The Chardon Chronicles: Season One -- The Harvest Festival (6 page)

“Well, let’s take a look.” He put the coin on
a piece of black felt on the counter and eyed it through a large
magnifying lens.

“I haven’t seen anything like this in person.
To be honest, it’s not my specialty… but let me make a few calls.
It might take a while...”

“We were going to grab some dinner across the
street.”

“I can offer you $1500 right now. Cash. I’m
not even sure it’s worth that, honestly.”

Morgan started to say “yes”, but Dr. Polloy
interrupted. “No, do the research, then let’s talk prices. Who
knows what we’ve got here?”

“OK. Go eat, let me make a few calls, and
then I’ll give you a call. Can I take a picture of the coin?”

They all looked to Morgan. “Yeah, no
problem.” The man took an old digital camera from behind the
counter and snapped a couple of pictures of each side. Morgan
picked it up from the felt and slipped it in his pocket.

“Wait…. wait…. wait... Put it in this.” The
dealer gave him a clear plastic case for the coin. “It couldn’t
hurt to protect it a little bit.”

Morgan clicked it inside the plastic. He
said, “Thanks, but it seems like it’s really
trapped
in
there.” He took the coin back out and gave the case back to the
man.

A prison guard led Sarah Cantoe into a room
with a folding table and a few chairs. Fluorescent lights buzzed
overhead. Keith and Rich were waiting for her. Keith had a
chocolate shake that he slid across the table.

“Mz Cantoe, my name is Keith Marte, I’m a
private investigator. I’ve been hired to help you with your
case.”

“Did my lawyer hire you? He didn’t tell
me.”

“No, he didn’t.” Rich said. “Another party
has taken an interest in your case, and believes you were put up to
this and you’re taking all the blame. That’s just unfair.”

She narrowed her eyes. She practically spat
her words out. “It was an accident. I was drunk. I was stupid. I
didn’t see him there. I was afraid to call 911 after I hit him. I’m
going to serve my time. I don’t want any help. I’ve got nothing
more to say to you…”

Rich leaned toward her, “Look, I can’t make
any promises, but maybe if you disclosed some information about
people who put you up to this...”

She interrupted him. “Nothing more to say.”
She held the shake close and looked down at the lid as she
drank.

Keith shrugged his shoulders and they
left.

“She seemed scared.” Keith said.

“I don’t think she’s going to cooperate.”
Rich said. “We might need to look from some different angles.”

“I’m thinking I’ll pound the pavement, see if
anything turns up.”

“I don’t have a better suggestion. I’ll give
you a call later today.”

They parted company and Keith took a drive to
Sarah’s trailer. The mailbox next to the walkway was overflowing. A
light was on inside. He tried the door, but it was locked. “Nobody
bothered to take care of this…” he said to nobody in particular. He
flipped through the mail and sorted the bills and account
statements from the pile of junk mail and magazines. He stuffed the
junk back into the mailbox and stuck the statements under his
arm.

A neighbor who was out walking a white Fox
Terrier limped past. He was a stout young man, but was leaning
heavily on an orthopedic cane. The little dog sniffed at Keith’s
pant cuff. He knelt down and scratched behind its ears. The dog
smiled up at him and wagged his tail.

“Nice dog. Any chance you knew Miss Cantoe?”
He pointed his thumb at the trailer.

“Sure. Sorry to be rude, but who are
you?”

“I’m a private investigator working for a
friend of the Cantoe family, trying to help out.”

“A private eye? No shit? Like TV. Who would
want to help that trash?”

“I take it you didn’t like her?”

“She was a bad neighbor. Bad kids. Bad
family. Bad friends.”

“Does she have family in the area?”

“Her sister was around here a lot--sometimes
she’d watch the kids. Chick was always wearing
tight
clothes. She’d lay out in an American Flag bikini back here. Hard
not to notice someone like that. I tried chatting her up a couple
times, but no luck.”

“Well, maybe you just needed to salute the
flag?” He clicked his heels and mock saluted.

The guy laughed. “Maybe you’re right.”

Tracy’s relationship with teachers was almost
always determined by her loss. Usually they fawned over her, and
imagined she needed help shouldering her burden, a few respected
her for her effort to keep her life together, and a rare few held
some type of grudge.

Her Honors English teacher Mrs. Rosewater was
in the last category. She’d been at odds with Tracy since the first
day of school, and Tracy responded by getting lax about class, and
putting as much sarcasm as possible in her assignments.

She and Chloe were sitting together in class.
Mrs. Rosewater walked into the room with a group of men and women.
Constable Skip was with them. He was carrying a yellow notepad.
Mrs. Rosewater introduced him to the class. Before he addressed the
class, he walked slowly back and forth in front of the desks for a
while eyeing each student in what he imagined was an imposing way.
He cleared his throat and read from the notepad, “Hello class, the
Rotary Club is sponsoring an essay contest on ‘International
Friendship’. Write an essay of just 150-300 words on what that
means to you. The committee will select three finalists who will
then give a speech on the subject.”

Mrs. Rosewater stepped up alongside the
constable, “This is also going to be a class assignment.” The class
let out a collective groan. “150 words? I’m sure only a few hardy
souls will survive that hardship. Such a shame, there were so many
bright futures ahead.”

Tracy and Chloe were tearing along Sherman
road in the Austin Healey. The spectacular August sky was blue and
a just few of the trees were turning yellow. The road had a
succession of short steep hills, and was like a roller coaster.
Tracy hit the gas as they crested each hill and they experienced a
moment or two of reduced gravity which caused them both to laugh
wildly.

Chloe, “Oh man, that feels sooo weird. Soooo
good in my dirty parts.”

They whipped over the last hill before home
and Tracy slammed on the brakes, the wheels locked and the car
started to spin. “Pump the brakes!!” Chloe screamed and braced
against the dash. Tracy just kept the wheels locked and the car
pirouetted past a man who was walking in the road. He had a thick
mop of dark hair flecked with gray strands. He was wearing dark
blue jeans and a white T-Shirt with a print of the Three Hares and
had a small pack on his shoulder. The Healey came to a stop in the
middle of the road and the engine stalled. Tracy restarted the car
and pulled into a driveway. The man walked over to the driver’s
side.

“You must be Tracy Wells! I’m a friend of
your family. I knew your mom and dad! I know you… well, the younger
you. I was just on the way to your house.” he says.

“Oh man, I’m sorry, we almost hit you.” Chloe
said.

“Oh, well, no harm, just a little startling.
Be careful!”

“Well, wow. Um. Hop in. You can sit here.”
Tracy patted the trunk.

“The name’s David by the way, David Mathis.”
He stepped into the back of the car and sat down. He shook hands
with the girls. Tracy drove carefully down the driveway.

Chloe asked, “Do you live nearby?”

“No, I am staying on a farm down in Hiram for
a few days. I move around a lot. It’s actually been a while since I
stayed at your house. A couple summers, I practically lived
there.”

“Did someone drop you off?”

“I walked today. What a lovely day. How many
of these beautiful fall days do we get in our life? A few hundred?
It’s bright and sunny but the temperature is perfect--not even a
drop of sweat.”

“Wow… that’s a long walk!” Tracy said.

“Well, I look at it this way. On foot, I get
to experience the whole country. So many of the roads around here
follow rivers because back in the old days, you walked or took a
horse and that’s the easiest route. On foot I can cut through the
woods--there are a surprising number of trails. I get to know the
really huge and unique trees that are out there. Here’s a little
quiz--do you girls know the name of the river you just
crossed?”

“River? I didn’t even notice one.” Chloe
said.

“It’s the Chagrin; the headwaters of the
Chagrin River. See what I mean… When you’re in a car, it’s like
your mind is also trapped in that metal box. Driving is like moving
in a metal tube that connects one place to another. Very
constraining. And if you think about it, the end points are usually
some building. Some poor people live their entire life inside an
entirely man made world.”

Chloe cocked her head, “yeah, I never really
thought of it that way.”

“Aha! Next time you drive along there, kick
off your shoes and stick them in the river.”

“I’ll do that sometime.” Chloe smiled.

“I do remember you visiting. How’d you know
my dad?”

“We were in high school together. Man that
was a long time ago… in a galaxy far, far away. But we also worked
together from time to time since then.”

Tracy laughed. “I sometimes try to imagine
them in high school. Were you in
The Breakfast Club
with
them or something?”

“Oh no man, no. Can you picture your dad or
mom getting in
any
trouble as kids? Man they were
straight.”

“Well, honestly, no.”

“Let me paint a better word picture of the
scene back then, I was friends with your Uncle Robbie since we were
little kids. We had a lot of the same interests and I actually hung
out here a lot. I practically grew up here. I’m the same age as
Rob. I didn’t know your parents nearly as well.”

“You said you worked with them. What do you
do for work?” Tracy asked.

“Oh man,” he tapped his chin and smiled.
“This is great. It’s some really good exercise for my brain to
shift gears like this.” He closed his eyes. “I’m traveling back to
when I was about your age and I lived in town with my family. We
lived in the allotments. I was into cars back then. I had a yellow
Firebird with T-tops and a sweet black interior.” He opened his
eyes again. “That reminds me, I should go see my parents, too.” He
closed them again, “Back then, I was going through the school
system, getting
trained
to enter the workforce, and was
someone who only knew the orthodox interpretation of what it means
to be a human being. OK.” He tapped his temples and opened his
eyes.

“What?” Tracy asked.

“I used to be a lot like you.” he said. They
nodded. He could tell they weren’t really following along so he
tried a different angle. “You see that doe out in the back yard?”
He pointed. “Does she have a job?” The deer was browsing along the
side of the driveway, munching at clover and looking from side to
side between bites.

“Hmmm.” Tracy hummed. “Well, you know, that’s
a good question.”

“I’d say no.” Chloe said definitively.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, she’s just living. She just gets her
food right outside.”

“Right. That’s insightful.”

“So, what’s your job?” Tracy asked trying to
get him to the point.

“Well, I’m just living, too. I guess my line
of business is doing this.” He waved his hands around. “What we’re
doing right now. It’s really your family business too.”

“What do you mean family business?”

“Have you read any of the books in your
library?”

“Yeah, a few.”

He paused and his face got serious. “Have you
talked to your Uncle about this at all?”

“About what?” Tracy wondered.

“So, you are green as can be.” He drummed his
fingers on the counter. “I guess I am going to be Mr. Miyagi
here.”

“The karate kid guy?” Tracy asked.

“Cool, you know that? We can build on that.
So you remember ‘wax on/wax off’?”

“Yeah… Daniel wanted to learn karate, but he
had to wax the cars.”

“I actually know some judo.” Chloe said. “And
we actually just learned it without waxing cars.”

He laughed, “Oh dude… you’re making this more
complicated. So, Miyagi taught Daniel karate by having him wax
cars. It’s a metaphor for teaching something in a roundabout way.
There are some things you can only teach in that manner. Our brain
really runs on metaphors. Consequently, you need them to get at the
subtle truths.”

Both of the girls were concentrating hard,
but their eyes showed no sign of understanding.

David apologized, “There’s just so much to
convey and there’s really just no good starting point.”

“No worries. I’m completely confused,
though.” Tracy said. “You want a drink?”