MICHAEL WOKE EARLY THE NEXT morning, put on a wireless headset and pushed the button that raised the huge plasma television from its recessed hiding place in the bedroom floor. Molly hadn’t liked the idea of a television in the bedroom, but once it was out of sight, there was no evidence of modern technology. Even the lights were disguised as oil lanterns. Sleeping in the room was like sliding back into the past.
Despite Inspector Paddington’s best effort to work with the press to get the story about the sniper shooting shut down, the news broke anyway. Considering the circumstances of the murder, the story was doomed to get an attentive audience. Too many ingredients to tempt popular curiosity.
A number of reporters who’d been in Blackpool to cover the marina makeover and the shipwreck suddenly decided that they wanted to use their cameras to do “real” news. It seemed that most of them had shown up at Merciful Angels Hospital the previous day. Michael was willing to bet that YouTube had been flooded with video spots concerning the murder.
Lying quietly in bed with Molly beside him, he remembered her mentioning the man who had been watching her at the marina when she’d gone to pick up Nanny Myrie, and it made him nervous. Evidently whoever had been watching Molly had already decided that she presented a danger or a source of information.
A hand lifted the earpiece of the headset. “Penny for your thoughts, love.”
Startled, Michael looked over at Molly. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.”
“No, you didn’t wake me. My offer for a glimpse into the thoughts of Michael Graham stands.”
“Not much there, I’m afraid.” He took in a breath and let it out. “I’m not getting a good feeling about what’s going on. I don’t like the fact that someone was tailing you at the same time Timothy Harper was getting shot.”
“Neither do I, but there’s nothing I can do about it. We’re already involved. The question is, how are the gypsies involved? I recognized the man watching me, a member of Draghici’s clan. We don’t know nearly enough about them or Harper’s associates.”
Michael snorted. “Enough to what, pray tell?”
“I don’t know. Expose them?”
“Harper and his friends are very serious and quite deadly, love. Getting mixed up with them would put us on the short end of things every time, I’m afraid.”
“Do you think Paddington can get to the bottom of this on his own?”
“Paddington is a good policeman. If anyone can do it, he can.”
“If this were a typical theft or murder, I would agree with you. But what’s involved here, Michael, goes beyond anything Paddington is used to. He was practically rolling his eyes at any mention of the history involved in this affair last night. And we can’t ignore the fact that he would like to shove all of this under the rug if he could. He’s all but admitted to us that he’s here to retire.”
“I know.”
“And you also know as well as I do that history is tied into the solution of this mystery.”
“Yes, I do.”
“We have faces, thanks to Paddington. Surely that gives us something of an edge.”
Rolling over onto his side to look at her, Michael brushed an errant lock of hair from her forehead. “Not much of one. And I don’t like our chances. If anything, whoever is behind this would want to kill us even more if we saw their faces. And there are probably even more members of his crew that we wouldn’t know until they killed us.”
“It’ll be all right.” Molly touched his cheek. “When did you come to bed?”
“Late.”
She frowned. “You need your rest.”
Michael captured her hand and kissed her fingers. “I won’t rest until you’re safe. And I’d feel better if you stayed home today.”
“With everything going on at the marina?” Molly grimaced. “No chance of that. People will be at each other’s throats and work will grind to a halt. I have a vested interest in this project. If I can help, I want to be available.”
He didn’t like it, but he knew she wouldn’t stay away from the marina as long as she felt needed. And, truth to tell, she probably was. Molly was good at interfacing in trying situations.
He leaned toward her and kissed her. “Well, love, if I can’t dissuade you, I can at least delay you.”
“WELL, DON’T YOU LOOK RESTED.” Iris sat at the breakfast table with Nanny.
Chagrined, Molly headed for the coffee. Michael started his mornings with tea, but she preferred coffee. The aroma filled the kitchen. “Sorry. I thought for sure you’d sleep in after the late night and the time difference.”
“I’ve never been one for sleeping in late.” Nanny had a cup of coffee and toast in front of her. “I felt guilty getting up before anyone else, except I discovered Iris is also an early riser.”
“She is.” Molly leaned a hip against the island and sipped her coffee.
“Would you like breakfast?”
“I can get it, Iris.”
“I’ve already got Michael’s favorite waffle batter waiting for him to come down, but I’ve sliced some fruit and it won’t take but a moment to fix eggs and warm up the bacon I fried this morning.”
“That sounds lovely.”
“How do you want your eggs?”
“Over easy, please.”
“Would you like to eat here or in the dining room?” Iris busied herself at the stove.
“Here would be fine.” Molly slid into one of the chairs at the table. She was a bit self-conscious about Iris making her breakfast as Nanny watched. “Iris isn’t exactly a housekeeper or chef.”
“Is that a jab at my culinary skills, Molly?”
“No, Iris, I just…” Then Molly realized she’d been set up.
“Iris has already explained that she feels like a member of the family, not an employee.” Nanny smiled.
“Too true.” Michael strode into the room, carrying his notebook computer in a messenger bag. “A proper employee would know her place and not get so cheeky with the boss.” He helped himself to the tea service. He sniffed. “Is that waffles I smell?”
“It is.” Iris looked at him with mock insolence. “Care to strike your colors now, sir?”
“Consider them stricken. You have me in your complete thrall, Iris.” Michael leaned over and gave Iris a peck on the cheek. “You know, if Mrs. Graham hadn’t begged me to marry her, I’d be after making an honest woman of you.”
Iris flushed slightly, but Molly knew the woman enjoyed the attention. Michael was the son that Iris had never had, and her devotion to him showed.
“You are an incorrigible flirt. And in front of your missus.”
“If it’s any consolation, I’ll quietly eat those waffles in shame.” Michael took a stool at the island and plucked a grape from a bowl. He opened the messenger bag and set up the computer.
“Where are you going today?” Molly watched him as he pulled up the browser and started jumping through websites.
“I thought I’d have a word with Inspector Paddington.”
“But that’s not what’s occupying your ever-busy mind.”
He smiled. “Remember the model of the town that I built, the one that fits together into a three-dimensional object? I realized what it is—it’s a map.”
“A map? Of what?”
Michael brought up pictures on the computer screen as Nanny and Molly walked over behind him. “Charles Crowe built a miniature version of Blackpool as it was back in his day and donated the model to the local library. I got interested in the way it was built, how the odd-shaped buildings seemed to fit together. He was quite the gamesman, Charles Crowe was. After Aleister removed the model from the library, Rohan helped me construct one of my own.”
“My grandson was always clever with his hands.”
“More clever than I was. It was Rohan who built the models in such exact proportion. If not for his efforts, I would have never discovered that the buildings folded up into each other.”
On the computer screen, Michael pulled up a representation of the three-dimensional model he and Rohan had built. Molly watched in fascination even though she’d seen the process before.
“Here the town is as Charles Crowe represented it in his model.” Michael tapped keys. “Now watch this.”
In response, the buildings on the three-dimensional model started folding into each other almost perfectly. When the interlocking pieces all stopped moving, a cube spun slowly on the screen.
“That, Nanny, is a fiendishly clever puzzle box. I can’t even begin to imagine the time and effort Charles Crowe put into creating such a thing. The model replicates the architecture of the town, and many of the buildings were designed by Crowe himself. That just goes to show how much influence the man had over Blackpool at the time.”
“One man can’t build a town like that.” Nanny’s voice was calm and quiet. “One man, he don’t have the power to do such things.”
Michael’s brow furrowed and he leaned back. “Charles Crowe wouldn’t have wielded that much influence by himself, no. He must have had partners. Wealthy partners. People who had a considerable stake in his enterprises.”
“The most profitable business Charles Crowe was involved in at the time seems to have been slave trading,” Nanny suggested.
“Which was illegal. But he was willing to run the risks for money while others stood even further in the shadows and raked in their own bloody profits.” Michael looked at the older woman. “You realize we’re talking about a conspiracy, don’t you? Several people working in collusion?”
“I’m surprised that you ever thought it could be anything less.” Nanny nodded at the screen. “I’ve read the stories surrounding the discovery of the Seaclipse. There’s no reason to believe that was the only ship Charles Crowe had committed to the slave trade. Then there is the murder of that man, Jeremy Chatwhistle. The captain in the West Africa squadron?”
“What do you mean?” Michael sipped his tea.
“It’s plain as the nose on your face, if you ask me.” Nanny shook her head. “Someone had to have informed Charles Crowe he had a West African squadron captain nipping at his heels. As Mr. Hume-Thorson’s friend verified, Chatwhistle’s reports were filed in London. But once Chatwhistle disappeared, the pursuit of the Seaclipse and its owner was dropped. Clearly somebody with a lot of influence convinced the officers of the Royal Navy their careers were better served by focusing on traders off the coast of Africa, not in their own country.” Nanny nodded at the computer screen. “Now what does this puzzle box mean?”
“The way I have it figured, the exposed surfaces of the box, once it’s folded, reveal the passageways and tunnels beneath Blackpool.” Michael shrugged unhappily. “Some of them have changed over the past hundred and seventy years, but enough should remain to allow the passages to be identified.”
“Have you been able to do that?”
“Not yet. I’m hoping I can find the connecting passages beneath the buildings if the shop owners will let me explore. Not many of them will be happy with the idea, I suspect.”
“Part of their reticence is due to me, I’m afraid.” Molly tapped her coffee cup. “The town is nearly divided over whether the renovations I got funding for are helpful or hurtful to Blackpool.”
“And a lot of them are already tired of hearing about Charles Crowe’s mythical fortune,” Michael added. “It’s been a local legend for over a century, and when the gold coins were found a couple of months ago, everyone got stirred up again. The furor just died down. I doubt many will wish it back.”
Nanny leaned in closer. “What are these markings in the corners of the cube faces?”
Michael tapped keys again. This time as the cube slowly spun, glowing symbols were copied from the faces and dropped into a neat row at the bottom of the screen.
They included a square, a hexagon, a line, a triangle, a pentagon and a set of parallel lines.
“I don’t know. I only added those recently. I noticed they were marked on the original model and I transferred them from the pictures I took of it.” Michael let out a frustrated breath. “So far, I haven’t been able to fathom their secret. But I believe they’re part of the map. Clues to this treasure trove he reputedly left behind.”
“Do you believe there is a fortune?” Nanny asked.
Michael shrugged. “I can’t say. Maybe it was all spent long ago. Maybe Charles Crowe never got around to creating the nest egg he intended. There’s a lot we don’t know about that man.”
“What about the tribal artifacts? According to my ancestor, Charles Crowe took pride in his collection and went out of his way to accumulate new pieces. And they turned up just recently, still in the possession of the Crowes.”
“If they weren’t worth much at the time, why would Charles Crowe acquire them and why would his descendants keep them?”
“I can’t speak to the current Crowes, but my ancestor says it was because Charles Crowe believed those objects brought him a dark power, that they would help him triumph over his enemies and secure his authority.” Nanny shook her head. “Others whispered that those objects carried curses for anyone that shed the blood of the people they rightfully belonged to.”
A chill skated down Molly’s back.