Spoils of the Game (35 page)

“Let’s see how much is here. There were one disk in this pot. Perhaps that is all that there is.”

Austin took a spoon and began digging into the bottoms of the pots that Madeline had not filled with dirt. In the second he could see what remained of a leather or perhaps cloth covering; below that was more mud, and within the still-wet soil was another disk of gold. Each pot contained its own disk of gold. Austin was not sure, but each disk was about four and a half pounds, so that the total weight was about one hundred pounds. Austin did the calculation in his head and guessed that the gold was worth more than two million dollars.

Madeline sat in a wicker chair, looking out to the ocean. “So, Austin, what are you going to do now?”

Austin joined her in the other wicker chair and also stared out at the ocean. “Madeline, a few days ago we decided that the gold would be used to help find a cure for your nephew. I think I have got him covered now. I have no children, but you might consider putting some of the money toward the education of both of your nephews.”

Madeline continued to stare out to sea. Austin’s suggestion was not what she wanted.

“Austin … in the past few weeks, I have found a murdered friend, I have been confronted by my boss that you say was a crook, I took a wild trip into Northern Italy, I helped you dig in the bottom of a well, someone tried to stab me, and then I watched you almost kill two men along the road. My boss killed two people and then killed himself, and today I was confronted by the mob, then you bought me this house. And I must tell you that I cannot take any more. Austin, putting money aside for the boys is a good idea, but I do not want the gold to affect their lives. I want to go back to our plan. I appreciate that you may have a solution for Benjamin’s problems, which changes our plans and perhaps allows for any money to be used for another purpose. Are you going to let me decide what to do with the money, or are you going to bully me into your plan?”

Austin looked down at the patio floor and tried to understand Madeline’s thinking. Whatever it was it was still a lot of money, and he could easily find a good use of it. He had thought about making sure that she was well cared for, but now that he’d asked her to marry him, that would not be an issue. Perhaps there was something that people could do with money other than just hoard it.

“Madeline, we came very close to throwing the pots into a dumpster. You kept them and were going to turn them into something beautiful. They are your pots, and what is in them is yours.”

“I want to give the gold to Father Gladieux. He will know what to do with it and how to make good come from bad. It was through him that the gold was found, and I just feel it would be best if we did that.”

Austin admired Madeline’s unselfishness and her values. Logic and rational thinking had no place in this discussion.

Madeline said, “I’ll call and see if we can stop and visit with Father Gladieux on our way back to Paris. I want the gold to go from our hands into his hands as quickly as possible. I will call my sister and see if she can find out where he might be reached, and then we can just go and give the gold to him.”

Chapter 13

France

Arriving back in Paris was stressful. The vacation that Madeline had looked forward to was over, the gold was still in her life, she was now the owner of a house at the beach, and soon she would be married. On Monday she was to be back at work at the Louvre, not knowing whom she would be working for now that her boss had killed himself. Surely people would be concerned about what damage might have been done to the Louvre and the public image of the fine museum. As they left the train, Austin gathered up the luggage and arranged for a porter to take it to the curb and a taxi. It was late on Sunday afternoon when they finally got back to Madeline’s apartment.

With all the luggage stacked in her living room, Madeline slumped down on the couch, and Austin slumped down next to her. It had been an amazing month. Both were exhausted, but neither of them was feeling relaxed. The rest on the couch was brief. Madeline wanted to go through her mail, air out her apartment, and unpack. It was clear that emotions were not right, and perhaps some time away from each other was best. Austin got the signal and took the small bag that contained the gold and his luggage, gave the future Mrs. Austin Clay a kiss, and stated that he would call her tomorrow.

That night Austin fell asleep at about seven, watching TV, but before he surrendered to slumber in his bed, he went to a closet and retrieved the painting he had purchased from his future brother-in-law in Saint-Abban weeks earlier. It was a fine painting of a sad woman, but it no longer represented anyone he knew. He carefully placed the painting in a plastic bag and moved it downstairs to a utility room that contained the trash bins. By tomorrow the painting would be gone, and in the future he hoped to see only a smiling Madeline.

That night Madeline spent two hours on the phone talking to Paulette, her sister. When Madeline had called from Antibes, Paulette was thrilled to hear of the engagement, and now the sisters had started planning the nuptials. The news about the beach house touched the romantic part of Paulette’s brain, and she was sure that after years of loneliness, Madeline had found someone she deserved. Paulette had gathered her son’s medical records, and soon the information would be on its way to the United States. There was much to be happy about. Without giving too many details, Madeline brought up the topic of finding Father Gladieux.

“Paulette, Austin wanted to find Father Gladieux. I talked him into making a donation to a good cause, and I know that Father would have a good idea.”

“A donation?” said Paulette. “Does he feel guilty about something, or is he just trying to buy his way into heaven?”

“When I first met Austin, I knew he was wealthy, but he is much more than that. I was never concerned about his money, but he has enough that he could learn to share.”

“Well, if he keeps buying you houses, he will soon be broke.”

Both women laughed.

“Madeline, I heard recently that Father Gladieux was in the hospital. He had a stroke, and he has lost his vision in one eye.”

“Oh, no,” said Madeline. She hated to see the priest die slowly, and Father Gladieux was the only one that she knew who would know how to use the gold for good.

“I believe that he is now out of the hospital, but he is not well,” said Paulette. “His nephew told my husband that he was planning to drive him up to Chartres for a reunion of priests from his seminary class, but I am not sure when that will be. I will ask.”

The morning brought Madeline’s first day back at work. What would she say? What would she admit to? Austin had coached her to volunteer nothing and to listen carefully. Perhaps they were guilty of enticing a dishonest man, but they did not kill Badeau. Vassar called a meeting of Badeau’s former department and expressed sympathy for Badeau and his family and concern for the museum. There were no plans for Badeau’s replacement, and for the time being Vassar would take on that responsibility. He knew that there were good people in Badeau’s group, and for the foreseeable future, the department could perhaps run itself.

Sabine and Madeline met at about ten that morning, and Madeline shared the news of her engagement. For a few minutes the shared excitement occupied all of their time.

“Madeline, did your friend Austin ever find anything of interest in the information I gave him on the artist that painted those pictures?” asked Sabine.

For a few seconds Madeline searched her brain for an answer. “Sabine, at first Austin got all excited about the information you gave him. He was sure that it gave clues about the possibility of finding an old treasure, but the more he studied it, the more he gave up. Austin now believes that the Nazis got the gold from the estate of some banker that Austin thinks actually found the gold before the war. Trust me, Austin does not need any more money, and he told me that now I am his treasure.”

“Oh, that is so romantic,” said Sabine. “I am so happy for you. Your wedding is going to be like a fairy tale.”

It was shortly after eleven when Vassar called Madeline into his office and greeted her with a smile. Vassar was an administrator and a people person, and most people found him very easy to talk with. Not knowing what he wanted made Madeline feel very intimidated.

Vassar asked Madeline to have a seat on a couch, and he took a seat in a large overstuffed chair.

“Madeline, I heard a rumor, and I must say that I am a little surprised but also very happy. I heard that you and our Monsieur Clay are engaged to be married.”

Madeline blushed with a mixture of emotions. The poorly kept secret of their relationship was now out, and she hoped that it would not affect her relationship with her job. But then again, why should she care?

“It’s true,” Madeline said with a smile. “I am very happy. Austin is a terrific man with a strong interest in doing good things.”

“Madeline, I fully agree with you, and in the next couple of days I want to meet with him to complete the plans for his project. I have received several letters from those who were at the presentation he made, and I think we will have all of the support that is needed. I must ask you an important question, if I might.”

“Yes?” said Madeline apprehensively.

“With the loss of Claude Badeau, I must find a replacement, and your name is on the list. But now I wonder if you will be with us or if you will be leaving.”

It was strange. In the last few days, Madeline had never thought about possible changes in her life. She had always worked and had planned to work until she retired. Where was she going to be living? What would she do if she did not work at the museum? Vassar was looking for a precise answer, and she did not have one.

“Andre, I am sorry, but I don’t know. I feel like I am on a rocket ride, and I don’t know. Let me say that I do not think that I am the person to replace Claude.”

Andre Vassar looked out his office window. “My dear Madeline, I believe that you have been blessed, and I only wish good things for you. Whoever takes Claude’s position will need support and will have to dedicate a great deal of time to rebuilding the department. I can understand if you do not want the position. If you decide to stay at the museum, I am sure you will be an asset, and we can work together to place you in any area that is of interest to you. I must ask one more question, if I might.”

Madeline looked at Vassar knowing that now would come the tough question.

“Madeline, we learned of Claude’s death through the newspapers and on the television. The Italians believe that they have solved the case, but some have said that Claude was involved with art fraud, and that disturbs me greatly. I was sad to hear of this, because I liked Claude, but I am worried that any of the holdings of the Louvre might have been at risk. In your dealings with Claude, did you ever learn of any activities that might have been suspicious?”

The question was clear and simple and one that Madeline had no difficulty answering.

“No, sir.” It was a simple answer, and Austin had told her not to volunteer information. It was unnecessary to tell anyone that many people did not like Claude Badeau or that others thought he was a crook. The man was dead, and she did not know any of the specifics of his shady deals.

Vassar rose from his chair and extended his hand toward Madeline, who also stood, happy that the visit was over.

“My dear Madeline, please keep me aware of your plans, and tell your friend Austin that he is a lucky man.”

Madeline left Vassar’s office, suddenly understanding that her life was going to change.

* * *

Austin’s morning was relaxed until the knock at the door. Dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, Austin opened the door to find Detective Blanc standing in the hallway.”

“Good morning, Monsieur Clay, I trust this is a good time.”

Austin was surprised to see him; he’d never expected to talk with him again.

“Monsieur Clay, I have just a few more topics to cover before I can close the Feret case. If you have the time, I would like to address them now, if that is okay.”

Austin’s mind was scrambled. What could he tell this man that he did not already know?

To an observer it would be unclear whether Austin invited the tall detective in or if the detective just walked passed Austin as he held the door.

“Coffee, detective?”

“That would be very nice, thank you.”

Detective Blanc took a seat in the living room while Austin tended to the coffee. From his jacket pocket he pulled several folded papers and an official-looking document.

Austin reentered the room with two cups of coffee, a paper carton of creamer, and a bowl of sugar.

“Detective, I am sorry I am not more of a host. If you had called, I would be better prepared.”

“Oh, this is fine. Please do not worry. Mr. Clay, in my business I have to complete the file before our rules will allow me to say that the case is closed. This case has been very strange and very interesting. With all of the events that have occurred, and all of the people that have been related to this case, I am a little freer to discuss this case with you. The moment I saw Monsieur Feret’s body, I was almost sure that it was not the work of a petty thief. I have been in this business a long time, and I remember a lot of information about a lot of people. When I saw the knife in Feret’s skull. I was 90 percent sure who the killer might be. I think I told you that in going through the contents of his apartment in an effort to determine what might be missing, we noted that files on the subject of the artist Maetan were gone, along with some books from his library. The significance of the files was a connection with you.”

“Me?” Austin’s mind was rattled again. Did Blanc think that he had killed Feret?

“Monsieur Clay, let me explain and perhaps clarify what I just said. It was our concern that you might be another victim in this case. You shared a common interest with Feret and also had knowledge that others might find of value. If they killed Feret, they might kill you.”