[To Die For 01] - A View to Die For (2012) (9 page)

“So Taylor’s not your son?” I asked.

“Taylor is six-one and good looking. Does Taylor look anything like me?” He said.

His remark conjured up a vision of the movie
Twins
with Arnold Schwarzenegger and Danny De Vito.

“I’ve got to agree with Amy,” Megan cut in. “You raised that poor boy as your own, and now you won’t stick up for him? What kind of man is that?” And then Megan stormed out to the deck to join Fred.

“See what I mean, Jake? I really have a way with women, don’t I?”

“She’s just upset about Kevin. I’m sure she’ll get over it.” I said.

Hal finished the rest of his drink and then got up to leave. “Well, looks like I wore out my welcome here. I better see if I can make amends at home.”

I joined Megan on the deck as soon as I let Hal out. It was the first chance since my trip around the lake to confront her about the lie she told me in Sedalia.

“We know they didn’t do it. Don’t we, Boy?” She was asking Fred. Fred might not have understood what she was saying, but he acted like he knew she was upset. He sat there listening to every word while wagging his tail.

“Guess he’s not talking,” she said when she saw me. “What about you, Jake? You believe them, don’t you?”

“What is it I’m supposed to believe?” I asked, losing the opportunity to ask about her lie.

“The drugs of course,” she said with a tone usually reserved for young children or senile seniors.

“Oh. I thought you were asking if they stole the coin from Mike.”

“How could you even think Kevin would steal from me?” she nearly shouted. “If you didn’t dislike him so much, you could put two and two together. It’s pretty obvious who stole from who.”

My first thought was to correct her grammar the way she had corrected me at the vet’s, but then I thought better of it. I could see she was on the verge of walking out on me, too. “I didn’t mean it that way. Sure Kevin dresses a little strange, but I don’t hold it against him. I’m sorry if I insinuated he stole the coin from you.”

Megan’s anger faded, and she started to cry. “What’s going to happen to him? He’s never been in jail.”

“Why don’t we call Rosenblum in the morning? I’m sure he can arrange bail. I don’t see how they can prove Kevin had anything to do with the drugs in the truck. It’s all circumstantial, but we need a good lawyer to prove otherwise. In the meantime, I need to find a way to hack into Hal’s computer. As you said, it is obvious he stole the coin from Mike.”

Megan didn’t wait until morning. I could hear her leaving a message with Rosenblum’s answering service while I was making the office couch into a bed. She had promised to clean out the guest room for me but had not got around to it with all the commotion, so I was within earshot of her kitchen phone.

She woke me the next morning even before Fred could. “Sorry to get you up so early, Jake, but I have to go into town and thought you might want to know.”

“My God, Megan, what time is it?”
“Six o’clock. I’ve got to see Dad for a loan, so I can make bail for Kevin and pay Rosenblum. Do you really think he can get the drug charges dropped?” She stood in the doorway, holding onto the jamb. I had a brief vision of the Three Stooges’ episode where one of them was leaning against a wall and asked if he was holding it up. Of course, it fell down when he let go. I must have been smiling. “This is serious, Jake. Kevin will never get a decent job with a felony on his record.”

“Do you know it’s only five o’clock back in Colorado? Even Fred isn’t up yet?” I asked, trying to act serious. “And yes, I think Rosenblum can do it. He’s good, but good lawyers cost, so let’s hope Father has the money to lend you.”

“Sorry I woke you, Grumpy.” she answered. “Coffee’s still hot if you decide to get out of bed. I’ll call you later,” she said and started to leave.

Fred was up by now, so going back to sleep was no longer an option. “Wait for me to get dressed, and I’ll go with you.”

“Sorry, I’m meeting Ira for breakfast. That’s why I got up so early. I’ll be late if I wait for you. Besides, I need you to work your magic and check out Hal.” She didn’t wait for me to respond, and before I could get out of bed, she was headed toward the front door.

I threw on the clothes I had worn the day before and headed for the kitchen. Then I let Fred out on the deck and poured myself a cup of coffee. The sun was coming up over the lake when I joined him. There were just enough clouds to hide the rising giant, so all I could see was its red and orange fingers touching the lake.

Fred wasn’t the least impressed with the sunrise and had gone down the stairs to find a place to do his morning chore. That reminded me of the cave and the story of lost gold. The fastest way to find those coins, if they existed, was with a good metal detector. Hal’s computer would have to wait.

“What do you think, Freddie?” I asked loud enough for him to hear. “Should we see if there are any more coins down there?” Fred gave me that attentive look dogs have when they pretend they understand.

“Well, just don’t sit there. Help me figure this out, you lazy mutt.” Fred barked and ran down the stairs. I watched as he sniffed the ground like he was tracking a fugitive, then he seemed to find what he was searching for. He picked up a ball-sized rock and ran back up the stairs, dropping it at my feet. So much for the canine ability to understand human speech; he was more interested in playing keep-away than being a sounding board. I managed to pull the slimy rock from his mouth and throw it over the side of the deck. I figured the time it took him to run down the stairs and retrieve the rock would give me some time to think.

Where did the boys get that coin, and what were those drugs doing in the truck? Was Kevin suckered into all of this by his freakish friend? If so, where did Taylor get the drugs? Nothing made sense. And what about Mike, was he involved in a drug deal and murdered for it?

The autopsy said Mike died of carbon monoxide poisoning, not by drowning. That sure sounds like suicide. But then how did he manage to drive the car off the cliff and into the lake if he was already dead? Could someone have found him dead then made it look like an accident, and if so, why?

I didn’t like where this train of thought was leading. The only motive I could think of to make a suicide look like an accident was for someone to collect the insurance. That someone would have to be my sister. I was still trying to sort out how Megan could have gotten from the accident scene back to the house when Fred returned. Fred wasn’t carrying his rock. He had what looked like a man’s white cotton sock, or what was left of one.

“Where did you get this, Fred?” I asked as I tried to take the sock from him. As usual, Fred thought any piece of clothing was made for a game of tug-of-war. Socks were his favorite. I’m sure he thought the victor had the right, if not the honor, to rip it to shreds.

The sock wasn’t too badly torn, but when I finally wrestled it from his mouth, it was wet with Fred’s saliva. I guess I’d seen too many CSI episodes; all I could think of was how Fred had just destroyed any DNA evidence there might have been to identify who owned the sock. My imagination could see a buried body with a missing foot. But reason told me it was more likely lost by a boater and washed up on the shore.

The mystery of the sock and its owner would have to wait. Not that I believed there was a body down there. But if there was, I didn’t want every cop in the county digging up the hillside before I had a chance to search for more of the treasure. “Come on Fred,” I said. “Let’s go get a metal detector and some breakfast.”

My first stop, after satisfying our hunger with three sausage McMuffins, one for me and two for Fred, was the only store in town where I might purchase a metal detector. Though the local SuperMart claimed to be a superstore, I came up empty handed. My next stop was back to McDonald’s. Not that I thought I’d find metal detectors on the dollar-menu. They had free wireless access so I could look for something online with my laptop.

I found several sporting-goods stores within driving distance in the online directories and started calling them. I soon found their prices would have put my last available credit card over its limit. Then I tried craigslist, and I found a private party who had what I needed for only fifty dollars.

The guy I called was in Lincoln, which was only ten miles north. He said the metal detector was like new, but he had no use for it since his wife had passed. Twenty minutes later, I was in his backyard getting my first lesson on how to find lost treasure. He was a dead ringer for Jackie Gleason. Or he would have been if Gleason had ever worn bib overalls without an undershirt.

“Marge and me used to go everywhere looking for coins and jewelry. You’d never guess where the best places was,” he said, sweeping the wand back and forth.

I was tempted to ask if Marge had a sister by the name of Alice. The more he talked, the more I thought of the old TV show
The Honeymooners
. All he needed to convince me that I was talking to Ralph Kramden, who had been played by Gleason, was a bus driver’s uniform instead of his farmer’s overalls. “Under the coaster at amusement parks?” I answered.

“Yep. Them and old farm houses. How’d you know?”

“ESP,” I lied. Then I thought better of being a wise guy with the old man. “Guess I must have seen it somewhere on TV.”

“Would you like to give it a try?” he asked as he handed me the detector.

“Sure,” I answered while trying not to stare at his boobs hanging out the sides of his bib. “Old farm houses? I never heard that one. What did you find there?”

“It used to be our secret, Marge and me, but if you’re going to buy it, I’ll tell you.”

“Consider it sold,” I said while adjusting the grip on the shaft to fit my longer arms. He seemed to be considering if I could be trusted with his secret. I must have looked trustworthy. “Mostly money. Old gold and silver coins and some paper money. Once in a while some jewelry, but mostly money. Them old folks didn’t trust banks after the big depression, so they hid their money in mason jars and buried it under the old oak tree.”

His theory made a lot of sense. I wondered why the television show I had seen didn’t mention it. “Gold coins?” Maybe this guy knew what a double eagle was worth. “I hear they can be worth a lot of money if you find the right one.”

“Paid for my motor home over there,” he said. The motor home was a beauty at one time. But like most RV’s, time had been its enemy. Several tires were flat and weather-checked. It must have been sitting there for several years.

“No kidding,” I said. “Bet that took quite a few coins to pay for. Did you buy it new?”

“Brand spankin’ new in eighty-nine. We put fifty thousand miles on her before Marge couldn’t travel no more. Been sittin’ ever since. If you’re interested, I’d let it go real cheap. Ain’t doing me no good just rustin’ out sittin’ there. Come on, I’ll show it to you.”

Ralph’s face seemed to light up. I imagined he was overjoyed to tell his stories to someone who hadn’t heard them a hundred times. He reminded me of my own father. I didn’t have the heart not to look at the old RV.

The interior of the motor home looked like the day it came off the showroom floor. Marge must have been a very neat housekeeper. Most RVs I’d ever seen sit out in the weather for over twenty years had so much water damage they weren’t worth the metal holding them together. A person would have to pay to get rid of them. This old lady was the exception.

“We kept her in the barn most of the time we wasn’t usin’ her. She’s been sittin’ here since we sold the farm before Marge died. Would you like to hear her run?” He didn’t wait for me to reply, and to my surprise, it started after a few seconds cranking on the starter.

“What you think?” he asked. “I’d let you have her for five hundred if you buy the metal detector.”

What was I thinking? I needed a motor home like I needed a lobotomy. And what would my customers think when I pulled up to fix a toilet or roof? Assuming, that is, I could drive it on any of Colorado’s back roads. It wasn’t huge by RV standards, but I knew it would be too wide and too low in the back for most of the roads I had to drive. But then visions of sitting by a mountain stream with Fred and a fishing pole drifted through my mind. “Five hundred is way too cheap. I’d be willing to give you a couple grand once my insurance company pays off my car. But I’m sure you’ll sell it by then if you put it on craigslist.” I must have had my own senior moment to even consider buying a motor home.

Ralph gave me the look one gives a slow child. “Ain’t never heard of nobody offering more than I wanted. She’s all yours. Pay me whenever you can.”

I gave the old man what cash I had in my wallet – the huge sum of one hundred and fifty dollars – and promised to pick up the motor home in a few days. I would need to replace a few tires before I could drive it away, and he had to find the title. I told him to hold the title until I could pay him in full, but he insisted he sign it over in case he kicked the bucket.

I was on my way back to the house, and the treasure hunt, now that I had high-tech on my side. That’s when I passed the pawn shop Meg had told me about earlier. It was too much to resist. I had to check out the guy who had low-balled Mike.
What if he stole the coins
, I thought.

The pawn shop was in a mini-shopping center on East Main Street. I only noticed it because the road crew had shut down a stretch of Highway Sixty-five and detoured traffic to the next onramp. It was the middle store in a single-story building that housed half a dozen businesses. These stores were newer than the ones I’d seen downtown. It looked like they had been constructed in the mid-fifties. They were built plain and low, with flat roofs and plate glass fronts. Only two of the stores were occupied: the pawn shop and a junk store claiming to be Grandma’s Attic. When I entered the pawn shop, I felt like I was playing the lead role in a Twilight Zone episode from the same era as the building. A brass bell over the door dinged when I crossed the threshold. A short, balding, beady-eyed man popped his head out of the back room. He had a poker dealer’s visor and a jeweler’s loupe hanging from a gold chain around his neck. “What can I do you out of?” he asked when I closed the door behind me.