Second Chance Gold (Buck Reilly Adventure Series Book 4) by John Cunningham (tohfa e dulha read online TXT) 📗

“At least he was consistent.”

“The obvious connection was Eden Rock—”

“Which Remy berated Jerry for buying at an inflated price,” I said. ”And I can’t imagine Remy hiding treasure at Eden Rock and forgetting to take it with him when he sold the hotel.”

The waitress brought Caterina’s cappuccino.

“But there are rumors …”

“From when Remy retired to the Dominican Republic?” I said.

She leaned closer, our faces barely a foot apart.

“Exactly.”

“An old man exaggerating his past?” I said.

“Remy de Haenen did not need to exaggerate. He lived the lives of ten men in his years.” Her eyes narrowed. “I have heard much the same about you, Buck Reilly.”

“Did I hear my family name?”

Both Caterina and I flinched, the moment broken. Nicole de Haenen stood before us. I patted the chair on the other side of me. Caterina’s lips bent in a momentary frown, then her eyes lit up.

“You are Nicole de Haenen.”

Nicole nodded.

Caterina introduced herself, extending her arm in front of me to shake Nicole’s hand.

“We were just discussing your grandpere.”

“Mmmm.”

“Buck was asking if maybe Remy told people in the Dominican Republic that he had found the Concepcíon after he moved there, which would explain why two Dominican brutes came to my office last night.”

Nicole and I sat forward.

“What did they look like?” I said.

“Large!” She held her hands wide as if to describe the width of their shoulders. “Short dark hair. Threatening.”

“Those same men beat up my friend,” I said, “and probably Gisele.”

Nicole groaned. “Why did they come to you?”

“My reputation is well known in these islands. I have participated in several dives and recovered artifacts that are on display in the Academy. I imagine it was to ask if I had any information about your grandfather’s voyage with Cousteau.” Caterina explained that she’d moved from St. Malo, France, to St. Barths a few years before because of her expertise in European expansion into the Caribbean during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. As an avid Scuba diver and maritime historian, she hoped to pursue archeological opportunities and publish findings. If successful, she would return to France and make a play to become the director of the Maritime Academy in Paris. “I long to be back in the city, and there is none better than Paris.”

“So the Dominicans found you in the Yellow Pages?” I said.

“What are yellow pages? Whether they found me by word of mouth or from my published work, I did not ask.”

“Did you help these men?” Nicole asked.

Caterina shook her head.

“I have an idea that could help get to the bottom of this mystery.” Her voice had dropped to a whisper. Maybe it was because of the smoking, or maybe the accent, but her voice was raspy, especially in that lower range. It added a sex appeal I sensed she kept bottled up.

Focus, Reilly.

“What would that idea be?” I said.

“Through my connections in France, I have access to the Cousteau family.”

“Aren’t they splintered these days?” I said. “Two sides that hate each other?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Some seek to continue Jacques’s legacy as an oceanographer and French icon, while others seek to capitalize on his name for profit. Both sides would be interested in helping to solve this puzzle—if, of course, there is anything to solve.”

“I like it,” I said.

She returned my smile. “The question is, did Remy and Jacques find anything at la Banc d’Argent, and if so, what became of it?”

“I have no interest in treasure,” Nicole said.

Then why had she rummaged through her grandfather’s remaining possessions and gone to snoop around the Eden Rock?

Caterina stood. “Alors, I will make contact today and call you if I learn anything.” She reached out to shake my hand. “d’Accord?”

“Perfect, thank you,” I said.

She turned to Nicole. “Your grandfather himself was a national treasure. It has been an honor to meet you. Ciao.”

Caterina walked quickly through the room and down the steps onto the sidewalk.

“You work fast,” Nicole said.

At what?

“I do not trust her,” Nicole said. She’d tied her hair into a ponytail but loose strands fluttered in the breeze as we drove in the open Jeep above Gustavia. Green waves of vegetation spread out below and to the south, with red roofs sprinkled over the hills like berries.

Nicole’s intuition didn’t change my mind about Caterina, who I still saw as a potential partner to help me pursue both academic and for-profit projects. I had no intention of pursuing her romantically, although when I remembered her running her finger along her lips I—

“Did you hear what I said, Buck?”

“You’ve never heard of Caterina before?”

Nicole shook her head. “Seems pretty out of place in Gustavia. A historian?”

“She might be able to help figure this mess out—and if she can access the Cousteau family, maybe they can go through his memoirs to search for mention of the Concepcíon. Do you have any idea why Remy moved to Santo Domingo after selling Eden Rock?”

“He had been in government for much of his life by then. He needed a change.”

She was quiet after that and I wondered if she was thinking the same thing I was: that maybe he went back to the Dominican Republic as a result of the Concepcíon. And maybe he told his story to the wrong people.

“What year did he die?” I asked her.

“July of 2008.”

“So he lived there, what—”

“Eleven years. He was back here for his last two.”

“Did he leave much behind in Santo Domingo?”

“Many of his possessions. He was ninety when he returned to St. Barths. He did not think it worthwhile to haul what he considered junk across the Caribbean. A few relatives flew to the Dominican Republic after his death, but many of his things had been picked over and the furniture was gone. Nothing of value was left to bring home, so they donated the rest to charity.”

Maybe there had been clues among those items.

“Do you think Remy found treasure with Cousteau?” I said.

She shrugged. “With Remy de Haenen, anything