“But …” Brooke continued, cocking her head to one side, “I was looking through a pile of papers the other day that Phillip left in a locked drawer.  I was just looking for the originals of papers his father had left to him about property in the border of Austria and Germany.  His lawyer said that Phillip was talking about it before the aneurism struck, and seemed to be really agitated.”

“The papers I found in the locked drawer were all clipped to a thick file folder: some were printouts dated around November 2008 to months later, of a series of air freight, from Johannesberg and from Perth, it looked like.  The air freight was bound for London, Dubai, and New York.  And from those places to Zurich.”

Bette sat up quickly.  It was all she could do from almost jumping out of her chair.

The missing gold?  In Zurich?

Brooke doused that line of thought with her next comment, however.   “But then there was also a separate sheave of papers, dated shortly after the last one related to an air freight to Zurich, clipped together on the back of the file folder, about crates being trucked.”

Bette could hardly speak.  She rasped out, “did the papers indicate say where the crates were trucked to?”

Brooke shook her head, noting the markedly different demeanor of Bette now.  She looked like she was about to jump out of her skin.

“No.  Or it wasn’t clear.  The papers had codes — maybe of the freight company?

The brunette’s eyes were opened wide, and, although she sought to maintain a cool exterior, Brooke could see Bette’s mind was going a mile a minute, and her face was no longer as tense as earlier.

“Do you know what they could be about?” Brooke asked impulsively.  When the brunette didn’t reply at first, she laughed lightly.  “Bette, why don’t you take a deep breath, dear?  You look like you’re about to burst from excitement.”

Bette smiled in response, and asked, as casually as she could,  “Um… do you think I could look at those papers, Brooke?”

Brooke frowned slightly, and studied the brunette.

“Only if you’re comfortable, of course….”

After a few minutes, Brooke responded, her voice full of concern, “Will it help you, Bette? With whatever it is you’re struggling with?”

Bette licked her lips.  “I think it will be critical, Brooke.  Maybe the key to this puzzle I’ve been working on.”

Brooke rapped her fingers on the table.  “I wish it helps set you free, then.  From whatever prison in your mind that you seem to be locked in, and from what’s making you do what you clearly don’t want to do.  Act against your nature, the way those pictures are indicating.”

She took a drink from the champagne flute.  “So, of course, you must look at the papers Bette.  Look at whatever you need to.  I hope you’ll get what you need.”

Bette almost cried with relief.  She stood from her chair with trembling legs, and walked over to Brooke, to embrace her.  Brooke soothe her as they embraced briefly, and then rubbed one of Bette’s hands affectionately after the brunette straightened up, still smiling with relief.  Bette’s demeanor had changed completely, like night and day.

Brooke smiled back at her with satisfaction, happy that she would apparently be able to help her young friend out.  A thought struck her, and she decided to ask Bette something, as the brunette made her way back to her chair.

“And did you want the small leather notebook, too?”

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