Chapter 13
After doing some more research on the bodies found, I discovered that they were all connected somehow to Haiti. But the most glaring fact of all was how much Robert seemed to be at the center of all the madness.
I wondered for a moment if Jack would let me have access to Robert's estate and probably some of his files. Men like that always kept evidence of what they did. I continued to mutter under my breath, "We're going to have a little talk with Jack."
I could imagine this information might be quite jarring for him. "But I told you, sorry, we're going to wait for him to call."
"New development," I said as I pulled up from my chair. "Waiting may be damning yourself, you should know that. Digging up the dead doctor's name and finding interesting things. Like what, the...?" I began to leave my office with Bernard trailing behind me.
"Power, Bernard, power. There's more people involved in this. Let's call it a little death cult of the region's powerful who like to ensure they have cheap labor."
Bernard still looked confused, but honestly, I couldn't blame him. I was slightly confused as well; the only difference between me and him was that I liked to behave as though I wasn't.
My phone began to buzz in my pocket, making me groan at the mad person who was calling me at such a time.
"Jack, I didn't think you would call me so soon. Are you done listening to the recording?"
Jack's silence was more than enough for me to know that I had won this battle with him.
"I see you're quite taken aback by our new supernatural novel that I would like to release."
"None of this is funny, old goat. Where are you now?"
"On my way to visit Saint John. Why are you going back there?"
"I have a few theories I'd like to test out."
"I see you fancy yourself a scientist now? Last I remember, ghost hunter, now witch hunter, and then now a scientist? You never cease to amaze, you old goat."
"That's what I live to do, dear friend. Constantly amazing and blowing your tiny mind off the face of the Earth. Give me a warrant; I would like to search the estate."
"Have you gone mad? Do you have any idea of the strings that family pulls?"
"I have every idea of the strings they pull. Remember, you're talking to a former member of high society, and let me remind you that we tend to gravitate towards each other."
"What is that supposed to mean? Am I some sort of poor bloke?"
"I'm not throwing shade at you, dear friend. Just give me the bloody warrant and let me be."
"I cannot do that. They'll come after my job!"
"Then let them take your bloody job. Everyone knows you're a rabid dog and you'll hold on to it anyway. We both know you don't care about the rich, so stop behaving like you do."
Jack suddenly started to laugh, filling my ears with the strange sound of him barking out laughter.
"I'm just pulling your leg. Give me a few hours; I'll see what I can do. And no funny business!"
An hour later, I was back at the station, sitting in Colonel Jack's office. The man was furiously writing something down, a bored expression etched across his frowning face.
When he finished, he looked up at me with a strange expression in his eyes.
"I hope you didn't arrest the butler?" he asked, shaking his head in response.
"So, what do you think of the recording?" I queried.
"I had a nightmare last night. That's how bad the recording was for me, and I never get nightmares. Travis told me about the body. I don't think I'll sleep well tonight either."
All of this somehow makes me sick to my stomach, knowing that there are some things that are strangely unexplainable in this world. Witch's spells, potions—none of it makes sense.
"The question is, what are we going to do now, Jack? There are too many things left undone."
"How about the investigation into the explosion? Do we know if it was suicide, or..." I paused to take in a breath and rubbed my hands against my trousers, still feeling the numbing sensation I had from the cold in the freezer.
"What if Tim was murdered because they didn't want us to find out? What if he was killed because they didn't want their secrets getting out? But based off Tim's testimony, they shouldn't know that he is here."
"I wouldn't be so sure, Jack. Most things like this tend to be very vague. If truly Tim committed suicide, it would make our work far easier, but the identity of those bodies tells me that there's a bigger game played on a much larger scale."
"So what do you suggest?" He leaned over his desk and placed his elbows on it, his attention being strangely focused.
"We continue to dig. If he was murdered, then I'm willing to bet that the news of how Robert died must have gotten to the wrong people.
But it's so strange if you want to explain a heart attack, being that Robert has had a history of heart attacks," Jack reasoned, bringing a very solid argument.
"True, especially when you think about the fact that Robert had suffered two heart attacks in the past. But my intuition tells me this is a larger web than it seems. I have a feeling that this is much deeper than we—all of us—could hope to anticipate. Robert's family is just the beginning."
I leaned back into the chair and relaxed my senses.
"Tell me, where is my warrant? I would like to pay a visit to Saint John as soon as possible."
"Give me a few hours; let me know the way the rich think," Jack retorted as he also leaned back into his chair.
"Which is why I'm going, Jack. Not you. Me."
Twenty minutes later, I was armed with five burly-looking police officers and Bernard, who was standing beside me. We were currently standing in the reception area of the Saint John mansion.
The woman with the sleek, pulled-back hair scrutinized the police warrant I handed to her. "I didn't know you were a police officer now, Mr. Devily."
"I assure you, I am not a police officer; merely working with them. We are close friends, you see. Practically joined at the hip," I said with a smile.
"I'm sure you will find whatever you seek in his study. In fact, you are free to search the whole house since you've brought me a search warrant. If there's anything you need, please let me know, and if there is anything that is confusing, I am here to answer your questions, as is Butler Jones."
"So that is his name," I mused to myself as I walked toward the study. For some reason, my legs led me in that direction.
"The rest of you can search the other places. The service goes, the cellar. Anywhere you think people will try to hide things," I directed the other men. "Bernard, you're with me."
Together, we opened the study door and began to look through the documents inside the drawers and the shelves behind them.
Aside from the run-of-the-mill standard documents—property deeds here and there—there was nothing so remarkable.
I checked the desk for any hidden compartments but found none, except for a strange key hidden behind the files in the bottom drawer, in a small box.
The key looked like a random one, except that it was old—dangerously old, in fact. It was rusted, and with a slight tug at my heart, it looked as though it would break.
I leaned back against the desk, looking at the key, and then at Bernard, who was searching the shelves that lined the room. "Anything yet?" I asked him.
"Normal boxes here and there, but nothing on strange things yet. I did find one book titled 'The History of Haiti'. There are a number of other titles that I find strangely hard to interpret."
"Bring all the books. All the ones thay are related to Haiti and the ones tou cant understand. "
Barely ten minutes later, there was a pile of books on the table that, in Bernard's opinion, were difficult to understand.
The titles, however, did not faze me. I had seen most of these books before, but there were parts of a forbidden library I came into contact with years ago.
"Good," I smirked. "Of course, Robert was the kind of man who would have these books if Tim's testimony proved to be true."
I began by flipping through the books. Most of them were in Spanish and, fortunately for whoever it was that tried to hide information, I was very fluent in the language.
After flipping through a few pages, it was quite clear to me that there was a strange code embedded in them. Some books didn't have any, while others that weren't in Spanish had some of them.
I put the books that had the code aside and continued flipping through the rest. To my surprise, some English books had some words circled here and there. I added them to the pile of the intriguing books.
Bernard kept bringing books to me just as I thought the stream had ended. One of the book titles stopped me dead in my tracks as I was flipping through one.
"Give me that," I pointed to the book in Bernard's hand. The book looked old, leather-bound, and worn out. There was nothing written on the cover.
"Where did you find it?"
"You wouldn't believe it, but it was hidden. It was hidden behind a few books inside the shelf. It was almost as though there was a small hidden compartment, and I found it by mistake," he explained.
That captured my attention. I flipped over the first page, and the quality of the paper was nearly baffling.
The book was old—my conclusion was that it was at least fifty to a hundred years old, given that the paper on each page was already the texture of thin strips of wood that had been browned by age.
Most of the words were slightly faded, but I could make out a list of ingredients and some words that were complicated—too complicated for me to pronounce. And at the back was a ripped page, but only half of it was gone.
"What is that?" Bernard asked as he came to stand beside me.
"Well, it looks like we have hit one part of the jackpot."
"But of course, this book could mean anything. For all we know, it could be a recipe for some ancient tea, but why would the back page be ripped off so violently? Someone is trying to hide something, dear boy. It's because of things like this that I took this job in the first place. We need to find the ripped pieces of paper."
I flipped through the remaining pages and found that quite a few other pages were ripped.
"Those could be important, but for now, let's try and decipher this strange system we have on our hands." I gestured towards the books I had set aside. "Is that all you found?"
"Yes, sir."
Suddenly, the door opened, revealing two of the officers that I had sent around the house. They were young, close to Bernard's age, but where Bernard lacked courage, these two men looked like they would be willing to walk through fire.
"Did you find anything?"
"No, sir," the first one said.
"I did," the second one said, handing me a document.
"Here it is. But a lot of the words had been canceled as though someone was trying to redact the document."
"Let me see it." I stretched out my hand in expectation. The officers swiftly crossed the room with long strides and handed me the document.
Names, addresses, and even the date, along with the purpose of the letter, were canceled off.
"How are we going to get it back? Someone was foolish enough to write the letter instead of typing it. I'm sure a few moments with Travis and he'll be able to crack this one." I folded the paper and put it in my pocket.
"Gentlemen, let's get to work with these books." I patted the books, standing a small pile beside me on the table.