A Midsummer Night's Romp (28 page)

“True,” I agreed. “So what is it exactly that your brother said about the treasure?”

I listened with growing excitement (and admiration for the baron's deductive reasoning) as Gunner explained why he felt the treasure would be found in the grove. “But would this roof-decoration circle thingie survive?” I asked when he finished. “Wouldn't the attackers go after the temple? I may not know a whole lot about English history, but if I was pissed at invaders to my country, and trying to destroy them, I'd sure as shooting go after their religious places along with their houses.”

“Yes, they would have most likely burned the temple
as well as the villas, and it may well be that the decoration was destroyed along with the rest of the structure. But I'm hoping that the treasure itself was protected and is just waiting for us to find it. Whoever hid it went to considerable trouble in a time of great stress to leave behind clues as to its whereabouts, so I assume he or she took precautions to ensure the survival of the treasure itself.”

“I sure hope so,” I said. We made a detour to the far end of the field in order to go through a gate, and then turned northward to the small stand of trees that marked the temple ruins. “It would be really annoying to have all these great clues and not have resolution to the mystery. Who do you think left the stones?”

“There you have me,” Gunner said, setting down my dig bag next to a large fragment of stone. I realized with a start that it was likely a chunk of the temple wall that had survived enough to push its way out of the dirt. “We'll have to ask Elliott what he thinks. He's clever that way. Now, then, let's see if we can align the geophys results with the walls that were uncovered, so we can find the front of the building.”

We consulted the black-and-white printout, which to me looked like nothing but a bunch of black blobs and lines and squiggly bits. Gunner eyed first the line of wall nearest to us, then the paper, rotating it several times before he nodded. “The door faces south, I think. Now, if you were a treasure, and your hiding spot over the mantel of the front door was destroyed, where would you fall?”

“Why the front door?” I asked, looking around for something that screamed “treasure hiding spot.” “If you were hiding something, wouldn't you put it where no one would see it?”

“Ah, but you're forgetting that our individual didn't
have much time to hide his belongings. He would have had to use what was at hand, and since the decorative medallions were easy to remove and could be replaced just as easily, it's likely that's where the treasure was placed.”

“It seems kind of improbable to me, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't thrilled by the whole idea.”

Gunner pulled some white fabric tape out of my bag and handed me a number of little wire stakes. “Let's mark the foundation that hasn't been excavated yet.”

It took us about fifteen minutes to get the remainder of the temple physically notated, but by the time we were done, we had a pretty good outline of just how the building lay under the surface of centuries of dirt. The sun was starting its descent behind the trees when Gunner picked up a shovel.

“Ready?” he asked, striking a pose at the area we had deduced was the front entrance.

“Ready.” I stuck my shovel into the earth. “Let's find something exciting to show Roger when he returns. Hopefully something we can rub Paul's nondiseased nose in.”

Gunner's brow wrinkled. “That's strangely specific, love.”

“I know.” I put my foot on the shovel, and dug out a wad of dirt and grass. “It's going to take me a while to work out my anger at him. Although I still think that somehow Paul has faked that report. Sandy might be many things, but a ho is not one of them.”

We discussed the idea of Paul trying to deceive people with a false report during the time it took us to dig down a few feet, the shadows from the setting sun behind the trees stretching across the bumpy ground, reaching with long fingers into the trench we had cut. I figured we had a half hour of light at best before we'd have to stop, and was about to mention that when Gunner suddenly stopped digging and said, “Hmm.”

“Hmm, what?” I looked up from where I was on my knees, using a trowel to scrape back the dirt. “Did you find the medallion thing?”

“No, but I've found something metal. Come and tell me what it looks like to you.”

I knee-walked over to where Gunner was bent over an object. It looked like a yellowy white wire bent in a curlicue. “Holy crap, Gunner. Is that a bracelet?”

“I believe so.” He was using a small paintbrush now to brush away the clots of dirt from the intricate spirals of metal. “That or an armlet. Good lord. That's a coin next to it.”

I squatted down next to him and scrabbled around in my bag until I found a toothbrush. I brushed around the curved edge of a lumpy black object. “How can you tell? It doesn't look like a coin to me.”

“It's not one—it's several coins.” He looked up, his eyes bright with excitement. “Do you know what I think we've found?”

“The treasure?”

“At least part of it. You work on the coins, and I'll try to get the rest of this bracelet cleaned off.”

“This is seriously the best thing I've ever found,” I said, brushing carefully around the blackened blob. And I'll be damned if Gunner wasn't right—along one edge it was possible to discern the rounded form of coins.

“Do you have your camera, love?”

“Yeah, it's in my bag.” I gave it to Gunner, alternating between mentally squealing over the endearment and watching with much interest how he took photos of the objects before they were excavated. After a few minutes, he lifted the bracelet out and inserted it into a plastic bag.

“Do you see this?” He pointed with the paintbrush to a curved shape in the dirt. “I believe that's the outline of
a round wooden box, probably used to hold the treasure. Damn, we're going to need some light here soon. And this dull piece of metal here is most likely a metal band that held the box together. I think you're right—this is the best thing I've ever found as well. Christ, here's another one.”

“Another bracelet?” I tried to look around his head to see what he had found. “Or more coins?”

“Neither.” He grinned at me. “How about some gold earrings?”

“You're kidding!”

He moved aside so I could see what he was bent over. Two blobs of gold metal lay bare, their heavy round bottoms narrowing up to looped wires.

“Good god, those are gorgeous. I'd wear those! Wait, let me get the pictures this time. It's good practice.” I got several of the artifact lying in situ, adding, “Holy mother of chicken mole, Gunner! We found it! We found actual treasure!”

“We did indeed.” He laughed aloud when I grabbed him with one arm and kissed him. “And we had best stop now, lest we leave Roger with nothing to film.”

“That's fine. I feel guilty enough that we pulled the couple of things out already. But hooray! We found the treasure! Paul can just go suck a lemon, because we did it! We found it without him!”

“It certainly looks that way.”

“Ooooh, did I hear you say you found the treasure?”

I jumped a few inches at the sound of the voice behind us. Daria stood with a thermos in hand, and two mugs. She held them up, saying, “I thought you guys would enjoy a quick cuppa.”

“Oh, how nice. I'd love some tea. I never knew how thirsty you could get just digging around in dirt.” I accepted one of the mugs with tea, smiling gratefully.

She filled the second mug and gave it to Gunner. “Is that gold?”

“It is. Earrings. Aren't they pretty?” I told her. “And look, Gunner found a gorgeous spiral bracelet, although I don't know what it's made from.”

“Silver,” Gunner said. “And there's another one below the earrings. See the edge of it?”

“Man alive, this is just like never-ending treasure!” I took more photos, adding, “Roger will crap himself when he finds out what we discovered.”

“This is terribly exciting! I can only imagine what Paul will have to say when he sees the results. Shall we toast your find?” She poured a little tea in the cap of the thermos and held the cup aloft. “To the Ainslie treasure hoard, and those who found it!”

“Nicely put,” I said, and took a big swig of lukewarm tea. It trickled down my suddenly parched throat, prompting me to drain the rest of the mug. Gunner sipped at his tea, thanking Daria as he set the mug aside, spilling a bit of it on the spoil pile. He shifted it to a safer distance, and contemplated the trench before us.

“You're welcome. Paul arranged for some tea, since he knew I stayed behind to do some work, but I thought you guys would like to share it. I didn't know we would be using it to toast a celebration, or I would have brought something a bit more dignified!”

“There's nothing wrong with a good cup of tea,” Gunner said, bent over another piece of jewelry—a brooch, I thought, since there appeared to be a broken pin attached to it.

Daria knelt next to us, admiring the find. We didn't want to excavate any more treasure, sure that Roger would want to film the rest of the items being removed, but we all agreed that it wouldn't hurt to do a little digging in the area surrounding the find.

The sun burned red as it slid downward, forcing us to stop after about twenty minutes of brushing away dirt. We hadn't found anything else, but the metal of treasure still clutched by the earth glinted temptingly.

“It's like an endless pit of goodies,” I said, stifling a yawn. “And there's more down there.”

“That there is. I can make out at least two more bracelets, and more rings, not to mention that mass of coins that has corroded into a blob of metal,” Gunner answered with a yawn of his own.

“This is so exciting.” Daria stifled a yawn, too. “How many items altogether, would you say?”

“There's no way of telling. Do you see—” He paused to yawn again, giving his head a little shake as if to wake himself. I knew just how he felt—I was in the grips of a growing sense of sleepiness that I couldn't seem to shake. “Do you see this? It's the other side of the metal tape, which means that the wooden box was only about so . . . wide. But we don't know how deep. . . .” He yawned once more, which just triggered me into yawning, and the next thing I knew, Daria was saying something in a slow, hesitant voice that I didn't seem to be able to take in.

“Lorina?” I heard Gunner ask, his voice thick. “I think . . . lord . . . I think we've been . . .”

I blinked several times, trying to get my eyes to stay open, but they refused. I seemed to slide into a warm, black pool, but before I went under, I managed to finish Gunner's sentence with one single word. “Drugged,” I said, and curled up next to the treasure, one hand draped protectively over it.

“G
unner.”

The voice came from a long way away. Possibly a different planet. What was Lorina doing on another planet?

“Gunner, wake up. Oh man, my head.”

“I think I may vomit,” another voice said. It was female, and vaguely familiar, but not familiar enough that he could put a name to it.

“Ugh. Don't say that, or I will, too,” Lorina said, and he felt someone give his shoulder a little shake. “Gunner, I know you're alive, because you were making snorting noises just a few minutes ago. Good god, I feel awful. Wake up so you can pamper me and make me feel better. Gah. Dr. Anderson would have my hide if she ever heard me say that.”

He cracked one eye open, and immediately wished he hadn't. The light shot into his brain with the velocity and
effect of a laser cutting through butter. “Christ,” he swore, and closed his eye.

“No, but I know how you feel.” Lorina pried open one of his eyelids, and peered at him with concern. “Assuming, that is, that you feel like you've been run over by a herd of elephants, following which you were beaten by several anvils, and possibly licked some hallucinogenic frogs.”

He opened his eyes again. “You've done frogs, too?”

Her eyes widened. “No. I was speaking metaphorically. Wait, you have?”

“Just once.” He rubbed his forehead, and slowly sat up. He had been lying on the floor of what appeared to be a disused barn. “It wasn't an experience I am eager to repeat. Where are we? What happened? Who is Dr. Anderson? And who is about to vomit?”

“We're in a barn, I think. There appears to be hay in a loft over there. The door's locked, though, so we can't get out. We were drugged, and that was Daria who said she was feeling sick.”

“Drugged?” He took stock of his body. Nothing seemed to hurt, although he was feeling less than fit. “Who the hell drugged us?”

“That is a very good question.” Lorina's eyes were half-closed, as if she had a hard time staying awake. Gunner knew just how she felt. There was nothing more that he'd like at that moment than to go to sleep for about ten years. Possibly twenty. “We—Daria and I, that is—we think the tea was drugged, since that's the only thing that all three of us had.”

“The treasure!” Gunner said, memory returning to him. He got to his feet with a lot less grace than was normal, and held out a hand for Lorina. “We've got to tell Roger and Thompson so that they can fetch the treasure and take it to the conservation room. They'll want
to stabilize the metals before they are exposed to too much air.”

“Too late,” Lorina said wearily, and took the hand he offered, rising and brushing off dirt from the packed-earth floor. “Daria says she remembers hearing someone before she passed out. I'm willing to bet that they took the few things we excavated, and most likely the other stuff we were starting to uncover.”

He rubbed his head again. “Are you saying that we were knocked out so that someone could steal the treasure?”

“It looks that way.” Lorina looked sympathetically at him. “The big question is, who would do that? Who doesn't give a damn about sharing the find with the world?”

“Thompson,” Gunner said, automatically picking the most annoying person on the dig at the same time he massaged the back of his neck.

“Who has such a lack of respect for archaeology that he'd blatantly keep items of such great value from the public?”

“Thompson,” Gunner repeated, although less certainly. “Christ, I feel like I've been through the wars.”

“Who would put himself above everyone on the production team?”

“Thompson?” It was a question now, but Gunner hated to give up on the idea, despite the fact that, his personal behavior aside, Thompson had shown only professionalism regarding the dig itself.

Lorina gave him a weary look. “Just because we don't like him doesn't mean we can peg him for the villain. Although I would love for him to have done it, because then we could call in the cops and have them work him over.”

“A strangely enticing idea,” Gunner agreed. “And I fear you are correct about his not being the person
responsible, although it leaves us with a dearth of suspects. The doors are locked, you say?”

She waved a hand toward them. “Feel free to give them a try. Daria and I got nowhere. If it wasn't Paul, who did this to us? It had to be someone who wouldn't care that the archaeology company lost the prestige of finding the treasure, which means someone outside of their organization.”

“That's the question I'd like answered most right now,” Gunner said, trying the door. He eyed Daria when she returned from the other end of the barn. “Unfortunately, I don't have a suggestion. I'm hot. Are you hot?”

Lorina gave a weak smile, and took his arm. “Normally I'd tease you about having to ask, but I'm just too tired. I thought I was having a hot flash earlier, but Daria said she was feeling warm, too.”

“It's not an enjoyable experience,” Daria agreed, sitting down on an overturned bucket. There wasn't much else in the barn—until the film crew's arrival, it had been used to store antique farm equipment. Since the crew had no need of farm tools, now the barn was empty of all but them. “What are we going to do? We're trapped in here while Paul is no doubt secreting away the find.”

“Surely you can't seriously think Paul would do that,” Lorina protested, releasing Gunner when he tried the double doors of the barn. “I know he's not your favorite person, but you work with the man—is it likely he would do something so at odds with his job?”

“He might,” Daria said darkly, narrowing her eyes. “If he had sufficient cause to think he could get away with it.”

Lorina shook her head a little, her eyes drooping. She yawned as she said, “I don't see that, but maybe I'm too muddleheaded to figure it out. Don't get me wrong—there's no love lost between Paul and me—but that
doesn't mean he's responsible for this. He's just too much of a professional to do something so heinous as steal archaeology.”

“Don't let that professional persona fool you. He's only after what he can get. I should know,” Daria said, leaping up to pace the floor.

Lorina drooped against the wall, and Gunner wanted badly to let his eyes just close for a bit. He rattled the door again, and tried to get his mind working at its usual speed.

“Why should you know?” Lorina asked, rubbing her eyes. “Because the board of your company gave him the head-honcho job instead of you?”

“That, and . . . well . . . it's not widely known, but we dated a short while before I met my husband, and I can tell you from experience that Paul Thompson is not a man who takes other people's successes well. I found a number of important artifacts at two of our digs, and it destroyed our relationship. Not that I'm unhappy about that now—I'm quite happy with my husband—but it did open my eyes to Paul's true character.”

Gunner cocked his head, putting his ear to the door and listening.

“Wow,” Lorina said, giving Daria a look of surprise mingled with admiration. “I had no idea he was so vindictive.”

“Ha! That's one word for it.” Daria gave a short laugh. “He's had it out for me ever since I dumped his ass. Why do you think he insisted I be assigned trenches that aren't likely to provide the treasure? Jealousy, pure and simple. And now this. I just bet you if we searched his caravan, we'd find the jewelry.”

Gunner straightened up and moved a few steps away from the door, standing next to Lorina so he could put his arm around her. Immediately, she sagged against him.
A wave of protectiveness welled up inside him. He was angry with himself for allowing harm to come to Lorina, but at the same time, he realized that the situation was not one he could have foreseen. Still, he chided himself, he'd have to do better if he wanted to keep her where she belonged—right in the center of his world.

“But to drug us!” Lorina protested. “That's so extreme. Wait. . . .” She frowned, looking puzzled. “I really am not thinking straight. How could he know we were going to find the treasure? Oh, wait. . . . He might have noticed that Gunner had shovels when we went to see him earlier, and figured out we were going to do some digging. Still, that doesn't mean he'd know we were going to find anything valuable, and even if he did think that, where did he get the drugs to knock us all out? And when would he have time to do it? He said he was late for a dinner with the mayor.”

Daria shrugged, and continued to pace. Gunner eyed her, wondering where she got the energy. Perhaps she hadn't been drugged as heavily as Lorina and he had been.

“Some of that might have been my fault,” Daria admitted. “After I saw you two heading for the grove where the temple was, I went back to camp for a little break. That's when I met Paul, and he asked if I was the only one who was digging late. I mentioned you two. He said something about praising such dedication, and that the least he could do was make sure some refreshments were sent out to us. By the time I was ready to go back to my trench, he had the thermos of tea and a packet of biscuits for us.”

Gunner frowned. “It seems like such an out-of-character thing for Thompson to do.”

“I agree, but at the time, I didn't think anything about it,” Daria answered.

“Even assuming he had some psychic intuition that we were going to find treasure, where did he get the drugs to doctor the tea?” Lorina asked with another yawn.

Gunner yawned in sympathy, and wondered if he had misheard voices at the door. He badly wanted to get Lorina tucked away safely so he could figure out who it was who had attacked them with drugs.

“Who knows? Oh!” Daria stopped and pointed at Lorina. “Didn't you say you had some knockout drugs?”

“Me?” Lorina frowned. “I . . . I don't remember saying anything like that.”

“You must have, or else I wouldn't know about it,” Daria observed, and rubbed her chin.

Gunner looked in surprise at Lorina, who he had to admit looked just as taken aback. “I told you about my drugs?” she finally said in a voice that squeaked.

“You did,” Daria said calmly.

Worry was clearly visible in Lorina's eyes. “I don't remember that. I would never—I mean, it's not like me to tell people—Gunner is the only one I ever wanted to blurt the truth to, and even then, I didn't for a week.”

Daria shrugged. “I don't know why you can't remember telling me. It was the second day you were here, I think.”

“I just don't seem to remember—”

“But regardless,” Daria said despite the fact that Lorina was talking, “it explains the time you caught Paul hanging around your tent. No doubt he was looking through your things and found your Mickey Finn ingredients.”

Lorina rubbed her eyes again, her body drooping heavily against him, her words sounding thick and slow. “That makes sense, I guess. Oh, what do I know? My brain is so fuzzy I can't think straight. I just want to sleep. Gunner, what are we going to do?”

“We're going to wait about thirty seconds, and then have a doctor check us out. Following that, we'll talk to Thompson.”

“What do you mean, wait thirty seconds—”

At that moment, the voices that Gunner had heard in the distance grew louder, followed by a demand to know if they were inside.

“Yes, we're here,” Gunner yelled in response.

“Thank god Cressy tried to find you before she left for her evening out. Hang on—we'll have you out in a minute. Someone's jammed a wedge under the door,” Elliott called.

Cressy's head popped into a window that was visible in the upper loft. “You guys aren't having sex in here, are you? Because if you are, I'm going to want a horse trailer to haul my new horse in. Oh. You're not.”

“Get down off that ladder,” Gunner told his daughter.

“How do you know I'm on a ladder?” Cressy asked, trying to look coy. It didn't work.

“I know because the last time I looked, you weren't twelve feet tall, and I happened to see a ladder lying around from where the film crew was hooking up lights. Now get down.”

“I'm not hurting anyone,” Cressy protested.

He donned his very best Annoyed Father Expression. “If you fall and break your ankle, you won't be able to go riding.”

Cressy thought about that a second, made a face, and disappeared from the window.

“Did you know there was a window up there?” Lorina asked him, taking his hand.

His fingers tightened around hers while he wondered if she'd let him lock her away until he found the culprit who had drugged them, and immediately discounted that thought. Lorina wasn't the type of woman to allow
others to fight her battles. Share them, yes, but fight them? He smiled at her, wondering if she knew just how delightful she was. “Yes.”

“Then why didn't you say something?” She dropped his hand and gave him a thin-lipped look. “We could have gotten out of here!”

Damn, she was even adorable when she was annoyed with him.

“What are you laughing at?” she demanded to know.

“You,” he said, pulling her to his chest, and kissing the edges of her mouth. “You're the only woman I know who looks sexy as hell even when she's half-asleep and irritable.”

“If I'm irritable, it's because you're driving me insane.” She kissed him back, then suddenly moved to the side, her face flushing as she glanced at Daria.

“Don't mind me,” the latter said, picking a piece of hay off her clothing. “Just pretend I'm not here.”

Gunner gave her a long look, was about to say something, but decided better.

The door gave a creak, followed by a nerve-rending squeak as the wedge was removed. Immediately thereafter, the darkness of the barn was flooded by the camping lights held by their rescuers.