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Sam and Remi didn’t know how to respond. After a few moments Morton slapped his knee and laughed. “Got you, yes?”
“Yes, you did,” Sam replied. “So you’re not—”
“No, that part is true. The resemblance is difficult to see, however. You may see my birth certificate if you wish.” Before they could answer, Morton produced it from a lockbox beneath the card table. He unfolded it and slid it across to them. Sam and Remi leaned over to study it, then straightened up.
“That’s amazing,” Remi said. “So he married? Took a Tanzanian wife?”
“Back then it was still called Tanganyika—before the Germans came, you see. And no, he did not take a wife. But he did take six concubines and had many children. That, too, is in the book.”
Sam and Remi exchanged dumbfounded glances. Sam asked Morton, “What happened to him?”
“No one knows. He disappeared from here in 1882. His grandson claims he was chasing a treasure.”
“What kind of treasure?”
“That is a secret he shared with no one.”
“Some people in town called it the—”
“Crazy Man House,” Morton said. “It’s not an insult. The word doesn’t translate well into English. In Swahili, it doesn’t mean crazy so much as . . . free-spirited. Wild.”
“All these artifacts belonged to him?” Remi asked.
“Yes. Most he killed, made, or found with his own hands. Others are gifts and offerings. Offer a fair price, and I will consider it.”
“I don’t understand. You’re selling his belongings?”
“I have no choice. I am the last of Mbogo Blaylock’s descendants. At least that is still here. My two children live in England. They are going to school. I’m sick and not long for this world.”
“We’re very sorry to hear that,” Sam said. “May we look around?”
“Of course. Ask questions if you have them.”
Sam and Remi walked away. She whispered, “You think it’s all true? The picture does look an awful lot like Hemingway.”
“Why don’t you call Ms. Kilembe and ask.”
Remi went outside, returned five minutes later, and walked over to Sam, who was staring at a walking staff mounted on the wall.
“She says it’s all legitimate. The museum’s been here since 1915.” Sam didn’t respond. He remained still, his eyes fixed on the staff. “Sam? Did you hear me? Sam, what’s so fascinating?”
“Do you see anything unusual about it?” he murmured.
Remi studied it for a few moments. “No, not really.”
“Look at the head . . . the metal part with the rounded end.”
She did. She cocked her head, squinted her eyes, then: “Is that . . . ?”
Sam nodded. “A bell clapper.”
They stared at it for another long ten seconds, then Sam turned to Morton and said, “How much for all of it?”
CHAPTER 13
ZANZIBAR
“PARDON ME?” SELMA SAID OVER THE SPEAKERPHONE. “SAY THAT again. You want what shipped back here?”