Too Much Stuff

by Don Bruns

  “Doesn’t every situation depend on the moment?”

  She put her hands on my cheeks and stared into my eyes. “I don’t know if I like that answer.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  We met up in the parking lot at two fifteen. James and I both had smiles on our faces. I only guessed at his reason.

  “What we have is a committed relationship, Skip,” Em whispered. “Don’t forget that word committed. Okay?”

  I nodded. Em walked in and out of our relationship at her discretion. I felt I was lucky to have what was left.

  “We can only hope that our shovels are still where we left them,” James said as he pushed the pedal to the metal and hit fifty miles per hour.

  We parked in a small lot a block and a half away, far enough from the vacant property, but close enough to make an immediate escape if things turned sour. And things already had a history of turning sour.

  “Pray that Malhotra and O’Neill don’t show up in a boat at this hour.” Em closed her eyes as if in prayer.

  Cupping my hands, I offered James the first chance to vault the fence. He cleared easily.

  Em lifted me and I grabbed the top rail, awkwardly straddling, then jumping off the metal bar.

  “You guys be really careful. Please.”

  The moon was muted behind a thin layer of clouds as we walked softly across the dew-dampened grass.

  “Over there.” James pointed to my shovel.

  It was amazing that no one had checked up on our digging. They must have been used to having trespassers, those skinny dippers and the make-out artists. And apparently no one had ever done more than that—trespass. So no one was looking for trespassers who would dig the place up. It never occurred to them.

  “You want to continue what you were doing yesterday morning?”

  Picking up the shovel, I pushed it into the soft earth. There it was again. The sharp clink of metal on metal. It wasn’t a stone. It didn’t feel like concrete. I spaded out the sand, now digging deeper and out a little. I was about two feet into the soft sandy soil when I hit something else. This time it felt like a rock. Kneeling down, I buried my hand almost elbow deep.

  “What do you have?”

  “Concrete, James. It’s flat and smooth.”

  “That’s what you hit? Well, at least we’ve discovered the foundation.”

  “There’s something else. Just give me a minute.”

  I thrust the blade into the ground and pried upward. Whatever the metal piece was, it gave just a little and I slipped the head of the shovel under an edge. Not enough to dislodge it, but it was a start.

  “Got something?” He could sense it.

  “Just hold tight.”

  Prying, I felt it give a little more, still covered with too much earth.

  “No sign of any boats, pard. And we haven’t heard a peep from our lookout. Keep digging.”

  Shifting my position, I started wedging the shovel around the piece of metal. I could see it was small, maybe five by eight inches, and I pried again. It moved, and I was able to slip more of the shovel under the piece, carefully lifting it. Cradling it in the curved blade, I eased it out of the hole.

  “A box. An old metal box.” James removed it from its steel bed, brushing away at the dirt that covered the top.

  I tugged hard on the top of the box, but it was either locked or corroded shut. Maybe both.

  “Is this it? The information?” I studied the object.

  “We could dig some more. Personally, I think we’re damned lucky to have found anything, you know?”

  I knew. It was a big area.

  “Let’s kick some of this sand back in the hole.”

  We smoothed over what we could in the dim light, then tossed the shovels up and over the fence on the south side. James started walking toward the fence that fronted the main street, on the west side.

  “James,” I shouted in a throaty whisper. “Over here.”

  Walking toward the Ocean Air Suites, I tried to visualize the exact path the boat passengers had taken.

  “Trying to find the passage?”

  “There’s got to be a gate here. It’s as simple as that.”

  We ran our hands across the metal framework, and James found it first.

  “It’s right here. No secret how they got out.”

  A heavy metal padlock hung from the outside latch.

  “May as well go over here.” He put the box under his arm as I boosted him and he jumped. Then I clawed my way up the fence, dropping onto the sandy beach below on the other side.

  And there was James.

  Between the guy with the diamond earring, and a third man dressed in a white shirt and gray slacks.

  “I think I told you before that you were trespassing.” I saw the gun hanging by his side.

  I was speechless. We were caught red-handed. We’d been here less than three days and already James had been taken to the sheriff’s office and it appeared that I would be next.

  “I was—we were—looking for something that—” I had no story.

  James stood there, his arms by his sides. No box.

  Tell them the truth. It’s the best I could do.

  “We were looking for the foundation of the old Coral Belle Hotel. It was on this property and we—”

  “I know where it was.”

  “Well, we were—”

  The earring dude pushed his pistol into James’s side and shoved him toward the first building.

  “Are you calling the cops on us because we were walking on your sand? Really? That’s it?”

  As we moved, the guy in the white shirt and slacks finally spoke. “There aren’t going to be any cops involved. We’re taking care of this ourselves.”

  That’s when we heard the motorcycle, the throbbing roar of a Harley engine, and saw the shadowy machine and its helmeted rider as they screeched into the parking lot of the Ocean Air Suites.

  As the two men turned their heads in unison to see who had entered their space, I chopped at the gunman’s wrist. I don’t know why. I’m not a brave guy, but I sensed he wasn’t focused and I hit him hard on the wrist, my hand throbbing for the rest of the night.

  He jerked and the gun went flying as he spun around, looking at me in confusion. James turned to him, and with the palm of his hand caught the guy under his chin, snapping his head back. He fell hard on the shell parking lot as his partner reached for my neck.

  Hearing someone running behind me, I assumed the worst. I swung wide and hit the man who was choking me right in the middle of his face. Even in the dim early-morning light I could see the blood from his nose as it spattered his white shirt.

  The footsteps stopped and I heard a voice that I recognized.

  “Don’t anybody move. I’ve got the gun.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Em stepped out of the shadows and leveled the gun at the gentleman in the now red-and-white shirt.

  I let out a deep breath and backed away. She looked like she knew what she was doing, but you never knew.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  I turned and there was Maria.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Glancing at all of the players, she finally focused on me.

  “Uh, you were checking on the old hotel, right? I couldn’t sleep so—”

  “You came down to check on us,” I said.

  “Yes. Yes, that’s exactly why I’m here.”

  Em kept the gun trained on the guy with the bloody nose.

  “Who are you?”

  He scowled.

  “No, I want an answer.”

  “I’m Doctor James O’Neill.” A very frosty attitude. The guy wasn’t happy with us, that much was clear. “I own this property, and, young lady, you and your friends here are in a lot of trouble. When we call the police—”

  Feeling slightly braver, I stepped up to him.

  “You were the guy who said ‘no cops.’ You were going to handle this yourself.”

&
nbsp; He wiped at his face, smearing the blood.

  “So?”

  “So it’s obvious you don’t want the cops involved. Maybe you’re doing something here you’d rather not have them look into.”

  It was a shot in the dark, but he reacted by stepping back and raising one of his hands as if to say, “Stop.”

  “What do you think you know, son?”

  “I don’t know anything.” I didn’t want this guy coming after me ever again. “Look, Doctor O’Neill. All we did was walk on your property and you threatened us with a pistol. I think that any court of law would say that you were a little excessive with your proposed punishment. What were you thinking of doing? Shooting us? Pistol-whipping us?” I threw up my hands, emboldened by Em’s power of the gun.

  “Can I get up?”

  The guy with the diamond stud.

  “No.” Her steely gaze never left O’Neill.

  “So what are you going to do now?” The doctor returned her stare. “You see, this is what is known as a Mexican standoff. Neither of us wins. You walk away, we’ll walk away. And if you stay away from this property, we’ll forget your transgression. Is that an agreement?”

  I looked at James, and he nodded. I looked at Em, and she held the pistol steady.

  “Em?”

  “Okay.” She was pissed off at these guys.

  Maria Sanko didn’t say a word. I was sure that she was sorry she’d ever made the trip. Unless—

  “It’s an agreement.” I nodded my head.

  “Now, hand me the pistol.” The doctor reached for the weapon.

  “The agreement has been reached,” Em said. “Nothing was said about returning your pistol.”

  The guy from the golf cart struggled to his feet.

  “Give me the damned gun.”

  I was with Em. “No. You threatened us with this gun. We’re leaving, but with the pistol. Right, Em?”

  She nodded.

  “I sincerely hope we don’t meet again.” The good doctor glared daggers at us. “I don’t think it would be good for either of us.”

  “Doctor, we’re never setting foot on your property again.” I hoped we wouldn’t have to.

  I turned to find James, but he was already walking toward the street, moving very fast.

  Em turned, lowering her weapon, and I followed her out of the parking lot. There’s something sexy about a woman with a gun.

  Maria walked to her bike and pushed the big machine behind us.

  “Thank God you showed up.” I stepped up beside Em.

  “Damn, Skip. I couldn’t be everywhere at once. I was on the far side and I heard the commotion. I got to you as fast as I could.”

  “Hey, you just said it. You couldn’t cover three sides at once.”

  She squeezed my hand. “Skip, we’ve been through some things together, but tonight, realizing you guys could have been killed, I was really scared.”

  “Scared?” I couldn’t believe it. “I never saw you so calm, so in control. And, Em, you made some impressive time getting over here once it turned into a free-for-all. You may have saved our lives.”

  “Skip, I saw the damage you two did. Very impressive. I never pictured you as a pugilist. I kind of like it.”

  It had surprised the heck out of me, too.

  Maria caught up with us on the street.

  “What the hell? That was scary.”

  I’d been thinking about it for the last two or three minutes. Turning to her, I asked, “Did you tell them we were digging tonight?”

  “Them?”

  “Dr. O’Neill and the other guy. Did you tell them about us?”

  Her eyes got wide.

  “Absolutely not.” There was bitter acid dripping from her tongue. “What do you think I am?”

  “Maria, I’m sorry,” I said. “There were four of us who knew where we’d be tonight, and I can account for three of us.”

  “Oh, you son of a bitch.” Her fists were clenched. “Just because they happened to be there you think that I called them and told them about you?”

  The thought had definitely crossed my mind. It made sense.

  I may have been wrong. “Look, I’m sorry. I thought that—”

  “You didn’t think.” She glowered at me. “I helped you do research, I offered my services to help you find this ghostly wrecker’s camp and you accuse me of setting you up? You are a first-class son of a bitch, Skip Moore.”

  She straddled the seat of her Harley-Davidson, turned the key, and blew out onto the street.

  Em and I watched her disappear.

  “It seems we’ve upset several people tonight.” Em let go of my hand.

  “How else would they have been waiting for us at three in the morning? That’s not the time of night two grown men walk the beach.” I thought about that statement. “Unless—”

  Em shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “The good news is that we found a metal box.”

  “Really? The information you were looking for?”

  “I think.”

  “Skip, that’s fabulous.”

  “The bad news is that I don’t think it made it over the fence. James didn’t have it back there.”

  I had no idea where the metal box could be.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  “Dude, she peeled out of here. What happened?”

  “Skip simply asked her if she’d turned us in to Doctor O’Neill and company. A fair question.”

  He stepped back. “Never saw that coming.”

  “My God, James, she was the only other person to know what we were planning. I mean, I think they were going to kill us.”

  “Pretty serious accusation, amigo.”

  “And what did you think?”

  He smiled. “Same thing. She knew about our plans. And, it was strange that she showed up at the exact time we were getting grilled by the doctor and his friend.”

  “We handled them though, didn’t we?” I thought about how I’d hit O’Neill in the nose. One of the prouder moments of my life.

  “Gave ’em the old one-two.” James smiled.

  “James, all of that hassle. And you never got the box, did you? Is it still on the vacant lot?”

  He smiled. “As soon as I saw both guys were distracted, I picked it up where I’d dropped it. Right by the fence.” He reached into the truck and pulled out the old, dirty metal container.

  I grinned. We were well on our way to finding the gold.

  “I think I’ll go to sleep and dream about piles of gold, gettin’ bigger and bigger and bigger.” James was smiling.

  “The Treasure of the Sierra Madre,” I said. No question. We’d both watched it one hundred times. Maybe more.

  “Let’s drive over and pick up the shovels,” James said.

  “Then I think we go back to the Cove and pry open the box.”

  “It’s three thirty in the morning. Do we wake up Mrs. T.?”

  “It depends,” my best friend said, “on what’s in the box.”

  We drove back, Em never saying a word, the gun in her lap. Ma Barker, Bonnie Parker, “Squeaky” Fromme–the woman who pointed a gun at President Ford. I had fantasies of Emily as a gunslinging moll.

  In my room, we worked on the lid, prying with a metal nail file from Em’s purse and a corkscrew that came with the room. James took the nail file and worked it up under one side. Then under the other. He slid it up between the box and lid on the front, and pulled back.

  The file snapped, and half of the blade jammed between the lid and the box.

  “Sucker is locked.”

  “Rusted shut,” said Em.

  “Both,” I added. “If we had a blow torch—”

  “A hacksaw,” James suggested.

  “A hammer.” Em slammed her fist on the top of the box.

  It popped open, the lid springing up and the rest of the nail file dropping to the floor.

  “Whoa.” James moved back.

  “Oh, my God.” I gazed into the
container. A folded piece of paper lay in the open box, yellow and curled on the edges.

  “Take it out,” Em said.

  “It hasn’t seen the light of day for seventy-five years.”

  “If we want to know what’s on it, we’ve got to take it out.”

  “Maybe we should wait.” James wasn’t sure we were making the right move.

  I reached in and pulled it out with just the tips of my thumb and index finger. Careful not to do any damage.

  It was crinkly and stiff like a cracker.

  “Man, if we try to unfold this, it’s going to break into pieces.”

  “We’ve got to see what’s on that paper.”

  “James, we’ll destroy it.”

  “Soak it in water.”

  “The ink could run.”

  “Skip, James. Do you remember where you were when I called you from Miami and told you about the letter I’d received?”

  We answered together. “The library.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” James gave her attitude.

  “Libraries do more than check out books. You guys saw a lot of news clippings and magazine articles.”

  “Even some letters about the hurricane.”

  “Libraries fix old letters. Old newspapers. They must have a process.”

  “Oh.” James nodded. “Once in awhile, you come up with a decent idea.”

  “I’ve bailed your ass out more times than I care to count, James. I’ve had a lot of good ideas.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “I suggest we get some sleep and visit your friendly Islamorada Library first thing tomorrow morning.”

  We agreed and headed to our respective rooms.

  It was probably five a.m. when I heard the doorknob turn. The first thing I thought was that someone had made a mistake. They assumed it was the room next door.

  Then I heard a clicking noise as if a key was being inserted. Pelican Cove still used keys, not the plastic slide cards that most places use.

  “Who’s there?” I sat straight up in bed.

  Em shook her head, wiped the sleep from her eyes, and stared up at me.

  “Skip, what’s going on?”