She reminded me of Robin, not just because she kept uttering that word, but because she was petite and pretty, with dark brown hair and a fun attitude—in spite of the circumstances.
The coroner’s small staff quickly took charge of Jean Pierre Renaud’s body. They completed a cursory examination inside the cave and then carried him outside and into their van in under an hour.
Derek gave them both his phone number and requested that he be kept in the loop if they found out anything. Everyone from the sheriff’s department promised “Commander Stone” they would do so.
I had to admit, it was pretty great to have a big hunky commander on my side. And I knew it would make Guru Bob happy to be kept informed of the details, too.
Parrish and Gordon did a cursory search in and around the small chamber. They contacted their crime scene techs to find out how soon they could get there to dust for fingerprints and collect any trace evidence they could find.
While the detectives waited for the CSI team to arrive, they rounded up the witnesses who’d seen the inside of the room or actually been inside, namely me, Derek, Robin, Austin, Dad, and Jackson.
I told Detective Parrish everything that had happened that morning: what I’d seen, what I’d smelled, what we’d assumed or theorized about the body and the ticket and the passport. Other than that, I didn’t know much.
“I didn’t even know that space existed until this morning,” I said, wishing I’d held on to my coffee mug from earlier. “And I have no idea how that furniture and all those expensive items got there.”
“Somebody here must know,” she said.
“I guess. It’s possible that some original members of the commune were storing stuff in there and the cave got sealed up somehow. My dad mentioned that there was a big earthquake up here a few years ago. That might’ve done it. I mean, that’s not what killed Mr. Renaud, but that might explain how his body was trapped there.”
It still didn’t make sense, but I wasn’t about to say that out loud. An earthquake would’ve had to have occurred more than fifty years ago, and it would’ve buried Renaud in rubble along with damaging all the furniture and treasures.
I also wasn’t about to mention Guru Bob’s reaction to seeing Renaud dead on the floor. I didn’t feel comfortable talking about Guru Bob to the detective, as nice as she was. That Renaud had been a friend of Guru Bob’s grandfather certainly had plenty of relevance, but I quickly decided to leave it to Guru Bob to enlighten the police. Maybe that made me a bad citizen, but I refused to involve Guru Bob until I talked to him about it.
And that reminded me that I’d completely forgotten about his cousin Trudy. I wanted to talk to her as soon as possible.
Trudy’s was another name I didn’t intend to bring up with the cops. I liked Detective Parrish, but my loyalty remained with Guru Bob and Trudy, who were like family to me.
Detective Parrish gave me an intense look. “Bottom line, Ms. Wainwright. Do you think there’s something in that chamber that precipitated Mr. Renaud’s death?”
I considered her question. “I have no idea. If he was killed some seventy years ago, I’m not sure there’s anyone alive who might know what happened in there.”
I felt another twinge as I remembered the Jules Verne book. I’d have to add that to my list of omissions, because there was no way I would mention that I’d taken it from the room. And I had to say, I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt about it.
Okay, that was a lie. If I was breathing, I was pretty much guilt-ridden. I lived with it. But that didn’t mean I was going to give up the book. From my earliest days of working with rare books, I’d been instructed that if all else failed, I was to save the book. Earlier, I’d tucked it under a blanket in the trunk of my car for safekeeping. Now, as Detective Parrish finished her questioning, I started to wonder if the book could possibly have anything to do with the murder of Mr. Renaud. I doubted it, although I wasn’t sure why. I’d dealt with plenty of rare books that had incited murderous intentions.
Not that I would mention that fact to Detective Parrish, either. Most law enforcement officials rolled their eyes whenever I was silly enough to suggest that a simple book might be the perfect motive for cold-blooded murder. It gave me no pleasure to count how many times I’d been right.
Chapter Three
Later that afternoon, Derek hung out with my dad and brothers, drinking wine and discussing the cave within the cave and all the stuff we’d found inside its walls. I was anxious to study the Jules Verne book, so I gave Annie a quick call just to let her know I’d be using Abraham’s studio. She was glad to hear from me and said I was welcome anytime, so I fished the book out from the trunk of my car and walked down the hill to Abraham’s house.