Treasure Hunt (Part I)

“But couldn't you overlook the rules just this once, Bruce?” I pleaded. “It seems so cruel to suspend him. After all, Tom's been a good, loyal employee for twenty years—ever since the museum opened.”
It was true. At the time I'd been just four, but I could still remember the morning Tom Burkett, resplendent in his new uniform, had crossed the lawn to our house next door on his way to his first day on the job. The Vista Linda Museum was small, of course, and Tom was merely a guard, but my family rejoiced in his good fortune and shared his pride in the neat, low, stucco-and-flagstone building that housed a tasteful selection of southwestern art.
Through Tom's eyes I'd come to appreciate the significance of those relics of the past. So much so, in fact, that after making art history my major in college, I'd come home to take a position at the gallery. I owed a lot to Tom. I could hardly stand by to see him lose the job he loved because of one momentary lapse.
The museum's administrator didn't see it that way. “He broke a rule, Kathryn.” Bruce's tone was firm. “Leaving his post, even for what he claims was only a few minutes, has lost us our most important exhibit. Once word of the theft of the Estatua de la Villa Rica becomes generally known, the damage to our prestige will be incalculable. Not to mention that my competence could well come under question. With the Society of Southwestern Galleries of Art scheduled to hold its annual meeting here on Friday, the situation required immediate action.”
“But, Darling,”
“ Shh .” Hastily, Bruce glanced around the Navajo gallery in which we were standing. “I thought we had agreed not to broadcast our personal relationship until the theft is resolved and the chairmanship of this meeting is behind me. I don't want the Board to think I allow my own affairs to take precedence over the museum's .”
I could understand his wish to have his mind free of distractions. As he had explained, success in his career was important to both of us. I wanted to do anything I could to help him.
“Oh,” I said, “your mention of the meeting just reminded me. I spoke to the chair of the women's group this morning. Mrs. Rigby will be delighted to take charge of the floral arrangements for the cocktail party. She plans to ask two other of our volunteers, Mrs. Dominguez and Mrs. Diaz, to help with the table centerpieces in the dining room. And Mrs. Forrester has asked me to act as her co-hostess.” It was typical of the woman to want to share the limelight. Although it was her husband who was Board chair, Dorinda Forrester had been important in the success of the Vista Linda.
I took a deep breath. “There's just one more thing. I'd already arranged with Tom Burkett to be at the main entrance to direct guests to the docents' room for the reception. Couldn't he...?”
“Out of the question. While the matter is under investigation, Tom remains on suspension.”
“But he's absolutely shattered, Bruce. You haven't seen him. He must have lost ten pounds just since last Thursday. And from the shadows under his eyes, you can tell he hasn't been sleeping.”
“Naturally, being placed on suspension is unpleasant,” Bruce acknowledged, “but he'll get over it. After all, being absent from one's post is grounds for court martial in the army.” The remark struck me as unfeeling until I saw the smile that flitted across his countenance. “If it will ease that tender heart of yours,” he added, “I promise to look into finding him a less demanding position with another firm.”
“But...”
“Later, Kathryn. I'm expecting the insurance adjusters at any moment.”
I watched silently as his tall, straight figure disappeared through the doorway into the next gallery. Bruce was a man of his word. I could count on him to carry through on finding a job for poor Tom. My worry was that the delay could be devastating for the proud old man. “Why can't I make you understand?” I wailed. “The help is needed now!”
“Hark! A cry of anguish from yon raven-haired beauty has reached my ears. Can this be a maiden in distress?”
I jumped. I hadn't heard anyone coming up behind me. “I might have known,” I said, catching sight of Andrew Hunt's unruly shock of rust-colored hair. Our new librarian, I'd discovered during his two-month tenure, had a quip for any occasion. His ready wit had provided a welcome light touch to our staff meetings that Bruce found exasperating, and I secretly enjoyed. At any rate, Andy was in top form today.
“Just now have I returned from a jousting match with the keeper of the privy purse, only to come upon a downcast maid. Allow me to offer my humble services, that so lovely a damsel be not bereft.”
With that, his eyes flashing with warm good humor, he doffed an imaginary hat, sweeping it to the ground. “Knight-errant Andrew Hunt at your service, ma'am. I ask no more than to be allowed to come to your aid.”
His exaggerated bow, of course, was designed to make me smile. “Prettily said, kind sir,” I acknowledged, “except it is not I who requires assistance. Poor Tom Burkett is the one who needs a helping hand.”
While the good humor remained, a hint of sympathy crept into his expression. “Kind of tough on the old man, but you could hardly blame Bruce Poindexter for suspending him. If Tom had been at his post, the Estatua wouldn't be missing now. After all, it's one of the museum's most valuable attractions. You see,” he continued with a grin, “I've read the visitor's guide, too.”
Assuming a professorial tone, he began to recite. “Discovered in the mid-twentieth century near the city founded by Hernan Cortes in 1519, the Estatua de la Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz has been authenticated as part of the treasure meant to be sent by the Spanish explorer to his king. Historians surmise that a member of Cortes' band, on recognizing the richness of the treasure, buried at least one of the twenty or more gold-cast animal figurines in the jungle, with the idea of returning later to smuggle it aboard and hide it during the return voyage to Spain .
“Cortes, however, in a surprise move, sent only one treasure-laden vessel back to Spain , setting fire to all other ships before beginning his four-hundred-mile march to the Aztec capital of Tenochitlan. The Vista Linda Museum is most fortunate to have obtained the work for exhibit.
“Except that it is no longer on display,” he added in normal tones.
“And Tom blames himself for that,” I said. “Frankly, I'm concerned about what may happen to him. I went to see him last night, Andy, and I was honestly frightened. He... he'd been drinking. That's not like him. I did manage at least to feed him some soup before he practically threw me out.
“And his parting words were so sad. He said he hoped, in spite of everything, I'd always remember him kindly. It probably was the liquor talking, but just the same I was awake half the night worrying about him. If only the thief could be caught and the Estatua returned!”
“Have the police come up with any suspects?”
“Apparently not. At least that's what the captain indicated to Bruce yesterday. They don't seem to be that interested. After all, the statue is insured, and no one was injured. At least not physically. I'm afraid the police aren't considering the emotional damage Tom is suffering.”
“If he's as bad as you say, he may need psychiatric help."
“What he needs is for the crime to be solved so he can have his job back.”
“It would seem, then, that the solution to the problem is to find the thief. My lance, fair lady, is yours to command.”
“Andy, aren't you ever serious?” I asked, half exasperated.
“Frequently, ma'am, and never more than at this moment. Look, if the police are stymied, it's because a piece of the puzzle is still missing.”
“Oh. And all we have to do is find that piece.”
“Were we but to cudgel our brains, we might discover that missing clue. Remember, the police began their investigation by taking statements from everyone present.”
“In other words, they were relying on us to provide them with information.”
Andy nodded. “Now, just suppose, in all the excitement, an important fact was overlooked.”
“But Sergeant Brady's already gone back over my statement twice,” I protested.
“ Which just proves my point. ”
“There was nothing to add.”
“Possibly not. But repeating a story several times puts you into a rut. My point is that a fresh approach, without the pressure of having your every word taken down, could well dredge up a detail that's been forgotten. What say, milady? Can we do less than try?”
His tone was light, but I couldn't miss the serious expression in his eyes. And if it would help Tom... “When do we start?” I asked.