Good Deed Bad Deed : A Novel Mystery

by Marcia Morgan

  Ben sat down across the table from her and leaned on the table, his hands clasped together tightly. Ana could tell he was mulling over what had happened, but not in terms of animal behavior. “If that were the case, it would be the first time. I don’t think that was it.”

  I don’t know a lot about dogs, but I know that cats will bring their night kill to the door to show they’re doing their part for the family.”

  “I’ll talk to Dad about it when they come back from London. I don’t want to read too much into it. He might even know who it could have been. I’m not acquainted with the neighbors anymore—lots of changes since I left home—but very few people keep handguns.”

  Ben was relieved that Ana didn’t seem too disturbed by the whole thing, and she commented that Freddie had been the one to provide the day’s break from boredom. Yet he felt an underlying discomfort about the whole thing and decided to call Freddie in from whatever sunny spot he had found for an afternoon nap. Ben stepped outside the pantry door and called to the dog. It was several minutes before he appeared, trotting around the corner of the house and coming to a stop at Ben’s feet. He was very wet. He shook hard, giving Ben a good dousing before charging into the house.

  “He’s been in the fountain again.” Ben found a kitchen towel and began to dry himself off. Then he addressed the dog while trying to dry him off a bit as well. “Must have thought it was warm enough for a swim— huh, pal?”

  Ana laughed and ruffled Freddie’s damp fur before he flopped under the kitchen table, ready for that nap. Ben finished making the sandwiches and they ate in relative silence. When she could see that Ben had finished, she said, “Shall we retire to the sitting room and get our project underway?” He nodded yes, and they left the kitchen, Freddie tagging along, never letting them far from his sight.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The McKinnons maintained a brisk pace as they walked the short block from the car park to the museum. It was early, and a carpet of gray mist still clung lightly to the manicured lawns of the museum grounds. The entrance to the suite of offices where Paris worked was still locked, so she opened her bag and fumbled for the key. Hugh was always amazed that a woman could find anything in the dark recesses of this requisite female accessory. They entered to find all completely quiet. When they reached the door to her office, Paris turned and walked across to the office adjacent, that of Lyle Brett. Through the door’s opaque glass inset she could see only darkness. Lyle was not yet in attendance. She tossed her office key to Hugh, and he opened the door, waiting for her to precede him into the room. She turned on the lights and found the long pole that she used to open the high window, the only one in the room. Hugh took it from her and pulled the glass pane open, letting in the fresh morning air.

  “That’s better,” she said. “The stuffiness in here could put one to sleep, given the boring nature of so much of my work.”

  “Well, evidently there’s something coming up that isn’t boring, or we wouldn’t be in the middle of a mysterious situation. Let’s go through all this paperwork and see if there’s anything new, something that might give us a hint about what possible power you might have that could facilitate a crime—and also be manipulated by a kidnapping.”

  “I got through less than half the stack last time I was here. There was quite a pile-up after my being gone.”

  “Do you have any phone messages?”

  Paris glanced at her phone and saw the light flashing. There were two messages. She pressed the button and they began to listen. The first message was from her superior, head of the antiquities division, who expressed an urgent need to speak with her about a special situation. He revealed nothing further. She made a note to call his secretary for an appointment as soon as they organized the work ahead of them. Then she pressed the button to hear the second message.

  Several seconds passed before they heard a voice, muffled through some kind of device to make it unrecognizable. “We’re still watching you and your family. If you don’t cooperate, we have a bargaining chip that just might tip the scales in our favor.”

  Paris paused the message and looked at Hugh. “What could he mean—a bargaining chip? He’s speaking in riddles. We know they don’t have Ben—he’s safely at home with Ana. He is safe, isn’t he?”

  “Yes. Perfectly. I didn’t tell him, but I have a man watching the house—very discreetly of course. If it will make you feel better, we can call them now, or a little later, after we get some work done here.”

  “No, it’s fine. I trust you know what you’re doing. But I would like to call later. For now let’s see what else this man has to say.”

  Paris started the message from where it had been paused. Hugh reached for her hand and held it while they listened once again to the muffled voice. “You’d better be in your office tomorrow. A package will arrive, and inside you’ll find a tape. Everything you need to know will be there. You’d better take good care of it. Failure to comply will bring you more trouble than you can imagine.” The call ended, and Ben’s parents just stood still, looking at each other with disbelief.

  “I don’t even know what day this message was left. Let me check the call log.”

  Paris scrolled through the call log and saw that the message from her department head had come in the previous afternoon. She then saw that the threatening message had come very early that morning, probably before dawn. There would be another day to wait before they would know what had to be done. From the hallway they heard a door squeak open and then close hard. They both assumed it was Lyle Brett arriving at work. Paris decided to take a minute to poke her head in and force a greeting from him, but more so to ask if there was anything extremely important—imminent—that they should attend to together.

  A quick knock triggered a rather harsh sounding permission to enter, and she did just that, forcing a smile and a few kind words. As usual, he was less than receptive. She asked her question and was met with a questioning look.

  “I’ve been waiting for you to tell me what’s imminent,” he said. “I was informed that the relevant packet was in your office, waiting to be sorted.” His tone betrayed the fact that he resented being out of the loop or passed over in any way. “I’ve speculated that it must be a very valuable antiquity, or some sort of priceless display.” He looked down dismissively, beginning to sort through papers as if she weren’t there.

  A light clicked on in Paris’ head. The words ‘valuable’ and ‘priceless’ kindled several ideas about what was to come. “I won’t keep you any longer. I’ll let you know as soon as I can find whatever seems so important.”

  Lyle Brett made a sound that resembled a ‘harrumph,’ and Paris left his office, closing the door hard behind her. She returned to Hugh, shaking her head as she came through the doorway, her expression one of exasperation.

  “That man pushes all my buttons—even more so with what’s going on. Have you found anything with your sorting?”

  Hugh was seated at her desk with a pile of folders to his left. He looked up and said, “Actually, I was just about to come and fetch you away from your nemesis. I think I may have found something.”

  “Leave it to you, my hero. I really hope you’re right.”

  “This manila envelope contains a file folder, which I’ve yet to open. I was waiting for you. The rest of the files and your mail were just piled haphazardly on the desk—like someone had been collecting everything intended for you, knew you were coming back yesterday, gained access, and just tossed all of it carelessly on your desk.”

  “That sounds like our Mr. Brett’s style. He has no concern for endearing himself to anyone. I know he resents any action taken that might indicate I’m preferred over him, or, heaven forbid, superior to him when assignments are given out.”

  “He’d probably like nothing better than for you to retire and leave him a clear path to promotion.”

  “I do know that he’s been passed over more than once, and there’s a supervisory position that has opened up, due to
a retirement. I believe it’s in the department that supervises transport of acquisitions between museums.” Paris paused, evidently trying to recall something and then said, “Last year I helped out in that department while one of the regulars was out on maternity leave. I didn’t mind it—enjoyed it, really. And the department head, the man who just retired, told me I was a natural.”

  Hugh smiled at her in that special way. It was a smile of pride, but it always made her look down with embarrassment. He knew he had lived his life with a very intelligent woman, and that intelligence had always attracted him just as much as her beauty. “I’ve always believed you can do just about anything you set your mind to, my love.”

  She came around behind him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and leaned down to give him a soft kiss on his neck. With her face buried there she muttered, “Thank you for the vote of confidence, but the first thing I learned on that job was that there can be a lot of logistical nightmares.” He turned his head sideways and returned the kiss. Paris took a deep breath and said, “Enough nuzzling. Let’s see what that file tells us.”

  Before they could pull it out of the envelope, the office phone rang. Paris answered, her hand shaking slightly due to the thought that it might be whoever was threatening her family. She said hello softly, and upon hearing the voice on the other end, relaxed her demeanor. Her end of the conversation consisted mainly of one-word answers. The conversation ended with her promise to ‘think it over quickly and get back to them.’ She put down the receiver without saying a word and turned to look at Hugh.

  “That was the museum director. They haven’t been able to fill the position I told you about. That’s why he had left me a message. He asked me to take it on—function as department head until they can fill the position. He also suggested that I apply for the permanent position. It seems the man who retired—Mr. Langley— spoke highly of me. I had no idea.”

  Her voice trailed off, and Hugh could tell that her mind was now even more overcrowded. But she was preoccupied with her family’s safety and was in no position to make such a decision on the spot. Hoping to help her sort through it all, he asked, “How soon do you have to let him know?”

  “Tomorrow. How can I decide by then? I’ll have to at least ask for an extension.” She shook her head in frustration and returned to stand by Hugh, who was still sitting at her desk with the envelope in his hands. ”I can’t help but think of the ‘never rains but it pours’ thing,” she said, sliding up onto the desk in order to sit and face him. “Never mind that for now. Open it. Open it!”

  Hugh slid the file folder out of the envelope, opened it and turned it toward Paris. It was a manifest for a new exhibit. She gestured he should turn it back around then motioned him to get on with it. He began to read aloud. “It says here that the museum is to receive a very valuable group of items.” Hugh whistled, then continued, “Wow– they aren’t kidding!” Paris motioned him to continue. “Right now it’s in the Museum of Sub-aquatic Archaeology in Cartagena, Spain.”

  “Well, what is it?” Paris asked, leaning over the folder in an effort to read upside down. “May I have it, please? I can’t wait for you to read anymore of it out loud.”

  Hugh extended the folder to her, and then leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms while watching her peruse the information. The silence seemed charged while he waited for her to finish. It must have been at least five minutes before she looked up and placed the file on the desk. Her expression was blank, but Hugh could see intensity in her eyes.

  “It’s a sunken treasure worth millions—over 50,000 gold and silver coins … and artifacts. They were recovered from a Spanish warship that sunk off the south coast of Portugal—over two centuries ago—in 1804.” She looked down at what was written and continued, paraphrasing. “The coins had been minted in Peru and were en route as cargo on a Spanish warship, the Nuestra Senora de las Mercedes. The whole fleet was attacked by the British just a day’s sail from Spain and they sunk the ship carrying the treasure.”

  Hugh interrupted, anxious to add what he had to say. “Now I remember. Quite a while back I read a newspaper article about the ongoing legal battle for ownership between the Spanish government and the owners of the company who discovered and salvaged the ship.”

  “Seems that Spain was victorious. I wonder if the company got anything at all for their trouble. The expenses must have been monumental. Think of how much the coins alone weigh.”

  “So…what’s the upshot? How’s the museum involved?”

  “Well…portions of the treasure are going to be traveling exhibits—I guess there will be more than one—and this museum is next in line. Surely it’s not just one exhibit. I may have thought logistics were a nightmare, but the security involved in hosting this exhibit will be horrendously complicated. From what it says here, it won’t be our responsibility until it lands on English soil. If it comes by air, the transport from Heathrow will be all on us.” She paused for a moment then continued. “Surely they won’t send it by ship. That didn’t work out so well last time.”

  “Can you imagine any company being willing to insure something like that?” Hugh got up and began to pace around the room, his arms still crossed over his chest. “As far as I know, Lloyd’s has always been at the top of that list. I think I’ll make a couple of calls, just out of curiosity, and see if one of my colleagues knows about it.”

  “In my opinion, it’s uninsurable—and that’s because it’s completely irreplaceable.”

  “Possibly insurable, but not replaceable,” Hugh added. Paris returned to the documents, scanning the sections visually and with her fingers until she removed her hand abruptly and looked up at Hugh. “I finally came to the part where it tells which department will be responsible for making transit arrangements for the exhibit.” Hugh’s body language asked the question for him, and the room was silent for a moment before she answered, “Acquisitions and Transport.”

  “That’s you, sweetheart—if you decide to take the position. You’ll be working full time for a while. I admit I’m selfish about our time together, but if this is something you want, I’ll support you. I can pick up the slack in other areas—not as well as you, but I’ll do it.”

  “If I work the job for over a year, given I’m chosen as a permanent replacement, I could either go back to part time, or retire at a higher level. I’ve accumulated at least ten full time years—before you retired and I cut my time in half.” They looked at each other, obviously having their own private thoughts on the matter. Finally Paris said, “A little extra money would be nice, right? Who knows—there may be grandchildren in our future, and we don’t want to skimp on spoiling them.”

  Hugh laughed, approached her, and drew her in close, kissing the top of her head. She leaned back, looked up at him and said, “But how could I with this other issue hanging over our heads?” Hugh cocked his head and looked at her, eyebrows raised. She received the tacit message in his expression. “Then shall I call now, instead of in the morning?”

  “As you wish, dear girl,” Hugh said, handing her the receiver.

  She placed the call, but had to leave a voicemail message accepting the temporary position. She rang off and sat down in her office chair. Hugh sat down in the chair opposite her. A smile crossed Paris’ face and she said, “It may be that the best part of this change will be that I don’t have to start every day with Lyle Brett.” They shared a laugh and decided to end the workday a bit early. There were treats to pick up before fighting the traffic back to their idyllic country life. There would be a quick stop at the cheese shop, and then Patisserie Luc for a tarte tatin to compliment the pork loin roast and gratin Dauphinois promised by Edith as they had dashed out the door that morning.

  An hour later they were headed for the country. Traffic moved in spurts and stops, but as was their habit, a ‘book on tape’—now a book on disk—filled the car with the mellifluous voice of a man reading from Thoreau. They enjoyed sharing the words, and would often discuss wh
at they’d heard over a cocktail. But on this evening Paris reached forward and turned the unit off. With all that had crowded her mind during the day, she was now focused on Ben and his guest, Ana. Of course she had concern for their safety, first and foremost, but she sensed something else going on. She had observed them for only a few hours, but either she was intuitive, or just a mother who was well tuned in to her children. There was a certain presence when the two were in the same room. She could only describe it as some kind of energy—a charged environment—a sense that they were on the brink of something, and that something needed to happen between them. Ana was genial, this much she knew immediately, but she was also beautiful—different—sultry—and those dark eyes? If Ben wasn’t drawn into them, he was blind to what was right in front of him. She longed to see her son settled in a good partnership, and if she had her way, there would be little people to love. She wondered if they would have Ana’s eyes.

  She turned to Hugh and asked, “Do you think those two have something going?”

  “What do you mean by ‘going?’ Do you mean are they involved? Sleeping together?”

  “No, from the little I’ve seen I don’t think it’s gone that far yet. I just wondered if you sensed the same electricity between them. It’s not what they say—it’s their body language. Have you noticed that they actually try not to touch, at least not in front of us?”