“But what? Isn’t Andrew Hart still Sara’s attorney?”
“I’m really not sure.”
Martha leaned back into the leather upholstery of the backseat. “How don’t you know? Isn’t he your boyfriend?”
“Yes, but I’m not about to ask him for favors like having Sara invite us over to the mansion.”
I made the turn into Elsie’s drive, and we all clamored out, me with the jewel bag clutched in my right hand. I knocked on the door, and Martha was startled by the sound of barking dogs. “She doesn’t really have any dogs,” I informed Martha. “It’s just—”
Before I could finish that statement, Elsie opened the door with a brown pit bull at her side—his jaws snapping at us. I grimaced until Elsie shouted, “I’ll be right back.” She slammed the door shut, and returned five minutes later, opening the door for us to enter. We congregated in the dining room. “I got a dog for protection. His name is Killer,” Elsie explained.
“He sure looks like a killer to me,” El said.
“Aren’t those dogs dangerous?” I asked.
Elsie reached for her lemonade. “Nonsense. They just have a bad reputation.”
No sense in arguing the point, so I let it drop, focusing on why we were really here. I took the jewelry out of the bag and showed it to Elsie. “Is this your jewelry?”
She eyed the jewels carefully, and her face lit up. “It sure is. How on earth did you find it so quickly?”
El and Martha’s faces dropped. “We found it hidden at different sites around East Tawas. Obviously, someone went to quite a bit of trouble to make us think these pieces are part of the Butler treasure that Tall Tales has been publishing about. I think it’s all a big hoax, and that tabloid is at the heart of the deception.”
El shook her head. “But if this jewelry all belongs to Elsie, when on earth did Timothy really steal it?”
“He got here pretty quick after Mildred was murdered,” Elsie admitted. “He was staying here, and I’m not sure when he took my jewelry. Now that I think about it, he might have been stealing it little by little, hoping that I wouldn’t notice right off.”
“So how did you figure out he stole it for sure, then?” I asked.
“That day he held me hostage, I caught him red-handed—rummaging through my jewelry box. I guess, at that point, he had no other choice than to do what he did. I guess I shouldn’t have told him I was calling the cops, but I never expected him to do what he did to me.”
I patted Elsie’s hand to reassure her. “How were you to know what he’d do? But at least he didn’t kill you, dear.”
“Yes,” El said. “That’s why I know Timothy didn’t kill his mother. He’s no murderer, but someone else is.”
“I have to agree with El here. Someone else must be involved. Someone who put Timothy up to stealing and planting the jewelry in town.”
Elsie’s eyes widened. “Like who?”
“I’m not sure, but someone who has a personal interest, like that Chuck character who puts out that trash magazine.”
“But he’s just a kid,” El said with a shake of her grey head.
“Speaking of which, I bought the new magazine in town early this morning.” Elsie went into the kitchen and returned with a copy of Tall Tales, and right there on the front page was an article about where the next piece of the treasure would be located.
I read the article carefully and announced, “Miller Shoes is the next spot to look for treasure.”
“The place where they always have their dog inside?” El asked.
“That’s it!”
I made way for the door, but Elsie shouted, “But that doesn’t make sense at all. This is all of my missing jewelry.”
I whirled and frowned. “Sure, that might be the case, but—”
“Think, Aggie,” El said. “What if it’s all a ruse?”
“She’s right, Mother,” Martha agreed. “With news crews in town by the truckloads, everyone in town will be converging on that place like flies on honey.”
The wheels started turning inside my head, making a horrible racket. “Okay, so everyone goes to Miller Shoes and that means what, exactly?”
“That we’re overlooking something important,” El muttered. “What if that is the whole intention?”
My face lit up. “Yes, that’s it. It’s a smoke screen. Chuck is up to something much bigger.”
El’s face lit up next. “Like searching for the real treasure when everyone in town is distracted.”
I gave El a quick hug. “You got it, old girl. Everything that boy has said to us is a complete lie. He even hinted that he should look for the treasure himself. What if he knows where the real treasure has been all along?”
“If that’s true, Timothy was involved somehow. What’s the connection here?”
“I’m not sure about that, but I know for certain Chuck has been up to no good all along.”
El pursed her lips. “Who’s to say who else is involved? We need to put the squeeze on him, but good.”
I led the way outside and told Elsie we were going to Chuck Swatinski’s house and to call the cops and tell them what we suspected. I then raced toward Chuck’s house and gave the front door a real pounding. Nobody came to the door, and I peered through the window, not seeing a soul. There wasn’t a car in the driveway either, and I about smelled smoke as my mind kicked into high gear, trying to sort the situation out.
“What are we gonna do now?” El asked.
“Hey, Martha, do you still have the key to the lock box at the Butler Mansion?”
“Sure, why?”
“I’m thinking that maybe we should check out the scene of the first crime. Maybe the treasure has been hidden at the Butler Mansion the whole time.”
“Then why didn’t they search the place the first time?”
“Maybe because we showed up, and they were scared off before they were able to really look. There was a missing painting, remember?”
Martha fluttered her lashes. “Sure, but why not head back there later?”
“Because the cops were watching the place is why, but that might no longer be the case.”
El clapped her hands. “Exactly, and all the cops are busy today at Miller Shoes. Perfect distraction.”
Martha yanked open a car door. “They haven’t been to that place in a while now.”
“But Chuck might not know that. He had to be sure the coast was clear, and the only way he could assure that was if the cops are all elsewhere.”
We hopped in the car, and Martha informed us, “The alarm at the place has changed, so if they had the code, they don’t have it any longer.”
I backed out and raced toward the mansion. “This is the only worthwhile lead we have, and we’d be idiots if we didn’t at least check it out.”
Martha nodded. “I agree. I was just thinking out loud. The more I hear about this case, the more tangled the web gets. I can’t imagine a kid constructing a plot this elaborate without any outside help, that’s all.”
“I’d agree with you there if it weren’t for the fact that this kid once hacked his way into the government’s computers. That kid must have a genius IQ.”
“How did he ever get out of that one?” Martha asked.
“He squealed on someone else to save his own behind.”
“Makes sense.” Martha’s eyes lit up as we made our way up US 23. Just as we passed the Butler Cemetery, she shouted, “Stop!”
I was going too fast to stop so suddenly. When I got to the Butler Mansion, I turned around and pulled off to the side of the road. Two cars were parked near the iron gates that led to the Butler family cemetery. I made way toward the fence, and sure enough, the lock was on the ground, apparently cut.
I put a finger to my lips, shushing El and Martha. I gently opened the gate and snuck forward, quiet as a mouse. Or as silent as a woman my age could walk, anyway. I breathed in the distinct fragrance of cigarettes, the clinking of metal echoing toward us. Muffled voices could be h
eard, too—one of them was quite female.
El gripped my arm as we snuck up, ducking behind a tombstone. Most of the stones were quite old and worn, but they were big enough to conceal ourselves. We hid behind the one etched with the word “Mother.” This place was creepy enough without the thought of being buried in here. That is, if we were found out, which I had hoped wouldn’t happen.
“Keep shoveling, Chuck,” a woman’s voice shouted. From the sounds of it, it was Carla, Chuck’s mother.
“I’m doing the best I can, but I’m getting a blister.”
“You’re such a whiny little bitch,” Phil Holt complained. “You’re only sixteen. Put your back into it.”
“Why don’t you get off your big ass and help me then?”
“Keep it up, kid, and I’ll bury you in this grave when you’re done.”
“Stop it, the both of you,” Carla said. “We need to find the treasure before the cops in town figure out there isn’t any treasure at Miller Shoes.”
There was the sound of more clanging of metal and Chuck’s huffing breath as dirt was tossed into the air. I peeked around the tombstone. I sure wished Elsie had called the cops, but even if she did, how on earth would they figure out where we were now?
I gasped as my cell phone jingled to life with a Hank Williams ring tone. I never even had a chance to see who it was as shovels were dropped, and before we could run for the hills, we were staring down the barrel of a revolver held by the capable Phil Holt. His face reddened at he shouted, “Get moving, Grandma,” between gritted teeth, motioning toward where Chuck stood digging a hole.
Martha grinned. “Great, so I can leave?”
“Get all your asses over there, before I start blasting.”
We ambled over to Chuck, whose eyes widened in surprise. “How on earth …” he began.
“What? You thought you pulled the wool over our eyes, is that it? You think we’re too dumb to figure out your tabloid was a ruse?”
“I can’t imagine how you figured it out, but since you’re here, you can help me dig this here hole. I’m getting tired.” He dropped the shovel at my feet, and Phil shouted, “You heard Chuck. Get digging.”
I so felt like I’d be digging my own grave here.
“Don’t just stand there, girls,” Carla said. “Help out Agnes here.”
“Yeah,” Chuck said with a snicker. “The sooner you find the treasure, the sooner we’ll all be out of here.”
“You mean you three will be out of here. If we find the treasure, we won’t live long enough to know it,” I spat, dropping the shovel. “What makes you think the treasure is even here, or that there really is one?”
“Because we have a treasure map. Duh.”
“Oh, and what treasure map is that, the same one you kept reporting in that magazine of yours?”
Chuck walked over to another tombstone and retrieved a canvas map. “I found this behind a painting in the Butler Mansion. After Phil killed Mildred, that is.”
Phil’s mouth gaped open. “Don’t you dare tell that sleuth anything!”
“Why not? It’s not like she’ll live to tell anyone about it.”
“Oh, really? And are you planning to kill someone for a change?”
“Well, n-no.”
Carla sighed. “You know my boy is no murderer, not like you.”
“He needs to learn sometime.”
“Why did you kill Mildred?” I asked loudly. “Might as well tell me, since you plan to kill us anyway.”
“She thought she was going to find the treasure and be on easy street, but what she didn’t understand was that I was just using her to get into the mansion. She had toured the mansion previously and figured out the alarm code when it was punched. If it hadn’t been for that, I wouldn’t have needed her at all. It was bad enough that I had to put up with her kisses, but I guess I did what I had to so she’d believe me,” Phil said.
“You kissed that old bat?” Carla asked, disgust clear on her face. “When did you kill her, then?”
“Once we found the map behind the painting, I hit her with a candlestick, and I did it with one swing, too,” he boasted.
My stomach turned at the thought of poor Mildred being murdered like that. Sure, I never cared much for her, but I’d never wish that on her—to be killed so callously. “You’re sick, but how did you get Mildred to send the phony version of the map to her son?”
“That was all part of the plan. Timothy was more than happy to help us out for a share of the treasure. He’s as dumb as his mama. He stole jewelry from his aunt and planted it at sites on the phony map Chuck published in his tabloid. With the cops keeping an eye on the Butler Mansion, it wasn’t safe to come here. It’s too close in proximity.”
“So you killed Timothy when he was no longer useful to you?”
“Once he told us that you spotted him coming out of KFC, I knew it was only a matter of time before you figured it all out. He panicked, and I had to kill him before he ruined everything. Things would have gone much better if only he had killed his Aunt Elsie. I’m surrounded with a bunch of sniveling cowards.”
I couldn’t imagine murder was new to this man, so I had to ask, “I imagine you’ve spent time in prison. Nobody is that easily driven to murder unless they have a history.”
“Involuntary homicide, actually. I was quite young, and I was paroled a few years back.”
“Carla, I bet you didn’t have a clue who this man was until later.”
She fidgeted under my stare. “It’s hard to find a man when you have a kid who gets himself into trouble. When the government arrested Chuck, Phil hired a lawyer and convinced Chuck to turn in someone else. He really loves me,” she said with conviction.
“And what about the treasure? Where did you really hear about that?”
“Chuck is a real local history buff, and when he found out about it, we used Mildred to set the plan into action. Her sister is real popular in town, and that’s how Mildred found out about the code being needed for the Butler Mansion.”
“Sure, but what about you? Do you actually think Phil will let you and Chuck live once he’s secured the treasure—he’ll drop you in one of these graves,” I insisted.
“I wish the cops had just charged you with Mildred’s murder,” Phil snapped. “Now it’s gotten even messier.”
“Start digging, old lady,” Chuck shouted. “My stepdad would never hurt me or my mom. It was his idea to design the false map. It was so funny how you and Eleanor were so deluded into believing you’d actually found real treasure. Keep digging, and you’ll live the dream. You just won’t live long enough to enjoy it.”
Chuck was fooling himself, but I had no other choice right now than to dig my own grave. Ten minutes later, dripping in sweat, El fell to the ground, exhausted. “Get back up, old lady,” Carla shrieked.
“Let her rest. I’ll keep digging,” I said, although I was fatigued past belief. My eyes met Martha’s and noted the tension on her drawn face. I put the shovel down again, and pushed my foot against it. The sound of metal on metal sounded off like a vibration. We were pushed aside, and Chuck and Carla jumped into the three-foot hole, digging with their fingers until they had cleared the edge of a metal chest.
Martha helped me crawl out of the hole, and I fell to the ground in exhaustion. Phil walked forward and raised the barrel of his revolver as I stared on, helpless. El rolled over me as a shot cracked off in the air, but instead of it hitting either of us, Phil crumpled to the ground, blood spreading across his chest.
Trooper Sales ran forward and ordered Carla and Chuck out of the hole as El, Martha, and I shared a group hug. “Where did you come from?” I asked Sales.
“Andrew gave us a call and told us that he called to check on you after Elsie Bradford called him, but when you didn’t pick up, he knew you were in trouble. We got here just in time to put Phil Holt down before he killed you.”
I smiled at that. “Thanks. That’s all I can say.”
“You are f
amily, after all,” he said with a wink. “But in the future, give us a heads-up before you place yourself in danger this way.”
Sheriff Peterson cleared the trees and agreed. “Yes, how many times can someone dodge a bullet?”
I then told Sales and Peterson what had happened, just how elaborate a plot it was, and that we might have really found the Butler’s cursed treasure. Sales went down in the hole after Chuck and Carla were cuffed. As it turned out, the bullet fired by Trooper Sales had killed Phil.
Ten minutes later, the treasure chest was opened, and it was filled to the top with gold coins and jewelry. I smiled widely, as did the others. “Well, I guess there really is a treasure after all,” I said happily.
Peterson made another call, and more cops showed up, along with an ambulance to cart El, Martha, and me to the hospital to get checked out. Andrew met me there with a bouquet of roses, tears rolling down his proud face. He dropped down on one knee in the emergency room and asked, “Will you marry me, Agnes?”
My eyes widened, and Eleanor squealed from the bed next to me. I guess maybe Andrew had decided that I would continue to investigate crimes, but that he wasn’t willing to let any more time go by before making the ultimate commitment. I still had my doubts, but I kept them in the back of my mind—instead focusing on the future and what it held for all of us. Then I said yes.
Epilogue
Hidden Cove once again had us all on the deck, celebrating the impending marriage of not just Eleanor and Mr. Wilson, but also me and Andrew.
Trooper Sales held his wine glass high in the air as Sophia held their daughter, Andrea, close to her breast. “Congratulations, Eleanor and Agnes. I hope you two settle down now.” To which he winked. “It sounds good, in theory.”
“It sure does, but whatever happened about the treasure found in the Butlers’ Cemetery?”
“As it happens, it belongs to the State of Michigan, since they are the real owners of that piece of property. Word is that it will be on display in prominent museums throughout the state.”
“In a traveling display like King Tut?” I asked.
“Exactly. And just think about it, you’re now part of history. Folks in East Tawas have heard that treasure story for years now, and who would have ever thought it was real, after all?”
Madison Johns - Agnes Barton 05 - Treasure in Tawas Page 16