by Cathy Ace
“My bloody father,” spat Lottie. “I’ll never forgive him for this. Guest lists? I’ll give him bloody guest lists.”
“I thought we had something, Lottie, I really did,” said John. His face was slack, his eyes empty. He was not himself. At all. “These friends of mine will now always see me as a foolish man. Something I have never believed myself to be. I totally trust these people; I know they’ll never speak of this. But you? I saw how you acted toward Niall today, and have no doubt that, at some point – maybe after a few tipples with your chums at the local gin palace one night – you’ll be only too happy to tell people what a complete idiot I made of myself over you. I might as well resign after this mission and retire to the countryside. Or maybe to Jamaica, eh? I know a particularly slippery real estate agent if I need one. Maybe Nina will let me live in one of these bungalows – she’ll take title to this place soon, and she could probably cope with one Englishman who’s well past his prime doddering about the place. Maybe she’ll retain Amelia and Tarone to look after me and the old place.”
Lottie threw a cushion in his direction. “Shut up, John. Thought all your Christmases had come at once when I took an interest in you, didn’t you? Don’t they teach you chaps anything at spy school? Like if it seems too good to be true, it usually is.”
“There’s a little of the preying mantis about you, Lottie.” John looked grim. “Like to eat your mates, don’t you?”
“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” said Bud forcefully. “Given your lack of transparency with all of us, Lottie, you can see why we’re not too keen to take you at your word at this stage, but I have to ask you this, and it’s vital you tell the truth. Did you kill Freddie Burkinshaw, or Wilson Thomas?”
Lottie threw back her head and laughed. “Listen to yourself, Bud. You’re such a bloody Boy Scout. No, I didn’t kill either of them. I wanted them alive as much as you three did. Daddy was quite clear that Freddie was my first point of contact here. Oh yes, you didn’t know Freddie was dealing behind your backs, did you? Had a direct line of contact to Daddy. Desperate for cash, apparently. But he kept upping the price. Daddy began to suspect he didn’t have the papers after all, only ‘knew how he could lay his hands on them’. Daddy told me all about it. He even mentioned Wilson Thomas to me as an alternative contact. But I couldn’t get John-boy here to come to Jamaica any earlier than we did, or I’d have got to Wilson before you lot messed it all up.”
“Boy Scout?” I was livid, and I wasn’t going to put up with Lottie any longer. “You say that like it’s the worst insult imaginable – but at least Bud has a moral compass. You? You have nothing but an abnormally developed desire to please your father. You began this little performance by saying you were sorry. Well, you’re clearly only sorry that you got caught out, because you’re not at all sorry for what you did.”
“Cait,” said Bud quietly.
“Yes, keep your little Welsh corgi under control, Bud,” sniped Lottie, “or she might bite.”
My heart was pounding. I had offered Lottie a shoulder to cry on when I thought she’d needed one. And now this? This was just another example of why it’s such a bad idea to let people into your life, to show an interest in them, and allow them to find your soft parts and wound you there.
I could hear roaring, felt bile creeping up my throat; anger is a physical force, and I had to get out of the room or I might have said or done something that would have changed the way those people thought of me for ever, Bud included.
I strode off, out into the darkness, the no-longer-soothing racket being made by the blessed tree frogs annoying me even more. Every inch of me was fizzing with anger at the injustice of it all. It burned in my eyes. By the time I flung myself onto the bed I was crying. Bud found me there moments later, and held me as I sobbed.
Panamanian Plunder
“What’s the plan, Bud?” I asked, about half an hour later. I’d recovered my composure, and washed my face. I knew we had to push on, whatever my feelings about Lottie Fortescue might be, and I owed it to Bud to be as helpful to him as possible. I’d already told him about Amelia poisoning Freddie, and we agreed to put that on the back burner for a while.
“Lottie’s gone off to a hotel in a cab,” said Bud, “Jack’s established the cops have left the tower, and we’ve agreed all three of us will get down into that shaft we discovered as soon as we can. Given we don’t know exactly what we might find there, we’ll go as well prepared as possible. You and Sheila can wait here, or come with us to the tower if you want, but we really don’t want either of you to do the underground exploring with us. And there’s no discussion on that matter, Cait. None.”
“I’m fine with that; I felt as though I was choking just being under the floor of the lookout room, so I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t fare too well in any sort of tunnel that’s actually underground. But I would like to be in the tower, at least. I could have a bit more of a dig about at the place. Remember, I haven’t given any of the other floors a good going over, yet. Sheila and I could do that.”
“Thanks. We’re off soon.”
“One thing, Bud.”
“Yes.”
“What are you looking for down there?”
Bud sighed. “Whatever we might find. Hearing Lottie’s claim – and it’s just a claim, we’ve no way of knowing if she was lying or not – about Freddie not being prepared, or able, to supply the papers he said he could to her father, then maybe this is a totally pointless exercise. If Freddie didn’t have them, then they weren’t on his desk, they weren’t stolen, and we can’t possibly find them.”
“If Luca Mazzo had them in the first place, and Freddie offered to sell them thinking he could get them off Luca, might they not still be at Caro Mio? Given the interest Nina has in anything made of paper – that’s not money – they could be sitting on her bedside table and she probably wouldn’t notice them,” I offered.
“We guys discussed that, but gaining access to Caro Mio is not something we’re equipped to do. There are conversations taking place in various offices around the world about whether a special team should be dispatched to supply services on that front.”
I laughed. “You mean a secret burglary team? Those things exist?”
“Cait, don’t go there,” warned Bud. He smiled too brightly as he said it.
Ten minutes later, all five of us trooped off toward the tower; Jack and Bud helped Sheila cope with her ankle, and I managed to give John a hug as we walked together. We could have been five tourists looking a little sad because the end of their wonderful vacation was in sight, and if anyone had seen us and thought that, it would have been a good thing – because that’s not at all what we were.
We all climbed to the top of the tower; the men made quick work of moving Freddie’s desk and opening up the floor, then Sheila and I sat about while they decided exactly who would fill what role in their descent. It was finally agreed that Jack should go down the Jacob’s ladder first, as we all reckoned he was the lightest and slimmest, so there was less chance of it collapsing under his weight. He was to scout the tunnel; John and Bud would join him – one at a time – or not, depending upon what he found.
Sheila and Jack hugged before he dropped down into the floor cavity, followed by John. Bud stayed with us, and we three worked out where best to secure a rope that the men could use to get back up the shaft, in case of the rope ladder failing. That done, Bud joined John under the floor to be able to hear whatever Jack reported.
“I’m off to have a good search of Freddie’s bedroom,” I said.
“I could do the sitting room,” volunteered Sheila, “But what am I looking for?”
I chuckled, “Exactly what I asked Bud when we searched this room, and we agreed ‘whatever we found’. So that. Anything odd, out of the ordinary. Something that stands out – or something that’s a secret door, or cavity. That sort of thing.”
Sheila scanned the lookout room. “Out of the ordinary? In this
place? Oh yes, that’ll be easy to spot. The whole thing looks like a charity shop – for a charity that no one likes.”
I hugged her. “I’m sorry we had that run in, Sheila. I’ve never been known for my ability to connect. I’ll try harder, I promise. You’re a wonderful person – with hidden depths, I must say.”
“And quite a mouth on me when I want.” She shrugged. “I was cruel to you, Cait. I’d take it all back if I could, but I can’t, so we’ll just have to heal, with time. Now let’s get on.”
We did.
Freddie’s bedroom was just that, a room with a bed in it, and the sort of basic bedroom furnishings you’d expect. I’d established that much on my first visit, and I’d walked through it on my way to the top of the tower more than once. As I stood beside the bed I noted a stool that acted as a bedside table, with an old oil lamp on top of it. I looked around, visualizing where the shaft was that the men were now exploring. I calculated it was close to the foot of the stone staircase, so that was where the wall must be a double wall, with a space in between. I went to the other side of the staircase. Maybe there was a gap between the walls there, too. I examined the stones, then the floor. I wondered if there was a cavity beneath my feet that matched the one upstairs, which might give access to another shaft. I repeated the process Bud and I had been through the night before, but one look at the bed told me I’d never be able to shift it; if a door in the floor was hidden under there it was gong to have to stay hidden until all five of us could tackle the monstrosity.
With the idea of another cavity in my head, I nipped upstairs and shouted to Bud. “When you checked under this floor, you were sure there wasn’t another opening in the wall anywhere?”
“I’m sure,” he replied. He sounded as though he had his head in a bucket.
“Any news from Jack yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay, going back down again.”
I bounced down the stone steps and into the bedroom. I opened every door in every piece of furniture. The wardrobes were full of Freddie’s clothes, all freshly pressed and washed. I knocked the back of everything, tried to move everything, and removed every drawer I could – and carefully replaced them. I ended up having a staring match with the bed. I walked around it, taking in the depth of the mattress, the richness of the brocade that adorned the posts and the awning above it. The base was essentially a box standing on four flattened balls. I knocked it. It was hollow.
Of course, Cait, why would it be solid?
I bent down and pointed my phone’s flashlight at it. I took my time, and I finally found a crack that shouldn’t be there. Then I found another. I ran to the stairs and called for Sheila to come to help me. When she arrived, panting and looking panicked, she found me sitting on the floor, my legs poked under the side of the bed.
“Can you help at the other end?” I asked.
Sheila positioned herself and we both pulled at what was, essentially, the entire base of the bed. The framework didn’t budge, but the base did a little. Something was holding it in place.
I could feel the excitement at the nape of my neck. “There’s got to be a catch somewhere around here that’s holding this in. It’s got a tiny bit of movement in it; if we can find the catch I think the entire thing might open, like a drawer.”
“Got it,” she said. “Drawers under beds, very Ikea.”
We each worked our way from the end where we were sitting, shuffling toward each other on our bottoms. Nothing.
“You try the top end, I’ll try the bottom,” I said.
We did.
“Got it,” said Sheila. “At least I think I have.”
I joined her at the top of the bed. Sure enough there was a button of wood, that looked like the head of a large wooden peg. “Go on, push it,” I said.
It popped in.
“Let’s try this again,” I said, and we pulled at the base of the bed. It slid out without a sound.
“Oh, my word,” said Sheila.
“Oh, my word, indeed,” I said, glowing. “Hang on, I’ll be right back. Don’t touch anything.” I ran up the stairs and stuck my head into the cavity in the floor. “Bud?”
“Yes, love?” he sounded a bit exasperated.
“I have some news.”
“Good, because all that Jack found was about thirty feet of a dirt tunnel heading east, that ended in a pile of rubble. No way through to anywhere. A dead end. He’s on his way up. Ah, there he is. Okay, we’re coming out now.”
I tried to keep my breathing even, steady. I waited with more patience than I ever imagined I possessed as all three men hauled themselves out of the hole in the floor.
“Come with me. Sheila’s standing guard. We found something.”
Bud patted me on the bum as I led the way down the staircase. When I entered the bedroom, I turned – I wanted to watch the men’s faces as they saw what we’d found.
Sheila gave a loud, “Ta-daa!” and three mouths fell open. “Gentlemen, say hello to Henry Morgan’s Panamanian plunder.”
Nonsense
Five faces glowed gold, reflected off the treasure Freddie Burkinshaw had slept on every night. It was the purest Enid Blyton moment of my life – I wouldn’t have been surprised if Amelia had materialized with a plate of fish-paste sandwiches and lashings of ginger beer at that exact moment. We’d found treasure. Henry Morgan’s treasure. For all her lies, Lottie had been right – Freddie had somehow discovered the treasure. It was thrilling.
We were all caught up in the moment, and we allowed ourselves to soak it in. We were truly agog. There were golden platters, heavy chains with massive stones embedded in them, goblets, dishes filled with coins…and everything was gold. It was staggering.
“It must weigh a lot,” said Sheila.
“It must be worth a lot,” said Jack.
“It’s priceless,” said Bud.
“It’s beautiful,” said John.
“It’s all wrong,” I said. Everyone tore their eyes from the treasure and looked at me. I bent down and picked up a chalice. It was gold, weighed about five pounds, and was covered in ruby cabochons. “See this?” Everyone nodded. “Lottie told me this was an item she’d seen sold in an online auction, one of the items that made her believe that Freddie had found the treasure. She said it was unique. Despite all her lies, I believe she was speaking the truth about that.”
“He found it then; this is proof that it’s Morgan’s treasure,” said Sheila, flapping her hands about with excitement.
“But this chalice was sold. So why is it here?” I asked. “Indeed, if Freddie was selling off this treasure a bit at a time, why was he millions of dollars in debt?”
Silence.
Eventually Bud said, “Maybe he just couldn’t let any of it go? You said yourself, Cait, that his psychological profile suggested he was extremely avaricious. He might have offered it for sale, then just couldn’t part with it.”
I replaced the chalice, shaking my head. “Lottie mentioned several of the specific sorts of items we’re looking at here as being ‘sold’, not just ‘for sale’,” I replied. “I had an idea when we were at Nina’s, earlier, that seemed a bit far-fetched at the time, but now it makes more sense…making the engines of a boat roar when Freddie was singing ‘God Save the Queen’…”
“But what does that…” began Sheila.
Bud raised his hand. “Let her think.”
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Just coming up to seven,” replied John.
“We have to get hold of Amelia, Tarone, and Lottie, and we have to get over to Nina Mazzo’s house. We need Niall there too. How can we make that happen?” I looked at the four faces staring at me.
Bud scratched his chin. “If you don’t mind Inspector Charles being there too, I think I could make that happen quite easily.”
“No one’s supposed to know he’s working with us,” snapped Jack.
Sheila slowly shook her he
ad. “Now we all do, Jack.”
“I wondered why he was so patient with us, when we were being so obnoxious to him,” I said. “All those copies of autopsies and police reports? The speed with which everything’s been orchestrated? Inspector Charles on your team? Handy. Of course he can be there; if he’s okay with you, he’s okay with me, because we’ll need him,” I replied. “And I could do with talking to him before we get going. Can you get that sorted for me, please Bud?” He nodded. “Okay then, let’s hide this away again, and get out of here.”
Bud moved aside and pulled out his phone.
“We’re going to leave it all here?” asked Sheila. She sounded horrified. “What if someone steals it? Shouldn’t we tell someone about it?” She stopped and gave the matter some thought. “Who does it even belong to? If Freddie found Morgan’s treasure hidden on land he owned, does that mean it was his? Or is it the government’s for some reason?”
“I don’t know the Jamaican laws regarding the discovery of buried treasure, but we can certainly find someone who does,” replied Jack. “And it looks like it’s been safe here for a long time. The cops didn’t find it, for sure. I reckon we can risk it.”
I left as Jack, Sheila, and John were taking photos of the treasure, and Bud was on the phone. I knew they’d all be a while, because they had to put the tower room back the way they’d found it, and I had to get back to the bungalow to do a few things to be ready for our trip to Caro Mio.
Dressing up to impress Nina Mazzo wasn’t on my list.
Day Dreaming
When I got back to the bungalow, I grabbed the DO NOT DISTURB sign off our front door and put it on the handle of the bathroom, then locked myself in. I sat on the little basket-weave chair in the corner of the room; I needed somewhere I could be alone so that I could take just a little while to wrap my head around the entire case. This time I didn’t try to recollect what I’d seen and heard; I needed to allow all my recent experiences to mix and meld without my learned attitudes and expectations intervening.
