The Templar's Code

CHAPTER 24

“Keep your fingers crossed,” Caedmon said as he raised the ceramic lid that covered the toilet tank.

Holding her breath, Edie looked inside.

Damn.

“Nothing but dank water and the standard plumbing apparatus.” Baffled, she glanced at the crucifix hanging above the toilet. “Jason Lovett did not hang that cross so he could pray while on the pot.”

“We must assume it’s a red herring.” Caedmon repositioned the lid back on the tank.

Unconvinced, Edie shook her head. “I don’t think so. We just haven’t followed the aqua sanctus clue to its logical conclusion. For starters: Where does the water in this tank go?”

Caedmon’s brow furrowed. “I imagine that it flows into the public sewer system.”

“Nope. You imagine wrong. Since this is a rural area, there isn’t a public water system. With every flush, all of the aqua sanctus in the toilet bowl goes to a septic tank, which”—she stepped into the bathtub so she could peer out the bathroom’s only window—“is almost always buried behind the house because, let’s face it, who wants a cesspit in their front yard?” She scanned the unkempt backyard visible on the other side of the smudged glass.

“And you think Lovett may have hidden his research notes near the septic tank?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Got a better idea?”

“Lovett was using the spare bedroom to store his excavating tools. I’ll grab a shovel and meet you in the back garden.”

Several minutes later, spade and pickax at the ready, they set out in search of the buried septic tank.

“I’m no expert, but most septic tanks have a hatch that’s visible aboveground,” Edie said, putting a hand to her eyes as she surveyed the surprisingly expansive lawn. “The goose grass is thick and the foxtail knee-high. Lovett obviously didn’t own a mower.”

“I suspect his preoccupation with the Templar treasure is the real reason for the overgrowth.” Caedmon jutted his chin toward the right side of the yard. “You search that half of the lawn and I’ll take—”

“Found it!” She pointed to an area approximately one hundred feet from where they stood. “See that plush patch of weeds? What do you want to bet Lovett’s bumper weed crop is being fertilized by the discharge from the septic tank?”

Caedmon slung both of the long-handled tools over his shoulder. “Your powers of observation are commendable. If this is indeed where Dr. Lovett buried his research notes, we should be on the lookout for signs of disturbed vegetation.”

“How can you be so sure that Lovett buried his notes?”

“It’s what I would have done.” Caedmon came to a halt at the edge of the thicket. “Ah! I see a clump of snapped thistles. Evidence that someone very recently traipsed through here.”

“Could have been a deer or other wild animal.”

“Only if their hooves were shod in lug-heeled boots,” he retorted with a smirk, pointing to a cluster of visible footprints. “This is newly turned soil. I suspect that Dr. Lovett stomped on the loose earth after he refilled the hole.”

A bluejay perched in a nearby tree cawed, the harsh sound eerily similar to a rusty gate swinging on a hinge. Spooked, Edie glanced at her watch. Fourteen minutes had lapsed since they first arrived at the cottage.

“Yes, I know; the clock is ticking,” Caedmon remarked, accurately reading her thoughts. Unlimbering the digging tools from his shoulder, he handed her the pickax. Then, firmly planting his leather shoe on top of the shovel blade, he forcefully pushed down. “Hopefully, our would-be fossor dug a shallow grave.”

He did. Steel struck metal in under two minutes.

“Eureka!” she exclaimed, going down on her haunches to better examine the upturned object. “Looks like a metal toolbox. Ooh! And it’s very heavy.”

Caedmon grasped the container’s handle. “I suggest that we take our booty back to the cottage.”

“Good idea.” Standing upright, Edie furtively glanced at the turquoise trailer. “I’m probably being paranoid, but I’ve got a hinky feeling that someone’s snooping on us.”