"People do that all the time." He smiled. "In your case it's the least I can do, what with your help with the gift for my daughter. Have you had any luck finding that puppet?"
"No, I haven't yet," I replied. "But I haven't forgotten. I'll keep looking." But I had forgotten, completely, in the rush to get to the bottom of this mess in six days--forgotten both Cliff and my film star. So much for the self-serving pap about customer service I keep telling myself. I was as bad as the next guy. I rushed into town.
"Madame Lara," Rashid Houari said. "I'm glad you dropped by. I was going to call you at the hotel later. Your brass and copperware went off today. It should arrive shortly after you get back."
"You're too efficient, Rashid," I said. "There's something else I'm looking for. I'm hoping you can help me. I thought perhaps if you did, I'd just add it to the shipment, but you're way ahead of me."
"Don't worry," he said. "I've found something I know you are going to want, anyway. You won't be able to resist."
"Okay, you've got me hooked already. What is it?"
"I will keep you in suspense. First, what are you looking for?"
"One of those lovely old puppets. Not the tourist ones, the real ones."
"I have two or three," he said. "From the old French theater in Sfax. I don't have them here. There isn't much call for them. Most people like these," he said with a shrug, gesturing to new, and not particularly good, copies.
"Can I see them?" I asked him. "And if so, when? I'm a little pressed for time these days."
"The day after tomorrow? I'm closed until then. I must go to Tunis on business."
"That's cutting it a bit fine," I said. "Not any sooner?"
"Perhaps what we could do is go and see them at my warehouse this evening. It's not far from here, down on the harbor road. I close here just before sunset, go to the mosque for prayers, and then go home to see my little girl before she goes to sleep. I could meet you at say, seven-thirty?"
"No, that doesn't work for me," I said. "I have dinner with my group about then, and I have to talk to them about packing smaller bags for the trip to the desert. It's also an opportunity to deal with any problems or questions they have, so I don't like to skip out early. I don't think I could be there until pretty close to nine."
"That would be all right. I have to go there anyway, at some point this evening, to get something for another customer. Here, I'll draw you a map."
"That's right down near the pier the fishing boats use, isn't it?" I said.
"Just a few yards north of it," he said. "There is a small factory there. I use it to warehouse the goods for my shop here, and the one my brother-in-law runs for me in Hammamet. I also have a few people making the new puppets there, and some leatherwork. It has a green door. You can't miss it. Take a taxi, why don't you? and I'll drive you back to town when we're through."
"You're sure you don't mind?"
"For you, this is no problem. Not all my customers are as gentille as you. Now, are you ready?" He took me by the hand and led me to a back corner of the store, and pulled a canvas away with a flourish. "It's good, yes? Perfect for your movie star."
"Rashid! It's gorgeous." It was a beautiful little table of inlaid wood, ten-sided, North African style. Old, maybe late 1800's, by the look of it. "You're right. I have to have it. And it's so good, my Rosedale film star may never see it. I may just have to keep it for myself." Falling in love with the merchandise is an occupational hazard for me.
We argued in a friendly fashion about price, but in the end, we had a deal. I told him if the puppets were as good as he said they were, I'd take whatever he had. "See you later, Rashid," I said.
"Nine o'clock," he said. "I have some other merchandise there you might be interested in, very old, very special."
"You never stop, do you, Rashid?" I laughed. "See you at nine."
At about quarter to nine I was in a taxi heading north on the harbor road. I could see the Elissa Dido tied up at the pier. As we got closer, I could have sworn I saw a light in the wheelhouse. It's your imagination, Lara, I told myself, or the reflection of car headlights from the road. But I saw it again. "Pull over," I said to the taxi driver. "I'm getting out here."
"You shouldn't be down here by yourself at night," the driver cautioned.
"It's okay," I told him. "I'm meeting someone over there, at the warehouse with the light over the door."
"Be careful," he said and drove off.
I walked as quietly as I could along the pier, and edged my way toward the wheelhouse. The light came and went, as if someone was moving about with a flashlight. I crouched low and made my way along the length of the boat until I was even with the wheelhouse, then, counting to three to get my nerve up, I straightened and took a look.
It took me about one second to realize I had made a serious miscalculation in thinking I could separate the tour from the shipwreck. Ben Miller was there, sifting through papers. As I watched, he picked up a piece of paper, looked at it carefully, and smiled. A moment later he switched off the flashlight. I ducked down and moved away as fast as I could. At the road, I ran for the warehouse, just a hundred yards away. It was dark inside, but I pushed open the door. The lamp outside shed some light through a tiny window in the door. I found a switch and flipped it on.
"Hello," I called into the interior gloom. No one answered. I suddenly felt vulnerable standing there in a pool of light, with the warehouse dark around me. I could see a passageway leading toward the back, and, when I stepped into the relative darkness, I saw another light farther along. I walked toward it, past rows and rows of puppets, perhaps hundreds of them, soldiers with red faces and white, their armor and boots, swords and shields of metal, occasionally catching a little of the light from farther on, hanging over long work benches from two long rails on each side of the passageway. At the back of the warehouse was another room with the door partially open, and it was from there that the light emanated. I pushed the door open to find myself in an office of sorts. Under the light was a small table, and on it lay three magnificent old puppets, exactly what I was looking for. Rashid was obviously there somewhere. He'd put out the puppets for me to see. I felt myself relax as I held each of them up in turn, admiring the folds of the old textiles, and the artistry of the painting on the faces. They were absolutely perfect. Cliff could have one, and the other two would look fantastic in the film star's living room. I'd get Clive to design display stands for them. Things were looking up.
Thinking Rashid would return at any moment, I took a seat and looked about me. This was obviously where he kept the good stuff. Over in one corner, four large amphorae sat in stands. I wondered if it would be possible to get them home safely. They'd make great decorative items. I speculated on how old they might be. I remembered Briars telling me about Dressel amphora forms, but of course, didn't know enough about them to even guess. They looked vaguely like Zoubeeir's graveyard amphorae, but I'd need an expert opinion.
The room was lined with shelves, some fronted with wooden doors and locked. One cabinet was ajar, the key still in the lock. Curiosity piqued, I went to look. There were a few bronze coins scattered about, along with some broken pieces of terra cotta. But there were some lovely intact pieces as well, one of which particularly caught my eye. I looked at it carefully. Was it possible it was Zoubeeir's wine jug, the one that had gone missing? I'd have to tell Briars that there was a possibility it had turned up. Perhaps the family sold it to Rashid. On closer examination, however, I saw that I was wrong. Lifting it very carefully, I brought it over to the light. Zoubeeir's jug had a piece missing out of the rim, which had been quite distinct in the photograph. I consider that I have a good eye for repairs, no matter how well done, and this piece had been repaired all right, but on the handle, not the rim. Still it was interesting. Two jugs in the same design would no doubt mean something in historical terms, and Briars would be very keen, I was certain, to see this one. I put the jug back in the cupboard, and had a look at the remaining objects.