The Lost Journal

by Chris Blewitt

  The place was dark, especially for lunchtime. There was a long bar on the left hand side and a few barstools on the right that bellied up to a wooden bar attached to a mirrored wall. Four or five people sat at the bar, none against the wall. Seth took in his surroundings, not expecting Abbott and Costello, but he wanted to be sure. They walked through the bar and found a table in the back.

  A tall black-haired girl with a nose-ring dropped off their menus and said she’d be right back to take their order. Seth and Arthur each received two menus, one for beer and one for food. Eulogy was known for their extravagant Belgian beer selection. The menu showed they had twenty-one beers on tap and over three hundred in bottles.

  “This is what I’m talking about,” Arthur said.

  “Why do you think I suggested going here?” Seth replied.

  The girl came back, said her name was Marni and took their drink order, Seth explained they were waiting for one more person. “I’ll have the Chimay,” Seth said.

  Arthur closed the menu. “Sure, why not?”

  “You’re not having too many,” Seth said. “Hell, I don’t even know why we’re drinking, but a beer sounds good right now.” He checked his watch and kept glancing at the door.

  “Relax, son, she’ll be fine.”

  Just then, the bell chimed and in walked Madison. “See?”

  She poked her head above the other bar patrons and noticed them in the back. As she approached the table, she took the laptop out of the bag and laid it next to her. “So,” she began, “you miss me?”

  “Yep, now what do you want to drink?” Arthur responded. Marni came back and set the beers on the table. A huge creamy head of foam crested the pale yellow beer; Marni was careful not to spill a drop.

  “Same as them,” Madison told Marni.

  “Are you guys ready to order?” she asked.

  “Seth, order for all of us, why don’t you?” Arthur responded, taking a sip of his beer. Madison chuckled as a gob of foam stuck to his nose.

  Seth picked up the menu again and read aloud, “Okay, we’ll have the fried calamari, the crispy crab, and the Belgian frittes.”

  “Wait a second, do you have burgers?” Arthur asked Marni. Before she could respond, he added, “I’ll have a burger, medium, cheddar, bacon, mayonnaise, lettuce, and tomato. Thanks.” He turned to Seth and said, “I can’t eat that crap you ordered.”

  Madison opened up her laptop and powered it on. She typed while Seth sipped his beer and Arthur gulped his. She started her search and found the Kent that Arthur spoke about earlier.

  “Okay, says here that Atwater Kent, a famous radio personality donated money to restore the house in 1937.”

  Arthur turned his palms over as if to say told you.

  “A new structure was added in the rear, made from bricks. So that can’t be our steps. The front doorway was moved and a new window was created. He then built a garden on either side of the house. That’s it, nothing else.”

  “What did they do with the stairs or the old door?” Seth asked.

  She scanned the rest of the page. “Doesn’t say. Hold on, let me search his name.” Marni brought Madison’s beer and the frittes with bourbon re`moulade sauce. Frittes were the Belgian version of French fries only slightly darker, saltier, and crispier. Arthur’s hand was the first to reach into the basket. “Atwater Kent was a radio pioneer and inventor in Philadelphia in the early nineteen hundreds. Hold on, here! In 1938, he built a museum in Philadelphia to celebrate the history of the city.”

  “Is it still around?” Seth asked.

  Madison raised her glass of beer and took a long swallow. “The Atwater Kent Museum of Philadelphia is located on Seventh Street, just a few blocks from here.”

  <><><><><>

  Jon Castle had his daily briefings that morning but he couldn’t concentrate. Up late to begin with, he was lucky the few drams of whiskey he had the night before knocked him out cold. As the last person finished talking, he reached into his pocket once more to check his cell phone. No messages. He got up from his leather chair at the head of the table and started to leave the conference room before his assistant, Kim Bevin, stopped him as he reached the door.

  “Jon, what is it?” she asked. Kim had short dark hair, almost boyish, but it didn’t take away from her good looks. Although a bit plump, she took to being a vegan the past six months and shed over half of the thirty pounds she needed to lose. This garnered notice from the opposite sex for the first time in her thirty-eight years, including Jon Castle. Kim put her hand on her boss’ arm and looked him in the eye.

  “Just tired, that’s all,” Jon responded. He looked away into the hallway and saw staffers bustling throughout the corridor.

  Kim lowered her voice and leaned in closer to him. “You need to get some sleep and snap out of it, Jon. I know you’ve been distracted with something. If I’m starting to notice, I’m not the only one.”

  “It’s nothing, really.” In fact he was excited about the last few days up until he called his counterpart the night before. The realization that he was so close to what had eluded him for so long brought a euphoric sense of thrill. He was about to be The Man.

  “Well it’s something. Why don’t you tell me?”

  He thought for a few brief seconds and locked eyes with his young assistant. “Maybe there is something you can help me with. Block off two hours of my schedule around six o’clock and come by my office.”

  “Why not tell me now?”

  He glanced out into the hallway and said, “I’ve got some things to do for a little while. Plus, it may be better said in private.” He looked down at her and cracked a small smile. He was easily a half a foot taller than her and she looked up, met his eyes and smiled herself. He removed her hand from his arm, walked out into the hall and down to his office and closed the door behind him. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number.

  “Kohler,” Jon started, “What’s going on?

  There was a pause on the other end of the line before Kohler answered. “Ah, we lost them for now.”

  “What the hell do you mean, you lost them?”

  “Just that, sorry. We need two vehicles sir. The girl left this morning by herself so we stayed with Layton’s car. The kid and the old man slept there all night so we figured they were still in the house.”

  “Where’d they go?”

  “That’s the thing, we don’t know. After an hour of waiting, Pierce busted in and they were gone. Must’ve slipped out the back.”

  “Why didn’t one of you cover it?”

  “It was broad daylight sir; we couldn’t just snoop around people’s backyards.”

  “Dammit!”

  “Sir, they’ll be back. The kid’s car is still here and plus, we’re meeting him tonight at his house where he has to hand it over. Speaking of which, what is it that you want so bad? It’s a book right?”

  Castle debated for a few moments. At first he didn’t want to tell them. The less people that knew about what he was up to the better. But now, with more people coming into the mix, he wanted that book first. “Yes, it’s a book,” Castle said.

  “What kind of book?” Kohler asked.

  “Just an old book, that’s all.”

  “You’re sure going to a lot of trouble for a book,” Kohler said.

  “It’s not just any book, Kohler,” Castle angrily said. “It’s a book that could lead to…to, something.”

  “What kind of something?” Kohler asked insistently.

  “Don’t worry about it for now. You’ll be handsomely compensated when you find it.”

  “Fine. We’re still parked outside the girl’s house. If they don’t come back here in the next few hours we’re going to head over to the kid’s house. You sure you don’t wanna bring more people in on this, cover both houses?”

  “No, two is enough. If you can’t get the job done, I will find replacements.”

  “Okay, okay. We’ll keep you posted.”

  “Wait,” Castle
said into the phone. He stood up from his chair and looked out the window overlooking Massachusetts Avenue. “We have some guests coming…uninvited guests.”

  “Huh, what do you mean guests?”

  “Let’s just say there is someone else interested in this book and they will also do anything to get their hands on it.”

  “Who is it?” Kohler asked.

  “That doesn’t matter for now. Just be on the lookout. They know the kid may have found it and they are coming in sometime. They may already be there.”

  “Coming in from where?” Kohler said.

  So many questions. “From the UK, alright? From the goddamned UK!”

  “Jeez, okay sir, we’ll do our best.”

  “I don’t want any trouble okay? Whoever finds it, great. But in all honesty, I want first dibs on that book. Get back to work.”

  Castle closed the phone and placed it on his desk. He took off his sport coat and tossed it on the maroon leather couch. Hands on his hips, he paced behind his desk staring out the window. He checked his watch and it was after noon. “Eh, what the hell” he said softly. He sat down, opened his bottom drawer and pulled out his work stash, another bottle of Jim Beam. He brought his white coffee cup down below his desk and poured just a little. It was finished quickly and the bottle was put away back in the drawer.

  CHAPTER 11

  The Atwater Kent Museum was dedicated in 1941 after three years of construction. The mayor of Philadelphia at the time, S. Davis Wilson, brought the idea to Kent along with Francis Wistar, president of the Philadelphia Society for the Preservation of Landmarks. Today, the museum was home to over 80,000 objects related to Philadelphia and the surrounding area. These consisted of everything from the Quakers of the 17th Century, to 18th Century art, to Philadelphia manufacturing of the 19th and 20th Century.

  Seth and Madison were glad to walk off the heavy lunch they had, but all Arthur wanted to do was take a nap. The beer and the burger put him into a nutritional coma and he trailed behind as they approached the museum. The first brochure that was handed to them outside the door revealed that the museum had been closed for the past eighteen months and just reopened a few weeks ago. It was renamed The Philadelphia History Museum at The Atwater Kent.

  “You want us to drive you home, Granddad?” Seth asked, watching Arthur slowly pull up the rear.

  Arthur waved his hand at him in disgust. “Drive? Son, before your day, all we did was walk. Miles and miles every day. I’m fine.”

  There was no ornate landscaping or large grass field leading up to the museum; in fact it looked like a huge church. The building was a large, drab, concrete monstrosity. Light posts stood atop small stone pillars that guarded the entrance to large double doors made of dark maple. Seth opened the door on his right and held it for Madison and Arthur to walk through.

  They paid their admission fee and followed the masses to the inside of the building and took in the sights. Pictures and plaques adorned every wall. Glass cases housed hundreds of years of Philadelphia history. They were on a mission to find the Betsy Ross House renovation so they didn’t take much time to stop and stare at the interesting pieces of art. Seth did stop at the Philadelphia Sports’ Fan exhibit. Pictures of fans celebrating victories were displayed in a huge collage. Stadiums, the new, like Citizens Bank Park, and old, like Connie Mack Stadium were shown throughout a timeline going back one hundred years.

  “Pretty cool, eh Granddad?” Seth said.

  Arthur came up behind and they just scanned the photos for a few brief moments until Madison grabbed them by their shirts and pulled them along. Fifteen minutes later, they completed their tour of the museum without finding anything of significance.

  “Now what? Another dead end?” Seth asked.

  “Wait here,” Madison said. She walked over to a small portly man standing guard at the entrance. Although he wore a blue shirt and black pants, he had no gun, no handcuffs and no nightstick, just a small radio and a can of pepper spray attached to his belt. He did not see much excitement in his ten to five job, but, he noticed Madison right away as she walked toward him, taking the clip out of her blonde hair and letting it fall to her shoulders. She also took off her jean jacket and folded it under her arm. Now, the guard couldn’t help himself from glancing down at her chest as she got close.

  “Hey there, Mitch,” she said, reading the name on his nameplate. He had an oversized blue baseball cap on that covered what Madison thought was a comb over of his black hair.

  “Yes?” the man stammered.

  “Is this everything you have?” she asked, waving her arm around the large atrium.

  “Um, yes ma’am,” he replied.

  “I mean everything?” she said softly. “What about items Mr. Kent had that didn’t make it into the museum? There’s nothing in some warehouse?”

  “Well, there are some,” he said, looking around nervously. “One time, I found an old comic book collection, over twenty of them.” Mitch was excited now and his sentences ran together. “They were in great condition too. Mr. Parcels wouldn’t let me have them, though. He said they belonged to the museum. I said, ‘what good are they sitting down here in the basement’. Can’t stand that guy.” He looked around again, hoping no one heard him.

  “Basement? There’s a basement here?” Madison asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Can I see it?” Madison asked.

  “Oh no, no, no. Mr. Parcels wouldn’t like that. He wouldn’t like that one bit. He wouldn’t.” Mitch looked around again. “I’ve been down there though. Couple of times, I have. Why do you want to go down there anyway? You shouldn’t go down there.”

  Madison leaned in close so that her breasts were inches from Mitch’s right arm. “Mr. Parcels sounds like a jerk, Mitch,” she said.

  Mitch froze.

  “He is a jerk, isn’t he Mitch?” Madison said.

  Mitch nodded his head up and down rather quickly.

  “How about you break the rules a little bit today? I’d love for you to show me the basement, Mitch.” This time her right breast pressed into his arm ever so slightly.

  Mitch reached into his pants pocket and brought out a large set of keys. “Follow me,” he said.

  Madison looked over at Arthur and Seth, snapped her fingers and tilted her head in her direction. Mitch led her down a small hallway that had a sign that read, “Employees Only”. He stopped at the third door on the right and looked both ways before unlocking the door and escorting Madison inside. Mitch flipped on a light switch and the small enclosure was illuminated. The only thing that could be seen was stairs leading down. Before he closed the door behind them, Seth and Arthur walked in.

  “Hey, you can’t come in here!” Mitch exclaimed.

  “It’s okay,” Madison said, “they’re with me.”

  “What’s going on here?” Mitch inquired, his right hand on a can of pepper spray.

  “It’s nothing. Bill here is my brother,” Madison lied, “and this is my grandfather, Earl. My grandfather’s father told him that he etched his name somewhere on Betsy Ross’ house almost a hundred years ago and we wanna see if he’s telling the truth. We already checked the house and we were told that some of the original framework was here.”

  Mitch looked at each of their eyes, looking for doubt but could not find any. He led them down the stairs. It was narrow and the stairs turned on a right angle every seven or eight steps.

  “How do you get the stuff up here being that the stairs are so narrow?” Madison asked.

  “There’s a gigantic trap door over the third wing. We have a forklift down here that will just lift the new display up.”

  They reached the bottom of the staircase and Mitch once again flicked a light switch. In front of them was a long narrow path with chain-linked cages on each side. Each cage was connected to one another and had a six foot door of identical fence. Both were padlocked. Inside the first cage were various paintings of different sizes leaning against the back wall. On the door t
o the cage was a small brown envelope attached by a thin rope.

  “Thomas Eakins,” Mitch said. They slowed their pace and looked in the cage as they continued walking. “So, you’re looking for the Betsy Ross renovation, eh? Not sure what you’re looking for is down here, but I remember seeing it when I was given a tour of the place on my first day.”

  The four of them continued walking down the center of the walkway, occasionally slowing as they approached some sort of famous Philadelphia history and listening to Mitch explain the artifacts inside the cage. About halfway through, Mitch stopped outside of a cage and brought out his janitor-sized key chain.

  “Here ya go…the Betsy Ross renovation.”

  Madison grabbed his arm after he unlocked the door and said, “Mitch, let’s see what else is down here.”

  He looked at Seth and Arthur, then back at her and couldn’t resist her smile. “Don’t touch anything until I get back,” he said. Madison continued walking and Mitch caught up to her and escorted her, continuing down the walkway.

  Seth and Arthur walked into the small cage. It was deeper than it appeared. At ten feet in width, the cage stretched almost twenty feet to the back wall. There were some pictures on the floor, a dresser, a bed frame and two rocking chairs on either side of the cage. Against the back wall they finally found it, the staircase. It was separated into three sections, each consisting of about five steps. The wood was dark and grainy but in relatively good shape for being over two-hundred years old.

  “According to the drawing, we need to find the sixth step,” Seth said. He lifted the second set of steps, careful not to make a lot of noise, and turned the fragile wood over. The back of each step had another piece of wood nailed in placed to form a type of box. Seth found the sixth step and this one looked the same as the others, except for a small hinge on either side and a rusty clasp at the top.

  “This is it,” Arthur said. His eyes grew in excitement. “Go ahead, son.”