Collins looked at him and then looked around some more.
“Well, Mr. Mansfield, that’s exactly why I stopped.” He paused. “I know what time you close and on my way home I saw a light on here.”
Collins eyes floated around the room some more.
“Everything okay here?” he asked, somewhat suspiciously.
A cop can read when someone is up to something that they don’t want to share. Legal or not. It’s in their blood to feel it. It’s also in their training.
“Oh yes, we are fine” Mansfield responded quickly.
“You said “we.” You have company?” Collins asked firmly again.
Mansfield was a little bewildered and was starting to get a little dry in the mouth.
John Hopes slowly emerged from the shadows and stepped up behind Mansfield. Collins could only see half of his face. Neither man had heard him come up the stairs. Years of investigative reporting had taught him to move around quietly.
“Good evening, Officer,” Hopes said with a grin.
Mansfield improvised an excuse. “We are just doing some organizing downstairs and stocking new books. Everything has to be card catalogued. I don’t get paid for this stuff, either!” He forced a smile and Collins knew it. “My friend John is helping me. Someday we will be computerized and won’t have to do all this work by hand.”
Sheriff Collins nodded his head ever so slightly to make Mansfield think he believed him.
“Mr. Mansfield, do you always work in such dark conditions?” He asked.
Mansfield thought quickly. “Well, we are working downstairs this evening and it was daylight when we went down there.” Mansfield could feel himself starting to get a little perturbed. This was really none of Collins’ business anyway, other than being on county property
“But…well, thank you for stopping to check on us, Sheriff Collins. I assure you everything is fine here at the library.”
Collins put his thumb in his gun belt and took a deep breath as he looked around once again. He smiled without showing teeth and drew a deep breath through his nose.
“Well okay, I’ll be on my way. Just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
John Hopes smiled.
Mansfield said, “Thank you very much. We greatly appreciate it, Sheriff, and have a great evening.”
Collins paused just a bit and let his eyes roam once more. He walked to the door slowly, took the door knob in his hand and then turned around. John Hopes had already started down the stairs and Mansfield had his hand on the handrail to do the same.
Collins said, “Oh, Mansfield.”
Mansfield’s head swiveled around to look at Collins and his eyes acknowledged him.
Collins looked at him with cop eyes. “Your card catalogue…It’s upstairs.”
Mansfield said nothing but slowly nodded his head, knowing that Collins knew he wasn’t telling him the truth.
Collins closed the door and Mansfield eased back downstairs, a little sick to his stomach. What was that all about? Mansfield walked over and placed both hands on the rack that held the daily newspapers. He leaned on it and contemplated what had just happened.
Because their families had lived in the area for generations, both Mansfield and Collins knew of each other’s connection to the legend, but what each of them didn’t know is that both of them now had the biggest clue to come along in decades, thanks to Josh and Eddie. There were now three defined teams who were hot on the trail of the missing Confederate gold and only Josh and Eddie’s team knew that! Mansfield knew that Josh and Eddie had found something big but he didn’t know it was the missing red can. Collins and Mayor Billingsworth knew that the boys found the can and were looking for Otis, but the two town officials didn’t know about Mansfield and the yellow legal pad paper copy of the document.
Mansfield realized now that he must work fast.
Hopes looked at him while he bit his cheek.
“John, we have to get busy. We have to decipher this riddle as soon as possible. I know Collins knows something. He just wouldn’t have done that for no reason. He’s too lazy for one thing! But I could see it in his eyes. Something has happened that we don’t know about and who knows how many people have this same clue that we do.”
“Yes, it’s amazing how a couple of kids can come strolling in here with information of such high caliber.” Hopes paused and thought for a moment. “Could they have found the can, do you suppose? The one mentioned on the note in Clyde Franklin’s old Bible?”
“That can washed off of Clyde Franklins porch in 1958. People just assume it’s in the swamps of Louisiana by now. But I don’t know,” Mansfield said, washing his hand back over his forehead, raking his hair back. “Any kid who spends a lot of time running up and down the riverbanks will certainly find things. It’s possible,” he sighed, resignedly, “because I don’t know where else this could have come from. I’m just concerned that Collins has the same information that we do. If he does, we are in a race for sure!”
John Hopes sat back down at the desk he was working at and put his bifocal glasses back on the end of his nose. “Well….we’d best get busy then.”
Mansfield took the work that they had done, with all the letters filled in, and made some copies of it. He gave Hopes one to take home, kept one for himself and put three more in a file folder to lock up later in the safe upstairs. For now he placed them by the computer screen on an adjacent desk and stood up.
Hopes said, “How much do you think the kids know?”
“They’re kids. There’s no way they could know much without help. It’s Collins I’m worried about because not only is he lazy, he’s greedy and he’s devious. He will do whatever it takes to find out whatever he needs despite his laziness. And he has that badge to help him do it.”
Hopes was already scanning the lines of the riddle.
Steel horses…rainy night…sand is a vault…an island.
“Hmm…,” he thought.
The two men worked late into the night with strong will and strong black coffee. Elton Mansfield would jump from the computer to the microfiche and then he would go grab a book or two that he thought would help him. They discussed the possibilities of each line and used all the resources that they had at their fingertips in the library to their advantage and, by 2:15 a.m. they were confident that they had each line figured out the way the author had intended. They, too, were very sure that the little island just five miles north of them held the secret to the gold if not the gold itself. They just had one problem. And so did the other two teams. That island was privately owned now and off limits to just about everyone. A gate and padlock blocked the swinging bridge that led to it and also a sign that warned of prosecution. It had been purchased a few years earlier by an investment group that wanted to develop it into a youth camp. So far nothing had been done and it sat just as it had when it was purchased, with overgrown weeds all around and an old three-story structure desperately in need of attention.
Of course, boys being boys, Josh and Eddie had explored the island a few times using their boat. Many times, actually. Rumor was that there was a caretaker who stayed there in the old structure to keep an eye on things and to run off anyone who came to vandalize. It was said that he would shoot at you with “salt shot” if you were caught on the island snooping around! Josh and Eddie had never seen him any of the times that they had been there and there was not much evidence that anyone was taking care of anything on that island.
Mansfield and Hopes didn’t know that.
Mansfield hit the power switch on the copier to shut it down and Hopes flicked off the basement lights. They were done for the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Mrs. Anderson looked over the top of her glasses as the little bell jingled and Mayor Billingsworth walked into the Town Office building wearing his trademark lizard-skin cowboy boots and white Stetson hat and smoking his morning cigar.
“Good morning Mayor,” she said in a strong Appalachian accent.
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He took the cigar out of the corner of his mouth and nodded his head to her. “Good morning, Kate. How are you?”
“Fine, and you sir?”
“Good, good. Any letters or memos for me?”
“No, nothing yet today.” She looked back down at her stack of work on her desk. Always a pile.
Billingsworth smelled the coffee and stepped towards the little room where Kate Anderson kept it fresh.
From two offices down Sheriff Collins heard the mayor arrive, rolled his chair on wheels back from his desk and proceeded to meet the mayor at the coffee pot. Collins stepped into the little room towards the back, away from Mrs. Anderson, as the mayor was pouring himself his first cup of the day. Collins brought a strange mood with him and looked worn down, even un-shaven. The two looked at each other and then glanced around. Billingsworth still had the cigar in his mouth as he poured his coffee. Collins stepped close to him and kept his voice down as his eyes darted back and forth nervously. He checked again that no one was close.
“We have to hurry!” Collins said straightforwardly. “Those kids know too much and now I have a feeling that Elton Mansfield knows something!”
“Mansfield?” The mayor thought for a moment, cigar still in his mouth. “The librarian down the road?”
“He’s not only a librarian. You know his connection. He was in there late last night, at the library way past hours of operation with some old guy. I knocked on the door to see if everything was good and he was up to something and it wasn’t book returns.”
“Oh. Collins, you’re paranoid! He could have been doing anything!” the mayor said, taking the cigar out of his mouth. “How do you know they weren’t researching something or the old guy was not just there using the computers? Could be his father! And I wouldn’t worry about those kids either. How much could they know?”
The mayor was doing his best to shrug it off but Collins was certain.
“I know if someone is lying to me, Mayor. Now listen, Mansfield knows of my connection to that legend and I know of his connection.” Collins then pointed his finger to drive his point home. “He has never acted so nervous in all the years I have known him.”
“All the years? How well do you know him?”
“Well, we know of each other. We are not friends but we know of each other. It’s a small community here on the river, Mayor. You know that. I have spoken to him a few times and he just acts like…well…a librarian! But this time he acted more like a…like a first time offender, Like a kid who had stolen a candy bar for the first time and then was accused of doing it! I could read it in his eyes.” Collins smoothed his hair back nervously with his right hand and looked Mayor Billingsworth right in the eye. “He didn’t want me to know what he was doing!”
The Mayor broke eye contact with Collins and took a sip of coffee as he went into thought, shaking his head. His demeanor now became uneasy.
“Mayor,” Collins continued slowly, “listen. I know that Mansfield is absolutely obsessed with this legend just as I am. He is a living descendant, I am a living descendant, and oh by the way, that big Otis guy is a living descendant. We all know of each other! And I do not want any of them finding this before we do!” he said sternly.
Now it was Billingworth’s eyes that were darting around. He didn’t want to look Collins in the eye. He returned the cigar to his mouth and walked around the small room apprehensively. His mood changed every few seconds as he thought his way through it and he appeared a bit angry as he stopped pacing and looked back at Collins, taking the cigar out once again and pointing the wet end at him. “You should not have taken that document from that kid’s garage! Eventually we are going to have to explain that, especially if we find the gold,” he said scornfully but quietly.
“It was the red can! The missing red can that has been gone since 1958! It was right there. Those kids didn’t know what they had. They could have ruined it! It is a historic document and had to be preserved!” Collins said with pleading hands. “I was doing a service, Mayor!”
Billingsworth moved closer to Collins.
“You stole it. And if I’m with you in this then I am an accessory to the crime. Do you know what that is? I’ll tell you what that is. It’s political suicide! That’s what it is!” The mayor now drove his point home. “Absolutely I would like to solve this legend and get that gold. But it’s not even ours to keep. Sure, there is a hefty reward for getting it, not to mention all the bragging rights and political leverage. But it won’t do me one bit of good if I’m sitting in jail for stealing something out of a kid’s garage!”
Collins put a finger to his lips as he looked around. They were getting a bit loud.
The Mayor continued, “And I still say that you are paranoid. So what that you were driving home and saw the light on in the library past hours and knocked on the door and two old guys were acting weird. Could be a million reasons! They could be making moonshine in that basement, they could be printing money, they, they could be doing anything down there but it’s astronomical to think that they were working on finding that missing gold. Astronomical!”
Collins was not getting his point across and was beginning to look desperate. Sweat started to bead on his forehead on this warm summer morning and he began to pace once again inside the small room. He looked back at Billingsworth and reached for his pocket.
“Really? Really? Astronomical huh? Well take a look at this!”
Collins jerked a piece of copy paper from his back pocket, unfolded it and whacked it down on the table beside coffee maker.
“What is this?” the Mayor asked. He slowly picked it up and began to scan down it. His eyes began to widen. “Collins…what is this? What have you done?”
“This is what they were doing last night!”
“How did you get this?”
“I staked them out.”
“You what?”
“Mayor, you’ve got to listen to me! I knew he was up to something! I knew it! So when I let myself out, I closed the door and let them go downstairs. I waited for a few minutes and then opened the door again and put a piece of clear tape over the strike plate on the door casing. It was dark so Mansfield wouldn’t see it when he left. He locked the knob lock but not the deadbolt--lucky for me. I had to wait until 2:30 in the morning, but they finally left and all I had to do was give the door a good push and I was in.
Mayor Billingsworth’s eyes were as big as Frisbees. Collins had once again let himself in to a place and helped himself to what he needed. He was working beyond the boundaries of his badge and for selfish reasons.
The Mayor looked back down at the paper.
“Do you know what this is?” Collins asked and then resumed slowly, looking Billingsworth square in the eye, “This is the document…completely solved. Every letter filled in and underneath it they have written what they believe it means. Little notes all over the place. Mayor, this…is…the…golden…ticket! We can almost just literally go get the gold now. We don’t even have to decode it. It’s all done for us!”
Once again the Mayor’s eyes floated down to the paper. He read words like: steel horses, storms flow from hills high, southern jewel, and island bank.
Billingsworth was frozen for a few seconds and then looked up from the paper but didn’t focus on anything. He was deep in thought, almost meditation-like, recounting the legend in his head that he knew so well. He muttered, “Storms from hills high….It poured rain that night.”
“Yes, yes it was a deluge!” Collins replied, finally making some progress with the Mayor.
The Mayor went on muttering and staring straight ahead trance-like, deep in thought. “Island….our island.”
“It’s right here!” Collins said.
Greed was began to permeate the veins of the town Mayor as he absorbed the words on the paper and allowed his mind to accept the fact that it could be so close and so easy. Would it be worth gambling all of his future political aspirations to carry on and find this missing treasure? He
was right that eventually they had to explain how they had gotten their hands on all the new clues that they were in possession of. If this was found it would not just be a local story. No. It would be regional, statewide and even national news! There would be inquiries forever and so many questions to answer. A rush of emotions flowed through him and he thought that the best decision was no decision for now. He took a few deep breaths and looked down at the paper again. “How did you come up with this?” he wanted to know.
Collins looked at him for a second and then thought back to last night after he had let himself into the library.
“Well, I just closed the door behind me of course and I knew they had been working downstairs, so I slipped down there and started looking around. Mansfield is a neat freak so everything looked in order, really nice and tidy as I looked around with just a flashlight. That guy…I mean every book is in place and every magazine is faced out so you can see what it is and nothing is out of place.” Collins paused, thinking deeply and rubbing his chin, “And that’s what made this so easy to spot. There was a folder stuck between the computer screen and the computer desk that was just sloppy. It was out of place and wasn’t supposed to be there long term. I opened the folder and looked in and there they were.”
“They?”
“Yeah…there were three copies of this! I’m sure their intention was to put these away somewhere, but probably in their exhaustion, someone dropped the ball and forgot.” Collins’ detective mind at work.
“So you just took one?” the Mayor asked, raising his eyebrows. “You do know that they will remember how many copies of it that they made!”
“Of course! I made one more copy and put the folder back right where it was,” Collins said, once again behaving like a detective. “When I was finished there I pulled the tape off the doorway and locked the door and left.”
Billingsworth, noticeably concerned, turned away from Collins and chewed his cigar a little more and thought. He wanted to move on to Charleston. He wanted to advance his political career and have a nice office in that beautiful gold-domed capitol building. But goodness, if a man can find a pile of gold, wouldn’t that be better? Wouldn’t that be enough? Who needs politics? Who needs any job? But if a man can find a pile of gold, an artifact from our country’s past, and use it as a springboard to advance his political career, then he is thinking right! Yes, that would be the ticket!
River Rocks: A West Virginia Adventure Novel Page 20