Other People's Baggage (19 page)

FOOL'S GOLD: TWELVE

  

By the time Sanjay found me backstage in the green room after the show, I'd filled several pages of notepaper with thoughts about what was going on. Most of it was scratched out. My revelation meant we knew less than before.

“Not cool,” Sanjay said, closing the door behind us and tossing his bowler hat onto the hook behind the door. “I need full concentration for my performance. I did not have it tonight.”

Sanjay's tuxedo did look more wrinkled than usual. A couple beads of sweat ran down the side of his face. Come to think of it, I don't think I'd ever seen Sanjay look that disheveled.

“Did anything go wrong?” I asked.

“Not exactly.”

“Then what—”

“Never mind. The audience may not have been as wowed by the flaming whisky barrel as they should have been, but I know what my illusions made you realize: the timing of the theft was wrong. When the explosion occurred, the chess set was already gone.”

I nodded. “The explosion was a clever way to create the impression that that's when the chess set had been stolen. Just like you were never the shadow on that stage, and you were already gone from the whisky barrel by the time it caught fire. I bet you were gone just as soon as I closed the lid of the barrel.”

“I admit nothing,” Sanjay said. “But I should have thought of it before this.” He shook his head. “It must be the jet lag.”

I rolled my eyes as Sanjay picked me up by the elbow.

“Where are we going?”

“You'll see.”

Sanjay led me through the maze of the backstage area and out a back door leading to an alley. My eyes had grown accustomed to the backstage light, and I'd forgotten it was only midday. I shielded my eyes from the sun on this cloudless summer day. We cut through the alley to the front of the theater. Theatergoers streamed out of the main doors, and we cut through them, heading to the box office. But instead of a ticket taker, someone else was waiting for us.

“Astrid,” Sanjay said. “I'm glad you could use the complementary ticket I left for you.”

“How could I resist your message?” she said.

I glared at Sanjay.

“I didn't have time to tell you,” he said to me, before turning back to Astrid. “I thought the three of us could take a trip to the police station together.”

Astrid's eyes darted angrily between us. Beyond the anger, there was fear. She wasn't her normally composed self.

“You conveniently forgot your boyfriend last night,” I began. “The one you went to call the morning of the theft.”

“Yes, so what?” Astrid said. “Men. They aren't worth remembering.” She sneered at Sanjay.

“Some of them are,” Sanjay said. “Like the police officers who are going to check your phone records.”

Astrid's thin body began to tremble. She looked between us like a cornered animal.

“We know you stole the chess set before the explosion,” I said. “When you weren't with Daniella.”

“How do you—” Astrid stopped herself.

“As soon as the police learn they have the timing of the theft wrong,” I said, “they'll know your alibi doesn't hold up.”

“I didn't do it!” Astrid cried. “I only helped.”

Sanjay and I glanced at each other. Sanjay's face mirrored the surprise I felt.

“I'm sure the police will be lenient if you tell them who stole the chess set,” Sanjay said.

“Don't you see?” Astrid said. “I don't know where the chess set is. I don't even know who I'm working for!”

“But you—”

“I was supposed to leave the key,” Astrid said, “and to create a small security problem at the theater, something that Izzy would have to fix—to set him up. Simple! It was supposed to be so simple. Those two little tasks…. I'm turning forty this year, you know. Who wants to hire a forty-year-old model?”

“Come on,” Sanjay said, trying to grab Astrid's elbow.

She pulled her arm away. “I won't tell them anything,” she said, spitting out the words. “You have no proof, do you? Even though I don't have an alibi, it's not a crime to lie about who I called on the phone.”

“Maybe not,” I said. “But I wonder if the police would be interested in hearing this?” I pulled my phone out. The “record” button was on.

Astrid's eyes grew wide. She lurched for the phone. Sanjay stepped to my side as I leaped backward away from Astrid's reach. Astrid tripped and fell forward, landing hard on the box office floor. Sanjay took the phone from my hand and slipped it into a hidden pocket of his tuxedo.

  

At the police station, Astrid was led away for questioning, and I had to leave my phone with the police as evidence. I filled out some paperwork to get it back later. While I was filling out a form, a uniformed constable came up to us.

“Funny case,” he said.

“What do you mean?” I asked

“Why would the thief return half of the chess?”

“What?”

“You didn't hear?” he said.

“No,” I said, shaking my head and forgetting all about the form in front of me.

“The silver half of the chess set was dropped off by courier earlier this morning.”

FOOL'S GOLD: THIRTEEN

  

I stretched out my legs over the back of a theater seat, a borrowed laptop from Daniella in my hands. I was hooked up to the wi-fi from the Pizza Hut next door, where I'd eaten several pieces of pizza.

Daniella was off being consoled by Izzy, who had told her he'd watched her show enough times that he knew Astrid's part by heart and could play the part of Alexis as Alex. But even with Izzy filling in, they still didn't have the chess set.

“I can't concentrate with you back there!” Sanjay called out from the stage.

“I thought you wanted me to stay,” I called back.

Sanjay hopped down from the stage, walked up the aisle, and sat down next to me. “I can't win,” he said. “I can't concentrate either way. You have this mysterious theory that you came up with because the silver half of the chess set was returned. What have you found out?”

“I don't think Clayton Barnes is crazy.”

“The philanthropist alchemist guy?” Sanjay said. “Why does his sanity matter? I thought you were going to figure out what happened to the chess set for Daniella's show?”

“That's exactly what I'm doing,” I said. “Check it out. Clayton Barnes, the descendant of an old inbred English family who've been wealthy for centuries. A family of selfish jerks who blew all their money gambling and spending lavishly—until Clayton came along. The black sheep of the family with a few screws loose. But he turned their fortune around and was generous at the same time. He's been forgiven by British society and the public because he's from this prominent family and because he's seen as a nice guy in spite of his eccentricities. He's donated millions to various charities, and loaned out many of his gold acquisitions to charities to put on display to raise money from other wealthy donors. In other words, he's done a lot of good.”

“That's great history, Jaya. I get it that you're a historian so you like researching this stuff. But what does this have to do with the theft of the chess set?”

“His charities of choice,” I said. “They're all arts organizations. They give him memberships and also special invitations to private showings—all to show him his alchemical interest.”

“Gold,” Sanjay said.

“Exactly. And for every few special gold exhibits he's attended, there's been a theft within the following year.”

Sanjay perked up.

“And that's just the exhibits where he's been listed by the press.”

“He was casing the places,” Sanjay said.

I nodded. “Clayton acted upset about the theft of the gold chess set, but he wasn't nearly as upset until he found out Feisal didn't have insurance. He didn't mean to hurt his friend. That's why he tried to make Izzy look guilty, and why he returned the silver half of the chess set after he learned Feisal hadn't insured it. He wanted Feisal to at least be able to recoup some of his losses. But he kept the gold.”

“Sounds like he's even crazier than people think,” Sanjay said. “Hoarding all that gold.”

“He's not crazy,” I said. “He let his guard down with me, since I didn't have any preconceived notions about him. He didn't think I'd look into the theft—in fact, he's been trying awfully hard to convince me to forget about it, and to make Daniella forget about it, too. I don't think he realized how much people cared about Izzy. Izzy isn't turning out to be the simple fall guy he and Astrid thought he would be.”

“Hang on,” Sanjay said. “How could someone so recognizable pull off all these thefts?”

“Can you tell me what he looks like?” I asked.

“Seriously? He's got to be one of the most recognizable—”

“His
clothes
are recognizable,” I said. “And his gold glasses and Sherlock Holmes hat. But what about
him
? Do you know what color eyes he has? Or even what color hair?”

“Do you?” Sanjay said.

“No,” I said. “I don't. That's the point. If he takes off those silly ‘eccentric' clothes of his, puts on jeans and a dress shirt, and leaves the hat and glasses at home, would anybody recognize him? I doubt it.”

“I should have thought of it,” Sanjay grumbled.

“This is a calculated plan,” I said. “Clayton Barnes is a thief and con artist who's been selling gold treasures to finance his family's crumbling fortune.”

FOOL'S GOLD: FOURTEEN

  

I shut the computer and looked for my phone to call the police with what I'd found out. After a few seconds of searching through my messenger bag, I remembered the police had my phone.

“Let me use your phone,” I said to Sanjay.

“Why?”

“I'm calling the police.”

“With your theory that Clayton isn't crazy and is a criminal mastermind?”

“Yes,” I said. “But with less dramatic language. Now let me use your phone.”

Sanjay punched in some numbers on his phone. I held out my hand, but he refused to hand it to me. A few moments later, he was put through to the detective in charge. I listened as he gave a brief summary of my research—with the key difference being that he said eccentric Clayton Barnes was hoarding gold. When he was done speaking, he listened in silence for almost a minute.

“Oh,” he said, frowning. “Yes. Mmm hmm. Yes, of course.”

He hung up.

“What is it?”

“It seems,” Sanjay said, “that the police have suspected Clayton for quite some time. They put two and two together, just like you did. But they've never been able to prove it. Apparently they're out at his castle right now with a search warrant. Clayton is at the police station and said they were welcome to search his home. That doesn't sound like the reaction of someone who's guilty.”

I swore. Why had I thought I could figure out something like this that the police couldn't solve?

“Don't beat yourself up,” Sanjay said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “It was a good idea. Too bad both you and the police were wrong.”

“I don't think so,” I said.

“But didn't you just hear? He's given them permission to search—”

“He's guilty, all right,” I said. “But the gold isn't hidden at his mansion where the police can find it.”

I stood up.

“Where are you going?” Sanjay asked.

“I'm going to do what I do best. Historical research. I was stupid and arrogant to think I could identify a suspect, when that's what the police do best. But this is what I do best. I know how to find the set and save Daniella's show, clear Izzy from suspicion, and save Feisal's business and his home.”

“How?”

“Clayton said he bought his castle because it was once owned by an alchemist. What do you want to bet there are hidden areas of that house the police will never be able to find, even with their thorough search?”

“You've just discovered the police aren't stupid, Jaya. I'm sure they have the blueprints to the house.”

“That's where I know more than the police. Historical buildings with something to hide often made fake blueprints. I'm not looking for blueprints, I'm looking for history books about alchemy that mention this historic castle.”

Sanjay glanced at his phone. “Five hours until Daniella's show,” he said.

“Then we'd better get going.”

  

I knew what I was after, so I was able to find what I was after within hours. The cab we caught at the Edinburgh University library dropped us off around the bend from the castle. We went on foot from there.

Three hours until show time.

The fountain stood where the historical description said it would. Water cascaded down the worn stone, pouring through the waterspout mouths of four gargoyles that faced outward around the circle.

“It's a working fountain,” Sanjay said, circling the structure. “I wasn't expecting that. How is that a good entrance to a secret lair?”

“It wouldn't be a very good hiding place if it wasn't working.”

“If you tell me I'd have to swim to the bottom of that algae-filled fountain to reach this alchemy lab, I'm going to go get the police. I know that means they'll hang onto the chess pieces as evidence for too long for Daniella and Feisal to use in the show as the draw. But I draw the line somewhere. And that line is slimy algae.”

“I'm sure there's a way in that wouldn't leave the alchemists sopping wet when they reach their lab.”

“Those historical documents you found didn't say?”

“It wasn't a how-to guide.”

Without stepping inside, Sanjay leaned over the edge of the fountain and pressed the nose of the gargoyle in front of him. He leaned back and waited a moment. When nothing happened, he walked around the fountain to the second of two gargoyles and did the same.

If I'd been an alchemist—a real believer—during a time of persecution, I'd have wanted the safest hiding place I could think of for my alchemical lab. Putting it outside the main house, and under a fountain, was a great idea. What else would I do?

I sat down on the stone bench a few feet from the fountain. The bench faced both the fountain and the rose garden that lay beyond it on the way to the mansion. Beauty filled the grounds. Compared to the rest of the ornamentation, the stone bench was rather plain. A stone slab without any flourishes, but it looked like the same centuries-old stone. The flat slab itself was solid, but one of the cobblestones in front of it was loose. I stepped on it and it shifted a little. I knelt down and pressed on it. It moved a little, but didn't give.

“Sanjay,” I said. He stood at the last of the gargoyles, scowling at the little monster. “Come over here and put your trap-door skills to use.”

“It wouldn't be on the ground,” he said. “Too easy for a gardener to accidentally step on. But here…”

He reached his hand under the bench. He ran his fingers along the base for a few moments. When his hand emerged, a faint sound of scraping stone echoed underground. But we didn't see anything.

“Oh, that's ingenious,” he said.

“I don't see it.”

“It's a two-part mechanism,” Sanjay said. “Clayton Barnes hasn't kept up greasing his door very well. We shouldn't have heard that sound. We're supposed to think pushing the button didn't do anything.”

“But it didn't.”

“Oh yes it did,” Sanjay said. “It unlocked the secret passageway.”

I stepped aside as Sanjay pushed at the slab of the stone bench. The first side he tried didn't budge. He moved to the other side. The stone swung wide, revealing a narrow set of stone stairs leading down.