Paranormal Mystery Boxset Books 1-3: Legends of Treasure

by Lois D. Brown

  Maria, The Salt Lake Tribune ran a news story about a major embezzlement scheme involving Kids Who Count, a government-run agency for children with learning disabilities and autism. Implicated in the scheme are Senator Emerson and the late Mayor Hayward. Whitney Thatcher works at Kids Who Count. I thought you might be interested.

  Love you. Sue

  Maria contemplated the significance of both messages. They both pointed to the same fact. Whitney Thatcher was in trouble.

  Maria had an eyewitness (Beth) who put the young mother in the mayor’s truck the day before he turned up dead. Forensics had confirmed that Whitney had been in the mayor’s truck recently, the same truck he had driven to the place he was murdered. And now there was a possible motive. If the mayor was helping Senator Emerson embezzle money from Kids Who Count, and if Whitney had found out about it, what would she have done to stop him? Kill him? Things were not looking good for her.

  First thing tomorrow morning, Maria would call Whitney to come to the police station for questioning. Maria needed to know if Whitney had an alibi that could hold water.

  One item that continued to bother Maria, however, was that she hadn’t been able to track down the owner of the cell phone, who had been the last person to call the mayor. The call had been from an unlisted, pre-paid phone that appeared repeatedly on the cell phone bill. The attorney general’s office had taken on the job of tracing it, but so far nothing had turned up. But Maria really needed that information. If Whitney was the owner of the unlisted cell phone, the woman had dug her own grave.

  The thought of arresting Whitney didn’t excite Maria like she thought it would have a week ago. She wanted to find the mayor’s killer, but she didn’t want it to be someone like Whitney Thatcher. That was the problem with police work. She couldn’t choose who the good and the bad guys were.

  As Maria skirted around boulders and climbed up ridges to get to the cave, she forced herself not to convict Whitney in her mind before she had a chance to hear the woman’s alibi. To distract herself, she tried to recall all the information she could about Freddie Crystal from the news articles in her grandpa’s memory box and the affidavit Sue Tuttle had found at the library. Freddie Crystal had disappeared in 1922 after his efforts to find Montezuma’s gold didn’t pan out. Now, ninety years later, his body had supposedly showed up in the very cave in which a man with an Aztec tattoo was murdered. Could the mayor and Freddie somehow be connected?

  Already, the old prospector had left quite a story in the town of Kanab. But maybe the story wasn’t done being told quite yet.

  Checking her watch, Maria had another fifteen minutes before she reached the cave. It was time to start doing some empowering visualizations. If she was about to see a dead body, chances were her ghosts would come back and she wanted to be ready for them. The way Ryker had described Freddie’s body had made it sound like he looked like a charred pig that had been barbequed whole in a pit. Not an attractive sight.

  Arriving at the site, Maria was met by Ryker. He wore a caving helmet and head lamp, as well as a jacket and long pants. He handed Maria gear for her to put on.

  “Are you ready to see something that will amaze you?” Ryker was flushed. Excited. Ecstatic. “I owe you for getting me involved in this, Maria. This is how I’ll be known in the history books.”

  Maria, who had once almost been swayed by the idea of becoming a forensic archaeologist, felt her own excitement build. Even if there was a dead body in there, it might be worth the panic to see something few had ever seen before.

  “Before we go in,” said Ryker, “I want you to know we are leaving everything exactly as we find it. I hope that meets with your police needs. Tomorrow I’m leaving to go convince the top archaeologists in the nation to come out, and I want the cave virtually undisturbed until they can get here. Deal?”

  “Deal,” said Maria. “Besides, I have no idea how any of this could possibly relate to the murder.”

  Armed with lanterns, headlamps, and a carbon dioxide detector, Maria and Ryker entered the cave. Jim was already inside. He nodded to Maria. “Are you feeling better?”

  “Yes, thank you.” What she didn’t say was that she had so much going on in her brain it felt near explosion level. Yesterday’s run-in with the Aztec warrior loomed over her as well as the possible discovery of Freddie Crystal’s 90-year-old corpse. The new information about Whitney was unsettling, and then there was the kiss with Rod. Maria would never admit it, but the memory of his lips on hers was taking up more of her thoughts than it should, especially at a stressful time like this in her investigation.

  She shook her shoulders back and forth a few times to clear her mind. “Never felt better.”

  “I have taken a few . . . precautions . . . so you will not be disturbed by any others in the cave today.” Jim said it as casually as if he were discussing taking out the garbage.

  “Others?” Maria asked even though she had a pretty good idea of what he meant by it.

  “Visitors from the other side.”

  An alarm sounded in Maria’s mind. Jim’s words shot a bullet of hysteria into her that traveled up her legs and into her arms and neck.

  Visitors from the other side.

  Which visitors did Jim mean? Her hallucinations of mangled corpses, or the two Aztec ghosts that seemed to be in a different category all together?

  Jim reached out and touched her hand. Immediately the terror that had burst inside her drained away. How had he done that? Maria stared at the place on her skin where his fingers had brushed hers.

  “I, for one, am glad we won’t be visited by any other Aztec warriors,” said Ryker as he prodded Maria forward, deeper into the cave. “I had my fill of them yesterday. Let’s get going. I can hardly wait to show off what we’ve found.”

  The area in the cave where the mayor’s body had been found was, in actuality, only the starting point to a large, intricate maze system. Behind the cave-in of rocks Ryker and his team had cleared away, was a skinny passage that Maria had to slide through. It gave her the feeling of maneuvering a cramped revolving door before being able to enter a distinguished building.

  After the bottle neck, the cave opened up into a comfortable-sized tunnel Maria easily walked down as Ryker began his lecture on what she was seeing. The further they walked from the opening, the more it smelled like an extremely old library with antique books combined with the stench of an extremely over-cooked hot dog in the microwave.

  Ryker led the way. “This cave system appears to have originally been made by an earthquake. However, the chisel marks on some of the walls show it was later “remodeled” by men . . . and women,” he added, grinning at Maria. He knew her well. “It would have taken many hands and many years to create what you’re seeing. The sheer size is astounding. It may even have a couple of levels. I’m just not sure at this point.”

  As soon as he finished speaking, the tunnel turned sharply and Maria gasped. In front of her was a huge chamber, half the size of a school gymnasium.

  “Wow.” Maria’s mouth hung open in amazement.

  Ryker laughed. “I know what you mean. It’s so big you don’t even know what to say.” Gleefully, he took her hand and led her to the middle of the room where there was a stone statue ten feet high. It had a missing arm and foot, and its face had either been smashed from falling rocks or it had been chiseled off. Regardless, it was a person. And while the statue’s creator was no Michelangelo, the scope of the art was impressive.

  “It’s made out of limestone.” Ryker got right up next to the statue, scrutinizing it. “A common stone around these parts. Usually it’s pretty durable, but this cave has seen a few tremors. The statue has been beaten up a bit. Even so, he’s remarkable. ”

  “He is.” It was as if Maria had been transported to some ancient world featured in the National Geographic magazines in the dentist’s waiting room. The walls of the chamber were lined with pictographs, as if someone had been wallpapering the place.

  “Wow.�
� She needed to stop saying that.

  “You’ll notice there are offshoot tunnels from this main room all around.” With his flashlight, Ryker pointed to at least twenty-five open tunnels that branched off the chamber like the spokes of a wheel.

  “There are a lot of them,” said Maria in awe.

  “Yes. We’ve only entered three. Two were manmade tunnels, large enough to walk standing up straight. However, one was a natural passageway that funneled down into a spot we had to squeeze through. We didn’t get to the end of any of them. To be honest, we’re worried about stability and carbon dioxide levels. Our equipment was showing some signs of low oxygen. Problem is, once we start exploring these old, closed-up caves, we stir up all the CO2 that has sunk to the floor. Spelunkers have died from carbon dioxide poisoning.”

  For the first time, Maria realized Ryker’s excavation crew wasn’t inside and they hadn’t been outside either. “But where is everybody?”

  “My crew, you mean?” asked Ryker.

  “Yes. I thought they’d be in here.”

  “No, Jim and I are the only ones who went inside. After the team found the opening behind the cave-in, I sent them home. I don’t like too many people around for the investigation part. It’s so hard for people to keep a secret. They tell someone and then that person tells someone and then you have half of the state sneaking around trying to see what’s going on as well as the artifact poachers looking to make quick money. No, I prefer to keep things quiet until everything is documented and the right people see what they need to see. I guess it’s my academic upbringing.”

  “I see.” Maria felt miniscule in the large chamber. Like a tiny fish in the immense ocean.

  “Another reason I don’t bring them all in here is safety. In fact, the three of us are probably doing things against protocol as it is. I can’t have all fifteen of my workers coming in here and getting squished by another cave-in. I don’t have the equipment or money to shore up this room adequately at the moment, so I’m treading lightly. Where we know there has been one cave-in already, statistically speaking it’s more prone to having another. I don’t want anyone to die on my watch.”

  As if sleepwalking, Maria found herself roaming the chamber. Each step she made echoed around her in the semi-darkness. Below her feet was at least a foot of fallen rock that had at some point dislodged from the ceiling. “I could spend all day looking at these glyphs, but I’d better get to the body. Where’s Freddie?”

  “He was in one of the tunnels we went down. It’s not far. Follow me.” Ryker shone his flashlight into one of the larger looking entranceways.

  The entire time they had been in the big chamber, Jim had been quiet. Not unusual for him. It was easy to forget he was there sometimes. But as they left the large chamber, he discretely took something from his pocket and waved it in the air. He said a few words Maria couldn’t understand and then put the object away. She wanted to ask him what he was doing, but Ryker called for her to hurry.

  “Coming.” She’d save her questions for Jim until they were done exploring the cave. For now she hoped whatever Jim had done to keep the ghosts away would keep working when she saw the body.

  As she got closer to where Ryker’s headlamp glowed in the dark, Maria spied a human-size lump on the ground. Wanting to get it over with as fast as possible, she pointed the beam from her own flashlight downward to where the figure was.

  The image of a shriveled, wrinkly man with skin so brown it looked blackened greeted her eyes.

  In a hushed, almost reverent tone, Ryker said, “There he is.”

  Maria took a deep breath and readied her hand to play Brahms, but the dead body did nothing out of the ordinary. No waving. No moaning. No blinking, winking, or drooling.

  Nothing.

  She exhaled and glanced at Jim. Whatever he’d done to her, she wanted it in pill form. That or she’d just have to bring him with her everywhere she went.

  The body was dressed in a once-white, now reddish-brown shirt, the sleeves of which had been rolled up over his elbows. The pants were a thick woolen weave, scratchy and coarse. The leather work boots had holes in the bottoms—most likely they were like that when the man was still alive.

  Being careful not to touch anything, Maria bent down to examine the body closer. The person had died on his side. The head and lower jaw were covered in matted hair. And like his skin, the hairs had taken on a sickly brownish hue. The amount of preservation was boggling. The eyelashes and eyebrows were still present. And, glancing down the body, Maria saw the man’s fingernails were still visible.

  “How did this happen?” she asked.

  “He dried up instead of rotting away,” answered Ryker. “Natural mummification happens from accidental exposure to chemicals, extreme cold, very low humidity, or lack of air. I think the latter two are what played a part in this fellow’s embalming.”

  On the body’s upper left cheek was a mound of protruding skin the size of a marble. At first Maria thought it must have been some kind of overgrown wart, but then she remembered one of the details she’d read in the sworn affidavit Sue Tuttle had shown her in the library. When Freddie returned to Kanab for the second time, he had a very large scar on his cheek from a gun injury.

  A yellowed paper was on the ground underneath one of the mummified hands. It was old and brittle, but the writing was still readable. It was a crude map, hand drawn, that showed various landmarks like mountains, lakes, and marshes. In bold letters across the bottom of the page, by the legend, was the name Freddie Crystal written in shaky cursive.

  It had to be him.

  Maria stood and moved to Freddie’s backside.

  “The weapon he was killed with is still stuck in the body,” said Ryker.

  Jim grunted.

  Sure enough, a knife had been thrust in between Freddie’s shoulder blades where it had stayed for ninety years. There was little or no blood at the site of the entry. The red fluid must have dried up and flaked off over the decades.

  “Stabbed in the back,” said Maria. “A classic way for a treasure hunter to go, don’t you think?”

  Ryker agreed. Jim had removed himself from the two of them moments earlier and was mumbling something about “ishla” and “katuk.” Or was he saying “babuk?” Maria looked questioningly at Ryker, who shrugged his shoulders.

  “I never ask,” he whispered.

  Maria went back to investigating the body. She’d brought her camera with her and wanted to take a few photos. Ryker joined her near the floor. Her head spun for a moment, and she wondered if it was the carbon dioxide. The sensor Ryker had clipped to his jacket blinked yellow, which meant CO2 levels were higher than normal but not fatal. Ryker had told her a steady red line meant get out or die.

  Ryker moved to Freddie’s backside where the knife was.

  “You know,” he said, “even though it seems pretty obvious he died of the knife wound, we still might be able to get an autopsy of him. It’s happened before.”

  Maria took another picture.

  “I know of a case where the body of a murdered civil rights activist was found to be almost perfectly preserved over thirty years after his death,” Ryker said. “The state reopened the case and permitted evidence from an autopsy to be used in court. Quite a curious incident it was.”

  “An autopsy, huh?” said Maria, sticking her lower lip out in thought. She wasn’t sure it would do much to help along her case. “What I’d like to know is who owned this knife. Whoever it was, they’ve been missing it for a long time. And the handle is so unique. Some kind of carved and polished stone. Did they have stuff like this in the 1920s?”

  “It’s not from the twenties,” said Jim. “It’s at least a thousand years old. It belonged to a people even older than the Aztecs.”

  “Really?” Maria looked closer at the details on its handle. “How did it end up in Freddie’s back?”

  “Someone who wanted Montezuma’s treasure must have put it there.” Jim folded his arms in front of him, a
ppearing as if he was about to pray.

  “Oh you think, Sherlock?” Maria grinned at him. Jim didn’t return the gesture.

  “But where did that person—” Maria made quotations marks with her fingers. “—get such an old knife?”

  Jim’s tone changed to have an airy, let’s-go-back-in-time-together quality. “Before living in Mexico, the Aztecs lived in Aztlan, a place north of Mexico. Some believe Aztlan was in Utah.”

  “Why Utah?” asked Maria.

  “The Aztecs and Ute Indians have the same mother language named after both of their civilizations—Uto-Aztecan.”

  Maria’s mind churned to read between the lines. Jim wasn’t big into detailed explanations. “So you’re saying a large tribe of Indians lived here a thousand years ago. Then, at some point, a group of them left and migrated to Mexico and became the Aztecs. The Indians who remained in Utah became the Utes.”

  “Yes,” said Jim, “and possibly the Hopi and Navajo too.”

  “Well,” Ryker adjusted the headlamp on his forehead, “you’ll have some people disagree with your theories, but I do know there is a story told among the Hopi that their ancestors once lived in an underground world near the Grand Canyon. It was a place called ‘Sipapuni.’ After seeing this cave, I can believe it. You could fit a whole town down here.”

  Maria stood up, dusting off her knees. “Okay, let’s say the Utes and Aztecs do come from the same people who lived in Aztlan. That doesn’t answer how Freddie, in 1922, ended up with a thousand-year-old knife stuck in his back. Where did the knife come from?”

  “From an Aztec warrior who helped to carry Montezuma’s treasure here. He must have inherited the knife from someone, who also had inherited it from someone, back until the days of Aztlan. Or perhaps it was part of the treasure itself,” Jim answered. “Many believe the reason the Aztecs brought the treasure to Utah was because this area was the location of their beloved Aztlan. They were returning their riches to their ancient homeland.”