A Treasure to Die For (5 page)

My text-message tone interrupted any further conversation. It was the first time the annoying beep didn’t bother me. “Looks like I better get over to Bailey before they get someone else to hang the drywall. Just the same, if you can call down to the bookstore and see if they have the list or know how to contact the author, I’ll get on it as soon as I get back. I’ll hang a few sheets then make some excuse to quit early. It shouldn’t take me more than a couple of hours.”

***

Those couple hours turned into most of the day, and I didn’t even get my hands dirty, at least not hanging drywall. I was laid off before I got started; replaced by some day-laborers the contractor picked up in town whose English was questionable but willing to work for half my pay. My old Wagoneer broke down on the way home, somewhere between Conifer and Evergreen. I tried calling Bonnie, only to find the narrow valley was a cell phone dead zone. When my thumb failed to get Fred and I a ride, we walked at least a mile back toward Highway 285 until I could pick up a signal.

Bonnie didn’t answer her home phone, so I tried her cell thinking that she might be at the bookstore getting the list of names I asked for. I got the same result, and left her a message telling her about my predicament. She was the only neighbor or friend that I could ask for help. I hardly knew any of my other neighbors, let alone their names or numbers. It left me with no choice but to call triple A and use my last tow of the year.

***

Bonnie was waiting with her hands on her hips when the tow-truck driver finally pulled into my drive several hours later. She must have seen us coming and drove her Cherokee up the east loop of the circle, beating the slower tow truck.

Fred wasted no time hopping out of the truck and running over to greet her. You’d think he hadn’t seen her in ages the way he acted. His tail was wagging back and forth faster than a bobble-head doll on a rough road.

Bonnie left Fred and came over to me while I was signing the driver’s paperwork. “I tried to call you back, Jake. Is your phone working?”

I thanked the driver then turned toward Bonnie. Fred had already forgotten her and gone on to check out a tree. “Guess you get what you pay for, Bon. This new phone doesn’t seem to work very well up here, but it does wonders for getting me some exercise.”

She didn’t get the joke, not knowing I had to walk a mile for service, and looked at me like I was the bulb on the Christmas tree that made all the lights go out. I waited for the tow-truck driver to leave before explaining what had happened.

“You either need to get a new car, Jake, or a new phone. You could have been murdered trying to hitchhike.” She sounded like my mother did the first time I hitched a ride.

I ignored her comment. I couldn’t afford a new phone, let alone a new car, and didn’t want to talk about my finances. “I think it’s the fuel pump this time. Do you mind giving us a ride to the parts store before they close?”

***

We were on the part of our road known as dead man’s curve when I realized my mistake of asking for a ride and double checked my seat belt. “Are you okay, Bon?” I asked right after she came within inches of going off the road.

She answered without looking at me. “Of course I am. Just got a little distracted thinking about that list you asked me to get is all.”

I wanted to ask if she’d been drinking, but the fear in her eyes convinced me she was sober. The close call had startled her more than me, so I let it go.

I waited until we were off the hill and nearly in town before pursuing my thoughts. “Is Sleeveless on the list?”

It took a moment for my question to register, perhaps because we hadn’t spoken since she mentioned the list. “Oh, Appleton. I doubt it. Jackie gave me the list of people she had invited to the signing. The author kept the guest register. But isn’t that better? I mean some people never sign those registers. I know I don’t. Well, maybe at a funeral service, but for the most part, I just ignore them. Like those guest registers at all the welcome stations you see across the country. You know when you cross a state line. It’s really none of their damn business where I’m from or where I’m going. You ask me, it’s just another way for Big Brother to keep track of us.”

Now I knew she had been drinking. She tended to babble on about nothing when she got together with Jack Daniels. I would have to find a way to get her keys on the ride back. “You’re forgetting about the flyers and the ad in the paper, Bon. Remember how upset Craig was when he claimed the paper said Wilson was supposed to tell where to find hidden treasure, and he demanded that Wilson get to the point? I’ll bet Fred’s next meal that’s how Sleeveless found out about the event. Something tells me he wouldn’t be on any book-club reading list.”

“Well, you can check for yourself. Its right here somewhere,” she said, taking her eyes off the road to rummage through her purse.

I grabbed the wheel just in time to save a head-on when she drifted into the oncoming lane. I would have had her pull over then and there to let me drive, but we were already at the auto parts store. Bonnie would have made NASCAR proud; she did the twenty-minute drive in just under ten minutes.

The argument over me driving home never happened. Bonnie had stayed in the car with Fred, and I found her in the passenger seat after leaving the auto-parts store. A State Patrol car, that wasn’t there when we pulled in, was parked next to us with no one in it.

“Maybe you better drive, Jake,” she said when she saw me. I later found out that she had nearly wet her pants until she saw the cop go into a nearby coffee shop.

***

The sun had gone down behind Mount Evans creating an eerie, red glow by the time the three of us made it back to Bonnie’s. Fred and I left after making sure she got into her house safely, and then we hurried up the trail to our cabin before it was too dark to see. I couldn’t wait to start checking on the list Bonnie gave me. It was the best lead I had to get a name and address for Sleeveless.

After feeding Fred and throwing a frozen pizza in the microwave oven for myself, I sat down to begin my search. I started by eliminating feminine names. Not because I’m a chauvinist like my ex called me, but because a guy with biceps that would put Hercules to shame probably didn’t have a girl’s name. There was the possibility he had a name like Robin, but I didn’t see any of those on the list. There were at least ten pages of results for every name I had chosen from Bonnie’s list. By the time I finished, I knew less than when I started.

***

Fred woke me somewhere around two or three in the morning. I had fallen asleep at the kitchen table while clicking through promising links during my search. He was pacing back and forth at the front door. I had forgotten to let him out to do his thing, and he couldn’t hold it any longer. “Maybe I should trade you in for a cat. I hear they can be trained to use a toilet; some even know how to flush it when they’re done.”

He stopped pacing, laid down by the door with his head on his paws, and stared at me with the saddest brown eyes.

“You know I was just kidding, Freddie,” I said, patting him on the head while opening the door. There was enough light from the waxing moon for me to watch him from the porch. I told myself I was checking for any nocturnal critters, but the truth is I was a little paranoid about someone lurking outside my cabin. There’s something about having a home burglary that makes a person extra cautious. Fred must have been scared too. He finished his business and came back to the cabin in record time, but not before it dawned on me how to find Sleeveless.

I had been searching all the wrong places. If Sleeveless was truly the crook I suspected, he undoubtedly had a record. I didn’t have access to any criminal databases, but I remembered reading an article awhile back about some websites that published pictures of known felons and sex offenders, and in the case of sex offenders they even pinned their location on a map. The author of the article was trying to get these websites shutdown because she thought it was an invasion of their civil liberties.

After fifteen minutes of my renewed search, I found a rogues' gallery hosted by the Denver Post. Two hours later, I had a name and last known address for Sleeveless.

Thankfully, sleep came quickly once I lay down again. I was too tired to work out the details or devise a plan on what I should do next, but my subconscious wasn’t. When I woke the next morning, I knew exactly what to do.

***

Once I heard the morning news blasting on Bonnie’s television, Fred and I went down for coffee and to tell her I’d found Sleeveless, or as I knew him now, John Appleton of Pine Junction. I needed to borrow her Cherokee because my Jeep was still out of commission. The fuel pump I’d bought the day before could wait until I got Julie’s ring and book back. The thought of breaking into his house to retrieve my property would have never crossed my conscious mind, but the subconscious didn’t have the same principles and it couldn’t wait until I fixed my Jeep.

“I’m going with you, Jake. You can drive if you want, but no way am I going to stay here while you go after the creep,” Bonnie said after I told her why I wanted to borrow her Cherokee.

I wished I hadn’t told her about Appleton. My subconscious didn’t tell me she would want to come along. “Are you crazy, Bon? This guy is dangerous. He was arrested last year for armed robbery.”

She walked over to the key-rack she kept next to her front door and removed her car keys. “It’s my car and I go where it goes,” she said, clutching them in her hand.

I felt like I was six again, arguing with my sister. “Bonnie, listen to me. I’m only asking to borrow your Cherokee because I don’t have time to fix my Jeep right now. I need to make sure it’s him before he goes to work, or whatever he does for a living.” I failed to mention the part about breaking into his house.

“That’s stupid, Jake. You just said how dangerous he is. Do you want him to shoot you with that gun he stole from you?”

“I’m not going to confront him. I’ll park your Cherokee where it can’t be seen from his house and walk back and hide behind a tree or something. Once I see it’s him, I’ll call the sheriff.”

Her fingers relaxed their grip on the keys, but just when I thought she was going to hand them over, she reached for her purse and coat. “All the more reason why I’m going with you guys. You know your phone won’t work over there. I promise I won’t do anything stupid. I’ll stay in the car with Fred and wait for you. I can be your backup and call 911 if something goes wrong.”

“Great. A dog that can’t catch squirrels and a sixty-nine-year-old granny covering my back. I’ll be lucky to live long enough to see my own grandchildren.” The words no sooner left my lips when I realized I’d said the wrong thing.

Bonnie’s eyes dimmed, and she turned away. I’d forgotten how many times she had cried after a few too many drinks over the lost hope of grandkids. “I’m sorry, Bon. I suppose it won’t hurt if you come along. You can even help by keeping my mutt quiet while I play hide and seek.”

***

Appleton lived within walking distance of Pine Junction, but over the county line in a cabin smaller than mine. It looked like it was built back in the sixties or seventies before Park County had building codes. What had started as a three hundred square foot A-frame chalet had doubled in size over the years with the addition of a couple shed-dormers. The truck that had nearly run over Fred was parked in a dirt drive next to the east addition. I had taken all this in while slowly driving by the cabin. We had only seen one other vehicle since leaving highway 285, so I didn’t worry about holding up traffic, but I was concerned the other driver might wonder why I was going so slowly.

“I hope he doesn’t come back to check on us,” I said aloud.

“Who, Jake?”

“The driver of that Datsun. You better keep an eye out for him when I go into the cabin. It shouldn’t be hard to miss. I haven’t seen one of those old pickups since I was a teenager,” I said while pulling into Appleton’s driveway.

Bonnie had her seatbelt off and her hand on the door lever before I came to a complete stop. “Where do you think you’re going?” I asked. “Please do as you promised and stay here with Fred while I’m gone.”

“He’s bound to recognize you, Jake. I’ll go and you two stay here. I can pretend I broke down, or have a flat tire or something, and ask to use his phone. Even an ex-con wouldn’t hurt a little old lady. Would he?”

I put the Cherokee in gear and drove away. “Are you kidding, Bon? He must have seen you at the bookstore. I can’t take the chance he’ll remember you.” What was I thinking? I didn’t have a clue about what to do now that we’d found Sleeveless. This guy was a violent felon. Finding him had been a game of wits, safely played out on a computer without any possibility of a physical confrontation. Now it had suddenly turned deadly with the threat of meeting him face-to-face.

“Let’s go back to the highway and wait at that little cafe. He has to pass it on his way out. Then we can come back here and I’ll retrieve my stuff after he’s gone.” Too late, I realized I’d let my true intentions of coming here escape. I expected Bonnie to be shocked.

Bonnie’s grin went from one ear to the next. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

Fred jumped over the rear seat and ran to the back of the Cherokee. He barked when we passed Appleton’s cabin then came back and put his big head on the top of the bench seat where we sat. I’m sure if he could talk he would let me know John Wayne wouldn’t be running away. The Duke would have gone in there and beat Sleeveless to a pulp.

***

We didn’t have to wait long. I was about to put Fred back in the Cherokee, after letting him circle a grassy knoll outside the cafe, when the beat-up F150 went sailing by. Bonnie saw it too and stopped just shy of entering the cafe. Ten minutes later, the three of us were back at Appleton’s cabin.

Without the danger of being shot by my own gun, I parked where the F150 had been, and told my sidekicks to wait in the car. Bonnie wasn’t in the habit of taking orders, and I didn’t have the time to argue when she followed me to the door with Fred bringing up the rear. After knocking to make sure no one was inside, I went around to the front of the cabin with my entourage close behind. Like most A-frames built during its era, this one had a deck in the front with a sliding-glass door. It had been the main entrance before all the additions had been built. I checked to see if any neighbors could see us before we climbed the short flight of stairs onto the deck. Appleton’s cabin was fairly secluded. The only other house I saw was several hundred yards down the road, and it looked empty.

My plan to get inside was simple. All I had to do was lift the sliding panel of the glass door. The flimsy locks they put on these early models were no deterrent to even a novice burglar. Not that I have a lot of practice breaking into homes; it was something I learned in my sideline as a handy-man. That plan went out the proverbial window when Bonnie noticed a blood stain on the deck and the slider wide open.

I’ve read enough murder mysteries to know we shouldn’t go inside, but I could see my shotgun on the kitchen table. I had to get it and look for my ring and book before the cops took them for evidence, or I could forget about ever seeing them again. Fred solved that minor dilemma for me and went in without having to worry about disturbing evidence or being arrested for breaking and entering.

With his nose to the floor, he headed straight for the kitchen. Appleton either had dog food sitting in a bowl, or he’d left some other tasty morsel lying around.

“Hello? Anyone home?” Bonnie asked, sticking her head through to door while I was still wondering what to do if we found a body.

I scooted past Bonnie and went inside when Fred disappeared into one of the room additions. “Wait here, Bon. Fred smells something. It might not be something you want to see.”

I grabbed my shotgun from the table, checked to see if it was loaded, and crept close to the wall as I approached the room Fred had gone into. I stopped just outside the open door and tried to listen. The only sound I heard was Bonnie’s breathing. She had completely ignored my warning and was attached to me at the hip.

“You know he’s not in there, Jake. We saw him drive by us in the truck. Why are you being so cautious?” she whispered. The problem was she whispered like she was at a rock concert.

I was about to give up the stealth attack and just barge into the room when Fred came moseying out with a sock in his mouth.

“Not now, boy,” I said when he tried to put it in my hand and before I realized he didn’t want to play tug-a-war. It wasn’t a sock after all.

The first clue that it wasn’t a sock was the texture. Unless Appleton was into wearing paper socks, Fred had brought me a crumpled up sheet of notebook paper.

“Blood sucking bug pass,” I read aloud, without the fear of someone lurking behind the door. It would not have meant a thing if not for the numbers next to each word. I would check my copy of
Tom Sawyer
if I ever got it back, but I knew instantly Appleton had decoded Drake’s enigma.

“What’s
that
supposed to mean?” Bonnie asked, now that we had moved past the door and she had managed to detach herself from my side without surgery.

“I think it’s the code telling where the old miner’s treasure is hidden. It’s a code within a code,” I said, making a quick check of the room.

There was a single bed, a computer desk with the computer still on, and a dresser. They were all in the style of early Goodwill, worth a good fifty dollars at most.

“We better make it quick, Bon. He wouldn’t leave the door open and his computer on if he was on the way to Mexico.”

She walked over to look at the computer monitor as if she hadn’t heard me. “Do you suppose he knows what the code means, Jake?” She quickly turned away with a disgusted look.

“Men. Is that all you guys ever think about?”

“No,” I answered when I saw what was on the screen.

I reached over and turned off the monitor. “Right now I’m wondering what jail food tastes like. We better get out of here before someone shows up.”

Bonnie had the top dresser drawer open before I finished talking. “Aren’t you gonna look for your cigar box? Maybe it’s in here. I’ll…”

Fred cut her off with a short bark. I hadn’t noticed he had gone back outside until he ran back in the room to get my attention. Then I heard the truck.