A Treasure to Die For Read online

  Be calm was the first thought she had as she stepped into the lobby and looked at the floor marker for the second elevator. It was at the lobby level too. She figured that meant Henry hadn’t been going up while she was coming down.

  Now what? Ah! She’d stand by the fish tank near the restaurant entrance. She could see all directions from there. Five more minutes passed. Jason came from the restaurant to check on her, suggesting she eat with them. “You don’t want to miss lunch. Besides, who knows what that rascal has gotten into,” he said.

  That was just it. What? She was hungry, a little bit peeved, and quite a bit worried. Henry was never late for anything.

  She thanked Jason, said she’d wait a few more minutes, and went back to scanning the lobby.

  Well, worrying was certainly not accomplishing anything, so it was past time to pray. She needed to erase her own rising temper and put God in charge here, especially in charge of Henry! She faced the huge tank and, pretending to watch the flashes of color flicking through the water in front of her, began a prayer with familiar verses from the 121st Psalm:

  “The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil... The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore.”

  After a few moments she began to feel calmer, even confident that Henry, wherever he was, was under the promised preserving care she had just affirmed.

  A hand fell on her shoulder. She jerked in surprise, banging her forehead on the glass wall of the fish tank.

  “Oh, I am sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I should have recognized that your thoughts were miles away. But since I’m late for lunch and it looks like you are too, I thought we might eat together.”

  It was Everett Bogardus, and her brand-new calmness had faded with his heavy touch and her forehead’s contact with the fish tank.

  Well, why not eat with him? Henry wasn’t here, and he could hardly care if she went ahead and had lunch before the buffet closed.

  After one last look toward the hotel entrances, she said, a little too loudly, “Yes, thank you, that would be nice.”

  There were no seats available at the larger tables in the area assigned to their group, but the single table for two was empty. Everett headed for it and pulled out a chair for her.

  With a smile and only a twinge of regret, Carrie sat.

  After a silence long enough to feel awkward he asked, “Did you enjoy the herb session?”

  She’d been biting into a deviled egg and staring at the door. “Excuse me?”

  “The herb session, did you enjoy it?”

  She swallowed. “Uh, yes, very interesting. I have a small herb garden myself. I grow tomatoes too and use my herbs in a tomato sauce I make. I freeze pints of it every summer.”

  “I fear gardening isn’t my interest. I live in an apartment in Cambridge.”

  “Oh! I know Cambridge, though it’s mostly because of Legal Sea Foods and not scholarly pursuits. I go to Boston every few years to attend a church meeting, and I always spend a couple of extra days in the area playing tourist. In addition to all the other places I enjoy, I want to eat at the restaurant that has made its reputation serving fabulous lobster.”

  “Ah, of course, Legal Sea Foods is the place all right. In fact, I think this pen...” he reached in his pocket. “Yes, this pen was their give-away last Christmas. A good pen, actually.” He held it out. “See the picture of the lobster on it? So now you know, Cambridge residents eat at Legal Sea Foods too. It isn’t just for tourists.”

  He winked at her and returned the pen to his pocket. “We can eat there together the next time you come to Boston. Let’s plan on it.”

  She decided it was time to change the subject. “I noticed you weren’t in the herb session.”

  “I decided to go for a walk instead. Arlington Lawn Park is just down the block, and it has shady places where one can sit and enjoy the waterfall.”

  He was speaking very softly, leaning toward her. Without being conscious of it, Carrie bent toward him as she copied his soft tones. “My friend, Henry King, went for a walk too. Perhaps you saw him?”

  That’s when Henry appeared beside their table.

  His face was flushed, and he looked cranky. His eyes bounced back and forth between her face and Everett’s. After one glance at him, Carrie had to subdue not temper, but an urge to laugh. He looked so funny, like a caricature titled Man, acting suspicious. Was it because he was jealous?

  She avoided his eyes, studying instead the lovely black hair going grey at his temples. It was mussed. For a fantasy moment she imagined herself combing it back into smooth waves...combing, letting her hand follow the comb...

  Henry’s words tumbled out in breathless jerks. “Well, here I am. Sorry to be late. Unavoidable. I see you’re already eating. Any food left?”

  It was obvious he’d been hurrying. Carrie’s urge to laugh was replaced by a wild curiosity about what had made him so late.

  “Oh, still plenty of food,” Everett said, smiling. That’s when Carrie felt one of his legs push between hers under the table and begin to rub up and down, up and down, oh, so smoothly.

  She slid back in her chair as far as she could and pulled her legs to the side. Accidental touch? Oh, no. There couldn’t be any mistake about his intent this time.

  “You weren’t here, so I came on in,” she told Henry, working hard to keep her face calm. Her effort was wasted because he was looking at Everett, opening a sack he’d brought with him, pulling something out, plunking it against the table top.

  “What’s tha...?” she began, stopping in mid-word as Everett’s knee slashed sideways, shoving her own knees into the table leg and slopping water out of their glasses.

  “Well, my goodness, you keep bumping into me, please be more careful,” she said, speaking as if he were a naughty child.

  Her eyes went to Henry’s face to see if he’d noticed the reaction.

  He was still looking at Everett. “I found this geologist’s pick while I was out this morning,” he said. “I thought we could use it on the crystal dig.”

  He must have meant his words for her, but all his attention was still directed toward her table companion.

  Something was very peculiar here. What about the little pick had so unnerved Everett Bogardus?

  He’d begun to mop water with his napkin, and now Henry stared at her over the bent head and mouthed the words, “Watch him.” He looked wary, his police officer look.

  Everett was still mopping. He didn’t seem to be paying attention to either of them.

  Henry put the pick in his sack and left for the sandwich line. As soon as he was gone, Everett dropped the soggy napkin on his salad plate, excused himself, and went to the buffet table. Carrie watched as he stood there for a moment before picking up another napkin. By the time he turned back to her he’d regained his composure, but she noticed that something had happened in his eyes. They looked hard, like blue ice.

  He sat down slowly, unfolded the napkin, lifted the corners of his lips in a smile. After a pause he said, “So, is there some kind of understanding between the two of you? I don’t think he approves of us having lunch together.”

  “Goodness no, not an understanding in the way you mean it. We are good friends, and we often work as a team. I’m sure he doesn’t mind about lunch. He wasn’t here, after all.”

  She smiled back, hoping her smile didn’t look as fake as his, and glanced past him to see Henry taking one of the many chairs that were now vacant. Most of the Elderhostelers had finished eating and left the restaurant, hurrying on to whatever activities they’d planned before the Fordyce tour began at three o’clock.

  Well, bother. Henry wouldn’t know there weren’t any other seats available at the bigger tables when she and Everett came in.

  “You work together? At a tourist information center?”

  That’s when she decided she’d try to shock him. Maybe he’d say something she could report to Henry.

  “No. We
’re detectives.”

  That did it. Everett’s eyes flashed surprise, and the smarmy smile vanished.

  “Ahhhh. You must admit detective work seems an unusual occupation for...well, you’ll excuse me, I don’t want to appear insensitive, but how on earth did you get into that?”

  “Oh, it was natural enough. It began with the murder of a friend of ours. Henry and I identified the killer. Turned out we made a pretty good team. There have been other things since then. Word gets around, you know.”

  She knew she was showing off, God forgive her, but it was for a good cause. She just hoped she’d find out what the cause was as soon as she could be alone with Henry.

  “I’ve always been the curious type, and I enjoy doing research. A lot of that is needed in our line of work. For Henry, detective work comes quite naturally, of course. He’s a retired police major. He was with the Kansas City Police Department for many years, in homicide, mostly.”

  Everett was watching her intently now. She could picture wheels turning inside his head. “I wouldn’t have guessed,” he said, “though your friend Henry does seem a bit too inquisitive.”

  She tried to convey an air of calm innocence, not wanting to let the man know she understood that his “too inquisitive” comment was meant to be what she would call snotty.

  “Oh, yes, that’s what we are, inquisitive. It’s a very helpful skill in our line of work.” She pasted on another fake smile, then looked at her empty plate and decided it was time to be more inquisitive about Everett Bogardus.

  “Now it’s your turn to tell me more about yourself. This is my first trip here, but when you were talking about some of the local history after Ranger Hawk’s program, it sounded like you’d been here before, maybe even lived here. Was this trip a sort of homecoming for you?”

  There was a long pause before he answered, and Carrie imagined she could see the wheels whirling again while he decided how to reply. Finally he said, “Oh, I was here once, a very long time ago. Don’t remember much of it. I was pretty young.” Then, turning away from her question and any follow-up, he began an account of the university classes he taught. His words sounded memorized, as if he weren’t thinking about what he was saying. Carrie faced him as he talked, but she was watching Henry over his shoulder. A couple from Iowa and the two lawyers from Chicago were now sitting at Henry’s table, and the Stacks had also stayed behind to keep him company.

  “...university students have changed since then. More experienced sexually, of course, and in every other conceivable way as well. ‘World-weary’ is a term I’d use as a generality. Right now they are at least more aware of the importance of understanding our history. I applaud that, though probably world events and not my brilliant teaching brought their interest to the fore.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’re a brilliant teacher, Everett,” Carrie said, noticing that most of his sandwich was still on his plate. He hadn’t taken a bite for several minutes. Her fault? She’d kept him talking. Or was it nerves?

  “Well, thank you. I do find that Middle Eastern history is drawing interest right now. Fortunately it’s a specialty of mine. I have...”

  Henry had finished lunch and was leaving.

  “Everett, I hate to interrupt this most fascinating account, but look at your plate, you’ve barely touched your lunch. I’ve been selfish, asking you these questions. I’ll leave you alone so you can finish eating, and we’ll continue our conversation later. Thanks for inviting me to sit with you. Now, if you’ll excuse me?” She laid her napkin on the table and stood, causing him to leap up and rush to move her chair back, dumping his own napkin on the floor.

  “See you at the Fordyce,” she said, not caring whether he thought she was rude or not.

  Carrie swished out of the room, following Henry toward the elevators.

  He’d stopped at the brochure racks, and the minute she appeared around the corner he shoved a couple of flyers in his pocket and came to take her arm. As soon as the elevator door closed behind them, she said, “Henry, what on earth is going on? Where were you, and why did that geologist’s pick put Everett in such a snit? He’s beside himself with worry over that thing.”

  “He should be worried. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you in the room.”

  And he did.

  “That’s so weird, even fantastic,” she said after he had finished. She didn’t mean unbelievable. In fact, she did believe it, the whole story. For one thing, Henry wasn’t given to telling lies or even stretching the truth. For another, right now she’d believe almost anything of Everett Bogardus. Including something like this? Yes, most certainly.

  “Henry,” she said, thinking out loud, “you said you and the rangers suspected Everett had gone in that basement to hide something. But, especially if that pick was his, doesn’t it seem more likely that he was there to find something?”

  He sat down on his bed. “Find something? In a bathhouse? You mean some wealthy matron from Detroit left her jewels behind in a dressing room locker, or Al Capone dropped his diamond cuff links in the spring?”

  “No, of course not, or at least I hadn’t thought of anything like that. But the Fordyce is an old building. It was open as an active bathhouse for years and years.”

  She sat on her own bed now, her eyes seeing nothing as she tried to think herself into the past. “We’ve got to learn more, find out when the Fordyce Bathhouse closed, for one thing. And we need to look more carefully at that basement, see if a pick could be used to dig something up, or break into something.”

  “Sounds fantastic, just like you said. And, what dif...”

  Her words swept over his. “But then, when it closed wouldn’t matter, would it? The building was always there, empty or not, and probably empty would be even better for people who needed to hide something. A lot of gambling money and payment for, uh, illegal services floated around Hot Springs all the time, at least until sometime in the ‘60s when Winthrop Rockefeller became governor. Then the Arkansas State Police moved in, smashed it all, closed down the open gambling, the bawdy houses.

  “Tell me, Henry, where did all those illegal profits go when that happened? Wouldn’t most transactions have been in cash? Don’t you suppose at least a few people got away with gobs of money?”

  “Well...if things were chaotic and the bosses couldn’t keep tabs on all of it, I suppose...”

  “No suppose about it. There must have been loose money up for grabs if you had half a brain and were crafty enough. It’s easy to imagine what could have happened. And, some of that money must have been hidden in the Fordyce! There would have been chaos everywhere like you said, maybe people grabbing up wads of money when the police broke in, some of them needing to hide it and get away until the raids were over. What do you think? Maybe the person who hid money in the Fordyce was going to be searched, couldn’t be found with the money.”

  “You’re letting your imagination run away on a wild theory, Carrie. You’re remembering The Sting.”

  “Humpf, may be, but you’ve got to admit it could have happened like that. If even one person hid money in the Fordyce, well, of course, it would have to be enough money to make it worth hiding, and that might mean a fortune, even today. It would be worth going to some trouble to find it.”

  “But why didn’t that person come back to get your hypothetical fortune long ago? And since then the building’s been restored and used constantly by the Park Service, with lots of workers going through it and people around all the time. Besides, if someone tried to spend really old paper money today, it would raise red flags in the banking system.”

  She could tell he was playing devil’s advocate, but that only made excitement bubble higher inside her. “Trust me, Henry, Everett Bogardus was not trying to hide something! He was trying to find something that’s probably still there. Undoubtedly the person who hid the money couldn’t get back and, somehow, Everett learned about it. It’s actually kind of romantic. And finding money like that isn’t really illegal, is it? It doesn
’t belong to anyone now. Wouldn’t it be ‘finders keepers’?”

  She saw Henry wince at her use of the word romantic. Maybe she should have chosen another word.

  He said, “If illegally gained assets were subject to seizure by the state back in the ‘60s, they’d be subject to seizure now. They’re still illegally gained assets. Time doesn’t change that. Of course, nothing about this would be all black and white. It’s the sort of case that could be argued in court for years, and ownership by the state might be hard to prove. Someone could claim that the money was from a family fortune and was hidden to keep it out of the wrong hands.”

  “So what he’s doing, though a little shady, might not be all that criminal. It could be his family’s money.”

  “I’d bet it’s stealing, no matter what,” he said. “And here’s another thing to think about. If there is hidden money, how did Bogardus learn about this supposed treasure? I guess we need to find out more about him and his past.”

  “Eleanor and I noticed this morning that he knows a lot about Hot Springs’ history, and during lunch I asked him about it. He admitted to being here before, said he was very young at the time. He wouldn’t say more and avoided revealing whether he came here as a visitor or lived here. He changed the subject completely, as a matter of fact. I wonder where we could check on his past?”

  She picked up the phone book, turned pages. “Hm...no Bogardus listed. Well, it was a thought.”

  Henry pulled two brochures out of his pocket and handed them to her. “Here’s another possibility. I found these in the racks in the lobby. They’re from the Garland County Historical Society. How about checking with them and seeing what material they have? We might find information on the raids you’re talking about, maybe get an idea how much money was recovered and whether law officers, the IRS, state treasurer, or anybody else thought a quantity of money was unaccounted for. And maybe they have school records. We could check those for Everett Bogardus’s name.”

  “That’s a brilliant idea, Henry. He might have actually lived here during the ‘60s. I’d guess he would have been somewhere between fifteen and twenty-five years old back then. If he didn’t hide the money himself, it could have been hidden by his father, or some other family member.”