Chapter Four:
Searching For Treasure
When Pop-Pop returned to the porch with the front door key, Jamie and I had not moved from our places in the doorway. “Oh, it’s open,” he said. Then noticing the look on our faces he added, “What’s the matter?”
Jamie and I stepped to either side of the doorway to allow Pop-Pop to pass. He walked into the living room, looking all around him and surveying the damage. After several minutes of silence, he shook his head and blew out a deep breath. “I was afraid of this.”
“You mean you knew somebody had robbed Uncle Harold?” I asked.
Pop-Pop gave a weak smile. “No, Abby, I don’t believe Uncle Harold has been robbed. I think that maybe Uncle Harold made this mess himself.”
“And Mom and Dad say that I’m messy!” Jamie exclaimed.
Laughing, Pop-Pop continued. “No, Jamie. It’s not that either. I think that Uncle Harold made this mess while he was looking for something.”
I inched my way through the paper and books on the floor afraid that if I actually picked up a foot I wouldn't be able to find a place to put it back down again. “Looking for what?”
A twinkle entered Pop-Pop’s eyes as he answered, “Treasure.”
“Treasure?” Jamie and I asked in unison.
“Yes, but it is a very long story and one for another time. Right now, it looks like we really need to get to work. There’s a lot more to do than I had expected. I guess this room is as good a place as any to start. What do you say?”
“I don’t want to clean,” Jamie whined. “I don’t like to clean up my own mess, let alone someone else’s mess.”
“Jamie,” I said. “Be nice. Pop-Pop needs our help. Besides, it’s not as bad as it seems.”
Jamie raised his eyebrows at me. “Really? It looks pretty bad to me.”
As Pop-Pop walked off toward another part of the house, I turned to Jamie. “Look, quit being a baby. It’s not that big of a deal. Plus, if we hurry and get the job done, maybe Pop-Pop will tell us more about that treasure he was talking about.”
“Fine,” Jamie muttered. “But it had better be a good story.”
“Pop-Pop,” I called, ignoring Jamie’s comments. “We’re ready. What do you want us to do first?”
We spent the entire morning cleaning the downstairs of the house. The living room was probably the worst. It looked as though Uncle Harold had thrown everything off the bookshelves and tables and just left it all wherever it had landed. Jamie wiped off shelves and re-shelved books while Pop-Pop worked in the kitchen and I swept the various rooms.
Uncle Harold’s house was amazing—well, after you got past all of the mess. The living room was a huge open area with bookshelves lining the walls. Any space not covered by bookshelves was decorated with a picture or painting. Couches, chairs, and tables of all shapes, sizes, and colors were scattered around the room. Gigantic rugs with unusual prints and patterns covered the hardwood floors. All of the furniture was old, but in very good condition. A winding staircase stood in the corner of the room and beside it was an archway into the dining room. A very expensive-looking chandelier hung from the ceiling above a long, rectangular table with ten matching chairs that were made of a dark, red wood that showed very little signs of age. A tall china cabinet made of the same wood stood in the corner next to the doorway leading into the kitchen, which was far more modern than I had expected. Other than a tiny bathroom and a couple of coat closets, the only other room on the first floor was the den. Now, when you think of a den, you think of a cozy little place to curl up and read a book, right? Well, this den was far from little. It had to be the size of my entire house, but there was very little furniture in the room. Aside from two long couches (that looked like beds to me) and a gorgeous grand piano, the only other furnishing in the room was the fireplace that seemed to take up the entire side wall. Above it hung a portrait of an elderly lady. She seemed somewhat familiar, but I was sure I had never seen her before.
“Pop-Pop, who is the lady in this picture?”
Entering the den, Pop-Pop looked up at the portrait. “Why, that’s my grandmother. This picture was probably taken during the 1940’s, shortly before she died.”
“I’m hungry,” Jamie complained, striding into the room. “When’s lunch?”
“You’re always hungry,” I said.
Looking down at his watch, Pop-Pop remarked, “Well, it is past lunch time. Let’s head into town for some lunch, and then we’ll come back and see if we can get the upstairs cleaned up. Sound like a plan?”
“Sounds good,” I answered.
“As long as we get to eat soon,” Jamie said.
Despite the rain that continued to pour, the trip into town only took about five minutes. Seated inside Pop-Pop's favorite diner with our meals in front of us, I decided to question Pop-Pop about the treasure he had talked about.
“Pop-Pop, would you tell us about that treasure you mentioned at Uncle Harold’s house?”
“It’s nonsense really, but I don’t see any harm in telling you. My grandmother was a very sweet lady, but some people thought she was a bit eccentric.”
“Ecc-what?” Jamie asked.
“Eccentric,” Pop-Pop replied. “It means strange or odd.”
“That’s not a very nice thing to say about your grandmother, “ I said.
“No, Abby,” Pop-Pop replied, "it’s not, but some people thought she was a little crazy because she was always talking about a hidden treasure. She told everyone about a great fortune that she hid many years ago. She even mentioned it in her will, stating that if it was ever found, it should go to the person who found it. But, no one ever did. Nope! No treasure, no map, no clue. Nothing! It just proves that there was probably no fortune to begin with. Just a confused old lady’s fantasy.”
Disappointed, I stared down at my plate. That was it? Just some silly old story about a treasure that not even Pop-Pop believes ever existed. But then, if he didn’t believe it, why did he have that sparkle in his eyes when he was talking about it? Maybe deep down he does believe. But what does it matter if there are no clues or anything? I was really hoping to have the chance to go on a true treasure hunt, but without a clue, I wouldn’t even know where to look. Wait a minute. Wasn’t that what Jamie and I found—a clue? Could it be a clue to the treasure Pop-Pop just told us about? I was growing so excited that I was beginning to get chills. . .or so I thought.
“Sorry, Abby!” Jamie said.
I jumped up, and looking down, I saw the remainder of Jamie’s drink flowing from his overturned glass and dripping into my chair. “Jamie! What is it with you? Why do you have to be so clumsy?” I asked as I wiped my jeans with my napkin.
“Hey!” Jamie said. “I wasn’t the one who spilled the drink last night. That was you!”
“All right,” Pop-Pop said. “That’s enough. When will you two ever learn to get along? You have fussed with each other since the day you came to stay with me. One day you’ll find out that you need each other, and when that time comes, you’ll have to figure out some way to work together.” Pop-Pop's voice softened. “Everyone finished?”
Jamie hopped up from the table and rubbed his hands over his stomach. “I’m done. I don’t think I’ll be able to eat again for at least an hour.”
Pop-Pop smiled as he laid the tip on the table. “Come on then. Let’s go see if it has stopped raining. We'll stop by the house on our way back to Uncle Harold’s so Abby can change clothes.”
To our relief, the rain had stopped, leaving puddles the size of great lakes. After hopping, jumping, and splashing our way through the parking lot, we piled into Pop-Pop’s green truck and headed back to his house. When we arrived, I ran up the stairs and hurried to change my clothes. I literally had to peel my jeans off because they were so sticky. One thing was for sure—I was sick and tired of spilled soda! Jamie bounced up the steps, interrupting my thoughts. “Are you ready yet?”
“Just a minute,” I snapped. “I wouldn
’t have to do this if you had been more careful.”
“I said I was sorry. What do you want me to do—beg your forgiveness?”
Rolling my eyes, I replied, “Whatever. Let’s go. I want to get back to Uncle Harold’s.”
Jamie flopped across his bed and blew out a deep breath. “Why—so we can clean some more?”
Obviously he hadn’t followed Pop-Pop’s story very closely. He didn’t even seem to remember the clue. I was deciding whether or not to share my hunch with him. After all, it wouldn’t hurt to have two sets of eyes looking for the treasure instead of one. Not that I needed his help, mind you. I was just letting him in on the hunt, like any decent big sister would do.
“Didn't you hear what Pop-Pop said about that treasure and how there weren’t any clues?”
“Yeah,” Jamie said as he sat up on the bed. “So what?”
“So,” I answered, “last night we found a clue. Remember?”
Jamie jumped up from the bed, wandered around the room for several minutes, and then flopped onto the bed again. “Do you think it’s a clue to that same treasure?”
“I don’t know, but it could be. Maybe while we’re at Uncle Harold’s we can look for other clues or for the treasure itself. Maybe. . .”
“Kids!” Pop-Pop called from downstairs. “Are you ready yet? I’d like to leave before it starts raining again.”
“Coming, Pop-Pop,” I answered. Then, turning to Jamie, I said, “We need to tell Pop-Pop, but not yet. Let’s wait and see if we find anything first. We can talk some more once we get to Uncle Harold’s.”
Jamie nodded as he and I headed toward the stairs. The short drive to Uncle Harold’s was a quiet one. I could tell by looking at Pop-Pop that he was tired, and Jamie —I was sure—was thinking the same thing I was. The secret may be found where the water goes round and round. What did that mean?
After returning to Uncle Harold’s house, Pop-Pop set off to clean the large upstairs bedroom. He told Jamie and me to work in the library that was also upstairs. When we first entered, all we could do was stare. The room was the size of a basketball court and lined with shelves of all different sizes. The majority of the books were on the floor, and those that were not were scattered on the shelves and covered in dust.
“Oh, goody! More books,” Jamie grumbled.
“Come on. I’ll start on this side of the room, and you start over there,” I said, pointing to the opposite corner of the room. “And remember to keep your eyes open for any treasure or any other clues.”
We went to work right away, though I admit, I was thoroughly tired of cleaning. My hands were red, my feet hurt, and there was dirt in my hair. Going through the mountain of books and filthy shelves was not going to improve how I felt or looked. However, after several minutes, I noticed something that made me forget my complaints.
Setting my dust rag aside, I walked toward a bookcase in the corner of the room and tilted my head back to look at something on the top shelf. The round object was dusty, but not so much that I couldn't make out its brownish color. “Hey, Jamie. Come look at this.”
Jamie threw down his rag and came over to me. “What? It’s just an old globe.”
“Duh! But have you ever seen one like this? Look! The countries are all shaded in bright pink, red, orange, purple, and brown. But the water is what's so unique. I’ve always seen blue water, but on this globe the water is tan all the way around.”
Jamie’s eyes widened, and a look of excitement crossed his face. “What did you say?”
I shook my head at him. “I said that the water is tan all the way…” And then it hit me. The secret may be found where the water goes round and round. The water goes around and around a globe. Could this be it? Would we find the secret treasure?
“AAAUUUGGGHHH!” Jamie screamed as he jumped behind the closest shelf.
“What’s the matter with you?” I asked.
I followed his outstretched finger to a painting that hung on the far wall. As I was about to accuse him of being the biggest scaredy-cat in the world, I noticed the eyes in the painting. They were so bright and life-like, but more importantly. . . . they were moving.
The Delaware Detectives Page 4