CHAPTER 10
Mac walked into El Tapatio Mexican Grill & Cantina a little after five-pm. The dinner crowd had just started to trickle in. Mac went up to the bar, and the bartender said, “Tonight’s special is half-price house Margs,” as he tossed a cardboard coaster in front of him.
“I’m looking for someone who used to work here,” Mac shrugged, “or maybe she still does? I’m looking for Sam. She was a bartender here three years ago.”
“No bartenders named Sam that I know of. But I’ve only been here a month. Let me get the manager.” The bartender walked to the other end of the bar and motioned to a man sitting with a laptop at a corner table.
The red-haired man walked over to Mac and extended his hand. “Hi, I’m Kyle, the general manager. How can I help you?”
Mac shook his hand. “I’m looking for a Sam. She worked here about three years ago.”
Kyle chuckled. “Yeah, I know her. Sam Cosgrove.”
Mac didn’t understand the humor, but now learned her last name. “Does she still work here?”
“You could say that,” Kyle smiled. “She owns the place. Bought it three years ago and brought me on as manager.”
“Oh.” Mac was as surprised as he sounded.
“She comes in only once a week to do the books. But if you leave your number, I’ll pass it on to her.”
“Oh, um...” He needed to think fast. “I was hoping to surprise her,” Mac smiled. “I’m an old friend.” He leaned against the bar to appear casual.
“You may be in luck if you check back in later tonight. She usually comes in for dinner at eight-pm every Wednesday.”
Mac thanked Kyle for the information and headed out.
What the hell? Now Mac didn’t know what he was going to say to her or how he’d approach her. He couldn’t say, “Remember me? Geoff, your old bangin’ buddy’s friend? I was wondering if you saw Geoff the night he died. And do you know where he stashed four-million in rare coins?”
The situation had changed. He was digesting the fact, she’d gone from bartender to owner around the same time the coins went missing. How did that happen? Where’d she get the money? Mac slammed the door of his truck and peeled out of the parking lot, determined to find out.
* * *
Jan had driven all the way to Topeka and picked up a metal detector after locating a store online that had one in stock.
Her uncle taught her how to use one when she was a teenager.
She’d spent a summer with him locating where settlers once camped along the Santa Fe Trail.
Metal artifacts were a good indication of previous inhabitants.
She drove straight to the empty lot where her uncle’s house once stood with the new metal detector. Logic told her it was a long shot, and she’d probably be out here all day digging up nails and whatever miscellaneous scrap would trigger it.
But she was determined to cross this task off her list. She didn’t want to return home to Arizona, awakening at night, questioning if she could have done more.
Jan parked her car and pulled the detector out of the back. She threw a quarter onto the ground as she stepped onto the sidewalk. She turned the machine on and the volume up, then waved and hovered the wand over the quarter.
Once she had tested and set the sensitivity of the device, she picked up the quarter and slipped it back in her pocket. She marched into the empty lot and looked around to get her bearings. The original sidewalk, which led straight to the front porch, was easy enough to find under shallow grass.
If this was the front porch, then... she took forty steps towards what was once the backyard. She turned around and imagined where the back door of the house was. She stumbled upon the concrete support bases for the old clothesline poles.
She walked to the back alleyway and made note of her mental markers, then waved the wand and walked the lawn in a grid pattern. Within two minutes the detector sounded. She bent over and tilled up the dirt with a small gardening shovel she’d purchased with the metal detector.
With bated breath she carefully examined the spot, then found a rusty Mason jar lid ring. She sighed as the excitement escaped her body.
She continued her grid search. Logic again told her this was a long shot, and when the detector went off a second time, she expected more miscellaneous debris of yesteryear. But when she broke the dirt with her small shovel, she unearthed something flat and round.
Could it be? She dropped the shovel and pinched the object between her thumb and forefingers. As she rubbed the dirt away, a portion of President Eisenhower’s head glistened in the sunlight.
* * *
When Sam arrived and claimed her usual table in the corner, Kyle greeted her with a strawberry margarita and explained that a man had visited earlier in the day looking for her.
She figured he was a supply salesman until Kyle said he’d introduced himself as an “old friend” and thought she was still a bartender.
Now she was intrigued. “What did he look like?”
“Average height. Late thirties.” Kyle thought for a moment. “Sandy hair. Lean,” he shrugged.
It didn’t ring a bell. That could’ve described Geoff Wickham, except he’d had dark hair. And she’d witnessed his death with her own eyes, so definitely wasn’t Geoff.
When she finished her dinner, she went to the office to check the security footage from that afternoon. She zoomed in on the man’s face. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him. Maybe he was a former regular, but she usually recognized people from her past.
Who was this man, and why was he looking for her?
Sam said her goodbyes and walked out the back door of the restaurant. She’d parked her car at the far end of the lot. She always left the closer spots for customers, plus she didn’t want to deal with door dings on her red 9-11 Porsche.
She hit the key fob to unlock the doors. There was a truck backed into the spot next to her car, but she thought nothing of it. She opened the door to get in and, from the corner of her eye, caught a flash of movement coming from behind the truck.
A gun pressed against her temple. “Get in and climb over to the passenger seat,” a man’s voice commanded.
She complied, but when she lifted her leg over the center console, he shoved her the rest of the way. Her head smacked against the passenger window as her body crumpled into the seat. The commotion squeezed the air out of her. She heard the driver’s door slam behind her.
What was happening? Who was holding her at gunpoint?
“Hi Sam. Remember me?” said the man in the driver’s seat. She didn’t recognize his voice.
Shifting around in the seat and inhaling for the first time, she was able to get a good look at the man. The street lamp lit up the side of her assailant’s face, and it was the same man from the video footage she’d just reviewed. The man who’d been looking for her earlier in the day.
In person, she recognized him. “You’re Geoff’s friend,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut for a second, thinking. “Mac?” she questioned, looking into the dark hole of a revolver barrel pointed at her.
“Riddle me this, Batman? How do you go from bartending to owning the joint and driving a Porsche?” he said, snarky.
She sat up in the seat. The cat was out of the bag now, she thought. “Geoff never told you?” she sighed.
“Nope,” Mac said, resting his forearm on the steering wheel. His other hand held the gun on her.
Sam rolled her eyes. “You two were close. I know because he talked about you. But he never told you about our side business?”
Mac’s face twitched. “No. What the hell are you talking about? The coins?”
“Coins? What coins?” She was confused.
“Geoff never told me shit.”
Sam’s composure returned, and now she was pissed. She slapped his gun hand away. “Get that fucking thing out of my face!”
Stunned for a nanosecond, Mac recovered, pointing the gun back at her. “Not until I get some fucking answers!” He matched her tone.
“You might as well drive since you’re behind the wheel,” she motioned. “It’d be easier to explain if I showed you.”
* * *
When they headed west out of town and eventually turned down a long drive, Mac recognized the remote area. He’d been here before. Geoff had brought him here deer hunting. He said the people who owned the land gave him permission to set up a blind and hunt on it.
Sam motioned for him to pull around the side of the one-story ranch house to a large metal building in the back.
“Park here,” she pointed in front of a large garage door next to a walk-in door.
Though it was dark, Mac noticed the tall building had no windows. “What is this place?”
“You’ll see,” Sam said, getting out, leading him to the walk-in door. She dug a keyring out of her purse and unlocked it. “Seriously, you don’t have to point the gun at me. I’m obviously not trying to get away.”
Mac looked around. “Who’s truck is that parked over there?”
“Mine. We’re the only ones here.”
Mac tucked the gun into his waistband.
Sam pushed the door open, and a massive amount of light poured out. He followed her inside, where he saw rows and rows of green plants lit up by grow lights. Marijuana? “What is this?” he asked.
“Geoff’s little secret...besides me, that is.
It’s a hydroponic pot farm,” she said with a hint of pride.
“It started in the basement of my rental house in town. I used to sell a little pot on the side, and Geoff suggested I grow my own. He funded the startup garden, then I became a supplier, and he bought this place and we built this building from the return on his investment.”
“Geoff did all of this?” he said, walking further in, gazing over the vast amount of plants.
“No,” she said abruptly. “He died right after we installed the lighting system. I’m the one who grew the buds and worked with the strains.
I’m the one who built the distribution system in place now.
I’m the one who bought the restaurant to launder the income.
What you’re looking at is Geoff’s dream, but I’m the one that made it happen. ”
This explained where Geoff got his money and how he’d supported Mac the last year of his life. Why had he kept this such a secret from him?
“He thought about bringing you in, but said you weren’t great with money,” she shrugged. “And it’d be better to give you some money here and there when you needed it.”
Geoff wasn’t wrong, Mac thought. The money would’ve burned a hole in his pocket the instant it hit. “I’m better now. I have control of my gambling habit.”
“Sure. Let’s hope so,” she rolled her eyes. “I thought he’d told you I sold pot, though.”
“Nope.” Mac didn’t know Sam, but he’d already speculated she was a total one-eighty from Lainey. With her tattooed arms, bleach blonde hair, fake tits and take no punches personality, he couldn’t hide behind the, I’m only doing what any good friend of Geoff’s would do, persona he had with Lainey.
“Alright, tough guy, here’s what’s going to happen,” Sam said.
Mac looked at her sideways.
“Don’t look at me like that. I know you want in. And from what Geoff told me about your gambling debts, you need in.”
“Wow, he really did tell you a lot.” And me, not much, he thought.
Sam rolled her eyes again. “There were no secrets between us. We may have met knock’n boots, but became business partners soon after. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t have a job for you.”
“How do you know your secret’s safe with me?” Mac said, surveying the crop again.
“Because, fucktard, you obviously need my help. Holding me at gunpoint doesn’t exactly scream, I’ve got my shit together.”
She had him there. He wasn’t getting anything past her. “Fine. What’s the job?”
Sam shook her head. “No, you tell me about these coins you mentioned. Then I let you in.”
Mac hesitated, and Sam caught it.
“I showed you mine, now you show me yours. That’s how this works, Mac.”