Dar-dar rushed back into the room with the bolt cutters. "Stand back ladies, we’re going to cut this treasure chest open."
We gave him room, and with one quick snip, the lock fell away. Darwin ripped the broken lock off the metal box, pushed up the closed latches, and yanked open the lid. A large folded piece of paper rested on the top of whatever was in the box. He tossed that aside revealing a collection of rocks in varying sizes.
"Rocks," he said disappointed. "A box of rocks."
I’d never seen gold rocks before, but I’d anticipated something shiny. But these rocks didn’t look like they were worth much. Mom reached in and picked up one of the smaller ones with her gloved hand and examined it.
"I think I see gold," she said pointing to where the rock was split. There was a tiny vein of a different color that could be gold.
"That doesn’t seem like a lot of gold, if it’s even gold," Dar-dar said.
"Is there someone in town that might know about these things?" I asked Mom.
Mom nodded yes as she put down the rock and grabbed the piece of paper that Dar-dar had discarded when he opened the box, and tucked it into her jacket without a word.
"We’re going to take this with us," Mom said, closing up the box. "Show it to our friend."
Dar-dar’s interest had already waned. "Sure. If it’s something, let me know. Is it safe to renovate the room now?"
Mom shook her head. "You should wait. They might be by to collect some clues. Dust for fingerprints."
"You mean make a mess," Dar-dar said.
"But some of the officers are cute," Mom said.
"Me and the po-po don’t get along," Darwin said.
"These will be nice po-po. It will give you an opportunity to get along," Mom said.
Dar-dar’s expression looked doubtful.
We said our goodbyes and left the hotel with our clanking metal box of rocks. When we were out of earshot, I asked Mom about the paper.
"It’s a map," Mom said, "to the goldmine."
"Maybe this time I can pick up a real pair of hiking shoes," I said.
"We need to go to Nancy’s place first," Mom said, heading to the van.
"We should bring them some Mr. Toodles," I suggested, knowing Mom would be too eager to stop and eat lunch inside, but might be persuaded to get a "to go" order.
Mom paused. "Is that weird?"
"No," I said, even though it might be weird. "It’ll be better than going over empty handed, and we don’t have time to cook. Besides, Nancy drinks box wine and offered us store-bought cookies out of the bag. She can’t be pretentious."
Mom agreed. Victory!
Fast Food and Friends
I’d ordered extra potato pancakes to eat one on the way, but my attempts at eating while driving proved unfruitful. I parked the van in front of Nancy’s house and reached into the bag before even taking off my seatbelt. Mom hopped out of the van while I took a bite of my potato wedge.
Something caught Mom's attention, and I took the extra moment to finish off my tasty potato snack. Then I grabbed the paper bags and tray of drinks for our new friends and got out of the van.
"I still think that bringing fast food to someone's house is weird," Mom said.
"It'll be fine," I said, knowing Mom was likely right. But it was too late. I hardcore needed that roast beef sandwich.
The outside of Nancy Cryer’s house seemed more welcoming than on the day of the city council meeting. Howard not demonstrating on the front lawn probably had something to do with that, but then I noticed a few potted plants on the porch. It's amazing what a well-placed plant and the lack of an angry guest on one’s lawn can do for the aura of a place.
Nancy opened the door. "Jo! You're here, and you've brought–" Nancy paused and squinted.
"It's Mr. Toodles," Mom said. "And it was my daughter's idea. I didn't have time to cook, and she convinced me that it was better than coming empty-handed. But now I'm thinking it's weird."
I laughed out loud. Mom totally threw me under the bus. "I was just craving Mr. Toodles on the way here, and I thought maybe you might like it too."
"I don't think I've ever eaten it," she said, "but come in."
Mom shot me a look. She was right as usual, but somehow even though I was embarrassed that I'd come up with this plan, I still didn't feel too bad about it. Maybe it was the smell of my sandwich wafting from the bag.
"Is that Mr. Toodles?" Nancy's sister asked, but her voice actually sounded happy.
"Yes!" I said, hoping that she enjoyed it. "Are you a fan like I am?"
"No," she said, "but those Dayton sister movies make jokes about the kind of people who eat there. I've been so curious. How California!"
"I didn't know this kind of food was famous," Mom said.
"I forgot about that," I said remembering the jokes. They weren't the most flattering kind of wisecracks, but they were funny.
We all sat down to eat. After a bit of small talk, Mom brought up what we'd learned about Brent.
"We went to the Moonlight Motel, and we don't think he was cheating on you. It turns out the person who runs the front desk of the motel is the son of a friend of mine from the Philippines. He never saw your husband with a woman there. As a matter fact, the only person he ever met with was a man, and we think that man was probably a business partner."
"Oh no! Not another business," Nancy said. "I hope he didn't leave more debt that I have to bankrupt. Is his partner going to come after me?"
"That's just it," Mom said. "We don't know who the partner is."
"Then hopefully the partner doesn't know who I am," Nancy said. "I'm going to be up to my armpits in legal bills as it is."
"You'll never guess what kind of business it was," Mom said.
"I don't have to guess," Nancy said. "It was the kind of business that loses money. If he ever got himself into a place where he would be in danger of doing something good, the man knew exactly how to run something into the ground. Case in point, our marriage."
Nancy took a deep breath and turned to me. "Please excuse me. I don't know how I became so bitter. I don't want to be this horrible person anymore."
"You don't have to apologize to me," I said. "My husband is trying to cheat me with our divorce, so I'm as bitter as five-day-old coffee."
Nancy exhaled. "It's so nice to have friends."
I smiled. Then I realized that Wenling and Mom have become my friends, and it was nice. "And to be with family," I said motioning to her sister.
"To family," Katie said, holding up her paper Mr. Toodles cup for a toast.
"To family!" Nancy and I said as we all clinked cups.
"Here! Here!" Mom joined in.
We joked around and enjoyed the rest of our lunch. I forgot about the case until Mom asked about their neighbor. "I noticed the for sale sign next door on Simon's house," Mom said. "Did he and Brent get along?"
"Sort of," Nancy said.
I studied Mom's expression. She was onto something.
"I can't remember Brent getting along with anybody," Katie added.
Nancy paused to think. "Typically, Brent is at war with a neighbor within a month of us moving somewhere, but Brent left this neighbor alone. It's almost as if the two of them had decided to avoid each other. They never made eye contact or spoke about anything. And it's not like Simon is the quietest neighbor either."
"He makes a lot of noise?" Mom asked.
"Oh yeah, but Brent seemed okay with it. He said our neighbor was some kind of retired scientist–"
"Science teacher," Mom corrected.
"That's right," Nancy said. "And he apparently does some sort of experiments in his shed in the back yard. But to me, it just sounds like he's hammering a bunch of rocks."
Mom and I traded glances. Of course, if Simon and Brent hadn't talked how would Simon have known that it was Howard protesting on the lawn? Even Mom didn't know that was Howard.
Nancy continued. "You think he'd stop moving more junk into the shed sinc
e he's moving, but it's almost as if he's experimenting more. I might have to complain to the police it's getting so bad."
"And it's always in the wee hours of the morning or at night," Katie added. "Never at a normal hour in the day," Katie added.
"Like this morning?" Mom asked.
"So much louder this morning," she said. "If you stick around till sundown, you can hear his racket all the way up till nine at night."
"Is he home now?" Mom asked.
Nancy looked at her watch. "Should be. He comes home for lunch or a nap or whatever around one and then goes back out around three."
Mom rushed to the side window. "I didn't see his little car in the driveway. Does he park it there or in his garage?"
"In the driveway," Nancy said. "Why?"
I wondered if Mom was going to just come out and say it or whether or not she could make up a convenient excuse.
"I can't prove it, so take this with," Mom paused to think and looked to me. "What-you-call-it? The thing with the salt?"
"A grain of salt," I said.
"Take this with a grain of salt," Mom said, "but I think Simon killed your husband."
Mom and I waited in the van for Simon to come back, which I didn't think was such a good idea. Mom reached into her purse and put on the cleaning gloves she’d gotten from Dar-dar. "Let’s look at this," she said, sliding the map out of her pocket and opening it with care. "Aye! That’s why we didn’t find it."
"The mine?" I said, scooting closer to take a look.
"Look!" Mom said, pointing to the red circle on the map.
"That’s way further up the mountain than we walked," I said.
"It’s part of the national forest. You’re not allowed to mine there. It’s government land," Mom said.
"He was going to illegally mine on our local land," I said.
Mom tucked away the map and grabbed one of the smallest rocks out the metal box. "Here he comes. Put on your gloves and hide this under the seat, then come over," she said and jumped out of the van.
I struggled to put on the rubber gloves, hid the metal case under the seat, and jumped out of the van to see Simon heading up his front walk to go inside.
"Simon!" she called out to him from the sidewalk. "I need to ask you something." He didn’t turn around.
"Simon!" I called out, my voice louder than Mom’s. And that’s when I noticed. Simon had "frizzy hair" and "no butt" just like Dar Dar had described. I was sure Mom had guessed right.
Simon tossed his backpack into his house and yelled, "Be right there! I just wanted to put down my pack. It’s heavy."
"Let’s call DC. This could be dangerous," I whispered in her ear, but Simon was already heading toward us.
"You’re moving?" Mom asked, pointing to the sign.
"Finally going to see Machu Picchu," he said. "Bet you thought I’d never do it."
"People can be surprising," Mom said.
I knew what she meant.
"When do you plan on leaving?" I heard myself ask.
"As soon as I can get this place sold. Although, I’m so excited, I may not even wait," he said. I plastered a smile on my face and fought the urge to run. He killed Brent Cryer, and he was going to flee the country before anyone found out. "Are you interested in buying?" he asked Mom.
"I wish I could afford it," Mom said. "But I wanted to ask you about something. You taught science didn’t you?"
"For thirty years," he said.
He seemed like such a nice guy.
"We were visiting Nancy’s, and she found this in Brent’s things," Mom said pulling the rock out of her pocket.
My eyes were glued to Simon’s expression. When he saw the rock, his smile faded, but he recovered. "Where did she find it?" he asked.
"In a drawer somewhere, I think. But I told her I thought it had gold in it," Mom said, pointing to the little vein in the crack of the rock.
"Could be," Simon said. "But it’s likely pyrite. The quartz in the rock is nice though. Lots of quartz around these parts."
"Darn," Mom said. "Even if it was gold, there’s not much there anyway, but I thought it was exciting."
Simon’s jovial expression looked forced. "Did she mention if there were more rocks? Or if Brent said where he found it?"
"I hoped he’d found it in their garden, but she said he never went out there. She didn’t know where it came from, and this was the only one," Mom said.
Simon’s expression looked relieved.
"If you want, I could take it to a friend to have it tested," he said, reaching for the rock.
"I’ll ask Nancy, but I think she’d rather not know for sure if it’s not gold. It would ruin the fun," Mom said. "It’s nice to think there’s gold in these here hills."
Simon almost choked when Mom said there was gold in the hills. "It’s a nice thought," he said.
"Well we better get going," Mom said. "Good luck with the house. Come by the restaurant before you leave to say goodbye, okay."
"Will do," he said, but his voice was flat, and his smile was flat, too.
Diners and Disaster
"So why did we do that, Mom?" I asked as I drove us home.
"I wanted to read his expression," Mom said.
"That's dangerous. We should just tell DC what we found," I said.
"We can't be sure he's the partner or the killer with what we have—even if his fingerprints are on the box," Mom said.
"Now what?" I asked, pulling into our driveway.
"A stakeout," Mom said. "And we'll have DC join us so it's not as dangerous. So go get ready. "We'll go out and catch him when he does his second run after lunch."
We entered the house. Mom made sure Moriarty had his food, water, and fresh litter for the night. I decided since we had some time, to shower, do my hair and makeup, and get dressed. Yes, I was doing my makeup to sit in our van for heaven knows how long. But there was a chance a certain very handsome detective would be there.
I had no idea how Mom planned to convince Detective DC Cooper to come and join us, but I figured I best be prepared. After our first two cases, I’d learned to just go with the flow and trust Mom would figure something out.
I got out of the shower, and Mom jumped into the shower in her bathroom. The doorbell rang. I checked my watch, 2:00 in the afternoon. Mailman time.
I slipped on my robe to answered the door. A package for Mom had arrived, but DC had been kind enough to bring the package to our front door for Kostas.
Perfect. Soggy hair. No makeup. Ratty old robe.
"Hello," DC said with a smile. "Your mother called. She said it was urgent. Did you drown?"
"Come on in," I said. At the very least, this time I wouldn't be stupid enough to forget to invite him inside. "Can I get you something to drink? Mom is in the shower now."
"She says you have evidence about some gold thing and the killer," DC said. "I was in the neighborhood."
"Fletcher Canyon's a small town, aren't you always in the neighborhood?"
"You know I serve three of the surrounding cities here, don't you?"
"No," I lied. "I just thought you were the Barney Fife of detectives."
DC chuckled. "Sassy talk for someone with a bat in the cave," he said making a motion to my nose.
"And with that delightful news, I'll be right back," I said turning away.
"Your mother said she had important evidence for me," he said. "You know there's a chain of evidence you guys are breaking, which makes whatever you found not as useful."
I stopped and turned back toward DC. "We wore gloves, and it was found by a friend of Mom's while he was renovating a motel that happened to be a place where Brent Cryer used to frequent."
"What a coincidence," he mumbled and then looked around. "OK, where is this evidence you kept so carefully?"
Mom and I had brought the metal case into the dining room, put it in a plastic bag, and placed it on the dining room table. I glanced over to the table to find that Moriarty, our cat, had claimed our plasti
c-bagged evidence as his new bed. Oh boy.
"It's on the dining room table in a plastic bag," I paused, and then just figured I'd say it, "under the cat."
"What?"
I decided that was a good time for me to go to my room and get dressed. He'd figure it out.
After a bit of debate, we'd opted to take DC's truck instead of our catering van. Mom didn't want to run the risk of Simon recognizing our vehicle. We'd already parked it on his street three times in the last couple of weeks.
We walked to the white Ford parked at the curb, and like a gentleman, he unlocked the passenger door. Mom motioned for me to go in first. "Mom, you're shorter than I am, you're probably better off sitting on the hump."
"Respect your mother. Sit on the hump."
I had no argument. DC chuckled as I slid inside the truck.
When he got in on the driver's side, our shoulders touched. An electric tingle zinged through me. Oh boy. I had it bad for DC Cooper.
He turned to face us, and I smiled. The crinkles around his blue eyes made me want to giggle, but I stifled my inner ridiculousness and acted cool. OK, not cool, but not as embarrassing as I could've been.
"Where to, Jo?" he asked.
"The Fletcher Diner," Mom said.
"What?" DC and I both asked.
"He might have already gone back up to his illegal mine, but if he hasn't, we'll be able to see him start up the hill, and we can follow him."
"And if he's already there?" DC asked.
"We can see him come back down, and see if he's carrying any illegal evidence."
"Listen, we can contact the proper authorities about the illegal mining, and give them the map you found. Maybe we can even dust the box for fingerprints if it's not all covered in cat hair. But I can't as a law officer bring either of you out to question a suspect or follow a suspect," DC said.
"But they won't know who's done the illegal mining, and they won't be able to prove that it's because of the illegal mine that Brent ended up dead."
Milkshakes and Murder Page 11
