“Like one of those team building exercises,” Sean said. Allyson and Mrs. Borringer gave him a similar look of confusion. He explained, “It was something I did once in college. The professor took the class of about twenty-five people and made us stand in a circle. He then went to one person and told them to repeat what he told them to the next person in line. After whispering the secret in the person’s ear, that person leaned over and whispered to the next student in line. This process was repeated around the room until the last student had heard the professor’s message. At that point, he asked the final student what the phrase was. Although it was similar to what he had told the first person in line, what he had whispered into the first ear had changed to something very different in mere minutes.”
“That’s exactly what my husband thought happened with the original religion,” she smiled at him. “I am not sure what it is you are looking for, but if there is something to find, it would be in this room.” Her hand waved carelessly towards the desk and the rest of the contents of the room.
The two guests exchanged a puzzled look. Sean said what they were thinking, “Didn’t the police come look through this stuff?”
“They came up here and went through everything. The first group of officers were very respectful of Frank’s things. They were thorough but were careful to leave everything the way they found it.”
Her sweet face turned to a sort of scowl, “That Officer Jurgenson was quite the opposite, though. He tore through everything, leaving books laying around all over the place. The garage was an even bigger mess. He went through our trash, leaving garbage all over the place. The house was a total mess after that fellow left.”
Sean was feeling more and more certain that this Jurgenson character was not who he pretended to be. Cops could be insensitive at times, but not to an old lady who had just lost her husband to a brutal murder. No, even the biggest of blue-clad jerks knew how to treat a situation like that. He wasn’t a cop, but felt compelled to apologize anyway. Then, he thought better of it.
She continued, “It took several hours to put everything back in its place, but it gave me a chance to look back on some fond memories.”
This lady definitely seemed to be a “glass half-full” type.
Her eyes returned from a distant gaze to the present. “Mr. Wyatt, you and the young lady may look through any of my husband’s things that you wish. I trust you. If you are able to find what it is you seek, you may keep it.”
“If we do find something…” He began.
“You may keep it,” she repeated for him. “Whatever you find, I hope it helps you find Tommy and whoever killed Frank.” She smiled again and disappeared around the door into the hallway.
“Can she not just tell us what we are looking for and where it is?” Allyson pondered out loud.
Sean had to smile. Sometimes historians could be a little socially awkward. He supposed this couple was no different. Those kinds of people spent their whole lives researching and analyzing the lives of other people from many different cultures and time periods. That was bound to have an effect on one’s social skills. He couldn’t help but wonder if Mrs. Borringer knew more than she was letting on. Sean considered the events of the last 24 hours. He had to help his friend. Apparently, the woman downstairs wasn’t going to help any more than telling him that the first step to unraveling this mystery might be somewhere in this room.
“What are we looking for?” Allyson asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“I’m not sure.” He answered and began looking at the old religious texts, flipping through pages, scanning for some kind of book mark that someone else might have missed.
Allyson, too, began looking through some the professor’s things. She joined Sean at the bookshelf, picking up the copy of Poe’s works, she opened it and looked through the table of contents. “The Fall of the House of Usher,” “The Raven,” “Black Cat,” “Goldbug,” and a plethora of other stories and poems, some she’d heard of and some that were beyond her memory of high school English. Most were probably never covered in class. Leafing through a few of the pages, she didn’t recognize anything that should lead them to any kind of clue.
“Maybe it isn’t here.” She brushed against him slightly as she continued thumbing through the pages.
The touch of her skin sent an electric chill up and down his spine. He looked up and smiled at her. “I’m sorry you’re involved in this.” His gaze was sincere.
She smiled back at him. “I have to say, I don’t enjoy being shot at,” she paused, “but this is going to be one amazing story for the paper.”
He snorted a laugh. Shaking his head, he continued his search.
Ten minutes went by and still the pair had found nothing they believed to be what Dr. Borringer had been working on. It was starting to feel like a dead end.
Allyson interrupted his beleaguered thoughts, “I don’t know much about Poe, but I don‘t think that he knew anything about the Golden Chambers.” Sean spun the chair at the desk around and plopped down while she perused the pages as she paced the small room.
“It doesn’t look like there is anything to help to us here,” he broke the silence a few minutes later. If there had been anything there, the police or Jurgenson would have certainly found it. He hoped it wasn’t the latter. Nothing seemed to point to any sort of clue and frustration had settled in. Without a starting point, there was no way they were going to find Tommy.
Allyson had only begun to pace back from the window in the room when, suddenly, she stopped. Lifting her head, she smiled at Sean.
“What?” He asked and cocked his head curiously.
Her smile was joined by a nod. “I think I know what we’re looking for.”
She took a step over to the desk and set the book down on the shiny black surface. “Did you ever read The Purloined Letter?” She asked him as her hand reached down for the envelopes on the table.
“Not that I remember. But high school English class was a long time ago.”
“Well, in that story, Poe’s main character is trying to hide a vital piece of information from the police and some other villains. The detectives and other investigators come to search his house, but they can never find what they are looking for. Essentially, they completely tear the house apart, but to no avail. Finally, the main character’s friend comes over and asks where the letter is hidden. He is directed to a pile of letters that look like ordinary bills and correspondence. In fact, if I remember correctly, the protagonist of the story had gone to extra lengths to make the letter look old and unimportant.”
“So, basically, the guy left it sitting right there out in the open where everyone could see it, but where no one would think something secret should be. Pretty smart or really stupid.”
“Yeah,” she replied, pulling a very ordinary looking letter from the small pile. “Sean, what is your middle name?”
“Matthew. Why?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“I think we just found what we were looking for.”
Chapter 16
Ulrich left the car parked on the street in a parallel spot about a half block from Tommy’s home. Bringing the captive archaeologist along would have been too difficult. Instead, leaving him behind in the care of his associates seemed the more logical thing to do.
As he approached the house, Ulrich moved stealthily from the open view of the street to the cover of a neighbor’s home a couple of doors down. More than likely, if the cops were there, they would be stationed at the front and back of the house. He crept around the back porch of the first house, careful to stay low and in the shadows. Inside, an enormous flat-screen television was aglow with some late night police drama.