Don Bruns - Too Much Stuff

I saw Maria’s eyes get even wider, and she looked at me with a sly grin.

“Glad I didn’t hire you guys to fix my leaking pipe.”

Mary Trueblood looked at both of us, shook her head as if confused, and walked away.

So no one knew about the gold. No one except James, Mary, me, and Ted Markim, now that Jim Weezle was dead.

They carried the body down on a stretcher, a blood-stained sheet covering him. Two guys from the rescue unit brought him down the stairs. They’d already figured that out. Not the elevator. The stairs.

Some new guy in a short-sleeved shirt and tie told me it would be at least a half hour before they would have our personal items packed. No one could go back into the room.

“This really sucks, doesn’t it?” Maria frowned.

“You think so?” I didn’t even have a room. Maria probably had a home somewhere. A fancy condo with a swimming pool. And James was in a cell somewhere behind a pizza joint.

“Actually,” she pursed her lips and looked up at me, “this is the most excitement I’ve had since my divorce over a year ago. I may even make the news tonight.”

“Well, I’m glad we could brighten your day.” I’m not sure James would be so happy about it.

We strolled down to the beach where couples lounged on chairs and watched the ocean lap at the shore.

“You guys have been friends a while.” She glanced at me, a look more as a friend than an inquisitor.

“We have. Since we were kids. And what I said before about getting into trouble-just hang around long enough and we do manage to attract our share of problems.”

She laughed. “There’s more to this expedition than just a search for history, isn’t there?”

I didn’t say anything.

“You know, Skip, people come down here to get away. They just want to get lost. I’ve watched it happen. For a week, a month, some people for their whole life. It’s like in the middle Keys you can just disappear. But you’re not down here to disappear, are you?”

“No.”

“People come down to dive, to go deep-sea fishing,” she pointed toward the ocean. “The deep-sea fishing here is the best in the country.”

I nodded.

“They show up to tie one on for a couple of days. People come down here to have an affair, but no one comes down here to research dead relatives.”

“And your point is?”

“I think you two are treasure hunters.”

“What?” She couldn’t possibly know. I’d just decided she knew nothing and she hit me with that.

“You want locations. You’re trying to find the remnants of an old building, the Coral Belle Hotel. I don’t think this has anything to do with somebody’s great-grandfather. I think you’re looking for gold.”

I just kept walking.

“But, I could be wrong.”

“You are.”

“Listen, people come down here looking for wrecker camps. Is that it? You’re trying to find a wrecker camp?”

“I don’t even know what that is.” I lied.

“Really? When ships would crash out on the reef or the rocks, wrecking crews would go out and salvage the boats. They’d take whatever was valuable and usually bury it at their campsite. There weren’t any safes or banks around so they would bury it using landmarks as locators.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. She really didn’t have the right answer.

“Today, when a construction crew breaks ground, they’ll sometimes stumble on an old wrecker camp. Lots of times they’ll find silver and gold. I thought maybe you had a lead on one of the old camps.”

She was just a little too close to the truth for comfort.

“Maria, do you know anyone down here who has a Harley-Davidson motorcycle with a gold fender?”

“Boy, you sure know how to change the subject.”

“Do you?”

“No. Not off the top of my head.”

And all of a sudden it hit me. I’d heard the distinct sound of a Harley in the parking lot just before James called us up to the room. Somebody had pulled out, leaving a cloud of dust.

“My ex-husband Drew had a Harley.”

“He did?”

“Yeah.” She smiled. “Had one.”

“What happened to it?”

“I got it in the divorce.”

It was my turn to smile. “Really? Did you sell it?”

“Sell it?” Her eyes got big. They were dark brown and very expressive. “How do you think I got here today?”

A biker babe. James and I had landed a biker babe with pretty brown eyes. I was impressed.

“Hey, do you think you could call your former boyfriend down at the sheriff’s office? I’d really like to know what’s happening with James.”

She pulled an iPhone from her purse and punched in a couple of numbers. Here was a biker babe with the police department on speed dial. Cool. I need to know more about this girl.

“Officer Danny Mayfair, please.”

A couple of seconds later her face lit up.

“Danny, it’s Maria.” She paused as the officer talked.

“No, no. I’m not still trying to sell you the condo. Although you passed on a very good deal. The prices are going up, Danny.”

She sat down on one of the plastic chairs and looked up, giving me a very charming smile. The girl liked to flirt. Two guys at once. Officer Danny and me. If James was here she’d probably try to work him in too. He was cute.

“No. Danny, I’m with Skip-” She looked at me inquisitively.

“Moore,” I said.

“Skip Moore. He’s-yeah, you guys interviewed him. Along with me and the older lady.”

Mary Trueblood would not be happy to know she was being referred to as “the older lady.”

“Can you tell me the status of James?”

She nodded, rolled her eyes, and I couldn’t tell if it was good news or bad news. I wanted to grab the phone out of her hand and just get to the heart of the matter.

Maria glanced up at me. “Danny says James has been hostile to all of them. Belligerent and what else, Danny? Noncommunicative.” She frowned at me, shrugging her shoulders.

That was James. Described him to a T . He hated cops.

“The good thing is, they don’t believe he had anything to do with the murder.”

“And?”

“When are they going to release him, Danny?” She waited, waited, and waited. My fists clenched. I needed to know.

“They’re going to release him in about an hour.”

I breathed a deep sigh of relief. I couldn’t wait to tell Mary Trueblood. And then I reconsidered. The lady hadn’t shown any compassion at all about her former employee being knifed to death. She probably wouldn’t care about James’s incarceration.

“Can you ask him who the dead guy is?”

She nodded. “Danny, can you release the identity of the dead man?”

She giggled. “Of course I’m not going to call the press. It’s between you and me.”

Standing up, she kept a distant look in her eyes, like she was focusing on someone who wasn’t here. Maybe this Danny character.

“Okay. I’ll keep it very quiet.” She nodded emphatically as if the person on the other end of the phone could see her.

“I still love you, big D.”

She stuffed the black phone back in her pocket.

“Big D?”

She blushed. “Well, he’s kind of big.”

Then I blushed. “Did he tell you who the dead guy is?”

“He did.”

Big D. An ex-boyfriend.

“And?”

“Well, you heard me, I promised not to tell.”

“Maria.”

“But I’ll tell you, okay.”

“Please. Who was the victim?”

“A guy named Peter Stiffle.”

“Stiffle?”

“Stiffle. Peter.”

“You’re sure? Peter Stiffle?”

“I’m not sure. Danny is sure.”

Big D was sure the cadaver had previously been a living, breathing Peter Stiffle.