by Howe, A. E.
She could hear low voices talking earnestly. She leaned in closer to the door, accidentally bumping it with the side of her head. Before she could move back, the door flew open and Donavan frowned down at her.
“Hear anything?” he asked brusquely. The other guests were standing in the room behind him and staring at her.
“I was just…” She started to make an excuse, but realized that nothing would make any sense. “Actually, I was going to knock on your door and see if anyone wanted to play a game of cards.” It was a poor bluff.
“Tell her to get in here,” Neith said.
“Come in, Miss Nicolson.” Donavan stepped back and swung the door open wide.
Josephine followed him, suddenly very glad to know that Anton was watching from across the hall.
“We’ve been discussing you,” Elliot Zhao said once Donavan had shut the door.
“I guess that’s fair enough since the baron and I have talked some about all of you too,” Josephine said with as much moxie as she could muster when the odds were six to one.
“I bet you have,” Jamila sneered. “Do you think you’ve fooled us?”
“Why are you here? And try telling us the truth this time,” Wallace Brock said with his usual arrogant manner.
“We told you, we’re here on vacation.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, everyone in the room shook their heads in disbelief. “Okay, then, tell me why all of you are really here,” Josephine shot back.
“We suspect for the same reason you are,” Captain Hume answered, his demeanor no longer open and friendly.
“Come on, let’s compare secrets,” Donavan urged her.
“Never mind. I’ll tell you who you are,” Brock said. “You’re related to Peter Nicolson and you’re here looking for the same gold and artifacts that we are.”
Josephine was stunned into silence, both by the fact that they knew who she was and that they knew why her uncle had come to the island.
“She refuses to talk,” Jamila said in a tone that implied she was willing to make Josephine talk if necessary.
“I’m not sure what we have to talk about,” Josephine stammered.
“Even though you’re looking for the treasure, same as us?” Donavan asked.
“Treasure? Is that all you think this is about? It is my country’s heritage,” Neith said, casting a look of scorn at Donavan.
“Neith is right. I don’t know why you were even allowed to join the group.” Jamila’s dark eyes stared daggers at Donavan.
Josephine was more than willing to let them fight amongst themselves while she gathered her wits and took mental notes of the divisions within their ranks. Had one of them killed the man who’d stolen her uncle’s letter? Or had one of them hired the man to steal the letter. Or… She could think of a dozen possibilities.
“Stop bickering!” Hume commanded, silencing the others. He turned to Josephine. “Why keep up the pretense? We’re giving you a chance to come clean and maybe to… join forces with us.”
“I didn’t agree to that,” Donavan groused.
“Don’t worry, Donavan, you’ll get your gold,” Neith told him. “But first we must find it.”
“Exactly why the lady here should be a part of the group. She undoubtedly has some knowledge that we lack,” Hume stated.
“I don’t…” Josephine wanted to deny any knowledge of what they were talking about, but she didn’t see the point. “Fine. Yes, Peter Nicolson was my uncle. But I didn’t know anything about treasure.”
“Why are you here now?” Jamila asked.
“He left my father a letter.”
“Is that why you were at the post office this morning?” Donavan asked.
“Yes. I mean, not exactly. He left one at our house. I only discovered it a few months ago.”
“Was there another letter left here?” Donavan pushed.
“I’d rather not say at this point. I think it’s y’all’s turn to share.”
“We all got letters. We thought maybe you’d sent them.” Zhao held up an envelope that had clearly passed through many hands and gave it to Josephine.
She quickly scanned the two pages. The first paragraph simply stated that certain items had been identified by Peter Nicolson, now deceased, and that they could be found near Cedar Island. The rest of Zhao’s letter described various Chinese artifacts.
“Each letter described different national artifacts particular to our interests,” Jamila said, grinding her teeth.
“I had nothing to do with the letters. Why do you think you all received them?”
“Obviously, whoever it was wanted us all to come here.” Neith shrugged.
“But why?”
“We’ve been trying to figure that out,” Hume admitted.
“I’ve already told you why!” Donavan fumed. “Whoever wrote those letters wants us to do all of the footwork, then they’ll swoop in and take whatever we find.”
“Possibly,” Hume said.
“And you all just want to retrieve the items for your various countries?” Josephine watched as they exchanged glances.
“For the most part,” Brock answered.
“There are some of us who are more patriotic than others,” Jamila said, smirking.
“I wouldn’t go casting stones.” Donavan frowned at her.
“Now that you know I had nothing to do with the letters, I’ll be going.” Josephine turned and started toward the door.
“Not so fast,” Brock said, blocking her exit. “You still haven’t explained why you’re here.”
“Obviously, she is just a thief looking for the gold,” Jamila said.
“Little harsh,” Hume said. “I think we’ve established that each of us plans on wanting a little bit of gold for our troubles.”
“There are artifacts and coins. You all are welcome to the artifacts.” Donavan sounded annoyed.
“I told you,” Josephine said. “I recently found a letter that my uncle left for us. It mentioned Cedar Island and, since I knew he’d died here, I wanted to see if I could learn more about what happened to him.”
“After more than twenty years?” Brock sounded unconvinced.
“I only just found it.”
“What did the letter say?” Donavan moved a step closer, his eyes searching Josephine’s face.
“Not much. He wrote something about a legacy for my father and me, but nothing specific.”
“He was murdered,” Brock stated.
“Why do you say that?” Josephine asked.
“Why would he mention a legacy and not tell you how to find it?” Donavan acted as if Brock had not spoken.
Ignoring Donavan, Brock said, “I say he was murdered because he was. I did some research on the mainland and found a copy of the sheriff’s report.”
Josephine was stunned. “The sheriff knew he was murdered? No one ever told us.”
“He knew. Covered it up. Even the half-ass autopsy was enough to show that he’d been killed. There was no water in his lungs. Skull was cracked. Sheriff’s report said he’d fallen off the dock and hit his head, or was hit by a boat.”
“He left you a clue to the treasure, didn’t he?” Donavan said, trying to bring the conversation back to the present.
“I…”
“What did you pick up from the post office?” Brock asked pointedly.
“Something worth killing for?” Neith said, her eyebrows raised.
“Yes, there was a second letter.” Josephine couldn’t see the point in denying it anymore. Besides, she might have been able to use their help.
“And someone attacked you for it,” Hume said thoughtfully.
Josephine noticed that the members of this rather odd group of treasure hunters were all looking at each other suspiciously.
“Yes. The person who attacked me grabbed the letter. I fought with him and he ran off. Next thing I knew, he was dead.”
“Very succinct, Miss Nicolson,” Zhao said, looking at her closely.
T
hey spent the next few minutes questioning her about the incident. Josephine felt as if she repeated the same story twelve times, but she didn’t really mind. She was using the time to try to decide who in the group was most likely to be a killer. She hoped that the person might slip up while pretending to be interested in events that they already knew better than she did.
“Who cares about the damn murder? I want to know what was in the letter,” Donavan said dismissively.
“Don’t be a fool. Whoever killed that man today undoubtedly knew about the letter and, therefore, also about the treasure and Peter Nicolson,” Hume said.
“And who is more interested in finding the trea… artifacts than the six of us?” Neith asked.
“I see where you’re going. I guess that makes sense,” Donavan reflected.
“It’s not just the murder. The postmistress is missing,” Josephine told them.
“One question comes to mind,” said Brock, looking contemplative. “Is there someone else on the island who knows about the treasure? If not, then the murderer is probably in this room.”
“But we know the thief wasn’t part of our group,” Hume reasoned.
“Maybe one of us hired the thief.” Jamila was staring at Donavan as she spoke. “And then killed him.”
“You have a rather nasty opinion of the rest of us,” Hume chuckled.
“I say it was one of our rather strange island brethren… the fishermen. Other folks around here must have heard about the treasure. Remember that, according to Brock here, someone killed Peter Nicolson,” Donavan pointed out.
“Those things may be brethren to you, but not me,” Jamila spat.
“Let’s not get sidetracked.” Brock glared at both Jamila and Donavan. Josephine could tell that the subject of the fishermen was a sore one. “I think we have to agree that there is at least a possibility that one of us is a murderer.” He looked around as if he might find a red letter “M” burned onto one of their foreheads.
“This is all well and good, but how does it help us find the treasure? Far as I can see, you all are just stirring the pot to no good purpose.” Donavan’s voice held a mix of anxiety, excitement and irritation. He turned to Josephine. “So make with the letter.”
“Shut up!” Hume ordered, moving toward Donavan. “You are making an ass of yourself.”
“I don’t want to stay on this island one day longer than I have to.”
“Go home, then. No one will miss you,” Jamila sneered.
“Don’t act so high and mighty. I know you need the money just as much as I do.”
“There’s the difference. I need the money. You just want the money.”
“Children, let’s settle down. Remember, we have a guest.” Brock gestured toward Josephine.
“Don’t mind me.” Josephine smiled, watching the dynamics of the group closely.
“Make her give us the letter.” Donavan pointed his finger at Brock.
“Yes, I agree. She should turn the letter over to us.” Zhao’s voice was calm and icy. “We need the letter. Like the impetuous and greedy Mr. Donavan, I also want to get off this island.”
“You can’t make me give you the letter,” Josephine bluffed. “But you can trade for it.”
Chapter Thirteen
“A trade?” Captain Hume sounded intrigued.
“What do you want for it?” Donavan asked suspiciously.
“Cooperation.” She wasn’t the least bit ashamed that she was only offering up part of a letter.
“What exactly are you talking about?” Brock asked.
“I want to know who murdered that man this morning, and I think one of you knows more than you’re admitting. I’ll turn over the letter to all of you if you’ll allow the baron and me to interview each one of you. Since the sheriff won’t investigate the murder, we will.”
“Do you fancy yourselves some sort of half-ass detectives?” Brock said with a scornful laugh.
“Take my offer and you’ll find out,” Josephine said, looking him square in the eyes.
“I do not understand. If she has the letter and it tells where the treasure is located, then why is she bargaining with us?” Neith reasoned.
“Our Egyptian goddess has a point,” Donavan said. “Maybe she doesn’t really have anything to trade.”
“You’re the one who’s been demanding the letter,” Josephine challenged him.
“Yeah, but still… Why didn’t you spend the afternoon digging up the treasure?”
“Because I only have part of the letter,” Josephine admitted. Several people groaned.
“Cripes!” Brock exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say that from the beginning?”
“I would have if I had thought it was any of your business.”
“So you’re going to trade us damaged goods?” Donavan shouted.
“The letter isn’t the only damaged goods,” Jamila said, tapping her head and looking at Donavan.
“What exactly do you mean by part of the letter?” Hume asked.
“The person who attacked me tried to steal the letter. I fought him off, but he managed to get away with about half of it.”
“You searched the body for it?” Brock asked.
“Of course.”
“So the murderer must have the rest of it,” Hume mused.
“That’s what I assume,” Josephine said.
There was silence in the room as everyone traded glances.
“I agree to her conditions,” Jamila finally said.
“Sure, if it gets us a look at her part of the letter,” Donavan agreed. “At this point, anything is better than nothing.”
“I don’t see the point in them doing any sort of investigation,” Brock said. When he saw the looks he got from the others, he added. “But I guess it isn’t going to hurt anything.”
“Count me in,” Hume said with a smile.
“If it finds us the artifacts so I can get off this island, I will cooperate,” Neith allowed.
Everyone looked at Zhao. He smiled broadly. “I will not go against the wishes of the group.”
“Of course, if one of us is the killer, then they will have both parts of the puzzle,” Donavan pointed out.
“That’s obvious,” Brock groused.
“Which brings up the next question,” Neith said. “How do we keep the murderer from using their part of the letter to beat us to the treasure?”
“Not much we can do about that,” Donavan said.
There was a moment of silence before Hume spoke up. “I’ve got an idea. We will elect one person to look at Miss Nicolson’s part of the letter. He—” Receiving murderous looks from Jamila and Neith, he amended: “—or she will keep the information close to their vest, so to speak, using it only when it might assist our group search.”
“Kinda like letting one person hold the map,” Brock said.
“Exactly, and if that person does anything suspicious, we’ll know who the killer is.”
“That way we only have one person to watch instead of five.” Jamila nodded.
“Sounds fine, but how will the vote be taken?” Zhao did not look interested in the idea.
“No majority crap,” Donavan said.
“I agree. There might be someone in league with the killer,” Hume said.
“Or maybe three.” Neith was looking very unhappy.
“It’s got to be a unanimous vote.” Jamila stared at everyone.
“Is there anyone we all trust?” Donavan asked.
More looks were exchanged. The group seemed at an impasse.
“Why don’t we draw cards for it?” Hume said. This suggestion received frosty looks from everyone.
The silence grew as each member of the group tried to come up with a solution to their dilemma.
“We just need to pick someone,” Jamila said in frustration.
“Yes. What’s the problem?” Donavan agreed.
“Quis custodiet ipsos germen radicum eius?” Zhao said.
“He is not wrong,” Neit
h said.
“What’s that gibberish?” Brock asked.
“‘Who watches the watchers’ is a rough translation.” Hume smiled. “Indeed.”
“I think that’s pretty obvious. We’ve all been watching each other since the day we showed up at this cursed hotel,” Donavan grumbled.
“And for very good reason.” Again, Jamila looked at Donavan.
Josephine had been a little worried about making a deal with this group. What would happen if they all just used the information to find the treasure, then ran out on her and Blasko? But watching this childish display, she realized that her instincts had been right. It would take a more tightly knit group than this to pull off an organized swindle.
“I was simply honest and you’ve been holding it against me ever since. All I said was that I was personally interested in the gold. The artifacts that my university is interested in are Inuit, but not gold.”
“I cannot believe that you teach at a university,” Jamila scoffed.
“Go to hell,” Donavan flung back at her.
“The trouble is, I am here to recover gold artifacts,” Neith pointed out.
“And I told you that I don’t care about them, just any gold bullion that might be found along with the rest. I said we’d share.” Donavan sounded exasperated.
“Enough! We’ll do what Captain Hume originally suggested.” Zhao stood up. “I’ll get the cards and we will draw to see who has the privilege of reading Miss Nicolson’s letter.”
Everyone stopped talking and there was a begrudging acceptance of the plan. The members of the group shifted nervously in place while Zhao left the room to find a deck of cards.
“While we wait, why don’t you tell us about your cousin the baron?” Neith smiled at Josephine.
“How is that relevant?”
“I assume he knows all about the letter, so we are essentially making a pact with him as well as you. You did say that he would be involved in your little game of detective, did you not?”
Josephine noted that all of the eyes in the room were judging her and she didn’t see any way to wriggle out of answering. “There’s nothing to tell, really. When he heard that I was coming here to look into my uncle’s death, he insisted on coming with me.”
“It is nice to have a protector. Even if his strange sun allergy keeps him indoors during the day.” Neith’s smile grew a bit larger.