“Exactly,” Beckett said with confidence.
It was at that moment I glimpsed the man Beckett would become. From the child-man who’d been held too close to his mad mother for years, to a young, dedicated father. I had a feeling he’d do amazing things in his life, no matter what field he chose to study. “Will you live here with the rest of the family until you’re out of school?”
Beckett looked to Robbie. “I’m not sure.”
Robbie slid an arm around the young man’s shoulders. “Of course you will. Once I go back to my practice in Boston next week, my old room will be empty again. And it’s all yours until you two decide on your next step.”
The aroma of sweet corn and grilled chicken wafted into the room. My stomach growled. “Must be time to eat,” I said, eagerly anticipating the feast. “Want to rejoin the others?”
Chapter 48
The documentation and transport of the Egyptian treasures took much longer than anyone expected. With a limited crew to avoid chances of the news leaking, it was slow work, and it still wasn’t done by the morning of the concert, the day before Camille and I planned to drive home to New York.
Beckett invited me to take one last look down in the vault before they packed up the “star” of the upcoming museum exhibit, King Asiri’s sarcophagus. They’d also asked for help carrying the enormous wooden coffin up the narrow stairs beneath the burned-out mansion. I agreed to help out after my morning walk on the beach, while Camille had accepted an invitation from Jane to explore some of the local shops in Brewster, especially The Cook Shop which we’d passed several times and had been dying to check out. She said she’d look for a new stockpot for me, and with a quick kiss, we parted ways and promised to meet up for lunch in a few hours.
We descended the old stairs carefully, noting that two handrails had been installed in place of the original one. The old one had been rather rickety, and with all the precious cargo being carried up the stairs, somebody had made a wise decision to replace it and add another on the opposite side of the stairway.
The scent of burned wood hung in the air, even at the bottom of the stairs. Beckett gestured to the first locked room, which had been my home for a few uncomfortable hours. “That’s where I used to be all the time when she got mad at me.”
I offered a wry smile. “Not a pleasant memory, huh?”
“No.”
We stood for a few minutes. I tried to imagine his horrendous childhood and wondered how he’d coped. “How’d you get through it, Beckett? It must have been terrifying.”
“Well, I was used to my mother’s ways. I thought it was normal, you see? I never saw any other families or had play dates with other kids, so I had nothing to compare my life with. She wouldn’t let me watch television, so I didn’t get to see what was portrayed as ‘normal’ there, either.”
“You mean you never saw reruns of ‘Leave it to Beaver’ or ‘Father Knows Best?’” I asked. “They were from my generation. We had a lot of programs that idealized American family life.”
“I never saw any of them. She let me read, though. When I was younger, I had a pretty good imagination. I used to close my eyes and see movies in my head. Adventures. Dinosaurs. And believe it or not, even pirates.”
A soft laugh escaped me. “Oh no, pirates?”
“Yeah. But mine were more heroic than nasty, not at all like Tooly McNabb. Mine would save the pretty girls from villains and sail away with them.”
“Nice. Kind of like how you’re going to save Jane’s family home from the bank, huh? Maybe you’re a new kind of pirate.”
He snorted a laugh. “I never thought of it that way.”
Voices came from down the tunnel. We exchanged a glance.
“We ought to get to work, huh?” I said.
“Yeah.” Beckett nodded. “Let’s go.”
We found Mr. Pompey, Lana Washington, and two workmen in the chamber packing up artifacts into wooden crates with straw packing material. Each item was meticulously labeled. The sarcophagus stood in its corner, already set up on a long cart.
“Good morning, Lana. Mr. Pompey,” I said.
Beckett and I shook their hands.
I nodded to the sarcophagus. “Looks like a pretty heavy load over there.”
Pompey pushed up his glasses. “We’re estimating it’s over two hundred pounds.”
Lana cocked one arm and felt her muscle. “See that? I’m ready, men. I can help.” She gave me a rakish smile.
Pompey laughed nervously. “Well, we’ll take all the help we’ve got.”
The two workmen glanced over at the heavy load and shook their heads. It didn’t look easy to move, and I could see why they seemed leery. There were no handholds on this beast like you would find on a modern-day coffin. Today, we “pallbearers” would be scrambling to hold the thing in place as we maneuvered it up the steep stairs.
“What about securing it with some heavy ropes?” I asked. “Wouldn’t that reduce the risk?”
One of the men raised his hand, nodding enthusiastically. “I told him that earlier today. We could rig up some kind of winch or pulley system.”
Pompey chuckled. “Well, I don’t know if we have the means to get all that elaborate, Bobby. But we certainly can tie some ropes around it and loop them through a beam or something on the first floor. You and Tyler should be able to figure something out, right?” He studied the box for a few minutes. “After we get it up those narrow stairs, we’ll build a heavy-duty crate for it to travel in. I just don’t think the crate would fit up the stairway.”
Beckett and I went off to check the garage for some rope, and in a few minutes, we returned with about fifty feet of braided nylon. We uncoiled it above the trap door leading down to the cellar and tied one end to a two-by-six floor joist that was barely scorched and seemed strong enough to work as an anchor.
By the time we’d tied off one end of the rope, the rest of the folks had rolled the sarcophagus to the bottom of the stairwell.
“Snug it up good, Bobby,” said Pompey.
We went down to the bottom and watched them secure the thing as best they could, creating a net around one end. There were no loops or hooks that could be used to secure it. We’d have to be careful.
“Okay, let’s get ‘er done,” Lana said. She went to the top of the stairway with Pompey, and both of them held the rope, wrapping it around a second beam before putting tension on it.
Bobby and I held the bottom of the coffin, and Beckett and Tyler took both sides.
Tyler said, “Okay. Start pulling.”
Inch by inch, we shoved the heavy coffin up the stairway. It was heavier than it looked, and I was sweating bullets by the time we had it only halfway up.
“Come on, men. You can do this,” Pompey said, gritting his teeth as he leaned back with the rope wrapped around both hands.
Without warning I heard a cry from above. Lana screamed, “Help!” and in seconds, the rope went slack.
From above, Pompey said, “Hold on, Lana. I’ve got you. Men! I need help up here. She’s fallen through the floorboards.”
The whole weight of the casket fell onto Bobby and me. I strained hard to hold it—muscles screaming and arms shaking—and I knew I couldn’t hold on for more than a few seconds longer.
Bobby shot me a desperate glance. “We have to let ‘er go.”
“Agreed.” I looked up at Tyler and Beckett, who both had panicked expressions on their faces. “We’re going to let it go on the count of three.”
Bobby shouted, “One, two, three.”
We barely jumped out of the way in time, and the casket went bumping down the stairs, crashing in a cloud of dust at the bottom.
Lana cried out again. “I’m slipping!”
Chapter 49
Without taking time to check on the sarcophagus, the four of us scrambled to the top of the stairs to help Lana.
Pompey leaned over a hole in the floor, desperately hanging onto one of Lana’s arms. “She’s slipping. Hurry.�
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Beckett reached him first and leaned in to grab Lana’s other arm. Tyler slid in beside Pompey, easing him aside and taking his place. Together, they slowly drew Lana up and out of the hole in the floor.
She rose with cobwebs in her hair and a haunted expression in her eyes. “Oh, thank you.” She let out a brief sob and fell into a heap on the floor. “I thought for sure I was a goner.”
We let her rest and catch her breath. I peered into the hole, using my phone light to examine it. “Strange. I wonder which part of the cellar this is?” I wondered if there were yet another secret room or section of tunnels that we hadn’t yet examined, but all I saw beneath us was a dirt floor about ten feet below and plenty of cobwebs.
“I’m okay. Thank you, guys.” She slowly got up to her feet, still shaking. “But we’d better be careful walking over these floorboards.”
Beckett bounced up and down on a nearby section. “You’re right. Maybe I’ll ask someone to come and lay plywood across the joists. We can use it as a safe path to the cellar.”
Pompey agreed. “Especially if we’re going to carry the heavy sarcophagus across it.” He blanched, and then glanced toward the stairway as if he’d forgotten about the treasure falling down the stairs. “Oh no. Oh my goodness. I hope it’s not too badly damaged.”
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s check it out.”
The six of us hurried back down the stairs. At the bottom of the steps, the wooden coffin cover lay off to the side, but surprisingly the wood hadn’t split. The box itself lay open at an angle, with one end still propped on the bottom step.
We maneuvered around it with Pompey in the lead. “Careful, now. Don’t bump into it. We need to stabilize it first.”
When we crawled around it to look inside, one by one, we gasped as a collective whole. The image before us was simply too beautiful to absorb. I think we all held our breath and just stared.
Inside the wooden coffin lay a gleaming gold sarcophagus shaped like a man. From its shoulders to its tapered toes, the figure glistened even in the dim light of the cellar.
“Oh my Lord,” Pompey said, sinking to his knees. “King Asiri.” He let out a little whimper of pleasure. “He must have been much more important than I thought.”
Lana slumped onto one of the stairs. “Outta sight.”
Pompey gawked for a moment longer, and then came to life. “Men? Can you please get it onto the floor? Gently, now.
Bobby and Tyler lifted the end of the box that sat on the step and set the box gently onto the dirt floor.
“There you go. Now it won’t tip over,” Bobby said.
I leaned over to examine the statue, mesmerized by its beauty. Before me lay the full figure of King Asiri. His almond-shaped eyes appeared real, with black onyx irises and white corneas, rimmed with black eyeliner painted onto the gold surface and painted arched eyebrows. On his forehead, the shape of an asp curled forward. Beneath his chin, a false gold beard ended in a bulbous shape embossed with a braided pattern. A black and white striped headdress flanked the sides of his face. Around his slim golden neck were strands of inlaid beads that grew in widening circles to represent his kingly necklace. His hands were folded over his chest, each holding a scepter. One curved in a striped black and gold hook. The other was a wand with what appeared to be sculpted strings of beads flowing from it.
Pompey finally rose to his feet, perspiration on his forehead. “It doesn’t appear to be damaged.”
I ran my iPhone light over it. “I can’t see any dents.” I continued down to the feet and along the insides of the wooden case, then back up again toward the head. Something else glittered from a dark corner behind the King’s shoulders. I moved the light and leaned in closer.
“I don’t believe it.” I sat and stared, rubbing my eyes as if I couldn’t trust them anymore. “Come and see, Beckett.”
“No way.” He joined me and drew in a harsh breath. “I don’t believe it.”
The others crowded around to peer into the box.
Lana said, “Righteous! The Cook crosses. Hidden right here inside the sarcophagus all these years.”
I asked permission to retrieve them and Pompey nodded. “Of course. Those are modern day treasures compared to our young King here. They don’t belong in his resting place, anyway.”
Carefully, I reached in and took out the first heavy cross. I turned it in my hands, amazed at its luster and its cool, smooth surface. “It’s beautiful,” I said, handing it to Beckett, who laid it on the wooden coffin cover. I leaned in and found the other two matching crosses, carefully setting them beside the larger one. “Looks like the McNabb clan really didn’t want these found. Probably because of the feud.”
“You did it,” Beckett said, his eyes full of wonder. “You found the Cooks’ long lost treasure, Gus.”
A gust of wind came through the tunnel, accompanied by an eerie sound that resembled a woman singing. I imagined it was Rachel’s ghost, happy that we’d finally recovered her family’s fortune.
“I can’t wait to show Albert and Robbie,” I whispered.
Lana took a photo with her camera. “I won’t publish it,” she said. “I just want to document this moment for history.”
I decided she was right, and took a few photos on my phone.
Pompey had been busy taking photos of King Asiri’s gold sarcophagus. His expression was beatific, and he couldn’t help but emit a few pleasurable sighs from time to time.
“Let’s get the floor reinforced first, then we’ll bring him upstairs,” he said, leaning over to get a close up of King Asiri’s face. “We don’t want him to have another accident.”
Chapter 50
Pompey donated a wooden crate and straw packing material for Beckett and me to pack up the crosses. We carefully set them into the car’s trunk and drove back to the Cooks’ house. I hadn’t called ahead. I just wanted to get there and gather the family together before we unveiled the surprise.
We carried the box inside together, earning questions and curious looks from Jane and Robbie.
Albert came down from upstairs. “What’s all the commotion about?” His eyes widened when he saw the crate. “What’ve you got there, Gus?”
Beckett came forward. “Let me give you a little introduction, guys.” He glanced around with a secretive grin. “So, Gus and I were helping to move King Asiri’s wooden outer sarcophagus this morning. It just so happened that the two people holding the rope from upstairs had a little, er, problem.” He gave me a conspiratorial wink. “And down went the coffin. Crashed at the bottom of the stairs, and the top popped off.” He gestured for me to take over.
“Right. So, inside we found a fully detailed gold sarcophagus of the King. It is absolutely stunning, by the way.” I took a breath and locked eyes with Albert. “We examined him, taking photos of the details, and then I found something that didn’t belong in King Asiri’s box. Something from another century altogether.”
Albert went white. “You…I mean…you say it’s something from another century?”
I gestured to the couch. “Mr. Albert Cook, I think you should sit down and do the honors.”
Robbie grinned from ear-to-ear. I think he’d already guessed what was in the crate. “Grandpa, listen to Gus. Go ahead, sit down.”
Like a zombie, Albert shuffled to the couch and sank into the cushions.
I placed the crate in front of him on the antique chest they used as a coffee table. “Go ahead. The lid isn’t nailed shut.”
He opened the cover and began to unpack the straw stuffing. When the first object glinted from its soft nest, he stopped and stared. “It can’t be.”
Beckett slid an arm around Jane. “Oh, but it is. Keep digging.”
Mason crawled around our feet, pushing an orange ball as he went. “Ball,” he said, completely unaware of the momentous occasion happening above him.
Albert gently removed the first cross, and then one of the two matching smaller ones. “Oh, dear God. Is it really...”<
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Jane hurried to his side. “Oh, Grandpa. Is the treasure finally home?”
He hefted the large cross in his hands. “It’s so heavy. And look how she shines, after all these years.” Tears began to slide down his cheeks. He didn’t make another sound, just turned the cross in his hands, holding it in the sunlight streaming through the windows.
“I can’t believe it.” Robbie dropped beside his grandfather and squeezed his hand. “Pretty amazing, huh?”
“Uh huh.” Albert could barely get the word out. “I can’t wait to show Lorraine. She and Manny went up to Boston for some business. But they’ll be back in a few hours.”
Robbie reached out a hand for the cross. “She’s going to be so excited. All those years, helping you search the beach with the metal detector. She was by your side since she could walk, wasn’t she, Grandpa?”
“Uh huh.” Again, he was almost speechless.
I pictured Lorraine as a little girl, toddling beside her father as he swung the metal detector back and forth over the wet sand. After a few more minutes of letting the wonder settle in, I decided I’d best tell them my plans. “Folks, I just wanted to let you know Camille and I are leaving in the morning.”
Jane’s face fell. “I know. Camille told me. We’re going to miss you two so much, Gus. You’ve become like family.”
I stood and gave her a hug. “We feel the same way.”
Beckett said, “The only way we can solve this problem is if you two promise to come out again next summer.”
I liked the idea, but wasn’t sure if Camille and I would be ready for another vacation for a very long time. I countered, “On the other hand, you folks could come out to New York and visit us.”
Jane clapped her hands. “That would be so much fun.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I said. “But now I’ve got to meet Camille for lunch at Kate’s. You folks are coming to the concert later, right?”
Murder on the Brewster Flats Page 22
