Authors: Lynde Lakes
Tigra reached for the small metal box with
gloved hands and used the hem of her coat to wipe away the dirt. Her breath
caught. Underneath the filth, the lid was engraved with the museum’s name. With
shaking hands, she pried the lid open. Inside, the velvet-lined container the
golden arrowhead gleamed up at her.
Chapter Sixteen
Upon entering Tigra’s
caravan, Grandy’s miniature, mantle-sized grand-father clock struck three A.M.
After wandering around in the stormy night through icy caves, the indoor warmth
wrapped around her like a heated blanket. Hugh followed her inside.
“Where shall I sleep?” he
asked in a deep voice, looking around.
His nude image flashed in her
mind. “In your caravan,” she said, knowing if he stayed the night she wouldn’t
get any sleep.
“No way.
I’m not leaving you and that
solid gold arrowhead out of my sight until we turn it over to the police.”
She paced to the opposite
side of the small room. “I have a safer idea. To protect ourselves from false accusations,
we have to get the support of the Museum and their insurance company. If we
turn it over to the police first, they may suspect we stole it and lock us up
while they run their forensic tests.” Excitement built in her. “My plan is: we
take it to the museum and suggest they hire someone to perform their own
forensic investigation, or if they wish, let them call the police. Then, we
turn it over to the police for the forensics tests in front of the museum
director and the head of their insurance company. The museum director will be
so glad to get the arrowhead back he’ll be on our side.”
Hugh shook his head.
“Come on. Consider it,” she
said,
her voice and enthusiasm strong. “Remember, the police
didn’t find the artifact. We were the ones who trudged through the storm and
ventured into the caves to find and return the historic treasure to the county
of San Bernardino. I think our driving desire to return what rightfully belongs
to the museum will shine a favorable light on us and the circus—favorable light
we circus people need.”
Hugh frowned. “Do you know the ramifications of a
spotlight on us?
” His voice rose and his expression darkened. ”
Our
do-gooder deed will be front page news and the real thief will know exactly who
to come after to get even.”
“I have confidence that together we can handle
him.” She hated the tremor in her voice. “But we have to do what’s right
regardless of the cost to us personally. Maybe we can get the museum director
and the police to withhold our names from the media to protect our identity
until the forensic tests are completed.”
“Don’t count
on the forensics tests too much to ferret out the thief. We wore gloves and the
thief probably did the same.
While I appreciate your strong
feelings on this and admire your tenacity, your-charge-ahead-devil-be-damned
attitude it complicates things.”
“The red thread should point the investigators in
the right direction.” Her stomach tightened and she clutched the metal box to
her heart. “What did you think would happen if we found the treasure? You act
like you regret finding it.”
“That’s not it. But we should
be prepared for the tornado of trouble we’re bringing down on ourselves and
maybe the whole circus.”
She sent up a silent prayer. “As
I see it, we have no choice.”
He met her gaze. “As long as
you realize we’ll be stuck with the repercussions.”
She nodded. “The important
thing is to protect the gold until morning and then keep it safe until it’s
been returned. I’ll find a good hiding place after you leave.”
His eyes darkened and he sent
her a hard, determined look. “I repeat—don’t think for even a second I’m
leaving you and the arrowhead here unprotected. We found it together and we’ll
hide it together.”
Aware she wasn’t going to win
this argument, she looked around. “Where do you suggest?”
He grabbed a chair, stood on
it and easily removed one of the ceiling panels. “Up here should be safe enough
until morning, especially if I stretch out and do guard duty here on this day
bed.” He pointed to the cushioned side lounge, one too short for a tall guy
like him.
If she let him stay, neither
of them would get much sleep, but he was right, it was crucial to guard the
treasure. “I’ll get you a better pillow and a blanket. And you’d better get out
of those wet clothes.” Her heart-rate speeded recalling the muscled beauty of
his nude body.
She reached into the closet
and got out one of Grandy’s plaid robes. “You can use this robe while your wet
clothes dry. I don’t have a dryer. But if you hang your duds in front of the
heater, they’ll probably dry by morning. Then you can go get some fresh
clothing from your place.”
“Thanks. I’ll work it out.”
Images of his nudity lingered
in her mind.
Her queen-sized bed, a pull
down, was less than ten steps away from where he planned to sleep.
Several hours later, after
hours of hearing his breathing and each time he turned over, and smelling his
feral scent, she wondered how she’d make it through the night when already
images of them in the steamy pool and their nudity in the cave repeatedly
assaulted her
senses?
****
The next morning the museum
secretary led Tigra and Hugh to the director’s wood-paneled office. The
silver-haired man sitting in front of a computer looked up. “I don’t usually
see people without an appointment.”
“We won’t take much of your
time,” Tigra said as she placed the box containing the gold arrowhead in the
center of his desk. “We thought you’d like to receive this back as soon as
possible.”
He shot to his feet. “Oh,
dear Lord, yes. Thank you. Thank You.” He bent toward the box as if intending
to pick it up.
“Wait! Better not touch it
without gloves,” she said, handing him a pair.
“Yes, yes of course. Thank
you. He slipped on the gloves before opening it. At the sight of the gold
gleaming up at him, he let out a sigh of relief. Beaming, he lifted the box and
held it tightly against his pristine white shirt as if it were a loved one.
“Where did you find it?”
“Acting on a hunch,” Hugh
said in a deep, confident voice, “we searched the caves near the circus
grounds. We were eager to do our part as humanitarians and on behalf of the
circus.”
Tigra would have laughed at
how thick Hugh was laying it on, but whatever it took to get the director’s
support was okay with her. She leaned forward. “We brought this to you at great
danger to the circus and ourselves, and we humbly request that you and the
police withhold our names until after the investigation.”
“I can’t promise for the
police department, but your names will be kept confidential by our office.”
She
opened her mouth to discuss it further when Officers
Gonzales and Tanner sauntered in. Apparently the
secretary had called them. Both men squinted and their narrowed eyes glinted
with suspicion.
Gonzales’ muddy gaze intensified. “Why am I not
surprised you two are the
good
Samaritans? Let’s hear your story and it better be good.” He poised to take
notes.
After they told the officers how they acquired the
box, Tigra
showed the law men the red thread. “We’re hoping
along with any latent prints on the treasure box and the gold arrowhead that
the silken thread will help you find the thief.”
“Maybe,
I’m looking at him or her,” Gonzales said. “Don’t leave town, either of you.”
Tigra
smiled past the slight tremor in her lip. “Thanks, Officer Gonzales. It’s nice
to be wanted. I knew we’d be rewarded for doing our civic duty.” She turned to
the director. “Keep that safe now.”
He
extended his hand. “I’m grateful to both of you and I plan to show my gratitude
in every way I can. I’m sure this questioning and warning is just a formality
with the police officers. In my book you two are heroes.”
Chapter Seventeen
Skull stormed into Madam Mystic’s tent unconcerned
that she was ready to start a tarot reading. As usual, the inside reeked of
incense and sawdust. If he hadn’t been enraged, he would’ve laughed at her
feeble attempt at intrigue with the exotic aromas, dimly lit interior, and
arrangement of skulls and make-believe worm-like snakes crawling out of the
eyes and mouths.
He strode up to the table covered with a woodsy
brown velvet tapestry where the mystic sat across from the gray-haired,
grandmotherly-type customer. The bent, frail client’s eyes widened.
Glaring down, he said, “Out, old lady!” He swept up
the money on the table and thrust it into the old lady’s fist. Then he grabbed
the granny by the arm, lifted her, and shoved her stumbling toward the exit.
“Save your money. You don’t need a fortune teller to confirm you have no
future!”
Madam
Mystic,
or Maggie as most of the carneys and circus troupe
called her, shot to her feet. “You’ve gone too far this time, Skully.” The
turban-wearing, six-foot tall African flexed her muscled arms threateningly and
fisted her immense, ham-hock hands, but the tremor in her calypso accented
voice revealed the woman’s uneasiness.
“Sit down! Maggie Maggot. You won’t do anything or
tell anyone anything. Now, heat up your crystal ball and spill who absconded
with my golden arrowhead.”
Mystic Maggie met his gaze with glints of fear in
her dark eyes. “So you admit you’re the thief.”
“You’ve known about my entrepreneurial acquisitions
for years, so don’t play dumb with me, Maggie. Who took my arrowhead?”
He willed his teeth to lengthen and glint like sharp
shards of ivory, and his eyes to glow red as his demon spirit eroded her
willpower and strength.
Full blown terror filled her eyes. “Leave me alone!”
“Not a
chance.” She was still useful, so he didn’t want to outright kill her; instead
he merely eroded her physical resources in a way that would weaken and
frighten.
“Who?” he repeated in a violent whisper.
She waved a trembling hand across the crystal ball
and the image of the interior of the cave where his treasure disappeared came
into view, clearly revealing the culprits. He wasn’t surprised. He’d suspected
Hugh was looking for a way to worm his way into Tigra’s heart with heroism.
Well, if the roustabout/lion tamer wanted to show off, he’d give him a barrage
of non-stop trouble, with a Rolo-method finale to eliminate him forever.
****
Tigra let out a sigh of relief as they passed
through the entrance turnstile and stepped into the confines of the place she
felt most at home—the circus grounds with all of its excitement and familiar
smells. The sun on her shoulders felt warm and gave her hope. If only she could
interpret the sketchy patterns forming on the edges of her mind. She realized
with a jolt she’d been worrying about more than just the theft and the revenues
needed to keep the circus afloat. If the circus folded, Hugh would probably
disappear from her life. She darted a glance at him. The sun now gracing the
blue sky danced on his black hair. Seeing the blue highlights glinting on his
crown and their world gleaming under the sunny brightness sent a surge of
optimism. She dared to hope that the thief would be caught, the revenues would
climb,
the
circus would rocket back on track to
financial health. Best of all that Hugh would stick around and permanently join
their circus family.
Suddenly out
of the crowd, an unfamiliar white-faced clown in full costume and skull cap ran
up to her and silently handed her a note. He danced around her like a frisky
puppy. “Who is this from?” she asked, feeling her shoulder tendons tighten.
He grinned wider as though it were a colossal joke
and shrugged.
Well, it
can’t be very important
, she
thought, relaxing a bit and tucking it into her pocket.
His brows lowered and he mimed that she should read
it.
Still coming down from the stressful police
interrogation, she needed a few minutes without someone wanting something of
her or pressuring her. She patted her pocket. “Later.”
The clown tilted his head and pointed to the Ferris
wheel like an excited child before turning and skipping back up the arcade as
though he wanted her to follow him.