Deciding to demolish the old homes on these estates, McGregor built for himself large ornate manors: one on the shore of a loch in the Highlands, and one overlooking the Atlantic Ocean by the Firth of Lorne. All of thirty-six years old when his estates were finished, McGregor was unmarried and restless, the mermaid’s kiss never far from his thoughts.
“One morning in late spring, McGregor was strolling alone along the sand and rock-strewn beach near his estate by the Firth of Lorne. A storm had blown through the night before, and all manner of seaweed, shells, driftwood, and other debris from the sea had washed onto the beach. The storm had cleansed the air, and it was one of those rare days in Scotland where the sky was clear and crisp with not so much as a stray cloud to mar the unbroken march of blue. Appreciating the sight, McGregor slowly made his way along the beach, negotiating around the larger rocks and boulders. One particularly large boulder the size of a building blocked his way, and he found he had to practically step in the water lapping from the ocean to skirt around it. As he finally edged around the boulder, he saw a sight that stopped him in his tracks: by the water’s edge, was the mermaid princess sitting on a water-smoothed rock! With her long white hair blowing in the gentle breeze—she was more beautiful than before—he ran to her. Without hesitation, he pulled her to him, and once more, they kissed. When they finally broke apart, she held up an object she was holding in her hand. It was a book, bound in sharkskin and titled The Book of Lost Treasures.
“The mermaid princess explained to McGregor that the book was his reward for saving her life. She further explained how the book had magical properties to find lost treasures. She finished with a cryptic warning to be careful what he asked for, saying that while the book would always deliver what was asked of it, the results were not always what were wished for or expected. Puzzled, McGregor questioned her about the warning, but all she would say was that human desires, including greed, sometimes misplaced that which should be valued most highly, a lesson mankind never seemed to learn, despite the repeated conflict and heartache it had caused. With that, they shared one more lingering kiss, and the mermaid princess slipped off into the water. He never saw her again. A few years later, McGregor married and started a family, and the book became something of a family heirloom and conversation piece before it inexplicably disappeared in the late 1700s. From time to time, it has been said to resurface in various places around the world, thus renewing the legend of the book.”
Pausing to catch his breath, Hank said, “Of course, a book that can reveal so-called lost treasures is nonsense, but it still makes for quite a fascinating story, wouldn’t you say? By the way, my buddy said he would pay you a handsome price for the book, should you want to sell it.”
So caught up was he in the story Hank was telling him, Nick almost missed this last part.
“What? No, no, I don’t want to sell the book!” Nick said. As he thought about what Hank had told him concerning the legend of the book, he was struck by how … by how familiar Hank seemed to be with the tale. It was almost as if Hank was giving him a first-person account of what had happened.
“You know, you seem to be pretty knowledgeable about the legend or story of the book, Hank,” Nick commented curiously.
“Well, I guess I would since I have the personal account of Captain Augustus McGregor before me!” Hank said chuckling. “You see, McGregor wrote the whole story down in an old ship’s logbook that he kept. He presented it to his wife and children on his deathbed, and now it’s part of the McGregor Clan’s historical archives. My East Coast friend e-mailed the entire account to me last night, and I can tell you, it makes for an interesting read! You are more than welcome to come by my store, and I’ll give it to you.”
“I might take you up on that sometime,” Nick replied. “Hey, thanks for finding all this stuff out about the book for me. I owe you one.”
“Happy to help, Nick! Well, don’t stay a stranger. Come by the store and see me sometime!” Nick promised he would, and Hank clicked off.
Nick sat in the trailer, listening to the little window unit air conditioner blow while he thought about what Hank had told him of the legend of the book. Getting up, he pulled open a drawer where he had hidden the book and looked at it. The grayish, abrasive surface would fit with Hank’s description that it was made of sharkskin. The highly stylized type of writing, with its exaggerated loops and whorls within the book (which had always struck him as rather old-fashioned or odd), now made sense to him. It was writing from almost three hundred years ago! But if that part of the book’s legend was correct, was all of McGregor’s account true also?
Did he really save the life of a mermaid princess, and did she really present him The Book of Lost Treasures as a reward for saving her life?
As Nick mused over these questions, his cell phone rang again. Thinking that Hank was calling him back about some detail he had forgotten about the mysterious book, he was surprised when answering the cell, he heard Mark’s voice.
“Nick!” Mark’s excited voice practically shouted. “I’m on my way back from Texarkana. You have got to meet me at my office! I’ll be there in about forty-five minutes!”
“What’s going on, Mark?” Nick asked curiously. “You sound like you just won the lottery or something!”
“Not me, Nick, you! You remember the coin dealer I told you I was going to show those old coins to? Well, he took one look at the coins and offered me ten thousand dollars for them!”
“No!” Nick cried, as it was his turn to shout into the cell.
“I’m not kidding! I possess a cashier’s check for ten thousand dollars, and all you have to do is endorse it, and it’s all yours! Listen, just meet me at my office okay? Oh, and one more thing.”
“What?” Nick asked in giddy excitement.
“Bring The Book of Lost Treasures with you!”
Chapter 14
Nick set a personal record for the fastest shower he had ever taken in the Airstream’s tiny, cramped shower stall. Throwing on an old T-shirt and faded jeans, he didn’t bother with socks or tennis shoes and, instead, crammed a pair of flip-flops on his feet. Hurtling out of the trailer, he slowed only long enough to grab The Book of Lost Treasures and to lock the door. Then he sprinted to his car, managing to lose one of his flip-flops in the process. Cursing, he hopped on one foot before finally managing to slip the offending flip-flop back on his foot and make his way to the car. Starting the Sprint, he backed out from under the car awning and drove the little car down the dirt road as fast as he dared. Once on the paved county road, he floored the accelerator and drove to Mark’s office.
Fifteen minutes later, Nick pulled into the parking lot in front of the State Farm Insurance office, which was located in a newer business section on the south side of Pleasant Mountain. The building was actually a large house that had been remodeled into a suite of offices, complete with a reception area. Modern brick facing had been added to the house’s façade, as well as large picture windows that overlooked the parking lot. Two white wooden columns flanked the oversized front door, which was itself painted a brilliant white. A shiny, old-fashioned brass knocker was fixed to the middle of the door, and a matching brass doorknob provided entry. Neatly trimmed shrubs, oleanders, and dwarf crape myrtles were planted around the office building, and a sign beside the road read “State Farm Insurance: Agents Larry and Mark Chambers.”
As Nick got out of his car, he saw that despite his haste, Mark had beat him to his office, as his Expedition was already parked in its customary spot. Hurrying through the door, Nick was greeted by Susan Wolfe, a petite brunette in her late thirties who served as the receptionist for Mark and his father, Larry.
“He’s waiting for you in his office, Nick,” she said warmly. Nodding, Nick hurried toward the suite of offices located behind Susan’s desk. Stopping before a partially closed door, he rapped on it once before entering.
“Nick!” Mark said as he looked up from where he was seated at his desk. “Have a seat!”
he added excitedly as he motioned toward a comfortable-looking leather chair next to his desk.
Sitting down, Nick looked around Mark’s office. The large desk Mark sat behind was, as usual, immaculate, with not a pen, piece of paper, or paper clip out of place. The desk’s wooden surface was polished to a rich sheen, with desk accoutrements, such as tape dispenser, stapler, Post-it notes, as well as a pen and pencil holder, all strategically arranged for maximum efficiency.
Several family pictures in silver frames were grouped in triangular fashion next to the phone on Mark’s desk. Mounted on the wall behind Mark’s desk was a montage of pictures of him and Patti, with each picture and its frame perfectly aligned with the picture next to it. Although not anal to the point of becoming irritating, Mark definitely liked things neat, clean, and orderly. As he continued looking around Mark’s office, with its dust-free curtains flanking spot-free windows, Nick wondered for the umpteenth time about how he and Mark had ever become friends. Mark’s life was like his office—neat and orderly—while Nick’s life was unpredictable and chaotic.
“Look!” Mark said, interrupting Nick’s thoughts. Excitedly, he held a cashier’s check up before him. Practically snatching it from Mark’s hands, the breath caught in Nick’s throat as he saw the total of $10,000 printed on the check. It was true! The coin dealer had offered $10,000 for the old coins he had found in the strongbox!
“What … what should I do, Mark?” he was finally able to ask, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Do? With the check? That’s easy! You take the money, Nick!” Mark said laughing as he took a pen from his pocket and handed it to Nick. Nodding, Nick forced his hands to stop trembling as he endorsed the check. When he had finished, he stared dumbly at the cashier’s check, still not quite believing he was now $10,000 richer. Vaguely, he saw Mark consult a business card before he called the coin dealer and told him the transaction for the old coins was complete.
When he hung up, Mark got up and, walking to Nick, clapped him heartily on the back.
“Congratulations, Nick! You’re now the proud new owner of a ten-thousand-dollar check! Any ideas what you are going to do with the money?”
Shaking his head, Nick managed to say, “I don’t … I don’t know, Mark. I can still hardly believe it!”
“Well, it’s your business, I suppose, but Nick, please take my advice and put the money in the bank. Don’t spend it on any wild schemes, like emu farms, worm farms, or Tabasco pepper crops.”
“Don’t worry, Mark. I’ve learned my lesson,” Nick replied, grinning.
Although Mark nodded, Nick knew he was far from assured.
Rubbing his hands together, Mark changed the subject by asking, “Did you bring the book?” Nodding, Nick pulled The Book of Lost Treasures from a small satchel he was carrying. As he handed it over to Mark, he saw him begin to study the book with a newfound interest.
“What’s going on, Mark? I thought you didn’t believe what I told you about the book?” Nick commented smugly.
Idly, Mark nodded as he turned to the page that listed the rules of the mysterious book. “It’s just … it’s just that I’ve had a lot of time to think about the story you’ve told me, Nick. Mind you, I’m still far from convinced, but I can’t come up with an explanation of how you found those greenbacks and old coins. The coin dealer said there were Liberty Dollars, Seated Liberty Half Dollars and Dimes, and even a few Coronet Gold Dollars and Gold Indian Head Dollars in the old coins you found. In fact, the coin dealer said he hadn’t seen such an impressive collection of coins since the last coin convention he attended in St. Louis! In other words, there is absolutely no way you could have ‘accidentally’ stumbled across those coins!”
“Then you do believe me!” Nick crowed.
“I didn’t say that!” Mark said hastily. “However, just … just for the sake of argument, let’s say this book does possess some … some latent ability to find things. What I propose to do is to test the book’s capabilities in locating lost objects.”
“But I’ve already done that!” Nick protested. “Remember, I told you it found my lost TV remote!”
“Yes, I know that, Nick, but I wasn’t there when the book supposedly found the remote, and I’m the one that needs to be convinced! I need to see with my own two eyes this book of yours in action!”
“Well, … all right,” Nick grumbled. “What do you want to do?” Eagerly, Mark sat behind his desk and pulled a legal pad from a briefcase by his chair. He consulted it for a few moments before looking up at Nick.
“The story you told me on how you had used The Book of Lost Treasures to find the old coins and money reminded me of a conversation I had with my granddaddy before he died a few years ago. He grew up during the Great Depression, and he told me money was extremely scarce back then. Banks were failing left and right, and anybody who put money in a bank usually lost all their savings. So he said folks back then developed a healthy and well-deserved distrust of banks, and any money they had left, they took to hiding. When I asked him where they hid their money, he laughed and said virtually everywhere. Some dug holes in their yard and buried coffee cans full of money, some stuffed it in their mattresses, some even put it in the hollows of trees. But the point I’m trying to make is that regardless of where they hid their money, there has to be a certain percentage of this money that is still hidden! People died all the time back then of sudden strokes and heart attacks, and I bet some of them never had a chance to tell their loved ones where they hid their money! The book can help us find some of this lost money!”
“But how?” Nick asked confused. “During the Depression, almost everybody grew up on farms, and most of those farms are long gone.”
“You’re right, Nick. That’s why we have to phrase the request of the book carefully and according to its rules. The more precise we can be, the easier it will be to locate any of this lost money, should any of it still exist.” Nodding, Nick and Mark spent the next half hour discussing the wording that they would use.
Writing, rewriting, and often scratching completely through sentences he was scribbling on his legal pad, Mark finally wrote the completed version of what they would ask of the book. Showing it to Nick for his approval, it read:
Locate any money hidden and lost during the Great Depression within a one-mile radius of Nick Hollister’s Airstream trailer.
Both Nick and Mark knew it was unlikely there was any such money that had been hidden and lost within such a small area close to his trailer. However, that was precisely the point; they didn’t want to have to search multiple locations for the lost money. The book’s rules stated that any lost treasure must be found before the next could be requested. If that were true, the last thing they wanted to do was create unnecessary hardships for themselves in locating the lost money. The fewer sites they had to search, the better! Therefore, if no map appeared within the book, Nick would erase and change the mileage or diameter of their request one mile at a time until they got a “hit” in the book.
Taking a deep breath, Nick wrote their request in the book. When nothing happened, they waited a few minutes before Nick erased the “one” written in the book and replaced it with the number “two.” Still, nothing happened. Sighing, Nick changed the “two” to “three.” Again, there was no response from the book.
Nick was beginning to fidget and get impatient when after writing “four” in the book, there was still no response. Taking a furtive glance at Mark, he saw doubt begin to creep onto the face of his friend. Gritting his teeth, he quickly erased the word “four” and wrote “five.” Suddenly, light flared from the pages of the book. With shaking hands, Nick turned the page, and there before them was a detailed map leading from his trailer! Only a single location was indicated on the map, with the words “Here Lies the Lost Treasure” glowing brightly above it on the map.
Nick looked triumphantly over at Mark. His friend’s mouth was open in amazement, and his eyes glazed over slightly, as if he couldn’t believe
the sight they were showing him.
“How … how did you do that?” he managed to whisper.
“Not me, the book, Mark! You saw it yourself!” Nick said, laughing in relief. Letting Mark stare at the map in disbelief for a few moments longer, Nick finally asked, “What now?”
“Huh? Oh, I guess … we try to find this … this lost money,” Mark replied. Shaking his head as if to rid it of cobwebs, Mark got up and went to a file cabinet. Rooting around through it, he finally located what he wanted and returned to his desk.
Unfolding what proved to be a county map, he spread it out flat on the desk. He and Nick pored over the map until they found the precise location as indicated by the book’s map. Writing down the county road number indicated on both maps, Mark picked up the phone and made a phone call to county clerk’s office. Ten minutes later, Mark hung up the phone.
“The owner of that plot of land is a man named Cornelius Jones.” Tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the top of his desk, Mark added, “That name seems awfully familiar. I think he is one of our clients.”
A computer was located next to Mark’s desk atop a wooden computer cabinet. Rolling his chair over to the computer, the black flat screen monitor flickered to life as Mark booted up the computer. A picture of Mark and Patti, faces cheek to cheek and laughing, appeared as a screen saver on the monitor. Entering his password, Mark’s fingers flew over the keyboard, and soon, a list of clients began to scroll down the screen.
“There!” Mark cried triumphantly as he pointed at a name on the screen. Squinting, Nick saw Cornelius Jones’s name listed as one of Mark and his father Larry’s State Farm clients.
Mark’s fingers clicked keys rapidly, and Cornelius Jones’s account appeared.
“We have his home and car insurance,” Mark commented. “He must be one of Daddy’s clients because I know he’s not one of mine.” Consulting the information on the screen, he found a phone number and, picking up the phone, began to punch in the numbers.
The Treasure Hunt Club Page 10