by Joyce Lavene
“Sure. I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Maybe we should go back to the barn and both take off our clothes.”
“I’m game if you are.”
“It would have to be a lot colder than this.” She stormed up from the edge of the water and followed the path through the trees away from the woods. Moving quickly made her warmer. But her clothes were still full of water, and her boots squished.
She glanced back, halfway across the field past the spring house. There was no sign of Jack. Maybe he took off his clothes and built a fire, hoping she’d return. The man had a lot of nerve for someone who looked like he never bathed and lived in a barn.
Sarah had an idea and let herself in the house. She went upstairs to her mother’s old room, dripping along the way. Her grandparents had always kept it as it had been when she’d moved out. Sarah had slept in that room when she visited. She’d spent a lot of time looking through the old clothes in the closet. There might be something there that she could wear, at least for the meeting.
As she went upstairs, she noticed that the house was a little dusty but not what she’d expect after sixteen years. Jack wasn’t staying in here, but he’d been knocking down cobwebs and keeping up with things. The floors were clean, and the lights hanging from the ceiling had working lightbulbs in them.
Lucky for her, she and her mother were about the same size. Her mother was shorter but that didn’t matter to the black and white dress Sarah pulled out of the cedar chest. She even found underwear and a bra. Her mother still had packrat tendencies—she had to force herself to throw anything away. In this case, it was a good thing.
The dress was okay, if a little short. It was better than her wet clothes. The black shoes she found pinched her toes—her mother’s feet were a size smaller. But it would do for her appointment. She dried her hair and combed it straight back away from her face.
She looked unusual, but she’d do, Sarah decided with a quick glance at herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bedroom door.
There wasn’t any time to waste. She ran back down the stairs and left for the real estate office. She thought about the rice trick Jack had mentioned but didn’t have any rice to try it. She had a maintenance plan on her phone, but she’d have to go to Suffolk to figure that out. If anyone called, they’d have to wait for updates on what she was doing.
Mace was pacing his small office, one of the few buildings at the crossroads of the two highways that had created Misty River. “I was beginning to worry that you weren’t coming, Ms. Tucker.”
Sarah could hear the sigh of relief in his voice as he shook her hand.
“Sorry,” she said. “I had an accident, and it took longer to get here than I thought.”
“I hope it wasn’t anything serious.” A man possibly in his early forties came out of a side room. He was well-dressed, with black, close-cut hair and a winning smile. “I’m Leland Drake. Let’s do this thing and make some money.”
Chapter Seven
They sat down together at a table by a window that looked out at the parking lot. Dozens of large trucks whizzed by on both highways, going quickly through the intersection, barely noticing the small community. There was a green sign at both sides of the intersection that proudly proclaimed Misty River but no population number since the town was unincorporated.
Sarah accepted a cup of coffee from Mace. It was terrible, but at least it was warm. Her hands were still cold from the river.
“I understand how I’m going to make money,” she said to Leland since he’d brought it up. “How are you going to make money?”
“I’ll be happy to share. May I call you Sarah? I feel like I know you. I knew your family years ago.”
“Sure.”
He rubbed his hands together. “Your property is pivotal to my plans. You have the longest river frontage in the county. A new, state-wide Blue Way is in the works. It includes two spots on Misty River. One of them will be on your land—my land—complete with a general store where canoers can purchase what they need. The other spot on the river is on my family’s property near the county line.”
Sarah understood why Jack had taken her to the river. She wasn’t sure what he’d hoped to gain unless it was trying to get her to feel nostalgic before she learned about the plans for the farm.
Misty River was as famous for its gossip as any other small town. She wasn’t hooked into it because she didn’t live there. Jack knew because he heard everything.
Part of her had been hoping that some family wanted the farm because they wanted to live there and raise a family as her grandparents and great-grandparents had. It wasn’t practical, not in this day and age, despite what Mr. Pope had said. She felt sad that no other little girl would visit her family there and experience all the joys she had. On the other hand, at least Leland didn’t want to build condos. She was going to have to take what good she could from this.
“I have the contracts ready right here.” Mace’s lawyer put out three sets of papers and gave each of them a pen with the name of his real estate company on it. “Whenever you’re ready, read through everything. I marked the spaces where you should sign beside your typed names. Then we can all go home happy.”
“What about the property being the scene of a crime?” Sarah felt she should ask to be honest about the circumstances.
“Not to worry,” the lawyer told her. “Since the buyer has been apprised of the situation, we can go ahead with the deal.”
She was happy that it would be over. She pushed aside her feeling of sadness and loss. The chances were good that Jack was wrong. Wherever her grandparents had gone, they weren’t coming back. She couldn’t stay here to look for them. She had to sign the papers, get her things together, and go home. She could always give the sheriff her information in Richmond if there was anything else he needed to know about Mr. Burris’s death.
“If you see anything that bothers you.” Mace was watching her. “Just let me know. We can move things around if you need more time.”
“But not much more.” Leland winked at her. “I have to get this on the county schedule as soon as possible to be eligible for the available grant money.”
“I understand.” She glanced through the paperwork. It was what she’d expected as far as terms were concerned. “I think this will be a great project for Misty River. It shows growth potential.”
“Exactly what I was thinking.” Leland smiled. “I didn’t expect to see anyone from your family. How are they doing up in Richmond?”
“Everyone is fine, thanks.” No doubt he was the one Mace had spoken of when he said someone had wanted to pay the back taxes and get the land that way.
The front door of the building opened, and a man in jeans and a red plaid shirt glanced around, removing his straw hat.
“Can I help you?” Mace raced to the door to stop the land sale from being interrupted.
“Yeah.” The man in red plaid nodded to Sarah and Leland. “I have a court injunction that’s been filed with the county to stop the sale of Elizabeth and Thomas Denning’s property. Maybe you should take a look at it before you go any farther.”
The man was clearly ill-at-ease being there. That made Sarah curious. Before he could hand the injunction to Mace, she took it and quickly read the document.
“This is crazy.” She looked at the newcomer. “Why are you doing this?”
“Excuse me, ma’am.” The man in red plaid reached to shake her hand. “I’m Trent Waddington. I filed this injunction on behalf of my client, who prefers to remain anonymous.”
Sarah shook his hand. “My grandparents have been missing for much longer than the requisite seven years needed to take over their business affairs as appointed by their sole surviving heir, my mother.”
“That’s true,” Trent agreed. “But there’s the little matter of your grandparents actually being declared legally dead by the state. I couldn’t find a record of that, Ms. Tucker. If you have the paperwork, we can take care of that right no
w.”
“Excuse me a moment.” Sarah asked to use Mace’s phone in his side office.
She called her mother and asked about the formality that was holding up the deal.
“I’m sure we filed that at the seven-year mark,” her mother said while she spoke to someone in her office. “Let me check that out and get back with you.”
“Quickly, please. I’m standing here with the contract and the buyer.”
“I’ll put Suzi on it right away. I should have an answer in the next five minutes.”
Sarah put down the phone when her mother hung up. Suzi was her personal assistant. Surely the paperwork had been filed.
She wondered about the anonymous client Trent was talking about, and an image formed in her mind. No doubt it was Jack trying to stop the sale at the last minute. But where would he come up with the money to hire a lawyer?
“Probably offered to build his barn or something,” she muttered to herself.
Mace tapped at the door and came into the room. “Well? Is there really a legal issue that’s preventing you from selling the farm?”
“I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “My mother should’ve been the one to file that paperwork. She’ll get back to me as soon as she can.”
He glanced toward the open room. “We could lose this sale, you know. Leland wants the property, but he won’t wait forever.”
“I know. He wants it in time to get his money back in grants. But on the other hand, if this is only one of two spots on the river that can be used for the Blue Way, I think he’ll be a little patient while we check into this.”
“I certainly hope so,” he said tartly before he left the small office.
It only took another minute for the phone to ring. It was Suzi with bad news. “I’m sorry, Ms. Tucker. It appears as though that paperwork you requested was never filed. I’ll take care of it right away.”
“Put my mother on the phone,” Sarah demanded.
“She’s very busy. Maybe you could call her later.”
“No. Put her on the phone now, please.”
There was a brief pause, and then Sarah’s mother answered. “I’m so sorry, honey. I guess I got caught up in other things and forgot to file. It will only take a few days. This is Thursday. You should have it back by Monday. You said the police chief told you not to leave for a day or so. Get through the weekend. Hopefully everything will be fine by then.”
“You could’ve checked this before you sent me down here.”
“I know. You have a right to be angry. It just slipped my mind. I’m sorry. I’ll talk to you later.”
Sarah put the heavy yellow phone receiver back down on the cradle. She was furious, but there was nothing she could do but wait. She could go back to Richmond for the weekend and come back Monday, if the paperwork was filed. Maybe that’s what she’d do.
She put on a tight smile as she walked out of the office to face the three men.
“It appears as though some mistakes were made, gentlemen. However, these are mistakes that can be easily rectified. The paperwork regarding my grandparents’ death will be filed today. We’ll have to wait until Monday to finish the transaction. I apologize.”
Leland brought his fist down on the table. “Is this some kind of ploy to get more money for the property?”
“I assure you it’s not.” She remained calm even in the face of his temper. She’d dealt with plenty of angry clients.
“This is unacceptable,” Mace blustered. “Leland has the right to withdraw his offer on the property.”
Sarah picked up her bag. “Of course that choice is his. As soon as I hear that the documents are ready, I’ll let you know. I apologize again for this unfortunate situation.”
“Wait!” Leland grabbed Mace by the sleeve. “She’s not leaving, is she?”
“There’s more we should be talking about,” Mace yelped.
“Really, there isn’t anything else at this juncture,” she replied. “I’ll be in touch.”
But she grabbed Trent as she was walking out the front door and pinned him against the brick wall outside the building.
“Jack put you up to this, didn’t he?” she asked. “What did he offer to trade if you did this for him?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said nervously. “I was only doing my job.”
“Representing who?”
“Not representing anyone.” He smiled and played with his clip-on tie. “I’m not a lawyer. Not really. I’m a legal aid. Jack asked me to see if Mr. and Mrs. Denning had been declared legally dead. They weren’t. I told you before you sold the property. You didn’t want to sell it if everything wasn’t right, did you?”
“No.” She let him go—not that he couldn’t have gotten away if he’d wanted to. She’d pressed her hand against his chest, but he was at least six inches taller than her and much broader. “Why doesn’t he just get with the program? I’m going to sell this land.”
Trent shrugged. “I don’t know. You should ask him. I have to get back to work. Have a nice day.”
Sarah wasn’t sure what to do. Jack had a target painted on his head as far as she was concerned. He let her walk into this—after a dunk in the river. She wanted to hit him with something.
She went back to the farm and yelled his name a few times. There was no answer from the acres that stretched in front of her. He only showed up when he wanted to. She reached down to stroke the black and white mother cat as her babies scurried along behind her.
“Fine.” She wished she had a microphone. “Stay out there, but stop interfering. We’re going to sell this farm. Get used to it. Find another place to live.”
Sheriff Morgan pulled up in the drive when she was about to get back in her car.
“I heard about your bad news,” he said with a smile. “Grace told me down at the Quik-Chek. Word travels fast. A family of lawyers and no one thought to file the paperwork declaring your grandparents legally dead. I’d call that a travesty of justice, ma’am.”
“Is there some reason for your visit?” she asked. “Or did Jack hire you to bully me?”
That brought a rich chuckle from him. “That Jack gets around pretty good for a man who doesn’t have a car.”
Sarah seethed. “Sheriff?”
“Sorry. Just ribbing you some.” He reached through the window of his car and brought out the file that she’d given him. “George Burris was a good man, Ms. Tucker, but I’m not sure what this information had to do with your grandparents’ disappearance. Did you look at it?”
“Not much. Jack sneaked it out of the kitchen, remember?” She took the file from him. It must be completely unimportant since it could be evidence in a murder case and he was giving it back. “You don’t think Mr. Burris was killed for this?”
“Nope. Not considering the killer left it behind. Take a look. Give me a call if you have any questions. I hear you’ll be here until at least Monday. I don’t know if George’s death will be wrapped up that neatly. But I’m sure you’ll give me your contact info if you decide to go back to Richmond.”
“Thanks. I’ll let you know.”
He grinned. “Good thing you have a phone at the hotel, huh? Grace said your phone went for a swim.”
“You could say that. I’ll talk to you later, Sheriff Morgan.”
“That Jack. He really cracks me up.”
Chapter Eight
Sarah ignored her irritation with Jack and Sheriff Morgan and drove back to the hotel. Her boots were ruined. She went out and bought a new pair. She washed clothes again and picked up her suit at the dry cleaners. There wasn’t much they could do with it. Sarah was pretty sure she’d never wear it again.
After taking a shower and changing clothes, she lay down on the bed and opened the folder George Burris had wanted her to see.
It was full of pictures, most black and white, some in color. Some were very old. There were newspaper clippings from as far back as 1897. Many of the newer articles were by George. All of his
information pertained to a lost chest of gold that had supposedly belonged to the Confederate Army.
Many of the articles were of the opinion that the South could have won the war if that gold wouldn’t have gone missing. The whole thing was about people looking for the gold and believing it was somewhere on her grandparents’ property.
Sarah muttered a few “crazies” and got up to get a Coke from the mini-fridge. She shifted to the brown chair by the door and started reading again.
Somehow an ancestor of hers, Big Mike Denning, had been credited—or accused, depending on what side of the war you were on—of stealing the gold. Many people thought he’d taken it to end the war. George and some of his friends believed the gold was still there on the farm. There were maps, supposedly drawn by Big Mike himself. But the gold still remained unfound.
The hotel phone rang. It was Hunter wanting to know how everything was going and if she’d sold the property. “And where’s your cell phone? I tried calling you a few times and left messages. What’s up?”
“It’s been a much bigger adventure than I’d expected.” She told Hunter about George Burris, her wet cell phone, and then described the catastrophe trying to finalize the sale of the land. “I can’t tell you how embarrassing it was to be outmaneuvered by a man who lives on my land illegally.”
Hunter laughed at her. “I’m not sure if your mom really wants to sell the place or not. It seems like she’s ignored it, but I think she’s got doubts.”
Sarah agreed. “I was just looking at the file that Mr. Burris died trying to show me. It doesn’t make any sense. It’s all pictures of my grandparents and articles about looking for lost gold on their property. Even the sheriff didn’t want it.”
“Treasure hunting? Does the sheriff think Mr. Burris was killed for that?”
“He’s not exactly the sharing type, although he gave me the file he had on my grandparents’ disappearance. It’s skimpy, Hunter. And he hasn’t offered any ideas on why the man was killed at the house. He makes me feel like he thinks I’m a suspect, but Jack thinks that’s stupid.”