Lemuria, Burt Clinchandhill [adventure books to read .TXT] 📗

was private. You see, when we were a few years into business together, we thought it was a good idea to buy cheap property all over the world. Later, we bought such investments through our corporations, but the first ones were bought as private citizens. Those properties, belonging to us together, were never properly transferred.”

“Large pieces of property?” De Cremonese asked.

“Some large but mostly small pieces of land or investments in small businesses like hotels.”

“And he brought you the transfer papers to sign last week,” De Cremonese concluded.

Lancaster nodded. “He did. For the last remaining properties.”

“And did you sign?” Bishop asked.

“Of course. I signed everything else away ten years ago, so why not the rest?”

Bishop shifted to the edge of his seat. “You think there could be something on one of those properties?”

“Well, let me tell you this. Nobody knows we owned—and now he owns—those properties. So, if you were going to do something you didn’t want people to know, then yes. Come to think of it, there was one other thing that might connect. Earlier, when Eldin was here, he told me he had to leave the country in a hurry for some kind of research, and he didn’t expect to be back soon. I believe he used the word indefinitely. He told me he was finishing up a big project, and he hoped Amie would be back soon to take over again. I didn’t think much of it at the time. He’s known to talk vague and in riddles. But, now, I’m not so sure.”

“Do you remember the locations of those properties?” Bishop informed.

“Sure. There were four of them. One is in the heart of rural Madagascar, another is somewhere in southeast Sri Lanka and the last two are on the Galápagos Islands. We owned a small island and a hotel there.”

“Do you have exact details on the properties? Copies of the deeds, perhaps?” Bishop asked while taking out his phone.

“I think I can help you with that.” Lancaster rose from his chair, walked to the wall and removed a folder from between two books.

“Here.” He gave the folder to Bishop. “Last week, I spent almost a day looking for it when Eldin needed to make copies. But I just remembered. Quite warm between Moby Dick and Anna Karenina.” Lancaster smiled.

Bishop opened the folder. “Do you mind if I take pictures?” he asked, holding up his phone.

“Be my guest.”

Bishop quickly took pictures of the small stack of documents.

“Can you please let me know if you find out anything about Amie?” Lancaster asked.

“Sure,” De Cremonese agreed, looking around the room. “So, you don’t have a computer or phone?”

Lancaster shook his head as both men rose from their chairs. “Sorry.”

“No problem,” Bishop assured him. “I’m sure we’ll find a way. Thank you for your hospitality, and I wish you all the best here on your own.”

“Same here,” De Cremonese added, shaking Lancaster’s hand.

“Not a problem. I must admit, it’s been a welcome change to see some friendly faces. I hope you’ll find mine and your friend.”

“We’ll do everything we can and let you know.”

Bishop and De Cremonese left the cabin.

“What a way to live.” De Cremonese looked back at the cabin and waved to Lancaster in the doorway.

“I guess it’s an extreme form of celibacy,” Bishop concluded.

“It sure isn’t my way,” De Cremonese replied.

Bishop steered the Jeep away from the lake and over the ridge, giving it one more look in the mirror. Maybe next time I’ll bring a fishing rod.

Chapter 28 – The Three Islands Dilemma

Granite Bay, CA

The afternoon sun rays tried to work their way through the overgrown coastal line of Granite Bay. Below the treetops, the white Jeep drove from the narrow Park Road onto Douglas Boulevard where the tree line ended.

Bishop was suddenly blinded by the sun, and he put on his sunglasses.

“Finally, some decent road.” De Cremonese ran his fingers through his hair, straightening it. “Where are we going?”

“I suggest we stop where we can get something to drink, eat and talk quietly. Then we’ll take it from there.”

De Cremonese looked at his phone screen. “There’s a Farmhouse about a mile north.”

“A farmhouse?” Bishop asked. “Sounds a bit too quiet maybe?”

“It’s a restaurant with a terrace in the back.” He looked at his watch. At this time, there shouldn’t be too many folks around. “Just take a right here onto Auburn Folsom.”

Bishop steered the Jeep right at the crossing. “Drive past Granny May’s Strawberry Farm, and you should see it on the left.”

“Great names.” Bishop grinned and looked left and right at the houses and shops. “There’s the strawberry farm.”

“And there’s the Farmhouse.” De Cremonese pointed to the left.

Bishop steered the Jeep across the street and parked at the side of the restaurant.

“I could eat something,” De Cremonese said as they got out and entered the terrace in the back. “You see? Completely empty.”

“Good choice,” Bishop admitted.

“Just pick any table,” a woman’s voice sounded from the front. “I’ll be right with you.”

Bishop pointed to the table furthest in the back, where a parasol kept the burning sun from reaching the chairs.

“Great,” De Cremonese confirmed.

Bishop put his backpack under the table, and as the two sat down, a young, black-haired woman, wearing a red apron, walked to the table. “Hi there. I’m Mable. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“An iced tea for me,” Bishop said.

“Same here,” De Cremonese said.

“Anything to eat?” She waved two menus in the air.

“Let us have a look.” Bishop accepted the menus, and the woman went on her way.

“So, here we are,” De Cremonese said. “What do we do now?”

“Well, let’s see if we have any new information,” Bishop responded as he took a twelve-inch Surface tablet from his backpack. “You better sit next to me,” he said, pointing to the screen.

De Cremonese picked up his chair and sat down again next to Bishop. “What is it?”

“The papers from Lancaster’s folder.” He slowly paged through the documents.

“Looks to me like fairly standard property deeds,” De Cremonese concluded. “But I’m no expert.”

“Neither