Excavation

Joan tested her steak. It was a perfect medium rare. The chefs here never disappointed. “If you do, I’d like to know what you think as soon as possible.”

“In that case… if you’d like, since you’re dropping me off at the Sheraton, why don’t you come up to the room and see for yourself. After working with the amalgam all day, you’d be the better one to judge it anyway.”

Joan looked up from her steak to see if there was more of an invitation behind his words. She was not one to bed any man who happened to pique her interest, even an old friend… but she wouldn’t mind extending their evening together.

Henry was working at his own steak with studied concentration. He glanced at her from above his glasses, his eyes questioning her hesitation.

Joan made her decision. “Why… yes, I’d love to take another peek at the cross.”

Henry bobbed his head, returning to his steak. “Excellent.”

Joan saw how his smile widened. She found her own grin growing brighter. They might as well be two teenagers out on a first date.

With the matter settled, both turned their attention to the table and the quality of the dinner. The remainder of the conversation consisted of the simple pleasantries of two diners: a review of the meal, shared stories of their different professions, even a discussion on the pending stormfront aiming at the coast from the Great Lakes. By the time dessert was served – a delightfully rich vanilla crême brûlée shared with two spoons – both had grown out of their awkwardness and into a comfortable warmth.

“Whatever happened to us back at Rice?” Joan finally asked, feeling comfortable enough to broach an awkward topic. “Why didn’t we work out?”

Henry fingered his cup of coffee. “I think there was too much life ahead of us. You wanted to pursue medicine. I wanted to get my masters at Texas A &M. I think at the time there was not much room for anything else, especially not a committed relationship.”

“The woes of the career-driven,” she mumbled. Joan’s thoughts drifted to her own husband. It was his common complaint about their marriage. She was never home, never there for him.

Henry sipped his coffee. “Maybe. I suppose. But then eventually I met Elizabeth and you met Robert.” Henry shrugged.

“Hmm…”

Henry sighed and set his cup down. “Maybe we should be going. It is getting near time for me to contact the team in Peru.”

Joan glanced at her watch. It was almost ten o’clock. Where had the time gone? “And I’ve got an early day tomorrow myself. If we’re to take a peek at that cross tonight, we ought to be going.”

Henry insisted on paying the bill after a mild protest from Joan. “It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done,” he said, pulling out his wallet. “Besides, the tab will be coming out of my research grant anyway.” He offered her a quirked grin.

Joan held up her palms, relinquishing any claims on the check. “If the government is paying, it’s all yours.”

Shortly thereafter, following a short car ride, Joan found herself sharing an elevator with the professor. A degree of nervousness set in again as silence enveloped them. Henry fidgeted with the buttons on his suit. The doors chimed open on the seventh floor, and the two crossed down to Henry’s hotel room.

“Excuse the mess,” he said as he keyed open the door. “I wasn’t expecting company.” Henry held open the door for Joan to step through.

Joan stared at the ruins of the professor’s hotel room. The bed had been overturned and the mattress shredded. Every drawer had been pulled and dumped; even the television lay on its side on the rug, its back panel unscrewed.

“My God!” Henry exclaimed, stunned.

“You said it was a mess, but I wasn’t expecting this,” Joan said in a halfhearted attempt at a joke.

Henry dashed into the room, giving it all a quick glance around. He sifted through some papers by the toppled desk and uncovered his laptop. He picked it up and tested it. A beep as it turned on revealed it had been undamaged. A sigh of relief escaped him. “All my research… thank God.”

Joan cautiously entered the room. “You shouldn’t touch too much. I’ll call hotel security. Whoever burglarized the room might still be around.”

Henry righted the desk and put the computer down. “Why didn’t they take my laptop?”

Dialing the front desk, Joan spoke, “I suspect they were after bigger game. I wager that reporter’s piece in the Baltimore Herald this morning caught the eyes of some petty thieves.”

Henry seemed to jolt with her words. “The cross!” He strode across the room.

“Tell me you left it in the hotel safe,” Joan said.

Shaking his head, Henry moved to one of the sconces on the wall. “After traveling through so many foreign countries, I’ve developed my own system of security.”

As Joan related the burglary to the front desk, Henry used a Swiss army knife to unscrew the fixture from the wall and reached to the niche behind it. He retrieved a small velvet pouch, heavy with whatever was inside. He spilled out the large Dominican cross and silver ring into his palm.