Too Much Stuff lam-5

by Don Bruns

  “She said that?”

  “Implied it.”

  “Imagine that.”

  “Imagine what?”

  “She’s married, having an affair, decides to have an affair with you, then finds someone else attractive. I mean, what are the odds?”

  “I thought you’d have a little more compassion, amigo.”

  “I don’t.”

  “I got that.”

  He was silent for a moment. I could hear the gears working in his head. Finally, he looked at me.

  “Well, it’s obvious that Em isn’t on board with this either. Maybe I should stay away from women who are in a relationship.”

  “Or multiple relationships?”

  He nodded.

  “James, I want to take the metal detector to Cheeca Lodge. Tonight. After dark. There’s some exploring that needs to be done.”

  “We can do that.”

  “We’ve got to tell them that we are there to see the cemetery.”

  “Dude, I’m really not into cemeteries.”

  “Dude, you suggested that we get involved in this project. If you don’t want to deal with it, we can kiss our two million commission goodbye.”

  He hesitated, then said, “Why a cemetery?”

  “You remember, Cheeca Lodge has a Methodist cemetery? All we’ve got to do is mention that we’re there to see the cemetery and it’s a guarantee to get onto the property through the private gate.”

  “But it’s still private property, Skip. We go tooling in with the truck and they’re going to send us packing.”

  “They’ve got to let us in. It’s a deal they made with the Methodist church.”

  “So you’re going to take the detector to Cheeca Lodge?”

  “I am. We’ll go in late afternoon. Then when it gets a little dark-”

  “Amigo, where do we start looking?”

  “Well,” I’d thought it through and was pretty pleased with my plan. “There’s a golf course, a beach, of course all the buildings-”

  “Man, if that stuff is buried under the buildings I don’t see how we could ever get it up.”

  “There’s a big pool-”

  “When they dug the pool, somebody would have found it if that’s where it rested.”

  “There’s only one thing left, James. And it was there in nineteen thirty-five.”

  “Whoa.” He gave me a big smile, his eyes opening wider. Motioning to Bobbie, he said, “I’m buying this guy a beer. He’s a genius.”

  She nodded. “What kind?” She still didn’t remember.

  “Whatever he’s having,” I said.

  “Oh,” she brightened up. “Yuengling.”

  James looked out at the water, focusing on something inside his head, the vision I’d painted.

  “Pure genius. This guy Kriegel is walking around, maybe he even gets a ride down to this Millionaire’s Row where the fancy house had been, and he’s thinking about where to bury his gold.”

  I nodded. “I’m thinking that the gold was still on the train. The railroad cars were scattered everywhere, but maybe this freight car was still closed. And these crates had to be solid. Put together really well. So Kriegel has a little time before the looters get here and he’s checking things out.”

  “He gets this far and finds out there’s a cemetery. And it’s still there.”

  “That’s where I’m headed.”

  “Bodies buried?”

  “Under the sand. The only damage to the entire place was the angel statue. There are bodies from the late eighteen hundreds. Just headstones above ground.”

  “Nobody is going to dig up bodies.”

  “No decent people. Zombies, maybe.”

  He frowned.

  “So, if someone did stumble on one of these buried crates, accidentally,” he rubbed his chin, “they’d think it had something to do with dead people. A wooden box in a cemetery? Maybe a pet coffin?”

  “Doesn’t this make perfect sense?”

  “Skip, it does. It would be like hiding something in plain sight. Anyone who found it wouldn’t understand its significance.”

  “You’d think it would be a pretty safe bet.”

  “We’re on for tonight, pard.”

  “A little exploring.” Hiding in plain sight.

  Kind of like the boat people down at the vacant property. I’d bet money they were smuggling something in plain sight. I wouldn’t bet our two million dollars, but I’d bet money.

  “Hey, Skip,” James scrunched his shoulders, ran his fingers through his hair, and shook his head. In his best Rodney Danger-field imitation, he said, “Country clubs and cemeteries are the biggest wasters of prime real estate.”

  That one was a freebie. I think we’d both memorized every line in Caddyshack.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  I carried the shovels, just in case we decided to dig tonight, and Em had the metal detector.

  “Suppose we can stop in for dinner?”

  “We’ll give it a try,” James said. “Once they let us in, they may as well take our money.”

  We went through the gate with no trouble.

  The guard said, “Oh, you’re here to see the cemetery, our historic site?”

  “Yeah. History,” James said.

  He handed us a pass and motioned us through.

  When we arrived at the circular drive, the guy at the lodge walked out with a question mark look on his face.

  Studying the truck he said, “Are you a vendor?”

  Was it so hard to believe we were guests? Dressed in T-shirts, shorts, and flip-flops, I thought we fit right in.

  “We’re here to have dinner and see the cemetery.” Em smiled at him and that seemed to get the job done.

  “Very few people come here to see the cemetery.”

  “We have family buried there and-” James trailed off.

  “Well, certainly, sir.” He stood there in his crisp white shirt, white cargo shorts, white socks, and tennis shoes, holding his hand out.

  “I’m sorry,” staring at the nametag on the attendant James said, “Jack, where do I park?”

  “Sir, I’ll park the-” he surveyed the truck, “the vehicle.”

  “No problem, I can-”

  “Sir, I will valet the vehicle.”

  “Let him park it, James.” It was obvious that Em had valet parked before. James and I, never.

  Reluctantly, James handed the man the keys, and we got out of the truck.

  “New experiences, Skip. That’s what I’m all about.”

  I just shook my head.

  We had a nice dinner. Better than we ever ate. I had shrimp and scallops. Em had an Asian dish I’d never heard of, and James had lobster. My best friend and girlfriend got along like brother and sister. They fought the whole time, but kept it down so we didn’t get thrown out.

  Sitting out on the patio, a candle burning softly at our table, we smelled the ocean air, listened to a classical guitar, and had a glass of wine. It was what civilized people seemed to do. No Yuengling beers tonight.

  Afterward we walked out to the cemetery plot. It was about the size of a postage stamp. Small, crowded, covered with sand, and a very strange addition to the beach. The statue of the angel was there, complete with a broken arm and wing done in the ’35 hurricane.

  A wooden fence surrounded the burial ground but we were able to walk inside and survey the stones. Mounted on a post was a metal plaque that declared the cemetery was deeded to Richard Pinder in 1883 by President Chester Arthur. At least President Arthur did something with his short career. I knew nothing else about his presidency.

  “So, what do you think, pard?”

  Dusk had settled, and while several couples strolled the beach, most of the diners and outdoor folks had headed for their rooms or whatever nightlife they could find.

  “Think the truck is unlocked?”

  “Hard to say. I’ve never had a valet park my truck before. Em, do they, these valets, do they lock your vehicle?” He spoke wit
h an affected British accent, mocking the valet and probably Em.

  “Em?” I looked at her with what I hoped was a pleading expression.

  “I know, you want me to go ask the attendant. You think because I’m a girl they won’t ask what’s going on.”

  “Because you’re a very attractive girl,” I said.

  “And I sometimes get tired of playing that role. Skip, James, they may ask us to leave. We’ve probably overstayed our welcome. I mean-”

  “Give it a try?”

  She threw her hands up. “Okay.”

  She was back in three minutes with the detector.

  “Truck was unlocked, and parked on the circle in front.”

  “Probably because they thought we’d be short timers. They assumed we’d leave soon after arrival so they parked us close by.” That made sense to me.

  “I think it’s because the truck gives them some prestige. They parked it in front to show off.” James hadn’t lost his bad phony British accent.

  “That’s it.” I glanced around the property and there was no one. Rooms on higher floors looked down on the plot, but their curtains were drawn.

  “I’m just going to sweep the perimeter.” The idea that had seemed so dead on, that had sounded so plausible, now seemed like a dumb idea. There were dead people under this ground, not buried treasure. And what happened if there was metal in a casket-for whatever reason-and we dug that up?

  “James, I hadn’t thought about it, but what if there’s a metal casket? I don’t want to dig up dead people. Isn’t that against the law?”

  “Son, if we haven’t broken some laws already-”

  “Yeah, but I’m not comfortable with making a mistake like that. Let the dead rest in peace and all that.”

  “Some article I saw at the library, Skip. It said that the caskets buried in Pinder Cemetery were wooden.”

  “Why?”

  “This story pointed out that first of all there weren’t many metal caskets made. Maybe for the superrich. And, the landowners didn’t want the metal corroding and leaching into the beach.”

  “Talk about early environmentalists.” Truly amazing. Some of these caskets were from the 1800s and people were already going green.

  Still, I was having second thoughts. I’m not the most religious guy, but upsetting the spirit of a dead person didn’t seem to be the kind of thing I wanted to be doing. But here we were. And I had the detector in hand.

  “We’ll observe.” James stepped back.

  Plugging in the earpiece, I slowly swept the detector back and forth as I walked on the outside of the cemetery. Occasionally there would be a minor increase in the hum of the machine and I could see the needle move a little on the meter, but there was nothing that got my attention. Of course, I knew absolutely nothing about the subtleties of the JW Fishers Pulse 8K metal detector. Maybe I was passing over silver earrings or gold necklaces. You couldn’t dig every time an increase in the volume occurred.

  “Nothing too surprising here.”

  “Sweep the cemetery, Skip.” Em was standing with James, the two of them watching my face for a reaction. Well, they couldn’t hear the fire engine siren, so they had to rely on my face.

  Slowly, sweeping inside the picket fence now, over caskets and bodies that lay rotting under this gray-white sand. And there was the rise in volume, where the siren sound got louder then dropped back to normal. Not having a clue about corpses, I assumed that a rusty old belt buckle or a pair of wire-frame glasses was giving off a signal. Maybe some brass buttons on a gentlemen’s coat.

  “Metal handles on some of those coffins?” I heard Em as she watched my face.

  As it got darker, I worked toward the center, sweeping as my compatriots stood on the sideline.

  Side to side, front to back I swept the wand. The ebb and the flow in my earpiece kept me focused and several times I thought there might be something. But there had to be a long siren in my ear. The length of a crate of gold. A small coffin of yellow metal. I swept over and over, and the darker it got the more intense I was. I wanted this more than anything. Find one coffin of gold. That’s all I asked for. One sign. Something that told me I was on the right track.

  Finding a wooden box in a field of coffins. Hiding in the open.

  I was in a zone. Sweep this way, then that. Over a grave and then over empty space. Were there spirits who would speak to me? Maybe spirits were the reason there was a volume increase. The sirens that I heard could certainly be the sound of spirits. Tortured souls who died in a devastating wind storm. Ghosts who were haunted with the pain and the devastation of the hurricane of ’35.

  Sweep, sweep and I was on the darker side of the plot when I heard the voice.

  “Okay, folks, time to go home.”

  I lifted my eyes from the ground and watched Em and James being led away. The security officer stood behind them, prodding them to the lodge. In the dark he hadn’t seen me. I’d totally been ignored.

  I stared at them until they disappeared into the night. I didn’t have my cell phone and wondered how I would contact them. Putting that out of my head, I concentrated on the sweeps.

  Over and over, back and forth, and only small responses. I stepped out of the fenced-in area. If someone had buried wooden caskets of gold, why would they take a chance that they would accidentally stumble on a real casket with a body inside? Better to bury them on the perimeter.

  I swept five feet out around the fenced-in property. Ten feet out. Then fifteen.

  I heard the fire engines. My heart started racing as the sirens got louder and louder, louder and louder. Over a foot of high-volume sirens. This was exactly what I was looking for. Then it tapered off.

  My hands were shaking. Could be something else. But the size, the intensity of the signal-

  I wanted to dig. Right now, but the shovels were in the box truck. I was elated, flushed with success, and scared to death that I’d be found. I was certain I could be arrested for what I was doing, but the idea of finding any part of forty-four million dollars was overwhelming.

  What was under the sand?

  Studying the ground I’d covered, I noticed there was no headstone. It was definitely outside the fenced section of sand. That didn’t necessarily mean that a body wasn’t buried there. Old tombstones had a way of wearing down, falling down or being stolen. But still, it was one more sign that this could be a crate of gold.

  I ran the detector five feet away, then ten. There was nothing. One crate of gold? It was hard to imagine that they’d only buried one. Maybe one on top of the other.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw someone approaching. Maybe that same guard. I switched off the detector and walked quickly to the building directly in front of the cemetery. Sliding around the corner, I kept walking. No one followed me.

  With deliberate strides I reached the gate, hoping I hadn’t been completely deserted. If they wanted a share of the treasure, James and Em had better be waiting for me when I got outside.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  The truck was across the street, parked under a scrawny palm tree. I could see them in the soft glow of a streetlight, a worried look on Em’s face.

  Walking up to her window, I tapped lightly on the door and she jumped.

  “Skip. For God’s sake, you could have given me a heart attack, I mean you should at least-”

  “I found something.”

  Through the open window, James whispered, “No shit?”

  “Whatever it was, it was the perfect length, a little over a foot long and the signal it gave off was really strong.”

  “Still,” Em being the voice of reason, “it still could be just a piece of metal.”

  “Listen,” I handed them the detector through the open window, “the signal was about fifteen feet outside the cemetery.”

  “So hopefully it’s not buried with the bodies.”

  “We don’t know. But I feel a little safer.” I was semiconfident that there would be no interference with dead bodi
es.

  “Dude, what do we do now?”

  “We had maybe twenty minutes that they left us alone back there. Then you two were unceremoniously escorted off the property, right?”

  “About twenty minutes.”

  “So from the time we started sweeping the property until you met the guard, twenty minutes passed.”

  They both agreed.

  “Well, I spent another twenty minutes covering the ground before I saw a guard coming in my direction.”

  “So, if these guards have a routine, we should be able to figure out their schedule,” James said.

  “Exactly. I’m guessing they cover that area every twenty minutes.”

  “So we know how much time we have to work with,” Em jumped in.

  “And,” I concluded, “we found out on the vacant property that it isn’t that difficult to dig. It’s sand. I mean, we should be able to determine what is buried there in twenty minutes. Two shovels, two diggers.”

  James and Em were quiet. We could hear a night bird somewhere in the distance and the drone of some tree insects. Occasionally there was a car or truck up on the main highway.

  “We’re talking about digging in an old cemetery, right?”

  I’d been leaning into the open window, so I opened the door and climbed in beside Em.

  “Technically outside a cemetery.”

  “What if, and I’m just saying, what if we put our shovels through the top of a real rotted wooden casket? And we go right through to a skeleton?”

  James, who always talked a good game, was having second thoughts.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know how I’d feel, James.”

  “And if we don’t, if we don’t do this, then we’ll never know if it’s the gold or not, right?”

  “We’ll never know.” I agreed.

  “And it’s our job to find out.” James was searching for courage. “We were hired to find this stuff.”

  “We were. But part of our job isn’t to break the law.”

  Another silence.

  Finally Em spoke. “You guys know that I usually try to pull you back. I don’t want either of you getting in over your heads, but you usually manage to do that anyway, right?”