TREASURE KILLS (Legends of Tsalagee Book 1) (22 page)

“Yeah,” Hayward answered. “I still need to hand that over to Euliss.”

“I been wondering how those two bikers knew about it and what it said.” Before Hayward could answer, Soc added, “The big one told me he got the info from a man in Oklahoma City.”

Hayward looked at Soc with perplexity. “Oh kay see? Humph.” He turned silent for a few seconds. “Ain’t that where Sunny lived before she come back? And didn’t her real daddy spend some time in Big Mac, too?”

Soc nodded and stopped the cart at a point beside the bank of the irrigation pond, roughly at the point where Hayward’s ball had splashed into it.

Hayward didn’t get out of the cart. “You reckon Sunny knows them two guys, and that’s got something to do with all this?” he asked.

Soc shrugged. “It could explain why they had info from the letter without actually having it. It could also explain why they were so interested in finding out where she lives. I guess she might’ve known something about it, living with Buck and Lorene all those years, although she claims she don’t.”

The two men sat thinking their own thoughts. “Still,” Soc continued. “Even as strange as she is, I don’t see Sunny hooking up with the likes of those two.”

After a bit Hayward asked, “So what you got in mind?”

“Well, my first thought was to Jo Lynn. I ’uz thinking we need to steer the two bikers away from her. She needs protecting,” Soc said. “I’d be hard to prove them two had anything to do with Buck’s murder, unless we come up with more evidence. Maybe we could find a way to get that, or at least get them arrested for something else.”

“Yeah, I suppose we could do that, only how we going to set this up?”

“I been thinking about that,” Soc said. “I think we should get Bobby John involved, only without giving him all the details. That boy has always been a pretty good pigeon.”

“Yeah,” Hayward said as he swung himself out of the cart and pulled his four iron out of his bag. He grabbed a new Titleist Pro V1 ball out of a pocket of his plaid shorts, and dropped it onto the close-cropped fairway grass. He’d started smiling the second Soc brought up Bobby John’s name. The thought of playing that little doughnut boy cheered him.

He stepped up and addressed the ball, and then squinted down the fairway at his intended target. “I think between the two of us we can come up with a good scheme where Bobby John can play a part.” Then he drew back the graphite-shafted four iron, which was part of his four thousand dollar set of clubs, and smacked the golf ball with it.

“Dammit,” Hayward said.

* * *

They didn’t get the specifics of the plan worked out through the remaining round of golf that afternoon, but Hayward and Soc did agree that, to make any plan work, it would be best not to let anyone else in on it. That held true not only for their intended marks, but semi-innocent bystanders as well, such as, Bobby John.

The next morning, as they sat on their designated counter stools at Arlene’s, and chatted with Jo Lynn, they maneuvered the conversation around to the subject of the two bikers.

“I just don’t like them,” Jo Lynn said.

“Have they bothered you since that first afternoon when they came in?” Hayward asked.

“Well, not in any real threatening way,” she said. “They’ve started coming in about every morning to have breakfast. The big one don’t bother me too much, other than looking at me like I could be his next victim, but that little one... what’d you say his name was?”

“Threebuck,” Soc answered.

“Yeah, that little creep.” She made a shuttering sound. “Why’re they hanging around town, anyway?”

Hayward shook his head and Soc shrugged, so Jo Lynn continued. “The big one keeps asking me about Sunny Griggs. I don’t much like that girl, but those two make me kind of scared for her. I wish they’d just stay over at the casino. I wish Charlie could find some reason to put ’em in jail, or at least run ’em out of town.”

Soc and Hayward glanced at each other. Hayward held his cup up to Jo Lynn for a refill and said, “Well, I expect they’ll run out of money at the casino sooner or later like everybody else, or get bored with all of us around here before long,”

“I hope you’re right,” Jo Lynn said as she poured coffee.

Soc excused himself and headed for the restroom. A minute or so later, the door opened and in walked Red Randy and Threebuck, as if on cue. Randy looked briefly at Jo Lynn, and headed for the booth in the corner away from the door. Threebuck stopped for a second to grin at her and wink. Jo Lynn turned away to go to the service window where Poncho had dinged up a breakfast order.

Hayward saw the fright in Jo Lynn’s eyes when the two came in, and he turned to look at them. He had a flash of an idea, and got up to go meet Soc when he came out of the john.

Hayward’s plan was embryonic, and he and Soc would have to wing it. He met Soc coming out the restroom door. “Look who just came in,” he said jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward the two in the corner booth. Soc looked that way and grunted.

“I got sort of an idea,” said Hayward. “Let’s go sit in the booth next to them. Just play along with me.” He hoped the two bikers hadn’t noticed him when they came in.

Soc grunted again and nodded. He followed his friend to the booth. Hayward slid onto the bench putting him and Randy back-to-back. Soc sat on the bench opposite Hayward. Jo Lynn delivered Hayward and Soc’s cinnamon rolls and coffee. She gave them a quizzical look, but didn’t say anything; just moved to the bikers’ booth to take their orders. Hayward waited until Jo Lynn left before he started talking. He kept his voice in a conspiratorial tone, but tried to make it loud enough for Randy to hear.

“I ain’t exactly sure what we got here, but I dang sure know we can’t let it fall into the wrong hands.”

“What is it you think we got?” asked Soc, playing his part.

“This page from the committee minutes discusses a lot about the whereabouts of that Belle Starr Treasure. It don’t say specifically where it’s at, and it goes off in a lot of false directions, but what clues is in here could lead someone right to it.”

Hayward paused. Soc watched Randy lean a little further back and turn his head slightly to direct his right ear more toward Hayward. Soc smiled a little and winked at his partner.

Hayward continued. “I pulled this page out of the minutes so it couldn’t be made public. If this thing got out, this town would be overrun with treasure hunters.”

“Let me see it,” Soc said. Hayward handed him an unsealed envelope and Soc extracted the single sheet of paper.

“We got to keep it secret until after the Founders Day celebration,” said Hayward. “If this treasure is out there, it’s the town’s, not for some gang of thieves.”

“Unh,” Soc said again, as he pretended to read. “But this ain’t right,” he said.

“Whadda you mean?” Hayward asked. He gave Soc a puzzled look, not sure where his friend was going with this.

“There ain’t no ‘engraving’ as such,” Soc said, loud enough for Randy to hear. “Buck had an old deerskin he found among his Gramma Starr’s things. Apparently, his grampa, old Ned, had somehow put some words on that skin—Indin paint or sumpin—that kind of spelled out the clues in Ed Reed’s letter. Explained ’em.”

“Well, why in the hell would he do that?” Hayward asked, genuinely intrigued. He’d forgotten all this was fiction.

“Hell, I don’t know,” Soc looked back at his old friend with a furrowed brow and exasperation. He didn’t want to get into any whats and why fors. He just wanted their marks to stay curious. “I suppose he had his reasons.” Soc raised his right palm and waved it back and forth, indicating to his partner not to ask anymore questions.

“Well, this’s part of an official document,” Hayward said. “So I can’t destroy it, but I’m going to seal it up in an envelope, and when we leave here I’m going to take it to Samuel’s Real Estate office and ask Bobby John to keep it in his safe. I’ll mark the envelope ‘Winning Essay’ to avert suspicion. We’ll tell Bobby John it’s the winner of the high school Founders Day essay contest so he won’t get too nosey. We’ll put it back in the minutes when all this is over.”

Hayward took a sip of his coffee and pulled a napkin out of its chrome holder. He took a pen out of his shirt pocket and clicked the point out. He wrote on the napkin,
We’ll wait until they’re ready to leave so they’ll follow us
, and shoved it over to Soc. Soc read the note and nodded.

Ten minutes after Jo Lynn brought Randy and Threebuck their breakfast orders, Punch walked through the door. When he spotted Hayward and Soc, he went to join them, avoiding Jo Lynn’s glare.

“Hey, Hayward,” he said and slid in next to him, bumping Hayward’s side as he did so. “Hey, Soc.” Hayward gave Punch an annoyed look and scooted over to give him room.

“What y’all doing sitting over here?” asked Punch in his not so quiet voice.

Hayward said, “Just wanted a change of scenery... in case you came in.”

Punch accepted that with a nod and moved on to his main reason for seeking Hayward. He lowered his voice a notch, “You give that Ed Reed letter to Euliss yet?”

“Not yet,” Hayward said, and gave him a shush gesture.

Punch, appearing not to notice, said, “Well, I told Sunny you had it and was giving it to the committee. She called Euliss who said she didn’t know nothing about it. Sunny thinks I still got it. When you going to give it to Euliss?”

“Today,” Hayward said with irritation. “In fact, I’m going to go do that right now. Let me out. C’mon Soc let’s go.” He feared Punch’s intrusion was going to blow everything, and knew the only way to get him to shut up was to leave. When Punch looked at him quizzically, Hayward said, “Move!”

The two elder men got out of the booth, paid up, and left the café. Punch watched them leave sitting back down to sort through Hayward’s strange behavior. The two men in the booth behind him had gotten up to leave, too, but the big one stopped to loom over Punch.

“Scuse me, but I overheard you talking about a Sunny. Would that be Sunny Griggs?”

Punch looked up at the big man. “Yeah,” he said. “Why, you know her?”

“No not really. Knew her old man. Old war buddy we’re trying to find. Kind of lost track of him. Wonder if you could tell us where she lives. We’d like to see if maybe he’s living with her.”

“He ain’t living with her,” Punch said. He wanted to stand up, but the big man blocked his way. “Scuse me,” Punch said, and the man moved aside to let Punch extricate himself from the booth bench. Once Punch stood, the big man still hulked above him by several inches.

“You mind telling us where she lives?” Red Randy asked.

“Well, uh,” Punch started. He looked up at the big man and then turned his head to look at the little man standing behind him and slightly to his left. He took a step back to make some space between himself and the big man, then cleared his throat. “I’m, uh... to tell you the truth, I ain’t real comfortable doin’ that. But if you got a message you want to give her, I’ll see she gets it.”

The big man’s jaw muscles worked, and he gave Punch a vicious look. “Aw right,” he said. “Tell her Red Randy’s in town. Tell her I’m looking for Goat. Tell her I got the thousand bucks I owe him. If he ain’t around, tell her I’ll give it to her and she can get it to her old man, or do whatever she wants with it.”

Punch looked surprised and then suspicious. “A thou, huh,” he said.

“It’s a debt I owe. I like to square my debts,” Randy said.

“Well, if I see her, I’ll tell her. Where can she find you?”

“I’ll be around. Staying at the Best Western out by the casino,” Randy said.

Punch nodded and said, “Scuse me,” again as he pushed through the small gap between Red Randy and his little toady. He took a seat at a counter stool as Red Randy and Threebuck stopped at the register by the door to pay.

“Who the hell is them two?” Punch asked Jo Lynn after they went out the door.

Jo Lynn pulled out a cup and saucer and poured Punch some coffee. “Couple of thugs came into town a week or so ago. They got some kind of interest in finding Sunny, but I don’t think it’s good.” She placed the coffee pot back on the burner behind the counter, and looked out the window to watch the two men roll away on their grumbling bikes. “Told me they knew her dad. Maybe they do. Last I heard he was in prison.”

“Yeah, they said they overheard me talking about Sunny to Hayward and...” Punch noticed Jo Lynn draw back and fold her arms across her chest. She shot ice darts from her eyes right into his. “It was just committee bidness,” he pleaded in his own defense. Then he added, “’Sides, me and Sunny is kinda on the outs these days.”

Not seeing any interest in Jo Lynn’s expression, Punch grabbed a menu and said, “You reckon I could get a Number Two breakfast?”

Like a judge and executioner listening to the condemned’s last request, she looked at him without compassion and asked, “How’d you want your eggs?”

* * *

Hayward and Soc stood on the corner across the street from Arlene’s waiting for their two marks to emerge.

“What was all that stuff about writing on a deerskin?” Hayward asked.

“I figured you had some sort of plan worked out, one where those guys would get Nan’s minutes,” Soc explained. “And all that engraving stuff, just didn’t make sense. I wanted to come up with something more believable. ’Sides, I thought I’d peak that fella’s interest a little more for whatever it is you got planned.... You do have a plan, don’t you?”

“Had to kinda come up with this on the fly, but I was thinking we’d let them characters know where we’re going to plant the ‘clues.’ I figured they’d want to follow us.” Hayward looked over at Arlene’s. “Wonder what’s keeping ’em. That dang idiot Punch is probably yapping away at ’em. I wouldn’t be surprised if he told ’em  how to get to Sunny’s.”

Hayward became thoughtful for a second, before he continued. “That’s something else we need to be careful with. Don’t want them two getting anywhere near Sunny. I don’t know if she’s in with them or what, but my gut tells me she ain’t. Either way, we got to protect her, too.”

“Okay, so these two bad guys know where we’re putting Nan’s page. Then what?” Soc said.

“Well, this is the tricky part,” said Hayward as he scratched the back of his neck. “They see us going into Bobby John’s so they know where the page is. I think they’ll wait until dark and do a break-in. We’ll tell Charlie DuFranc we’re expecting as much and have him setup a stake-out. We’ll let them break in, mess the place up a bit, then bust ’em. That should be enough to put them away for a while.”