Paper Treasure

by Anne Stephenson

  “Come over here, young lady,” he said and beckoned Lisa nearer with a wave of the pouch. He took her right hand in his, turning it palm-side up. He shook the bag with his other hand. Three gold nuggets tumbled out.

  “They’re beautiful,” breathed Lisa.

  Charlie leaned closer.

  “Are they real?”

  “Of course they’re real. Archie found them by a little creek up near Timmins the week before he had to leave for the army. There was nothing he could do but keep his mouth shut and hope nobody else staked his claim.”

  Charlie picked a chunk of the dull, soft metal from Lisa’s hand and rubbed it with his fingers.

  Weirdo was watching him like a hawk. “Kinda gets to you, don’t it?”

  Charlie nodded.

  “That’s how we felt too. There we were, holed up in a barn, with the German army and the Atlantic Ocean between us and the chance of a lifetime.”

  “What did you do?” asked Lisa.

  “We agreed that whoever made it home would stake Archie so he could go back in the bush, and make the claim. If nobody’d beat us to it, we’d be equal partners.”

  “What happened?” prompted Charlie.

  “Fraser Hamilton got shot up pretty bad, but we all got out of there alive. Six months after we all got home, Archie sent us a telegram. He’d registered the claim that morning. Treasure Creek Gold Mine. But what we should’ve called it was Sucker Creek.”

  “Why, what happened?” asked Lisa.

  “We kept anteing up more and more money for equipment and men to work the mine, and then the gold petered out.”

  “Couldn’t you get more money?”

  Weirdo shrugged. “Half the men had families by then. Your grandfather had gone back to school. The rest of us couldn’t afford bank loans, and nobody wanted to buy the mine. Cost too much to get the gold out.”

  Charlie shook the nugget in his hand.

  “That would have been in the late 1940s, right?” He could tell by the keen glint in the old man’s eye that they were on the same wave length. So was Lisa.

  “The missing pages. Gold in the 1940s. Treasure Creek must have been mentioned.”

  “Pretty quick for a young one, aren’t you?”

  Lisa smiled. She was warming to this funny old man in the wheelchair.

  “I think somebody’s on the trail of the Treasure Creek Gold Mine,” said Charlie, tossing the nugget up in the air and catching it on its way down, “but if the mine’s not worth anything, why bother?”

  Weirdo thumped the arm of his chair.

  “That’s what we’ve got to figure out.”

  The receptionist answered the telephone on the third ring.

  “Colville Nursing Home.”

  “Yes,” said the caller. “I’d like some information about the nursing home. I have an elderly mother who’s been living on her own…”

  “If you’d like to give me your name and address,” said the receptionist, reaching for her pen, “I can send you one of our brochures. You can also visit our website at…”

  “Actually,” interrupted the man on the other end of the line, “I’m only in town temporarily. Can I ask you a few questions over the phone?”

  “Why don’t I connect you with our office administrator,” said the receptionist and put the call through to Mrs. Beale.

  “Good morning,” said Mrs. Beale. “How can I help you?”

  The man repeated his request. “I’m primarily concerned with the security of the nursing home. You see, my mother was robbed recently. It was terribly upsetting.”

  Mrs. Beale made comforting noises while she tried to read a memo about food costs from the dietician. “I can assure you,” she said, “that nobody gets in here without checking in at our front desk.”

  “But what about at night?” pressed the caller. “Is there someone on duty twenty-four hours a day?”

  The administrator answered briskly. “Our doors are locked every night sharply at nine o’clock. And all our exits have alarms. In all the years I’ve been here, we have never had a problem. I suggest you visit our facility and see for yourself.” In annoyance, she dropped the memo she was reading.

  “I might do that,” said the man. “Thank you for your help.”

  He hung up and crossed Jack Weir’s name off his list. For now. He had a few other tricks to try before he tackled the nursing home again.

  He entered another number, listening to it ring several times before someone answered.

  “Colville Realty. May I help you?”

  Chapter Five

  On The Trail

  “Thanks.” Charlie pocketed his change and picked up the tray. The restaurant was crowded.

  “There’s a table over there,” said Lisa. She led the way towards the window.

  Charlie slid into the seat across from her.

  “You know what I think” he said as he unwrapped his burger. “I think the guy who pretended he was related to Weirdo is the same guy who broke into my grandfather’s house.”

  “Probably,” agreed Lisa. She poked a straw into the lid of her soft drink and took a sip.

  “Both incidents happened within the last couple of days, and both involved two of the six original partners in the Treasure Creek Gold Mine.” Charlie put down his burger and leaned back. “Whoever was in my grandfather’s house must have been looking for his shares in the mine.”

  Lisa swallowed what she’d been chewing. “Why don’t you ask your mother if she knows where they are? Your grandfather probably left them to her in his will.”

  “Unless he didn’t think they were worth mentioning.”

  “No way.” Lisa shook her head. “The note in his diary, remember?”

  “Yeah.”

  “If he thought they were worthless, he wouldn’t have been planning to see Weirdo after all these years.”

  “I like your logic. There’s one problem – why the time lag? My grandfather died in May. This guy didn’t show up until July.”

  “I don’t know,” answered Lisa.

  “Something must have set my grandfather off…Are you going to use this?” He pointed to a package of ketchup.

  “Uh-uh. I take my fries straight.”

  Charlie bit the corner of the foil packet and doused his lunch with globs of the runny, red sauce.

  “I wonder if the other partners kept their stock,” he mused aloud.

  Lisa smiled at him across the table. Charlie had the bug already. Weirdo would probably call it the gold bug.

  “Why don’t we ask Weirdo when we go back tomorrow,” she suggested.

  They’d left the Colville Nursing Home shortly after twelve o’clock when an orderly had come to Weirdo’s room to find out why he wasn’t at lunch.

  The old soldier had given them a colourful description of the nursing home’s custard, but, he grumbled, seeing as he’d already paid for his meals, he’d better go and eat the stuff.

  Charlie and Lisa had said they’d see if they could dig up any information about the Treasure Creek Gold Mine that afternoon.

  “And make sure you don’t tell anybody what you’re doing.” Weirdo had cautioned them. “We don’t need anybody else sniffing around our gold.”

  They’d pledged discretion and wheeled him down to the dining room before heading out for a little lunch themselves.

  Lisa took another bite of her cheeseburger. “We could stop by my father’s office when we’re finished,” she suggested. “The newspaper has all kinds of old stuff on microfilm.”

  When she was finished, Lisa dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her serviette. “Besides,” she announced, “he wants to meet you.”

  “He does?” Charlie felt himself flush.

  Lisa’s eyes danced mischievously. “We’re next door neighbours, remember?”

  “Right,” said Charlie. He didn’t feel this way about any of his other neighbours. Actually, he’d never felt this way abou
t anyone before.

  Lisa drained the last of her soft drink. “Weirdo’s a neat old guy, isn’t he?”

  “Hmmm? Oh, Weirdo? Yeah. He’d kind of cranky on the outside, but I like him. He must be really lonely in the nursing home.”

  Lisa scrunched the wrapper from her burger and tossed it on the tray. “Ready?”

  Charlie gave the ice in the bottom of his cup a final shake and tipped the remaining cubes into his mouth. “Ready.”

  They dumped their garbage in the bin by the door and went outside. Seagulls flocked around the parking lot scrounging for scraps. Charlie shielded his eyes against the glare of the sun and looked over the lake. It was as still as a millpond.

  “Do you realize I’ve been here four days and I still haven’t been down to the beach?”

  “It’s too hot today anyway,” said Lisa.

  “Why don’t we go tomorrow?” asked Charlie. “That is if you’re not busy.”

  “I thought we were going back to see Weirdo.”

  “We can do that too…but what I really wanted to ask you was if you wanted to go to the show tonight with me and Joey.”

  “Is this a date?” asked Lisa slyly.

  “Yeah, well sort of, if you don’t mind having a seven-year-old chaperone.”

  “Not at all,” laughed Lisa. “It’ll be fun.”

  “Seriously? Then it’s a ‘yes’?” asked Charlie.

  “It’s a ‘yes,’” said Lisa, and she turned in the direction of downtown.

  Even the thought of Joey watching their every move didn’t spoil Charlie’s good mood as they headed for the old greystone building housing The Colville Times.

  Lisa’s father was the daily paper’s managing editor. He’d taken the job after several years as Asia correspondent for one of the large Toronto newspapers. “That’s how he met my mother,” explained Lisa as they neared her father’s office, “covering the Far East.”

  “Were you born there?” asked Charlie.

  “No. Dad had gone back to work in Toronto so my mother could finish her degree at York University. When I was five, we moved to Hong Kong. He ran the paper’s Hong King bureau for four years and my mother worked as a translator.”

  “You lived in Hong Kong?”

  Lisa’s reply stopped Charlie dead in his tracks. “What does…whatever you just said mean?”

  “It means you’re cute,” giggled Lisa, “in Cantonese.” She pulled open the glass-plated front door of the newspaper building and led the way inside.

  Laura Bradford hung up the phone in a panic. “Joey!” she called. “I need you downstairs! Now!”

  “Dadadadadadaa!” screamed Joey as he vaulted over the last step and landed in the hall beside his mother. “Your wish is my command.”

  His mother rolled her eyes skyward. “That was the real estate agent. She’s on her way over with a client.”

  “Great. I’ll show them around.” He pulled a walking stick from the umbrella stand and swung it about like a sword.

  “That’s not exactly what I had in mind. I want you to tidy up the playroom.”

  “Joey looked at his mother like she’d lost her mind. “Don’t you think that’s a serious waste of my talent as a super hero?” He cut and thrust in her direction.

  His mother took a determined step towards him and reclaimed the walking stick. ‘Move it, Shorty. And leave Grampa’s sticks alone. I don’t want them broken.”

  By the time the real estate agent pulled into the driveway, Laura Bradford had picked up orange peels in Joey’s bedroom, rinsed the remnants of a secret potion out of the bathroom sink and straightened the linen closet, which he had obviously visited in his search for a suitable cape.

  The agent, Samira Saikley, was accompanied by a man in his late forties, wearing wire-rimmed glasses with the kind of lenses that darkened in the sunlight. Joey followed his mother to the door.

  “Laura Bradford. John Reid.”

  “How do you do?” said Laura. She offered Mr. Reid her hand.

  “Mrs. Bradford. Nice place you’ve got here.”

  He shook her hand, holding onto it for a moment too long. When he finally let go, she wiped her hand on her skirt.

  “I don’t know if Ms. Saikley told you or not, but this was my father’s home,” she said. “He died a few months back which is why the house is up for sale.”

  “As a matter of fact, she did tell me,” confirmed Mr. Reid. “My condolences.”

  “Thank you.”

  The real estate agent was looking at her pointedly.

  Laura got the message. “Well, then. I’ll leave you to it.” She took Joey by the hand and they retreated to the kitchen.

  “Do you think he’s going to buy the house?” Joey asked.

  “I have no idea.” Laura picked up her book and the glass of iced tea she’d left on the kitchen counter. “Come on. We’d better go outside.”

  Joey wandered around the backyard aimlessly, kicking at the grass and squishing ants while his mother sat in the shade and read.

  Finally, he poked at his mother’s lawn chair. “How much longer do we have to stay out here?”

  She looked up from her book. “What’s the matter, sweetie?”

  “I’m hot.” Joey rubbed a grimy hand across his forehead.

  His mother glanced towards the house. “They must be about finished. Why don’t you go inside?”

  The screen door slapped shut behind him as Ms. Saikley and Mr. Reid appeared at the top of the basement stairs. “I need to show Mr. Reid the yard,” said the agent brightly. “Then we’ll be on our way.”

  Joey eyed her companion. “Are you going to buy the house?” he asked.

  “I’m thinking about it,” replied Mr. Reid. Then he followed the real estate agent outside.

  It was much cooler down in the basement playroom. Joey turned on the television. His favourite cartoon was about to start. He’d seen this one before. The kids are hanging onto the dinosaur’s tail. He was swinging it back and forth across the treetops. Any minute now they’d go flying… Joey heard a real live snort.

  He turned his head to see Reid standing in the doorway.

  “I thought you’d gone already.”

  “Not yet. I wanted to take another look at the furnace.”

  Joey’s eyes slid back to the television.

  “Just you and your mother living here?” asked Reid.

  “No,” replied Joey, his sights firmly planted on the screen in front of him. “My brother’s out…and my father won’t be back til Friday night…Wow! Did you see that?”

  Reid watched for a moment as the kids flew through the air and, three plops later, they were in a raging river. Another second and they’d encounter a waterfall.

  He waited long enough to see if he was right, then left the room.

  “You could try checking the periodical indexes.” Mike Kirby handed Charlie the volumes for 1946 to 1950. “If you find anything interesting, we’ll display it on the monitor.”

  Lisa’s father was about the same age as Charlie’s, but unlike his father, who wore a navy-blue suit, shirt and tie every day to his office downtown, Mike Kirby wore jeans, a polo shirt and loafers.

  He’d given his daughter a kiss on the cheek and sat them up at a desk in the corner of the newsroom.

  “Shelly’s out interviewing the mayor,” Mr. Kirby explained. “I’m sure she won’t mind if you use the library table next to her desk.”

  “What should we look for?” asked Lisa, taking one of the volumes and flipping through the listings. It was set up like a dictionary, every article from every major newspaper alphabetically indexed by subject matter.

  “Anything with gold in the title, I guess. I’m not really sure,” admitted Charlie. He pulled up a chair and sat down on the side of the desk.

  “Judging by the dates Weirdo gave us, they must have shut down the mine around 1950.”

  After a few minutes, Lisa peeked at him ov
er the top of her book. “So?”

  Charlie smiled back at her. “So what?”

  “So did you like my father?”

  “Yeah, he’s cool. He didn’t even give us the third degree about what we’re up to.” Charlie paused. “Do you think he’s okay with us hanging around together?”

  “Why wouldn’t he be?”

  “Don’t know…” Charlie cleared his throat. “We’d better get back to work. Weirdo’s expecting us to come up with some answers by tomorrow.”

  “Right,” said Lisa, scanning the open page. There were three columns under gold. With a little luck they’d be there all afternoon.

  Chapter Six

  Shadows in the Night

  Joey elbowed Charlie out of the way so he could admire his reflection in the hall mirror. “Perfect,” he declared.

  “Oh, yeah?” Charlie made a grab for his brother’s hair. “Yuck!” He pulled his hand back in disgust. “What did you do, use half a tube of gel?”

  “Hey, watch it.” Joey patted his hair back into place.

  “Joseph Bradford, did you use my styling gel again?” Laura Bradford stood in the living-room doorway watching her sons preen in front of the mirror. “I told you not to use my stuff without asking.”

  “But, Mom, I want to look good. Charlie and I have a double date.”

  “Double date!” Charlie shrieked. “This is not a double date, buddy boy. I’m only taking you because Mom…”

  “Charlie, that’s enough.”

  Charlie scowled at his younger brother. “You bug me, Joey. B, double U, G, B-Uh-G.”

  Joey glared back at him.

  “Joey,” explained his mother with a straight face, “it would only be a double date if you were taking someone as well. But you’re not. You’re just going with Charlie and Lisa.”

  Joey thought it over.

  “So when I get a girlfriend, Charlie and I can go to the movies together and that would be a double date, right?” He eyed his brother angelically.

  “The odds on you and me double dating are a zillion-to-one,” said Charlie.

  “Good, then I won’t have to watch you slobber over some yucky girl.”