The Treasure Hunt Club

by Michael Scott Clifton

  Mark’s question had the effect of temporarily distracting the realtor from his line of inquiry. Seizing the moment, Mark started slowly walking up the sidewalk to the front door. After a moment’s hesitation, Mondragon began to follow.

  “As a matter of fact, my grandfather’s house is just a block or two down the road from here. Back when my father was growing up there, this entire area was chili and alfalfa fields. Then about fifteen or twenty years ago, the damn Californians began to move here and decided this was a great place to live. Since then, the price of land has gone sky-high, and where adobe houses used to be, now there are multi-million dollar mansions! My grandfather is eighty years old and has lived in the same house for over fifty years. He can’t afford the property taxes anymore and is going to have to put his house up for sale.”

  “That’s the price for progress, I suppose,” Mark said with a touch of sympathy in in his voice.

  “Well, the commissions are good, and I’ll make sure Grandpa will get a king’s ransom for his little home!” Mondragon said, his dark eyes flashing in good humor as he fumbled with a set of keys in his hand. Finally finding the right key, he unlocked the door and pushed it open. Motioning the others in, Mondragon closed the door once they had all entered the house.

  The interior of the house was noticeably cooler, and Nick stood for a moment to allow his eyes to adapt to the gloomy interior.

  “Sorry, but the electricity was turned off as soon as the new owners stated their intention to demolish the home,” Mondragon quipped.

  Nick pulled a small flashlight from a tote bag he had carried in from the rental car and switched it on. The tote bag also carried The Book of Lost Treasures, but Nick didn’t want to risk using it in front of the realtor. Besides, he had already memorized the details of the map the book had produced. Nodding at Mark, he headed straight for a room at the back of the house.

  Turning down a short hallway, Nick took a left and abruptly entered what must have once been a spacious family room or den. Stepping down onto a sunken floor made up of scarred hardwood, Nick looked around carefully. A fireplace made of adobe bricks was straight in front of him. Next to the fireplace was a sliding glass door that opened to the field behind the house. Dusty, floor-length curtains covered this glass door, only allowing a minimum amount of sunlight into the room. Looking upward, he saw square wooden beams that spanned the room and supported the ceiling.

  Taking another step into the room, Nick shined the flashlight beam at the thick adobe walls. He was rewarded seconds later with the reflection of light off of a ceramic surface. Moving in for a closer look, he peered closely at what proved to be a large rectangular piece of tile roughly six inches by six inches.

  “Mexican tile. A lot of the older homes around here have them,” a voice stated from behind his shoulder.

  Startled, Nick almost dropped the flashlight. Looking behind him, he saw the smiling face of Robert Mondragon. Arranged close behind him were Mark and Kenneth. So intent was he in studying the details of the room, he hadn’t noticed them follow him in.

  Seeing an opportunity, Mark quickly interjected, “This is exactly what we are looking for! The market for antique Mexican tile is red hot! Can we remove them from the walls?”

  Mondragon hesitated for just a moment before shrugging and nodding. As Nick played the flashlight’s beam around the room, he saw that the Mexican tile was spaced at regular intervals on all the room’s walls. Fighting to keep the grin off his face as he realized what Mark was up to, Nick dug through the tote bag to retrieve the tools they had purchased.

  “By the way, I’m fascinated with the architecture of these old, southwestern homes. I saw something in the kitchen as we were passing by that perhaps you could enlighten me on!” So saying, Mark steered Mondragon out of the room and led him back in the direction they had come from.

  The second the pair had left the room, Nick quickly took The Book of Lost Treasures from the tote bag. Opening it up, he scanned the brightly glowing map of the house within it. It led straight to one of the tiles on the north wall of the room. Striding quickly to the tile on the wall, he placed the book on the floor and dug a hammer and small chisel out of the tote bag.

  “We have to work quickly! Keep an eye out, and let me know if the realtor comes back this way!” Nick whispered to Kenneth. His chubby face quivering in excitement, Kenneth nodded and took up his post by the entrance into the den.

  Tapping the chisel carefully into the grout cementing the tile to the wall, Nick began the process of removing the tile. The grout, brittle with age, cracked and fell in pieces to the floor.

  Wedging the edge of the chisel behind the tile, Nick gently tried to pry the tile from the wall. Suddenly, it popped out, and Nick had to drop the hammer to catch the tile. A square hollow was revealed, its interior cloaked in darkness.

  His heart pounding in excitement, Nick’s shaking hands placed the tile and chisel on the floor. Picking up the flashlight, he aimed the beam into the hollow’s interior. The light revealed a cardboard shoebox covered in a thick layer of dust. Pulling the shoebox from its hiding place, Nick placed it on the floor in front of him. Light flared brightly from The Book of Lost Treasures, and the now familiar words “Treasure Found” glowed in fiery letters. Closing the book and placing it in the tote bag, Nick swept the dust off the shoebox’s cover.

  A picture of a young boy and a dog was revealed on the cover, and “Buster Brown Shoes” was stenciled in large black letters below this picture.

  Willing his hands to stop shaking, Nick removed the shoebox cover. Playing the flashlight’s beam inside the shoebox, its light revealed a jumble of baseball cards crammed inside. Choosing one at random, he held it before the flashlight. A smiling picture of Lou Gehrig kneeling with a bat in one hand presented itself to his astonished eyes. Quickly searching the card, he found the year 1931 stenciled below the picture.

  “They’re coming back!” Kenneth whispered urgently before he could search through more of the cards.

  Quickly putting the Lou Gehrig baseball card back into the box, Nick placed the lid back on the shoebox and lowered it into the tote bag. Just as he finished this task, Mark and Robert Mondragon swept back into the room.

  “Well, was the tile what you thought it was?” Mondragon asked.

  A grin split Nick’s face from ear to ear. “Yes, it was everything we thought it was and more!”

  Unable to see Nick’s face clearly because of the room’s gloomy interior, Mark and Kenneth nevertheless could tell from his excited answer that he had hit the jackpot.

  The next forty-five minutes were spent dutifully removing all the tiles from the walls. If Mondragon noticed the hollow space in the wall from where Nick had removed the shoebox full of baseball cards, he gave no indication of it as he kept up a friendly banter the entire time they were involved in the process.

  They learned from the real estate agent that the home’s former owner, Eli Candalaria, had at one time been a semi-pro baseball player, who had barnstormed with his team, the Duke City Roadrunners, in the thirties, forties, and early fifties. He had died recently in an Albuquerque nursing home at age ninety-three. His heirs had quickly sold his home and land to the developer.

  Shaking the pieces of grout and dust from their clothes, Nick and the others finally left the adobe house. Carefully stacking the tile in the cargo area at the back of the Durango, Nick shut the cargo door and dusted off his hands. Then he placed the tote bag carefully in the passenger seat.

  Turning, he saw Mark take the club’s 10 percent contract from his briefcase and give it to Mondragon to sign. The developer that had purchased the house had given Chavez Realty power of attorney, and the agent perused the contract briefly before signing it. Waving a friendly good-bye, Mondragon got into the Escalade and drove off.

  Nick, Mark, and Kenneth scrambled to retrieve the shoebox from the front seat once Mondragon’s SUV had disappeared from sight.

  “Wait!” Mark said, breathing hard, as Nick
pulled the shoebox from the passenger seat. “Not here! One of the neighbors might see what we are doing and get suspicious! Let’s go back to the motel room and examine the contents of the shoebox there!”

  Reluctantly, Nick and Kenneth agreed. The drive back to the motel was one of the longest in Nick’s life, and he repeatedly fought the urge to rip the lid off the shoebox and examine the baseball cards inside it. When they finally pulled into the La Quinta parking lot, they practically sprinted to their room from the rental car. Impatiently, Nick waited while Mark used the room’s card to unlock the door. Once the lock clicked open, Nick carried the cardboard shoebox to the nearest bed and dumped its contents into it.

  Dozens of baseball cards spilled from the box. Mark, seeing the sheer number of cards, immediately suggested they split the cards into three groups, with each of them searching through their cards for the Honus Wagner. Nick and Kenneth quickly agreed, and each raked a small pile of the cards to where they were sitting on the bed.

  Less than five minutes later, Nick heard a gasp and looked up to see Kenneth holding a card reverently before him in one trembling hand.

  “It’s … it’s a T206 Honus Wagner card! Look, it has the American Tobacco Company name printed at the bottom!”

  Kenneth’s normally fish-white complexion had turned a ruddy pinkish-red, and his breathing came out in short, explosive gasps. If Nick hadn’t known better, he would have thought Kenneth was experiencing a heart attack instead of a flush of euphoria at discovering one of the rarest and most expensive baseball cards in history.

  The Book of Lost Treasures had delivered again!

  Chapter 24

  The events of the next few weeks rocketed by in a blur to Nick. Mark and Kenneth took the Honus Wagner baseball card to a well-known card and sports memorabilia dealer in Houston for authentication.

  After carefully studying the card, the dealer agreed it was an authentic T206 Honus Wagner. With that, he offered Mark and Kenneth two million dollars for the card! When Mark had called to tell Nick and the others what the sports memorabilia dealer had offered, even the normally unflappable Mark couldn’t contain himself as he gleefully shouted the amount over the phone!

  Deciding that although they could probably get more for the baseball card at auction than the Houston dealer was offering, the club members decided the immediate offer of two million dollars was too good to pass up. After brief negotiations, Mark and Kenneth returned from Houston with a two-million-dollar cashier’s check.

  At this point, the club members decided their enterprise had grown too big to handle among themselves and that they needed expert help. In rapid fire order, Patti’s law firm, already on retainer, assigned a senior associate to handle the club’s legal affairs, an accountant was hired to handle the financial affairs, and a small office building was leased to house the club’s headquarters.

  Bigger and better times lay ahead for the Treasure Hunt Club!

  “Where are you taking me, Nick?” Abby asked, giggling, her eyes closed.

  “We’re almost there! Keep your eyes closed!” Nick said as he pulled into a driveway and stopped the car. Getting out of the car, he opened Abby’s door and helped her out of the car.

  “You can look now!”

  Still giggling, Abby opened her eyes.

  “Ta-da!” Nick cried as he held his arms spread outward.

  Surprised, Abby saw that they were standing in the driveway of a split-level condo. Constructed of brick and stucco, Abby saw immediately that the condo was brand new. Without waiting for Abby to comment, Nick ran up to the front door and unlocked it. Opening it, he waved impatiently for her to follow him.

  “What do you think?” Nick asked happily as they stood in the middle of an empty den covered with thick, lush carpet.

  “It’s … it’s … nice, Nick,” Abby answered uncertainly. “Um, why … why are we here?”

  “I’ve signed a lease on this condo, and I’m moving out of my trailer!” Nick cried. “I’ve finally got a place of my own!”

  “But … but you already have a place of your own. What’s wrong with your trailer?” Abby asked apprehensively.

  “What? That dump? Are you kidding? The bathroom here is almost the size of my whole trailer!” Without waiting for Abby to respond, Nick excitedly grabbed her by the hand and began showing her each room.

  Finally stopping in the middle of the master bedroom, Nick let go of Abby’s hand and, standing, did a slow circle.

  “Isn’t it perfect?” he gushed.

  “I … I guess,” Abby said without conviction.

  For the first time, Nick noticed Abby’s lack of enthusiasm. With a puzzled look on his face, he asked, “What’s wrong? Don’t you like the condo?”

  Shuffling her feet, Abby kept her eyes down. Finally, she looked up and said, “What I like or don’t like isn’t important, Nick. If you like this place, that’s all that matters.”

  Now thoroughly confused, Nick took a step and positioned himself in front of Abby. “What … what is it, Abby? I mean, it’s not like I’m moving to a whole new town or anything. I don’t understand!”

  Sighing, Abby pulled her hands from Nick and turned away. After a moment, she put her hands on her hips and turned back to face Nick.

  “I guess I’m being silly, but that trailer you are so anxious to move out of is where I first met you. We chatted for hours in that little trailer, Nick, with each of us talking about our hopes and dreams. It’s … it’s where I fell in love with you, and I’m not ready to just put those memories so readily aside.”

  “Besides,” Abby continued as she waved her arms expansively, “this place, it … it doesn’t feel right. It’s not you, Nick!”

  Nick stared at Abby in disbelief. “You mean you prefer that hot, stuffy, sardine can of a trailer instead of this nice, roomy, comfortable condo?”

  “Yes!” Abby stated emphatically.

  “What? That’s crazy!”

  “You asked me, and I told you what I thought. If you don’t want my opinion, then don’t ask for it next time!” With that, Abby crossed her arms angrily and turned away from Nick.

  Nick, agape, couldn’t believe what was happening! What should have been a triumphant tour of his new condo was instead turning into the first serious argument between him and Abby. Shaking his head, he placed his hands on Abby’s shoulders and gently turned her back toward him.

  “Look, I didn’t mean to say I didn’t want your opinion. It’s just… well it’s just that I didn’t get this condo only for me. I got it for us, Abby! And I guess I thought you’d be as excited about it as I was! If I hurt your feelings, then … then I’m sorry.”

  The angry look on Abby’s face quickly melted away. “What … what do you mean you got the condo for us?” she whispered.

  Nick’s carefully laid plans to “pop” the question to Abby died a quick and sudden death. He had envisioned the condo tour to be followed later that evening by an intimate dinner at Porter’s, all to set up what he wanted to ask Abby. Now he would have to improvise. At least, he thought bitterly to him- self, I have a lot of practice at doing that!

  Taking Abby’s hands into his own, Nick took a deep breath and said, “What I mean is that I love you, Abby. When I’m with you, I am happier than I ever thought I could be in my life. When we are apart, it’s like a piece of me is missing, and I can hardly wait until we are together again. I would have asked you this sooner, but my trailer can barely accommodate me, much less the both of us. So … so what I’m asking you, Abby, is to move in with me. That’s why I got the condo.”

  Abby’s face, which had lit up in hopeful expression, now turned into disappointment at the last of what Nick had said.

  “Oh,” she said simply.

  For the second time, Nick was baffled. For one brief moment, Abby looked joyful, the next like she had just lost her best friend. What was going on?

  Feeling his own temper begin to rise, Nick dropped Abby’s hands and stated sarcastically, “I’m
sorry that telling you I love you is such a downer. I’ll try to remember that next time I spill my heart out to you!”

  “Nick, don’t be that way. You … you just don’t understand,” Abby said quietly.

  “Well, enlighten me then!” Nick shouted as he raised his arms in frustration. “What don’t I understand? What am I missing? I mean, I thought you loved me too!” So saying, Nick began to pace about angrily.

  Catching Nick firmly by the arm, Abby swung him around to face her.

  “I do love you, Nick. And it’s because I love you that I won’t live with you.”

  Nick stared at Abby as if she had grown two heads where one had existed. Putting his hand to his forehead in exasperation, Nick said, “Ah, I know women are from Venus and men are from Mars or some such foolishness, but you aren’t making any sense! If you love me as you say you do, then why would living with me pose such a problem with you?”

  Sighing, Abby took a moment before answering Nick. “I … I thought you were going to ask me to marry you, Nick. But living together … that’s not something I want to consider.”

  “Why, Abby, why? People do it all the time!” Nick said, his voice rising.

  “Because marriage, even an imperfect marriage, represents commitment, Nick! Living together, it’s … it’s an arrangement of convenience for too many people. I don’t want … I don’t want us to be that way!”

  “Considering how your first marriage with that jerk, Rob, worked out, I would think you of all people would certainly have a different philosophy, Abby!” Nick retorted.

  Abby felt her cheeks begin to warm. “One bad marriage or relationship doesn’t mean they all have to be that way!” she said hotly. “If that were the case, I would never have given you the time of day!”

  Her face now flushed completely red, Abby continued and said, “Besides, let’s face it, Nick, commitment to anything has never been a consistent part of your life!”