tj jensen 01 - barkleys treasure (5 page)

“Can I help you?” a pleasantly plump man with white hair and a neatly trimmed white beard inquired.

Grandpa stepped up to the counter to speak to the man whose eyes, while faded with age, were still bright and welcoming. “I’m new to Gull Island. I plan to be here for several months, so I’d like to see about having my prescriptions transferred from my regular pharmacy in Nevada.” Grandpa took a piece of paper from his pocket on which he’d written down all his medications and handed it to the man behind the counter. “My current address and telephone number as well as the telephone number of my doctor back home are listed on the bottom.”

The pharmacist looked at the paper Grandpa handed him. “You must be the new folks who are staying out at Garrett’s place.”

“We are,” Grandpa confirmed.

“I’m so happy to meet you. My name is George Brolin.”

“Ben Jensen.”

“I’ll need you to fill out some paperwork, but we should be able to make the transfer without any problem.” The pharmacist handed Grandpa a one-page form and a pen. “If you’re staying out at Garrett’s you must be the folks who found Buck’s remains in the attic.”

I confirmed that we were. “Did you know Mr. Barnes well?”

“I did indeed. We’d been friends for years. It’s such a shame what happened, but I have to say I’m not surprised.”

“And why is that?” I asked as Grandpa filled out the form George Brolin had given him. I was interested to hear whether he would say the same things Gertie Newsome had.

“Buck was a friendly sort who would strike up conversations with total strangers. Not that being friendly is a bad thing, but Buck had a tendency to overshare. I tried to warn him that not everyone was worthy of his trust, but Buck didn’t view the world in terms of good and bad. As far as he was concerned, everyone he met was a potential friend.”

“And you think one of those friends might have killed him?”

George shrugged. “I don’t have anything to back up my suspicion, but yes. There were a couple of men hanging around with Buck just before his disappearance. He stopped by here for his heart medication and he introduced me. They seemed shifty to me, but Buck insisted they were good guys who were going to help him with his treasure hunt.”

“The hunt for Barkley’s treasure?” I clarified.

“Buck spent a lifetime looking for that treasure. He’d never had any luck with his quest, but that last time I saw him, he told me he knew where the map Garrett’s grandfather had left behind was hidden. He figured he’d need help to locate the treasure even with the map, so he’d decided to cut the two men he’d met at Sully’s in on the deal.”

“Sully’s?”

“The local bar.”

This bit of information was incompatible with my recent conversation with Garrett, when he’d assured me that the map had been destroyed a long time ago. It seemed Buck might have been lying to his new partners about the fact that he knew where the map was hidden, but why?

“Did Buck happen to mention the names of these friends?”

“He just referred to them as Dilly and Lambert. They weren’t locals. In fact, they seemed to have arrived on the island at about the same time Buck ran into them.”

“And have you seen those men since the day Buck introduced them to you?”

“No. I did suggest to Deputy Savage that they could be responsible for Buck’s disappearance. I’m pretty sure he looked into it then, but nothing came of his investigation. Of course, at that point we didn’t know Buck was dead. We just figured he’d found the map and had taken off on some sort of prolonged treasure hunt.”

Grandpa handed George the filled-out form. The pharmacist looked it over and assured us the transfer could be completed by the end of the day. Grandpa and I said our good-byes after George promised to call when the prescriptions were ready to be picked up.

“What do you think about the men Buck hooked up with?” I asked Grandpa after we left the pharmacy.

“It’s hard to know what sort of deal the men might have entered into. Could have been on the up-and-up, but I suppose if Buck pretended to have the map to get the men to invest in his project and then was unable to provide it as promised that could have gotten him killed.”

“I remember seeing a bar one block up on Pelican Way. Do you mind if we pop in there to see if whoever is tending bar remembers the men Buck was with?”

“Are you planning on investigating Buck’s death?”

“Not really. I’m just curious. I’ll buy you a beer.”

“Make it a soda and you have a deal.”

Sully’s was an old-fashioned tavern with a scuffed-up wooden floor, oak-paneled walls, and hardwood tables and chairs. The bar itself looked like something you’d see in an old western. The place was empty except for two men sitting at the bar talking to the bartender, who looked to be in his early twenties.

“Can I help you folks?” the bartender asked when we’d taken stools at the bar.

“Just a couple of colas,” I answered.

“You folks from out of town?” he asked as he set the sodas in front of us.

“We’re staying out at the Turtle Cove Resort for the summer.”

“You must be Garrett’s friends. Sure is a nice thing you’re doing for him. Drinks are on me.”

Apparently, Garrett had told pretty much everyone on the island that we were helping him to renovate his property. I found this odd because Garrett had left the island due to his medical issue long before I agreed to help with the project. I mentioned that to the bartender, whose name was Frank, and he informed me that Garrett was a sociable guy who kept in touch with his island family.

I guess I’d never stopped to think how hard this whole thing must be on Garrett. I mean, I assumed he would have preferred to remain on the island for the remainder of his life, but until I got a glimpse of how integrated he was with his neighbors, I hadn’t stopped to consider the fact that his leaving the island because of his stroke must be a lot harder on him than my own changing circumstance had been on me.

I was trying to figure out how to bring up the subject of Buck and his new partners when Frank beat me to it.

“Heard about Buck. That must have been a bit of a shock.”

“Yeah, it really was. Did you know him well?”

“Everyone on the island knew Buck well. He was sort of an adoptee. Swept up in here on Tuesday and Thursday mornings.”

“I understand he was an outgoing sort who made friends easily.”

“That much is true. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the mechanism in his brain that allows most of us to discriminate between individuals who would make good friends and those it would be best to avoid. I tried to help him when I could, but Buck could be stubborn when he got his mind on something.”

“Like his involvement with Dilly and Lambert?”

“Heard about that, did ya?”

“I heard they’d formed some sort of a partnership with Buck in the days before he disappeared.”

“Buck wanted to find Barkley’s treasure and, according to what he was telling everyone, he had the map that led to it. Problem was, he needed money to buy the equipment he needed to find it. Now, the people on the island know Buck was a dreamer who told a tall tale from time to time, so no one he knew was interested in investing in the project. The last time I saw Buck he told me the two men he met in here were going to provide the money he needed. I tried to warn him that it wasn’t a good idea to go into business with strangers, but he wasn’t listening.”

“Do you think Lambert and Dilly could be responsible for Buck’s death?”

“The thought’s crossed my mind ever since I found out he was dead and not off treasure hunting like everyone thought.”

“Any idea where Dilly and Lambert are now?”

“Not a clue. Like I said, they were from off the island. I haven’t seen them since Buck disappeared. You might want to ask Deputy Savage about them. He was in asking about them a while back. I’m not sure he ever tracked them down, but he might have.”

“Thank you. I’ll do that. And thanks for the drinks.” I finished off the last of the cola in my glass. “Can you tell me the easiest way to get to the museum?”

“Just take a left when you leave the bar and then another left at the second intersection you come to. You can’t miss it.”

“Great; thanks. It was nice meeting you.”

“You too. Be sure to come on back. I bet you’re the type who likes to party. We have karaoke on Friday nights.”

Boy, had that guy read me wrong. I’d sooner sit on hot coals than sing in front of a crowd.

“You have that look,” Grandpa stated as soon as we got to the car.

“What look?”

“That look you get when you’ve gone and sunk your teeth into a mystery.”

I shrugged. “I do admit I’m interested in finding out who killed Buck and why. Do you feel up to checking out the museum?”

“Yeah, I’m game.”

I opened the driver’s side door and slid inside. “Both Garrett and Deputy Savage recommended that we speak to a woman named Meg about the history of the legend, as well as the history of the island. Maybe we’ll get lucky and she’ll be volunteering today.”

Luckily for us, she was. Meg looked to be in her midsixties. She had neatly styled hair in a natural silver-gray color that almost matched the lightweight blouse she wore with darker gray slacks.

“Welcome to the Gull Island Museum,” the woman, whose name tag read M
EG
C
OLLINS,
greeted us. “How can I help you today?”

I explained who we were and what information we were interested in obtaining. Meg seemed delighted by our questions about the history of both the island and the treasure. We were the only visitors in the building, so she urged us to take seats at a table that was littered with several large photo albums and yellowed books. Once we were seated she began a narrative that seemed rehearsed yet informative.

“The Sea Islands,” Meg began, “of which Gull Island is a part, are a chain of tidal and barrier islands off the southeastern coast of the United States reaching from South Carolina to northern Florida. Gull Island is the easternmost island in the chain, which, according to oral history, was originally settled by a group of pirates led by John Barkley in the late seventeenth century. Other islands in the area were populated by indigenous people until the Spanish began to colonize the islands in the mid-seventeen hundreds.”

“So if the treasure everyone is looking for belonged to a pirate who lived in the seventeenth century, the supposed treasure would be over three hundred years old?” I realized.

“If the legend is correct, John Barkley used the island as a base of operations for several decades, until he and his men were forced to head south toward the Caribbean. Unfortunately, the pirates didn’t maintain a written history, nor did they keep any type of records, so what we know about pirate activity in this area is limited to oral history and hearsay.”

“Okay, so say the fact that pirates lived on this island is true. And say there actually was a treasure. Why wouldn’t Barkley take it with him when he left?”

Meg smiled. “That’s where legend trumps history. As far as I know, there’s no way to know exactly what Barkley did or why he did it. If we are to give credence to the legend, we’d be accepting that Barkley made the decision to leave because there were war ships in the area. It’s said Barkley felt it could be difficult to protect his ill-gotten gains at sea, so he left the treasure behind with the intention of returning for it once things cooled down. According to legend, Barkley died before he ever made it back to this area.”

“Seems like a stretch.”

“I agree. Most believe, as I do, that the story of Barkley’s treasure is just that: a legend. However, there were those, such as Garrett’s father and grandfather, who believed very adamantly that the treasure was not only real but is still buried somewhere on the island.”

I looked down at the book I’d been thumbing through. It was filled with maps of the islands in the area as surveyed in historical times. If the treasure did exist, and if Garrett’s ancestors did indeed have a map, I found it hard to believe that any clues from hundreds of years ago would still make sense in terms of landmarks that could currently exist.

“According to Garrett, his father and grandfather possessed a map that revealed the location of the treasure,” I commented. “Do you happen to know where the map came from in the first place?”

“From what I’ve gathered, the map was discovered around a hundred years ago by Garrett’s great-grandfather, who’d found a parchment sealed in a vault in one of the caverns on the island. The Hanford family was said to keep the details of the map close to the chest, so I personally have never been able to verify the authenticity of the document, if it ever existed, though I have no reason to believe their ancestors would lie about such a thing. Having said that, I’d be amazed if the map was actually left on the island by John Barkley, as Garrett’s family believed.”

“It would seem unlikely,” I agreed.

“While I very much doubt whatever map they had belonged to John Barkley, I’d still be very much interested in obtaining it for the museum.”

“According to Garrett, his mother destroyed it after his father’s death.”

Meg frowned. “If a map did indeed exist I doubt Lillabeth Hanford destroyed it. Lilly was an educated woman who would have understood the intrinsic value of a three-hundred-year-old parchment, even if it didn’t actually lead to a treasure. I suppose she may have told Garrett she destroyed it as a means of preventing him from making the same mistakes his father and grandfather had. It’s my guess that, if there was a map, she would have hidden it rather than destroyed it.”

“So the map could very well be hidden somewhere that only a dead woman would know,” I mused.

“Yes, I suppose that could be true. Such a shame. A map of that age would be a huge find for the museum.”

“Or it might just bring it trouble,” I pointed out. “Whether or not the map actually leads to a treasure, there are treasure hunters—quite a few, from what I’ve gathered—who do believe in its existence. I have a suspicion that if you were to display such an object it wouldn’t take long for someone to break in and steal it.”

“Yes, you could be right. It’s not as if we have any sort of high-tech security system.”