Don Bruns - Too Much Stuff

He was practically foaming at the mouth.

“Skip, I think there’s a very good chance you’ve found it.” Em was smiling a very wide smile.

“Have you guys lost all your senses? There’s no guarantee that-”

“Amigo. Did you not hear the old man?”

I had.

“Let me ask you two something.” I was now the voice of reason. “Have you ever thought about how we’re going to dig it up and remove it from a five-star resort? Have you?” I heard myself getting louder. “Under the scrutiny of guards every twenty minutes, not to mention people watching from their windows? People in the pool, on the beach. You guys are acting a little crazy, you know? What do you want to do, just pull a bulldozer up and start tearing up the beach?”

Like that would ever happen.

“Whatever it takes, buddy.” James was lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Skip,” Em was not far behind him. She had always been the voice of reason. Not any more. So it seemed a little strange to me that I was asking for some sanity. “Maybe we go to the authorities. We get Mrs. T. to admit to them we’ve found buried treasure. We get our money, the state of Florida gets theirs, and Mrs. T. still comes out a multimillionaire.”

That was a concept I hadn’t considered.

“But what if the Methodist church says it’s theirs?” My thought.

“Point well taken,” James said.

“What if Cheeca Lodge says it is theirs?” My thought.

“Another point to Skip,” Em said.

“And what if the town of Islamorada says it’s theirs?”

There was a knock at the door. Mrs. T. had finally arrived.

“We’ve got some pretty exciting news about the lost treasure,” I said as I opened the door.

Maria Sanko stood at the entrance, her face in a knot of anger.

From the back of the room, James said, “Oh, shit.”

“Suppose you tell me what was in those crates. You’ve been yanking my chain since we met, boys, and you,” she pointed to Em who was sitting on the bed, “the three of you must think I’m pretty stupid.”

“Look, Maria,” I started the explanation, “we’re working for someone. We have an employer. If it was just us, we’d work with you, but we have to explain everything to-”

“To whom?” Mrs. T. walked up behind Maria.

“You two may as well come in.” They entered and stood in front of us, both of them with arms folded across their chests.

“Have a seat.” There was one place on the bed, and Maria sat down on the floor.

I told Mrs. T. about Mr. Blattner and what he’d said. Then I told her that Maria suspected we were being less than truthful in our explanation.

“Do you want to tell her what we’re doing?”

Mrs. T. suddenly looked very tired. She’d been carrying the weight of this story for over six months and right now, when we could smell victory, she was facing all kinds of problems.

“Oh, hell. She might as well know the whole story. But if she wants a cut for bringing in the old man-”

“We really should give her something,” Em said, “latecomer that she is.”

Mrs. T. gave her a death stare. “One hundred thousand. If, if we find all ten crates. And if we don’t, we give her-” she paused, looking exasperated, “we give her our undying gratitude. Okay?”

Maria nodded. It was probably better than she expected. Yet here was a lady who got her husband’s motorcycle in a divorce settlement. She could probably get a lot more out of Mrs. T. if she wanted to.

“Done.”

“Maria, make yourself worth one hundred thousand dollars. Tell us how to get ten crates of gold out of that resort with no one interfering.” I was anxious to get a different take on the situation.

Maria smiled. “Ah, a challenge.”

“Yeah.” I smiled back at her. “And keep in mind that there are two other treasure hunters who are looking for the same gold. Dangerous dudes, I might add.”

Without a pause she said, “You know what I’d do?”

James rolled his eyes back in his head. “No.”

And she proceeded to tell us.

“You know, eventually we all have to get back to our day jobs. Especially if this doesn’t work out.”

We grabbed some burgers across the street at the Ocean View. Sitting out back on picnic tables we looked over the bay.

“If we’re due a break, and I believe we are,” James drummed his fingers on the rough tabletop, “Maria had a brilliant idea.”

“Don’t hide what you’re doing.” Em took a bite from her sandwich and sat back, obviously impressed with Maria’s savvy.

“Exactly,” he said. “Do everything in plain sight. If you’re blatant about it, people accept it. It’s when you sneak around like we’ve been doing, that’s when you get caught.”

“Do you think she can pull it off within twenty-four hours?” I asked. I had serious reservations.

“That cash incentive that Mrs. T. offered should motivate her.”

“I can’t believe that people are that gullible.” Em shook her pretty head, her golden hair swishing across her face. Maybe I just had gold on the brain.

“She hasn’t pulled it off yet.” Maria seemed a little too cocky. A little too sure of herself.

“No, she hasn’t pulled it off yet, but I’m betting on her, Skip.”

“What surprised me was that Mrs. T. agreed to fund the project.”

“Again,” Em pointed her index finger at me, “it’s not a lot of money considering the payout. Skip, for a profit of even ten million dollars you would spend at least ten percent. Forty million means she could commit up to four million dollars. I’ll bet she hasn’t committed five thousand dollars. I’ll guarantee this lady hasn’t even come close to that amount.”

She’d poured about two thousand dollars into our account and maybe she’d fronted Weezle and Markim. Not a lot considering what the reward might be.

“If she gets her money, she stole it for a song. As for Maria Sanko, the girl has a lot of moxie.” Em smiled.

“Moxie?”

“You know what it means.”

“I’ve never heard you use that word.”

“Well,” Em looked at James, “moxie is my middle name.”

“Wait,” he said. “I know this one.” He studied the water for a moment as a sailboat drifted across our horizon. “Parker Posey in Party Girl . I’m right, aren’t I? Ninety-five, ninety-six?”

“I loved that movie. Always remembered the quote.”

I should have been proud of her, but somehow she was invading our turf. Movie quotes were for me and James.

We drove back to Cheeca Lodge, telling the uniformed gate attendant we wanted to see the cemetery.

“We’re getting a lot of action on the old place.”

“Oh, really?”

“You’re the third people today. I’ll go a month and not have anyone ask to see the old graveyard.”

“Three people?”

“Yeah. Some single guy, then two people actually asked if there was a room that overlooked the place. I checked it out. Nobody has ever, ever asked for a room with a view of the cemetery. At least as far as we can tell.”

“Really?”

“They asked for a view of the plot. Seems they have family that traces back to this piece of property.”

“No kidding?” James said.

Handing us a pass, the gate attendant pointed us in the direction of the Methodist property.

It was mid-afternoon and the temperature was up in the mid-eighties as the valet drove off in James’s truck.

Standing outside the fence, I gazed at the angel who had watched over the little graveyard during the worst storm in history. There she stood, surrounded by the beauty and the opulence of one of the finest resorts in the Florida Keys. The pool, ocean, suites, bar, and restaurants were just a stone’s throw away.