Ripped From the Pages (5 page)

Knowing Derek as well as I did, I knew he didn’t believe in coincidences. “You don’t
actually think that Guru Bob is lying, do you?”

“I believe he’s got more integrity than anyone I know, but in this case . . .” Derek
shook his head. “Let’s allow it to play out a bit more before jumping to any conclusions.”

I thought about it for a minute. “My parents must’ve repeated that Guru Bob story
at least a hundred times. He came up here, bought a tract of land, and then we all
moved up. We lived in Airstream trailers for the first year, which was torturous,
but Mom and Dad assured us that all our sacrifices would be worth it. And then we
started growing grapes, and you know, the rest is history.”

Derek smiled. “Yes, practically legendary.”

“Maybe it’s the legend that’s wrong,” I said slowly. “Maybe Guru Bob never said anything
either way, but everyone assumed that he bought the property right then and there.
But what if he didn’t? What if the land was always in his family?”

Derek finished the last sip of wine and set his glass on the table. “You mentioned
that you’d introduce me to Robson’s cousin Trudy. Can we do that tomorrow?”

“Absolutely. You’ll get a kick out of her. And she’ll know plenty of their family
history.”

“I had no idea he had relatives living nearby,” Derek said as we took our glasses
and cheese plate into the kitchen.

“Trudy’s the only one I know of, and she’s lived here longer than we have. She doesn’t
mingle much with the commune folks, although she’s good friends with my mom. She always
helps with the harvest, and she shops in town. You might recognize her when you see
her.”

We finished cleaning up, refilled the animals’ water dishes, and then took off to
meet Robin and Austin at Arugula, my sister Savannah’s restaurant on the Lane in downtown
Dharma. It was less than a mile away, and we found a parking place easily enough.

The Lane—more formally known as Shakespeare Lane—had become a destination point over
the last few years with its upscale
shops and fabulous restaurants as well as the Dharma winery just up the road. B and
Bs were beginning to sprout up all around town, and there was a small luxury hotel
and spa at the far end of the town center. My sister China had a popular yarn and
weaving shop, Warped, on the Lane, and now Savannah’s restaurant was here and very
successful. Our family was well represented on the Lane and at the winery, where my
father and brothers worked.

I could tell something was bothering Robin the minute we walked in. They had already
been seated at the table but stood when they saw us. I gave her a hug, and I was pretty
sure I heard her growl, sort of like a bear.

I flashed a wide-eyed look at Derek, who had also noticed her mood.

I moved around to Austin and whispered, “What’s up with Robin? What did you do?”

He laughed and grabbed me in a hug. “She’ll be fine.”

“Men are so naive,” I said, patting his shoulder. But he was still grinning, so I
figured he preferred to stay clueless.

I sidled up to Robin. “What’s bugging you?”

She bared her teeth. “Men.”

“Ah. Okay, then. How about some wine?”

“Definitely.”

We waited patiently in silence while the waiter opened the bottle. Austin took a sip
and approved it, and our glasses were filled. The waiter walked away, and Austin said,
“I’d like to propose a toast.”

As we all raised our glasses, I noticed a blinding flash of light and set my glass
down. “What is that? What’re you wearing?”

“Nothing,” Robin barked. “Drink your damn wine.”

“Nothing?” I burst out, shoving my chair back. “There’s a gigantic diamond ring on
your finger. What do you mean, nothing?”

“Hello?” Austin said. “I’m in the middle of making a toast.”

Robin glared at Austin, then reluctantly thrust her arm out so that I could see the
ring. I grabbed her hand and stared at the most gorgeous diamond ring I’d ever seen.
“That’s a Tiffany setting.”

Her look at me dripped with suspicion. “I’m wondering how you know that, but yeah,
he went to Tiffany.”

“It’s spectacular,” I said. “And it looks beautiful on you.”

She shook her head in dismay. “Can you imagine anything less practical? Tiffany! It’s
two and a half freaking carats! How am I supposed to wear this thing around Dharma?
We live out in the country, for God’s sake.”

“It’s the
wine
country,” Austin said, laughing. “We shop at Dean and Deluca.”

She ignored him. “I’m a sculptor. I can’t wear this while I’m working. What were you
thinking? You should’ve bought me a pair of earrings or something.”

“Fine,” Austin grumbled, then extended his wineglass. “A toast, to the woman who has
agreed to be my wife. I am the happiest man in the world.” He clinked glasses with
Derek and slugged down a big gulp of wine.

“Aww.” I jumped from my chair, misty eyed, and rounded the table to squeeze Robin
in a hug. “I’m so thrilled. So happy for you.”

“I don’t know why,” she groused, refusing to hug me back. “I should’ve told him no.
He’s such a goofball.”

“You’re wearing his ring,” I said softly, hugging her again. “You said yes. You love
him and he loves you. I’m so proud of him and so glad he finally wised up.”

“That’s what you think.” But her tone was lighter, and I felt her chuckling as she
hugged me back.

“We’ll be sisters for real,” I whispered.

“Oh.” She pressed her hand to her lips, and her eyes filled with tears.

And my work here was done.

Derek stood and gave Austin a hearty handshake and a slap on the back. “Congratulations,
mate.”

“Thanks, Derek. I’m a lucky man.”

“You are indeed.”

I don’t know why it surprised me to hear the sincerity in Derek’s voice. I knew he
was crazy about my family and Robin, so that wasn’t the issue. Maybe it was because
we’d never discussed marriage before. And why would we? We’d only known each other . . .
I did the math and felt a little dizzy. We’d been together almost two years. Time
had flown by. And when he bought the loft next door to mine and was the one to suggest
that we merge the two together, I knew he was committed to me. I suppose I had always
assumed that he simply wasn’t interested in marriage. Otherwise, surely he would have
proposed to me by now. Although honestly, I’d never given it that much thought. I
was perfectly happy with our relationship as it was.

Savannah came out of the kitchen with a bottle of champagne for the table, and we
all celebrated the engagement in style. Less than a year ago, Robin, who had been
living in San Francisco at the time, was being threatened by some guys in the Russian
mafia, so she’d moved up here for a while to be safe. That was when Austin had made
it clear that he wanted her to stay. She had. And they’d been living together ever
since.

Despite the delicious food, wine, and celebratory atmosphere, we ended the evening
early because everyone had plans for the next day.

The next morning, after a breakfast of coffee, scrambled eggs, and bagels, Derek moved
to the desk in the family room and began translating the pledge and the note I’d found
inside
Journey to the Center of the Earth
. I opened all the curtains to let the sun pour into the room and then pulled up a
chair next to him to see how he was coming along. It took him less than ten minutes
to translate what was scrawled in the rust-colored ink over the back flyleaf.

“They were blood brothers,” Derek explained.
“Frères du sang.”

“Sang,”
I mused. “Like sanguine. Bloodred.”

“Exactly.” He took a sip of coffee and then read what he’d translated. “‘We solemnly
pledge this oath in blood to be comrades, friends, defending each other until the
day we die. Together we will find the volcano that holds the portal that leads to
the center of the earth, and we will share equally all the treasure we find there.
So help us God. Signed, Anton Benoit and Jean Pierre Renaud.’”

I smiled. “I figured they were planning a trip to the center of the earth. That was
the basis for the pledge.”

“That, and friendship.”

My smile faded as I remembered Guru Bob’s words. “Do you think Anton killed his friend?”

“I have no idea.”

“Jean Pierre’s body was surrounded by treasures of another sort.”

“Yes.” Derek was deep in thought as he perused the page again. “I think a talk with
Robson’s cousin Trudy is our best first step in getting to the bottom of what happened
to Monsieur Renaud.”

I checked the clock. “She’s probably at church right now, but we could go over there
in an hour or so.”

“Good.”

He started to push away from the desk, but I stopped him. “I have one more thing for
you to look at.”

He sat down. “Another note in the book?”

I opened the book and pulled out the paper I’d found wedged between the pages.

“Ah, an actual note,” he said, unfolding the piece of paper. “I thought you were referring
to something else written in the book.”

“No. This looks like it was written by someone else.”

He stared at the squiggly diagram. A few seconds later, he turned the page on its
side, and then flipped it to the other side. “It looks like a map.”

“A map,” I said, gazing at the odd design. “I didn’t think of that. I just saw the
list of numbers and words on the side and hoped you’d translate them.”

“I’d be glad to.” He studied it for another minute. “You’re right that it was written
by a different person, and I’m fairly certain that person was an adult, not a child.”

“I didn’t spend enough time studying it,” I said, taking the paper from him. I’d taken
some handwriting analysis classes to help me with authenticating signatures in books,
which was an occasional part of my job.

I handed the note back to Derek. “It’s definitely more mature. I wonder if it was
written by one of the two boys, now grown up.”

“If not, the next question is, how did it get into this book?”

“Good question,” I said, frowning.

“These numbers here might indicate distance. Either in meters or footsteps. We won’t
know until we try to follow what it says.”

“Where do we start?”

He grinned. “I haven’t gotten that far in the translation. Guess I’d better get busy.”

“Okay, I’ll wash the breakfast dishes while you figure it out.”

A few minutes later, I was putting the clean dishes away, and Derek joined me at the
kitchen counter. “The starting point is at a spot he calls
l’arbre souhaitant
. Translated, it means ‘wishing tree.’”

“Oh.” I perked up. “The Wishing Tree. You’ve seen it. That beautiful old oak tree
growing in the grassy circle at the entrance to the winery. The roots are so big and
thick that they grow above the ground and surround the base of the tree in massive
gnarly knots. Water collects in the nooks and crannies and pockets of the roots like
little pools, and for as far back as I can remember, it’s been a tradition to toss
pennies into the pools and make wishes.”

“Isn’t that fascinating?” he said, and grabbed my hand. “Shall we go on a treasure
hunt?”

Before leaving the house, Derek ran next door to get the key to the winery storage
cave from my father. Then we drove over to the winery and managed to find a parking
place in the crowded lot. Even this early in the day, Sundays in wine country could
be challenging with so many people driving up from the Bay Area. It was especially
busy this close to harvest time.

“There’s the tree,” I said, pointing to the beautifully gnarled oak that some claimed
had been standing in that place for more than three hundred years.

“I’ve seen it so many times,” he said. “I had no idea I could’ve been making wishes
all along.”

“Now that you know, you won’t be able to stop yourself.”

The tree was immense. Its heavy limbs, twisted and dark and covered in moss, reached
sixty feet in all directions. Some were so old and thick that they skimmed the ground.
The knobby branches used to remind me of a wicked witch’s crooked fingers, stretching
out to snap up the next child who came too close. Of course I didn’t believe that
anymore, but it always gave me a little chill when I got close enough to make a wish.

Derek gazed up through the lush, leafy branches. “Up close, it’s so much bigger than
I realized.”

I pressed my hand against the rough trunk. “When we were young, my three sisters and
Robin and I would stand on either side of the trunk and try to join hands. It was
too big for us to make it.”

Derek pulled some change from his pocket. “It’s fitting that we make a wish first.”

“Oh, that’s a nice idea.” I took two pennies from him and
tossed them into the small pool of water near where I was standing. My wishes always
started out simple, but quickly grew complicated. I liked to squeeze in a sub-wish
or two, and I wasn’t sure if that disqualified my main wish or not.

This time I wished for good health for everyone in my family, but then I added names
to the list, like my neighbors in San Francisco and my friend Ian and a few others.
They were like family, so that counted, right? Then, as always, I tagged on a wish
for world peace.

“Is it safe for the tree when its roots grow above ground?” Derek wondered aloud.

“Apparently most of its roots extend down at least forty feet, so it’s not as shallow
as it appears.”

“That must be how it’s survived for so long. In England we have oaks that have been
standing since the time of King Henry the Eighth and before. They always seem so majestic,
as if they have stories to tell and are only waiting for someone to listen.”

I squeezed his hand, pleased that we shared the same sort of daydreams. “I know just
what you mean.”

“I know you do, love.” He took a look at the piece of paper he’d used to write out
the instructions in English. I’d asked him to copy it because I didn’t want to bring
the original notepaper with us. It belonged with the book.

After studying his notes, Derek glanced around, checked the sky for the position of
the sun, and pointed toward the storage cave we’d excavated yesterday. “Starting here,
we take one hundred forty-seven steps in a northeast direction.”

“Is that it? No jogging off this way or that?”

“No, just one straight shot, according to the instructions. Although there are landmarks
noted along the way.”

“Should be interesting,” I said, letting go of his hand. “Okay, you lead the way and
I’ll follow you.”

He took my hand back. “I say we ought to walk side by side so we can both count. In
case I lose track.”

I smiled at him, knowing he wouldn’t lose track. But I appreciated that he thought
I’d be helpful. “All right.”

“Let’s go.” We headed in the northeast direction he’d indicated, until we’d crossed
the parking lot. I counted steps under my breath.

Derek stopped abruptly and consulted his notes. “At thirty-seven footsteps, we should
be directly in front of a hedgerow.”

“A hedgerow. You mean, like a row of bushes?” I looked around and pointed. “There
are some on the other side, over by the tasting rooms.”

“That’s the wrong direction. Perhaps there were hedgerows here all those years ago.”

“Maybe. Are you sure we went in the right direction?”

“Yes. Let’s keep going.”

We continued in a straight line until we reached number seventy-eight. “Stop here.”
He gazed around. “There should be a circle of rosebushes here. Red ones, for red wine.”

“All the roses were moved to the other side of the vineyard a few years ago to accommodate
the flow of people taking the tour. I’m afraid the bushes were getting trampled.”

He frowned and stared at the instructions.

“But I’m pretty sure they used to be right in this area,” I added.

“Ah. We’ll go with that, then.” We started up again, and this time we made it all
the way to the arched double doors of the cave. Unfortunately, the entry was masked
off with yellow construction tape, blocking our way.

“I guess this was necessary,” I said, “but it’s going to be a turn-off for the visitors.
They’ll think something awful happened here.” I briskly waved that statement away.
“I mean, something awful
did
happen here, but you know what I mean. The bright yellow isn’t exactly subtle.”

“True,” he said dryly, “but the construction tape was preferable to the detectives’
crime scene tape.”

“Oh, wow. They wanted to put up crime scene tape? Okay, I’ll go along with the construction
tape.”

“Excuse me. Is this where the body was found?”

I blinked and turned. Two women in their sixties stood a few feet away, wearing jeans,
sweatshirts, and sneakers. They were staring with excitement at the cave entrance.

I gave Derek a quick glance, then said, “I, um, yes, that’s what I hear.”

“That’s so cool!” the one woman said, and turned to her friend. “I can’t wait to buy
some of their wine.”

“Let’s get over to the tasting room,” the other said, and they walked away briskly.

“So much for the news being bad for business,” I murmured. “That was weird. How did
the word get out so quickly?”

“I can’t say, but perhaps that explains the heavy crowds today.”

“I thought it was because it’s so close to harvest time.”

It wasn’t about the harvest, though, because that same basic “Where’s the body?” scenario
was repeated by three more visitors before I was finally able to flag down Jenny,
one of the winery workers.

“Would you mind guarding the entrance while Derek and I take another look inside?
I’ll call Austin and let him know where you are.”

“Okay, sure,” she said easily.

I warned her that people might want to know if this was where the body was found.

She waved her hand blithely. “Oh, we’ve already had dozens of people asking about
it. Austin said to tell them, yes, a body was
found near here. But if they want more info, we should send them to see the manager.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

I used my cell to call my brother to tell him that Derek wanted to go back into the
cave to check on something. Since it was Derek, Austin didn’t have a problem with
the plan. I was such a clever sister.

“Be careful,” Austin added. “And tell Jenny she should stay out there until you’re
finished.”

I relayed the message to Jenny, who was perfectly happy playing traffic cop while
Derek and I tore off enough of the tape to allow us to get the door opened and slide
inside.

A few steps inside the cave, we found the light switch and turned it on. In the small
alcove the guys used for an office, Derek found one of the flashlights that had been
left there yesterday and took it in case we needed it.

“It’s so quiet in here,” I said, then winced. “Oh darn. I hope you kept count of your
footsteps.”

“I did. We hit number one hundred two at the edge of the entrance.”

“So we’ve got forty-five steps to go.”

We both counted steps as we walked slowly through the cave in the same northeast direction.
At the wall between the cave and the inner chamber, we hit one hundred thirty-three.

“I’m getting a bad feeling about this,” I muttered.

“Let’s carry on.” Derek stepped over the barrier, and I followed. We were able to
take another ten steps until we stopped directly in front of the French wardrobe with
the beautiful beveled mirror I’d admired on our first visit to the cave.

“I can’t believe it’s a dead end,” I said, smacking my palm against the side of the
wardrobe. “We only needed to take four more steps. Maybe whoever made that map had
smaller feet than
you. We should start over and go in a slightly different direction.”

“I think we wound up exactly where we should have,” Derek said, his gaze focused on
the wardrobe.

Trying to read his mind, I turned and stared at the well-appointed antique. It was
at least seven feet tall and five feet wide with the large mirrored door in the center
and two smaller doors on either side. I glanced back at Derek. “What are you thinking?”

“I think we should move this piece of furniture.”

“You think there’s something behind it.” It wasn’t a question, and I wasn’t about
to argue with one of Derek’s hunches. The fact that the thing had to weigh hundreds
of pounds was immaterial.

“Let’s do it.”

With Derek doing most of the actual lifting and me huffing and puffing while trying
to angle the piece away from the wall, we managed to move it almost two feet.

When we stood to survey the result, it took a second or two for me to comprehend what
we’d uncovered: a narrow, arched entry into a deeper cave.

“Another cave?” I whispered.

“Would you prefer to go first, or shall I?” Derek asked, switching the flashlight
on.

I stared at the hole in the wall and imagined all the slimy, slinky creatures that
might be crawling around back there. With a slight shiver, I stepped aside. “After
you.”

He slipped around the dresser and disappeared into the space beyond.

“Derek?”

“Are you coming?” His voice echoed out from the enclosed space.

“You bet I am.” Creepy crawlies notwithstanding, I wasn’t
going to let him go in there without me. Love did weird things to people.

I could see the occasional flashlight beam bouncing off the inner walls and felt a
little better about stepping into the unknown.

Derek glided the beam around the room, and I followed the light, trying to get my
bearings. This space was slightly larger than the outer chamber and the ceiling just
high enough for Derek, who was more than six feet tall, to stand without stooping.

“Look at this,” he said, focusing the beam of light on the far wall to our left.

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

“Indeed,” he said.

If I’d thought the outer chamber was filled with lovely treasures, this space put
that one to shame.

Leaning against the walls were paintings of various sizes, still in their beautifully
gilded, rococo-style frames. Next to these, I counted sixteen canvas rolls that I
thought also might be paintings.

A massive oak table held at least twenty finely bound books, as well as more silver
candlesticks, goblets, and urns. There were a number of small bronze or marble statues
of various objects: an angel cupping the cheek of a woman; two lovers; a horse; a
naked discus thrower; a woman curled up and weeping; a matching set of cherubs mounted
on marble bases and each holding a gold candelabra. I counted three large marble busts
of important-looking men. Off to the side were stacks of wooden crates that held a
number of cases of wine. Two large wooden wine barrels stood on the other side of
the table. Derek tried to move one of them and was able to do so easily. “This one
is empty.”

“Where in the world did all of this come from?” I wondered aloud. “It must be worth
a fortune.”

“A very large fortune,” Derek mused, still scanning the flashlight across the treasures
we’d found.

I walked over to where the canvas rolls stood and unrolled one of them at random.
It was a painting of a dancing woman in the style of Renoir, with bright, bold colors
in an outdoor setting. A fun-loving group of partygoers surrounded the woman, and
a buxom barmaid carried a tray of drinks in the background. The canvas was almost
four feet high by at least five feet wide. It couldn’t be a Renoir, could it? If not,
it was an excellent forgery.

“Derek, look at this.”

“I’m looking at this.” He turned and showed me a small framed painting of the Madonna
and Child. It was stunning, only about eighteen inches tall by thirteen or fourteen
inches wide. The Virgin’s face was pale and lovely with soft brown eyes and a tiny
cleft in her chin. Her reddish hair curled softly as it streamed over her shoulders.
The child was adorably plump, with a headful of curly brown hair, wise eyes, and a
knowing smile. Their delicate golden halos seemed illuminated from within. The frame
was ornately carved and gilded.

“It’s as beautiful as any Botticelli I’ve ever seen.”

Derek frowned. “Yes, isn’t it?”

“You don’t honestly think it was painted by—”

“I do, actually,” he murmured. “Or someone equally gifted.”

I was in no position to argue with Derek, who had been responsible for the security
of some of the most expensive artwork on earth. I gazed from the serene Madonna to
the vibrant painting in my hands. “We’d better call Guru Bob. He’ll know what to do.”

*   *   *

“I
confess I have no idea what to do.”

It might’ve been the first time I’d ever heard Guru Bob
admit to being clueless. I couldn’t blame him. All of these priceless objects hidden
away in caves for decades? On Dharma winery land? It defied explanation.

He walked around the cavernous space, taking his time and studying each piece. He
was casually dressed in soft khaki trousers and a white dress shirt with comfortable-looking
loafers. For him, that was casual since I rarely saw him in anything other than a
suit and tie.

I walked with him, shining the flashlight on each piece. Guru Bob took my arm and
wound it through his companionably. We stopped to watch as Derek unrolled each canvas.