by Teresa Trent
My father made haste to join the treasure hunt officials on stage. He turned to face the crowd, placed his hands on his gun belt, and got that long-arm-of-the-law look about him. The crowd started quieting down.
“If I could have your attention, please. Very good, very good,” Mayor Obermeyer said. “Welcome to the annual hunt for the golden pecan. This year we’re proud to have a wonderful seven-day cruise donated by Libby Loper, daughter of our hometown celebrity and famous cowboy star, Charlie Loper. Libby, would you like to say a few words?”
“Thank you so much, Mayor. Our prize cruise will leave out of the Port of Galveston and will take you to see the wonderful sights of Mexico and several Caribbean islands. What an adventure to exotic ports of call. And if you happen not to win, let me invite you to the Loper Dude Ranch, where you can play cowboy all day long. We have horseback riding, roping, a petting zoo, and our newest addition, the Charlie Loper theater, where my daddy is on the screen all day, every day.”
The mayor took the microphone back before Libby could continue turning the opening speeches into an infomercial. “Thank you, Libby. We’re so grateful for your generosity. And now Vic Butler, director of the chamber of commerce, will go over the rules and kick off our contest.”
Vic reached back and squeezed Sarah’s hand before he took his place behind the microphone. As he let go, I heard a loud harrumph in the crowd behind us. Turning around to locate the sound, I found Bunny scowling at Sarah. I’d never been a very good lip reader, but the word she was saying was plain to see. Harlot. Sarah took a step further back on the stage as if dodging Bunny’s name-calling. What had Sarah ever done to Bunny? The women were exact opposites.
Sarah had done many things to improve her appearance which, from my observation, included plastic surgery, hair extensions, and fake eyelashes. She was not the little girl God had put on this earth, but a beautified version of herself. Bunny, on the other hand, did very little to augment her pale appearance. She wore a long stringy braid, large tortoiseshell glasses, a ruffled skirt that looked like it was fashioned from discarded pieces of a multicolored quilt, and Birkenstocks on her feet.
Vic continued, not acknowledging Bunny’s attempted disruption. “So, these are the rules for the Pecan Bayou Golden Pecan Treasure Hunt. You will have twenty-four hours to find the golden pecan. Each team will receive a poem, and as you figure out one of the clues, it will lead you to the next location and another poem. We are observing a code of honor. If you find the golden pecan, it is your team’s treasure only. If you run into a problem with an overzealous participant and feel threatened, similar to what happened last year, you can call 911, and—” He stopped and looked over at Judd. “Umm, Mrs. Thatcher, is competing with us. How do we handle that?”
Mrs. Thatcher raised her arm. “I’m not the only one in town who can answer the phone. We have Deputy Beckwith, who will be taking your calls day or night. We’ve stocked him with goodies from the vending machine, and we just have to hope there isn’t a major crime spree during the hunt. I know no one will act up, isn’t that right?”
Many people nodded their heads as if Mrs. Thatcher were their mother. Bosco did not nod. He looked bored, and I could tell he was going to be a problem.
Josiah Thatcher, a man in his sixties who wore red suspenders over his chambray blue work shirt, called up to the stage. “Let’s get to the first clue.” He turned to his wife. “The game’s afoot, my love.”
“We’ll be drinking margaritas and relaxing on the boat in no time,” Mrs. Thatcher replied, putting her arm around his waist. They had to be the cutest couple out here, and secretly I hoped they would win, even though Leo had some romantic ideas of his own.
“Arriba, Arriba,” Josiah said.
“Arriba, Arriba,” Birdie and the waitresses joined in.
“Shh,” came from behind us. Bosco was glaring at our group. The more I was around this man, the less I liked him. Did he even have a right to be in the contest for the golden pecan? He didn’t live here.
Earl elbowed him, but he ignored it. “I’d like to hear the directions if you don’t mind.”
“Sorry.” Birdie looked back to me and lowered her voice. “Remind me to take that joker off my fresh slice of pie list.”
Another “Shh” went up from behind us.
“All right, everybody. Settle down. Here is your first clue.” Our attention was drawn to the front as Rocky pulled out a sheet of paper and began to read the official clue poem for the treasure hunt.
Today we are gathered to find the pecan
That glitters and shines.
Its lights are turned on,
You can search high and low;
Around the town, you will go.
Hear a moo and a sigh
At the beginning of your day,
Find the next clue, and you’ll find
You’re on your way.
I heard Earl whispering behind me. “See, I told you. The moo.” Ruby heard it too, and turned around, facing Earl and his brother.
“You told him what? Earl, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you already knew what was in the poem.”
“Damn straight,” Bosco responded before Earl could. “We know a lot of things, which is just another reason why you should give up. We’ve got the advantage.”
“And how did you get that?” Aunt Maggie asked.
“Because Rocky had to channel his inner poet with a lot of caffeine. Where at? Earl’s coffee shop.” Earl had a glint in his eyes. “Rocky never got so many free refills that day.”
Ruby gasped. “Do you mean to tell me you looked over his shoulder when he was writing the poem?”
“What’s it to you?” Bosco smirked. “It’s a free country, and the last I checked, it isn’t a crime if I should accidentally look over somebody’s shoulder when they are writing something. Not a crime.”
“Except it’s cheating,” Aunt Maggie said.
“Yeah, you cheated,” Danny repeated.
Sarah Butler began passing out a copy of the poem. The mayor took the microphone.
“And now without further ado…On your marks, get set…Go! And may the lucky nut win!”
Different groups started crowding around Sarah, anxious to get their copy of Rocky’s poem. Leo grabbed my arm and pulled the kids and me into a family huddle. “All right, team, this is how we work. First of all, any ideas as to the meaning of the poem?”
Zach held up our family’s copy. “We know it has to do with cows, so I say we spread out and check the fields within the city limits.”
“I don’t think we need to go too far on that one,” I said. “There is only one field to speak of. There is that land next to Dilly Dairy Ice Cream where they graze cows every once in a while to get the agricultural exemption for taxes.”
“Yes, are there cows there now?” Leo asked.
“I don’t think so, but we can drive by.”
Maggie came up to the group, Ruby and Danny behind her. “We’re off in search of a cow. Ruby thinks it might apply to the cowskin purses in the store window at the Charlie Loper Gift Shop.” Libby had recently opened the store to sell cheap cowboy trinkets and encourage people to drive out to the dude ranch.
With the clue being so vague, it could be anything even remotely related to a cow. As we drove over to the field, there were no cows grazing at present. Leo pulled over. “Well, that’s not it. Where else?”
“Maybe we should go look at cowskin purses?” Tyler asked, barely looking up from his phone. I glanced over as he scrolled through pictures of weightlifters. Tyler was an athlete and participated in football, basketball, and baseball. He didn’t need to add more muscles, but it was clear he was being lured in by Maximum Muscle and the prospect of looking like the men in the pictures.
“Sure,” Leo said as he made a U-turn to return to the town. When we got there, we found Maggie and Ruby inside the Loper gift shop.
“Any luck?” I asked when we joined them.
“Nope. Ruby, though,
saw something she had to have, so here we are, wasting time,” Maggie said.
“Hush, Maggie. Those boots are on sale,” Ruby said in a sing-song voice, reflecting the true happiness of spontaneous shopping. “Have a heart. Besides that, you bought a little notebook.”
Maggie held up a notebook with a picture of Charlie Loper on a horse, a still shot from one of his countless old films. “I bought the notebook so I could keep track of all the details.” She turned to me with one of those looks where she was about to tell me something wise. “We not only have to keep track of what we do but what everyone else does.”
When we exited, Coco pulled on my arm. “I have to go tee tee.” Her big brown eyes shone up at me.
Tyler stepped up. “Yeah, I think I’ve already had enough of this wild goose chase. I’ll take her home.”
Zach’s phone buzzed. “Me too.” He had been spending a lot of time texting someone at school. The way he was being so secretive about it, my bets were on a girl.
“But we just started. I thought you wanted to do this.” I couldn’t believe my kids were pulling out of the fun in the first hour of the treasure hunt.
“Right, so we can win you a trip and get to babysit Coco while you’re cruising,” Zach said.
Leo put his arm around my shoulder. “Fine. We’ll get more done without you sad sacks anyway.”
Coco put out her bottom lip. “I’m not a sad sack. I’m a happy sack, and I still have to go tee tee.”
Leo picked her up. “You’re a happy sack. Mommy and Daddy will take you back home. Make sure Tyler and Zach take care of you.”
Unsure if the boys could handle a precocious preschooler, I left a list of instructions for them to follow to make sure Coco was watched and fed on time. I only hoped they took the time to read them.
Chapter 5
I tried not to feel too guilty about the relief that crept in as we said our goodbyes to the kids. After all, treasure hunting with an almost five-year-old could only lead to tears once the boredom set in.
As Leo parked the car in one of the diagonal slots in downtown Pecan Bayou, I held up the clue. “I have an idea about the moo mentioned in the poem.”
Leo turned the key and shut off the car. “Let me guess, it’s the mooooving company down the road?”
Now that we were kid-free, Leo and I relaxed. This was turning into a great day to spend together. “Very funny. No, I think it is the Cattleman’s Call.”
Pecan Bayou’s one steakhouse had a large plastic longhorn steer out front. If you squinted almost to the point of closing your eyes, it actually looked real. “You just might be on to something, Watson,” Leo said in a strange British accent with a decidedly Texan edge.
I unbuckled my seat belt and looked over at Leo. “Why do I have to be Watson? I came up with the idea.”
“Ah yes, Betsy, the happy clue hunter.” He used the same accent, making me want to cancel my cable access to the BBC.
“Thank you.” I pulled myself out of the car. We were parked in front of Maximum Muscle, where a crowd of boys came out of the shop with bags full of supplements. Those coupons must have paid off for Mark. The downtown shops were surrounded by a series of alleys that served as a conduit for trash pickup. That way, the trash truck didn’t cause any Pecan Bayou traffic jams. With only one traffic light in town, it didn’t take much to cause a traffic jam. “If we cut down the alley, we can probably get there quicker.”
Leo gave me a bow and a flourish and continued to speak in faux Brit. “Lead on, m’lady.”
As we turned the corner into the area behind the store, Bunny Donaldson stood with her hand in a trash can positioned next to Maximum Muscle’s alley entrance. There were boxes neatly stacked by the can ready for pickup. Mark Valencia obviously took pride in being tidy. The alley itself was free of stray trash and had been swept clean.
“Will you just look at this poison?” As she emphasized the word “poison,” her braid dipped to one side. “The men in these pictures don’t look healthy. This is not what a real man looks like. These guys are pumped full of steroids. He should be arrested for distributing this trash. People in this city need to know that Mark Valencia is nothing more than a steroid peddler.”
Bunny began to throw brown glass vitamin bottles against the wall, her mood spiraling out of control.
I stepped forward, trying to grab her arm. “Bunny. Stop. You’re getting glass everywhere.”
“So what? It’s no worse than the mess the devil in that store is creating. At least you can sweep up my mess. You can’t sweep up the effects of toxic chemicals rotting away your insides. He’s peddling substances that will ruin those kids’ livers, turn them violent, make them bald as a billiard ball.”
“I know this is upsetting for you, but these are vitamins, not steroids. You don’t have any proof for your claims.” I grabbed at a small glass container in her hand.
Bunny wrenched her arm away. “Then I’ll get proof. What if he’s providing steroids to all those boys? You just wait and see. I’ll prove it.”
Leo nodded. “Then prove it, but for right now, you need to stop throwing glass bottles around.”
“Fine. I’ll go directly to the problem then.”
She pushed past us and headed for the front of the store. As we watched her go, I whispered, “She’s going to get herself into trouble with her temper. I also don’t think it’s a good idea to confront the store owner with nothing to back up her accusations.”
Leo sighed and pushed aside a piece of broken glass with the toe of his sneaker. “Bunny doesn’t have that kind of self-control.” Taking me by the elbow, he guided me through the broken glass. “Let’s keep moving.”
“It sounds like you want this seven-day cruise as much as I do.”
He smiled and raised his eyebrows. “Hmm, seven days all alone with my wife. How will we fill the time?”
“I’m sure we can think of something to do,” I grinned.
When we came out the other end of the alley, I spotted a big yellow envelope resting on an artist’s easel next to the cow in front of Cattleman’s Call.
“There it is!” We broke into a run to get to the envelope. At the same time, the Thatchers crossed from the other side of the street. I made it to the easel first and pulled out a sheet of paper.
As Mr. Thatcher pulled out their copy, I began to read out loud:
You found clue one
But you’re not done.
The robins sing,
On Charlie Loper take wing.
My gaze met Leo’s. “This is terrible poetry.”
Josiah muttered, “What the hell does Charlie Loper have to do with anything?”
“What do you think, Mrs. Thatcher?” I asked.
“Listen, Betsy. I know you’ve called me Mrs. Thatcher since you were a little bit of a girl, but with us doing this hunt together, I feel like you should call me by my first name.”
All these years, I had never known her first name. To me, she was always Mrs. Thatcher, the dispatcher. “What is your first name?”
“Primrose.”
“Really?”
“You can call me Prim.”
“Okay, Prim. What do you think?”
Prim tapped her chin. “The robins sing. Maybe the next clue is at the pet store? Minnie has a few birds in there.”
“I guess.” Josiah did not sound particularly sold on the idea. He turned to me. “What do you think?”
I shrugged. “Maybe?” Secretly I was harboring the theory that the poem was describing birds that loved to land on the statue of Charlie Loper.
“We’re heading to the pet shop,” Prim said as another group came down the street. Aunt Maggie, Ruby, and Danny were in the rear.
“There it is!” someone shouted, and a thunder of footsteps started toward us like it was a Black Friday sale with free TVs. Maggie and Ruby started running toward us, veering off from the crowd.
Leo tugged at my elbow. “We don’t have time to help them right now. This is o
ur chance to take the lead,” he said. “Have to go, Aunt Maggie. No time to talk.” He steered me back to the alley. “We’ll get there sooner if we take our shortcut.”
“Do you think it’s in the park by the statue of Charlie Loper, too?” I asked, hoping that was the direction we were headed in. Charlie’s statue used to hold a six-shooter until someone knocked it off, leaving his impolite middle finger greeting visitors to Pecan Bayou. The town council had to have a sculptor come in and reshape the hand to look like some sort of halfhearted wave, as if he were saying, “Welcome to Pecan Bayou…maybe.”
“Has to be,” Leo said.
“But we were just there. How could we have missed the clue?”
We stepped back through the broken glass. The back door of Maximum Muscle was now open, but a stillness had settled in the alley. Bunny must have finished telling Mark off for selling what she thought was poison. Maybe she ran to find a policeman to arrest him? The buildings that surrounded the alley left it in shadows, and after being in the bright sunlight, it took a little for our eyes to adjust. Leo, who was ahead of me, tripped and fell into the broken glass. He made a groaning sound followed by a thud as he hit the ground.
I stopped, letting my eyes adjust to the shadows before I made the same mistake.
“Leo, are you all right?”
“Yeah. I’m—” He stopped mid-sentence and jumped up. “Oh, my God. Call 911. The muscle guy. He’s—call 911!”
I punched in the numbers and drew closer to the prone form of Mark Valencia and tried my best to describe what I saw to Deputy Beckwith.
“Is he alive?” I could hear the crinkle of cellophane on the other end, so Deputy Beckwith was clearly enjoying the snacks Prim had left for him.
“I don’t know. He’s lost a lot of blood.” My eyes had adjusted to the dimness of the alley, and I bent over to try and locate the source of the bleeding. There was a gash at his throat, and what looked to be the jagged edge of one of the brown supplement bottles I had seen Bunny throwing around earlier appeared to be embedded in his neck. The sickeningly sweet strawberry odor from the liquid vitamin permeated every inch of the alley. It was a sickening mix of fruity scent, vitamins, and blood.