A Treasure to Die For Read online

  I knelt down to hold his head and rub his ears. “It’s okay, boy. You’re lucky you didn’t catch him. Don’t you know you’re no match for a speeding truck?”

  “My, God, Jake! What’s going on?” Bonnie was standing on her front deck with a towel wrapped around her head and lipstick smeared on her face. I took one look at Bonnie, and for a moment forgot about Sleeveless, then started laughing.

  She looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “What’s so damn funny? That guy could have killed Fred.”

  “Sorry, Bon, but I think you better go and finish your makeup.”

  She raised a hand to her face and felt her lipstick. “I must look a sight,” she said with a giggle.

  “Not if you plan on joining a circus.” Her hand must have slipped when she heard all the commotion. She had a lopsided smile any clown would envy.

  Fred might have laughed too if he had a sense of humor; then again, maybe he did because he started barking for no apparent reason. “I need to check on my house, Bon. Why don’t you finish putting on your face and drive on up? I got your favorite pizza from Beau Jo’s. I’ll tell you why Fred was chasing the truck while we eat.” I didn’t wait for her to answer and started up the hill with Fred glued to my heels.

  My cabin is built on a walkout foundation on a steep hill. I hadn’t noticed the lower door on the way down, but did coming back. It was on the ground in pieces. Bonnie must not have heard Sleeveless making firewood of my door when she was in the shower. I had installed a reinforced deadbolt that was supposed to prevent this sort of break-in. Evidently, Sleeveless didn’t read the promo for the lock.

  Fred waited for me to enter before following. The big sissy wasn’t so brave now that there wasn’t a truck between him and whatever danger lay inside. Of course, there wasn’t any danger once we stepped past the broken door, just a huge mess. The lower level was my office, my sanctuary from the world, where I kept my collection of first editions in built-in bookshelves lining the walls. My prized collection wasn’t on those shelves; it was on the floor. I knew without the help of psychic powers that the copy of Tom Sawyer given to me by Julie would be missing. I didn’t care if it was the key to a lost fortune or not. I had to get the book back. Julie had bought it for me when were strolling along Miner Street in Idaho Springs last year. I asked her to marry me the very next day.

  “Okay, buddy, how about we go upstairs to see if he trashed that too?”

  Bonnie was pulling into the driveway by the time we made it to the upper level. My cabin is small, less than eight hundred square feet, with one bedroom, a bathroom with a shower, but no tub, and a living room slash kitchen. The layout made it possible to see the road and driveway from almost any angle. My front door was wide open, but intact. Everything else looked to be as I had left it. I assumed the intruder must not have had time to search upstairs before Fred started barking, but like most assumptions, I was wrong.

  I didn’t bother to close the door on my way to inspect the bedroom. Bonnie would let herself in, and I really needed to check my shotgun. I had to smile when I saw my fierce guard dog wagging his tail when he saw Bonnie. Fifteen minutes ago, the scent of the intruder had his hair up and tail between his legs; now that the danger was over, he acted like nothing had happened.

  The gun was gone, and so was the box where I kept Julie’s wedding ring. I had kept them in a cedar chest at the foot of my bed with the gun on top where I could get to it in a hurry if any bears came knocking. Sleeveless had to search for the coins, for they were hidden at the bottom of the chest under a pile of family pictures and blankets.

  “Anything missing?” Bonnie asked when she came in with my grocery bags.

  “My shotgun and a cigar box where I kept Julie’s ring and some silver quarters,” I answered. Her lipstick was no longer smeared, but she must have fixed it quickly to get here so quickly, and it showed. I was in no mood to laugh this time. “Could you put those bags in the kitchen for me, Bon? I’ll go out and get the pizza.”

  “Don’t bother, Jake. It looks like some critter beat you to it. What little’s left is covered in dirt.”

  Hoping I’d heard wrong, I looked outside toward my Jeep and saw the open pizza box and a few slices spread across my drive. “Damn, and it was your favorite.”

  Bonnie acted shocked at my outburst; I guess she wasn’t used to me swearing. “I’ll clean it up for you when I leave so Fred doesn’t eat it. I know how much he loves pizza, but he might eat a rock, too,” she said from the kitchen where she was already putting my groceries away.

  I shut the door so Fred couldn’t get to the pizza before Bonnie left, then went to help her before she decided to do my dishes, too. “Thanks, Bon, but I’ll finish putting those away after I call in the burglary. We were going to surprise you. I even bought some honey for you to put on the crust.”

  I looked over in time to see her wipe a tear from her eyes. “You’re such a sweet boy. I wish Diane had lived long enough to meet you. I’m sure you two would have fallen for each other, and I’d have the best grand-babies ever.”

  It was my turn to be uncomfortable, so I quickly changed the subject and looked away. “Did you get a look at the guy driving that truck? I think it was that tough-looking guy from the book signing.”

  She went back to unpacking my groceries.“The one ready to fight Shelia’s boyfriend?”

  I turned to Fred, who had been watching Bonnie, I suppose on the chance she’d drop something good to eat.“I think so. What do you think, Freddie?”

  Bonnie answered for him. “Then he must have been looking for your copy of Tom Sawyer when he took your cigar box and gun.”

  “My, Fred, what a strange voice you have,” I said.

  Bonnie raised the corner of her lip, giving me a scowl I hadn’t seen since Elvis made movies. “Funny, Jake,” she said and went back to rearranging my refrigerator.

  Realizing she wasn’t going to quit until everything was put away, I walked over to the table where I had left my phone and keys. “Sorry, but it sure looked like him. How many bald guys do you know running around in shirts without sleeves?”

  She smiled while making a display of counting on her fingers. “Well, there’s Kojak, and then that Star Trek captain, what’s his name? But I don’t remember any of them wearing tank-tops.”

  “Jean-Luc Picard,” I answered. “But who the heck is Kojak?”

  “Before your time, sonny,” she said and laughed. “Okay, so it’s the bald guy from the bookstore.”

  “And he wasn’t wearing a tank-top. It was a denim shirt with the sleeves cut off,” I replied, mimicking her turned-up lip. “At least now he can go out and buy a decent shirt with the money he stole.”

  “How much did he get, Jake?”

  “Oh, it wasn’t much. Only twenty-five bucks in face value; I don’t know what they’d be worth in silver. I can live without the coins, it’s the ring and book I’ll miss. Well, the shotgun too. My father died shortly after giving me the gun, and I never had a chance to tell him how much he meant to me. I’ve got to find that SOB, Bonnie. He took the three things that mean the most to me.”

  As if he understood, Fred squeezed by Bonnie and sat at my feet. “Except for you, old boy,” I said, patting him on the head with one hand, and picking up my cell with the other. “I better call the sheriff from my deck, Bon. My cell doesn’t work so well in the house.”

  Bonnie stayed inside waiting for the coffee while I made my call. My back deck is right off the kitchen area and sits ten feet off the ground with a view of snowcapped Mount Evans. Fred stayed with Bonnie, I assume because she was closer to the refrigerator than me. I didn’t close the door when I went out. Except for the occasional fly, mosquitoes and other flying bugs weren’t a problem this high up, so Fred could join me when he was ready. I also knew it would save time rehashing my conversation with the sheriff because Bonnie would be able to hear everything I said.

  ***

  “This is an emergency. Someone broke into my house,”
I told the operator just as Fred decided to join me. “Okay, give me the number, please.”

  I let the operator rattle off the telephone number for the sheriff’s business line, knowing full well I wouldn’t remember it because I had nothing at hand to write it down. “Yes, ma’am, I’ll call it first thing Monday. Yes, thank you, too.”

  Bonnie appeared with coffee and some old donuts I had forgotten about as I finished my call. “They’re not coming, are they?” she asked, handing me my cup.

  “Not today. Maybe I’ll go run a red light or something. Bet I get their attention then.” I answered, trying to remember when I bought those donuts.

  She dunked one of the donuts in her coffee. “Surely they don’t expect you to leave everything until they get around to coming out here?” She took one bite, made a sour face, and threw the rest to Fred. He gulped it down and sat waiting for more. Then I remembered Julie had bought them last year.

  “I don’t know what they think, Bon, but I can’t leave my house wide open while I wait for them. That door is an invitation for all the critters up here. Now that they’ve had a taste of Beau Jo’s pizza, I’m sure they’ll be back,” I said while reaching for the donut bag so I could put it on the deck rail before Fred helped himself to more.

  Bonnie swirled the coffee in her mouth before swallowing it. “Hold everything, Jake. I need something stronger to get this taste out of my mouth. I’ll be right back.”

  She no sooner left us when a squirrel she called Chatter jumped out of the big spruce next to my deck, heading toward the donuts. Fred was after him in an instant. Fred was quick, but Chatter was quicker and jumped to the safety of the tree where he let Fred know he wasn’t going anywhere. “Where was that squirrel when Sleeveless was here?” I asked Fred, between laughs. “He makes enough racket to scare off Satan himself.”

  “Sleeveless?” Bonnie had come back during all the commotion. “Oh, I get it, the burglar.” She was all smiles now that she had her Jack Daniels.

  I made a mental note to tell her it was illegal to carry an open bottle of booze in her car. “Yeah, and speaking of the devil, Bon, I’ve seen that guy somewhere. I wish I could remember where.”

  “I don’t imagine it was in one of those fancy office buildings you used to work in. He looks more like a construction worker than a programmer,” Bonnie paused long enough to pour some whiskey into her coffee. “Want a shot, Jake?”

  “Tempting after what I’ve been through today, but no thanks. I need to go into town for a new door in a bit. It’d be my luck I’d get stopped by a cop.”

  She gave me her Elvis look again. “One little drink won’t get you drunk,” she said before her phone started ringing.

  Bonnie looked at the caller ID before answering it. “Margot, I’ve been meaning to call you. Did you hear about Shelia?”

  Margot is Bonnie’s twin sister, and I knew she would be on the phone for some time. It was my chance to leave, so I whispered for Bonnie to let herself out and I’d catch her later.

  ***

  The drive to the building supply store on the other side of town gave me time to reflect on my life and my decision to turn down a good-paying programming job. I thought that was all behind me until Bonnie had brought it up with her remark about Sleeveless. After I married Julie, I managed to find work at as a web developer and my soon to be manager agreed to let me work at home, which would allow me to take care of Julie who was recovering from Hodgkin’s. But then the company reorganized before I could start work. My new boss, who wasn’t much older than my daughter, was too much of a micro-manager to allow anyone to telecommute. I quit the job before it even began, and told him where he could put his new MBA.

  I met Julie the previous summer when she had been investigating a rash of bear and elk poaching in the hills behind my home. She was so cute with her red ponytail sticking out the back of her warden’s cap that I fell for her before she even spoke. She saved me from being arrested that day when she and her team found a planted compound-bow in my motor home. Julie noticed I was left-handed, and the bow was made for a right-handed person. My vision still gets blurry whenever I think of her.

  Fred tired of catching bugs, or whatever it is dogs do when they stick their head out of an open car window, and put his head on my lap. I didn’t have the heart to push him away, even though he would soon be drooling on my leg. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking of Julie too, when my cell phone rang. It was all I could do to get Fred off my lap and pull the phone out of my pocket; I nearly sideswiped the car next to me.

  The other driver honked her horn and showed me her middle finger before I finally managed to turn on my phone. It was Bonnie.

  “Jake! Thank God I got you. The cops are here asking a bunch of questions.”

  “They came anyway?” I asked, waving to the girl who had just saluted me. “The nine-eleven operator acted like I was bothering her.”

  “No! Not the sheriff, Jake. It’s a couple homicide detectives.”

  I made a quick U-turn and headed back home.

  ***

  “So where are they?” I asked as I jumped out of my Jeep after parking it in her driveway.

  Bonnie was sitting in one of the rocking chairs on her front porch that I had made a few years back, during my craftsman phase. Even from a distance I could see she had been crying. With the way her makeup had stained her face, she looked like an ad for a zombie movie. “You’re too late, Jake,” she answered before starting to cry again. “They think I killed her. I thought they were going to arrest me.”

  Suspecting Bonnie of killing Shelia was no big surprise. Shelia’s boyfriend, Craig, had said as much on live TV, and Bonnie did have a motive. I know I wouldn’t think twice about lethal injection if someone killed my daughter.

  I sat down in the rocker next to her. “It’s okay, Bon. You have an alibi for the night of the murder. Me and Fred will vouch for you.”

  Fred looked up and barked at the mention of his name. He knew Bonnie was upset and laid down by her feet with his head on his paws.

  “Would you do that for me, Freddie?” She asked, with the hint of a smile.

  “You can bet your next pension check on it,” I answered for my speech impaired dog, silently praying it didn’t come to that. I wasn’t in the habit of perjuring myself, nor was Fred.

  Her smile had become a certified grin.“My, what a strange voice you have, Fred.”

  It made me smile too. “I guess I deserved that, but tell me what the cops said to you. We may have to find you a lawyer, muy pronto.”

  Although Fred and I were on the wagon, Bonnie wasn’t. We ended up going to her kitchen where she kept her stock of whiskey. Her memory wasn’t very clear by the time she finished a half-full fifth of Jack Daniels, but she did manage to tell me the story as best as she could remember.

  The detectives played the good-cop, bad-cop routine on her in an effort to get her to confess to Shelia’s murder. The cops weren’t buying the sweet, old-lady routine; not after Craig had told them how Bonnie had tried to murder Shelia’s husband last year with peanut oil when she thought he was the hit-and-run driver. It was all the detectives needed to hear, even though spraying someone allergic to peanuts with Bactine mixed with peanut oil on a burn had as much effect as trying to kill ants with a water hose. They knew she was capable of murder, as did everyone else. But they didn’t take into account that Shelia had met a violent death. She had been stabbed, which wasn’t Bonnie’s style. Bonnie would have used poison, or something that didn’t involve blood.

  She tried to tell the cops about how Craig beat Shelia, and that he should be their number-one suspect, but they weren’t interested. They didn’t quit badgering her until she’d said she needed a lawyer.

  I waited for her to regain her composure with the help of Mr. Daniels. “I don’t think it was Craig anyway, Bon.”

  “Of course it was him. Who else could it be?”

  “Think about it, Bon. Craig told the television reporter he had
been watching the CU game with a friend, and found Shelia dead on his return home. Craig is a mean SOB, but he doesn’t strike me as dumb. He must know the cops will check out his alibi, so it only follows that someone else killed Shelia. My guess is she was killed for her copy of the book, and when it failed to be the key copy, the murderer went looking for another — mine.”

  The evening sun illuminated every wrinkle in her sixty-nine-year-old face. “The bald guy with tattoos and no sleeves? The guy who broke into your house?”

  ***

  That was when I decided to find Shelia’s killer. It was bad enough the guy stole my copy of Tom Sawyer and trashed my house, but I couldn’t let them pin a murder on this old widow. I had to get him before the district attorney decided to go after her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Between Bonnie’s television and Fred barking at the top of the stairs whenever he thought he heard a critter in the lower level, I had a hard time concentrating on how to find Sleeveless. I should have closed the windows to silence her television, but air conditioning isn’t necessary this high up and I needed the cool night air to cool the house or it would be too warm the next day.

  It wasn’t until the next morning that my plan started to come together. We were on our way to the building-supply store again before a family of skunks, or some other unwelcome visitors, decided the downstairs busted door was an open invitation to make themselves at home. What little traffic we encountered was in the opposite direction, weekend tourists headed to the lake, which gave me time to think without exercising the defensive driving skills required in Denver.

  The plan was simple. On Monday, I would stop at the bookstore on my way home from the job in Bailey and try to get a list of the people who had been at the reading. I remember signing a guest register of sorts, so I could only hope Sleeveless did too. It wouldn’t be easy, but once I eliminated the feminine names and everyone I knew, I should narrow the list down to less than a half dozen. But checking even five or six names could be tedious.