“We’ll never know.” I frowned at Derek. “I hate that.”
I stood up. He met me halfway and we hugged each other. “I’ll call Robson in the morning,” he said, “and arrange a time to meet. He should know as soon as possible, for his own sake.”
“Yes, he should. I remember telling him that there was absolutely no way his grandfather could’ve killed that man in the cave, but Guru Bob wasn’t so sure. He said he didn’t have my confidence simply because he never met his grandfather. I mean, I never met the guy, either, but I couldn’t imagine Guru Bob would be related to someone who would do something so . . . well. I guess he was right to withhold judgment. Even of his own flesh and blood.”
We sat quietly with our thoughts for a minute; then Derek said, “The letter does answer a question I had about the cave itself. Why did Anton build a second chamber? What was the purpose?”
“It sounds like the small, inner chamber was already there,” I said.
“Yes. He filled it to capacity with the rarest artwork and silver, plus a few pieces of furniture. The big furniture and other items remained in the larger storage-cave area.”
“That makes sense, especially if he believed he’d be sending things back to France eventually.”
“Yes, but he never did. He was completely mad by the time Jean Pierre showed up. Marie’s letter says that in so many words. And once Jean Pierre was killed, Anton had to single-handedly wall up the area in front of the small chamber, creating a second cave with his friend inside.
“He did a darn good job with that wall,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.
“Indeed,” Derek said. “None of us, not even the excavation team, suspected there was anything behind it except a mountain of rock and packed dirt.”
I rested my head on Derek’s shoulder, and he rubbed my back. “Let’s go to bed, love,” he said. “Tomorrow’s going to be another busy day.”
*
Upon reading the translated letter, Guru Bob was overwhelmed.
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
“I appreciate that, gracious.” He took hold of my hand. “You have been so good and kind throughout this ordeal. I wish there was some way to relieve the pain you are feeling at having to deliver this unfortunate news to me.”
“My pain?” Shaken, I glanced at Derek and then back at Guru Bob. “No, Robson, I’m not the one in pain. I’m worried about you and your pain.”
He smiled. “You have such a beautiful heart. I know you were not prepared to discover the truth about my grandfather, while I have had years to prepare myself for this inevitability.”
“You have?”
“Yes.” He sat back in his chair, calmer than he had been a minute ago. “I have been struggling with how to deal with the news if it was bad, and now I know. As reparation for my grandfather’s deed, I plan to build a museum of tolerance and justice in Dharma. It will be a serene space where people can come to celebrate mankind’s goodness while never forgetting that it coexists with evil. What do you think?”
I smiled and blinked away my tears. “I think it’s a dandy idea.”
“Dandy.” He grinned. “I like that.”
*
Derek and I split up after our meeting with Guru Bob. I drove into town to meet China for lunch and follow up on some official bridesmaids’ duties while Derek drove over to Frenchman’s Hill to discuss the delivery of the inventoried items. I tried not to worry about him having to confront Henri, but I knew he could take care of himself. And if worse came to worst, he did have that big, badass gun in his glove compartment.
Derek had insisted that Henri had been on his best behavior since our first meeting, so I figured the only weapon he would have to use was his innate charm.
I parked on the Lane near Annie’s shop. Since I was early, I decided to stop in to say hello.
“Hey, you,” she said as she gathered a red-and-white-checkered tablecloth into a decorative knot. She surrounded it with all sorts of pastas and jars of red sauce. On the table display were pasta makers and bright red bowls and utensils for stirring and mixing sauces. “Wish I could meet you guys for lunch, but I’m manning the store this afternoon.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take notes on everything.”
“Okay. Just let me know what you need me to do.”
“I will, thanks.” My gaze settled on the jar of rich, thick red sauce filled with basil and mushrooms and onions. “Wow, this display is making me hungry for pasta. That hardly ever happens.”
She laughed. “Only every other minute, right?”
“Right. I could pretty much eat it every day.”
“Mm. Me, too.”
I looked at the red bowls and decided on the spot to buy them for the Quinlans. They would look cheerful and bright in their glass-fronted kitchen cabinet. Then I picked up one of the cellophane-wrapped bags of pasta and the jar of red sauce. The perfect meal. Now if only I could boil water. But maybe Derek would handle that part.