Til death, p.23
'Til Death, page 23
“Somebody has dug up the treasure,” Pete said.
“Looks like it. Those gold coins are coming from someplace,” Hank agreed. “And they match the ones that have been showing up here for years.”
I may as well come right out with it. “Did you find the treasure, Hank? Are you selling your gold?”
He made a face. “Me? Huh. I wish. I’ve been thinking it was you two.”
“Us?” I was astonished. I could tell that Pete was too. “Us? This is the first time we’ve ever been here. We haven’t dug up anything.”
“You’re Jack’s kid. You’re wearing that ring. Makes me think Jack and Carrie dug it up all those years ago and you’re selling it off in Florida. I know you used to live down there, Mrs. Mondello, and it looks to me like you’re pretty well off.” He sat on the edge of the couch and looked me in the eye. “Come on. You can tell me. Did you leave some of it here? Did you come back to get it?”
I stifled an urge to laugh out loud. The closest I’d ever come to pirate gold was the gold coin necklace Johnny had bought for me in—guess where—Key West. “You couldn’t possibly be more wrong,” I told Hank. I looked toward Pete for backup.
“It’s not us, Hank.” Pete used his persuasive cop voice. “And you say it’s not you. Yet, you were there when Jack Kowalski took off in that small plane with its fuel swich in the off position. Did you and Jack and Carrie find the treasure and leave it all here on the island except for that one ring? Did you decide you didn’t want to share? Did you get rid of your partners that day?”
Hank stood up, fists clenched. “What are you, nuts? Jack was my friend. Do I look like a millionaire to you? If I had a treasure I’d be living on a yacht in the Bahamas with a supermodel, not in the cellar of a broken-down old lighthouse with a pet mouse.”
I tried to hide my smile at the mention of Minnie. His denial definitely had a ring of truth about it. I looked at Pete. He hadn’t even hidden his smile. He held up both hands. “Okay. Okay. It wasn’t you and it wasn’t us. That leaves Doris and Bill.”
“Hard to believe.” Hank sat down. “Jack was Doris’s brother, for God’s sake. They were always talking about growing up together in Salem. They were tight. Nope. No way.”
“That brings us back to pilot error again,” Pete pointed out. “Maybe it was. But where is the sudden rush of Peruvian gold in Florida coming from if not from here?”
Hank didn’t answer. He put a finger to his lips. “Sshh. Listen. Hear that?”
Pete and I stopped talking. “Hear what?” Pete said. “I don’t hear anything.” I didn’t hear anything either.
“The Whaler. Bill just got back and now he’s leaving again. Let’s see where he’s heading.” Hank opened the door and we followed him outside. He was right. The speedy little craft rounded the eastern edge of the island. “He’s going back toward town. Must have forgotten something.” He turned and led us back indoors.
“That must mean Doris is alone,” I said. “That gives us a chance to talk to her without Bill answering questions for her.”
“Good idea,” Pete said. “Let’s hurry before he comes back. See you later, Hank. We’ll talk some more.”
“How about I come with you? I’ll put up the No more tours for the day sign.”
Pete and I both hesitated.
“You might need me,” he said. “Doris knows me. Trusts me. You two are practically strangers, blood or not.”
“He’s right, Pete,” I said. “Hank knows everyone involved—he even knew my parents.”
“Okay,” Pete said. “Let’s go. Can we grab one of those golf carts?” We could. With Hank at the wheel, within minutes we were bumping our way uphill toward the rock pile, hoping to catch sight of an orange dress. Would Scott’s new white straw hat be there too?
Doris sat in the green Adirondack chair and her hand-to-mouth motion told us she was taking advantage of her husband’s absence by enjoying a cigarette. I spotted Scott on a precarious perch close to the rock pile, a zoom lens attached to the camcorder. He’d clearly become enamored of the puffins, along with the rest of the birding world. With my mind never entirely away from my program director duties, I hoped he’d be able to put together a puffin presentation for Ranger Rob’s little buckaroos to enjoy. As we drew closer to the pair, my heart pounded in anticipation of what we were about to discuss with my aunt. Was she involved in their deaths? I prayed not.
“Hey, Doris!” Hank brought the golf cart to an abrupt halt at the edge of the dirt road. He jumped out, waving both arms toward the two below us on the sloping island landscape. My aunt returned his greeting, stood, and walked toward us, her arms stretched wide. Scott acknowledged us with a one-handed wave over his shoulder, his attention still focused on a crack in the rocks. Was there a nest of baby puffins in there? I hoped so. The buckaroos would love it.
With Pete’s steadying hand on my elbow we made our way down the sloping path. I formed questions in my mind as we drew closer. What’s the polite way to ask exactly what “our treasure” meant? Had my parents and the Raymonds found Black Sam Bellamy’s treasure and had they decided to share it between them? If they had, there was nothing wrong with that, was there? Except for the fact that, as far as I knew, one gold and emerald ring was all my parents ever had to show for it.
“What a pleasant surprise,” Doris said, hurrying toward us. “I’m so happy to see you all.” I stepped into her embrace, aware of the smell of tobacco, feeling a bit disloyal for harboring dark thoughts about death and deceit. “I’m happy to see you too,” I mumbled, backing away so that Pete could shake her hand.
“Do you have time for a little chat?” Pete asked her. He glanced toward Scott. “Just the four of us. You, Hank, Lee, and me?”
“Of course.” She scrunched up her eyes. “Is there something wrong?”
“I don’t know,” Pete told her. “Is there?”
Long, awkward pause. I was ready to step in and say something like, “Sorry we interupted you,” or “It’s nothing important.” But Aunt Doris broke the silence.
“Did one of you tell Bill what we did? That I opened the closet and showed you the hiding place?” Her voice broke and she choked back a sobbing sound. “Never mind. It’s too late now to do anything about it. He found out somehow and he thinks you’ve seen it.” She covered her mouth with one hand. “He is so angry. Now it’s too late. It’s all gone. I’m so sorry. This isn’t what Carrie and Jack wanted.”
“It’s gone?” Hank asked, voicing what we all were thinking. “It’s gone? The treasure is gone?”
She nodded. No words, just the strangled sobs. We three, Pete and Hank and I, stood by helplessly, waiting for her to regain control. I peered past her toward the rock pile, hoping Scott hadn’t witnessed the meltdown. Still facing away from us, he seemed absorbed in puffin-land. That was good. This certianly wasn’t anything we’d want to see preserved on video.
Doris’s breathing became even and she wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. “I’m so sorry,” she said again. “I’m sure it isn’t your fault.”
I thought of the bureau with the glass case behind the mirrored closet doors. She’d shown us the keeper’s log, nothing more. No treasure. I spoke as softly, calmly as I could under the tense circumstances. “What did Bill think we’d seen?” I asked her. “He knows you’ve shown the log to plenty of people. It’s even listed on the deluxe tour.”
“Not in the closet,” she said. “I’ve always brought the glass case downstairs before. But I figured, you being family and all, it would be all right. It’s not as though I opened the safe, is it? All you saw was the precious log.”
“I didn’t see any safe,” I said to no one in particular.
Aunt Doris answered my unspoken question. “Yes, you did. It’s inside the big bureau under the glass case. It’s really a safe with our old bedroom bureau built around it. Bill designed it right after Jack dug up the treasure chest.”
CHAPTER 43
“Jack?” Hank almost shouted.
“My dad?” I said. “My dad?”
“Lee’s father dug up the treasure?” That was Pete.
“Yes. It’s true.” Doris covered her face with her hands, muffling her voice.“After all those years, after all the people who dug in the floor of the cave, it took Jack—with his engineer’s eyes and mind and slide rule—to figure out exactly where it was.”
I wasn’t sure I’d heard her correctly. “My father figured it out somehow? He found the treasure?”
“Jack actually dug it up?” Hank asked.
Doris dropped her hands and laughed. It was a strange, unfunny laugh. “Not exactly. Jack found it all by himself. Once he figured out where it was, we all grabbed shovels, Jack and Bill and Carrie and I. We all dug.”
“Our treasure” began to make perfect sense.
“How did he find it? Where was it?” Cop interrogation voice from Pete.
“It was so simple, once he explained it to us,” she said.
“Where was it?” Pete asked again.
“Up!” She laughed again. “It was up!”
Involuntarily I looked up, skyward. So did the others. Doris’s laugh changed to the familiar giggle. “Not up in the sky. Up from the cave,” she said. “The X carved on the wall meant that the treasure chest was buried above the cave, directly over the mark.” She smiled the self-satisfied smile. “That’s exactly where it was. It wasn’t even buried very deep either.”
This time I dropped my gaze to the rock pile. Scott had turned and now had his zoom lens turned toward us. “Under the rocks?” I asked.
“The rocks weren’t there then, of course. Bill bought them later so no one else would get the bright idea to dig there and maybe find some trace of the chest. It was falling apart when we found it.” She pointed to the rocks, surrounded by birds. “No one is allowed to disturb a puffin habitat in Maine!” Another giggle. “Not ever.”
“Do you believe Bill has taken the treasure away from the island, then?” Pete stayed on topic as usual.
“I’m sure he couldn’t have taken the chest,” she said. “But I’ll bet he took whaever was left of the treasure.”
“What do you mean—‘whatever was left of the treasure? ’ ” Hank insisted. “Did somebody else keep some of it?” He shot an accusing glance my way. “Did Jack and Carrie get more than that emerald ring?”
She frowned. “Oh Hank, what an idea. Of course they didn’t. Carrie fell in love with the ring and Jack wanted to give it to her. He planned to have it appraised so he could send us a check for the value. That was going to be the seed money for the museum.” A long sigh. “That never happened.”
Three voices in unison asked the obvious question. “The museum?”
“Yes. Oh, dear. Bill is right. I do talk too much—especially when I don’t take my medicine. I need to sit down.” She turned away from us and walked toward the green chair—and Scott’s camera. We followed, like an obedient row of puffin chicks. We stood in a half circle around her. Scott joined us.
“What’s going on?” he wanted to know. “You okay, Doris?”
“I’m fine, Scotty,” she said. “Just needed to sit for a minute. I didn’t take my medicine.”
Scotty? Really?
“Should somebody run up to the house and get it for you?” he said, concerned.
“Nope. I don’t need it, but thank you.”
“Okay, then. I’m on my way to get a boat ride to the cave. The tide’s almost dead low. I want to get a shot of the X on the wall down there. Anybody want to come with me?”
We all declined.
“I thought for sure you’d want to see it, Moon,” he said. “What happened to your sense of adventure?” Disappointment must have shown on my face. I really did want to see the X, but I wasn’t about to walk away from Doris’s tale of missing pirate treasure.
“Have it your way, Moon,” Scott said. “Bill’s taking me out in the Whaler. Hundred bucks a head, but Doan’s paying, so who cares?” He scrambled up the incline. “See you all later.”
Doris’s face had gone pale. “He’s back? Bill is on the island? I need to get home right away. He told me not to leave. I should be on the porch where he can see me.” She stood, chasing after Scott. “Can you give me a ride in your golf cart, Scotty?”
Scott extended a hand and politely helped her into the front seat. Our next decision didn’t require conversation. While Doris climbed into Scott’s cart, Hank, Pete, and I walked quickly back to ours, then proceeded to follow them at a discreet distance.
“If Bill’s as angry as she seems to think he is, we’d better stick around to be sure Doris is all right.” Hank sounded worried. Almost frightened. I was afraid for my aunt too. I wanted to tell her that we had her back—that we weren’t about to leave her alone with Bill until we had a full understanding of what was going on between them. I didn’t have a chance to speak to her. As our golf cart came to a stop, Doris had already left Scott’s cart and dashed up the outside stairway to her deck.
“There’s no way of knowing if the Whaler is at the dock for Scott’s cave tour yet or if Bill knows that Doris isn’t where she’s supposed to be,” Pete said. “Let’s go up there and sit with her.”
“You two, go ahead,” Hank said. “I’m going to beat it back to the lighthouse. I don’t want Bill to see the No more tours for the day sign on the door. He likes me to be where I belong too and he’s still my boss.”
“Got it,” Pete said. “We’ll check back with you later.” We got out of the cart and approached the staircase. Doris’s orange dress was already out of our sight. I could visualize her sitting at the table up there, trying to look as though she’d been there all day instead of watching the birds, sneaking a smoke and getting acquainted with a straw-hatted photographer.
I didn’t want to startle her by appearing on the deck all of a sudden, so I called her name. “Aunt Doris, yoo-hoo! We’re coming up.” She didn’t reply. Pete stepped ahead of me on the stairs, with a one-handed motion for me to stay behind him. Without question, I did. Had she gone inside the house? Was she okay?
Close to the top of the stairs I peeked around Pete and breathed a relieved sigh. Aunt Doris was seated at the table just as I’d pictured her, the sweet-smiling image of the innocent, obedient stay-at-home wife.
It made me furious.
What had Bill Raymond done to intimidate the woman? I could hardly believe she was my smart, strong, take-charge father’s sister. My blood. My closest relative besides Aunt Ibby.
I couldn’t help myself. I spoke out—too loudly. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Her expression changed immediately. Eyes widened. Lips trembling. “Oh, it’s you. I heard footsteps. I thought—I was afraid it was Bill—come home early. If I wasn’t here, he wouldn’t like it.”
Pete put a restraining hand on my shoulder but I couldn’t stop. “So what if he didn’t like it? This is your house just as much as it is his. Why do you think you need permission to come or go as you please?”
“You don’t understand.”
“You bet I don’t,” I told her. “What’s going on here? You told us that you and my parents had found some kind of pirate treasure—and now you think Bill has taken it somewhere? Has stolen it?”
Pete’s voice in my ear was steady, calm, reassuring. Professional cop voice. “Let’s all try to make some sense of this,” he said. “Doris, Lee and I are concerned about you—and Bill too. We’re here to help. To listen. Let’s sit down, shall we? Doris, if you can, tell us what’s wrong.”
Pete and I sat side by side, facing her. With her elbows on the table, her hands folded beneath her chin, she began. “What’s wrong? I’m not sure. It all seemed so right. We decided on a path to take and as far as I’m concerned, we took it.”
There was a pause. Doris looked away from us. Neither of us interrupted. We waited for her to continue. “We all agreed—it was the right thing to do. The Pirate’s Island Museum. It would make us famous—we’d all profit from it and the treasure could be seen by everyone.” She smiled a sad little smile. “Your parents were all for it, Maralee. Carrie even made some little pencil sketches of different ways we could display the jewelry. I saved them. It was going to be so beautiful. Now, it’s ruined. Maybe it’s my fault. I don’t know.”
“Where did the coins come from?” Pete asked, his voice gentle. “The ones people dug up sometimes.”
“Salting,” she said.
“What?” I asked.
“That’s what Bill calls it. He’d take a few coins from the chest once in a while and put them where people could find them. It’s called salting. It keeps the hunt going. Everybody gets more interested when they think they might be the next one to find gold.”
“Yes. I can see how that would work,” Pete said.
“Is that okay?” I asked. “I mean, is it legal?”
“I don’t see why not,” he said. “The coins and the island belong to Bill and Doris. They can do whatever they want to with them.”
“I thought all of the treasure should be preserved for the museum,” Doris said. “I wasn’t crazy about the salting thing, but I agreed to it. But lately, when he thought I was asleep, I’d hear the doors sliding open and I knew he was getting something from the chest. It happened too often for him to be taking just a coin or two.” She shrugged. “So one day when he wasn’t home I opened it myself. Almost all of the gold coins were gone.”
“Did you tell him what you’d found?”
“I didn’t have to. He came home early. Caught me looking at the treasure chest—the half-empty treasure chest.” She looked down at the table. “He said he was moving it to a safety-deposit box onshore. It would be safer there.”
Pete looked puzzled. “Did you believe him?”
“I wanted to. I tried to. I told him I believed him—but he knew I was lying. Last night I heard the doors slide open again. He didn’t even try to be quiet. Clink clink. I heard the jewelry going into his big canvas bag. He left before breakfast. He was carrying the bag. It looked heavy.” She turned away from us, looking out over the water. “He took away all of our dreams for the museum—the dream I shared with your parents, Maralee. I’m surprised that he’s come back.”
