“That’s Judge Ralph.”
“Yeah, whatever, Ralph. Judge Ralph, Judge Fudge. It’s all the same to me.”
“Fudge?” Saul laughed. “I had fudge at a fair one time when I was in upstate New York. Can we get some?” He spoke Russian to Yuri. He nodded and smiled, but kept looking at the phone screen.
The judge laughed and clapped his hands. “I’ll get you some maple fudge, boys. You’ll love it. But first, work… We’re looking for something, probably a rare book, probably in the house or on the property of the Wells farm, here.” He rolled out a map. “My plan was to buy the farm and its contents… make it a museum, and take the time to inventory the contents. But I guess that process has been too slow. Now, we have to improvise.”
Saul said, “I like improvisation. Like Jazz.” He held his hands up by his face and shook them. “Jazz hands. hahahaha”
“Right, good. So, somehow we need to search the place, thoroughly search it and inventory it. It’s a 100 acre farm. Caves, barns, old wells, god knows where it could be; or what it could be.”
“Who lives there?”
“As far as we know, just a girl, and occasionally her Uncle. The parents are dead. Died in a car wreck a few years ago. Incinerated.”
“Oh that’s a shame.” Saul tutted. He continued, “Sounds like a scavenger hunt. I have a first idea...”
Chapter Eighteen
Steve’s father stopped his car in front of the coin shop. The three got out of the car and Dr. Polloy pulled the door to go inside, but it was locked and rattled in the frame. He said, “Oh shi--oot, I hope they’re not closed.”
“There’s an OPEN sign right there.” Steve pointed at the window.
“There’s someone inside.” Morgan cupped his hand over his eyes and waved through the door. The door lock buzzed and the man motioned for them to come in.
“Hello, what can I do for you guys today?”
Morgan took the coin out of his pocket and bounced it in his palm.
Dr. Polloy said, “We have a coin to appraise. It’s an old one… I think.”
“Well, let’s take a look.” He put the coin on a piece of black felt on the counter and eyed it through a large magnifying lens.
“I haven’t seen anything like this in person. To be honest, it’s not my specialty… but let me make a few calls. It might take a while...”
“We were going to grab some dinner across the street.”
“I can offer you $1500 right now. Cash. I’m not even sure it’s worth that, honestly.”
Morgan started to say “yes”, but Dr. Polloy interrupted. “No, do the research, then let’s talk prices. Who knows what we’ve got here?”
“OK. Go eat, let me make a few calls, and then I’ll give you a call. Can I take a picture of the coin?”
They all looked to Morgan. “Yeah, no problem.” The man took an old digital camera from behind the counter and snapped a couple of pictures of each side. Morgan picked it up from the felt and slipped it in his pocket.
“Wait…. wait…. wait... Put it in this.” The dealer gave him a clear plastic case for the coin. “It couldn’t hurt to protect it a little bit.”
Morgan clicked it inside the plastic. He said, “Thanks, but it seems like it’s really trapped in there.” He took the coin back out and gave the case back to the man.
Chapter Nineteen
A prison guard led Sarah Cantoe into a room with a folding table and a few chairs. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Keith and Rich were waiting for her. Keith had a chocolate shake that he slid across the table.
“Mz Cantoe, my name is Keith Marte, I’m a private investigator. I’ve been hired to help you with your case.”
“Did my lawyer hire you? He didn’t tell me.”
“No, he didn’t.” Rich said. “Another party has taken an interest in your case, and believes you were put up to this and you’re taking all the blame. That’s just unfair.”
She narrowed her eyes. She practically spat her words out. “It was an accident. I was drunk. I was stupid. I didn’t see him there. I was afraid to call 911 after I hit him. I’m going to serve my time. I don’t want any help. I’ve got nothing more to say to you…”
Rich leaned toward her, “Look, I can’t make any promises, but maybe if you disclosed some information about people who put you up to this...”
She interrupted him. “Nothing more to say.” She held the shake close and looked down at the lid as she drank.
Keith shrugged his shoulders and they left.
“She seemed scared.” Keith said.
“I don’t think she’s going to cooperate.” Rich said. “We might need to look from some different angles.”
“I’m thinking I’ll pound the pavement, see if anything turns up.”
“I don’t have a better suggestion. I’ll give you a call later today.”
They parted company and Keith took a drive to Sarah’s trailer. The mailbox next to the walkway was overflowing. A light was on inside. He tried the door, but it was locked. “Nobody bothered to take care of this…” he said to nobody in particular. He flipped through the mail and sorted the bills and account statements from the pile of junk mail and magazines. He stuffed the junk back into the mailbox and stuck the statements under his arm.
A neighbor who was out walking a white Fox Terrier limped past. He was a stout young man, but was leaning heavily on an orthopedic cane. The little dog sniffed at Keith’s pant cuff. He knelt down and scratched behind its ears. The dog smiled up at him and wagged his tail.
“Nice dog. Any chance you knew Miss Cantoe?” He pointed his thumb at the trailer.
“Sure. Sorry to be rude, but who are you?”
“I’m a private investigator working for a friend of the Cantoe family, trying to help out.”
“A private eye? No shit? Like TV. Who would want to help that trash?”
“I take it you didn’t like her?”
“She was a bad neighbor. Bad kids. Bad family. Bad friends.”
“Does she have family in the area?”
“Her sister was around here a lot--sometimes she’d watch the kids. Chick was always wearing tight clothes. She’d lay out in an American Flag bikini back here. Hard not to notice someone like that. I tried chatting her up a couple times, but no luck.”
“Well, maybe you just needed to salute the flag?” He clicked his heels and mock saluted.
The guy laughed. “Maybe you’re right.”
Chapter Twenty
Tracy’s relationship with teachers was almost always determined by her loss. Usually they fawned over her, and imagined she needed help shouldering her burden, a few respected her for her effort to keep her life together, and a rare few held some type of grudge.
Her Honors English teacher Mrs. Rosewater was in the last category. She’d been at odds with Tracy since the first day of school, and Tracy responded by getting lax about class, and putting as much sarcasm as possible in her assignments.
She and Chloe were sitting together in class. Mrs. Rosewater walked into the room with a group of men and women. Constable Skip was with them. He was carrying a yellow notepad. Mrs. Rosewater introduced him to the class. Before he addressed the class, he walked slowly back and forth in front of the desks for a while eyeing each student in what he imagined was an imposing way. He cleared his throat and read from the notepad, “Hello class, the Rotary Club is sponsoring an essay contest on ‘International Friendship’. Write an essay of just 150-300 words on what that means to you. The committee will select three finalists who will then give a speech on the subject.”
Mrs. Rosewater stepped up alongside the constable, “This is also going to be a class assignment.” The class let out a collective groan. “150 words? I’m sure only a few hardy souls will survive that hardship. Such a shame, there were so many bright futures ahead.”
Chapter Twenty One
Tracy and Chloe were tearing along Sherman road in the Austin Healey. The spec
tacular August sky was blue and a just few of the trees were turning yellow. The road had a succession of short steep hills, and was like a roller coaster. Tracy hit the gas as they crested each hill and they experienced a moment or two of reduced gravity which caused them both to laugh wildly.
Chloe shouted, “Oh man, that feels sooo weird. Soooo good in my dirty parts.”
They whipped over the last hill before home and Tracy slammed on the brakes, the wheels locked and the car started to spin. “Pump the brakes!!” Chloe screamed and braced against the dash. Tracy just kept the wheels locked and the car pirouetted past a man who was walking in the road. He had a thick mop of dark hair flecked with gray strands. He was wearing dark blue jeans and a white T-Shirt with a print of the Three Hares and had a small pack on his shoulder. The Healey came to a stop in the middle of the road and the engine stalled. Tracy restarted the car and pulled into a driveway. The man walked over to the driver’s side.
“You must be Tracy Wells! I’m a friend of your family. I knew your mom and dad! I know you… well, the younger you. I was just on the way to your house.” he says.
“Oh man, I’m sorry, we almost hit you.” Chloe said.
“Oh, well, no harm, just a little startling. Be careful!”
“Well, wow. Um. Hop in. You can sit here.” Tracy patted the trunk.
“The name’s David by the way, David Mathis.” He stepped into the back of the car and sat down. He shook hands with the girls. Tracy drove carefully down the driveway.
Chloe asked, “Do you live nearby?”
“No, I am staying on a farm down in Hiram for a few days. I move around a lot. It’s actually been a while since I stayed at your house. A couple summers, I practically lived there.”
“Did someone drop you off?”
“I walked today. What a lovely day. How many of these beautiful fall days do we get in our life? A few hundred? It’s bright and sunny but the temperature is perfect--not even a drop of sweat.”
“Wow… that’s a long walk!” Tracy said.
“Well, I look at it this way. On foot, I get to experience the whole country. So many of the roads around here follow rivers because back in the old days, you walked or took a horse and that’s the easiest route. On foot I can cut through the woods--there are a surprising number of trails. I get to know the really huge and unique trees that are out there. Here’s a little quiz--do you girls know the name of the river you just crossed?”
“River? I didn’t even notice one.” Chloe said.
“It’s the Chagrin; the headwaters of the Chagrin River. See what I mean… When you’re in a car, it’s like your mind is also trapped in that metal box. Driving is like moving in a metal tube that connects one place to another. Very constraining. And if you think about it, the end points are usually some building. Some poor people live their entire life inside an entirely man made world.”
Chloe cocked her head, “yeah, I never really thought of it that way.”
“Aha! Next time you drive along there, kick off your shoes and stick them in the river.”
“I’ll do that sometime.” Chloe smiled.
“I do remember you visiting. How’d you know my dad?”
“We were in high school together. Man that was a long time ago… in a galaxy far, far away. But we also worked together from time to time since then.”
Tracy laughed. “I sometimes try to imagine them in high school. Were you in The Breakfast Club with them or something?”
“Oh no man, no. Can you picture your dad or mom getting in any trouble as kids? Man they were straight.”
“Well, honestly, no.”
“Let me paint a better word picture of the scene back then, I was friends with your Uncle Robbie since we were little kids. We had a lot of the same interests and I actually hung out here a lot. I practically grew up here. I’m the same age as Rob. I didn’t know your parents nearly as well.”
“You said you worked with them. What do you do for work?” Tracy asked.
“Oh man,” he tapped his chin and smiled. “This is great. It’s some really good exercise for my brain to shift gears like this.” He closed his eyes. “I’m traveling back to when I was about your age and I lived in town with my family. We lived in the allotments. I was into cars back then. I had a yellow Firebird with T-tops and a sweet black interior.” He opened his eyes again. “That reminds me, I should go see my parents, too.” He closed them again, “Back then, I was going through the school system, getting trained to enter the workforce, and was someone who only knew the orthodox interpretation of what it means to be a human being. OK.” He tapped his temples and opened his eyes.
“What?” Tracy asked.
“I used to be a lot like you.” he said. They nodded. He could tell they weren’t really following along so he tried a different angle. “You see that doe out in the back yard?” He pointed. “Does she have a job?” The deer was browsing along the side of the driveway, munching at clover and looking from side to side between bites.
“Hmmm.” Tracy hummed. “Well, you know, that’s a good question.”
“I’d say no.” Chloe said definitively.
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, she’s just living. She just gets her food right outside.”
“Right. That’s insightful.”
“So, what’s your job?” Tracy asked trying to get him to the point.
“Well, I’m just living, too. I guess my line of business is doing this.” He waved his hands around. “What we’re doing right now. It’s really your family business too.”
“What do you mean family business?”
“Have you read any of the books in your library?”
“Yeah, a few.”
He paused and his face got serious. “Have you talked to your Uncle about this at all?”
“About what?” Tracy wondered.
“So, you are green as can be.” He drummed his fingers on the counter. “I guess I am going to be Mr. Miyagi here.”
“The karate kid guy?” Tracy asked.
“Cool, you know that? We can build on that. So you remember ‘wax on/wax off’?”
“Yeah… Daniel wanted to learn karate, but he had to wax the cars.”
“I actually know some judo.” Chloe said. “And we actually just learned it without waxing cars.”
He laughed, “Oh dude… you’re making this more complicated. So, Miyagi taught Daniel karate by having him wax cars. It’s a metaphor for teaching something in a roundabout way. There are some things you can only teach in that manner. Our brain really runs on metaphors. Consequently, you need them to get at the subtle truths.”
Both of the girls were concentrating hard, but their eyes showed no sign of understanding.
David apologized, “There’s just so much to convey and there’s really just no good starting point.”
“No worries. I’m completely confused, though.” Tracy said. “You want a drink?”
“Sure, I’ll take some water.” David said. They walked to the library.
“People have all kinds of ideas about the world, the way it works, and ideas about themselves. We get those ideas from school, from watching TV shows, from our families. In many ways the world we inhabit is built entirely from those ideas. The ideas seem so incredibly solid, clean and logical--and they seem like they’ve been around forever. But that’s all wrong.”
“Mmmmm…. Ohhh kayyy.” Tracy said.
He gestured around the room. “This is a really unique collection. Knowledge of many very wise people, distilled, then distilled again by your family and friends.”
“My family?”
“Yeah, they’ve been building this collection for a long time… This library’s like the ideas of the western world distilled to the really good stuff. It isn’t just a bunch of books. This collection is really a record of what went into writing books.” he gestured emphatically like a man pouring water from his hands. “There’s authors notebooks, notes scrawled in margins, on
napkins. It’s like behind-the-scenes stuff.”
“Wow.” Tracy looked around the room with new eyes. Chloe flipped through some of the notebooks on a nearby shelf.
“These books are the record of people solving problems. It’s lifetimes of eureka moments and epiphanies. The universe whispering directly in the ear of some authors. There’s some totally crazy stuff in here, dangerous stuff, too. It’s a truly amazing storehouse of wealth.”
Chloe said, “Oh, speaking of wealth… You might know something about this?” She handed him the phone with the coin picture.
“Oh… Very interesting. Cool.”
“Do you know what the inscriptions say?”
“Oh, it’s a motto in Greek, an abbreviation of a motto, really, Philosophers and Dogs. It’s a saying attributed to Diogenes: ‘Dogs and philosophers do the greatest good and get the least rewards.’”
The words had an immediate effect on Tracy. She crumpled onto the floor.
“Tracy!” Chloe ran over to her side. Tracy’s eyes were closed, but moving rapidly.
The Chardon Chronicles: Season One -- The Harvest Festival Page 4