A Treasure to Die For (17 page)

I finally emerged from the dark pit with bloody hands and more fatigued than if I had run a marathon. The altitude and the extra weight I’d put on lately had taken its toll. I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was lie down to catch my breath, but something was wrong. Fred should have been there waiting for me. I had been holding the flashlight in my mouth, so I grasped it with my right hand, because of the metal slivers in my left, and scanned my surroundings, looking for my dog. Then everything went dark.

Julie was wiping my forehead with a wet cloth and kissing me at the same time. “Wake up, Jake, or you’ll freeze up here. Please, honey, please wake up.”

I slowly opened my eyes, “Julie! Is it really you?”

She barked then wiped my face some more.

“Fred!” I shouted when I started to come to. “Where’s Julie?” Then I realized I’d been dreaming, and felt a terrible pain in my arm and the back of my head.

I sat up and reached for Fred, but yelled when the pain shot down my arm from the shoulder. Fred backed away for a moment then came back with his tail between his legs.

“What happened, boy? God, I wish you could talk. Did you get hit too?” I looked around to see if we were alone. I couldn’t have been unconscious for long, for it was still dark with no hint of a rising sun shining its light into the mine. If not for my flashlight still burning, we would have been in total darkness.

Holding my sore shoulder with my right hand, I reached for the light with my left. It only seemed to hurt if I lifted my arm too high, which I did, and yelled again. Actually, it was more of a whimper because I didn’t scare Fred this time. “Can you get the flashlight, Freddie?”

He barked then licked me some more. It had been worth a try even though I really didn’t think he’d understand. Then it hit me why my arm was hurting. The backpack was gone. Whoever took it must have torn the straps off my arms and nearly taken my arm with it. That narrowed it down to someone quite strong, so I could rule out the little old lady who broke into Bonnie’s.

Fred wasn’t going to get the flashlight for me and it wasn’t going to come to me no matter how much I pleaded, so I reached out for it with my good arm. To my surprise, Fred went over and picked it up before I could. I’m sure he thought it was some kind of stick.

“Good, boy,” I said when he brought it back to me. I reached out to rub his neck before taking the flashlight from him and felt something sticky.

“What’s this, Freddie?” I asked, shining the light on his neck. His entire neck and face were covered with an oily orange substance.

Fred let out a cry and backed away from me when I shined the light in his eyes. “It’s okay, Freddie,” I said ever so softly after noticing his eyes were red and puffy. “You know I wouldn’t hurt you for the world.”

He looked at me with the saddest eyes I’ve seen outside a seal exhibit.

I went back to my examination of Fred then realized why my eyes were watering. No wonder he didn’t sound the alarm before I was knocked out; someone had pepper sprayed him.

***

Bonnie wasn’t the least bit upset when I called her early Wednesday morning to tell her we would be late picking her up from her sister’s. “It’s okay, Jake. Margot is taking me shopping at the Cherry Creek Mall, and I was going to call you anyway.” She didn’t ask why I would be late and I didn’t offer an excuse.

“Why don’t you wait a couple days before coming to get me? We’re going to the Botanic Gardens tomorrow and maybe the museum. I’d forgotten how much there is to do down here. Oh, I almost forgot. Could I ask you for a big favor?”

“Sure, Bon.” I tried not to sound too relieved.

“Would you mind picking up my mail for me? Margot’s been telling me how I shouldn’t leave it sitting out on the road because anyone can steal my identity now-a-days.” She was referring to how our mailboxes were half a mile from our homes, stuck down on Upper Bear Creek Road, where anyone could help themselves.

“No problem, Bon. Just call me when you’re ready to come home.” I knew it might be sooner than later for it was a rare week when she and Margot didn’t end up fighting about something. But it should be enough time, without Bonnie tagging along, for me to find Craig Renfield and make him pay for nearly breaking my arm and pepper spraying my dog. It didn’t take a PI license to know who owned the old Toyota up on Mosquito Pass.

***

This time I didn’t park in Casa Bonita’s lot, and drove straight to Renfield’s house on Saulsbury. Like Cory and Jennifer’s house two doors down, it had seen better days. I could see several shingles missing and the paint on its clapboard siding was faded and peeling. Several of the single-pane windows were broken and their screens ripped so they looked like miniature flags flapping in the wind.

Fred followed me to the front door where I had to knock because the doorbell button was hanging by a single wire, and clearly not working. I could feel my rage building and, fantasized about blowing his head off with my shotgun. That wasn’t going to happen because I didn’t bring it, but I quickly improvised and imagined myself punching him in the face then knocking him to the ground where I’d stomp on his head until he stopped breathing. He had to be fifty pounds lighter and four inches shorter than me, so I’m sure I’d come out ahead if this didn’t go well, even though I was ten years older.

“Well, if it isn’t Timmy and Lassie. What are you two doing here?” Craig asked when he answered his door, holding a baseball bat in his hand.

I checked my anger at the site of his weapon. “Do you mind telling me where you were yesterday?”

“I asked first,” he said. His upper lip rose a couple millimeters. I’d seen Fred do the same before going after Chatter.

His remark caught me off guard. I hadn’t heard a response like that since grade school. We lost eye contact when I saw movement in his kitchen. “Someone hit me over the head and pepper sprayed my dog yesterday,” I said, looking past him into the house. “Someone driving a beat-up Toyota like yours.”

His lip uncurled into a slight smile. “I traded that piece of junk off last week,” he said, nodding in the direction of his driveway. A late model SUV was parked in a detached garage at the back of his lot.

“What happen? You lose a muffler on Mosquito Pass?”

His smirk disappeared faster than my last paycheck. “You’re a real smartass, aren’t you?” he said, and shut the door in my face.

If not for Fred yelping when I pulled too tightly on his collar, I might have kicked in Craig’s door. I hadn’t been this upset since Junior High when the class bully pulled down my gym shorts in front of a cute cheerleader. Fred left my side when I let him go, and ran back toward the Jeep. I quickly followed him for fear he might run into the street.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you, Freddie?” He was sitting on his haunches next to my Jeep when I caught up to him.

He didn’t answer, of course, but he did smile as we drove away.

***

I called Paul Wilson as soon as we got home. It was a call I should have made sooner, but I had been too mad to think clearly. Now that I realized it probably wasn’t Craig’s Toyota I had seen on the pass, I needed to face up to the fact that I’d have to give Wilson his money back. He seemed to be one of those people who never answer, so I left a message to call me back, and went to bed.

I couldn’t sleep, thinking of the incident on the pass while watching the minutes flip by on my alarm clock like the scores of a baseball game in an old movie. The clock was a relic from the seventies, the kind where the numbers were printed on four mechanical wheels that turned when the time changed. If it wasn’t Craig’s Toyota I had seen, then who was it that stole the backpack, and why? Why did they wait for me to retrieve it instead of going after it themselves? All four wheels where turning to display the number ten when Wilson returned my call.

“You’re telling me you found the backpack, and then someone hit you over the head, and nearly broke your arm taking it from you?” He sounded very upset, so I expected he’d want his money back.

“Right after pepper spraying my dog.”

“Pepper spray?”

“I think so. I’ve been doing some research while waiting for your call, and it seems anyone can buy that stuff.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s okay now. I gave him a good bath when we got home, but I doubt if he’ll ever eat scrambled eggs with hot sauce again.”

I cleared my throat before asking the next question. “How well do you know Craig Renfield?”

“Not at all, why?”

“I thought I saw his car up there just before I was knocked out. He says he traded it off last week, but I only have his word for that, so he’s still my number one suspect. What I can’t fathom is why he wanted the backpack so badly, and for that matter, how he knew it was there.”

Wilson didn’t answer. I was beginning to think he didn’t realize I had asked a question and was ready to speak again when he beat me to it. “Well, I did tell him I would be willing to pay dearly for his copy of
Tom Sawyer
if he ever recovered it.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know him.”

“I don’t. It was at the signing when I asked him. I told him I’d pay a nice finder’s fee if he could get the kids to sell me theirs.” Then he paused again. I was beginning to realize he was the kind to choose his words carefully. “You’ve got to get that backpack from him, Jake. I’ll pay whatever you ask.”

“What is in there, Paul?”

“Why don’t you meet me at that pizza place down the road from you, say tomorrow at noon, and I’ll fill you in?”

Wilson hung up before I could object.

Paul Wilson was late for our meeting at Beau Jo’s, so I let Fred out of my Jeep to chase sticks in the creek behind the parking lot. Except for takeout, I hadn’t been to any of the Beau Jo’s restaurants since Julie died. They reminded me too much of the day I fell for her, when we had eaten at the one in Idaho Springs after window shopping with Fred. She had thought it was so cute the way he held his own leash while following us. I often wondered who she loved more, me or Fred.

We didn’t have to wait long before I saw Wilson’s Mercedes SUV pull into the parking lot. Fred dropped his stick at my feet and began to growl. “You really don’t like him very much, do you, Freddie?” He never once took his eyes off the SUV while I escorted him back to the Jeep.

Wilson must not have seen us for he headed straight for the restaurant after getting out of his car. I ruffled the fur on Fred’s head and asked him to behave himself before locking him in the Jeep and running to catch Wilson. “Wait up, Paul,” I yelled.

He stopped short of entering the restaurant, giving me the chance to catch up with him. “Jake! I didn’t see you over there. Sorry, I’m late.”

“No problem. Fred needed some exercise anyway. I got up too late to take him on our walk around the lake, but he had fun chasing ducks and sticks in the creek.”

Wilson glanced over at my Jeep where Fred had his big head sticking out the half-open window. “Looks like he recovered from the pepper spray,” he said, and then turned to go inside.

***

We had taken a table overlooking the creek where I had been watching a small brood of ducklings follow their mother in the water while Wilson studied the menu. “By the way, Jake, how’s that arm?”

“It’s almost back to normal, thanks for asking.”

“Well, if you need to, get it looked at, and send me the bill.”

“Wow, thanks, Paul, but I don’t think that’ll be necessary. It should be as good as new in a day or two.” I didn’t mention the reason I hadn’t seen the doctor is because I didn’t have insurance. I was still paying for the last time I went to the ER. I’d sworn I’d die before going back again, after getting the bill.

His eyes went back to the menu. “Beautizers instead of appetizers, that’s cute. Have you tried the stuffed mushrooms? They sure sound good.”

“No, I usually order one of their mountain pie pizzas. There’s no way I can finish one of those, much less an appetizer.” I didn’t mention my regular order of a whole pizza was so I’d have leftovers for Fred.

It was obvious Wilson had been making small talk, for he didn’t so much as grunt a response, and kept his nose buried in the menu. I wondered how to cut to the chase, and ask about the backpack when the waitress saved me.

“Would you gentlemen care for anything to drink?” she asked.

Wilson looked up from his menu, and hooked his thumbs in his suspenders. “Can I get a Fat Tire, gorgeous?”

She blushed before turning to me. “And you, sir?”

I felt bad for her. I knew she went to Bonnie’s church and couldn’t be more than a couple years out of high school. Wilson had to be pushing sixty. “Just black coffee, please,” I answered, handing her my menu. “And I’ll take one of the Classic Calzones specials when you get a chance.” I wasn’t sure who was paying, and Fred needed to cut back on people food anyway.

“How about you, Sir?” she asked Wilson, without looking up from her order pad. “Are you ready to order, too?”

He pulled on one of his suspender straps and let it snap back into place before stroking his goatee. His eyes were all over her. “As much as I’d love to have one of your mountain pies, I’ve got to stay in shape, so how about a Caesar salad with lots of grated cheese on top.”

I’ll bet it was all the waitress could do to not laugh in his face. Even I knew the suspenders were probably because there wasn’t a belt made that could fit his waist.

“So tell me, Paul, what’s in the backpack anyway?” I asked after the waitress left.

He looked around at the other tables before answering. “I like the way you come right to the point, Jake. As a writer, I do have a tendency to beat around the bush.”

“And?” I wanted to say something about how good writers didn’t use clichés, but let it go.

Wilson removed his glasses and looked directly at me. “First you have to promise that whatever I tell you stays in this room.”

“Seems I’ve heard that one before. Have you been to Vegas lately?”

He didn’t get my joke, and continued staring at me without blinking.

“Mum’s the word, scout’s honor, and all that. Now, you want to tell me what’s in that backpack that has you so riled up?”

He smiled. It wasn’t a friendly smile, but one I’d expect Freddie Krueger to flash at me just before he slashed my throat. “Okay, I wasn’t completely honest when I told you I made up the story of lost treasure. And if my guess is right those kids beat me to it.”

“Are you telling me there’s gold in that backpack?”

“Worth at least a hundred grand, maybe more depending on the condition and rarity of the coins,” he answered quickly. His voice was so low, I could barely hear him over the background noise of the restaurant.

I whistled, causing several people to look up from their meal. “But if they did find the treasure, I fail to see how their parents can sue you.”

Wilson leaned in closer, I assumed to keep anyone else from hearing, “I also didn’t tell you someone broke into my place just before the kids went missing, and stole all my notes.”

His breath smelled of cigarettes, so I scooted back from the table before speaking. “You didn’t have copies or a backup?”

He seemed to forget our audience and raised his voice. “They got that, too. They took my flash drive with all my notes, but that’s not the point. With my notes and the right copy of
Tom Sawyer
, they had everything they needed to find the treasure.”

“So you didn’t decode the riddle then.”

He looked annoyed. “Of course not. Why else would I be searching for copies of the book?”

I thought about asking him if his notes were printed on a dot-matrix printer, but let it go. There was no sense letting him know I had found his notes at Appleton’s. “So those kids had the key-copy of
Tom Sawyer
after all, and once they stole your notes, all they had to do was go up to Mosquito Pass and retrieve the gold.”

“You catch on quick, Jake, but I couldn’t care less about the coins. It’s my notes that will hang me. If the parents discover it was because of me that those two fell to their deaths, I could lose everything. If you get my notes back, you can keep the coins.”

“And how am I supposed to do that? The only suspect I can think of claims he traded off his car last week. I have no idea where to look, even if I wanted to.”

Wilson gave me his Freddie Kruger smile again. “Oh, I think you will want to find it. The book the kids used to crack the code was yours.”

“How do you know that?”

He held his index finger to his lips. “Hold it down, please.”

I took a deep breath, and subconsciously began counting to ten, but only got to eight before he interrupted. “I’m not at liberty to say, but my source told me the kids got the book from Appleton.”

“It would help me believe you if I knew who your source is,” I said, while staring him in the eyes, knowing if he was lying he would turn away. He didn’t.

“A little birdie told me, Jake.” The smile was back. “And finding it won’t be hard at all. That same birdie tells me your buddy, Craig Renfield, has it. He didn’t trade off the Toyota until
after
he took the backpack.”

He stopped talking when the waitress returned with our drinks. It was all the time I needed to end the meeting before I lost it.

“Could you put my meal in a doggy bag, miss?” I asked the waitress. I knew Wilson had lied about talking to Craig at the book signing, because Craig had left before Wilson could speak to him. He also lied about the coins, for he said it was gold ore at the signing. But something told me he wasn’t lying about Julie’s book, which made me want to grab him by the throat and make him tell the truth.

Wilson waited once again for the waitress to leave before continuing. “Is that a no, Jake? Are you really going to pass on the chance of making a hundred grand for a few minutes work?”

“No, Paul, I’ll get the backpack, and it’s not because of the coins, if they exist.”

Fred would have to eat dog food tonight; I didn’t wait for my calzone.