Unspoken

by Dee Henderson

  “This is all the coins, Bryce. No more surprises.”

  He smiled, wondering how she thought that might make this sit easier. He was looking at more inventory in coins than he thought might exist with any collector in the country. I need wisdom, Lord, and good judgment, he prayed, looking around the room. This was going to take every bit of his skill, knowledge, and expertise. He turned to Charlotte. “Let’s go back to Fred’s house. We need to talk.”

  Charlotte nodded. She turned off lights, relocked doors, and led them back through the berm to the surface.

  She brought him a cheeseburger she’d fixed, along with fries, and took a seat across from him with a matching plate for herself. The card table wobbled a bit as her foot hit the leg. It was early for lunch, but he’d realized she was looking for an excuse to stay busy and said yes to the offer.

  “You’ve been quiet,” she noted.

  “Just thinking, Charlotte.” He picked up the cheeseburger. “You’re firmly decided on selling them?”

  “Yes. I want to sell the coins and give the money away.”

  He studied her, trying to gauge her thinking. “Because wealth is a threat?”

  “My sister sees it that way. Money is a threat to her marriage, to her girls. I’m not that fond of it myself in quantities more than I need. It’s a headache to manage. And it’s a ransom waiting to happen for someone who knows I’ve got that kind of cash around, and given my history . . . well, I’m never going to sleep easily. I want to sell the coins and give the money away. The majority of it, anyway. I could use another rather large giving list from you.”

  He thought she looked overwhelmed. In control, trying to be confident, but just on the edge of overwhelmed. He didn’t like the look of it on her. He guessed it had been a few months since she last stood in that large vault of coins and felt the full reality of what Fred had left her.

  She’d worked a plan to this point with good tactics. From that first contact in Bishop Chicago’s parking lot, that first group of coins, through each new group to now she’d laid a path to get him to this point and the answer she needed. He was beginning to seriously admire the woman even if he was the one being led to where she wanted him to go. “I’ll talk to Ann on how best to sell them, and I’ll get you another giving list, Charlotte.”

  She visibly relaxed. “Thanks.”

  “I like a challenge.” And wasn’t that an understatement? He added ketchup next to his fries. “Why did Fred leave them to you rather than equally with your sister, or to the charities of his choosing?”

  “I think this was his version of an apology. That he didn’t know he had a granddaughter in trouble, didn’t know there was a ransom demand for my freedom. He felt guilty that he wasn’t there when I was sixteen. My sister met him first—she was easier to find—and Fred mentioned he had family wealth. She refused to let him see her girls or name her in his will. She wanted nothing to do with the man who could have ended what happened to us had he originally acknowledged our mom, had he been in our lives when we were young girls. Tabitha’s still angry with him, even after his death.”

  “Yet you forgave him.”

  “I forgave him. He was an old man, and reality couldn’t be changed. I didn’t want his money, Bryce, but I would have broken his heart if I had also refused. We’re the last of his family. I’ll keep enough that my sister and I won’t need to worry about the occasionally costly problem that appears in our lives, but I’m not going to turn us into people who watch the money in the bank as our career.”

  “John could manage the cash for you.”

  “Already tried that. He said no, in rather more emphatic terms. Ellie is back and forth about it, but basically agrees there’s no reason to keep most of it, so I might as well give it away now. She’ll manage what I decide to keep, as she enjoys the bookkeeping, but I won’t ask more from her than that.” She dipped one of her fries into his ketchup. “You’re in, Bishop? No matter how long this takes?”

  “I don’t know whether it’s the best decision for you to make, but yes. I can get you through the process of selling the coins and giving away the cash.” He leaned back in the folding chair. “One thing in return?”

  “Okay. What?”

  “Have dinner with me—my place—every week or so.”

  Her hand, reaching another fry for his ketchup, froze midair. Her gaze caught his. “Why?”

  “Because I like you. Because you terrify me and interest me at the same time. Because this is going to get complicated in ways I can only guess at before it is over, and we’ll need a regular time to talk it through. Because when these coins are finally sold you’re going to be gone again to wherever you end up with your art. I’d like to seize some time with you while I have it.”

  She blinked. “You’re thinking you can fix me.”

  “You don’t need fixing. You survived. You’ll get things straightened out with God eventually, because it matters to you, matters to Him. And you’ll sort out what you want in your future once you’re past closing this estate.”

  “We might manage to become actual friends, Bryce. There won’t be more than that.”

  “Maybe not. But I’m safe, Charlotte.”

  “I’m single by choice, Bishop.”

  “Choice or circumstances?” He shrugged. “Anyway, that’s what I want. Dinner at my place every week or so. In return I’ll help you figure out how to give away sixty million in a way that values every dime you give.”

  She considered him. “That’s a lot more daunting problem than selling the coins.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  She swiped more of his ketchup. “Are you a good cook?”

  “Passable to good.”

  “I like food. Not much talent for it, but I enjoy it.”

  “Then we’ll have evenings with some good food and some conversation. I’ll make a list so I don’t repeat the menu very often.”

  “Pizza, lasagna, a nice steak.”

  Bryce laughed at her hopeful tone. “I can probably manage those to start the list.”

  “Okay, Bishop. I’ll do dinner occasionally. How do you want to start with the coins?”

  “Silence has been the best security for decades. Let’s try to keep it that way. I’ll start with photos, make a trip back to Chicago to talk with Ann. She’s the best secret keeper I know.” He looked over, considered her. “But you would come in a close second. There are a few more days of existing work to wrap up,” he went on. “I’ve got vault five to finish, and there’s the group four coins you’re gathering at the house. It makes sense to clear those first before we open this Pandora’s box.”

  “I can give you some time, help in the vault.”

  Bryce smiled. “Thanks, but I formally give you permission to not think about coins for a while. You’ve got your hands full elsewhere. Finish up the storage units and odds and ends the Graham family tucked away around Graham Enterprises. John and I can work this project for a bit.”

  Charlotte nodded. “I’m going to accept before you change your mind. Give me darts, bowling pins, and two thousand skeet balls over coins any day.”

  Bryce laughed. “Are those the latest discoveries? Where did they find all this stuff?”

  “Fred’s dad—my great-grandfather—actually advertised himself as ‘The last buyer you need to call.’ Once warehouses started to be standardized with pallets, forklifts, and cargo containers, all the odd-sized berm storage units on the property just became unwanted space, too awkward for most companies to want to lease. The Graham family was happy to take them over for personal storage. This place is huge, and they put stuff everywhere. It turns out they just didn’t feel a need to keep good records of what they stored where.”

  “You’re sure there are no more coins?”

  “Ninety-five percent sure. Fred was definite about the location of the safes, the vaults, the inventory sheets—he would repeat himself as if a list was running through his head that he had memorized. And we’ve opened all the units n
ow, at least briefly. There are probably twenty percent we’ve glanced in, written down boxes and crates, and closed the doors to come back to it later. I’ve found some old logbooks that indicate Fred’s dad bought a bunch of model trains. It’s that kind of item I’m hoping to still find. But I don’t think I’ll find more coins.”

  “Then focus on those items, Charlotte, and let me worry about the coins.”

  Bryce watched Ann sort through the pictures he had taken of vaults nineteen and twenty-two. There was too much cop in her, even after retiring, for him to tell what she was thinking.

  “How much is she asking?”

  “Thirty-two million for the eight thousand individual coins, twenty-eight million for the rest. That includes the first three groups and the vault five coins I’ve already bought.”

  “Sixty million for everything?”

  “Yes.”

  Ann barely blinked at the number. “She’s been underpricing the individual coins by, what, thirty percent, based on the three groups you’ve bought and sold so far?”

  “It fluctuates around that.”

  Ann went back to thinking. Several minutes passed. “She’s underpricing the rest of the coins by about fifty percent.”

  “Fifty—you’re serious?”

  She looked up, nodded, and tapped the top photo. “Do you know how rare this is? A truly untouched, very old hoard of common coins? They didn’t even consider die errors to be worth collecting in the thirties. Nor did they care about where a coin was minted, just the year. It wasn’t until the fifties that collecting every mint location became a serious focus for collectors. You’re looking at a collection that could yield more keys and semi-keys per roll than anything that has come to market in decades.”

  She handed him back the photos. “The value of this purchase isn’t in the individual eight thousand coins, as rare and valuable as they are. The real money is in common coins. I’d put fair value at forty-two million for the eight thousand individual coins, and an equal forty-two million for the rest. I think she’s asking sixty million for what is an eighty-four-million-dollar coin collection.”

  Bryce absorbed that. “A sizable spread.”

  “Too large to be fair.”

  Bryce steepled his fingers, mentally running the numbers. “A twenty percent spread is more reasonable, so bring the purchase price up to sixty-seven million two. The critical factor being how underpriced she is on the rolls. How certain are you she’s underpricing fifty percent rather than thirty percent?”

  “There are no rolls in that inventory list dated after 1930. No silver Washington quarters, no Benjamin Franklin half-dollars. Silver was such a key store of wealth in the Depression once gold became illegal to hold that there would have been an accumulation of at least Washington thirty-twos. Vault five had some Franklin half-dollars, some rolls from the thirties and forties. That is the newer hoard. This is the older one. And it’s four times as large.”

  “Telling.”

  “Very. This collection was probably intact at the time of the crash of 1929, may have been bought as a single acquisition—a major coin dealer who had to liquidate. That would explain the wide scope of those eight thousand coins and the sheer size of the hoard.”

  Bryce nodded. “That fits what I know about this family.”

  “It would have been expensive, even at distressed prices. I don’t know what inflation would imply running this back in time—maybe a few million in ’29?”

  Bryce started thinking out loud. “Maybe use a buyer syndicate for the common coins, but the higher-grade individuals—the eight thousand—I continue to buy in groups of five hundred every thirty days. Charlotte would make closer to seventy million, and I wouldn’t need to raise as much cash, as I could use the cash flow as coins sell. I’ve bought the vault five coins for five million six, there’s three million left in what I’ve raised so far, so I’d need to raise another twenty-five million.”

  “I’ve got a name.”

  “Who do you have in mind?”

  “Kevin Cooper, retired shortstop for the Atlanta Braves, now The Pizza King for his nationwide franchise of pizza shops. This is right up his alley. It’s an illiquid investment with a good return and solid management already in place. His floor on investments is ten million. Knowing Cooper, he’ll do the full twenty-five if you let him. The coins are solid collateral. He’ll take my word on the price being fair.”

  Bryce blinked. “I don’t know what to say, Ann.”

  She smiled. “I’ll set up a meeting for you with Cooper. Next Friday work for you? I already have plans with his wife for that day. He’ll appreciate an excuse to step away from the office.”

  “And I thought the money raising would be the hard part of this.”

  Ann smiled. “With this kind of cache? You’ve got an investment that’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Money isn’t a problem.”

  “Can we scale what you’re doing with vault five to handle this?”

  “We hire eight to ten more people who are really good at coins, an equal number to handle the packaging, add some more space—we can multiply the volume. This quality of coins at these prices, you won’t have a problem attracting buyers to take even this amount of inventory.”

  “You signed up for a few weeks. I’d guess this is going to take a year.”

  “I’ll talk to Paul, but provisionally I’m staying in. I can manage the prep room without having to be on-site every day.”

  “Thanks, Ann.”

  “I’m going to enjoy this. What did Devon say about the individual coins?”

  “He choked on his soda and asked me to repeat the number. Sharon laughed, then started to cry. I figure Bishop Chicago will be able to buy about twelve million to hold for its own inventory. I’ll let Devon do that buying. Then I’m going to sell Devon and Sharon fifty-one percent of Bishop Chicago so that when this is done, I won’t have to look at another coin for a few years beyond the ones in my pocket change.”

  “A wise man.” Ann considered him. “What did you do to end up with a year like this? Were you praying for something in particular, Bryce?”

  He smiled. Trust Ann to get to the heart of it. “I was bored. I probably mentioned that to God a time or two.”

  “That’s a rather dangerous prayer in my experience. You won’t be bored now.”

  Bryce settled back in the chair, feeling much of the stress flowing away. With Ann continuing to help manage this, Devon on the individual coins, and if she was right about Kevin Cooper being willing to fund the purchase—the risks to doing the deal were fading quickly. “Charlotte wants to give most of the money away.”

  Ann smiled. “Good for her. How’s she doing?”

  “I’d say she’s relieved her plan to hook me worked.”

  Ann laughed. “You didn’t know you were swimming in chum the whole time.”

  “I thought vault five was the catch. It was in fact the bait.” Bryce thought about that and smiled. “Charlotte’s got me selling her coins and helping her give away the cash, which is the answer she wanted before we ever met for the first time. And she curved the path so it was my decision to opt in for both. I have to admire that about her. This was a carefully played plan from the start. So it begs the question—is today the end of that successful plan or just another chapter of it?”

  “Think she would tell you if you asked?”

  “No.”

  Ann smiled. “Then enjoy the present. If nothing else, the situation is interesting.”

  “Charlotte’s interesting. The situation is kind of a hit-your-thumb-with-a-hammer-and-ask-did-that-hurt kind of moment. I have never seen so many, never imagined so many coins as are in those vaults.”

  Ann tilted her head. “I didn’t see that, Bryce. That you’re nervous. You’re in deep water, deep enough to seem like it’s over your head—so you swim your way out of this or drown.”

  “Basically.”

  “You needed a challenge, my friend. You just got one. You need this, Br
yce, as much as Charlotte needs you to solve the problem for her. You won’t be the same once it’s over.”

  “I’ll agree with you there. I’m not going to be the same after this experience.”

  FOURTEEN

  Bryce was wiping off his hands when he heard the doorbell. Charlotte was early for their first dinner. He walked through his home to the front, pulled open the door to see her impatiently half turned away, a shopping bag in one hand and her phone in the other. He forced his smile to stay in place. “Welcome, Charlotte. Have any trouble finding the place?” He reached out and put a hand on her arm before she could walk back down the steps.

  “None. Why don’t you wave to John, who’s pretending not to be tailing me? Your nine o’clock.”

  She wasn’t annoyed at him. Bryce glanced over, spotted John’s black SUV, and felt immediate concern. John didn’t tail because everything was fine.

  “As if I really need someone to make sure I don’t get lost around Princeton Circle. My grandmother lived on this street.”

  Bryce ignored her complaint and eased her inside past him. “Stay put. I’ll be right back.” He closed the door firmly with her inside.

  The driver’s window lowered as he approached. “She’s going to be in a snippy mood with you tonight for that last bit,” John mentioned.

  “She’ll get over it. What’s up?”

  John simply handed him a photo. “Richard Sill. You see him, you plant yourself between the two of them. I don’t know if he’s in Chicago.”

  “Will do.”

  “Five aliases on the back, and it’s probably changed again. He earned some reward money back eighteen years ago, giving cops tips on where they could find her. One of those tips indirectly led to them really finding her. I’ve never been satisfied—I don’t think the FBI has either—about how he knew wrong information that was just enough right to be eventually useful.”

  Bryce burned the guy’s image into his brain. “Okay.”