by Liz Dodwell
A while later we headed downstairs. I’d listened in astonishment to Finn’s discussion with the inspector. When he’d hung up he turned to me and Michael, “Well, there’s nothing now but to wait.”
So we found ourselves a shady spot at the tavern overlooking the sea and shared calamari and nachos while Finn told stories of diving with Sir Arthur C. Clarke.
“The Arthur C. Clarke,” Michael was astonished, “who wrote 2001: A Space Odyssey?”
“The same,” Finn said.
“I didn’t know he was a diver.”
“People think of him as a futurist, inventor and science fiction writer, but he was also an avid scuba diver and undersea explorer. He discovered the wreck of an Indian treasure ship belonging to the Mughal Emperor, Aurangzeb. He was a great man.”
We hung out until after the sun had set. There was still no word from Usher so we called it a night. Though he wouldn’t admit to being tired, Finn looked drawn. It had been a really long day and I figured we could all do with a good night’s sleep. So we headed for our respective rooms, agreeing to meet at breakfast in the morning.
Fourteen
I was staring down Mick Jagger’s tonsils. He kept telling me “You can’t always get what you want,” but in my half-awake state I definitely didn’t want to hear what he had to say, so I pulled the sheet up over my head. Mick just wouldn’t shut up, though, and with a start I realized I was actually listening to my cell phone ringing. My hand snaked out to grab the phone – too late. It stopped. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I looked at the call record – Finn. Then I noticed the time – six.
I stabbed redial. The second he answered I blurted out, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Why are you calling me this early if nothing’s wrong?”
“I got an answer from Usher. I know what happened.”
It had been agreed that we hold a meeting in the hotel. On Finn’s behalf I’d called Russell Longsworth and Doren Gillett. When they arrived we arranged ourselves in Finn’s suite.
“Did you find out something about Aubrey?” Gillett asked.
“Do you know where the jade head is?” Longsworth wanted to know.
“All in good time,” Finn said. “We’re waiting for one more person.”
Minutes later when there was a knock on the door I opened it to let Inspector Antoine Usher in. He acknowledged Finn with a nod of his head then moved to the side of the room where he stood, hands behind his back.
Finn stepped in front of us.
“You’re here because you have an interest in the disappearance of Aubrey Poulsen or the theft of the Maya jade carving. My interest, initially, was just in Aubrey. As for the theft of the jade, I looked upon that only as something that detracted from the official investigation into Aubrey’s disappearance. But so many other people assumed that I was here to find the jade that I began to wonder if, perhaps, the two incidents were connected. The little girl vanished on the same day as the jade. Was that more than coincidence?
“Let me tell you what else we know about both cases.
“First, we were told by Pipaluk Poulsen that she and husband, Lenard, lost their daughter on Ambergris Caye during the San Pedro Festival. The police are notified but they’re consumed with the theft of the country’s greatest national treasure, a Maya jade carving. So the Poulsens hire a private detective to conduct a search.” Here Finn gestured toward Gillett.
“Gillett is very thorough in his search. He can afford to be. He already knows Aubrey Poulson is dead.”
“What the hell are you saying?” Gillett shot to his feet, fists clenched, shoulders bunched.
At the same time Usher opened the door and two armed police officers entered to stand sentinel on either side.
“Sit down,” the inspector demanded.
Slowly Gillett sank back into his seat, his body taut, his expression wary.
“Alrighty then,” said Finn. “I’ll go on.
“At the water taxi docks in Belize City, Aubrey is seen on the morning of her disappearance. An eye witness later sees her with a woman getting off the water taxi at Caye Caulker and on to a private boat nearby. Nobody, not the police, not a resident, not a worker, sees the child arrive in San Pedro or anywhere else on Ambergris Caye. So it is somewhere between the two islands that Aubrey disappears.
“Now, on the same day there’s yet another disappearance. Coincidence? I don’t think so. Arlie Pott, who is Registrar at the Belize Museum, has taken the day off to attend the San Pedro festival, or so he has said. It is purely by chance the theft of the Maya head is discovered that day. As for Mr. Pott, he is never seen or heard of again.
“Several months after Aubrey vanishes, Lenard Pipaluk dies, quite possibly suicide. Reports are that he had begun to drink heavily and his wife said they were broke. I began to wonder why a man who truly loves his child would kill himself. Surely, if there’s even the slightest chance Aubrey is alive, Lenard would do everything in his power to keep looking for her. Or did Lenard already know what had happened?
“Something else bothered me. How were the Poulsens able to afford a vacation in Belize when, supposedly, they had very little money? So, with the help of Detective Dixie Tanner back in Florida and a couple other people, I did some digging. Turns out, both Lenard and his wife had rap sheets as long as your arm; lots of petty theft, a few domestic violence calls and Lenard had done a couple of years in prison as the driver in a heist gone wrong. Here’s the really interesting part – he was driving a boat.”
Finn paused for effect, then cleared his throat and continued.
“There’s more. Neither Lenard nor Luki had a job, yet they suddenly had money for plane tickets and a hotel room in Belize. Who gave it to them, and why?
“That’s where you come in, Doren.”
The private eye began to rise from his chair again but Usher had moved behind him and shoved him back down, keeping a strong hand on his shoulder.
Gillett sputtered. “This is completely absurd. Whatever you’re trying to accuse me of doing, it won’t fly. I spent months, and I spent my own money, searching for Aubrey. Why would I do that if I didn’t believe she was alive? And if you think I had anything to do with the Maya head being stolen, you’re crazy. And what about the thugs who kidnapped you? They’re probably the ones who took it in the first place. What about that, then?”
Gillett’s voice had gone up an octave during his tirade but the only sign it had affected Finn was a slight tightening of the mouth and narrowing of the eyes. And when Finn spoke again his voice had a hard edge.
“I’ll tell you exactly what I’m accusing you of, Gillett. You are the one who planned the theft of the jade head. Somehow you persuaded Arlie Pott to switch the real artifact with the replica and carry it from the museum into the care of the Poulsens.”
Gillett snorted in derision but Finn ignored him.
“You hired the Poulsens to get the jade out to San Pedro where it was to be handed off to you under cover of the festival. After all, who would pay attention to another family of tourists? Pott had already told people he was going to the festival so, to be true to his story, he also had to get on the taxi. Here’s where things started to go wrong. The theft was discovered and suddenly the police were everywhere.
“But you’d planned for that possibility, hadn’t you? You had a boat at Caye Caulker. I’m guessing the back-up plan was to hide the jade on Hicks Caye or Caye Chapel and come back for it when the heat died down. There was a problem, though. Arlie Pott panicked when he realized his duplicity was uncovered. Not surprising, really. I don’t suppose many museum registrars are cut out to be hardened criminals. He was supposed to stay on the taxi all the way to San Pedro but he followed the Poulsens on to the other boat.”
“You’re making all this up,” the PI sneered.
Finn shook his head. “We know you arranged for the boat, Gillett. Once we knew the Poulsens had picked up a boat on Caye Caulker it didn’t take Inspector
Usher’s men long to find out whose boat it was. By the way, it’s never a good idea to use a drunk to transact business for you. Your guy tried to cheat the boat owner and he was able to give a very vivid description of him to the police.”
A light sheen of sweat appeared on Gillett’s upper lip. At last his nerve was beginning to crack.
“What happened on the boat, Gillett? Was there a fight? How did Aubrey die? We’re going to find out anyway. The police in Austin, Texas picked up Luki Poulsen about an hour ago. They’re questioning her now.”
“You have nothing on me.”
“We know you lived in Austin before you went to Oxford. I’m betting you knew the Poulsens then. How long do you think it will take before Luki admits it?”
This time Gillett shrugged away from Usher’s grip and stood. “I’m leaving.”
Usher nodded at his officers who promptly blocked the doorway. At the same time the inspector grabbed Gillett’s arm and twisted it behind his back. But Gillett wasn’t having any of that. He kicked back hard, just missing Usher’s groin though still able to cause some serious hurt, and the inspector lost his grip and doubled over. Gillett lunged in the direction of the door as Michael, Finn and both officers threw themselves at him. The PI was really strong and more than a little motivated. He tossed the men aside and got his hand on the door handle, which is when I smashed him over the head with a lamp and he went down like a light. I can be really funny sometimes.
Doren Gillett was defeated. Slumped over he sat on the corner of the bed, his hands cuffed behind him and one leg cuffed to a leg of the bed. Usher was nursing a bruised thigh and a bruised ego. The other guys had various minor scrapes and bruises; I was feeling pretty damn good.
“But where’s the jade head?”
We all turned to look at Russell Longsworth. I’d practically forgotten about him, he’d been so quiet.
“Yeah, where is the jade head?” I echoed. This time we all turned to Gillett. He raised his head slowly.
“It’s in the Caribbean Sea.”
We waited. Gillett sighed and continued.
“Arlie Pott was really scared and wanted to try and slip the jade head back into the museum and pretend it had never been stolen. Lenard was driving and Arlie was begging him to change course but Lenard refused. So Arlie grabbed the jade head and threatened to throw it overboard if he didn’t. They grappled and somehow Lenard got hold of the jade. According to Luki he swung round with it in his fist as he snatched it away. What he didn’t know was that Aubrey was right behind him. He hit her in the head with enough momentum to smash her skull open. She was dead almost instantly.
“They were all horrified. No-one was steering the boat and no-one was paying attention to where it was going. Lenard still had the Maya head in his hand. Whether in anger or grief or shock, he hurled it away. Arlie threw himself after it but slipped, fell hard and broke his neck.”
Dear Lord. The story was the worse for Gillett’s emotionless telling of it.
“Lenard cracked. Luki managed to stop the boat and drop anchor. They had to get rid of the bodies but Lenard wouldn’t let go of his daughter and was freaking out about dropping her in the water. It took Luki a couple of hours to persuade Lenard to release his hold but he was still useless; just sat and sobbed. Luki had to do everything alone. She knew she had to weight the bodies and she must have done a decent job of it except for that foot breaking loose.”
He looked directly at Finn and gave a hollow laugh. “Of all the shitty luck, it gets swept into the Gulf of Mexico where you have to find it.”
Softly Finn responded, “You’re finally getting the luck you really deserve.”
“I don’t understand why Luki Poulsen told Michael about Doren Gillett in the first place. If she’d just said the police investigated her daughter’s disappearance but nothing was found, she might have stopped our search before it began.”
“She couldn’t be sure of that,” Finn answered. “If we’d later found out about Gillett we’d wonder why she hadn’t told us about him. She’d start to look pretty suspicious. And the art of getting away with a con is to stick as closely to the truth as possible.”
“So that’s why Gillett continued to act as a private detective.”
“That, and he needed a reason to stick around so he could search for the Maya head. People knew him as an avid recreational diver when his only interest was finding the jade.”
I picked up my glass and took a sip. “Mmm. This really is good.”
We were sitting at the Tavern bar in the Radisson waiting for our taxi to the airport. All the talk of Maya artifacts had inspired me to think up a “Maya Cocktail.” With the bartender’s help I’d infused a little chili pepper in cinnamon vodka and combined it with chocolate liqueur and a touch of vanilla. Add a lime garnish and we were good to go.
By the way, if any of you are curious about the use of Maya and Mayan, the simple rule of thumb is that Mayan is only used in reference to the language. “Maya” is both a noun and an adjective, so… Maya people, Maya artifact, Maya food and on. Now you can go and impress someone.
Fifteen
Joshua Bumbry stood between his parents, hugging the memorial wreath to him as Finn spoke his final words:
Although this dear young child
Was with us just a while
She’ll live on in our hearts
With a sweet remembered smile
Time Voyager’s engines were silent as she lay at anchor where it had all begun with the finding of a little girl’s pink sneaker. Joshua looked up at his mother; she put her hand on his back, gently urging him to the boat’s side. With both arms he threw the wreath across the water. It landed with barely a splash and for a long time we all watched as it bobbed slowly along. Then a ripple of disturbance caught our attention and we gasped as a pair of bottlenose dolphins leapt high in the air on either side of the wreath. Once, twice, three times they dazzled us.
Joshua’s mood changed instantly from somber to joyous. He pumped the air with his fist, “Hooray for Aubrey,” then burst into laughter. Soon we were laughing with him.
“What an amazing tribute,” Grace Bumbry said.
“And see, Mom, it was a good thing we got the bio-degradable wreath.”
“I’m very proud of you for thinking of it,” his mother smiled down at him.
We stayed on the site until the wreath disappeared over the horizon, then upped anchor and made way for Sarasota.
A little while later I found Joshua curled up on the sofa with Shrimp. He had his serious face on again. “You OK, buddy?”
His lip quivered a little. “Do you believe in Heaven?”
I sat beside him. “What’s all this about?”
“I want to believe Aubrey went to Heaven, but it’s not like going to a house or, or school, or maybe even a boat. You can’t see it, so how do you know it’s there?”
“Hmm.” I thought for a moment. “Remember how we watched the wreath ‘til it disappeared?” He nodded. “Just because we couldn’t see it any more, does that mean it doesn’t exist?”
“Of course not. It’s just out of sight. Oh!” He clapped his hands. “I get it. We can’t see my house right now but I know it’s there.”
“And you can’t see your school, but you know it will be there when you have to go back on Monday.” He grimaced a little at that. “Sorry,” I added.
“It’s OK. You’re the best.”
“No, you’re the best,” and I hugged him, squishing Shrimp between us, but she didn’t seem to mind.
Sixteen
It was day fifteen of the search for the jade Maya Head. At the urging of Russell Longsworth the Belizean government had requested Finn’s assistance in recovery efforts. Conjecture based on Luki Poulsen’s account of events put the sculpture somewhere south and west of Ambergris Caye, and north of Caye Caulker. That still covered a hell of a lot of water. The good news was it put the artifact on the shallow shelf that runs from the shoreline to the barrier reef. O
n the east side of the reef the waters progressively approach thirteen thousand feet: that would have killed any chance of finding the jade. As it was, we were working at about sixty feet.
Finn was ready to take a turn to go down. We’d tried side scan sonar initially, which creates an image of the sea floor as it’s towed behind the boat. Problem was, there were so many wrecks on the ocean floor and so much scatter – dispersal from the wrecks – it was impossible to detect one piece of jade. So Finn opted to do things the old-fashioned way and do circular searches.
Because sixty feet is the level at which you have to start worrying about decompression, Finn was adhering to the 60/60 rule of thumb: at sixty feet, you could only stay under for sixty minutes. He had a team of six divers, including himself. Each day, four of them would rotate one hour underwater, diving three times, with three hours to decompress between dives. The other two would sit out.
After Finn’s kidnap scare I’d been a bit reluctant to return to Belize, but you just can’t keep a good shipwreck treasure hunter above water. As it turned out, the thugs were soon apprehended. They were one of all too many gangs who’d heard the same misleading chatter about us looking for the Maya sculpture. I was still concerned, but it helped to be surrounded each day by a group of testosterone-loaded men. Who am I kidding? It was great. It soothed my ego as well. I’d thought Doren Gillett actually liked me, but he’d only been sticking close to keep track of our investigation and try and steer us the wrong way.
The most recent diver had surfaced and he gave Finn the GPS coordinates for where he’d left off the search. Finn took a large step forward and into the water. He gave the OK signal and disappeared. Several other people were keeping watch so I retreated to the shade for a little shut-eye. I was just in that state of before and after when I heard a shout. “Hey!” Finn.
