Randy White - Haunted

“You surprised them?”

“Not intentionally. Let’s call it a stroke of good luck.”

I agreed with Belton’s instincts but not his reasoning. “I’m not taking sides, but I don’t see anything wrong with people talking to whoever they want. And, without Carmelo, you wouldn’t have found the cistern, let alone those bottles. On the other hand, I see your point-there is something about Theo that-”

“I lied to you about the cistern,” Belton said, then softened it with a sigh. “Well, I didn’t exactly lie. Carmelo was the one who was lying. He didn’t know the place existed until I showed him satellite photos. The deep spot on the river? Yes, he knew. But not the old homestead. Even then I had to help him with the GPS. He made up that story about deer hunting when he realized I might have found something valuable. His way of staking a claim, I suppose.”

“But he didn’t make up the story about the manchineel trees,” I said.

“About being burned? He might have. He’s a lot smarter than he lets on-and he does know that river. He tried to scare you, Hannah. That’s what I think. He used those little apples as an excuse. A double entendre, hidden meaning. See? The man’s shrewd.”

“Because he didn’t want me to go into the water? Then why take us there in the first place?”

“Carmelo thinks I’m a naïve old man, which is to my advantage. Being underestimated is always an advantage, so I’m happy to keep him happy. That’s why I passed along his deer-hunting story.”

We were on a path that would soon exit into the clearing where RVs and campers were parked. I stopped. “You’re paying him? A guide should keep his clients happy, not the other way around. What’s this really all about?”

Belton urged patience with a gesture. “For now, I need Carmelo’s knowledge and his boat. Unless”-he paused to think-“well… unless you’re willing to drive me around in one of those little rental outboards. I have Carmelo booked for two more days, but I’d rather pay you.”

It was one of those bright-idea moments that caused the man to smile but only made me suspicious. I said, “There’s something you’re not telling me. In fact, there’s a lot you’re not telling me.”

“I admitted I have a secret-you don’t remember?”

“Of course I do. And I’m not taking you back there unless I know the whole story. That’s what you want, isn’t it? For me to dive that spot again.”

“Not if it puts you at risk. Can we discuss it later? Tonight, I’ll buy you dinner and a good bottle of wine, but right now, dear, I need a shower and a nap.”

Belton Matás had a wide amiable face that was disarming and he knew it-as did I. He was also an old man in poor health who was exhausted. I didn’t want to push too hard, but I had come close to drowning after all. “Save the whole story for later,” I said. “I’m fine with that. For now, a summary will do.”

“You are one stubborn woman.”

I replied, “Would you rather spend tomorrow with Carmelo? Or in a boat with me?”

The man had a sense of humor and surrendered with a sigh. “Okay, here are the bare basics: Theo and another person were hunting for the same thing. Theo’s still after it. That’s why we exchanged e-mails. Carmelo doesn’t own that boat, it’s Theo’s-or he at least made the down payment. Happily, they both think I’m a fool.”

I waited, thinking he would say more. He didn’t. “That’s it? You’re talking about the money stolen by the bank robber, John Ashley. Thirty-five thousand in silver.”

Belton shook his head. “No, you’re wrong. Remember Dr. Babbs’s story about a Civil War payload? That’s part of my secret. The story’s not a myth. I have copies of documents; an officer’s letters, in my office. A Union paymaster, 1864. He was sent to purchase cattle and pay troops at Fort Myers. When he was ambushed, he dumped the gold rather than let the Confederates take it-actually, what they called the Cow Cavalry. Cowboys, not Confederate soldiers.”

Cow hunters, I thought while Belton continued, “They surprised him with a couple of small cannon, and his boat was sinking, but he survived. In a later letter, he described what he called a brick sepulcher near the spot-a cistern, you call it. He was impressed by the workmanship. The next day, troops were sent to recover the gold and were ambushed-a battle that didn’t make it into the history books.”

“Small cannons,” I repeated, said it in a way that told Belton it meant something to me. The leather-bound journal; he had to be wondering what I knew, but he didn’t press.

“I’d rather explain the rest over dinner.”

“Who’s the other person? You said Theo and someone else are after the gold, so why-”

“Hannah, dear, please . I’m dead on my feet-and I if I don’t take my meds on time, well…”

The last part was embarrassing for him to admit, which touched my heart.

I said, “I’ll walk you to your camper,” and gave him a little pat. On rough sections of sand, I took his elbow to steady him, a proud man-but not an honest one. Not yet.

Civil War gold wasn’t transported on boats powered by outboard motors.

Birdy and I had texted back and forth that afternoon, which is why I was surprised she was in uniform when she tapped on my door at the River’s Edge Motel. It was around five, two hours before sunset, but I had been too busy with calls to a local librarian and a friend named Tomlinson, as well as my research to notice the time.

“There’s a question of jurisdiction,” she said. “Wouldn’t you know? The property lies in the corner of three counties. Like crosshairs, when you look at a map. So I wore my uni to impress a sheriff I’d never met and a detective I hope I never meet again. What a pain in the ass. She doesn’t like working with women. Go figure.”

I said, “You’re talking about the archaeological site and Theo?”

“That, too. But there’s a bigger case I didn’t know about. Finding human bones is always a big deal, but, turns out, three people have disappeared in that area in the last five years and none of the cases has been closed. When Leslie called and mentioned bones, cops from every department showed up.” In reply to my blank look, she added, “Leslie… as in Dr. Babbs ?”

The first thing that came into my head: That’s why Belton’s here. He is searching for someone.

My friend, going into the kitchenette, noticed my expression. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure. Who’s missing? I remember reading something in the news, but it’s been a while. Are you saying those bones might not be from the Civil War?”

“That’s because people go missing every day, so they drop the story unless it’s a child or we find a body. These were adults, two males and a thirty-year-old woman, all unrelated cases. The woman was a beauty queen, from her pictures and bio. Hate to say it but that’s enough to keep a case alive. No one really gives a damn about the men.” She opened the fridge and looked inside. “Good god, you made iced tea. On plane flights, I bet you pack a thermos in your carry-on.”

“Sweet tea,” I said. “Good tea is hard to find when you travel. What do you mean ‘disappeared in the same area’?”

Birdy said, “I know, I’m addicted,” and poured a glass over ice. She drank it half down, poured more, then sat at the desk where there was a motel binder containing a list of restaurants and other tourist stuff. “One man and the woman, their cars were found abandoned within a few miles of the old Cadence house. I don’t know any details about the second guy. Usually, men are deadbeat dads or on the run. But the woman was the morning weather girl at an Orlando station, a cheerleader in college-Tallahassee, I think. I remember reading about her. That was before I moved down-about four years ago.”