“I’m going to put this up in my room!” Sam took off, one hand holding the paper, the other pulling the back door closed behind her.
“Jesse?” The teacher called from the back room. “We need help with the film, when you get a minute.”
“Be right there,” Jesse said. He turned back to Paige. “What do you suggest?”
“Rose mentioned at breakfast that there’s an appraiser in Silverton. One of her guests went up there to have some coins checked out. I think it’s worth a trip.”
“It can’t hurt,” Jake agreed. “And I haven’t been on that Durango-Silverton line yet. We could take the train up there to have the coin looked at and bring it right back so you don’t have to close the museum.”
Jesse paused, but agreed. “See what you can find out. I’d like to know more about it.
“Trust me,” Jake laughed. “If you want information, you’ve got the right girl here.” He turned to Paige as Jesse headed to the back room. “OK, let’s see if we can keep you out of trouble this time.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Chancy’s Coin Shop sat between a bike repair business and an ice cream parlor, and looked like nothing more than a closet in comparison. The nondescript frontage spanned ten feet at the most, one third of which consisted of the doorway. A sign with faded lettering hung askew from a plastic suction cup and wire. Barred windows filled most of the space to either side of the entrance. The building was badly in need of a paint job. When she saw this less than stellar appearance, Paige’s first instinct was to walk away. If Jake hadn’t been along for back up, she would have helped herself to a double scoop of butter pecan next door and waited for the train back to Hutchins Creek. But, convinced of safety in numbers, she grabbed Jake’s sleeve and stepped through the door.
Inside, the shop seemed even smaller than Paige expected. Cluttered shelves and file cabinets added to the claustrophobic feeling. Dusty boxes teetered one upon another on already crowded countertops. Dim lighting bled through a tattered lampshade on a metal desk in the back corner. Several articles of drab clothing draped over a paint-chipped chair. Paige gripped Jake’s arm a little tighter as they approached the old man seated in it.
Chancy Conroy looked as far from a coin appraiser as possible, at least from any stereotype Paige had in her head. He bore the rough complexion of a miner and the wardrobe to go along with it. His hair stuck out at angles that would give Einstein a run for his money. His posture was questionable, too, the way he slouched in his chair, arms draped over the edges, head tilted to one side. He looked about eighty years old, give or take ten years. Paige might have questioned if he was alive had he not suddenly snorted so loudly he rivaled a chugging train.
“Should we wake him?” Paige whispered to Jake, who took a moment to size up the situation. She knew he shared her immediate thoughts. Could this person possibly be the expert Rose recommended? For all Paige knew, he might be a street person who had wandered in, looking for a place to nap. “I don’t think this is the right guy,” she whispered.
“No, it is,” Jake said, pointing to an object in the man’s hand. “That’s a magnifying loupe. Looks like a good one, too, though it might not be if he drops it while he’s sleeping.”
They didn’t have to decide whether to wake the man. The shrill sound of a phone ringing pierced the air. Paige and Jake both jumped, but not as high as the man in front of them. He shot out of his chair and practically fell face first onto his desk. Miraculously, the loupe remained intact as he dropped it and searched frantically underneath stacks of papers for the phone. By the time he found it, the ringing had stopped.
“Musta not been important,” he muttered, as if the phone had only rung three times instead of twelve. “Some people! Can’t even give a man time to find his dang phone. Impatient, all these young ’uns these days. Probably those confounded telemarketers, anyway.” He sat back down and rubbed his eyes, opening them to look at Paige and Jake as if he’d just noticed them.
“Did you folks just call me?”
Paige couldn’t tell if the man was kidding or simply confused. She decided to try a direct approach, figuring they had nothing to lose at this point.
“We heard you might be able to give us some information about a coin we found,” Paige ventured.
The man huffed. “Well, if I can’t, then nobody can. I’ve been doing this my whole life. Seen just about every coin ever made here in these United States of America, plus some from around the world. Saw one from Japan once that looked like one ‘a them New York rolls, hole in the middle and everything.”
“A bagel?” Paige stifled a laugh. Even if they didn’t end up with worthwhile information, they were sure to leave Chancy’s Coin Shop with a few good stories.
“Yessiree, one of those things. Crazy New Yorkers. Why put a hole in the middle of a perfectly good piece of bread?”
“Why, indeed,” Jake chimed in, if only to tease Paige. He shook his head in solidarity with the old man
“So whaddya got to show me? The name’s Chancy, by the way.”
Paige pulled the gold coin out of her pocket while Chancy sat down, cleared a small space on his desk, and picked up the loupe. She set the coin in front of him and waited while he inspected one side, then the other, then the first side again, then the back one more time. He exhaled loudly, making Paige wonder if he was about to snort like he did earlier. Instead he inhaled again and let out a long, slow whistle.
“Where did you get this?” He looked up at Paige with a focused intensity that seemed to come from another person altogether, not the man who’d been rambling just moments before. He even seemed to have grown younger.
“I…” Paige stalled, instinct telling her not to go into too much detail. They’d come to get information, not to give it. Besides, his sudden change in manner had her on alert.
“She found it,” Jake jumped in. “You don’t remember where, do you, sweetheart?”
Paige didn’t know whether to thank Jake for helping or laugh at his use of the affectionate nickname, which was obviously intended to sidestep Chancy’s question. Sweet though it was, this term of endearment was completely out of character for Jake.
“I’m not sure,” Paige said. “Somewhere on the ground. Maybe it’s from someone’s collection and they dropped it?”
Chancy hovered over the coin, studying it more carefully. “Oh, it’s from someone’s collection, all right. Is this the only coin you found?”
The question caught Paige off guard.
“Yes.” She paused, and then repeated the answer more firmly. “Yes, definitely the only one. Do you think there are more like it around?”
“At one point, there would have been almost half a million like it, but gold coins were recalled in 1933 by executive order. Roosevelt made it illegal to hoard the coins. Anything valued over one hundred dollars had to be turned in. A lot of those were melted down.”
Chancy sat back, holding the coin in his hand, running his fingers over the surface, as if analyzing the texture. For a fleeting moment, it crossed Paige’s mind that he wasn’t going to give it back.
“What can you tell us about this coin?” Jake’s direct question snapped the man out of his daze.
“It’s a Double Eagle, 1926, as you can see. The small ‘D’ shows it came from the Denver Mint.”
Paige leaned forward, trying to get a better look. “Is that the mark below the year?”
Chancy shook his head. “No, those are the initials of the artist, Augustus Saint-Gaudens. The Mint mark is above, located between the second and third numbers.”
“And this is all gold, correct?”
“Just about.”
“What do you mean?” Paige questioned.
“It’s an alloy, ninety percent gold and ten percent copper. That’s as pure as you’re going to get in a gold coin, little lady. Gotta make ‘em strong enough to hold up over time.”
“Any idea what it’s worth?” Jake asked.
Picking up the loupe,
Chancy lifted the coin and squinted through the magnifier. He flipped the coin to the other side, and then turned it sideways to inspect the rim. Deep in concentration, he repeated the steps.
“That would depend on an official grade. You could send it off to the folks at PCGS, but it’ll be a month or so before you get it back – sometimes longer, sometimes sooner.”
“PCGS?” Paige asked for clarification, though she wasn’t about to wait a month for answers.
“Professional Coin Grading Service,” Chancy explained. “They’ll analyze it and assign a grade, send it back to you securely encapsulated to protect it. That’s the official way to go about it. Or…tell you what, I’ll buy it now for five hundred dollars.”
Jake coughed, which was all the warning Paige needed.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Conroy,” Paige said, drumming up a quick excuse around the obvious answer. “But this coin doesn’t belong to us. It’s not ours to sell. But thank you for the offer, anyway.”
“Well, you found it, right? ’Finders keepers’ is what they say.” Chancy closed his fist around the coin and smiled for the first time, revealing a missing tooth alongside several crooked ones. The smile itself seemed about as straight as the teeth. This convinced Paige that the coin dealer’s last name could be shortened to ‘Con.’
“Show me where the artist’s initials are again?” Paige waited as the old man reluctantly uncurled his fingers and held his palm out with the coin. As he pointed to the area below the year, Paige plucked the coin from his hand, holding it up as if to inspect it. “I see,” she said as she stepped away and casually slid the coin back in her pocket.
“You’ve been very helpful,” Jake said, reaching out to shake Chancy’s hand.
Paige felt a quiver of nervousness as she watched the two men lock eyes.
“Gosh, I could sure go for a scoop of dulce de leche,” Paige said.
“Doolchay de what?” Chancy dropped Jake’s hand, breaking eye contact with him to shift his attention to Paige.
“Caramel ice cream,” Paige explained, reaching for Jake’s hand. “Delicious.”
Chancy shook his head. “Well, I don’t know about any doolchay, but they do have a mighty fine vanilla next door.”
“Perfect,” Paige said, already halfway to the exit, Jake in tow. “Come on, sweetheart,” she said to Jake, grinning. “You’ll buy me an ice cream, won’t you?”
“Of course, dear,” Jake threw back at Paige as she opened the front door.
“Wait,” Chancy called out. “You folks didn’t tell me where you’re from. Maybe I could contact you if I get more information on your coin.”
“Oh,” Paige said, just as the door started to close. “We came up from Durango. We’re just passing through.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
The train’s rumbling movement calmed Paige as much as the warmth of Jake’s arm around her shoulders did. They were halfway back to Hutchins Creek already, and Paige was only just now beginning to relax. Another half hour and they’d be back at the inn.
“You owe me an ice cream, you know…” As Jake’s lips brushed Paige’s ear, she raised her head from his chest.
“I know. I just felt too uncomfortable hanging out next door to that coin shop. Something about Chancy Conroy doesn’t seem right.” Paige accepted a quick kiss and then turned her head toward the window. Tall evergreens and impressive rock formations paraded past the train. The scenery was magnificent, yet Paige remained uneasy.
Jake shook her shoulders gently to encourage her. “I can’t say I disagree. At first I thought he was just odd. But he changed when he held the coin, and he didn’t seem to want to let it go.”
“Exactly what I thought,” Paige agreed. “I felt like I had to trick him into giving it back. And I didn’t like the way he tried to find out where we were from just as we were leaving. That was strange. He could have asked earlier.”
“Yes, he could have,” Jake said. “And trying to buy it on the spot for five hundred dollars? That was too fast.”
“He never did tell us what he thought it was worth,” Paige pointed out.
“Of course not, and he wasn’t about to. For one thing, he didn’t even bother looking it up. There are price guides for collectibles like that – coins, antiques, baseball cards.”
“Are you saying he didn’t even care about its value?” Paige looked at Jake, puzzled.
“No,” Jake said. “I’m sure he cared. That’s his business, buying and selling coins. But something else intrigued him.”
“Maybe he thought the coin was a fake.” Paige said. “It does look brand new, which is sort of odd for something that old, isn’t it?”
Jake shook his head. “He wouldn’t have offered that much money if he thought it was fake. And it could look new if it wasn’t circulated.”
“Well, if it was never circulated, what was it doing on the ground in the middle of a little mountain town?’ Paige raised both hands, palms up, as if the answer might drop into them.
“Yoga pose?” Jake teased, earning a playful smack on the shoulder.
Paige settled back against the soft flannel of Jake’s shirt. The afternoon trip had been short, but she felt exhausted. She could hardly wait to get back to the inn.
* * *
Henry was waiting by the platform when the train pulled into Hutchins Creek, an unexpected, but welcome sight.
“Rose thought you two might want Lulu to escort you to the inn,” Henry said. He hitched his thumb toward the curb, where his pride and joy stood waiting.
“Sounds great,” Paige followed Henry to the car. She climbed into the front seat, turned sideways and rested one elbow against the glove compartment.
“She knows Lulu well,” Henry said as Jake settled into the back seat. “Lots of quirks to this old girl. Lulu, not Paige,” he added quickly.
“Glad you clarified that,” Paige laughed. She caught Jake’s eye long enough to see him wink at her.
Henry cranked Lulu’s engine up and pulled away from the curb.
“That was nice of Rose to send you to pick us up,” Paige said. “I’m not sure we even told her we were going.”
Henry laughed. “Rose knows everything that goes on in this town, trust me. If anyone knows anything, Rose finds out.”
“Then Jesse told her,” Paige said, figuring the connection out. “We were at the museum this morning.”
“Yep, I heard about that. You found a coin in the yard and went up to Silverton to get it checked out? At least that’s what Rose said.”
Henry shifted gears, and Lulu jerked. Paige’s elbow slipped off the glove compartment, which fell open. She pushed it shut and blocked it.
“Gotta get that fixed,” Henry said. He patted the top of the dashboard with one hand. “She’s a good ol’ car, though.” He shifted gears again and settled back in his seat. “So how was your visit to that coin shop? Cantankerous old guy owns it, came around the museum a few times. Hasn’t been down here in a while. I think Jesse chased him off because he was rude to some visitors.”
“I guess everyone’s been around the museum at some point,” Paige said.
“Pretty much,” Henry agreed. “The museum’s a fixture in this area.”
“I’d think that would make it more likely people would donate to the restoration fund,” Paige said. “If they’ve been here, they might feel more attached to the project.”
Henry nodded. “You’d think so.” He was silent a moment. “Seems like donations are slow to come in, though, at least from what Jesse tells me.”
Paige noticed that Henry didn’t mention that money had been disappearing. Since she only knew this because she’d been eavesdropping, she stayed silent. A few minutes later, Henry pulled up in front of the inn.
“Thanks for the ride,” Paige said, hopping out of the car before either Henry or Jake could open the door for her. As much as she appreciated traditional courtesies, she yearned to get inside so she could think about what had happened during the day.
A fresh pot of coffee was in the lobby when Paige and Jake stepped into the inn. Without hesitating, Jake poured two mugs and handed one to Paige. He nodded toward the front door and Paige took the cue, following him out to the gazebo. Settled in on a wicker love seat with garden-print cushions, they sipped coffee and discussed what they’d learned.
“Well, Paige,” Jake said, “I’m not sure how you manage to find intrigue everywhere you go, but at least this time I’m along for the ride. You came here to write about railroading in the Old West, but end up with a mysterious coin, and a few interesting characters.”
Paige shrugged. “I think there’s always more to stories than what’s on the surface. I just like to find out the secrets inside these small towns.”
Jake laughed. “Saying you ‘just like to find out’ is an understatement. I don’t think you can stand unanswered questions.” He shook his head at her expected frown. “I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. After all, you are a reporter. The more you learn, the more you have to report. I didn’t understand it before. Now I’m getting more of an idea how that works.”
“And how is that,” Paige asked.
Jake sipped his coffee, pondering his response. “It simply happens, from what I can see. One thing leads to another. You’re curious and persistent.”
Paige wrapped her hands around her coffee mug, but said nothing.
“I’m not saying this is a bad thing,” Jake said.
Still Paige didn’t respond.
“OK,” Jake admitted. “Maybe you get into trouble sometimes, but your intentions are good, and you do come up with great stories.” He paused, considering Paige’s expression. “I’m not gaining any brownie points, am I?”
“Not really.”
Jake sighed, set his coffee down on the gazebo’s small center table, and wrapped his arms around Paige, pulling her closer as she held her coffee mug out to avoid spilling the hot beverage on them both.
Paige MacKenzie Mysteries Box Set Page 64
