The Lost Years

16

Professor Albert West knew he had taken a calculated risk on the drive home from the funeral on Friday afternoon by telling his fellow professor Charles Michaelson that Jonathan believed he had found the Joseph of Arimathea parchment. His eyes had narrowed behind his glasses as he had intently studied Charles’s face for his reaction.

Charles’s expression of shock may have been genuine, or it may have been a good act. Albert simply couldn’t be sure. But Charles’s immediate reference to the possibility that if Kathleen came across the parchment she might destroy it led to other possibilities. Would the same thought have occurred to Jonathan? And if so, would he have kept it someplace other than his home, perhaps even given it to someone he trusted to hold it for him?

Someone like Charles?

A lifelong insomniac, during most of Friday night Albert wrestled with that thought.

On Saturday morning, after a light breakfast, he went to his home office in what would have been the second bedroom in his modest apartment, settled at his desk, and spent the morning going over lesson plans. He was glad that the fall semester would be starting next week. He had not taught during the summer, and while he was never lonely, he did heartily enjoy interaction with his students. He knew that because of his slight stature and deep voice their nickname for him was “Bellows.” He thought it not only appropriate but actually quite clever.

At noon Albert made a sandwich to eat in the car, collected his camping gear, and went down to the garage in his building. As he waited for his SUV, he realized that his favorite word, “suppose,” was running through his mind. Suppose Charles was lying? Suppose Charles had seen the parchment? Suppose he had told Jonathan that he, too, believed it was genuine?

Suppose Charles had warned Jonathan not to bring the parchment home? He might very well have reminded Jonathan that Kathleen had found the pictures of him and Lily that he thought were well hidden.

It was possible.

It made sense.

Jonathan respected Charles as a knowledgeable biblical expert and as a friend. He might easily have left the parchment with him. As Albert got in his car, he thought of the shocking incident fifteen years ago when Charles had accepted a bribe to authenticate a parchment that he knew to be fraudulent.

It happened when Charles was in the middle of his divorce and desperately needed money, he recalled. Fortunately for Charles, Desmond Rogers, the collector who had bought the parchment, was very wealthy and prided himself on his own expertise. When Rogers realized he had been duped, he had phoned Charles and threatened to call the police. Albert had then gone to him and pleaded with him not to turn this into a criminal case. He managed to convince Rogers that he would only embarrass himself if the matter became public, since he had openly scoffed at other experts who advised him that the parchment was a fake. “Desmond, you would ruin Charles, who over the years has helped you acquire some magnificent and valuable antiques,” Albert told him. “I beg you to understand that he was in an emotional and financial tailspin and did not act rationally.”

Desmond Rogers eventually decided to accept the two-million-dollar loss and, at least as far as Albert knew, had never told anyone else about it. He did express his utter contempt for Charles Michaelson. “I’m a self-made man, and I know many people who have been in a terrible financial bind. Not one of them would have accepted a bribe to cheat a friend. Tell Charles for me that no one will ever know of this incident, but also tell him I never want to see his face again. He’s nothing but a crook.”

If Charles has Jonathan’s parchment in his possession, he’ll probably sell it, Albert decided. He’ll find a hidden buyer for it.

How much did Charles resent Jonathan? It was clear to Albert that on that first archaeological trip six years ago, Charles had been deeply interested in Lillian Stewart, only to find that door closed in his face as he watched Lily and Jonathan fall into each other’s arms practically overnight.

That Charles had willingly allowed everyone else to believe that he and Lily were involved with each other when they attended dinners at Jonathan’s home had been absolutely out of character for him. He must have done it at Lily’s request.

What else might he do for her?

I wonder what will happen now? Albert thought as he started the drive to the campsite he had been frequenting of late, the one in the Ramapo Mountains just minutes away from the scene of Jonathan’s murder.