Day 3

“Admiral Nelson, Admiral Nelson?” the reporters asked me almost as soon as Edith and I had gotten out of the cab today, with ‘Miguel’ who was encumbered with  aged journals, ledgers and diaries. Little did anyone know that most were bogus, hastily put together for show.( The more we showed we had about the jewelry, the better to  lure the culprits out.)

 “Look,” I said, “The jewel’s aren’t very valuable after all. I’m surprised by all the interest...come along Miguel,” I added as Lee was looking awestruck at the museum’s entrance. “Miguel?”

“Grande”, he pointed to the museum, “grande’. “

“Yes, very ‘grande’. If you’ll excuse us?” I asked the reporters.

“Miguel? Miguel?” the crowd shoved closer anyway.

“Si? Me Miguel,” he pointed to himself proudly.

“How are you connected to all of this?” asked one reporter, practically shoving the microphone in his face.

“No Habla Englase, Si?”

“Admiral Nelson, he has a striking resemblance to Captain Crane,” another asked.

“Capitain Crane! Si, Capitain Crane! Me Hermano!” Miguel said proudly and showed off his ring.

“We don’t know that yet, Miguel,” I said as I nodded my head ‘no’ and gently patted his shoulder.

“Me Hermando,” he insisted and started to whimper, “me Hermando.”

“Edith?” I turned to her to escort him toward the entrance.

 “Ladies, gentlemen,” I returned my attention to the reporters, “I have to request that you don’t bother Miguel with questions. Since a hit and run accident back in California left him with major head trauma, he’s had  the mind of a child. All he knows is that his name is Miguel. It’s doubtful he’ll regain much memory, or even cognitive functioning. While Spanish is apparently his native tongue, he’s rather limited even with  it. He knows a few words and phrases, but that’s about it. I’ll have to ask you to respect his privacy as well as his abilities.”

“Is he Captain Crane’s brother?”

“I suppose it’s possible but doubtful. As you might already know, Lee, er, Captain Crane  was adopted and knows nothing of his biological parentage, but because the resemblance was so great, he insisted on a DNA test. Unfortunately, the  initial results were inconclusive. But Lee took Miguel under his wing just the same. To Miguel, Lee Crane is his big brother, though we think Miguel is actually older by a few years. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment with Miss Bates and the insurance company.”

“That,” I hissed to Lee in the executive suite’s men’s room a few minutes later, (after Lee had checked it out for bugs), “is the most worthy Oscar winning performance I’ve ever seen.”

“Wait until you see the encore.”

He couldn’t say any more as someone else entered to use the facilities. Miguel made a scene about his brother, whimpering, almost crying as I tried to explain to him, (and not very well) that we just didn’t know yet.

“Excuse me, may I ?” the man said.  “Er... Todavía no saben.”

“No Habla Englase,” Miguel said as he picked up a paper towel that I’d dropped on the floor, then put it in the wastebasket.

“Poor guy. Doesn’t even know his own language. Look, if he needs a job, why not ask Miss Bates if we can hire him as a janitor or something.”

“Thank you. We may have to. A man has to earn a living, and right now, there’s very little we think he can do...”

“Miss Bates is a good old cow, even if the Museum’s losing money.”

“I had no idea. The museum looks prosperous.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” the man said and departed.

“Ain’t that the truth,” I muttered. “Come along Miguel.”

“No Habla Englase,” Lee grinned as we headed to the curator’s office.

I probably should write down more about our visit to the museum but it’s late and I’m tired and Edith is baking brownies. Oh gawd, I hope there’s enough pink stiff in the medicine cabinet.