***

Appleton lived within walking distance of Pine Junction, but over the county line in a cabin smaller than mine. It looked like it was built back in the sixties or seventies before Park County had building codes. What had started as a three hundred square foot A-frame chalet had doubled in size over the years with the addition of a couple shed-dormers. The truck that had nearly run over Fred was parked in a dirt drive next to the east addition. I had taken all this in while slowly driving by the cabin. We had only seen one other vehicle since leaving highway 285, so I didn’t worry about holding up traffic, but I was concerned the other driver might wonder why I was going so slowly.

“I hope he doesn’t come back to check on us,” I said aloud.

“Who, Jake?”

“The driver of that Datsun. You better keep an eye out for him when I go into the cabin. It shouldn’t be hard to miss. I haven’t seen one of those old pickups since I was a teenager,” I said while pulling into Appleton’s driveway.

Bonnie had her seatbelt off and her hand on the door lever before I came to a complete stop. “Where do you think you’re going?” I asked. “Please do as you promised and stay here with Fred while I’m gone.”

“He’s bound to recognize you, Jake. I’ll go and you two stay here. I can pretend I broke down, or have a flat tire or something, and ask to use his phone. Even an ex-con wouldn’t hurt a little old lady. Would he?”

I put the Cherokee in gear and drove away. “Are you kidding, Bon? He must have seen you at the bookstore. I can’t take the chance he’ll remember you.” What was I thinking? I didn’t have a clue about what to do now that we’d found Sleeveless. This guy was a violent felon. Finding him had been a game of wits, safely played out on a computer without any possibility of a physical confrontation. Now it had suddenly turned deadly with the threat of meeting him face-to-face.

“Let’s go back to the highway and wait at that little cafe. He has to pass it on his way out. Then we can come back here and I’ll retrieve my stuff after he’s gone.” Too late, I realized I’d let my true intentions of coming here escape. I expected Bonnie to be shocked.

Bonnie’s grin went from one ear to the next. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

Fred jumped over the rear seat and ran to the back of the Cherokee. He barked when we passed Appleton’s cabin then came back and put his big head on the top of the bench seat where we sat. I’m sure if he could talk he would let me know John Wayne wouldn’t be running away. The Duke would have gone in there and beat Sleeveless to a pulp.

***

We didn’t have to wait long. I was about to put Fred back in the Cherokee, after letting him circle a grassy knoll outside the cafe, when the beat-up F150 went sailing by. Bonnie saw it too and stopped just shy of entering the cafe. Ten minutes later, the three of us were back at Appleton’s cabin.

Without the danger of being shot by my own gun, I parked where the F150 had been, and told my sidekicks to wait in the car. Bonnie wasn’t in the habit of taking orders, and I didn’t have the time to argue when she followed me to the door with Fred bringing up the rear. After knocking to make sure no one was inside, I went around to the front of the cabin with my entourage close behind. Like most A-frames built during its era, this one had a deck in the front with a sliding-glass door. It had been the main entrance before all the additions had been built. I checked to see if any neighbors could see us before we climbed the short flight of stairs onto the deck. Appleton’s cabin was fairly secluded. The only other house I saw was several hundred yards down the road, and it looked empty.

My plan to get inside was simple. All I had to do was lift the sliding panel of the glass door. The flimsy locks they put on these early models were no deterrent to even a novice burglar. Not that I have a lot of practice breaking into homes; it was something I learned in my sideline as a handy-man. That plan went out the proverbial window when Bonnie noticed a blood stain on the deck and the slider wide open.

I’ve read enough murder mysteries to know we shouldn’t go inside, but I could see my shotgun on the kitchen table. I had to get it and look for my ring and book before the cops took them for evidence, or I could forget about ever seeing them again. Fred solved that minor dilemma for me and went in without having to worry about disturbing evidence or being arrested for breaking and entering.

With his nose to the floor, he headed straight for the kitchen. Appleton either had dog food sitting in a bowl, or he’d left some other tasty morsel lying around.

“Hello? Anyone home?” Bonnie asked, sticking her head through to door while I was still wondering what to do if we found a body.

I scooted past Bonnie and went inside when Fred disappeared into one of the room additions. “Wait here, Bon. Fred smells something. It might not be something you want to see.”

I grabbed my shotgun from the table, checked to see if it was loaded, and crept close to the wall as I approached the room Fred had gone into. I stopped just outside the open door and tried to listen. The only sound I heard was Bonnie’s breathing. She had completely ignored my warning and was attached to me at the hip.

“You know he’s not in there, Jake. We saw him drive by us in the truck. Why are you being so cautious?” she whispered. The problem was she whispered like she was at a rock concert.

I was about to give up the stealth attack and just barge into the room when Fred came moseying out with a sock in his mouth.

“Not now, boy,” I said when he tried to put it in my hand and before I realized he didn’t want to play tug-a-war. It wasn’t a sock after all.

The first clue that it wasn’t a sock was the texture. Unless Appleton was into wearing paper socks, Fred had brought me a crumpled up sheet of notebook paper.

“Blood sucking bug pass,” I read aloud, without the fear of someone lurking behind the door. It would not have meant a thing if not for the numbers next to each word. I would check my copy of Tom Sawyer if I ever got it back, but I knew instantly Appleton had decoded Drake’s enigma.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bonnie asked, now that we had moved past the door and she had managed to detach herself from my side without surgery.

“I think it’s the code telling where the old miner’s treasure is hidden. It’s a code within a code,” I said, making a quick check of the room.

There was a single bed, a computer desk with the computer still on, and a dresser. They were all in the style of early Goodwill, worth a good fifty dollars at most.

“We better make it quick, Bon. He wouldn’t leave the door open and his computer on if he was on the way to Mexico.”

She walked over to look at the computer monitor as if she hadn’t heard me. “Do you suppose he knows what the code means, Jake?” She quickly turned away with a disgusted look.

“Men. Is that all you guys ever think about?”

“No,” I answered when I saw what was on the screen.

I reached over and turned off the monitor. “Right now I’m wondering what jail food tastes like. We better get out of here before someone shows up.”

Bonnie had the top dresser drawer open before I finished talking. “Aren’t you gonna look for your cigar box? Maybe it’s in here. I’ll…”

Fred cut her off with a short bark. I hadn’t noticed he had gone back outside until he ran back in the room to get my attention. Then I heard the truck.

CHAPTER FIVE

Bonnie must have heard the truck, too, because stopped rifling through the dresser and looked up at me. Her eyes were huge. “My God, Jake, he’s back!” She was holding a pair of Appleton’s shorts, and any other time it would have been funny. She had an index finger poking out a hole meant for something else.