Treasure in Exile

by S. W. Hubbard

  Lo-o-o-n-g silence.

  “There was quite a building boom in Palmyrton at that time. Farmland and woods turned into middle-class housing developments.”

  “Yes, but anything that would have affected Mrs. Tate?”

  The librarian shrugs. “The Vietnam War was intensifying at that time.”

  That seems like a dead-end. “What about the kitchen? According to the ledger, Vareena hired an architect in 1945 and had the new kitchen built.”

  “Yes, indeed. I happen to have a copy of the blueprints in our architecture collection.”

  Having asked the question, I’m obliged to look although I’m getting restless with this visit. I glance over his shoulder at the drawings. “Yep, that’s just what the kitchen looks like.”

  The librarian taps the drawing and shudders. “They destroyed the symmetry of the original gothic revival design. The back of the house has been bastardized.”

  I give him a “whattaya gonna do” shrug. Considering Vareena hardly spent a penny her whole life, I can’t really begrudge her wanting a kitchen with a gas stove and a real refrigerator.

  The entire time I’ve been talking to the librarian, there hasn’t been another soul in the local history room. “So, do many people look at this stuff?”

  He ponders and finally nods. “Yes, interest in the Tate Mansion has been particularly high.”

  Somehow, I suspect two or three visitors could fill up this guy’s week, given how slow he is.

  “Really? Who else has been in?”

  He draws himself up straight and for the first time looks me in the eye. “The research of other patrons is strictly confidential.”

  I LEAVE THE LEDGER in the care of the socially awkward librarian, and head for the office thinking about the tragedy of Vareena’s life. When her husband was killed, she and her father-in-law must have been so comforted by the fact that Vareena was pregnant with the next generation of the Tate family. The old man must’ve held on to life until he saw he had a grandson. And then, for little Lawrence Jr. to die as well—how cruel!

  I enter the office to find Donna holding a stack of index cards and Ty sprawled across the easy chair with one wobbly leg that’s awaiting the next Sister Alice run.

  “Opportunity Cost,” Donna says.

  Ty shuts his eyes and massages his temples. “That’s when like you have to give up something to get something.”

  Donna flips over the card and reads from the back. “The quantity of other goods that must be given up to obtain a good.”

  “Right. What I said.”

  She places that card in a small stack on the desk and reads from the last one in her hand. “Federal funds rate.”

  Ty chews his lower lip. “Hmmm.” Opens his mouth. Shuts it again. Squints at me. “You know what it is?”

  I throw up my hands. “It’s been fifteen years since I took macro-economics.”

  “You give up?” Donna asks.

  Ty grimaces. “Yeah. Hit me.”

  “The interest rate at which depository institutions lend reserve balances to other depository institutions overnight, on an uncollateralized basis,” Donna reads from the back of the index card before placing it in a larger stack on the desk.

  Ty rolls his eyes. “How many did I get right?”

  Donna counts the cards in the small stack. “Four and a half, if I give you partial credit for opportunity cost.”

  “Auugh! I can’t afford to fail this test. I gotta get at least a C+ in this class to keep my scholarship.”

  “Take the afternoon off. Go somewhere quiet to study,” I tell Ty.

  “I don’t have anyplace quiet. People track me down wherever I go. School library is like party central. Marcus found me at the Palmyrton Diner. I can’t even go to the town library! Do you know Kyle and Jamal rode their bikes there last week to hit me up for arcade money?”

  “You can go to my house. Sean is working late and I’ll go to the gym after work.” I reach for my keys.

  “Ethel won’t give me no peace, you know that.”

  “Oh, right. But there’s gotta be somewhere.”

  Ty’s face lights up. “I know a place! Won’t nobody find me there, and there’s no distractions.”

  “Where?” Donna asks.

  I hold up my hand. “Don’t even tell us where.”

  Ty’s phone chirps and he looks at the screen. “Renee again! That’s another reason I can’t get nuthin’ done. Marcus. Grams. Renee. Renee. Renee. Charmaine. Kyle. Grams. Kyle. Henry. Renee. Marcus. All them blowin’ up my phone. Everybody always buggin’ me.”

  I tug gently at the phone in his hands. “Leave it with me. Go.”

  He hangs onto it, then reluctantly loosens his grip, looking like a new mother leaving her infant with Granny for the first time. I slide it out of his hands, and put it on my desk. “Go.”

  Ty stands up and looks around the office. “What about the research for pricing those oil paintings?”

  “It can wait until later in the week.”

  “I should really—”

  “Go!” Donna and I chorus.

  Ty collects his index cards and econ book and heads for the door. With his hand on the knob, he looks back at me and the phone. “What if Grams really needs me? Her knee’s been actin’ up again.”

  “If Grandma Betty calls, I’ll answer and help her myself. Now go.”

  Ty ducks his head. “Thanks, Audge.”

  And he’s gone.

  “Do you think he’ll pass his test?” Donna asks.

  “Yeah. Ty has a way of pulling things out of the fire.” I smile, thinking of the way he recovered a large sum of our client’s money that had gone missing, and talked his way out of trouble with the cops. “He’s just too generous with his time. His family and friends all rely on him, and sometimes he gets overwhelmed.”

  As if they know I’m talking about them, Ty’s contacts send his phone into a flurry of chirps. I glance at the screen. Most of the texts are from this Renee person.

  “I wonder who Renee is?” I look up from my financial projections. “I’ve never heard him mention her.”

  “She’s this girl he met at college. Her car was stalled in the parking lot and he jumped the battery. Now she texts him all the time. She’s real pretty, but too needy, ya know? I told him he needs a girl who’s more independent. Someone like you.”

  I smile at the compliment, but a part of me is a little miffed. Why does Donna know all about this Renee? How is it that Ty is accepting romance advice from someone he’s only known for ten days?

  I jam my papers in a folder. How ridiculous! Am I jealous of Donna? I should be thrilled that they get along so well. It’s a pleasant change from the simmering animosity between Ty and Adrienne and even the sibling bickering between Ty and Jill.

  The phone chirps again. Geez, this really is distracting and the messages aren’t even for me. I set it to vibrate. I would turn the phone off altogether, except that I promised to keep tuned in to any calls from Grandma Betty.

  This string of messages is all from Ty’s sister.

  I need to talk to you.

  Where are you?

  CALL ME!

  I’m confident these can be ignored. Charmaine is always texting Ty frantically with pleas like, How do I get to Rockaway Mall? Or Where do I go to get my driver’s license renewed? She treats Ty like her personal search engine. A little neglect will teach her how to use Google.

  I return to my spreadsheet. After a ten minute pause, one more.

  Dad is out. Please call me.

  Chapter 29

  CRAP!

  I never expected this. How could Ty’s dad show up in the precise twelve hours that Ty chooses to go off the grid?

  I use Ty’s phone to call Charmaine, and before I can even say hello, she floods me with a tidal wave of words. “Ty, Daddy got out yesterday and he’s here at my place and he wants to see you real bad so you need to come over today, like right now, and talk to him, okay.”

  “
Char—”

  “And don’t be a douche about it.”

  “Char—”

  “I’m at work right now but I can leave at four, so go over to my place by then, okay.”

  “Charmaine!”

  There is a shocked silence on the line. Then Charmaine’s voice goes up half an octave. “Who is this? What you doin’ with my brother’s phone?”

  “Charmaine, it’s Audrey. Ty left his phone with me while he’s studying for his economics exam.” I explain Ty’s seclusion, but Charmaine isn’t having it.

  “Look, Audrey, I need to talk to my brother. I’m not messin’ with you.” There’s panic in her voice. This doesn’t sound like a happy, long-awaited family reunion to me. “You gotta tell me where he’s at.”

  “I truly don’t know, Charmaine. I wouldn’t lie to you. But he’ll be back at work tomorrow at noon, right after the exam.”

  “Daddy won’t wait that long! And he’ll never believe me that Ty is studying for a test.” Long pause. “You hafta tell him.”

  “Me? But—”

  “I’ll bring him over to your office at four-fifteen. I gotta go now. Thanks, Audrey.”

  Donna and I spend a few hours researching prices for certain obscure items at the Tate Mansion. Then I send her home early so I can await the arrival of Ty’s father without Donna’s bug-eyed amazement. I’ve heard so much evil spoken about Ty’s father that I’m expecting a cross between Darth Vader and Voldemort. Instead I see a middle-aged man with a startling resemblance to Ty. Like Ty, he’s tall and lean with a strong chin and high cheekbones. Like Ty, he projects an aura of physical power. But while Ty has gained strength from hard physical work and intense street basketball competitions, his father is pumped up from twenty years of lifting weights in prison. His neck is thick and his biceps strain the sleeves of his Yankees t-shirt.

  “Daddy, this is Audrey Nealon, Ty’s boss.”

  He doesn’t speak, just looks me up and down and finally nods an acknowledgement. His eyes are hard and cold. Even when Ty is administering the prison death stare, his eyes never look like that. Ty’s essential kindness can never be hidden, even when he’s working his hardest to be fierce.

  I extend my hand. “Hi...er...Mr. Griggs. Nice to meet you.” His first name escapes me. Marvin? I think that’s it. It’s most certainly not nice to meet him, but definitely interesting. This man has cast a long shadow over Ty’s life, one that he still hasn’t outrun.

  Mr. Griggs lets my hand dangle in the air for a moment, then gives it a hard squeeze. “Where’s my son?”

  I choose to ignore his suspicious tone, and answer with a cheerful smile. “He’s holed up somewhere studying. He has an economics exam tomorrow.”

  “Where? I need to see him.”

  I shrug. “He purposely didn’t tell any of us. He wanted to go somewhere where no one would bother him.” I’m so glad I honestly don’t know where Ty is because I’m a terrible liar, and Mr. Griggs looks like he could extract information from a stone. Eventually, Ty will have to have this reunion with his father, but I’m determined that it wait until after the exam. Milton Friedman himself wouldn’t be able to answer questions about economics if he had to cope with the stress of seeing his imprisoned father for the first time in eighteen years.

  “He still livin’ with Betty, right?”

  Charmaine’s eyes open wide. “You can’t go over there, Daddy. Betty won’t like it, and she’ll get mad at me.”

  Griggs turns on his daughter. “Don’t you tell me what I can and can’t do, girl. You think I care what that old woman has to say?”

  “But I rely on her to watch Lo every Wednesday. I can’t afford to—”

  Griggs grabs Charmaine’s shoulders. “That bitch is nuthin’ to my grandson. You shouldn’t be leavin’ him with her.”

  Charmaine jerks away. Like Ty, she’s not easily intimidated. She faces her father with her feet spread and her hands on her hips. “She loves Lo, and Lo loves her. And it’s not like he has any other grandmothers.”

  “I don’t want her pourin’ poison into his ears about me.”

  “She wouldn’t do that,” Charmaine says, but her tone is less defiant. She and I well know that Grandma Betty will spew a stream of venom about Marvin Griggs at the slightest encouragement. In Betty’s mind, her daughter lost the will to fight her cancer because of the stress of her husband’s imprisonment.

  I speak up. “Look, I know for a fact that Ty isn’t home with Betty. He can’t get any studying done there—too much commotion.” I hold Ty’s phone up. “That’s why I promised I’d take care of Betty if she called and said she needed something.”

  Marvin Griggs snatches his son’s phone away from me and starts pressing buttons. A scowl of frustration contorts his face. I realize that he has no idea how to use a smart phone; cell phones had barely been invented when he went behind bars. But he doesn’t want to admit he needs help.

  He slams Ty’s highly customized Samsung Galaxy back onto the desk. “I need to find my son.” His voice is low and gravelly. No doubt he’s had years of practice threatening other inmates without attracting the attention of guards. “Now.”

  I project a confidence I don’t feel. “He’ll be back here around noon tomorrow. You’re welcome to stop back then.”

  Marvin’s powerful hands form into fists. The rage pulsing off him is almost visible in the air. Would he actually hit me? Ty has spoken about how profoundly disorienting it was to reenter the wide world after just a year in prison. That he had forgotten how to speak in a normal tone of voice...to smile...to say please and thank you. Imagine what eighteen years of captivity would do to a man’s social skills.

  Marvin takes a deep breath and swallows. His right fist unfurls, and he flexes the fingers. Then he turns on his heel. “C’mon Charmaine.”

  Charmaine glances over her shoulder at me as she leaves with her father. Is she relieved...or scared?

  When they’re gone I immediately call Grandma Betty and tell her that Ty is studying in seclusion.

  “I know. He already called me to say he wouldn’t be home tonight.”

  Of course, Ty would never allow Grandma Betty to worry about him. He must’ve checked in using someone else’s phone. Then I break the news that Marvin Griggs is out of jail and back in Palmyrton. This update elicits a stream of abuse that I didn’t think someone as kind-hearted as Betty was capable of, even if the subject is her despised former son-in-law. When I can finally get a word in edgewise, I warn her. “Betty, I’m afraid Marvin’s going to come to your place sometime this evening looking for Ty. I don’t want you to be there alone. Come and stay with Sean and me until Ty can deal with his father tomorrow.”

  “Child, that’s so nice. But I happen to be at my sister Vonda’s house right now, so I’ll just stay put here. Marvin don’t have no idea where Vonda lives.”

  “Are you sure? Because I promised Ty—”

  “Girl, I been takin’ care of myself since long before you was born. I don’t need nobody treatin’ me like a helpless old lady.”

  No sooner do I hang up with Betty than my phone rings again. Sean.

  “We got the van. They’re dusting it for prints. And they found the gun. It was a toy.”

  “No way! It sure looked real to us.”

  “Don’t feel bad. Plenty of cops have mistaken toy guns for real. You’ll have the van back tomorrow.”

  “Yay!” With all the commotion today has brought, I’d forgotten about the van. I’m thrilled to have it back, but worried, too. “Is it all torn up?”

  “I’m in Palmyrton,” Sean says. “But the guys in Newark say it’s not too bad. You’re going to need two new front tires.”

  “What about the stuff inside? Was it still there?”

  “I’ll send you the pics of the interior that the Newark team sent to me,” Sean says.

  “Did you talk to George?” I ask.

  “Couldn’t connect with him. Left him a long message about the photo and the theory that some
one might be after it. Gotta go, Audrey—I have actual work to do on Loretta’s case. I’m sending the pics now.”

  A moment later, I’m studying pictures of the jumbled interior of the van. The box of kitchenware, some garden tools, and a small end table are all that were inside at the time of the theft. The box was dumped out and all the stuff scattered, but as far as I can remember, everything that we intended to give to Sister Alice looks like it’s still in the van. So clearly, we didn’t have whatever the thief was looking for.

  What was he looking for?

  I’ve been so certain it was the photo in the box, simply because the fact that it was hidden makes it seem valuable. But what if I’m totally wrong?

  Just as in advanced mathematics or chess, the best way to get out of a seeming dead end is to approach the problem from an entirely different angle.

  Who knew that we take stuff that doesn’t sell to Sister Alice?

  George, because this is spelled out in every contract.

  Crawford? Only if George told him, and why would they be discussing that? But I can check with George.

  So maybe the theft had nothing to do with the Armentrout job. What else was in my van that someone might want?

  I think of the piles of clutter in the footwells and sliding across the front seats. I try to envision the interior of the van the last time I saw it.

  Nothing valuable appears in my mind’s eye. But something unusual was there. I can picture it fluttering in the corner of my memory.

  Except....the ledger. The ledger was on the front console for days until Ty told me to put it somewhere safer so Donna wouldn’t toss it.

  Anyone could have seen it there.

  Who would want it?

  Henry knew I took it, and he might have mentioned it to Levi or Dennis. But if they wanted it back, all they had to do was ask. It technically belongs to the Rosa Parks Center. Why try to steal it back?

  Unless it contains information you want to keep secret.

  Chapter 30

  AT 11:30 THE NEXT MORNING, Ty’s phone blows up.

  It buzzes and chirps across my desk as a hail of text messages and SnapChats roll in. I glance at the screen.