The Throwbacks (13 page)

With Grace behind the wheel, they arrived at Dr. Doris’s office building at the campus in Cambridge a short time later. He and Grace waited for Dan to catch up with them from wherever he managed to park his police car. Then they trooped to the professor’s office all together in a Nancy-Drew-meets-the-Hardy-Boys manner. He shrugged off the disquieting notion.

The space was ridiculously cramped for a professor, David thought.

Grace had preceded him and Dan into the office. The ladies exchanged hearty hugs and some real kisses hitting their mark on the each other’s cheeks. A brief introduction followed.

Dr. Doris looked unsure but shook hands with him and Dan anyway before returning to the chair behind her desk. Grace took the only guest chair in the small, stuffed, yet tidy office.

David leaned against one of the shelves lining the room along with numerous filing cabinets and glass cases covering every wall except for the small opening where the lone window let in some filtered light. The desk was in the middle of the room. The glass cases were filled with what David supposed were artifacts.

“How can I help you?” Dr. Doris, sitting comfortably behind her desk, asked Grace.

Dan stood with his arms folded.

David decided to listen while he let Grace conduct the questioning—at least to start. He realized he looked forward to it and barely suppressed his smile. He managed to maintain his demeanor of stern authority as expected by Dr. Doris.

David produced the artifact in its plastic evidence bag and laid it carefully on the desk for the doctor to see. Dr. Doris remained calm, but he could tell it was a struggle. She picked up the eyepiece from its ever-ready perch in her desk tray and removed the artifact from the plastic with practiced caution. She said nothing and her hands were steady.

Grace glanced over at him while the doctor took her time. He winked at her. He could see her molten brown eyes dilating and the excitement clear in her features before she turned back. Grace’s reaction to a simple wink created an excited reaction of his own in an inappropriate place.

“This artifact is part of a series of copper engravings. Somehow a legend arose that some people believe—with no real evidence—that these engravings are the map to a lost Incan treasure at the supposed site of the temple of Con Ticci Viracocha, the most powerful of the Incan gods,” Dr. Doris said.

“Seriously? I never thought those legends were real,” Grace said.

David was about to intervene and ask for specifics, not because he wasn’t patient and not that he didn’t have faith in Grace’s ability to eventually get to the bottom of matters, but because Dan’s look of impatience was getting close to the boil-over point.

But before David could open his mouth, Grace asked, “Treasure map? If there’s no real evidence, why would anyone take a treasure map seriously enough to kill for it?”

“The Incan gods lived in a mythical City of Gold, dubbed El Dorado by the Spaniards and presumably located somewhere in the jungles of South America. Viracocha was the most powerful god and his temple theoretically the largest.” Dr. Doris leaned forward slightly as she told her tale. “Supposedly his was the only temple not found or destroyed by the looting of the Spanish conquerors. The legend of this god’s temple in the mythical city of gold recently gathered steam when one treasure hunter stumbled upon a stash of ancient Incan gold statues and claimed it was a copper engraving that led him there.”

“Any idea who this treasure hunter might be and who he might have told, besides you?” Dan said, apparently exceeding his limit of patience, as was his habit.

The two women looked at Dan with varying degrees of disapproval written on their faces.

“Of course we understand that the field of archeology is a very tightly knit and small circle of professionals, and we can certainly understand how word of this might get to you,” David said with enough warmth to overcome Dan’s insinuation.

“Of course. I was actually questioned about this by some Peruvian officials who had heard rumors and were concerned about smuggling of artifacts. They’d been keeping an eye on this particular treasure hunter—”

Dan interrupted. “Does this particular treasure hunter have a name?” He added, “Naturally, we’ll want to talk to him.”

“I don’t remember.”

Dan frowned.

“But his name won’t help you,” Dr. Doris went on with a smile, staring directly at Dan, “because he is now missing. I can give you the name of the Peruvian official I spoke with—he’s looking for the treasure hunter too. You can talk to him.” Dr. Doris fished around in her top middle desk drawer to retrieve a business card and handed it to David. David was standing closer to her desk, but he doubted that would alleviate the annoyance Dan would have about the gesture.

“The Peruvian official was here? He questioned you in person?”

“Yes. Two days ago. He said he was staying somewhere locally. I don’t remember where, but his mobile number is listed. You still might catch him here in town.”

“Thanks. We’ll do that.” Dan took the two steps to reach the door, turned and said, “Professor—a pleasure.” Giving David a pointed stare to follow him, he then left.

“Thank you very much for your help, Professor,” Grace said. David shook the woman’s hand, echoed his thanks and allowed Grace to precede him out the door.

This was a bad time to find out about a missing treasure hunter and a curious Peruvian official. Wait until he told Dan that he had to go back to London. Even though Roland said it was a formality, David knew there were no guarantees. Knowing Dan, it would be a great cause for anxiety.

They left the campus and David drove with Dan instead of Grace—back to his usual routine. He brought Dan up to speed about his trip to London.

“I leave in two days,” David finished.

“I’m not sure if I’m more pissed that you’re skipping out in the middle of the investigation just when we get a good lead—the mayor is going to jump all over that—or if I’m scared shitless about what the third degree is all about. It’s been a year. You’d think it was all water under the bridge by now.”

The more Dan spoke, David noticed, the faster they sped down Memorial Drive with windows wide open to the Charles River-inspired breeze. They headed toward the bridge that would take them from Cambridge back across to Beacon Hill, right around the corner from Government Center in Boston.

“Scotland Yard is very protective of their reputation,” he said sarcastically. “They’ve been around a while and they’re very highly thought of worldwide.”

“Get to your point.” Dan had lost whatever little patience he possessed back in the professor’s office.

David lifted his brows and tried to hide his amusement. “The consideration of so-called new evidence is for show—to demonstrate the great care and seriousness they devote to any possible transgressions in order to maintain their high standards. They won’t change their decision,” David said unequivocally. He silently cursed his in-laws.

“Whatever you say. If it was any other time, I’d go with you—but I can’t leave this investigation—it’s bad enough you’re leaving. What are the chances you can get this postponed for a week or two?

“Not bloody likely. I’d love the moral support, but all I’ll need is my barrister. It will be a short trip. I plan on returning within twenty-four hours.”

“I’m sure it’ll work out like you said.” Dan’s voice softened and the car slowed down. They were winding toward his townhouse where Dan was to drop him.

“I’ll check in on a friend from Interpol while I’m in the neighborhood and see if they’ve had any inquiries on a missing treasure hunter from Peru or smuggled artifacts,” David said.

Dan grunted in response.

David checked his watch—it was only six thirty, and an empty evening lay before him. His habit would have been to go out to the nearby eating and drinking establishment, Number 9 Park, for the evening. Number 9 catered to an upscale clientele, but he’d adopted it as his local hangout nonetheless. He would normally have a few cocktails, some dinner and then he’d chat with the bartenders and other regulars. He’d even come to know the owner of the place. One of them would probably introduce him to some lovely young woman who’d inevitably stay for a few more drinks before they’d retire to her place, or occasionally his, for the remainder of the evening and into early morning before departing. Never until daylight. Never for breakfast—or what passed for his breakfast.

But he’d committed to changing his ways—and that routine no longer appealed to him in any event. He thought of the old days in London when he was with Scotland Yard and married. It seemed like someone else’s life. It was time for him to start again; time to pursue a meaningful relationship with a mature, well-educated, reasonably attractive woman.

Why was it that this notion held no appeal? Was Dan right and he was floundering instead of trying to get past his past? Or was it that he was comparing Frenchie to Grace?

They’d arrived at his townhouse, but he needed to talk to his friend.

“Please come in for a drink. I’d like your advice on something,” David said. The enticement to give advice proved irresistible. Dan’s face lit up as he’d expected.

“Of course, you know you can count on me. I’ll let Esther know to hold dinner for a while.”

David had a touch of conscience, but promised himself he wouldn’t keep his friend too long. Dan sat on one of the stools at his kitchen bar and David stood on the other side, his new habit it seemed, pouring from the ever-present bottle of Scotch. He recalled having lemonade with Grace earlier in the day when his mood had been much different.

“So I understand you’re striving for a second career as a matchmaker,” David said.

Dan had the grace to look sheepish.

“You know I’m only helping Esther out. We’re both on your side. You know we’ve been worried about you—always with different women and never for long, barely knowing their names. It’s obvious you’ve been lonely.

“But, if you really want to know what I think—I think Esther is pushing you to start seeing someone seriously so she can have me back. I think maybe she’s worried you’re a bad influence on me. Not really bad, but you know what I mean.” Dan stopped, picked up his drink and drank it down in one gulp.

Perhaps he was a bad influence on his friend. David raised his brows at Dan. “I know what you mean. You’re right, of course. I don’t know if I’ve been lonely—but at loose ends with no career, no wife or social circle that the wife brings with her. I do have family though.” David paused and looked steadily at Dan. With his drink in hand, he was ready for a gulp, depending on the man’s response to what he was about to say.

“What if I said I was interested in a serious relationship—but not with Frenchie.” He paused again and took a sip of courage while Dan was clearly waiting for him to lower the boom.

“What would you say if I were interested in a serious relationship with Grace?”

“I know you want serious advice, so I’m going to take your question seriously. And I want you to know that’s a stretch for me.” Dan looked at his empty glass then at the bottle.

“Understood.” David picked up the bottle and filled Dan’s glass. It was unfair of him to use Dan as reinforcement for his conscience or a substitute for his own good sense, but he needed back up to send Grace away.

“She’s too goddamned young for you. And too pretty and sexy. Girls like that attract a lot of attention and you’d always have to be watching out for her—not saying that she’s not trustworthy because who knows? But I’m saying you and I both know what men are like and they’d try and take advantage of a naïve bombshell like her in a flash. That’s the first thing.

“Next, you know since she’s so young, she’s going to want to have babies at some point—no matter what she says now. And my friend, before you consider that as a good thing—you are not a spring chicken and you’ve never lived the family with kids in the suburbs life and I don’t see you changing those particular stripes anytime soon.

“Then, there’s the practical side of the age gap. She’s going to want to do things that young people do that you never even heard of. And she’s going to have no clue about a shitload of what went on when you and I were growing up. She’s got to be twenty years younger than you, easy. That’s a frigging generation of time separating you where you’ll have not one goddamn thing in common.

“Before I finish, let me say this: I have to acknowledge that she’s a pip. I can see that she’s smart and funny and that you two get along—”

“Get along?” David finally interrupted the first father-son speech he’d heard since he stopped listening to his father after their move to London when he was fifteen years old. He was touched. And amused, because he could feel all those old boyhood-style resentments one felt as a teenager when his parents made him listen to unpleasant truths. In this case, however, he’d already known it all and had already given himself the same lecture.

“Okay. I admit you seem to have some dynamite chemistry and she seems to be an exceptional young lady. She seems warm and wonderful—don’t think I haven’t noticed. Esther noticed too and feels kind of guilty, but we both know what’s right here. It’s like when you have to take bad-tasting medicine. You know it’s good for you no matter how bad it tastes so you take it and it’s over,” Dan said. “That’s all I have.”

David shook his head and smiled.