A Treasure to Die For (7 page)

I subconsciously crossed myself. “He’s probably calling the sheriff this very minute.”

She started pouting again. “He shouldn’t be going so fast down this hill, and that’s what I’ll tell the sheriff if he does report me.”

“Not the truck driver, Bon. The guy in the SUV. He’s probably reporting us right now.”

“Oh, him. Well, I doubt if he got a license number. That would have been impossible the way you parked next to the side entrance.”

She was probably right and her Cherokee was as common in the foothills as pine beetles, so telling the cops what we were driving would narrow the suspect list down to a few hundred thousand. Still, it wouldn’t take a Sherlock Holmes to track us down; even Inspector Clouseau would be able to do it in time.

***

We stopped at the lake in Evergreen before heading up the canyon to our homes. Fred had been cooped up too long, and needed to stretch his legs. Bonnie needed a cigarette to calm her nerves, and I needed to think.

“That was close, Bon,” I said once we found a bench away from the lake house where Fred could water some trees.

She paused with her cigarette in midair. “I feel like a little girl again, Jake. That was fun.”

“Are you sure your last name isn’t Parker?”

“You’ve got to admit, Clyde, that was exciting,” she answered before taking a deep drag.

She waited long enough to feel the nicotine then exhaled. “I’m sorry you didn’t find your book or ring, but I’m glad you at least got your coins back.”

Watching the smoke circle in front of her, she continued. “I would have never thought to look in that box. But you should have taken all of them. Your prints must be on the ones you left behind.”

I had told her about finding my coins on our trip back from Pine Junction, and I couldn’t resist mentioning how clever I’d been to leave a few behind. Leave it to Bonnie to burst my bubble.

Fred came back and sat by my feet, listening to every word we said. “All the more reason we need to find out who killed Appleton,” I said.

Instinctively, I reached out to pet Fred. It was more for my comfort than his. “Now both of us will be murder suspects. They might take pity on a little old lady, but you can bet they’ll throw me and Fred in jail first and ask questions later.”

Bonnie started to say something, but coughed instead. Once she recovered, she flipped her cigarette into the lake. “You really think someone murdered Sleeveless?”

Fred lost interest in our conversation and went off to bark at some ducks in the water. I kept one eye on him while I answered Bonnie’s question. “Appleton wasn’t the kind to sit in his truck and watch us break into his house. I think he was already dead and his killer came back for evidence that would connect him to the murder.”

“Someone else was in his truck?” Bonnie started to light another cigarette, then paused with the lighter inches from her face. “Do you think they’re connected?”

“Who, Bon? Appleton and his killer?”

Fred decided to go after the ducks before Bonnie could answer.

“The murders, silly. Do you think the same guy killed Shelia?”

Bonnie waited for an answer while I watched Fred swim slowly toward the ducks. Golden’s are great swimmers, but have nothing on Mallards. They let him get close then took off quacking, only to land a few yards away, and draw him further out in the lake.

“As sure as Fred will never catch those ducks,” I said.

Bonnie turned toward Fred and laughed. He lunged at a duck but missed when they took flight again, leaving him with a mouth full of water.
Beethoven’s Fifth
started playing on my cell phone before I could call Fred to come back. A quick glance at the text message told me it was the contractor who had replaced me with illegals.

“Looks like our sleuthing is on hold, Bon. I need to get my Jeep fixed. They want me to come back tomorrow and fix the mess made by the day laborers.”

***

Fred should have been exhausted after his marathon swim trying to catch dinner, but the first thing he did when we got back to Bonnie’s was jump out of her Cherokee and run after Chatter. I let him go after the tree-rat, and hiked up the path from Bonnie’s to my cabin. Fred would be sleeping soundly tonight.

I spent the rest of the afternoon replacing the fuel pump on my old Jeep while Fred kept himself busy trying to catch the squirrel. The phone call to my new boss could wait.

Working on a car is one chore most people would rather pass on to a mechanic, but working on my old beast was different. I actually enjoyed it at times like this. It was better than alcohol or nicotine and a lot less work than jogging to get the endorphins flowing.

Unlike newer vehicles, with electric fuel pumps buried in unreachable gas tanks, my Jeep had the old-style mechanical pump attached to the engine block. And it didn’t take a contortionist to get to it. There was enough room under the hood for a small army of back-yard mechanics, or in my case, a man and his dog.

Fred had tired of chasing the elusive Chatter, and parked himself under the Jeep so he could watch and supervise. He barked when my ratchet slipped and I let out a few cuss words to ease the pain of scraped knuckles. I realized he wasn’t there to check my work at all when I heard the distinctive sound of bells and cannons; Beethoven was calling me.

The symphony stopped by the time I extracted myself from under the Jeep and stumbled up my front porch stairs to answer my phone. There was a message from Bonnie inviting me and Fred to dinner, and a text from the contractor wondering where I was. I sent a text back to the contractor explaining my Jeep was down and I wouldn’t be there until tomorrow. Then I called Bonnie.

“Jake, you won’t believe who called me,” she said before I had a chance to speak. I was more surprised she knew it was me on the line than I was by the excitement in her voice; she didn’t have caller ID.

“Alex Trebek?”

“No, silly. Why would
he
call me? It was Paula Morgan.”

“The reporter?”

“Yes. I’m so excited, I could pee my pants. She wants to interview me on television.”

“Be careful what you say, Bon. The police can use it against you.”

“That’s just it, Jake. Appleton left a suicide note in his truck. He confessed to killing Shelia.”

Bonnie was so wound up, I didn’t get many details. Our conversation went on for several more minutes without me learning much. However, she did invite me to dinner again; Patty had dropped by to celebrate with more food than they could possibly eat, and they wanted me to join them. Fred would be disappointed, but I begged off. I knew in my heart Appleton didn’t kill himself or Shelia, and my heart also knew I wouldn’t rest until I found the real killer. Not because of some altruistic sense of justice, but because whoever killed Appleton must have the two things that mean the most to me: Julie’s wedding ring, and the copy of
Tom Sawyer
she gave me.

Those thoughts no sooner crossed my mind when Fred came up to lie by my feet. “Make that
three
things, Freddie. How could I forget you?”

I missed Bonnie’s fifteen minutes of fame and our morning coffee the next two days. The job in Bailey demanded we get there early before the boss decided to replace me again. Bonnie met Paula Morgan at Three Sister’s Park Thursday, so they could film where Appleton killed himself and left the suicide note exonerating Bonnie.

It wasn’t until I got home, tired and dirty, that I was able to pick up my cell messages. Bonnie got a lot less than her fifteen minutes because Paula did most of the talking. She also wanted Fred and me to join her and watch the television interview. I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. The physical labor had me exhausted, and all I wanted was a shower and some sleep. I would have sent her a text saying so, but I knew that would be rude. Bonnie doesn’t text.

“Can’t you record it, Bon,” I asked after making the obligatory call and begging off. “We’re so tired, well, at least I am. Fred slept most of the day when he wasn’t hunting varmints.”

She laughed. “You say the funniest things, Jake. Yes, I’ll record it. Now you get some sleep.”

***

By Friday afternoon, the job was finished, and once more I had some cash in my pocket. I thought I would stop off in Evergreen and get the pineapple pizza Bonnie liked so much, but got sidetracked when I noticed my Jeep was low on gas and stopped at the convenience store in Pine Junction. A fancy Mercedes SUV was pulling out as I pulled in. The car’s windows were too darkly tinted to see the driver, but I immediately thought of Bonnie’s mysterious SUV, the one that had driven by Appleton’s cabin last Wednesday.

The temptation to drive past Appleton’s cabin had been with me all week, so after buying a soda and lotto ticket, I gave the clerk twenty dollars and decided I’d drive by the cabin after pumping my gas.

Sometimes a person has to break the law, I told myself as I turned around to take the road to Appleton’s. Sure, I could file a report with the Park County Sheriff, and hope I would get Julie’s ring and book returned. I could have also just bought a winning lotto ticket. The odds of either were about the same. Of course, I had no guarantee I would find them in his cabin. After all, Bonnie and I had tried once with no success, so why did I think I would do any better this time?

Fred barked and woke me from my inner debate when we approached the cabin. Parked in the driveway was the Mercedes I had seen leaving the convenience store. Bonnie was right about it being expensive; people paid dearly for that circle with a three-pointed star I had saw as we drove by.

I was tempted to floor the Jeep and get away before we were spotted. Fortunately, I kept my cool, and neither sped up nor slowed down. Once I reached the bend in the road, I turned around and pulled over. My heart was beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings. I couldn’t approach the cabin now, but I needed to know who was inside, and what was he doing in there. Instinct said to wait until whoever it was left the cabin; then I could either go in or follow the Mercedes. My second option seemed the safest choice, for it didn’t involve breaking any laws. I’m not a superstitious man, but it
was
Friday the thirteenth after all. Besides, I could always come back, but would probably never get another chance to find out who owned the expensive SUV.

We didn’t have long to wait. I no sooner had my phone out to call Bonnie when I remembered it didn’t work up here. Then Fred barked. I looked up from my phone in time to see the SUV race down the road toward 285. I managed to get a picture with my phone before starting my Jeep to give pursuit. Only the Jeep didn’t start. “What the,” I said, and then bit my tongue. I’m sure if Fred could talk, he would have finished for me because now he was barking non-stop.

“Hush, Fred. I need to hear the engine turn over.” He quit barking, and I tried again. The distinctive click of the solenoid told me it was the battery. There wasn’t enough juice to engage the starter.

Fred jumped out when I opened my door to check under the hood. “Stay!” I told him. “Don’t you even think about chasing after that car.” He actually obeyed, and got back into the Jeep. I’m sure if he thought there was any chance of catching the SUV, he would have ignored me.

The problem was simply a corroded battery cable. Luckily, my soda hadn’t spilled in all the excitement, so I poured some on the corrosion that resembled green mold. The reaction reminded me of my boyhood days when I’d add baking soda to vinegar. After the fizzing died down, I wiped everything clean and tried starting the Jeep again. I’d like to say it purred like a kitten, but it really sounded more like a tomcat courting a female in heat.

It was time to put Plan A in motion and go commit another felony, but before I could get back out to close the hood, a sheriff’s truck came down the road and stopped at my Jeep.

The deputy lowered his window. “Need a tow, sir?”

“Thanks, Officer,” I said, and slammed the hood closed. “Just a loose cable, but I appreciate the offer.”

He shut off his truck and picked up a microphone before I could get back in my Jeep. I froze. Could I be arrested for
thinking
about breaking and entering? “Negative on that ten-thirty-seven,” he said.

I had no idea what a ten-thirty-seven was and didn’t want to find out. “Well, take care of that beautiful dog,” he said, before closing his window and driving off.

Plan A went south along with Plan B. I couldn’t get away from Appleton’s fast enough.

***

“This is really good,” Bonnie said between bites of pizza. At least that’s what I thought she said. Her mandibles were still working on the thick crust as she tried to talk.

“Glad you like it, but are you sure you wouldn’t prefer a little dirt and gravel with it?”

She laughed then poured more honey on the crust.

The three of us were sitting at her kitchen table eating the pizza I finally got around to after the little side trip to Appleton’s cabin. Half the pizza was gone by the time I had told her about our adventure and the run-in with the Sherriff’s deputy who saved me and Fred from breaking into Appleton’s cabin.

“So what do you think, Bon? Is it the same SUV you saw?”

She seemed to be deciding on whether to answer my question or take another bite of the pizza crust. “I can’t tell from that picture, Jake. It’s too small, but I can tell you what a ten-thirty-seven is. Wait here while I get my scanner codes.” who saved me and Fred from breaking into Appleton’s cabin.

I knew she kept the codes by her scanner, and wasn’t surprised when she came back in less than a minute. Fred hardly had time to eat the crust of my pizza.

“Here it is,” she said, positioning her glasses on her nose and holding the paper at arm’s length. “Ten-thirty-seven, investigating suspicious vehicle. Someone must have reported you casing the joint.”

“I wasn’t there long enough. It must have been the SUV they reported, and the cop assumed it was me.”

Bonnie put the scanner codes on the table and helped herself to another slice of pizza. “That explains why he didn’t report us,” she said.

“You mean when he drove by while we were trying to erase our fingerprints?”

“Of course, silly. What did you think I meant?”

She didn’t wait for my answer, and went on talking. “He must have been waiting for us to leave, so he could break in.”

“Which also means he doesn’t live around there, or the neighbors wouldn’t have called in a suspicious vehicle,” I said, before being interrupted by Fred’s ‘feed me bark’. I tore off a piece of crust and threw it to him.

Bonnie looked a little hurt as she watched Fred devour his treat. “That’s the best part, Jake.”

She didn’t have to explain. Julie had loved the crust too. It’s why I always ordered thick-crust pizzas, for though I only cared for the center, Julie loved the taste of honey-coated pizza crust. “Sorry, Bon. I should have asked you first.”

“Not for me, silly. You’re missing the best part, and besides, that much people food can’t be good for him.”

I turned back to Fred who was watching my pizza like it was a cat. “What do you think, boy? Would you rather have dog food?”

He answered with another short bark, but this time I didn’t feed him. “Speaking of people food, does Patty drive a Mercedes?”

Bonnie stared at me blankly.

“The food she brought you Wednesday night to celebrate not being a suspect anymore,” I said, trying to explain how Patty had popped into my mind. “How well do you know her?”

A smile replaced the blank expression making her wrinkles less visible. “Like my own sister. I met her when I was going to CU and now I see her every Sunday at church. Why do you ask?”

“Watching Fred devour that pizza reminded me of turning down her home cooking. How come she knows so much about Mark Twain?”

“She worked at her daddy’s bookstore in Boulder for years. He specialized in old and rare books so I guess she picked it up from him. That’s where we first met. I would spend a lot of time browsing the old books after classes. Something you can’t do much now that eBooks have put most of those stores out of business.”

“Sorry, Bon, but if not for those eBooks, Fred and I would be eating squirrel.”

Bonnie smiled at my remark then went back to her story. She had the faraway look in her eyes I used to see in my parents when they talked about the good old days. “She inherited the store when her father passed but had to close it several years ago. Surely you don’t think she had anything to do with all this?”

“No, of course not. It was that thing about her telling Shelia she had one of the pirate copies. I guess she must have seen a chance to sell one of her father’s old books. I’m really grasping at straws, Bon. I’m pretty sure Craig Renfield had something to do with Shelia’s demise and probably killed Appleton too.”

Bonnie looked horrified. “Are you saying Appleton didn’t kill Shelia? I thought you gave up on that theory when he confessed. I hope you don’t tell anyone else that. I’ll be their prime suspect again.”

“Mum’s the word, Bon. Unless Fred tells someone, this won’t leave the room; not that the cops would take me seriously.”

She seemed to consider what I’d said for a moment before speaking again. “But some smart cop might come to the same conclusion. What if they do one of those tests on the suicide note like you see on TV all the time? If you’re right, and someone forged the note after killing Appleton, they’ll be back to looking for who really killed Shelia.”

“I assume you’re referring to a handwriting analysis. They don’t have a reason to think otherwise, so I doubt they would bother. But we know better. There’s no way he killed himself, and whoever killed Appleton wasn’t working alone.”

She didn’t have to ask what I meant, her blank stare said it for her. The conversation had obviously taken a turn in the wrong direction. I could see she was getting upset. It was time to leave.

“The blood on his deck, Bon,” I said, before wiping my mouth with a napkin, and standing. “I think Appleton was killed at his cabin then taken to Three Sisters where the murderer forged a suicide note.”

Fred had been waiting patiently for more table scraps and must have sensed I was leaving. He left my side of the table and went over to beg from Bonnie.

Bonnie unconsciously fed him some of her crust before closing the pizza box. “And why do you think he had an accomplice?” she asked.

“Someone had to give the murderer a ride after parking Appleton’s truck at the park,” I said, waiting for Fred to join me.

She finally seemed to follow my reasoning. “So Craig killed Appleton at his cabin, then drove his truck to Three Sisters, wrote the note, and was picked up by someone. Have you figured out who that was, too?”

Fred didn’t move from the table, where he watched Bonnie and the pizza.

“No, and I really don’t care unless they have Julie’s book and ring. I have no intention of bringing Appleton’s killer to justice; that’s a job for the police. All I want is to get Julie’s property back. In the meantime, I’ve got to get back to the how-to book I’ve been writing, unless you have a better idea.”

She silently handed me the pizza box. “What about the treasure? I’m sure if you put that great mind of yours on it, you could decode that riddle without even thinking about it.”

I smiled at her unwitting contradiction. “I
have
thought about it, and came to the conclusion it’s a hoax so Paul Wilson can sell more books. There is no lost gold, Bon.”

Bonnie looked at me smugly, the way a child does when arguing with a parent. “Not according to Patty. She said she knew about it long before Wilson found the newspaper article. She remembers her father telling stories about how it was a big thing back in the twenties. Wilson didn’t make that up.”

***

Fred and I finished off the pizza somewhere around two in the morning. I couldn’t concentrate on my chapter dealing with the importance of proper attic ventilation, so we had a cold snack before returning to my computer. I’d convinced myself that Julie would understand if she was watching. It was only one slice.

Bonnie’s remark about Patty kept getting in the way, or maybe it was the thought of how much two hundred pounds of gold would be worth in today’s market. If Appleton had decoded the original code, then what did the decoded message mean?