Caveat Emptor

Chapter 5

The evening began with another round of apologies and forgiveness, then suddenly had charged well beyond what either party had first imagined. The initial fumbled kiss that quickly became a passionate, clutching embrace that left articles of clothing scattered behind the awkward dance down the hall to the bedroom.

Barbara watched from her window as Keith hurried down the street to his car. He looked back up at her building briefly then got in and drove away. She wandered back to her bedroom and stood looking at the bed, wondering what the hell she had done.

***

Keith wasn't finding it business as usual at all, his head more than half in the memory of the previous night. And it was a day later his call finally found the French Municipal Police Officer who had left the confusing message, only to hear that he would fare much better investigating in France, himself.

A laborious explanation to his Captain ended with the inexplicable suggestion that Keith should consider the officer's suggestion.

"Sir, you can't be serious. You want me to fly to France and undertake an investigation on foreign soil?"

"Your friend seems to think it would be best."

"He's not my friend. I don't even know the man. He's just a copper passing the buck back to us."

"Can you solve this murder here with what you have?"

"No! There's no way. Everyone involved is French . . . in France."

"What about Edward Tewksbury?"

"He isn't really a suspect considering he wanted the papers in the first place and everyone involved knew that.

The Captain smiled grimly. "But he still might want the item in question."

"Galbraith did tell me he and Tewksbury considered it might be a scam, but Tewksbury wanted to go along and at least see the papers just in case."

"Well somebody killed the courier here, and I doubt it was done from France. You know, in my day, Detective, we didn't like open cases, especially homicides."

"You want me to go to France! I have no authority, no contacts. Nothing."

"You have a title. Detective. I believe that's supposed to mean you detect."

Keith slid back in the chair and rubbed his forehead. The Captain had gone on to inform him that he would make application to his superior and reach out to their opposite in the French National Police for accommodation.

"Get your beret cleaned and pressed, Detective," The Captain chuckled. "You are as good as on your way to the Riviera."

***

Edward Tewksbury stared out the airplane window at the rumpled cushion of clouds below, his mind analyzing the recent events that prompted his journey. Frossard had sent an imposter with the reputed letters; that in itself suggested they were fake.

Then the imposter was killed and the letters taken before they could be verified, which likely meant the scroll was also fake. When he learned about a theft from a prominent underworld figure in Nice, after contacting his various connections in the field of antiquities, Edward revised that last bit.

The owner had reached out to a Canadian contact to retrieve the letters, he must have thought were legitimate, and were likely on their way to France – if not already there. The name of the courier's employer would have also been of great interest, both to the owner and to Edward.

The plane broke through the cloud layer and he turned his attention to his arrival in Marrakech. He booked a hotel for two nights along with an easyJet flight to Nice. He needed to tap into his Moroccan contacts quickly to keep himself in the race.