The Puzzle of Piri Reis (9 page)

I studied him carefully, still suspicious of the change in his demeanor. "I didn't say it was stolen, only that
we can't find it."

He arched an eyebrow and with a skeptical twist on
his lips replied, "If you can't find it, it's missing, and
if it's missing, someone must have taken it. Right?"

I ignored his last question. "I heard you wanted the
map. "

"Certainly" He nodded emphatically. "But," he
added with a rueful grin, "I couldn't afford it. Bernard
could. That was my biggest drawback. I didn't have
the funds like Bernard"

"But you were good friends."

A puzzled frown knit his brows. "Oh, no. I've never
been in his house" He paused and grew insightful.
Then, very composed, he continued. "I never cared for
him, either professionally or personally. We weren't
enemies or anything like that, but he permitted his
wealth to hinder him." When I frowned, he continued.
"While I consider my own collection superior to his,
had I access to his funds, I could have built a worldrenowned collection to which devotees of art from
around the world would travel to view and admire. He
was wealthy, but he lacked the taste for the truly superior objets d'art. He truly wasted much of his father's
wealth on a second-rate collection."

His remarks surprised me. I thought Odom's collection truly amazing, but then I'm not an art critic. I
understand only simple art like landscapes. Toss the
pop art of Andy Warhol's Campbell's Soup Cans or the Combines of Robert Rauschenberg at me, and I'll
strike out every time.

I remembered the day before at the museum when
George Moffit suggested that Maddox's collection was
inferior to Odom's. Of course, he also compared Maddox to the nouveau riche, but if anything, Maddox
seemed a very cultured individual, and certainly not
pretentious. I wondered if perhaps Moffit was a bit of
a snob. "Did you and Odom collaborate in many ventures, Ervin?"

A flicker of anger flashed in his eyes. He shook his
head. Then, perhaps a little too indignant, replied, "No.
Even if Bernard had approached me, I wouldn't have"

"Oh? Why, if he had the money?"

He eyed me levelly. "I didn't want my reputation
demeaned in any manner by inferior pieces of art. As
I said, Tony, and I mean no disrespect for Bernard, he
lacked that imperceptible awareness for a truly outstanding collectible."

"Does that mean the Piri Reis also?"

He shook his head emphatically. "Not by any means.
The Piri Reis was, as far as I'm concerned, his greatest achievement. Personally, I envied his acquiring the
map" He nodded to his house. "While my eclectic collection is truly superior to Bernard's, I must admit I have
never managed such a triumphant feat"

I sipped my coffee. "You mind telling me where you
were the night of October second?"

He lifted an eyebrow. "The night Bernard died?"

"Yes"

"Am I a suspect in the theft?"

With a crooked grin, I shrugged. "Along with half a
dozen others." I leaned back and in a reassuring, goodold-boy tone, explained. "You see, Ervin, the easiest
way for me to get a handle on who might have taken it
is to know where everyone was. Now, the local cops
can do it, but there's no sense in that. With me, there's
no publicity, no gaping journalists anxious for a quick
story on the six o'clock news"

He studied me a moment. Exuding supreme confidence, he replied, "That night I attended an exhibit at
the museum, the Wingate Museum of Fine Art. There
was an exhibit of the four navigational maps of Christopher Columbus followed by a fascinating discourse on
the history of the maps. The exhibit and lecture began
at seven and ended at ten"

I pursed my lips. "That was over two weeks ago.
How can you be so certain?"

He smiled sadly. "Usually Bernard attends the museum's exhibits. I had noticed he was not there. The
next morning, I heard the news."

"I see. You have witnesses naturally."

"Oh yes. We signed in and Rebecca Wentworth
wished us a good night. You can check with her."

I sipped the coffee. "You mentioned you didn't care
for him either professionally or personally."

He knit his brows and pursed his lips. `Bernard was
a hard man. Treated those about him like cattle, even
family and employees. I could tell you he was selfish,
self-centered, and arrogant beyond belief, but you'll probably find that out for youself." He paused. "I don't
like to speak ill of the dead, but Bernard Odom had no
more feeling or compassion for those about him than
that statue of Pauahtun in the living room."

With my note cards in hand, I sat in my pickup
studying the neat house. I liked Ervin Maddox. He was
different, but then we all are. And I wanted to believe
him. From what I saw of him and his house, he didn't
seem like the ostentatious cretin George Moffit had
described.

On the other hand, I was still puzzled by the change
in his manner. Was he sincere? Or was it simply for my
benefit?

Quickly, I jotted down the interview on the cards,
then headed for the nearest McDonald's for a cup of
coffee at the drive-thru.

With my coffee, I parked in the shade of one of the
tall elm trees lining the restaurant lot. I called Rebecca
Wentworth who graciously agreed to see me. "But I
must leave for a book signing by eleven"

Twenty minutes later, I pulled up to the curb in front
of a sprawling white brick overlooking Coldwater Creek.
Wentworth met me at the door, a petite woman wearing
an attractive pale blue dress that left no doubt that she
worked out regularly. She led me into the den.

Sliding into the chair she indicated, I jumped right
into the interview. "I appreciate you working me in to
your rushed schedule, so I won't waste any of your time. I'm looking into the disappearance of the Piri Reis
Map"

She grimaced. "I couldn't believe it when I heard.
Bernard's death, and then the map going missing ...
Truly, truly terrible. Why, once Bernard even hinted he
might give the map to the museum."

I frowned. "Really? Mr. Moffit didn't mention that."

With a warm chuckle, she replied, "Oh, Bernard
didn't say anything to George about it. He just mentioned it to me in passing. That was a couple of years
ago. He asked me not to say anything just in case he
decided not to donate the map"

"What kind of person was Mr. Odom?"

She frowned. "Kind of person?"

"Yes. Easy to get along with? That sort of thing."

She gave a wry chuckle. "There's no way you can
say Bernard was easy to get along with." She paused,
then with a crooked smile, added, "But he was rich. A
museum can tolerate a great deal, Mr. Boudreaux, from
the rich."

"So"-I gave a matching smile-"he wasn't the
kind of person you'd want to work for."

"Not me" She laughed, shaking her head.

"I see. I just talked to Ervin Maddox. He said he
was at the Christopher Columbus exhibit you hosted
on October second at the museum."

She nodded and a faint sneer erased her becoming
smile. "He was."

"The entire time?"

A frown wrinkled her forehead. "I think so. Ervin is sly. He's one of those little men hungry for attention.
He shows up at all the exhibits. Stays the whole time.
Prowls the buffet, looking for anyone to talk to" She
paused. Her brows knit. "I don't dislike the man, Mr.
Boudreaux. I feel sorry for him. He is so desperate to
be accepted that he always goes too far. He's the kind
of, well, pest you cannot keep from seeing, even if you
don't want to"

"So he was there?"

"Yes"

"Did he ever leave?"

"That"-she lifted an eyebrow-"I can't say"

I considered her words. "I just spoke with Mr. Maddox. He seemed pleasant enough, not pushy."

With the tip of her tongue in her cheek, she looked
at me with amusement. "As I said, he is sly. He is quite
adept at covering his feelings. Once, he became outraged that Bernard Odom was keynote speaker for an
exhibit I was hosting. You see, he owns Cassandra's
Baubles on the River Walk. Consequently, he considers himself an expert in all fields. He felt that he would
be a better speaker, and then demanded to know why
he was always ignored. I told him I didn't ignore him.
It was just that Mr. Odom was better qualified." She
paused and rolled her eyes. "Well, sir, he exploded. He
never laid a finger on me, but the violence of his temper frightened me. It still does, although in all fairness
to him, I have never seen him display it again."

"So you don't know if he left the museum that night
or not?"

"No. But, I know how you can find out" She rose
quickly and disappeared into the next room. When she
returned, she handed over a VHS tape. "I always videotape my exhibits." The smile on her face turned into one
of grim resolve. "I've been in this business long enough
to discover that many who attend exhibits are not
above-well, I don't want to say stealing, but-"

"Purloining."

Her eyes laughed. "I prefer to say borrowing. You'd
be amazed at what a deterrent security cameras are."

"I can imagine," I replied, taking the tape.

"The video is of the Columbus exhibit. All other
wings of the museum were closed to our visitors. The
room at the end of the hall is where the lecture took
place."

"Thank you. One other question. Have you ever
been in Mr. Odom's home?"

She nodded. "On a few occasions."

"On the wall in his den are two abstracts, a line of
characters Ted says are Egyptian puzzles."

Wentworth lifted a skeptical eyebrow. "That was
Bernard. He claimed it was obscure writing from an obscure dynasty" She paused. "It might be, but I'd never
seen anything like it."

At that moment, her doorbell rang. She glanced at
the door. "I'm sorry, but that's my ride."

"No problem. Can I get back in touch with you?" I
asked as we headed for the door. "There are two or three
other folks I have questions about"

"Certainly. In fact, take down my cell number. Give me a call from your car. The drive to the library takes
about fifteen or twenty minutes. I can talk on the way."

After her limo drove away, I climbed in my pickup.
Before I could punch in her number, two San Antonio
police cruisers pulled up, one in back and one in front
of me.

Now, the bindle of coke made sense.

So I was not surprised when, moments later, they
began searching my pickup.

After thoroughly searching both me and my pickup,
one of the officers returned my driver's license and apologized. "Sorry to inconvenience you, Mr. Boudreaux,
but we had a tip a vehicle bearing your license number
was transporting illegal contraband"

I grinned at them. "No problem." I explained my job
in San Antonio, and added, "This sort of thing has been
going on the last couple of days" When they frowned,
I continued, relating the incident with the eighteenwheeler the previous morning and my tossed room last
night. I did not mention the coke. "If you want, you can
contact Chief Ibbara in San Madreas. He'll verify who
Iam"

After the cruisers left, I muttered a soft curse. Wentworth was at her signing, probably wondering why I
hadn't called. I glanced at my watch. 12:30.

I decided to go back to the inn, grab some lunch up
in my room and watch her video.

To my dismay, Jack Edney was waiting for me in the
lobby. His usual ebullient self, he hefted himself from
his chair, rolled across the lobby to me, and grabbed
my arm. "Hey, Tony, appreciate you putting me up last
night. I didn't know where I was this morning. I must
have had a lot to drink last night. Last I remember was
a banana daiquiri."

"You had half a dozen more after that"

He shook his head. "Well, come on. I'll buy us
lunch. I'm starving."

"Can't" I held up the tape. "Got to watch this."

A leering grin curled his fat lips. "Porno, huh?"

"Not quite."

"Well, I'll watch with you"

"I thought you were hungry"

"We'll call room service. I'll pay"

Twenty minutes into the video, Jack grunted, pushed
to his feet, and, grabbing his hamburger and beer, announced he was going down to the River Walk. "You can
stay up here and watch that boring stuff if you want"

I chuckled. "See you later."

Rebecca Wentworth had nailed one thing about
Ervin Maddox: he never strayed too far from the buffet, although he indulged himself in very little of its
fare. I don't think a single guest going through the line
escaped him.

Jack was right. The video would win no Oscar as a
thriller, but about forty-five minutes or so after Jack
left, Maddox, wearing a tweed jacket with leather elbows, disappeared through an arch leading to the restrooms. As minutes passed, and he didn't return, I began
to wonder.

An hour later, he emerged from the arch. An hour in
the bathroom? Not likely. Maddox had lied. Why?

A thought hit me. I dialed George Moffit at the museum. "One fast question," I said. "Does the arch leading to the restrooms by the Columbus exhibit lead
anywhere else in the museum?"