Ralph gave me the look one gives a slow child. “Ain’t never heard of nobody offering more than I wanted. She’s all yours. Pay me whenever you can.”
I gave the old man what cash I had in my wallet – the huge sum of one hundred and fifty dollars – and promised to pick up the motor home in a few days. I would need to replace a few tires before I could drive it away, and he had to find the title. I told him to hold the title until I could pay him in full, but he insisted he sign it over in case he kicked the bucket.
I was on my way back to the house, and the treasure hunt, now that I had high-tech on my side. That’s when I passed the pawn shop Meg had told me about earlier. It was too much to resist. I had to check out the guy who had low-balled Mike. What if he stole the coins, I thought.
The pawn shop was in a mini-shopping center on East Main Street. I only noticed it because the road crew had shut down a stretch of Highway Sixty-five and detoured traffic to the next onramp. It was the middle store in a single-story building that housed half a dozen businesses. These stores were newer than the ones I’d seen downtown. It looked like they had been constructed in the mid-fifties. They were built plain and low, with flat roofs and plate glass fronts. Only two of the stores were occupied: the pawn shop and a junk store claiming to be Grandma’s Attic. When I entered the pawn shop, I felt like I was playing the lead role in a Twilight Zone episode from the same era as the building. A brass bell over the door dinged when I crossed the threshold. A short, balding, beady-eyed man popped his head out of the back room. He had a poker dealer’s visor and a jeweler’s loupe hanging from a gold chain around his neck. “What can I do you out of?” he asked when I closed the door behind me.
He moved from the back-room to a glass case that displayed jewelry, coins, handguns, and late-model electronics. Behind him was a rack of rifles and shotguns. “Hi,” I answered. “Just passing through town and saw your shop. My stock broker’s been bugging me to buy gold lately. Said it’s a good hedge against inflation. Just wondering if you had any gold coins to sell. I would really like to get my hands on some double eagles. He says they make the best investment.”
“I’d get a new broker if I was you,” he said.
“Why do you say that?”
I noticed he was looking past me to my car. Maybe he thought I was the front-man for a holdup, and Fred was driving the getaway car. “Double eagles are for coin collectors,” he answered, now looking at me straight on. “Pain in the ass to sell, and the price fluctuates all over the place. If you want to buy gold, get the modern gold eagle. Their price is determined by the spot price of gold, and they’re easier to sell than condoms to a whore.”
“Really?” My ignorance was about to blow my subterfuge. “Maybe I misunderstood him.”
“Where you’re from, Son? We ain’t got many people around here lookin’ to buy gold – they only want to sell it. And then they gets all upset when they find out their grandma’s heirloom jewelry ain’t worth what they thought it was.”
“Denver. Well actually, twenty-five miles west – a little town called Evergreen.”
“What you do there?”
“Freelance writer. I write articles then try to sell them to the weeklies and other magazines.” I thought twice about mentioning my handyman business. He might not think a handyman could afford to buy gold.
“Really? Anything I’ve read?”
“Probably not. I’ve only had a few How-To articles so far. Local stuff.” I wondered where that came from. The more I talked, the more I amazed myself. I had no idea I could lie like a politician. That’s when I decided to try a different tactic. “I’m thinking of doing a freelance piece on the James’ gang and some of their robberies. From what I’ve been able to gather, they came away with a lot of double eagles. I was wondering how much those coins would be worth today.”
He pushed back his visor then started rubbing the stubble on his chin. “I didn’t think you were here to buy anything. People who buy gold don’t drive around in cars like that,” he said, pointing to my sad-looking rental. “If you got something to say, Boy, say it. Don’t go sneaking around the bush.”
“Sorry. Most dealers in Denver wouldn’t give me the time of day unless they thought I was going to buy something.”
“Well, you should of come right out and said so. But like I said, double eagles are for coin collectors. I don’t deal in them because I got burnt too many times buying coins that I thought were one grade only to have PSGC grade them lower. Now, I won’t pay more for a double eagle than what the gold’s worth.”
“PSGC, what’s that?”
“It’s the number one coin grading service. Don’t even think about buying a rare coin unless it’s been graded.”
“So if someone came in to sell a coin, it’s possible it would be worth more than what you would be willing to pay?”
“Could be. Had a guy last week bring in a double eagle that could have been worth a lot more than its gold content, but I haven’t kept up on collector prices lately. They change too much, but I remember the early Liberties were pretty common. So I didn’t offer more than the gold was worth. I felt bad cause he’s been a regular for as long as I can remember, been coming in since he was a kid. It really pissed him off. I tried to tell him that I knew someone who might be willing to pay more, but he told me to stick my offer where the sun don’t shine. I knew something was bothering him, and then a couple days later, he goes and kills himself.”
He stopped long enough for me to write down what he had just said, and then he continued. “Don’t write this down, okay? He used to be a good kid, but ever since he married that big spender from Denver, he ain’t been the same. Sure as shit and shinola, she had something to do with it. I hear she’s some kind of black widow. Like I said, I knowed the guy since he was a boy, so I told my collector to give Mike a call anyway. Guess it was too little too late.”
“Not a problem,” I said, tearing out the page I had written on and crumbling it up. “Those words will never be repeated. You wouldn’t happen to have the number of your collector, would you? Maybe he can tell me how much Jesse’s coins could be worth.”
“I could look it up, but he’s in the book under Harold Morgan.”
I nearly dropped the crumpled ball of paper in my hand.
“You know, Hal?” he asked.
“No. Never heard of him.”
“I make my living reading people’s faces, Son. You ain’t lying to me again are you?”
“Guess I got a little excited knowing I was on to a real collector who could help me with my story. The James’ gang is really hot right now, and the sooner I get my story to the editors the better. Thanks for the information. I’ll be sure to send you a copy of the article when it’s printed,” I said and left the store.
Fred was sitting in the driver’s seat, drooling all over my dash and steering wheel. There was no way I could scold him – it was my own fault for overstaying my welcome in the pawn shop. I’d left him too long in the ninety-degree heat and should have been arrested for animal cruelty. He didn’t seem to hold it against me. He started wagging his tail and barking when he saw me, moving over to the passenger seat when I opened the door and slid into my seat. I started the car and immediately turned the air to high, but I left the windows down to purge the hot air. Then before I could tell him I was sorry, my phone started to ring. “Hi, Meg. How’s Kevin? Did Rosenblum get him out?” I asked after seeing her name on caller ID. I noticed the pawn broker watching at the window when I looked up. I waved and turned my head to back up.
“No. Not yet,” she said. I was still holding my phone in my free hand. “The judge set bail at ten-thousand. Mom said she’d put up the house, so all I need is another grand. I thought I’d ask you to lend it to me, so I didn’t have to listen to any more lectures on how to handle money and raise kids.”
By now, I was back on Main Street, heading south. A police cruiser passed me in the opposite lane. “Hey, is it illegal to use a cell in this st
ate while you’re driving?”
“I don’t know, Jake. Don’t you hear me? Can you lend me the money or not?”
I watched the cruiser in my rear-view mirror. He kept on going. He had probably been watching Fred imitate an airplane. Fred had his head out the window, his long ears flapping in the wind. The cop must not have noticed the cell phone. “Sure, Meg. I still have a couple thousand from a CD I cashed before I left. Will they take a check?”
“Shit! That will take at least a week to clear. I can’t leave Kevin in that long.”
“I can ask Mom for the money if you want. Speaking of which, why is she putting up her house. What’s wrong with yours?”
“Long story, Porky. And thanks for the offer, but I’ll bypass her for now and ask Daddy. By the way, where are you anyway?”
“Just leaving the pawn shop. Why not meet me at McDonald’s? I’ll buy you lunch, so you don’t have to face them on an empty stomach.”
I pulled over to the side of the road and searched for the police cruiser, then did a U-turn when I saw the coast was clear. I made it to McDonald’s before my sister, so I let Fred out and stood by while he searched for the perfect spot. He was finished and back in the car when Meg drove up. I got in for a second, started the car, then closed the windows. “Don’t go driving off on me, Freddie,” I said while getting out again. “Be a good boy and I’ll bring you back a couple McDoubles.”
“You can’t leave him there with the car running, Jake,” Megan said when she caught up with me.
“I can’t leave him out in this heat again. It nearly killed him while I was talking to the pawn broker.”
“That’s what I thought you said on the phone. What were you doing there?”
I started for the door. “Let’s go inside, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
* * *
“Wow, you two have been busy boys,” she said, removing a pickle from her burger. “They could save a fortune on these if they just left them off. I don’t know anyone who likes pickles on their burgers.” She tossed her pickle on the tray and then got back to our conversation. “And you didn’t check out the sock? What if someone really is buried down there?”
“I’m sure the sock wasn’t attached to a body, or Fred would have brought me back a foot rather than just a sock. I asked him where he got it, but he wasn’t talking. Maybe if I bribed him with a Big Mac instead of a dollar burger, he would tell us.”
“Mom’s right. You are a smartass,” she said. “So are you buying the crap about the coins not being worth more than the gold they’re made from?”
“Here, see for yourself.” I had taken advantage of the free wireless and searched the web on my smart-phone for double eagles. The articles neither confirmed nor disputed the broker’s evaluation.
“Typical web information,” Megan said. “I’d have a better idea if I’d asked a fortune teller.”
Prices on the double eagles, according to the pages I’d pulled up, went from $800 to over seven million. Ironically, the seven million dollar coin was one of the last, a 1933 coin that wasn’t supposed to be released because of the end of the gold standard. The Mint was supposed to destroy the new twenty-dollar coins when Franklin Roosevelt set the price of gold at thirty-five dollars an ounce and outlawed the ownership of gold. Someone at the Mint decided to keep a few coins for himself, and they started showing up years later. At first, the Secret Service would confiscate any coins they found until only two were known to exist: one that sold for millions and the other in the Smithsonian.
“Mike showed the dealer a common Liberty Head coin,” I said. “They were minted up until 1907 when they were replaced with the Walking Liberty. That definitely fits the timeline for Jesse James to have buried them.”
Megan put her burger down. “God this is awful. How can you eat these all the time?” She had barely taken a bite.
“Where else are you going to get a meal for a buck?” I asked, reaching for her discarded burger without taking my eyes off my internet search. “Can I give this to Fred? He doesn’t seem to mind the taste.”
Before she could answer, I found a web page that stopped my search cold. “Wow, look at this one from Carson City – it’s going for over one hundred grand.”
She reached over and took a fry from my pack. She had already eaten all of hers. “I wonder if Mike had one of those. That would go a long way toward keeping the wolves off my back.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to just sell the house? It might be easier than trying to find a buyer for the coins – assuming you ever find them.”
“I already thought about that, Genius. I’m upside down on the mortgage. Mike used what equity we had as collateral for his stupid dock business. I don’t have a single thing to sell or hock that will give me the kind of money I need.”
“What about your car? Isn’t Missouri one of those states where you can get title loans?” I asked and pushed the rest of my fries toward her.
She laughed without smiling, before shrugging and reaching for another fry. “These aren’t bad. A lot better than their burgers. I might have to get used to this food if I can’t get my insurance company to pay up.”
“You’ll get to like the burgers after a while. I hear they are going to quit using the pink slime, so maybe they’ll taste better.”
Instead of getting her to laugh, she started to cry. “I hocked the title yesterday and used the money to catch up on my payments.”
“Yesterday?” I asked. “So that’s what all the secrecy was about. You made up the story about meeting your girlfriend because you didn’t want me to know?”
“I’m sorry, Jake,” she answered, regaining her composure. “They wouldn’t leave me alone, and I didn’t want you or Mom to know how bad off I am. They were going to take the car back. How was I to know I’d need money to bail out Kevin?”
“Let me ask Mom for the money, Meg. You know Dad can’t do it without her okay. We’ll save a lot of time if we skip him and just ask her for it.”
After giving Fred his lunch of two double cheeseburgers, plus Megan’s partially eaten meal, we all went knocking at our parents’ door for help. Within an hour, the four of us were sitting in Rosenblum’s office.
The lawyer sat behind his desk chewing on the end of an unlit cigar. “I did a little research after we got off the phone, Mrs. Martin. If you and your husband are willing to put your house up, like you said, nobody will need to come up with a penny.” He then slid a formal looking document across his desk.
“Will we lose it if Kevin runs away?” my father asked.
“Marvin! What a terrible thing to say,” Mother cut in. “Where do we sign, Mister Rosenblum?”
“Right here on the X,” he answered. “I’ll have my secretary take them over to the court annex immediately. We should have Kevin out in a few hours.”
Father started to fumble for his walker, but he was stopped short by the lawyer. “Please don’t get up, Mister Martin,” he said as he put down his cigar and walked around his desk with the papers.
Mother intercepted the lawyer before he could hand the papers to Father. She signed first then gave them to Father, showing him where to sign. “I can’t thank you enough,” she said to Rosenblum. “He really is a good boy, and I’m sure you will see he had nothing to do with those drugs when all this is over.”
After a little more chit-chat, we all thanked the lawyer and started for the door. Rosenblum waited for Mom and Dad to leave then called out to Meg. “Megan, I need to talk to you about my retainer.”
“Sure, Ira,” she answered. “I’ll meet you guys at the restaurant in a few minutes.” I swear I saw her loosen a couple of buttons on her blouse as I followed my parents out the door.
Father was on his second cigarette, and we had finished our coffee when Megan joined us at the Rusted Kettle. The handwritten menu on the wall reminded me of the sexy waitress who had served us the previous day. I was still wondering what time her shift would start when Megan came in smiling.
> “What Rosenblum want?” Father asked her.
“Ira said I could sign a promissory note for the balance.” Then, turning toward me with a huge grin, she said. “We should be able to pick Kevin up within the hour, so lunch is on me.”
“What about that friend of his?” Mother asked. “I hope no one bails him out.”
“Hal has already bailed him out, Mother. He put up a cash bond of twenty thousand. Taylor’s bond was twice that of Kevin’s because of a trumped-up charge of driving a vehicle with contraband. They also took his driver’s license,” she answered. “I wonder if the kid knows how lucky he is to have parents with that kind of money.”
Mother slammed her cup on the table. Everyone stopped talking. “Talk about ungrateful,” she said. “Your father and I could be out in the streets tomorrow if Kevin doesn’t show up for court. And all you can say is how lucky Taylor is to have rich parents. I bet they wouldn’t put up their chicken coop for that kid.”
Now I remembered why I lived in Colorado. “Hey guys, I hate to be a party pooper, but I’ve got an online interview at three. I need to get going.” I surprised myself when I came up with that white lie. But I was still determined to solve the riddle of the coins, and there was plenty of daylight left to search for Jesse’s treasure. Megan stayed behind, waiting for Kevin to be released, while Fred and I went treasure hunting. I’m sure Mother would feed her an ample serving of crow while she waited for the call from the jail.
Once back at the house, I let Fred out on the deck and headed straight to the bathroom. McDonald’s had great coffee, but, like my beer, it seemed to go straight through me. Before I could finish, I heard Fred barking like he was going to kill someone or something. I knew Fred’s barks and growls better than I knew my ex-wife’s nagging. He was telling me to get my butt out there.
[To Die For 01] - A View to Die For (2012) Page 8