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Portia walked up to take his hand. “But Juan Carlos, think about some of the dates on the headstones. Many were pre-Tantaberra.”
He gave it a moment of thought, his mind clicking back to the headstones. “You’re right. There were at least four that I remember that dated back to the 1920s and ’30s. Before the war, before Tantaberra.”
“Yes,” Portia said, her voice reaching a higher pitch. “And those initials might’ve been used to throw people off. They’d have no real way of investigating who was laid to rest there.”
“Hold on a second,” Juan Carlos said, pulling out his phone. He clicked over to the list he’d brought with him of the known art pieces missing from the palace. His heart racing, he located the titles.
“Joven Amelia. J.A. were the initials on one of the headstones,” he said. “It means Young Amelia. Almas Iguales. A.I. was another set of initials. The sculpture is called Equal Souls in English. And then there is Dos Rios.”
“D.R. I remember that one,” Portia said. “I thought he was a doctor.”
“There’s a painting called Dos Rios that’s missing,” he said. “Portia, you said it yourself this afternoon, the secrets have been buried along with my family members. But I don’t think there are any family members buried in the cemetery.”
“You think the artwork is buried there.” Portia’s voice was breathless and eager.
“It’s a long shot, Princess. I think the cemetery is bogus. It was the family’s way of protecting the art from Tantaberra. We have to find out. Eduardo, get in touch with Luis. We’ll need a bulldozer, but for now, round up shovels and some high-powered lights. I’m going tonight.”
“Oh, Juan Carlos, do you really think you’ve found it?”
“We found it, Portia. You’re as much a part of this as I am.”
Portia nodded, an excited smile teasing her lips. “I’ll go change my clothes.”
“Portia,” he said, “are you sure you want to go? If I’m wrong, it will be pretty gruesome.”
“If you really want to see gruesome try and stop me, Your Highness.”
He grinned. “That’s right. You’re not a wimpy princess.”
He was glad. It wouldn’t feel right going on this search without her by his side.
Whatever they found.
Seven
“I really know how to show a lady a good time, don’t I?” With shovel in hand, Juan Carlos dug at the foot of a grave alongside Eduardo and Luis as the high beams of two cars cast the cemetery in an unearthly glow.
Dirt flew through the air and landed at the toes of her boots. If she weren’t so excited, she’d be totally creeped out. “I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be,” she countered honestly.
Even her embarrassment with Luis had been forgotten.
“I can help out,” she said, “when anyone wants to take a break.”
Eduardo covered his laughter with a grunt.
Juan Carlos slanted her a be-serious look. “I’ll keep that in mind, Princess.”
Luis was too busy digging to look up.
She wrapped her arms around her sides as the night air became chillier. She’d refused Juan Carlos’s suggestion to sit it out in the car and so she stood watching, waiting.
They were digging up the grave of J. A. Molina. The headstone dated the death to 1938.
After ten minutes of silent digging, she heard a thump. Eduardo’s shovel smacked against something solid. Thump, thump. “I hit something, Your Highness,” Eduardo said.
“Let’s keep digging,” Juan Carlos said. There was a boyish tone to his excitement. “It shouldn’t be long now before we know.”
The men worked twice as fast now, focusing their efforts. The scraping sounds of shovels against wood filled the quiet night.
“Portia, will you get the flashlight and shine it down here.”
The men were five feet below ground level now and working furiously.
She grabbed the biggest flashlight she could find and stood as close as possible over the grave site, sending beams of light down. Portia’s heart sank. “It’s a coffin, isn’t it?”
“Maybe,” Juan Carlos said. Under her flashlight, his eager eyes had lost some of their gleam. A layer of dirt remained on top of the box, and he used his gloved hands to swipe it off, searching for any hint of what lay inside. He found nothing written. “Let’s bring it up.”
