tj jensen 01 - barkleys treasure (11 page)

“You think there’s
another
treasure hidden on Gull Island?”

“I don’t know.” Echo put his paw on my lap and I gave him a scratch on the head. “What I do know is that someone has accessed the map’s hiding place recently. I have no way of knowing if it was involved in Buck Barnes’s murder, but it seems likely.”

“Murder?” Garrett sounded surprised. “I spoke to Savage and he said that after he looked into it, he determined Buck died of natural causes.”

“Yeah, that’s the story he’s telling everyone, but I don’t buy it.”

“Rick wouldn’t lie.” Garrett seemed adamant. “He’s a good guy. Besides, what reason could he possibly have for doing so?”

“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “Right now we’re operating under the assumption that someone killed Buck, Savage knows who it was, and he’s protecting that person.”

“That don’t make a lick of sense. Rick wouldn’t lie to protect a killer. Besides, he liked Buck. If he was murdered Rick would want to find the killer as much as anyone. I know you mean well, but you have to trust me: Rick wouldn’t cover up a crime, particularly a murder.”

I didn’t doubt Garrett believed what he was saying, but I still believed that for whatever reason, Deputy Savage was doing just that. I didn’t want to upset Garrett, though, so I decided to change the subject once again by inquiring whether there were any reservations for the summer that would need to be canceled. He confirmed that he’d had a friend cancel all the reservations through August.

We spoke for a few more minutes and then I signed off after promising to call him again the following day.

“That Garrett?” Kyle asked, coming in through the side door.

“Yeah. He didn’t know anything about the map.”

“I’ve given it a lot of thought, and even though it can’t be a map to a treasure left on the island by John Barkley, it could be the map Garrett’s great-grandfather found in the vault. I wonder if he just assumed the map was to Barkley’s treasure when it actually led to something else entirely.”

“Maybe. One thing is for sure: If this is the map Garrett’s great-grandfather found, it’s been responsible for a lot of heartache.”

Kyle sat down next to me, a puzzled look on his face. “The thing I don’t get is how whoever found the map knew it was there. Garrett said he didn’t know of its existence, and his dad has been dead for a long time. I suppose Garrett’s mother might just have hidden the map rather than destroying it, but why tell anyone if she didn’t want it found?”

“All very good questions I’m afraid we may never have answers to.”

“You still want to take the map over to the museum?”

“Yeah. Meg might know what it is we found. Just let me change my clothes. Echo’s been extra-affectionate this morning and I’m afraid I have more dog hair on my shorts than Echo has on his body. Might be time for a trip to the groomers.”

“I do have copies of the maps used for the treasure hunts,” Meg informed Kyle and me when we asked her that question. “The originals are in the back, although we have copies that are displayed as part of the island’s tourism display.”

“Does this look like it could be one of them?” I unrolled the map I’d found on the counter where we were all standing.

Meg looked at it. She took her time studying it but, based on her facial expression, she appeared to be confused.

“I don’t think this is a map from any of the treasure hunts,” she eventually said. “In fact, I don’t think it’s even a map of this island.”

“Why do you say that?” I wondered.

“The shape is wrong.” Meg walked over to her computer and pulled up a graphic. “The island on the map you found has a sort of a kidney shape, but Gull Island is more of a Q shape.”

By Q shape Meg seemed to be referring to the fact that the island was basically round with a narrow peninsula at the bottom, making it appear like the letter Q. I could see what Meg meant, though. The island on the map did appear to be shaped like a kidney. Chances were the inlet part was a lovely little bay.

“Of course, if the map was drawn a couple of hundred years ago, as I first suspected, the person who drew it wouldn’t have had the advantage of an aerial view,” Kyle pointed out.

“True. I suppose the map might simply have been hastily sketched, but if it’s showing the way to a treasure I’d say it’s most likely buried on this island over here.” Meg pointed to a small island well off the coast of the larger one.

“What island is it?” I asked.

“The locals refer to it as Sanctuary Island. It’s unpopulated other than the abundant wildlife that live in this area. It’s far enough off the beaten track that it receives few visitors, yet it’s close enough that you can make the trip there by boat and back in a single day. The island is really more of a mountaintop. The terrain is steep and there’s very little beach except right here in the bay.” Meg pointed to the inlet. “Most weekenders interested in island hopping head toward this cluster here.” Meg pointed to a group of small islands off the coast. “They’re also unpopulated, but they have wonderful beaches for anyone looking for a day trip.”

I studied the map I’d found and compared it to the shape of Gull Island on the computer screen. Meg was right; it did appear the map could lead to something buried on Sanctuary rather than Gull Island.

“It’d be fun to check it out,” I said to Kyle.

Kyle looked at Meg. “How long does it take to get there?”

“It depends on the speed of the boat you’re using to make the trip, but I’d say three to four hours. Most of the folks who visit the island do so in boats with cabins so they can anchor and spend the night before heading back. It’s worth the trip even if there isn’t any treasure there. The variety of birds alone makes it worth your time. And then, of course, there are the turtles, as well as an abundance of sea life.”

“It sounds wonderful,” I commented.

“Maybe this weekend?” Kyle looked at me. “If I can arrange for a boat rental.”

“I have the softball tournament, but maybe the following week sometime.”

“If you’re really interested, I have a friend who has a fleet of yachts he rents out. They aren’t anything elaborate, but I know they all have kitchens and spacious living areas. My college roommates and I rented one two summers ago and it seemed like it slept eight. If the two of you are going alone he has smaller boats as well.”

“It might be fun to bring the girls. I don’t see Grandpa wanting to make that long a voyage; Doc either, for that matter.”

“If you have a number for your friend I’ll look into it,” Kyle said to Meg.

She jotted down a name and phone number. “Tell Drake I sent you. We go way back. In fact, I was married to him for a brief moment in time.”

“Married?”

“Long story.”

I really wished I had time for that long story, but I didn’t. Grandpa and I had our appointment at the Gull Island Senior Home and that was something I didn’t want to miss. I’m not sure why, but my gut told me that I’d find the clue I needed to solve the mystery of Buck Barnes’s death either at the home or as a result of having gone there in the first place.

Kyle wanted to have the map for our trip to the island, but he knew his friend was waiting for it, so he used Meg’s copy machine to reproduce it, and then we packaged it up and mailed the original to him. Whether the map led to something on this island, another island, or nothing at all, it seemed important to at least find out how old it was.

We returned to the house and Kyle picked up the girls for their afternoon at the beach, while I picked up Doc and Grandpa for our visit to the senior home. The building was lovely, perched on a bluff overlooking the western side of the island, which seemed to attract a lot of wildlife due to the swampy conditions. If I did have a grandparent who was in need of senior care this was exactly the type of place I’d seek out.

“We have care programs for both seniors needing daily medical assistance as well as those who are able to live independently with only a small amount of help,” the receptionist informed us. “We’re currently at capacity, but we have a waiting list, and we give preference to locals when a room does open up. This is a nonprofit organization, and due to our highly rated facility and desirable location, we tend to have a lot of interest from seniors looking for a place to spend their final years.”

“I’m not in immediate need of a placement, but I might be interested in a spot on the waiting list for my grandfather,” I replied. “Would it be possible to take a tour?”

“Absolutely. I’ll have one of our volunteers show you around.”

The volunteer was a lovely woman name Edith, who looked to be in her early sixties. She was both friendly and knowledgeable and made a wonderful first impression.

“It seems you have a lot of volunteers,” I fished.

“There are a lot of caring folks on the island.”

“Are all of the volunteers seniors like yourself?”

“No, ma’am. We have volunteers of all ages. The gal there in the lounge is only twenty-three and she volunteers three times a week.”

I smiled at the tall girl with long blond hair who smiled at me in return.

“Is she the youngest?”

“No, that would be Frank. He’s only twenty-two. He’s new, but I’ve never seen anyone take it quite as seriously as he does. He’s a bartender, so he works a lot of nights, which allows him to come in during the day.”

“We met a bartender named Frank. He works at Sully’s?”

“That would be him. Such a nice boy. Despite his young age, he’s the sort to really look after his elders.”

“I heard Deputy Savage helps out here as well.”

“He does indeed. He’s one of the best. I’m not sure what we’d do without him. He’s always willing to jump right in and help out with our most difficult residents.”

“So you take seniors with all sorts of health issues?”

“The Gull Island Senior Home was designed to meet the needs of seniors with a wide variety of needs,” Edith informed us. “We have a full-care facility with around-the-clock nursing care as well as independent housing for those who require less assistance.”

“What would you say the ratio of those needing daily care to those needing occasional help is?” I asked, because I felt I should be asking more questions.

“Our full-care facility has twenty rooms, all of which are filled at all times. We also have independent housing that accommodates up to thirty residents. The condos are one-bedroom units, many of which are filled by a single person, but we do have several couples who live there as well.”

“Are the residents allowed to come and go as they please?”

“Most are. We do have some residents with mental issues that would make it unsafe for them to leave the property without supervision. Those residents are grouped in a special unit with additional security. Residents are allowed to leave the property, of course, but only with individuals who have been designated by the families. If you’ll come this way, I’d love to show you our state-of-the-art rehabilitation center.”

“Do residents who aren’t supposed to leave ever manage to wander off?”

The guide frowned. “I can assure you that we take the utmost care to prevent that from happening.”

“But it has occurred?”

“Yes,” Edith admitted. “It has. Especially when the resident is aided by well-meaning but uninformed accomplices.”

Suddenly I wondered if the killer Savage was trying to protect was his own father. I remembered reading that dementia patients could display a variety of symptoms, from loss of memory to an inability to control moods and exercise proper judgment. What if Buck had managed to liberate Rick Savage’s father in order to take him on a treasure hunt but things got out of control? If Savage’s father did hit Buck, it was entirely possible he wouldn’t even remember having done so.

“I was hoping to speak to Colin Walton while I was here.”

“I’m sorry, but Mr. Walton is unavailable today. If you should decide to place your grandfather with us, I can assure you Mr. Walton will not only meet with you but will happily answer any questions you may have.”

“I understand this facility provides for seniors regardless of their ability to pay.”

“Yes, that’s true. Mr. Walton has worked very hard to set up endowments that help us provide for those who are chosen regardless of their financial situations. Will your grandfather require assistance?”

“Actually, no. My grandfather is quite wealthy.” I was curious to see if the prospect of a wealthy applicant might earn me an immediate meeting with Mr. Walton, but it didn’t. It really did seem that residents were selected based on criteria that had nothing whatsoever to do with wealth. On the surface the home seemed too good to be true, but experience had taught that if something seemed too good to be true it most likely was.

Chapter 8

“Oh good, you made it.” Jack jogged over and gave me a high-five when I arrived at the ball field. Well, it was high for me; he actually had to reach down to meet my hand. “We’re having a scrimmage so we need all the help we can get.”

“Thank you for inviting me. I’m really excited at the opportunity to get out and get some exercise. Seems like it’s been a while since I had a chance to pound a softball into submission. Where do you need me to play?”

“Rick is the coach, so he assigns positions. Any one you prefer?”

“I can play anywhere. I don’t really have the reach for first base, but I can manage. I like to pitch.”

“We could use a pitcher.”

“You aren’t seriously considering letting this teeny, tiny girl pitch, are you?” a tall man with a blue shirt and a blue baseball cap asked.

“I’m stronger than I look,” I defended myself.

The man snorted.

“Tj, this is Jim,” Jack introduced. “You know how every school has a bully and every softball team has a jerk? Jim is ours.”

“Happy to meet you, I think.”

Jim spat a wad of sunflower seed shells to a spot just to my left and walked away without responding.

“Jim is okay once you get to know him,” Jack assured me.

“If you say so,” I said doubtfully.

“Come on and I’ll introduce you to everyone else. I think you’ll find we’re a fun group.”