Even Rudy had come over and watched over her shoulder.
“All right,” I said, “cut to the chase.”
“Well the vowels are numbered first, but from the end of the alphabet. Y is a one, U is a two. And so on. Then if you skip the first letter from the end and number the consonants only you skip every other one, then go back and number the remaining consonants.”
I sat down on that one.
“And this worked?” Rudy asked.
“Like a dream,” Mom said. “Of course it has taken me two days and I’ve tried at least seven different combinations. This is what it says: ‘Between thirty-five and forty lat, and ninety-five and ninety long, there is a castle erected anew, wherein lies the fortune of the Merovees obtained from the Pyrenees. Once in this castle anew with the river on your right, it sleeps beneath Queens own home waiting your arrival. Beware! Ill fortune awaits.’”
“‘Castle erected anew,’” Rudy said. “It must mean New Kassel.”
“That’s what I thought,” Mom said.
“‘The fortune of the Merovees.’ Tonight, in the briefcase,” I said, “Eleanore and I saw some papers that talked about a group of people called the Merovee Knights. I wonder if they are referring to Merovingian when they say Merovee. Obtained from the Pyrenees would mean either Spain or France, most likely France.”
“Yes,” Mom said. “But what is ‘Queens own home’?”
“I have no idea.”
The phone rang and we all jumped.
“Hello? Sheriff Brooke,” I said.
“Torie, I wanted to let you know that we picked up Yvonne Mezalaine tonight,” he said.
“And?”
“She claims not to know Ransford Dooley. She said that she had been invited here by Marie to attend a meeting in St. Louis with some associates of Marie’s. She said that they were Lanny Lockheart and Andrew Wheaton.”
“What about being her sister? Is she still claiming to be Marie’s half sister?”
“She said that she was not related to Marie, but that she knew her on a professional level for many years. But guess what?”
“What?”
“We found the stolen papers in her car.”
NEW KASSEL GAZETTE
THE NEWS YOU MIGHT MISS
by Eleanore Murdoch
Tobias says thank you for his new accordion. The speed with which New Kassel residents gave donations for the accordion was amazing.
Right now we only have four apple dumpling recipes entered in our contest. One of those entries belongs to Jalena Keith. Come on, New Kassel residents. Jalena wins all of the recipe contests. At least give her some competition this year! You may drop off your entry at the Birk/Zeis home, Pierre’s, or Torie’s office at the Gaheimer House.
And a note to whoever was jogging in the nude on the bridge last Tuesday night: at least buy yourself some sneakers.
Until next time.
Eleanore
Twenty-two
I knocked on the door of room seven of the Murdoch Inn. I wanted some answers and I thought Andrew was the man to give them to me. I did not hear any noise from inside, but I stuck around and knocked again. I looked down at my feet, noticed the mud on my L.A. Gears, and knocked yet another time.
Up the steps came Andrew Wheaton, just the man I was trying to get to answer the door. He stiffened when he saw me, making his muscular neck seem out of proportion to the rest of his body. He’d gone for the American Gigolo look this morning. His pants, shirt, and tie were all different shades of olive and khaki green. His shoes, a shiny black, were spiffy and barely looked worn.
“Mrs. O’Shea,” he said. “What a surprise.”
“I doubt that,” I said. “May I speak with you a moment? It’s important.”
He honestly looked like he was afraid of me. I am about as unimposing a person as one can find. I’m short. I dress casually. There isn’t an anxious bone in my body. I’m also a woman. Not that I think women are unimposing, but a lot of men do.
“All right,” he said. He unlocked the door and I followed him inside. The inside of his room was done in country blue with a hardwood floor and oak bed. He placed his keys next to the pitcher and bowl, resting on a dressing table.
“Well? What is it?”
He seemed unsure and nervous. He glanced around the room several times before finally looking at me.
“I want to know just what the heck is going on.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know you saw Marie before she died. You were in her house. You could have killed her. Not that I think that you did. I’m not even sure that she was killed on purpose. I think it could have been an accident. But you had ample opportunity.”
“Motive?” he asked.
“That’s what I want to discuss. The motive here seems to be something so far-fetched that I can’t conceive it. It seems that Marie was killed for some documents and letters that pertain to the French crown, the man in the iron mask, a treasure, hell, just throw in the kitchen sink. I know that you are some sort of Merovee Knight, whatever the heck that is. What is going on?”
He looked around the room, even more nervous than before. “I didn’t kill her.”
“Okay, who did?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “I’m going to fill you in on a few things only because I believe it will only be a matter of time until you figure it out.” He walked over to the window and looked out. “A long time ago there were the Crusades. You know, the war against the Muslims, the Christians trying to take over the Holy Land. There were the Knights Templar. You familiar with them?”
“Yes, vaguely.”
“The Knights Templar were in charge of keeping the road to Jerusalem safe. They were also the keepers of a great treasure. They believed that the true heir to the French throne was descended from the Merovingian kings that occupied the throne before Hugh Capet took over.”
“All right. I follow you there.”
“They hid the treasure in France. A priest by the name of Berenger Sauniere found this treasure and had it removed. Nobody knew where.”
“Are the documents themselves the treasure?” I asked. “Are they that priceless?”
He sat down on the edge of his bed and ran his fingers through his hair. “No. Those documents were in a building in Nice, Italy. They tell unbelievable secrets that I’m not even going to discuss with you. They were the Templars’ ammunition against Louis.”
“And Henri de Lorraine?”
“He was the descendant that the Templars were trying to bring to power. The king wouldn’t kill him, because the Templars would only replace him with another heir.”
“Why wasn’t something done in 1703 when the prisoner died?”
“There was no need to replace him,” Andrew said. “The Order was in complete chaos and civil war. There was no longer a threat. The Order could not regroup.”
“So, where do these Merovee Knights come in?”
“We are a division, a branch of the Templars. The Templars no longer exist,” he stated.
Talk about paranoia. I began looking over my shoulder at every little noise. “I don’t get it. How does Marie fit in? What was the treasure that this Sauniere guy had?”
“The treasure is more wealth than you can imagine. Gold. Jewels. Enough to start your own country with. Marie’s father was a high officer in the Order. He was given the documents. He had an operative here in the United States by the name of Gaston—”
“Levaldieu.”
“Yes. Gaston was to find an inconspicuous out-of-the-way place for the treasure. Which he did. He wired back to Mr. Jaillard the locations in a coded message.”
“So, Jaillard sent the treasure?”
“Yes. It’s here, somewhere in New Kassel. It was originally to be given to the correct heir. When that happened they were to take over France or create their own country, by force if they had to. But they had no idea Hitler would come along and awaken powerful countries like the United States. The
thought of an heir of the Merovingian line taking over the world is now ludicrous.”
“How did Marie fit in?” I asked again.
“Marie was a member of the Merovee Knights, but she never let on like she knew the whereabouts of the treasure and she never, ever let on like she had the documents. They were supposedly hidden and her father never revealed the hiding place.”
“So, she figured out the coded message and knew to come here.”
“Yes. Lanny began thinking that she had the documents about five years ago, because of something she said. He was absolutely convinced.”
“So did everybody and their uncle follow her here or were you all invited?” I asked.
“We were coming to St. Louis for the meeting. She wrote and told everybody that this is where she was living, but never let on like this was the place of the treasure. Lanny just knew that the treasure must be close by.”
“Did he kill her?”
“I don’t know, Mrs. O’Shea,” he said. “Now please go. I’ve told you more than enough. And more than I had to.”
“So this was all just a big treasure hunt?”
“For millions, Mrs. O’Shea.”
“How do you know all of this is true? How do you know that you and the Merovee Knights and the Templars have not been taken for a wild ride? A practical joke. I’ve read some on the Templars and I know that it is said that King Philip in the 1300s stripped them of their land and their money. They were tried as heretics. I think you’ve been taken.”
“I don’t expect you to believe me,” he said. “But the treasure was sent here for safekeeping for the true heir. It was not meant to go to private individuals. It was not meant for greedy treasure hunters. Somewhere along the line, the Merovee Knights have forgotten that we are to protect the bloodline.”
“How does Yvonne fit in?” I asked. I didn’t want him to get too carried away with the hidden agenda of the Knights. I didn’t want to witness any secret handshake and all that.
“She is a member as well.”
“Well, I think she just may be Marie’s murderer,” I said. I turned to leave, got my hand on the door, and stopped. “Have you ever heard of Ransford Dooley?” I asked.
It had occurred to me that Ransford might have access to some of his real grandfather’s papers. Maybe he figured out what was going on. Maybe he and Marie were in cahoots together to get the treasure. Then decided to take it all for himself. Or Marie decided not to share it.
Treasure. That was pure nonsense. There was no real treasure. That sort of thing was fairy-tale garbage. I didn’t really believe that Henri de Lorraine was the man in the iron mask, either.
Andrew shook his head in the negative. He did not know Ransford Dooley.
“Well, at your next meeting,” I began, “you can tell everybody to hang it up, because Yvonne was found with the documents in her car. The documents are now evidence in a murder investigation. Nobody will ever see them again.”
He didn’t look too happy with me when I told him that. As a matter of fact he looked like he’d swallowed a bug. I turned and opened the door.
“By the way, I don’t believe your motives in this are innocent, either. If you truly believed that the treasure was to be held for the true heir, you wouldn’t have your sticky fingers in the middle of it. You’re just as greedy as all the rest, so don’t play the honorable knight with me.”
Twenty-three
It was nearly midnight and we were engaged in a moonlit hayride. The silver light from the full moon cast a celestial glow on all of us in the wagon. Rudy sat next to me, the girls in front of us at our feet. They don’t normally stay up this late, but the midnight hayrides that go with the Octoberfest were one of the year’s few exceptions.
Sheriff Brooke was in the process of loading my mother on board. He reached down and put one hand under her legs and the other behind her back and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He sat her on a lump of hay and then folded her chair and set it aside. Then he climbed up with us.
My father would lift my mother whenever we would go places, too. He did that when we went to the Grand Canyon. My mother nearly died of vertigo. It was not a fun vacation.
My father would carry her even now, if they were still married. But I had to be honest, I couldn’t imagine my father ever going on a hayride. At midnight, no less.
Mary yawned and leaned her head back on Rudy’s leg.
“Ready?” Elmer asked.
“Yes,” I said.
Elmer gave the reins of the horse a snap and we were off. We went through town at a fantastically slow pace, listening to the horses’ shoes clop on the blacktop. The midnight hayrides were something that the town did for tourists during the Octoberfest. It was three dollars a wagonload.
“It’s your turn tomorrow night, Rudy,” Elmer said over his shoulder.
“I know,” he said.
“Daddy?” asked Rachel. “Are you driving the wagon tomorrow night?”
“One of them.”
“Can I go with you?”
“Sure,” he said.
Sheriff Brooke leaned forward. “Torie, what’re your thoughts on Yvonne?”
“Don’t know.”
“Do you really believe all of that garbage about the Knights Templar and a treasure?” he asked.
“Everything that Andrew said was based in truth. There were Knights Templars. There was a man in the iron mask. Henri de Lorraine was the heir to Charles. There was a priest named Sauniere that found something at a church in Rennes-le-Château. Many think it was a treasure. Marie’s family is connected to all of it. I believe all of it. I just don’t believe that it could happen in New Kassel.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. I guess if it were true, then the safe little town that I know and love will seem—I don’t know—tainted.”
“Could you guys stop talking shop?” Rudy asked.
“Is there anything to link Yvonne to Marie’s house? Like fibers?” I asked.
“There is no physical evidence,” he said.
We were silent as Elmer turned down the street that would take us through the park in town. The chill bit at my face and made me shiver.
“I’m glad we all wore flannel,” Mom said.
The girls climbed up on the hay next to Rudy and me, and watched the street ahead of them. The harvest moon was so brilliant, it was as if we were riding under streetlights. I saw the smile on Mary’s face and the anticipation in Rachel’s eyes. The smell of wood burning filled the night air, making me forget about summer and anticipate the coming winter—which, once it got here, I’d say that I couldn’t believe I’d ever wished for.
“What about Dooley?” I asked.
“Tons of physical evidence,” Sheriff Brooke said. “But you’d expect to find hairs and fibers from him. He was a friend of hers and visited often. He also claims that he is the grandson of Hermann Gaheimer and that he never heard of anyone named Levaldieu.”
“Either Elizabeth Gaheimer never told her children the truth or Dooley’s lying.”
“Can’t prove it.”
“Can’t prove much of anything in this case,” I mumbled.
I turned with Rachel to see just where the horse was headed. The smell of hay was starting to irritate my sinuses, but what didn’t? I was going to have to see an allergist soon.
“Ooo,” Mary said and pointed to the horse. “That horse is poopin’.”
Rachel laughed. Rudy tried hard not to. Mother covered her eyes with her hand and shook her head. Children are so honest. Not just honest. No-holds-barred-I’m-telling-you-exactly-what-I-think type of honesty.
“That’s nice, Mary. Try to use a different word next time.”
“The one Grandpa uses?” Rachel asked.
“No! I mean, no, dear. Not the one Grandpa uses.”
I looked at Rudy and he was smiling. “Don’t look at me,” he said. “My dad never says things like that.”
We passed by the Santa Lucia Church, th
e graveyard looking particularly festive. It was October and somehow graveyards just take on a different look. I thought about Marie. I was sorry that she had died. I was sorry anytime anybody died. But I couldn’t help but feel anger. I was angry that a person’s greed could lead them down the wrong paths. Suffice it to say, if it weren’t for the promise of millions, Marie would be alive. Whether or not the treasure was real, the Merovee Knights believed it was real. It got her killed, and it nearly got Camille killed.
“What if the person that killed Marie is none of the above suspects? What if it’s not Yvonne, Dooley, Lanny, or Andrew? What if it’s somebody we haven’t seen yet?”
“Would you please stop talking about this stuff?” Rudy asked again. “Just for one night.”
I saw the rectory and remembered that there were a few names of people on the register that we had not found yet. Could it be one of them? I thought about the fact that Sister Lucy was in possession of the registry, and it reminded me that Sister Lucy was one of the few friends that Marie had in town. I wondered if maybe she could tell me something. Like friends of Marie’s that we didn’t know about.
“Did you know,” Rudy began, “that the Santa Lucia Church is named after Saint Lucy?”
“Who is Saint Lucy?” Rachel asked.
“She loved God very much and was proud of her virtue.”
“What’s verr chew?” Rachel asked carefully.
“Her … innocence,” he said. “Anyway, this man came along and completely fell in love with her. He said that one look into her eyes, made him want to … want to … be with her for the rest of his life. His passion consumed him and he couldn’t contain himself.”
“What happened?” Rachel asked.
“She gouged her eyes out and served them to him on a silver platter.”
“Rudy!”
A Veiled Antiquity (Torie O'Shea Mysteries) Page 14