Paper Treasure (3 page)

Charlie didn’t know what to do. He looked at Lisa. She put one hand on the arm of Mr. Weir’s wheelchair.

“You see, sir,” said Lisa. “Somebody broke into Charlie’s grandfather’s house and didn’t take anything, just messed the whole place up. Like he was looking for something.”

Charlie zipped open his backpack and pulled out his grandfather’s copy of
Rocks and Minerals in Canada.

“I found this,” he said, “on the living room floor.” He flipped open the book to where the ragged remains of several pages stood out from the spine.

“So?”

Charlie flushed. “My grandfather was really fussy about books. He never would have ripped pages out. I checked the index,” he continued. “I think the missing pages are from a section titled ‘Gold Deposits Found in the 1940s’.”

The old man reached out and snatched the book from Charlie’s hands. He began leafing through the pages before and after the torn section.

“Do you think it has anything to do with why Mr. Rossitor wanted to see you?” prompted Lisa.

Mr. Weir snapped the book shut. “If there’s one thing Malcolm Rossitor and I had in common, it was gold. And it was gold that ruined out friendship.”

“Then you think the book means something?” asked Charlie.

“Of course, it means something. Whoever tore those pages out did it so you wouldn’t find out what he was really after.”

“Which was?”

Weirdo tucked the book under his blanket and checked to see if anyone was listening. The room was now empty but for one elderly gentleman. He was parked in front of the television with the volume cranked up.

Charlie watched three bananas sporting false eyelashes and red lips dance across the screen to a reggae beat. He wondered what the old man thought about it all.

“Old Fred is stone deaf,” said Weirdo. “But when it comes to gold, I don’t trust anybody.” He looked up at Charlie sharply. “Come to think of it, how do I know you’re really who you say you are?”

Charlie shrugged. “I guess you’ll have to take my word for it.”

“Humph. Uppity kid, aren’t you?”

“It’s almost lunchtime,” intervened Lisa. “Maybe we’d better come back later.”

“No. I want to find out what this is all about. I think Mr. Weir knows what’s going on.”

The man blinked at him several times. “Then don’t just stand there, wheel me to my room,” he commanded. “I’ve got a story to tell you that’ll knock your socks off.”

Chapter Four

Archie Spencer and the

Treasure Creek Gold Mine

“Close the door behind you,” commanded Weirdo. “They’re all Nosey Parkers in this place.”

Weirdo’s room was sparsely furnished but comfortably laid out, with lots of space for him to get about in a wheelchair. A single bed stood out from one wall, with a bureau and easy chair by the window. Piles of books and old magazines were stacked on the nightstand beside the phone.

Charlie positioned the wheelchair so that Weirdo would have his back to the window, and he sat on the edge of the bed, leaving the chair for Lisa.

The old man took a moment to gather his thoughts.

“If you’re going to understand all this, I’ve got to start at the beginning.”

“During the Second World War?” asked Lisa.

“That’s right.” Weirdo warmed to his subject. “A guy named Herb Lovell, your grandfather,” he nodded to Charlie, “and I met Archie Spencer on the train in 1942. We were all going to the army training camp near Kingston before they shipped us overseas. The three of us already knew each other. but, old Archie, he’d just come out of the bush, been prospecting for gold in Northern Ontario. The yarns he used to spin….”

Weirdo chuckled at some long-forgotten memory, and then picked up the thread of the story.

“They put us in a cabin with Fraser Hamilton and Louis Gagnon. Fraser, he was from a well-to-do family in Toronto, and Louis’ family worked the paper mills in Cornwall. You’d never expect it in those days, but those two were thick as thieves, jabbering in French half the time.”

“But what about the gold?” interrupted Charlie.

“I’m getting to that.” The old man blinked at him. “Kids today. No patience,” he muttered.

“Archie was always a little secretive about what he’d found up there in the bush. Until the day we were pinned down in France.”

“My grandfather told me about that,” said Charlie.

“And did he tell you about the gold?” Weirdo swung his chair around to face the bed.

“No, sir.”

“Archie made us promise not to tell a soul if we made it out of there alive.”

Weirdo paused dramatically.

Lisa leaned forward in her chair.

Charlie’s heart picked up speed.

“He said he’d struck the motherlode. Know what that means?”

“The big find, the centre of it all?” suggested Lisa.

Weirdo nodded. “What every prospector dreams about. Here, I’ll show you what I’m talking about.” He pointed in the direction of Charlie’s ankles. “My trunk.”

Charlie slid off the bed and bent down. There was a dusty, khaki-coloured foot locker under the bed, identical to the one in his grandfather’s basement. He grabbed the thick leather grip and pulled it out into the room.

The trunk’s brass fittings were dull with age, but the old man’s name was still visible: Lt. J. W. Weird.

Charlie reached for the hasp. It was locked.

Weirdo fumbled beneath his blanket and produced a worn leather key case. “Here.” He handed it to Charlie “Open it up.”

Charlie fitted the key to the lock and turned. It clicked open. He pulled the lock from the hasp and lifted the lid. A faint musty odour rose to his nostrils.

Lisa hunkered down beside him for a better look. Photos and documents lay alongside tarnished silver teaspoons and newspaper clippings. Lisa picked up a framed shot of six men in uniform.

“That’s my grandfather,” said Charlie pointing to a tall, dark-haired young man. The soldier next to him was short and wiry, and vaguely familiar. Lisa turned to look at Mr. Weir.

“That’s me,” he confirmed, “next to Malcolm. Archie’s on his other side. That’s Herb Lovell on my left, Fraser and Louis.”

They all look so young and handsome, thought Lisa. Now Charlie’s grandfather was dead and Jack Weir was in a wheelchair. Lisa carefully returned the picture to where she had found it.

Charlie was fingering the row of medals decorating the front of Weirdo’s army jacket. It was stored, along with his lieutenant’s cap, in the large middle compartment of the trunk.

“Underneath the uniform you’ll find a tobacco tin,” said Weirdo.

The jacket was heavy and rough. Charlie spotted the blue Player’s Tobacco tin nestled among the folds of a faded ivory gown, right where Weirdo had said it would be.

“What’s in it?” asked Charlie.

“Give it here,” ordered Weirdo. “I’ll show you.”

Charlie passed it over. Weirdo grasped the can and gave the lid a twist. He reached inside and pulled out a small drawstring pouch.

“Come over here, young lady,” he said and beckoned Lisa nearer with a wave of the pouch. He took her right hand in his, turning it palm-side up. He shook the bag with his other hand. Three gold nuggets tumbled out.

“They’re beautiful,” breathed Lisa.

Charlie leaned closer.

“Are they real?”

“Of course they’re real. Archie found them by a little creek up near Timmins the week before he had to leave for the army. There was nothing he could do but keep his mouth shut and hope nobody else staked his claim.”

Charlie picked a chunk of the dull, soft metal from Lisa’s hand and rubbed it with his fingers.

Weirdo was watching him like a hawk. “Kinda gets to you, don’t it?”

Charlie nodded.

“That’s how we felt too. There we were, holed up in a barn, with the German army and the Atlantic Ocean between us and the chance of a lifetime.”

“What did you do?” asked Lisa.

“We agreed that whoever made it home would stake Archie so he could go back in the bush, and make the claim. If nobody’d beat us to it, we’d be equal partners.”

“What happened?” prompted Charlie.

“Fraser Hamilton got shot up pretty bad, but we all got out of there alive. Six months after we all got home, Archie sent us a telegram. He’d registered the claim that morning. Treasure Creek Gold Mine. But what we should’ve called it was Sucker Creek.”

“Why, what happened?” asked Lisa.

“We kept anteing up more and more money for equipment and men to work the mine, and then the gold petered out.”

“Couldn’t you get more money?”

Weirdo shrugged. “Half the men had families by then. Your grandfather had gone back to school. The rest of us couldn’t afford bank loans, and nobody wanted to buy the mine. Cost too much to get the gold out.”

Charlie shook the nugget in his hand.

“That would have been in the late 1940s, right?” He could tell by the keen glint in the old man’s eye that they were on the same wave length. So was Lisa.

“The missing pages. Gold in the 1940s. Treasure Creek must have been mentioned.”

“Pretty quick for a young one, aren’t you?”

Lisa smiled. She was warming to this funny old man in the wheelchair.

“I think somebody’s on the trail of the Treasure Creek Gold Mine,” said Charlie, tossing the nugget up in the air and catching it on its way down, “but if the mine’s not worth anything, why bother?”

Weirdo thumped the arm of his chair.

“That’s what we’ve got to figure out.”

The receptionist answered the telephone on the third ring.

“Colville Nursing Home.”

“Yes,” said the caller. “I’d like some information about the nursing home. I have an elderly mother who’s been living on her own…”

“If you’d like to give me your name and address,” said the receptionist, reaching for her pen, “I can send you one of our brochures. You can also visit our website at…”

“Actually,” interrupted the man on the other end of the line, “I’m only in town temporarily. Can I ask you a few questions over the phone?”

“Why don’t I connect you with our office administrator,” said the receptionist and put the call through to Mrs. Beale.

“Good morning,” said Mrs. Beale. “How can I help you?”

The man repeated his request. “I’m primarily concerned with the security of the nursing home. You see, my mother was robbed recently. It was terribly upsetting.”

Mrs. Beale made comforting noises while she tried to read a memo about food costs from the dietician. “I can assure you,” she said, “that nobody gets in here without checking in at our front desk.”

“But what about at night?” pressed the caller. “Is there someone on duty twenty-four hours a day?”

The administrator answered briskly. “Our doors are locked every night sharply at nine o’clock. And all our exits have alarms. In all the years I’ve been here, we have never had a problem. I suggest you visit our facility and see for yourself.” In annoyance, she dropped the memo she was reading.

“I might do that,” said the man. “Thank you for your help.”

He hung up and crossed Jack Weir’s name off his list. For now. He had a few other tricks to try before he tackled the nursing home again.

He entered another number, listening to it ring several times before someone answered.

“Colville Realty. May I help you?”

Chapter Five

On The Trail

“Thanks.” Charlie pocketed his change and picked up the tray. The restaurant was crowded.

“There’s a table over there,” said Lisa. She led the way towards the window.

Charlie slid into the seat across from her.

“You know what I think” he said as he unwrapped his burger. “I think the guy who pretended he was related to Weirdo is the same guy who broke into my grandfather’s house.”

“Probably,” agreed Lisa. She poked a straw into the lid of her soft drink and took a sip.

“Both incidents happened within the last couple of days, and both involved two of the six original partners in the Treasure Creek Gold Mine.” Charlie put down his burger and leaned back. “Whoever was in my grandfather’s house must have been looking for his shares in the mine.”

Lisa swallowed what she’d been chewing. “Why don’t you ask your mother if she knows where they are? Your grandfather probably left them to her in his will.”

“Unless he didn’t think they were worth mentioning.”

“No way.” Lisa shook her head. “The note in his diary, remember?”

“Yeah.”

“If he thought they were worthless, he wouldn’t have been planning to see Weirdo after all these years.”

“I like your logic. There’s one problem – why the time lag? My grandfather died in May. This guy didn’t show up until July.”

“I don’t know,” answered Lisa.

“Something must have set my grandfather off…Are you going to use this?” He pointed to a package of ketchup.

“Uh-uh. I take my fries straight.”

Charlie bit the corner of the foil packet and doused his lunch with globs of the runny, red sauce.

“I wonder if the other partners kept their stock,” he mused aloud.

Lisa smiled at him across the table. Charlie had the bug already. Weirdo would probably call it the gold bug.

“Why don’t we ask Weirdo when we go back tomorrow,” she suggested.

They’d left the Colville Nursing Home shortly after twelve o’clock when an orderly had come to Weirdo’s room to find out why he wasn’t at lunch.

The old soldier had given them a colourful description of the nursing home’s custard, but, he grumbled, seeing as he’d already paid for his meals, he’d better go and eat the stuff.

Charlie and Lisa had said they’d see if they could dig up any information about the Treasure Creek Gold Mine that afternoon.

“And make sure you don’t tell anybody what you’re doing.” Weirdo had cautioned them. “We don’t need anybody else sniffing around our gold.”

They’d pledged discretion and wheeled him down to the dining room before heading out for a little lunch themselves.

Lisa took another bite of her cheeseburger. “We could stop by my father’s office when we’re finished,” she suggested. “The newspaper has all kinds of old stuff on microfilm.”

When she was finished, Lisa dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her serviette. “Besides,” she announced, “he wants to meet you.”