Treasure in Paradise

by Kathi Daley

  Poor Garrett. He really was in a tough situation. No matter what he did, in the end there were going to be people who wouldn’t agree with his decision.

  “I can see we’re at an impasse. Thank you for your time and I’ll see you at the town meeting tomorrow night,” I said.

  “I’ll be looking for you. Talk to Mr. Hanford before it’s too late. I can promise him a good price for the land. If he waits until a sale is forced, I guarantee he’ll receive substantially less.”

  Talk about being wound up. I wasn’t a huge drinker, especially in the middle of the day, but after my conversation with Norton I found myself heading toward Sully’s.

  “You’re back,” Frank greeted me from behind the bar.

  “I just finished meeting with your pal Greg Norton and find myself in need of a libation.”

  Frank laughed. “He does tend to have that effect on people. I have a local brew on tap.”

  “Sounds perfect.” I placed my elbows on the bar and placed my hands on either side of my head in an attempt to ward off the migraine that I knew was just beyond the horizon.

  Frank slid a tall frosty glass in front of me. “So tell Frank what the mean man said to make you so upset.”

  “Why should I tell you anything?”

  “I’m the bartender. It’s what people do.”

  I just frowned at the man across the counter from me.

  “Really. It’s in the bartender handbook. Lesson number three, after carry a rag over your shoulder and be ready with a lighter, is lend a sympathetic ear.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “There are those that say that is my most endearing quality. So what did Norton do to bring that scowl to your face?”

  “The man is impossible. He doesn’t seem to care about the fact that he is basically destroying the island and that the turtle population will suffer greatly. All he cares about is his precious resort. Talking to the man is like talking to a wall.”

  “Norton may be lacking in social skills, but he knows what he’s doing. I know that you’d like to see Garrett’s land preserved, but in the end I think you’re going to find that you have been knocking your head against the wall for nothing. The guy hasn’t spent months on the island just to give up.”

  I closed my eyes and put my head on the counter. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this frustrated.

  “How about we talk about something else,” Frank suggested. “Something less stressful.”

  “Like what?”

  “I hear you’ve been going around town snooping into Buck’s death in spite of the fact that the deputy has declared the man’s death due to natural causes.”

  “You think that’s less stressful?”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Actually, it is. But I’m not snooping. I’m just curious about the man whose body I found in the attic. It’s natural to wonder what might have occurred.”

  “I agree. I liked Buck. He was a good guy who never hurt anyone and didn’t deserve to die.”

  “Finally something we can agree on. I don’t suppose that you have any theories you care to share?”

  “I know that Buck was hanging around with a couple of men who went by the name Dilly and Lambert before he died.”

  “Already talked to them. They have alibis.”

  “You have been busy. I have to give you credit. I figured you were out of your league with this one, but it seems you are on top of things.”

  “Maybe, but I’m no closer to finding the killer than I was on day one. Actually, that’s not true. I have eliminated some of the suspects, so I guess in a way I’m closer to finding the killer. I’m on my way to talk to Digger next.”

  “Digger?”

  “I guess he witnessed some things that others feel might be of interest to me.”

  “Digger’s a tough one to talk to. He tends to be somewhat monosyllabic.”

  “Thanks for the heads up.” I tossed some money on the bar. “And thanks for the talk. I really do feel better.”

  After I left the bar, I headed to the cemetery where I hoped to find Digger, who should have returned to work today. I really wasn’t sure if he could tell me anything that I didn’t know, but I supposed it didn’t hurt to ask.

  Luckily for me, when I arrived at the cemetery Digger was riding a lawn mower and listening to something through headphones. I parked in a designated spot, then wandered across the freshly mowed lawn, looking for a place to position myself so he would see me.

  I paused to glance at the headstones I passed as I wandered to the far side of the lawn where Digger was working. It was interesting to find some dating back to the early 1800s mixed in with others that had been set within the past decade. I wasn’t sure exactly how that had occurred, but I was certain there was some reason for the placement.

  I waved to Digger while he was still a considerable distance away. I hoped that if I gave him enough time to note my presence I wouldn’t startle and therefore anger him. I couldn’t help but play through my mind the comments made by the others I’d spoken to that week as to the man’s instability.

  After a moment, he turned off his mower and climbed off. I began to walk closer as he moved toward me. I plastered the largest smile I could muster on my face as I prepared to greet him. “What a lovely spot,” I commented. “So serene and peaceful. And the grounds…well, they’re about as close to perfection as one can get.”

  “Can I help you?”

  “I was wondering if there’ve been any burial plans made for Buck Barnes.”

  “Cremated.”

  “Yes, I heard. Do you know if there will be a service?”

  “Nope.”

  “I see. It’s such a shame what happened to him. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Digger.”

  “I’ve heard about you. I’m Tj. A few people I’ve spoken to have sung your praises for all you do for the turtles. I find the turtle rescue team that works on the island fascinating. I understand that an important part of your work consists of protecting the eggs.”

  Digger smiled and seemed to relax just a bit. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I understand that we have several key nests on the beach to the south of the cabins that you make a point to check on.”

  “Every evening.”

  “I’ve been busy in the evenings,” I admitted. “Hopefully things will slow down a bit and I can join your group. Was Buck a member of the squad?”

  “No. Buck was only interested in one thing and that was treasure.”

  “I understand you had to keep an eye on him so he didn’t disturb the eggs.”

  “Yup.”

  “Then maybe you can help me figure out who might have been with Buck on the night he broke into Garrett’s place.”

  “I best get back to work.” With that, he climbed onto his mower and drove away.

  Chapter 11

  Grandpa was still napping when I returned home, and no one else seemed to be around, so I decided to take a look in the attic. It occurred to me that Deputy Savage came back on the day after we’d found Buck’s remains for a reason. He’d said he wanted to look around, but my gut told me he was interested in something specific. If Buck found something that got him killed, maybe I could figure out what it was.

  Attics could be so interesting to explore. There was something about them that whispered secrets long buried by the generations of men, women, and children who’d stored their most precious memories and prized possessions within those very walls. Garrett’s attic was filled with the items you’d expect to find: boxes, old furniture, and discarded household items, including a dressmaker’s mannequin and a rusted bicycle.

  I knelt down to right a stack of photos that had been carelessly spilled from a box onto the hardwo
od floor. One photo in particular caught my eye. It didn’t look as old as some of the others and showed a young man holding a toddler. He stood in front of this house next to a young woman with a strong chin and a look of determination in her eye. I couldn’t know for certain, but if I had to guess, this was Garrett as a young child with his mother and father.

  I returned all the photos to the box, then stood up and looked around. It seemed that there was an angle we might be missing. If Buck was indeed in the attic to look for the map, it made sense he would have thoroughly searched the boxes stacked around the room. What if in the course of searching for the map he found something else?

  I heard a slight rustling sound that I couldn’t quite identify. I looked at the window Blackbeard had flown in through the day we arrived, but it was closed now, as it had been since then. I looked back toward the spot where we’d discovered Buck Barnes’s remains and my mind shifted from hidden treasure to ghostly spirits with unresolved issues. I was about to turn off the light and go back downstairs when I heard the rustling sound again. This time I could tell it was coming from the far corner of the attic.

  “Buck?” I whispered.

  My inquiry was met with silence.

  I was just being silly. I didn’t believe in ghosts. It was just the eeriness of the room, covered in dust and cobwebs, that had taken hold of my imagination. I turned again to turn off the light just as a box that had been stacked atop others fell to the floor, creating not only a loud crash but a cloud of dust.

  I jumped as my heart skipped a beat. “Buck? Is that you?”

  There was no answer, and I slowly took a step toward the corner of the attic. The scurrying sound had returned, which, given my heightened state of awareness, suggested something from the opening scene of every slasher movie I’d ever seen. I knew it would make more sense to turn around and head for the safety of the floors below, but my mind refused to let go of what might be found beyond the stack of boxes.

  I held my breath as I slowly walked to what turned out to be a pile of old home movies. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I caught a flash of movement created by a shadow. I wasn’t sure exactly what I expected to find, but I felt nothing but relief when my ghost turned out to have a shaggy orange tail.

  “Cuervo, what are you doing up here?”

  “Meow.”

  I picked up the large orange cat. I had left the door open and Cuervo was just the sort to view the open passageway as an invitation to investigate.

  “You about scared the life out of me. I know you’re curious, but I really do think we should head downstairs after we clean up the mess you made.”

  Cuervo struggled to get down. He wasn’t the most affectionate cat in the world, so I set him on the floor before I ended up with scratches on my arms. As soon as his paws hit the floor he trotted over to a wall and pawed at the small opening created by a fault in the paneling.

  “Do you hear a mouse?”

  “Meow.”

  “I know you fancy yourself a big brave warrior who has vowed to rid the place of rodents, but I think this one time we can leave the poor thing free to go about his business. Let’s go downstairs and I’ll find the salmon treats.”

  Cuervo ignored me, which wasn’t at all odd because he tended to ignore me unless it served his purposes to do otherwise. I didn’t want to risk being mauled by his sharp claws, but I didn’t want to leave him alone in the attic either, so I bent down to try to talk some sense into him.

  “If there even is a mouse in the wall there’s no way to get it. Let’s head down for a snack.”

  Cuervo continued to paw at the wall.

  “There’s nothing there. See.” I tried to show him that the flaw in the wood was just that, a flaw. I ran my hand over the wall and was about to attempt to pick the cat up once more when I noticed that a corner of the panel had been pulled away. The dust near the panel was marred in such a way as to suggest that someone had recently tampered with it. I stuck my hand into the panel and gave it a gentle tug. Behind the panel I found a document, which I pulled out and unrolled. “Well, I’ll be. Cuervo, it looks like you just found the map to Barkley’s treasure.”

  I picked up Cuervo and headed back downstairs. Kyle had come in from his walk so I showed him the map.

  “It does look like a treasure map,” Kylie confirmed. “But it doesn’t look old enough to have belonged to the pirate known as John Barkley. According to Meg, Barkley had lived on the island in the late 1600s. I won’t claim to be an expert on antiquities, but based on the material used, this map looks as if it can’t be older than one, maybe two hundred years at the most.”

  “How can we find out for sure?”

  “I have a friend who works for a museum. I guess I can call him and ask if he’ll take a look at it. In the meantime, I guess we can call Garrett and ask him if he knows anything about the map.”

  “I’ll call him,” I offered. “I’ve been meaning to check in with him anyway.”

  “Were you planning to tell him about the town meeting?”

  “Not yet. I want to speak to the mayor first so that I have all the facts before I burden him with the chaos that’s been going on in his absence.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s a good idea. Ask him if he knows what ‘Charlie bad’ means. Blackbeard has been repeating those words over and over again. I almost feel like he’s trying to tell me something.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard him say the same thing. Maybe he picked it up from a movie.”

  Kyle shrugged. “Could be, but it couldn’t hurt to ask.”

  I took my cell phone out onto the deck and made my call.

  Luckily, Garrett picked up by the third ring.

  “Garrett, it’s Tj.”

  “Good morning, darlin’. So nice of you to check in on me.”

  “How are you feeling today?”

  “Not bad. Not bad at all. I have my good days and my bad ones, and it looks like this one is going to be a good one.”

  “I’m so glad.”

  “How’s Blackbeard doing?”

  “He’s doing just great. Kyle has taken a real liking to the bird. Gracie too. The three of them have been playing pirate.”

  Garrett chuckled. “Blackbeard loves to play pirate. When I first got him he didn’t talk as much as he does now, but the few things he did say had to do with pirates and pirate ships. I have a feeling his previous owner purchased him for the purpose of acting out his pirate fantasies.”

  “So you aren’t Blackbeard’s original owner?”

  “No. He was still a young bird when I found him, but I wasn’t his first owner.”

  I curled my legs up under my body and adjusted my position on the lounger as I settled in for a long conversation. “You found him? I just assumed you purchased him.”

  “Nope. I was out in the yard one day and the bird flew up and landed on my shoulder. Talk about startled. Luckily, I had the presence of mind not to totally freak out and scare the poor guy. I said something to him—I honestly can’t remember what—and he responded with ‘find the treasure.’ I took him inside and called the local veterinarian. I asked if anyone was missing a parrot, but no one was. I ran an ad in the paper, but no one ever claimed him, so I kept him. We’ve been together ever since. He’s been the perfect companion. He talks but not incessantly, and he loves to watch old movies as much as I do. He’s the one who turned me on to pirate movies, but now we both love them.”

  I smiled.

  “What a great story. We’ve had a lot of fun with him. He seems to actually be communicating and not just parroting words back to us.”

  “Oh, Blackbeard can communicate. Don’t doubt that for a minute. He uses words he knows, but the meaning is clear. When he’s hungry he’ll say ‘feed the bird,’ and when he gets mad at me he tells me to ‘walk the plank.�
�� He’s very intelligent.”

  “Any idea what ‘Charlie bad’ might mean?”

  Garrett didn’t answer right away. Then he said, “I don’t have a clue. We like to watch Charlie Chaplin movies, but I’ve never heard him refer to Charlie as bad. I’ve heard him mention ‘Charlie’s hat.’ He seems fascinated with that hat. We watched Charlie’s Angels, but Blackbeard usually would just say ‘pretty girl’ or ‘what a babe.’ I can assure you he learned that from his previous owner as well.”

  “Have you ever heard him use the word ‘bad’ in any other context?”

  “Yeah. He seems to understand the concept of bad, which is amazing if you think about it. To be honest, I tend to take the fact that Blackbeard can communicate so well for granted.”

  Garrett and I talked about Blackbeard for a while longer before I changed the subject to the map I’d found in the wall of his attic. “I have some news you may find surprising.”

  “Could use a surprise.”

  “I was in the attic a while ago, trying to straighten up a bit, and I found an old map hidden in the wall.”

  “A map? What map?”

  That seemed to answer the question as to whether Garrett knew about it and could even have put it there himself. “I’m not really sure. I thought you might know.”

  “Don’t know nothin’ about any map. My mother told me she destroyed the one to Barkley’s treasure that my dad had, and that’s the only map I ever heard anyone talk about.”

  I tucked my feet up under my legs to make room for Echo, who’d chosen that moment to sit directly in front of me. “We don’t know what this map leads to, but we’re certain it isn’t old enough to have belonged to a pirate who lived in the seventeenth century.”

  “You think there’s another treasure hidden on Gull Island?”

  “I don’t know.” Echo put his paw on my lap and I gave him a scratch on the head. “What I do know is that it looked as if someone has accessed the map’s hiding place recently. It really doesn’t make sense that someone would find it and then leave it behind, but the paneling had been partially pulled away from the wall and there were fingerprints in the dust on the wall where the paneling had been tampered with. I have no way of knowing if it was involved in Buck Barnes’s murder, but it seems possible, even likely.”