Three Keys to Murder

by Gary Williams

  Fawn stood inside the cramped base of the lighthouse. It had a musty smell, and the swirling sound of the Fresnel lens at the top was considerably louder now.

  In the faint glow of the penlight, the stone stairwell spiraled upward. On the right was a lone window. Moonlight filtered in unimpressively. The window was thick, protected by three inner iron bars.

  The curved wall inside was a marked change from the outside shell. Unlike the flat, white, outer walls of the lighthouse, red brick formed the inner wall. Solid patches of white, modern-day mortar perhaps, had been used to repair the aging bricks.

  Fawn moved the narrow beam of light around the border of the window. She withdrew the paper with Captain Whimoor’s note and read the applicable lines: Another in light by Spanish. From lower starboard of first hole, three down. Then two right.

  She drifted to the window, aiming the light at the floor. Then she squatted.

  “From lower starboard of first hole…” she said out loud. Starboard meant right and hole meant window, so this was the first window on the lower right.

  Fawn shone the penlight on the brick at the lower right-hand corner of the window frame.

  “Three down…” she said, running her hand down until she reached the third row. “Then two right.” She counted two bricks to the right. Using the screwdriver, she etched an X on the brick face.

  Squatting was uncomfortable, so she went to her knees. A cramp struck. Even though it was not as bad today as it had been, she silently cursed her cycle.

  She hesitated. What she was about to do next was destruction of public property. Furthermore, she would be defacing an historic structure.

  Fawn again thought of her father; the man whose death—supposed death—had caused her so much pain and confusion.

  He was her father. She had to save him.

  Unceremoniously, she took the hammer and screwdriver and began to chisel the mortar from the perimeter of the brick. It was a slow, laborious process. She was comforted that the clanging sound of her hammer against the screwdriver head was well masked by the endless whirring from the turning Fresnel lens above.

  A minute turned into ten, then twenty. When enough mortar had been removed, Fawn wedged the tip of the screwdriver into the right side and attempted to pry the brick free. It briefly gave, then a piece crumbled away.

  “Damn,” she said. A bead of perspiration rolled down her cheek. She wiped her bangs from her eyes and tried again from the left side with the same result. The brick was crumbling. She had hoped to remove it intact, with a chance to replace it afterward with minimal damage. Now she resolved herself that it would only come out in pieces.

  The clock was ticking. The time for grace and tact had passed. She began digging into the brick face with the screwdriver, using the hammer to impale the substance and wiggle the pieces free. The debris began piling on the ground.

  Before long, she punctured through to the cavity between the inner brick wall and outer lighthouse skin. The penlight revealed about an 18-inch separation between the two layers of wall.

  She had no idea where the key was supposed to be hidden, so she kept to her task, exposing more and more of the cavity behind the brick.

  She finally cleared the last piece of brick away, creating a perfectly rectangular hole that led to the hollow space between the inner and outer walls. She reached her hand through and felt the rough back of the surrounding bricks.

  Nothing.

  Fawn slid to the side, back braced against the coarse wall, and drew her knees to her chest. She closed her eyes. She was defeated, alone within the small, dark base of the lighthouse. She wanted to cry; dip her face into her hands and cry until she woke from this nightmare.

  She was trying to do the impossible. She was attempting to locate keys to a treasure that her father had hunted for most of his adult life. She was asking Dr. Lohan to decode ancient text from the guard room in the 300-year-old Castillo de San Marcos that historians had been looking at for over one hundred years.

  Even if she had found the key here, she still needed the key secured in Mike’s safe, and she did not know the combination. Then, if that was not bad enough, she would have to drive to St. Augustine and dig up a grave; defiling a sacred site.

  And she had to do all this before noon tomorrow. It was impossible.

  A raspy sound arose outside. Fawn froze. Terrified, she closed her eyes, hoping it was the wind or something natural. She waited several long seconds as all remained quiet save the turning lens above.

  Content, Fawn opened her eyes. The gloom inside the lighthouse was broken only by the small penlight still in Fawn’s hand, aiming slightly upward at a random brick across the way.

  “Get yourself together, Fawn,” she said, focusing on the lighted brick.

  And then it occurred to her. A different brick.

  She turned back to the wall below the window. She moved the light along the rows of bricks. She recalled Mike’s words during their phone call yesterday afternoon, the last time she had spoken to him:

  “The Amelia Island Lighthouse was originally built on Cumberland Island, Georgia, just north of Amelia Island across Cumberland Sound. At the time, it was the southernmost lighthouse in the United States, because Spain controlled Florida. In 1838, when the U.S. owned Florida, it was disassembled—brick by brick—and moved to the higher ground on Amelia Island where the lighthouse was reconstructed precisely in the same manner as it had been taken apart.”

  “Reconstructed precisely in the same manner as it had been taken apart,” Fawn repeated aloud, considering the words. What if the bricks got out of order?

  The thought was disheartening, but she willed herself to remain calm and think rationally. Fawn used the penlight and closely examined the brick next to the one she had removed. She surveyed it intently.

  And then she saw it: a small number in the lower left corner: 4

  She found the identical number, in the same position, on the bricks to the side. Then she moved up one row. Sure enough, these were labeled 5.

  They are numbered by row! Fawn thought, excitedly.

  Yet as she kept searching, Fawn discovered bricks not corresponding to their proper row.

  It appeared the builders, prior to disassembling at Cumberland Island in 1838 and moving to Fernandina, had labeled each row as a guide map to know how to reassemble them. But they had not been very diligent in reassembling in the exact sequence.

  Fawn looked to the floor where the rubble from the brick she had removed lay. “Please, please be intact.” She searched the larger pieces and found the lower left brick face. It had come out as a solid chunk. “Thank God.”

  She examined it, and found the number 14. Suddenly her spirits lifted as she realized this was out of place. Since this brick had been reassembled incorrectly, she prayed the correct brick, 4, would be found in the 14th row.

  Fawn counted up from the bottom. She located the fourteenth row, which ran around at the midpoint of the window toward the far wall. Searching along the row, on the far side, she found a brick labeled 4.

  She smiled in the dark.

  This time, Fawn did not bother whittling away the grout, nor did she try and hold the penlight in her mouth as she hammered. Instead, she worked by the dim light coming through the window and attacked the brick with force, sending shards raining down at her feet. Only when a piece nearly hit her in the eye did she slow down.

  When she had ruptured a large amount of the brick out, she picked up the flashlight, and shone it inside the recessed area.

  Embedded in the brick, the unmistakable image of a key lay pressed into the red material.

  Minutes later, she reached her car and drove away hurriedly. She reached Atlantic Avenue and stopped in a parking lot where she turned on the vehicle’s indoor light. She held the key up to the light. The key, which looked identical to the one from her fath
er’s cigar box, also had letters inscribed on it: EK.

  CHAPTER 39

  For the fifth time, Curt went back to the top of the page. He still liked his interpretation of Where men become mountains as referring to the U.S. presidency, but the second line remained elusive.

  Second time in a row.

  John Adams was the second president, but the timing of when Florida was purchased did not sync up with his term in office.

  Who was the president in 1820; the date Ms. Cortez referenced? Curt thought for a moment, aligning major U.S. events of the early 1800s in his mind: The Louisiana Purchase in 1803, the Lewis & Clark Expedition from 1804-06, the War of 1812, the Treaty of Paris in 1819, and the Monroe Doctrine in 1823.

  Monroe. President James Monroe took office in 1816. In 1820, Monroe ran and was elected for a second term. Second time in a row. The phrase is referring to James Monroe’s second tenure in office!

  Curt pushed on to the rest of the text, excited at the apparent breakthrough.

  A short time later, he leaned back in his chair, locking his fingers behind his head. Whether he had solved the mystery of the text on the guard room wall of the Castillo de San Marcos, he was not sure, but what he had done was correlated the text to the information Ms. Cortez had provided nearly to perfection.

  ****

  Fawn returned to Mike’s house a little after 10 p.m. to gather her charged cell phone and to contact Ralston. Against her better judgment, she realized she desperately needed his help. If he declined, she would understand, but the thought of continuing alone was overwhelming. Lisa’s death, Mike’s involvement and the knowledge her father was alive sent a myriad of emotions washing through her. She needed Ralston’s calming support.

  The call was brief. Ralston answered half asleep but understood the gravity of the situation. He did not hesitate to help, and Fawn agreed to pick him up within the hour.

  First though, there was something she had to do at Mike’s house.

  The safe in Mike’s bedroom sat against a back wall and rose halfway to the ceiling. She had never asked him what was inside. Mike was funny about his personal things, and only now did Fawn understand why. Given his secret relationship to Elizabeth Courtland, there might be documents inside such as birth records or other papers showing their familiar relationship he wanted to keep concealed.

  Right now she needed to get inside to obtain the key with MH inscribed on it. She no longer trusted Mike, so calling him for the combination was out of the question. She was forced to resort to other means.

  The safe was based on a standard right-left-right combination. The numbers ranged from 0 to 100. Fawn stood before the steel door with its oversized dial, confident she could guess the combination within a limited number of tries. Mike was predictable when it came to passwords. She witnessed this with his email password—it was his middle name; his bank PIN was his house address number, and his computer startup was Fawn’s middle name.

  The safe combination was three numeric digits, which would nicely fit as someone’s birthday.

  Fawn attempted Mike’s birthday, using month, day, and two-digit year.

  It failed.

  She reversed the order of the day and month.

  Again it failed.

  Then she tried her own birthday then reversed the order.

  Both attempts failed.

  She thought for a minute. Suddenly the answer was painfully obvious.

  She walked into the den, sat before Mike’s computer, and accessed the Fernandina newspaper website.

  Moments later, she was back at the safe. She spun the dial to 3 right, 15 left, and 56 right. March 15, 1956. His mother, Elizabeth Courtland’s birthday.

  Fawn gave the handle a tug. The solid door opened easily; however, her elation at cracking the code soon gave way to disappointment when she searched the safe and realized the MH key was not there. What she did find was Mike’s 9mm pistol. She absently picked it up and sat down on the bed in near shock.

  The sordid truth was that Mike had kept the key. Not only was Mike somehow involved with the murders, now Fawn knew he was also after the treasure and possibly involved with her father’s kidnapping.

  The phone rang and startled her. From the caller ID, she knew it was Dr. Curt Lohan calling. She let it ring four times before answering.

  “Hello?” she answered in a faraway voice.

  “Ms. Cortez? Are you okay?” Dr. Lohan asked, obviously reading her tone.

  “Yeah, I’m okay.”

  “I think I’ve got your answer.”

  “Answer?” Fawn responded, confused. “What…you mean the poem?”

  “Yes,” Dr. Lohan said, a lift of excitement in his voice. “At least I can make sense of it based on the information you gave me.”

  “Please go on.”

  “It’s clearly a riddle. Based on the year you gave me of 1820, it’s referring to President James Monroe. Where men become mountains is referring to the office of the U.S. President; the mountain being the top man. Second in a row means a president’s second term. James Monroe took office in 1816, and then was re-elected in 1820. With me so far?”

  “Yes,” Fawn responded.

  “Remove the first joined in house. Offspring raised to go. I have to admit this had me quite stumped, even after knowing that the first two lines referred to Monroe. Then I recalled a tidbit, an historical first. James Monroe was the first president to have a child married in the White House.”

  “I’m not sure I follow,” Fawn said.

  “Monroe’s daughter…the first presidential child married in the White House was Maria Monroe.”

  Fawn found herself growing unduly frustrated. “What does that…?”

  “Maria Hester Monroe,” Dr. Lohan said slowly.

  Fawn erupted. “I still don’t…” She stopped herself, taking stock of what Dr. Lohan had just said. Maria Hester Monroe. “The initials of her first and middle name were MH! Same as the letters on the key I turned over to Mike!”

  “That’s not all,” Dr. Lohan continued. “Monroe had two other children, three in all: Eliza Kortright Monroe and James Spence Monroe. Their first and middle initials are EK and JS, respectively. Do those initials mean anything to you? Since you mentioned three keys, and the MH letters on one matched one of his children, I thought maybe the other keys have matching initials to Monroe’s children.”

  She was nearly breathless. EK! The key I just found in the lighthouse! She thought. Suddenly, more lines from the riddle made sense. Remove the first joined in house. Offspring raised to go. “Remove the first child married in the White House!” she said. “Remove the key with the initials of the first child married in the White House! Maria Hester. MH!”

  “Exactly,” Dr. Lohan responded. “Once I figured out the poem was referring to Monroe’s children, it all fell into place. With three keys—two of which you said are needed to open some iron box—one being a throw away, it makes sense. Assuming the other keys have the initials EK and JS, those are the keys you need. Per the poem, the MH key should be removed. It’s the odd key out.

  “It also tells you the male, or James Spence, JS, is used on the right. The female, Eliza Kortright, EK, on the left. It sounds like your iron container has a double lock. But Ms. Cortez, you didn’t answer my question. Do you have these three keys?”

  “Dr. Lohan. I can’t thank you enough. I have to go. You have my solemn promise I will explain all this to you at another time. You solved the mystery, and I am eternally grateful.”

  With that, Fawn hung up before Dr. Lohan could respond. She thought of the last two lines of the poem: A window opens deftly. A payment will be earned. Even to Fawn, this was no mystery. It was a direct reference to opening the iron container and the Aztec treasure that was to be the payment to Spain for the purchase of Florida.

  It all made sense. The U.S. had hidden
one key in the lighthouse, which was later relocated to Amelia Island.

  Another key was hidden in the wall over the fireplace in the Gonzalez-Alvarez House in St. Augustine by the U.S. emissary visiting the Spanish.

  The third key remained in the possession of Captain Whimoor, which fell into the hands of Simpkins as he and his privateers tried to steal the Aztec horde in 1820. Then a storm had mauled the SS Pearsaw, sending the section with the iron container inland. This is where Osceola found Simpkins barely alive, being harassed by pirates. It was how Osceola got the key that he told Coyle—via Sarah—would be hidden in his skull.

  The U.S. emissary had visited St. Augustine prior to the Pearsaw departing New Orleans with the Aztec treasure in the secure iron container. As part of the plan, the emissary left a written message for the Spanish, a riddle of sorts, on the guard room wall, telling which two keys to use to open the iron container once it arrived in St. Augustine. In a manner of speaking, it was security to protect the Aztec treasure in case it fell into the wrong hands.

  After the iron container with the treasure payment had arrived safely in St. Augustine, the U.S. would have sent two separate communiqués: one telling the Spanish the location of all three keys, and a second telling them of the riddle inside their own fort. Again, layers upon layers of security to ensure the treasure in the indestructible iron container did not come under pirate control.

  The one contingency the U.S. Navy had not accounted for was insurgence within the ranks of the Pearsaw’s crew. That is where Simpkins had nearly succeeded, if not for the apparent storm that crashed the ship, sending the treasure inland and into the depths of an unsubstantiated legend.

  Ultimately, Fawn’s father had broken into the Gonzalez-Alvarez House and discovered the MH key—Maria Hester Monroe. The first child of a president married in the White House; the removed key. This was the key Fawn had given to Mike to place in his safe, which he had not done; the one key that was not needed after all.