The Game's a Foot: A Captain Finn Treasure Mystery (Captain Finn Treasure Mysteries Book 4)

by Liz Dodwell

  “You’re the best, Dixie.”

  When Gillett called at the appointed hour there was still no news. A couple of people had admitted seeing the van race off but if they had any idea who was in it they weren’t saying. The PI told us he would continue canvassing the area. For our part, Michael and I had continually bugged the lone duty officer for updates, but none were forthcoming.

  At precisely two twelve in the morning the station phone rang. The desk officer lifted it from its cradle and spoke indifferently into the mouthpiece. Michael and I both tensed and strained to listen. Suddenly the officer became animated. He punched buttons and spoke rapidly to some unseen person. My cell buzzed. I looked at the display and mouthed “Gillett” to Michael as I hit answer.

  “There’s something going on here.” As I said it a black Ford police truck screamed from behind the building, lights flashing. I heard Michael yell, “Where are they going?”

  “Doren, I have to call you back.”

  “No, wait. Wait. It’s me.”

  “What?” I had no idea what he meant but he certainly was excited about something.

  “It’s me on the other line with the police department. He’s here. Finn is here. They dumped him back near the restaurant.”

  I was shocked into momentary silence. When I found my voice it came out in a shriek. “Is he OK?”

  “He’s unconscious,” Oh, God, “but he’s alive.”

  So here I was hanging over the bathroom sink when there was knock on the door.

  “Phill.”

  I yanked the door open. “What’s happened, Michael?”

  “The doctor’s going to wake him so he’ll be able to talk to the inspector.”

  We hurried back to the room. This was a different doctor than the one who’d examined him on arrival and he introduced himself as Doctor Cawich. “I’ve just given him a mild stimulative. He’ll come around slowly but may be a bit confused, so it would be a good idea if yours is the first face he sees.” Good, ‘cause that’s what I intended anyway.

  When Finn’s eyes blinked open they looked straight into mine. “Hi, honey,” he said and I wanted to weep with relief. Instead, I kept my big girl pants on and feigned annoyance. “Holy shit, you’ll do almost anything for attention.” Then I explained to him he was at a private clinic.

  “That sounds expensive.”

  “Bert’s taking care of everything. We didn’t want you in a government-run hospital.” They’re decidedly less than state of the art. “Here you have a private room and a nurse dedicated to your care.”

  Finn’s eyebrows lifted. “Is she pretty?”

  “Well, she’s a he, sooo…”

  His face fell and I took pity on him. “If it makes you feel better, Dixie sends her love.”

  A slight smile brightened his features.

  I turned to Michael and the doctor. “He’s just fine.”

  Ten

  Inspector Antoine Usher was pencil thin with a pencil thin mustache, and he seriously reminded me of an older Little Richard without all the hair. His manner was far removed from a flamboyant rock star, however, as he held out an arm in greeting to Finn.

  “I hope you’re feeling better,” he said.

  “Thanks. I’m ready to leave but the doctor – and some other people,” he glared at me, “are insisting I stay tonight.”

  “You got a nasty crack on the head,” I narrowed my eyes back at him. “It’s for your own good.”

  “You were beaten?” Little Richard…I mean Usher, gave a questioning look.

  “I smacked my head when they pushed me out of the van. Gave myself a bit of a concussion, that’s all.” Finn dismissed his injury.

  “Start from the time you were snatched, Captain.” Usher grabbed the single chair and seated himself next to the bed. “Constable Mejia will take notes.” He cocked his head to the young policewoman who accompanied him, then looked expectantly at Finn.

  “They stuck a rag over my face that was damped with starter fluid.”

  “Starter fluid?” Michael frowned and Usher responded in the sort of voice a teacher might use to a particularly dense student.

  “It’s readily available for automotive use and it’s also used to get high. It contains diethyl ether and some other very nasty chemicals. Dealers sell a distilled version on the streets they claim is safe but there’s no such thing. It can cause permanent brain damage.”

  “It’s definitely an experience I never want to repeat, though they only used enough to disorient me. And it worked. I have no idea where I was taken. My first clear memory is being strapped to a chair with a hood over my head. I never saw any faces; I never saw anything. Only one man spoke. He had a heavy accent that was hard to understand.”

  “What sort of accent?” The inspector interrupted.

  “Uuuh, Kriol but with a good dose of, um, what do you call it? African-based.”

  “Garifuna?”

  “Yeah, I think that’s it.”

  “And what did this man say?” Usher asked.

  “He was asking me questions about the jade that was stolen from the museum.”

  Usher’s brow furrowed and his tone became hard. “Why would he think you’d know anything about that?”

  “I couldn’t tell you! We came down here to find out what happened to a lost little girl. The only thing the two incidents have in common as far as I can see is that they happened about the same time. For some reason, the guy seemed to think we were here to look for the jade.”

  Usher’s questions continued until the doctor announced it was enough, and Finn needed to rest.

  “We’ll be talking again,” the inspector said before he exited.

  I watched the inspector disappear then turned to Finn and stood with hands on hips. “Come on. Out with it.”

  “There’s nothing to come out with.”

  Michael and I looked at each other in disbelief, then back at Finn.

  “Seriously,” he went on, “the guy struck me as being genuinely surprised I wasn’t interested in the jade. If he hadn’t believed me, I’m not so sure I’d be talking to you right now.”

  “Let me get this straight,” Michael said. “You got kidnapped because the hoodlums thought we were after the Maya jade that was stolen from the museum. What have we done that could possibly make them think that?”

  Before there was time to respond a young woman came in, pushing a cart ahead of her. Her skin was on the dark side of copper. The smile she gave Finn was reflected in obsidian eyes as she greeted him. “Hi. It’s dinner time, Mr. Finsmer.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m your nurse, Kellee.”

  “I thought I had a male nurse.”

  “That was Jamaal. He was your day nurse. I’ll be with you all night. Here, let me help you sit up so you can eat.”

  She leaned over Finn, putting her arms around his waist to help him into a sitting position. Over her shoulder he looked at me with a triumphant grin.

  “You’re obviously in good hands,” I said in a sarcastic tone. “I’m going back to the hotel. A hot shower and a good night’s sleep sound really good right now.”

  “Agreed,” said Michael, and together we left.

  Eleven

  Walking through the Radisson lobby we heard a sudden shout. “Phill. Michael.”

  Doren Gillett stepped from the bar. “I’ve been watching for you. How’s Finn?”

  “He’s fine, all things considered. Why didn’t you just come to the clinic?”

  “I did. They wouldn’t let me in to see him and I didn’t want to bother you guys; you had enough on your minds. I’ve been calling the hotel to see if you were back, then decided I’d come and hang out for a while and hope I got lucky. And I did, because here you are.”

  We exchanged a few words then Doren asked, “Have you guys eaten? Can I buy you dinner and we can talk more?”

  Michael excused himself. “I think I’m going to order in-room and have a long video-chat with my wife and son.”


  As tired as I was, it occurred to me I was really hungry. And there were much worse things than having dinner with an attractive man.

  “If you don’t mind waiting another twenty minutes so I can clean up, I’ll be glad to join you.”

  So that’s how it went. Doren and I sat together at a window table in the hotel dining room.

  “We could have just stayed in the bar,” I said.

  “This is much nicer,” he smiled at me, “and more private.”

  After a couple of cold Belikins and the seafood combo I was feeling much better and conversation turned to recent events.

  “Do you have any idea why Finn was targeted?” I asked Doren.

  “Most foreigners think of Belize and think sun-drenched beaches and clear blue waters, but the country is ranked among the top ten in the world for homicides. Drugs, money laundering, human trafficking, organized crime, corruption – they’re all significant problems.”

  “So you’re saying there could be a million reasons why this happened?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Then why did the gangsters keep asking about the jade?”

  “You’ve got me there. Nothing in my investigation led me to suspect any link between Aubrey’s disappearance and the theft.”

  I yawned. “Sorry, Doren. This has been a long couple of days. I’m gonna have to say good-night.”

  He jumped up to help me out of my chair, which was a good thing as I slipped right into his arms. My heart-rate immediately sped up and I knew my face must be red. I hoped to God he didn’t notice.

  “Perhaps I’d better see you to your room,” he said.

  Arm in arm we made our way to my door. I was hotly aware of his body as we walked. Was he going to make a pass at me? I tried to act nonchalant as he took my room key and unlocked the door. He leaned towards me – this is it, he’s going to kiss me – and pushed open the door behind me. Then he held out the key saying, “Goodnight,” and walked away.

  Well, shit.

  Twelve

  At nine in the morning Michael and I were at the clinic to collect Finn. He had been all for walking to the Radisson but, though he looked good and insisted he felt great, I was like an over-protective parent and insisted we ride the short distance. Michael paid off the taxi and we entered the hotel. The desk clerk hailed us as we walked by and the manager came out from his office.

  “Welcome back, Captain. We’re all very thankful you’re OK.”

  Finn accepted the good wishes with a smile.

  “There is an important message here for you.” The manager snapped his fingers at the clerk who promptly handed over an envelope. “Russell Longsworth, who is the Director of the Museum of Belize, has requested that you meet as soon as possible.”

  Finn ripped open the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. “It doesn’t say anything more here except it’s urgent, and he gives his private number.”

  “I wonder what it’s about,” I said.

  “We’ll find out soon,” Finn replied. “I’ll call when we get to the room.”

  The Museum of Belize was a former prison. Entry to the two story building was through the original archway, barred by iron gates that were now open to allow the paying public to pass through. At the ticket office we announced ourselves and were directed to a door marked “Private.” As we closed it behind us another door opened and Russell Longsworth appeared. I’d looked him up online and easily recognized the thin face and thick-lensed glasses. He shook Finn’s hand, then clasped mine and I was struck by how soft and smooth his own hands were.

  At Finn’s request Michael had stayed behind to coordinate some online research with Bert and Dixie. Of course, when we asked Finn why he wanted the information he was his usual vague self.

  Anyway, Longsworth led us to a brick-walled office furnished in utilitarian style and we settled into straight-back chairs and waited for him to enlighten us.

  “I’ve heard about your mishap, Captain. Are you well now?” Mishap? That’s an understatement. Without waiting for Finn’s reply he continued, “Would you like some coffee, or an aperitif? I have some local soursop wine?”

  We both hurriedly declined. I had no idea what soursop wine was but it didn’t sound too tasty. I later found out soursop is a fruit and the wine has flavors of pineapple and citrus. Then I wished I’d tried it.

  “You’re probably wondering why I asked you to meet.” The Director shuffled papers on his desk then cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “I have a proposition for you.”

  I was startled but did my best to follow Finn’s lead and remain impassive.

  “Go on,” Finn said.

  “Perhaps it would be better if I show you something first.” Longsworth practically leapt from his chair and strode to the door. “Follow me, please.”

  It was more command than request, and Finn and I hurried to keep pace as we were led into the heart of the museum.

  Longsworth stopped at a reinforced glass case in which a carved jade head was displayed. We waited while a small group of school girls in white uniforms passed by. The Director patted the top of the case. “This is a replica, of course.”

  Puzzled, Finn and I just looked at him.

  “…Of the Maya jade head that was stolen last year. The carving is the most important artifact the people of Belize have ever owned. Its value is priceless.”

  Finn and I peered through the glass as the Director gushed on. “It dates back to at least 600 B.C. See the crossed eyes and fang-like elements, these represent Kinich Ahau, the Maya sun god. The true artifact would have been carved using stones and taken years to create. The work is exquisite.”

  “I get that,” Finn said, “but just why are we here?”

  “Because we want you to find it, of course.” Longsworth’s brow furrowed as if he couldn’t believe we were so dense that we had to ask. “You’re already looking for it, and the Museum has authorized me to offer a very generous sum for its recovery.”

  Finn threw his hands up in the air. “For the last time, I am not searching for the jade. I’m only interested in finding out what happened to a little girl.”

  Longsworth’s jaw dropped. “Oh… I understood…um, shall we go back to my office and talk about this?”

  Once again he charged off, leaving us no chance to refuse. Back in his office he babbled on about the theft, telling us in spite of the intense police investigation nothing definite was ever proved. “One of our employees vanished that same day, and it seems certain he must have been involved.”

  “Vanished?” Finn asked.

  “Yes, our Registrar, Arlie Pott. He had access to all the exhibition pieces. The replica you just saw is used to replace the original when it’s loaned out. We might not have known for months that the real Maya head was gone if I hadn’t received a request for information on the Ahau glyph on the forehead.”

  “You’ve lost me,” I said.

  “Your own University of Massachusetts is running a field school here. The director of the course has been in contact with me on a regular basis by web cam. He had asked about the sun glyph, the symbol, and I went to fetch the replica to better explain my answer. When I couldn’t find it, I had the guards open the case and we discovered the substitution.”

  “And Mr. Pott…?” Finn asked.

  “A good man, or so I thought. He’d been with the museum for twenty-four years.”

  “Any past history of problems?”

  “None at all. That’s why it’s so puzzling.”

  “Hmm. Twenty four years is long enough to become dissatisfied with earning a small wage while you’re handling artifacts worth millions.”

  “Then can we count on your help?” the Director again pleaded.

  “My focus is still on Aubrey Poulsen, but if I find any connection to the Maya carving I will, of course, pursue it.”

  That was enough to earn the Director’s gratitude and promises of every assistance, and with that we left.

 
; Thirteen

  Back at the hotel we found Michael in a state of some excitement. “Bert and Dixie really came through. Take a look at this!”

  He waved a sheaf of printouts in front of us. Finn scanned through them; me hanging over his shoulder.

  I was shocked. “This certainly changes the perspective, I’d say. What about you, Finn?”

  “I’d say it’s time we put all this information together and figure out what happened. One of you call down to the hotel desk and ask if we can get a whiteboard up here.”

  For the next several hours Finn sifted through everything we had, making notes on the board then crossing them out, drawing connecting lines between fragments of information, circling phrases and underscoring. Michael and I stared at the board but saw only a jumble of words.

  At one point my phone rang. It was Doren, “Just checking in,” he said, “to see how Finn is doing and if you’ve made any progress.”

  I mouthed “Doren” to Finn and he gave a slight shake of his head. “He’s resting,” I lied, “and there’s nothing new so far.”

  We made desultory conversation before I ended with, “Thanks for calling. I’ll let you know if anything new turns up,” then turned my attention to Finn.

  He was staring into space, stroking his beard the way he does when deep in thought.

  “Finn?”

  He didn’t move.

  “Finn,” I shook him gently, “perhaps you should take a break. Why don’t we go down to the tavern? We can sit on the deck and get some fresh air and have a bite to eat. You’ll think more clearly afterwards.”

  “You’re right.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m getting a bit of a headache anyway. But first I need to talk to Inspector Usher.”

  “Can’t it wait?”

  “It’s imperative that I get hold of him right away. One of you see if you can get him on the phone.”

  Michael jumped into action.

  “And tell him it’s about the jade carving,” Finn added. What on earth…?