The Chardon Chronicles: Season One -- The Harvest Festival (21 page)

Rich leaned back and theorized, “yeah could
be anything… Maybe he was a friend of the family? A glutton for
punishment trying to keep her on the straight and narrow? Maybe
sexual?”

Keith answered, “could be… Before the drugs,
I bet Sarah was a looker. But these calls are recent… Would you hit
that?”

“Not just no, hell no. Meth’s pretty hard on
the ladies.”

“I’m also working the other friend ‘Dickie
Parsons’.” Keith said. “He’s the ghost of Cantoe Present, I
think.”

Rich leaned in close, “Good work, Keith.” He
almost whispered, “my client is really wondering, and especially
interested in any possible,
local
connections.”

Keith narrowed his eyes. “Are there local
suspects you know about?”

Rich grunted in frustration and leaned back.
He blurted out, “Oh shit, Keith, I can’t tell you anything.” Then
he returned to a normal rone. “It’s for the best, anyway. This
local politics shit can turn nasty. Also, I wouldn’t want to taint
your investigation… That said, if any leads point up here, maybe
put those at the top of the list.”

By the time his work day was over, Morgan was
too tired to think of going to Tracy’s. He flopped on his bed and
took the coin out.

“How much are you worth, my little golden
friend?” he took the coin out of the plastic case and put it on his
forehead. It was remarkably heavy.

He fell asleep on his back--something he
rarely did--and woke up minutes later with a sudden start. He’d had
the most vivid, visual dream of his life. The colors and textures
were as real as reality, so real they almost spilled out of the
visual sense, they took on a flavor.

He’d been standing in the woods in a grove of
oak trees. The forest floor was hard packed dirt and a small stone
altar was at one end of the circular grove. On top of the altar was
a bowl made of a human skull. The skull was filled with dark red
rose petals. Tracy was there; she wore a white dress and a white
cashmere sweater. The sun shone through the oaks over her shoulder.
She handed him the bowl, and he drank the petals.

He plopped the coin on his pillow, and
grabbed a notepad and scribbled the dream details down so he
wouldn’t forget.

His first impulse was to call Tracy, but
instead he texted her.

“Weird ass dream!” SEND

His phone was quiet. The screen went to sleep
and she hadn’t responded. “Oh well, probably busy.” The two of them
had been friends for years and talked back and forth constantly
through the day and night. When she was slow to respond, she’d
usually reply back with a pseudo-cheesecake picture. Once, she took
a picture of herself making a sexy face, and her knees as fake
cleavage. However, his heart sank a little when the phone stayed
quiet.

He shook his head hard as if to discard the
emotion. “WTF…” he said out loud. He had a flash of insight… in his
mind, he’d sort of turned the coin sale into a joint project with
her. What prevented him from selling it himself?

He did Craigslist first. He snapped a few
pictures and wrote a long article based on all his research. When
it came time to put a price, he wrote “Negotiable”. He posted the
item in ‘antiques’.

He started to setup an account on a coin
auction site but got to the final setup screen and was stymied,
“Ugh! Fuck. Not 18.” He put his middle finger up and held it
against the web page. His phone buzzed. He thought it had to be
Tracy, but still no response from her, it was an email about the
coin. “Already?!”

The message was short. “That’s a treasure. I
want it. Call me to arrange details. -AdF”

There was an international code phone number.
Morgan didn’t recognize the pattern of numbers. He wrote back with
his number. “Can you call me instead?”

Seconds later his phone rang.

“Hello?”

“‘Ciao, uh hello, to whom am I speaking?” the
voice had a heavy Italian accent.

“I’m Morgan Klerc, what’s your name?”

“I’m Alfonse de Ficino. If you haven’t
guessed, I’m in Italy. I was very excited to see the item come up
on Craigslist, Craigslist Cleveland no less!”

“How’d you find it so fast?”

“Ah. I’m a dealer in all kinds of rare items.
I have software scouring sites for specific treasures like that
coin. Fabulous!”

“It is really unique.” Morgan said.

“Do you know what it is? Your posting is
close… but not
quite
right!” his voice was excited.

“Ummm. To be honest. I’m not 100% sure.”

“Good man! Yes, best to be honest, why
pretend when you’re talking to an expert…. I can be there tomorrow.
Can you meet me at the airport?”

“Whoa! Wow. You mean you’re flying out
here?”

“Oh yes. This is my business. It’s always a
race.” Morgan could here the stamping of feet pretending to
run.

“Um. OK. Let me get back to you.”

“Fine, ciao!”

“Ciao…” Morgan hung up.

The GTI hesitated at the end of the Wells
Farm driveway, then crunched down the gravel. The two boys got out.
Perry walked over to them.

Richard Golden knelt down and scratched
Perry’s head. “Another Golden!” he smacked Berto’s knee.

“Hey bro! That knee’s golden… don’t mess with
it.”

“Hi boys,” Robbie waved and walked over to
them.

“‘sup Mr. Wells” Richard shook Robbie’s
hand.

“Hi, I’m Berto Marquez and that’s Richard.”
Berto offered a firm handshake.

“Richard Golden.”

Robbie nodded and shook his finger in the
air, “yeah, you two play football, right? I remember your names
from the paper. I keep up with the local news when I’m on the road.
Sometimes I even read the sports section.”

“Yep. We do… but my thing’s really surfing.
Berto’s the baller.” He shoved Berto.

“Surfing?” Robbie raised an eyebrow.
“Where?”

“Yeah, this dude is hard core, I mean he’s up
on the Lake in
November.
”

Richard shrugged, “can’t surf with no waves
bro… well maybe
soul
surfing.” he got down in a stance.

“Weirdo.” Berto said. “He loves that
lifestyle. How many times did you make me watch
Endless
Summer
?”

“That’s a good flick!” Robbie said. “Ever
build a board?”

“Nah. I got one for my birthday a couple of
years ago.”

“Did you know the Hawaiians made the original
longboards from carving trees? You ever try cutting a tree down to
a board by hand?” Robbie asked.

“No, but that’s cool, brah! I’d like to try
that someday.” Richard fist bumped him. Robbie laughed.

“The gals are over there, can’t miss em.”

The boys walked toward the table rock. Berto
noticed the damage to Chloe’s car. “Oh shit!” he said.

Richard shook his head. “Man, Monica is a
slave to the Golden comma Dick.” He pointed at his crotch. “They
all
are!”

“Man, that’s just one crazy biatch.” Berto
whistled.

“Don’t make her mad… that’s for shizzle.”

They found the girls lounging on the rock
looking at the car art books. “Hey ladies!” Berto said. The girls
waved back. They were both pretty lazy from being out in the warm
autumn sun.

Richard ran his fingers through his hair and
plopped down. He looked up in the sky and rolled flat onto his
back, “Oh man, that sun is just the
shit
!”

Berto sat Indian style next to Chloe. He was
a little short for a football player, but solidly built. He’d
avoided ‘roids and kept a classic muscular physique instead of
turning into a gorilla. He said, “That’s brutal what happened to
your car!”

“I don’t need to be Veronica Mars to figure
out who did it.” Chloe said. “But anyway, no worries… We’re going
to customize it.”

Richard casually propped himself up on his
elbow and shoved the hair out of his face. He said thoughtfully,
“Monica’s, well,
intense
.”

Tracy casually asked, “You dating her?”

“Well, ‘dating’? What’s that even mean? I’ve
been out with her a few times. I’ve known her a while. Her dad and
my dad are buds.”

Chloe asked, “apparently she thinks you are
dating--possibly married.”

“Can I help what she thinks?” he said
earnestly.

Berto laughed, “the truth is she’s obsessed
with you, bro. I think you like it…” he laughed and pushed
Richard.

“Nah. I can’t help what she does. I can’t
tell her to fuck off. That’s not my thing.”

Tracy stuck up for him, “I get that... It’s
her problem.”

Berto gestured around at the trees, “This all
yours? Man, this place is great… It’s like a vacation here.”

“Not ‘mine’. But yeah, this is the family
farm… been here as long as this was a part of the United States
practically. We can go take a walk. Chloe hasn’t seen the spring,
yet. Let’s go there.”

Keith was vacuuming the condo when the
prepaid phone started to ring and vibrate in his pocket.

“Ohio Office of Unclaimed Wealth, Steve
Martinez speaking.”

“Umm…. I got me a letter today about Sarah
Cantoe’s money.”

“Is this Mr. Parsons?”

“Yeah this is Dickie Parsons.”

“Well, Mr. Parsons, Mrs. Cantoe designated
you her in-prison beneficiary on the account. If you don’t claim
the funds, they’ll go to the state.”

“Oh really.. thought her sister, Liz would be
the bennie fish ary.”

“Her sister is the beneficiary in case of
death…”

“Mmmmok. How much is it?”

“Fifty seven thousand dollars and
change.”

There was long silence, and Keith could hear
crying. Keith asked, “Mr. Parsons, are you alright?”

“Oh jesus. Yeah, yeah. I tell you what,
better than ever. How do I get the money?”

“I’ll deliver it to you, tomorrow good?”

“Oh hell yeah.”

“11AM?”

“Any time is good to get money.” he was
cackling with glee.

“Alright, see you tomorrow.”

Tracy led the group down a steep trail into
the valley behind the farm. Tall sandstone rocks were like enormous
green sentinels that stood guard around a spring fed pool. The pool
fed a stream that spilled down the sandstone toward a
waterfall.

She said, “In the winter, this is all frozen
on top and the stream continues underneath.”

Berto looked over the pool, “looks deep…”

Tracy said, “Yeah, I’ve only just dipped my
feet in there on really hot days. It seems bottomless.”

Chloe said, “this place is really great… When
we moved here from Nashville, I worried there’d be nothing going
on, but wow! I was wrong.”

Richard said, “looks like there’s all kinds
of caves and tunnels around through here.”

Tracy answered, “yeah, there are a couple of
actual caves… hard to get into… but mostly there are big fissures
between rocks and when they lean against each other it makes a
tunnel.”

They heard a distant airhorn bleating.
Tracy’s face lit up. “Uncle Robbie didn’t mention that!”

“What?” Chloe asked.

“That’s Johnny and Dana. C’mon!” she was
walking fast up the trail. She got out her phone to text her Uncle
to see what was going on and saw the message from Morgan.

“Hey! Sorry I missed U!” SEND

“NP where @?” he wrote back.

“Home; w Chloe, Richard Golden, and Berto
Marquez.” SEND

“time to talk?” he wrote back. The phone
rang.

“Hey! What’s up?” she answered, out of
breath. “We’re heading up from the spring.”

“Nice! Hey, There’s a guy who’s interested in
the coin… Get this. Flying in from
ITALY.
Tomorrow.”

“Whoa! How’d that happen?”

“From a craigslist post… like in five
minutes… says he monitors everything all the time for certain
items.”

“You know, my Uncle’s the one to talk to on
this thing....”

“Yeah… I didn’t think of that.”

“I texted you his number… I’m on the way up
to the house, now.”

“I’ll call him. I dunno if I can make it
tonight. Dad’s on the war path…”

“OK. Talk later…” she hung up.

Once she got onto the flat, Tracy started
jogging up toward the house. She was well ahead of the others.

Chloe smiled and stopped the boys, “I’ll race
you two up to the side of that barn.” she pointed at the side of
Robbie’s shop.

“Alright…” Berto laughed. “You don’t stand a
chance. I won’t go easy on you.”

“Me neither.” Richard said, getting down in a
crouch. “You count it down.”

“3… 2… 1… go” she said. She let them get a
little head start. Berto was pulling ahead of Richard. She started
loping and closed the gap on them. She looked over then waved and
turned on the afterburners. She came to a stop and waited for a
second for them to get close to the wall, then slapped it.