Ripped From the Pages

“Tell me, Brooklyn,” said Guru Bob. “Have you any theories that might explain where this extraordinary treasure came from?”

 

 

I hesitated for a moment, then spoke. “We found a book inside the suitcase that belonged to Mr. Renaud.”

 

He tilted his head slightly. “A book?”

 

“Yes. Journey to the Center of the Earth, by Jules Verne. I, um, took it. I didn’t want the police to have it. They don’t always appreciate the fragility of a rare book.”

 

He smiled and tightened his hold on my arm. I interpreted the action as a sign of approval.

 

“Anyway,” I continued, “inside the book was a pledge written in French and signed by two boys. There was also a piece of notepaper left inside the book. It was written by an adult, also in French. On the note was a map, and that’s how we found our way into this part of the cave.”

 

“From a map you found in the book?” He looked frankly stunned.

 

“Yes.” I gave Derek a quick look and noticed he was listening to every word. “Derek translated the map’s instructions, and they led us from the Wishing Tree directly into this part of the cave. Well, actually, we were stopped at the fancy wardrobe in the outer chamber, but Derek had the bright idea of moving it, and, sure enough, it was covering up this small opening. And that’s how we found this room.”

 

“Astounding.” Guru Bob glanced over at Derek.

 

“It certainly is,” Derek said.

 

“It seems you took your own journey into the center of the earth,” Guru Bob said. “How resourceful of you.”

 

“I didn’t even think of that,” I said, grinning at Derek.

 

“Thank you both for being so tenacious.” He gave my arm a light squeeze and nodded to Derek. “I will be grateful for any more information you come across that might provide an answer to this remarkable puzzle.”

 

He turned and stared again at the items scattered around the room.

 

“Does anything look at all familiar?” Derek asked.

 

“Sadly, no,” Guru Bob said. He turned back to me. “You said the pledge was written by two boys, and they signed their names.”

 

“That’s right.”

 

“Do you remember what their names were?”

 

“Of course,” I said. “They were Jean Pierre Renaud and Anton Benoit.”

 

He inhaled suddenly, as though he’d received a punch in the stomach. Guru Bob rarely showed emotions unless they were positive ones, but right now he looked completely flummoxed and not happy about it.

 

“You knew them,” Derek said softly.

 

Guru Bob sighed. “You may recall my telling you that Jean Pierre Renaud was a friend of my grandfather.”

 

“Yes, of course,” I said, and Derek nodded.

 

Guru Bob sighed. “My grandfather was Anton Benoit.”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Five

 

 

 

 

“Like many families, mine had its secrets,” Guru Bob admitted after we’d left the darkness of the cave for a picnic table under an oak tree near the tasting room. Derek and I sat together facing Guru Bob. I hoped he didn’t feel as if we were interrogating him, but it felt like that to me.

 

“My father rarely spoke of his parents or their life in Sonoma. Never liked to talk about growing up working in the vineyards, except to say that it was not for him. He moved our family to San Francisco when I was barely a teenager.”

 

“What was your grandfather like?” I asked.

 

“He died before I was born, so I never knew him.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Thank you, gracious. I do know that when my grandfather and uncles reached the United States, they changed the family name of Benoit to the English version of the name, and that is how I came to have the last name of Benedict.”

 

He pronounced the name Benoit as Ben-wah.

 

Derek leaned forward. “And you had no idea that the hidden chamber with all that artwork and furnishings even existed?”

 

“No idea at all.” He shook his head, looking almost ashamed. I hoped that wasn’t the case, but he was clearly unhappy about the discoveries inside the caves, especially the body of Mr. Renaud. “I feel so inadequate, unable to answer your simple questions. As I said, my father was not forthcoming when it came to discussing my grandfather, or much else for that matter. You have not talked to my cousin Trudy yet, have you?”

 

“Not yet.”

 

“She is your best hope for finding the answers. She is actually my father’s cousin and twenty years older than I. She moved here with the rest of the family when she was a child. I will let her know you plan to visit her.”

 

“Do you think she knew what was inside the cave?” Derek asked.

 

“No,” he said, shaking his head for emphasis. “Absolutely not. Trudy is wonderfully impulsive and would never have been able to keep it a secret.”

 

He was right about that. His cousin was a generous free spirit who loved life and people. She would’ve wanted to share all that bounty with others.

 

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