H.J. Gaudreau - Betrayal in the Louvre (11 page)

Chapter 17

LeDuc was on the phone with what he had been told was a ‘a technical expert.’  In this case the man might have been an expert with surveillance equipment and burglar systems, but he was not an expert at searching a house.  Claude Poteau had failed him.  He was simply too old, too sick and too lame.  Poteau hadn’t even done the job himself.  He’d subcontracted the work to a young fool from someplace called “Hamtramck”.  My God, the kid wasn’t even French.  He was a Pollock! 

“You fool,” LeDuc hissed.  The “Mr. Hyde” side of his personality was in full bloom.  “Did you not see footprints in a freshly vacuumed carpet?  How could you not think to look behind you?  Are you blind?”  LeDuc was just getting warmed up. 

“Were you not told to make sure your visit was not discovered?  Are you an idiot?  Did you think they might overlook the door to a gun safe, with burned off hinges and LAYING ON THE FLOOR?”  That last part in a thundering yell.  “You ass!  They know that someone wants the tube.  They know its value and you warned them of its vulnerability!  You fool!”  LeDuc’s blood was boiling now, and it spilled over with a string of oaths that would have made Satan himself proud.

Finally, his energy spent, LeDuc asked, “Did you get the microphones in place, did you at least do that?  Did you do one thing right?”  LeDuc was satisfied with the answer.  Conversations in the Crenshaw house were being recorded and saved to a computer hard drive.  The computer was routed through an internet connection and could be monitored by simply logging into the server.  He could monitor the house anytime, anyplace, from his smart phone or from his lap-top.  This at least, had impressed him. 

He pushed the ‘end’ button on his phone, hit speed dial and in a moment was talking to another ‘technical expert’, this one in Toronto.   The world would soon be in need of a new recording “expert.”  Finishing that conversation, he put the phone on the table and thought about Poteau.  The man had let him down.  He’d done good work in the past, but now?  Now, he was old, lazy, and a risk.  He decided.  LeDuc picked up his phone and hit redial.

Ridding the world of one extra idiot and an old man gave LeDuc no pleasure.  It was merely a free service.  Now he thought hard about the next phone call.  LeDuc dreaded it, but it had to be done.  He phoned Marcil.  As expected Marcil erupted with a string of oaths of his own, matching LeDuc’s in vehemence, violence and clearly winning in the creativity category.  He would have to be careful of Marcil in the future LeDuc thought. 

Marcil wanted the internet password so he too could listen to the American couple.  LeDuc provided the necessary information and hung up.  He began to think about his value to Marcil and wondered if he should return to France or find a nice beach in South America.  Who could know?

Chapter 18

I

Over the next five days Jim immersed himself in World War I history.  He spent hours at the library and even more time on the internet.  He gradually became very familiar with the wartime unit of his Great grandfather.  Oschel Crenshaw had joined the Michigan National Guard in 1915.  The unit had been deployed on Mexican border duty during the pursuit of Poncho Villa.  Later it was one of the first to sail to France to fight the Germans.  After several large and bloody battles where it earned a distinguished war record the 32nd was charged with occupation of portions of Germany. 

Jim found the reading interesting, even fascinating, but not helpful.  He couldn’t find details of any battles, only the role of the Division in larger campaigns.  He still didn’t have a clue as to where Oschel Crenshaw had found the tube. 

The next Saturday Eve and Jim were scheduled to leave for his sister’s house in Traverse City for the holiday weekend.  They intended to stay for two days and return on Monday afternoon.  But, before going Jim wanted to return the cushions for their yard furniture to the attic.  “Seems like our little adventure started by me going up this ladder into that attic.”  He commented.  

Eve smiled.  “Yup, and it was what, a month ago?  Feels like an awful long time ago now doesn’t it.”

She went back to rinsing off tools and patio furniture then stopped.  “What did you say was in the soap box?”  She asked, suddenly serious.

“Oh, some medals, a mess kit, a cigarette lighter, that’s about it.” Jim said as he ascended the ladder. 

“No, you said there was more.  And, I think you said there was a book.  It was in your great grandfather’s war stuff.  Maybe there’s something important in that book,”  Eve exclaimed, growing excited.  “Lets take a look in there.  Maybe something can help us out.”

Jim went back to the attic and after several minutes of shifting boxes and moving the Christmas decorations out of the way he found the Boraxo box.  Clutching the box to his chest with one hand he carefully climbed down the ladder and carried it into the house.  Finally he sat it on the kitchen island, took a beer from the refrigerator, then opened the box.  There inside, under the knife, patches and other paraphernalia was a large, black leather bound book.  Examining it closely he read, “The 32nd Division in the World War”. 

Quickly clearing away some paperwork from the kitchen table he laid the book flat and opened it.  Together they scanned the index.  The book was an homage, published by the state governments of Michigan and Wisconsin after the war and apparently presented to the surviving members of the Division on the anniversary of the Armistice Day, 1922.  It contained a detailed history of the unit, its officers and men, a list of killed and wounded in action and a reproduction of after-action reports for each battle and skirmish fought by the Division.  Commentary about the overall war and the unit’s contribution at the moment of the report or series of reports was also provided.  It was indeed an impressive record. 

Soon Jim was engrossed in the history of the unit.  It didn’t matter to Eve, after ten minutes she was back on task.  “Okay, we’ve got work to do,” Eve prodded.   “If we’re going to be there by dark we’d better get this show on the road.” 

Reluctantly Jim agreed, put the book aside and began packing the Jeep.  Soon, Molly was in her traveling cage, the suitcases and snacks were loaded and Eve was loading her pillow.  In another twenty minutes they’d passed through town, stopped at the gas station and were entering the highway.  Turning north on M23 they settled into a cruise.  After little more than an hour they had reached I-75, passed Birch Run, Frankenmuth and Saginaw and had begun looking forward to their traditional stop for ice cream in Gaylord. 

Jim’s sister Sherrie lived in a traditional, northern Michigan fieldstone farmhouse situated on seventy-five acres just northwest of Traverse City.  Jim’s mother and father had purchased the property and moved there after Jim left home to attend the University.  When Jim’s parents had passed away Sherrie and her husband Gerry had moved into the house.  Over several years they expanded and updated the house.  It was now a beautiful, modern home and had been featured in several local “Parade of Homes” tours.  Along with the home renovations Gerry had cleared more of the land and together he and Sherrie had turned the acreage into a cherry orchard.  Now, they had a successful cherry farming business, supplying cherries to packinghouses and on-line customers.

Sherrie met them at the gate to the property with her big yellow Labrador at her side.  After the usual hugs and kisses Jim gave Eve the keys and he and Sherrie watched the Jeep bounce up the driveway to the house.  “We’re going to fill those ruts in someday,” Sherrie laughed.  Jim put his arm around her and they walked to the house.

II

The next morning the four of them sat on the porch drinking their morning coffee and discussing the Patent, the French Revolution and their new friends Jean-Michelle Somme and Bill Rousseau.  Eventually, the conversation turned to Jim and Sherrie’s great grandfather.  The family had a military background and Oushel Crenshaw was one of many who had served in the military.  They both had heard a great deal about him as children.  When Jim thought of those stories now, in the context of his own military training, he was certain the man had suffered from post-traumatic stress syndrome; he’d had a bit of a drinking problem and family stories often mentioned his frequent stops at various bars and pubs.  He’d never been a violent or mean drunk, just occasionally “in his cups” as the saying went.  Now, having read a detailed account of the man’s wartime unit Jim was more convinced of it than ever. 

“I wish I had known him,” Jim said as they watched several wild turkey walk across the pasture.  “I’ve no way of getting more information about him, there’s no one left who really knew him.  There’s a lot I’d like to ask him about, not just about the Patent, but other things.  What were people like?  How did they do it?  It’s a terribly interesting and important time in history and so many know so little about it.  I just wish I knew more.” 

“I’ve always been absolutely stunned by what they did and went through in that war,” Sherrie said.  “But you look at what they did in the years after the war and it’s equally impressive.  Remember Mom talking about the Great Depression and how people went without for so long?   Our great grandparents and grandparents sure put up with a lot.” 

They all nodded and fell silent.  After a few moments Sherrie said, “You know, I’ve got some of Grandma’s things.  Let’s look through there.  Maybe there’s something in there of her father’s.”  

Jim readily accepted and for the second time in as many days he was climbing a ladder into an attic.  Unfortunately, two hours later all Jim had for his trouble were some of his great grandmother’s dresses, some children’s toys, photo albums and a bible spread out on the dining room table.  And, a knot on his forehead where he’d hit it on a ceiling joist. 

That evening Jim and Eve were in their room rehashing the day’s events.  It has been fun finding and looking over all the old things.  And, they had found evidence of a family mystery.  It seemed that a great aunt had run off with a lover at the age of twenty-three, never to be heard from again.  Jim had found a picture of the wayward aunt in the bottom of a trunk containing the rest of their great grandmother’s items.  Gerry had promptly declared that he’d married into a disgraced family.  Therefore both he and Eve should be excused from cooking and washing dishes for the next two days.  Eve had promptly agreed, and the two of them then decided a trip into town was warranted.  Sherrie and Jim were left to cooking and preparing the evening’s barbeque. 

But none of the newly discovered items had helped in finding the solution to the riddle of where the Patent had been discovered.  Jim was becoming increasingly discouraged. 

“Eve, I think we’re stuck.  There’s nothing to tell us where to look.  He fought from near Paris to the German border.  There’s no way we’ll ever get this narrowed down.” 

“I know hon.  I don’t know how to help.  But, really is it such a big deal?  We do have the Patent.  We know its worth a lot.  We’re a heck of a lot better off than we were before this all started.” 

“Eve, it’s not a money thing.  It’s family history, it’s world history.  This is important.  We could be on to something that could change the historical record of an entire country.  This is a big deal.”

“I know babe, and don’t give me that stuff about history.  This is about your family…I wasn’t born at night.”

Jim started to laugh.  “Oh my God, you never, ever, get sayings right. It’s ‘I was born at night, but it wasn’t last night!’”

“Oh…,” Eve said.  Jim couldn’t keep a straight face, and they both had a good laugh.  Finally, knowing there was nothing more to say about the matter Jim went looking for something to read before going to bed.  Leaving the bedroom he turned to his right and walked to the end of the hall.  There on the opposite side of the staircase was a bookshelf.  This part of the house was pretty much as Jim had remembered it from when his parents had lived here.  He didn’t think the books in that shelf had ever been changed. 

Flipping on the hall light he began searching the bookshelf.  A book entitled “Modern Bee Keeping” caught his eye.  Pulling it down he laughed when he saw it had been published in 1958.  Next he found several mysteries.  His mother had belonged to a mystery reader book club many years ago.  A new mystery had been sent each month.  Next to the mysteries he found a book for the next several days, “Tarzan of the Apes” by Edgar Rice Burrough.  Removing the book, Jim noticed several smaller, thin books on the shelf above.  Pulling out the first he was surprised to see it was a book of French phrases.  It told how to ask directions, ask a few basic questions and contained a small amount of French geography and history.  Jim was amazed to see it was published by the War Department, 1916.  He was absolutely stunned to see the name “Oushel Crenshaw” written in pencil on the inside cover.  Next to it was a small, weathered and ragged copy of the Bible, again the name of its owner was written inside.  Immediately next to that was a small black leather bound book with no title. 

Pulling down the small black book Jim found that it wasn’t a book at all.  Instead, it was a bound notebook.  Its pages nothing but lined writing paper.  He opened the inside front cover.  Inside was a picture drawn in pencil.  Someone with a lot of time, but not much talent had obviously drawn it.  Opening to the first page he found a dozen or more French phrases, all in a messy stretched handwriting.  Jim turned the book over and opened the back cover.  At the top was the name “Lulu May Walters” then an address and a list of important information such as “first date”, “birthday” and “favorite flower”.

Jim’s imagination fired.  Not daring to guess what he had in his hands he sat down on the window seat.  The book looked to be about a hundred pages or so.  There were two cardboard dividers, the first at the one-third point, the second at the two-thirds point.  Pausing a moment to gather his thoughts he opened to the second page of the book.  It was a list of numbers and times.  At the bottom of the page it listed track numbers.  It was a list of train departures.  The next several pages were crude pictures of people, boats and buildings.  Then a block of blank pages had been folded over at the corner.  The next page was a drawing of a machine gun.  Each part was labeled.  Following that was a page containing instructions for cleaning and servicing the weapon.  The next few pages were blank, then a drawing or a map with arrows.  A few small notes made Jim think it was notes for an attack on a fortified position.  Following that were several blank pages, more drawings of houses, chickens and people.  Then the first cardboard divider with a calendar for the year 1918 printed on the cardboard.  Behind the divider the first page was labeled 17 April 1918 and it was full of handwriting, all in pencil.  The second divider didn’t divide anything.  The handwriting simply continued on each page thereafter.  The last ten or fifteen pages were blank.

Jim began to read.  As he did his excitement began to grow.  He’d found a diary.  And, the more he read, the more excited he became.  He’d found the diary of his great grandfather.