A Treasure to Die For (3 page)

“Sorry, Bon, just trying to make conversation,” I said before jumping out of my chair to turn the sound back on the television when I saw the jerk from the lake flash by on the screen. The news reporter was saying something about a burglary and a murder. I grabbed for Bonnie’s remote and hit the back button. She had a DVR that allowed her to reverse or pause whatever she had been watching.

Bonnie stopped stirring her coffee again. I once remarked that if she drank cream instead of coffee, she could turn it into butter. She pointed at the television with her spoon. “Isn’t that’s Shelia’s new boyfriend? What’s he doing on TV?”

“Shelia’s been murdered,” I answered, realizing Bonnie must have missed the part about Shelia checking out.

It looked like she was going to drop the spoon. Her face went blank, and she stared at the television before speaking again. “Murdered?”

“So it seems. Someone stuck her in the neck with a nail file and punctured her carotid artery.”

The interview must have been live. The reporter, Paula Morgan, was shivering in the cold morning air while interviewing Mr. Jerk, AKA Craig Renfield. He, in turn, couldn’t seem to focus on anything above her neck. “I came home from watching the CU game at a buddy’s house and found the door wide open, and she was laying in the kitchen,” he said without taking his eyes from Paula’s cleavage.

Paula was too focused on the camera to notice where Craig was looking. “Was it a burglary gone bad?”

“How would I know?” He seemed annoyed, having his concentration interrupted. “I ain’t no psychic.”

Paula rolled her eyes for the camera. “Well, is anything missing?”

“She had a signed copy of
Tom Sawyer
she found at a garage sale last week I can’t find nowhere. She was looking it up on the Internet to see what it was worth when I left her.”

“That must be worth thousands?” Paula asked.

“Yeah, but that’s all smoke. I know who did it, and it wasn’t for no book.”

Paula’s eyes lit up. “Oh?”

“It’s those old bitties we saw at a book-signing yesterday. One of them pretended to be some kind of Mark Twain expert, so she could find out where we live.”

Paula touched the ear-bud that kept her in contact with her producer. “Thank you, Mr. Renfield. I need to switch back to the studio for more breaking news. This has been Paula Morgan reporting for Channel Three News.”

“Well, at least we know his last name now,” I said, hitting the mute button. Instead of breaking news, they went to a commercial. How putting a man and woman in two separate bathtubs will cure ED I didn’t need to know.

“Did you hear that, Jake? He’s accusing me and Patty of killing her!”

Her raised voice woke Fred, who had slept through the television broadcast. He moved closer to the door while I got up for more coffee.

Bonnie seemed to be preoccupied looking around the room when I refilled her cup. “Have you seen my purse?” she asked.

“On the counter by the fridge,” I answered.

She got up and went over to her purse. “We would never hurt anyone. Why would he say it was us?”

Now Fred wanted out, making me get up again. “Who better to blame than someone with a motive,” I answered while patting my dog on the head before opening the door.

Bonnie stopped fumbling through her purse and looked up at me in horror. “You think I did it, too?” I thought she was going to cry. Julie once said I should duct tape my mouth before speaking, and this time I had to agree.

“Of course not, Bon,” I answered, trying to think of something to stop the tears before they started. “It’s obviously that nasty boyfriend of hers. The way he spoke to her, and the bruise she had on her face at the signing, proves he doesn’t think much of women. He probably lost his temper arguing over something, grabbed the file, and then stabbed her with it. Now he’s trying to make it look like you and Patty did it. You’ve got to admit, the nail file was a brilliant touch.”

“My God, Jake! It’s gone!”

“What’s gone, Bon?”

“My manicure kit. I always keep it on top of my purse where I can get to it. It’s not here, Jake. You don’t suppose…”

I finished for her. “That Craig took it and is framing you? No, he doesn’t strike me as the kind who would plan that far ahead. His kind kills out of rage. I’m sure you misplaced it somewhere.”

She came back to the table and resumed stirring her coffee. “Well, I hope you’re right. My prints are all over the file.”

I hoped I was right too. If it her nail file, she would have the means, as well as motive, to kill Shelia. The only thing missing for a conviction was opportunity, and I wasn’t so sure she didn’t have that too.

Shelia’s murder all but vanished from the media’s radar; marijuana sales still trumped local news stories, and Shelia was soon forgotten. Nearly a week had passed since Fred and I stopped at Bonnie’s for morning coffee. A contractor I did odd jobs for had called and offered me a few weeks work hanging drywall in a house he was building in Bailey. As much as I hate drywall, it would pay the bills for a while.

It wasn’t until Friday that Fred and I saw Bonnie again. The drywall job was finished for the week, and I had been paid in cash. I stopped off at Beau Jo’s for a large Mountain Pie, with pineapple and pepperoni, after picking up some groceries at Safeway before heading home. It wasn’t my favorite pizza, even Fred wouldn’t eat the pineapple, but I knew Bonnie loved it. We could pick out the sweet fruit and give it to her.

We had just pulled into my driveway when I saw a truck racing down the road. I didn’t think much of it and let Fred out. We were isolated, but not so that we didn’t get the occasional lost driver now and then. I’d never known Fred to chase cars, so I was quite surprised when he ran after the truck, barking. The truck was much faster than Fred, and left him in a cloud of dust. But Fred was smarter. He left the road and ran down the hill, knowing the truck would have to pass by Bonnie’s on the way out. That’s when I noticed my front door wide open.

Whoever had been in there must have heard us coming up the road and got out before we pulled in. I put the pizza and groceries on the ground and ran after Fred. I made it to the lower road just in time to see a beat-up F150 come barreling down on him. It was the sleeveless guy from the book signing. He had no intentions of swerving to miss my dog. Luckily, Fred had no intentions of becoming road kill, and he jumped out of the way a second before the truck could run him over. But it wasn’t in his nature to quit so quickly and he took off after the truck again. This time there were no shortcuts; he gave up the chase in less than twenty yards and came back panting to sit by my side.

I knelt down to hold his head and rub his ears. “It’s okay, boy. You’re lucky you didn’t catch him. Don’t you know you’re no match for a speeding truck?”

“My, God, Jake! What’s going on?” Bonnie was standing on her front deck with a towel wrapped around her head and lipstick smeared on her face. I took one look at Bonnie, and for a moment forgot about Sleeveless, then started laughing.

She looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “What’s so damn funny? That guy could have killed Fred.”

“Sorry, Bon, but I think you better go and finish your makeup.”

She raised a hand to her face and felt her lipstick. “I must look a sight,” she said with a giggle.

“Not if you plan on joining a circus.” Her hand must have slipped when she heard all the commotion. She had a lopsided smile any clown would envy.

Fred might have laughed too if he had a sense of humor; then again, maybe he did because he started barking for no apparent reason. “I need to check on my house, Bon. Why don’t you finish putting on your face and drive on up? I got your favorite pizza from Beau Jo’s. I’ll tell you why Fred was chasing the truck while we eat.” I didn’t wait for her to answer and started up the hill with Fred glued to my heels.

My cabin is built on a walkout foundation on a steep hill. I hadn’t noticed the lower door on the way down, but did coming back. It was on the ground in pieces. Bonnie must not have heard Sleeveless making firewood of my door when she was in the shower. I had installed a reinforced deadbolt that was supposed to prevent this sort of break-in. Evidently, Sleeveless didn’t read the promo for the lock.

Fred waited for me to enter before following. The big sissy wasn’t so brave now that there wasn’t a truck between him and whatever danger lay inside. Of course, there wasn’t any danger once we stepped past the broken door, just a huge mess. The lower level was my office, my sanctuary from the world, where I kept my collection of first editions in built-in bookshelves lining the walls. My prized collection wasn’t on those shelves; it was on the floor. I knew without the help of psychic powers that the copy of
Tom Sawyer
given to me by Julie would be missing. I didn’t care if it was the key to a lost fortune or not. I had to get the book back. Julie had bought it for me when were strolling along Miner Street in Idaho Springs last year. I asked her to marry me the very next day.

“Okay, buddy, how about we go upstairs to see if he trashed that too?”

Bonnie was pulling into the driveway by the time we made it to the upper level. My cabin is small, less than eight hundred square feet, with one bedroom, a bathroom with a shower, but no tub, and a living room slash kitchen. The layout made it possible to see the road and driveway from almost any angle. My front door was wide open, but intact. Everything else looked to be as I had left it. I assumed the intruder must not have had time to search upstairs before Fred started barking, but like most assumptions, I was wrong.

I didn’t bother to close the door on my way to inspect the bedroom. Bonnie would let herself in, and I really needed to check my shotgun. I had to smile when I saw my fierce guard dog wagging his tail when he saw Bonnie. Fifteen minutes ago, the scent of the intruder had his hair up and tail between his legs; now that the danger was over, he acted like nothing had happened.

The gun was gone, and so was the box where I kept Julie’s wedding ring. I had kept them in a cedar chest at the foot of my bed with the gun on top where I could get to it in a hurry if any bears came knocking. Sleeveless had to search for the coins, for they were hidden at the bottom of the chest under a pile of family pictures and blankets.

“Anything missing?” Bonnie asked when she came in with my grocery bags.

“My shotgun and a cigar box where I kept Julie’s ring and some silver quarters,” I answered. Her lipstick was no longer smeared, but she must have fixed it quickly to get here so quickly, and it showed. I was in no mood to laugh this time. “Could you put those bags in the kitchen for me, Bon? I’ll go out and get the pizza.”

“Don’t bother, Jake. It looks like some critter beat you to it. What little’s left is covered in dirt.”

Hoping I’d heard wrong, I looked outside toward my Jeep and saw the open pizza box and a few slices spread across my drive. “Damn, and it was your favorite.”

Bonnie acted shocked at my outburst; I guess she wasn’t used to me swearing. “I’ll clean it up for you when I leave so Fred doesn’t eat it. I know how much he loves pizza, but he might eat a rock, too,” she said from the kitchen where she was already putting my groceries away.

I shut the door so Fred couldn’t get to the pizza before Bonnie left, then went to help her before she decided to do my dishes, too. “Thanks, Bon, but I’ll finish putting those away after I call in the burglary. We were going to surprise you. I even bought some honey for you to put on the crust.”

I looked over in time to see her wipe a tear from her eyes. “You’re such a sweet boy. I wish Diane had lived long enough to meet you. I’m sure you two would have fallen for each other, and I’d have the best grand-babies ever.”

It was my turn to be uncomfortable, so I quickly changed the subject and looked away. “Did you get a look at the guy driving that truck? I think it was that tough-looking guy from the book signing.”

She went back to unpacking my groceries.“The one ready to fight Shelia’s boyfriend?”

I turned to Fred, who had been watching Bonnie, I suppose on the chance she’d drop something good to eat.“I think so. What do you think, Freddie?”

Bonnie answered for him. “Then he must have been looking for your copy of
Tom Sawyer
when he took your cigar box and gun.”

“My, Fred, what a strange voice you have,” I said.

Bonnie raised the corner of her lip, giving me a scowl I hadn’t seen since Elvis made movies. “Funny, Jake,” she said and went back to rearranging my refrigerator.

Realizing she wasn’t going to quit until everything was put away, I walked over to the table where I had left my phone and keys. “Sorry, but it sure looked like him. How many bald guys do you know running around in shirts without sleeves?”

She smiled while making a display of counting on her fingers. “Well, there’s Kojak, and then that
Star Trek
captain, what’s his name? But I don’t remember any of them wearing tank-tops.”

“Jean-Luc Picard,” I answered. “But who the heck is Kojak?”

“Before your time, sonny,” she said and laughed. “Okay, so it’s the bald guy from the bookstore.”

“And he wasn’t wearing a tank-top. It was a denim shirt with the sleeves cut off,” I replied, mimicking her turned-up lip. “At least now he can go out and buy a decent shirt with the money he stole.”

“How much did he get, Jake?”

“Oh, it wasn’t much. Only twenty-five bucks in face value; I don’t know what they’d be worth in silver. I can live without the coins, it’s the ring and book I’ll miss. Well, the shotgun too. My father died shortly after giving me the gun, and I never had a chance to tell him how much he meant to me. I’ve got to find that SOB, Bonnie. He took the three things that mean the most to me.”

As if he understood, Fred squeezed by Bonnie and sat at my feet. “Except for you, old boy,” I said, patting him on the head with one hand, and picking up my cell with the other. “I better call the sheriff from my deck, Bon. My cell doesn’t work so well in the house.”

Bonnie stayed inside waiting for the coffee while I made my call. My back deck is right off the kitchen area and sits ten feet off the ground with a view of snowcapped Mount Evans. Fred stayed with Bonnie, I assume because she was closer to the refrigerator than me. I didn’t close the door when I went out. Except for the occasional fly, mosquitoes and other flying bugs weren’t a problem this high up, so Fred could join me when he was ready. I also knew it would save time rehashing my conversation with the sheriff because Bonnie would be able to hear everything I said.

***

“This is an emergency. Someone broke into my house,” I told the operator just as Fred decided to join me. “Okay, give me the number, please.”

I let the operator rattle off the telephone number for the sheriff’s business line, knowing full well I wouldn’t remember it because I had nothing at hand to write it down. “Yes, ma’am, I’ll call it first thing Monday. Yes, thank you, too.”

Bonnie appeared with coffee and some old donuts I had forgotten about as I finished my call. “They’re not coming, are they?” she asked, handing me my cup.

“Not today. Maybe I’ll go run a red light or something. Bet I get their attention then.” I answered, trying to remember when I bought those donuts.

She dunked one of the donuts in her coffee. “Surely they don’t expect you to leave everything until they get around to coming out here?” She took one bite, made a sour face, and threw the rest to Fred. He gulped it down and sat waiting for more. Then I remembered Julie had bought them last year.

“I don’t know what they think, Bon, but I can’t leave my house wide open while I wait for them. That door is an invitation for all the critters up here. Now that they’ve had a taste of Beau Jo’s pizza, I’m sure they’ll be back,” I said while reaching for the donut bag so I could put it on the deck rail before Fred helped himself to more.

Bonnie swirled the coffee in her mouth before swallowing it. “Hold everything, Jake. I need something stronger to get this taste out of my mouth. I’ll be right back.”

She no sooner left us when a squirrel she called Chatter jumped out of the big spruce next to my deck, heading toward the donuts. Fred was after him in an instant. Fred was quick, but Chatter was quicker and jumped to the safety of the tree where he let Fred know he wasn’t going anywhere. “Where was that squirrel when Sleeveless was here?” I asked Fred, between laughs. “He makes enough racket to scare off Satan himself.”

“Sleeveless?” Bonnie had come back during all the commotion. “Oh, I get it, the burglar.” She was all smiles now that she had her Jack Daniels.

I made a mental note to tell her it was illegal to carry an open bottle of booze in her car. “Yeah, and speaking of the devil, Bon, I’ve seen that guy somewhere. I wish I could remember where.”

“I don’t imagine it was in one of those fancy office buildings you used to work in. He looks more like a construction worker than a programmer,” Bonnie paused long enough to pour some whiskey into her coffee. “Want a shot, Jake?”

“Tempting after what I’ve been through today, but no thanks. I need to go into town for a new door in a bit. It’d be my luck I’d get stopped by a cop.”

She gave me her Elvis look again. “One little drink won’t get you drunk,” she said before her phone started ringing.

Bonnie looked at the caller ID before answering it. “Margot, I’ve been meaning to call you. Did you hear about Shelia?”

Margot is Bonnie’s twin sister, and I knew she would be on the phone for some time. It was my chance to leave, so I whispered for Bonnie to let herself out and I’d catch her later.

***

The drive to the building supply store on the other side of town gave me time to reflect on my life and my decision to turn down a good-paying programming job. I thought that was all behind me until Bonnie had brought it up with her remark about Sleeveless. After I married Julie, I managed to find work at as a web developer and my soon to be manager agreed to let me work at home, which would allow me to take care of Julie who was recovering from Hodgkin’s. But then the company reorganized before I could start work. My new boss, who wasn’t much older than my daughter, was too much of a micro-manager to allow anyone to telecommute. I quit the job before it even began, and told him where he could put his new MBA.