking to steer the conversation in a more useful direction.

  “When the letter was stolen? I was in the dining room eating my breakfast. Remember, I saw you come back to the hotel.”

  “There were witnesses who saw you at breakfast?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. That strange girl who assists Mrs. Lachlan served me. When I finished, I left through the French doors onto the porch.”

  Blasko and Josephine had agreed not to ask where everyone was when Brock had been killed, as the answer would have been the same for everyone—asleep in their rooms. After a few more questions, they let Jamila go with the promise to send in Captain Hume.

  “She certainly has the hot blood needed to kill someone,” Josephine observed.

  “She could be very dangerous in the heat of the moment,” Blasko agreed.

  The door opened again and Captain Hume entered, looking entirely worn out.

  “Can I get you something?” Josephine asked with concern.

  “Had a brandy after dinner. Best not have any more.” He sat down across from them. “Reminds me of the old boards of inquiry I used to run. Bring them in and question them.” The old man seemed lost in the past.

  “Captain, tell us more about your background,” Blasko asked.

  “A life spent abroad. Mostly in service. Either in the military or to the Foreign Office.”

  “But you were involved in some archeological digs in the Middle East, correct?”

  “Quite right. I served in the Royal Marines in the South Pacific. Got interested in anthropology and archeology, so I retired and helped the Syrians dig up some of their own relics. British government didn’t like it. A former Royal Marine mucking about in the Middle East while they were trying to sort out the borders after the war. Received a reprimand for bad judgment. Reduced my retirement pay to a lieutenant’s. Didn’t help that I got a bucketful of publicity. Especially over here in the States. It was just a year or so before the discovery of King Tutankhamun’s tomb. Of course, that overshadowed anything I’d been a part of. Just as well.”

  “And you received a letter…” Blasko let it hang, knowing that the captain didn’t need any encouragement to talk.

  “Precisely. About a month ago. Surprised me. List of Syrian artifacts from a rather obscure cult. Obscure to most, at any rate. However, there was a direct connection t
o the discoveries I’d helped with in Syria.”

  “You came here as soon as you got the letter?”

  “I’m not sure what this has to do with anything.”

  “We suspect that Brock wasn’t who he said he was. Therefore, we thought it might be prudent to discover whether anyone else is here under false pretenses.” Blasko leaned back in his chair and gave Hume a slight smile as he explained his line of questioning. The captain seemed to become more and more agitated as Blasko spoke.

  “See here, now. I won’t have my honor questioned. I’m Captain Reginald Hume, late of His Majesty’s general staff and a decorated member of the Imperial Camel Corps.”

  His face became red and puffy, and Josephine half expected to see him snap to attention and click his heels. He reminded her a bit of Colonel Etheridge.

  “I meant no disrespect, Captain. You said you’ve conducted investigations in the past, so you understand the need to be thorough,” Blasko explained, still leaning back.

  “Well, of course. A man just doesn’t take kindly to being asked… I’m tired… Long day on that blasted island.”

  Josephine frowned at Blasko and raised her eyebrows

  “I’m sorry, Captain,” Blasko said, not sounding sorry at all. “We know you are a loyal subject of His Majesty the King. Tell me, did you ever suspect that Mr. Brock wasn’t who he said he was?”

  “Never. A man’s word… I mean, he presented himself as Wallace Brock from the University of Chicago, and there was no reason to question him.”

  “Do you feel like you’re any closer to finding the treasure?” Josephine asked.

  “No, blast it! I talked with Zhao this evening. There are several areas on the island that we still need to search, but nothing we looked at today yielded any clues.” He was still breathing heavily from his earlier outrage.

  “You need to get some rest,” Josephine said. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.” She stood up and walked him to the door. “Maybe you should take the day off.”

  “And let the others go on without me? I will not! I came this far.”

  “Why are you really here?” Josephine asked once they were alone outside the room. Of course, the captain had no way of knowing that Blasko’s unnaturally good hearing would pick up every word they said.

  “I need this,” the old man confessed. “The humiliation I suffered from the demotion. I am not a wealthy man. The cut in my pay… I have a daughter. I want to leave her something, even if it’s just the memory of a father who did everything he could to restore our honor and fortune.”

  Without another word, he headed back to his room.

  Chapter Twenty

  “You were a little rough on him,” Josephine said when she came back into the room.

  “I didn’t ask him anything that I haven’t asked everyone else. The man is unsteady on his feet, literally and figuratively.”

  “I doubt he’s our killer.”

  “Why? Because he’s getting old? Mark my words, Josie, the old lions are the most dangerous. They have no fear of death, but a great horror at the thought of running out of time.”

  “Says the man who will never run out of time.”

  “There will come a day,” Blasko said darkly, and Josephine felt a quick rush of fear. But before she could say anything else, the door opened and Neith walked in.

  She looked the least tired of the group. She’d taken time to apply fresh makeup and wore a sleek white dress with a gold necklace and bracelets. Josephine was impressed with her elegance. Why pull out the stops now? she wondered.

  “What a delight to have you join us,” Blasko said with a smile, standing and giving her a slight bow.

  Of course, that’s the reason for the fancy dress and doodads. Josephine frowned.

  “I enjoyed our talk the other night on the verandah.” Neith stepped up to the table and extended her hand to Blasko, who took it and touched it lightly with his lips. Not once did she even glance at Josephine, who felt a snarl rising in her throat.

  “Have a seat,” Josephine said brusquely. Neith looked at her, then turned back to Blasko and slowly lowered herself to the chair across from them.

  “I do not know what I could possibly tell you about the horrible death of Mr. Brock.”

  “How well did you know him?” Josephine asked before Blasko could say anything.

  “Not as well as some,” she said coyly, wagging her finger in the universal naughty sign.

  “What do you mean by that?” Josephine tossed at her.

  Neith turned and faced her, her smile fading. “I think you know what I’m talking about. He was a crude man. Not amusing like our Mr. Donavan. Rough. Others might like that sort, but I do not.”

  “Do you mean Miss Molina?” Blasko asked. “But I thought she was… interested in Donavan.”

  “Oh yes. Yes, at first it was Donavan, but then she went after Brock.” Facing Blasko again, Neith’s smile returned.

  “How far did the attraction go?” Josephine asked.

  Neith shrugged, never taking her eyes off of Blasko. “Who’s to say?”

  “Make a guess,” Josephine said with a bluntness that caused both Blasko and Neith to stare at her. “Did you ever see Jamila go into Brock’s room? Ever see them kiss or hold hands?”

  “I saw her rub her hand down his lapel when they were talking in the moonlight in front of the hotel three nights ago.”

  “Were you jealous?” Josephine wanted to make a dent in the woman’s flirty veneer.

  “Jealous?” Neith said with a sharp-edged double meaning that caused Josephine’s blood pressure to rise even more. Blasko was looking back and forth between the two women with a mildly shocked expression on his face.

  Stop this, Josephine said to herself before her mouth spewed, “Were you jealous of Jamila’s attention to Brock?”

  “No. I was truthful when I said that Brock was crude. I like my men suave.” She flicked her eyes in Blasko’s direction, who cleared his throat and looked over at Josephine as if to say, What can I do?

  “Tell us about your background,” Josephine said, forcing a smile that didn’t fool anyone.

  “You said that you are here to study the Timucua mounds,” Blasko reminded Neith.

  A crooked smile appeared on her face. “That may not be the whole truth.”

  “You received a letter like everyone else, didn’t you?” Josephine interjected.

  “The Egyptian Museum in Cairo did. I… found it and here I am.”

  “What do you mean you found it?” Josephine asked.

  Neith rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. “I open the mail for the director of the museum. Sometimes I read the letters.”

  “You’re his secretary?” Josephine leaned forward.

  “My father was a clerk at the museum. He taught me a great deal about Egyptian history and artifacts. More than some of the college-educated people who work at the museum. I recognized several of the items listed in the letter as pieces that had gone missing before the turn of the century. My father kept records of items which were stolen or lost.”

  “So you just decided to come over here and recover them?” Josephine sounded suspicious.

  “That’s right. I wanted to prove that I can be more than a secretary.” For the first time, Neith looked humble, turning her eyes to look out the window at the stars. Josephine was surprised to feel a pang of sympathy for her.

  “Who do you think killed Brock?”

  “Jamila. Women can be very dangerous.” Her smile returned.

  “Motive?” Josephine asked.

  “Love. Sex. Men and women mix and good things, or very bad things, can happen. This time a bad thing happened.”

  “What about the murder of the man who attacked me?”

  “What about it? I don’t think that was one of us. You say he was murdered and then the body disappeared. Why would one of us move the body after you saw it? What could we do with the body? You think one of us brought the dead man back up to the hotel and put
him in our room? Search us, then.”

  “You have a point,” Blasko admitted, and Josephine had to agree that the disappearing body didn’t fit with one of the other guests being the killer. Could there have been two murderers?

  “You didn’t have to flirt with her,” Josephine told Blasko when Neith had gone.

  “I wasn’t flirting. I was just being polite,” he answered, unable to hide a smirk that made Josephine narrow her eyes.

  “She was certainly flirting with you.”

  “Are you surprised?” The smirk grew more prominent.

  “You cad,” Josephine said, only half in jest.

  There was a soft knock on the door before Zhao entered.

  “Have a seat.” Blasko waved toward the chair.

  “How close do you think you were to finding the treasure today?” Josephine asked once he was across from them.

  “Close. I’m sure that I read the information in your uncle’s letter correctly. If I only had the other half…” He bowed his head.

  “You know, some folks think you were being less than honest today.”

  “Captain Hume believes that if he could see your half of the letter, he could figure out where the treasure is hidden,” Zhao said.

  “You saw everything that was in the letter. Have you given him all of that information?” Josephine asked.

  “No. We agreed that I’d share it only as needed, in case one of the others has the second half so they won’t be able to take the treasure for themselves.”

  “What if you have the other half of the letter?”

  “Everyone is watching me very closely. I couldn’t use it without all the others knowing.”

  “Unless you just hold out until all the others give up and go home,” Josephine said.

  “They are very tenacious. I don’t believe that all of them would ever leave unless I do. As you said, they are already suspicious of me.”

  “Were you ever suspicious of Wallace Brock?”

  “Suspicious? Why would I be? He was like the rest. Interested in the treasure and looking over his shoulder, as they say.”

  “How did you come to be here?” Blasko asked.

  “I am an expert in some… esoteric Chinese subcultures.”