Cow hunters, I thought while Belton continued, “They surprised him with a couple of small cannon, and his boat was sinking, but he survived. In a later letter, he described what he called a brick sepulcher near the spot-a cistern, you call it. He was impressed by the workmanship. The next day, troops were sent to recover the gold and were ambushed-a battle that didn’t make it into the history books.”
“Small cannons,” I repeated, said it in a way that told Belton it meant something to me. The leather-bound journal; he had to be wondering what I knew, but he didn’t press.
“I’d rather explain the rest over dinner.”
“Who’s the other person? You said Theo and someone else are after the gold, so why-”
“Hannah, dear, please. I’m dead on my feet-and I if I don’t take my meds on time, well…”
The last part was embarrassing for him to admit, which touched my heart.
I said, “I’ll walk you to your camper,” and gave him a little pat. On rough sections of sand, I took his elbow to steady him, a proud man-but not an honest one. Not yet.
Civil War gold wasn’t transported on boats powered by outboard motors.
12
Birdy and I had texted back and forth that afternoon, which is why I was surprised she was in uniform when she tapped on my door at the River’s Edge Motel. It was around five, two hours before sunset, but I had been too busy with calls to a local librarian and a friend named Tomlinson, as well as my research to notice the time.
“There’s a question of jurisdiction,” she said. “Wouldn’t you know? The property lies in the corner of three counties. Like crosshairs, when you look at a map. So I wore my uni to impress a sheriff I’d never met and a detective I hope I never meet again. What a pain in the ass. She doesn’t like working with women. Go figure.”
I said, “You’re talking about the archaeological site and Theo?”
“That, too. But there’s a bigger case I didn’t know about. Finding human bones is always a big deal, but, turns out, three people have disappeared in that area in the last five years and none of the cases has been closed. When Leslie called and mentioned bones, cops from every department showed up.” In reply to my blank look, she added, “Leslie… as in Dr. Babbs?”
The first thing that came into my head: That’s why Belton’s here. He is searching for someone.
My friend, going into the kitchenette, noticed my expression. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure. Who’s missing? I remember reading something in the news, but it’s been a while. Are you saying those bones might not be from the Civil War?”
“That’s because people go missing every day, so they drop the story unless it’s a child or we find a body. These were adults, two males and a thirty-year-old woman, all unrelated cases. The woman was a beauty queen, from her pictures and bio. Hate to say it but that’s enough to keep a case alive. No one really gives a damn about the men.” She opened the fridge and looked inside. “Good god, you made iced tea. On plane flights, I bet you pack a thermos in your carry-on.”
“Sweet tea,” I said. “Good tea is hard to find when you travel. What do you mean ‘disappeared in the same area’?”
Birdy said, “I know, I’m addicted,” and poured a glass over ice. She drank it half down, poured more, then sat at the desk where there was a motel binder containing a list of restaurants and other tourist stuff. “One man and the woman, their cars were found abandoned within a few miles of the old Cadence house. I don’t know any details about the second guy. Usually, men are deadbeat dads or on the run. But the woman was the morning weather girl at an Orlando station, a cheerleader in college-Tallahassee, I think. I remember reading about her. That was before I moved down-about four years ago.”
I said, “She was never found? I followed the story for a while, but they stopped writing about it so I figured she was okay. It seems like more than four years. You didn’t answer my question about the bones.”
“Nope. Five years next September. At the dig sites, no, there’s nothing that appears to be modern era, but they still have to check.” Birdy sipped her tea while her eyes took in the journal, my notebooks, then found the mimosa seedpod on the night table. “You’ve been working all afternoon.” She studied me. “And you look upset.”
I said, “It was something I just read. I doubt if Theo’s smoke treatment killed any scorpions, but it dried more pages free in the journal. That Civil War was so… damn ugly, the way people from the same country treated each other. Reading about it in history books is one thing. But when a man you’re related to writes about it through his own eyes… well, all that ugliness becomes real.”
I saw a flicker of a smile. “You said damn.”
I hadn’t yet processed the entries I’d just read and wasn’t ready to discuss them. “Was there any mention of them renting a canoe? I’m talking about the missing people. Or owning one?” Birdy gave me a confused look, so I added, “We found a sunken canoe this afternoon. It was underwater but anchored. Someone went to a lot of trouble so it wouldn’t be found.”
“Really. No, but I didn’t ask. The weather girl was on her way to Labelle to attend a rodeo, so you can scratch the canoe theory. She’d left Orlando after midnight but didn’t show up.”
I said, “I’ve been to a few rodeos and certainly didn’t see any TV stars walking around. I wonder why she went.”
“Weather girls aren’t considered stars, I don’t think. In Labelle, though, well… maybe she was making an appearance.” Birdy looked through the window, the houseboat beyond. “Or could be she liked cowboys. Yesterday, I couldn’t have related”-Birdy vamped a look-“but now I do.”
“All the way from Orlando for a rodeo. Where’d they find her car?”
“Both cars were found in the woods-different places, and years apart, but similar-within four or five miles of the Cadence place. There’s no evidential connection, but that hasn’t stopped the rumors. I’ve got names of two cops who might talk to you off the record. What they told me is, the place is poison. The Cadence house.” She smiled. “You’ll have all the proof you need the house is stigmatized.”
Poison. Birdy had used that word in an earlier text, which I’d found interesting because, at the time, I was doing an Internet search on manchineel and mimosa trees-there are dozens of varieties of mimosas. Matching the seedpod to a photograph hadn’t been easy, nor conclusive.
More information had come from my friend Tomlinson, who seemed to know a lot about “experimental drugs”-possibly because he lives aboard a sailboat and travels. In Brazil there is a species of giant mimosa that locals used in traditional medicine. Sometimes used the roots, often the seedpods. Tomlinson claimed that powder made from the seeds had recreational uses as well. But agreed the photos I had texted didn’t confirm that the Telegraph River mimosas were from Brazil.
I was sitting on the bed, my feet on the floor, and opened the second notebook. It contained notes from my interview with the librarian and abbreviated versions of the stories Brit had told us. I handed the notebook to Birdy, along with a pen. “Write down the names of the deputies, if you have them handy. I’ve got some other things to tell you, but you go first. What about the spot Theo dug up?”
She talked while she swiped at her iPhone. “He wasn’t authorized. That much, Leslie will swear to, but that’s not enough. I had my hopes up because the GPR produced several three-dimensional images that looked like coins scattered over more coins about four feet deep. That’s the spot where Theo dug. Metal, plus what appeared to be more human bones. No doubt about the metal, but, when we got there, Theo had already filled the hole in.”