"You and Jasper and Dave all go back a long way?" I asked.
He didn't answer.
"So Dave thought the wood was wrong, did he? What did you think?"
"I know the tablet didn't come from Chile. Dave wanted to believe it did, but I knew he was wrong. When he started to think the wood was wrong, then he wanted it to be a forgery. We borrowed a book about forgeries, and Dave studied it. It's here somewhere."
"Is that it?" I said, pointing to the Hebborn.
"Yes," he said, picking it up and handing it to me.
"Dave was reading it to see how the forgery might be done."
"When was this?"
"We talked about it the night he died," Seth said. "He came to my room to get the tablet late that night after they closed the bar and everyone had turned in for the night. We had to give it to Jasper and that Kent Clarke woman so they could get it ready for the presentation. He took it with him."
"So where is the San Pedro tablet now?" I asked.
"I have no idea," he said. "It doesn't matter where it is."
It does if it has something to do with Dave and Jasper's deaths, I thought, but once again I kept that thought to myself. "But it's missing. Someone must have thought it worth stealing."
"Or Jasper made it disappear because he didn't really want anyone who knew anything about it to have a close look," he said. "It is not from Chile. It was Jasper's vanity, his determination to find something that supported his theories, that blinded him to the obvious."
"I'm not getting this," I said. "Are you saying that Jasper just pretended to discover the tablet in Chile? That he just walked out of the desert into some town and said, 'Look what I found?"
"No, I'm saying someone put it there for Jasper to find," Seth said. "It was a message, even if Jasper didn't realize it at first."
"Wouldn't that be a lot of trouble? That canyon looked pretty deserted and far from, well, everywhere."
"Not for Anakena," Seth said. "And not for Jasper."
"Anakena is a beach," I repeated.
Seth was obviously in bad shape. "You didn't like Jasper, I know," I added. "You said you'd known him a long time. Why did you stay in touch?"
"Who said anything about staying in touch? I hadn't seen him in thirty years when I got here. I'm getting a little tired," he said.
"Dave kept something locked in his safety deposit box," I said, thinking if anybody knew it would be Seth. "It wasn't his money or his passport. Do you know what it was?"
"I expect it was the photograph," he said. "I shouldn't have brought it. We shouldn't have come at all."
"Photograph of what?"
"Anakena knows."
"Where would this photograph be now?" I said, ignoring his reference to Anakena.
"I imagine it has been destroyed. That's what I would have done."
"Was Dave drunk when he came to see you the night he died?" I asked. Perhaps this was a question Seth would be capable of answering.
"No," he said. "He showed me a bottle of pisco he'd bought to take home with him. But he hadn't drunk any. Everybody thinks it was an accident, that he tried to ride a horse in the middle of the night."
"I don't," I said. "I think he was murdered." There, I'd said it.
"Yes," Seth said. He seemed remarkably calm all of a sudden.
"Who do you think did it?" I asked.
"Anakena," he said. "Whoever that is." Then he climbed into bed, curled up into the fetal position, and closed his eyes. I took that as my signal to leave.
I wanted to say something to comfort him. He was obviously in very bad shape, with all that talk of Anakena and messages. The only helpful thing I could think of was that the sun was out, Gordon's lawyer was on the way, and if he turned himself in, then maybe we'd all be able to go home. But there was only so much of that I could tell without betraying Gordon and possibly making trouble for myself. That the sun was out would be about as far as I could go, and somehow I didn't think that would help, given Seth wouldn't go out of his room to stand in it. "I'll bring you some dinner later," was all I said.
I went to get my own lunch. The dining room had closed already, but they took pity on me and made me a sandwich. Susie Scace was sitting alone at a table on the terrace, so I asked if I could join her.
"Do you mind if I ask if you're one of the people with a funny nickname of some kind?" I said.
"Nana o Keke," she said. "At your service."
"What is that all about, or is it some big secret?"
"No secret, really. Not now anyway. A number of us are here because we participate in a group on the Internet called the Moaimaniacs. We all use an alias, so part of the fun of coming here was to meet people and try to put them together with their alias. Some were easy. Cassandra was on it, I know, because of all that stuff about Lemuria. On the Internet, she calls herself Mu—Mu being the earth mother and the goddess after whom they're supposed to have named Lemuria. She always speaks of herself in the third person, as in 'Mu believes Rapa Nui to be the tip of her continent,' or 'Mu would be interested in learning more about whatever,' that sort of thing. I had no trouble identifying her right away. I hope you'll forgive me for saying so, but I found her tiresome on the Internet and even more tiresome in person."
"You won't get any argument from me there," I said. "I think she's awful."
"Dave Maddox, poor man, was MoaiMan, Seth is RongoReader, and Brian is Birdman. Everyone tried to choose something that related both to Rapa Nui, of course, but also their particular area of interest. Brian is interested in doing some research at Orongo, which is the site of the bird man cult. Dave, well, you know all about his moving moai theories. And Seth is really into rongorongo. Have you taken your turn visiting him by the way? He seemed relatively okay when I was there, but I think maybe he's on the edge of a complete breakdown, perhaps because of Jasper and Dave. What did you think?"
I agreed Seth was in pretty bad shape. "What about your alias? Nana o Keke, did you say?"
"I'm embarrassed to tell you," she said. "Because it isn't very good, not nearly as clever as some of the others. My grandchildren call me Nana, and Ana o Keke is the cave of the white virgins. Therefore, Nana o Keke. Seeing as how I'm a grandmother, the virgin part didn't make a lot of sense, but I liked the rhythm of it.
"Let's see, who else?" she said, counting off on her fingers. "There were supposed to be eleven of us here. Albert Morris is Arikimo, a clever play on the title for king, ariki mau, and his last name, and Brenda Butters is Avareipu. That would be Hotu Matu'a's sister, or wife, depending on which version of the myth of the first settler you care for. Enrique, that dear boy with his nose in a guidebook all the time, is Tongenrique, also clever.
"Edwina Rasmussen is Vinapu, because she supports Jasper's theories of settlement from South America. Vinapu is an ahu where the stonework is believed to resemble that of Cusco, Peru, and one that people point to as evidence of South Amerindian settlement. Edwina didn't participate much in the Internet dialogue, just corrected us from time to time, which is what she has continued to do here, I'm afraid. My favorite, though, is Poikeman. That would be Lewis. I think it suits him to a T, don't you? He sort of looks like the toy, doesn't he? What is it his wife calls him? A little muffin?"
"I'm missing somebody, though. Yvonne! How could I forget? She's Hottie Matu'a. I suppose some of the locals would think that sacrilege or something, taking the name of their first king in vain, but you've got to admit it suits her." She laughed.
"Where did the idea for the congress start? Was it on the Internet?"