Paper Treasure (10 page)

“Now I know where the expression ‘bad blood’ comes from,” muttered Weirdo. “He didn’t need us. He could have made lots of money with his father’s share.”

Reid glared at them all belligerently. Sergeant Punkari motioned to Officer Newsome to follow him out the door.

“It looks like you were right, Mrs. Lovell,” said Charlie. “Gold does do strange things to people.”

Joey ran to the window and watched the police escort Reid to the waiting cruiser. A small crowd had gathered on the sidewalk.

“Well, I guess that’s that,” said Weirdo as the flashing lights disappeared down the street. “Back to grungy custard and bingo in the lounge on Saturday nights.”

“But you’re rich now, Mr. Weir,” said Lisa. “You can do whatever you want. You too, Mrs. Lovell.”

“I don’t know, dear. I’m rather set in my ways.” She glanced shyly at Weirdo.

“We sure had an exciting week, didn’t we, Essie?”

The woman patted her chest. “My heart hasn’t worked so hard in years.”

“Just think,” said Charlie, “if it weren’t for Reid, you might never have heard about the Treasure Creek Gold Mine again.”

“Or met us,” said Lisa.

“That’s right,” added Charlie. “And just because we’ve solved the mystery doesn’t mean we’re not going to visit you anymore.”

“Then I’d better get a motorized wheelchair,” said Weirdo. “Otherwise I won’t survive much longer.”

“Jack!”

“He’s a lousy driver.” Weirdo gave Charlie a wink, and received a wide grin in return.

“Next time you’d better take me with you,” said Joey. “I get into trouble by myself.”

“Don’t worry,” laughed Lisa. “We’re not going to let you out of our sight. Right, Charlie?”

“Well….”

“That was Sergeant Punkari on the phone,” announced Laura Bradford. “There’s no sign of Dad’s certificates.”

“I guess Reid never found them,” said Charlie. He’d been filling his mother in on the evens of the week while Joey cooled his heels upstairs in his bedroom.

“So what am I going to do with you?” asked his mother. “You haven’t exactly been truthful with me lately.”

Charlie squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. He knew from experience that withholding information was tantamount to lying in his mother’s eyes.

“Well?”

“Free babysitting for a week?”

“Try again.”

“For a month?”

His mother shook her head and looked at the clock on the mantel for inspiration. “I confess I’m torn. You and Lisa did some really good deeds, helping Weirdo and Mrs. Lovell, but you also exposed your brother unnecessarily.”

“It wasn’t my fault he went to the motel.”

“That’s debatable. Joey only went there so that you’d include him,” said Laura. She laid her hand on her son’s arm. “He wants to be just like you, Charlie.”

Charlie stared at the rug. It was amazing. Joey could get him into trouble just by liking him.

His mother had made up her mind. “For starters, I want you to call your brother downstairs. I think he should be in on this discussion.”

Charlie went out into the hall and hollered for Joey. The little brat was sitting on the top step, eavesdropping.

He pounded down the stairs and pulled a walking stick from the umbrella stand. “En garde.” He lunged in Charlie’s direction, brandishing his new-found weapon.

“Put that back you idiot,” hissed Charlie. “We’re in enough trouble as it is.”

He made a grab for the stick, but Joey yanked his hand back, smashing the stick on the bannister. It cracked in two and fell to the floor.

Their mother appeared beside them. “I told you not to play with Grampa’s walking sticks, Joey,” she said angrily. “Now look what you’ve done.”

“Maybe it can be glued,” said Joey.

“I doubt it.” His mother examined the broken end, running her finger over its splintered edge. “That’s strange. It’s hollow inside.”

“No wonder it broke,” said Joey.

Charlie shot him a look. “Let me see,” he said taking the stick from his mother’s hand. He picked up the other half to see if they could be pieced together.

A corner of heavy white paper protruded from inside the bottom half of the stick. Charlie gave it a tug. A rolled-up tube of paper slid out and unfurled in his hand, and the now familiar gold lettering of the Treasure Creek Gold Mine came into view.

“The shares,” breathed his mother. “You found the shares!”

There were five of them in total, all now worth a fortune in Mattlin Mining.

“Look,” said Charlie. “They’re signed on the back!”

Each one bore Malcolm Rossitor’s signature as witnessed by Mrs. Kowalski. Charles and Joseph Bradford were the new owners of Malcolm Rossitor’s shares in the Treasure Creek Gold Mine!

There was one other piece of paper. A note addressed to their mother.

“My darling daughter,

This might just be the ramblings of an old man, but I want to safeguard these shares for the boys in case they are worth something after all. You’ll know what to do. Everything else is yours.

Love, Dad.”

“Don’t cry, Mom,” said Joey. “This is good news.”

“I know sweetheart.” Laura Bradford wiped her eyes. “It’s just nice to know how much your grampa loved you.”

Charlie put his arm around his mom, and after a moment’s hesitation, drew Joey in too.

“Who’s ready for another burger?” Robert Bradford flipped a patty of meat onto an open bun. “Mr. Weir?”

“No, thanks, I’m doing fine.” Weirdo dusted the corners of his mouth with a paper napkin and beamed at the others around the picnic table. He was surrounded by new friends, the Bradfords, the Kirbys, Mrs. Kowalski – and a special old friend. Essie smiled at him across the table.

“So, let me get this straight,” began Mike Kirby. “Jonathan Reid Spencer must have inherited his father’s shares.”

“About six years ago,” said Laura Bradford. “But it wasn’t until he read the same article as Dad that he realized he was sitting on top of a gold mine.”

“I don’t think it was only greed that made him try to swindle us,” added Essie Lovell. “He was really out for revenge.”

“But why?” asked Robert Bradford. “The other shareholders made the only choice they could have under the circumstances.”

“Well, if he was just a child when the mine stopped working,” mused Kathie Kirby, “wouldn’t he blame the others? In his eyes his father had found the gold and it was up to the others to find the money.”

Weirdo agreed. “We all quarrelled about money.” He cleared his throat. “Even Malcolm and me. I can’t tell you how much I regret that. We let it ruin a friendship.”

“Well, I for one am glad to have you back,” said Laura. She smiled tenderly at him.

“He’s not bad once you get to know him,” drawled Charlie.

“Humph.” Weirdo blinked back a few tears and concentrated on his hamburger.

“So, what are you going to do with all your money?” asked Mrs. Kowalski.

“Save it for school,” said Charlie.

Weirdo cleared his throat again. “Well if I were thirty years younger…or even ten…I’d party! But,” he added with a twinkle in his eye, “Essie tells me there’s a Caribbean cruise for seniors this winter. We’re thinking about taking a trip together.”

Essie Lovell flushed delicately.

“What a nice idea,” said Lisa’s mom.

“But you’re not married,” blurted Joey.

“Joseph Bradford!”

“Well they’re not!”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, Sport,” said Robert Bradford ruffling his son’s hair. “They’re grown-up people.”

“What you need are some friends your own age,” said his mother. “Especially since we’re going to stay in Colville.”

“We are?”

“Your father and I talked about it last night. If I can get a teaching position here in Colville, he’ll open an office here.”

“Why, that’s wonderful news,” said Kathie Kirby. “We’d love to have you next door. Wouldn’t we, Lisa?”

Lisa grinned at Charlie. “Howdy, neighbour.”

“Howdy.” Charlie gazed at her across the table. For once he didn’t care what anyone else thought: he was in love.

“Oh, that reminds me,” said Mrs. Kowalski. “The Nortons are coming back from holiday next week. They have twins Joey’s age.”

“All right!” cheered Joey. “Guys my own age!”

“Well, not exactly,” said Mrs. Kowalski. “They’re girls.”

“Girls?” Joey’s face fell.

“Hey, Joey. Look at it this way.” Charlie gave him a playful slug on the arm. “You can double date without me.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A freelance writer and novelist, Anne Stephenson has always loved writing and reading mysteries. She lives in a 150-year-old farmhouse with her husband Richard and a barn cat named Mr. Tubbs. When not writing for nine-to-12 year olds, Anne is busy plotting how to commit murder on the page.

She is also one-half of
Stephanie Browning
, the pen name she shares with her long-time friend and co-author, Susan Brown.

For a sneak peek at what else Anne Stephenson writes, visit:
annestephensonwriter.com

COPYRIGHT AND PUBLISHING INFORMATION

A Charlie Bradford Mystery

ISBN eBook Edition: 978-0-9938299-1-8

Paper Treasure was originally published by General Paperbacks, Toronto, Canada

Copyright ©1991, 2016 by Anne Stephenson

Publication Date: February 1, 2016

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Design:
Heather McIntyre, [email protected]

Cover Image: Matthew Stephenson, age 14