Chapter Eleven Traveling Downstream
Chapter Eleven
Traveling Downstream
Arlo walked into Mikey’s sleeping area. Mikey was already dressed and ready to go.
“You got the boat hitched?”
“Yep. Did it last night before I went to bed,” Arlo responded.
“Good. Got the map?”
Arlo smacked the rolled paper against his palm. “Yes siree.”
“Let’s go.” Mikey donned a windbreaker and a cap.
Arlo gave Mikey directions as they drove to the spot Arlo had found. There was no one in sight. Not even close.
At least Arlo did something right, Mikey thought to himself.
They pulled the truck around and got as close as they could to the water in order to launch the small skiff.
They didn’t want to bring any attention to themselves, so they rowed downstream, following Arlo’s directions.
Arlo spotted the area that appeared to be the spot where the treasure was supposedly hidden.
“There!” he said in a loud whisper.
They paddled to a spot where a clump of tall reeds grew.
“Okay, now what are we supposed to do?” Mikey asked.
“Look. Over there. Ain’t that some kind of marker?” Arlo pointed to a small shiny piece of metal, the size of a golf ball.
“I can’t believe nobody has seen that before,” Mikey said with annoyance.
“Maybe they was lookin’ in the wrong spot.” Arlo had a huge grin on his face. “Come on.”
He paddled closer to the overgrown foliage. “Check this out.”
He reached toward the piece of metal. It was attached to a nylon cord. Mikey knew immediately it could not be Kidd’s treasure. They didn’t have nylon in the 1600s. He was prepared for disappointment.
Arlo enthusiastically pulled on the rope.
He gave it a few more tugs, and a waterproof box appeared at the end.
Another sign of deception. They didn’t have waterproof boxes in the 1600s, either.
Mikey was deflated, but Arlo continued with his enthusiasm.
He dragged the box onto their boat. Arlo lifted it and gave it a shake.
Mikey figured with the way his luck had been lately, it could have been a bomb.
Arlo could barely contain himself and pried the box open. Inside was a note that read:
If you found this, you are a thief.
Arlo dropped the box as if it were on fire. “Dang!” he cried. “We been had!”
At that moment, Mikey wished it had been a bomb.
Several days after their failed treasure hunt, Mikey phoned the bank again. His deadline was quickly approaching.
The bank manager was hesitant to take his call.
He had known the Farrells for two generations and hated to see the family business go into receivership, but it was unlikely that the bank would recoup anything should Mikey fail to make loan payments.
The manager decided to let it go to voicemail.
Perhaps he could figure something out for the last of the siblings.
What? He had no idea, but he decided he would talk to the regional manager.
The property had to be worth something. The area was a hot spot for home buyers.
People were migrating from the crowded cities.
A state-of-the-art production facility was in the process of being built, creating over a thousand jobs.
More people. More housing. He thought about the pitch he would give to his superior.
He sighed. Maybe it was best if they forced the brothers to sell off everything and pay off the original loan.
He couldn’t understand how the Farrells could let the business get into such financial trouble.
He also realized that you could be a great fisherman or salvager and still have no idea how to balance a checkbook.
That seemed to be the case with the Farrells.
Their father left them with a sustainable business, but none of his sons had a lick of business sense.
Instead of investing money into their business, Dennis lavished himself with a few man-toys like an ATV and a top-of-the-line pickup truck.
He had the doors painted with the company name, and insisted it was “good advertising” for the business.
Mikey and Arlo secretly disagreed, but Dennis had been in charge, and he made sure everyone was aware of it.
The bank manager felt a little sorry for Mikey. Between him and Arlo, Mikey was the adult on duty. He went to work crunching numbers in the hope he could devise a viable fiscal plan for the boys.
Arlo and Mikey sat at the table in the back room of the dive shop.
“I still can’t believe Kirby’s old apartment was cleaned out,” Mikey lamented. “Are you sure there was nothing there?”
Arlo shrugged. “I told you. The place was as clean as a whistle. I guess Pauline is getting ready to rent it out.”
Mikey started pacing. “Where else could it be?” He wasn’t directing the question at his brother. He knew that Arlo would have no clue.
Arlo just shrugged, and Mikey continued to pace. A thought came to mind. He snapped his fingers. “Maybe Crusty might have it. Or know where it is.”
“Whaddya gonna do? Walk up and ask him?” Arlo said sarcastically.
“No, you idiot.”
“Well, duh. I wasn’t serious,” Arlo shot back.
Mikey didn’t like being the bad guy. That was usually Dennis’s forte. But since Dennis died and left Mikey with a gigantic mess, he had no choice. “Okay. Okay. Give me a minute to think.”
Most people in town had a routine. Crusty was no exception.
He would rise with the sun, make some godawful coffee, take a quick (very quick) shower, then drive his yellow VW T2 van to the fish co-op a few miles away.
The van was over forty years old, and the odometer had spun around to the original mileage, maybe twice.
But Crusty took a lot of pride in keeping the classic bus in mint condition.
He retrofitted it to be a work truck, so he could transport a variety of bait to Kirby’s and a few tackle shops along the way.
By seven in the morning, all the deliveries were made, and he’d begin his duties at the marina.
The first order of business was to open the shed and check the schedule to see what reservations were on the calendar.
Then he’d check the boats and get them ready for the customers. But not this one particular morning.
Charlie was usually on the premises half an hour after Crusty and was surprised he arrived ahead of him.
Charlie thought he may have gotten stuck at the co-op, but when there was no sign of Crusty by nine, he became concerned.
He phoned the co-op to check. No one had seen him.
Crusty was extremely reliable. It was totally out of character for him to do a disappearing act.
Charlie phoned Josh and told him to check Crusty’s place on his way to the marina.
Josh arrived to a battered Crusty slumped over on the front stoop. “Crusty! Crusty!” Josh yelled as he ran toward the moaning bag of bones. He gently righted the man and leaned his body against the wall. At least he was still breathing! Josh took his pulse and called 911.
Crusty tried to open his eyes and focus, but they kept rolling around in their sockets.
Josh noticed a gash behind Crusty’s ear, pulled a bandanna from his cargo pants, and held it against the wound.
“Don’t move,” Josh ordered. He dashed into the cottage, grabbed some ice, and returned to the groggy man. Josh held the ice over the gash. “What happened?” he asked.
“I dunno,” Crusty replied in a hushed tone. “It feels like somebody hit me in the back of the head.”
“Who?” Josh prodded the bleary Crusty.
“I dunno. It was out of the blue.” Crusty tried to straighten himself, but his head kept nodding.
Josh knew he had to keep Crusty awake until the paramedics arrived.
At school, he’d learned that medical professionals advise a four-hour timeline in order to keep track of any changes in the injured party.
But Josh didn’t know when the incident occurred, and Crusty was having difficulty stringing words together.
Josh heard the sirens of the local first aid squad approaching and was relieved, although he was still worried about his friend.
The ambulance pulled up, and three paramedics jumped out. One dashed toward Crusty, while the other two lowered the stretcher.
In a small town like Smuggler’s Cove, everyone knows everyone, and almost everything.
“Josh!” one of the medics called out. “What happened?”
Josh grimaced. “I don’t know. I found him like this.”
They checked Crusty for any spinal injuries, then hoisted him onto the stretcher and took his vitals. His pressure was low but not dangerous. Breathing was slow but normal. Heart rate elevated but also not dangerous. They lifted the stretcher into the ambulance, and Josh jumped in behind.
Lots of questions were thrown around the back of the truck.
“What happened?”
“When did it happen?”
“Who did it?”
The answer to all of them was a moaning, “I dunno.”
Josh phoned Charlie and explained what little details he had.
Charlie was stunned. “Is he going to be alright?”
“Not sure,” Josh answered, and glanced at one of the attendants. The medic gave him a reassuring nod. Unless there was severe brain damage, it appeared Crusty would recover.
Chief Burton was made aware of the call from Josh. Neither Josh nor Charlie had heard about the break-in at Pauline’s yet, but Chief Burton was beginning to piece it together. Everything was connected to Kirby Taylor.
Charlie met the ambulance at the hospital.
“What in tarnation happened?” he began to grill a very groggy Crusty.
The attendant encouraged Charlie to be patient with the old fella. “He needs a little rest.”
Charlie paced the emergency room up and down. His cellphone rang. It was Hannah, trying to find out what was going on. Charlie had little information except that they thought Crusty would be alright.