Scones & Bones, page 14
"Well, he can scuttle my schooner anytime," laughed Haley. "I was chatting with him earlier and I thought he was pretty cool. For an earnest young man, that is."
"Pretty cool and dateable, you mean," said Theodosia. "That, too," said Haley. "Of course, it helps that he's got that attractiveness quotient and is well educated."
"You know what, Haley?" said Theodosia. "You're turning out to be a fine judge of character."
"Peter, said Theodosia, sliding into a chair across from him. Peter Grace looked up from his book in surprise, then quickly swiped a hand across his mouth, making short work of a couple of crumbs. "Hey," he said, sounding pleased. "Nice to see you again," said Theodosia. "How's that scone?"
"Delicious," said Grace. "Not like the usual scones you get at those take-out coffee places. Those are always so hard and crumbly." He paused. "Yours are loads better. Moist and kind of cakey."
"You can thank Haley for that," said Theodosia. A wide grin lit his face. "I already did."
"Next you'll be wanting the recipe," Theodosia joked. "Think she'd give it to me?" asked Grace, then grinned. He knew that Theodosia knew he was interested in Haley. "You brought us some more information?" Theodosia asked. She lifted a finger to indicate a stack of papers on the table.
"I did," said Grace. “°I dug through our files and pulled up some extra stuff for you."
"Whatcha got?" asked Theodosia, reaching for the papers. "A couple of things we didn't really touch on in the meeting yesterday," said Grace. "You know that three different museums claim to own an original Blackbeard skull cup?"
Theodosia nodded. "I'm thinking skull cups must be a standard souvenir item."
"Yeah," said Grace, fanning out some of the papers "Apparently, taking a human skull and making a drinking cup out of it is not exactly a unique idea." He shoved two papers at her. "Here's a list of the museums that have skull cups in their collections, as well as recent references to skull cups in general."
Theodosia studied the papers. "They're not exactly bigtime museums, are they?" One was a small museum in Bend, North Carolina; another was a historical society outside Lynn, Massachusetts.
"No," said Grace, "and I don't think the Metropolitan Museum in New York will be knocking down their doors to make offers on any of those skull cups. But the interesting thing is that none of the three known skull cups are engraved."
Theodosia's eyes met his. "But ours is."
Grace shook his head slowly. "You can't prove that, of course ... "
"No," said Theodosia, "we can. There are several people at the Heritage Society who saw the engraving with their own eyes." She glanced at her watch. "In fact, I'm supposed to be receiving some jpegs from one of the Post and Courier photographers so we can hopefully make out the exact words."
"They have photos?" asked Grace. He seemed surprised. "So they say."
Grace sat back in his chair, thinking, then seemed to warm to the idea.
"Well ... good. Excellent, in fact. When you're done with the photos, when all this is just a memory and the killer is apprehended . . ."
"Then I'll be happy to turn the photos over to you and Professor Muncie," said Theodosia. "To add to your pirate database."
"I was hoping you'd say that," said Grace, giving a broad smile. "In fact, that's extremely kind of you."
He glanced around. "Is ... is Haley terribly busy right now? Do you think I could pop in and say good-bye to her?"
"They're here!" Theodosia sang out. She was sitting at her desk, sipping a nice brisk cup of gunpowder green tea and scrolling through her e-mails.
"What's here?" asked Drayton, poking his head into her office. "The jpegs," said Theodosia. Her hands flew across the keyboard, opening the jpegs and watching photo images bloom on her screen.
"Ho ho!" said Drayton. He scurried around her desk, dodging cases of teacups and jellies, and positioned himself directly behind Theodosia. The better to peer over her shoulder, of course.
"Here's one that shows the full frontal skull face," said Theodosia.
"Nasty-looking thing," commented Drayton.
"Just remember," said Theodosia, "that underneath our skin and flesh we all look like that. We all have the same ... what would you call it? Internal architecture."
"You make the concept sound far more poetic than the actuality," said Drayton.
"Here's an angled shot," said Theodosia, clicking open another jpeg.
Drayton cocked his head. "That one makes the skull cup look snarly."
"I'm guessing that was the whole idea."
"But what about the inscription? Any shots of that?”
“Hold on," said Theodosia, "and kindly keep your fingers crossed." She opened two more Jpegs, but still didn't find what she was looking for. Could Van Buren have been mistaken? Maybe the photographer hadn't taken shots of the so-called inscription after all.
She opened the last jpeg, mentally crossing her fingers, hoping for the best. And there, finally, was a shot that captured the corroded bottom of the skull cup. Along with a rather blurred inscription.
They stared at it for a few moments, then Drayton said, "Why do you think the photographer took this particular shot?"
"Not sure," said Theodosia, "maybe the Everest principle?”
“Translation, please?"
"Because it's there."
"Ah," said Drayton, adjusting his reading glasses, "but now that we have this mysterious inscription in front of us, what exactly does it say? Can you make that photo larger?" Drayton was non-techy, bordering on Luddite.
"I can make it larger and print it out," said Theodosia. "Please do so."
But when the photo came whooshing out of Theodosia's laser printer, she was still stumped. And keenly disappointed. "It's just letters," said Theodosia, staring at it. "Nonsensical letters." Not only that, the inscription was so worn from age it was barely readable. Theodosia put her hands to her head and massaged her temples in slow circles. That they'd gone to so much trouble just to discover ancient gibberish was positively headache-inducing!
"Let me take a closer look," said Drayton. He picked up the paper and studied it. His normally placid face pulled into a frown, his eyes closed to mere slits. "Mmm. It is difficult to read."
"The inscription's completely worn," agreed Theodosia.
"I half expected that," said Drayton. "Face it, the skull cup is a very ancient piece."
"Can you make out anything at all?" asked Theodosia. "I mean, do you think it could be some foreign language?”
“That doesn't seem quite right."
"Maybe it's written in Greek?"
"No, it's just ... strange," murmured Drayton. "Random.”
“Could we try running a computer search? On the parts we can make out?"
"Not sure," said Drayton.
"You don't know what to make of it, do you?" asked Theodosia, looking deflated. Then again, neither did she.
"No, not offhand," said Drayton.
"Then it's the end of the line," said Theodosia, letting loose a deep sigh. She felt depressed and a little foolish at the same time. She'd been positive they were hot on the trail of a major clue, and now it all seemed to have dead-ended. And who liked to admit defeat, after all? Who wanted to throw in the towel?
"Maybe . . ." Drayton mumbled, pulling his shoulders back into a stiff posture.
"What?" asked Theodosia.
Drayton didn't answer her. Just studied the photo with a bland, unreadable expression on his face. His lips moved slowly, as if he were reading some sort of ancient text, and his fingers clenched and unclenched the paper. Then, slowly, very slowly, a puzzled, almost cagey expression crept across his lined face.
"What?" Theodosia asked again. She could feel the tiny hairs on the back of her neck beginning to stir.
"I'm not positive," Drayton said, in a hushed tone. "But this could be a Caesar cipher."
17
For some reason, Theodosia's mind immediately fixed on a tasty Caesar salad complete with anchovies, garlic, and croutons. Then, just as quickly, she skipped on to Augustus Caesar.
Drayton, a crooked, wary expression on his face, said, "If I'm correct, and it's possible that I am, this is written in a code invented by Julius Caesar."
"Which is why it's called a Caesar cipher." Duh. Of course, that's why,
Drayton gave an absent nod. "Caesar used his own coded invention to transmit important communiqués to his generals. To go undetected by enemies, of course."
"So it's an old Roman code," said Theodosia. "And probably very tricky."
"No, not so difficult," said Drayton, gaining a little more enthusiasm as he went along. "The Caesar cipher is a fairly basic encryption technique. A single alphabet cipher where each plaintext letter is replaced with another letter that's a fixed number of spaces down the alphabet."
Huh? Theodosia put a hand above her head and made a zooming gesture.
Seeing Theodosia's puzzlement, Drayton said, "You know ... like shifting down three spaces, so A is really D.”
“Ooooh," breathed Theodosia. "Now I get it. Like a secret decoder ring."
"Er ... something along that line," said Drayton.
"Then ... can you decode it?" Things were suddenly looking way more hopeful, thanks to clever Drayton! Drayton glanced at his watch. "I promise to give it my very best shot once I have a little more time to spend on it.”
“Okay," said Theodosia, glancing at the clock on her desk. "After lunch, then."
"Shepherd's pie,” said Drayton, with obvious relish. "Haley, how did you know that's one of my absolute favorites? What magical intuition do you possess?"
Haley placed a wedge of shepherd's pie on a salad plate, added a generous mound of citrus salad, and said, with guileless blue eyes turned upon Drayton, "Gosh, I hope I made enough. I hope there'll be a piece left over for you."
"Don't tease him," Theodosia laughed. "When it comes to his food faves, Drayton's never in a joking mood."
"Oh, Drayton," said Haley, serving up yet another piece, then arranging five completed luncheon plates on a large silver platter, "you know I'll save you a piece."
"I don't know that at all," said Drayton, as Haley picked up the platter and handed it to him.
"Well, I will," said Haley. "I am."
"In that case, I thank you," said Drayton, as he negotiated the doorway and headed for the tea room to deliver his orders.
"You tease him unmercifully," said Theodosia. She stood at the butcher block counter, munching a blueberry scone that Haley had deemed too lumpy and shapeless, and thus unworthy of being served to paying customers.
"Tit for tat," said Haley. "Makes up for all the times he teased me about boyfriends."
"Speaking of such," said Theodosia, "you and Peter Grace seem to have hit it off."
"Isn't he a nice package?" Haley bubbled. "Tall, attractive, and smart, too."
"I know exactly what you mean," said Theodosia, letting her thoughts wander in Max's direction. And back to last night's big kiss, a world-class smackeroo if she did say so herself.
"I hope you don't mind," said Haley, "but I invited Peter to drop by tonight for our tea and cheese tasting." She spun quickly as a buzzer sounded, then grabbed an oven mitt and pulled a pan of apricot bars out of the oven. They were golden brown and bubbling with sticky goodness. "So, that's okay, isn't it?"
"Of course it is," said Theodosia. "We're glad to have him. He's been a great help to us."
Haley set the tray of bars on the counter and poked gingerly at them with a finger. "So ... did you invite that Max guy?”
"What?" said Theodosia, startled.
"Why not?" asked Haley. "You like him, don't you?"
Theodosia caved immediately. "It's that obvious?"
Haley nodded. "Oh, yeah, sure. And he likes you. I could tell by the way he was staring at you all last night. All mooneyed and goofy."
"Holy cats," said Theodosia. "Do you think anybody else noticed?" This wasn't good. Well, it was good for her, just not good for her reputation. If that made any sense.
"Not sure," said Haley. "Everybody was pretty much drinking and whooping it up, so they may not have noticed. But I saw how Delaine treated that guy Max, and you could tell by his body language that he's not having it. She's ancient history."
"You really think so?" asked Theodosia. She hoped that might be the case. But in a good way. Did that make any sense?
"Absolutely," said Haley, with a young person's typical assuredness of the world and all its permutations. "Delaine's gonna get kicked to the curb-and quick. You know, when it comes to matters of the heart? Stuff like that?" Haley gave a slow wink. "I can always tell."
"How are you doing?" asked Theodosia. Drayton was sitting on the tuffet, scribbling on a notebook page and mumbling to himself.
"Mmm," said Drayton. He had a task-oriented personality and didn't like to be disturbed.
"Getting anywhere?"
Drayton scribbled for a few more seconds, then finally glanced up. "If I had a piece of that lovely shepherd's pie, it would probably help improve brain cell function."
"Coming right up!"
Theodosia swung by the kitchen, picked up a slice of shepherd's pie for Drayton, then hit the front counter, where Miss Dimple had just brewed a nice, steaming pot of tea. "What's fresh?" Theodosia asked.
"Orange pekoe," said Miss Dimple. "Per a customer's request." She lowered her voice. "Although I've never been completely sure what orange pekoe tea really is."
Theodosia checked the back of the tea tin. "This one's a classic blend of strong Assam tea blended with fine black Ceylon tea," said Theodosia. "Smooth with lots of body."
"You folks really know your tea," remarked Miss Dimple. "Then again, you're the tea lady."
"Supposedly I am," said Theodosia. "But just when I think I've got it all figured out, Drayton springs something new on me. A Russian blend that combines Lapsang souchong with a bit of Assam. Or a Japanese Bancha tea blended with rosebuds."
"The whole tea-blending process reminds me a little of the perfume-making process," exclaimed Miss Dimple. “A drib of this, a drab of that."
"But so much tastier," said Theodosia.
"Delicious,” Drayton proclaimed as he set down his fork. "One of the finest shepherd's pies I've tasted in memory.”
“I'll be sure to tell Haley," said Theodosia.
"And you even brought me an apricot bar."
"Served with a dollop of Devonshire cream," said Theodosia. "Haley's idea."
With a small spoon, Drayton daubed a bit of Devonshire cream onto his bar and took a bite. "Excellent," he said, chewing with relish. "Really wonderful."
"I ask you," said Theodosia, "what food isn't improved by a dollop of Devonshire cream?"
"Not sure," said Drayton, taking another generous bite. "Maybe ... turnips?"
"No," said Theodosia, "I'm sure that would taste good, too."
Drayton made short work of his dessert, then pushed his plate aside and picked up his notebook. "I've made some progress," he announced.
"I knew you would."
"Taking a wild guess and basing this on what I think might be a four-letter shift," said Drayton, "I've come up with two possible words."
"Okay."
"First word," said Drayton, as if they were playing a game of charades, "is ealon."
"What?" said Theodosia, her voice rising in a squawk.
She'd been expecting a genuine word, not another puzzle. "What on earth does ealon mean?"
Drayton thought for a minute. "I'm thinking that it's possibly a surname?"
"Maybe," said Theodosia, sitting down at her computer. "So let's run a quick search." She typed "ealon" into the Google search engine and waited for a few moments. "Okay, here's something. There was a Major Josiah Ealon from South Carolina who was in the Revolutionary War."
"That could be a possibility," said Drayton. "What about the second word?"
Drayton made a face. "It's hard to make out, but it looks like faesten. Does that mean anything to you?"
"You're sure that's what it says?" She glanced at the printout she'd made earlier. "Mmm, the engraving is difficult to read." Drayton scrunched up his face, thinking.
"Sorry to put so much pressure on you," said Theodosia. "I guess you didn't sign on to be a master tea blender and cryptographer."
Drayton made a few more jottings, then stared at them for a few moments.
"Nothing jumps out, huh?" said Theodosia.
"Maybe . . ." Drayton began in a whisper.
"What?" asked Theodosia, pouncing on him like a hungry duck on a skittering bug.
"It could be Old English," Drayton said, in almost a monotone.
"What could?" asked Theodosia.
"The two words," said Drayton. "I told you I've been rereading Beowulf. . ."
"Talk to me!" urged Theodosia.
Drayton pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose and hunched over his notes. "What if this word ealon is really ealond?" said Drayton.
"Okay," said Theodosia, thinking that still didn't help clarify things.
Drayton gazed at her with a studious almost professorial look. "Then, in Old English, the word would mean “island."'
"Island," said Theodosia. "Referencing one of our nearby islands?" Her thoughts began to race. "But which one? There are hundreds of islands around Charleston as well as up and down the coast!"
"Perhaps the key lies with the second word," said Drayton. He peered at it with a mixture of speculation and fascination. "Faesten."
"Fasten?" with Theodosia. "Like fastening a zipper?”
“No," said Drayton. "In Old English, faesten means ‘fortress.’ So if I'm right-and I think I might be-this clue means ‘island fortress.’ "
"Holy magoomba!" Theodosia cried. She jumped up from her desk and raced over to Drayton. "You cracked the code!" she exclaimed, as she threw her arms around him, locking him in a super tight squeeze.
"But what island fortress?" came Drayton's muffled response. Theodosia relaxed her grip. "What one could there be?”
“Probably several dozen," said Drayton. "Most of which have been lost through the ages."
