Chapter 65
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Sam Worlson’s Home—Sitka, AK
The phone rang on Sam’s nightstand.
Barb rolled away from him and let out a resigned sigh.
3:04 a.m.
Who the hell?
He fumbled the handset, dropped it on the pillow, and finally got it to his ear. “Worlson. What’s up?”
“I always fancied a face-to-face meeting with you someday,” a man’s deep voice said with the smooth tone of a classical radio DJ, “but I suppose we’ve both come to the understanding that it’s not in the cards.”
Sam sat up in bed, threw off the covers, felt for his slippers with his bare feet. “Fellows?…Why? Why now?”
“Fellows, huh? Haven’t been called that in a coon’s age.
It’s Thomas now. When I learned you were the police chief…
” Fellows chuckled. “Well, that threw a wrench in my plans. You just couldn’t let it be, could you?
Was this Chilton fellow on your payroll?
Have you been on the hunt for me all these years? ”
Sam found a slipper with his toes, pulled it toward him, and slid his foot inside. His other foot searched the cold carpet for the remaining one. “No. I didn’t know—I don’t know how he—Where are you?”
Barb tugged the blanket toward her, jerking the edge out from under Sam’s butt.
“Well, where I’m not is on Radioville Island, digging up Joe’s gold, thanks to you.” Fellows sighed. “This was just business. That Chilton fellow was on to the gold. I had to protect my interests. I reckon my only blunder was not takin care of the woman too.”
“You made plenty mistakes.” Sam’s toe caught the other slipper and he jammed his foot inside. “We will find you.”
“No, you won’t.” Fellows laughed again. “Ain’t it bout time for your retirement? Plus, ain’t it better for both of us if you don’t find me? Be a shame for you to go down for accessory to Joe Baxter’s murder right here at the end of your illustrious career.”
Barb pulled the covers over her head and said something incoherent.
“I have one question for you, Fellows.” Sam got to his feet. “Why did you sell only half of the gold we stole?”
Fellows whistled. “That’s good, Chief. How’d you put the pieces together?”
Sam picked up the phone cradle with his free hand and walked toward the bathroom door, then turned back toward the bed.
Barb curled into a fetal position under the covers, Sam’s pillow now over her head.
“Four decades back when you supposedly bit the dust, I scoured for that cash or gold for a whole year.” Sam paced between the bed and bathroom.
The baseboard heater kicked on. “I went to the assay office to confirm if you really cashed in the gold, and could never figure out why you only sold half of what I swiped. What did you do with the other half of the gold?”
Barb snored softly.
“I sold every ounce of gold that Joe gave me.” Fellows didn’t sound surprised. His voice had almost a playful tone.
Barb snorted and rolled over.
“I checked the records. It was almost exactly half. Are you saying you didn’t…” Sam moved the receiver to his other hand. “…Oh. Baxter. You reckon he kept half the gold?” Sam sat back on the bed.
Barb kicked the covers.
“I think old Joe got the last laugh on both of us,” Fellows boomed a bit too loudly. “Well, there’s a new mystery for ya, Chief. Good luck. Wonder where he stashed it? Somewhere on that little island, I’ll bet. I was hoping to buy the island and go have a look for myself.”
“You take that paperwork to a title company and you’ll be arrested on the spot,” Sam replied. “Anya owns that island.”
“Don’t expect to be hearing from me again. That is, unless I find out you went for that gold yourself.”
The line went dead.