Ripped From the Pages (15 page)

“The way you were moaning and swaying, I thought you were going to pass out.”

“Look at my shirt. It’s filthy.” He slapped the white polo shirt to get the dirt out,
but he only made it worse.

And I thought Amelia was crabby. This guy could give her lessons. I couldn’t believe
I’d thought he was handsome only minutes ago. Just went to show that my mother was
right again.
Handsome is as handsome does.
This guy was the poster boy for that old cliché.

On his second try, he managed to make it over the wall and into the chamber. “What
in the world?” His voice echoed in the small chamber. “Are there rats? It smells moldy
back here.”

“No, it doesn’t,” I said, stepping easily into the space. “It’s actually very clean,
and there are no rats anywhere. My mother swept every inch of it two days ago. And
if you dare say one word about my mother, I will smack you—”

“Darling, Mr. Garrity would never say anything about your mother, now would you, Mr.
Garrity?” Derek said, trying to calm me down while subtly warning Garrity to shut
his piehole if he didn’t have anything nice to say.

Garrity ignored him. “When Robson told me there was a cave, I didn’t think I’d actually
have to climb into it. He lied to me.”

“Robson doesn’t lie,” Derek said, his tone deceptively mild.

The man lifted one weary shoulder. “Whatever.”

I knew Derek was generally more patient than I was, but how could he tolerate this
man? My respect and admiration for Derek’s tolerance were growing to biblical proportions.

Ignoring the appraiser, Derek maneuvered around the small enclosure, flipping on the
set of lights he’d mounted onto the five-foot light tower at the far end of the chamber.
I noticed that unlike on the day Robin and I took pictures, the extension cords were
tucked safely along the bottom edges of the cave. Derek had been very busy when I
wasn’t looking.

With the lights illuminating everything, Garrity couldn’t help but glance around.
“So this is it? This is what I crawled into a cave to see?”

“There’s more to see in the next chamber,” Derek said. “The entry is directly behind
the wardrobe.”

He uttered an expletive. “You can’t possibly expect me to drag myself even deeper
into this pit. It’s filthy. I won’t do it.”

“That’s fine, then,” Derek said, his English accent brisk and to the point. Grabbing
my hand, he said, “Let’s go, darling.” We took turns climbing over the wall and back
into the larger storage area.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Derek half turned. “We’re going home. You’ve made it quite obvious that you aren’t
interested in seeing the artwork and objects inside the cave. I’m sure Robson will
be happy to take back the check he wrote you.”

“For God’s sake, I didn’t mean it literally.”

“Yes, you did,” Derek said amiably. “So we’re leaving, and I expect you to follow
because I’m not leaving you in here alone.”

“You don’t have to be so sensitive about it.”

“I’m not sensitive at all,” Derek said in an even tone. “I’m complying with your wishes.”

As we walked away, Garrity shouted, “Wait, damn it. Don’t be so stupid.”

“Don’t be so stupid?”
I stopped and turned. “What is wrong with you?” My jaw was clenched so tightly, I
could barely think straight. “Do you think we have nothing better to do than listen
to your whining all day? Honestly, you have done nothing since you got here but complain
and make insulting remarks about my friends and family. If you think we’re going to
put up with that for one more minute, you’re as crazy as I think you are.”

I stared up at Derek, and he winked at me. Okay, maybe I hadn’t been as eloquent as
I wanted to be, but I’d meant every word. Could Derek possibly be enjoying this jerk’s
antics?

“All right, all right. Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Garrity waved his hand,
dismissing me. “If you think it’s so important, I’ll look at the rest of the cave.”

“Hey, you’re not doing us any favors. You’re the one getting paid to be here.”

Derek quickly clutched my arm, knowing I was furious. I’d been taking Krav Maga classes
with my neighbor, and I was ready to attack. He was probably smart to hold me back.

“Does this mean you’d like to see what else is in the cave?” Derek asked with a reasonableness
that astounded me.

“Fine,” Garrity said. “Yes, I want to see what’s in the cave. Happy now?”

“That’s all you had to say,” Derek said, and led the way back to the wall. With great
reluctance, I followed behind them both.

Once inside the chamber, Derek said, “Look around all you want.”

Garrity was already scanning the items, trying not to look impressed. He pulled out
a notebook and began writing. Finally he murmured, “I suppose this is an interesting
collection, but it’s nothing extraordinary.”

“Robson may have explained that—”

“I need complete silence while I work.”

“Then why don’t you shut up?” I muttered.

He turned and stared at me, affronted. “You’ve got a mouth on you.”

Derek bared his teeth in a semblance of a grin. “She does, as well as a mean left
hook. Careful you don’t set her off even worse.”

Garrity frowned thoughtfully and went back to studying the art objects and making
notes.

We were silent for another five minutes until Mr. Garrity said, “This can’t be everything.”

“No,” Derek said patiently. “As I explained earlier, the entry to the second chamber
is behind the wardrobe.”

Garrity rolled his eyes.

If only Derek had brought his gun with him, I’d shoot the damn fool in the foot. But
then he wouldn’t be able to walk out of here. No, I would have to shoot him in the
arm because there was no way I was going to be stuck dragging this whiner all the
way out of the cave.

Who was I kidding? I would never point a gun at a living creature, but this guy was
sorely trying my long-held peacenik values.

“It’s right this way.” Derek continued speaking as if Garrity hadn’t said a word.
“Follow me.”

He slipped easily behind the large piece of furniture and disappeared into the space
beyond.

“Wait. Where’d you go?”

“This way,” I said, and followed Derek into the darkness. Garrity plodded behind me.

I no longer cared how much Robson admired the man’s work. I refused to be nice to
this guy. I didn’t give a fig how brilliant an appraiser he was. How could Derek stomach
the insufferable man? I didn’t care if he knew art. I wanted him to go away. But now
I couldn’t walk out of the cave because I refused to leave Derek alone to deal with
him.

Derek had set up another light tree in this space to make it easier to see the details
of the artwork and other items.

In the second chamber, Noland’s expression finally registered enough awe to satisfy
me. When he noticed me watching him, he yawned and shrugged as if suffering from existential
ennui. But he couldn’t pull it off. The artwork was simply too remarkable.

After a half hour of silent observation and note taking, he turned to Derek. “I’ll
need complete access to these rooms if I’m to do a competent job of appraising the
work. Do I get the key from you?”

“I assure you you’ll have complete access.” Derek handed him his business card. “Just
call my cell anytime you want to look at something and I’ll arrange an escort for
you.”

“An escort?” Garrity let loose a scornful laugh. “No, no. That’s not how I work. I’ll
require the security code and a key to the doors so I can come and go at my own pace.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Derek said, and bared his teeth in a rakish smile.
“That’s not how I work.”

By Wednesday morning, our remarkably professional-looking exhibition of The Hidden
Treasures of La Croix Saint-Just was ready to be presented to the world. The subtitle
of the exhibit was How One French Village Saved Its Legacy from the Nazis. That gave
it a wine-country spin with the added jolt of the Nazi connection.

Within two hours of its opening, there was a line of curious visitors winding out
the door and down the steps of the town hall. Mom, Robin, and Trudy, along with their
exhibit staff and crowd-control volunteers, were all doing an amazing job.

I stuck around to hear people’s reactions, and they were glowing, thank goodness.
Everyone was intrigued with the story of the French family shipping their fellow villagers’
treasured heirlooms out of the country and escaping the dreaded Nazis in the middle
of the night.

At one o’clock, Derek picked me up, and we drove to Dharma’s city hall for the big
press conference scheduled for two o’clock that afternoon. On the drive over, we discussed
our strategy again. Derek was to give a brief introduction, and I would talk about
what we’d found in the cave; then we would take their questions. He insisted it would
go smoothly, but I was nervous.

We parked in the city hall parking lot and stayed in the car to finish discussing
what we would say. Our strategy was simple: tell the truth. Before we took any questions,
we would start with the story of how we found the body in the cave and estimate how
long the man had been there—omitting the name of the victim, of course. Any questions
beyond the basics, even if we knew the answers, would be referred to the sheriff’s
department.

Next, we would discuss how we’d inadvertently found the
second cave—omitting the discovery of the map on the notepaper inside
Journey to the Center of the Earth
. I insisted on this because I didn’t want anyone coming after the book. In my experience,
people were more than willing to kill over a valuable book. And that reminded me that
I hadn’t yet gone online to appraise its worth.

Finally, we would suggest to everyone that they attend the Treasures photographic
exhibit at the town hall. Because there was no way in hell any of these reporters
would be allowed to step one foot inside the cave if Derek had anything to say about
it.

“Are you ready for this?” Derek asked.

“Sure. Do you want to embellish anything, or just give them the straight scoop?”

“There’s no way you can possibly embellish anything, so please don’t try.”

“Why can’t I embellish things?”

“Because you’re a rotten liar.”

“Thanks a lot.” I smacked him in the arm.

He patted his heart. “I say it with love.”

“I know I get a little tongue-tied and turn beet red when I’m dancing around the truth,
but this is different. I can pull this off.”

“There’s nothing to pull off. We simply tell the truth.” He quickly added, “But not
the whole truth.”

I grimaced. “See, this is where I get hung up. What part do we leave out?”

He grabbed my hand and kissed it. “You’re scaring me to death.”

“Come on. Tell me what
not
to say.”

“All right.” He sighed. “They already know about the dead body in the cave, of course,
but they don’t know that Robson’s grandfather was the man’s best friend—and we’re
not going to tell them.”

“Right.”

“They don’t know about the book we found, with the two boys’ signatures. They don’t
know that you found a map in the book that led us to find even more priceless objects.
They don’t know about Henri threatening Robson.”

I nodded. “Right. Got it. Let’s do this.”

It was Derek’s turn to look uneasy. “You should probably wait in the car.”

“No way. I’m going to be awesome. Don’t worry.”

Shaking his head, Derek gazed out the window toward the city hall steps where the
members of the press were assembling. “I suppose we ought to get out there.”

I leaned forward to get a better look. “It’s a bigger crowd than I expected.”

“Yes.” He pointed to a car parked at the end of the aisle from us. “And someone from
the sheriff’s department is here, too.”

“Good. I’m glad you called them.”

He glanced back at me. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

He sighed. “If you insist on coming along, just feign laryngitis. I’ll do the talking.”

I slugged his arm again, and he was smirking as we climbed out of the car to greet
the press.

*   *   *

“W
e’ll take a few questions now,” Derek said after we’d both presented our stories and
descriptions and thoughts about the body and the things we’d seen inside the caves.
I’d counted thirty reporters and camera operators while Derek was talking, and they’d
been respectfully silent during our presentation. Now they began shouting and waving
their arms.

“Can you tell us more about the victim in the cave? How old was he?”

“Does he have a name?”

“Exactly how did he die?”

Derek gave a quick answer to each question, and I referred them to the sheriff’s department
for further information on the dead man. Derek then pointed to a good-looking young
guy in the front row whose arm was raised in the air. “Yes, go ahead.”

“Josh Atherton,
Antiquities Magazine
,” he said, and smiled brightly at us both. “Thank you, Mr. Stone, Ms. Wainwright.
Wow, this has been really fascinating. I wonder, do you have any idea how long ago
the cave was sealed up?”

Derek spoke. “Based on the identification found on the victim, we estimate that the
cave was sealed approximately seventy years ago.”

“A quick follow-up if you don’t mind,” Atherton rushed to say. “Specifically, what
identification did you find?”

“The police found the man’s passport,” Derek said carefully. “Apparently there was
something else found on his body that gave the investigators a more specific date
to work with. You’ll have to contact them for more information.”

More questions were blurted out, and we answered as many of them as we could. I was
surprised by how many reporters asked about the murder victim since that information
was available in the sheriff’s records, which were open to the public.

I was finishing up an answer when a tall woman with spiky red hair interrupted. “Why
won’t you allow people to go inside the cave?”

Derek stepped to the microphone. “Our excavators and geologists have suggested that
until we have completed the work that was interrupted, it’s safer to restrict the
number of people passing through. Beyond that, the cave is private property and contains
many items of great value. Don’t you agree it would be foolish to allow free access
to the public?”

Many in the crowd shrugged in acquiescence, but I noticed a
few reporters scowling, as though they were angry at us for considering them part
of the general public.

Josh Atherton raised his hand again, and I pointed to him. “Mr. Atherton.”

He beamed at me when I said his name. “Thank you so much. Let me preface my question
by explaining that my readers truly enjoy being drawn into another world. So I was
hoping you would describe what you felt when you first walked into the cave. I assume
it was dark. Were you afraid? Did you notice the smells, the sights, the sounds? Do
you recall the temperature?”

“It was musty and dark,” I said, recalling the first time I walked into the cave.
“At first I was excited and overwhelmed. I wanted to get in there and see everything.
And I wasn’t alone, so I was sharing the moment with others who were equally excited.
But since then, I’ve gone there by myself, and I must admit, it’s eerie. Silent. Cold.
I’m reminded that this place was sealed off from the world for decades. Why? To hide
a dead body? To protect those beautiful rare objects? I almost feel as though I shouldn’t
be there. But it’s also thrilling, a punishment and a reward. The sublime and the . . .”
I chewed on my lip, suddenly aware of my blathering. “Well, it’s hard to explain.”

“It’s a weighty question,” Derek said, noting my uneasiness. “Perhaps we’ll end it
there. Thank you all very much.”

“And while you’re in Dharma,” I added hastily, “do take advantage of the photographic
exhibit at the town hall over on Shakespeare Lane. You’ll see pictures of the beautiful
artwork we’re talking about, and they’ll answer a lot of your questions.”

The crowd broke up slowly. I made eye contact and smiled at Detective Parrish, who
was surrounded by reporters. Others stood chatting with one another and comparing
notes. Derek signaled to the tech guy who had set up the podium and microphones. “We’re
done here, Willy. Thanks a lot for your help.”

“No worries, man.”

Derek grabbed my hand, and we walked quickly back to the car.

“Should we rescue Detective Parrish?” I asked.

He glanced over at the crowd gathered around the woman. “If she needs to talk, she
knows where to find us.”

“I like her. I feel bad for throwing so many questions her way.”

“I like her, too, but this is part of her job. That’s why she came here today.”

“I guess that’s true.” I took one more look at the detective. She seemed perfectly
calm as she was peppered with queries.

Once seated inside the car, Derek turned to me. “Are you all right? That last question
was a bit personal.”

“It took me by surprise. I’m still a little dazed.”

“I was surprised you answered it.”

“I was, too.” I buckled my seat belt. “He was so nice, and the question seemed genuine.
I’m afraid my answer sounded peculiar. I hope he doesn’t write about how bizarre I
am.”

“It wasn’t bizarre; it was honest.” Derek started the engine and slid the stick shift
into reverse. “Are you familiar with that magazine?”

“Antiquities
?
No. But I’m going to look it up.”

“That’s my girl.”

*   *   *

T
hat night we had reservations at Umbria, our favorite Italian restaurant on the Lane.
We arrived early, so Derek waited at the bar while I dashed across the street to say
hello to my sister China at Warped, the yarn and weaving shop she owned.

I spotted China with six ladies gathered around the giant loom at the back of the
store. She waved but didn’t come over, so I figured she was in the middle of a class.
I took the time to wander around admiring the beautiful yarns and threads and designs
she
had on display. Several sets of brightly colored place mats were stacked on a shelf,
and a number of intricate wall hangings were draped along one wall. A dowel hanging
from the ceiling held beautifully crocheted wool scarves. Dozens of balls of colorful
yarns were tossed into baskets and placed around the shop. I was drawn to a small,
fluffy woven doggy bed on a side shelf and wondered if Charlie the kitten would like
to sleep in something warm and cozy like that.

My sister was so talented, I thought wistfully. She was an incredible textiles artist
and a beautiful mother. But then, all of my sisters were talented in one way or another,
and I included myself. Not that I could weave or cook, but when it came to making
or taking apart a book, I knew what I was doing. Although I had to admit I often wished
I had the talent to cook something more than a boiled egg. Heck, I even screwed that
up sometimes.

But hey, I also had a talent for finding dead bodies, although that wasn’t anything
to stand up and cheer about. I realized I was squeezing a ball of midnight blue alpaca
yarn as if it were a stress toy and quickly dropped it into a nearby basket.

“Oh, hey. Hi.”

I whipped around to see Josh Atherton, the reporter, standing a few feet behind me.
“Oh, hi. It’s Josh, right?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Wow, I’m thrilled that I ran into you.”

I checked to see if China was free yet. “I just stopped by for a minute.”

He glanced around, looking a little awestruck. “This is such an amazing place. I mean,
wow, so many great colors and patterns. Does the owner make all these things?”

“Yes, she does.”

“Wow,” he said again, and I wondered if I was making him nervous. “The stores up here
are so full of cool stuff. Awesome.” He turned in a circle, taking it all in, but
then appeared to be
embarrassed by his gushing, if his pink cheeks were anything to go by. “Sorry, I get
distracted sometimes.”

“I don’t mind at all,” I said, smiling. “This is my sister’s store, and I happen to
think it’s fabulous.”

“Oh.” He grinned and gazed around again. “That makes it even cooler.”

I chuckled.

He scratched his head, still embarrassed. “Anyway, thank you so much for answering
my question earlier. I hope it didn’t make you uncomfortable. I could tell you gave
a heartfelt response.”

“It was honest,” I admitted. “But I don’t usually bare my soul in public like that.”

“I live for those moments.” He grinned again, and I noticed he had dimples in his
cheeks. He wore a thin, navy cashmere V-neck sweater over a white button-down shirt
and blue jeans. His dark blond hair was a bit scruffy, and he wore wire-rimmed glasses.
He was ridiculously cute.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I would love to set up an appointment to talk
to you further. I promise I won’t take up too much of your time, but I’d like to write
an in-depth story on this discovery.”

“I’m not the person to talk to. I can point you toward people who are more connected
to the discovery.”

“But I can tell you have a real emotional connection to that cave.”

I shook my head. “Not really.”

He smiled again. “You’re being modest, but I understand.” He pulled a card from his
pocket and handed it to me. “Here’s my cell number if you change your mind. I’m staying
in the area this week, and I would consider it an honor if you called.”

I glanced down at his card, then back at him. “I’ll think about it.”

“I hope so. Thanks again.” He shook my hand heartily and walked out of the store.