The Lost Journal

by Chris Blewitt

  “Name of guest please?” came the response.

  “Arthur Layton,” Seth replied.

  “And your name?”

  “Seth Layton.”

  After a moment or two, Seth heard a click on the door and pulled it open. He walked down a small hallway with no doors on either side into a large reception area. The first time Seth had been there was when he and his father dropped off his granddad a year earlier, and the last time had been about four months ago over Christmas. He felt guilty not going more often, but Seth was uncomfortable seeing his granddad in that position. When he was younger, Seth had gone fishing with his granddad more times than he could count. He played baseball with him and even taught him a little bit of sign language. He wanted those memories to last.

  At the reception desk, he signed in his name and the time of nine-thirty. A male staff member came from behind the desk and said, “Follow me.” They walked down a long hallway and turned right at an intersection. It was like walking through a large hotel, room numbers adorned both sides. They got all the way down to room 1006 and stopped outside. The man knocked on the door three times and within seconds the door opened.

  “Hi Arthur,” the man said. “You have a visitor.”

  The door opened wider and Seth saw his granddad standing there in blue pajamas. “Hi Granddad,” Seth said. His granddad looked a little older than the last time he saw him. Seth couldn’t remember his age, but figured he was around seventy. He had a full head of gray hair and his face was droopy with two-day old stubble.

  “Come in, come in, come in,” came the hearty reply from his granddad. The man with Seth walked away and Seth entered the room and closed the door behind him. The room reminded Seth of his college apartment at Villanova. The kitchen was simple, with a refrigerator, microwave, toaster oven and various cabinets and drawers. To his left was a loveseat, an arm chair, coffee table and a TV. His granddad took a seat on the couch and Seth sat down on the chair.

  “How are you son?” his granddad asked.

  “Good. I’m sorry it’s been awhile since I was here last.”

  “Nonsense,” he replied. “How are the wife and kids?”

  A wave of confusion overcame Seth. Seth was not married, nor did he have any kids, but if he corrected his granddad, would it embarrass him or should he play along?

  “I’m sorry, Granddad, I’m not married. It’s me, Seth, your grandson.”

  “Right, right, I was just kidding, Seth. Weren’t you pretty serious with a girl the last time I saw you?”

  Seth wasn’t, but this time he played along. “Yes, I was.”

  Arthur grabbed the cup of coffee on the table and took a sip. “Can I get you some?”

  “No thanks,” Seth replied. Seth felt bad but wanted to get around to the purpose of his visit. “So, how are you?”

  “Ah, Seth, this place is not bad. Play bingo once a week, play poker with the boys too. My back acts up now and again, and lately, these hemorrhoids have been bugging the crap out of me. I gotta go see Nurse Stacy twice a week for my cream.”

  That’s just what Seth wanted to hear about, his granddads hemorrhoids. “The Phillies are looking good this year.”

  Arthur waved his hand at Seth and said, “They won’t win anything as long as Larry Bowa is managing that team.”

  Bowa hadn’t been the manager in more than ten years, but Seth let it go. “So Granddad, I was cleaning out your house this weekend and I had a yard sale yesterday.”

  “You didn’t get rid of my music player or my albums did you?”

  “No, no, we still have them,” Seth lied.

  “Those are worth a fortune, son. Hang on to those; they’ll pay for your kids’ college education someday.”

  Seth had already sold the albums for a dollar a piece, but no one wanted the music player. Maybe he’d hang on to it. “Granddad, I was cleaning out the attic and—”

  “The attic!” Arthur exclaimed.

  Seth was confused. “Yes—what about it?”

  “Oh nothing.”

  “Okay, anyway, I found something up there.”

  Arthur scooted out to the edge of the couch. “What did you find, Seth?”

  “A key,” Seth replied. He reached into his pocket and held the key out for his granddad to see.

  “The key,” Arthur said in a slow and deliberate voice. “The key,” he said again.

  “You know what this is for?”

  “Can I see it?” Arthur said. He reached his hand out toward Seth. He took the key and held it in his right hand while his left hand cupped it so it wouldn’t go anywhere. He sat for a few moments and then rocked back and forth slowly in his chair with his eyes fastened on the key.

  “Son,” he finally spoke, “this key has been missing for some time now. I thought I looked everywhere. But I guess…” he pointed to his head, “…you know.”

  Seth could see the pained expression on his granddad’s face. He was not only getting old, he was losing his memory. He tried to console him. “That’s okay, Granddad, that key was pretty well hidden. I just happened to get lucky. So, what’s it for?”

  His granddad’s expression changed from happy to serious. “Did you tell anyone else that you found this key?”

  “No, why?”

  “Seth, tell me now or we both could be in big trouble.”

  “No, Granddad, no one knows about it. I didn’t even tell Dad.”

  Arthur got up and started taking off his clothes. “We have to go get it now.”

  “Where? Get what?” Seth asked incredulously.

  “The bank,” replied Arthur.

  “The bank? The bank’s closed today Granddad, it’s a Sunday.”

  Arthur stopped pulling his pants down and started to pull them back up. “Seth, can you come get me tomorrow? First thing in the morning?”

  “Tomorrow? I have to work tomorrow. What’s this all about?”

  “Take the day off son, I need your help getting to that bank, and they won’t let me drive.”

  “Not unless you tell me what this key is for,” Seth said, arms crossed.

  “You’re just going to have to trust me,” replied Arthur.

  <><><><><>

  Outside in the retirement home parking lot two men sat in the SUV, the passenger with a lit cigarette in his mouth. His cell phone buzzed in his sport coat and he reached inside to grab it. He looked at the display and immediately recognized the name on the caller ID. He showed the screen to the driver and answered it.

  “Yes, sir,” the passenger said.

  “Did he go to the home?” the caller asked.

  “Yeah, we’re parked outside. He tried to evade us, but it was pretty clear where he was going.”

  “Did he find anything?”

  “Not sure. He either found something or just wanted to tell the old man about the yard sale.” He inhaled the last of the cigarette and tossed it out the window.

  “Okay, stay with him and call me with any updates.”

  With that, the call was disconnected. The passenger stared at the phone a minute and then placed it in his pocket.

  The driver, heavy-set with receding brown hair, looked over at his partner. “What did he say?”

  The passenger stared out the window and pulled the pack of cigarettes off the dashboard. “Nothing. Just said to keep tailing him.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know, Pierce. Boss said to stay with this guy until he finds something old, something valuable to him. He said when he does, we’ll know it.”

  CHAPTER 4

  The next morning Seth awoke while the sun was still low on the horizon. He was exhausted from the weekend and had gone to sleep early in his own bed. After leaving his granddad the day before, he drove back to the house and started photographing all of the furniture to put on Craigslist. A couple stragglers came by to look at some stuff, but he only sold about $100 on the second day. Madison never returned to the house.

  Seth’s apartment was situated off the
main road nestled among tall pine trees. There were ten buildings in the complex. His was one of the last on the first floor. It was a typical bachelor pad, one-bedroom, big-screen TV, limited seating and an empty fridge. He showered, made coffee, dressed and turned on Sports Center to catch up on the weekend highlights. It was too early to pick up his granddad since visitors were not allowed before 8 am, and besides, the bank didn’t open until nine.

  He gathered his keys and jacket and decided to grab a quick breakfast at the diner down the street. Outside his apartment was the SUV. What the hell is going on? Seth thought about approaching the car and finding out who was inside. Maybe nobody was or maybe it was a different car. His instincts told him otherwise. He was being followed. Whoever it was didn’t appear dangerous, at least not yet. He eyed the vehicle for a few moments and then got in his car and headed toward Pop’s Diner.

  Media, Pennsylvania, the town where Seth lived, was about twenty minutes from Center City Philadelphia. He grew up there, went to school there and never left. He worked in real estate and made his own hours, so calling out of work wasn’t a big deal. His granddad’s house was about fifteen minutes away in Broomall. Before his mother succumbed to breast cancer, his family was close. After, his dad moved to Florida and his granddad moved into a home. Seth had a brother who lived in Dayton, Ohio whom he saw about twice a year. Phone calls were just about as infrequent. Thank goodness for email.

  Seth pulled into the gravel lot of Pop’s and looked into his rearview mirror but saw no sign of the SUV. The diner had been around for decades and served the typical diner breakfast. Seth sidled up to the counter and was greeted by a middle-aged woman with a pencil stuck in her dark hair.

  “What can I getcha son?”

  “Hi, coffee, tomato juice, scrapple, egg and cheese on rye, please.”

  One time during college Seth took his roommates there and introduced them to scrapple. They didn’t taste it at first, especially after Seth explained it was leftover pork products and cornmeal, but Pop’s made the best. It was about a half an inch thick, crusty on the outside and smooth and creamy on the inside. Once they tried it, they were hooked.

  Moments later when his coffee and juice arrived, the bell on the diner door chimed. Seth sat facing a large mirror and had a view of most of the restaurant. He looked up and saw the bald guy from the yard sale and another man walk into the diner. Fear and panic set in and his hands began to sweat. He grabbed the glass in front of him and gulped down half of his tomato juice. The men looked around and were escorted to a booth on the opposite side of the diner.

  A few minutes later, the waitress brought out his sandwich and laid the check next to his plate. “Anything else today?” she asked.

  “Sorry, can I get this to go?” Seth replied.

  She gave him a look of disapproval but reached under the counter and handed him a Styrofoam container. Seth put the sandwich in the box and finished his juice. He laid a ten dollar bill and some ones on the counter and started to walk out of the diner.

  When he reached the door his pace slowed. He glanced over at the two men. What the hell do I have to lose? He walked over and hoisted the Styrofoam box in the air. “Guess you won’t be eating here, eh guys?”

  Before the surprised men could utter a response he’d walked out to his car. He revved the engine and sped out of the lot, keeping a watch in his mirror for the SUV that was sure to pull in behind him. After a few quick turns he entered the main highway. He drove with his sandwich in one hand and held the steering wheel with the other. Before long he’d arrived at Harper’s Grove.

  He opened the front door and saw his granddad, fully dressed in khaki pants, a blue shirt and a navy sport coat, sitting in the reception area. He looked good for his age. Arthur still held on to most of his ashen hair and at a little over six feet tall, he moved with only a slight limp from the hip operation a few years back.

  “Right on time, son,” said his granddad.

  Behind him a nurse strolled out with a clipboard in hand. “Taking him out today, huh?”

  “Yeah,” replied Seth. “Is that all right?”

  “It’s fine honey. Arthur is one of our better patients. He tells a few too many stories,” she said softly, “some, a little far-fetched. Just make sure he takes his meds and have him back by five.”

  Five? Thought Seth. Quick trip to the bank should take an hour or so. What was he going to do with him all day? “No problem. You ready, Granddad?”

  Arthur walked out the door. “Where’s your car? I wanna drive,” he said.

  “Ah, granddad, I don’t know,” Seth said.

  “Come on, son. I haven’t driven in over a year, almost two years to be exact.”

  “That’s my point, Granddad. Let me drive and maybe you can drive home.”

  “Fine.”

  They walked over to Seth’s car and were quickly on their way. Seth glanced around the parking lot. No SUV.

  With rush hour traffic it took Seth a little longer than he thought to get to Southern Penn Bank which was located around the corner from his granddad’s house. The building was nondescript and sided in brick with two glass doors, one drive-through window and another ATM drive-through. Seth found a parking spot and they entered the bank.

  A female teller sat there filing her nails waiting for her next intrusion. Seth looked around the room. To the left were four desks, two of them were occupied with staffers who pecked away at their computers. Seth recognized one immediately: Madison.

  When Seth and Arthur approached she looked up from her computer, smiled and said, “Stalking me?”

  “Maybe,” replied Seth. “But first, I’d like you to help my granddad out. Madison, meet Arthur.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Arthur replied. He held his hands in front of him, unable to keep them from twitching.

  Madison just nodded her head and said, “What can I help you with?”

  “I’m not sure, but he asked that I drive him over here today. Granddad, tell Madison what you need.”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key Seth had found on Friday. “I’d like to access my safety deposit box.”

  “Sure, what’s the box number?”

  “Six, four, one,” Arthur said.

  She typed for a few moments and said, “Arthur Layton, 2115 Carmel Street. Do you have a driver’s license on you?” She felt a little embarrassed, but Arthur surprised her.

  “Sure,” he said. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, handed it to her and then looked over at Seth and winked.

  “Okay, perfect,” Madison said while taking the license and comparing photo to name. “Let me just grab the other key and we’ll go down to the vault. She got up from her chair and Seth admired her good looks. She wore a black skirt that crept above the knee and a gray sweater that tugged at her chest. A long silver necklace hung down from her neck with the infinity design dangling from the middle. Both he and Arthur followed her across the bank’s floor to another door. They waited while she punched in a code which led them inside another room without windows.

  “Right here is where we keep all the secondary keys to the safety deposit boxes. There are one thousand of them, but my guess is that only a couple hundred are in use. When we grab the second key, we log into the computer the date, time, and the person, or persons who are going to access the box.” Madison unlocked a drawer from her janitor-sized keychain. After a few moments, she pulled out a key, walked to the end of the room and started typing on the small computer.

  “Just wanna log this in,” she said. A few moments went by and she said, “Huh.”

  “What?” Seth asked.

  Madison paused and typed a few more keystrokes. “Arthur, it says that this box has not been accessed since 1987, is that correct?” Both she and Seth looked at Arthur.

  He turned away from them, shrugged his shoulders and said, “That sounds about right.”

  “Granddad, why the sudden interest in this key if you haven’t been here for t
wenty-five years?”

  Arthur didn’t acknowledge the question or their stares. He simply waited for Madison to log the information in the computer and shut the drawer. She told them to follow her and they walked through another access door and down a set of steps. Once at the bottom, she typed in another code by the door and they entered a small room with safety deposit boxes on either side of the wall. She found box 641 and handed Arthur the key.

  “Feel free to open your box and look at the contents for as long as you want. I must leave the room and give you complete privacy. See you upstairs, Seth,” she said and smiled.

  Arthur took the other key from her hand and waited for Madison to leave the room before walking to the box and carefully inserting both keys. As the keys entered the box, Seth grabbed his granddads’ wrists and said, “Wait, are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

  Arthur relaxed his grip on the keys, smiled, and said, “No. I’m going to show you.” And with that he turned both keys and pulled the box out of the wall.

  <><><><><>

  December 14th 1799

  The old man lay dying in his bed. Technically, at sixty-seven years of age, he was very old for his time. He had lived a good life, he remembered. Tough battles fought, but he’d won most of them. His sickness came on quickly. Two days earlier he was at work on the farm and came down with the common cold which quickly turned into pneumonia. In the room were neither his wife nor his children, it was his nephew Bushrod, with whom he felt a blood-line bond. He had four adopted children, two who died at age two.

  The old man turned his head to cough, then turned back to look in Bushrod’s eyes. He saw strength, courage, and honor in the thirty-five year old man. They had spent many a summer together the past few years and the bond was immeasurable.

  “It’s almost time Bushrod, I can sense it.”

  “I understand, uncle,” replied Bushrod. He got up from the wooden rocking chair and walked over to the dying man and held his hand. “You have taught me well. I am forever in your debt.”