A Treasure to Die For

by Richard Houston

  We didn’t have long to wait. I no sooner had my phone out to call Bonnie when I remembered it didn’t work up here. Then Fred barked. I looked up from my phone in time to see the SUV race down the road toward 285. I managed to get a picture with my phone before starting my Jeep to give pursuit. Only the Jeep didn’t start. “What the,” I said, and then bit my tongue. I’m sure if Fred could talk, he would have finished for me because now he was barking non-stop.

  “Hush, Fred. I need to hear the engine turn over.” He quit barking, and I tried again. The distinctive click of the solenoid told me it was the battery. There wasn’t enough juice to engage the starter.

  Fred jumped out when I opened my door to check under the hood. “Stay!” I told him. “Don’t you even think about chasing after that car.” He actually obeyed, and got back into the Jeep. I’m sure if he thought there was any chance of catching the SUV, he would have ignored me.

  The problem was simply a corroded battery cable. Luckily, my soda hadn’t spilled in all the excitement, so I poured some on the corrosion that resembled green mold. The reaction reminded me of my boyhood days when I’d add baking soda to vinegar. After the fizzing died down, I wiped everything clean and tried starting the Jeep again. I’d like to say it purred like a kitten, but it really sounded more like a tomcat courting a female in heat.

  It was time to put Plan A in motion and go commit another felony, but before I could get back out to close the hood, a sheriff’s truck came down the road and stopped at my Jeep.

  The deputy lowered his window. “Need a tow, sir?”

  “Thanks, Officer,” I said, and slammed the hood closed. “Just a loose cable, but I appreciate the offer.”

  He shut off his truck and picked up a microphone before I could get back in my Jeep. I froze. Could I be arrested for thinking about breaking and entering? “Negative on that ten-thirty-seven,” he said.

  I had no idea what a ten-thirty-seven was and didn’t want to find out. “Well, take care of that beautiful dog,” he said, before closing his window and driving off.

  Plan A went south along with Plan B. I couldn’t get away from Appleton’s fast enough.

  ***

  “This is really good,” Bonnie said between bites of pizza. At least that’s what I thought she said. Her mandibles were still working on the thick crust as she tried to talk.

  “Glad you like it, but are you sure you wouldn’t prefer a little dirt and gravel with it?”

  She laughed then poured more honey on the crust.

  The three of us were sitting at her kitchen table eating the pizza I finally got around to after the little side trip to Appleton’s cabin. Half the pizza was gone by the time I had told her about our adventure and the run-in with the Sherriff’s deputy who saved me and Fred from breaking into Appleton’s cabin.

  “So what do you think, Bon? Is it the same SUV you saw?”

  She seemed to be deciding on whether to answer my question or take another bite of the pizza crust. “I can’t tell from that picture, Jake. It’s too small, but I can tell you what a ten-thirty-seven is. Wait here while I get my scanner codes.” who saved me and Fred from breaking into Appleton’s cabin.

  I knew she kept the codes by her scanner, and wasn’t surprised when she came back in less than a minute. Fred hardly had time to eat the crust of my pizza.

  “Here it is,” she said, positioning her glasses on her nose and holding the paper at arm’s length. “Ten-thirty-seven, investigating suspicious vehicle. Someone must have reported you casing the joint.”

  “I wasn’t there long enough. It must have been the SUV they reported, and the cop assumed it was me.”

  Bonnie put the scanner codes on the table and helped herself to another slice of pizza. “That explains why he didn’t report us,” she said.

  “You mean when he drove by while we were trying to erase our fingerprints?”

  “Of course, silly. What did you think I meant?”

  She didn’t wait for my answer, and went on talking. “He must have been waiting for us to leave, so he could break in.”

  “Which also means he doesn’t live around there, or the neighbors wouldn’t have called in a suspicious vehicle,” I said, before being interrupted by Fred’s ‘feed me bark’. I tore off a piece of crust and threw it to him.

  Bonnie looked a little hurt as she watched Fred devour his treat. “That’s the best part, Jake.”

  She didn’t have to explain. Julie had loved the crust too. It’s why I always ordered thick-crust pizzas, for though I only cared for the center, Julie loved the taste of honey-coated pizza crust. “Sorry, Bon. I should have asked you first.”

  “Not for me, silly. You’re missing the best part, and besides, that much people food can’t be good for him.”

  I turned back to Fred who was watching my pizza like it was a cat. “What do you think, boy? Would you rather have dog food?”

  He answered with another short bark, but this time I didn’t feed him. “Speaking of people food, does Patty drive a Mercedes?”

  Bonnie stared at me blankly.

  “The food she brought you Wednesday night to celebrate not being a suspect anymore,” I said, trying to explain how Patty had popped into my mind. “How well do you know her?”

  A smile replaced the blank expression making her wrinkles less visible. “Like my own sister. I met her when I was going to CU and now I see her every Sunday at church. Why do you ask?”

  “Watching Fred devour that pizza reminded me of turning down her home cooking. How come she knows so much about Mark Twain?”

  “She worked at her daddy’s bookstore in Boulder for years. He specialized in old and rare books so I guess she picked it up from him. That’s where we first met. I would spend a lot of time browsing the old books after classes. Something you can’t do much now that eBooks have put most of those stores out of business.”

  “Sorry, Bon, but if not for those eBooks, Fred and I would be eating squirrel.”

  Bonnie smiled at my remark then went back to her story. She had the faraway look in her eyes I used to see in my parents when they talked about the good old days. “She inherited the store when her father passed but had to close it several years ago. Surely you don’t think she had anything to do with all this?”

  “No, of course not. It was that thing about her telling Shelia she had one of the pirate copies. I guess she must have seen a chance to sell one of her father’s old books. I’m really grasping at straws, Bon. I’m pretty sure Craig Renfield had something to do with Shelia’s demise and probably killed Appleton too.”

  Bonnie looked horrified. “Are you saying Appleton didn’t kill Shelia? I thought you gave up on that theory when he confessed. I hope you don’t tell anyone else that. I’ll be their prime suspect again.”

  “Mum’s the word, Bon. Unless Fred tells someone, this won’t leave the room; not that the cops would take me seriously.”

  She seemed to consider what I’d said for a moment before speaking again. “But some smart cop might come to the same conclusion. What if they do one of those tests on the suicide note like you see on TV all the time? If you’re right, and someone forged the note after killing Appleton, they’ll be back to looking for who really killed Shelia.”

  “I assume you’re referring to a handwriting analysis. They don’t have a reason to think otherwise, so I doubt they would bother. But we know better. There’s no way he killed himself, and whoever killed Appleton wasn’t working alone.”

  She didn’t have to ask what I meant, her blank stare said it for her. The conversation had obviously taken a turn in the wrong direction. I could see she was getting upset. It was time to leave.

  “The blood on his deck, Bon,” I said, before wiping my mouth with a napkin, and standing. “I think Appleton was killed at his cabin then taken to Three Sisters where the murderer forged a suicide note.”

  Fred had been waiting patiently for more table scraps and must have sensed I was leaving. He left my side of the
table and went over to beg from Bonnie.

  Bonnie unconsciously fed him some of her crust before closing the pizza box. “And why do you think he had an accomplice?” she asked.

  “Someone had to give the murderer a ride after parking Appleton’s truck at the park,” I said, waiting for Fred to join me.

  She finally seemed to follow my reasoning. “So Craig killed Appleton at his cabin, then drove his truck to Three Sisters, wrote the note, and was picked up by someone. Have you figured out who that was, too?”

  Fred didn’t move from the table, where he watched Bonnie and the pizza.

  “No, and I really don’t care unless they have Julie’s book and ring. I have no intention of bringing Appleton’s killer to justice; that’s a job for the police. All I want is to get Julie’s property back. In the meantime, I’ve got to get back to the how-to book I’ve been writing, unless you have a better idea.”

  She silently handed me the pizza box. “What about the treasure? I’m sure if you put that great mind of yours on it, you could decode that riddle without even thinking about it.”

  I smiled at her unwitting contradiction. “I have thought about it, and came to the conclusion it’s a hoax so Paul Wilson can sell more books. There is no lost gold, Bon.”

  Bonnie looked at me smugly, the way a child does when arguing with a parent. “Not according to Patty. She said she knew about it long before Wilson found the newspaper article. She remembers her father telling stories about how it was a big thing back in the twenties. Wilson didn’t make that up.”

  ***

  Fred and I finished off the pizza somewhere around two in the morning. I couldn’t concentrate on my chapter dealing with the importance of proper attic ventilation, so we had a cold snack before returning to my computer. I’d convinced myself that Julie would understand if she was watching. It was only one slice.

  Bonnie’s remark about Patty kept getting in the way, or maybe it was the thought of how much two hundred pounds of gold would be worth in today’s market. If Appleton had decoded the original code, then what did the decoded message mean?

  The words ‘Blood sucking bug pass’ were staring at me from Appleton’s notebook paper. My how-to book had given way to finding the message and spending the last hour trying to solve the riddle. I even went so far as searching the Rocky Mountain News archives to find a copy of the original article, but got sidetracked about an article on a preacher who had crossed Mosquito Pass in snowshoes during the winter.

  Father Dyer had become a legend for preaching to the mostly deaf ears of miners about the sins of gambling, drinking, and prostitution. My interest piqued when I read an article where he nearly died from a trip over Mosquito Pass in the winter when his feet froze during a bitter-cold snowstorm.

  That’s when it hit me. Pass referred to a mountain pass. If Drake was on his way to Leadville it had to be Mosquito Pass, a bloodsucking bug pass.

  My first thought was to call Bonnie back and brag about unraveling the enigma. Then I had a flash image of someone listening to our phone messages. Now I knew how treasure hunting could lead to paranoia, and chided myself for being bit by gold fever. I decided to tell her tomorrow during coffee instead of calling, just to play it safe in case the NSA was listening.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Fred saved Bonnie from having to clean her kitchen floor when he ate the scrambled eggs she’d dropped after I told her about discovering the location of Drake’s gold. “What are we waiting for, Jake? We need to get up there before someone else does!”

  I should have waited until after breakfast before telling her. She didn’t seem to notice the plate was empty when she set it in front of me. “What’s this, we? Margot would have my scalp if I ever took you to the top of that pass. Do you have any idea what the lack of oxygen at that altitude can do to a chain smoker?”

  She looked over at a pack of cigarettes on the table then picked it up. “I can go without you, you know,” she said while tapping the pack to make a filter tip appear.

  Not wanting another argument like we had the other day when she had insisted on going to Appleton’s cabin, I tried to change the subject. “Not on an empty stomach, Bon. Besides, I think I should verify the code from another copy of Tom Sawyer before going off half-cocked,” I said, pointing to my plate.

  She took one look at my plate and then looked down at Fred, who was patiently sitting at her side waiting for more eggs. “What’s there to verify?” she asked, patting him on the head and smiling. “What else can blood sucking pass mean? Any school kid can see that. If we don’t get our butts up there right away, someone else is going to beat us to the treasure.”

  I got up from the table with my empty plate and went over to the counter by her range. “We’re the only ones besides Appleton who knows the deciphered code, and I doubt if he’s going up there anytime soon.” I knew the only way I was going to get breakfast was to make it myself, so I started cracking more eggs into Bonnie’s mixing bowl.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because he’s dead, Bon.”

  “Not, Appleton! Jeeze, Louise, don’t be so dense. How can you be so sure someone else hasn’t decoded the message already? That author, what’s his name, didn’t strike me as no dummy, and then there’s those punk kids.”

  “Paul Wilson. I suppose it’s possible now that you mention it. He must have known about Father Dyer. Good thing he didn’t have the key, or I’m sure he would have figured it out by now. But I don’t see how those kids could solve a Ranger Rick crossword puzzle, let alone decode Drake’s message.”

  “The key? Oh I get it, the right book is the key.”

  I picked out another egg and cracked it on the side of the bowl. “Do you want two or three?”

  Bonnie quit playing with her cigarettes and came over to the range. “Just two, and get yourself more coffee while I cook these. Then we’re going up there together, whether you like it or not.”

  “Okay, Bon, you win. But we take my Jeep this time.” I knew if I didn’t give in, she would go without me.

  ***

  We were lost, and my Jeep was hissing at us for lack of water by the time we made it to Fairplay.

  “Stay on highway two eighty-five for point five more miles, then turn right on highway nine and proceed toward Breckinridge.” Lucy, the name Julie had given my GPS because it was always sending us in the wrong direction, was trying to make herself heard over the knocking of the engine. Julie had said the GPS reminded her of Lucille Ball in the old movie The Long Long Trailer because that Lucy was always sending Ricky in the wrong direction, too.

  I didn’t have a clue where to find the pass between Fairplay and Leadville, but couldn’t let on to Bonnie that I was lost, so I told Lucy what I thought of her directions and unplugged her to shut her up.

  Bonnie interrupted my discourse with Lucy when she spotted an old-fashioned gas station. “They might have water, Jake, and I’m sure someone can tell you how to get to Mosquito Pass.”

  “I’m afraid those service stations went out with black-and-white TV,” I said, but pulled in anyway. To my amazement, it did have a water spigot and air hose at the end of the island. I also noticed the pumps didn’t take credit cards. I felt like we must have entered a time-warp.

  Fred barked and started pacing back and forth on the rear seat.

  “Do you mind taking him over there while I give the old Jeep a drink?” I asked, pointing to a patch of grass on the side of the station.

  They weren’t gone two minutes when a real, live attendant came out from the service bay after I had the hood open. I’d expected to see Goober from the Andy Griffith Show, but this guy was the complete opposite. He could have been Appleton’s twin, except his tattoos were barely recognizable underneath the grease and oil on his arms.

  “Be careful there, buddy,” he said. “Better use my rag on that cap, so she don’t scald you when you open it.” He wiped his hands on the rag before offering it to me. I couldn’t help notice it ma
de his hands dirtier.

  “Thanks, but it’ll be okay once I let the pressure off,” I said, turning the cap a quarter turn so it would release the pressure but not fly off.

  He smiled and nodded his head when steam and water came rushing out the overflow tube onto the ground. “Well, looks like you know what you’re doing so I’ll get out of your hair. Let me know if you need anything else,” he said before heading back to his service bay.

  “We could use some directions to Mosquito Pass,” Bonnie said. She had returned with Fred when my head was under the hood.

  The attendant stopped in his tracks, and turned around. “If I could get a dollar for everyone who’s asked that question, ma’am, I’d be a millionaire,” he said as he walked back toward us.

  “I should print me a map and start selling them. It’d be a great way to advertise my towing business. You wouldn’t believe how many people try to make it over that pass without four-wheel drive. But you shouldn’t have any problem with this old baby. You got one of the true four-wheel drives with that old Quadra-Trac. You could climb Mount Everest with that thing.”

  “Maybe Pike’s Peak, once I get this radiator fixed,” I said, pointing to a small leak, spitting more steam than water. “You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to find anyone who repairs the old copper cores anymore.”

  He took a card from his pocket and handed it to me. “My name’s Rick, I’d be happy to order you a new plastic core, but I don’t suppose you’d want to wait for it.”

  “No, it’s not that bad. Not yet.”

  “Well, call me from your cell if you run out of water up there. I’m the local tow service for Triple A and several others.”

  Bonnie saw her chance to cut in. “Cell phones work up there? Maybe you can get directions from that fancy phone of yours, Jake, seeing as you’re too busy jawing to get directions.”

  Rick flashed several rotten teeth when he smiled at Bonnie’s remark. “Yes, ma’am. We got several towers on the top of the mountain. Covers most of Leadville and even reaches Breckenridge. I expect to get a call from some kids who were here this morning anytime now. Darn fools were driving a Datsun pickup.”