Give Em Pumpkin To Talk About (Pumpkin Patch Mysteries Book 1) (20 page)

“I’m the museum director, Robert Glossom.” He squared his shoulders, looked up at Jack, and gulped. “What is it you need? I can tell you that if you’re here to rob the museum, we have no money on the premises—or anywhere else for that matter. Maybe you should try the convenience store at the corner.”

“We’re not here to rob you,” Sarah assured him. “We’re from Misty River. We’re looking for information about a stash of gold that belonged to the Confederacy. I think I might own the land where the gold was hidden.”

He smiled and shook his head. “People never cease to amaze me. Why does anyone put such stock into old folklore like this?”

“There must be something,” Jack said. “People have been digging for it a long time.”

She was relieved. “Are you saying it’s not real? There wasn’t a trunk of gold buried out there after the Civil War?”

“I’m not saying that…exactly.” He turned to lock his office door. “Come with me. I do know a little something about this.”

They followed him up the stairs to the local Civil War area. There were a few cannons that had nearly rusted to pieces, a few cannon balls, and a mannequin wearing a moth-eaten uniform. Sarah glanced at a diorama of the area which showed the battles and skirmishes around the county.

“Guess they didn’t do much fighting in Misty River.” Jack pointed to the empty space on the map.

“That’s because there was nothing there at the time,” Glossom said tartly. “The Misty River community wasn’t founded for another fifty years after the end of the war. Mostly the battles in this area took place where there were actually people. That area was small, poor farms. They had nothing to gain from the war since they had no slaves or plantations.”

“I see.” Sarah slid her gaze from the map to the man. “So what can you tell us about the gold?”

“One thing I can tell you—there are tales of unclaimed gold in almost every Confederate state. I believe it was wishful thinking that created them. ‘If the armies of the South had just received that last bit of gold, it would’ve changed the tide of the war.’ Blah. Blah. Blah.”

“No one knows that for sure,” Jack reminded him. “Not even you.”

“Maybe not, but the South was doomed from the beginning. They went steadily downhill from there and ended up with a lot of dead soldiers and burned property. They never really even touched the North. Sad but true.”

“And the gold?” She tried to put the conversation back on track.

“Yes. Our local chest of gold folklore revolves around three men who were taking the gold to an unknown general when they received word that the South had surrendered. The men decided amongst themselves that this had become a losing proposition and that they would keep the gold.”

“And it was buried on a farm in Misty River?” she prodded.

“As I mentioned, there were no soldiers from that area. They wouldn’t even have had the money to afford a uniform, which soldiers bought for themselves at that time. Why bury the gold in Misty River if you weren’t from there?”

“Why bury the gold at all?” Jack asked. “Why not just spend it?”

“It would have stood out at that time,” Glossom replied. “If they’d been able to get it to New York or Boston, it would’ve been another story. There they could’ve lived as kings. Northern troops sweeping through this area to quell any remaining rebellion would have taken it from them.”

“So you’re saying there probably was gold and the three men buried it to use it at a later time,” Sarah interpreted. “But not in Misty River.”

“It’s unlikely. But if something of that nature had happened, the men would have been from the wealthier, western end of the county. They would’ve buried it on their own land.”

“That’s good news,” she said. “Thank you.”

“You mean you aren’t trying to find the gold yourself?” the director asked.

“No,” Jack replied.

“Like I said.” Sarah tried to clarify. “I own the property everyone thinks the gold is buried on.”

“You mean the Denning farm.” Glossom nodded. “Yes. I know that name. Actually, the odd part about it is that one of the three men who supposedly took the gold was named Denning. Big Mike Denning, who went on to later find a fortune panning for gold in the Misty River. He’s well known throughout the county.”

Chapter Twenty-One

“Let me get this straight,” Jack said with a wry smile. “People believe that Big Mike Denning found gold panning in Misty River, but not that he took Confederate gold?”

Glossom faltered at his words, a troubled look on his face. “It might sound the same, but I assure you it’s not.”

“The gold is in the river,” Jack finished. “Not buried on the property.”

Sarah grinned. “So it would seem. Why didn’t anyone ever put those things together?”

“Truly,” Glossom went on. “It couldn’t have happened that way. Gold bullion is much different than gold found in rivers. He would have had to spend years smelting it and breaking it into smaller pieces. It’s unlikely.”

“He had plenty of time, according to you,” Jack added.

“But the probability is very low.”

“And I bet I know where it is,” Sarah said.

“The marker in the river!” Jack grinned.

“Exactly!”

Glossom seemed upset by their conversation. “There’s absolutely no proof of what you’re saying. Even if there were, someone would have found it years ago.”

“Probably not if they were too busy digging holes in the ground,” Sarah said.

“What were the names of the other two men?” Jack asked.

“Let me think.” Glossom tapped his head with his finger. “There was Epsom Clapp . . . I think. And the third man—his name is right on the tip of my tongue.”

Jack and Sarah waited, but the director couldn’t think of the third man’s name.

“This is my cell phone number.” Sarah wrote her number down for him. “Would you give me a call if you think of it?”

“Sure. It’s funny how you can remember something but not quite retrieve it. I’ll call you when it comes to me.”

“Thanks, Mr. Glossom. You’ve been very helpful.” Sarah shook his hand before she and Jack left the museum.

“Does this mean you’re going treasure hunting now?” Jack asked when they were back out in the sunshine.

“No. It means I’m going to get a copy of the deed before I meet with the new buyer.”

“You mean knowing there could be gold in the river won’t keep you from selling the property?”

“That’s what it means.” She turned to him. “I agree with Mr. Glossom. Even if there was gold in the river, I’m sure it’s long gone. Big Mike probably made sure of that. You’ve been up and down that stretch—have you ever seen gold in the water?”

“No,” he admitted.

“But you think it’s there?”

“I don’t know. Other people do. It looked to me like Glossom might even come try his hand at it now that he’s been enlightened.”

Sarah opened the car doors with the key fob. “I wonder what Grampa would think about all this. I know what my grandmother would say. She only believed in things she knew to be true. I don’t think she’d like the idea of people looking for gold.”

She started the car, but Jack didn’t get in. “Something wrong?”

“I have a few things I need to look into—you’re always telling me I should get ready for the future.” He smiled. “I’ll see you back at the farm. Don’t worry. I won’t leave without saying goodbye first.”

“All right. I’ll see you later.” She was surprised by that, but maybe it was a good thing. She really didn’t need him to squire her around town and end up with her at the real estate office. Sarah considered calling her mother about the new turn of events, but she didn’t think her mother would be any more impressed by talk of gold in the river than she was.

Sarah watched him walk away, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, before she pulled out of the parking lot and left the museum.

The courthouse wasn’t far. She parked and went inside. There was a long line at the single clerk’s window where she had to wait. It seemed to be a good day for making copies of legal documents.

She finally paid her money and received a brand new copy of the deed. There were dozens of names listed above her grandparents’ on the document. Not all of them were Dennings. Sarah glanced at the paper and then put it in her pocketbook as her phone rang.

 “Hey beautiful.” It was Ron. “I’m free for lunch. How about you?”

“I’d like to, but I have a meeting with a new buyer. Maybe later?”

“That works. Looks like you’ll be here a while since you can’t sell while the land is being used as collateral to keep Jack out of jail. Have you seen him lately, or has he taken off?”

“He didn’t do anything wrong. He’s still here.”

“What is it with that guy? Everyone thinks the world of him, and he’s never worked a day in his life.”

“I don’t know, but I have to go. I’ll talk to you later. Thanks for calling.”

Sarah put her phone away and started back to Misty River. Mace had left her an email to meet him at the farm when she got back. He’d be out there showing the place to Davis Hudson.

With any luck, this would be it, and Mr. Hudson would sign to purchase the property when it was free of the bail bondsman’s claim against it. Naturally, if something happened that the property was forfeit because Jack left, Mr. Hudson wouldn’t be the new owner.

But she was sure Jack would honor his pledge to stay until the trial. She thought she could convince Mr. Hudson of that fact too.

What would happen to Jack then?

As far as she knew, he was really only a suspect in Leland’s murder. Sheriff Morgan had bowed to the DA’s pressure to arrest his best suspect. If the DA brought people from Misty River to testify against him, there would be a lot of words like crazy, squatter, and others less complimentary used against him, but there would also be people who thought the world of him like Gray and Kathy.

The sheriff would no doubt testify to Jack’s aggressive behavior against people who were looking for gold on the property. That could make a slam dunk for the prosecution. Jack had no way to defend himself.

Could she carve enough time out of her schedule back home to represent him during a trial? Or would she have to hand him over to a newbie public defender? She wasn’t sure how Clare would feel about her attorney taking on a murder case.

She shouldn’t feel guilty about what happened. It had nothing to do with her. The closest she could come to a motive for Leland’s death was that someone didn’t want him to buy the land.

But what about George Burris’s death?

Again—someone had probably killed him as a warning not to get rid of the land. The killer liked the way things were, even with Jack out there.

Or maybe the killer was also a treasure hunter who thought he could get rid of Jack at the same time that he scared away potential buyers. In that scenario, Sarah went back to Richmond for another few years and Jack went to prison. The gold hunter had complete access.

Obviously, this alleged person didn’t have enough money to buy the land outright. He was relying on what he could do to make it work his way.

Sarah got a call from Kathy as she reached the small green sign on the highway that declared she was in Misty River.

“I told you I’d look into who sells that rifle you found at the murder scene,” she said. “Ben and I were at a gun store in Silver Springs. We talked to the man who runs it—Sonny Willis—remember him? He used to have that huge appliance on his mouth to straighten his teeth.”

“I don’t remember anyone like that. I suppose he came to the pumpkin patch, but I didn’t pay any attention.”

“Well, anyway, he’s grown up real nice now. I was thinking maybe you’d like to go out with him before you leave. Unless you’re too busy with Jack. Or Ron.” She giggled.

“What about the rifle? Can we talk about that before we discuss my love life?” Sarah asked with a smile. If she was here much longer, she’d be married again.

“Okay. I was getting to that. Sonny said he sold one of those 357 Rugers right before you came back. He said he sold it to Mace Nash. Sonny says Nash has quite a collection of hard-to-find guns. He’s always around when things happen. I wonder if he could be the killer.”

In a way, it would make sense. Sarah had already signed the paperwork to let Mace take over the land until he sold it. “But why show it to people if he doesn’t want to sell it?”

“He’s got to make it look good, right? Or you might let someone else sell it. I just wanted to give you a head’s up because I know you’re meeting with him again. I’m going to have lunch with Ben before we come home. Watch your back.”

Sarah thought about the conversation as she drove to the farm.

Killing her wouldn’t help Mace with his search for the gold. He’d be in the best possible position to look for it after she went home. She could understand him killing Leland, even though he pretended to make a big show out of wanting the sale.

That could put Davis Hudson’s life in jeopardy. Surely the realtor wouldn’t think he could get away with blaming three murders on Jack.

She drove quickly down the gravel road to the house hearing the rocks beat against the underside of the rental car. The familiar red pickup was parked in the drive, but there was no sign of either man. Sarah was glad she’d left Jack in town in case Mace had made the mistake of thinking he was out there like usual.

Without hesitating, Sarah called Sheriff Morgan to let him know her suspicions. He told her that he’d get out there as quickly as possible and that she should go up to the Quik-Chek and wait there for him.

“I’m sure there’s another explanation for what’s going on,” the sheriff said. “I’ve known Nash most of my life. I don’t think he’s out there shooting people who want to buy your property, Ms. Tucker. But let’s not take any chances.”

Sarah thanked him and started to back out of the drive when she heard the first shot ring out. It startled her, and she realized the sheriff was right—she needed to get out of there.

Two more shots exploded from somewhere beyond the springhouse. One of them put a hole in the passenger side of her windshield, and the other hit her front tire. The air gasped out, leaving the car lurching to one side. Too late to run now, she got out of the car to hide next to the house. She wasn’t sure if she was personally in danger or if Mace was getting rid of another buyer.