A Brilliant Plan

Chapter 31

FOWLER WYNN AND I stared eye-to-eye until Ron dared to step in.

"Could you two each take one step backwards and let me explain?"

He got no answer from either of us. Fowler eyed me with open hostility and I looked back just as hard.

Ron pushed us gently apart. Fowler looked at Ron irritated. He was probably as surprised as I was. "What is this... person doing here in Mexico?"

"Fowler, I am following my brilliant detective nose here because I am a little bit short on clues as to the murder of Wally Eastman and the burglary at the gallery." Ron pointed in my direction. "Calendar has found this new angle to the case; it was her discovery of the Maximilian Jewels connection."

"Well, it was probably her stealing it in the first place," Fowler sniffled.

I rolled my eyes and went over to the lobby bar to order a tea. Luckily, the word works in most nations.

Ron and Fowler followed shortly afterwards. Before I could ask my question, Ron had already answered it for me. "By a sheer coincidence, Fowler's company is also the general insurer of the collection of the Museum of Mexican National History."

I looked at Fowler. "So the 'The Max' is really worth the high sum the Japanese collector was talking about."

"In the range of about eight million dollars," Fowler nodded.

"With the addresses you gave me, it was a matter of three phone calls to find the institutes that had expertise on 'The Max,'" Ron explained.

"That was quick work."

"By the time we arrived here at the hotel, we had received e-mails from two independent experts, one from Chicago and one from Philadelphia," Fowler threw in.

"Please show her," Ron said.

Fowler looked at me reluctantly but finally opened his briefcase and took out a stack of sheets. I quickly skimmed them, I had seen the originals in the Newport apartment but I had to cheer up Fowler and Ron. I carefully studied the drawings again, whistled appropriately at the final valuation.

"Whew, 8.5 million dollars."

"They are top of the crop, my colleagues at the jewelry art department in London told me just a minute ago," Fowler said.

"Isn't it amazing that these treasures were hidden away in a museum cellar for so long?" I wondered. Then I tapped the drawing that showed the necklace. "This is the piece I saw on Phoebe Eastman. Look at the design. It is so classy and timeless, already has very straight lines that Europe would discover about 80 years later." I pointed at the golden tiara. "But at the same time, full of Latin American identity. I wonder if the artist is known to us from history?"

"That's why we are here, ladies and gentlemen," Ron clapped his hands, he was probably glad that Fowler and I were on speaking terms. We wrapped up our things and stepped outside the hotel lobby into the winter afternoon heat.

We hailed a taxi and rode, all three of us side-by-side in the back of the cab, Ron between the cat and the dog. The Museum of National History was located in Chapultapec Park, Mexico City's equivalent of Manhattan's Central Park.

"Did you know that Chapultapec Park was actually the castle grounds? Emperor Maximilian lived there." I said to break the silence. Fowler grunted and Ron gave a chuckle.

Ron asked Fowler, "Do you think the experts had a closer look at 'The Max' before writing their opinion? And were able to make photographs?"

Fowler suppressed the growl and sounded civil. "Oh, they had the originals on their desk, for sure. That is an absolute must for them to do a proper valuation."